hollow.

[-hollow-] [Okay folks, rules for a Damonian scene:

1. 10 min posting rounds. If/when we're dicing, declare in 2 min. Roll in 2 or I'll roll for you and/or skip you. If you want to post ICly during combat, keep it to when you're not actively declaring/rolling, or else keep to the 2-minute deadlines.
2. If you happen to be multitasking, make sure you can keep up with the deadlines. Otherwise, I'll ask you to stop your other scene.
3. No posting order, but please post ONCE for every post I make unless I say otherwise.
4. Keep track of your own health and tempers.
5. Questions in the chat. Don't IM me. If I don't see the question, repeat it until I do. If I don't respond for minutes on end -- I'm probably posting. You should wait, unless it's absolutely urgent, upon which you should PM me once.
6. PM me your applicable flaws. This includes stuff like nightmares and phobias and hatreds and compulsions!
7. If there are any off-limits themes, imagery or events you do NOT want to see in a scene, PM 'em to me now.
8. I'll start us off!]

[Burnout] flaw: slip sideways
to -hollow-

[DNW] [Flaws! Uh... Nightmares! And Amnesia! And... I think that's it! She also has Natural Channel, but that's a Merit, but just in case I whip it out! Yeah!... fuck I need caffeine!]
to -hollow-

[Laughs] [Flaw: curiosity ¬_¬]
to -hollow-

[Kaitlyn Somerset] Flaws
Overconfident
Curiosity
Phobia (spiders)
to -hollow-

[Warcry] [6. Waxing Gibbous Mooooon! Time to PWWWWN.
7. No poop. Kai dealt with ENOUGH POOP today!]
to -hollow-

[-hollow-] The stranger showed up in the caern last night. He made it clear he was only passing through on business, but made an offering to Maelstrom nonetheless. No one knows what he tossed in there, only that it must have had profound worth. He wouldn't have bothered otherwise; he's that sort of Garou. You only need look at him to know.

This sort: serious, with a long, hard face; heavy dark eyebrows. He says he's a Fenrir Modi. He says he comes from Nor-Cal, Crescent City, up near the Oregon border, but he grew up in the Valley. Sacramento. He says his name is Feng Stonebreaker, and he doesn't give a last name.

He spends most of last night talking to the Warder, the Guardians, the Grand Elder, the Ritesmistress. This morning, with their blessing, he approached the Garou of Maelstrom. He's here looking for his Alpha, he says, Jocelyn Strikes-True, whose sister lives out in Chicagoland. They're a pack of four. The sister fell off the face of the earth about two weeks ago. Strikes-True came out here last week, and vanished as well. Stonebreaker left his packmates to hold down the fort in Crescent City and followed.

"The Ritesmistress called the spirits," he says to the Garou he's gathered. "They picked up what might be a trail in Bronzeville. That's where we'll begin, if you're with me."

--

They arrive in one car or many. Stonebreaker's is an aging Camry; hardly the conveyance of a Fenrir hero, but it'll do. They park on the street, which is quiet except for a buzzing streetlight; a pack of noisy drunks on the corner; the dull thump of bass from some seedy bar down the way. It's getting cold at night, and Stonebreaker pulls on a thin leather jacket as he shuts his car door.

"This way," he says, and nods in the direction of the distant music.

[Barks Secrets] [Winston's Flaws!: Chronic Bronchitis, and minor phobia of drowning]
to -hollow-

[Barks Secrets] There's no need to explain or defend Winston's being at the Caern when the Modi gathered souls (Winston would say 'victims', he would probably call them 'heroes' or 'soldiers' or volunteers') up for his mission. He was a solemn-faced beast of war, he chose some ferocious names with plenty of glory tacked onto them, but he was smart enough to know that some situations call for more than brute force, even if he was a Fenrir.

That's how Winston wound up in the backseat of this stranger's Camry.

He smelled like any Bone Gnawer ought to-- body odor and city smells, like gasoline and spilled waste. His hair was short, but already unruly, thick and brown and heavily perfumed with the scent of the streets. He wore a tattered button up pale blue shirt, possibly something he snagged from the back of a businessman's car that left his windows cracked too broadly, along with a pair of tattered, blood-stained jeans and absolutely no shoes to speak of.

He had a cigarette behind his ear and an obnoxious whistling sound, even though faint and subdued at current, that rode on every breath he took. He didn't say much of anything to anyone, but rather followed with his hands jammed in his low-slung pants pockets, cuffs dragging on the pavement under his bare and calloused heels, slumped and hunched forward and gnawing at his chapped lower lip.

[Warcry] Sinclair rode with Feng. She doesn't mouth off much, because she doesn't know this Modi and it's been a long time since she lost that part of herself that thought she could handle anything, live through anything, say whatever she wanted and do worse because she was more badass than god. So she doesn't tell him she's not about to let him go anywhere alone in Chicago, if the last two people in his tale of woe vanished off the face of the earth.

For all she knows, he and his pack and all who share blood with them are cursed. And it wouldn't be the first time something like that has happened. She's heard stories.

It's weird for Sinclair, being in the passenger seat. She slouches, she keeps her mouth shut, and when Feng parks she swings her long, denim-clad legs out of the car, sneakers thumping to the asphalt as she rises to her feet. Her hair is up in a loose knot, plenty of strands falling from it. There's the mark of earth on the back of her neck, the metal lining her ears, the small beads that mean something to her and are just color and decoration to most people who see them, the miniscule feather nestled alongside a red bead that represents her pack.

She's wearing a navy blue peacoat over a gray hoodie. Because to Sinclair, fifty-five is fucking freezing. She's surprised the goddamn lake isn't hard.

She glances over her shoulder as Winston gets out, glances over at Hunter and Ophelia and Joey when they arrive as well, then nods and falls into step with Stonebreaker. "Barks Secrets, keep an eye out behind us, alright? Just in case."

[Burnout] Earlier today Hunter Matthews took a swim, it was mighty fucking cold. He took a swim and looked at some drawings a kinsman had done of that Thunderwyrm jaw bone of his. It wasn't quite up to scratch but he made a few suggestions about certain details of the beast and then he was on his way. It was a pretty normal day for the Alpha of The Vanguard, but that was until word came around about a Fenrir looking for help with a particular task. Hunter Matthews leads a particular Fenrir, so its not surprising he answered the call along with the rest of his pack, eager to do their part and help out wherever they can. So he finds himself in the back of Cassius, watching Joey follow along behind Feng's car and twiddling his thumbs until one of the big kids can let him out of the two door green-machine.

His attire for the evening consists of grease stained blue jeans, shoelace-less work boots, a black wife-beater and a green zip-up hoody with the hood pulled up. Over the top he pulls on a black leather jacket when he exits the vehicle and waltzes on over to meet up with the rest of the crew for the evening.

"Fuckin' nippy right Sis?" He says on the way over.

[Laughs] The Vanguard arrive together in Joey's old Camaro, for space reasons more than anything else. The Rotagar wasn't about to smashed into the backseat, some packmate stretched across three laps to make room. This isn't high school, people just don't do that shit anymore.

And she followed the Camry, kept it in her sights easily, didn't let a single yellowing to red light get between them. When they get to where they're going, Joey parks her car on the street nearby. Wordlessly, she reaches back, asking Hunter with a gesture to hand over her bag. She climbs out, and she's dressed in jeans and a brown hooded sweatshirt with a cartoon face on it. Eyes, nose, jagged teeth. It kind of looks like a bear.

The bag gets slung over her torso, the pouch resting on her backside. Before anyone gets too far, she passes out chips of concrete, one per Garou for those who'll take them.

She doesn't know which of his sisters Hunter's talking to when he mentions that it's nippy out. Could be both. Might be Joey. It's cold like a winter's night in the desert, but Joey's been readjusting.

"Bit, yeah."

[soak talens for whoever wants 'em and can use 'em!]

[Kaitlyn Somerset] She's not really sure how exactly she wound up piled into a car full of walking balls of rage. One minute, she's leaving Broho's intent on actually going back to the place she's been crashing at (when she's not passing out in random public locations from drunken stupor), next... she squished into a back seat and eyeballing a carload of strangers. Literally. But when you have that much rage clouding up the air around you... you don't exactly argue with that.

So thus, she piles, quite hurriedly, out of the car and away from some of the smells with it. Following and essentially just keeping quiet for now.

[-hollow-] Maybe Kaitlyn got roped into this because they needed someone to cover their tracks, in case bodies started to pile up. Maybe they needed someone to offer the care and succor that Stonebreaker's Alpha and her sister were likely to need by now. Maybe they needed someone to distract the cops; maybe they just saw her walking alone on the street and picked her up because, dude, this place isn't safe.

'Dude' is not a word that's come out of this Modi's mouth yet. For all that, there is a bit of a surfer look to him: it's in his long rangy limbs, roped with lean muscle; it's in his quiet horizon stare. His hair is cropped down to a bare black buzz, though, and his eyes are alert, sharp.

They approach the seedy bar -- Mr. C's, reads the sign, and a tacked-on addition invites the clientele to Visit us on Northside too! because even in Bronzeville you didn't want to tell people your other location is in Cabrini-Green. Stonebreaker doesn't go in, though he gives the door a look; sniffs at the air like he might actually pick something up other than the wafting scents of smoke, booze, sweat, vomit.

He takes them around the side instead. There's a side door, which is open, giving them a glimpse of the packed crowd inside, the big burly beast of a bartender, the hired, skimpily clad dancers writhing up on the bar amidst a forest of empty beer bottles and overturned glasses. They're not strippers, though it's a fine distinction: several of them have dollar bills tucked into their thongs. Feng barely glances at them. There's a path down too, a concrete hole of a stairwell leading to a single heavy door. It's metal.

"Spirits said to start here," he says, and nods at the door. "I'm not much of an Alpha. Even in battle. Strikes-True always led us. One of you wants to call the shots, I'm all for it."

