Edge of the Bawn

[Runs-In-Shadows]

[ST]

Central Park, New York City, 9:50 PM

A ear-shattering roar of Rage and anguish pierces the night. At the edge of the Sept's Bawn, amidst the trees, a blood-drenched Garou wearing her Crinos shape limps onto the park's grounds, cradling a wounded packmate, barely conscious in his Lupus form. Bystanders - a homeless man and a couple returning from a stroll - are seized by the Delirium and flee, shrieking. With luck, they will not remember what they have seen.

The Sept's Warder, Spotlight of the Red Talons, runs out, snarling at their breach of Sept law - until he smells the blood and fear. He turns to the nearest Garou and roars for them to help him tend the wounded.

[Feel free to jump in any time, players.]

[Mates-with-Mothers]

From his seat at the base of a huge tree, a black-haired man in a stained hoodie and faded, thin jeans tears into the flesh of a small, bright green apple in his hand.
He had picked him it from somebody's little patch of Wyld half an hour or so ago. It wasn't ripe yet, but it would do.

He bolted to his feet when the Warder shouted at the newcomers, stashing the proto-apple in the grey sweater's front pocket and closing the distance as quickly as his homid legs allowed with long, measured, fighter's steps.

He reached the body.

"Talk to me," he ordered the Crinos. "What happened?"

(I'm on my phone. I assume a Wits + Medicine roll goes here? That's four dice.)

[Runs-In-Shadows]

[ST]

[If you can't use the Dice Roller I can roll for you. Not needed this time, though, with four dice I can give you an automatic success.]

[Switching to third person to avoid confusion when other players join the scene.]

The wounded Garou warrior stares at Walks-Forbidden-Trails as he dares to bark orders at her. Despite - or perhaps because of - her wounds and her grief, her control shatters. [Rage roll, TN 6, five successes]

Spotlight, busy calling for a Theurge, senses the change and wheels around, shifting to Crinos in an instant and tackling her to the ground. She snarls, clawing the ground and snapping her jaws, still intent on eviscerating Walks as the Warder piles his weight on her back and holds her down.

The old Talon glares at you. With barely controlled anger, he growls, "Take him and go. Hurry!"

[Mates-with-Mothers]

[Er... so what's the Triage look like?]
The Bone Gnawer seemed unfazed at the Raging Crinos' assault, already in a half-crouch with one arm outstretched, in the middle of a stop-punch by the time Spotlight takes care of the threat.
"Gracias," he mutters, unaware of (or simply not caring)the thrashing War-Wolf's struggle, instead scooping the unconscious Lupus up carefully, making doubly sure to cradle the beast's neck as he lifts it up.

He's stronger than he looks, but under that hoodie, it was impossible to see the corded iron that was his muscles at work.
The homid runs, as fast as he can, to carry Lupus a safe distance away from the struggle.
"A medic would be great over here!" he calls out over the Caern, taking a second look down at the body as he ran.

[Runs-In-Shadows]

[ST]

Wits + Medicine, TN4, Automatic Success

The half-conscious werewolf has a number of gunshot wounds; that they're still bleeding, and not closing up on their own, suggests they are silver-inflicted. The bullets seem to have gone clean through. That he has reverted to breed form means that his wounds are serious. From the strong scent of blood, he's lost a lot.

There are other Garou in the distance, rushing to the scene.

[Mates-with-Mothers]

"Well, then, somebody was a big, bad wolf," Walks-Forbidden-Trails joked to nobody in particular, grateful that he wouldn't he to be plucking any nasty silver out from the wounds, but, without a needle and thread, he couldn't close them effectively, and all he had was...
"Aw, man, you're really killing me here, smalls," the Gnawer lamented, reaching across his chest to tear at the seam of his right sleeve. "I just washed this one." he complained, ripping the heavily stained fabric off and quickly binding it around the wounds, cinching the cloth tight, and trying not to wince as the blood seeped through the fabric. [[Not very well. One hit, Used a TN of 6, because Default.]]]
Maybe he could sew it back on later?

