Memory

On a quiet night in which the Umbral moon in the sky is a curving sliver, the knife-like moon pokes through the sky and shadowed canopy of the towering woods within Wildfire's patrolled grounds. It is on one such night though, as they are inspecting around in the small Glade that they come upon a trail of sludge in the Umbra that does not belong in their nice, clean woods. The trail is thickly laid, smelling like spoiled milk mixed with gasoline and paint thinner, and touch-test shows it feels not unlike that of a slug's slime. The trail, around 3 feet wide, suggests this is no ordinary spirit of the forest. A sense of the Wyrm would show it definitely is not. The most disturbing thing, however, is that it leads deeper into their nice forest in the direction of the Glade. And what's worse, something has gouged out chunks from the trunks of the spirit trees along the way.

Blackriver's snort in disgust, licking her nose as if to get the scent of the slime off, and then begins to follow the trail at a quick trot. Her ears are pricked forward, snout up to sniff the air, all senses on full alert.

The previous wariness Dragon's-Fire has shown on the umbral jaunt is consumed as the Fianna lets out a low growl. Wyrm-thing, his posture cries. And immediately following that, is an equally plain emote: Destroy it. He takes the beta's position, right behind Blackriver as she trots along.

*My friends,* Finds-Spirits says in dismay as she spies the various tree spirits. She has to be dragged from damaged spirit to damaged spirit, whispering to each that she will come back to care for them once they rid the territory of the intruder.

At the sight of the hurt spirits and slime trail, Wave-Singer lets out a low, menacing growl. ~We will find whatever did this,~ he says. ~And we will give them the gift that we give to those who dare attack out land.~

Hope-Turner wrinkles his muzzle at the sight of the sludge. He moves to keep a close eye on Finds-Spirits as she lingers to talk to spirits. ~Come on. It's not good to fall behind. Luna's light is dim,~ he rumbles to the Theurge in a worried tone. To Wave-Singer, he grunts grim agreement.

The group of Wildfire continues to follow the slime trail. It gets a little wider, even, and the damage against the trees gets worse. Finally to their ears, the sounds of cracking and crunching, metallic saws buzzing, and a dragon-like roar. Ember's voice. The sound of the trees crying out can be felt more than heard by those with the Gift of Spirit Speech.

The sound makes the Fang Galliard's ears swivel forward as Wave-Singer tries to hold back the Rage. ~A Weaver machine? Here?!~ He's trying not to sound too incredulous about it.

The theurge stops short of letting out a howl to alert the intruder of their presence but she makes a savage snap of her jaws, the thin knife moon in the sky adding to her rage. ~They are in pain. It is hurting them. We will -stop- it.~ She surges toward the front of the group, just behind Dragons-Fire as they push forward.

Blackriver's ears slick back, her fur bristling, and she slides up into hispo. ~Not yet.~ She growls, slowing her pace so she can see what's going on before she rushes in to attack.

Dragon's-Fire rises into crinos at the sound of Ember's roar and the saws. The axe in his hand is clutched tightly in his taloned digits. ~They will pay for attacking our home,~ he hisses emphatically. Though he does settle marginally when Blackriver cautions them.

Hope-Turner is ready to charge, his hackles raising, claws digging into the earth. The only thing that holds him is Blackriver's order. Narrowing his eyes, he moves to guard his Alpha's flank. ~This is bullshit,~ he observes.

It's dark in the Umbral night, but not so dark they can't see the swath of destruction and sludge that leads up to a scene of a battle going on. Ember flies in a hovering, circling motion that darts here and there attempting to latch on and bite at a many armed lumbering deforester-like machine. Only, it's not a machine. It's definitely a fleshy sort of spirit monster, sporting armored carapaces here and there but with obvious chinks. Those chinks pulse and throb with what looks like the same brown-purple sludge that has spilled out into the forest floor. Smaller banes of smog and toxicity and sludge cling to the deforester. No... in fact, it seems like they don't just cling. They're integrated into the spirit itself. A terrible amalgamation of the Wyrm comes before their eyes, slowly but surely cutting away pieces of the trees. Around it, there is already some that have been felled. The tree that it's currently cutting spits out ephemeral wood chips. One part of the monster which can be considered the front, chews up the pieces of wood that are brought to its cavernous mouth filled with fangs and sap-slime.

Blackriver's gums peel back in a snarl as the creature becomes clear, and she spends a moment seizing it up. ~Dragon's Fire and Wave-Singer - attack the head. Finds-Spirits and I will jump on it and hit it where its armor is gone. Hope-Turner, attack the banes.~ With that, the lupus takes a moment to activate two of her gifts, and then attempts to leap up onto the armored creature.