[DNW] With the moon fattening herself on light, the Vanguard's Theurge is much easier to converse with than she was a few nights ago. That isn't to say that she makes any more of an effort to speak in plain English than she normally does; it just means that she's less inclined to speak in riddles and metaphors that makes her packmates question her sanity. The pack follows a powerful totem, and they don't possess the spiritual bartering power to afford luxuries like mental communication or having Cat with them at all times. They have to congregate using more conventional means.

Horror.

Still, they arrive together, their Alpha confined to the backseat due to their English sister either not quite grasping the concept of Shotgun or simply refusing to adhere to the rule itself. Ophelia traces shapes in the fog that veils the passenger-side window and makes idle conversation about the origins and motivation of the one called Feng Stonebreaker, and when they arrive she expedites the exiting process so Hunter isn't stuck in the back any longer than is absolutely necessary. Like her brother and sister, she's dressed for comfort and efficiency rather than to impress anyone: sturdy hiking boots, khakis that still carry bloodstains that are impervious to the healing nature of bleach, a plain black t-shirt and a leather jacket. She's missing a hood, and with her long hair pulled back into a ponytail she has nothing to keep the wind off her skin.

Given that she's entranced listening to the music, she barely even seems to notice the cold. When the group begins to drift towards Mr. C's, she goes with them, much less enthralled with the novelty of the scenery than Joey saw her the night they visited the strip club not all that far from here. When Stonebreaker mentions he isn't much of an Alpha, that he is all for one of them calling the shots, her eyes drift to Hunter.

[Barks Secrets] 'Watch our backs,' is the suggestion cleverly disguised as a request (or maybe it was just earnestly both?), and Winston shrugs one shoulder in a manner more compliant than anything else. He was already watching his own back, by proximity he would be watching all of theirs as well. The only difference was whether or not he'd be alerting them of danger or just bugging the hell off before too many guts wind up on the floor.

But who the fuck lives forever? And furthermore, who the fuck would want to?

So they wind up passing along the side of a bar, peeking through a side door open to let some of the stink out and some of the cool mild-autumn air in. Others pass without so much as a second glance, but Winston lingers, steps slowing to a brief halt so he could ogle the women sliding and writhing on the bar top. Heavy eyebrows lift and a stupid grin crawls over one side of his face, but the buzz-headed Modi speaks up and he realizes the rest of the group had trudged ahead to a second door, one sunk deep into a stairwell and clad in metal.

Winston doesn't crowd the stairwell, but rather hangs out at the top, leaned against the wall it was sunk into, one hand down the front of his pants to scratch unceremoniously at his groin.

"So," he drawls lazily, "I presume we send some tough-and-tumble Ragabash ahead to scout for us so we don't go in blind of the geography?" And his bland hazel eyes glue directly to Joey's face.

[Warcry] At Stonebreaker's statement, Sinclair's eyes turn towards Hunter. She doesn't mince her words. "At this point we have no guarantee that this will turn into battle, so the burden of leadership is not automatically yours nor Stonebreaker's to take on. After what I saw of you during the formation of the Lucky Bastards pack, I am not inclined to trust your direction.

"However," she goes on, "if you --"

Winston speaks, and Sinclair breaks for a moment to look over at him. She raises an eyebrow as though to ask him if he's volunteering to lead, then turns back to Hunter.

"-- if you will submit to my leadership for now, I will submit to yours if it turns out that we need to fight. Deal?"

[Burnout] The piece of concrete from Joey is accepted without hesitation, though he doesn't use it yet. It gets shoved into the back pocket of his jeans along side a rather red looking piece of cloth that hangs out like he's frontin' colours. He's not of course, and it's unlikely that any 'gangsta' would be foolish enough to make the mistake of thinking that. So off they go, around the bar and Hunter peeks in through the windows at the women but averts his eyes pretty quickly. Maybe its because he doesn't find them interesting? Maybe its to avoid a slap from one of his pack-sisters. Whatever the case, he doesn't turn perving into a Tribal pass-time with Winston.

Ophelia gives him one of those looks, like she's throwing him to the sharks, but Hunter just grins at her and chews the insides of his cheeks while Sinclair talks.

Apparently she wants him to submit to her leadership for now, a gift she will return in the possibly near future. She can tell he licks over his teeth inside his mouth briefly before responding and when he does its rather short, rather simple. He doesn't get into a whole debate on what she witnessed in the Momentum pack trials. He just nods.

"Yep." He says. "Deal."

She's a Fostern, she seems capable. Maybe she will keep her end of the bargain, maybe she won't. No way to tell, no point wasting oxygen thinking about it.

[Kaitlyn Somerset] She trudges right along, eyeing their surroundings, to include those she's with. She doesn't say anything, none of this any of her even remote realm to speak up in. So thus, she's trailing towards the end of the cluster, thumbs hooked into waistband of her jeans.

Distractions, she could likely help with. Keeping an eye out, can do. Opening up something's innards that could fart in her general direction and likely have her kin-smear wall decorations? Another matter. So she simply waits to see what adventure and chaos the night'll hold.

[Laughs] Joey's already taking mental notes as the group moseys over to the side entrance to the bar. Entrance, exits, windows if any. Windows that might provide some glimpse of the downstairs if any, though she's not surprised if there aren't any tiny portals, not even ones covered in iron bars.

While she looks about and leadership is determined, Joey doesn't step up and volunteer her services as leader. What she does is move to the front, automatically taking up the scout's position. Pulling an elastic band from her pocket, she ties her hair up into a ponytail not quite high up on the back of her head.

There's a space of silence while Hunter debates submitting to Sinclair's leadership. Joey looks back over her shoulder at him. Dark eyes flick to Sinclair and back to her Alpha. She doesn't know about this Lucky Bastards pack to which Winston belongs, not really, doesn't know the story of their forming.

"Alright, which way're you pointin' me?" she asks.

[Warcry] There's something about Sinclair tonight. It isn't the side of her that always shows, the predatory glint in her pale eyes, the way she moves with that low center of gravity, like a dancer

or a killer.

More than that, though, there's a gleam to her, almost as though the moonlight hits her differently than the rest of them. She's a pretty girl -- most nights. On nights like tonight she's beautiful to the point of seeming ethereal, a savage angel. Even the way she speaks sounds clearer, her voice smooth and strong. Above all, Sinclair is known for her glory in battle, for her steadily growing wisdom in counsel. In her own pack she is the second to Wyrmbreaker when it comes to all things martial.

Truth be told, there aren't many -- even among the Ahrouns of Maelstrom -- who would be too surprised if she didn't even offer to submit to Hunter during combat. So it means something that she does.

Sinclair hasn't looked at the not-quite strippers, or the humans inside. She has barely acknowledged Kaitlyn's presence, until now. Sinclair looks to Feng Stonebreaker. "I want you up ahead with me, as you're the one who's been talking to spirits and know who we're looking for." She looks back to Hunter. "I want your Theurge to do any summoning you guys think you might need now rather than later -- if we can send a spirit to scout ahead us, all the better. You and Joey stay near her," with a nod at Kaitlyn, "because if this does get hairy I don't want our heads-up to be the purebred kin of another tribe screaming or dying or something."

She looks over at Winston. "For now, you're up front with Stonebreaker and I. Go check out the door, see what you can sniff out." As she talks, she hands him a button with a small white symbol painted on it. "In case of backdraft." Wry, that. She looks at Feng. "If you have anything of your packsister's for him to get the scent off of, that might help us see if she's even here. Or if she has been."

[-hollow-] To that, Stonebreaker opens his jacket and pulls out a sock, which he tosses to Barks Secret. It's thick cotton, athletic, cheap but durable: Champion or something of the sort. It's also unwashed.

"I have that because I expected the spirits might track better if they had something of hers to channel," he explains, perhaps a trifle defensively. "Nothing weird or anything."

[If you're gonna sniff dirty laundry, roll me percep + PU!]

[Warcry] [Why not! +1]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 5, 5, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Barks Secrets] Winston dragged his hand out of the front of his pants only to reach out and take what Warcry was offering to him. He rolled it off his fingertips and into his palm, sniffed it, touched it with his two front teeth, then made a quiet 'harumph' noise that was something between a sigh of effort and a grunt of understanding before he crouched down, put a hand on the edge of the cement stairwell, and dropped himself down in front of the door.

"I knew a guy named Backdraft," he says casually, leaning against the door with his palm just past where a knob would be, pressing his heel into the heart of whatever locking mechanism that could be present. "Swell guy, cute kids, bitch of a wife but her tits were nice and perky. He was a right drunk, though, and--" but the story was cut off when the Modi tossed a sock in his direction, which he caught with a jerk and a fumble.

"Ehh..." Heavy Groucho Marx-esque eyebrows lift and his eyes roll up from the stairwell to focus on the Modi, and his grin curls sharp and twisted like the brambles of a rose bush. "Whatever you say, weirdo."

...As he stuffs his nose into a stranger's sock and takes a huge whiff, abandoning the door for now.

[Perception + Primal-Urge]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Burnout] Orders are given, the vanguard gets put on babysitting duty. But it's not really like that at all, and Hunter doesn't think it is either. It's an important task, one that Hunter and is pack will see done, no doubt.

"Right." He responds with a nod of his head and flicks his eyes to Joey with the silent passing on of commands. It's not like she's deaf, he doesn't have to repeat it. He knows Joey will defend the kin with her life.

The second matter is something far more complicated, far beyond the reach of the Gnawer Ahroun so he motions Ophelia over with a finger.

"You got somethin' ya wanna grab from the other side Fee? I mean like.. fuckin.. spirits.. or whatever." He says in a hushed tone. "Somethin ta help us find these two peeps?"

[-hollow-] [It smells like foot-sweat and the inside of someone's shoe. Nummy.

-1 diff to tracking rolls for that specific scent.]
to Barks Secrets

[-hollow-] [It smells like foot-sweat and the inside of someone's shoe. Nummy.

