[Until Death] For a few moments, neither of the vertical combatants is able to do much more than whiff their claws and fangs off of each others' hide. Broken Hammer swings his claws at the heavily-wounded Ahroun twice, missing once and glancing off of her shoulder the second time, and the nameless black-furred beast has similar luck when she removes her teeth from his neck to bite.
Her second attempt, however, tears through his shoulder, baring fascia and what little fat there is on his body, spilling blood onto the cold concrete beneath their bodies. He doesn't even feel it. In the next second, the Fenrir springs to his feet, catching the Ahroun by surprise. His teeth sink into her throat, robbing her of her consciousness and dropping her to the floor in a bloody heap.
It was a close fight, but the male is the victor.
[Warcry] [Damage! Will pull at Incap if necessary.]
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 8 at target 6)
[Warcry] [SORRY!]
[Grace] Are you intent on watching or are you going to join? she asks. Again, in her breed form, Grace is a different sort of creature. She is expressive, she is articulate, she is relaying ideas in a clear and effective manner. Tail up, ears forward, her nose touches his hand briefly, then pulls back when she realizes precisely how close she was.
Grace, she offers. It's the only name she has to call herself by; she has no scent to declare her presence. The equivalent of being nameless.
[Curata] He can read the posturing and gesturing in Grace's body as she replies. His attention diverted from the fights going on for the time being as he watched her. Broad shoulders roll up and back in under the worn old bomber jacket he wears.
"Dunno, 'aven't decided yet." He nods to the ring, "Why aren't ye out there yeself?"
She offers up a name. Grace. He considers this for a moment, looking back at the ring. "Curata the Grim Heart."
[Broken Hammer] It's a cold night, even in the shelter of an old, leaky-roofed hangar. Broken Hammer's breath is a hot humid plume, panting out and dissipating on every exhale. As reticent and dour as he is, the Forseti holds an astonishing amount of rage inside him. It's usually locked away, kept carefully banked and hidden. Not so, right now. It flickers and blazes at the surface, crackling in his eyes, raising his fur on end.
He steps back from the female, muscles quivering under his fur with the aftereffects of rage and adrenaline, dropping immediately to a crouch. There he stays, breathing deeply and slowly, until he sufficiently masters himself.
Then the Forseti reverts to homid form. He's underdressed for the weather -- layers of hoodies and flannel shirts, jeans -- but they're a tough breed, the Fenrir. He produces a rawhide bag from somewhere in the layers, rummages around until he finds a healing gourd, which he breaks over the Fury.
When she comes to, he speaks plainly: "I am Broken Hammer, Cliath Half Moon of the Fenrir, follower of Bear. Who are you?"
[gogo healing gadget! +4]
[Grace] Do you learn more from doing or watching? Ninety percent of communication is nonverbal, and then, you decide which is more fun.
Silence. Not much, just observing yet again.
[Face of Death] Even in Crinos, Joey is comparatively small. She's compact and light on her feet, an athlete as much as she is a warrior. As soon as Rayne is close, the Fenrir launches forward, swiping at the Glass Walker. But this is not her preferred fighting form. Maybe this is on purpose. Maybe the confident Joey thinks this will help even the playing field against her competitor. Either way, twice her claws slice the air just in front of the Glass Walker, and twice she fails to connect. Frustrated, she falls back on her jaws, tearing into the Glass Walker's shoulder.
Rayne is none too pleased. She swipes at Joey's face, the tips of her claws barely scratching across the younger girl's face. She tries again, this time aiming for the mass of scarred flesh at Joey's throat, but Joey dances back.
The Rotagar tips her head to the side at Rayne, nostrils breathing in the scent of the older No Moon's blood in the air. Her jaw drops open and for a moment her tongue lolls, a wolf's smile. This is fun.
Rayne: 3A
Joey: OK!
[Curata] "Both, actually." He replies to Grace, his gaze brought back to the fighting rings. "Ye can learn much in the way a person reacts to a situation, to a thrown punch or a swiping claw, how well they can take a hit, if'n they are the ones still standing, just by watching, lass."
He chuckles, leaned forward still with his elbows on his knees as he points out two of the combatants, "Ye learn also by participation, taking wha' ye studied and seeing if ye can apply it."
[Until Death] Without her jacket on, the female looks terribly slender. Her thermal shirt, once off-white, is stained red with the torn from her side and her throat; blood has splattered onto her jeans, but the wash is so dark that the streaks are mere hints of gore than actual stains. Her hair, long and unrestrained, sticks to her throat. Unconscious and sapped of Rage, she doesn't appear to be any older than eighteen, if she's even that old.
She lies still, breathing slowly and easily with the freedom from pain that unconsciousness brings, as Daniel rises to rummage free a talen to take away the injuries he inflicted upon the other combatant mere moments ago. The dust clings to the gaping wounds in her throat and side, and within seconds, flesh has knit itself back together and blood has stopped bubbling. There remains a great rift where Broken Hammer's claw swiped, but that will heal within a matter of days if she does not seek out healing elsewhere.
When she comes to she coughs, turns her head to spit congealed blood onto the concrete, and looks up at the Fenrir with an irritated furrow stitched between her brows. She is used to pain. It is an annoyance more so than anything else. She does not leap at him or hurl a fist to express her displeasure at having been bested. She hefts herself up on her elbows, wincing with the tugging of wounded flesh, then pushes herself forward until she is sitting upright.
"Until Death," she answers, reaching up to wipe her mouth and jaw with the sleeve of her shirt. "Cliath Full Moon of the Furies, follower of Stheno."
[Warcry] As one brawl is winding down, the lean Fenrir introducing himself by way of healing to the even leaner Fury, another one snaps into sudden motion. One second the two Glass Walkers are chatting about how Steelfur would make the whole thing just too unfair to the Galliard, too impossible for it to be anything but a Fostern sitting on a Cliath...
...and the next, there's a mottled brown and gray crinos facing off against a broad-shouldered, long-bodied hispo whose lips are curling back off her bared teeth.
It happens in literally three seconds. Blink, and you miss it. Look down at the female you're healing, turn your head to the lupus cub you're talking to, get into your own brawl, and it's over before it even gets started. The moon overhead is waning gibbous. Sinclair's eyes in homid were slightly redringed, as though she's been getting high or crying. She looked paler than usual, more angular, her motions less smooth. She has a hungry, weakened look to her for some reason tonight.
But in an eyeblink, she shoots forward, leaping into the air and tearing her jaws through Echo's shoulder, then snapping her teeth again in the Fostern's belly as she comes back down. Her feet touch ground and the Ragabash sways, hemorrhaging blood from two savage, ripping wounds. She snarls and lunges, biting at Warcry --
-- tasting air.
She does not pass out. She does not revert to breed form. But nor does she get up to attack again, though her rage courses through the air until everyone around can almost taste it. Sinclair takes two steps back, watching her, blue eyes gleaming in this form. Blood drenches her maw. She breathes normally. Echo does not. Can not.
A second later, Sinclair is back in her birth form, all of her clothes still intact, hanging to her soul as well as her athletic frame. She's in a crouch, staring still at End Transmission. "I can heal you, rhya," she says in a low voice, level with respect, "if you wish it."
[Warcry] [For the record!
Echo: 6A
Sinclair: OK]
[Face of Death] [1b: - 4]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 6, 6, 7 (Success x 3 at target 5)
[Word on the Street] As fights finish and victors are declared, Nate steps forward from where he was standing and makes his way into the outskirts of the makeshift arena. His eyes scanning the Garou gathered for an opponent, Joey still busy with hers.
[Electronic Jedi] Joey was so much faster than Rayne imagined. But then, Rayne was a fighter of another matter. She fought through T3 lines, and fiberops.
