Greetings and thanks for reading. April showers bring May tempests (oh-ho-ho, oh-no-no...it's the new chapter...it's a play on words...why do so few people laugh *with* me as opposed to *at* me?) Okay, this is it, chapter 15 and only one more chapter to go (though it is an uber long chapter, so I may yet post it in two parts, I'm still deciding) If nothing else by the end of this month I predict I'll have this monster wrapped up (I'm aiming to do it by the 27th, since that is my birthday it's sorta a reverse present.). Okay, so what do we have to look forward to in this chapter?
The traitor being dealt with!
Dominic vs. everybody!
Puck!
and...scantily clad women! (Okay, not really. Jo has a no nudity clause in her contract, Leona threatened to "throat" me, and Snowflake threatened my soul. However Syntax does get a little "racy" in her torn outfit if you're desperate...and some male Spirals get very nude if that's your speed. My apologies Tremere.)
In any case, onto the story; let's see how our dwindling heroes manage to survive a tempest.
Fall of the Heroes: A Tale of Detroit
Chapter Fifteen: Tempest of Corruption
Syntax heard the slight shifting of air, the sounds of someone breathing. They had put the blindfold back onto her, but she could still hear just fine. She had been alone for approximately fourteen minutes and thirty-eight seconds, but she couldn't be sure. She had personally expected to be dead long before now. Though whether her continued life was a blessing or an insidious torture she was undecided on. Then the voice spoke, the one voice she hadn't expected, nor wanted to hear again.
It was Dominic, the butcher of her pack.
his voice was whispered, harsh, worried, nervous. Can you hear me?
I can hear you quite well, butcher.
he growled, now is not the time for this. I'm here to help you for Gaia's sake.
My first thought is that I am surprised you would not simply rejoice to see me dead. The words were harsh, flowing out of her sharply and suddenly. What was it about this man? What was it that made her incapable to forgive or to forget. In all other things she was in control, cool, calm. But the merest thought of him set her blood to boiling. My second thought, is that if you are here to help me, why am I still chained?
They have you within some ritual circle. I cannot enter it.
If you say so.
There was a moment of silence. Syntax wondered if perhaps he had gone without any word. This, from him, would be unsurprising. He had already murdered her pack. He had proven that if the council ordered assassinations then he was willing to do their dirty work. So what if Argent had claimed that Dominic didn't wish it. It still made him no less guilty, no less to blame. Syntax felt the rage run through her, anger at the murderer who spoke to her from the darkness as though he were a honorable and just man.
Have you heard any sign from Charlie and the others?
They are here?
They should be, grumbled Dominic darkly. They had enough of a head start, that even with the shortcuts the map showed me I shouldn't have beaten them here. They should have tried something by now. But the ritual seems to be proceeding smoothly His voice trailed off as he became lost in thought, then returned, forceful and in command. I have to go do what I can. Don't worry, I will come back for you.
You will pardon me if the thought of your return fails to alleviate my doubts, she snarled. Even as she spoke the words she almost wished she could take them back. But old hatreds died hard, and she was learning that her hatred of Dominic ran deeper then she ever dreamed possible. He was the killer of her pack and friends. If she had been there that night he would have slain her as well. No, there was nothing wrong with her thoughts. He deserved to be hated. I do not trust you, murderer.
I have no words for what Ive done. Syntax listened to his hushed words. The words were tinged with a pain that was not unlike her own. A pain for something lost that can never be returned. She forced herself to bite her tongue and allow him the final words. They were simple and direct, as Dominic's actions always were. On my honor, I'll return for you and I will get you out of this place alive.
And then Dominic was gone.
You're the traitor!
Snapback reached out and grabbed Jo from Leona's surprised grasp, then spinning her about and hurling the thin girl hard against a stone wall. Jo shrieked in pain as she hit with jarring force and crumpled to the ground. She had hit hard, she lay unmoving as a massive and snarling Garou moved over her. Snapback pulled back one clawed hand, ready to split her head like a melon.
Leona's arm shot out, her hand clamping down on Snapback's wrist and halting his blow.
Leona? What are you doing?
Leona herself had reacted on only a split second worth of consideration. But she knew something was wrong here, very wrong. It had happened when Snapback had declared Jo the traitor; Leona's gift to sense lies had still been active.
Snapback's accusation had been a lie.
Meaning he didn't think Jo was the traitor at all. How could he know Jo wasn't the traitorunless he knew who the real traitor was? And if he knew who the real traitor was, why accuse Jo?
Snapback purred her name as he turned to her with an easy smile. Don't you see that we have her? Her Corax trickery can't save her now. Orah, of course, you wanted the right to kill her for yourself. He nodded in understanding. It is as well, you ferreted her out, you claim the glory.