-1 diff to tracking rolls for that specific scent.]
to Warcry

[Kaitlyn Somerset] She gets a deer-in-the-headlights look for a moment when she's assigned buffers to be between her and whatever ugly might come her way. She slides her eyes over to the one remotely familiar face of the bunch, then the other that's been dubbed the joys of kin-sitting.

She herself? Hell, she'll just be happy to not get tangled underfoot. Maybe get lucky and succeed even.

She watches it all with interest though, filing away tidbits. How they react with eachother, the business faces, the fascination with scratching one's own testicles for the better part of the last ten minutes. Though if it gets him a whiff of something better than his pitts, all the power to him. Beats sitting at home with her thumb in her bum or having to wake up to Thoth's lectures about carelessness.

[Laughs] Joey doesn't need to be told twice to protect the kinswoman. She almost doesn't even need to be told once, except that she'd expected to be the one to go in first. Protecting mortals and defending kinfolk is just one of the things her pack now and her old pack did. Defending breeders has always been something Joey just does.

So she doesn't pout or frown when Winston moves past her to head down into the stairwell. Instead she reaches into her bag and pulls out a small glass container filled with odd colored beads. Unscrewing the cap, she pops one out, closes it and puts everything away again back where it belongs.

Then she heads over to the kinswoman, grins nice and wide, tosses her arm around the woman's shoulders and tugs her close like they're the bestest of best friends.

"See this?" she says, holding up the little bead. "Things get rough you chomp down on this bad boy. Ground swallows you up and no one can touch you." Her arm drops away then, and she takes the woman by the arm, turns it upward, and drops the little bead into her hand.

Then she stuffs her hands into her pockets and waits for word from Winston.

[trapdoor boon to Kaitlyn!]

[DNW] Other than a brief furrowing of her brow when the Fostern Galliard mentions an event related to a pack of which the Theurge has limited knowledge, Ophelia remains motionless, almost statuesque, during the discussion of what's going to occur in the next few moments. She's a tall woman, Hunter's height without the assistance of thick heels, but there isn't much about her that manages to draw the eye or attract unwanted attention unless one wants to speak of her in terms of physical aesthetics. Without makeup or product in her hair or fancy clothes, she doesn't appear to give two shits what she looks like. She's not out here to win a beauty contest: they're trying to find a missing sister.

A beckoning hand has Ophelia drifting closer to her Alpha, her unblinking eyes focusing on his face as he conspiratorially mentions spirits and the other side. This is the first she's spoken in the presence of what are effectively strangers, and though her voice is quiet, her accent is still easily picked up. It carries a working-class British intonation, one that her packmates think makes her sound proper and posh even when she's saying things like "No, I do not believe I will suck a bag of dicks, but thank you for the suggestion."

Anyway.

"I'll see what I can do," she says, and reaches into the inside pocket of her jacket for her compact mirror.

[Gnosis: crossing over, son. -1 (reflective shit), -1 (Natural Channel). IDK what the Gauntlet rating is, tell me if it works!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 6, 7

[-hollow-] The gauntlet in Bronzeville is high and hard. Ophelia pushes and pushes to no avail: the wall between worlds holds firm for her.

[Barks Secrets] He and Sinclair shared a sock-whiff, and for a moment their faces were fairly near. He took that opportunity to grin cheekily at the Glass Walker, but before he had a chance to overstep his bounds from there, or to give her a sturdy reason to slap the shit out of him and throw him in as a decoy by the seat of his pants, he returns to the door, still clutching the sock like it's some kind of security blanket (or brand spanking new chewtoy).

Again he palms at the door, clears his throat in a way that sounds dry and painful and only increases the volume of his wheezing for a dozen seconds or so, then he gestures with a up-and-down wave of his hand over his shoulder for everyone to keep quiet.

Both hands at the door, he touches his brow to it and moves his lips in a silent murmur, part pleading, part chastising, and part badmouthing the door to open up.

[Open Seal: Gnosis]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 8)

[Kaitlyn Somerset] She blinks at Joey, at first a bit of a nervous look at the look she's given, but then grins, nodding, and curls the bead into her fingers. She rolls it around, looking at it for a moment. "Got it.... Bite the bead, ground eats me. But um... I'm not like... stuck down there or something am I? I mean... I'll try and not throw out the pom-poms and scream easy target and all that too, but... yeah."

[-hollow-] [DELETE LAST POST]

[Warcry] As the sock passed from one Garou to the other, Sinclair took a brief whiff before tossing it on over to Winston. There's no moment of shared space, no faces-close-together where he might consider getting his neck broken. It isn't that Sinclair reads his mind ahead of time: it's that by the time the sock gets tossed to Winston, he's down the stairs. And she's not there yet.

But she is a few moments later, keeping Feng nearby. A shake of her head and a roll of her eyes when Winston wheezes, then gestures for everyone else to be hush. She glances over her shoulder at the Vanguard and then back to Winston. "Give Dances With Night Wind a moment before you head in," she says. "And let me know if you can hear anything on the other side."

[Burnout] Ophelia says she'll see what she can do and then just vanishes, as theurges tend to do. Hunter stuffs his hands into the front pocket of his jeans and moves around to flank the other side of Kaitlyn, he tilts his head and grins at her and then at Joey. Yeah Joey, how does this little gift from your bag of tricks work?

[-hollow-] The Garou of the Maelstrom aren't the sort to rush blindly into danger. They work out leadership; they apply talens. They plan. Most Modi would be beside themselves with impatience by now, but Stonebreaker is as he is: quiet and hardfaced, waiting, but uncomplaining. It's easy to see him as the soldier of his pack. Not the leader, and not even the warleader, but dependable and loyal and tough.

With the preliminaries out of the way, the Garou begin to mobilize. One of the Ragabashes touches the lock. The door is heavy, reinforced with steel; the lock is heavy, too. Perhaps better quality than one would expect of some basement in Bronzeville. No matter. It unlocks with a soft click.

Opened, it reveals a narrow stairway down. It's decidedly warmer inside than outside, but not hot. Pleasant, actually.

--

Meanwhile, Ophelia begins to fade across the Umbra. The crossing is not easy. The Gauntlet here is high and resilient. As she phases between worlds, she can see crystalline fibers stretch thin, stretch to razorwire, stretch to snapping.

She emerges on the other side. It is quiet here. Whatever is in the basement has only a quasi-reality here. The stairwell does not entirely exist. Luckily for her, neither does the soil that would have once filled it, or she would have been buried alive.

As it is, she's caught in dense, gelatinous material. It scratches her eyes, resists her movement. It tastes like dirt -- dry, hard, nutrient-poor dirt. There are banes on this side. Of course there are. This is Bronzeville. One is quite near, and it watches her with keen, unpleasant attention.

[Ophelia is at -2 diff to all physical actions due to being stuck in the quasi-real ground!]

[Laughs] "Nah," she says, "you'll be able to get out. It's not gonna hurt you or anything."

Then, after a moment's glance to Hunter the Ahroun, she says to Kaitlyn, "Stick with me."

There's nothing left to do upstairs and outside, so she lets Hunter take the lead of their small congregation. Kaitlyn and Joey go down last.

[-hollow-] [EMPATHEE FOR OTHAR SCEEN]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
to Warcry

[Burnout] Stick with Joey, yep. Good call. Hunter takes the lead of the trio but he tips his chin up and peers into empty space for a moment at the top of the stairs. Ophelia's still gone. It hasn't been very long though, she's probably doing theurgey things. So down he goes with a few words cast over his shoulder to Joey.

"Gimme a shout in five minutes sis."

[Kaitlyn Somerset] She looks over at Hunter, then to Joey and nods, smirking. "No argument there lady. If I can actually do something helpful... lemme know mkay? Being something to babysit ain't fun and I don't like being useless."

She looks over at Hunter again, then back to Joey when he's walking, waiting to see if she actually moves before moving head.

[-hollow-] [ok - Jamie awol'd so let's just leave Ophelia mired in quasidirt for now!]

Moments go by. The Theurge does not reappear.

[Warcry] A minute passes. Two more. Sinclair is patient. More patient than she once was. But it's not quite five minutes before she gives a sharp shake of her head and looks to the Vanguard. "We're moving on. We can't stand here waiting on Dances With Night Wind indefinitely." There's no venom in that, no blame -- for all she knows, their Theurge is stuck.

Still. They're moving on. She looks to Winston. "Head inside. We won't be far behind." She looks over at Joey. "When we're all inside, close the door behind us."

Sinclair nods the Gnawer forward, then gives him a half-minute head start before she heads into the darkness as well.

[Barks Secrets] The door feels heavy, and the lock impossibly heavier. He frowns faintly and parts his forehead from the door when he feels the click both in his spirit and physically beneath his hand, then straightens up. "High security shit right here." His voice is low, not a masculine rumble by any stretch of the imagination, but quiet without being harsh as a true whisper would be. The door is edged open, slow and easy, and a waft of humid, pleasantly warm air hits them.

If this place wound up being not too dangerous, he could sleep around here in the winter.

A glance is cut back to the temporary alpha of the makeshift gathering, then again with the one-shouldered shrug before he started forward, easing himself up into the more durable Glabro form as he went.

Hey, if he was going to be front line, he wanted at least half a chance of survival too.

[-hollow-] It's not pitchblack inside. There's a light at the bottom of the stairwell. Warm light, like the sort shed by an incandescent lamp, growing as they descend.

Winston leads the way. Even in his Glabro form, no one would ever mistake him for a juggernaut. His shadow thrown back up the stairwell is wiry, on the border of wasted. All the way here in the car, they could hear his breath whistling in his chest.

Gradually the room below comes into view. And it's just that. A room. Sort of looks like someone's home, actually. There's every likelihood that this would be considered a rental unit out in B-ville. Maybe somewhere there was a single tiny window to the outside -- all that would be necessary to pass building codes. In this room, though, there's nothing but four walls, bare concrete floor overlaid with a thready rug, a sofa, a television.

Two doors. Both closed. One straight across from the entrance, one on the right-hand wall.


Half a minute doesn't pass before Feng speaks up. "Maybe we shouldn't let him go alone," he says.

