Best viewed at 1024 by 768 pixels
The Hunt for Boss Hawgg, Part 3
Sunday, September 18, 2005
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] ((This'ere room done got CLAIMED.))
Kyle 'Rockstar' Leeson: [X3M7G] ((I is here)) *has been more and more restless with the length of time that's stretched on. He's an Ahroun, one used to constant hunting in the midst of hostile territory, and as much as he does enjoy the refreshment being around family brings, the past few nights have seen him get into more and more fights, more and more competitions, and closer to going off on his own unless he's physically restrained. The speeches he's given over the past few nights are as rabble rousing as he can make them, citing the Formorian Wars, the stand against the Silver Fang King, the battles of Tara, and the taking of Rome. He's even gone so far as to shave the sides of his head and affect a faux-hawk, dying it the same color blue as woad, and each night he asks Sucks the Thumb and the Ritemaster if finally the hunt can be called*
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] *And it's about a week before he gets his answer--or at least the answer he's looking for. "The Urrah" has finally returned, still wounded and about drained--but at least he did what he said he'd do, and the Hunt is ready to go. Even without Kyle's earlier rousing, the Fierce Ones are ready to go, and it's not long before quite a crowd is gathered.*
Kyle 'Rockstar' Leeson: [X3M7G] *is almost vibrating as he waits amongst them, killer's grin already plastered on his mug*
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] *In fact, there's more gathered there than the Sept can spare for however long this hunt may last, and Sucks-his-Thumb moves among the group, singling out a few and telling them they can or can't go. On one hand, it's a smaller group, but on the other, they're only after a pack of fomori, and this makes it far more likely that the screw-ups are left at home. Finally a group of seven are left behind--whether Kyle's skills are viewed as a necessity or whether they simply don't want to deal with the almost-certain Frenzy if he's told he has to stay behind may be up for debate, but either way he's in the group that's going, along with a wiry little Theurge, a Ragabash who seems two big for his Auspice, two Galliards, a half-moon, and an Ahroun who has shown herself during the preceeding week to be one of the few actually able to defeat Kyle in combat. The seven wait eagerly, most of them already in Hispo or Crinos, as the Ritemaster begins his Rite, starting with blue paint to draw....
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] ...the symbols that mark each of the group both as temporary packmates bound to each other and as temporary servants of the Huntmaster.*
Kyle 'Rockstar' Leeson: [X3M7G] *shifts up to Crinos himself, tonight he's left his guns and jacket behind, he knows that he won't even think of them enough to use them. Claws flexing open and closed and grinning at the other Ahroun* ~HT~ Wanna bet I get more kills than you do?
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] *From there he begins the chant in Gaelic--despite the rumors, most Fianna don't know a shred of Gaelic, and this fellow is no exception, but these few words, memorized by rote, are traditionally in Gaelic--and so Gaelic it is; until he switches to the Spirit Speech and then to the High Tongue, calling for Herne's assistance, extolling the followers of Stag who have been hand-picked for this venture and naming their accomplishments as making them worthy followers. The Rite ends somewhat dramatically, with a short but resounding howl from the heavy-chested Hispo form, meant to sound at least something like the call of the horn, and Herne stands among the group, antlered head swaying as he looks at each of the Garou in turn, a short but measuring glare.*
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] *Those paying close attention to the details may notice the woad decorating the Huntsman's leather armor, patterns that until a moment ago were among the decorations on each Garou instead, binding them to him and him to them--but those involved are too busy waiting for the signal. The Ahroun looks at Kyle from Hispo eyes and snorts in amusement.* HT--You're on, kid. *And while she speaks, Herne looks about and raises his head, not so much looking as listening. The Garou hear nothing, but obviously the Huntsman does, for he gestures for the group to follow him, and disappears effortlessly across the Gauntlet. It's the Theurge who steps forward first, the others instinctively waiting for him, and as soon as all are in contact he fades across almost as easily as the spirit.*
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] *As soon as they're across, the man starts off, running with long, space-eating strides, antlers shining in the moonlight.*
Kyle 'Rockstar' Leeson: [X3M7G] *follows the Theurge across the Guantlet, bounding ahead on all fours, the grin affixed to his face, probably for the rest of the night*