Leona looked deep into his yellowish eyes as he grinned. How many packs had he been part of that were all dead now? How many of those packs had fallen to the Black Spiral Dancers? How hard had she argued with the others to allow him to join their pack? Luckyshe had said he must be a lucky wolf. Surely one would have to be lucky to keep escaping all those battles with the Black Spirals.
She remembered how he had claimed a lone position for himself during the attack at the lake. How he always made sure he had some separate time, away from the others, on any mission. She remembered in the alley, how he had asked Endelon to stop. How he had said he could explain everything. How he had reached for his pouch. How he always reached for his pouch, always to mess with something
Leona? Are you well? Here, he chuckled, let me slay this wretch and we shall be on our way.
Her other hand snapped out, grabbing onto the pouch that was slung to his leather belt, ripping the rough material open. The contents spilled out upon the ground. A pair of keys, a wallet, a few loose coins, and an eara mummified and withered ear of a wolf. Leona looked down at the ear, feeling the palpable sense of dread that seemed to ooze out of it. She had seen such talismans before, they were used by the Dancers to communicate with each other.
She lifted her head to look at him, feeling hurt and betrayed. No, not you.
Oh? Were you expecting more pack loyalty?
He twisted his arm, pulling her off balance as he spun around. His free hand lashing out in a blur as the claws drove deep into her belly and tore her open. She released his right hand in shock, he quickly backhanded her with it, snapping her head to the side and tossing her against the far wall of the chamber. She gasped as she struggled to maintain her footing, she looked up to see Snapback, a feral grin on his fanged face, her blood dripping from his claws as he advanced on her.
Her own blood dribbled past her lips, staining her tawny fur.
Let me guess, you figured I was lucky to have survived so many battles? He sprang forward, the massive muscles of his body propelling him towards her in a blur of fangs and fur. She leapt to the side, diving and rolling out of the way. The air above her head hissed as his claws passed within centimeters of it. She spun around to face him again as he lumbered back to his feet. They make you an offer, they let you live and you join them. It's not as bad as you might think. He shrugged his huge, hunched shoulders. They never once judged me for being born a metis. They understood me! He paused, looking deeply into her eyes as a nervous smile appeared on his lips. He whispered his next words, soft, inviting, almost pleading. d understand you too
Leona's thoughts hardened sharply, backlit by the wild rush of anger. Her packmate had betrayed her! Betrayed her and the rest of the pack. It was the only crime that wolves would never allow; and wolves only had one punishment for breaking the law of the pack. Leona dashed forward, ducking low under the sweep of his arm and raking her claws along his trunk-like left leg. He snarled and kicked out at her, knocking her back to sprawl on the stony ground.
Too bad, Throatripper, you were the only one I ever liked. I had thought you would join us. He flexed his arms as he rushed in, slashing at her in wild, swinging attacks. You should have joined, Throatripper, because you and I both know that you could never beat me!
Leona didn't answer, there was no more time for answers or questions. All that was left was the fight. She was younger, faster, more agile. He was larger, stronger, more experienced. He had wounded her badly in those first surprised moments. She had torn open his leg, further slowing his moves. He was a warrior, raised since the day he was born as a Garou. She was a wolf, born and bred in the wild and natural society of the pack. She was a servant of Gaia, he had betrayed Gaia for the Wyrm. Only one of them could be allowed to survive.
Leona ignored the burning pain in her gut, didn't pay heed to the blood seeping from her mouth. She kept moving. Shifting into her hispo form, that of the monster wolf, she knew she had to outmaneuver him. She darted back and forth, circling ever around him. His wounded leg slowed him, made turning painful. She would dodge in under his guard, strike fast, biting and tearing at legs and guts, and then retreat again. Snapback roared and glared, his claws ever ready to lash out at her again.
did anyone get the number of that truck?
Leona looked over in surprise as Jo sat up, rubbing at her head. A sudden snarl brought her back to the fight, she looked up as Snapback lumbered in. His massive jaws clamped down on only air as she jerked her head back from him. His claws swept in for her, but she dove under his legs and scurried to safety. Spinning back around Leona noted the danger. The Corax was innocent, and helpless to defend herself from Snapback. Her presence was only a distraction.
Bird! Go, now! I'll deal with this!
snickered Snapback as he glared at Leona. Run along little bird, I'll be coming after you soon enough. Run far, run fast. Jo hopped to her feet, dark eyes looking at the two bloodied wolves. Then she cursed as she turned and sprinted quickly down another of the dark tunnels. Snapback turned to watch her run, howling a warbling cry after her.