Finds-Spirits shifts up into crinos as they come upon the scene, shaking with rage as she surveys the damage done to their territory. Her eyes track the damage to spirits as they survey the scene. At Blackriver's orders, she nods and darts after the lupus. Though not as well--she cannot leap like that! Nonetheless, she goes for the big thing and leaps up to try to gain a foothold, so to speak.

Dragon's-Fire is quick to respond to his alpha's command, wearing a feral grin as he bounds towards the part of the beast that is currently eating the tree spirit's form. He, too, calls upon a gift, to resist any toxins that might come his way. The battle-light is in his eyes now.

Hope-Turner remains as he is, in Hispo. He skirts to the side of the monster and calls upon his discipline and years of training to concentrate on distracting the parasitic bane that poses the greatest threat to those attacking the head. He darts in, weaves, feints and darks back out. ~Hit me with your best shot, Wyrm-filth.~

~One on the banes,~ Wave-Singer says as he lopes with Dragon's-Fire towards their position. ~Two on the arms and body.~ He gives the Fianna a wicked Crinos grin as he leaps, claws out, towards their ordered target. ~And we'll kill...the head!~

On closer inspection, the creature has a few weakspots, but it also has allies in the form of the integrated pollution spirits making up its body. Blackriver leaps a huge distance and covers enough ground before landing on the back of the corrupted beast. When she does, a fleshy sort of hole opens up alongside her and blasts a gout of flame and heated smoke that singes her fur but the damage is minimal. It's the /smell/ that is the worst, assaulting her powerful but delicate lupine senses terribly. Finds-Spirits jumps on and finds her footing less than stable as a hind paw sinks into a portion of the creature's hide between armored chunks - like jumping onto a waterbed and having one's foot sink. The pair going around to the front, Dragon's-Fire and Wave-Singer, face down the worst of it where spike-like fangs protrude out of a waiting mouth. On either side of it, left and right, there are three protrusions. The top one ends in a carapaced limb that holds a rotating saw-like appendage. The middle one has mean scythe-like pincers for grabbing, barbed on the inside with teeth and rather strong looking. The bottom one is simply hose-like and muscular, slathering sludge and slime upon the tree-bits that the beast stuffs into its mouth. Hope-Turner's darting and weaving, distraction tactics, don't seem to work very well. He's ignored. Ember, though, isn't so much as the Wyvern-spirit dives down again and rakes a claw against the beast's armor. That causes an opening in the flesh like a pore and out shoots a projectile gout of sludge towards the flying spirit.

Dragon's-Fire lets out a laugh at Wave-Singer's reference, one that's choked off as he and his parter arrive at the head. The look of disgust is obvious on his thick features. ~Fucking hell! Wave, use its own saw against it! Cut its face open!~ The Fianna goes for the next most threatening limb, which appears to be the scythe-claws.

Snapping her jaws in disgust, Finds Spirits attempts to pull her foot from the sunken trap that it seems to be in, even as she tries to use that carapace that encases the thing to pull herself higher.

Blackriver gags at the smell, almost throwing up, and looks around for the closest kink in the armour, digging into that with her clawed paws.

~Tell a story? They won't believe us,~ Wave-Singer answers as he tries to climb further. He's aiming to grab at the saw arm and pull is down into the giant machine-like creature. He strains, using his Rage to fuel his strength to try and attack the thing with its own weapon.

Hope-Turner growls in frustration when his tactics don't work, and catches one bane's spitting assault on the totem out of the corner of his eye. ~Ember!~ The sight unleashes his fury and he moves to attack the closest parasitic bane again, this time aiming to pull it clear off its host with his Rage.

The Deforester lurches as quite suddenly, as if it were /just/ noticing the Garou that have come, attack it. Dragon's-Fire grabs ahold of the scyther arm and Wave-Singer the saw arm on the left, they find the creature's strength to be... more than what had been expected. A match, for sure, for their own crinos strength. The growl of the beast sounds more like the turning of its insides, metal grinding against flesh somewhere within. The hose arm, which has been left free, turns upon the pair and splurts a sticky sludge-like substance upon them. For Wave-Singer, the feeling of it starts to tingle just a little bit, while Dragon's-Fire doesn't feel a thing. The other side of the beast's mouth and its arms continue to chomp away at the tree, making the wooden trunk like a giant cigar sticking out of a lopsided face. Up atop, Blackriver's claws sink deep into the chinks in between the armor and she finds her claws sliding through sludge. But, as she finds, the thing is definitely 'bleeding'. Oozing, rather. Finds-Spirits' climb up is like scaling a rockclimber's wall, all about finding the right spots to do so. Then she gets into the right spot up top, where she can survey and choose her point of attack. She goes rather unmolested for the moment, but can see as Blackriver's spot is starting to ooze a little more strongly. It's leaking down, starting to cover up the spot where she clings on. Down below, Hope-Turner suddenly bursts into a furious array of motion as he harnesses his rage and claws terribly into a sludgey bane on the side of the beast. It dies rather quickly under the assault, sliding off to splut against the ground and create an muddy puddle of putrid nasty at his feet, sticky and immobilizing as tar. That's not the end of it though, as when he's stuck there, the spot that has opened up gouts a flame and sets the ooze alight.

