[Oscuridad] Imogen noticed it the first time while walking to a call. Suicide, this. Some unfortunate loner who hung himself in the closet of his cheap hotel room. Left behind on the dresser was a twenty dollar bill with a scrawled note that it was intended for the maid, a pair of keys to a repossessed 1999 Saturn, a foreclosure judgment, and a half-eaten Philly Cheese Steak burger from Hardee's. Nothing else.
This one was easy. She could read all the steps of his death in the handful of objects he'd left behind and the overturned suitcase. You don't need that much height from which to fall to your death if you have a handy leather belt and a sturdy iron bar bolted into walls backed by poured concrete.
She saw it - it, female, curled on the cornered shaking a cup of change at passers by. At her, too. Spare some change, miss? Spare some change? - a little mantra, accompanied by the jingling of change. Somewhere north of 25 and south of 50, in the no-human's-land defined by addiction and homelessness, the woman had a hunched, concave posture, pasty skin, and trackmarks up her arms. And when she lifted her forty-ounch to her mouth, concealed in a handy paper bag - Imogen saw it: a flash in her peripheral vision, the flicker of a long black tongue from her mouth, thin as a tapeworm and forked at the end.
Then, while walking back to her ancient Volvo - parked of necessity around the corner and down the block - she saw the self-same creature shamble up from the mess of blankets and crumbled newspapers in which she made her nest, finish the forty-ounce with a belch and another flicker of the tongue, and begin shambling down the sidewalk, swaying just, singing a quiet, wholly oily little song.
to Imogen Slaughter
[Imogen Slaughter] She is on foot, a block or two behind, her steps careful and deliberate. Time had been wasted, putting her crime scene case into the trunk of her cheap, ancient Volvo, but Imogen had not needed to be all that fast.
Her quarry, after all, moved at a shambling pace,
Still, the doctor gives distance, her mouth thinning slightly as she contemplates the pros and cons of her current situation, an internal argument she repeats frequently, and may never have settled.
Settled or not, she is committed, carefully putting one foot in front of the other, walking half within the shadow of each passing, decrepit brick building. She moves slowly, keeping a shambling homeless woman in sight. When jane Doe turns a corner, Imogen pauses, before closing the distance, her steps quicker, but still silent. In this kind of area, after this kind of night, she wears imminently sensible shoes. There is barely a heel to speak of.
It's a courtyard to her left, or what would be called a courtyard in higher quality establishments. Here it is concrete boarded in by decaying brick buildings, the walls crumbling, the windows shattered or missing altogether, half boarded in. The pavement is cracked with dead plants sprouting from the space, sprawled out and murdered by winter. Dirty, stinking puddles pool in every indentation. Graffiti paints the walls, telling a story the kinswoman does not care to read.
She comes to the corner of the courtyard, peering around the edge. Her hand slides beneath the fall of her corduroy coat, feeling for the butt of her gun.
[Oscuridad] The courtyard is empty, quiet. Orange light filters down from the sky and casts rainbow reflections across the oily puddles and filthy pools that dot the courtyard. Jane Doe's pace is slower, slower still here. She drags her blanket after her, uncaring of the filthy through which it trails. She has picked up a train of garbage - two cabbage leaves, a discarded twenty ounce bottle of Sprite that, by the color of the liquid inside has been used for something other than clear soda since it was first emptied - all clinging to the bottom of the blanket she wears like a cape, pulled over her hunched shoulders. The pavement here is pockmarked with deep rents, fissures and potholes. Twice, the creature steps into one, staggers forward - until she reaches the concrete apron attached to the building, pulls herself up the three foot rise with effort that clearly requires all her wretched strength, staggers to her feet again, and then staggers through the ugly gap of a once-boarded over window, disappearing inside.
A moment later, the pale glow of a flashlight or candle flickers forth from where Jane Doe entered. It is the only light inside the whole of the building, which is otherwise sitll and dark and quiet. Imogen can hear the sounds of distant traffic on the well-traveled boulevard two streets over, but here all is quiet and still.
to Imogen Slaughter, Lila
[Imogen Slaughter] She lingers at the corner of the building, before crossing the courtyard, more easily than the urchin had before her. She feels, distinctly, her own knowledge of her body, a distinct contrast to the urchin's shuffle. She knows where to put her feet. She knows how to step. She moves with a sharp conciseness, a confidence in movement.
At the concrete apron, she presses her palms against the ledge, she clambers up, both hands on the ledge, one foot pressing against the side for leverage.
She does not go so far as to follow her through the opening between the boards, but she pauses there to look inside, slowly removing her gun.
to Lila, Oscuridad
[Imogen Slaughter] (perception alertness)
HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 6, 7, 7, 9
to Oscuridad
[Oscuridad] This close, the corridor stinks. Imogen can smell the familiar scent of vinegar - heroin, that - sharp in the air, and the more foetid mixture of human rot and human excrement from somewhere within. The corridor is short; the urch has a flashlight moving side to side to side, illuminating, all too briefly, the detritus that has accumulated in the long hallway, the peeling paint and swinging fixtures that dangle from above. There are a half-dozen doors up and down the hallway - some open, some firmly shut. There are there light from other windows, other doors, other rooms cuts through the gloom, faint and ghostly on the rotten floor.
