Difference between revisions of "Log:Who Let the Dogs Out?"

28 June, 2018

Ryan Dunnage has passed on word to a Harvestman that a very large pack of briar wolves is getting dangerously close to the freehold's trods. Velvet's the one that got the info, and as such is leading whichever of the harvestmen will show to deal with the problem before it becomes one for the Freehold.

Arcadia

From what Dunnage said the pack was well off from Stoneheart, but they were steadily nearing the trods. They needed to be stopped before they can get too close, and start establishing their own territory. The exact size of the pack was a mystery beyond it being fairly large - even for briarwolf numbers. The alpha is rumored to be one big, bad and mean mother fucker. Even the hobs around soggy hob marsh had a name for him. Dead Eyes. The why of such because its supposedly blind. Maybe it's just a rumor, and hobs are as stupidly superstitous as the mortals of the waking world. They'll have to find out.

From whatever way they wish their starting point is the soggy hob marsh. North from there the pack does travel. Even when missed gravewyrms are said to follow in their wake, devouring whatever the briarwolves leave behind. The sky is chock full of clouds this evening, but threat of rain seems to have passed. The full moon's light shines down brilliantly, and cuts through the sea of grey above. Along with the usual cacophony of noises heard in the hedge they can hear them. Faint at first, but that sound echoes. Howling long and loud, if not prideful. Challenging whatever may stand in their way or fall as their prey.

Duncan comes ready for a fight. The storm-elemental has a predictably nautical theme, wearing hedge-spun heavy armor -- breastplate, rerebraces, vambraces, and greaves -- crafted from the nacreous hide of some giant sea-creature. He carries a large oval shield, made from white crustacean shell with a breaking wave engraved on the front, and a spear that looks to be fashioned from silver driftwood and a huge, hooked tooth. A backpack on his back, and a perfectly normal looking light pistol holstered on his hip, complete the kit. He grins and gives a lazy salute to greet his fellow Harvestmen, but is otherwise ready to skip the pleasantries and go. Duncan slows when that howling carries across the Hedge, cocking his head to listen. "Doesn't look like finding them will be a problem."

"No. But generally things that don't bother to hide their presence do so because they know that they can take whatever comes their way," Velvet points out in response to Duncan's comment. Her breath heaves softly from, well, somewhere. She is currently invisible, her footsteps falling behind Duncan's to use them as shielding for her own presence. The woman is wearing her reinforced leathers, a gun in either hand, and that long hair swept back. "I still reccomend caution."

"Right," Duncan acknowledges the invisible darkling's point with a heedless grin. "If we can pick off a few at a time I won't complain." He strides on a few more steps, considering the situation. "I'll try to keep them focused on me, unless you've got a better plan. If things start looking dicey, stay close to me. Like within five meters."

"Oh no, I am all about keeping them focused on you," Velvet agrees, her laughter causing a slight flicker in the air around them, like candles dancing. "I do my best work when they can't see me and I can just pick them off. If I could find the right tree, I could just snipe for hours. But I think we both know that climbing trees in the Hedge is just asking for more trouble.

With an amused snort, Duncan nods agreeably for their working plan. "Figured that's how you liked to work." Then he gives a low chuckle for the dangers of climbing strange Hedge-trees. "Might make things more interesting. But let's see how much trouble we've found before we go looking for more, eh?" With that he resumes his marching pace, trying to navigate toward the sounds of the wolves.

Velvet chuckles. "I like one interesting thing at a time, thank you very much. You would be surprised at how much interesting I have going on right now." Velvet's footsteps remain light, behind Duncan still as her eyes sweep through the area, watching for ambush. Anything might be a trap, after all. "If we get into dire straights, though. I've got our ticket out." He can hear her hand patting against something large and metal.

The path goes from the trod. A dangerous endeavor for the majority of Changelings, but for Harvestmen it's just another Thursday. With their presence and power of Wyrd the hobs and beasts give them a wide berth. Fear isn't the same as respect, though. They draw stares from the many creatures they pass, and those gazes continue to linger well after it looks like they're left alone. The area near them is silent, but as they pass they can hear something. Not the howl of the pack, but a faint tremor that seems to be approaching.

For all his bluster, Duncan does keep a wary watchful eye on any hobs they come across. As things get quiet, his wariness grows. Calling it caution might be an overstatement, but at least there's an expectation that danger is close. He comes to a halt and look and listen, and not knowing exactly where Velvet is, he speaks in no particular direction. "What the hell is that?" he murmurs.