Finds-Spirits catches what Blackriver is doing and the result and starts to dig her claws into the flesh of the beast between chunks. ~We have to hurry, before it chops more spirits down!~ She does her best to brace her hand and footholds as she slashes with her one arm.

~Nrrr!~ Wave-Singer grunts as his limbs are touched by the rancid-smelling foul liquid. He tries to keep pulling at the saw-arm. ~I need aid!~ he says. ~This stuff is starting to feel like acid, and it's hard to move.~

Dragon's-Fire releases the scything arm with a sound that's half gag and half snarl once he's coated in the gunk and finds his task impossible. The axe gets lifted up high, and he changes his tactic. ~Die, Wyrmthing!~ Then he's bringing his axe down on the arm Wave-Singer is holding. He's careful to avoid his packmate's portion of the arm, instead going in closer to the body.

You paged Mekoides with 'Spending a rage for an extra attack.'.

Blackriver grunts and shifts into crinos, bringing up her claws to where one of the plates of exoskeleton meets the skin, and attempting to wrench the whole thing off.

Hope-Turner lashes out with a desperate attempt to grab onto the Deforester's body, trying to latch on and add the monster's strength to his own as it lurches. He wants to get unstuck and away from that fire!

The saw-like arm gets partially severed by the huge axe that Dragon's-Fire swings, enough so that Wave-Singer can try to pull the arm off or twist it towards the Deforester's head itself as attempted before. The mighty blow, however, draws the other arms to a halt from their normal activity, bringing the monster machine's other mouth half down upon the two. More sludge is pumped over them, this time covering their heads as well, inciting gag reflexes. The pincer arm, as it has been released, swings around to close upon the pair of Garou and presses them together, the barbed fangs on the interior piercing their abdomens. Blackriver, up above, pulls hard at the armored plate and it comes away with a slurch of sound and ooze, revealing a pulsating interior that looks vaguely like a smoking, gaseous flame held within a thin membrane. Finds-Spirits claws away at the beast's exterior, getting much the same reaction as Blackriver initially as oozing sludge spills out and slowly starts to drip. Hope-Turner manages to yank himself free of the sludge pile by grabbing onto a plate of the wyrmthing as it moves on, pulling himself to safety before the fire can catch onto his own body. Ember flies down again and helps the Child ahroun up some more, grabbing onto him and pulling hard to lift the crinos up onto the deforester beast before flying off.

Finds-Spirits starts to rip savagely at the thing, her claws hand pulling at the plates much like Blackriver, her hind feet digging into her purchase as ooze starts to drip down, making things more slick.

Around the plug of vile goo, Dragon's-Fire lets out a howl of mixed outrage and extreme disgust. The barbed fangs within make it harder for him to move far at all, so the spirited Righ starts to rip at the base of the claw that pins he and his packmate. ~Argh! Destroy the claws!~

Hope-Turner sends out a thanks to his totem over the packlink and leaps up to come to the aid of his packmates. He moves to where Blackriver has exposed the thing's interior, and he Rages to give the membrane a furious swipe with his Hispo claws.

The other Galliard is also hurting, and his snarls go wordless as he tries to find the base of the claw, the barbs digging into his gut, and pull the claw out from the base. Wave-Singer does not look pleased, obviously.

Blackriver snaps the plate of armour she's holding in two, and attempts to jam the splintered end into the membrane of fire and air.

What happens when a smoking membrane filled with gas and fire gets popped? The same thing that seems to happen with anything of that nature. As Blackriver and Hope-Turner take their turns and swipe or stab the membrane, the spirit very suddenly and unexpectedly explodes flame from all the orifices it has. Random holes open up gouting flames and putrid smoke out into the air around. Blackriver and Hope-Turner are flung off of the beast entirely by the wave of flame, the pair of them arcing down and hitting the ground like fireballs coming off a volcano. Finds-Spirits gets half-burned as flames burst from the wound she's made in the creature. Dragon's-Fire and Wave-Singer both, held as they are, dig themselves out of the claw's hold in combined effort and not a moment to soon, as the worst of the fire billows out from the spirit's mouth. The acidic stick goo catches, though, and it sets them on fire as well. Though the heat is strong, they themselves don't feel the burn just yet as the flames eat away the goo covering them.