Just as Rayne was scooping up dirt to throw at Joey, the little Rotagar quickly flanked behind Rayne. The claw of the little Fenrir came down deep, and fast into Rayne's back before the GW could move. And down the GW went, hitting the ground as her blood spilled across the dirt.
[End Transmission] The massive Crinos form lays bleeding, the chest heaving as blood bubbles out of wounds. She is seething full of unspent Rage, and yet she cannot quite manage to garner the energy to attack Warcry at present. Instead, she remains where she is for a moment before grunting and forcing her great bulk over, blood splattering the concrete beneath her.
End Transmission utters a whuff of refusal and instead reaches for a small gourd; crunching it in her massive paw and sprinkling the contents over her stomach, mashing it into her shoulder. The Glass Walker twitches, and her teeth are bared as the healing properties spread through her body. The blood stops, the wounds begin to heal over and when she finally morphs back to her human skin; she's grinning a feral animal's grin.
"God damn, Warcry." It's all she manages for a moment, and then with a grunt, she pushes herself upright, still seated on the ground. "Wanna go again?"
[-1 Gnosis for GB]
[Broken Hammer] Black Fury. The words flicker in the Forseti's dark eyes; in the end, he says nothing. Broken Hammer simply nods once, silent, acknowledging. Then he hands the Fury a second healing talen to use or keep as she wishes, and stands.
Wolves do not say goodbye to one another. They do not smalltalk to soften a departure. Broken Hammer is not a wolf; is not even wolf-born; but he is so far from human that these conventions do not occur to him. Without another word, he turns and walks from the hangar.
The wounds under his clothes blossoms red onto the fabric for a while. By the time he reaches the door, however, another expenditure of spirit energy has stopped the flow and sealed the gashes.
[-1 Gn for GB again!]
[Grace] One could say that Grace is insightful. One could assume this by the slow reactions she gives, or the way that she mulls over what she says before she says it... except when she doesn't mull over what she says.
We should play, she announces, throttling cubs is an honored pasttime in the Nation. It's been far too long.
[Curata] Throttling cubs...
The comment makes the ahroun laugh. He has missed the fight between Echo and Sinclair, it was over before it could barely start. He swung his gaze away, eying the pair of Glass Walkers when Echo exclaims she wants to go again and then looks back down at Grace.
"Ye 'ave a tribe or a warder yet?"
[Face of Death] Joey reverts to her breed form, a small, compact and clothed mainly in black and completely unscathed. She drops to a crouch beside Rayne, cracking open a vial and sprinkling water over Rayne's wounds.
She doesn't offer to help the Glass Walker to her feet. She does smile, however.
"Nice fightin' with ya, lady."
The Rotagar rises then, dusts herself off, and scans the gathered. She's looking for someone in particular, her brother.
Trotting across the distance, she clamps a hand over Nate's arm. Her face flushed with victory, she jerks her thumb over her shoulder.
"I told you you were next, bro."
[-1G GB on Rayne]
[Word on the Street] Nate just grins "Good to see you survived... Let's do this." following her out into the hanger
[Heading to PMs]
[Curata] (spelling correction warder= mentor)
[Electronic Jedi] Slowly the GW gets up after her wounds atleast stop bleeding or more. She smiled to the little Fenrir. "I learned much. Thank you." She moves over in crinos, where her clothes were set and reverts down to Lupus to finish healing up.
[Face of Death] This time, grinning openly, Joey sheds out of her coat and tosses it over a crate. Now dressed in a t-shirt and arm warmers despite the cold, the Fenrir leads the way outside of the hangar this time.
For Rayne, a relative unknown, Joey fought in her war form. But as of last night Nate is her brother. This time whens he shifts, she continues past Crinos and into Hispo.
[Warcry] Still in a crouch, the somewhat wasted-looking Galliard looks up, glances around, and notes who else is there: Furies. Joey (no). Curata. Rayne. Some wolf she's never seen before. That guy Joey just dragged off.
She looks back at Echo and gives a small shake of her head and a single-shouldered shrug. "Nah. Thanks, though." A half-smile. "Next time, we'll use Gifts."
[Wyrmbreaker] The smell of blood is thick and coppery in the air by the time Wyrmbreaker looks in. He comes up alongside Sinclair, bumping against the Galliard gently both in greeting and in inquiry.
"What's going on?"
[End Transmission] End Transmission looks a touch crestfallen, but she acknowledges the refusal with as much natural brevity as she possessed -- which was to say, little. She pushed herself to her feet and dusted off her butt, still conscious of not-fully healed bite marks to her shoulder and abdomen.
"Sinclair here just whooped me but good is what's going on," The Fostern No Moon comments with a surprising amount of pride in her tribes-mate. "Sparring matches tonight only at the Caern, getcher butt kicked, get a free crate to sit on and nurse your dignity."
[Grace] My mentor isn't here yet, she says. She insists, with quiet belief (false or otherwise). Stag's blood... I met Buried Hatchet-rhya. Tribal elder. He's interesting.
She conveys the concept of Hatchet being interesting like it's a good thing.
[Warcry] She's rising as Wyrmbreaker is entering, and when he gets there:
Almost instantly, Sinclair turns to the much taller Ahroun, lightly headbutting his arm, followed by a brief rub of her face there. It's a very animal gesture, her head tilted carefully so she's not wiping Echo's blood off her mouth and onto his clothes. A moment later, she's pushing her hands into her pockets, letting Echo answer for both of them.
[Until Death] Without another word, the Fenrir deposits in her hands another healing gourd. Her gaze levels on the back of his head as he walks away, the effect far less penetrating with her Rage all but drained in the wake of the brawl, and after a moment's consideration of the gift in her hands, she smashes the gourd against her side and lets the dust settle over the sticky, gaping mess that has been left behind.
It becomes nothing more than a memory left behind underneath ragged cotton, and the remnants of the gourd join the blood and gristle on the floor as the Ahroun pushes herself to her feet.
Around her fights have ended and started. She looks around the interior of the hangar for several seconds, readjusting to life without the pain of injuries saddling her, then strides back to the crate where she left her jacket and plucks it from the crate without a word to anyone present. One arm then the other is thrust through its waiting sleeve, and she pulls a battered pack of Camel Lights out of the breast pocket as she strides out into the night air not to escape, not to return to patrols or her dormitory room, but to glance up at Luna's face overhead. It is not her moon, yet the sight of it swollen and luminous instantly fills her with the anger necessary to keep going.
She bristles, briefly, then shucks a cigarette out of the pack and coaxes it alight.
[-1 Gnosis to activate Gaia's Breath. Thanks Dour Dan!]
[Word on the Street] [Soak]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 5, 5, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Word on the Street] (( Bah sorry about that ))
[Curata] "Ye met 'atchet, eh," he chuckles down at her, "An interesting fella that is for sure. Ye can learn quite a bit from him. Good to keep yer ears open and listen when he speaks."
Curata runs a hand up over the nape of his neck and up through the back of his hair, new voices bring his attention away from Grace, head turning as Wyrmbreaker slid into his peripheral vision. His gaze studies the other full moon that was ranked his equal before pulling it away to watch how the fight between Joey and Nate was progressing.
[Wyrmbreaker] "Huh." Lukas considers the field, such as it were. Then he starts unbuttoning his coat. "Want to go again?" Tugging the sleeve off his arm, then folding the coat, "You you and you, against me?"
He nods at Echo, Joey and Irene.
[Face of Death] Joey steps out of the hangar and slides slowly into Hispo. Nate pops into his dire wolf form and launches himself at his little sister.
The Bone Gnawer Galliard snaps his jaws at the Fenrir, biting into her shoulder but even without a gift, she doesn't feel it. He bites again, this time tearing a strip of iron grey fur and flesh, peeling skin from muscle and muscle from bone. Pain blossoms in the Rotagar, sets her nerve endings on fire. She would cry out in pain except...
