Logs:Vermintide - Shadowplay

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Vermintide - Shadowplay
Dramatis Personae

Brant, Deborah, Jonathon, Helga, Jones, Kai, Katherine, Kharn, Levi, Nadya, Nate, Teresa, and Jackson as ST

13 August, 2016


Bura'Hata must perform the Shadow Play Rite at the location of where Rat's Swollen Fecundity became corrupted and started producing Beshilu. It's a lengthy ritual and he must be guarded. The assorted Ferals and Werewolves fight off eight Beshilu armed with silver and a great and ancient beast that has not been seen since the first age of the world. Part of the Vermintide plot.

Location

D01, Marina, Derelict Dock


Bura'Hata is waiting at the Crosscut like he said he would be when he last called the Uratha to order. Noting the appearance of the Ferals, he doesn't seem particularly ill-disposed toward them. The more the merrier, after all. The Elder explains the situation again: there is a place where an ancient spirit in Fallcoast known as Rat's Swollen Fecundity, alternately known as Mother of Rats to some, a greater Jaggling or lesser Incarna of great power, made her nest in the Hisil down in the docklands near the marina district. The goal: Bura'Hata knows a Rite wherein he can look at the Hisil and 'rewind time' to see what happened. Since the Beshilu - or some other type of creature or being - has corrupted the giant rat goddess-queen, Bura'Hata needs to look back at the Hisil there to see what happened and give the information to his defenders.

Downside: The area he needs to be in is a major Beshilu nest, meaning that it will be a target-rich environment. The Beshilu have made this particular area a point of interest for them. They've also taken to gnawing the Gauntlet away to allow strange spirits to slip into the waters and destroy the animals and corrupt the sea around the docks, which is good for the Ferals -- they can potentially take out an adversary that's causing widespread natural destruction alongside their Uratha cousins.

Another downside: the ritual will likely take about thirty minutes and Bura'Hata will be useless while performing it, hence the need for defenders.

Once everyone is given - or re-given - the downlow, the group is ushered out of the Crosscut and pulls up to the area that Bura'Hata indicated, following him on his motorcycle. He arrives and starts down a set of stone stairs built into the tidewall. There's a cavernous area beyond, where the old rotting wooden dock sits. There's also a terrible feeling. An absolutely terrible feeling. It feels like something about this whole area is wrong. This would explain why there aren't any humans around. So far, so good. No Beshilu in sight, at least not immediately.

As they gather, Kharn is quiet once again but for a different reason. He's mouthing words, urging the spirit within his bracers to lend her the strength of those who once fought in her name. He's not wearing his usual attire, save for his firehose pants. He's got his armor on under a leather jacket, and a knife is strapped to the small of his back. The mane of fiery hair is gathred into a knot at the back of his head. Over the course of the next minute, the expression on his face darkens, any of the social tact he might have had ebbs away. Anyone with enhanced senses might also smell the metallic smell of blood coming from him. He is in his Dalu form, standing a head taller than his usual self, making for an imposing, if still somewhat human, sight. Some of those gathered are people he doesn't know, but it's likely have better tactics than he, so he follows those who wish to be on point.

Katt is one of the early arrivals, having prepped for this. As ready as a Wolfblood can be. A shotgun and a large handgun are settled firmly in holsters and slings. Loaded clips. Locked and loaded and ready. Somewhere in her wallet is her ID in case something terrible happens, along with her badge in case someone has to be bailed out or nother nefarious affairs of a wolfblood cop. Also, a pair of glasses are there, granting her a little extra sight. A twilight familiar is probably close in tow as well.

After arriving at the docks, Jonathon concentrates for a moment then shifts into urshul, becoming a massive black direwolf. His massive heads sweeps from side to side, sniffing for possible targets.

Levi followed Bura'Hata's bike out to the docks in a beat up pickup. When he steps out he suits up, that rune engraved armor made just for him and dedicated. Strapped in, he cricks his neck side to side before letting fangs and claws grow into the bestial form of Dalu. He is as ready as he'll ever be to defend his mentor. Where Old Man Autumn sets up is where the Night Hunter positions himself.

Nate followed the rest in his old ratty state truck and parked the thing a good distance away. He then followed the paths between buildings to jog his way into the rendezvous, using a bit of parker to maneuver through some of the old junk that accumulates in these places. As Nate reaches the location, he shifts into something that might have once been at home during the Pleistocene era. A few words of First Tongue are spoken as the nightmarish sabretooth nips at its own leg to draw blood. Slinking into the shadows on his final approach to where the ritualist requested, the cat again calls on Father Wolf of all things to lend him speed of foot. As others come into view, the sabretooth ~speaks~ in a very rough deep voice, "I here"

Deborah, owner of the most awesome of Minivans, serves as transportation to the Wagners heading to the Crosscut, and then for whoever wants it to about... a mile or so away from the dangerous decrepid docks. "This is why I don't loan out sports gear, dude," she says. "When you need the baseball bat or the hockey pads the most, is when some other jerkface has them. You're lucky I had those batons in the back. Remind me to show you how to use them some time."

