2020-05-31 TPC: Scoping Out the Gas Station - Umbra

This log has been backdated during the Liberation MUSH beta period. Please excuse any discrepancies between when it is currently dated, and anything posted in the scene. The scene was originally dated 14 months later.

Scoping Out the Gas Station - Umbra

Participants: Addison, Alexa, Artaud, Ashlynn, Clint, Edgar

Storyteller: Nate

Location: The umbral reflection of an independent gas station on the 405, near the Santa Monica junction

Date and Time: May 31st 2020

Summary: Banes and blasting fire, oh my!

Mood Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7IjgZGhHrYY

(A continuation from: 2020-05-31_TPC:_Planning_for_success) Heading to a gas station near you...

Edgar looks to Alexa "You have your van, right, Alexa rh.. Alexa yuf?", he asks, still a little uncomfortable in his new rank, "so that I can travel without worrying about my horn, I prefer to save my gnosis for the threat itself, instead of getting to the threat."


Artaud when they arrive, is happy for the car ride, but then, Artaud is always happy. It isn't a real high bar let us be honest here! Once they are at the scene though of wherever the yare to cross, the Lupus just gives a big ole stretch and hops on through!


"Same drill as last time, Edgar-yuf," Alexa reassures him, patting him on the shoulder. "Save your Gnosis. We'll drive to the spot, use the rearview, same song and dance." She pauses though, and then smiles. "I only completed my challenge a week before you did, Edgar. I'm still Yuf." She chuckles.


Alexa gathers the group into the van, drives them out to the highway, parks in the same spot as last time - same song and dance. She does again cast a glance out the windows, looking for any nosy mortals who might see them disappearing, but doesn't seem to see any. She adjusts the rearview mirror, and glances back to them. "Alright, so for Clint, since you haven't been here yet," she says. "You'll see some banes when we cross over. They're gafflings, and unless something's changed, they shouldn't attack us unless we do anything to them first. Leave them be for the time being, and remember that our goal is to draw out and engage the large Furmling that's made a home at the gas station."
A pause. "Everyone understand?"


Ashlynn is mostly quiet on the way to the van and the drive to the site, expression serious, but not scowling. Once more finding herself in a mixed group that makes a Blessed pack of the auspices. "Understood." She says, waiting until they're parked and settled before gathering focus for the trip through the Gauntlet here, knowing it'll be thick and knowing to prep for a fight to cross.


There is little prep for Clint. He has a stick and a fannypack filled with odds and ends. Junk mostly. He shakes his head at Alexa with a chuckle. "I am not planning to attack anything. I do not fight well." He gives her a big thumbs up and rummages in his pack, nodding and mumbling to himself while he does.


Alexa gives Clint a reassuring smile. "Alright," she says. "Let's cross then." And she sets her eyes on the rearview mirror, beginning to focus...


Artaud has already jumped the gun, and is squirming in the matter that is the Umbra, and all that stepping sideways stuff. Looks like he's a stuck wolf. Very unfortunate for him really. So out he pops and just stares blankly. Or does he?


Edgar nods and waits anxiously until they get to the location before stepping through the gauntlet, whereupon he immediately shifts up to Chrinos and from Chrinos to Hispo, whereupon he flexes his claws and jaws and drops down onto all fours <<Nose down, eyes up. Nose down, eyes up>>. Those with him last week may remember his pre-game mantra and he looks around, waiting for everyone to step through. <<Missing one again, who can fish out from Gauntlet?>>


With a look of almost meditative focus, Alexa stares into the reflection. Into the mirror of the world. The Child of Gaia's gaze loses itself in the reflection, as she reflects on the Tellurian's until she feels the strands of the gauntlet slip over and around her, and then - collapses on her butt in the Umbra, for she was seated, but there is no car in the Umbra to hold her. She laughs sheepishly, rising to her feet in the familiar Umbrascape, and then does a quick headcount. "We wait for Clint," she says, eyes flicking, looking for any disturbances that might be a companion getting caught.


Clint is nervous about being part of a team and being counted on. It shows with his constant fidgeting. Checking and rechecking his fanny pack. When it's time to go, he looks at the mirror, staring and concentrating. And nothing happens. He just continues sitting there. "Um..guys.." As everyone else steps across and he's left sitting there he taps his feet on the floor and works to gather himself again. Another staring contest with the mirror and through sheer force of will he manages to get himself across the gauntlet. When across he chuckels nervously and tries to make a joke. "Sorry. The mirror was small and hard to fit through."