One of the first Gifts Joey learned was Bear's gift of pain resistence. She is Fenrir. She may be morose over the death of her friend. She may be moody because she hasn't basked in sunshine in days. But she will. Not. Show weakness.
The pain vanishes in an instant. For a No Moon, Joey is vicious, powerful, deadly. Last night she ripped the spine from a headless Wyrm creature, for fuck's sake.
In two quick snaps of her jaws, it's over. She rips her brother apart, brings him to the ground.
An instant later, and Joey is in her breed form once more. She looks like an ordinary nineteen year old, a black knit hat covering her light hair, the blood of two older Garou mingling together across her lower face and dripping down her throat. It's cold, and she's wearing a t-shirt and arm warmers, jeans and boots, but she doesn't shiver.
She goes to her brother, pulls another vial from her pocket and cracks it over his wounds.
"Not bad, bro. Not bad."
[-1G GB]
[Wyrmbreaker] (*bumps that after FoD's post*)
[Warcry] She reaches up and wipes a bit more blood off her face, falling back as Wyrmbreaker calls on not one, not two, but three different Garou to come at him. Sinclair shakes her head at him with a barely audible huff of laughter and gets some distance between herself and the brawlers. There's a crate off to the side and she hunkers down on it, knees tucked up and ethereal eyes wide for most of the rest of the night, taking in everything she can stand to remember before -- eventually -- slipping out to head back to the Brotherhood.
[Warcry] [Thank you for the RP and the dice, guys! Gotta do this again sometime when I'm not so tired!]
[Word on the Street] Nate looks up at Joey with a wry smile "Not bad yourself , little sis. I think you'll be able to teach me a thing or two.". He was hunched over, but as the healing power of the gourd is poured over him he straightens. Smiling at his pack sister "Thanks ... that was fun. Looks like you've got another scalp to claim" as he points over towards the dark haired stranger.
[End Transmission] Echo's features split into a giddy grin and she claps her hands together. "For real? Three on one? Dude, consider it so on. Hey, HEY JOEY!" She hollers, as if she couldn't have communicated this via their totemlink. "Wyrmbreaker-yuf wants to take you, me and the new Fury on at once!"
[Until Death] The blood-stained Fury turns away from her contemplation of the waning face of the moon when the Fostern of her auspice calls on three females to fight again him. With a frown that would seem amused were not for the fact that her Rage vastly overpowers her ability to control herself at the moment, she blows a heavy stream out of her flared nostrils and ashes her cigarette.
Echo bellows to the one called Joey, and the nameless Fury takes another drag off of her cigarette as she considers.
"At once?" she clarifies, her voice choked with held-in smoke.
[Face of Death] Joey grins at Nate, punches him in his uninjured shoulder. It is by no means a love-tap.
Then her name is being shouted from within the hangar, and the young blonde whips around. Echo is shouting for her, calling her over for another 'sparring match.' This time, it's three on one. The blonde tips her head to the side at the prospect. Then a smile stretches across her bloodied face.
"Catch ya later, bro!" she says to Nate, and she bolts for the hangar, skidding to a halt next to Echo.
[Wyrmbreaker] [consider joey and echo to have each received a GB talen to heal up]
Wyrmbreaker is rather well-dressed to be brawling in a ramshackle steel-and-concrete hangar on the docks. When the overcoat comes off, he's looking sharp in a vest and skinny tie, both of which are shed and laid atop his coat. His belt, too, and then his crisp white shirt, leaving him in darkwash jeans, several hundred dollars a pair, and his grey thermal undershirt.
And then, in black fur.
"At once," he affirms, the High Tongue savage and full of growls. He paws the ground once, lowers his head to shoulder height.
[Grace] You should go, she tells him.. She takes a second, and watches the fights going on. People here are tough.... Warcry is almost awe-inspiring. What are all the different packs like here?
Question, question, question...
[Wyrmbreaker] [Shamelessly activating gifts!
-1 WP Resist Pain
-1 Gn Luna's Armor]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 7) Re-rolls: 1
to End Transmission, Face of Death, Until Death, Warcry
[Face of Death] Joey accepts the healing talen, expending the last of her spiritual energy to activate it and heal her wounds. When her flesh has knit itself back together, she rolls her head on her neck, shakes out her arms, and changes. Back to four legs. Blood washes her face, staining the patches of white at her cheeks red. Her jaw hangs open, her tongue lolls, and Laughs in the Face of Death grins at the Ahroun.
[-1 GB for talen, RP already active]
[End Transmission] End Transmission catches a second Gaia's Breath and it goes much the same as the first; smashed against her injuries until she is fully healed once again from her spat with Warcry. With a cry that is as much battle lust as excitement the young Glass Walker shifts into her Hispo form, and shakes out her mottled pelt once again.
Ready.
Focused.
[Resist Pain activated, for the record
Steel Fur Activated also -1 WP]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 7)
[Curata] "I will... in time." He grins down at Grace, scanning the crowd that still remains. Lukas was challenging three of the Cliaths to a 3 vs 1 match, this had his interest, but Curata looks away. He reached out to tap the wolf gently on the tip of her nose.
"I 'ave a task for ye, if'n ye interested," he points out Nate, "That fella there. Go see wha' sort o mettle he's made o, and come back to see me afterwards."
[Wyrmbreaker] Not unlike the Fenrir Forseti before him, whom Lukas will likely never ever meet face to face except across a moot fire or a bonfire, the Ahroun does not speak of terms; does not wait for a verbal all-ready.
When the other three look prepared, the Shadow Lord -- black fur ghosting with a faint pale shimmer -- comes forward fast and brutal, a full-on assault.
[Until Death] A glance down to her barely-touched cigarette as if asking for its opinion, and the blonde pinches off the cherry before tucking it back into the breast pocket of her jacket. That jacket comes off a second time, revealing a string-bean of a physique in a hideously blood-stained off-white thermal and cheap black jeans. Her work boots, camel-colored at one point, have gone gray and rust with age. There is blood in the tips of her hair, staining her neck and hands.
The jacket is tossed over the same crate she had just recently plucked it from, and she morphs from a coltish young woman into a muscular, black-furred dire wolf without hesitation. She seems to be prepared from the moment her paws hit the ground, for as the Lord surges forward, so does the Fury dart away from the crate to meet him.
[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas will be in Hispo for this. Inits! +20
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)
to End Transmission, Face of Death, Until Death, Warcry
[End Transmission] [Inits!
+10]
to Face of Death, Until Death, Warcry, Wyrmbreaker
[Face of Death] [+9]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1
to End Transmission, Until Death, Warcry, Wyrmbreaker
[Until Death] [+10]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7
to End Transmission, Face of Death, Wyrmbreaker
[End Transmission] [+10] Ahem.
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6
to Face of Death, Until Death, Warcry, Wyrmbreaker
[Grace] She cocks her head to the side, he taps her on the nose and the primarily grey-and-white-and-black (and some brow) wolf snorts. Half sneezes. The no-moon cocks her head to the side, then trots over to nudge Nate a little. She sat down next to him. Greeting unspoken, but there.
[Wyrmbreaker] Action order:
Lukas
Irene
Echo
Joey
declare in reverse!
to End Transmission, Face of Death, Until Death
[Face of Death] [1a: flank
1b: hamstring! + WP
R: Bite
R: Bite!]
to End Transmission, Until Death, Warcry, Wyrmbreaker
[End Transmission] [1a. Bite 'im!
1b. Bite 'im again!
R1. Bite
R2. Bite]
to Face of Death, Until Death, Wyrmbreaker
[Until Death] [1a: Get behind.
1b: Spur Claws!