Kyle 'Rockstar' Leeson: [X3M7G] *and Kyle's excitement, his absolute and unshakable confidence along with his damn near personification of unbridled fury is infectious, eminating outwards to envelop the other Garou and their spiritual leader, inspiring them to greater deeds as well* ((Inspiration))
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] *One would think it a slow night--the pack spends hours running, crossing distance as if it were nothing--but their blood is up, the bloodlust is upon them, and no one wearies nor falters. Herne leads on, head turned as if to catch the baying of far-off hounds, and despite his height of seven feet his legs carry him forward in long bounds, easily staying ahead of the pack of Garou. Through the night they run, as Luna continues to rise and then begins to sink, through the wooded hills and valleys, cutting across the Weaver-bound images of man-made highways and roads and towns--the Ragabash, either in eagerness or amusement, crashes straight through one side of a gas station and out the other. it will likely collapse in the real world in a few days, but he doesn't slow in the slightest; until finally, after hours of running that seem like moments, Herne stops dead still, waiting for the others to gather around him, and points to a collection of ramshackle buildings, the entropy....
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] affecting them and causing their umbral reflection to run down in a way that the Weaver certainly wouldn't allow if it did not have to. How they can exactly tell he's pointing across the Gauntlet to the physical side isn't exactly clear, but that's obviously where he's pointing.*
Kyle 'Rockstar' Leeson: [X3M7G] *knows how this works along with the rest...he waits for the Way to be opened by the Theurge, the horn to sound, and the slaughter to begin, popping his knuckles in a decidedly human fashion*
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] *This time the Theurge moves forward before the Huntsman, scarcely waiting for the others to make contact before with the perfect timing eerily singular to packs of Garou he fades easily across the Gauntlet and pulls the others across with him. The small group can see the buildings--what was once a gas station, although it's doubtful anyone travels the potholed road to that spot or has in years. The boards covering the windows have fallen, and the glass that came out of them when hail or the action of cold and heat and ice or rambunctious kids broke them are mostly covered with dust. The pumps are gone, having probably been taken with when the station closed, and the sunken area marked with caps shows where the tanks have partially collapsed. Perhaps half a mile away, traffic drones on the highway or large road--after all, it's half a mile away--but soon all sound and even most sights are blotted out by the strident blare of the horn Herne has now to his lips--the Hunt has now begun
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] in earnest.*
Kyle 'Rockstar' Leeson: [X3M7G] *and along with the rest, he charges forward, letting loose an Anthem of War in time with the rest of the temporary pack, waiting until the last second before leaping upwards with Salmon's grace, crashing through the roof just as the rest would make their own points of entry* The
Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] *At the call of the Horn, figures boil out of the building, Herne casting aside the blood-spotted rag he had used to find the prey and watching as the Garou go to work. A noxious green mist slips out one of the windows, rising straight up, while a man in surprisingly clean police uniform raises a heavy pistol as Kyle crashes through the roof and an enormously fat, short little man starts windmilling one arm as if he were winding up for a softball pitch. Others race out the front and back and sides, and something sparks as one of them triggers something--a button, a remote control, a switch, who knows.*
Kyle 'Rockstar' Leeson: [X3M7G] *lashes out, grabbing the fat man's arm with one clawed arm, his other plunging into the ample mass of his midsection, turning and hurling him at the gun toting cop, not even waiting for impact before he leaps up again, coming down with all his Crinos weight on them both, his claws puncturing the skulls like some sickening shishkebob*
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] *The group's entirely Fianna, and Salmon Leap is a common Gift; the Philodox and one of the Galliards sail alongside Kyle in eerie symnetry, crashing through the roof like half-ton cannonballs, while others work around the side or take care of those poor fools that fled out the front. Either they've gotten reinforcements or there were more than could be fit in the car, because there's a good eight or ten of them out there as the night collapses into a beautiful cacophany of snarls, howls, and screams of fear and pain.*
Kyle 'Rockstar' Leeson: [X3M7G] ((Gimme a number count, inside and out?))
