the wolves.

Metro Staff

Fri 09:31PM EST
~A mile and half away from Billy's camp, the wolves move. They communicate the way all wolves do, follow the scent of their prey. Some are with child, one pantomines, the others shake with glee. The wolves look emaciated, drooling a bit with pelts of a rag tag of colors, like bonegnawer in lupus, but not quite. They move quickly though, stalking, hunting out their prey. Thoughtsless killing machines, unleashed to hunt. To find something or someone~


Corran Vong

Fri 09:36PM EST
SHaking his head seeing nothing in the umbra he steps back into the realworld. A glowing shimmering armour seems to form around Corran coelsking out of Moonlight itself
HT~~
"Three approach.. I smelt them before crossing over and there is nthing in the umbra...


Billy Bedlam

Fri 09:38PM EST
In the Umbra the wa club swirls Red and Black. it seems to be staring at Corran...it knows it's master already. Coming back out, he doesn't say a word, he just heads for the only way off the island unless you knew the tricky path through the traps. billy wasn't even sure he knew all of them. as he moves, he shifts to Crinos.


Corran Vong

Fri 09:42PM EST
He looks to Nate and nods ~HT~
"Shift up man... you might need that split second later. I'm going with billy to check this out."

He moves to follow billy


Eyes Like Flint

Fri 09:48PM EST
Tracks in the forest. Strange wolves bearing the scent of Wyrm...strong enough that a gift wasn't even needed to pick up on it. One man(?) running lean and half-naked and low to the ground on three legs: two feet, one hand. The other hand holding a long rifle level to the ground. Along his bare ribs black tattoos curl. Foliage rustles in his wake but twigs never snap. Fleet as an animal and silent as a nightowl, he crosses land and distance.

Tracking the predator.


Metro Staff

Fri 09:52PM EST
~From varous directions garou come to check out the new wolves with the smell of taint on them. With the coming of Endron, paranoia and fears are running high in the Pine Barrens. The wolves are slowly, and caustiouly making their way into the mile mark of Billy's camp, carefully avoiding his traps. Billy and Corran are the first on the scene in the Umbra, seeing the another figure approach in teh umbra, a newcomer, Auset Samshen. Eyes like Flint does not take the umbral passage, instead opting to sneak up on the transgressors, not aware of the Garou in the Umbra. The wolves continue their careful trek, the scent of food close~


Billy Bedlam

Fri 09:57PM EST
Billy stands in the middle of the path in crinos, his Scarred black form blocking passage and quicksand and swamp to either side of him. he looks at the Wolves and growls.


Auset Samshen

Fri 09:58PM EST
Stranger. She's a stranger, and always will be a stranger, ever will be a stranger. (... they say....) Perhaps the liquid eyed creature, tall and lithe, skin and bones and muscle and sinew and tattoos (...that some of her People....), shaved head. Her tattoos tell a story , and maybe they are a power, glyphs tracing her arms, clothing half ephereal in the spirit world (... will do anything for knowledge....); she'd been hunting the taint.

She no longer cares to remember for how long. The Garou piercing the umbra some ways away is caught behind the thick fall of dark lashes as her feet brush across the moonlit path. It is night, and the moon is dark. There is almost no light here, and this is a dangerous land to tread on, when Luna turns her face away from her Children. Inhalation (and senses widen); here, she can see so much more....

but here, of course, she is alone, and wolves run in packs, not like this. A hand reaches out, (tattoo blackened fingers) and she breaks through the gauntlet, stepping across the layers between the worlds.


Corran Vong

Fri 10:01PM EST
The armoured pale glowing Crinos looks to Auset as she appears Eyes flickering over her tattoos


Jonathan 'Walks with Spirits'

Fri 10:03PM EST
~The wolves seeing the two in front of them growl back, not afraid of the Garou in front of them. In scant moment they shift themselves, into a towering mass of crinos. Each standing at well over nine feet, with their own pelts matching the form, they seem twisted versions of garou, not Black Spiral Dancers, but something not right. Without warning the lead wolf launches itself towards Billy, claws ready for attack, one follows the leader, while the other moves towards Corran in attack, all the wolves, do not notice the appearance of Auset. In the distance, Eyes like flint can now see the battle starting, and can make out who is who~


Eyes Like Flint

Fri 10:05PM EST
The wolves: slow, meticulous, careful.