R1: Bite!
R2: Bite!]
[Until Death] [*whistles, dusts that back into PMs*]
[Word on the Street] Nate turns and regards the wolf with a regard "Hi little one." he speaks in the tongue of the Garou. Still in Crinos as he lets his wounds heal. He then points onto into the middle of the area the others were fighting "Fancy trying your luck out there?. I'm still carrying some wounds, so you'd have the advantage."
[Grace] I told Grin that throttling cubs is a long-honored past time, she told him. Wittier when she didn't have to translate thoughts and the like, and I would be trying luck instead of skill. All things considered, this looks fun.
She said nothing about having an advantage. The cub perked up, ears forward, tail making a slow swish back and forth, eyes open and bright in countenance, despite the fact that they're of a fairly dark color
[Grace] (grim, not grin.)
[Wyrmbreaker] 1a. True Fear on Irene +WP
b. get behind Echo and Joey
c. Spur Claws Joey
d. bite Echo
e. bite Echo
R1. bite Echo
R2. bite Echo
R3. bite Echo
Stopping at Incap if applicable; moving to Joey if Echo incaps.
to End Transmission, Face of Death, Until Death, Warcry
[Word on the Street] Nate rises from where he sat on his haunches, he has remained in hispo since his fight with Joey. His furr a mottling of various colours. He stood at the ready, waiting for the young cub to join him for their fray.
"Oh fun indeed"
[Wyrmbreaker] 1a! Str+Intim -5 dice (splits) vs diff 4(WP) + 3(over max actions)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 6, 6, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 7) [WP] Re-rolls: 2
[Wyrmbreaker] b. mvmt!
c. spur claws. dex+brawl+3(totem)-7(splits) vs diff 6 +3(over max) -2(behind)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7) Re-rolls: 1
to End Transmission, Face of Death, Until Death, Warcry
[Wyrmbreaker] damage, base +2
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 3, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)
to End Transmission, Face of Death, Until Death, Warcry
[Face of Death] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 5, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
to End Transmission, Until Death, Warcry, Wyrmbreaker
[Curata] Curata begins to stand up, moving off the crate with a slow movement. He walks along the outer edge of the ring, eyes focused on Grace and Nate now. His head rolling from side to side on his neck, and then his shoulders roll back, easing the pressure off his spine as he pops joints. He tucks his hands into the pockets of his coat, stopping when he gets a better angle to watch this little match take place.
[Wyrmbreaker] d. chomp echo! -8 splits, diff 5+3-2.
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1
[Wyrmbreaker] (*sweeps under rug*)
[Wyrmbreaker] dam +2
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
to End Transmission, Face of Death, Until Death, Warcry
[End Transmission] [Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
to Face of Death, Until Death, Wyrmbreaker
[Wyrmbreaker] e. chomp again! -9 splits.
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] (GAH!!!)
[Wyrmbreaker]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 4, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
to End Transmission, Face of Death, Until Death, Warcry
[End Transmission] [Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
to Face of Death, Until Death, Wyrmbreaker
[Grace] [str2+hispo3+hispobite2+1= 8, diff 6]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 6, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[End Transmission] [1a. Bite! -2 Split +1 Diff for Steel Fur]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5 (Botch x 1 at target 6)
to Face of Death, Until Death, Wyrmbreaker
[End Transmission] [Owww.]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4
to Face of Death, Until Death, Wyrmbreaker
[End Transmission] [Echo, you bit yourself you twit. How badly?]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 4, 5, 7, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
to Face of Death, Until Death, Wyrmbreaker
[End Transmission] [Soak that!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 6, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
to Face of Death, Until Death, Wyrmbreaker
[End Transmission] [Second Split! same as last, -3 for split!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[End Transmission] [Damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 8 at target 6)
to Face of Death, Until Death, Wyrmbreaker
[Wyrmbreaker]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
to End Transmission, Face of Death, Until Death, Warcry
[Face of Death] [changing action: ripping out spur claws. Rage actions stay the same]
to End Transmission, Until Death, Warcry, Wyrmbreaker
[Wyrmbreaker] (rage 1 - biting echo again! full dice pool, same diff mods.)
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)
to End Transmission, Face of Death, Until Death, Warcry
[Wyrmbreaker] (damage +4)
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
to End Transmission, Face of Death, Until Death, Warcry
[End Transmission] [Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
to Face of Death, Until Death, Wyrmbreaker
[End Transmission] [First Rage Bite!]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 3, 3, 3, 3, 4, 6, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)
to Face of Death, Until Death, Wyrmbreaker
[End Transmission] [Damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
to Face of Death, Until Death, Wyrmbreaker
[Wyrmbreaker] (soak!)
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 5, 8, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
to End Transmission, Face of Death, Until Death, Warcry
[Face of Death] [R: bite!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
to End Transmission, Until Death, Warcry, Wyrmbreaker
[Face of Death] [damáge]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 8, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
to End Transmission, Until Death, Warcry, Wyrmbreaker
[Wyrmbreaker] (soak!)
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
to End Transmission, Face of Death, Until Death, Warcry
[End Transmission] From the outset, this was always going to be an unfair fight. One Ahroun up against three of his fellow Garou? One another Ahroun, another a Ragabash that fought like a Full Moon and a No Moon Fostern. It didn't look, as the trio closed ranks around the bristling Shadow Lord, as if it would take very long at all.
Even as battle-proven as Wyrmbreaker was, three fully healed Garou were going to be a challenge, even with the aid of a gift such as Spirit of the Fray behind him. Until Death makes her charge; the valiant Black Fury an awe-inspiring sight as she races to match herself against her tribal elder -- but Lukas is ready for her and blasts her into motionless fear.
One down.
Two to go.
Curiously, it is the two Ragabash; the pack-mates united under Bear that circle around the Ahroun now. Face of Death, wily, cunning, seeks to flank the great black Hispo beast and sink her teeth into his hamstrings, but she is not quick enough to escape the deadly claws of the Shadow Lord; they rip into flesh and dig deep, tearing free of Wyrmbreaker and wounding badly the brave little Fenrir.
Then: the snarl of a Glass Walker No Moon as she lunges for her fellow Fostern and tears into his fur, claw and tooth digging deep as both attempt to penetrate the others flesh. Where Echo lands a deep hold, Lukas braces himself for it and denies her the lasting sting.
At the last; the Shadow Lord is bleeding from a bite delivered by End Transmission but still on his feet; still unswerving in his capacities as an Ahroun. It is the final bite from Joey that has the Full Moon toppling from his haunches -- a devastating chunk of flesh and fur and tissue torn from his black pelt.
He falls; blood spilling.
Face of Death has felled him.
[End Transmission] (agh, not tribal elder. WTF me.)
[Wyrmbreaker] [hael plz]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 6, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 5)
[Wyrmbreaker] [moar]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 5, 9 (Success x 2 at target 5)
[Wyrmbreaker] [and moar!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] A few moments tick by.
Then, as the last of the supernatural fear is trickling from Irene, the Shadow Lord stirs, still hispoformed, fumbling a gourd out of his pouch of talens.
Wounds seal. Another gourd. And another.
Then the Hispo is back on his feet, shaking blood from his fur like water from a dog. A few whuffs to catch the breath that a cloven-open side, masticated viscerae and punctured lungs stole from him; then the Ahroun sits on his haunches and lolls his tongue out at them.
"Again?"
You don't learn without repetition, after all.
[Joss] "Damn. I always miss all the fun."
It's said with a chuckle as the Theurge Elder and Eagle Beta follows the tug of pack to enter the hanger, weaving around those bodies that fill the hanger, that spilled the blood that scents the air, eventually appearing by Curata's side where she nudges his arm with her shoulder. "Who's that?"