At the end of the hallway, the urchin stops, swings the flashlight this way and that as if she were trying to decide which way to go. While Imogen watches though - counting the doors, listening for the creak of the floorboards beneath her feet - she hears someone coming up behind her, sharp steps on the concrete following the same route she took.
Whistling.
....an oily song.
She is on the concrete apron at the door to the abandoned building. Ahead, the urchin has made her shuffling choice (right!) and her flashlight swings sidelong to the right. Imogen has two rounds before Whistler will round the corner, and catch her out in the open.
to Imogen Slaughter, Lila
[Kemp Oates]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 5, 7, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Imogen Slaughter] Her head turns sharply toward the sound of whistling the familiar tune. Her features tighten - but there is no one there to see the expression of tension, the distaste, the faint thread of anxiety.
Her emotional response does not slow her reaction. She ducks between the opening and enters the building.
it is dim and difficult to see in the hallway, and her eyes narrow as she scans open doors and moves slowly, carefully, to avoid potential threats.
If there is a room with a half open door that appears to be unoccupied (the truth is, if the room appears to be occupied, she has other challenges), she will step inside.
(dex+stealth, dex specialty is deft, so not applying)
HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 7, 8 (Failure at target 6)
to Lila, Oscuridad
[Oscuridad] The first three doors are closed. Firmly closed. Inside the building, the stench is sharper, more rotten. The floorboards creak faintly beneath her weight, and Imogen walks through a ribbon of garbage, once feeling a sick sense of give beneath her foot. The fourth door, however, is open, half-open. There is no apparent window to this room, but faint light from the corridor falls through in a trapezoidal shape, illuminating some of the darkness. The quiet is near absolute, it seems. She listens closely and cannot hear breathing, cannot see the sudden shine of eyes in the darkness. She ducks within just as she hears Whistler's sharp-tapping footsteps on the concrete apron outside.
to Imogen Slaughter, Lila
[Imogen Slaughter] She barely allows herself the luxury of breathing as she steps further into the room, slipping behind the door.
She can see through the crack between the door and frame. Her heart pounds in her ears, though she reminds herself - the whistler cannot hear it.
At least not with human ears.
to Lila, Oscuridad
[Oscuridad] Whistler walks in. Imogen can hear the song, jaunty, alive, and utterly wrong on his mouth. It echoes down the corridor ahead of him, like a pennant waving - quiet, black - in the wind. Then - can it be her imagination? - the song seems to come back to him, like a boomerang as if the sound itself were seeking something, and bringing something else back to him.
Click. Click. Click. His footsteps begin to sound down the corridor. He is taking his time.
He is opening doors.
to Imogen Slaughter, Lila
[Kemp Oates] He nodded and headed for the window to climb through where he began the shift to warform, increasing his size and weight once inside. Then he did two more things.....his next move was to use Resist Pain. And shortly after that, he jumped into Trollskin.
[Imogen Slaughter] Her head turns sharply toward the creak of an opening door, her jaw tightening.
Of course.
As she hears the clicking, the whistling, the sound of opening doors as the whistler makes his slow progression toward her, Imogen steps back, slowly, carefully. She crosses the room to the far corner from the door, facing the direction from where Whistler will come.
She raises her gun and takes aim.
...
[Kemp Oates] trollskin...stam+pu
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 7) Re-rolls: 1
[Kemp Oates] per+craft
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Kemp Oates]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 5, 7, 7, 7, 9, 10 Re-rolls: 1
[Oscuridad] Upstairs - the pair of Fenrir take Warform and pad through the darkened corridor. Kora positions herself at the top of the stairs, breathing quiet, controlled, waiting for the sign from her Alpha to go. Kemp paces through the damp, foetid corridor, looking for the point of weakness in the floor. Below, Imogen can hear another door open and close. Whistler is close, closer - but he has also stopped whistling. The ceiling above groans with some massive weight suddenly, which both Imogen and Whistler can hear.
[Kemp Oates] As soon as he found a suitable place where he thought would come out between two in the hallway, he nodded to Kora, signaling her for the stairs. Then he counted to three and leap up in the air to come down as hard as he could on a two footed stomp, repeating it over and over till he broke through the floor.
[Oscuridad] Kora +8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9
[Kemp Oates] int...+8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3
[Imogen Slaughter] (+9)
HAIL!
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5
[Oscuridad] Bad dudes! +5
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2
[Oscuridad] Order:
Kora: 17
Imogen: 14
Kemp: 11
Bad Dudes: 7
Bad Dudes Declare!
Whistler: 1a. close distance! 1b. LICK Imogen.