Eyes Like Flint: nearly flying over terrain, sharp black eyes picking out dangers in time for his reflexes to launch him aside, out of the way, around, between. Once or twice a trap snaps shut entirely too close for comfort, but Santiago knows traps himself. He's set them for years in the dark expanses of the north Mexico desert.

Crest the hill. Stay close to the treeline. Black shadow among black shadows. Skirt the boulder - there.

210 yards. Three wolves. Two werewolves - three now. Even odds. Corran, glowing like a firefly, is the first to catch his attention. The gleam of the armor distracts, but Santiago is stronger of will than that. His attention goes to the trio in the path and silently, smoothly, the rifle swaps hands, flows to his shoulder like an extension of his arm.

The barrel is steady. The sights are lined up on the back of the lead wolf's head. And the deserthunter, motionless, holds his fire and waits.


Corran Vong

Fri 10:16PM EST
As the strange garou launches at Corran he lets loose a battle howl and lashes out with his staff, The armoured crinos form blurring into action


Billy Bedlam

Fri 10:21PM EST
As the things Launches at him, He lets out a Cry of Rage and that Club swings around, spike aime at the creature where it's heart would be.


Metro Staff

Fri 10:34PM EST
~The lead wolf manages to hit Billy hard, though Billy's resilience shows that he is unscathed from the attack. The second wolf misses him completly tumbling to the ground. Billy uses his own gifts to aid him, and strikes out at the wolf that hit him, knocking the wolf clean down, and breaking his arm. The break is not clean, and sticks out, showing how aggravated the wound he causes. He swings at the next wolf, the spike landing dead center of the wolfs back. It howls a painful howl, that can be heard for miles around. His third swing lands on the wolf with the broken arm, hitting him square in the face knocking him down. Corran was not so lucky in the attack, as the wolf's claws hit home, but because of his gift of Luna's Armor, he comes out unscathed. He swings his staff and hits the attacking wolf to the head, stunning him, he takes another shot, hitting the wolf again, and with his last shot, deals a death blow, the wolf shuttering and dying where he stands, a high price to pay for attacking the Child of Gaia. Auset seeing that Corran has handled his attacker well, helps out Billy, attacking the wolf with the broken arm. He leaps and swipes at him, her claws raking his back, causing more damage, as she lands the Beta of the trio is about to strike at her when a shot rings out and smacks him in the back of the head, dropping him to the ground~


Billy Bedlam

Fri 10:43PM EST
turning to the nearest wolf, he brings the War club down with an Ear splitting howl that rings though the barrens., it's the one with the broken back


Eyes Like Flint

Fri 10:44PM EST
Two hundred yards away in a forest still echoing with the single shot, a bullet casing drops to the ground. Santiago picks it up between two fingers, puts it in his pocket, and starts toward the fight. Walking. He figures it'll be over by the time he gets there.


Noah Sullivan

Fri 10:45PM EST
The howl of pain had echoed for miles. Already somewhere else in the vicinity of the small island, where Billy's encampment resided. A sliver of space opens up, some distance from the direction behind Corran and Billy. The massive crimson-gold Fianna emerges from the umbra, a bit late, finally arrived upon the scene, after trying to find his way through the swamps. The directions he received were only so good to get him there....


Corran Vong

Fri 10:46PM EST
Corran turns back ~HT~ We should save one for questioning...


Auset Samshen

Fri 10:48PM EST
Black pelted, tar toned talons slicked with blood, its claws spear through the head of the wolf by its paws, claw through fur, claw through bone, claw through mush that might have at one point been brains. Hackles still lifted, the creature snorts, a low rolling sound, a near snarl. Its ears still ring with the shot of the gun, the beta of the pack down, the wyrm ridden wolf's skull a bloody mess, much like it's brethren, there beneath Auset's claws.

To have skin and bone and flesh beneath paws are uncomfortable. Four legged, still, it steps off the prostrate corpse of its victim.

Ears flick back, then, flat against its skull as its head turns toward Corran, a faint exhalation through its mouth, unspeaking. Had this one's been alive, it certainly wasn't now.


Ana Kozireski

Fri 10:51PM EST
Fifty yards behind Santiago, closing quickly through the underbrush (the sound, ricocheting in the night) another: a wolf, its pelt shining a muted silver in the dark night.

Indeed, it will be over before she arrives.


