[Gwen Sullivan] There was something to be said about finding out your preference when it came to forms outside of the one you were born into. Most cubs born of man opt for Crinos, feeling uncomfortable without opposable thumbs, and finding Glabro too garish and bulky, the mass that came with a War Form without any of the grace to even it out. Gwen had, in battle, found herself preferring Hispo. In Crinos the urge was too strong to do all she knew-- punch and kick, but the things that you had to handle when you were a Warrior of Gaia could withstand many hours of punching and kicking, and they would retaliate with things sharper and far more wicked. In Hispo she had no fists, so she would have to use the claws instead. Teeth she would come to one day, it felt strange still to actually bite.
The night before she'd received a wound, and she knew it wasn't safe to heal it in her parents' house. They would knock, they would see the bloody bandages, they would demand to know what happened, they would take her to the hospital.... all things that could result in a terrible, Veil-savaging ending. So she left them a note and came here, to the Caern, to heal.
She'd set up camp against the side of a squat concrete building that blocked the typical direction of the wind, with some blankets on the ground and a considerably sized bag of jerky, some apples, and a gallon of water. She'd taken off her clothes and folded them neatly, set them on the ground against the wall, and Shifted.
She tried Crinos first, to keep herself warm and modest, but it felt too strange to have such destructive power in her limbs and natural weaponry on her fingers and in her jaws with nothing to direct any of it at. It was awkward, like carrying around a cannon with no excuse behind it. She tried Hispo next, and again it was too big, her blankets wouldn't cover her and she wasn't comfortable with resting while that much raw power coursed through her body.
So, as a result, she now lay as a wolf, testing this body out for the second time within a week. She was laying on top of a red felt blanket with her chin on her paws, rolled dominantly on her right side so that the wound that slashed across her left side was left unbothered. In this form she appeared as a lanky thing, with tawny fur brindled gray and a white mask that washed her face like snow. Dark yellow eyes were closed, her ears down. Her nose, however, would not rest. This strong a sense of smell was hard to turn off.
[Fire Claws] The city could be a harsh and brutal landscape for one that relies so heavily on their sense of smell. The scent of pollutuion and grime stuck to the streets with impunity. The odor of so many gathered in such a small place could overwhelm the senses, food cooking and cars idling and sewage and....
It could be all too much. That was why Fire Claws preferred to stay around the caern. It was not the woods he was used too, the smell of prey in the distance or the coming of the winter frost. It was not the natural world he relished in, but it was better than the rest of the scab. The taint and pollution was lessened within these sacred lands.
And he was used to the form. It was his form, his natural birth. He could run hundreds of miles without getting tired, without losing stride. His winter coat was coming in well, heathly and strong. The greyish fur mocked with red and brown, giving away his lack of purity. His eyes hunting the grounds of caern for possible prey. Even if what was around was not something desirable to eat, it was something to do, to hunt.
And that was when he came across the smell of the cub, strange little smell it was. And some other things, food-stuff. Human food stuff. He moved with swiftness, tracking the smell of the little one and her food. Most likely she would pick him up soon.
[Gwen Sullivan] Gwen had opened up her bag of jerky already and killed off an apple. She had been here since the earlier hours of the morning, and her stomach complained, reminding her of the food pyramid, demanding more than what was being given. A healing body needed protein, especially when it ran on all fours and had canines meant for killing and ripping.
Her nose wouldn't rest, she kept finding more scents, the strong burn of natural fuels to run cars and businesses, the sewage of human waste, the crowding, the grease, and more pleasantly the crisp smell of autumn settling across the land.
Then a new scent, something that hummed the words 'familiar' and 'authority' in her mind though she didn't understand or truly recognize what she was smelling. Her eyes opened, her chin lifted off the white wash of her front paws, and she looked up and about, the human of her mind not willing to let go of sight and rely on smell so heavily. It was only a dozen moments or so before the gray-brown wolf with the thick winter coat that she recognized as 'Fire Claws' came into view, noticed her, and approached.
Her tail swished in the soft fuzz of the blanket she rested on and she pushed herself up into a sit with a grimace, whuffing to greet him anyways.
[Fire Claws] The smell of blood was all too recognizable for those who fight the good war. The metallic taste in the air, like rust lingering in an enclosed room, it seemed to stay about her. The smell of wounding was not something he would worry over. It was not overwhelming, it was not life threatening. It was a good fight. Maybe she had have given more lessons by someone else.
And when he in line with the little motely furred cub, his tongue lulled out. Watching her for a moment when he came into view, a little while after his scent had hit her nose. His body do not give off the threat of an intruder, or a hostile predator looking to defend land. But his posture did not put them as equals, a dominant stance as he padded over the ruined concrete towards the little camp the girl set up.
