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Deep Forest(#3805RFJ)
The ground here is sloped but not rocky, a densely forested stretch of
land that shows no signs of civilization. Rising ground leads to distant
mountains in one direction; beyond that, there are no visible landmarks
save for the trees that surround you. Faint animals trails occasionally
cross one another before winding out in various directions, and tend to
provide the easiest routes through the trees and underbrush.
Obvious exits:
Calls-The-Moon is running back toward the caern. For once, her visage of
self-absorbed grief and depression has lifted somewhat, being replaced
with an odd mixture of distress and rage. She howls as she runs:
Trouble, at the edge of the bawn! Trouble, near Hammer-of-Justice territory!
Dusty, who has been lounging against a tree and idly picking at the
grass around him, looks up at the call, then around for anyone else nearby
before pushing himself to his feet.
Dillan perks up, nudging Dusty. "C'mon, something's up," he mumbles. He
wanders to the edge of the caern, near the source of the howling.
Dusty shifts to lupus after a moment of concentration, then follows with
somewhat more alacrity than Dillan.
Dusty contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Dusty shifts into Lupus form.
The Caern is unfortunately not very well-populated this afternoon, as
most of the Garou are out on patrol or eating. Odison is there, along
with the Guardians. He starts arranging them defensively, and looks around to
see who else is available. Without hesitation, he assigns the two visitors
to go with Calls-The-Moon and her packmate, Crushes-The-Wyrm, to
investigate the disturbance. ~And it it's more of the bears, you call for help this
this time!~ The Ahroun grunts an affirmative as he takes the wolf form and
begins running toward his packmate.
Dillan rubs the back of his neck, nodding to the Get alpha. He slips
down to the lupus, towards Calls-the-Moon. Head cocked, he asks where the
troubles are... and what kind of trouble? Bears?
Dillan contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Dillan shifts into Lupus form.
Dusty lets out the lupine version of a sigh as he obeys Odinson, the
breeze ruffling his fur.
Calls-The-Moon's hind legs tremble as she slows to a stop when she sees
the others come. The lupus speaks first to the ahroun. She says,
Sings-the-Deeds has gone with Tailpuller and First-Strike to scout
outside our territory. This one was afraid you would be gone as well. Only
then do her green eyes flicker to Dillan and she snarls. Who else would
pollute our woods? They are gone, but the hurt remains. With that, she
turns and bounds back toward the way she came, presumably toward the
trouble in question.
Sleek Black lets out a quiet snort, probably lost in the sounds of the
caern spiring to red alert. He looks over his shoulder at Dusty, then lopes
off in chase of the theurge.
Dusty whuffs and gives chase as well, following Sleek Black and
Calls-The-Moon without other comment.
Wyrm-Crusher follows, bringing up the rear as the small pack heads
toward the trouble.
The four duck through fallen trees and pass over a small stream on the
way to the trouble. The run is not short, as the place in question is on the
very edge of the bawn, at the edge of that and the pack's territory. The
final patch of thick underbrush gives way, leading to the incredibly thick
moss that surrounds a good-sized pool. The moss, however, ends barely two
paces out from the underbrush. Past that, the ground is torn and trampled, the
tracks unreadable in the jumble of green and black soil. The trees
leaning over the pool surface are wounded by deep slashes torn into the bark;
some weep tears of sap. The pool itself is horribly polluted, the strong
smell of waste telling how even before the floating fecal matter can give the
clue. On seeing this place again, the theurge gives a horrible moan and
trembles.
Sleek Black wrinkles his nose in distaste early on, his expression only
growing more disgusted. Refusing to advance further, he perks his ears,
looking around for any traces of whatever it was that did this. To
Calls-the-Moon, he chuffs, irritated, why do the bears do this?
Dusty sneezes once, then twice, at the smell that nearly overwhelms his
senses. He lets out a disgusted whurf, then pads over to the nearest
slashed tree, his nose probing the slashes with both scent and touch.
Wyrm-Crusher pulls up short, shifting into the warform as he begins
looking for evidence of the perpetrators. He lopes off in a seeming-random
direction, his curses identifying his location even when he's out of
sight.
Calls-The-Moon continues to tremble. Closer examination reveals that it
is not just the natural distress of a wolf-born, but supressed rage. Why do
the bears do anything? Because we are at war, and they know that this will
hurt us more than any glorious death in battle.