Dragon's-Fire, when he's caught aflame, does not seem to be rejoicing in living up to his deedname. As a matter of fact, he's downright displeased by the fact of his sudden birthday candle impression. He throws himself against the ground, and does as every PSA he's ever seen has told him. He stops, drops and rolls. Most PSAs don't reccomend a constant stream of profanities, however. That's just a bonus.

Finds-Spirits leaps from the back of the thing, aiming herself toward Hope-Turner. ~I come, brother!~ she calls to him. Burned? Check. In pain? Check. On fire? No! But she's snapped into healer mode.

Blackriver lets out a yelp of surprise and pain, and begins to rolls around on the ground frantically.

Wave-Singer snarls as he's freed. ~Get to the others!~ he calls out. ~I am not bad off!~ Of course, he's on fire. He has an odd notion of 'not bad off.' He leaps away from the sputtering machine-creature, rolling on the ground in an attempt to smother the flames.

A loud groan issues out of the Wyrm spirit as it shudders and flags from its forward, steady pace. Everything seems to seep out or dissipate, the sludge catching on fire and burning. The mouth-mandible-arms shudder and shiver, then slowly go still. The beast wheezes out more fire before it all starts to dissipate very slowly in a putrid umbral steam. Unlike normal fire, though, this is a differing kind in which it isn't put out nearly so easily. Like napalm, it burns hot and painful, even the Gift of Resisting Pain not quite covering all of the heat damage. But eventually the fires are put out by rolling upon the ground and smothering them.

Dragon's-Fire's profanities melt away into a meaningless series of screams as the pain of the fire actually reaches him. But it doesn't last too long, as the fire is eventually quenched. Still, it's a painted, scalded Fianna who rises to his knees, panting. ~Is...everyone okay,~ he croaks.

Blackriver gives her coat one final shake, panting and gasping, nose twitching in disgust at the smell of her own singed fur. She gets up and surveys the damage, to her packmates, to the banes, and to the hilltop.

Finds Spirits doesn't bother to answer anyone, zeroing in on Hope Turner like a medic on a battlefield. Which she is! she starts to pray before she even gets to the Gaian, offering forth her gnosis as she attempts to heal her packmate.

The stink rising from Wave-Singer could know out a bane, if there was one left around. Smoke and acidic bile and whatever else came out of the thing, the stink clings to him as the fire goes out, he stops rolling, and starts to climb to his feet. ~I am able to perform the Ritual of Cleansing,~ he says, staggering to the group.

Hope-Turner lays on the ground. He shrinks down to homid.

Dragon's-Fire pushes himself to his feet, bolting over when he sees Finds-Spirits bent over their suddnly homid-form packmate. ~Hope, no!~ And he brings the stink of the vile goo with him. ~M-me too, Wave-Singer. We will Cl-...where's Ember?~ He immediately looks around for their totem, anxiety stamped on his weary face.

Small spot fires of the burning sludge are leaving a nasty smelling smoke in the general area, but it seems like the large deforester creature has finally come to a halt, dead in the water - or fire, as it were. Wildfire's totem, Ember, flaps overhead with another roar, this one of triumph. But there is still cleansing and healing to be done. And from the looks of it, it could take a while. More than one night's worth of work awaits them.

Finds-Spirits remains kneeling over August, still murmuring the prayer beneath her breath as she concentrates, calling for spirits to help.

Blackriver begins to pad a slow circle around the burned area, most of her attention on Hope-Turner, but sparring the occasional glance to the downed bane. ~Yes, start the rite once Hope-Turner is healed. And we need to find out where these banes are coming from. This is not the first one we have found at the glade.~

~Yes,~ Wave-Singer answers, obediently, as he starts to look around the area to see the extent of the damage. ~We will find where they are coming from, and shut it down.~

The healing touch of Finds Spirits knits much of the Ahroun's burnt flesh, though he still looks pretty bad, especially in homid. When he comes to he immediately shifts up to Crinos. ~Thank you, sister,~ he rumbles to the Theurge, and then looks around. ~We won? Yeah!~ For now, the simple joy of victory and still being alive is enough for the Gaian.

Dragon's-Fire lets out a husky laugh when August wakes back up. ~Hah! Do your worst, Wyrm! We are Wildfire and you cannot defeat us!~ Someone is a little exuberant in he aftermath, and he lets out a howl to prove it.

Blackriver visibly relaxes once Hope-Turner awakens and shifts. ~We will cleanse the place tonight. Later, we will come back, and Finds-Spirits will talk to the spirits and we will see where the banes are coming from.~

~It will take many cleansings,~ Finds Spirits says doubtfully, easing her burned flesh as she looks around the damaged area. ~ And I will have to care for and talk to the spirits before they will be ready to speak of it.~

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