He moved about her as she began to sit up, his tail low and his body focused on the wound she kept exposed. Silly monkeys and there strange minds, leaving their weaknesses open for any predator to get at it. He barked quickly in return.
{ws}
"Fight well?"
[Gwen Sullivan] "I can't say I know for sure."
Her answer wasn't filled with the kind of zeal you'd likely find in an Ahroun cub that just got their first taste of war, still drunk off spent Rage and bloodlust. She wasn't stunned, either, reeling from the fact that she may have killed for the first time ever. She decided it was best to disconnect for now, to become lofty above the situation, to not consider those that fell under her claws and clubbing fists to be people, but rather non-entities. That way the guilt wouldn't cripple her.
"But I did fight with my all." She wasn't well versed or familiar with the mannerisms of wolves, but when wearing the skin of one they came naturally, translated on their own from what a human smile or chuckle would be. Her tail swished, her tongue flopped out past sharp teeth and black lips, and she sniffed briefly, curiously at the larger wolf's thick mane, familiarizing the scent better, recognizing his health and dominance before moving on. "A weekly if not daily occurrence for me now, I suppose."
[Fire Claws] There was a strong difference between a wolf and a human, their morality. The sense that maybe killing was wrong, that stainign your hands with blood was unnecessary, unnatural, uncivialized. A silly concept that they kept in these times because so many were able to seperate themsevles from the animals they eat because they do not "see" the kill, they do not see the stripped carcass. They see the tender pieces of ribs and thighs, not the cow or the chicken it came from.
Silly, silly monkeys.
He didn't need to seperate himself from the kill, they were enemies of nature. They needed to be killed. They needed to be removed from the world less they would only ruin the balance provided. Killing would become more than a weekly thing for this young girl over time. In these times, killing would be something daily, then every 12 hours, then 6... until the wyrm beat down their very doors. This war would come to hunt them soon.
{ws}
"Did you wound, did you kill?"
[Gwen Sullivan] Her head swung back so she could sniff at the healing gash in her side. It was reflex to tend to it, like slapping your arm when a mosquito bites it, but she wrinkled her snout and stopped herself from licking. Instead she looked back to the Foresti, ears turning toward him, then relaxing, the tips drooping just enough to suggest that adolescence, even in the body of an animal that's matured in a third of the time, still lingered about her. She was mature enough to whelp, to fight, but not fully grown, not quite yet.
"Yes."
He could be encouraged by the fact that, at least, there is nothing resembling regret or discomfort in this.
[Fire Claws] He continues to wander about her, looking at the wound that was left in the cub's side. It was a deep wound, a strong one. He began to wonder who caused it, Bone~Grinder~yuf had the power to do it. He could have been teaching her a lesson again, and she tried to go all out, using heranger to fight.
He moved over to the bag of beef jerky, sniffing it a litle bit as he got the scent of the human food. It smelt like meat, sort of. Some strange monkey made meat. But it was not the same, the taste of prey dragged down, the blood and heat of the once living body. The freshness of the meat, this was none of it. He just pulled back and barked at her again.
{ws}
"Who did it?"
Curious wolves do not think in the same linear way of humans. Just asking whatever they need at the time.
[Gwen Sullivan] Fire Claws didn't stay still like she did, but rather he roamed about her, circling, turning about to pace back clockwise rather than counter-clockwise for a time. He paused to put his nose in the bag of jerky, take a few deep sniffs, then bark a question at her. She watched, blinking singularly, then relaxed enough to lay down once more. The bleeding from the wound had stopped, it had still been seeping thick and slow when she'd first settled in while the sun skimmed the lake's horizon.
"Well," she responded, not exactly sure what answer he was looking for specifically, "I didn't stop to ask for a name. It was a part of the freak show at the carnival."
Her tongue licked up over her muzzle and snout, and she settled herself still atop the blankets now, leaving a minute of quiet and waiting for what Fire Claws would do with her answer before rebuttaling with any questions of her own.
[Fire Claws] {ws}
"Wyrm creature?"
His body did not seem to want to stop, to wait. He was wild born, he was always in motion. There were moments when he would just taste the wind, think about Gaia. Monkeys called it meditating, he knew it as listening to the natural world about him. This however was not the case.
He moved to look at the wounds once more, smell the liquid coming from the wound. It was a war wound, little cub got the taste of what they were truly fighting now. Creatures that didn't relent, or care. Creature that fed on pain and taint.