Once on the other side, Ashlynn sheds her human for her massive warform, the shift seamless, flowing from one shape to the next. Rolling her shoulders, she shakes herself off. Her coat is a bottomless black with a white star splotch on her chest with a tail that ends at the bottom of her sternum. Across her shoulders and upper back are moon-on-water dapplings, and no doubt to the purity of her lineage.


Now that things are happening, Artaud for his part just gives a big long stretch the Lupus staring for a second as people turning into and out of things with a sort of skeptical expression on his features, tail wagging slightly before he looks at his small lupus form and pauses. Clearly uncertain, the bones then begin to crack, and the flesh tears and resets into something a tad bit larger, and better set up for a fight.


Alexa for her part is preoccupied with watching the Umbra. As Clint finally makes it over and cracks a joke, he's greeted with a smile and a nod. "I'll have to get a bigger rearview mirror next time," she says, though her eyes linger on the air around them, waiting for Addison to make his way through.

Addison finds himself stuck on the material side. Is is starting to feel this spot is particularly cursed. 


Waiting is something the Philodox are good at, so he waits, ears perked nose down, eyes up. <<Will take rear again?>> he asks Alexa <<claws and teeth ready to kill>> he says, indicating that he has invoked Fangs of Judgement.


The umbra here is much as the rest of the city; thickly webbed, with older buildings having sharper definition and stronger substance, the newer or frequently repurposed ones looking thinner, wispier. This specific location just off the freeway holds no real surprises; a few banes kicking around and the sound of some hunting scrags in the distance, pattern spiders doing their repairs as normal, but nothing that looks like it is going to immediately jump on the Garou. The nearby on-ramp leads up to the area they saw before, and presumably more of the hoglings and such.


Alexa turns to face Edgar now, looking over his Hispo form with a slight smile. "I'm delegating positioning decisions to our Ahourn," she says, nodding towards Ashlynn in her Crinos form. "Ashlynn, what's the marching order going to be?" 
She doesn't let her eyes linger on Ashlynn for an answer, though. Alexa glances back again, and her brow frets. "Come on, Addison..." she murmurs to herself, watching the air like she could bore a hole in the Umbra herself and pull him out.


Addison finally scrambles through the Gauntlet. Once on the other side he closes his eyes. His limbs lengthen, taking on an apelike stature. Though his proportions are not fully crinos. His hair lengthens to cover his neck and cheeks with shaggy mutton chops. "So we're just a distraction? To get the Furmling's attention?" The Glabro gnashes his teeth, asking for a recap of what their task actually was. 


Ashlynn studies the group as everyone comes through, inclining her head towards Alexa. <<Den-Digger will watch our rear. Cousin, you can withstand fire and will walk point with me.>> Addison is motioned to. <<Addison will scout. Gonna-Eat-That? and Edgar in the middle.>> Placing a strong fighter to their rear, sandwiching the less combat capable in the middle, a good nose to the front and the fire-resistant pair in lead. An ear flicks, waiting to see if the others agree.


Once across, Clint is digging into his fanny pack again and nods with a smile as he pulls out a little white rabbit's foot keychain that he holds in his hands. With it in hand, he takes a good look around. Looking at the local denizens. Watching to see their reactions before moving on to the next. No immediate attacks at their intrusion? He lets out a heavy breath and looks towards Ashlynn. He nods with a look of relief at his appointed position and moves to get himself settled in the middle of the group.


Artaud just gives a big ole stretch, his claws and talons digging into the Umbral flesh of the road beneath them slightl yas he yawns then and looks over towards Ashlynn at this point, a quick dip of his chin then and he leans forward and rests on his paws and talons then. <<Good. Good. Happy to go from rear. Best place that. The kind of place where I am furthest from the explosions. And Arguing." Artaud muses even as he tries to peer at the gas station from their far away place.


