war dogs.

[Alexander and Friends] Alex isn't quite midsentence when Sinclair speaks, but he's just about to say something. She can feel him drawing a casual breath to speak -- it turns into a sharper one as he stops with her. She's alert suddenly, alert in a way a 23-year old girl who's had three margaritas could never be, her sides expanding against his with a single inhale. A sniff.

He doesn't say anything. He doesn't ask her what's wrong, what is it, why did you stop baby, let's go home and fool around. He just looks in the same direction she does, trying to see what she sees, hear what she hears.

He can't smell what she smells. He can smell the salt sea just like her; he can smell the dry pungent scent of flowering weeds in the empty lot. Wildgrass that will dry up when summer comes. He can smell asphalt and gasoline from the road, but he can't smell that faint, rank odor that creeps beneath all the rest. Something unwholesome. Something twisted and sick and hungry, like something dying slowly of parasites draining it dry of nutrient, strength, life.

It takes Sinclair a moment to see it. There, halfway across that empty lot, belly low to the ground: a thing that may have once been canine. A coyote, a feral dog. Irony, that. It's not a dog or a coyote or anything natural anymore, though. It's the size of a tiger, elongated and lean; its fur so matted and tangled with brush and twigs that it camouflages with the overgrown weeds around it. Or maybe weeds are growing from the rotten, fetid flesh of its back. It's impossible to tell -- but its eyes glitter with a mean, brutish intelligence.

Soundless, with unspeakable liquidity of motion, it rises out of its crouch. That's when Alex sees it too, it and the two others that slide sleekly to their feet on either side of it. Three of them in all, dark creatures that advance with slinking, smooth steps, stalking more like cats than dogs. The one in the lead begins to growl.

Sinclair can feel Alexander tensing before his arm slips from around her. His eyes fast on the creature, he unslings the boards from over his shoulder, unslings them from each other. One clatters to the sidewalk, dropped along with the little icebox; the carabiner clicks as he unhooks its leash, gripping it by its padded cuff. The other he keeps in hand.

"There's a curtain rod over there," he whispers to Sinclair, jerking his head toward an indistinct clump of brush; something long and then there, glinting dully of tarnished metal, the ends pointed with ornametal spearheads. "I'm gonna try to grab it. When they come at us, I'll try to pin 'em and tangle 'em for you."


[p/a look for emenies: 10 5 6 4
p/melee look for improvised weaponry: 8 8 4 8 10 2]

[Warcry] For a few seconds, Sinclair is rigid against Alex's side. Her hand is over his chest, feeling the slow but increasing pace of his heart, feeling the firm warmth of his skin through the cotton. Her eyes are keen into the dark. Three of them, all enormous. And when one rises out of its crouch, Sinclair pulls away from Alex immediately, turning to face them. They start to come forward and she's already snarling in response. It isn't quite a come at me, bro. It's a warning.

So she doesn't feel Alexander tensing, and she's out of his arm even as he's taking it back from her shoulders. Rapid-fire he's reacting, but she doesn't pay what he's doing mind until he leans over to murmur in her ear. She doesn't take her eyes off the beasts.

"It's not coming at us," she says, flatly implying her intention. Her eyes do flick to him then, and he can almost see her thinking, going over the conversation they just had in the cantina, muddled though it is by tequila. "I want you to go home," she says, even as she's reaching under her shirt and pulling something... out of her solar plexus, it would seem. It's a fucking Crown Royale bag, and she withdraws a small black button with a pin back. The same symbol that's on the back of her neck is drawn on it with what might be white-out, might be white nail polish.

She affixes it to his shirt and looks into his eyes. Her pale blue ones seem to faintly glow, but that might just be the reflection of the energy that leaves her, the white symbol flaring brightly and then vanishing altogether as it adds to Alex's own carefully cultivated resiliency. It's her last one, and she can't remember the last time she worked on making talens.