[Gwen Sullivan] He drew closer again, ducked his head to sniff at the wound that did not bleed freely any longer, and did not grow infected from open air and lack of proper treatment because, as with every Garou, with the onset of the Change your ability to regenerate is triggered and your body is too strong, too fast-mending, for infections, bacteria or viruses to keep any footing of any sort. She watched him, somewhat wary of proximity but not near enough for her to grow uncomfortable and edge away, or growl to warn him to keep distance.
Instead she stayed still, keeping her head raised, watching him as she answered.
"It would be easy to say yes, but it could also be dishonest. I don't know for sure if it was Wyrm. Not all bad things are Wyrm, I have been told. This Carnival was Bad, yes, but they were holding captive a Black Spiral Dancer, which leads me to believe that they were not in alliance."
Were she in her human form, the words would be spoken in a far more relaxed manner of speech, with metal piercings occasionally adding their own staccato to her sentences. It was just the way that things translated, is all.
[Fire Claws] He nearly snarled at the mere mention of those three words, words that should make any of them enraged. His own rage spiked slightly, boiled to the surface but was only held back from exploding in mere moments. His eyes fierce as he glared at the cubling, unknowing.
{WS}
"Do not offer that name so casually, cub."
He paced once more, his hackles on edge ashe was in his purest state. Born an animal, his instincts still reacted as such. Mention of predator around predators start to stir such feelings. But there was this carnival still.
{ws}
"Is the carnival gone now?"
[Gwen Sullivan] She felt the ripple of Rage work its way through Fire Claws's body, dragging his hackles up as it goes. She shivered with a touch of Rage in response. That was the trouble with sharing a moon, both were on edge at the same time. While Luna hadn't halved herself completely just yet, it was very close, a night or two away, and they both felt the effect.
A retort was rolling about on the back of her tongue, but she swallowed it and instead focused on what came next: the carnival.
"Gone from where it was, yes, but I don't think it was destroyed." She paused to search for a memory, a name. She was excellent with things she had sen, with faces and words written on paper, but names weren't so strong a suit. She took a second to match the name to the face. "Linus, I think, said he left something within it to keep watch... A spirit. I don't know the details, we split up shortly after."
His pacing made her anxious, made it difficult for her to relax. So, yet again, she pushed herself up, sitting again rather than laying, and then from there rising onto all fours, testing the weight on her left hip and leg. They supported themselves, but the pain of her sliced-through muscles dripped hot as a result.
[Fire Claws] The rage slowly recoiled and once again became sbdued. The rage no longer looking to spring forth and claim whatever it was that was in his way. He may have been a wolf, but he was not some monster. However after hearing about this carnival and one named Linus having a spirit to watch over it, that did bring him at ease a little.
Human carnivals visitied the monkey kin near his home, it was a strange and uncomforting place. Lies and taint swam around those tents and games. He did not like what could come from this. Strange, strange thing. However he does not bark any more about it. He just sits down now, licking at his muzzle, eying the darkness over the lake.
[Gwen Sullivan] Finally, the bigger wolf settled enough to sit down, and Gwen exhaled slowly, quietly, and shifted herself off of the blanket and moved instead to sit beside the older, more experienced, and far more wolfish wolf. He watched the lake, and she watched off to their side, past the front of the building she set up camp beside, looking to see if anyone was coming-- out of curiosity, not because she was afraid of being seen or overheard.
"...I thought there would be an epiphany."
She huffed a little, licked at her black-as-coal snout, and looked out at the lake once content that there wasn't anyone new to be greeted.
"I thought that once I saw the war, when I put my hands in it, I would suddenly know what it was all about and what my place was... But I don't. I still feel like I'm floundering and gulping for air. What do I do next?"
[Fire Claws] He looks out at the lake as the monkey cub begins to talk about something about an epiphany, some strange word he does not quite know. Some things can be spoke in the natural tongue, but the words do not come across so easily. He just sits there as she speaks, as she goes on about what her place is. About the war they fight and what she should do.
He does not answer her right away, he does not bark or howl or huff. He merely gets up and starts to move away from the cub, like she was insignificant. She could not feel it in her bones, she was indeed too human for her own good. He would have to teach her in a different way.
And when he finishes stretching, stops his pacing. He turns on her, his eyes focused. His body starting to lower, his teeth bared and ready. His body stance no longer calm, but hostile. Dangerous. And he begins to charge on her now, teeth and claws leading the way.
[Gwen Sullivan] She watched him stand and begin to pace away as though he'd grown bored with her, head canting slightly to the side as he did so. She wasn't going to stop him, she figured she'd simply spoken too much, that it had annoyed the wolf, and that he'd decided to have his ears chewed off by the wind rather than the flapping jaws of a Cub with no know how to back up her thoughts.
