CoR Klaxon: Rise

"What's going on?"

"I don't know either." Anthony looked at his sister and gave her a shrug. They'd been inside moving furniture around while people were tense, and then suddenly people had gotten really tense. He hated sitting around, feeling like he couldn't really do anything about the situation - whatever the situation was. He'd wanted Islet to join a Pack because it was supposed to help keep her safe. And sure, she'd been the one to pick this one, but...

...But nothing. He was probably overreacting. The most dangerous thing they had done this morning was move boxes. Jesse had gone out to deal with whatever it was that needed dealing with, and Anthony could just... he didn't know. He'd almost be willing to go back to moving furniture around. Almost.

Well, if nothing else, he could help Jesse out by being an extra pair of hands. If Jesse needed someone to stand there and hold something, Anthony was pretty sure he could manage. He was great at standing there holding things. Islet had him do it all the time. "It's probably fine, Islet. Jesse seems like he knows what he's doing.

"Yeah but he said medical-" Islet was sounding worried, but there were footsteps out there in the hallway, Jesse returning with another young man that they didn't know, and- "Ohmygod, is that blood? That's blood. Anthony, that's blood."

She had backed up against the wall, which... shouldn't have surprised him. He'd been thinking being around other werewolves would help her, but Islet wasn't other werewolves and - actually, what the hell did he know about other werewolves? "Um." That was, indeed, blood, and a lot of it. "...Sorry, Islet, I wasn't... just put your head down, okay?"

The girl put her head down and made a little sound that was probably more appropriate for someone who was actually in Jimmy's condition rather than just someone who'd seen him, but it was what it was.

"There you go. Close your eyes. Right? I'm here, okay. Just sit down and breathe and keep your eyes closed, it'll be fine." Would it be fine, or had he just lied to his sister? Anthony glanced up, but Jesse... seemed to have things under control. Okay. So, Jesse could handle the new guy and Anthony would take care of his sister. That was fine, he was good at that. "You wanna step outside into the hallway?" There was probably blood in the hallway, too, but if he took her hand maybe he could lead her away from it.

"No, it's... the smell doesn't bother me." Anthony blinked at that, but he guessed she wouldn't see it. Werewolves could smell blood. Okay. Good to know? Her voice was quiet, meant for only him, but maybe the others would hear it too. Werewolves were supposed to have good hearing and all. They'd never really tested how good, outside of Islet. "I don't... I don't want to go out there with whatever did that to him."

That was... fair, probably. Anthony squeezed her shoulder one more time, then got up slowly, with one more worried glance. "Okay."

Okay. So she was as good as she was getting, and she was right that they were probably safer in here than with whatever was happening out there right now. He moved away a little, knowing that Islet would know if she ever wished he was there, she wouldn't even need to ask; he'd come right back. "Jesse? Sorry, she's..." He didn't know how to end that sentence. Maybe it was better to just leave it there. "Can I help with anything? I'm not a doctor or anything but I can hold things or hand you things if you just need an extra pair of hands."
 
Draaven's unease would prove to be more correct than he likely possessed the imagination to conceptualize. This was not a failure on his part, however. Of those present in the railyard, only Broch belonged to the sort of world that had come to their doorstep this day. One Guiscard brother lived with one foot in that world while he tried to keep the other in the world they called home. The other Guiscard knew of his brother's missteps beyond the cradle of their miseries and miserly triumphs both. Neither had thought to prepare the Bloodstone pack for the eventuality that the outlandish came knocking.

Avatar Bardiche's boat knocked into the quay at the same time that Draaven's alertly aimed shots managed to strike another of the men by the front gate who had mustered the courage to snap out of cover to try to take a shot at Rhetta. The rest of his shots he diverted towards Steven, with one of them managing to strike the center of Steven's chest, distracting him from his move to splat Snow.

They're pulling back, Fernando announced morosely over the Ghoul's Scryblast. I thought the grenades were supposed to keep them from planning. I know this isn't supposed to hurt but it still kinda do, you know? he added as Rhetta cut her grisly trophy out of him.

There is no shame possible in service to our Master, Fernando, Avatar-Bardiche admonished. She didn't have to broadcast her appreciation of the maniacal woman's style; her feelings mirrored their Master's and they all knew what Ayman's style was.

I wish to have a badass body with like, three heads and shit this bitch ain't never seen before. Let's see how good she cuts then, enthused Fernando, beginning to feel a bit of fey fire in his backbone.

The piece of his spine that Rhetta had cut wriggled maniacally for a few moments, sprouting thin filament-tendrils that writhed in the air before turning to a sand-like dust that blew away in the air, only to reform and continue again.

Can we please be allowed to ditch these fucking joke forms. I dearly wish to show this fucking Aanarian freak about casually breaking someone's leg without even fucking acknowledging them, raged Steven as he felt his kneecap give. He'd utterly missed Snow's sudden feinting turn beneath the line of sight possible by his lack of a neck. The ghoul gnashed its teeth in fury as he watched him go, eyes glued to the corner where Snow stood.

The team of humans riding alongside Bardiche's boat got out first, under strict orders by their human leaders to treat their guest like the utmost VIP, as they assembled to tactically secure the quay. They crouched or knelt in various positions in what felt to Bardiche a comical at the same time that Ziessel's speed surge pushed Nessa out of Broch's rampaging path towards Joey. The echo of his roar still hung in the air as Ziessel flashed to Rian and the two played out their game of Pantomimes and Shouts.

Avatar Bardiche's foot touched down upon the earthy ground, no longer upon running water, and everything changed as she added her own wish to the fray:

Lord Ayman Al-Nadir, Prince of El-Vanesha-Khalim, The Decider, Host of Mysteries, and Beloved of my soul...I wish for the honor to become the instrument of your Will upon this plane.

The fire in Bardiche's eyes flared a brilliant emerald green as she raised her right arm in the air before her, and made a fist. Her arm became wreathed in a sickly, liquid, off-yellow light flecked with green and black.

As if tied to her pull, the air around the rail yard suddenly ceased being so still and a large volume of it rushed to condense at a point roughly ten feet above Bardiche's sight line—ignoring the magic allowing her to see behind the obstacle—where the slight wall that stood before her rose and the broken fence of the rail yard stood.

A sphere visibly formed, as outlined by the coiling smoke that was removed from the yard and compressed into first a ball, and then a tight point that suddenly became several jagged lines.


A ghoul fed upon the corpses of humankind. Without them they would eventually wither and go mad, but not die. Never die. This was their accursed lot in existence, and it was this way that Ayman had found her centuries ago as she wandered the graveyards of lands far away from here. They fed and were strengthened by this consumption.

By the glory of their lord, they were no longer at risk of madness, their souls safe in his care. He'd shown them love and a different way, gathering the bands of the accursed to him in joyous rapture and camaraderie. But he'd not seen fit to take away their hunger, but continued to reward their diet with power. So it was, that for all of their ghoulish wishes to become reality and change to be brought upon their bodies, substrate was needed.