Alexa looks relieved when Addison shows up. She focuses on her form, bones and flesh beginning to snap and twist, fur pushing its way out of her skin as her height shoots up. Soon she's at her full height in Crinos, form towering over the homids and four-leggers. When she speaks next, it's in the High Tongue, voice low, smooth, and rumbling, like distant thunder. <"So it shall be. Everyone assume your battle forms, make use of any gifts you have now. We're about to set out.">


<<Can fight very well, have fought wyrm, will again, advise fighter flank and fore>> The Philodox is hardly articulate in Hispo, but he wants to be ready in case they are ambushed.


<<Can withstand fire?>> Ashlynn asks.


Addison looks to the Ahroun. <<"Could just call Bane out here,">> the Uktena offers a suggestion, <<"I know Summoning Spirit Rite.">> He was still unsure what the goals were, as no one had recapped him about their mission was.


Edgar nods <<not in chrinos but am in Hispo and can Luna's Armor when ready to fight>> He huffs at Addison <<did not think to just call, but not Theurge so not surprising, call kill?>>


Alexa closes her eyes for a moment, pressing one of her clawed hands to her chest in a meditative gesture. <"I invoke the ancient pact with flame,"> she murmurs quietly. <"My breed has long honored you. Let any flame that toucheth me know not to sear into skin and bone."> Her eyes open, and for a moment, they flicker with light. She turns, considering Edgar. <"Edgar, you are a capable fighter, but fire is dangerous for us. Ashlynn is asking if you know the gift of Mastery over Fire."> Then her eyes turn to Addison. She looks remarkably similar to Ashlynn in this form. <"Can you ensure that it is the exact same bane, Ghostwalker-Yuf?">


Artaud grunts then as he leans forward and follows along, he'll hop and walk and move to slide behind folks. He doesn't move that quickly, but he will bring up the rear, in a very, very sneaky fashion as he offers up in a whisper, <<Time ot sneak up and find the big dangerous FUmling yes? Not talk with it or Negotitiate. Maybe trap it, or scare it, but got a roll to play here, a job so to speak. Got to do the duty.>>


Ashlynn considers, then nods to Edgar. <<Flank to Alexa's side, she can help buffer some of the flames if it gets crazy. Fall back to the center if you need time to regenerate. Healer's can't go down. We need you. If anyone is hurt or in trouble, call it out. We can always fall back. We cannot revive the fallen.>> She chuffs, ears flicking back, then forward. A quick headcount and she growls softly, calling on the wisdom of the fire spirit that taught her to bear the brunt of the heat and heal swiftly from it's touch. Another fur-fluffing shake of self and she looks for a gap in the among the smaller spirits.


Clint stares, jsut stares at Alexa when told to take his war form. He does as told and nods with a frown. The change is fluid and instantaneous. Shifting into his warform at over eleven feet tall and entirely without fur. Like a horse sized naked mole rat murder beast. <<I can also simply talk to it if I am close enough. Possible to learn something from it to use against it. But at that point, we are already in danger.>>


On the on-ramp there are no banes, just a pattern spider doing its thankless job of mending little breaks and fractures in the webbing. Up on the freeway itself, two clusters of hoglings are within sight but not terribly close, and then the gas station is a few hundred meters away, woven in thick webs that glisten with an oil-slick sort of sheen. A few more pattern spiders are visible there, along with a couple more hoglings loitering on the forecourt, huffing the fumes from the pumps.


Ghostwalker, ponders. He squints. <<"If I could get line-of-sight... See it. I could summon it out of explosion zone.">> He postulates. He lopes forward, taking position that Ashlynn had directed. 


Clint points at the spider and shrugs. <<Or I can try asking it to see if it knows?>>


<<We have plan then, call, attack, kill>> Edgar asks, the brevity of his language a result of his form and not mood, his mood .... not quite chipper, but glad to be of Gaian use.


Looking the group over, Ash beckons with her clawed hand, moving after Addison. <<We move. If you can get line of sigh and pull it out? Good. If not, we can knock.>> Ashlynn decides, not wanting to linger in one place, not knowing what the other side is doing. <<Keep an eye on the hoglings when we get close, Artaud.>> she cautions.


Forged-in-Flames glances to Cracks-the-Skull with a tilt of the head. <"Just what I was about to say,"> she says, though there's a bit of a rumbling tone to her voice. <"Cracks-the-Skull is right. We move now. Once we have visual we decide to summon or engage directly. Follow the formation she set, this way."> And then she gestures, beginning to make her way towards the on-ramp.