But he stopped and stretched, and turned to face her. She stared.
His body went taut, a rumble of hostility began, and he bared his teeth. She jerked up onto her feet, left hind leg stammering under her weight but catching well enough.
When he charged, she yelped her surprise (and you can bet that if she were a human the exclamation would've had something to do with the desecration of a mother) and reeled back to avoid him.
[Fire Claws] (Inits+9)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1
[Gwen Sullivan] [Init + 7]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7
[Fire Claws] (Resist pain activated. 1. Claw down.
1r. Body tackle to knock down
2r. Lock Jaw
Will pull attacks not to kill)
[Gwen Sullivan] [1. Dodge
1r. Bite!]
[Fire Claws] (HAIL KAHSEENO)
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Gwen Sullivan] [Dodge]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 5 (Failure at target 6) [WP]
[Fire Claws] (Str+ Mod+ Bite add+ sux)
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)
[Gwen Sullivan] [Soak]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 3, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Gwen Sullivan] [Bite, -2 injuries]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 3, 8 (Success x 1 at target 5)
[Gwen Sullivan] [Damage]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5 (Botch x 1 at target 6)
[Fire Claws] (soak)
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Fire Claws] (Body tackle. Both roll Dex+ ath diff 6)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)
[Gwen Sullivan] [Dex + Athletics: Stay Standing, -2 injuries]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 5, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 7)
[Fire Claws] (Change second rage to knock down again, +1 diff. WP used)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 4, 8 (Failure at target 7) [WP]
[Fire Claws] (Round 2)
1a.Claw again
1b. Body tackle again
1r. Jaw lock
2r jaw lock for goo measure
[Gwen Sullivan] [1.Bite
1r. Dodge]
[Gwen Sullivan] [Dex + Brawl: Bite, -2 injuries]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 5) [WP]
[Fire Claws] (Change first roll to dodge)
[Fire Claws]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 7) [WP] Re-rolls: 3
[Gwen Sullivan] [Damage: Str + Bite Bonus + 1suxx (A)]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Fire Claws] (Second split claw instead of tackle)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 5, 5, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 7)
[Fire Claws] (Damage, Str+Mod+Claw+ sux)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 5, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Gwen Sullivan] [Dodge, -2 injuries]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 4, 5 (Failure at target 6)
[Gwen Sullivan] [Soak]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Fire Claws] (Rage chnage to claw).
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 7)
[Fire Claws] (Damage. Str+Mod+Claw+ Sux)
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 7, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Gwen Sullivan] [Soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 4, 7, 7 (Success x 2 at target 6)
[Fire Claws] Lock Jaw. Bite at +1)
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 4, 7, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)
[Fire Claws] (contested Str+Ath roll, dif 6)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 6, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)
[Gwen Sullivan] [Str + Brawl: Attempt to break free, spend Rage to drop injuries to -2]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 3 (Failure at target 7) [WP]
[Fire Claws] (Contested. FORCE HER MAW INTO THE DIRT. CUZ THIS IS WHAT FENRIR DO... YEAH)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8 (Success x 5 at target 3) [WP]
[Fire Claws] The fight was quick and ravenous, like any proper battle would be between Garou. The experienced cliath moved at the cub, who decided to dodge the oncoming attacks, a mistake one would think when she had the slight advantage in the beginning. A mistake she would learn not to make with a tribe born and raised for war. Fire Claws first advance connects into her right side, blood coating her growing winter coat the pain burning like fire. Maybe that was where he had gained his names. His claws burning with rage and filling pain.
There was another tussle as the two went at it, claws and jaws moving for dominance, bodies thrown at each other trying to gain the upper hand. But Fire Claws already had it, she was wounded and could not put her best forward. He was a Get already experienced in battle. This was already over before it began.
She tried to bite at him, claw him. Anything. But he was wolf born, he knew this dance well and swiftly avoided her advance, barely escaping the supernatural claws coming at him. And he returned the blow, seeing the exposed wound not nearly healed. And now it was opened once more, the flesh newly healed was split again. But he did not relinquish the battle, his body jumping at her neck. And with teeth ready for the kill, gripped the nape of her neck, dragging and forcing her down. Pushing her maw into the dirt, even as she struggled. Forcing her into the dirt once more until she could no longer move against him. His teeth all but a movement from killing her. His brown eyes looking down into those yellow ones.
Fierce, primal intense eyes. Ready to kill without remorse. Ready...
[Gwen Sullivan] Violence exploded from nothing.
Except it wasn't nothing. It was her asking a Get of Fenris for an epiphany.