[Laughs] [percept + alert]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 5 (Botch x 1 at target 6)

[Kaitlyn Somerset] [per + aler]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 8 (Failure at target 6)

[-hollow-] [wait. did she hear a girl scream behind door +1? maybe she should check it out! *invokes curiosity flaw!* 1WP to resist.]
to Laughs

[Warcry] Heavy security, Winston says, and Sinclair's brow furrows slightly. She lets him go on ahead though. There's no kindness in that, soak talen or not. He's a Ragabash: this is his job. He's a metis, and worse, one from Rat's tribe: this is his lot in life. Maybe it's just that Sinclair needs the Vanguard because they're more likely to be able to keep the squishy one alive. Maybe it's that she's a shit scout any day of the week. Maybe she has some bizarre, out of nowhere vendetta against Winston she made up in her head.

Maybe she doesn't know how to worry about people. Maybe she thinks they're all soldiers and not a single one of them is or should be valued any higher than the merit of their abilities and actions, and practicality is the end-all, be-all of her decision making.

In any case, the most concern she shows for Winston's well-being is the soak talen she handed him and the reminder that they would be right behind him. The furrow of her brow when he mentions the security of the place. The way her nostrils flare, the way she stands so very still, as though every part of her is listening intently, sensing even with the fine blonde hairs on the back of her neck what's around her.

"Maybe," is all she says to Stonebreaker, but by the time the words leave her mouth, some internal clock has ticked to the right mark, and she starts walking.

[perception + primal urge + 1 (moon)]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 6, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Burnout] [per+alert]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 5, 9, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[Laughs] The Vanguard moves along at the back of the group, Joey and Kaitlyn bringing up the rear. The Rotagar moves quietly, more quietly than she would have when she first came to Chicago. Back then she came charging into the city under Bull, looking for fights, smiling the whole time. She's quieter now, a little calmer. Time and maturity can do that to a person.

Still.

They all gather in that little room, and while they look around, some sniffing the air, others just taking in the sights, Joey hears something. Her head snaps, her eyes go wide. Holding out an arm, she motions for Kaitlyn to stay back and out of the way and she starts forward. What was that? What's behind that door? She has to know now or she'll never know a good night's rest again.

She makes it a step before she stops abruptly. Her fists clench at her side, and she stares longingly at that door to the right. But, she's not one to go gallivanting ahead of the others. She's not the leader of this sortie. Her own alpha isn't even the one in charge. Joey stops herself short, her whole body thrumming with the suppressed desire to keep going, tear the door off its hinges to find out what's on the other side. Joey follows orders. She stays with the kinfolk.

"Did anyone else hear somethin' behind that one?" she asks, tilting her head toward the door to the side.

[-1WP to resist curiosity flaw]

[-hollow-] [Warcry definitely detects faint traces of the sock-scent here. Other scents too, perhaps as many as five or six different ones. Hard to tell in this form. Fairly fresh, though. The room looks lived-in too. Not the cleanest of places, dust in the corners and all, but ... inhabited. The fridge over in the kitchenette probably has food in it.

For all that, it's oddly quiet in here -- as though none of the half-dozen or so occupants are here.

Also, there's the faintest scent of blood in the air.]
to Warcry

[Barks Secrets] Almost as an afterthought, that button was rolled in his palm up to the heavy, curled fingernails that hoped someday to be claws and was pinched between them. Though they weren't claws, they were heavy enough to do the job of snapping open a button. The cement, though? That might've been more difficult.

[Soak Talen! Spending 1 Gnosis for 2 extra soak dice.]

[Barks Secrets] [Perception + Alertness]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 2, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Burnout] They make their way down into the room and Ophelia is still missing, but there's nothing that can be done about that. The gauntlet is strong here and Hunter is no Theurge, neither is Joey. Their pack-sister is the most adept out of all of them on the other side, they will have to trust in her abilities to make sure she's alright. For now there is a task to be done, so down they go, one step at a time until they're piling out of the stairwell into this basement hovel.

Two doors. A couch. A TV. No windows.

But Joey is.. She's looking at that door, but she doesn't move. She stays put and follows orders.

"Nah sis, ain't hear nothin." They've been through this before, but it was the reverse last time. Hunter gives her a questioning look.

[-hollow-] [Barks definitely detects faint traces of the sock-scent here. Other scents too, perhaps as many as five or six different ones. Hard to tell in this form. Fairly fresh, though. The room looks lived-in too. Not the cleanest of places, dust in the corners and all, but ... inhabited. The fridge over in the kitchenette probably has food in it.

For all that, it's oddly quiet in here -- as though none of the half-dozen or so occupants are here.

Also, there's the faintest scent of blood in the air.]
to Barks Secrets

[Warcry] "No," Sinclair says quietly to Joey, but otherwise hasn't reacted to Joey's ...behavior. She's not tense, but she's attentive. She's listening. She's sniffing. Even in homid, she picks up on traces of scent. She notices a few things about the room they're now standing in.

"I think we're alone here," she goes on. "But I smell blood. And I smell your sister," she adds to Stonebreaker.

Slowly, Sinclair shifts through her forms into lupus. She's a lean, well-muscled wolf in this body, metal still glinting in her ears and her fur a charcoal color mingled with black and traces of gray, traces of white. Her eyes still shine a pale, soft blue. She sniffs again, trying to catch Jocelyn's scent.

[Kaitlyn Somerset] She stops when Joey motions, but her own curiosity is tickled. Her eyes going to the door as well. Then the other door. She takes a step back, and to the side, one hand actually coming out to hold onto the doorframe and hold onto it. Maybe... just maybe... it'll keep her there. Well? What's behind it? Can we look? Huh? Can we? WELL?? CAN WE??

[Warcry] [perception + primal urge + 1 (moon) / diff -1 (sock!) -2 (lupus!)]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 5 at target 3)

[-hollow-] [FYI folks, i'm arbitrarily calling the map directions as such: up = north, right = east, left = west, down = south.]
to Warcry

[-hollow-] [FYI folks, i'm arbitrarily calling the map directions as such: up = north, right = east, left = west, down = south.]

[-hollow-] [The scent is very fresh. It gets fresher as you go further in, particularly in the direction of the north door. It now seems unlikely that Jocelyn, at least, has left the building. Still nothing to be heard, though.

One more thing: the scent smells a little off. Roll percep+PU for more!]
to Warcry

[Warcry] [MOAR DICE.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 5, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 3)

[Barks Secrets] Winston slowed to a stand-still in the center of the room, abnormally hulking and large in this seldom-used of forms amongst the population these days. His big shoulders were hunched up, his head ducked down, and his broad nostrils flared as he took in scents. His sense of smell wasn't near as strong in this form as it was in his natural one, the senses dim and weak, but better than the human skin's at least.

He smelled what Sinclair smelled-- sock-smell, a plethora of others, and blood.

"There were others, though," he said in a gravelly rumble that sounded sickly and wrong, like he was speaking from a throat that had been burnt with acid. Hands jammed into pants that grew along with him, and he waited, patient, more than happy to hide behind the front line if the chance arose at all.

[Warcry] Once in lupus, Sinclair doesn't stop sniffing. She pads here and there, grabbing at Jocelyn's scent almost greedily. Her ears are alert, swiveling and twitching occasionally. Her tail gives a swish or two. She drifts northward but doesn't barrel on ahead, as Hunter tells the others more of what they both noticed. Then she stops, looking up at the north door. "Female here," she says, the words coming in soft growls and whuffs. Lowering her head again, she sniffs deeper, crawling forward. "Different. Not-good."

She sniffs further, trying to determine what seems ...off.

[Warcry] [Hunter = WINSTON]

[-hollow-] [The original scent was stale from sitting in a hamper for weeks, and certainly didn't smell good. The sock smelled used, dirty, sweated in, shoved into old sneakers. But the scent itself was ... clean. Healthy, young, vigorous, strong -- like an Alpha wolf. This scent is different. It's not so robust. It's paler, thinner, and it leaves a flat, metallic aftertaste.]
to Warcry

[-hollow-] In an eyeblink, Stonebreaker joins Warcry in his lupus form. He's not steel-grey, but then that's to be expected. There isn't a drop of pure blood in him. His sheer physical presence is all Fenrir, though: lean and vicious, long of leg, long of snout, with heavy teeth that show themselves as he sniffs the ground. The sofa cushions. The kitchen, and under the doors.

He whuffs softly, "I do not recognize the other scents. Alpha is here ... and maybe ... no. It is not her. And others: I do not know who they are."

[Burnout] Whether Joey responds or not to his questioning glances and tones, Sinclair has spotted something in lupus that seems to have evaded the vanguard completely. He watches the body language of the lupus wolf, the tail wags and the growls and the pawing of feet. It tells him something, there's a female through the north door, that she is smelling something different.. something not good.

The fenrir says that the Alpha is here.. no wait its not her... Hunter begins to get confused by the lupus speak, finds it hard to follow along and communicate back to them so up he goes, through the forms to finally drop down as a shaggy dark chocolate brown wolf with those same emerald eyes.

"Plan.." He gruffs out to Sinclair with tail wags and snarls. "Not good.. enemies?"

[Warcry] [wits + enigmas +1, sinclair is sharper than kai sometimes]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 5, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[-hollow-] [it smells tainted, and drained somehow.]
to Warcry

[Laughs] Joey doesn't have an answer for Hunter's questioning look. No one else heard what she heard, and as the wolves sniff around the room she gradually relaxes. The tension in her muscles bleeds out to something else. Not exactly relaxed, just...wary. On guard.

She blinks around the room as if seeing it for the first time. With a nod to Kaitlyn, a look that carries an unspoken request that the kinfolk stay right where she is. Then Joey shifts up through her forms as well. Her fur isn't solid grey, there's white and bits of black, signs of the faintness of her blood's purity. Up into Crinos and back down until she matches the others in her Lupus form. In this form she's long-legged but unlike her tribemate she's not lean and lanky. In this form as in all her others, she's compact and muscular.