Batgirl: 1a. SHRIEK. 1b. Claw Kora! R1: Claw Kora!
Jane Doe: 1a. STAB Kemp. 1b. STAB Kemp. R1: STAB Kemp.]
[Kemp Oates] after landing he will.....Claw/swipe Jane Doe 1a....1b...pull her head off....1 rage, pick her up, use her for a thrown weapon at Batgirl.
[Imogen Slaughter] (split actions:
fire
fire
fire
fire)
[Oscuridad] Kora: 2 rage. 1a. BITE. 1b. BITE. Rage 1: BITE; Rage 2: BITE Start with batgirl, charge toward whistler if she goes down.
[Oscuridad] Kora: 1a. BITE. -2
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 5, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5)
[Oscuridad] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 5, 6, 6, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Oscuridad] Batgirl soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 5, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Oscuridad] Kora: 1b. BITE -3
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 5)
[Oscuridad] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 7, 7 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Oscuridad] Soak -2 wound penalties!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 7 (Failure at target 6)
[Oscuridad] No wound penalties for soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 6, 6 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Imogen Slaughter] 1a fire -4
HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 4)
[Imogen Slaughter] fire 1a - damage! HAIL MIGHTY KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 4, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Oscuridad] Whistler would like to soak that!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 2 (Failure at target 6)
[Imogen Slaughter] fire - 1b
HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 7 (Success x 3 at target 4)
[Imogen Slaughter] fire - 1b - damage! HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 8, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Oscuridad] Whistler soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Imogen Slaughter] fire - 1c
HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 3, 9 (Failure at target 4)
[Imogen Slaughter] fire - 1d
HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 3, 5 (Success x 2 at target 4) [WP]
[Imogen Slaughter] HAIL KAHSEENO! (come on, baby!)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Oscuridad] Soak target to soak should've been 8 but didn't change prior soaks!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 5, 7 (Failure at target 8)
[Kemp Oates] 1a claw Jane -2
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 8, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Kemp Oates]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 5, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Kemp Oates] 1b....claw pull of damned head, whatever....
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 5, 5, 6, 6, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 8) [WP] Re-rolls: 1
[Kemp Oates] dam
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 4, 6, 6, 6, 6, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Oscuridad] Sorrow - not Kora, never Kora, not in her warformed skin - charges down the staircase and tackles the dark form at huddlled at the bottom of the stairs - tackling her from behind. The creature opens her arms wide and great papery black batwings extend, stinking of guano and crawling with lice. Sorrow's first bite tears off one arm and wing, leaving the formori staggering sidelong, reeling. She rears back again, almost missing her spinning target, this time seizing on the remaining stump and tearing the once-girl nearly in twain.
Down the hallway, Whistler pauses, dapper, at the entrance to the empty room in which Imogen has taken refuge. His sharp features curve into an oozing grin to match perfectly his oily song. Reaching out, he pushes the door open and begins to charge forward, a long black tongue flickering out from his bloodied (she can see it, suddenly, gleaming in the dark light of the corridor) mouth. She raises her gun.
Blam.
Blam.
Blam.
Blam.
Four retorts. Blood blooms from two wounds - one bullet slams home above the heart but below the collarbone - the other shatters Whistler's cheekbone, rendering his oozing grin an ugly rictus. He staggers back, hands and tongue spasming reflexively, stunned.
Truth-in-Frenzy stomps so furiously through the warped floorboards that he falls nearly atop the junkie-girl. She turns, opening her hands that seem - suddenly - to consist not of fingers but of a bristling armful of syringes. Truth-in-Frenzy claws her and draws blood, then reaches out to rip off her head -
- and off it comes, on one great sweep, spattering blood all over the corridor.
[Kemp Oates] Blood flew in a arc leaving a swath across the walls as Kemp turned with the newly ripped off head and did a few short jumps to the corner where he cocked back his arm and threw the head at Whistler like shooting a shot put.
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 7, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 8) [WP] Re-rolls: 1
[Kemp Oates]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Oscuridad] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 3 (Botch x 1 at target 6)
[Oscuridad] The flying severed head hits Whistler in the bridge of his nose. There is a sick crack as his nose is broken, and more blood flows from his ruined face.
[Kemp Oates] He crowed when the head hit the guy in the nose.
"Nose to nose ain't so good anymore is it?! Kiss your sister you suck fuck! Pick her head up off the floor!"
[Imogen Slaughter] There are beasts snarling and battling out in the hallway and a severed head comes sailing through the air, smacking her would be assailant in the head.
Were it not so bloody and so morbid, and were there more time, she might smirk. As it is, she feels a small spark of relief.
At least one of the monsters outside is on her side.
A beast snarls and growls as Kemp crows his joy, speaking a language the kinwoman cannot hope to understand and can barely recognize.
She levels her gun at the bastard's bloody, weeping and bleeding head and fires.
(HAIL KAHSEENO! shot 1 of 4.)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 5, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 5)
[Imogen Slaughter] (head shot - damage.