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] *The cop ducks wildly aside, the shot that may indeed have drilled Kyle through the skull instead barely drawing blood from one shoulder, and Kyle's claws instead rend one shoulder--before the Philodox's Hispo teeth cut deep into its back and heavy jaws literally rip his spine out with such force that the man is deboned from neck to tailbone. Once Kyle is close enough to Fatso, though, he sees what all the arm-waving was form--gathering what looks for all the world like spider's silk from some kind of gland in his enormous belly, silk that coats Kyle's arm and claw when he plunges it in, in a sticky but surprising strong mess--were it anchored to the ground or to the building, he may be slowed down, but with the strength of the Crinos it simply means he drags what's left of the fat little man along with him like a tin can tied to a car bumper. The Galliard yelps as claws cut into his leg, but his own claws dig deep, with another yelp as barbs cut his flesh, into the chitinous hide...
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] ...of some fomori so obscenely twisted by the Wyrm's influence that it doesn't even look human anymore, causing it to slew to the left. Meanwhile flames flare up, casting a flickering light over the scene outside and through what's left of the windows.* ((four inside, and between four and six outside--can't tell for sure, since they left from front, sides, and back.))
Kyle 'Rockstar' Leeson: [X3M7G] *snarls and burns Rage like it's going out of style. His claws dig deeper into Fatso's corpse, grabbing the spine and tearing it out through the front, then trailing webbing and all he leaps to land on the back of the chitinous formor, his jaws clamping down on it's head to pull it up while his hands place the spine across it's neck. The twist of jaws and hands is so brutal, so vicious that the sharp edges of the spinal column very well may decapitate the creature. And then before Fatso's body has even hit the floor, he leaps again, jaws still carrying the chitinous beast as he bursts through the front of the building, snatching one of the formor out front that was just about to die at the other Ahroun's claws and slam its head into the steel cap where the tanks were. This is his element, the quasi-urban enviroment providing him with more weapons than he'll ever need*
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] *Trash, the rather-appropriately-named fomor, weighs in at a good three hundred pounds, putting the combined weight of Garou and victim at easily half a ton and perhaps half-again that. Trash tears at Kyle with clawed forefeet, but the Garou is behind him too quickly--as the insignificant wound on his shoulder heals, the barbs tear cruelly into his lips and gums (take an agg, but no poison or other troubles from it); and a moment later both are airborne, both philodox and Galliard turning with an eerie presence of mind to merely hold out a razor-taloned paw each and rake down the creature's side as the force of Kyle's leap carries it up out, still trailing Fatso's legs and waist behind him like a grisly party-favor. The group outside is in battle with a huge creature, almost the size of a Crinos--the Theurge keeping its attention while the large Ragabash hamstrings it with almost-surgical neatness and the other Galliard tears away flesh and hair from its chest, while two more lay...