While the others investigate the smells coming from the north door, Joey wanders in close to that one she was so interested in.

[percept + PU, diff -2 (lupus)]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 6, 7 (Failure at target 4)

[Kaitlyn Somerset] She stays where she is, though with the help of hanging onto the door frame. Not really needing too much prompting request for it. She's watching the doors, eyes going back and forth. Her knuckles gripping hard enough to go white. One foot shuffling back and forth, growing antsy the longer they go without opening one of the damn doors.

But there's a process. Doing things smart. She knows this, as much as she wants to know.

[Warcry] Sinclair huffs, snorting slightly. It's like a sneeze, almost. She looks at the others, glancing at Joey going off to the side before focusing her attention on Winston, Hunter, and Feng. "We open door," she decides. "Joey!" That's a bark. "Stay with kinfemale."

She swings her head around to look at Stonebreaker, her form growing larger, preparing for battle, becoming hispo. With a shake, steel begins to grow across her form, coating every single strand of fur. A reddish sheen glints across her body for a split second before the activation of the gift fades.

"Not know what see of sister now. Control self."

She looks to Winston. "Open door."

[Warcry] [-1WP for Steelfur. Stamina + Science!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 6, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[-hollow-] [Kaitlyn, these are your overconfident and curious flaws calling. Roll WP vs diff 8. if you fail, you go to the eastern door and try to open it.]

[Kaitlyn Somerset] [watch the stupid kin! hahahahaa]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 8)

[Burnout] Hunter brushes along side the kinfolk in his lupus form, circles around behind her on a mini patrol and then lifts his head to peer at Joey investigating that door. He tips his head and blinks emerald eyes. He doesn't have time to respond though, Sinclair has some more information and she barks at her pack-mate which causes a slow opening of jaws and a licking of teeth before they snap shut.

He whuffs a softer sound to Joey and motions his head to the kinfolk.

"Keep safe.. howl if need.. I be there.."

And then he's trotting off to group up with Sinclair, the Fenrir and Winston. His head tilts down and he snaps at a few things in his fur.

"Whats through door.. matters not.. Garou.. unbreakable..undefeatable.." He growls, and then yaps with a wolfish grin. "No troubles."

[-1G Soak +2
-1G Inspiration]

[-hollow-] Whatever Warcry has scented has her on edge. Her tension resonates through Stonebreaker, who shudders into his warskin with a low snarl. These doors aren't large enough to fit more than one Crinos or one Hispo at a time. There's that to consider. He falls in behind Sinclair, though, raking his claws across bare concrete to prepare himself.

But when the door opens --

-- it's just another hallway. Four doors this time, two on either side. The first on the left is ajar. It's a bathroom. The lights are off. It's not too clean. There are stains on the floor, stains between the tiles. It smells heavily used.

The first door on the right is also open. It's a bedroom: two bunk beds, four berths in all. Lights are also off. There are no sheets on the mattresses, but there are thin blankets.

The smell of blood is more pervasive in the air now.


Back in the living room, Kait and Joey watch the rest file through the door. There's still another door in here. It's closed. And Joey's so sure, so very sure, she heard something behind it...

[Let's see another WP roll, ladies! Joey has the option of spending WP to auto-pass. Kaitlyn does not.]

[-hollow-] [folks through the north door: you may roll percep/alert to see more. alternatively, you can also turn on the lights.]

[Laughs] [curiositah!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Warcry] [I see stuff!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 6, 6, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Laughs] Joey briefly leaves the kinswoman in the care of her Alpha, but she doesn't go far. She's distracted by the whuffs and growls, the attention given to the northern door. Just as she's about to decide someone left a television - or maybe that's where the window needed to satisfy building codes is - Sinclair barks. Joey halts. Nothing to see there, anyway. Probably. Doesn't matter, Joey has a job to do.

As she pads back to Kaitlyn, her limbs stretch and grow. Her muscles bulge and she grows. In Hispo, she brushes against Hunter as she passes.

And she stands guard over the kinswoman, eyes on the north door.

[Burnout] [percep+alert -2 It's never lupus!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 4, 5, 5, 8, 10 (Success x 6 at target 4)

[Kaitlyn Somerset] [dooooooor]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 5, 7, 7, 7, 7 (Failure at target 8)

[Barks Secrets] Winston had been quiet, observing, with his shoulders hunched up in a manner almost defensive of his own neck, like he was protecting it from throttling either by superior or enemy, it didn't much matter which. There were growls and snarls and pressings of bodies forward, but Winston still stayed put.

His eyes hopped back to the other Ragabash and the Kinfolk set in her care, then forward to the retreating backs.

He waited, watched, and saw... not much action. Thicker traces of blood in the air, but still quiet. A glance was cast back to the two curious Alices about to wander off to a tea party with Death, but saw them resolve themselves. So, with a roll of great shoulders he melted all too easily up into his Crinos form, now adorned with a pelt of mottled browns and grays and dressed with heaver layers of muscle, and followed the train on in, serving as the caboose.

[Perception + Primal-Urge]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 6, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Kaitlyn Somerset] She bites on her lip. They're disappearing through a door. It's just her and Joey. Everything seems to be happening that way, right? She bites her lip, hand slipping of it's grip as her feet start pulling. Moving her towards that door still closed.

[Laughs] Joey has the strength and fortitude to hold her place, but the siren call of the closed door is too much for the kinswoman. She starts to move, her feet dragging forward almost of their own free will.

In a flash, Kaitlyn finds a wall of fur barring her path. Joey, fleet of foot in all her forms, more so than most Garou, is there in the blink of an eye. She can't speak to the kinswoman, can't say with words, "No, dude. Just no." But there's a rumble in her throat that resolves into a low growl of warning.

When she's sure the girl is going to stay back, she moves lightly as she can among the sparse furniture. Stopping a few feet from the door she sniffs at it again but doesn't open it. Not yet.

[percept + PU: smell it, sistah!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 6, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[-hollow-] Much of the bathroom and the bedroom are lost in shadows, but that doesn't faze Warcry or Burnout. Their eyes cut through the gloom. Their noses -- well. Darkness makes no difference there.

Some of those mildew stains in the bathroom aren't milder at all. They're blood, oil and dried, seeped into the cracks. The bedrooms are bloody, too. There are stains in the mattress that someone scrubbed at but couldn't get out entirely. The air in these rooms smell closed, claustrophobia -- pungent with adrenaline and musk. It smells like fear here, and pain, and -- strangely enough -- like ecstasy. Like rapture.

One more thing. Both of them can hear the faintest sound now. They can't tell what it is, sharp as their senses are. But they can tell it's coming from the second door on the right. And -- oddly enough -- from below.


Barks Secrets doesn't see or smell as much. But even he can tell some of those stains are suspect.


In comparison, Joey's door is pretty bland. She can't figure out why she wanted to open it so badly. It smells like ... someone's bedroom, really. Like the slightly stale, walled-in scent you get when one's bedroom has absolutely zero ventilation.

She can smell the scent of blood wafting from the now-open north door, though. Her nose is that good. Or maybe the scent is that strong.

[Warcry] Behind her, Sinclair can hear Joey's growl, and she understands it perhaps better than Kaitlyn can. She doesn't hesitate to move ahead now, doesn't snap at Hunter to go get his wayward packmate in line. Whatever else has happened, she at least understands Joey's voice. Hears what isn't coming out in words. She doesn't look back over her shoulder again.

The smells disgust her. Ecstasy and bloodshed. Terror and joy. She turns to the right, following the scent. Following the sounds. She goes slowly, careful to keep her fur as silent as she can, though it threatens to scrape against itself and produce a racket.

[Kaitlyn Somerset] She tenses, but stops when there's a big furry growly thing between her and the door. She eyes the door, eyes the wolf, back and forth, back and forth. It's killing her... truly it is. Eyes almost bugging out in the begging for getting the door open.

Confidence and curiosity don't keep your pants dry when something that could rip your leg off and beat you to death with it tells you no with a toothy, slobbery growl.

She steps back again, gripping the door frame.

[-WP]

[Burnout] The sounds of Joey yapping behind him make him pause for a moment and he lifts his head, but he trusts his pack-mate. She can keep things under control, she can take care of herself. It isn't a howl for help, it's just Joey being Joey, doing her job.

It's only an instant after he first begins to take in the scenes of these bedrooms that Hunter Matthews bursts upwards into a much larger, more menacing figure. In Hispo his jaws are stretched and his head seems too big for his neck, but its all evened out by the bulk of his shoulders and torso, and the thickness of that rich dark brown fur. He doesn't have the normal look of a Gnawer, all shaggy messes of colour. He traces his blood back further than most of the slum-dogs, if he could trace it that is.

The sounds draw him closer to that door, and he's looking through the bottom of it rather than trying to peer into the room. It's coming from below.. down is never good. Bad things or bad memories are always down.

He casts a look back at Winston in his crinos form and then blinks impossibly green eyes at Sinclair and the noisy door. When he huffs, its quiet, barely a breath.

"Together?"

[Laughs] It smells like...it sort of smells like her brother's room, back in Las Vegas. Though obviously lacking the familiar scent of her family member, it smells like the basement room he called his own when they were younger and he was in high school. More than that, though. It smells absolutely boring. Maybe she invented the sound to give herself something to do. Her tail sags and her ears droop in disappointment

There's nothing for her now but to wait. Hunter's gone ahead with the fighting party. Ophelia's still lost on the other side of the Gauntlet. And there's no way to easily communicate with Hunter if he and the others find something dangerous up ahead of them.

Or is there?

Joey twists her heavy head around, bites her teeth into her shoulder. A tiny clay figure drops lightly to the hard floor. Dropping her nose to it, Joey closes those big brown eyes, and she activates the talen and gives it simple instructions. Follow the others. Fly back if they need an extra set of jaws.

Then Joey settles back, sits on her haunches and prepares to wait with the kinswoman. She watches her with curious brown eyes, her ears flicking briefly.