Bardiche opened her first roughly in a slight throwing motion. The jagged lines of smoke-turned-glass flew through the air and unerringly targeted and killed each and every one of remaining Iron Jackal humans that had arrived as part of the assault. The ones before Bardiche. The ones around Jonathan. The ones still alive out front by the sign. All were summarily killed without hesitation. As their bodies fell, a subset of them—those who had fallen with an unrequited wish of their own—began to smolder and flash with green fire.

The remaining corpses levitated in the air, pulled roughly upwards as if tied to puppet strings held by a celestial hand, before flying in the air to smash against the body of the nearest ghoul, all of which stood waiting in rapturous attention. All corpse matter in the area obeyed the pull, including the severed bones of both Fernando's leg and the piece of spine Rhetta had grabbed as a trophy.

A flash of heat and light exploded upon their contact, silhouetting a grotesque merging and reshaping of flesh as the bodies of the ghouls changed, swiftly and drastically.





Jonathan was the first to change, having been directly surrounded by his own substrate. He'd always been the suave and fast-talking smooth man in his former human life. He always coolly assessed his targets so he could move and strike swiftly.

Tendrils of electricity flowed like a cape behind Jonathan's back as he flashed onto the roof of the former train station. He'd grown in height upwards and severely slimmed down, but his proportions were larger-than-life and expansive like a shifted werewolf could be. His legs in fact, were an undead mimicry of Ziessel's own legs, all but promising the ability to keep pace.

Claws the size of daggers flashed a scant half meter away from Rian, as Jonathan moved at a speed that the prospect could never hope to match towards them in a broad slash.





The corpses around Bardiche bypassed her, her body already a perfect vessel for her lord, and instead flew to collide with Joey. His body grew both longer and heftier. It extended and grew oddly elongated, while at the same time a wide portion formed and sprouted into a grotesque parody of a snake head. The body stretched and coiled powerfully beneath, an insane mass composed of what appeared to be metallic scales above with an underside made of the faces, and other body parts of the absorbed substrate.

The monstrous Joey-Snake hissed, its own head standing twelve feet tall, a few taller than the wide rampaging badger headed his way. Unlike the natural order of things, where a snake feared the honey badger overall, this snake instead snapped forward furiously, flying through the air with bared fangs aimed at Broch's back, and the passenger he carried.





Fernando was the next to be blessed, and his wish was as lovingly realized as he knew it would be. The sloughing off of his flesh was uncomfortable as the processing power of three brains combined processed the spark of pain in unison, but as the melted flesh solidified, it became a rock-tough carapace. He'd like to see how well her fucking knives did now.

Maybe it was because all three heads were idiots, but the final part of his desire manifested as his main spine became a whip-long pliable tendril that whilst flexible carried the same rock like carapace consistency to it. Two torsos from amongst his donors fused together, giving him a strange collection of too many ribs, and four arms to boot.

He grinned three bony grins as he snapped the extending whip ahead of him as he leaped towards Rhetta's sentinel position, sailing through the air like a crazed missile.





The last to receive his shift was Steven, but he did not mind. He wasn't a joke anymore. If he'd been a muscle-bound parody before, he now was the genuine article.

A slight tremor resounded as he forcefully smashed at the ground with his suddenly regenerated leg, as his skin burnt to a crisp then twisted and bent around him, turning as hard as steel.

With great casualness and without looking directly at Snow as a bizarre act of defiance, Steven ripped the iron-wrought gate off its rolling hinges and launched the hundreds of pounds projectile at him where he lay watching this way, as Steven would have to pass where the guardhouse—and thus Draaven's location—in order to physically reach Snow. Steven did not want to risk missing his chance at payback while someone else killed his mark, which was why he settled for the throw first in order to ensure he got his wish fulfilled.





Three corpses had alighted in emerald fire across the yard, and now had become ghouls themselves, albeit of a more standard variety. Similar enough to extant "wild" forms in Issunar such that Draaven who had met their kind before or those who had studied them once might recognize as a more standard ghoul. Hardy, tough to ensure stayed dead, and no problems moving for all that you could slow it down with gunfire and eventually overpower it.

Bardiche's corpse grin grew infinitesimally wider—the most expression it could do—as she began to slowly stride her way down the quay and towards the wall ahead unhurriedly, still off at the edge of the battlefield herself.
 
Having spaced off again, Jimmy jerked when someone was suddenly at his side. How long had the person been there? Who was this guy? Was he… oh, he's introducing himself. More exhausted than he realized, the injured kid just nodded at the suggestion of moving to the infirmary. Sure, moving again sounded great.

“...sure…” Unable to stop crying out in agony when Jesse helped him up off the box, he ignored the way the ground tried to come smack him in the face and leaned against the other male, no doubt getting blood on him. Oh well…

So very happy when they got to their destination, Jimmy bit on his inside cheek when placed down on the cot. He missed the numbness and wished the pain would've stayed away. Laying on his back, Jimmy stared up at the ceiling, shuddering at the memory of what happened to him. In his hand was the curved blade that Nessa had given him. How he managed to keep hold of it wasn't clear to the male, but unease told him to hold onto it.

“My name is Jimmy. I was late for my curfew and my aunt and uncle punished me, again. They always do when I disobey... or look at them wrong, but never this much. I don't even know what all is wrong… broken bones for sure… and my aunt stabbed and cut me. I really messed up. The day before I was here… I had taken designer drugs and… I… Xandre and Lark captured me because I apparently peed in a store and tried to rob it. I don't even remember that. Anyways, they took me home, but I was late. I took more of the designer drugs and started puking up blood and fire. Somehow I got here and kept puking up blood. I…” Jimmy paused and spaced off a minute before somehow spotting a girl sitting with her head down while a male was approaching and offering to help.

He blinked before continuing, “I've only been a wolf for like three weeks. My dad bit me… he was crazy. My regen isn't usually this shit, but I really don't know how it generally is.” He looked away, wishing Lark stayed with him and hadn't gone back out intro that hell, but it was what it was. Maybe if Jimmy knew what was happening, he wouldn't be so sure his not-friend could take care of himself.
 
Draaven responded to Rhetta's instructions without a word. He was fluid and adaptive. Just as quickly as he had taken point while it was necessary, he smoothly fell back for Rhetta to resume command. He was quick on his feet, and the lethality that lay hidden within him was easy to overlook beneath his lean and wiry build. This had often worked in his favor, as it did now.

His eyes where fixed on Fernando, but he did not shoot. These monstrosities had proven largely unhindered by bullets, and he would suspect this thing would be slowed even less. Better to save his ammo for targets that it would be effective against. He smoothly holstered both of his pistols as he moved.

The smile that split across Fernando's face was all the tell he needed to know an attack was imminent. The foreign physiology of the creature made it difficult to predict its movements as effectively as a human, but the physics remained the same. The subtle curl of the appendage betrayed the snap forwards that followed. The moment its feet left the ground it became subject to the limitations of momentum - or so he hoped.

The ghoul was fast, but so was Draaven. In an instant he crossed paths with the ghoul in an impressive calculation of speed and trajectory. His primary goal was to redirect the ghoul before it could reach Rhetta.