But she's saying she wants him to go home even as she puts the pin on, and is still talking as she drops her hands back to the bag, removing a tightly corked vial filled with ink-black fluid. Sinclair puts it into the front pocket of his shorts. "But I know you won't," she's saying, tight with what might be worry, though not even necessarily just worry for his safety. "Just promise me that if you get seriously hurt, or if I lose control, you will drink that and run."

Sinclair has nothing she can threaten him with. Or I'll be really really mad at you!, maybe. Promise me that or I'll throw you over my shoulder and put you in a car trunk somewhere so you'll be safe, would break something they have, the very trust they've talked about. In the end, the only real threat are the ones they both know of, and they don't need to be stated.

Run if you need to, or you'll die. And I might be the thing that kills you.

She looks back at the things slinking towards them. "Get the rod," she tells him, and he can see the shift in her, the changing of modalities, the tipsy 23 year old girlfriend becoming... well. The Fostern Galliard. "Try to stay back, and don't fight unless you have to."

She doesn't, actually, know if he'll obey. She does know that if he doesn't do what she says, she can't deal with it like she would a disobedient Garou. She just has to trust him. So Sinclair does, and locks him up tightly in her mind, and in an eyeblink it's not his girlfriend standing there anymore but a monster of legend, nearly nine feet tall and steel-gray, shot through with markings of black and small tufts of white. Titanitum glitters on her triangular ears, and the fur on her back is a little thinner due to the scarified skin beneath it that he's seen, that cannot be made out except that the fur looks different there. She's on her hind legs, eyes still the color of the sky over the sea at midday, each claw as long as Alex's own hand, each fang as big as a finger.

As she stands there, that iron-colored fur refines itself, strands turning bright and brilliant, clarifying into steel. The wind rustles through her, making a shrill noise of metal-on-metal. Sinclair growls at the beasts, maw opening wide, and charges.

[-1G Soak talen on Alex
-1WP Resist Pain
-1R snapshift to crinos
-1WP Steelfur
sta / sci
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 5, 6, 8, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 7)]

[Alexander and Friends] His mouth is already opening to protest when she says go home. He doesn't get around to arguing, though, or maybe he just decides not to. She goes on, anyway:

I know you won't.

She pins a little button to him. She's so used to the feel of this, the rush of a spirit strengthening the bones, that the look on his face -- startlement, shock as it sets in -- is almost foreign. He sucks in a breath, chest rising under her hand.

Then he looks her in the eye. "I promise," he says.


She changes. He takes an instinctive step back, but then he masters himself; grips the edge of his short, wide board, lifts it from the sidewalk and moves for the curtain rod. Sinclair charges forward. Her snarl curdles the blood, makes one of the advancing beasts cower with a low whine; makes the ears of another pin back.

The third, the largest, snarls. It's part rallying cry, part counter-challenge. The Glass Walker turns to steel. The hounds break cover, bursting up from their slinking crouch, racing forward to meet her.

[WP for emenies:

Cavall 2 1 3 3 4 1 - botch x2! = effective 3 succ = lost 2 dice from next round.
Rontu 7 3 1 4 10 1 - fail! = lost 1 dice.
Cerberus 8 6 4 1 1 10 - 1 succ! = lost 0 dice.

And inits when we get on! :D]

[Alexander and Friends] Cavall +6 (-2) = +4
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2 (Failure at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] Rontu +6 (-1) = +5
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5 (Failure at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] Cerberus +7
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] Alex +7
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Warcry] [Sinclair +9]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1 (Botch x 1 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] Tiebreaker - Alex
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] Tiebreaker - Ceb
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2 (Failure at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] Inits (first round)
Alex 13
Ceb 13
Warcry 10
Rontu 10
Cavall 6

Alex:
1a. rungrab makeshift curtain rod spear thing!
b. BRACE AND SKEWER: take charge bonus against charger!
c. throw chain, entangle Rontu! +WP

Cerberus:
1a. CHAAAAARGE!
b. chomp sinclair!
R1. chomp sinclair!
R2. chomp sinclair!
R3. dire howl!