Artaud for his part is again just always ready to go! Exploring! Fihting! WHo cares! But Artaud has to bring up the rear, so he waits for everyone else to get moving before the Lupus slinked up behind and along.


Ghostwalker attempts to creep around the Hoglings suckling at the pumps like... well. Piglets. He'd attempt to creep up to the building, slowly shifting up to Crinos. He was attempting to get close enough to try and claw some of the webs off the windows so that he could see inside. 


Edgar falls perfectly into formation, nose down, eyes up, ears perked, repeating his mantra internally, he stays in formation, a good Philodox is he. <<Nose down, eyes up>> on the prowl, on the watch for.


Forged-in-Flames takes up the front, eyes on Ghostwalker as he scouts ahead. She stands near her cousin, this time seemingly deciding to not favor her bo staff, but rather claws. As Ghostwalker scouts, she glances to Cracks-the-Skull, and then gives her a quiet nod. There's a note of frustration in her body language, but she doesn't let it loose, instead keeping her eyes on the gas station, getting ready to intervene should something react to the Uktena. Perhaps she's saving her anger for whatever's in that building.


Clint keeps himself upright as possible. Using his height to his advantage, looking over the other's heads to keep a look out at the spirits and monitoring the state of the umbra. Watching for anything that changes from either their presence or as a result of things on the other side of the Gauntlet. Staying to his assigned post in the middle while they move.


Ashlynn reaches over and lightly, fondly tugs at Forged-in-Flames' scruff. The touch meant to help push off the frustration some. It's a brief contact before the Ahroun focuses, adjusting the spacing slightly - giving herself a little more room to move to wherever this might be kicking off at.


Two of the hoglings are so busy sniffing gas fumes and burbling to themselves contentedly that they *somehow* fail to notice a crinos-sized thing sneaking around them. Clearly it must be a very sneaky thing indeed. The third does startle slightly, huffing out fumes and bubbling something, the eyes visible in the smoky body fixing onto Ghostwalker's shape. Though it doesn't seem inclined to attack, just to warn its friends.


The gesture elicits a fond snort from Forged-in-Flames, who seems to untense a little. She glances back to check on the wolves behind her - so far so good - and then turns her eyes back to the Umbral image of the gas station, in that watchful way that wolves do, waiting for any sign of movement or anything going... wrong.


Ghostwalker looks over to check on the Hogglings, noticing that he's been noticed. The Crinos snarls in attempt to frighten the smaller Banes away from the area. 


Edgar stays low to the ground, trying to be as inconspicuous as a Dire Wolf forged by Gaia as a warrior can be. He upnods at Forged at little. An "I am here".


The snarl from the crinos is enough to frighten away two of the hoglings, at least to the edges of the forecourt if not beyond. The third one though, that little cloud of foulness stands its ground and calls out in a shrill water-boiling-over sort of hiss, loudly. 

The door leading into the building opens, and a sickly green-yellow light floods out as not one but two furmlings zip their way out onto the forecourt. One is baseball sized and has a high-pitched buzzing, the other is basketball-sized and has the low drone of a bumblebee, though it seems to move no slower than the smaller.


Even as the flames rise higher and higher, and well, things are getting a bit hot as a big nasty boy is on the scene, Artaud runs forward, or really slinks, keeping low to the ground to try and latch his fangs onto a baseball sized peice of fiery umbral flesh and tear a small hunt away. He spits it out quickly, clearly finding the entire thing distasteful, but the lupus seems preapred to keep up th-No wait, he scampers off. A hit and run predator in spirit and in form.


The biggest of the jagglings expands in size as it takes a breath, like a particularly fetid blowfish, before spewing a gout of fire in Ashlynn's direction. It isn't quite as successful as the spirit had hoped, leaving her with just a few charred hairs. Meanwhile, the third hogling spirit - the one who was not intimidated! - bubbles and tries to conjure a wind to blow away this crinos werewolf. Sadly, there is not even a little toot of wind. How embaressing.,


Ashlynn bows her head and scrunches her eyes partly shut, ears slicked back along her skull as fur is burned and skin scorched, weathering the fire attack and then uncoiling, lunging forward with a wide swinging rake to try and knock the Jaggling Furmling away from the gas station, claws lacerating the sportsball sized spirit. The Ahroun's claws catch and snap off, remaining inside the spirit, Ashlynn momentarily disarmed by her gift.