Metro Staff

Fri 10:51PM EST
~Dead, all three dead. Oddly enough, do not revert back to any form, but stay in Crinos. The bodies limp, bloodly, and broken. More Garou come to see the spectacle, and to investigate~


Corran Vong

Fri 10:52PM EST
He looks at Auset and his ears flicker. THe moon armour glowing around him
~HT~ "Or you can kill the last one and leave us with no answers....... whom are you strider?"


Billy Bedlam

Fri 10:53PM EST
Looking at corran, then the new one, hs eyes finally settle on Noah. kneeling down, he tears the creature's scalp from it's head, then stands slowly once more and moves back towards his camp As he moves past Noah, he speaks in the high tongue. "we should talk."


Noah Sullivan

Fri 10:58PM EST
Fresh scars tore through the crimson-gold pelt of the Fianna. old battle scars across the chest, one across the shoulder and the distinct carving of a scarred (...dishonor) glyph in the center of his back between the shoulder blades. Ears rotate on the crown of his head as Billy speaks to him in the high tongue. His muzzle drops, a quick jerking nod of his lupine head, as he turns to walk with Billy back towards the camp. "ok..." the word growled out in gutteral speech.


Eyes Like Flint

Fri 10:58PM EST
By the time Santiago arrives at the scene the rifle isn't even smoking anymore, the muzzle cool to the touch. Silent and unassuming, his black eyes flicker over the gathered: the Wendigo, the Coggie, the Fianna, the unknown one.

And the three dead things.

A pause. He drops to a crouch, the rifle butt planted in the earth like a staff to lean on. Suddenly more massive, less lean, the Glabro-formed Forseti reaches forward and dips his fingertips into the blood. Rubs the consistency between his fingers. Sniffs gingerly, and then more deeply.

Growled words interrupting the dispersal, "These smell like wolves." He stands. "Not werewolves."


Auset Samshen

Fri 10:59PM EST
It snorts softly, speaking in Garou tongue, head lifting slightly to regard the Children. "It is Wyrm." Is all it says first, before lines begin to fade, and fuzz and recede and what is monster becomes human, or nearly so.

Fur becomes flesh, claws become black tattooed fingers, the skin broken across each finger, oozing blood, slowly from each tip. She speaks now, in english, accented and slow, as she half rises from her crouch. Five feet, seven inches, give or take a few, made more poignant by the whip slender, honed as a blade.

"I am Auset Samshen, of the Silent Striders," soft words, and she does not waste time on her introduction, "Fostern Crescent Moon, and I am only passing through this place." No Sept. No Caern. No reason for a messenger of the Nation to stay, no fire to tell her stories, no moot to share her tales of glories in other Septs, the tales of the Septs who have fallen.

A tilt of her head toward Eyes Like Flint, "And I agree." Blood caked fingers brought to her nose, another scent that she had wallowed in, finger tips lifted delicately beneath her nostrils, though, her hands are soaked in this substance.


Billy Bedlam

Fri 11:00PM EST
He shifts Back down to Homid still carrying that blody scalp. "I hear you've been evicted from your cabins Noah."


Corran Vong

Fri 11:03PM EST
He shifts down to homid too, the armor changing to his homid form. He nods "I can see that. Still we might have gotten more answers were we able to question it... a live prisioner can always be made dead... Dead ones are a bit harder to make alive."


Noah Sullivan

Fri 11:03PM EST
"...yes.." a low growled answer to Billy. His ears rolling back towards the voices behind him. His head turns to peer over his furry shoulder, perceptive eyes, drinking in the sights of the newcomers. All Garou, some faces he knew. Others he did not. Bipedal legs continue to carry his massive weight along, taking the time to make the slow shift back down into his homid form.


Eyes Like Flint

Fri 11:04PM EST
A sharp snap of the wrist flicks an arc of dark blood across the dirt. He slings the rifle over his shoulder, leans down, and cleanses his fingertips in the dirt.

"Santiago Eyes-Like-Flint. Cliath Half Moon of Great Fenris."

When he stands again he's his homid self: lean, tanned, bare to the waist and without a single ounce of spare flesh on his sinewy body. The coiled black tattoos march down his sides still, and curve up over his shoulders, crossing one another behind his neck. Like shoulder holsters.

"Have you see these kinds before?" The question is directed to the wanderer Theurge.


Billy Bedlam

Fri 11:05PM EST
Touching his fingers to the scalp in his hand he tastes the blood and spits it out, then hends it to Noah. "Taste the blood....and you're welcome in my camp Noah."