Brant gets out of his car and follows Bura'Hata down to the rotten docks, eying the yawning darkness speculatively. "The Beshilu will likely have gnawed the gauntlet to nothing here, so be wary of wandering off from the group. The Hisil is no place to get lost." The silver haired Elodoth warns, reaching under his shirt to draw out a well crafted M1 Garand rifle with bayonet affixed. He checks the action, then quickly shifts into dalu, bulking up into a linebacker build with his rifle molding itself to his larger hands as well.

Nadya followed the group, parking wherever there was space. A backpack and quiver and compound bow were taken out of her truck before she headed down the stairs to the darkened area. Her gaze skips over the group before she edges through it, making her way over toward Levi so she can stand somewhere near his side. She murmurs something quietly to him about Jackson getting called away and the fact that he won't be showed up, but how orders were given that none of the pack die. Because that'd be bad.

Teresa has been quiet. Watching, waiting. Patiently, even. But she did stick near Levi and Nadya while she watched and waited, listening and studying faces. Hey, they're all new to her and bad shit is going to go down. Doesn't hurt to recognize faces of the good guys, right?

Ting. Ting. A bicycle bell rings. A tall, hairless man in a stained thrift store sweatsuit riding a girl's purple Schwinn. Jones has arrived. He swings a leg over the frame and lets it fall, forgotten behind Levi's truck. "Oy-oy." he chuffs to the other wolf, at least one he remembers, before falling forward. The old bald man's secondhand clothes shred, undedicated, with his shift to Urshul.

Bura'Hata also slips into his Dalu form. The werewolf has dark brown fur that takes over his beard and his hair becomes a little darker. He further enhances himself by allowing his hands to twist into claws designed to slash and rend. He brushes his hands together and looks into the darkness.

The cavernous area is wholly manmade. The docks were designed prior to the invention of large-scale shipping and cranes that would handle great amounts of goods from warehouse to ship, where men would load up the goods by hand on the ships coming through. The late 1800s were a long time ago, and it seems that no one's managed to update this dock since then. It links up to an underground warehouse where all the goods had been stored underground in a dry, cooler place prior to refrigeration. Now, this whole area has fallen into decay due to utter lack of interest by city officials in fixing it up. Perhaps it will one day become an historical society landmark. It's not likely, though. Rumors say that Shanghai'd sailors would be stored in those same underground warehouse rooms just underneath the dock. There are a set of stairs that leads up to the dock proper, but everyone is out of sight and in the shadows. The Gibbous Moon hangs thick and bloody from the smog of the industrial district.

As everyone arrives, the old Blood Talon gives a nod to each and gestures toward the dark entrance of the bleak board-and-cement manmade caves.

Levi doesn't hesitate, he knows his pack will hang back as they need to. But it is his sworn Oath to be the first in the dark. The Night Hunter brushes by Bura'Hata when the way is indicated and the wolf that sees in the dark forges forward on silent feet. He keeps scout's distance, making sure he has room to retreat and give warning if the worst occurs.

As the huge sabretooth moves into position, the coloring of the cat's hide changes to more match this area. The rust oranges replaced with a more greyish color, the whites taking on a green blue tints all to make him harder to spot..

Katt hangs on the outskirts, to the back of the party that begins their trek inside first. Yes, she lets a few wolves go in-front of her for a reason, because squishy and she knows it. Her shotgun is in her hands, ready.

Kai nods taking the batons and eyeing them curiously. He follows behind Deb looking at the changed forms around him with an excited grin. Taking each beastly form with increasingly widen eyes as he holds the batons losely... and ineptly. "Too Friggan's Cool", he mutters gleeful. He averts his gaze from the others, embarrassed he may have been heard. When the Bura'hata looks his way, Kai swallows, ears reddening and offers a politely deferential nod in turn, whispering to himself, "Too Friggan Cool." And he hurries to follow his cousins.

The dog, very fine breeding, nicely groomed Norwegian Elkhound Bitch, hops out of Deborah's Minivan of Awesome. Yes, the dog got out of a minivan. Roar. Helga trots forward amid the titanic awesomeness of the shifter world. Some might not a likeness to wolf, but with so many here the husky is a closer likeness. Helga's nose drops to the ground, sniffing about, then she lifts her head higher to scent the wind and listen to the sounds.