He grabbed for the things upper right arm near the shoulder, timing his grab to match the speed of its momentum, pivoted, and then threw it. Minimal force would be needed, but timing was crucial. Even a fraction of a second too slow and he risked a dislocated arm.

If the timing was perfect, the abrupt acceleration in his own speed for the throw would effectively redirect the thing onto a direct collision course with the ground, and short of its target.
 
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The bone in her hand turned to dust, and was no more. A moment later, it was there again, close enough to catch and hold, but it would fall to nothingness again. Rhetta let it go this time, open-handed, letting it wriggle on the hook of a line that she knew, but couldn't follow.

"Magic..."

A single soft word. It was not said with fear, but with sadness. Magic was everywhere, a common thing, something known by all of them - but greater magics almost always came with some sort of cost, and whatever was unraveling before them now had to be on the scale of things that were not given, but paid for, and often dearly.

A bullet whistled by, carrying away with it the scent of blood. Hers, no doubt, by the sting in her arm and the shattering feeling as the bone splintered on impact. It wasn't enough to make her flinch, nor move from where she stood, watching everything before her unfold.

Magic... changed things. Magic always changed things. Sometimes it changed things into monsters, like the one before her, grotesque and many-headed, multi-armed, with skin like stone and bones jutting out where they shouldn't have been.

Sometimes it changed things into monsters, like the one who led the Bloodstones.

Rhetta sighed softly, moving forward as Draaven struck. He didn't need to tell her what he was planning - she'd learned to read his silences ages ago. He was hardly one for words, but he'd never really needed them anyway. He would bring the creature down, and she would be there. It wasn't far - a step or two only. She moved in beside the dent in the earth as the whipcord spine snapped out, aiming to move his mass away from her.

Her hand twisted through it, the flat of the knife in her hand anchoring against a divot between the bones as her arm twisted through, wrapping the entire protrusion around itself at the midpoint, discoloring it with blood. She felt the shoulder joint strain as the bone-tail snapped, and her with it, but that could be mended later, and she'd already taken a shot to that arm. Better to sacrifice it for something meaningful, like getting close, letting the momentum move her with it, wrapping her other arm around one of the extra necks as she landed, far too gentle to be a choke hold in something with skin like stone.

Rhetta disentangled herself from the trailing spine, knowing that they were both probably aware that he could have ripped her arm off if she'd left it there. She'd been half minded to let him do it - she had a feeling the ghoul would care more about it than she would.

She raised her hand once more, slick with blood at the fingertips, reaching out to the head that had always belonged to the ghoul, central now among the others, her fingers trailing across the carved granite of his cheek, gentle and without malice. She'd never had malice, though. Only purpose.

"I can't offer you mercy. Only solace." Her voice was soft, in his ear, from behind. He was here, in this place that was hers, that she had been told to protect. She could not grant mercy. Not like this. All that she could offer him was an ending. Her eyes drifted half-closed, more focused on the scenes in the periphery than the one before her. He couldn't see her eyes from behind him, and she didn't want to see his.

If she looked into his eyes, would they be filled with pain? Would they be filled with blue lightning? He might not see her smile, but it wasn't for him anyway. It was a twisted thing, looking towards a twisted future, and other magical monsters gone too far.

"Did you not have anyone who cared enough to stop you?" Was there no one who had looked at him and said this thing that you have become, it is not you? No one who had tested their blade against his blood, again and again and again, because some day, he would no longer be himself... and that was when he would need her the most.

Ah. But that was something else. And this... this was only an interloper.

Her voice was a caress, but one that had never been meant for him. "If you tell me how, I'll make it quick."
 
Things had very suddenly gone from concerning to outright alarming. Undead were one thing to contend with -- they weren't common in Lutetia by any means, but they were within the realms of what Snow might expect to deal with under the right circumstances. Whatever was happening to these undead, however, was like nothing he'd ever conceived, let alone seen. The grisly sacrifice of their comrades was disturbing in and of itself, but what's more, they were mutating on the fly. Adapting.

The one further in the railyard had grown faster to keep up with Ziessel's speed. The one whose spine Rhetta had ripped free had transformed its anatomy to confound her surgical precision. The one facing off against Broch had turned snakelike to... he wasn't actually entirely sure what the specific intent behind that one was, but if nothing else, it was viscerally unpleasant.

And the one whose kneecap he'd just shattered was throwing the damn gate at him.

In the seconds it took for the ghoul to heft and hurl its improvised projectile, Snow determined two things. One, that if the gate hit the warehouse, it was going to tear a hole through the wall and expose those sheltering inside to more danger. Two, that the gate would also tear a hole through him if he made even a slight error in how he intercepted it.

That was to say, then, that he'd just have to not make an error.

He took a breath in to steady himself as the ghoul's oversized projectile was launched towards him, dropping into a low stance and bracing himself. A split second before it seemed that the gate was going to barrel right into him, he pivoted, planting one foot in the ground and swinging the other around with all the strength he could muster.

His boot slammed into the gate at an angle, kicking it not directly away, but to the side. The force of the impact sent a searing hot pain through him as he felt bone in his foot fracture and every muscle in both legs scream from the strain of holding his ground, but he'd timed it well. The gate spun off to his right, clattering loudly across the yard and slamming through a couple of storage crates before coming to a halt, leaving the warehouse itself unscathed.

Letting out the breath he'd been holding, Snow returned his foot to the ground -- keeping weight off of it for the time being while the damage healed -- and levelled his rifle at the monster that had hurled the gate. He doubted the bullets would do much but piss it off, but damage was damage, and the rest of his more bullet-susceptible entourage were no longer in the picture. He opened fire, spraying 'Steven' with bullets as he prepared to engage once more, his eyes flicking between it and the creature that Rhetta was... speaking to? Without the threat of being overwhelmed by numbers, staying back by the warehouse was no longer as much of a necessity. Now, it seemed, the problem was going to be handling whatever it was these ghouls had become.
 
In quick succession, Ziessel threw Rian off the roof in the direction of the warehouse, rolled away from the now changed ghoul's attack and took a swing at his ankles with her machete as she rolled to a better position. What the actual FUCK was this? She knew there was more going on around her, around the entire railyard, but with this new opponent she couldn't spare her focus. At least she hoped Rian would be safer and out of reach. She certainly wasn't going to let this one run after the prospect. Or anyone else. But how? It hadn't been like this before. Magic had to be the answer.

If she survived this, which she wasn't so sure about anymore, she was going to demand a fucking break or take it. Two weeks of silence before their release and half their loved ones were dead. Little Aimee was kidnapped, probably to lure some of them away. Xandre, Ragenard and Julienne. She wished they were back here to help protect the pack. With Aimee. Alive.

With a deep breath she fully focused on her opponent and changed her stance. Now she was ready to dodge or attack, and she was watching attentively for any openings. The creature looked strong, stronger than her? Maybe. And she was out of practice but not out of shape. With a blood chilling snarl, she showed the beast her teeth. Her fur fluffed up to make her look bigger. She would do her best with what she had. As always. For the pack.
 