Ana Kozireski

Fri 11:10PM EST
Wolf to greatwolf, greatwolf to hunched-over crinos balanced lightly on all four limbs, crinos to half-man, sloping brow heavy and strange on the (...relatively...) compact body, half-man to woman, though girl may be more accurate, balanced on crouched legs and the tips of fine slender fingers sinking into the thick spring mud, pale golden hair a-tumble about her shoulders. Mud-spattered jeans, wet to the thigh, a t-shirt grass-stained, smeared with wet earth near the hem. This she uses again as a towel, wiping clean her hands as she approaches the scene of the battle.

Quietly attentive, she studies the corpses from a fair distance and says nothing, nothing at all, for the moment.


Noah Sullivan

Fri 11:11PM EST
Cold blue eyes turn down to scalp, taking it in hand. He looks at it, holding it up, his nostrils flaring out as he breathes in the scent of the blood upon the scalp, but he doesn't taste it. "What's it taste like?" a blond brow arching upward as he looks at the Wendigo, his arm drops down, carrying the head. "I don't know. This is a bit far for my liking, vehicles are hard to get out here and I don't really want to leave Zoe out here in the swamps.." He shrugs his shoulders. "We have a month before they evict us from the cabins. If I can't find a solution then, I'll find a new place. Perhaps in Batsto or one of the other neighboring areas."


Auset Samshen

Fri 11:13PM EST
"Indeed." A faint smile, disconnected and delirious crosses her face as she inclines her head. There is more than just the wolven death here, she has a smell all her own which is not entirely pleasant. Old death. A crypt, an old tomb where skin has dried and blood has caked and flaked away. Musty. But death, nonetheless. She dresses in black, and it does hide the blood better than other colours, as her hands swipe across her black jeans, worn grey in places, smearing away some of the blood from her palms. "Yours is just as dead as mine."

She turns, a slide of her feet, and she crouches before the slaughtered corpse, a frown crosses her brow. Her hand passes abruptly over her shaved head, leaving, careless, a trail of blood beneath its path.

"No." a slow shrug of her shoulders, a roll of tattooed flesh beneath the curve of her tank top. "I've never seen wolves that look as us." But are not. Her weight shifts backward, crouched, shifted back to her shins now, cracked fingers resting on the curve of her knees as she looks at them, as if by staring, she might divine something from the blood.


Billy Bedlam

Fri 11:14PM EST
He nods. "Suit yourself. we need another to get this pack set up soon. Your friend the Fang will do, I kind of like her.... think I have a theurge in mind...and I still want Nathaniel...any suggestions? and it's wolf blood....mostly."


Noah Sullivan

Fri 11:16PM EST
"How many total will that put in the pack with me, you, Ana, and Nathaniel?"

Billy Bedlam

Fri 11:17PM EST
"5 if Matthew will join...I'm not sue if Nathaniel will I sense he's displeased with me....and no no one's apprached me." they comes into the Camp, And Billy forgot to announce himself.


Eyes Like Flint

Fri 11:18PM EST
Santiago's eyes are curiously, fanatically intense: black and hard as his name suggests. He nods without looking away. "How far did you follow them?" Brief questions, to the point, though not curt: one hunter to another. "I smelled them on the wind and tracked them only half a mile, less. But they have to come from somewhere."


Noah Sullivan

Fri 11:20PM EST
Noah nods his head. "Alright. I'll be back. I smelled Ana back with the others. Here." He hands the head to Billy, wiping blood-stained fingers across his denim-clad thigh.


Billy Bedlam

Fri 11:21PM EST
He nods. "Zoe is at my camp...she and Corran came out before this happened" Taking the scalp, he watches Noah go


Noah Sullivan

Fri 11:22PM EST
"Tell Zoe I'll be back shortly." He nods his head, turning away from Billy to head back towards the spot where he left the others.


Corran Vong

Fri 11:24PM EST
He sighs. "I'm going to go check on my kin..... I don't know what they are either." He looks to santa

"Don't leave them to be found please."


Billy Bedlam

Fri 11:26PM EST
He stares at the scalp for a long moment then nods to Noah, Kin talking in the back of his mind, it doesn't register as he tastes the blood again and spits it out.


Ana Kozireski

Fri 11:28PM EST
Pale eyes in a pale face, a smear of light against the deep, ebon shadows of the night-bound woods. For any curious or perceptive enough to study the young woman's expression, it is serious and studious. The scent drifting from Auset coils in her nasal passages, turns thick and cloying in the back of her throat, but she is too well-schooled to give expression to her distaste for it, dry as a tomb.

