Logs:Missing Limbs, Missing Hobos, Pt. 1
Missing Limbs, Missing Hobos, Pt. 1
|Characters:||Mason, Lola, Dustin as ST|
|Summary:||Random weird phenomenons in their territory led to the disappearance of a local Wolf-Blooded, and the hobos are to be blamed. Urged hobos, to be exact.|
The neighborhood has been terrorized with weird occurences lately. The large population of hobos that used to dot the many alleyways in Bywater have suddenly decreased... drastically. It started off slow at first, but their numbers began to shrink gradually as days pass by. And then? Random pieces of humana limbs, some rotting, most fresh, appearing in a number of dumpsters during one single day. It wasn't exactly something that should get the pack's immediate attention, because what's the use of cops if none of them are gonna investigate into this, right? And if no one else is panicking, why should they?
That is, until just one night ago, a local Wolf-Blooded that's closely affiliated with the pack comes barging into the Traphouse, telling everyone about how he saw his younger brother taken away by a group of hobos in the middle of the night when they were walking past an alley after a visit to the local bar. The hobos were armed with knives, and had latched onto his brother, and were about get to him too if he didn't run like hell! He said that he regretted it, leaving his brother behind like that, but he didn't have much of a choice. There /is/ a known hobo hangout somewhere near their territory however, and Dustin has sent both Mason and Lola to investigate into this, while he stays and takes care of the pack's territory while they're away.
Mason managed to pack an impressive amount of gear into that sea bag he brought back with him, and its from that bag that he kits up before meeting Lola out by his bike for the trip over. Heavy leathers, clearly reinforced as a lightweight armor and sized that he could get away with wearing it in Dalu without to much difficult, a couple of knives, a pistol tucked into a tacticle holster on his thigh, and some other smaller odds and ends secreted away on his big frame.
Lola, on the other hand, seems to have nothing but the clothes on her back. She figures she can bum a weapon off the walking armory if needed. Not that she knows how to use any of it properly. She's more intrigued about the body parts honestly. And had been debating on going to collect some for her rituals when the wolf blood came giving the pack a reason to get more involved. Win win! When they arrive at the spot, Lola is on high alert and, of course, La Sang is lingering near by. Hopefully if something comes up tonight he'll be not as useless as last time. "So, you expectin' us to get into a fight with an army or somethin'?" She asks, though her voice is low, giving Mason a touch of side eye, looking at his gear.
The hangout is a small, abandoned scrapyard situated up north in the Florida Area neighborhood. When they arrive, there's already a few hobos lined up outside the gate, their bodies huddled up in sleeping bags as they try to survive another night. That smell of rust, metal, and garbage is pretty strong in here- and even stronger for Mason, with those enhanced wolfish senses of his. The gates inside are slightly creaked open, as if inviting the two further inside. If and when they do eventually make their way in, they'll be able to see small groups of hobos circling around campfires around the place, at different spots yards away from each other. The trees have grown around here, producing a decent shade for the hobo community to cover under in case of a rain, or during a particularly hot day in New Orleans.
Having parked the bike a couple of blocks away at a gas station, then made it the rest of the way to their destination on foot, Mason glances down and over at Lola, "Always. Easier t'be disappointed than caught surprised and bare-assed naked." As they get to their destination Mason wrinkles his nose just a bit at the scent, "That's some powerful dead leprous donkey ass smellin' shit in there. Stay close, hmm?" He says as he leads his way through the gate, trying to be ready for anything without lookin' like some gawky tourist. He doesn't have any weapon at hand, but there's plenty close, and glances around, "Now where to find a bunch o' ginsu totin' rag-pickin' monkey-fuckin' hobos at, d'ya think?"
"I guess." Lola murmurs. One day she'll learn how weapons work. Until now, she'll just trust her eyes and look for anyone or anything suspicious. Lola shifted a bit closer to Mason to whisper, trying to discreetly motion to a particular group. "Those ones look about right maybe? They eatin' at least. Maybe they're willin' to talk too?" She has no idea what they're looking for exactly but body parts plus disappearing people seems like a likely combination for some kind of cannibalism... right?
The two are starting to get some eyes on them now, but nothing much more than that. Some glances here, turning heads there, but the hobos don't seem to mind and continue with whatever activity they're doing- mainly, staying warm near their fires and not freeze their balls (or tits!) off.
Mason looks over in the direction that Lola indicates, sayin' quietly, "You can whisper super f'n quiet, I'll hear you...but mebbe, lemme see what ... yeah, dunno, shit they're rollin' around in in here's totally maskin' anythin' else." With a shrug he starts walkin' over towards the indicated group, a confident - but not threating - sort of saunter. "Nothin' doin' but needing to get closer and see, unless you got somethin' else in mind, there, chica?" He says, glancing down at Lola..and doing a terrible job at pulling off that 'chica'.
Even though they're in the middle of a bunch of random hobos who may or may not be into eating people, Lola adds, "Leave the Spanish to the speakers, eh Papi?" A light tease in her tone before her expression turns serious again. La Sang is curious. Drifting from group to group, seeing if anything interesting is there. She shakes her head about having any other ideas and walks right up to the group with them. "Hey, we don't wanna interrupt your dinner or anything, yeah? But we've got some important questions we need to ask."
There's a mixture of adults, children, and the eldery in the group, about five or six people. Maybe a family? But they soon point towards someone, a middle-aged woman in their group, probably the mom of the family. She rises up, and when she does, this woman actually looks more like a hippie than hobo, with that colorful mismatch of outfit. There's dirt on her face, and she looks visibly dirty, but there's just a bit of that mother's warmness on her face when she approaches the two and talks. "What can I do for you two?" A welcoming smile on her face. But something seems to catch Lola's attention now. Maybe it's out of curiosity, but when she takes another glance at the food they're eating, she can somehow make out the familiar shape of an arm, roasted, being eaten by one of the hobos. It's too big to be a chicken's thigh or whatever, that's for sure. Mason does not notice this.