One moment she was trying to remove a monsters head and the next she was shoved to the side by someone. Nessa hadn't seen who had done it but she saw the aftermath. A giant, was that a badger? She blinked a moment in disbelief. Made sense when she thought about it, why wouldn't there be other animals that could change shape. Marcus might have even mentioned it and she just failed to pay enough attention. Actually seeing it in person though was something else. Spared being trampled over Nessa yelled a simple "thanks." The word escaped her before well, all words escaped her.

In an instant smoke was cleared and the legion of soldiers were dead? Briefly she considered a remark, maybe disappointment she didn't get to end them but the corpses were largely pulled towards others. She had no time for banter as she watched monsters form before her eyes. Specifically a snake of collosal size. Bodies broken, twisted and contorted to give proper lengthy shape. Meat molding into a new form that seemed impossible to even comprehend.

A brief look around revealed other terrors being given form. One with a spine whip? Was that a spine whip? That was metal she would love to have such a thing. Her experience with whips wasn't that great in a combat sense but just the idea of it was to metal in her eyes. As interesting as the other monsters were though the snake took priority. She thought she had seen the bodies go past someone however any good view of that person escaped her do to Joey. He took up most the view for her, it became easier that way. Her mind had never seen magic let alone something like this. Ghouls she could comprehend some but this was something else. Tunnel vision kicked in essentially just focus on ajoey a badger and a badger rider she had helped. She couldn't hear and couldn't understand so pick a target and react.

The snake lunged for the badger or more so to go around to bite toward the passenger. Smoke had cleared however her aim wasn't as hazy. The save from earlier had helped ensure she was now kneeling well braced and able to aim. This didn't fully compensate for the lack of hearing snd dip in equilibrium but it'd help skill hopefully fill the gap. Mid snaping jaw toward the companion thr punk took aim. It was moving but she could follow it now with smoke cleared. She aimed for the eye larger now from the transformation it was an easier target. She figured hide to durable for her, balance to off for a target smaller. The eye seemed more in realm of her skillset. Two shots ring out, looking to burrow into the eye of Joey and dip into the skull.

Nine shots left she reminds herself as she then rushes in. The hide was probably to durable for anything she could do. It also though was a snake, scales might have an opening between them. Might normally be difficult to exploit such a window but most snakes weren't twelve feet tall. And who knows how long, or was it as lengthy as it was tall? At any rate the prospect would look to jump onto the snake and drive her machete into an opening if she could find one. She knew she'd need to be mindful for the badger. Ready to dismount depending on what he might do. For Nessa however her mind was to baffled by what was going on, strategies or finding a better target a.luded her. The mind couldn't fathom the situation so it went towards instinct. Which for her was a thrill for violence, unafraid of what pain might come to her.
 
Rian's plan didn't exactly work out, for a number of reasons.

The first reason was that everything suddenly went unfathomably weird. Rian had seen some weird stuff here and there - some of those truck stops out in Tiranoth were something else for sure - but somehow none of it had involved several large dudes suddenly turning into even larger monsters, while sort of... eating? melding with? a bunch of other guys.

That didn't seem right, somehow. Did the other guys even get a say in this? Rian was trying not to feel too bad for them - they had been shooting at people, after all, and as one of those people being shot at, Rian wasn't exactly thrilled with them - but there was still something that felt worse about getting rolled into a ghoul-ball as opposed to just being shot back. It wasn't right.

They had a little bit of time to ponder this, because the other reason things didn't work out was that they were falling off the roof. It wasn't their fault. They'd gotten shoved. Rian supposed this was just the lady's way of letting them know that she was the boss, thank you very much.

And then they made sure they got their feet under them and got the safety on their shotgun, because discharging a gun into their own kneecap due to an impact would have been a stupid way to go out, and it wouldn't have helped their hearing come back any faster. Rian thought they might be starting to get something, if a low annoying tone like a horde of angry bees powered by jet engines was something. They weren't sure they wouldn't rather have the quiet.

Of course, now they were down here with all of this nonsense, and lady-boss was up there with some spring-loaded speedster, and Rian couldn't even cover her. Hopefully she could jump down on her own and... they didn't even know what came next. Somehow, none of what they'd prepared for in the past had ever covered this exact scenario.

Rian got their back against the wall, hoping it would provide enough cover, and made an attempt to look around enough to make enough sense of all this that they could pick a target they could unload into without either shooting someone who they actually liked or getting themselves spectacularly eviscerated.

Wonder what Granddad would think of all this?

At least he wasn't here. If there was one thing Rian could be thankful for, it was that Granddad was nowhere near any of this.
 
As written by Tiko and Sune

A very startled Liam found himself grabbed by Broch and braced to be pummeled, only to instead find himself unceremoniously swung around onto the werebadger’s back. Well that wasn't what he had been expecting, but it would do he thought. He grabbed tight and yelled at Nessa.

"No! Rian! Rian needs help!"

He gestured towards where Rian was on the roof and caught sight of Ziessel throwing Rian off from it. It didn't take more than a moment to see why.

"This guy can handle himself!"

He had been too slow in stopping Nessa's crazed attempt to engage the abomination. But he silently hoped she would disengage and help the other prospect. He was limited in what he could do from his current position.

A fact that became very obvious to him as the snake coiled and struck.

"Oh shit!"

The fur on Broch’s neck stood on end as he felt the magic take place before he could see it. He snarled as he slid trying to stop, the feeling giving him just a moment of hesitation. Snarling, he back stepped in the attempts to prevent the snake from getting his passenger, swinging the metal door he held to try to wedge into its mouth.
 
God.

He was talking.

Somehow that made it worse. Islet squeezed her eyes shut, not really wanting to know - any of this. Not wanting to know his name -Jimmy, it's Jimmy- or what happened to him or why he was covered in blood, so much - oh, God, so much blood.

Anthony was already over there, offering to help Jesse out with whatever, because that was what he always did. Just like he'd always been there for her, when she couldn't deal with it, just like she couldn't deal with it now because she was the worst fucking werewolf in existence. Anthony had thought it would help her, being in a Pack, getting used to werewolf sort of things, kinda low key, with some support.

She knew he hadn't meant for it to be like this. She knew it, but it was kind of hard not to blame him anyway, at least a little bit. They could have been back in their shitty apartment watching kids' cartoon shows, because that was all that Islet ever watched, because they didn't have any blood in them.

She could have been anywhere but here, with a boy who was probably dying, telling them his life story, and all she could do was sit here and the corner and wish he would stop.

"I'm sorry."

It was a whisper, but she didn't really know who she was whispering to. Maybe Jesse, for freaking out in his infirmary when he had a job to do. Maybe Anthony, for not being who he hoped she could be, for not being strong enough. Maybe the guy whose name she didn't want to know, because she should have been able to help him and she just... couldn't. Maybe herself, because... no, it wasn't that. Islet wouldn't apologize to herself, that was stupid.