"Hopefully not the Wild Hunt," Velvet rumbles out in response when she hears the howling. Glowing eyes shift this way and that, trying to pin point the direction that the pack of creatures might be coming from. she hunkers down a little, angling her head to the side as she listens. "Either way, it sounds like a few."

The sounds don't give much away at all to the Harvestmen. No, its the presence of it and how long the rumbling of what it is. The steady approach of the gravewyrms. Massive beasts that can dwarf a schoolbus with their length and size. They're typically difficult to see unless in motion. They rest and wait amid the dirt and hill wherever they may be, lying in wait. These blind beasts don't rely on sight or even movement. They follow the smell of blood, whether fresh or rotting and consume whatever they may.

The rush of hedge beasts in the opposite direction tells them that they're getting close. At the least, they've found what amounts to the pack's territory. Markings can be found upon trees, the claw swips too large for much else in this area. Further still are droppings along with the occasional sight of a meal from the last few days. Again they feel that tremor, close enough that the ground shifts gently under foot. The howls come once more, spread out and less unified than before.

Duncan pushes some brambles aside with the point of his spear, revealing the claw gouges in the tree behind. Yep, definitely briarwolf territory. "Looks like this is the place." He continues on, following what traces he and Velvet can find, until the ground trembles again. "Something underground," he guesses. "Could do without that." The storm-elemental slowly turns, trying to determine what direction the pack is in, but the dispersed calls cause him to grumble in annoyance. "Sounds like they may be trying to surround us."

Velvet touches the ground, her eyes still darting around. "I hear it," she whispers, her tone in agreement. "We need to find somewhere to put our backs against, or we need to cut off atleast one of the angles of attack. Ideas?" she starts to the search area, scanning for something that could serve to make them just a little safer.

The pack is spread out here and there too difficult to pick out who is where. Their number is difficult to determine, but Velvet is able to pick up the scent of one that stands upwind of her. It's by itself as best she can tell, and due north of where the pair stand. Worse still, that rumbling has stopped and the air is now still with anticipation.

"A big slab of rock would be handy," Duncan agrees. Not that there is one nearby. "Not liking whatever it is that shaking the ground." The Elemental sighs. "Earth isn't my thing." He closes his eyes to focus, as if listening intently, and remains still for a few seconds. "They're out there," this time he speaks in Velvet's direction. "I can feel fifteen. Circling." Duncan looks around, then gives a heavy shouldered shrug. "I say we wait. See if they close in."

"Wait?" Velvet boggles for a moment. "I say we cut them off as best we can. If they're already circling it's just a matter of time before the attack in unison." She's stepping towards him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Turn towards the direction where the biggest group of them are. I'll hit the area and block off their path of attack. When I tell you to turn in a direction, I am going to need you to trust me and turn. Otherwise you might end up getting the backlash of the grenades." Grenades?! "Where's the biggest group?" She waits for him to guide her before shooting.

The Elemental can sense that the larget comes from the north with six of their number coming from there. Among them one of the briarwolves is larger than the rest. The buggers were already big as hell on their own, but this one was massive. The usual garou-esque shape, but damn near the size of a horse. It doesn't take much to realize that one is also the alpha.

"We go walking around and we may set off whatever it is that's under the ground," Duncan replies. "Earth is not my element." Then he tilts his head, listening to Velvet's plan. "Right." The proposal is accepted without argument and he turns to point his spear north-ish. "Six this direction. About forty meters. One of them is God damned huge." The storm-elemental raises his shield and hefts his spear. "Ready when you are."

"Well, if something comes up out of the ground and eats us, we go down with a grenade and take it out with us," Velvet quips as he points her in the right direction. "Steady," she tells him before the grenade launcher makes a loud noise and shoots in that direction. The explosion is massive, caving in the area to make it so that it'd be hell to try to get through in order to attack. Which really was the point of it. The thing is rolled back on it's strap as a pair of guns are pulled out to prepare. "Let's do this shit."

That light from the explosion reveals the alpha and a few of its pack. He's as massive as Duncan described, if not a bit bigger. The thing is huge, and it sure as shit looks angry at the sight of the fire. The other wolves back away, moving to get away from the intial point of the explosion. Unlike the timber fur of its kin the alpha's fur is pure white, and its eyes a dead, inky blackness.

The fire just pisses it off, and it starts charging forward. What wasn't looking completely bad soon gets worse as a canine-monster about the size of a horse and twice as heavy launches itself at Duncan was brining that fire along with it. While the others get into position he howls out, and swipes at Duncan.