[Chiropteran Spy]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 5, 5, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[-hollow-] Stonebreaker's hackles are on end. Of all the wolves here, he has perhaps the greatest stake in this. It's most personal for him. It's his Alpha.

Every one of them is packed. Some packs are closer knit than others -- the Unbroken all but exist in each others minds; the Bastards barely even see each other -- but they're all packed. They all understand, intuitively and instinctively, the lengths they would go to if one of their own was lost in this way. Was lost in this place that smells of filth and blood and rapture, where even her scent was twisted.

Squeezed in beside Sinclair, Stonebreaker chuffs. "Together."

[Kaitlyn Somerset] She watches Joey, chewing on her lower lip. Occasionally her eyes go back to that closed door. She's itching. She wants to know. Joey has her keen senses to help satiate, but the kin doesn't. She keeps looking at that door.

For now though... she seems to be ok gripping the doorframe of the door they piled in through. Her eyes go back to Joey, with an apologetic look about being stuck with the babysitting.

She forces her eyes away from the wolf and the door, turning to inspect the rest of the room they're in instead. Maybe something else can catch her attention, and she can stop obsessing over that damn door.

[Warcry] The first time Sinclair frenzied since the days of her First Change, her First 48 Hours, her fosterage, was because some thing slammed her Alpha to the ground. Didn't even hurt him, really. But she snapped when it happened, and they haven't talked since about why such a small thing set her off so profoundly.

In any case, she stays near Stonebreaker. It's his Alpha in there. The one that smells tainted. Flat. Drained, somehow. She doesn't answer the two Ahrouns with her own chiming of together. For a Galliard, Sinclair can be remarkably closemouthed sometimes when she has nothing to say, or when she thinks saying it isn't necessary.

Of course they're together. And her body language conveys that as much as anything, other wolves close enough to press against the steel her coat has become.

Sinclair goes to the second door on the right, and in.

[-hollow-] Instantly, every light in the place extinguishes.

Absolute darkness.

[quick! wits + alert rolls, diff 7! this is an all-or-nothing roll. if you get 3 succ or more, you get info. if not, you don't.]

[Burnout] [wits+alert]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 5, 6, 6, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 7) Re-rolls: 3

[Laughs] [DLP except roll!]

It smells like...it sort of smells like her brother's room, back in Las Vegas. Though obviously lacking the familiar scent of her family member, it smells like the basement room he called his own when they were younger and he was in high school. More than that, though. It smells absolutely boring. Maybe she invented the sound to give herself something to do. Her tail sags and her ears droop in disappointment

There's nothing for her now but to catch up to the others. With a little added help, of course. oey twists her heavy head around, bites her teeth into her shoulder. A tiny clay figure drops lightly to the hard floor. Dropping her nose to it, Joey closes those big brown eyes, and she activates the talen and gives it simple instructions. Follow ahead of the others, come back with information. Be the little scout she knows that talen to be.

Then she looks to Kaitlyn. There are ways to get one's mind off doors that aren't interesting. Joey flicks her ears toward the kinsman, tips her head toward the northern door where everyone else disappeared. If Kaitlyn doesn't move or appear to understand the wolfish gesture of Let's go, Joey will be more direct.

[Warcry] [wits + alertness + 1]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 5, 5, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Kaitlyn Somerset] She takes the prompting, without encouragement. The first door just as curious as the second, since everyone disappeared through that one. Something's back there, right? Something must be going on. She starts moving that way, when all goes dark.

[wits + alert]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 5, 8 (Failure at target 7)

[Laughs] [wits + alert]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 5, 7, 8 (Failure at target 7)

[-hollow-] [go ahead and react to the darkness too if you want! darkness will last for about 15-20 seconds. i'll give you guys about 5 min to pound out a post, and then i'm posting again.]

[Burnout] Through the door they go, or at least it seems like they go. But suddenly? Complete blackness. This is the sort of darkness you find in some mountain cave with a wretched creature crying about losing his precious. It's not dark, its a complete lack of all light. Hunter brushes something rough and hard, steel like. At least Warcry is there with him. His nostrils flare and his tongue lolls out of his mouth like he's some kind of serpent trying to taste the air.

[Laughs] The world goes dark and Joey stops short. In the inky black, she stands with her four legs planted firmly, a solid wall of furry muscle. She waits to see if there's any sort of light her eyes can pull from to adjust. And she waits to see if something is coming.

[-hollow-] [In those few seconds of darkness, Burnout is quite sure he heard a tiny scuffle beside him, and then another miniscule noise behind him -- in the direction of the other door. Nothing else.]
to Burnout

[Warcry] The light snaps off. Instantly they can all feel it: the very feeling of the air changes as Warcry's rage lashes around her, as something in her turns briefly feral, so far from human it's forgettable that she was born that way, that her tribe is known as the warders of --

A low, soft growl issues from the Galliard's throat, communicating more than any word. Control. Steadiness. To center herself. She hasn't given up leadership yet. She can't snap just because the lights go out unexpectedly and the moon is waxing.

"Smell sister?" she asks Feng.

[-hollow-] Fifteen seconds. Maybe twenty. That's all the time the darkness lasts, all the time they have to react to it.

Then the lights are back on, glowing peacefully through the opened doors behind them. Nothing seems to have changed, except the door is open now -- leading down a short hall into another bedroom --

and the Modi is no longer there.

[Warcry] [Delete last line!]

[Burnout] His head snaps up, his jaws clamp closed milliseconds after his tongue darts back into his mouth and he suddenly whirls about to his side with a sudden snarling and raising of shackles. They can all hear him, and the sounds out of Burnouts maw are not pleasant ones. Something is up, they find out what a second later because the lights turn back on. The Modi is gone, nothing else moves around them. But Hunter knows better.

"Here.." He growls in a low rumble and then the next bouts of communication come in angry snarls. "Not alone... creatures moved in darkness.. count two.. " He spins on the spot, his tail lashing around with the movements of his body. "Beside, behind." But there is nothing to see.

[-hollow-] Door's still shut behind them. If not for Burnout, they never would have known.

[Warcry] No answer comes from Stonebreaker. And when the lights come back on, Sinclair whips her head around, checking on the others. Her eyes fix on Hunter as he tells them that in those brief seconds they were not alone. She looks at the ground.

"How get down?" she snarls, and starts looking for trapdoors, latches, buttons... anything.

[Kaitlyn Somerset] She had stopped when the lights went out. The lights are back on now, and things have moved. Different. Her eyes dart around, and she looks to Joey questioningly. She doesn't understand the growls. Her eyes blinking rapidly, and then squint at the flickering lights and taking a moment to adjust once more before she moves closer to the others.

[-hollow-] Nothing in immediately sight explains the Modi's sudden disappearance. The door to the bedroom still yawns open; other than that, they have two other choices: the path they took to get here and the door behind them.

[Burnout] Warcry believes that they need to get down somehow, and that makes sense, they had heard sounds coming from below before entering the room. But Hunter moves towards that door behind them and sniffs at it.

"Here." Is all he says, this was the last sound he heard. Something back here.

[Warcry] There's no need for formality about it, and no twenty-twenty hindsight necessary to recognize it: this is the moment when Warcry cedes. Hunter goes to the door behind them, and Sinclair is still for a moment.

Then she follows.

[-hollow-] No lock on this door. No reinforcement. It splinters like so much kindling when Burnout rams it. On the other side --

a small storage closet. Shelves of bedlinens, towels, detergent; the like. Stonebreaker's scent is in here, a little stronger. The ground beneath their feet sounds different. Hollower.

[Laughs] The lights come back and one of their number is missing. It's like some kind of survival horror movie. Hunter says there are enemies to the side and behind. Joey doesn't turn abruptly, doesn't whip around to try to face something that might not be seen there, but she does flick her ears back toward Kaitlyn.

Her little talen flew into the bedroom in that darkness, flies back distressed. Flapping its little wings quickly just in front of Joey's snout, it apparently feels its task is done. It poofs into an explosion of clay dust.

Joey snorts, turns her head in that direction. She wants to investigate, but here goes Hunter, pushing back to the door behind them. If Sinclair is ceding, this means combat. Activating her talen, Joey keeps herself close to Kaitlyn, preparing to shield the squishy little kinswoman if necessary.

[-1WP resist flaw, -1G activate soak!]

[Burnout] He looks at the handle, snaps his teeth and then backs up a few steps. There's no need for more words, they look for three lost Garou now, time is running out for all of them. So Hunter crouches low and then suddenly he's launching himself forward, barrelling into that door with hind legs raised. It falls apart easily under the force of a Hispo Garou and Hunter slides into the room on what little remains of the portal. He pads around, sniffs at the ground. It's hollow, there's something down there.

As if to demonstrate this he jumps up into the air and lands back down with an echoing thud. This is the work for a larger form, but there isn't much room in here for a Crinos, let alone three of them.

"Break through, they move not like us. Expect no door."

He could be wrong, and he scratches at the ground just in case anything is hidden beneath a clever disguise.

[Burnout] [hind = fore duh, don't want to faceplant]

[-hollow-] It's not just a thud, when Burnout lands. There's a distinct crack! -- where the ground elsewhere was concrete, it's wood here. Easily broken through. They -- whoever they are -- can't possibly think a trapdoor would stop the Garou.

[Warcry] Break through.

Well, all right then.

Sinclair, ever the athlete, jumps in the air and slams down, maybe a foot away from where Burnout just did.

[Kaitlyn Somerset] She watches, staying behind Joey still, and blinks watching the wolves jump on the floor. She hears the cracking, and wrinkles her nose a bit. "I... could probably open that for you guys...."

[Laughs] There's a crack when Hunter slides into the room. There may not be room enough for three Crinos Garou, but maybe there's enough room for another hispo, extra weight to carry the floor down. Sinclair leaps ahead, Joey hangs back with Kaitlyn but not for long. If the floor gives way, as soon as it does Joey is right behind them, dropping down before looking back up at the hole above and, if she's still up there, the kinfolk.