HAIL KAHSEENO!)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 4)
[Oscuridad] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 4, 5 (Failure at target 8)
[Oscuridad] Imogen lifts her weapon, aims for the head. Fires -
- and hits Whistler in the eye. The bullet explodes out through the back of the skull, after. Blood blooms - briefly, impossibly lovely were it captured in stop-motion, the shards of bone and brain matter expanding outward in concentric circles like a spring flower. The creature's head is now wholly a ruin - but the body stands, still, swaying as if it were a metronome, from foot to foot - then staggers backward, collapsing in upon itself, a ruined husk.
Outside the door, a hispo-beast comes charging in, mouth open, bloodied already - then leaps over the fallen form at the last minute, nearly too large for the corridor, fur some disconsolate color in the dark corridor, marked only by the blood spattered over her maw.
The beast does not move to attack. Instead, she opens her mouth, and croaks out one English word through sheer will - Doc - while waiting for her Alpha to jog down the hallway and join her, to confirm that there is nothing else to kill or be killed.
[Kemp Oates] When Kemp appeared, he was in Crinos and looked to be lugging a severed leg with him like a caveman carrying a bat over his shoulder.
"Shit, ya killed him!"
[Imogen Slaughter] Whistler falls - his skull misshapen, deformed from the path of her bullet, from the shifting of his brain to accommodate it. As the body falls, a hispo-beast charges through the open door and Imogen's gun strafes unerringly to level at the animal, her finger on the trigger.
The reaction is instinctual, abrupt and immediate. To Garou they are as different in appearance as they are in homid. Their forms as unique.
Imogen, given the right circumstances may be able to recognize a few Garou in their war forms. Silence. Truth in Frenzy. But the right circumstances are rare and they do not involve adrenaline.
Sorrow rasps a single syllable, forcing it through vocal chords not designed for human speech. The appellation stills her, and Imogen's finger leaves the trigger, coming to rest, abruptly upon the trigger guard. She drops her gun hand so the muzzle of her weapon points to the floor. She nods, once.
Truth in Frenzy crowds the door in Crinos and shouts something in the high tongue at the Garou. A tendon in Imogen's jaw tightens, bulging then receding as she looks at the beast.
"If you're speaking to me," she says, very deliberately, her voice quiet and cutting sharply through the combined sounds of two Garou in various monstrous forms breathing and growling and merely existing, "I cannot understand you."
[Kemp Oates] He swung the leg off his shoulder, dragging it down the hall towards Imogen. It wasn't until he was nearly to her that he began to shift and when he did, he was butt naked.
"Is this better?"
[Oscuridad] Sorrow shifts, too. The hispo beast malforms, grows hunched, larger as she shifts into Crinos, then her body shrinks until she is humanskinned, crouched on the balls of her feet, her hands forward for balance, her hair loose, her face smeared with blood.
She is not naked. She is wearing the clothes Imogen sees her in most often - a fitted Pixies t-shirt and worn old jeans, black Dr. Marten's. Her bracelets and her black leather necklace knotted around her neck.
You're naked. Imogen cannot hear what they share, but she can perhaps see the frission of concentration on Kora's face. Is familiar with the communication between Garou to know how they speak to each other, through spirit ties. - take the coat.
[Oscuridad] (AH! Took longer than I'd hoped! We can stop anytime y'all want. :) Deal with aftermath later!)
to Imogen Slaughter, Kemp Oates
[Kemp Oates] Oh come on, it ain't like she ain't see it before. I think she has the centerfold.
Outloud he said. "You ok? Whatcha doing here?"
[Kemp Oates] ((Ok guys, I can send Kemp off and you can finish, I need sleep bad. If I go now I get 4 and a holf hours before work
to Imogen Slaughter, Oscuridad,
[Kemp Oates] ((Ok guys, I can send Kemp off and you can finish, I need sleep bad. If I go now I get 4 and a holf hours before work
to Imogen Slaughter, Oscuridad, Spirits
[Imogen Slaughter] It does not matter if Truth in Frenzy is intimidating or not, as he approaches her. He is double her height. Quadruple her mass; more. He is teeth and claws and fur and he comes toward her without explanation or context, dragging a bloody leg.
It is intimidating.
She remains where she is, as the distance closes, her spine drawing straighter, her jaw clenching tighter. Her finger twitches, but does not quite leave the trigger guard. Her tendons draw taut like a bow just plucked.
A measure of the tension eases as the beast begins to shift. It is nearly gone by the time the body has become recognizable as Kemp.
Her eyebrow arches, "Perhaps next time," she says, her British accent adding a certain level of - je ne sais quoi - to her rebuke, "you might consider changing your form a little sooner, rather than leaving me to wonder why a strange Garou is coming at me, hm?"
A scrape of her eyes down then up. "Take the coat, please." The one that Kora is holding. She could not hear the conversation; but she can guess at it, well enough.
His questions.
"Just fine," she says, mildly.