He laughed, and Leona struck. Dashing in and biting and tearing at his thighs, another few quick hits to her credit. But each of his blows was like five of hers. His claws tore into her sides whenever he accurately gauged her attacks. Blood soaked her once golden fur, her breathing became labored, ragged. They fought in two circles of blood. One around Snapback, the liquid seeping from his horrid leg wound. The larger circle formed around it, formed from the dribbling streams that gushed out of Leona. Her moves started to slow, her vision blurred. She knew she didn't have much left
Snapback's laughter brought her back to her senses. She stood on wobbling legs in a pool of her own blood. She was slowly slinking to the floor, too weak to go on. So it ends for you, Throatripper. None of you will make it out of here alive!
His maddened yells reminded her of the others; her friends, her family, her pack. They were counting on her help. Would she fail them? White hot lancelets of rage stabbed through her as she lifted her head. Her eyes flared with a feral gleam as she looked at Snapback, traitor of her pack. The rage flowed through her, giving her strength, giving her power. Giving her one final chance. Snapback didn't expect it. There was no cold reply to his mocking insults. There was no growl of readiness to continue the fight. There was no action of a human.
There was only the sudden spring of a wolf, and the clamping down of sharpened fangs on a thick neck.
You bitch! Snapback's arms locked around her in a ferocious bear hug. The coiled muscles drawing together in a crushing embrace. Throatripper didn't cry out, she didn't even growl. She simply twisted her head and tore at his flesh. His arms pulled tighter, her ribs creaked in protests. She heard something pop. The air gushed from her lungs. Her jaws pierced flesh, her head twisted, ripping skin apart as a shower of crimson droplets rained down upon her face in a wash of red.
And then it was over.
Loktor nethrak bal ut du-bay. Grissnak, nev ut martor des hepshaatak. Glavret-ar et Tyranthraxus.
By the inner darkness of the great Wyrm do I command thee, spirits. Heed my call, and obey.
The ritual had begun.
Fer-guath raised his staff as he recited words in the ancient language of the Wyrm itself. The bone talismans upon his staff clattered and clinked together in time with his words. The hood of his ceremonial robe had been cast back. The garment sewn together from the skins of virgin humans hung heavily around him, glistening eerily in the emerald light of The Pit. His one good eye seemed to glow with a green light that equaled that of The Pit. Beside him was The Mage, his black robes trailing about him as he spoke the second half of the ritual. The crawling tattoos that coated his body seemed to skulk and shift upon his skin. He giggled as he wove his own staff in an intricate pattern over the Black Crystal.
The two figures stood within The Maw, the shattered temple erected to the glory of the Wyrm. Behind them lay the broad obsidian steps that lead out onto one of the stone platforms of The Pit. Upon this platform stood many of the other Spirals. They chanted along with the theurge and the sorcerer.
Quentin strode forward from the mass, the Spirals parting for The Master. Behind him came two other Dancers. Both of them were stripped bare. Their fur had been shaved from them and wild patterns drawn upon them in red and yellow pigments. Held above their heads, they carried Syntax. The Glass Walker continued to struggle, even though her logical mind probably told her it was helpless.
From high above the chamber Jo watched from a secluded niche. Her dark eyes reflecting the green glow of The Pit in fear. She shook her head slowly. This was so definitely and literally not a good thing. Literally that is. More like the literal literalness of literally bad. Her face scrunched up in consternation as she considered the situation. Surely there had to be something
A hand clamped down around her mouth!
I can't believe you're still trying to talk, sighed a voice. Can't you tell I'm stopping you?
Jo craned her head back to look at the dark shape.
Josephine. Shut up. She fell silent. Dominic waited a moment, as though to make sure, then slowly pulled his hand back from her mouth. He nodded over the edge of the cave mouth she had found. They're starting. We don't have much time. I couldn't get Marn or the tribes to make a move. Where are the others?
Jo shook her head. Snapback went traitor, Leona may still be fighting him for all I know. Dominic's eyes darkened at the news, Jo swallowed and plunged ahead. As for the others she nodded her head down towards one of the larger caves far below. Looks like they've got front row seats for the return of Tyranthraxus and the doom of Detroit.
Dominic followed her gaze to look down at the two captured Garou. His face went still, dark eyes darting back and forth between the swarms of Dancers taking part in the ritual, and their three captured friends. Jo realized she was holding her breath, praying that Dominic would have an answer. She was excellent at quick little tricks and mind games, hell she tended to enjoy them. But this was a battle plan. She knew that Dominic had to come up with something. Or else they might all be doomed.
We'll have to do something his face was dark, he already sounded defeated. His skin looked gray, like hed aged more this night then in the past decade. Jo had seen that sort of face many times. It was the face of someone already dead. I never told you this. But I think you're probably one of the best friends I've ever had. Im telling you now, because when we-
Oh, bullshit, she hissed. He looked over at her in surprise. Listen up, Dom. I will not be having with one of those it's a good day to die' speeches. I don't want to feast with you in the halls of Valhalla or have stories sung about how bravely I died. I'd rather have a good song that goes a little like she grew old, she drank lots of cocoa, and died in a warm bed at home surrounded by friends.' Now, you're going to come up with a brilliant plan to save the day right now, or I'm going to just go catch a movie or something. You hear me?