Warcry
1a. CHAAAaaaargggge ...as well.
1b. Blind Cavall
1c.
R1.
R2. -- bites on Ceb

Rontu:
1. CHAAAARGE! (Succ/2 on a Dex+ath roll is added to first attack due to momentum)
R1. Knock Sinclair down!
R2. Chomp Sinclair!

Cavall:
1. CHAAAAAAARGE!
R1. Chomp Alex!
R2. Again!

[Alexander and Friends] Alex:
1a. rungrab
b/c - need to wait til Cavall's charge.

Cerb
1a. CHAAAARGE! -2 dice
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] b. chomp Sinclair! -3
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 5)

[Alexander and Friends] dam +1
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 7, 9, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[Warcry] soak
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 6, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 8 at target 6)

[Warcry] dex+ath -3 (split) / +1 diff (steelfur)
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 5, 6, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[Warcry] 1b. blind cavall / dex + brawl + perun -4 (split) / +1 diff (steelfur) +2 diff (targeting)
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 9) [WP] Re-rolls: 1

[Warcry] damage +1
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 5, 5, 5, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] [MY EYES]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Warcry] 1c. bite cerberus / dex + brawl + perun -5 (split) / +1 (steelfur)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 7, 7, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Warcry] damage +4
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 4, 5, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] [ouch!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] [Alex changing 1b to skewering Cerb instead! +1 diff, -4 dice, +1 (from charge bonus)]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 8) Re-rolls: 1

[Alexander and Friends] [dam = str +2 (makeshift spear)]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 6, 7, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] [ow!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] Rontu: CHAAARGE!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 6, 6, 6, 6, 8 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] Alex - taking 1c, tossing leash at Rontu!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 3 (Success x 1 at target 6) [WP]

[Alexander and Friends] Rontu - takes R1 to dodge!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 6, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] Cavall: CHAAAARGE!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] Wolf, hound and kin take to the field. Snarls ring dully across the expanse of the abandoned lot. Grass tears at Sinclair's ankles as she charges; breaks against the wyrmhounds' chests as they rush to meet her. They collide with a sound of meat against steel, the Glass Walker's fur shrieking against itself. The leader, the largest, snaps at her, a devastating blow

that doesn't get anywhere close to flesh.

The Galliard counters, focused intensity itself: tearing Cerberus open in one vicious snap of her jaws even as her claws seek -- and barely fail to gouge -- the eyes of the hound leaping past. In the same few instants her boyfriend - her tough, ornery boyfriend who's so pitifully small now that everyone else is large as a tiger, larger - has sprinted without slowing, swooped a rusty old curtain-rod out of the brush. Dirt scatters as he skids into a sharp ninety-degree turn; pebbles skin his knees as he drops, jams one end of the curtain-rod into the dirt, levels the other at a vicious angle. Those ornamental spearheads on the ends were never meant for this sort of work, but it doesn't matter. When it meets the lead dog's underbelly, the tears through skin and flesh all the same.

He still has a surfboard in his other hand. And a leash, loose from the board now. Alexander whips the latter at the second dog, the one just now gathering itself to spring with deadly force. Human ingenuity at its best: using everything, absolutely everything on hand as a weapon. The nylon cord tangles around a lean forepaw. The hound twists mid-air, the leash falling harmlessly aside -- its own momentum, however, momentarily broken. Its brother continues unabated, snapping for the kinsman, while the largest dog, skewered, bitten, wrenches itself from the end of the curtain-rod and snaps again for Sinclair's throat.

[Cerberus, R1, chomp! -2 dice penalty (owie)]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 7 (Failure at target 5)

[Warcry] R1. NOM!
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 6, 6, 7, 8, 8, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 10 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Warcry] damage +9
Dice Rolled:[ 17 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 1, 3, 5, 5, 6, 8, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] OW.
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 5, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] [going back - forgot dice penalties AGAIN.