[Face of Death] The difference between the Joey Oliver that came to Chicago and the Fenrir warrior standing in the open hangar tonight is this: Joey from six months ago would have thought this was right. Of course she just delivered the final blow to a Fostern Ahroun, dropping him to the ground. She was just that fucking awesome. She would have taken all the credit, too.
But Joey knows this was a team effort. She knows that without Echo, Wyrmbreaker would have ripped the Fenrir apart. She's seen him in battle, she knows how devestatingly powerful the Shadow Lord is. She also knows that a lot of this victory was luck.
Lukas heals himself, shakes himself off, asks to go again. On another night, perhaps, Joey would stay.
Instead, she shifts down to Homid, all blonde hair and blood splattered freckles. She grins up at the black wolf.
"I got patrols. Rain check?"
Whatever his response, Joey uses her arm warmers to soak up the worst of the blood on her face. Then she finds her coat and shrugs into it. She punches Echo in the shoulder as she passes by the Fostern of her moon, her sister.
And she takes her leave.
[End Transmission] The mottled brown and gray Glass Walker is sitting on her own haunches, bleeding lightly from several fresh wounds. She doesn't seem too badly off however, as her maw is parted and her tongue hangs out as if she intended it to be a Hispo's version of a grin. She was always grinning, this Ragabash, like a Hyena on the prairie.
She exchanges one long look with her sister, triumphant from the last round and then shakes her coat off.
"I will give you another go if you want, Full Moon." She whuffs, her entire demeanor suggesting mirth.
[Until Death] Again?
The Hispo Fury regains her senses, the last vestiges of terror bleeding out of her like heat from a vent, and within milliseconds of that question leaving the Fostern's throat, she is silently launching herself at him again.
[Face of Death] [and Joey's out. Thanks for the play, everyone!]
[Curata] Curata can feel the familiar tug of pack as the weird Godi makes her way into the hangar. He looks away for a moment to regard her with a small nod, before his eyes are back on Grace and Nate. He seems to be taking a keen interest in this match, unlike the others that have been going on around him, missing out on seeing the victory of the No Moon Bears take down the Fostern Shadow Lord.
A hand pulls from his coat pocket, swinging that arm around the skinny shoulders of Joss to haul her up closer to his side in a light squeeze. He points with the other hand, "That is Grace. A Fianna cub, just met her. She's fighting... Nate I think. There is a new Fury over there from what I have gathered this evening."
[Wyrmbreaker] Wyrmbreaker is beginning to respond to Face of Death when his attention snaps away. He's instantly on his feet, bristling as he faces the Fury that launches herself at him.
Perhaps there's some lie to his goodnatured acceptance of defeat after all. Wyrmbreaker's control is ironclad and uncanny, but his rage is strong, and his tribe is that of Thunder, which does not tolerate failure. He snarls terribly at Irene:
"Stand down, Cliath!"
And only if she does: "We fight with a third, or not at all. And after End Transmission-yuf is healed."
To Curata and Joss: "Would either of you do me the honor of facing me in combat?"
['nother GB at Echo!]
[End Transmission] The rangy No Moon catches the gourd in her teeth and trots with it outside of the hanger. She crushes it carefully, and applies it once again to her wounds; lifting her muzzle after a moment to emit a long, lone howl at the sky; pulling in all the Rage she had just expended against the Fostern Shadow Lord.
In minutes, she is all but bounding back across the hanger toward the other Garou.
[Joss] She isn't the largest of Garou, especially next to the newest Eagle, and as such snuggles easily under his arm during that quick hug. It's nice to have affectionate packmates again. She nods as he points out Grace, and Nate, and then turns her head to find the new Fury - who launches herself at Lukas. A brow arches slightly, and then when he asks the question...
She laughs. And she looks up at Curata, her gaze sparkling with mirth and good humor, and something that strongly resembles glee. She is Fenrir after all. And thus, she pulls away, shedding her scarf and gloves and tossing them to the side.
"Have you EVER known me to back from a challenge, Wyrmbreaker?"
This? Will be fun.
[Wyrmbreaker] Wyrmbreaker shakes his head, a curiously human gesture on an entirely inhuman beast. "Not a challenge," he specifies. "Training. You learn to fight in spontaneous groups. I learn to fight when outnumbered. We experiment and try and learn, and all gain something no matter the outcome."
Once again, Wyrmbreaker doesn't wait for a verbal ready, nor set terms. When the other three Garou are visibly prepared, combat begins.
[into PMs!]
[Word on the Street] And so a battle was declared between the Fianna Cub and the Gnawer Galliard. The Gnawer already battered and bruised from an earlier fight with his pack sister. The Cub young and enthusiastic about the impending fight...she had said it looked like fun.
They both faced off in their dire wolf forms, the young cub looking more impressive than the scungy cliath. Soon they were at each others throats biting and snarling as they rounded on each other trying to place the perfect attack.
The Gnawer had started out strong despite the injuries he took into the battle. His teeth tearing into the cubs torso as blood spattered his maw.
But it was evident the Fianna was the faster and smarter of the two of them, she was always the one to land the first blow, again and again she struck. Word on the Street however stood resolute against these blows.. he was a survivor... he would be standing till his last breath.
Soon after however the Fianna managed to land a strike.. then another.. then another. The cliath having to maintain the fight by digging deep and using his inner resolve to push himself....he wasn't going to submit. He would fight.. he would always fight, as he managed to land another blow on Grace.
In one last bold move Word on the Street gained the upper hand, Grace exhausted and wounded doing all she could to avoid his attack. Unfortunately too slow as Word on the Street laid one last bite to bring her down. Standing now above her body, thoroughly exhausted....he shifts back to his breed form. Leaning down over her as he cracks the gourd over her body, letting the healing power soak into her.
(1Gns spent for GB on Grace - 4A healed )
[Joss] She snorts. "To a Fenrir, it is the same thing." and then, with a bright grin, as she shifts to hispo, she growls. "Bring it on."
[Wyrmbreaker] [just so you guys know, Wyrmbreaker has Resist Pain and Luna's Armor active. he's also patching on a bloody bandage this time 'round. he'll wait if you want to activate any gifts/talens. then, inits!
+20]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1 (Botch x 1 at target 6)
to End Transmission, Joss, Until Death
[Curata] Grace had asked him when he was going to join the fray. He has been waiting for the right opportunity. Wyrmbreaker presents it, asking if he wished to join. Joss is quick to accept the challenge of the fight, despite Lukas' corrections.
The Fianna chuckles, pulling off his gloves and shrugging out of his jacket, intending to join this time. "I'm wi' Joss, Wyrmbreaker."
[Until Death] [+10]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7
to End Transmission, Joss, Wyrmbreaker
[End Transmission] [+10]
[Resist Pain still active!
Steel Fur still a go!]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7
to Joss, Until Death, Wyrmbreaker
[Wyrmbreaker] Wyrmbreaker shifts wordlessly, his body language indicating that he now expects an onslaught from Curata as well.
[Until Death] [REEEEEMIIIIIX]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3
to Curata, End Transmission, Joss, Wyrmbreaker
[Wyrmbreaker] (okay, we may as well drop out of PMs)
[End Transmission] [Re-roll!]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2
[Until Death] [WE'RE GOING STREAKING]
[Curata] 19+
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10
[Joss] resist pain active - while he's waiting, she'll activate trollskin too - that roll coming up first, than inits.
Sta + PU +hispo = 7d7
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)
[Joss] Inits + 9
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4
[Wyrmbreaker] [curata
lukas
irene
echo
joss
declare in reverse!]
[Joss] Split first action - 1 rage
1a: bite
1b: bite
1c: bite +wp
1r: bite.
[End Transmission] [1a. Flank
1b. Bite
1c. Bite
R1. Bite
R2. Bite again!]