A sharp growl, followed by a short howl calls the group's attention to
Wyrm-Crusher again. Though he's still out of sight, he's not very far
away. ~Come!~
Calls-The-Moon immediately turns and lopes toward the sharp command from
her pack alpha.
Dusty sneezes again as he turns away from the tree, tail drooping. His
ears perk almost instantly at Wyrm-Crusher's call, and he breaks into a lope
right behind Calls-The-Moon.
Sleek Black scowls, turning away from the mess to scan the horizon. How
do they do it? This one does not think the bears are very adept at hiding.
They must have some help in order to not get caught. He turns his head,
and bounds off after Calls-the-Moon.
As the group approaches, they can see what has distressed the Ahroun so.
The corpses of over a dozen animals have been strewn about the area, their
entrails hanging from low branches. It is mostly game, such as deer and
smaller mammals, but the mutilated body of a wolf is also present. It's
clear that these animals weren't just congragating here when they were
killed; the bodies were gathered from the surrounding forest and dropped
off here.
Sleek Black snarls in disbeleif and shock. Can no-one track these bears,
he asks, sniffing around the area, pushing the underbrush around with his
muzzle, searching for tracks - any sign, any clue.
Calls-The-Moon gives another one of the unnatural low moans. There are
breaks in the underbrush that could have given passage to a bear in natural
form, or any human-sized thing. The thick carpet of moss and leaves, however,
makes tracking by sight difficult.
Dusty's lupine form doesn't keep his disgust and disbelief to himself as
well as his human self might wish. He doesn't actually sniff any of the
bodies, but rather retreats to the broken brush, looking it up and down and
sniffing curiously.
Calls-The-Moon says quietly, These stink of the Wyrm too. She continues to
tremble. Misborn, that they stoop to using the ancient enemy to wound
us.
Dusty sneezes again, more of an expression of disgust than a true clearing
of nasal passages. He paws at the ground, fighting at the Rage that begins
to seep through his own calm demeanor. The set of his ears says that he
thinks the Wyrm's a whole different story.
Dillan's roaming around in the underbrush still has not turned up any
clear tracks, but one of the holes in the underbrush does not peeter out
as he follows it. Blood stains the leaves in two furrows, as if one of the
larger animals was dragged this way. It leads at an angle away from the bawn.
Sleek Black's ears flatten, growing silent. He halts in place, then
recoils from the bodies. Wyrm-taint, he chuffs in agreement. He motions the
others to his discovery, and wanders off without waiting for any to follow.
Dusty's ears perk as Sleek Black disappears. Where'd he go?
The Get Ahroun doesn't need any prodding; he's after Sleek Black in a
minute. His own form and size makes him quite easy for the others to follow.
Calls-The-Moon also follows, behind her alpha in a flanking position. The four
walk for a time, then come to an intersecting trail that has the clear
prints of deer and other forest animals. Booted feet have also been at
this trail, with the signs of a drug burden also visible. There is also a few
clear wolf-prints. The theurge halts momentarily, then tells her alpha.
We have left territory. This path leads toward the bear holdings, and the
caves.
Dusty turns his head towards Calls-The-Moon, ears perked. Do we
continue?
Calls-The-Moon, in turn, looks to Crushes-the-Wyrm.
From his position at the head of the group, Sleek Black looks over his
shoulder. Caves? Bear caves?
Calls-The-Moon does not know if the bears have taken the caves for a
den, though it is possible. This used to be Sky Thunder's territory.
The Shadow Lord's ears twitch at that. Sky Thunder?
Calls-The-Moon gives a lupine shrug. The pack that Odinson used to lead,
before all but himself were lost in a dishonorable ambush.
The Ahroun steps forward again, studying the trail. Finally, he says,
~We follow. Perhaps we can find their den.~
Dusty watches thre group wwithout adding anything to the conversation,
then turns to follow when a decision is reached, again without comment.
Sleek Black ducks into the underbrush to the side of the main path. He
waits for the ahroun to take the lead before setting into motion himself,
watching from the flank, lupine senses peeled.
Calls-The-Moon immediately submits to the decision of her alpha. She
turns after him and follows.
The path leads further and further from the Caern proper, the terrain
gradually sloping upward. Crushes-the-Wyrm decides to take wolf form
again for tracking. By the time the group is approaching the caves, the sun
has passed overhead and is beginning to sink again. The alpha of the
impromptu pack calls a halt for a brief rest and some water. The caves
themselves are in some nearby hills, less than a half mile away from
where the group rests.