[Kemp Oates] I'll be fine without it. Kora can walk me home.
He began to shift, his form melding and cracking until he was covered with fur, now in Lupus. A good dog, waiting for a walk home.
This one was easy. She could read all the steps of his death in the handful of objects he'd left behind and the overturned suitcase. You don't need that much height from which to fall to your death if you have a handy leather belt and a sturdy iron bar bolted into walls backed by poured concrete.
She saw it - it, female, curled on the cornered shaking a cup of change at passers by. At her, too. Spare some change, miss? Spare some change? - a little mantra, accompanied by the jingling of change. Somewhere north of 25 and south of 50, in the no-human's-land defined by addiction and homelessness, the woman had a hunched, concave posture, pasty skin, and trackmarks up her arms. And when she lifted her forty-ounch to her mouth, concealed in a handy paper bag - Imogen saw it: a flash in her peripheral vision, the flicker of a long black tongue from her mouth, thin as a tapeworm and forked at the end.
Then, while walking back to her ancient Volvo - parked of necessity around the corner and down the block - she saw the self-same creature shamble up from the mess of blankets and crumbled newspapers in which she made her nest, finish the forty-ounce with a belch and another flicker of the tongue, and begin shambling down the sidewalk, swaying just, singing a quiet, wholly oily little song.
to Imogen Slaughter
[Imogen Slaughter] She is on foot, a block or two behind, her steps careful and deliberate. Time had been wasted, putting her crime scene case into the trunk of her cheap, ancient Volvo, but Imogen had not needed to be all that fast.
Her quarry, after all, moved at a shambling pace,
Still, the doctor gives distance, her mouth thinning slightly as she contemplates the pros and cons of her current situation, an internal argument she repeats frequently, and may never have settled.
Settled or not, she is committed, carefully putting one foot in front of the other, walking half within the shadow of each passing, decrepit brick building. She moves slowly, keeping a shambling homeless woman in sight. When jane Doe turns a corner, Imogen pauses, before closing the distance, her steps quicker, but still silent. In this kind of area, after this kind of night, she wears imminently sensible shoes. There is barely a heel to speak of.
It's a courtyard to her left, or what would be called a courtyard in higher quality establishments. Here it is concrete boarded in by decaying brick buildings, the walls crumbling, the windows shattered or missing altogether, half boarded in. The pavement is cracked with dead plants sprouting from the space, sprawled out and murdered by winter. Dirty, stinking puddles pool in every indentation. Graffiti paints the walls, telling a story the kinswoman does not care to read.
She comes to the corner of the courtyard, peering around the edge. Her hand slides beneath the fall of her corduroy coat, feeling for the butt of her gun.
[Oscuridad] The courtyard is empty, quiet. Orange light filters down from the sky and casts rainbow reflections across the oily puddles and filthy pools that dot the courtyard. Jane Doe's pace is slower, slower still here. She drags her blanket after her, uncaring of the filthy through which it trails. She has picked up a train of garbage - two cabbage leaves, a discarded twenty ounce bottle of Sprite that, by the color of the liquid inside has been used for something other than clear soda since it was first emptied - all clinging to the bottom of the blanket she wears like a cape, pulled over her hunched shoulders. The pavement here is pockmarked with deep rents, fissures and potholes. Twice, the creature steps into one, staggers forward - until she reaches the concrete apron attached to the building, pulls herself up the three foot rise with effort that clearly requires all her wretched strength, staggers to her feet again, and then staggers through the ugly gap of a once-boarded over window, disappearing inside.
A moment later, the pale glow of a flashlight or candle flickers forth from where Jane Doe entered. It is the only light inside the whole of the building, which is otherwise sitll and dark and quiet. Imogen can hear the sounds of distant traffic on the well-traveled boulevard two streets over, but here all is quiet and still.
to Imogen Slaughter, Lila
[Imogen Slaughter] She lingers at the corner of the building, before crossing the courtyard, more easily than the urchin had before her. She feels, distinctly, her own knowledge of her body, a distinct contrast to the urchin's shuffle. She knows where to put her feet. She knows how to step. She moves with a sharp conciseness, a confidence in movement.
At the concrete apron, she presses her palms against the ledge, she clambers up, both hands on the ledge, one foot pressing against the side for leverage.
She does not go so far as to follow her through the opening between the boards, but she pauses there to look inside, slowly removing her gun.
to Lila, Oscuridad
[Imogen Slaughter] (perception alertness)
HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 6, 7, 7, 9
to Oscuridad
[Oscuridad] This close, the corridor stinks. Imogen can smell the familiar scent of vinegar - heroin, that - sharp in the air, and the more foetid mixture of human rot and human excrement from somewhere within. The corridor is short; the urch has a flashlight moving side to side to side, illuminating, all too briefly, the detritus that has accumulated in the long hallway, the peeling paint and swinging fixtures that dangle from above. There are a half-dozen doors up and down the hallway - some open, some firmly shut. There are there light from other windows, other doors, other rooms cuts through the gloom, faint and ghostly on the rotten floor.