She didn't really deserve one.

She opened her eyes again, but kept them down - if she kept them down, all she could see was the floor - empty, just - empty. Like her.

"Sorry. I... I'm not any good at this. At any of this." Medical things were probably happening, over there, beause they needed to happen, and Islet was... sitting here. Because there was too much blood and it was too close, and she couldn't - possibly - get any closer.

"I'm sorry. I wish I could help."
 
Okay, so on one hand the information provided by Jimmy was useful. On the other hand. Fuck.

He couldn't say it outloud, but damn. Newly turned, so no baselines to work. Extensive physical trauma, supressed regeneration, and the only thing that could make this worse...

"Do you know what what the drug was that you took?" Jesse asked.

He looked over to Islet and Anthony and was about to ask what was going on,but he quickly put two and two together. Okay, so there was another thing that could make this worse than whether or not the kid knew what he had taken.

Why hadn't she said anything while they where going over all of the-

No it didn't matter. It was what it was now.

"Start by helping your sister into the office over there," he told Anthony. "It's only going to get worse out here."

He couldn't risk her vomiting, passing out, going into shock, or any number of other things that can be brought on by hemophobia. All of which you really didn't want going on in the middle of a trauma situation. He was definitely going to need to have to talk with her later about this.
 
Jimmy was zoning in an out, but was cognizant enough to know he was dressed still. That much was a plus, though nothing else seemed to be going right for him. He was still worried about Lark and hated that he couldn't do anything to help him. He looked over at the girl again, wondering who she was apologizing to. Probably not him.

"No need to be sorry about me..." He muttered, eyes closing a moment before Jesse's voice woke him up again. He furrowed his brows, trying to recall what had been asked.

"Uuh... unsure really. They said it was some new designer drug. Made me black out... and I was shooting fire out of my mouth..."
 
The morning's assault on the Bloodstone rail-yard continued to unfurl down its startling new avenue of monstrous development as the pack dealt with the aftermath of the various altered-ghoul's shifts despite the rapid change in calculus forced by their changing. Displaying their characteristic adaptability to threats, the Bloodstones wasted no time in re-configuring their approach to try to meet the new threats head-on.




Blinded by his inchoate hatred of all things Rhetta's gut's, the tri-headed Ghoul still known as Fernando erred in not giving Draaven the same wide berth Steven had. The creature's projected leap to rip Rhetta's heart out never materialized, as Fernando's trajectory was severely disturbed by Draaven's preternaturally adroit feather-grapple interception. The forced change in trajectory further infuriated the ghoul who wanted to immediately flail its spinewhip to lop of Draaven's head off...an action it was also unable to effect. Three sorta-brains might give you the ability to react inhumanely fast or mentally light a new candle of hate with three times the gusto, but asking for both was too much for the inexperienced Fernando.

Instead, Fernando decided Draaven needed to fall first and quickly, and he'd no sooner crashed into the earth by Rhetta that he'd turned his back to her and alighted to launch himself at Draav—

"—What the fuck!?" voiced a startled monster as Rhetta threw caution to the wind and decided Draaven's finesse was too clean and what the situation needed was a dose of weird. He was so nonplussed that as they landed short of Draaven due to her interrupting mass, rather than immediately sever Rhetta's grasping arm, Fernando instead got lost in trying to ignore the need to wildly blink three sets of eye-lashes that weren't there any longer. Hadn't been there, not since...Not since the accident. The loss. The grief. The slide into oblivion and taking up that new drug paired with his first naive wish...

"Sh-She died," Fernando whispered hoarsely as he balanced the heft of Rhetta upon his two backs as she disentangled herself. "I...I...she—"

Oh No, we don't do contrition here, came Bardiche's power infused whisper within Fernando's psyche as the avatar emanated a surge of Ayman's source through their scryblast.

Immediately the ghoul felt his resolve return, memories of a past life that wasn't all that long ago quickly snuffed out by the warm camaraderie of being a part of the Unending Revel. Our wishes are continuously made reality, stay firm and fulfill his, she added, reminding Fernando of his covenant.

"—died with her nose in things that weren't her business, same way you will, bitch," Fernando snarled suddenly.

The ghoul pivoted roughly into a spin as the whip-like tendril stretched further to slide past the arm Rhetta had just gotten untangled and further to also coil around her torso by the shoulder blade. In a triple boosted display of proprioception, the ghoul launched the woman roughly at Draaven. Too far to anchor against the warehouse fence to reverse his course towards Draaven, Fernando opted to instead run after his projectile instead.

The tip of the spine-whip nearly glinted infinitesimally—or at least it did in Fernando's imaginary follow up—as the ghoul loped towards where it expected all three of them to collide with the lethal tendril coiled back like a scorpion's sting aimed to skewer both Rhetta and what the monster hoped would be a stunned Draaven.




Hey Boss, it's not dereliction of duty to admit this dude is pretty cool right? Steven mentally asked as a wide grin broke across the nearly lipless shriveled taut skin of the properly finished muscle-ghoul while the gate clattered to a stop.

I mean, that had to hurt at least a little bit but hombre just made that look as easy as a little league pitch, Steven commented as he ran diagonally towards the front of the guard house, in order to avoid crossing the chaotic triangle made of Draaven, Rhetta, and Fernando as Snow's bullet's pinged sparks off his hardened skin.

The grin was undeterminable from a grimace as he briefly disappeared from view, before immediately appearing above the roof of the guard house.

The question of how he got there was quickly answered as the powerfully built creature simply leaped its monstrous hulk through the air, easily clearing the several meters of horizontal difference between the roof of the guardhouse and the area by the warehouse where Snow awaited. Unlike Fernando's more wanton ways, Steven landed a respectful three meters or so from Snow and off towards the side that led to the yard space between the station and the warehouse.




They're a fun bunch, Jonathan agreed with Steven's assessment as he dealt with his own opponent. He maintained an easy smile and comfortable pace as Ziessel lurched briefly faster than he was currently moving in order to tear the younger werewolf out of the path of his attack. The speedy werewolf's pace wasn't faster than he could perceive or move, it was just that Jonathan preferred to minimize the amount of effort he put into things. He didn't fret or freak out, but calmly watched Ziessel's machete coming for his ankles and smoothly hopped up the required height plus a few centimeters extra. The blade sailed smoothly over empty hair as a crackle of electricity sizzled upon Jonathan's lighting cape.

The ghoul kept his vapid smile, for his face had become a mask incapable of any other expression but that suited him just well he felt as he watched Ziessel roll away and take up a more determined stance. He turned his head sideways in response to Ziessel's threat display, and a similarly puffed up display of electricity surged across his back. Amidst a surging of lighting like a tesla coil being overloaded, Jonathan let out a blood curling scream of pain, the only sound he could manage to vocalize through the tremendous animating power pushing up to unnatural speed.

The electrifying ghoul dashed off towards Ziessel, clearly visible to her as a rapidly approaching threat but at a pace that promised to be but a blur of fast motion that few amongst the rest of the pack could perceive as it happened as opposed to well after they'd already [clashed and moved on].