[Burnout] Kaitlyn could stay behind upstairs, but these things took a Modi out of their clutches without most of them even being aware of the fact, so Hunter motions his head to her, trying to make the message as clear as possible. Follow.

The cracking of the ground makes it known what they need to do and makes his words a simple confirmation of the fact. Sinclair gets to work, leaps into the air beside him and at the same time Hunter snaps his jaws down into the wood between his front legs and yanks as hard as he can.

[Kaitlyn Somerset] Kaitlyn is right there with them, indeed. Far too nosy to stay out of this one. She offered to open it, but there's more jumping and bouncing still. Her lips pucker a bit, her nose wrinkles. "Opposable thumbs. I have some. You really don't have to chew it open, promise."

She looks over at Joey again, crossing her arms and blinking a bit. Not even really sure if they understand her, but it's worth a shot.

[-hollow-] Too late for Kaitlyn to offer. Two Hispos jumping up and down: it's too much for the floor. It buckles -- not merely the trapdoor but all of it, the entire floor caving in beneath their weight, sending them crashing through

into the subbasement.

Dark in here. Not pitchblack, but dimly lit. A large space, at least as large as the entire apartment upstairs. Walls and floor are bare concrete, but absurdly, bolts of fine silk are strewn about. Hung artfully from the ceiling. Waft in some gentle breeze, faintly scented -- something floral but delicate, jasmine or lilies of the valley.

Beneath that, sweat. Beneath that, blood.

Their eyes adjust. There are manacles and chains bolted into the wall -- like some b-movie's version of a medieval dungeon. Weapon racks, too: long knives gleaming in the faint light. Behind those diaphanous drapes of silk, they can see shapes. People. Garou. At least three or four; maybe more. They lounge on the floor, languid and lethargic. Most are in homid. One is in Glabro. It's too dark to see faces and features clearly.

The nearest raises himself on his elbows, looking at the intruders with flat, uncaring eyes.

[Burnout] The floor collapses swiftly under the assault of both the two Hispo formed Garou, and Hunter crouches low upon landing. It's more out of instinct that his knees bend than the fact that the drop is far. After that, he pads ahead a few steps to allow room for Sinclair and straight away he pauses. There are Garou in front of them, one of them is staring straight at the intruders and doesn't seem to give not one single fuck.

His first reaction is to snarl, but its cut short by a licking of teeth. This is most unusual.

"Feng?" Hunter barks out in questioning tones.

[Warcry] Some months ago, when the world wasn't descending from warmth into cold but climbing out of winter into spring, seven Garou walked in a desert that gave way beneath them, toppling them into a cavern which became a tunnel which became a cave which became the next gate. It was a call back to the way the rite they were participating in began in the first place, where they dug a grave for winter in the bodies they were born in, bare human hands or enormous crinos paws or quickly scuffling lupus paws

and the bottom gave out and they fell down, down into a meadow which became sleep which became the first gate of all.

Sinclair wasn't there. She knows the story though, from Lukas and Katherine. She thinks of it when she and Hunter fall, though the distance isn't so great and the place is more mundane than the underworld. She manages not to jar her joints when she falls, her fur letting out a brief shriek of metal against metal as she hits the ground.

The scents of flowers. Silk. Where the fuck is a breeze coming from?

Her eyes focus on the knives. The nearest lethargic... whoever... doesn't seem to mind them, so Sinclair ignores him for now. Hunter snarls, and Sinclair lowers her nose to start sniffing for the one scent she's been seeking from the start, the one she knows better than Feng's: Jocelyn.

[-hollow-] The Garou stares for another beat. Then, with a scornful snort, he lays himself down again and ignores them.

No, not Feng. Not Jocelyn either, because this Garou is male. His skin is very fair, and mostly bare. On it, livid red gashes form a hypnotic pattern, swirling and spiraling, chaos in order.

Jocelyn's scent is here, though. As is Stonebreaker's. Farther in -- perhaps behind some of those drifting, ghostly panels of silk. They don't have time to explore, though. A voice floats out of the dimness, disdainful:

"Well, what are you waiting, pet? Tear them apart."

The Garou nearest them sits up slowly. This time, his eyes fix on them with intent. And he begins to shift.

[Warcry] There is no translation, in the High Tongue, for oh, for fuck's sake. One has to rely on body language for that sort of thing. There's a snap of mild irritation from Warcry, but her ears flick -- not towards the Garou before them, but towards the sound of voice they just heard, seeking out its location.

[Warcry] [tell me things, ears!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[-hollow-] [In the back. Waaaay in the back. She's not stupid: she's put all the Garou in here between herself and Warcry/Burnout.]
to Warcry

[Burnout] What was once a peaceful, albeit unnaturally lethargic Garou, turns into a menace as it begins to shift and prepare for battle. The silk talks, the pets react. Hunter moves with Sinclair, eyeing the silk panels, sniffing at them, ears twitching. Maybe there is no time to explore, maybe they have no choice but to fight this obviously enslaved Garou. But it will be a last resort.

[alertty alert]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 4, 6, 6, 8, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[-hollow-] [In the back. Waaaay in the back. She's not stupid: she's put all the Garou in here between herself and Warcry/Burnout.

Furthermore: there are three other Garou in here. The fourth shape is not a Garou. It's a pelt.]
to Burnout

[Warcry] Her mind drifts back to the scents they caught at the start: the taint. The blood. The ecstasy and torture mingled. The sense that Jocelyn was drained. Emptied. She wondered if the Alpha was dead. She wondered, moments later, if the Alpha was merely changed.

'Merely'.

Sinclair chuffs to Hunter. "I think. Keep them off me while I hunt her, stay close. We find her first, maybe then no have to kill them," she says, her hackles up, her eyes fixed not on the gash-covered Garou in front of them but deeper in, through the panels of silk.

[Burnout] It only takes a fraction of a second to realise where the sound is coming from. Way in the back, behind living armour of Garou ready to die for her. For the first time in battle, Hunter calls on a gift recently learnt, to numb the pain and allow him to continue to fight at full strength regardless of his wounds. They have options, fight together, one by one till they get to her. But there is another option, a quicker and all the more riskier option.

Hunter snarls.

"In back, female, three Garou between. She controls, I KNOW it. Take her down warcry. I clear path."

And then he's launching forward towards that first Garou, the closest one.

[-1WP Resist pain]

[Warcry] [-1WP, Resist Pain]

[-hollow-] They come with the best intentions. They don't want to kill their own. They want to take down the one responsible; leave the victims alive.

The choice may not be theirs. Even as Warcry moves to swing wide around the first Garou, she can see the shadows of others rising to meet her. They all move the same way: slowly, languidly, dreadfully blasé about it all, as though they couldn't be fucked to move any faster. It would be a mistake to assume, however, that this means they'll be easy prey.

Burnout launches himself at the nearest. And instantly, the other snaps the rest of the way into his warform. Fire flares in his eyes. The enclosed space of the subbasement abruptly rings with snarls.

[annnnd we're gonna combatify! inits!]

[Burnout] [+13]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3

[Warcry] [+10]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4

[-hollow-] Pet!
+8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[-hollow-] Puppet!
+9
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1 (Botch x 1 at target 6)

[-hollow-] Toy!
+18
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[-hollow-] Queen Bee!
+6
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[-hollow-] 28 Toy
16 Hunter
16 Pet
14 Sinclair
12 QB
10 Puppet

[-hollow-] Puppet
1a. Mvmt
b. Intercept Warcry: Falling Touch!
R1. Bite!
R2. Bite!


QB
1. Shift Life on Sinclair!

[Warcry] [1a.
1b.
1c. -- Movement and Dodge, as/if necessary, switching to bite QB if she gets there
R1.
R2. -- Rage bites on QB]

[-hollow-] Pet
1a. Cast Shroud!
b. Some sneaky attack on Hunter!

[Burnout] [1a - body tackle pet
1b
r1
r2
r3 - bites on pet changing to Toy if incap]

[-hollow-] Toy
1a. Body tackle whoever's in range first
b. Bite that somebody!
R1. block for QB
R2. bite whoever's in range!
R3. lock for QB

[Burnout] [1a dex+brawl -2 (split) body tackle on pet]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 6, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 7) Re-rolls: 3

[Burnout] [dex+ath]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 8 (Failure at target 8)

[-hollow-] [stay up! dex+alert vs diff 10]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 7, 9 (Failure at target 10)

[-hollow-] 'Toy's' body is lean and quick, but not quick enough to avoid the Ahroun. They slam to the ground together. A bolt of silk rips free from its moorings, flutters slowly down. Before it unspools to the floor, Burnout's lunging in to bite.

[Burnout] [dmg+4]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[-hollow-] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 5, 5, 7 (Failure at target 6)

[-hollow-] 1a. POOF! shroud! gonna set this at diff 5 - it's pretty dark in here.
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 6, 8 (Success x 2 at target 5)

[-hollow-] -- and out go the lights again. The same inky, absolute darkness as before, only this time, Sinclair's outside. She can see the blackness descend, utterly concealing Burnout and his nemesis. In the midst of it, Burnout can't see anything at all.

But Pet can.

1b. hamstring! -5 dice for damage; -2 diff for blinded opponent.
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 2, 3 (Botch x 1 at target 6)

[-hollow-] [self damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[-hollow-] [if i kill myself, just shoot me.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 5, 5, 5, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[-hollow-] It's a long run across this vast subterranean room, but Warcry covers that distance so fast. She's faster than the female wolf that lunges at her -- leaps at her, overshoots, has to dig her claws in and haul around one-eighty to pursue Sinclair. There's no time to look, no time to think, no time to breathe and inhale scent, but even so Sinclair is almost certain of it: that's the lost Alpha.

Then she's past that last draping run of silk. She's past it, and she can see the author of all this madness. No queen of the damned, this. Just a girl, sixteen or eighteen; not even particularly beautiful. Her limbs look thin and breakable. She has a knife in one hand; clutches a fur to herself in the other. A very large pelt, coarse-furred, rather inexpertly skinned and tanned.