At the end of the hallway, the urchin stops, swings the flashlight this way and that as if she were trying to decide which way to go. While Imogen watches though - counting the doors, listening for the creak of the floorboards beneath her feet - she hears someone coming up behind her, sharp steps on the concrete following the same route she took.
Whistling.
....an oily song.
She is on the concrete apron at the door to the abandoned building. Ahead, the urchin has made her shuffling choice (right!) and her flashlight swings sidelong to the right. Imogen has two rounds before Whistler will round the corner, and catch her out in the open.
to Imogen Slaughter, Lila
[Kemp Oates]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 5, 7, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Imogen Slaughter] Her head turns sharply toward the sound of whistling the familiar tune. Her features tighten - but there is no one there to see the expression of tension, the distaste, the faint thread of anxiety.
Her emotional response does not slow her reaction. She ducks between the opening and enters the building.
it is dim and difficult to see in the hallway, and her eyes narrow as she scans open doors and moves slowly, carefully, to avoid potential threats.
If there is a room with a half open door that appears to be unoccupied (the truth is, if the room appears to be occupied, she has other challenges), she will step inside.
(dex+stealth, dex specialty is deft, so not applying)
HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 7, 8 (Failure at target 6)
to Lila, Oscuridad
[Oscuridad] The first three doors are closed. Firmly closed. Inside the building, the stench is sharper, more rotten. The floorboards creak faintly beneath her weight, and Imogen walks through a ribbon of garbage, once feeling a sick sense of give beneath her foot. The fourth door, however, is open, half-open. There is no apparent window to this room, but faint light from the corridor falls through in a trapezoidal shape, illuminating some of the darkness. The quiet is near absolute, it seems. She listens closely and cannot hear breathing, cannot see the sudden shine of eyes in the darkness. She ducks within just as she hears Whistler's sharp-tapping footsteps on the concrete apron outside.
to Imogen Slaughter, Lila
[Imogen Slaughter] She barely allows herself the luxury of breathing as she steps further into the room, slipping behind the door.
She can see through the crack between the door and frame. Her heart pounds in her ears, though she reminds herself - the whistler cannot hear it.
At least not with human ears.
to Lila, Oscuridad
[Oscuridad] Whistler walks in. Imogen can hear the song, jaunty, alive, and utterly wrong on his mouth. It echoes down the corridor ahead of him, like a pennant waving - quiet, black - in the wind. Then - can it be her imagination? - the song seems to come back to him, like a boomerang as if the sound itself were seeking something, and bringing something else back to him.
Click. Click. Click. His footsteps begin to sound down the corridor. He is taking his time.
He is opening doors.
to Imogen Slaughter, Lila
[Kemp Oates] He nodded and headed for the window to climb through where he began the shift to warform, increasing his size and weight once inside. Then he did two more things.....his next move was to use Resist Pain. And shortly after that, he jumped into Trollskin.
[Imogen Slaughter] Her head turns sharply toward the creak of an opening door, her jaw tightening.
Of course.
As she hears the clicking, the whistling, the sound of opening doors as the whistler makes his slow progression toward her, Imogen steps back, slowly, carefully. She crosses the room to the far corner from the door, facing the direction from where Whistler will come.
She raises her gun and takes aim.
...
[Kemp Oates] trollskin...stam+pu
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 7) Re-rolls: 1
[Kemp Oates] per+craft
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Kemp Oates]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 5, 7, 7, 7, 9, 10 Re-rolls: 1
[Oscuridad] Upstairs - the pair of Fenrir take Warform and pad through the darkened corridor. Kora positions herself at the top of the stairs, breathing quiet, controlled, waiting for the sign from her Alpha to go. Kemp paces through the damp, foetid corridor, looking for the point of weakness in the floor. Below, Imogen can hear another door open and close. Whistler is close, closer - but he has also stopped whistling. The ceiling above groans with some massive weight suddenly, which both Imogen and Whistler can hear.
[Kemp Oates] As soon as he found a suitable place where he thought would come out between two in the hallway, he nodded to Kora, signaling her for the stairs. Then he counted to three and leap up in the air to come down as hard as he could on a two footed stomp, repeating it over and over till he broke through the floor.
[Oscuridad] Kora +8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9
[Kemp Oates] int...+8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3
[Imogen Slaughter] (+9)
HAIL!
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5
[Oscuridad] Bad dudes! +5
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2
[Oscuridad] Order:
Kora: 17
Imogen: 14
Kemp: 11
Bad Dudes: 7
Bad Dudes Declare!
Whistler: 1a. close distance! 1b. LICK Imogen.
Batgirl: 1a. SHRIEK. 1b. Claw Kora! R1: Claw Kora!
Jane Doe: 1a. STAB Kemp. 1b. STAB Kemp. R1: STAB Kemp.]