Calls-The-Moon drinks cautiously from the tiny stream near the groups
resting place, then sits rather than flopping to the ground. She faces away
from the sinking sun, watching the surrounding woodside with alert senses.
Dusty pads a little ways downstream before jumping into the water and
soaking his fur from nose to tail-tip.
The group takes a brief rest before Crushes-The-Wyrm calls them back
together again. ~Have either of you ever fought the Gurahl before?~ When they
both answer in the negative, he issues a strict warning. ~They're strong
warriors; stronger than we are. If I give the order for you to fall
back, you will do exactly that. No questions. Understood?~
Calls-The-Moon continues watching the woods, gladly letting her alpha
deal with this.
Sleek Black chuffs an agreement. One doesn't need warn this one twice
before running from something that big.
Dusty nods, padding over to stand right behind Sleek Black.
The Ahroun begins moving foward again, without putting too much energy
into keeping his approach hidden. He takes a fairly straight path to the
caves, without concern for whether the group is spotted before achieving their
destination.
Sleek Black, on the otther hand, doesn't match the Get's bravado (not
that that's what he'd call it - but anyways). He slips again into a flanking
position, ten yards off the trail Crushes-the-Wyrm barrels down.
Dusty shakes off, then follows quietly.
Apparently the Ahroun's overconfidence wasn't entirely insane, because
the group manages to get within a few hundred yards of the nearest cave
mouth when Crushes-The-Wyrm again calls for a halt. He looks between the two
visitors. ~I don't suppose either of you is a new-moon?~
Sleek Black shakes his head, attention focused on the direction of the
caves. Dusty flicks a negatory tail as well, then pauses in thought.
Quicksilver is, this one thinks.
Sleek Black shakes his head. Falconwing is new-moon.
Dusty gives the lupine equivalent of a shrug. Too late now anyway. Why
do you ask?
The ahroun gives Dusty a strange look. Because they make the best scouts,
of course. With a snort and a firm shaking of his body, he steps forward.
Never mind. We shall all go.
Sleek Black whuffs quietly, amused. Even *he* knew that, Whispersong. He
sets off again, remaining to the flank.
Dusty snorts bck, then drops to the back of the group without comment.
Dusty drops a bit further back, then suddenly drops to his belly,
staring directly off to the trees on the left. ~Wyrm-Crusher.~ His gaze does
not leave the brush.
The wolf stops, but he doesn't turn around. Yes?
Dusty rises slowly, and cautiously pads towards the movement he saw a
moment ago, nose, ears and eyes peeled. ~There is something...~
Crushes-The-Wyrm motions for Sleek Black to come with him, and for Calls
to help Dusty flank it.
Sleek Black pads around to follow a few yards behind the ahroun, head
low, ears perked.
Dusty moves around to the side as directed, for once not dropping back
immediately.
A form rises up from the underbrush as the four Garou close in.
Surprisingly, it is not the figure of a bear, or the half-bear form that
the Get, at least, expected to see. It's a Garou, a familiar shape to
these four. But this one has huge, deformed ears that are shaped like a
bat. Its fur is grey and mostly fallen out, and its visible skin is dried and flaking
off. The smell of blood and, for those with the Gift, the taint of the Wyrm
are both quite noticable on the creature. With a howl, it leaps forward,
charging the male pair.
Calls-The-Moon's attention is distracted at the critical moment. Before
she can take more than three steps toward Crushes-The-Wyrm, a second
misshapen crinos steps out of the bushes. His one eye in the center of his
forehead is a blazing red, and his ears are mere slits in the upper sides
of his head. He moves in to strike at the theurge, from behind.
Dusty freezes for a moment, startled by the sight of the second -thing-
emerging from the bushes. Without real thought or words of warning to
Calls-The-Moon, he leaps for the creature attacking her, in lupus, jaws
bared.
Fueled by the rage granted him by luna, Sleek Black grows into the
warform, claws readied. Training and what insinct the Shadow Lord has kicks in,
and he drops into the fighting stance drummed into him during his stay at
the farmhouse. He waits for the ahroun to move before doing so himself.
Sleek Black contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Sleek Black shifts into Crinos form.