His dark face split apart into a tight smile. Teeth flashing in the gloom. You shall die in a very warm bed, he offered with a chuckle. His face then grew serious as he reached out and patted her on the shoulder. Thank you. He looked back down at The Pit, his face once more seeming eager and fearsome. The face of a warrior and a hero. Very well, we can't do this alone. I'm going to disrupt the ritual. I need you to sneak down to the others, and free Charlie and the urrah.
What, me? By myself?
You are not a Garou, Josephine, said Dominic. Jo felt the instant flush of annoyance and anger flash through her. For as long as she had worked for them, she had heard these words. The Garou convinced of their superiority, their difference, their own worth over all things. An angry retort formed on her lips, but was cut off as Dominic spoke. But I am glad for it. Never change, Jo. Never lose that joy you have for life. Focus on your mission, I know you can do it. You are no Garou, but you are also no fool and no weakling. Go now, move swiftly and silently. Never forget, that our song spoke of eight heroesyou were counted amongst us. I'll see you again when this is through.
He turned and slipped back into the tunnels. The gloom swallowing up his black coat as though it were just another shadow. Soon he was out of sight, lost in the darkness. Jo smiled after him as he disappeared. He had been like the Dominic of old. She nodded after him, she wouldn't let him or her friends down. She had a duty to the pack, whether or not they accepted birds.
You seem pleased, noted Endelon quietly as Kendar moved up alongside him. Both of them stood in their crinos forms. Kendar a massive, towering figure with burning yellow eyes. His leathery hide had been decorated with runes drawn with blood. His heavy sword was slung over his back, the carved and howling faces within the sword seeming to leer in glee. Endelon seemed slight by comparison, his own lean shape wrapped in filthy black bandages and cloaked in his black robes. His cold blue eyes looked at his friend. Does the return of Tyranthraxus to his full might please you so?
It is well, but it is not all that I consider. Kendar leered down at Endelon. The two of them stood on the outer edges of the gathering of Spiral's before the temple. Kendar nodded up towards the front of the gathering, where Snowflake stood. I asked The Master about her. I told him I wished her to join the packs. He agreed. Kendar ran his large black tongue across his jagged teeth. He said she was a fitting reward for the War Leader of our warren.
hissed Endelon in a whisper. His dark blue eyes turning to look at Snowflake. He looked at her face, feeling as though a knife were twisting in his gut. She is to be yours then?
Yes, a gift from The Master to the War Leader, agreed Kendar with a chuckle. It is just as well, I was already growing bored with Gorefist. He spared a glance towards the scar faced pack leader who was intent on the ritual being performed. It was always such a headache to have to worry about her putting a knife in your back.
I imagine, whispered Endelon, his blue eyes still intent on Snowflake.
Perhaps you have been correct all along; living like a monk, alone in your little room. Kendar chuckled and bumped his friend with a grin. Saves you all the difficulties of dealing with a mate.
hissed Endelon softly, you have always had many mates. His eyes burned as they looked at Snowflake. He felt the twin klaives strapped to his sides burning against his skin. He felt a burn within himself, a silent anger that knew no release.
Of course I have, there is not a single she-bitch in the warren that would not wish to lie with me. I am the War Leader. I am the strongest warrior. My seed is the best. They would not want the seed of some weak fool. Kendar snorted in amusement as he turned to again look at Snowflake with a lascivious smile. Endelon's head slowly turned to look up at Kendar. The briefest flash of an emotion passed those unemotional eyes. It was hatred. But tell me, my friend, continued Kendar, do you think that-
The sounds of the ritual died out into muttering garbled hisses of surprise. The Master spun about, his black robes billowing about him as his eyeless gaze scanned across the cavern. Fer-guath stepped up alongside him, his lips curling back over his needlelike teeth as he pointed his staff up towards one of the upper stone walkways.
My lord, it is he who rends the darkness!
What? My agents told me he had fled to the caern!
Endelon followed the pointing end of Fer-guath's staff. It was Dominic! The Shadow Lord stood upon the walkway, his eyes staring scornfully down at the Black Spiral Dancers. Endelon snarled as he spun, quickly turning and sprinting along the stone paths, rushing for the one that would carry him to the Shadow Lord. Behind him he heard a loud roar as the other Dancers rushed after him, eager for their own chance at Dominic.
Now that is what I call a herocourse I also call it pretty stupid. I mean, what was he thinking? I could think of a better plan then that, heck, even you could think of a better plan then that. At least you better be able to.