Rontu charging at -1 dice!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] [dodging at -1 dice!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] Cavall charging at -2!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 5, 5, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] -- only to miss, teeth grazing the ends of the Glass Walker's steely fur.

She returns the favor. She doesn't miss. As tough as the dog is, as large, as fierce, it dies all the same. Weeds flatten under its weight. Its fellows hesitate half an instant, uncertain, and then press on.

[Rontu - already used his R1 to dodge.
Cavall - chomp Alex! +1 die from charge, -2 from howl.]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 5)

[Alexander and Friends] dam +1!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 2, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Warcry] R2. OMMM NOM NOM NOM NOM
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 9 at target 6) Re-rolls: 2

[Warcry] damage +8 O FINE I'LL SPLIT IT
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 6, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Warcry]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 4, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] [cavall soaks!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 6, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] Rontu, R2 - chomp sinclair! -1 die from howl.
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[Alexander and Friends] [dam +2]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 5, 5, 6, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Warcry] soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 8 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] Cavall R2 - chomp Alex! -2 dice (howl)
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 8 (Success x 1 at target 5)

[Alexander and Friends] dam!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 6, 8 (Failure at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] End of round summary:

Alex OK
Ceb x_x 5A, 2L, +1A
Warcry OK
Rontu OK
Cavall 1A

[Alexander and Friends] Inits! Alex +7
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1 (Botch x 1 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] Cavall +6
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3 (Failure at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] Rontu +6
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Warcry] -1R snapshift to hispo
+10
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[Warcry] [make that +9, she's still in crinos!]

[Alexander and Friends] Being a kin in a Garou fight is like bringing a knife to a gun fight.

Sinclair moves so mindbendingly fast Alexander can't follow what she's doing. The dogs -- he can barely see the two smaller ones, can barely discern their movements, the snaps of their teeth. The one that comes for him, he doesn't even have time to dodge. The one that Sinclair puts down -- he knows he got a hit in, knows he crouched and braced and stabbed, but he can't say for certain when or how or where or

anything except that it's dead now, throat ripped open, eyes glassy.

He spares it only an instant's glance. Just because he's not equipped for this sort of shit doesn't stop Alexander from trying. He's always fought the same way, ring or street or abandoned lot crawling with Wyrm. With a sort of cunning, improvisational viciousness; stomping insteps, butting heads, and now -- skewering with curtain rods. The end of his makeshift weapon is red with blood. There are bits of flesh caught on burrs in the metal. There's a slight bend in the neck. It was meant for hanging $20 curtain panels from Ikea, not for hunting wyrmhounds the side of tigers. He lifts the end to glance at it, shakes the gore off; shifts the surfboard in front of him like a shield and breathes deeply.

"Come on."

He's a prizefighter. He doesn't yell in the ring, doesn't speak; keeps it to harsh breaths and grunts, keeps his cards close to his chest. Words waste energy. Gives away your intent. Only fighters on the verge of losing, and losing badly, shout. But then he said it himself: in the ring, people aren't actually trying to kill you. He's not really speaking to the dogs. Or even for Sinclair's benefit. He's saying it for himself, rallying himself, trying to get himself to stand and fight.

Because let's be honest. Fear has its claws in him, a cold well in his stomach. He has a little vial of something magical in his hand. For all he knows, if he drinks it he'll whisk off to Kansas. And he thinks about drinking it. Drinking it and running away. But then he thinks about actually doing that, and it feels like giving up. It feels like cowardice. More to the point:

he thinks about how he'd feel if he ran away and Sinclair never came home.

"Come on." He slams the curtain rod against the surfboard: like some sort of ridiculous postindustrial legionary. "Come get some, motherfucker."

[Alexander and Friends] [btw, for the record - Sinclair's howl of intimidation wears off at the start of this round. New inits are:

Sinclair 15
Rontu 14
Cavall 9
Alex 8]

[Alexander and Friends] [correction: Sinclair is 14, but her base is higher so she still has inits!]