He charged her and cut into her already damaged side with a slice of claws, flaying flesh back far enough to show a glimmer of white bone to the skies above. She let out a sound that was pained and angered both, part cry and part snarl, and snapped her teeth back up at him as he shouldered into her, trying to knock her down but not quite managing. Her feet stayed beneath her, and he slammed into her again, but she did not move.
This time she charged first, lunging forward with her teeth snapping at his shoulder, but he jerks away, out of range, and retaliates with flashes of claws, multiple ones, and she took the blows with the kind of tenacity a hunk of granite might... up until that last chip cracked the statue and weakened her severely. He seized the opportunity as he knew how, wrapped his jaws about her neck and slammed her into the ground by them.
She kicked, she squirmed, she thrashed, and she bled out into the ground beneath. Rage fizzled out into the air until it was utterly burnt away, and she lay still with the snarling jaws wrapped about her throat, one brown eye locked onto hers.
She hadn't been quiet, not in the least. She'd yelped with surprise and pain, snarled with retaliation, and made some sound that was caught between a whimper and a scream as she tried to claw her way out from under his teeth and back up onto her feet. But when her energy was drained and the Rage was gone, all that was left was pain and the sensation of heat fleeing the body, flooding out underneath so she could feel it on the outside of her flank but not so strongly the inside.
She was still, now, quiet save for the rasping breaths she took.
If she were to die, well... at least that scary ass Warder would have his head before he could get too far.
[Fire Claws] His eyes watched her, watched as she claws and scraped for escape. As she howled out in pain as the body gave way to weakness. And yet he still watched those eyes, watched intently. He watched every emotion that poured through them. The pain, the anguish, the fight and the regret. He watches with keen intent, even as his teeth still hold onto her dirt.
Her breathing growing more and more faint.
And even in this he watches her eyes. And then he lets go. Moving from her side to the bag of jerky now, teeth gripping at the bag and exposing the human food. Taking a couple of nasty pieces for himself. Biting and coughing them down, forcing the spiced meat down his throat. Watching the weak cub struggle to live. And he barked to her.
{ws}
"Look skyward. Luna replenishes us. Take it in. Shift to war form."
A demand, a better way for her to heal. His claws not supernatural like her own, she will be able to heal them soon enough. Unlike the wounds she suffered at the carnival. The bleeding already slowing to a stop. Even as he finished off the rest of the jerky.
[Gwen Sullivan] She knew from learning channels and science classes in school (and now from gut instinct to boot) that if you were to defer to a superior in the world of wolves you would show them your belly and throat. That may be how the fight would have ended if they were wolves, though. But they were so much more than that, and their fights got out of hand too easily.
This was never out of hand, though. Fire Claws knew what he was doing when he tore her down and held her to the ground by her neck, and he knew what he was searching for when he didn't once break eye contact.
She mused over the prospect of death more than feared it, she stopped fighting physically but she didn't give up and wait to die. She saw it as a real possibility, but kept her eyes on Fire Claws's as well, watching for his intent, struggling to understand, to push through the electric clutter of her mind, crowded with messages of pain-pain-dying-pain.
When he let her up and went to help himself to meat that was far too spiced and peppered and dried for a wolf's tastes, she stayed on the ground, breathing, watching him only for a moment more before looking out at the waters of the lake. Look to Luna, he says. Shift to War Form. Her exposed ribs heaved to find the effort, the strength to make the change. She was new to changing, it was a slow process regularly, even without extra damage slowing her down.
But slowly, surely, her body swells and takes on heavier layers of muscle, a sturdier structure. Her claws thicken and curve more heinously, her jaws lengthen and her teeth grow to fill them even fuller. She laid on her side in Hispo, now, and took a few more moments before she pushed herself up into a sit, eyes hopping from sky to lake, looking at the moon and its reflection both, as the wounds healed quickly enough that the flesh reknitted itself visually.
[Fire Claws] {ws}
"Is that epiphany enough? We fight to live. The wyrm will not relent. Will not stop. It will kill. All of us. We fight so the world does not die. We fight for life"
He finishes off ther jerky and yet his body still wishes for more, needs to eat. The battle was intense, but it was not for food or territory. It was a waste of energy that he didn't need to use. This cub needed to learn, but if it came at such a great cost. Next time he would make his point known in a better manner. Considering winter was so near and worthy prey were hard to hunt in the scab. He however barked once more.
{Ws}
"We are done tonight. I hunt now. Think if you and your family and firends wish to live, then you will fight. If you and they do not, then wander off and die a pitiful death."
That was all before he left, coughing up bits of spiced meat. They did not mesh well with his stomach.
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