From their vantage point amongst the upper ruins of The Maw temple, Puck and Lord Cruss could well see the lone Garou making what seemed to be his final stand. Waiting quietly as the Spirals rushed up towards him. Cruss shook his head slightly, it was indeed a noble and brave death, even as it was hopeless and wasteful. He glanced over at Puck, who rested lightly on one of the broken ends of a massive stone column. Her multi-colored eyes were staring directly down, at the two figures performing the rite over the Black Crystal.
The two of them had found it easy to sneak into The Pit. Their combined skills and magic cantrips allowed them to pass about nearly unnoticed. The problem had been that once they were inside, there had been little it seemed they could do. Neither of them was powerful enough to deal with so many Black Spiral Dancers. It had seemed as though the ritual was going to happen, and all they would be able to do was stand mute, and horrified witness. But as Cruss looked at Puck he began to suspect the pooka still had at least one more trick up her sleeve.
what are you thinking?
She glanced up at him with an odd smile. The green glow of The Pit danced in the swirling shades of her multicolored eyes. Her face was underlit by the glow, child-like innocence awash in a lurid gleam that transformed it into a twisted caricature of innocence. Cruss had hardly seen anything quite so horrifying in all his life, he shivered as she giggled.
What am I to do? You've said yourself that all pooka are only good for minor tricks.
She grinned wider.
Destroy him! Tyranthraxus, The Master, bellowed the order. Fer-guath felt a quiver of fear pass through himself as he saw the anger burning in the empty eye sockets of The Master. He stepped forward to watch his packs closing in on Dominic. The Shadow Lord stood unafraid and calm, apparently waiting for his own death. Fer-guath grinned as he saw Endelon charging forward, almost there. But suddenly Endelon slid to a stop, the dread master assassin seeming to ignore Dominic as he looked around the cavern. Fer-guath's brows furrowed in frustration.
Endelon, you fool! Destroy him now!
came the hissed whisper from Endelon as he twisted, looking about wildly. It is a trick.
A trick? snarled The Master.
A trick? echoed Fer-guath in confusion.
A trick. They spun around at the snarl and gasped.
Dominic was behind them!
The Shadow Lord sprang out of the shadows of The Maw, leaping over a massive pile of rubble and landing lightly in front of The Mage and Syntax. His black furred form seemed like some dreadful nightmare; fur bristling and fangs agleam. Squealing in fear, The Mage backpedaled desperately from the enraged werewolf.
The two Black Spiral guards that stood over Syntax bellowed and charged forward, their naked bodies glimmering with war paint, their claws sharp and deadly. Dominic raised his right hand, the klaive there glimmered with a shining silver light as he sneered at his attackers. They came at him together, one striking low, the other coming in high. Leaving no way for the Shadow Lord to evade their deadly blows.
Dominic's arm snapped out as they approached, hurling his klaive with pinpoint accuracy into the throat of the attacker coming in low. The Dancer gurgled in surprise as his head was tossed back and he collapsed to the ground. Dominic then sprang, coming in under the swing of the second Spiral, his claws tearing deeply into unprotected skin and gutting the shocked warrior. The Dancer whined in pain and surprise at his sudden end, even as he slowly sank to the floor, his guts spilling out around him.
Fer-guath gasped in fear as he who rends the darkness continued his forward momentum without slowing. One of Dominic's clawed hands snapped out and grabbed onto Syntax's limp form, slinging her over his shoulder. His other hand reached down and plucked his blade from the throat of the dying Dancer, bringing it back up and ready for use. Dark spirits swirled around Fer-guath as he leapt in the way, his staff gripped firmly in his hands as he snarled.
You cannot have her, Render! He knew that if Dominic took Syntax, then there would be no suitable host for The Master to use. You should not have come here, now you will never leave!
That remains to be seen, growled Dominic darkly as he sprang forward. Fer-guath sneered as he swept his staff forward, a wave of green flame hissing out in a spray to burn Dominic down. But suddenly the Shadow Lord seemed to pull up short and spring to the left. Fer-guath hissed angrily, his head twisting, his right eye trying to spot Dominic again. Between the flare of the flames and his missing eye Dominic seemed to have somehow slipped past him by using his blind spots.
It's called the Shadow Blade Step, came a voice behind him.
Fer-guath felt the burning pain as a silver blade slipped between his ribs, rupturing his liver and flooding his insides with his own blood. He bellowed in pain as Dominic twisted the klaive to put it in line with his heart. The dark spirits reacted to the call of their master, sweeping down and bursting through the Gauntlet, stepping forth into the material world as they lashed and tore at Dominic, forcing him back. Fer-guath coughed up a gout of blood as he staggered forward and sank to his knees. Behind him he heard the wild hissings of his spirits as they battled Dominic.
Get me Syntax, slay Dominic! The Master's voice rang out loudly, full of anger and rage. Malise, you sniveling worm! Continue with the ritual! Fer-guath, finish it!
