Active Gifts and Gauru
Gauru Form 3/4 Hone Strength +4 (str 10) Primal Anger +PU (4) to attacks for the duration of the scene Death Grip
Hunting for Spring
43439
THREADID
98
POSTS
81 - 90
DISPLAYED
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The pack moves!
Hector sees it.
Hector feels it through the Gift pulsing through his body.
And then he is moving. Lunging. Bursting forward as his body expands from Urhan to Urshul. Hector's enlarged maw slavers as attempts to bite into the metallic spirit.
2 successes
Hector spends Essence to shift. His Initiative moves up the cue (+2) for Urshul. Hopefully I got the damage calculation right.
As Hector lunges, Tiny follows in his shadow, his small size hidden for just a moment.
And it only takes a moment for Tiny to explode out of his urshul form into Gauru. He may be unskilled in fighting, but being uratha more than makes up for it, as his now oversize jaws pull more rust from the core of the machine. Each bite a victory.
1 success
The Jaggling is not backing down. Bleeds Well is containing the thing. For now. But how long can he last? The pack has to act. Fast.
His pack mates attack, each in turn. Bird focuses all of his attention, his will, looking for an opening. He lunges, but his teeth only find minimal purchase. Not good enough.
1 success
Active Gifts and Gauru
Gauru Form 3/4 Hone Strength +4 (str 10) Primal Anger +PU (4) to attacks for the duration of the scene Death Grip
The pack leaps, harrying the Jaggling. Each wolf biting, tearing, wounding the spirit. Corpus melts away as the metal hide of the tool is shredded.
Top of Round 3
Bleeds Well squirms, jaws clenched, arms straining. Drawing on a power fueled by the righteous rage of Father Wolf.
5 successes,(Str 10+ Brawl 3+ Bite 2+ Primal Anger 4 - Def 10)7+ DeathGrip
Powerful jaws crunch deep into the spirit. Twisted Metal shivers as its hide is ripped open, the smell of destruction essence is almost overwhelming.
Bleeds Well feels the fury and exhilaration of impending victory. Rage threatens to swallow him, but the Suthar Anzuth clings to control. The Fury Choir lives on the edge of sanity and rage.
1 success
@Emily is up
will expenditure
Emily leaps forward again, jaws outstretched, trying to finish off the spirit quickly.
3 successes
Time for Twisted Metal Mark
Savaged, ravaged, and rent Twisted Metal meekly resists in the pack's jaws. Emily, yanks open it's corpus in a vicious bite and the essence of the spirit is laid bare.
Finally, the mighty Jaggling quivers, the inevitable is upon it, the pack may finally feed.
The pack may post a round of feeding if you'd like to explore that rp, what's it like to ingest essence of decay and destruction? When it comes back around to me, we'll wrap up the scene. Thanks for hunting!
Hector huffs and pants.
Pawing the earth he turns his large head away, growling.
He made a promise: this was not his hunt. There are others before him who have a right to the first taste.
Tiny shifts back into Urshul, the Hunter form. Before he takes the first bite, he howls to the sky. Luna's face looks down on them, all five of her children working together to take down something that thought it was stronger and better. The pack has struck as one, and the might jaggling has fallen.
He takes the first bite of essence. The taste is metallic, cold, and bitter. And it tastes like victory. He absorbs the decay of metal into himself, transmutting it into the predator he is.
Emily stands tall and howls into the night. Hers was the killing blow, and that was pleasing. It was a Primal feeling, something few in a human skin could every truly experience. Her teeth landed the hearty beast, and the Pack would endure another day.
With a rippling of muscle, the heavy Urshul becomes the pale, tattooed Dalu form, now smeared with blood and dirt of the Hisil. She backs away slowly, letting others enjoy their spoils. She still has one last job to do.
<<Come, Twisted Metal. We feast, victorious Predators in the Old Way. You have upheld the pact as countless numbers before you, and fought with Honour. We treat the Prey with equal honour, and you will yet live, entering our protection until you find strength to go free again.>>
She wipes some of the gore from her naked chest and marks the head of the fallen Spirit, fulfilling the last part of the Rite of the Sacred Hunt. This was more than just predation - it was a symbolic ritual as old as time, and needed reverence even in victory. That was her role, and the Ithaeur found a certain peace in doing it.
"Dunno about you guys, but I really need a fucking shower." She grins.