"ALRIGHT YOU SONS OF BITCHES."
Here he comes. The Galliard who earlier beat the crap out of an Ahroun who thought she was going to be Wyrmfoe this month. Honorable challenge, not-so-humble challenge winner. This isn't about humble. He's punching and shoving and hollering at everybody he passes from the circle where the Talesinger once stood. Slapping the youngest or mildest-mannered of them over the backs of the head like they haven't been paying attention.
"YOU HEARD STORM'S TEETH. YOU HEARD CINDER SONG."
This isn't an approximation of what a Hollywood drill sergeant looks like though. He isn't approximating anything. This isn't a joke to him. The Uktena is fucking furious.
Already he's snapped his human jaws at stronger warriors who knocked him into the dirt that he had to get back up. Already he's snapped his teeth at unpacked Crinos and Hispo wolves. Now he pushes smaller less battle-hardened Cliaths like Over Sea Under Stone and Poke's the Minds Eye so hard they stumble or fall into the dirt if they were not expecting the blows.
"YOU JUST GONNA LET THOSE ABYSS-LOVING SHIT-SUCKERS KEEP RUNNING? HUH?"
His hair is in his face and his eyes are flashing fire as he shoulder-checks Still Waters hard enough she needs to use her staff to catch herself. Shoves Treads the Ashen Path with his hands, feints at her a second time like he has to rattle her memories and her songs just as hard as he rattles her.
"YOU GONNA LET 'EM TEAR OUT MORE HEARTS, PAINT MORE ROOMS WITH BLOOD?"
This right at his own pack. Right at Cinder Song who came down here from Winnipeg with him, right at Thunder's Cry Echoes from the Sea who still can't smell old blood without going pale and shutting down. Right at the people he'd lay down his own stupid life protecting if he thought it would keep them safe.
"NO. YOU WON'T."
Poor Black Sheep. He stops right in front of her and maybe he was about to knock her skinny ass onto the ground too. Even in her war form she'd be thin enough for him to knock down. Hector just says, quieter though everybody within a mile can practically hear him hollering: "You won't."
Whips around to find the rest of her pack, the one who came down here. The one the Galliard recognizes as the alpha wolf. The one whose words he's bolstering. Gets right up in Storm's Teeth's face doesn't matter that he may as well breathe moonlight and pump Rage through his blood and he says to him like he doesn't know like he wasn't the one charging through the darkness after the survivors while the blood ceased flowing:
"I know you won't, you fucking lunatic."
Pushes him two hands on the solid man's chest and turns to find the pack of Fosterns the pack of Falcons the pack of leaders and beacons and by the time he gets to them he at least is so wound up he's losing the ability to form coherent sentences so as he walks he shifts into his wolf skin steam rising up out of his jaws and snout like a warning of fire and he gets right up in their faces same as he got right up in everybody else's faces the entire way down here and then he growls a warning growl meant for the Wyrm not meant for them but it's in their face all the same.
Yips at Reverence of Dawn. Sharp and angry. Barks at Anubis-Sight. Come on come on.
Beloved Horror is out there. They will chase Beloved Horror. They will. Last of all the Garou he harries this night he runs up on Siren of Persephone runs back past everyone he already shoved and stared into and screamed at just so he can find her nip her snarl at her there's nothing here to chase there's nothing here to kill and then he jumps back plants his feet throws back his head.
Howls an anthem. Howls an alarm. Sharp and deadly as their fangs and claws all of them and it keeps up until all the air has gone out of his lungs faded up into the sky as a ringing memory of their fury and their losses and their futures all the reasons they fight and have no purpose but to fight.
And Echoes of the Lost goes tearing off into the woods then. Nipping at everyone he passes. Drawing blood where he thinks he needs to draw blood.
Maybe Siren of Persephone will summon the spirit they need to chase. Maybe her whole pack will. Maybe they will just have to chase him until they find enough unwitting beasts to tear to shreds and cleanse the Bawn for a moon.
Either way Earth gluts itself on their spirit tonight.
---
jamie @ 10:49AM
[stam + empathy: call of the wyld lupus style]
Roll: 6 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 4, 6, 7, 9) ( success x 4 ) [WP] VALID
There were like two people in the OOC room when I rolled this but nobody said "WITNESSED" so I hope this is legit?