"Just tell me you didn't bring any enemies to our doorstep."

[Runs-In-Shadows]

[It's your lucky day. Field dressing would be Dex+Medicine.]

[Mates-with-Mothers]

[[http://rpgroller.com/wod/index.php?show_roll=486348]]
[[That's one more hit. So slightly-less-poorly]]

[PossiblyInsane]

Snatches-Food watches from the nearby bushes with interest to see whether the slightly amusing man is actually any good at field dressing, or whether someone clearly more competent would have to intercede.

[Runs-In-Shadows]

[ST]

With some difficulty, Walks-Forbidden-Trails manages to slow the wounded Garou's bleeding. However, the half-conscious werewolf is still delirious - and his heartbeat is dangerously low. He chokes out a few hoarse words, blood dripping from his jaws.

Something about a betrayal.

Meanwhile, Spotlight has managed to get the raging Ahroun back to her senses, with the help of one of her packmates. The latecomer sprints over to where Walks and his bleeding packmate have taken shelter.

This Garou wears the homid form - as per the Sept of the Green's rules for Central Park - but he moves with distinctly lupine grace. He drops to his haunches over the wounded werewolf.

"Thank you, urrah," he says to Walks, grim determination etched on his sharp, predatory features, "I will help."

He focuses, pupils shrinking as he calls upon a spirit's Gift. His Gnosis discharges badly, palpable in the air, and he shakes uncertainly. Gathering renewed determination, he pours his essence into the Gift, pulls back one of the dressings and runs his tongue over his packmates wounds the way a wolf would. He then collapses from the exhaustion - but it seems the werewolf's injuries have begun to regenerate.

Int+Medicine, TN4, no successes.
Dex+Medicine, TN5, 4 successes

[Runs-In-Shadows]

[ST]

Snatches-Food can sense that the Gnawer is clearly experienced in first aid, though he has no Gift for healing.

[krellen]

Black-Fur-Rises stands at the edge of the commotion, still barefoot and looking a bit like a homeless gawker. Though his Tribe tried to instil in him a sense of duty to heal and protect, he was a warrior, not a nursemaid, and the aftermath of a battle was not his forte. So he watches for the enemies whom caused the wounds instead.

[Runs-In-Shadows]

[ST]

There are sirens in the distance. But then, in the Scab, that happens a lot. Whoever the assailants were, the Ahroun and her pack were sure to shake them before returning to the Sept. Many of the Garou Nation's enemies are unaware of Central Park's true nature, and it would be best not to lead them to the Caern.

[Mates-with-Mothers]

"Wait, brother," Walks interrupts the healer "You're pack with this one? How many went out to hunt?"

[PossiblyInsane]

Seeing no reason to intercede, Snatches-Food listens intently to the conversation while absentmindedly wondering if that beautiful homeless gawker at the edge of the commotion would look better in Lupus. Not if he's as awkward on four legs as he is on two...

[Runs-In-Shadows]

[ST]

The Theurge, breathing heavy, looks up at Walks-Forbidden-Trails and nods. "Yes. Pack. Song-Of-Rain, Theurge of the Red Talons," he says, voice hoarse.

Most New York Garou know, however, that Spotlight is the Sept of the Green's only Talon.

"Four of us. The Leeches knew we were coming - not sensed, knew. They waited. Struck fast. The wolf you tend is Howls-In-Silence, our Ahroun there is called Storm-Dancer. Our Ragabash, Silver-Fire, is out in the Scab distracting the Leeches."

[Mates-with-Mothers]

Dan nods politely.
"Then you are not of this Sept? I hope that this episode fosters co-operation between us." The 'Gnawer responds diplomatically.
"You might call me Walks-Forbidden-Paths. I am Gaillard and Bone Gnawer. I would very much like to meet your pack. All together. When Howls-in-Silence is well enough to break bread, of course."

[Runs-In-Shadows]

[ST]

[Oh, you're polite to the one who['s least likely to Rage. ]

The Talon shaman makes a low, sharp "hrrf" of agreement. "Perhaps we can hunt together, Walks-yuf," he says, with noticeably less rasp, "And the trickster, too." He points at Snatches-Food not with his fingers, but with his eyes.