Deborah stalks down from the parking place, oh-so-far away so that the chaos hopefully won't hurt the most awesome of minivans. She eyes Nadya's weapon of choice. "Stupid Jill, taking off with my bow still on her boat," she mutters. To no one in particular, but complaining none the less. Her flesh readily melts to that a hulking white-furred she-wolf, and her gifts from Father wolf let her set off at a quick lope to cover all of the ground hastily. Her paws quiet, as a Menienna ought to be. She looks back to Kai, and then over to the other 'blooded. She even jerks her head, trying to convey some message.

Levi goes full Riddick when he's like this, his hand being put up between him and any lights as they press down into the dark tunnel-like structure. Those gleaming green eyes cut through the darkness thanks to Khonsu and his blessings. Without a word the Gypsy Wolf simply moves into point and keeps forging ahead, Bura'Hata will tell him when he's gone far enough. Or he'll realize it he figures. Either way - there is only the solemn look of all business on the wolf's face.

Nadya flashes Deborah a quick smile, "It comes in handy and lets me stay back from the group, since I suck at any fighting that's closer than that. Unless I'm setting shit on fire. But even then, I can be a little ways away." And she is staying back, letting others go ahead of her. Distance is better for what she wants to do, even if it's only a little ways.

PEMIT TO HELGA: You allow your senses to extend out into the earth and find that within five hundred feet of you, there are about thirty or forty different life forms in this area alone. They're moving around, faster than any human should be able to, and you get a feeling that they're threats and food at once. Spirits made manifest.

Directly behind Levi is a big, grey haired haggard looking wolf who goes by the name of Jones. His hair is patchy in places, but he's quick on the heals of the Irraka.

Kharn knows that sneaking is not his forte. He hangs back long enough to watch the procession of those stealthier than him sneak in. He follows, but not close enough that anyone noticing him would be given any notice of those hiding. He has no weapon drawn, yes, but blood does drip from his fingertips as he walks.

The Sabretoothed Tiger just pads very quietly as he slides from shadow to shadow on the left of the group and a couple yards behind Levi. His eyes seeing in the darkness, where there is light.. one might see a moment of shine from the tiger's eyes. Ear's perked, whiskers out, and nostrils flared as the cat takes in what his senses can take in.

PEMIT to Nate Kharn Brant Teresa: You smell the scent of rats and something else, something stranger than rats. It smells like a mixture of vomit and urine, mixed with human feces. You also smell the scent of recent death and decay, of animal and human remains. You catch the scent of a recently killed and rotting bull shark nearby, and rats. More rats. Rats everywhere. It almost drowns out everything else.

Brant slips his rifle's butt to his shoulder and carefully walks into the yawning mouth of danger. Range is his ally here, as much as the Uratha and Ferals gathered. Darkness stripped away by his gift, he scans his surroundings, even as the overpowering stench reaches his jaded sense of smell.

PEMIT TO Jones Levi Deborah Jonathon: The scent of rats is prevalent, certainly. More than that, it's a wide variety of rats and breeds of rat. You can smell the scent of something else as well, like rotting flesh. There's the scent of animal death, and blood, human feces and urine, vomit. There's the scent of rotting flesh. Beyond all that, the rats take precedence. That smell is far heavier and stronger.

Helga leans inward, her teeth showing as her lips pull back. It is a clear to those with a canine nature, and likely those with a human side, the dog is upset and scented in on something. She starts forward slowly behind the main pack, glancing back towards Kai, then focusing forward.

Katt settles the glasses on her face as they head in, allowing her to see both ghosts and spirits. Shotgun is traded for handgun, giving her a little more control. Stationed probably somewhere between Jonas and Kharn, she's likely going to have some sort of signal danger is coming. Moving in sync with the others she is tense.

There's a skittering sound in the dark nearby, and the Wolfblooded feel the sensation that there are spirits here. It's overwhelming. It's not just -- spirits are here. It's almost like an army of spirits has been arrayed in this location. The skittering is slipping away from the pack of werewolves and ferals as they make their way into the darkness. Bura'Hata somehow has made his way up to the front, which isn't entirely out of sorts given his Lodge. He reaches into his ritual bag and takes out a small brazier and a bag of sage-scented incense. He takes a deep breath.

Teresa's nose wrinkles and she rubs the back of her hand over her nose like trying to wipe away the smell. It doesn't work, sadly. But she's still sticking close to Nadya. Her hand brushes lightly against the small of her back, her gaze trained toward the dark.