"I really hope you're ready for this," Velvet murmurs. It's hard to tell if she's talking to herself or to him, but either way, this fight is about to go down. She's parked behind Duncan, happy to let him play human shield versus the massive about of flying claws and teeth in their direction. Her main focus? The Alpha. Always take the alpha down first. Her gun discharges three times, each hit exploding into the massive creature and out through the back. It isn't quite enough, but damned if it wasn't effective.

The alphs's alread signalled their prey. It doesn't help that they haven't sensed or seen Velvet as of yet. They've taken down bigger and smaller prey. The bones littered around are a testament to that.The armored shell surrounding Duncan proves as much a chance for a meal as everything else. Perhaps under all of that armor he had a nice chewy center, and the briarwolves aim to find out. In practiced movement one group in, another out as they attempt to get into whatever nooks, crannies, and crevices they cna find within the armor.

Ducking behind his shield as the grenade detonates, Duncan peers over the rim and levels his spear just in time to see the horse-sized pack leader bearing down on him -- while on fire. This sight causes the Summer to let out a thunderous, slightly unbalanced-sounding laugh. His shield is raised to block the worst of the first swipe, though the force of the blow still registers on the Elemental. Then there are other concerns, as Velvet starts firing bullets past him while the rest of the briar wolves close in. He shifts his shield and jabs with his spear, keeping many of the wolves away. But the numbers begin to tell, and a blows begin to land on Duncan. Tough kraken-hide armor protects him from all but one minor gash along the forearm. The repeated smashing and bashing has succeeded at one thing -- pissing the storm-elemental off. He tips back his head and bellows out a glamour-laden roar, and a thunderclap answers him back. In an instant there the wind is howling around them, thrashing and flailing the surrounding Hedge. Velvet and Duncan are both immune to the effect, at least.

When it looks like that alpha is about to turn and run, which you can't really blame him for with the whole being on fire thing, Velvet decides to take her chance to clip a couple more rounds into it, sending it collapsing onto the ground. "Always go for the Alpha," she murmurs out loud to herself before the gun turns to clip another wolf a moment later.

This isn't going well at all for the pack. They chose the wrong pay, and the alpha shows it. He was already a scarred up, rough bastard; but even this big dog has its limits. It lets out a whimper as the fire still eats through fur and its thick hide, stinking up the air with the smell of singed fur and cooking flesh. It lets out a quick howl, signalling a reteat as it turns around and takes off with everything it can still muster.

Their alpha is down, and things get from bad to worse. Next man up doesn't happen as Velvet's last shot drops another of their number. The howling continues where the alpha left off, but it turns into a lot of yipping and whimpering as they dart off. The beasts scatter, but trough Duncan's magicks their egress is stymied.

The wind continues to rage, and so does Duncan. The Summer bellows a contemptuous laugh when the alpha turns to run, and the sound shifts into a roar of approval as Velvet's fire cuts the pack leader down. "YEAH!" With the rest of the wolves trying to scatter, the storm-elemental has a chance for some payback. A swift, glamour-backed thrust drives his spear into the body of one briarwolf, and the beast flops to the ground in its dying throes.

"Are they running away? They're running away." Velvet was right about the Alpha at least. That gives them a chance to thin the numbers just a little bit more. The woman lines up a shot, popping two bullets into one and one more into another, starting to slowly move forward. "We might not be able to get them all, but kill what you can."

Duncan's first instinct is to give chase. But he checks the impulse when he hears Velvet's voice, glancing back over his shoulder to where she stands. "Right." Instead of running off the storm-elemental gathers himself and draws a deep, deep breath. Thrusting is spear to the sky he howls out another glamour-fueld 'shout' that rumbles like thunder. The howling winds redouble and more, whipping the Hedge around them mercilessly.

They were getting away as best they could. Fat lot of good it does as nature fight's against them. While they try to scamper away one moves near the still burning corpse of the alpha. It starts nudging him with its forepaws, but the alpha isn't waking up. They felt it before, but it was difficult to pay attention to it during the ongoing melee. The ground was rumbling again, getting closer with each briarwolf tht falls to the ground. As they fight it looks as if a hill was moving, but that's no hill.

The earth depresses below the alpha, and within the next breath it launches into the air as one of the gravewyrms comes into sight. Its scales are are a dark hue of green that gleams bright in the moonlight when it hits spots not caked and coated in mud and dirt. The alpha careens back down into the waiting beast's mouth as its swallowed whole until the beast drops back down. It crashes back down with enough force to shake the very earth beneath their feet and topple a few dozen trees.