[Warcry] The thing is, she's not babying him in this fight. She tried to blind the one that went from him, scratched at its eyes in a truly brutal, unfair sort of move you'd never pull in the ring, the sort of thing assholes are wont to do. Except this isn't the ring. Sinclair could never make it in the ring because Sinclair would get kicked out. She'd throw dirt and chalk into eyes. She'd spit and trashtalk. She'd go for kneecaps, family jewels, pull hair, execute any move that would weaken her opponent. Maybe even humiliate them.

But if she could set that aside, and the truth is she probably can, Sinclair's sheer speed could win her plenty of matches. They'd start putting her in a weight class above her own to spar, put her up against men, even if just for training, because she's just so fast. Not fast enough to keep one of the hounds from even going after Alex, though. Not fast enough to make her certain that she's protecting him.

She's not babying him. But he can feel how fast her heart is pounding, how much harder it is for her to make herself focus on what she's doing, focus on

inhale

kill

exhale.

If she could smell him bleeding she might verge on frenzy, even on a thin-mooned night. If she could smell him wounded it would drive her mad. She can smell that he's afraid. He can't hide that, no matter his bluster, not when she's in some wild form of hers, not when every drop of his sweat takes on a world of meaning for her mind. She can't think right now about her pride, his ego. She can't take the time to stop and tell him please, please run, one's dead, I can take the other two, go, please, go home.

He thinks he can't run. What if he runs and she never comes back. She's thinking she can't bear to see what happens if he doesn't. She's thinking this is terrifying, and yet on some primitive level, this is better than him coming home wounded. This is better than not being there with him. Then she stops thinking.

She bellows a roar at the remaining two, harsh and sepulchural, and lunges.

[Alexander and Friends] [Declares:

Rontu
1. Tackle Sinclair!
R1. Bite Sinclair!
R2. Fur Gnarl Sinclair!

Cavall
1. Bite Sinclair while down!
R1. Bite Alex!
R2. Bite Fur Gnarled spot!

Alex
1a. stabbity! whatever Sinclair's nomming.
b. skewer! +2 diff, targeting: trying to pin Rontu's paw. +WP!
c. block with surfboard!

[Warcry] 1a.
1b.
1c.
R1. -- bites on Cavall, then Rontu if Cavall goes down

[Warcry] 1a. -3 (split) / +1 diff (steelfur)
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Warcry] damage +4
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 3, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 8 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] [yelp!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 4, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Warcry] 1b. -4 (split) / +1 diff (steelfur)
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 7, 7, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6) Re-rolls: 2

[Warcry] 5
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 6, 8, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 8 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] [let's see how badly i die :[[[ ]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] X_x

[Warcry] 1c. -5 / +1diff
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) [WP] Re-rolls: 1

[Warcry] damage +3
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] [rontu soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] Fear.

The stink of it is in the air. From the two remaining hounds, just now beginning to rally after that snarl from the wolf; after watching their alpha torn open, skewered, torn to pieces before their eyes. They're banding together, using that foul, feral intelligence of theirs -- they mean to fall on the larger one, the dangerous one, drag her down, make her lie still, be torn and still and almost-dead but still-warm, good to eat --

but she's so much faster. One of the dogs, the smaller, the omega, yelps as the first bite lands. Crushes his spine, breaks his ribs like twigs. He's twisting, trying to get out of the way, and then the wolf plants her paw on his shoulder, grasps the hip-girdle in her jaws, and tears him clean in half.

The last dog's tail is between its legs. It bares its teeth in a show of defiance; not so large or powerful as its alpha, but perhaps the most intelligent of the pack. It twists as Warcry comes for it, takes that blow on its shoulder, snarls as it glances off.

It thinks of the way the large-toothy-one attacks the ones attacking the small-soft-one, thinks of how she tears at those that attack the small-soft-one no matter who or what tears at her. It does not understand this weakness, the sort of counter-survival instinct that puts another above the self, but it understands how to exploit it. In the cunning, twisted depths of its mind, it makes a vicious calculation.