Fer-guath looked up through a veil of pain to see the snarling face of The Master. He knew that if he hesitated for an instant his life would be forfeit. He nodded weakly as he used his ceremonial staff to push himself to his feet. He staggered towards Malise, The Mage and High Priest of The Maw. He nodded to him and started choking out the words of the ritual. Malise went to place his staff upon the alter for the final portion of the spell. Then paused. Fer-guath saw what he did and choked in shock.
Malise's staff was gone, in his hand he held a rubber chicken.
Malise and Fer-guath looked at each other in stunned fear, then glanced back at The Master. His eye socket's seemed to flare with an inner fire as he glared at the faded piece of yellow rubber in Malise's grasp. His lips peeled back from his teeth as he hissed in anger.
Faerie magic
Fer-guath called out to the nearest pack leader he could spot. The young ahroun looked up obediently, having rushed forward to try and engage Dominic. There are faeries here! Find them and the staff they stole. Now!!!
It's Dominic! Charlie shouted the words in surprised hope. Here, in the darkest of hours, came a ray of hope. Dominic had come, and he would have brought the tribes with him. Nearby Conner also lifted his head, the ronin's eyes narrowing as he looked at Dominic standing alone on the walkway and awaiting the charging Spirals. Behind them Charlie heard the pack of Dancers who had been left to watch them shifting eagerly.
Look there, gurgled one of them, it is he who rends the dark-
continued the nearly identical female next to him. Come now, Stinkface, what was it you said you would do to the Render if you met him again in battle?
We were told to watch the prisoners, grumbled a third.
snapped the leader as he stood up. His red eyes gleaming as he looked at Dominic, his maw twisting into a eager grin. Pugdog, go tell those fomori toads that work for Sands that they may now guard the prisoners. We have more important matters to deal with! So speaking he bellowed and charged forward, leaping out the cave mouth and dropping onto a nearby walkway. With a series of wild whoops his pack followed. Charlie glanced at the ronin as they were left alone, even for an instant.
Now's our chance, we need to break free.
mumbled the ronin morosely.
I don't know. But we have to try something! Dominic's here, we have a chance!
Does it matter? The ronin's eyes looked out onto the walkways, his gaze falling upon a platinum haired beauty in a torn dress. We are no match against the power of the Corruptor. He will claim us all.
Don't talk like that, snapped Charlie. Damnit, you look at me! The ronin's head jerked over to look at Charlie's enraged face in shock. Charlie glowered, snarling each word. You're Garou, you've been chosen to fight for Gaia. You may not like it but you've been selected to be a hero, so damnit start acting like one! Dominic once told me that a hero was a dream. That all that existed were those who did not, and those who did what no one else is willing to dobut I don't think he was right.
Charlie took a deep breath, seeming to calm down even as he kept his gaze locked with the ronin's.
A hero, a true hero, is someone who does what he doesn't want to do if it means doing the right thing. That's what you did in The Pit eight years ago when you attacked Quentin and Snowflake, that may be what you need to do now. Please, be a hero this one final time.
The ronin's eyes seemed to clear then, as though a weight was lifted from his shoulders. He looked at Charlie carefully, and for the first time his eyes seemed to release some of their pain. With a start Charlie realized that Conner's eyes weren't dark, they were bright ice blue, clear and sharp. Conner nodded his head slowly, his muscles tensed as he rose to his feet.
Evil triumphs when good men do nothing, he growled. Words spoken to me by a helpless innocent. He nodded to Charlie, his eyes burning brightly. You are right, Charlie, now is no time for old pain and regrets. We don't have much time. He spun around and presented his bound hands to Charlie's face. Try to gnaw through the ropes, quickly!
Charlie nodded and leaned forward, biting into the rough, thick ropes and trying to chew through them. As he struggled he suddenly heard shouts, yells, and a burst of gunfire from the tunnels beyond. He snarled at the thought that perhaps some fomori scum could be rushing this way even now, ready to put an end to their escape attempt. Then the clomping sounds of boots was closer then ever, he looked up in fear at the door
Hiya! Is this literally a good time for an escape? Cause here I am with these keys and this knife and all. Not that I stole the knife or anything! It's just that those soldiers had sooooo many neat toys an-
Charlie and the ronin shouted together, spooking the rambling Corax out of her long winded introduction. She grinned at them and shrugged apologetically as she rushed forward. Conner kneeled in front of her as she skidded to a stop, fumbling with a key ring gripped in one bony hand. She muttered under her breath even as she worked at unlocking his silver collar.
It looks like the tribes wimped out on us like a preschooler to a bully. Dominic is out there alone for Gaia's sake! I don't know what crazy, hair-brained, hair-assed, hair-whatever sorta plan he has going, but he needs some help and he needs it fast! Literally!