The patchy old wolf that is Jones shakes his head as the stench fills his nostrils. He expels the oily scent of offal with a sneeze, his tongue lapping at his nose when his lips part and bare his teeth. A low rumble churns from the gut of the wolf. He pads on.

Katt can't help but mutter it. It's a little whisper, but those with attentive ears hear her mutter: Rats, why is it always rats...?! Of course it's rhetorical and she continues to move deeper despite that skittering. Tilting her head slightly towards the figure behind her of Kharn, she steadies both hands on her firearm and nods in silent signal that she understood. The wolfish form ahead of her that is Jones growls and she mutters curse words under her breath.

Nadya follows along, a glance and nod give to Teresa as she catches sight of the woman nearby to where she is. An arrow is pulled out, kept in hand as the other hand holds onto her compound bow. The backpack had been put on, but it's obviously full of /something/. A tinny sound can be heard if she shifts it around.

There's just enough light for most of the group to see, but what they see is water. At least at first.

The water has slipped up into the caverns built into the tidewall. As Bura'hata begins his ritual, lighting the sage incense and starting to chant low in the First Tongue, there's a psychic ROAR in the minds of those present. Those who can see past the darkness of the caverns see the water begin to moliate up into something else, something ancient. Something terrifying. Larger than anything ought to be and larger than any war form or Gauru creature. There's a cracking sound as the wooden dock begins to buckle against the weight of something moving to push itself up from the water.

Suddenly, eight man-shaped rats, about six feet tall each, rush out from the shadows to engage the front line of Shifters. Two of them are carrying something that is inimical to the were-creatures: silver weapons, blades forged out of silver. These rats are definitely not the average Beshilu. The average Beshilu wouldn't be smart enough to bring a silver baton to a fight with werewolves. They fan out to defend whatever it is in the dark beyond them and chitter curses at the assembled.

Bura'Hata's eyes have gone black as he continues to chant, up front and brushing his fingers over the smoke from the incense, trying to look back into the Hisil's history.

PEMIT TO Katherine, Jones, Kuthgurim, Jonathon: What lurks in the dark is not just any spirit. The creature there is something far, far different. Legend has it that long ago this creature was beautiful, but Father Wolf ousted it from its place. Once, long ago, this spirit held dominion over a city in the depths of the water. It had a mortal cult that worshiped it and followed it. Father Wolf and the First Born understandably saw this as an affront to what spirits were for, and Father Wolf mangled the creature, sending it into the depths.

This creature is Tha'Hon, the Drowned God, also known as the Deep. It despises Father Wolf's children for what their ancestor did to it, but more than that, if this thing is here, it must have been called here for a reason. Considering how flimsy the Gauntlet is here, perhaps this was the goal all along. You all know that it is rumored to be able to control the tides, and is stronger so long as it remains in water.

Well, with all the talking and stalking out of the way, time for Kharn do to what he does. He starts at a jog, then speeds up to a sprint, reaching back under his armor and retrieving a sword too big to have been hidden there. The strike is hard enough to bisect the creature from shoulder to opposite hip. Ichor sprays, coating Kharn's torso and grinning bearded face.

The strange monstrous creature begins to move in a slow circle at first, but starts to pick up speed as it moves off to a drop-off point where the continental shelf falls away. The speed at which it's spinning is insane, almost completely out of sorts for a creature of its size. In the light that Kharn shines, it's visible to everyone here. With half its body in the water, about ten feet of flesh extends up from the water, toward the sky. It roars again, but it's a psychic thing that bursts into the brains of those present. The psychic Wolfblood are particularly affected by this roar, as it transmits through their minds and nearly shatters them.

Levi is fast and furious, but not so deadly when it comes to an armored fucking rat. With a swipe, he tears out a small cut in the thing's body, not even enough to really call an affectionate love tap. But hey, when Roman's not here, someone from the Murder needs to hold the torch.

Deborah had been over near the wolfblooded and the ritualist, her lips drawn back in a snarl as the smell and skittering noises reach her. And then... there is moliation. And rats! A whole... mischief of them? Google fails her madness. And there is silver among them. The bigger 'holy shit a spawning monster' will have to wait a moment. One moment, the She-wolf is there. And the next, she is not. Father Wolf's speed is gifted to her, and she just. Charges halfway to the closest of the silver-wielding critters, and just leaps the rest of the way. Pouncing. Bowling it over entirely and sliding to a stop juuust beyond him, spinning in place to snap her jaws at the two fell creatures on either side of where she ended up. No guts, no Glory...