She retreats from Sinclair -- not fast enough. Another bound would easily carry the Galliard across that distance, and her teeth into the girl's throat. Another bound, except -- something gets in the way.

Fur is dark and dappled, grey and brown and black and white and red. Not a trace of pure blood. In his physicality, though, his raw strength and speed, Stonebreaker is unmistakeably

himself.

[-hollow-] 1a. Body tackle Sinclair! -2
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 3, 4, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[-hollow-] [stay on feet!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Warcry] [dex + ath + 1 (moon) -1 (steelfur)]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 4, 4, 4, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 8) Re-rolls: 3

[-hollow-] annnd damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 4, 4, 4, 6, 6, 8 (Failure at target 6)

[-hollow-] b. fien i CHOMP. -3 dice!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 4, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[-hollow-] [dam +2]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Warcry] [1a. used for movement
1b. dodge! dex + 'dodge' -1 (steelfur) +1 (moon) -3 (split)]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 3, 7 (Failure at target 6)

[Warcry] [Soak! +1 for Steelfur]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 6, 7, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Warcry] [rerolling dodge with correct number of dice!]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 4 (Failure at target 6)

[Warcry] [1c. bite qb! dex + brawl + perun + 1 (moon) -1 (steelfur) -5 (split)]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 5, 7, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5) Re-rolls: 2

[Warcry] [damage! str + 2 + 3]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[-hollow-] There's no resistance beneath Warcry's terrible teeth. She bites down -- blood bursts into her mouth -- the girl wails

but does not fall.

An instant later those terrible wounds vanish as though they never were.

[7A taken -- apparent damage 0!]

[-hollow-] QB:
Shift Life! Diff = Sinclair's WP +2.
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 5, 6, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[-hollow-] [no life shifted!]

[Warcry] [str + ath!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 4, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[-hollow-] Jocelyn/Puppet:
1a. mvmt!
b. Falling Touch on Sinclair! diff = stam + ath
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 5, 7, 10, 10 (Failure at target 9)

[-hollow-] [no go sprawling!]

[Warcry] [w00t!]

[-hollow-] [Stonebreaker's R1 is held to block for QB]

[Burnout] [r1 move to sinclair/rest of them etc]

[-hollow-] [Pet: spent Gnosis, no Rage actions. On to Sinclair!]

[Warcry] [R1!]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 8 at target 5)

[-hollow-] [Block!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6 (Failure at target 6)

[Warcry] [damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 15 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[-hollow-] This time there's damage. This time there's no escaping that crushing strength. Warcry's teeth sink in and rip a hot, bloody wall of flesh away. The girl staggers.

[-hollow-] Puppet/Jocelyn
R1. Bite Sinclair!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 6, 7, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5)

[-hollow-] [dam +3!]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Warcry] She doesn't have any qualms about ripping this girl apart. She doesn't know what she is, only that what she is can't be natural. Can't be good. She's cutting up Garou, using them as her tools. Sinclair wants to kill her and by god she tries, again and again, ignoring Stonebreaker

because she doesn't want to kill him. She doesn't want to kill him, or hurt him. She doesn't want to kill or hurt his Alpha.

But Sinclair has hurt a lot of people she didn't really want to. She's beginning to think that's just a part of what she is, now. She snarls as she shakes Garou off, biting at the thin, fur-wrapped girl, but then Jocelyn jumps forward and digs her teeth in. Sinclair roars, not in pain -- she feels none -- but in anger.

[Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 6, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[-hollow-] Stonebreaker R2 - bite Burnout!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 5, 5, 6, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 5)

[-hollow-] dam +5
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 8, 8, 8, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Burnout] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Burnout] [r2 bitey bite +1 dif changed target onto girly girl!]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6) Re-rolls: 2

[Burnout] [dmg+2]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[-hollow-] In the end, it's over very quickly. Three bites and that's the end of the girl. She hits the ground in pieces. Perhaps the Garou expect it'll be over now; that all the rest will return to their right minds.

And indeed, Stonebreaker stops abruptly in his furious defense. He reverts to homid form. He puts his hands to his head as though dazed.

Not Jocelyn, though. That was her sister. She's been under her sway the longest, the deepest. Strikes-True doesn't stop. She roars: pain and fury and anguish and sheer, black hatred.

Then she comes on.

[Warcry] One has to wonder if, as she tore the girl apart, Sinclair knew.

Jocelyn came here to find the sister that dropped off the face of the earth. Jocelyn is over there, raging still, and there's only one other female here. No corpses lying slack in the darkness. No sign of another girl somewhere. So where's this rumored sister, the core of it all, the beginning of Feng's tale of woe?

Right now she's lying dead on the ground, torn apart by children of Cat and Perun, gleaming eyes in alleyways and lightning ripping through the sky.

Sinclair barks, loudly, as she wheels on Jocelyn. "No kill. No kill." Hard to tell if it's an order to Hunter. A reminder to herself. A plea to Jocelyn, though

that last one is the least likely.

She lunges.

[R2!]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 5, 6, 6, 6, 6, 6, 8, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 10 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Warcry] [damage! will roll to pull at incap if necessary]
Dice Rolled:[ 17 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 3, 3, 4, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 6, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[-hollow-] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 5, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Burnout] Hunter Matthews throws himself at that first Garou without hesitation. Maybe if he had hesitated slightly, thought more about the attack, he might have ended up on his feet instead of rolling across the ground. He might have been able to stop that shroud or intercept the interceptor so to speak by stopping Stonebreaker before he could get in range of Sinclair. Unfortunately he could not, the shroud envelops him and he hears a yelping grunt from something in the darkness. But that isn't important, what is important is getting to Sinclair, helping her with the forces that surround her.

So he moves, faster than humanely possible because he isn't human. He's a monster and he's there a second later, shoulder to shoulder, teeth biting into the same target. The girl goes down to their combined bites, though Hunter had only a small part in it. It should be over right? That should be the end of it? But its not. Jocelyn still comes at them with a crazed look in her eyes, Hunter steels himself to the task ahead.

No kill. No kill.

Hopefully they won't have to.

[-hollow-] Jocelyn, R2 - switching to biting Burnout. J00 KILLED MAI SISTUR!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 6, 6, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[-hollow-] [dam +3]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 8, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[Burnout] [r3 bitin Jocelyn, pullin at incap if possible]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 7, 7, 7, 7, 7 (Success x 7 at target 5)

[Burnout] [dmg+6]
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 4, 4, 5, 5, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[-hollow-] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 5, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Burnout] [wits+brawl! dear god don't kill her]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 8)

[-hollow-] At that last blow, which looks for all intents and purposes to be lethal, Stonebreaker's head abruptly snaps up.

"Don't kill her," he says - desperately quiet -

and Burnout doesn't. Strikes-True slumps to the floor, torn open, barely breathing; but breathing. Stonebreaker just stares at her.

[Warcry] When it's over -- and it's over quickly, now, at the end -- Sinclair watches Burnout with those pale, searing eyes of hers as he drops Strikes-True to the ground. She turns to look at Stonebreaker, and a second later she's in homid with him, dressed just as she was before, only now her hair is loose and unbound.

For no reason at all, no reason she can rightly explain, she misses having a home to go to and a bed to share. Suddenly, violently, she feels exhausted and overcome by how badly she misses those goddamn bowlfuls of ramen and the stupid Ikea throw pillows and watching a ripped movie and all she can come up with is that when she looks in Stonebreaker's eyes, when she thinks of Jocelyn's last howl of loss and rage, she thinks that tonight's the sort of night she would have liked to go home. And there really is no home, now.

"I have healing talens," she says quietly to the Modi. "And I know the rites to cleanse and to... say goodbye."

Which is just to say: We'll help you.

Just tell us what you need.

[Burnout] The Puppet Master.

A Fenrir from a crescent town
Did gather Chicago wolves around
And asked for help to find his pack
That left no trace, no note, no track
Of just what had become their fate
Since last they saw those Crescent Gates.

So down in Bronzeville they did go
Without a plan, and even though
Their allies vanished, one and all
Warcry, Burnout, refused to fall
They broke the floor, they found the site
Of the evil puppetry on show tonight
And side by side they tore it down
Left bleeding - puppet master - on the ground

No Kill! No Kill! Sinclair cried
And Jocelyn, she did not die
Hunters teeth pulled back the bite
Sparing the possessed Alpha’s life


It takes a moment for Hunter to right himself. All his strength of mind went into stopping that bite, letting the body fall from his clutches without killing her. So he steps back from Sinclair and Feng, he sits down on his haunches and licks once over his nose. His breath comes heavy from the exertion of it all, but soon he has it under control and he too instantly snaps back to his breed form. Sinclair is better at this than he is, he doesn't know what to say to the Modi.

[-hollow-] Ultimately, perhaps there's little enough to be done for the Modi; less to be done for his packmate. Who knows what state of mind she'll be in when she wakes. If she'll be stoic about it, accept that her sister was lost long before she was killed. If she'll let go of the hurt and the anger with time. If she'll hold on to it, hide it inside herself -- if she'll let it fester and rot until it became the sort of thing that seeded in her sister's heart, drove her to this.

They might never know what it was, exactly, that made a seventeen year old girl turn so bad. What made her take that first pelt. What made her decide five pelts and a borrowed life wouldn't have been enough; that this, this power over minds and souls, was far more intoxicating. They might never know who corrupted her, or if she was simply born this way. They might never know what will become of this pack now, half of which is still at home in Crescent City, blissfully unaware; the other half of which is here, irreparably altered.

There's only this: healing talens. Cleansing rites. And rites of farewell, which will be performed tonight or soon thereafter. There's only the knowledge that whatever this was, all of this, it's at least over.


Stonebreaker says very little all the way back to the Caern. But there, holding his Alpha's unconscious body on his shoulders in a fireman's carry, in a brother-in-arms' carry, he looks the Garou of Maelstrom in the eye.

"Thank you," he says.