[Until Death] [1a: Get behind.
1b: Spur Claws, +WP.
R1: Bite.
R2: Bite.]
[Curata] Reflexive:
[End Transmission] [Best reflexive declare ever]
[Grace] It was a second before she came back around, and a second longer before she shifted to... well... homid.
It was something to deal with whatever remaining wounds there were. Her eyes were bright, her hair was tangled, and through someone's good graces back home, she had clothes. Not the warmest, but the ragabash didn't seem to notice. She was a little bloodier than she intended.
"I was right," she said, "that was fun."
[Wyrmbreaker] no rage, all splits.
1a. True Fear on Curata
b. Jab Joss with Sense Dep Dart -1Gn
c. same deal with Echo -1Gn, +1WP
d. bite Irene
e. bite Irene
[Curata] Reflexive: 1 WP Resist Pain, 1 Rage Snap-shift Crinos, calling on Eagle's Might
SPlit Actions:
1a: Get behind
1b: Jaw Lock
[Curata] Jaw Lock 10 -3 split
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] (str+athletics!)
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 8 (Failure at target 6)
[Curata] [Str + athletics +Eagle's might]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] (jawlocked!
a. True Fear, -5 dice for splits -- shifting that WP to this roll.)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 6, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 5 at target 6) [WP]
[Wyrmbreaker] b. and outta jawlock. Jabbing Joss! Rolling as dagger, -6 dice for splits
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 4, 7, 10 (Success x 4 at target 4) Re-rolls: 1
[Wyrmbreaker] c. Same on Echo. -7 dice.
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 4, 7 (Success x 2 at target 4)
[End Transmission] [Changing Action 1a to a Dodge! -3 for Split action +1 Diff for Steel Fur]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 5, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 7) Re-rolls: 1
[End Transmission] [Ahem, I forgot to actually deduct the dice.]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 1, 6, 9 (Failure at target 7)
[Wyrmbreaker] d. bite irene! -8 dice
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 5)
[Wyrmbreaker] (straight damage!)
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 6, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Until Death] [Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 3, 5, 6, 6 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] e. bite again! -9
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 1, 5, 9 (Failure at target 5)
[Until Death] [1a: Run run run!
1b: -1 Rage.
Brawl+Dexterity (+2): Spur Claws. -5 pool (split/wound penalties), -2 diff (behind).]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 5, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 4) [WP]
[Until Death] [Damage: Strength +3 (Hispo) +1 (claw) +4 (suxx).] [A]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 8 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] (soak!)
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Until Death] [R1: Brawl+Dexterity (+2): Bite! -2 pool (wound penalties), -2 diff (behind).]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 3)
[Until Death] [Damage: Strength +3 (Hispo) +2 (bite) +5 (suxx). Pulling at Incap.] [A]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 4, 4, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] (soak!)
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 3, 5, 5, 7, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Until Death] [R2: Brawl+Dexterity (+2 +that one die I forgot earlier): Bite! -2 pool (wound penalties), -2 diff (behind).]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 3, 3, 3, 4, 5, 7, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 9 at target 3)
[Until Death] [Damage: Strength +3 (Hispo) +2 (bite) +8 (suxx). Pulling at Incap.] [A]
Dice Rolled:[ 16 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 5, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] (soak!)
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 4, 6, 6, 6, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] 20
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[End Transmission] [10]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4
[Until Death] [+10]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9
[Joss] 9
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5
[Until Death] [Lukas
Irene
Echo
Joss]
[Joss] [split first action, 1rage
1a. bite
1b. bite
1c. bite
1r. Bite]
[End Transmission] [1a. Bite
1b. Bite
1c. Bite
R1. Bite]
[Until Death] [Holding action.]
[Wyrmbreaker] 1a. True Fear on Joss
b. Bite Irene
c. Bite Irene
d. Grapple Irene to use as meat shield against Echo!
e. -1Gn, Bloody Bandage!
[Until Death] [I should actually post what I'm doing here, huh?
1a: Get out of Grapple.
1b: Bite!
1c: Bite!]
[Wyrmbreaker] 1a. TF, -5
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 5 at target 4) [WP]
[Wyrmbreaker] b. chomp, -6!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 6, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 5)
[Wyrmbreaker] dam+2
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 4, 7, 8, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Until Death] [Shit!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 7, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] c. chomp, -7!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8 (Success x 3 at target 5)
[Wyrmbreaker] 2
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Until Death] [FML]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 5, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] d. forget this grappling shit, bite again! +1 diff, -8 dice
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 5 (Botch x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] (FML.)
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 4, 5, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 4, 6, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] e. changing this damn action too! -1 Gn, Trapdoor Boon.
[Wyrmbreaker] [ending round 2.
round 3: lukas is going to spend this entire round healing up -- 1a. activate BB, gnosis roll; b. activate BB, -1Gn.
round 4: at start of this round, curata has 2 rounds of TF left; joss has one.
let's start declaring while i recap!
and here's the roll for the first BB, -2 dice]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 7, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 7)
[End Transmission] [Ack!
I think it's just me.
Round 3: Pick teeth.
Round 4: 1a. Bite Lukas whenever he appears
1b. Bite Lukas
1c. Bite Lukas]
[Wyrmbreaker] [sorry, 2 and 3 more rounds, respectively, for curata and joss]
In combat, numbers and speed count for more than skill.
In sheer numbers, Wyrmbreaker is at an extreme disadvantage. Arrayed against him are three fosterns and a cliath; of their number, two ahrouns, one fenrir. In speed, however, only Curata has even a hope of matching him.
Gossamer Wing grows thick hide. Nearly everyone forgets their pain.
Then -- at no particular sign or signal -- everyone moves at once. Curata is behind Wyrmbreaker in a blink of an eye, faster than the Shadow Lord can anticipate. He seizes his fellow Ahroun, the one that, in fact, he himself promoted to Fostern
and then almost as promptly relaxes his grip, backing off as unholy terror rolls out from Wyrmbreaker like a tide.
The Shadow Lord burns spirit energy like a pyre, bleeding gnosis as he darts amongst the others. One, two Sensory Deprivation darts jab into the sides of Gossamer Wing and Echo. Their faces go blank. Their eyes dart and flicker wildly with the barrage of images, smells, sounds and tastes assaulting their minds.
That leaves the Cliath Black Fury, the one that, last go-around, Wyrmbreaker had singled out as the single most dangerous opponent. It's an accurate assessment. Though the Fostern tears into his auspicemate in two vicious bites, he fails to drop her. When she retaliates, the result is
devastating.
The ground is painted in blood. If Wyrmbreaker had not been using one of his ever-so-favored talens, he could very well be dead. When the direwolves twist apart, the Black Fury is intent and focused, the Shadow Lord wary and snarling.
A second later they explode into conflict again. This time it's Joss that feels the effects of Wyrmbreaker's supernatural terror -- right before the Shadow Lord turns on Irene again, viciously, snapping three times
and managing only to scratch her, and then to bite his own tongue.
There's another burst of spiritual energy. An instant before Echo gets her crack, Wyrmbreaker vanishes into thin air.
Seconds tick by.
Irene, limping but resolute, stands her ground. Or paces. Echo, in contrast, picks her teeth with the point of her claws, pausing now and again to examine her findings.
Then -- quite without warning -- the ground explodes outward in a shower of concrete and dirt. Wyrmbreaker bursts out, hale and whole. And the battle is on again.
[Until Death] [And Irene is actually limping off to find her Theurge, because her player's brain has ceased to function. Thanks so much for the play, y'all!]
[Wyrmbreaker] [thanks for the fun, jamie. night!]
[Wyrmbreaker] [ffs, intarwebz.
okay, i think curata might be tapping out too cuz it's hella late where paws is. so, declaring!