Here he comes. The Galliard who earlier beat the crap out of an Ahroun who thought she was going to be Wyrmfoe this month. Honorable challenge, not-so-humble challenge winner. This isn't about humble. He's punching and shoving and hollering at everybody he passes from the circle where the Talesinger once stood. Slapping the youngest or mildest-mannered of them over the backs of the head like they haven't been paying attention.
"YOU HEARD STORM'S TEETH. YOU HEARD CINDER SONG."
This isn't an approximation of what a Hollywood drill sergeant looks like though. He isn't approximating anything. This isn't a joke to him. The Uktena is fucking furious.
Already he's snapped his human jaws at stronger warriors who knocked him into the dirt that he had to get back up. Already he's snapped his teeth at unpacked Crinos and Hispo wolves. Now he pushes smaller less battle-hardened Cliaths like Over Sea Under Stone and Poke's the Minds Eye so hard they stumble or fall into the dirt if they were not expecting the blows.
"YOU JUST GONNA LET THOSE ABYSS-LOVING SHIT-SUCKERS KEEP RUNNING? HUH?"
His hair is in his face and his eyes are flashing fire as he shoulder-checks Still Waters hard enough she needs to use her staff to catch herself. Shoves Treads the Ashen Path with his hands, feints at her a second time like he has to rattle her memories and her songs just as hard as he rattles her.
"YOU GONNA LET 'EM TEAR OUT MORE HEARTS, PAINT MORE ROOMS WITH BLOOD?"
This right at his own pack. Right at Cinder Song who came down here from Winnipeg with him, right at Thunder's Cry Echoes from the Sea who still can't smell old blood without going pale and shutting down. Right at the people he'd lay down his own stupid life protecting if he thought it would keep them safe.
"NO. YOU WON'T."
Poor Black Sheep. He stops right in front of her and maybe he was about to knock her skinny ass onto the ground too. Even in her war form she'd be thin enough for him to knock down. Hector just says, quieter though everybody within a mile can practically hear him hollering: "You won't."
Whips around to find the rest of her pack, the one who came down here. The one the Galliard recognizes as the alpha wolf. The one whose words he's bolstering. Gets right up in Storm's Teeth's face doesn't matter that he may as well breathe moonlight and pump Rage through his blood and he says to him like he doesn't know like he wasn't the one charging through the darkness after the survivors while the blood ceased flowing:
"I know you won't, you fucking lunatic."
Pushes him two hands on the solid man's chest and turns to find the pack of Fosterns the pack of Falcons the pack of leaders and beacons and by the time he gets to them he at least is so wound up he's losing the ability to form coherent sentences so as he walks he shifts into his wolf skin steam rising up out of his jaws and snout like a warning of fire and he gets right up in their faces same as he got right up in everybody else's faces the entire way down here and then he growls a warning growl meant for the Wyrm not meant for them but it's in their face all the same.
Yips at Reverence of Dawn. Sharp and angry. Barks at Anubis-Sight. Come on come on.
Beloved Horror is out there. They will chase Beloved Horror. They will. Last of all the Garou he harries this night he runs up on Siren of Persephone runs back past everyone he already shoved and stared into and screamed at just so he can find her nip her snarl at her there's nothing here to chase there's nothing here to kill and then he jumps back plants his feet throws back his head.
Howls an anthem. Howls an alarm. Sharp and deadly as their fangs and claws all of them and it keeps up until all the air has gone out of his lungs faded up into the sky as a ringing memory of their fury and their losses and their futures all the reasons they fight and have no purpose but to fight.
And Echoes of the Lost goes tearing off into the woods then. Nipping at everyone he passes. Drawing blood where he thinks he needs to draw blood.
Maybe Siren of Persephone will summon the spirit they need to chase. Maybe her whole pack will. Maybe they will just have to chase him until they find enough unwitting beasts to tear to shreds and cleanse the Bawn for a moon.
Either way Earth gluts itself on their spirit tonight.
---
jamie @ 10:49AM
[stam + empathy: call of the wyld lupus style]
Roll: 6 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 4, 6, 7, 9) ( success x 4 ) [WP] VALID
There were like two people in the OOC room when I rolled this but nobody said "WITNESSED" so I hope this is legit?
Look. I have school. And RP. And all my other time is taken up by sheer, unreasoning panic. I don't have time for Reddit.
-- ixphaelaeon
-- ixphaelaeon