Opportunist, that is what sums up just about any feline. And with Silver one being down, the Pleistocene monster cat rushes out of the shadows to tear into the rat ripping deep into the side, killing it. And with that the cat growls, "Take that Jerry"

As the feline creature rushes forward after Deborah takes down its companion and tears apart the rat's guts, one of the other rats wielding a silver baton rushes at Deborah and smashes her in the back while she's in her pounce form with that silver baton. The silver baton singes against Deborah's flesh as Luna's metal leaves a wide, vicious wound that opens up against her body. It smells like burnt flesh and she bleeds profusely from the wound.

There's a reason that Nadya stays behind everyone else and slightly out of their way. The arrow she'd been holding is nocked as she takes sight on one of the rats. When she finally lets it loose, the arrow flies through the air and hits the target, which causes a small flash of satisfaction to flicker over the Gypsy womans face. "Die, you little fuckers." The words are muttered to herself as the rat starts squealing and blood starts pouring from the wound as it tries pulling the arrow free.

Jonathon snarls and leaps towards the plague bearer, his claws barely slicing into it. The huge direwolf falls back slightly afterwards to make room for somebody else to dogpile it.

With widened-eyes Kai watches his Urshal cousin Deb charge forward, smashing a rat-thing to the ground. He snarls as a silver wielding rat-warrior burns into her back. He activates his flashlight and points it at her opponent with a determined growl. "Fiat Lux, bee-otch!"

Silver is not fighting fair, and highly out of sorts for Beshilu, only confirming the suspicions shared at the meeting a week before. Brant lines up his sights on the remaining unengaged bane-bearing beshilu, and drawing on Deborah's inspiriation, sends the .30-06 round through one eye and out the back of what used to be a skull. The spent casing flies free as the Elodoth returns to looking for a next target of opportunity.

Katherine is amid the clawing and the leaping. On each side it appears as if wolves are leaping, clawing and tearing into things. Shots ring out even before her trigger has been pulled and she tries to still herself. Putting her shot towards the one that appears the most fragile, she pulls the trigger of her handgun.

The two rats with the very large claws charge at Kharn and attempt to dogpile on him, moving to either side of him. One of them slashes out with its giant claws, and the other moves to strike with its broken, cracked claws; both miss, with the burrower being horrifyingly outclassed.

Meanwhile, the Plaguebearer kicks the silver baton up and grabs at it, bringing it down on the giant cat's head, leaving a wide open wound that'll scar badly.

Bura'Hata continues to chant, his eyes still black as he begins to wander through the battlefield.

PEMIT TO JONES: Tha'hon, the true name of this spirit, is an ancient god-like creature. It's an Incarna, a diety that was once worshiped by humans. While it doesn't seem to follow along the same lines as the spirit courts normally do, it wields a level of power on par with spirits like the First Born. It would be highly advisable not to deal with it. You learn that it has the ability to create a giant flood water if it begins to spin around.

Jones's utterances continue then die off. The old wolf's sharp eyes dart from the monster to the others gathered and narrow. The Death Wolf has provided and the Elodoth charges forward adjacent the Firebeard.

<<MUST GET IT OUT OF THE WATER>> Jones growls.

Tha'Hon is neither vertebrate nor invertebrate; it seems to be a blasphemous hybrid of both. Where it is not protected by plates of armor that seem to be part chitin and part coral, it has the pale and unwholesome flesh of an invertebrate or a drowned man. Fat, writhing arms like swollen eels end in rasps reminiscent of a lamprey’s mouth, and chitinous limbs sprout oddly fanned fins. Its “face” is mercifully hidden in shadow, below a prow-like extrusion of armor — but what can be seen is a hateful mishmash of unusual mouthparts and stunted sensory organs.

The two ratlings run at Kharn, hissing and clawing, but they seem to fall away from the Ralurnim as he's set his sights on the spinning monstrosity in the water. His roar is a cacaphony in the cavern, reverberating as he charges into the water and swings the grand klaive with such force that it sends the Thing staggering. Soaked in ichor, Kharn roars again at the thing. Shar'suthar is happy.

Levi continues to carry the banner of cuddling the foe to death with another gentle swipe at the twin tailed rat. He's also less worried about rage and carnage than making sure his pack is safe. Yeah that's it.

With a snarl, the huge cat takes a swipe at the offending rat that smacked him with silver, "Fucker.." The Pleistocene Tiger rips into the side of the rat, but not quite taking it down just yet.