Edgar snarls primally as he bounds straight for his target and his jaws close down onto it, his head wrenching to one side and then the other such that he tears chunks out of the spirit's ephemeral flesh with his Justice powered fangs.


A flash of claws! Garou combat tended to be blindingly fast, and Alexa's movements were no exception. No sooner has Edgar rended the smaller Furmling with his teeth than the Galliard's claws catch and rend at the spirit, ripping tatters out of its supernatural form! She lets out a snarl at the profane Wyrm elemental, but her body keeps moving, the rage inside her finally unleashing!


Ghostwalker snarls and attempts to swipe a backhand across the defiant little Hoggling that rallied the rest of its Wyrmy friends and the big Wyrmy Furmling from inside the gas-station. But it's a miss. Addison just wasn't at the top of his game today. He'd be lucky to get even a crumb of Glory.


The Jaggling bounces and zips, Ashlynn turning, having to wait for her claws to regenerate. Feinting with one huge paw-hand, she snaps her jaws shut on more or less the entirety of the Furmling and *crunches* down, displaying how she got her deedname, then shaking her head and spitting it out, flinging drool off her heavy jaws.


Even though Jagglings don't have jugulars, Edgar bites in to where his primitive brain thinks the jugular should be and is rewarded with satisfying victory. Ephemeral entity in mouth he lifts it up and shakes his head vigorously, tearing it apart with grim satisfaction.


And in a split second, Edgar has finished the smaller Furmling! Alexa's not moving at normal human speeds. In this state of rage and combat, she's not even THINKING at normal human speeds. She registers Edgar's kill - foe slain - and immediately her claws sink into umbral turf again. She barrels forward, hundreds of pounds of snarling muscle leaping and catching the Furmling, still bleeding from her cousin's brutal attack. Another chunk tears away as it rends itself from her grasp, and she lands in front of Ashlynn, spiritual essence like blood dripping from her fangs. <"Good! Contain it!"> is all she has time to bark in the heat of it.


Artaud is currently ducking and bobbin and weaving. Not through traffic or wrenchs, but blasts of hot flame and waves of hot air! THe Lupus apparently changing his attention away from the obvious problems at hand- trying to murder a fumling to outright survival! His larger target looking far too dangerous for the Lupus's liking so, he squirms and moves out of the way. The fire singes the fur, and even engulfs him at one point, but the lupus gets away, with only only one awkward bald patch. <<Can't catch me! Run too fast! Run too well! You are far to weak for me spirit! I taunt you sir! Taunt you!>>


Clint stays in place while claws and jaws are flying around. Watching the ebb and flow of combat. Everyone is still up and healthy. Check. Enemies are getting less and less healthy. Check. Everything looks to be going to plan. He thinks. But then, there's an opening. Or what looks like one and he seizes the moment. Charging forward like rhino on the move, his jaws open wide and he lunges towards one of the hoglings. Snapping his jaws shut and shaking his head impressively. All the movement, ends up in doing nothing but making himself a target.


The Jaggling turns it's flames on one of the others, distracting Ashlynn as she steps forward and rakes her regrown claws across the surface of the Furmling, the spirit rolling out from under them, moving with the impact instead of resisting and slipping away unharmed. Frustrated, the Ahroun bellows, displaying her essence stained jaws.


While the big Jaggling Furmling focuses on blasting at Artaud - who, disappointingly, dodges the blast like some kind of pro and soaks the final bit of singing flame, Hogling 3 begins to fade out of sight, and Hogling 1 takes a DEEP breath and blows a miniature tornado at Edgar, scooping him up and flinging him off the edge of the freeway, safety barriers be damned!

Mimicking its buddy, Hogling 2 takes a deeeep breath and summons a tiny tornado to lift Alexa up and throw her at the nearest pattern spider. Which, understandably, becomes rather irked by this interruption to its work.


Alexa sees the Jaggling duck and weave, and leaps up, catching it slightly with her claws - only to feel the wind kick up from under her multiple-hundred-pound form and fling her at incredible speed into a pattern spider! She careens into it, tumbling for a bit before catching herself on the highway. A snarl sounds from her throat.