There are strange stories about Silent Striders.

One hand curves itself awkwardly into her hip pocket. The other pulls lightly at flecks of mud drying on her cotton t-shirt. She turns her head to follow Corran's path as the Gaian leaves, then swings her attention back to the corpses. The girl's wide, mobile mouth thins briefly as she considers them, only half-an-ear on the conversation between the Fenrir and the Strider.


Auset Samshen

Fri 11:30PM EST
She frowns briefly, considering as she looks at him. He has a direct stare, hard and fanatical. Auset's own regard is barely even registering as that, dark brown eyes scattered and unfocused. She looks through, rather than at. "I did not have the opportunity to track them. They did not leave a trace in the Shadows until I was nearly upon them."

Her fingers leave her knees and rub together, slicked with blood, flesh catching together where the drying blood has become sticky. "They are large. It is possible, perhaps to work backward."

She is dark where they are paler, her skin the colour of the finest of oak, her eyes dark brown, earthen. If she had hair, one can imagine, it too would be black, but she suits the night, and the darker parts of the world.


Noah Sullivan

Fri 11:39PM EST
The blond giant breaches the scope of bushes, coming upon the small group that has gathered around the dead bodies. The smell of the fresh blood easily led him back to this area, the odor masking silightly the familiar scents of Corran and Ana. He turns his eyes upon the new faces, hands coming to rest in the front pockets of his jeans.


Eyes Like Flint

Fri 11:46PM EST
The Shadows...? He doesn't ask. A murmured farewell to Corran as the Fostern departs. As the big Fianna shows up, Santiago's attention swings that way briefly, clicks over him. He offers a nod. Then it's back to the Strider: a quick nod, crisp. "That's the hope."

One last thing to do. The desertborn Mexican drops to a crouch and plunges his fingers into the mess of blood, bone and brain that formed the back of the beta-wolf's head. No grimace stirs the straight line of his mouth, framed by the dark goatee. A moment later he has the bullet from his rifle, which he also pockets. No prizes, no trophies from the kill. He just takes out a hip flask from his back pocket and wets his hand. The scent isn't alcohol - it's water.

Some words are muttered under his breath; he scatters water over the bodies in two arcs of his hand, diagonals crossing at right angles. Then he caps the hip flask and puts it away. It dawns on them then: that was a Rite of Cleansing. Nothing like the usual Celtic-inspired widdershins affair, though. Santiago had his own ancestors and roots in another land, another culture, another fervent faith.

"It was good hunting with you, Rhya." That was a farewell to the Strider. Another glance at Noah, curious, but that could wait until another time. He slings the rifle more firmly over his shoulder and starts backwards along the trail of the wolf-beasts.


Ana Kozireski

Fri 11:55PM EST
The young Silver Fang looks up as Noah approaches, small smile of greeting lilting across her mouth before her features resume their quiet, serious aspect. Several great flakes of half-dried mud flake away from her t-shirt as she picks lightly at the hem, staining the fabric that is left behind.

Head canted curiously, she watches Santiago's rite. Once more, her mouth thins and her eyes narrow briefly in concentration. Satisfied, the young woman's gaze drifts back to the Strider. Her eyes land somewhere on the woman's face, somewhere below the woman's gaze. "Auset-rhya," quiet and dignified, "thank you for your aid. I have little to offer you, but if you require rest or provision," pale eyes slide back to Noah, a mild question settled on the fine curve of the young creature's mouth, "I am certain that we will grant you what hospitality we can." A moment later, "I will see to the bodies."


Auset Samshen

Sat 12:03AM EST
"And you, Son of Fenris. Good hunting," murmered as the Philodox turns away, down the path, her attention flicking that way, toward Ana as she speaks. A blink. A moment, before she stands, because such fine words do not deserve to be answered from a bloody crouch (but a bloody stand instead). She carries herself with something not quite akin to quiet dignity, but at least the aloofness is there, and the self possession.

She accepts such offerings without compunction, a slow inclination of her shaved head. "Thank you." A slow smile, distanced, half forgotten, "I may need to trouble you for ..." the words trail off as she gestures with her bloodied hands, palms up, fingers spread, before she picks up the vein of her speech once more, as if remembering, "...water."

A flicker of her attention toward Noah, in the back, large hulking and blonde, "But I do not think I will be here long enough to trouble your hospitality."