Deborah has bowled through the line, and gotten whacked rather strongly by silver... something, for her troubles. She growns through the pain, but the critter who attacked her's head was turned into a fine mist before her eyes. So. A fitting end, there. But really, those Beshilu were just the little minions in a 90's action movie. Kharn ran up and Schwarzenneger'd the giant villain, but the She-Wolf? She breaks into a sprint, covering all the ground with Father Wolf's Speed. She leaps into the air! Shifting with Luna looking down on her, granting her blessing. Shifting into A GIANT HULKING PILLAR OF MUSCLE AND FUR. THE RAGE BRIMMING AND REQUIRING A SHOUTING VOICE TO FULLY ENCOMPASS. SHE IS VAN DAMME, ATTACKING LAWRENCE HENDRICKSON IN LOUSIANA, AND EVEN IF THE CARAPACE MAKE IT A HARD TARGET, HER CLAWS FIND PURCHASE, AND HER JAWS CLAMP DOWN AND CRACK INTO IT, TEARING THE SHELL AWAY TO EXPOSE SOME ICHORIOUS INNARDS.

People are jumping on the Big Thing, which leaves the Littler Things still there and as potential targets before they start attacking people. Nadya has stuck close by Teresa, cheering when her sister-in-law shot something. But even then, she was pulling out another arrow and aiming at something new. For a moment, she debates the rat she'd shot at before, but decides on something else that no one's touched yet. Careful aim is taken before the arrow sails through the air and hits its mark with absolute perfection. Right in the head, causing an eyeball to pop out and sort of dangle there as the rat does little more than gurgle before falling to the ground. He's very dead.

The massive direwolf, Jon, rears back on his hind legs, his claws flashing out, fatally gutting the plaguebearer. Its toxic blood sprays him in the face, burning, and he snarls, shaking his head violently to try to shake off the offending blood. He comes back down on all fours.

Kai crouches forward toward Hound-Helga and the Great Cat just in time to see the Big Guy get hurt. Keeping his head down so it doesn't get shot off. He aims at the beast that appears most immediately threatening and shines his flashlight soberly. "Ljósálfar, Guide Me," he prays.

Brant watches as beshilu fall, mentally ticking them off his radar as the group tends to them. With the silver disarmed, he turns his gun on the bigger threat, waiting for a clear shot between the Gauru form of Deborah and the Dalu of Kharn. Three loud bangs ring out as he sends a short burst into the spirit's armored hide, blowing chunks of flesh into the water.

It comes like a roaring tide as Brant's bullets slam into the body of the giant creature. It's a primal thing, and everyone here knows it. The animal brains of the Ferals and Uratha know this as the screaming howl of an ancient enemy of their respective kinds, having fought Coyote, Raven, Father Wolf, Dog, Bastet, and others in the past; the humans among them understand it as a primal fear of something that simply Must Not Be. A mistake of Gaia's creation, something that was meant to do perform a duty and quickly ignored those duties to establish rulership over man as a god. It's utterly terrifying.

Katt watches the beasts fall, one by one by one and for a moment there is a dizzy effect. It seems to draw her finally to focus as the thing roars and looks to Levi. Leveling her gun, she manages to find her focus and pull the trigger. She takes it's head off. It erupts as only a bullet in Hollywood movies can render a beast. Maximum splatter.

Teresa takes a moment, just a second really, to indulge in staring at the shot Nadya makes. But just a single second. She doesn't let it distract her any longer, not with other rats up and trying to attack people. One of them gets a narrowed eyed look from the woman before she moves the gun to aim in that direction and she fires. But there's a lot going on, okay? And who can look big and bad when they're missing a big toe, huh?

Fragile Claws is a Beshilu standing about five feet in height, smaller than the others, but its claws make up much of its body. It has giant burrowing claws that look like they've been shattered on something, leaving shards of claw that drip with toxic residue. It has one four foot long tail with barbs at the end of it and is wearing the remnants of a sewer-worker's uniform.

Wassat!? Rat threatens cousin, the Maeran charges the cringing beast, rushing and leaping teeth glaring and sinks them into the thing face, teeth crushing bone as the body of the Elkhound Helga rips with a powerful jerk meant to take down Elk and Moose. With a wince and a yelp, the dog shakes and flings the wretched head away.

As the last Beshilu falls to the combined assault between Feral and Uratha, there is a howling noise of a different kind as the spirit known as Rat's Swollen Fecundity manifests her massive body. As she manifests, three ratlings drip out of her swollen labia and run under the feet of the assorted Shifters. The massive rat lesser incarna stares at them with the unbridled fury of a mother that's just seen her children massacred in front of them.

Bura'Hata wanders over in her direction and then loops around to continue chanting as he heads back toward the group. The sage he's burning smells sweet and savory in the disgusting, rotten-flesh filled air. It's sort of like spraying a pile of dog shit with febreze, but at least it's better than nothing. Only twenty-four minutes and fifty-four seconds to go.