Ghostwalker slams his Crinos fists down into the pavement as he rolls forward into the Hispo shape with a snarl. Witnessing Edgar and Alexa fall, the direwolf's eyes flash with Rage as he prepares to snap up the discorporated Hoggling. 


Edgar lets out a bellowing howl in fury as he's thrown off the freeway and, tumbling to a halt on the umbral street beneath, he immediately begins sprinting for the on-ramp to rejoin his warparty.


Alexa being swooshed away right next to her causes a surges of anger in Ashlynn as she leaps towards the jinking Jaggling, snaring it in her claws and opening another wound on it's form. <<EAT THEM!>> She doesn't dare turn her focus from the fire spewing Jaggling, but with the pack being scattered and flung about, the hoglings are proving themselves up to the task of being dangerous.


Alexa's rage burns hot. They all saw her go flying like that! Her fur bristles, and now the pattern spider's turning to attack - no! No more! With a snarl of outrage she unleashes her fury on the little critter and punts it like a football off the bridge and into the cityscape below. Chest heaving, she turns and begins to make back to her comrades.


And it's not in time. The opening Clint went for was entirely wasted. He stands tall and turns to look around. TO look for some direction in what to do. This is not his thing. And it comes in the form of a yelled order. He got his rited name for a reason! He locks onto one of the hoglings and lumbers over. Massive jaws open wide as he gets close. Clamping down on the hogling with a shake of his head to rip and tear at it.


While the jaggling continues to belch flame, this time at Artaud, Hogling 3 fades out of view, escaping this battle that seems to be going poorly for the banes.


Artaud just jumps through flame and spit and wind! The Hispo form of the lupus just tearing in with a great bit bite, as he runs around yelping as he spits out the umbra flesh that he just tore from the creature. Only a little bit this time, but one attack at a time! That is all it takes! Whittle it down!


The Jaggling wheels around and sends more flame at Artaud. Ashlynn redoubles her efforts to try and slow it down or bring it to a halt, snapping her jaws down on it, only for the spirit to squirt out between her teeth unharmed. A roar of rage follows, ears laying back, then swiveling, desperately trying to keep tabs on how the others are faring through the sounds of the fight.


Edgar sprints at full hog back to the warparty snarling and growling, still mightily pissed off at having been tossed about like a ragdoll chanting <<nose down eyes up nose down eyes up>>, which is fast becoming his personal battle mantra.


Hogling 2, chortling to itself, takes a deep breath and summons a tornado to dash Alexa over to the other pattern spider...


Alexa charges forward, kicking up the Umbral image of asphalt under her claws. She sees Clint locking onto the Hogling, she moves in to strike - it connects, but not enough to stop it! A tornado of vile wind kicks up around her, but this time she's not letting it happen again. Her claws flash into the ground below, her form hunkered down, a snarl on her lips. <"Not THIS time you little shit!"> she booms.


Still there? Yep. Again! Clint bites at the hogling, jaws swinging in from the side to clamp down. His teeth dig in as he shakes his head.


Quick as the first bite was, Cracks-The-Skull jerks her head, clipping the squidgy thing with her front teeth and it.. squeaks out of them a second time. Ears laugh back, hearing the laughter of the Hogling - struggling and being laughed at by the prey a strong goad for the usually calm full moon.


Edgar snarls and takes a bite out of the jaggling, but his teeth barely manage to break its defensive hide. Grunting in frustration he lands and readies for the next pass.


Artaud contineus to lash out, howling, screaming in what can only be described as furious anger! To no effect, he tears and grabs and claws and bites, mainly bites, but tears away nothing. Alas.


Alexa unhooks her claws from the ground and turns to look at the scene. Seeing how her comrades teeth and claws fail to connect with the Jaggling, Alexa takes a full breath, tilts her head up, and belts out a furious howl! It's a true Galliard howl, booming many times her size, and it calls for - WAR! An empassioned treatsy to war and blood and glory! It rings across the battlefield, viscious and intense, and then ends in a ferocious snarl as Alexa throws herself back into the fingt!


With a sound of discontent, the buzzing basketball-sized Jaggling flails around, trying to dodge being bitten whilst simultaneously having this annoying spur digging into its sides. It belches fire at Edgar, but seems increasingly pissed-off. Any who understand the tongue of spirits understand a babble of curses as it mutters to itelf.