1a.
b.
c.
d.
e. chomps on echo!]
[Wyrmbreaker] -5 dice!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 6, 6, 8, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1
[Wyrmbreaker] dam+6
Dice Rolled:[ 15 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 8 at target 6)
[End Transmission] [Soaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaak]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 6, 6, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] -6!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 7, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 5)
[Wyrmbreaker] dam+1
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[End Transmission] [Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] -7
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 3, 5, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1
[Wyrmbreaker] dam+3
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)
[End Transmission] [Sooooak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [pulled at incap!]
[Wyrmbreaker] -8, +1 diff, on to joss!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] dam+1
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Joss] [Soak]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 3, 4, 6, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] -9, +1 diff.
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6) Re-rolls: 2
[Wyrmbreaker] dam+2
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 5, 5, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Joss] [Soak]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 5, 7, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] (next round!)
[End Transmission] [Echo: *ZONK* x_x ]
[Joss] Split 4 ways
1a
1b
1c
1d - all Blocks.
[Joss] (+wp on d)
[Wyrmbreaker] 1a
b
c
R1
R2 - all chomps
1a, -3!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 7, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 9 at target 5) Re-rolls: 2
[Joss] block: dex + brawl + hispo = 4+2+2 = 8 - 4 for split
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 5, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] dam+5
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)
[Joss] Soak
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] b chomp -4
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 7, 7, 7 (Success x 4 at target 5)
[Joss] block: dex + brawl + hispo = 4+2+2 = 8 - 5 for split
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Joss] [soak]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 4, 4, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Wyrmbreaker] [pull at incap. back IC, for those people still ICing!]
[Grace] Grace, for now, standing rather carefully and paying rather close attention to what was going on. She was watching this, quietly, not joining in the fray, not nursing wounds. She's just... well.. watching.
The Fianna grins, ear-to-ear pleased and amused and all sorts of other things.
Maelstrom was proving to be entertaining.
[Wyrmbreaker] It's over quick after that. The Black Fury is crippled and the other Fostern Ahroun is still under the effects of fear, both bowing out of the spar. That leaves Wyrmbreaker at a distinct advantage over the slower Echo and the neutralized -- though still defiant -- Joss.
It takes a little over three seconds to end it. There's truly blood everywhere now: splashed across the concrete, pouring over fur and flesh, flecking the faces of bystanders. When Wyrmbreaker forces himself to stop biting, his Rage is still pouring through his veins -- a reserve of strength saved for destruction, left unused and crackling like lightning in the air.
His fur is on end. He paces to and fro, to and for, stalking, and finally burns the last of it off.
Then he goes to his talens store again. He's out of Gaia's Breaths. Murmuring an apology to the leechspirits within, he lays Bloody Bandages on the two Garou, neither of them of an auspice to have the right to use such a thing. Chiminage would have to be paid, later.
For now, Wyrmbreaker sits on his haunches and waits for them to rise.
[+5hp to each!]
[End Transmission] The usually spry Ragabash stirs first.
She opens her eyes, grunts, and rolls over onto her paws. Then, with a tremendous shake like a dog after a swim she shakes out her coat, flicking bits of fur and blood and gore all over the place. She stretches, and, spying Wyrmbreaker, her tail gives a wag or two. She whuffs.
"Well done, Wyrmbreaker-yuf."
[Joss] Still defiant.
Always defiant.
There are many ways to describe the Fenrir Godi - but that might be the closest to the truth. Despite the smile, the good nature, the fact that it's quite possible she's batshit crazy, she's defiant. She stands her ground. She refuses to fall until she literally cannot stand any longer.
And she does so now. To the Fenrir, every fight is a challenge. To Joss, it is a defeat that stings all the more due to personal feelings, and it can be practically guaranteed she'll be training with her new Ahroun packmate by the morrow.
She pushes her now homid form to sit, flesh and bone and muscle knitting together to leave her able to stand, if still bleeding through the slashes in her sweater, her skirts, and calmly goes about ripping one of her underskirts into a long strip, to bind the remainder of her wounds. When she's done, she stands, her grin lopsided, but present as is the sparkle of mirth in her eyes as she dusts off her hands. "Well. I hope you've learned your lesson then."
It's a tease, of course.
[Wyrmbreaker] When they've risen, his ears prick upright; he rises to his feet and whuffs something like a greeting.
"I've learned much tonight, actually," he replies -- tail fanning from side to side once. "I lost the fight before this one, against two Cliaths and a Fostern. Quite badly, at that. It seems that when facing steep odds, it's best to bide your time and wait your opponents out rather than betting the battle on a quick kill that may or may not happen. That was my mistake the first time, and if that battle had been real, I'd be dead.
"Thank you for training with me, Yufs. We should make this a regular event. The Sept could use something like this. An opportunity to train and to experiment without fear of being shamed by a loss -- or killed."
[Grace] She looks around, at the blood and the leftovers of the rather good evening that it seems people had. The cub folds her arms across her chest, brows raised and she took the scenery in. She looks to the left, then the right, and hangs back for now.
She takes a second.
"... this was informative," she nods. As that she was back in homid, hopefully healing from whatever residual damages she had, her skills with words were sorely lacking. Getting better with each passing use.
[Joss] He takes her question somewhat seriously, which is to be expected. Joss, for her part, nods with a chuckle. "Next time I won't take it so easy on you." Trust her to go for the obvious jokes, as she'd stood immobile for the majority of the time. Frustrating.
Grace speaks, and she turns to look at her with a smile. "We haven't met, yet, though my packmate - Curata - said that you are called Grace? I'm Joss."
[Wyrmbreaker] Wyrmbreaker has the good grace to look slightly abashed. "That must have been frustrating for you. I apologize. My intent was to train as though I fought the enemy, not necessarily to fight with any real sportsmanship.
"Ah," Wyrmbreaker spies Grace, then, "the cub again." He looks at Curata, mutely watching, back. "I see you've found your Tribe."
[Wyrmbreaker]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 6, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)
to Wyrmbreaker
[Wyrmbreaker]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 4)
to Wyrmbreaker
[Wyrmbreaker]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 3, 3, 6, 8 (Failure at target 4)
to Wyrmbreaker
[Wyrmbreaker]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 3, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 8) [WP]
to Wyrmbreaker
[Wyrmbreaker]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 4)
to Wyrmbreaker
[Wyrmbreaker]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 6 at target 6)
to Wyrmbreaker
[Wyrmbreaker]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 6, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 8)
to Wyrmbreaker
[Grace] "I did," she says. And the tone is excited, and pleased. Infinitely pleased, the kind of pleased that came from... well... almost winning a fight with someone who had been a cliath for awhile. True, she didn't win, but the cub didn't really seem to mind this.
She had been consistently faster than he was, right until the end. Overall, it had been a good experience.
"And I am," she tells Joss. the words come a little more quickly, yes, but they sound no less foreign coming from the tall, thin alto, "I met Buried Hatchet-rhya, too. He is interesting."
She says the phrase he is interesting like she actually means it, but with a tone of quiet frustration. It is the frustration that comes with people who do not quite know how to articulate their actual feelings and emotions in the medium in which they are given. No new words to mimick.
"And you should," she says, out of the blue, "play is practice. Practice is useless if you don't take it seriously."
[Joss] That makes her laugh, and bleeds a good bit of the frustration from her even as she returns. "Just remember that should you discover some of my little friends have decided to take revenge." Ah, besting a Godi. Is it ever a wise idea?
She tightens one of the wraps around the remainder of her wounds, as she nods. "I should have expected as much. I've become used to being guarded while I summon help of a grander nature. I like to think that if we were to stand against each other without gifts, we'd be rather evenly matched."
Of course, she likes to think a lot of things.