Charlie spun to look out of the cave mouth towards The Pit. He could see Dominic now. And Jo was right, Dominic was fighting alone. Dozens of winged black spirits whirled around him, screeching and clawing at him. Syntax was slung over one of his shoulders as he desperately dodged the spirits and dashed along one of the stone walkways. But the Spirals were closing in, he was running out of places to run. Charlie swallowed in fear, then he heard a click.
Dominic fights alone no longer, snarled Conner. His body surged upwards, a shining coat of rust red fur sprouting across him as he grew. The ropes about him grew tight, and then snapped apart like child's toys. His sharp ice blue eyes looked out at The Pit as a growl rumbled deep in his mighty chest. His jaw ticked upward as he eyed the scene. Then he sprang forward, his powerful body sending him sailing through the air to land lightly on one of the stone walkways.
He roared.
Hmph, he just had to make an entrance instead of sneaking up behind them and slitting some throatsyou'll do that, right?
Jo smirked as she grabbed at his silver collar and went to work finding the right key for it. Charlie winced as the metal pressed against his skin, burning at him painfully. Silver, the bane of the Changing Breeds, their one true weakness. He winced again as Jo tugged on it and kept working. He was amazed that she seemed unhindered by the pain that he knew touching silver should bring. Suddenly he saw a shadow behind her shift. A tall dark figure in gold rimmed glasses stepped out of it as though stepping through a doorway. Nearby two other shapes stepped into the room through the tunnel, a man in a business suit, and a black armored and helmeted guard.
Jo, behind you! Charlie shouted the warning even as he tried to rise to his feet. Jo spun around and issued a squawk of surprise. The helmeted guard quickly raised his sub-machine gun towards them, the tall black man drew out a pair of Glocks and stood ready.
Don't either of you move, sneered the man in the business suit. His young face twisted into a nasty leer as he eyed Charlie and Jo. Ah, I know you two. The boy and the bimbo who opted to wreck my towers. He frowned. I am unamused. Mr. Kaykill the woman.
Can't we talk about thi- started Jo, and then came the gunfire.
Four sharp explosions of sound that echoed within the cave loudly. Four small bursts of red erupting out of a small torso as the owner was thrown back by the severe force of the impacts. Her overlarge boots stumbled about stupidly. Her wide eyed face was splattered with a spray of her own crimson blood. Her mouth opened, as if to still try to speak, but all that issued was another thin dribble of bright blood.
Bright waves of anger flared through Charlie as he watched her tumble forward and collapse face first to the cold stone floor. Streams of bright, vibrant blood leaked out of her in crimson rivers. He turned towards the gunman, his eyes flaring red, madness and anger clouding his thoughts.
Careful there, my boy, chuckled the businessman. You still have on your little silver neckpiece, you go wolf on us and you decapitate yourself. Also, don't think for one instant that my friends aren't loaded with silver bullets. Try anything and you're dead. The man chuckled as Charlie forced his anger back, instead staring with cold hatred at the three. Sergeant Ross, the helmeted figure glanced at his employer, go back and secure the entryway, we'll be along shortly.
Yes, Mr. Sands. The figure turned and rushed off.
Now then, Mr. Kay, what do you see here? Mr. Sands grinned at Charlie. Mr. Kay simply stood silently in the shadows, the deadly fomor quietly keeping an eye out for danger. Charlie winced as he remembered him and Dominic battling that abomination back at the Allied Chemical Plant, the shadow twisting creature had proved exceedingly dangerous. What I see here, continued Sands, is yet another way to recoup my losses. A live Garou is not easy to make captive, I think having the rights at dissecting him will ease some of the board's troubles.
Charlie cold hardly hear what was being said. All he could do was look over at the fallen form of Jo. Blood pooled around her from the four silver bullets that had hit her dead on. He felt a pang of guilt wash over him. Somehow he had never thought that Jo would be one of the casualties of this war. She had always been so happy with life, so joyous. It wasn't right that she was dead and her murderers plotted and planned over her fallen and now forever still bodywhat the hell?
He blinked in shock. Her left eye had just slit open and was staring at him. She was alive. Charlie saw her eye jerk to glance towards the two formor. He saw how both of them could still see her. Realizing what he should do, Charlie started shifting to his left, away from Jo. He growled at the fomori.
What the fuck happens if instead of going along with this I rip your stinking heads off?
Robert Sands chuckled. Oh, indeed, most amusing. He yawned and lifted his hand to his mouth. Somehow, boy, I don't think you have it in you. Mr. Kay, if you will please escort our guest?
Mr. Sands turned and walked out of the chamber, already calling to Sergeant Ross. Mr. Kay strode forward and grabbed Charlie by his tangled brown hair. He pointed one of his gun's at Charlie's face in a silent and meaningful threat. But Charlie's eyes weren't on the gun, nor did they widen in fear at the thought of the silver bullets. They were locked behind the fomor.