They're not-afraid enough...bordering on being utter maniacs, Joey retorted to Steven's shared sentiment in the scryblast. He didn't agree with the young bravo's assessment. People were supposed to recoil in fear when faced by the glory of their Lord's boons. They were not, Joey emphatically sustained, supposed to boldly try to jump him mid-flight. They were decidedly and especially not supposed to try to stab-climb him like a badly rigged theater prop, he felt.

He'd already committed to his attack upon the Werebadger's charge, determined to take whatever opportunity he could take to increase his substrate capacity. Joxeandoni Goikoetxea—Joey to the younger ones—hadn't been born yesterday. In fact, he'd been born to a time and place when the nomadic Werebadger clans still roamed the continent. The horrors and difficulty of the campaigns to root them out of Arteghia were the stuff that transcended lifetimes, and the seasoned Ghoul hoped to either overpower or outgrow the monster before it could get a chance to get well and truly enraged.

While having a second morsel to eat might have furthered those hopes, the physics of the matter prevented Joey from simply turning and taking the two bites it estimated the slip of a girl hanging off his body might take to process. Instead, the elongated snake-mimicking monstrosity simply flexed the muscles it still could forcefully and undulated into the snake equivalent of a hip-thrust. Given the creature's unnaturally dense packing of the body mass it had accumulated and the way its muscle fibers unnaturally coiled however, the small maneuver carried behind it sufficient energy to simply dislodge Nessa unceremoniously.

The plucky prospect wouldn't get to experience any warning signs given the undulatory motion required no further anchoring, and the surprise meant they were unable to retrieve their machete from where it was lodged against Joey's skin. Nessa did manage to maintain her grip on the pistol however, for the same surprise meant the human penchant to reflexively tighten the handgrip upon a held item when startled served her well.

The force of the blow sent Nessa sailing through the air for a good twenty feet, and at a decent enough clip that limited her reaction to instinct. Luckily, despite her trajectory being towards the station, the angle of incidence on her throw meant she avoided crashing with the building's side and instead sailed on past to crash near the station wall side of the space between the two main buildings.

Even with her preparation to dismount the monstrous creature leaving her prepared to take a fall as safely as her training allowed, the speed imparted by the snake's move would leave her suffering bone fractures: to one of her legs alongside the femur and on the lower arm of the hand which did not hold the gun, across the ulnar bone as instinct led the athletic prospect to carry out an active "slap-out" out of her fall.

Somewhat debilitating and would reduce her mobility, certainly, but in line with her regeneration being able to take care of it enough to leave her fully mobile again within a few minutes. Perhaps tricky with how quickly things were changing, but certainly doable and absolutely a much preferable amount of damage than an uncontrolled fall would otherwise have provided.

Somewhere, elsewhere in the city, Marcus certainly felt an up-welling of mystery pride as all of his yelling on how to hit the mat right paid off in practical application.

By chance, Nessa landed a scant few feet away from where Rian's short tumble off the roof had placed them.

Now that's taken care o—GAH, Joey began to think, before the thunk of the metal door suddenly wedged against his throat took him by surprise. He'd dropped his frontal awareness for a millisecond to deal with the girl and this is what he got for it?

Joxeandoni was reminded of why he fucking hated werebadgers as he reflexively pulled back. He writhed in anger for a moment, the surprise of the blow kindling his own innate anger. This opened the inadvertent cascade of his emotional dissonance resonating through the various remnants of hormonal regulatory organs in his form, leaving him briefly lost amidst the mass he'd become instead of a cohesive whole.

Come now, Joxeandoni, remember your discipline and hold the rank, Bardiche whispered through the scryblast, pulling the monstrous snake out of the developing frenzy.

Joey coiled around itself with mouth to the sky, lowering down to the ground to anchor it's girth to the earth in order to prepare for another leap. The metal door was finally maneuvered enough through awkward jaw grinding such that Joey was able to crunch it in half. The monstrous ghoul shook its head in a measured head shake that sent the crunched-in metal door flying back at Broch, before it sprung off in a low leap towards the werebadger's legs. It intended to both trip and then coil around the werebadger, not expecting to hold it down for long but hoping to either eat or dislodge the passenger out of the way so it could focus.




By chance, Rian landed a scant few feet away from where Nessa's short but crazed flight had her land-flip in. They would have gotten a few moments worth to stare at their entrance, before movement across the way and towards the warehouse wall would have caught their eye. There had been those three bursts of fire that left behind these other, smaller ghouls behind. One of them had been alongside those who had ran through the broken fencing with Jonathan, and now this other lesser monster appeared poised to head for one of the warehouse rail-track openings.

The opening to the rail yard was covered by a rolled down steel roll-up door that while a great stopper for any humans without a welding torch to cut through, was of unknown rating as far as ghoul-defense was concerned.

The other two normal ghouls had been out behind the gates and by the front yard respectively, where they'd fallen alongside the human groups that fed Fernando and Steven. The pair crouch-squirmed their way towards the warehouse, skirting by the sides of where Fernando and Steven had originally started from whilst giving their positions a wide berth.

Before they could reach the warehouse however, one of the ghouls would need to cross past where Draaven had the unfortunate teammate catch to deal with. The other would need to waltz past where Snow would need to turn his back on Steven, but well within the range of the Aanarian to strike. Both were moves the ghouls took with some confidence however.

Not because they expected the danger from the Bloodstones to be minimal given they had other immediate concerns, but because the force of Bardiche's noxious spreading of Ayman's source kept them moving even as they struggled to come to terms with their new realities. Greetings and identity were for later, after they'd eaten their fill enough to join the party. They followed alongside the trail of Jimmy's blood, towards the entrance Lark had used.




Avatar Bardiche's head snapped suddenly towards the warehouse, and a few beads of gelatinous blood gelled to the surface of her undead lips as they cracked in a wide smile. A small but new flame kindled within, plainly visible to her magical sight. It was sputtering, but beckoning all the same. Her jaw opened, continuing far past what was a natural opening and into the monstrously unhinged. No flame or stream of bees came forth, however her vocal chords were thrumming with both power and motion.

The sound of whatever they carried however, simply wasn't there in the yard for any to hear...

Islet on the other hand, would have no trouble hearing the whispers calling her to step past the liminal threshold of reality and into the desert oasis where her wishes were promised to come true. They would only grow more incessant the longer she held onto an unfulfilled desire...except any one of those would now do as an excuse for Ayman's Call to brush against her awareness, for as long as Bardiche maintained her concentration on directing it.
 
"Hey. I'm here, okay? Islet? I'm here."

Anthony's voice was calm. Soothing, just like it always was. Somehow, it was always the same voice, even though Islet knew it must have changed. They'd been little kids when they'd first met, after all. It had been - what? Maybe a year after her dad had left. After he'd left because of her. She'd messed up. Mom had always told her to keep it under wraps, all the werewolf stuff, because her dad didn't know. Because if he ever found out, he'd leave them.