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] ...not just dead but torn limb from limb off to the sides, firelight dancing over them and casting odd shadows over the scene. Another, missing its head, lays beside the building, and while the Ahroun can't be seen that eerie sense of unity tells Kyle she's in pursuit of either the last one or nearly the last one as Kyle lands on the half-collapsed tank--and collapses it the rest of the way, driving the fomor's skull through dirt and gravel and steel and dropping perhaps five feet with it. And the damn things' harder to kill than a gator--with half it's skull gone, it still attempts an ineffectual swipe at Kyle's legs that now bears no strength to it.*
Kyle 'Rockstar' Leeson: [X3M7G] *jumps upwards again, sailing this time twords the back of the giant the others are fighting, and while he sails, still trailing the remains of Fatso, he roars as he smashes the heads of both Trash and the other formor in his claws together, with the big one's head in the middle*
Kyle 'Rockstar' Leeson: [X3M7G] *he lets go as the triple header finishes, landing on the ground in a crouch familiar if Alexi was here, using the power of Salmon to pull his claws from navel to neck in a Shoryuken style attack*
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] *Dirt is already falling around him, burying the Crinos Fianna almost knee-deep, but it's no more trouble than walking in thin mud for the massive strength of a Garou, and the Galliard holds his attack for just a moment, waiting until skulls smash against the big one's before thrusting a claw deep into the thing's chest. It's followed a moment liter by the Theurge's, right beside it, and a half-instant after that the Ragabash's taloned paw thrusts through between them from the back, pausing for just a moment to give both the finger before it withdraws just as suddenly. The other Galliard and the Philodox both step out, grinning in triumph--until more sounds issue--a yelp of pain from the distant woods, a snarl of fury and savage pleasure as Ahroun jaws taste blood, just as quickly cut off with a short gurgle--and the Ahroun is simply gone from the psuedo-pack's senses, as if she had never bonded with them.*
Kyle 'Rockstar' Leeson: [X3M7G] *turns with the rest of the pack in that direction, snarling as the word travels throughout their minds, 'Vengence'. With a howl, Kyle rushes off twords where he last sensed the other Ahroun, this is a head he plans to take back with him*
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] *Either this fomori had Rage or something like it, and the sounds were a good distance away. By the time they reach the Ahroun--with only a short pause to rip some webbing free when Fatso's legs get tangled in the limbs of a small tree, the blood's almost stopped flowing--a knife-thrust to the midsection, which should have been enough to take down any other Garou, and then a slash across the throat that nearly took her head off--both unmistakably wounds caused by silver. The fists that twice in the last week managed to beat Kyle into unconsciousness are clenched now, razored talons digging into the black earth as if she were attempting to hold her spirit to the world. The tracks continue on, towards the highway, and the bastard's making damn good speed.*
Kyle 'Rockstar' Leeson: [X3M7G] *gestures for the others with Salmon's Leap to follow, leaving whichever is most wounded or slowest to watch over the body of their sister, and then Kyle is off bounding through the woods, his Rage refilling at the sight of the dead Fianna. He'll have that formori's head, or he'll join his fellow Ahroun tonight in Stag's Paradise*
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] *They can see the highway soon enough--traffic is stopped, and once Kyle, the Galliard, and the Philodox are close enough it's easy to see why. Somebody is laying dead, halfway in the right-hand lane. Not just dead, but dead in a spray of blood and gore--if the guy did this with the knife, then he's both very quick and very strong. The car this fellow was in is no more than a set of tail-lights, accelerating with a rapidity that indicates a more-than-fair degree of skill.*
Kyle 'Rockstar' Leeson: [X3M7G] *stops shy of the highway and slams his fist into a tree hard enough to shatter the wood. Marking the scent of the runner quite well, for this is far from over in his mind. He gestures to the other two and heads back to the rest, helping carry their fallen sister back to the Sept, gathering a few trophies from the Wyrmspawn to take back*
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] *The Ragabash smashed one of the creature's heads--and Kyle did four more--so there isn't much along those lines to take back, but the Galliard grimly appropriates the rather Freudian pistol that the man dressed as a cop was carrying, as well as the three remaining heads and a patch of the carapace off Trash's shoulders, before the crew begins their long trek back home.*
Kyle 'Rockstar' Leeson: [X3M7G] *is a seething pot of Rage all the way back, announcing the pack's arrival once they reach the Bawn*
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] *It's daylight--in fact, almost evening--before the no-longer-pack returns, and noting the not-exactly-feeling-victorious tone of the group's announcement, Sucks-his-Thumb comes to see the group.* I thought you woul... Oh, fuck.