The quaking didn't stop. It continued on it was directly under the changelings. Earth and rocks are spary in every direction as another of the briarwolves is knocked into the air, but the hedge beast wasn't alone. Duncan was in the air with it, and with one massive gulp the Summer was swallowed whole with the briarwolf.

Inside, its as black as can be expected for the Elemental, although more than enough room that he can still move freely. Before Duncan has a chance to right himself he's slung this way and that until his spear finds purchase in the gravewyrm's flesh, and gravity seemingly rights himself as the massive creature drops down.

"Fuck! I wasn't being serious!" Velvet growls as what she predicted earlier becomes reality. Yet, here it is. Pistols are quickly slund back into holsters as Velvet tugs the strap of the grenade launcher and whips it around to the front of her body. "I hope you can cut your way out!" she yells, aiming for the giant worm that didn't just devour her teammate. Grenades are launched in quick fire, as fast as she can manage.

Duncan rode the upswell as the ground heaved, and he could have kept his feet if only there was ground beneath him when he came down. Instead he's plunged into belly of the giant worm; and you thought they smelled bad on the outside. Bracing himself as best he can, the storm-elemental grasps the haft of his spear in both hands and heaves with all his might, stabbing it into the side of the gravewyrms gullet. "Grrrrrah!" The spear point pokes through, but it's far from a definitive answer to Velvet's question. Can he cut his way out?

The gravewyrm's breath was bad enough that Velvet could smell it before it even opened its mouth. Such is the pain of supernatural senses. When it does breath its like Godzilla took a shit at the city dump on the hottest day in the summer, and someone decided to sprinkle a lot of curdled milk right on top. It was angling its way towards her and the remaining hedge beasts in a mad dash for more meat. Right when it opens its mouth the grenades fly, and it eats one explosion after the other and it roars in pain. The air is pregnant with the smell of burnt rot, and things somehow stink even worse.

Duncan? Duncan gets the worst of it down there. It hasn't reached the stomach, but its damned close. Even death might be better than having to breath that air in. Instead he fights his way forward, cutting into soft tissue that causes the gravewyrm to bellow in pain. It writhes around, trying to shake around whatever's causing that upset stomach. From the outside Velvet can make out something poking and forcing its flesh outward in odd bulges.

One last grenade. Better make it count. Velvet lines up her last shot on the Worm she's been attacking, sending that final grenade dropping into his mouth. The smell? It makes her want to vomit, but thankfully she has a tolerance for biological grossities such as that. That last grenade pops inside the creature, sending it toppling downward. She tugs the launcher string to set it up behind her again and reaches for a blade, spotting that desperate poking coming from the other worm.

Cutting may do the job eventually, but Duncan doesn't have all day. He needs out before the wyrm dives back underground. Because the Airtouched does NOT want to be buried in the earth, ever. There isn't a lot of air in here, but there is a lot of 'natural material' and debris. So Duncan focuses his effort on channeling the last of his waning glamour, calling in his Contract with the Wild for a third time. Third time's the charm, as the Wild answers even stronger than before. Air and everything in the gravewryms guts is suddenly trying to get out, ripping up organs and causing the creature to swell and bulge at the seams. A gyser of bile and half-digested meat rockets out of the things throat, carrying Duncan along with it. Then the segments of its body finally give way and the hedge-monster bursts, spewing guts and fluids into the raging winds outside, everything flung outward as far as fifty yards by the Contracts effects. The remains of the Gravewyrm deflate like a punctured balloon, and the storm-element is left on his hands and knees, covered in a disgusting slurry of you-don't-even-want-to-know-what. He vomits once, then tries to laugh, which causes him to barf again. And he's still trying to laugh.

It takes a few hours to get back to the trods. If it weren't their presence of Wyrd that drove the many flora and fauna away the smell would. The odious stench is so pervasive that they can't even smell themselves. It's just that constant, deathly funk. The briarwolf problem has largely been dealt with aside from a few strays that likely won't be an issue for a long time. If not for the Changelings for the sake of their now dead alpha and the stink of gravewyrm bodies in their former territories.

The man comes digging his way out laughing and Velvet's brows are shooting up as she watches him. She waits patiently for the vomitting to end, both times before clearing her throat. "We should probably go ahead and make our way back," she suggests. "Luckily we both smell bad enough that we shouldn't run into trouble on the way back. I'll follow you."

The man comes digging his way out laughing and Velvet's brows are shooting up as she watches him. She waits patiently for the vomitting to end, both times before clearing her throat. "We should probably go ahead and make our way back," she suggests. "Luckily we both smell bad enough that we shouldn't run into trouble on the way back. I'll follow you."