The wave is sudden and fast enough that it doesn't give time for people to take much of a breath before being submerged. The fury of the ocean slams Teresa and Bura'Hata against the cement tidewall, the former leaving a bloody smear that washes off and just floats from the gash in her head in the water. The others are struck by pieces of debris from the broken dock and Rat's Swollen Fecundity de-manifests herself after feeling the wound. Pieces of wood pierce flesh, smash into bones and muscles, and then the wave pulls away, leaving them to fall against the cement floor of the mooring.

The Huge cat manages to avoid being slammed against the wall. Nice to be close to the 1000 lbs mark in a time like this. The wound taken from the wave swiftly heals.. The feline turns to look at the others, "Win?"

The waves hits them, knocking Nadya off her feet until it ebbs away, debris from the dock hitting against her as she tries to get her feet beneath herself. Once she does, she casts a look around, catching sight of Teresa and Bura'Hata against the wall. "Help them! And don't attack the giant rat... thing. You might ruin what he's still trying to do." 'He' being Bura'Hata.

Bura'Hata moves to stand back up to his feet. His incense got messed up and it no longer continues to burn, but at least it's served its purpose. It was meant to be chiminage, not anything else. After allowing himself to heal his wounds up, he begins to chant and move around the area once more.

Still heaving from the fight and then being slammed by the wave, Kharn's grip is still white-knuckle about Shar'Suthar, but her point has dipped, almost touching the floor. He turns around to look and survey the damage, approaching Bura'Hata, thinking that the foes may come back, he remains ready.

Teresa is knocked back but manages to keep hold of her gun. Even better? She manages to keep hold of it and /not/ shoot anyone in the process! Still, smacking her head like that? Dude, it hurt! She snarls a little and lifts her free hand to gingerly touch her head as she works at sitting up and looking for something to shoot that isn't the giant rat thing.

Brant curls around his rifle as the wave hits, trying to protect everyone else from the affixed bayonet as he's sent tumbling around the flooded cavernish area. He takes several cuts and bruises himself in exchange, but manages in the end to not lose his partner, nor impale any of his allies. Clambering to his feet, he looks around for any foes, then to any missing friends.

Levi is bashed, bruised and battered by waves, but he's a scrapper. The push and pull of nature doesn't land him anywhere he doesn't want to be. When the worst is done he is looking around quickly. "Shit, where's the brood mother?! Did anyone see what happened to her?" He's pushing to his feet soaked to the bone and spitting out foul water. Seeing Nadya on her feet, the Murder pack alpha turns his attention to Bura'Hata. A chuckling growl, "You could keep a lecture through a hurricane," he snarls at the old man before pulling a piece of /something/ out from his hair and armor.

PEMIT TO DEBORAH: The taste of Tha'hon is still in your mouth and you can feel him, smell him, taste him, diving-diving-diving. Submerged deep into the ocean and speeding away from the coast. The massive creature is attempting to retreat and regain its power, apparently, but it seems far enough away that it won't pose an immediate threat judging from your prey's scent.

Jonathon is tossed by the waves, slamming into the ground and being slammed by debris as he loses his footing. After it receeds, he's on the ground on his side, but quickly rights himself, shaking the water off as his wounds begin healing. He strides over to beside Bura'Hata, also taking watch in case enemies return.

Nate gracefully hops up on one of the stone shelves to lay down and then just starts grooming.. damn it.. all this wet fur. MUST put it back into proper places... meanwhile that nasty wound on his head starts to glow as if there is a bit of sunlight from somewhere bathing it in a holy feeling radiance...

THE GIANT PILLAR OF FUR IS SHAKEN FROM THE CRITTER, AND THEN SLAMMED BACK BY A TIDAL SURGE, SMALL THOUGH IT MAY BE. SHE FIGHTS THROUGH IT, WAGNER BLOOD STANDING AGAINST THE SEA, BUT ONLY FOR SO LONG, BEFORE SHE IS HIT BY DEBRIS AND KNOCKED BACK! THE SURGE HAS MOSTLY ENDED BY THE TIME SHE MEETS THE WALL, AND THE WOUND IS HEALED BEFORE SHE CAN EVEN LOOK UP AND FIND HER PREY VANISHED. SHE LETS OUT A HALF-SNARL, HALF-GROWL, HALF-HOWL IN RAGE, BEFORE HER BONES BeGiN pOpPing AnD shIfTIng and suddenly she is back in her human form. Leather Jacket, Black Jeans, and SWAT boots. Kai still has her Escrima sticks, but her focus is over by the water. Watching and waiting. "Tha'hon has fled for now, but I do not know where the Brood Mother has gone." She rolls her shoulder, testing it and it's restriction from the silver-wound on her back.