[Kemp Oates] after landing he will.....Claw/swipe Jane Doe 1a....1b...pull her head off....1 rage, pick her up, use her for a thrown weapon at Batgirl.
[Imogen Slaughter] (split actions:
fire
fire
fire
fire)
[Oscuridad] Kora: 2 rage. 1a. BITE. 1b. BITE. Rage 1: BITE; Rage 2: BITE Start with batgirl, charge toward whistler if she goes down.
[Oscuridad] Kora: 1a. BITE. -2
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 5, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5)
[Oscuridad] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 5, 6, 6, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Oscuridad] Batgirl soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 5, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Oscuridad] Kora: 1b. BITE -3
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 5)
[Oscuridad] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 7, 7 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Oscuridad] Soak -2 wound penalties!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 7 (Failure at target 6)
[Oscuridad] No wound penalties for soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 6, 6 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Imogen Slaughter] 1a fire -4
HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 4)
[Imogen Slaughter] fire 1a - damage! HAIL MIGHTY KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 4, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Oscuridad] Whistler would like to soak that!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 2 (Failure at target 6)
[Imogen Slaughter] fire - 1b
HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 7 (Success x 3 at target 4)
[Imogen Slaughter] fire - 1b - damage! HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 8, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Oscuridad] Whistler soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Imogen Slaughter] fire - 1c
HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 3, 9 (Failure at target 4)
[Imogen Slaughter] fire - 1d
HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 3, 5 (Success x 2 at target 4) [WP]
[Imogen Slaughter] HAIL KAHSEENO! (come on, baby!)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Oscuridad] Soak target to soak should've been 8 but didn't change prior soaks!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 5, 7 (Failure at target 8)
[Kemp Oates] 1a claw Jane -2
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 8, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Kemp Oates]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 5, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Kemp Oates] 1b....claw pull of damned head, whatever....
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 5, 5, 6, 6, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 8) [WP] Re-rolls: 1
[Kemp Oates] dam
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 4, 6, 6, 6, 6, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)
[Oscuridad] Sorrow - not Kora, never Kora, not in her warformed skin - charges down the staircase and tackles the dark form at huddlled at the bottom of the stairs - tackling her from behind. The creature opens her arms wide and great papery black batwings extend, stinking of guano and crawling with lice. Sorrow's first bite tears off one arm and wing, leaving the formori staggering sidelong, reeling. She rears back again, almost missing her spinning target, this time seizing on the remaining stump and tearing the once-girl nearly in twain.
Down the hallway, Whistler pauses, dapper, at the entrance to the empty room in which Imogen has taken refuge. His sharp features curve into an oozing grin to match perfectly his oily song. Reaching out, he pushes the door open and begins to charge forward, a long black tongue flickering out from his bloodied (she can see it, suddenly, gleaming in the dark light of the corridor) mouth. She raises her gun.
Blam.
Blam.
Blam.
Blam.
Four retorts. Blood blooms from two wounds - one bullet slams home above the heart but below the collarbone - the other shatters Whistler's cheekbone, rendering his oozing grin an ugly rictus. He staggers back, hands and tongue spasming reflexively, stunned.
Truth-in-Frenzy stomps so furiously through the warped floorboards that he falls nearly atop the junkie-girl. She turns, opening her hands that seem - suddenly - to consist not of fingers but of a bristling armful of syringes. Truth-in-Frenzy claws her and draws blood, then reaches out to rip off her head -
- and off it comes, on one great sweep, spattering blood all over the corridor.
[Kemp Oates] Blood flew in a arc leaving a swath across the walls as Kemp turned with the newly ripped off head and did a few short jumps to the corner where he cocked back his arm and threw the head at Whistler like shooting a shot put.
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 7, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 8) [WP] Re-rolls: 1
[Kemp Oates]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Oscuridad] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 3 (Botch x 1 at target 6)
[Oscuridad] The flying severed head hits Whistler in the bridge of his nose. There is a sick crack as his nose is broken, and more blood flows from his ruined face.
[Kemp Oates] He crowed when the head hit the guy in the nose.
"Nose to nose ain't so good anymore is it?! Kiss your sister you suck fuck! Pick her head up off the floor!"
[Imogen Slaughter] There are beasts snarling and battling out in the hallway and a severed head comes sailing through the air, smacking her would be assailant in the head.
Were it not so bloody and so morbid, and were there more time, she might smirk. As it is, she feels a small spark of relief.
At least one of the monsters outside is on her side.
A beast snarls and growls as Kemp crows his joy, speaking a language the kinwoman cannot hope to understand and can barely recognize.
She levels her gun at the bastard's bloody, weeping and bleeding head and fires.
(HAIL KAHSEENO! shot 1 of 4.)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 5, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 5)
[Imogen Slaughter] (head shot - damage.
