(Borderland) Buster's Hunt

[Takeda Katsumi]

I am in favor of just showing up at the Dog Fight. What do y'all say?

[Mable Wood]

Yup! Me too! Who will take lead?

[Twist]

dog fight here we come!

[Yumyumcrow]

The next dog fight will be staged in a tip.

Not an official waste disposal site of course. The rural property is a tip. The main house is small and crude and in need of a new roof; a couple of camper vans block deeper access to the property; rubbish moulders in piles; an abandoned car, gutted, squats on stumps; another is barely visible under a mound of detritus and vegetation.

The group knows this is the place, though. Drunken mortals stagger about and the loud wassail of activity cuts into the night air, thick with summer stillness.

A scrawny child watches, wide eyed, as the group passes; their face pressed to the grimy window of one of the camper vans.

Beyond the strategically placed campers, the night is already in full swing. Men and women as feral as their dogs curse and swear and drink and gamble. Laughter and roars compete with the incessant barking.

Somewhere in this place, Buster is making a "living" from his ghoul creations.

[Takeda Katsumi]

How strange it was, to find herself passing through Chikushōdō, the realm of servitude to base instincts. Though these were humans, those beings so blessed with the chance for enlightenment, the world had beaten them down until their base desires were all they had left, and as such, had left behind the very thing that had offered them hope. In their next life, Takeda knew, they would wind up just like the beasts they had chained and caged...

Though she had not come here to ponder this sad fate. Her path was one of rage and blood, horror and torment, and as such, she focused upon the surging tides of bloodlust within her, focusing upon the rise and fall of the bone strewn tide. If Buster were here, she would surely sense him.

[Twist]

Slipping through the crowd, Twist keeps on her toes, her eyes alert. Elsewhere she would have to worry a bit more about her actions, about her small form looking like she might be ready to flee or scrap. But here, if she didn't look at least a little on edge then she would truly stand out. The only ones who didn't have a bit of fight showing in them were the ones already dead or the ones who had strength to back up their presence.

Through a part in the crowd she finds Takeda, whose curse may actually be a blessing in this temporary place.

Stepping quickly through the gap, she approaches, denying her Beast it's demands for blood. "Evening," the surroundings made even that abbreviated greeting sound too formal. "You are the first I've seen."

[Mable Wood]

Mable knew she looked out of place, her plan was to tell anyone who asked that she was there on a dare. Mable also knew the dog fights would be hard for her. The humans, if they could be called that, were even more monstrous than the kindred amongst them. And there were too many people. So many people. Mable liked the woods for a reason. The horrors that went on here were just cruel. She wanted to go full on Gangrel and rend everyone here until she was only surrounded by blood. Humanity was so horrid.

Beast was on full howl. Screaming for blood, for death to all. Her head was spinning with the calls from beast. She stopped moving in the middle of the press of bodies and closed her eyes for a moment. She needed to get control back over herself. She could feel the pulse of blood in each person. She could also feel the presence of the Reeve and her weak blood. That helped to set a fire in her belly which replaced the screams in her head.

Mable opened her eyes and headed towards the Reeve and, Oh Twist was also here. Mable took in a breath and let it out slowly. She walked up to her group. "Hi." She whispered. Her simple greeting was most likely washed away on the noises of the fights.

[Yumyumcrow]

Of the four Kindred, it is only Krieg who locates Buster among the milling crowd.

The giant feels the familiar tug and snarl of his Beast when he spies the Gangrel. This time Buster is copying up to a group of drinkers who stand apart from the gathering. Heads together, the Savage and the Kine clearly know of one another - from their attitude they might be called friends or confederates. They are all mean looking and beastly in their aspect.

Buster remains a slouching mess of stained clothes and rank hair. Tonight he is blending in with a beer can in his hand. Given the circumstances it makes suitable cover.

Buster hasn't seen them.