His packmate, whom he called Storm-Dancer, strides over to him. She has apparently cooled off, and at Spotlight's insistence, assumed Homid form, though even in human form her wildness shines through - in part because she had no dedicated clothing save a heavy leather collar, and stands bare before the other Garou.

"Storm-rhya," the Theurge acknowledges his pack leader, lowering his eyes, then looking over to the Garou beside him with a toss of his head, "Walks-Forbidden-Paths."

[krellen]

Black-Fur-Rises, sharp of sense even with the dulled senses of an ape, perks at the words of the Theurge wolf and approaches the wounded pack and others. He doesn't bother to introduce himself, relying on his obvious breeding to speak for him. "We should hunt the dead with your Ragabash. Who can run?"

[Runs-In-Shadows]

[ST]

The Theurge, Song-Of-Rain, visibly defers to his pack's battle-leader. Steely-eyed she-wolf Storm-Dancer takes charge, addressing Black-Fur-Rises. "I will run with you, Fury. My pack and yours."

She has mistaken him for a pack leader, and a Metis Black Fury. [That's what four dots of Pure Breed will do for ya, chummer!]

Her subordinate looks to her, then to Black-Fur-Rises. It's clear he wants to head back into the Scab, but he cannot leave his wounded packmate unattended. The she-wolf gives him a look, a lupine gesture to stay.

[PossiblyInsane]

[Well, you wouldn't bother exchanging social niceties with a slavering berserker, would you? ]

Snatches-Food wonders whether the enforcement of Homid form is primarily to discourage hostilities, out of respect for the Caern, or to blend in. She thinks that going naked in the city would defeat at least one of those objectives, but decides not to bring it up in front of the Garou that frenzied barely a minute ago.

Snatches-Food, a short, black haired woman of indeterminate origin, steps out of the bushes.

"Well, the dead is about what I think these legs could catch up to, unless they have a particularly vicious maggot infestation. I jest, of course. That sounds like a brilliant idea, Fury! I'm sure we can handle a few corpses that just drove off a good sized pack because they knew they were coming! They'll never expect it!"

Snatches-Food wonders if Walks-Forbidden-Paths would mistake the enthusiasm for sarcasm. The Homids tend to do that.

[krellen]

"We shall be the ones that know this time," Black-Fur replies, the meaning of his words partially conveyed by posture and movement in the Garou way. He glances briefly at Snatches-Food, with little real interest. "Can you fight as well as you jape?" Without waiting for an answer, he looks then towards Dan. "What of you, Gibbous-Moon?" Then he turns back to Storm-Dancer. "We should not allow them to wound another of your pack. Time is short."

[Runs-In-Shadows]

[ST]

"No, we should not," Storm-Dancer answers Black-Fur-Rises, a predator's fierce determination in her words. "We hunt. We lost them in the Scab, to the South, across the bridge. I will meet you on the bridge."

She runs off, taking Lupus form as soon as she clears the edge of the park.

[Mates-with-Mothers]

Dan shuffles his feet idly.
Leeches are dangerous. Agents of the Wyrm, to be exterminated at any and all costs, that one would cast their lot in...
Howls-in-Silence whimpered of betrayal, but to let that loose in front of a possible traitor would be tipping his hand. Best play this out, at least until the river.
"I believe, Fury, that we should hunt, yes, and while the Leeches are dangerous, there may be a greater foe. Be careful that, when looking for the snake's body, you don't neglect its head."
He grins a sharp, feral grin -- the most wolfish he has looked all night.
"My kind travels light, there is never a moment we're not ready for war. I cry havoc, friends. Havoc."

[PossiblyInsane]

"Well, I'm always good at finding some head. Don't mind me if I break off at some point, I'll just be sniffing around."

Snatches-Food walks off (slightly more slowly) to the parks edge, and likewise runs off toward the bridge in Lupus.

[Sponsored content]