HAIL KAHSEENO!)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 4)
[Oscuridad] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 4, 5 (Failure at target 8)
[Oscuridad] Imogen lifts her weapon, aims for the head. Fires -
- and hits Whistler in the eye. The bullet explodes out through the back of the skull, after. Blood blooms - briefly, impossibly lovely were it captured in stop-motion, the shards of bone and brain matter expanding outward in concentric circles like a spring flower. The creature's head is now wholly a ruin - but the body stands, still, swaying as if it were a metronome, from foot to foot - then staggers backward, collapsing in upon itself, a ruined husk.
Outside the door, a hispo-beast comes charging in, mouth open, bloodied already - then leaps over the fallen form at the last minute, nearly too large for the corridor, fur some disconsolate color in the dark corridor, marked only by the blood spattered over her maw.
The beast does not move to attack. Instead, she opens her mouth, and croaks out one English word through sheer will - Doc - while waiting for her Alpha to jog down the hallway and join her, to confirm that there is nothing else to kill or be killed.
[Kemp Oates] When Kemp appeared, he was in Crinos and looked to be lugging a severed leg with him like a caveman carrying a bat over his shoulder.
"Shit, ya killed him!"
[Imogen Slaughter] Whistler falls - his skull misshapen, deformed from the path of her bullet, from the shifting of his brain to accommodate it. As the body falls, a hispo-beast charges through the open door and Imogen's gun strafes unerringly to level at the animal, her finger on the trigger.
The reaction is instinctual, abrupt and immediate. To Garou they are as different in appearance as they are in homid. Their forms as unique.
Imogen, given the right circumstances may be able to recognize a few Garou in their war forms. Silence. Truth in Frenzy. But the right circumstances are rare and they do not involve adrenaline.
Sorrow rasps a single syllable, forcing it through vocal chords not designed for human speech. The appellation stills her, and Imogen's finger leaves the trigger, coming to rest, abruptly upon the trigger guard. She drops her gun hand so the muzzle of her weapon points to the floor. She nods, once.
Truth in Frenzy crowds the door in Crinos and shouts something in the high tongue at the Garou. A tendon in Imogen's jaw tightens, bulging then receding as she looks at the beast.
"If you're speaking to me," she says, very deliberately, her voice quiet and cutting sharply through the combined sounds of two Garou in various monstrous forms breathing and growling and merely existing, "I cannot understand you."
[Kemp Oates] He swung the leg off his shoulder, dragging it down the hall towards Imogen. It wasn't until he was nearly to her that he began to shift and when he did, he was butt naked.
"Is this better?"
[Oscuridad] Sorrow shifts, too. The hispo beast malforms, grows hunched, larger as she shifts into Crinos, then her body shrinks until she is humanskinned, crouched on the balls of her feet, her hands forward for balance, her hair loose, her face smeared with blood.
She is not naked. She is wearing the clothes Imogen sees her in most often - a fitted Pixies t-shirt and worn old jeans, black Dr. Marten's. Her bracelets and her black leather necklace knotted around her neck.
You're naked. Imogen cannot hear what they share, but she can perhaps see the frission of concentration on Kora's face. Is familiar with the communication between Garou to know how they speak to each other, through spirit ties. - take the coat.
[Oscuridad] (AH! Took longer than I'd hoped! We can stop anytime y'all want. :) Deal with aftermath later!)
to Imogen Slaughter, Kemp Oates
[Kemp Oates] Oh come on, it ain't like she ain't see it before. I think she has the centerfold.
Outloud he said. "You ok? Whatcha doing here?"
[Kemp Oates] ((Ok guys, I can send Kemp off and you can finish, I need sleep bad. If I go now I get 4 and a holf hours before work
to Imogen Slaughter, Oscuridad,
[Kemp Oates] ((Ok guys, I can send Kemp off and you can finish, I need sleep bad. If I go now I get 4 and a holf hours before work
to Imogen Slaughter, Oscuridad, Spirits
[Imogen Slaughter] It does not matter if Truth in Frenzy is intimidating or not, as he approaches her. He is double her height. Quadruple her mass; more. He is teeth and claws and fur and he comes toward her without explanation or context, dragging a bloody leg.
It is intimidating.
She remains where she is, as the distance closes, her spine drawing straighter, her jaw clenching tighter. Her finger twitches, but does not quite leave the trigger guard. Her tendons draw taut like a bow just plucked.
A measure of the tension eases as the beast begins to shift. It is nearly gone by the time the body has become recognizable as Kemp.
Her eyebrow arches, "Perhaps next time," she says, her British accent adding a certain level of - je ne sais quoi - to her rebuke, "you might consider changing your form a little sooner, rather than leaving me to wonder why a strange Garou is coming at me, hm?"
A scrape of her eyes down then up. "Take the coat, please." The one that Kora is holding. She could not hear the conversation; but she can guess at it, well enough.
His questions.
"Just fine," she says, mildly.
[Kemp Oates] I'll be fine without it. Kora can walk me home.
He began to shift, his form melding and cracking until he was covered with fur, now in Lupus. A good dog, waiting for a walk home.