Helga gets shook around, wet and soggy. We all know what that means, when she recovers her footing, shake-out time. Oh yea, BowWow!, wet doggy shake, the water flies from her shiny coat, those strong canine legs ripping with power. Curly tale shaking, back to full fluff.

While the Rat's Swollen Fecundity failed to pierce Jones' steel hide, the crashing of waves and flying debris shoves the old wolf crashing into a pylon. He gasps, the wind knocked from him. His growl is as close to a curse he can get to in his current form; however, he twists in a hard shake that sends dirty water flying in every direction. Bring it, his posture says.

Coughing from the mini-tsunami, Kai looks around at the chaos. Where was Helga? He drops his water laden pack and pulls out his water bottle, scanning for his cousin. He wasn't sure what happened but as soon as Kai spots her, Kai grabs his kit and moves in Helga's direction. He grins at the sight of her shaking dry. "Thank you Frigga and all your sisters," he mutters solemnly as he goes to her side.

Once she's reached Teresa, she touches her arm. "You okay?" Nadya knows that she'll heal pretty quick, though, so doesn't look too worried. Dark eyes seek out Levi, making sure that he's okay, too. Her pack accounted for, she finally takes stock of the rest of the group. "Well, that was fun." She gestures toward the water with her bow, "What the fuck was /that/?"

"Pissed off, but yeah, I'm okay. Fucking /wave/," Teresa mutters as she gets to her feet. After a moment she holsters her gun and wrings her hair out. "You okay?" she asks, brow furrowing as she looks Nadya over to check for injuries.

As the others heal their wounds and begin to knit themselves back together, Bura'Hata continues with his Rite. He gives Levi a dour look at the young cub's comment, then nods toward Nate and then Brant as he makes a circle around the area. Five minutes pass. Ten minutes pass. Finally the full twenty-five minutes pass and he drops his brazier which shatters against the ground as his eyes roll up and he starts to shake.

Following that, the Ithaeur drops away from his trance state and wipes his forehead clean of ocean water and sweat and looks around at everyone assembled in their waterlogged and semi-wounded states. "Did I miss anything?" He rubs at his beard. "I must consult someone on this. I will meet all of you back at the Crosscut later and we'll discuss what I saw. I think I can give you some answers on the way through this."

As everyone continues to recover from the wave caused chaos, the huge escapee from the Pleistocene with stripes continues to groom his fur. Every so often the feline glances at the others to survey from the shelf. Yup.. people do seem to be ok. The glow dimms for a moment on the wound and then brightens again.. the Sabretoothed cat's wound closes as the fur grows back. And over time, the other minor wound heals too.

Levi grunts when he realizes Teresa is there too. She is also checked up on. Bura'Hata's look goes without a flinch, the Irraka youth knowing damn well he's playing with fire. He just grins, and helps Teresa to her feet, his pack is safe and sound. The ritual will complete. Storm Crow feels accomplished as he needs to be. Shifting back to human form he starts the long, wet hike back to the car.

Jones' fur falls to the ground as he resumes his Hishu form. Sadly, he'd not had the forsight, or time, to secure his cheap clothing and is standing in the dank destruction befouled by filthy water and associated detritus completely stark naked. "Tha'Thon of the Deep survived the Father and the First Born. It will be back." he sighs, "We have work to do."

"We should see if any of those silver batons are still about. If we're lucky, they got washed out to sea and lost, but I don't want to leave them for more beshilu to recover. We've run them off for the moment, but until we find the instigation behind this, they are still a threat to all of us." Brant suggests, his eyes scanning about for any glint of silver in the detrius of the dock.

There are, indeed, some silver escrima batons floating in the water. They're slowly being pulled out to sea as the tides slide in back and forth. Soon, they sink under the waves and the glint of silver becomes the glint of the moon on the water. Somewhat similar, but a different kind of beast altogether at the heart of it all.

As the ritual comes to an end, the huge cat finally has all his fur back in place. Then it's almost like watching a balloon deflate accompanied by the sounds of popping bones, tendons, and other strange sounds. As the form becomes more human, his clothing.. dry clothing reforms about him. He stretches a bit while seated on the shelf, "Well that was fun.. " and Nate hops down to the ground.

"Well, I've got good news, and bad news. Bad News: I didn't think we'd need /towels/ tonight, so there aren't any in the van. But the good news is that it's not that cold to walk home," Deborah says to her cousins. Such a joker, that Deborah, right? RIGHT? The look on her face seems to indicate that she's serious. Huh. "Kai, if you're serious about learning how to use those sticks, go grab a pair in the waves over there. Silver's bad, but it might be useful for you to have." Off comes her jacket, and the blood has already begun to soak into the cerulean shirt she has on underneath it. The wound not sealing shut.