She'd been right, of course. He hadn't wanted anything to do with them, after he'd found out. There had been a lot of shouting, and it'd been so terrifying. Overwhelming. Things like you shouldn't live.

Mom hadn't fought him, because that would just make it worse. There'd been-

-so much blood-

She'd been four. It had been - fifteen years? And she could still see it like it was right now, her eyes squeezed tight shut as if that would make it go away. She could always see it. Always.

And Anthony was always there. He'd known - what she was - and he was there anyway. His dad knew, and eventually things had worked out. She'd gotten to be a flower girl, in the wedding. She'd liked that, once she'd stopped freaking out about it.

And he'd been there, too, with the rings in a little box because he was the sort of person people depended on with important things, and he'd sat with her before it was time to go down the aisle and told her it was okay. The red carpet was just a carpet. She didn't have to look at it. She could just look ahead - look forward, not back. The worst is behind you.

It's okay.

I'm here.


Islet found a chair underneath her, her brother's hand on her arm, guiding her into it. She opened her eyes, carefully, to the office where the worst thing covering the tables was random papers that probably meant something to someone. It was clean. Tidy. She let go of a breath that she didn't know she'd been holding, watching Anthony take another one of the folding chairs and move it across from her so he could still hold her hand until she was ready to let go, because he was always - always - there for her.

"I'm sorry, Anthony." She'd found her voice, or something had. Sometimes Islet wondered if she was really herself. She certainly wasn't who she was supposed to be. Werewolves were supposed to be strong, weren't they? Strong, and not afraid of anything. They went out and did stuff and it was all fine because they could just regenerate, right?

Her mom could do it - had done it, after - after, after-

-there was so much blood, Anthony-

And Islet couldn't do anything then, just like she couldn't do anything now. All she could do was panic about it and he had to take care of her, just like always.

I wish I could be the strong one. I wish I could help him - that he'd need my help and I could do it. He's always there for me, and I love him, and I know he loves me, but he-

-he doesn't need me. Not like I need him. I want him to need me or - at least - depend on me a little.

I wish I could be strong enough to help him when he needs it.


"I didn't... mean to."
 
Nessa was good at riding her motorcycle she thought. Not necessarily a safe driver but she liked to think if she was going to crash it would be more from a stupid stunt then bad riding. Maybe that helped her think she could ride a snake well, she could not. Nessa liked to think herself a decent climber. She liked the danger the thrill seeking, she had climbed trees and telephone poles. Break into a boyfriend or girlfriends room, maybe climb a gate and scaffolding to rob a wealthy idiot. These may have made her think she was ready to climb giant monster snakes, she was not. It also didn't help her dumb ass tried it one handed. She didn't know how her shots at the snake eye did, but she knew soon her snake grapple technique was lacking.

A odd coiling hip toss and the prospect was ragdolled aside. Her machete was a good stab really sank into the snake hide and made it reluctant to come loose. It being stuck in the beast and her having a pistol in her other hand meaning holding on was a incredibly botched attempt. Flung to the side instinct kicked in. She had known how to take a fall before her step dad, and he had made sure she was better at it. Marcus fall training wasn't for everyone granted but she had grown to rather enjoy it. Involved a lot of being shoved off high places and told to jump out of moving vehicles. Her monster snake riding skills were lacking, but crash landing that she could do.

With a heavy thud she hit the ground in a roll. Gravel that could have torn at legs and back were shielded from by the choice of leather vest and pants. Landing was good but not all accommodating, the speed couldn't just be shrugged aside. The force was felt in her left arm and leg bones fracturing from the force. Her teeth grit from the pain but her chest moved up and down not from heavy breathing but laughter. Giggling at her own agony. The world had gone crazy, but to her it was delightfully absurd. Making sense of things was beyond her mental faculties so she was slipping into the fun of what she did know.

"DIDN'T HERE YOU!" Something about blown out eardrums and being snake tossed made hearing the direction impossible. He had pointed though and that was direction she could follow.

There was a ghoul heading towards Ryan. She couldn't see them. Didn't really know them either. She could see a shotgun poking slightly from cover though. Which gave her an idea. Her pistol, nine rounds remaining was holstered as she took to a knee. She'd had a large knife on either hip. One being taken in each hand, an ice pick grip being the position of choice. Then she ran, looking to close the gap. A few paces and her brow was furrowing from the pain her smile wide. Few more paces she could feel bone digging under the skin fracture growing worse. Then she leaps, and there's the sound of a tear.

The bone in her leg pops through her pants leg a small spike but there. A spike she looks to sink into the back of the ghoul. Digging around the spine as her knives come down. Aiming to drive into the ghoulish jaw and jwith one blade. The size of said knife large enough it might also rip into the jugular. That was her wounded arm she figured a softer target for thst thrust. The other knife looking to sink into the left ear and by way of force drive into the ghoul brain. She wasn't to concerned with how deep her weapons got though the ghouls she had already seen be durable.

Rather these were holds. Nessa would try to lean back away from gunfire, she was crazy but not ask to be shotgun practice crazy. The main focus was though by way of impalement hold the ghoul in place for Rian. "SHOOT NOW PLEASE!" Her hope was that soon she'd be watching a head pop right before her eyes. Undead monsters, giant snakes, basic algebra these were all things she didn't understand. Violence though the punk lived for. Even if this wasn't her kill the loyal mad dog would be more than happy to help someone in her pack massacre something. That counted as helping right?
 
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There was something very wrong with this girl.

If it hadn't been for the fact that the other side was actual monsters, Rian would have been wondering if they were on the right team here, at all. Normal people did not get smashed into a pulp and look for ways to get smashed even more. It was... gratuitously self-destructive, in a way. It reminded them of people who'd decided that they had nothing left to lose and so they were just going to ram their tiny car or their bike into a semi on the freeway. The first time Rian had killed someone, it had been like that. Granddad had explained that it was because they needed someone else to be the guilty one. They couldn't just drive off a bridge or into a tree, because people would think it was their own fault. Putting another vehicle into the equation meant someone else could be blamed, and people figured that the truck was big enough that the driver wouldn't get hurt.

People didn't think about the driver having to live with that crunch for the rest of their lives, and the knowing. Rian had gotten used to the knowing, after a while - but the crunch never really went away. Sometimes it felt closer than others, like when a girl was right there, breaking bones like that. They couldn't hear the sound, but their brain was happy to supply a substitute.

Bloody hell did she ever need therapy. To be fair, Rian probably would too, after this was all done, if they managed to live that long. Nessa had grabbed one of the guys and was holding it like she wanted them to shoot it like some kind of fish in a bucket. Did she not know how shotguns worked? The spread was going to tag her for certain, and at this range Rian would probably just be shooting her through the thing.

"No. Hell no. Put it down." She could probably hear them just about as well as they could hear her, but, maybe the definitive drop it gesture would come across. Did crazy werewolf girls respond to the same commands as golden retrievers? Rian liked dogs. Granddad had had one for a while. Rian wondered if he'd get another one, once he settled down. Maybe if everything else here settled down, too...