There's so much movement from the other Garou. Running. Dancing about in combat. Evading. Not from Clint. He just lumbers along, following thw hobling where ever it goes. Staying close to. Nothing at all fancy. Just a repeated snapping of his jaws at it. Over and over and over. Again, he clamps down, driving his teeth deep into his foe to tear at it more and more.


Ash might be cursing inwardly as much as the Jaggling is outwardly. It moves so fast, she struggles to track it, taking care not to accidentally swipe at anyone else having a go for the bouncing, blazing Furmling. Pivoting, she slaps out, catching it with a claw tip.


As Clint's head p[ulls back to line up another bite into his stinky side of bacon the wind picks up. He tries to dig his foot claw in like crampons. It doesn't work. His arms flail out, claws trying to find purchase in anything. Anything to hold onto. A swipe past the hogling. The tips of claws drag across the asphalt, scoring lines in it. It's all over in an instant and he's flung through the air to tumble in a heap across the freeway.


Edgar snarling, biting, growling, takes a chunk out of the monstrous jaggling.


While Hogling 1 chortles and cackles and blasts Clint off the freeway in a mini-tornado of malice, Hogling 2 has no such luck; though the tiny tornado forms, Alexa has learned by now to keep one claw close to the ground for when this happens..


Alexa latches onto the hogling in viscious fangs stained in spiritual essence, and she begins slamming it into the ground, over and over. A windstorm kicks up! She digs claws into the ground, scraping, pushing perhaps half a meter back through stubborn umbral concrete, and still she holds on, she holds on until something tears, she snarls and twists and growls until it bleeds! It tastes vile. She doesn't care. She rends, and then rears back, ready to strike again!


Artaud is still biting himself, he even managed to take a hunk of hot, flaming umbral flesh again! And again! And Again! The beast just nibbling away! The second time he worms under the larger jaggling fire elemental, the beast is back in, and he goes for the gasy part! Tearing and grinding, gnashing his teeth, even as he then turns to spit out more fiery flesh onto the ground! Howling with pride ash e scurries away!


Clint is even more pink from his tumble across the ground. No fur to protect his skin from road rash. <<I hate these things!>> He pushes himself up onto all fours like some massive furles bear and charges across the ground, back towards his waiting meal.


From one set of jaws to another. Ashlynn snaps her teeth shut on the Jaggling as it escapes Artaud's grip. Dropping forward to all fours she shakeshakeshakes, chewing her teeth into the fireball until some of the 'stuffing' comes out and flutters to fade, leaving the 'skin' of the Furmling hanging limply from her jaws. Throwing her head back, she howls the death of the spirit, spitting out the deflated thing onto the ground and refocusing on what is left.



Again, Alexa's teeth are lightning fast! They rend the vile bane! Blood on her lips, fury in her breath! The garou witnesses Ashlynn's fiinishing blow, the victory howl fills her ears! The lookalike Galliard acknowledges her glorious kill by belting out a harmonic howl, still laden with her rage and battle fever, that mingles and dances with Ashlynn's own!


Ghostwalker gallops up the ramp at full speed and doesn't stop. He barrels full force into the Hogling, smashing into it with open jaws. There was a squelching splatter as his teeth sink into the spirit. Black oozes out of with like a wet sponge when squeeze. With a rabid sounding snarl the hispo thrashes his head back and fourth, as if to make sure it stays dead.


Edgar continues on his train of destruction and tears into the last of the gafflings. <<JUST DIE ALREADY WINDBAG>> he yells and bites repeatedly into its ephemeral body, growling with every chomp of his mightly jaws.


Artaud is just too happy and cheerful even as he hops around then as he looks all sorts of happy, oving to step inside the gas station, or at least look it over, snufflin and sniffing now that the fighting is over. Clearly not at all bothered by eveyrthing is over.


Ghostwalker is shredding the Bane up into teeny tiny pieces. Would it help? Probably not. Was it cathartic? Probably yes.


Ashlynn drops her lower jaw in a huge, tongue lolling 'grin' at Alexa, then scoops up the unstuffed Jaggling and forcibly stuffs that thing halfway down her own throat. It's almost entirely an act of spite, this devouring, but it will also keep the thing from coming back. Choking the vile, tainted thing down, she gag-coughs and licks her whiskers. It might -taste- vile, but fuck that fucking thing.