Jo stood up slowly and silently. Her dark eyes burning in anger, her face contorted in a look of rage that would have made any Garou proud. Small bony hands curled up like claws, and then started to change into them. Flesh seeming to melt away beneath hard, bony, talons. Her face shifted and grew longer. Her nose and jaw hardening into a massive, curved, and sharp black beak. Feathers sprouted from her arms as her clothes faded into nothingness. Her body seemed to swell up, growing from a puny five foot frame until it was slightly over six. The dark eyes were the same though, staring with intent anger at Mr. Kay's back. Suddenly the edges of the feathers seemed to shift, taking on a silvery gleam as they appeared to become almost metallic.
The massive black bird-thing surged forward. Mr. Kay spun in surprise, his eyes widening in shock at what was descending towards him. The two huge wings batted inward, and Mr. Kay's suit was sliced open as razored feathers slashed and tore at him. He staggered back under the onslaught, dropping his gun in the confusion of wildly flapping wings.
Finally he managed to regain his senses and backhanded the bird-thing harshly. He glared at it and drew forth a silver dagger from under his torn jacket. Charlie once more noted that under his clothes Mr. Kay appeared to be nothing more than darkness and shadow. Jo suddenly flapped a wing out sharply. A large feather hissed through the air and embedded itself deeply in Mr. Kay's shoulder. He stumbled back, the knife dropping from his hand.. He scowled darkly. Suddenly he seemed to sink into the shadows around his feet. All was silent.
I hate having to do that, grumbled Jo as the strange bird thing melted back into the small dark haired girl. That jerk-off even messed up my Metallica shirt! Y'know those things dont come cheap. She turned and rushed to him with the keys once more. Let's just pretend you didn't see anything, okay?
It's literally okay if you'd just get me out of this damned collar, said Charlie as he leaned down for her. Hurry, I need to go help the others.
He dropped her painfully to the stone floor. A slash of a klaive and she was free of the chains. Syntax stood up slowly, taking stock of the situation. She was without her tools and talismans. She was half naked in the very heart of a Wyrmhole. She was surrounded on all sides by dark spirits and maddened Black Spirals. And her only ally was the man who had murdered her pack. Her gray eyes narrowed.
Though I suppose gratitude is in order for my timely rescue, I am unsure if I can properly credit you with saving my life at this particular juncture.
I can't argue with that, grunted Dominic. He towered over her, his black fur bristling with anger as he eyed the advancing Spirals. He raised Bonespur, the rune of duty inscribed upon it flashed across his features as he snarled at the incoming foes.
Do you not have a plan of some sort for this endeavor? Syntax glanced at him questioningly.
It's a work in progress.
Ah, then perhaps you need to get working. Allow me to buy you time by distracting your immediate concerns. She spun to look above her, her wild dark hair swirling about her face as she glared at the circling spirits. She raised one of her hands, blue lights pulsed around her fingers, flashing and gleaming brighter as she looked at the bloodthirsty banes. Begone from this place, Gaia commands you through me!
Many of the dark spirits hissed in anger. Their forms wavering and shifting, becoming less clear. Syntax glared at them as they suddenly dissolved away into nothingness. Seeing some of their support destroyed, the Black Spiral's roared and charged forward. Dominic turned to meet those coming from his side of the walkway. Syntax frowned as she watched some come at her. Their feet pounding on the long stone walkway as they rushed at her. Below them the gleaming depths of The Pit shimmered and bubbled menacingly. She waited for them to come closer.
You have made a tactical error in this assault, she declared to the Dancer charging in front, which shall now be demonstrated to you in your final moments. She looked down at the walkway, sending her thoughts racing out to meet the twisted and slow thoughts of the stone elementals that formed the bridge. Her mind met theirs in a sudden and brutal spiritual battle. But they were slow and uncaring, she was fueled by the anger of her abduction. Her eyes flared open as she snarled at the approaching Dancers.
The rock beneath their feet suddenly gave way. The thick stone breaking apart into massive chunks that plummeted down into the slime of The Pit. The Spirals in the lead wailed in fear as they found themselves without any support. Behind them their fellows desperately skidded to a stop, narrowly avoiding the same fate. They watched the others plummet into the green ooze of The Pit. Saw their fur burn, and their flesh flow like water as it shifted, bubbled, and mutated wildly. The death howls of those who had fallen lasted a long time.
Behind her she heard the bellows and howls of the Dancers as they rushed up to meet Dominic. But he stood tall and firm, his klaive dripping splattering trails of his enemy's blood as he fended them off. Dominic had picked a good defensive spot. It was one of the higher walkways, isolated from the rest. But Syntax knew they could only hold it for so long. Something had to give, and soon. Or else he might as well have simply joined her in death at the hands of the Spirals.