Rian reached out a hand to pull it away from her and shove it down, just enough that they could put a few point-blank shots into it and hopefully give themself and Nessa enough time to move, anywhere but here. Ziessel had wanted them to go back to the building, earlier - she had enough to deal with right now, but maybe Rian could keep from becoming something else she had to worry about.

"Back to the warehouse. I'll cover us from behind, you... you stab everything in front of us, I guess." Rian was not sure if their attempts at pantomiming this information would get across at all, and they were also very uncertain if she'd actually do it if she understood what they were going for, but... well, it wasn't like they had a lot of other options that weren't suicidal.

Rian, at least, wasn't suicidal. They put another couple of shotgun blasts into the ghoul, targeting the knees this time, close enough that they ought to just blow the legs right off. Disgusting, but maybe it'd keep it down long enough that they could get where they were going, at whatever pace Nessa could manage on her legs that were in only marginally better shape than the ghouls.

They really were not happy about using the current situation for trust exercises, but given that they didn't have a whole lot of choice, Rian turned to cover the two of them from the rear and nudged Nessa forward, hoping that they could make it to the door in one piece, and that she would make it to the door in no more pieces than she wanted to be in.

Rian was not going to try to guess the number.
 
Draaven's impressive processing speed and reaction time came into play again as Rhetta was turned into a living projectile. He braced and snagged her from the air with one arm. Her momentum spun him about and he dropped lower to the ground to help maintain his center of gravity and to put him in position to move. As he came out of the spin, he sprung to the side at a slight angle towards the warehouse. The ghoul reached the spot he had previously been standing, but it had been a fraction too slow. Draaven was already rising and twisting.

There was a faint glint of something small and metallic in the sunlight as he pressed a metal ball bearing into the palm of Rhetta's hand. One, two loops of wire around her forearm was all he had time for before he released her back at the ghoul. The wire would be nearly imperceptible, and could easily sever her arm if this went wrong.

He knew she would be well aware of the risk, and equally knew she would be more than amiable to taking it. It was hardly the craziest thing the pair had done. He had invited her to join him when he left for Arteghia all those years ago, but there had been no convincing her to stray so far from the pack, and from Baron. Even if it was on pack business.

His new position would put him closer to the warehouse, and without the ghoul between him and it. Having the building at their backs provided a more safer position to engage this... thing.

It was vaguely reminiscent of black magic rituals he had witnessed back in Arteghia. But those had taken hours to complete, and the resulting creations had been little more than mindless corpses. This thing had been created in moments. Nothing he had seen of it so far led him to believe it was capable of such powerful magic. That meant someone else was likely pulling strings over the battlefield. He couldn't afford to turn his back on this thing to seek out the puppet-master though. That meant killing or disabling it as quickly as possible.
 
There had been something there - and then there had been something else. For a moment, there had been a whisper - and like anything soft, it was only there to conceal something painful. Rhetta had heard an echo in that voice, a fragment of - not something, but someone. A person that this creature had once been, before it had all come to this.

And then it had been gone. That was intriguing as well, because she didn't think it had left on its own. No, there had been something else there, some sort of bolstering in a way that she couldn't be aware of - but now she knew it was there, and that, too, was intriguing.

It did not, however, lend particularly well to further conversation, as the spine whip coiled up once more around her, then hurled her forward.

That was, of course, hardly an issue at all. Rhetta had been scrapping with pack members who were a lot bigger than her since she was tiny. Fighting fully grown werewolves as a little girl meant spending quite a bit of time getting tossed around - and adding a hundred pounds to her body weight by the time she'd grown up hadn't actually made much of a difference when some of the members of the pack were still twice her size or more even unshifted - and she'd never been reluctant to go up against them when they were shifted, either, even if she wasn't. That led to a standard of getting very comfortable in the air, and to knowing exactly how her body worked even without anything to anchor herself against.

Even more so, the rest of the Pack was used to it, too, or at least the ones who had been around with her for a while. Draaven might have been off in Arteghia and Rhetta might have been off in fucking prison, but they'd both slid back into old routines like it had been yesterday. He knew that she'd twist, that she'd angle her body to keep the majority of the impact off of him so that he could act without worry - and she, while she was doing just that, she knew he'd catch her. She didn't need to ask any more than he needed to answer. There was a glint of wire, just enough of a hint that she palmed one of her knives, tucking the hilt up against her wrist and laying her fingers flat against the blade, giving the loops of wire something to wrap around that wasn't just skin and flesh.

Right arm - the same one the bullet had tagged earlier, the same one the wire was wrapped around, the same one she'd severed a tiny bit of her finger from earlier on. Maximizing capability meant that if she had to take damage, she'd take it in the same fucking place, over and over again until it fell off and she had to change it up again. The less places she took damage, the more mobility was preserved, and for someone who wasn't as particularly heavy as some of the other pack members, mobility could be everything.

There was a movement to the side - the whip of the spine, but Draaven already had them out of the way of it before he launched her back. The bit into her skin, drawing deep cuts, but that was fine. A twitch of the knife made the blade bite her palm, but loosened the wire just enough that she could slide her hand out again, leaving it anchored to the hilt of the knife and whatever bits of skin and flesh she hadn't been able to keep herself from sacrificing there. The knife was transferred to her other hand, the one that was still strong enough to hold the wire-wrapped hilt and cast the wire up, looping around one of the outer heads as she made her landing in front of the creature, twisting the timing of her landing to roll over the whip and under it again, turning the wire into a figure eight around the whip and one of the heads. The whip had to go, of course - it gave their opponent too much range, and that was the last thing they wanted.

Rhetta pulled back to start drawing the wire tight and see if she could sever the spine in half - and, with a good yank, maybe even pop that extra head off as well. There were only three of them, right? And the outer two didn't seem very talkative. Rhetta watched the distance between the other two, wondering if there'd be a flicker of emotion she could catch.

The wire wasn't the only angling line she had at her disposal, after all.

"What was her name?"

She didn't have to speak loudly. Some things were better soft, after all.
 
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"Alright," Jesse said. "Don't worry about it. We'll get you fixed up."

He sighed inwardly though. Without knowing what the kid took, he couldn't know what drug interactions may occur.

"I'm going to give you a dose of adrenaline and some metabolism boosters, to see if we can give your regeneration a jump start," he explained.

The best outcome was always their innate regeneration. No medical care he could provide would be more effective. But with the extent of Jimmy's injuries, if he couldn't get the kid healing, he was going to need to operate. That meant putting him under, which would suppress his regeneration further. They would cross that road if they came to it though. For now he prepped a shot.

"We'll take it slow. Let me know if you experience any heart racing or dizziness," he added as he administered the shot.

Getting dosage right could be tricky with werewolves. Next he began getting him hooked up to the heart rate monitor with deft and practiced movements, followed by an IV for the metabolism boosters.

"Just try to relax," he said.

He noted Anthony's extended absence. He was no doubt seeing to his sister, but she was going to need to wait. Jimmy was likely just the first of worse to come.

"Anthony, hurry up, I could use you out here," he called out.
 
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