Crushes-The-Wyrm doesn't wait for the fight to come to him. With a
bellowing roar, he charges the deformed one, claws slashing at the thing's
jaw and midsection with abandon. As the melee is engaged, a warm, protective
glow seems to surround Dusty, remaining with her. Sleek Black undergoes a
similar effect, although his is much more subtle and fades away almost
immediately, although he can still feel its protection around him.
Madeline shifts into Crinos, and joins Dillan in the charge.
Madeline contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
Madeline shifts into Crinos form.
Calls-The-Moon howls in surprised pain as the one-eyed crinos tears into
her back, shifting instantly into the bulky dire-wolf form and turning to
face the thing that clings to her back. Dusty distracts the beast, slashing
into it and knocking it from the lupus. The two roll on the ground, the
monster's thick claws doing little damage in its first swipe that rakes
across Dusty's forearm. Likewise, the galliard's teeth and claws have
little immediate effect in the creature's twisted and thickened skin.
Dusty snarls as the claws burn shallowly across his foreleg. He takes
this moment to explode into Crinos himself, the better to grapple with the
creature on top of him.
Dusty contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Dusty shifts into Crinos form.
As Madeline charges, a she undergoes an effect similar to her two
packmates. In her case, the light takes on the form of a suit of armor,
translucent yet quite clearly visible. Crushes-The-Wyrm moves with an
unnatural speed, landing his blows before anyone else has had a chance to
react. He and the Spiral exchange slashing claw attacks, each drawing blood
from the other. Unfortunately for the Spiral (and Sleek Black and Madeline),
the Get Ahroun's blood is corrosive, burning whatever it touches as if it were
acid. Between the three of them, however, they manage to bring down the
Spiral quickly and with few wounds.
Massive jaws clenched, Sleek Black manages to withstand the searing of
the ahroun's blood splattering on, and chwing through his fur and flesh.
Blows exchanged, and the thing dropped, Sleek Black gives another kick for
good measure.
Madeline, upon seeing their prey defeated, quickly looks over at the
other Dancer to see if they need any help.
Calls-The-Moon and Dusty have a little more trouble with their Spiral,
as the rolling and tossing effect makes it difficult for the hispo to get a
good shot at scoring on the creature that inflicted the dripping wounds on
her back. Finally, her head darts with the speed of rage and her jaws clamp
in a death grip on the Dancer's knee. As Dusty expaned, the monster's
deformed jaws had clamped into his shoulder, ripping deeply into the swelling
flesh. Dusty feels his rage swell within him into an enormous force, but
barely manages to hang on to his control. As the theurge's teeth locks into
his knee, the Dancer lets out a gargled howl and lets his own jawlock go. A
strong shock twists pain through both Gaian Garou. The Get's jaws loosen
despite her resistance to pain, stunned.
Crushes-The-Wyrm makes no move to join the fight yet, knowing that at
this point he can be as much a hinderance as a help to his side.
From beneath the Dancer, Dusty lets out a howl of agony and
barely-suppressed rage as the shock rips through his form and lets go,
struggling to get the thing off of him. In the process, one knee lashing
up of its own volition.
The Dancer staggers a little from the kick, but shakes off the now-loose
hold of the Get and struggles off of both. Shifting with the speed of rage,
the deformed one-eyed wolf crashes into the underbrush and away.
Madeline asks of the elder Garou, ~Chase?~
The weight lifted off of him, Dusty rolls to his feet, snarling, and
looks like he has every intent in the world of following despite the deep
claw wounds torn into his shoulder.
Sleek Black procrastinates about joining in, realizing three's already
looking like a crowd. Too long, he waits, and the spiral bounds into the brush
before anyone has a chance to stop it. His ears twitch, itching to give
chase, but he holds, waiting for the 'pack' leader to give word.
Calls-The-Moon doesn't wait, the battle lust running high. Without a
sign of her normal apathy, the Get bitch crashes into the underbrush in chase of
her foe.
Crushes-The-Wyrm shifts into lupus and runs with his packmate, motioning
for the others to do likewise.
Madeline follows eagerly, shifting to lupus and joining the hunt.
Madeline contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
Madeline shifts into Lupus form.
Dusty doesn't need to be told twice, shifting immediately and joining
in.
Dusty contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Dusty shifts into Lupus form.
Sleek Black contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Sleek Black shifts into Lupus form.