[Rontu changes actions!

1a. Feint! (modified evasive action)
b. Hamstring Alex!
R1. RUN AWAY.
R2. RUN AWAY.]

[Alexander and Friends] [okay, this is gonna get a little confusing, but with Cavall dead and Rontu feinting (a defensive action), the action order changes to:

Rontu (hold action)
Alex: 1a. attempt stabbity
Rontu 1a. feint
Rontu 1b. hamstring
Alex 1c. block
Alex 1b. skewer

-- and then on to rage.]

[Alexander and Friends] [er, ignore that, the whole point of feinting was so it wasn't defensive *herpaderpaderp*

Rontu, 1a - Feint! Wits + Dodge, -2 dice (split), +1 diff (change action). Succ gives -1 diff to next action.

Just a bit of add'l ST notes: usually Evasive Maneuvers give -1 diff to next TURN. However, Evasive Maneuvers are also used to evade (i.e. dodge). In return for not getting dodge bonus, feint will allow the -1 diff to come into effect on next ACTION.]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 2, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[Alexander and Friends] 1b. hamstring! -3 dice, -1 diff for feint, +1 for change.
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 3, 5 (Failure at target 8)

[Alexander and Friends] [STUPID RONTU. BAD DOG. NO BISCUIT.

Alex 1a. stab rontu! -3 dice]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 7 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[Alexander and Friends] [dam]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] [rontu soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 5, 5, 6, 6, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] 1b. pin down! +2 diff, +WP
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 5, 9 (Success x 2 at target 9) [WP]

[Alexander and Friends] [dam +1]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] [pinned! ... barely.]

[Alexander and Friends] 1c. - held to block! on to rage!

[Warcry] R1. nom the fucker to nommable nombits / +1 diff (steelfur), -2 diff (pinned, asshole)
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 11 at target 4) Re-rolls: 1

[Warcry] damage +10
Dice Rolled:[ 18 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 5, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] Rontu - R1 aborts back to original, nom Sinclair! Fighting to the bitter end!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 5, 10 (Failure at target 5)

[Warcry] She's a monster. She's never taken this form in front of Alex before. He's seen her in hispo. Mostly, he's seen her in that lithe, athletic body she was born to, the one she'd wear if she weren't even Garou. That's the body of the woman he said I love you to for the first time when he was inside of her, kissing her, aching with her for pleasure and release. He knows the stories behind the names on her arm, the spikes, the titanium bar through her bicep. He understands the tattoo on her ankle, and when he asked her about the new script on her forearms she didn't have to try and explain much, because he got it. Almost all of her modifications, he knows the meaning of. And they have time now for him to come to understand the rest, too.

Except right now other than a faint glint of metal-within-metal at her ears, he can't fucking tell that's Sinclair at all. Blue though this creature's eyes may be, it is a creature of sharp, spikey metal and ferocious speed. It pins down one of the hounds, rips it in half, and there's sprays of arterial blood that smack against the asphalt, against Alex himself. It gets all over Sinclair, drips off each strand of fur she wears, every inch of her a blood-tipped knife.

When she wheels on the last, middle brother of the pack, its packmates' blood is drenching her jaws, dripping out of her mouth. She doesn't bother to spit it out as she goes for him. It's a little smarter than that. It feels more than fear. It thinks, and it remembers that snarl at the beginning, the snarl of warning, go away, leave us -- leave him -- alone and he doesn't understand it but he knows.

Stupid female.


Stupid, stupid dog. She's not a wolf. She's not just anything. She's Garou. And she's a predator. She doesn't use cunning against him, doesn't sense its intelligence and think to herself how she can outsmart it. She sees a weak, sniveling Beta, Gamma perhaps, bereft of its pack, ready to die. Weak and stupid enough that her kin skewers him, pins him to the concrete, and she forgets any concern, any worry about how she's seen, about Alex being afraid of her

-- though truth be told, that will perhaps never quite go away completely --

because in the moment, her prey is held down and ready for her, and she leaps atop it with a fierce joy that quickly, quickly turns to frustration. Wrath, as her bites can't land, can't kill him even when he's held down. And her male is right there. Watching her fail.