Forged-in-Flames - also known as Alexa - stands there, panting, eyes darting across the battlefield as the adrenaline still surges in her veins. She snatches up one of the defeated banes and crams it down her gullet, devouring its essence. Vile, but fuck these things! 

Once she determines they're all dead and chokes down her bane with a discomforted face, she bolts forward, not bothering to wipe the spiritual essence from her face or claws, and throws arms around Ashlynn, clapping her hefitly on the back. <"Glorious takedown, Sister!"> she intones, voice surging with passion, a terrifying grin on her Crinos face. Then releasing one arm from her, she turns to the group. <"Valliantly fought, all of you!">


Though it tastes vile and wrong, conflicting instincts war within him. "Fight the wyrm" and "don't eat nasty tasting evil" but ast the end of the day, he is mindful that the Litany could well require it. <<Tastes like ass>> but he nods at Forged in flames <<glory to you all, back out of smog and Cleanse Taint>>


Does not find loot or treasure as he sniffs and noses around. Just more ugly smells and scents, as he pokes his head up from one of the sketchy looking windows of cobwebs, scratching at it then before he peeks out from the gas station. <<Oil everywhere. How lovley. Terrible smell really, but at least it's clear.>> He'll offer cheerfully, even as he doesn't bother showing the look of distaste on his features as he watchs others chowing down and well, tearing away for whatever reason.


Clint is late getting back. Everything is dead. He comes to a stop and stands up, pointing at the bite sized jaggling. <<You gonna eat...>> He's cut off by Ashlynn stuffing it into her mouth. <<Guess so.>> He instead trudges over to pudge one of the hoblings with his paw. This better taste like bacon. He picks it up and chews on it. Yep. It's gross. But he's learned one important thing over the years. Don't turn away food. <<It is not bad.>>


<"Yes, Cleanse,"> agrees Alexa. <"But first, the station is clear. I want to see if something on the Umbra side is causing this filth. Then we get out of here, purge the rot, and return home triumphant! What do you say, comrades!?">

<<A bath, and then we celebrate!>> Ashlynn growls, stepping over to slap Alexa on the shoulder and bonk her head against her cousins. It's brief and familiar before she steps away to check on the others, her throat seared and raw for a few moments from the heat of the Furmling's remains.


Ghostwalker tears the Bane into shreds and then chokes it down in three big gulps. He coughs and gags up a puff of smoke before. His fur bristles with a slick of fluid that seems to be oozing out of the wound he'd taken. The area around the wound is singed and stinks of burnt wolf hair. He pads over to be cleansed, looking cranky. <<"We done here? Tired.">> The Hispo growls.


Clint makes a face soon after eating the hogling. Oh...oh no. He puts his hands over his stomach and belches loudly. <<That is not going to end well.>> He shakes his head and takes in some deep breaths. <<Cleansing when we all get back. Before we go to the bawn. We do not want to track any of this with us there.>> He digs around in his fanny pack and nods. A look towards the gas station and his head tilts to the side. <<I wonder how things are going over there.>>


Forged-in-Flames shares the headbonk, and then... pauses as everyone else begins to wander off. She glances to Artaud, <"Nothing to find in there?"> she asks the Lupus, head turning curiously to look in the station. They were tired, but she also wondered how long the station would remain free of banes. Her jaw clenches slightly, and she sighs. <"I'm going to poke around quick,"> she informs the Lupus, and then ducks inside to give it a quick check herself.


<<Woods for cleanse, for branch, then bawn, then bath, then sleep>>. It sounds like a good plan to Edgar, or at least a good idea. <<Should patrol here later>>


Ghostwalker follows Forged-in-Flame to have a sniff would peek from the Umbra into the Material plane to see if there was anything strange on that side of the Mirror.


<<ANything in there?>> Asks Clint as he wanders into the gas station to see what's so interesting. He wrinkles his nose and looks around. <<Nope. Weird. Gotta be on the other side.>>


A somewhat tired-looking but mostly content Alexa emerges from the station in Crinos. Her ears are a bit lowered, but the high of battle is still carrying her mood. <<"Well, hopefully the other team found something,">> she said. <<"And even if not, we've sure dealt with THOSE fuckers.">>