The lupus outdistance the hispo, who then shifts to follow. With so many
determined Garou on its tail, the Dancer holds no chance. It dies a
coward's death, fleeing from the claws and teeth of those that run it
down like a deer.
Sleek Black bounds into the underbrush after the two Get. He wonders out
loud to Silverfur and Whispersong if they're reminded of Cops, as well.
Dusty ends up towards the back of the group as the effects of his wounds
make themselves known, but he snarls softly to himself and stays doggedly
with the hunt. When the Dancer is finally run to ground, he stops and moves
carefully to the edge of the forest, looking for something -- or several
somethings.
Madeline seems to either pay little attention to Sleek Black, or not
really understand what he's saying at the moment.
Sleek Black pads to the front of the group once the spiral's been put
out of its misery. He suggests that the search for the bears be put off. This
is an interesting development, and the pack is no longer all healthy.
Crushes-The-Wyrm removes the Dancers' heads and ties their manes
together. He then looks around and, after insuring that everyone can still
move, gives the order to return to the Caern. ~Gurahl and Spirals in the
woods. It's going from bad to worse.~
Madeline takes a moment to pry off one of the Dancer's claws. ~Haven't
had a good hunt like that in years.~
Madeline shifts to homid before she does this, of course.
Madeline contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
Madeline shifts into Homid form.
Sleek Black blinks, but quickly recovers, chuffing in agrement. Indeed,
Silverfur. This hunt was good. He pads off back towards the caern.
Dusty turns from his perusal of the edge of the woods as the others
prepare to leave, and quietly follows. He appears to be thinking about
something as he pads along.
Calls-The-Moon studies the bodies for a short time and then, with
lip-curled disgust, shifts to crinos to take her own trophy: a mouse-skull
necklace from the first Dancer. Acting as if the very touch of the thing
disgusts her, she smashes it to bits in her hands. It crumbles easily enough.
Madeline returns to the caern with the others, none of her injuries very
serious.
Dusty follows as well, dropping behind as the caern grows near. He sems
distracted, looking to the forest as if searching for something.
When the group returns. Crushes and Calls immediately go to report this
new, disturbing news to the Warder. He does not take it well.
Calls-The-Moon soon disappears with her packmate, bloody scabs on her
back still ignored. The pair disappear toward the original problem, to do
what they can for the pool.
Sleek Black and the rest of the rest of the hunting party return to the
caern some time later, some bearing trophies. The Shadow Lord leads the way
at first, but makes no attempt to wrest it from the Get or any other
members should they step forward. Poking into the caern, he looks about for
Odinson and the remainder of the 'cubs'.
Dusty pauses, looking around, then pads off rather slowly in the
direction of the pool, following Calls and Crushes, obviously inteding to
help if allowed.
Odinson is around, although the remainder of the Ritepack still hasn't
returned.
Sleek Black steps towards the alpha, expression grave. He dips his head
in greeting, then explains what happened with the spirals. Things are not
as straightforward as this one thought.
Odinson curses loudly. He's not as original as a Galliard might be, but
what he lacks in wit he makes up for in sheer volume. ~Attacked from two
fronts at once. It wouldn't surprise me if the two were working together.~
Bearshirt orders the Guardians to concentrate their patrol on that area.
Scarface leads two of his packmates in that direction, leaving one to
stay with the Warder to guard the tree.
Sleek Black pads back and forth, pacing. He lifts his head, glancing
towards Odinson for a moment. Perhaps, he whuffs, honored elder. The spirals
are cunning, but the bears do not come across as the types who would stoop
to accepting help from that scum. This one beleives he may have an idea,
but shall wait for the return of his pack first.
~Any ideas you have, we would be happy to hear.~
Dusty does not return until well into the evening, and when he does
immediately collapses against the nearest tree. He is covered in dung
and anything else foul that anyone could possibly think of, except for the
bloody scabs that mark one shoulder.
Bearshirt not-so-politely directs the stinking Gaian toward a flowing
stream to clean himself before sleeping.
Dusty sighs and gets to his feet and does as ordered, but is gone rather
longer than usual. When he returns, it is in Homid and with a small
handful of freshly-cut herbs, which he sets gently down in the grass before
collapsing against a tree.
Dusty contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Dusty shifts into Homid form.
Sleek Black chuffs, amused (at the Get's readiness to listen to a 'Lord,
or something else?). He shakes his head, padding away. This one finds his
pack first, then we shall talk.
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