[Alexander and Friends] It's a gamble. It doesn't work. The hound feints at Warcry; veers aside at the last instant. Its jaws snap at the back of the kinsman's thigh, close enough that he can feel hot breath, flying spittle. Blood.

No teeth.

He drives at it blindly. His hands are used to weaponless punches, jabs; he knows how to kick, how to headbutt. He can even use a knife to fairly terrifying effect, but a spear; no. A curtain rod pretending to be a spear, not at all. The first hit flings off the dog's shoulder.

He knows this, too, though. He knows how to fight dirty. That sort of opponent that Warcry would be in the ring? That's how Alexander is: a hair short of disqualification, always holding the opponent down a second too long even after he taps out, always aiming that blow a little too low on the back, a little too low on the belt. Because fuck honor; fear is a valid tactic. If the guy dancing around in front of you is afraid you'll accidentally smash an elbow into his kidneys, accidentally mash his nuts, he's distracted. That guy cowers. That guy loses.

Alexander fights a little dirty in the ring. He fights a lot dirty here. His life is on the line. Fuck honor; survival is a valid tactic. He grabs the curtain rod in both hands, waits for the dog to turn on its paw, to leave it turned out and exposed -- seizes the moment, drives the spearpoint down, pins it to the ground.

It won't hold for long. It'll tear itself loose even if it shatters its own knuckles. No matter. Alex is already backing up, snatching his surfboard up again, blood-slippery hands grasping for the surf leash still attached to this one. Maybe he intends to try and garrote it.

[Alexander and Friends] Rontu R2. Bite Sinclair! (changed from fur gnarl) - +1 diff
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] dam +2
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Warcry] soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] [round summary:
Cavall 7A + 4A x_x
Cerberus 5A, 2L + 1A x_x
Rontu 1L >_O
Sinclair 1L
Alex OK]

[Alexander and Friends] Rontu rolls to regenerate!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 8)

[Warcry] regen!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 8)

[Alexander and Friends] [I'ma say with that killer a regen roll, Rontu's loose again! Sinclair is up at max again too.]

[Alexander and Friends] [also +2R to Warcry]

[Alexander and Friends] Rontu
1a. Blind Sinclair!
b. Bite Alex!
R1. Bite Sinclair!
R2. RUN!

Alex
1a. throw another leash!
b. surf block!

[Warcry] 1a.
1b.
1c.
R1.
R2. -- bite the fuck out of Rontu until he dies from it.

[Warcry] 1a. -3 / +1
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Warcry] damage +2
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] [yelp!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Warcry] 1b. -4 / +1 diff
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 6, 6, 8, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) Re-rolls: 3

[Warcry] damage +4 i swear to god kahseeno, so help me.
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 4, 5, 5, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] [I DON'T WANNA BE DEEAAAD.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Warcry] 1c. -5 / +1 diff SORRY BUT YOU'RE GONNA BE.
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 3, 4, 5, 9, 10 (Failure at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Warcry] dsakfjhds;lkafjas;ldfa

[Alexander and Friends] Rontu
1a. Blind! +2 diff
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 5, 5, 8 (Failure at target 8)

[Alexander and Friends] b. NOM!
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 2, 8 (Failure at target 5)

[Alexander and Friends] Alex:
1a. throw leash!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 3, 8 (Failure at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] b. I SAID, THROW LEASH. +WP
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 7) [WP] Re-rolls: 1

[Alexander and Friends] Rontu, R1: well fuck me *dodge*
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 8, 9, 9 (Failure at target 6)

[Warcry] R1. nom!
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 9 at target 6) Re-rolls: 2

[Warcry] [-2 diff = 11 suxx]

[Warcry] damage +10 SPLITTING THIS UP
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 3, 3, 3, 5, 6, 9, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Warcry]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] [I DON'T WANNA BE DEAAAAAAAD!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Alexander and Friends] x_x!