She smiles at Grace, and her excitement over the evening, and then she's biting back laughter at the comment about Hatchet. Better she say nothing at all...
[Wyrmbreaker] "Spirits are indeed the strength of a Theurge," Wyrmbreaker agrees. "Though you should think of a way to keep your strength about you. You may not always have the opportunity to summon in battle against the Wyrm.
"That said, I may not always have the opportunity to prepare myself before battle. Perhaps next time, we should cold-start and work out our tactics from that angle."
Wyrmbreaker is, in fact, still in hispo. Going to homid would mean getting blood all over his fine, expensive, dry-clean-only clothes. Either that or freezing. As such, his laugh is a chuffing sound, tongue lolling out.
"Hatchet. Interesting is only the beginning. I could also call him infuriating, abrasive, callous and sometimes utterly incomprehensible. He can be a very good Philodox and a very honorable Garou, though, provided he's exhausted all his other options."
Perhaps that's unnecessarily harsh. Still, Wyrmbreaker speaks with more a sense of fond exasperation than true ire. Whatever the feud was between the Circle and the Weasels, it seems to have died in great part with the reorganization of both packs.
"However," he continues, "he's also the elder of your tribe. And that means until you're a Cliath and able stand honorably against him, his word is law for you."
[Grace] "Either she doesn't know what all of those words mean, or Grace doesn't seem to think being infuriating, abrasive, callous, and utterly incomprehensible are bad things.
She mulls this over, as she does with all concepts brought forth. Then again, this is taking her much less time to relay and categorize.
"Good to know," she says with a nod. Lips purse for a second and she is more than contemplative. Hatchet is her tribal elder, and right now his word is law for her. What that meant to the no moon, however, was not written so plainly across her face.
"You both know him well, then?"
[Grace] (remove that first quotation mark)
[Wyrmbreaker] "No, not really," Lukas admits. "My packbrother hates him, and vice versa. When we first showed up in Chicago together, things were tense. Ironically, I interacted with him more then. These days we're each busy with our own packs. I respect him as a Philodox, though I don't always agree with his means and methods. Hatchet is unpredictable."
[Joss] She scrubs a bit of blood (her own, of course) off her arm as she listens to Lukas, his list about hatchet making her chuckle again. She looks up at Grace, and then after a moment's contemplation. "Well enough."
They've had words before. They'll probably have words again.
She stretches, wincing as her ability to resist is fading, and makes a face. "I should go. I've patrols to run and need to take care of this as well. Goodnight Lukas. Grace, if you need anything and cannot find Hatchet, or Curata, be sure to let me know."
And with that she waves, and heads out, with Curata falling into step with her as she passes.
[Joss] [ooc: thanks for the play - 6am comes way early. night!]
[Grace] "Why do they hate each other?"
She looks at Joss, and doesn't seem sure what to say. She doesn't say anything, really, instead, she waves. It's not a natural motion, and she stops after a second upon deciding that the rather human gesture was... well... a bit odd for her tastes.
She stops, and she mulls over what she is about to sa.
"When I first met you," she starts, "I asked why you came to Chicago. You said you feared resurgence. I asked if you were right, and you answered... was there a resurgence? Were you right?"
She found out what that word meant, obviously, and found her question had not been answered. Sharp memory, this one.
[Wyrmbreaker] "If you trace it to a single root, it's a story involving Hatchet, my packmate's sister, and ribald jokes six or seven years ago. I'll add that my packmate is a Silver Fang, and I think you can see how that didn't go over well. But to be honest, I suspect they simply don't like each other. At all. It's the sort of personality difference that runs so deep you can't trace it to any simple explanation."
The rest, then. Wyrmbreaker pauses a moment, thoughtful.
"Yes and no. There's more random Wyrm activity in the streets of Chicago these days than ever, but it's unfocused. Isolated packs of Dancers, fomori and banes. Nothing that would suggest the Hive up north has reconsolidated its power and turned its collective eye on Chicago... yet.
"Still, even with the Wyrm unfocused, we've been suffering casualties. It's unpleasant to think what might happen when the Hive gets itself together again. That's why many of the Sept's Ahrouns -- including our late Elder -- feels it's so necessary to pull together and form a coherent fighting force. Which sparring sessions like tonight could certainly encourage if Garou will participate not with winning in mind, but with actual betterment of their own skills and tactics.
"But that's easier said than done. I didn't like losing, myself."
[Grace] "What do you learn from winning that you can not learn from losing?"
Oh, the questions. It's how it begins. It's as much practice for her as it is an exercise in genuine curiosity and thought. He is thoughtful, and she is a sponge. One of the benefits of being a cub, everything was to be listened to.
Then? She looked shocked. Surprised, even, "your elder died?"
A pause.
"Hatchet seems very young to be tribal elder," a statement.
[Wyrmbreaker] "How to win," Wyrmbreaker replies. Then, quieter, "How it feels to win. Which can be a powerful impetus. Morale is as much a weapon as anything -- the Galliards would tell you that."
The Hispo sinks to his haunches, then, pale eyes almost colorless against the solid, rich black of his pelt. Humor glitters in his eyes.
"I'm very young to be a tribal elder, too. The Grand Elder of this Sept is still very young. This is a young Caern; the only Athro we have is the Warder, and there are no Elders at all."
[Grace] The world of color is lost on her; truth be told, she has no idea that part of her fur is brown. To her, Lukas appears to be a study in contrasts. Dark skin with light, light eyes. To Grace, his eyes really are colorless. Humor translates out easily enough.
"This sept is young and small..." she stops.
"... am I the only cub here?"
[Wyrmbreaker] "Yes." Sometimes Lukas is very blunt. "The Caern was only raised a few years ago; not long enough for any trueborn children to have had a First Change. Besides, the population has fluctuated, and its location in the middle of a city makes it even more difficult to support a stable kin network. Without one, the few Garou who have sired trueborn children have chosen to send them away to be raised by relatives and fostered in other Septs. I've never heard of any other Septs willing to give us their cubs to be Fostered, either. It's understandable; we lack elders and athros to set an example, and to protect the cubs if need be.
"Still. It's not a bad place to be a cub, I think. Between Hatchet and the Grim Heart, you'll learn what you need to about the tribe your ancestors claimed. There are plenty of Garou of other Tribes willing to teach you their ways too. For protection, I suppose you'll always have the mentor who brought you here. And the lack of structure at this Sept means more freedom for you. The opportunity to sink or swim under your own power."
[Grace] Yes.
"Mmn." the sound was displeased, and odd coming from human throat. It was low, half a grunt, half a growl and a whine. Displeasure, it said. it was a sound that would have come much more naturally on four legs.
"Give me enough rope to hang myself with," she states. The lupus-in-monkey-skin lets the phrase roll off her tongue, and it's one that does come a little easier than most. Which, of course, is odd. She lets brows knit, and the epression becomes contemplative, and she nods.
She looks at him.
"Do you want waffles?" An attempt at an offer of hospitality.
[Wyrmbreaker] "Wuf..." the word doesn't quite translate. Then the Ahroun gets to his feet. "Sure. Let me wash this blood off in the lake and get dressed. Where are we going for wuff?"
[Grace] She seems to really think about this. Really, sincerely think about it. Grace stands with her hands on her hips, weight evenly dispursed, and finally, she answers.
"South," she replies.
[Wyrmbreaker] "All right. South. Wait for me. I'll be back."
Admittedly, Wyrmbreaker is a little skeptical. He isn't sure Grace will be able to find an open waffles joint; even less certain of her ability to buy for herself. No matter. He'll go wash in the lake, then revert to homid and put the rest of his clothes back on. Then he'll go with her for waffles, sussing out the nearest Denny's if need be and most likely picking up the tab.
celebration.
11 years ago