Kyle 'Rockstar' Leeson: [X3M7G] *lays the other Ahroun down, and the trophies, which of course will all be accreditted to her, reverting to a bloodstained homid* That just about sums it up.
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] *Nods.* I thought it was just a bunch of fomori? If that Urrah fucked it up.....
Kyle 'Rockstar' Leeson: [X3M7G] It was, as far as I know. She ran off alone to chase one who was escaping. But there were a rather large amount of them for one car, and they did react pretty fucking quick to the horn.
Kyle 'Rockstar' Leeson: [X3M7G] And not in the way Formori usually react to a surprise attack by a wild hunt either.
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] A moment. *Sucks-his-Thumb shifts to an impressively-scarred Crinos and belts out a howl--one that basically comes out to "you, you, and you--get your furry asses over here!" With that done, he flows easily back to Homid, and nods.* I'll be looking into what he did, then--if he fucked up a Hunt and caused the death of one of my warriors, I'll personally mail his pecker to the Sept of the Green.
Kyle 'Rockstar' Leeson: [X3M7G] Why carry silver, unless you -know- what's coming after you? Kyle 'Rockstar' Leeson: [X3M7G] With all respect given rhya, I have a better idea. Lance thinks too much like a human, plans to much, listens to his heart too little. I suggest he be geased to help take this fucker down with me, by OUR ways. It can't be said if his actions caused her death or not, for is it not our way to acknowledge that all Garou are born only to die? To punish him for a natural occurance would be to deny the ways of our Tribe. But to make him understand why he should have just let the hunt go from the beginning...that would be appropriate.
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] *Sucks-his-Thumb nods, thinking.* It would be difficult to punish him if it can't be said whether he's at fault or not. *shakes his head.* I'll bring the matter to the philodoxes and let 'em think on it. But Lance was wounded with silver already, so it's obvious they had at least some on hand before his little plan.
Kyle 'Rockstar' Leeson: [X3M7G] Either way, we lost the lack of surprise on the hunt. Formori may not be Wyrm Howlers, but some of them at least have the brains in their heads to know that where one Garou attack comes, a larger one is sure to follow.
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] *Nods.* I'll have you and the others tell what you saw, and what happened from every angle we've got, and let the half-moons go from there. If he's actually at fault, I'm still arguing for dismemberment.
Kyle 'Rockstar' Leeson: [X3M7G] *bends down, taking the ring off the corpse's finger and slipping it on his own pinky, a sign that he plans to carry it as long as her death is unavenged* ~If~ he's at fault. With your leave rhya, I need to get back to Kansas City. Lance and I are the de facto leaders of the Garou there, and we've both been gone far too long. There's a Corax there as well that's waiting for me, and I really don't want to offend him by being gone any longer. I know it's a good deal to ask, but could a bridge be opened for me?
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] *Shakes his head.* The Urrah and Montana left last night. He gave me the same reason--and something about "Shitmonkeys"--and apparently she had to make up for a week of lost work before the apes take her truck. I'll get the Ritemaster to open it up for you, but you'll need to come back to speak to the half-moons.
Kyle 'Rockstar' Leeson: [X3M7G] Of course I'll come back. If I'm needed before I return on my own, just send word and I'll come immediately. I'll see if I can bring the Corax with me, maybe he can help track this bastard down, or at least he'll know another friendly place in this world he can come to. I'll hold my own gathering for her back in the city. I'll gather my things while the bridge is prepared. *heads off to gather his guns and clothing*
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] *The three who were called pass him by as he heads for the caern, and before too long the Bridge is opened up.*
Kyle 'Rockstar' Leeson: [X3M7G] *puts his jacket on, pops his neck and steps into the bridge*
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] *The flash of light closes, here in the Tellurian, and Kyle is on his way.*
The Redneck ST (To Shadows, for some Wild... Oh, you said Wyld HUNT?): [2DWNB] ((And Done.))
Shades of Gray I Site, Copyright (c) 2000-2006