[Warcry] [TOO BAD SO SAD]

[Warcry] It just won't die. Alex is within a hand's breadth of Sinclair when she roars in the hound's face, when the two of them shudder with regeneration. He can see a glimmer of a scratch somewhere against her throat and then it's gone, and he probably imagined it anyway. The thing underneath her, however, has a sudden burst of energy, coiling up from the ground, ready to go all over again.

A fight like this, if the opponent were stronger, if the rest of the pack hadn't gone down so quickly, could be a war of attrition. It could just go on and on and on all night, Sinclair trying to fight hard enough to keep them off of Alex, if nothing else.

But at no point does she have to tell him to run. He doesn't get hurt. They fail. And in some deep pit of herself she roars joyfully. She's kept him safe. One and then the other fell and they were too weak to hurt him. It's okay. It's okay. It's going to be okay. Joy comes with its own rage, though, rage that he gets back up at all, that he threatens her kin and herself again. She lunges, and this time it's clear enough:

there's no calculation. There's no thought. There's no clever darts. This is sheer, unadulterated brutality. Her jaws snap again and again, so fast it's even hard to tell what lands and what doesn't. But he doesn't die. Dark eyes flick at the steel-furred wolf, lashing out at her eyes as she did with its brother. It tries to nip at the kinsman, faling far short. The kinsman, perhaps yelling Come on! again, Come get some! throws the leash of his surfboard-shield and watches it flop to one side. And again, this time harder, this time angrier.

The last hound snaps to the ground with a yelp, and Sinclair falls on him with a snarl, teeth flashing, head thrashing as she bites into its throat, tears at him like a dog with a bone, shaking him back and forth til the blood flowing over her jaws is punctuated by the snap of the thing's spine. And then she slams it down to the concrete, jaws clenching hard into sickening flesh, claws holding it down while she tears out a final chunk. It's already dead. She still opens it up, eviscerates its torso, drops muscle and skin and fur back down onto its face.


Saliva mixed with blood drips slowly, viscously from her jaws. Her tail behind her snaps, wags threateningly. Claws scrape the ground. Her eyes flick here and there, looking for others, nostrils scenting the air for more. A low rumble of a growl echoes in her throat, a warning to anything that might hear her.

There's no rage left in her. Nothing but the rage that is inherent to the form she wears. Sinclair slowly, gradually relaxes, relents, stepping off of the last hound's body. A part of her wants to go piss on the corpses; the rest of her resists. She hunkers down, metal melting away from fur, spitting blood out, shaking it off. She crouches, tail swishing again, and turns her massive head towards Alex. In this form, even coiled down like this, she's roughly as tall as he is.

For a moment it seems like she's just going to stay like that. And then another moment. And another. She grunts, her breath hot enough that even on a warm, summery night it steams for a half-second. She jerks her head at him, and growls: "Car." The next is harder. "B--aags."

[Alexander and Friends] Warcry rends the last dog to pieces. Alexander helped her - he pinned it down, tangled it up, kept it from running the fuck away so she could do exactly this.

Still. He winces, watching. He has to steel himself not to back away, not to run, when every fiber of his primitive being screams it's not safe yet, not safe, never safe with things like her in the world. It's almost impossible for him to remember what it was like six hours ago, when the sun was up and the sand was warm and the girl beside him was bronzing herself. He tries to see that girl inside the wolf; it's almost impossible.

She turns toward him and he startles, just a little. She can see him take a breath, and then he masters it. Her eyes are the same. There's that. Bags, she says. He still has his surfboard in hand. There's blood on it, though he never had to use it once tonight. He could still ride it. He wonders if he will, though.

"It's gonna take me a while," he says. Adrenaline makes the pit of his stomach cold, the tips of his fingers. "I gotta run back to the place and shower before someone sees, then drive back. Maybe ten, fifteen minutes."

A pause.

Quieter, "Can you please ... change back?"