Mason rubs at his nose, mutterin' someethin about ass-kimchee deodorant, apparently the wolf isn't going to get a damned thing with whatever that wind gust just did to his nose. He gives the woman a once over sorta look, eyes wary, the man's used to checkin' out random strangers and gaugin' them for intent, but normally his sense of smell ain't checked itself out and gone fishin'. "Was lookin' for a friend of our, ma'am, heard he was down this way thought maybe you might'a seen him."
Lola's eyes dart quickly over the scene, narrowing ever so slightly before looking back to the woman . "Yeah, his brother's worried sick." She gives a basic description of the kidnapped Wolfblood. She looks up at Mason for a moment, trying to figure out how she's supposed to tell him there's an arm being chowed down on? She looks again, crossing her arms in a casual manner. Getting an idea. "Damn, did you guys catch a gator for dinner? See that Mason? Looks like a gator /arm/ don't it?" Putting some emphasis on the word 'arm' as she motions to the arm eating hobo and then flashes a grin back to the woman.
The woman stares at Mason, ponders, and looks at her group for confirmation. They stare back up at her, but shake their heads, just as clueeless as she is. "Ah, I'm really sorry, big guy. None of us has seen anyone like that before. The last time some outsiders entered this place was around... five days ago? There were some cops who went to ask us things. I wasn't around at that time, so I didn't know what the specifics of the questions, but it had something to do with some missing hobos down east." Her eyebrows perk up when Lola mentions about the meat, her own eyes following hers when she looks down, and she notes. "Oh yeah, some of our boys found some still-fresh cut up, uhm, human... arms, in some dumpsters nearby. We thought they'd be a waste if we just left them there while we starved. I know it's an immoral thing to do," she lets out a genuine sigh of discomfort. "But we've had some rough times lately. I'm sorry you have to see that. Anything else I can do for you?"
Mason blinks, clearly doing some mental juggling of what she just mentioned vs the rest of what they know, then looks at the arm that's bein' munched on and then the hippie like woman once more. "Hmmm. Can you point out which dumpsters it was? You're sure they were fresh? About when was that? " He glances over at Lola, a hint of confusion allowed to show on his face, but then looks back to the hippie-lady for her response.
Lola frowned a bit. Well, that seemed reasonable. The body parts *were* everywhere lately. "Tough times." She agreed, sympathetically, looking up at Mason at his line of questioning and then back to the woman. "I'm sorry, I know it must be hard to think about eating people, yeah? I definitely believe you." She laid a hand over her heart. "My friend here's just thorough yeah? We'll be out of your hair in no time."
That smile on her face has yet to fade away. She's such a kind person! The woman looks up to Mason again, pondering his words with that genuine look of concern like she really wants to help them out. "I'm not sure, I don't usually go out to do that kind of stuff. I stay at home and take care of my people, but my boy was the person who last brought them over, I think. He's not here yet, though, I reckon he's out with his friends right now." And just as she's speaking about her son, the front gates creak open loudly, and three youths (some 18-20 year old boys) barge in with an annoyed look on their faces, and apparently that annoyance is directed towards the outsiders Mason and Lola. "Who the fuck are these people?!" One of them demands as they approach closer. The woman quickly steps up to try and calm him down, but to no avail. He's really mad about something, from the looks of it.
The blood familiar of Lola hovers beside her, and it moves into her peripheral vision just enough to take her attention as it whispers to her. "Spirits," it says, nodding its head towards the three youths. But to Mason, it's already too obvious. These kids are Ridden, and he can perceive the cannibal spirits latching onto their hosts like parasites, encouraging them towards the spirits' twisted goals. And their influence has begun to take its toll on them. Bloodshot eyes, lips and tongue that are too red, gaunt skin, like someone who looks as if they haven't eaten in days. One of them turns its head sharply towards Mason, teeth grimacing. "You. You're an outsider. You don't have any business being in here! If you don't leave now," he suggests furiously, and purposefully leaving his last remark there unfinished for them to figure out. He reaches into something in his pocket.
"Ridden." Mason says quietly, pitched really for Lola's ears, but .. well, others are likely to hear that too. He takes another step forward and that step seems to be more than just a physical step closer to the Urged hosts - rather suddenly he's /bigger/, like he gained a hole half again of himself in muscle, bone, and bad-assery. Just barely does the holdster around his thigh stay in place, it and the belt left just a bit loose for this reason alone. All of his clothes are tighter, and when he speaks again his voice deeper, rougher and just a bit 'off'. "Fuck that. You've gone and lost your ever lovin' donkey' fuckin' minds to the shit that's eatin' your souls."
Lola tilts her head slightly as La Sang whispers and then nods a touch. She looks to Mason as he confirms her familiar's words. She better get a damned body out of this. "We can help you. If you wanna be helped. Get rid of 'em for you." Lola offers. "But," To Mason specifically, "If they don't wanna be helped, can we at least leave one sorta alive?" Like asking for some chicken wings at the store or something. She follows him and, if possible, would relieve him of one of this various knives he's got strapped to himself while the other blooded is reaching for something in his pocket.
Witnessing the man takes up that imposing form, and sensing huge trouble in the air, the gathered hobos around them quickly bolt out of there. The Ridden are visibly shocked and frightened by it as well, but they stand their ground, each withdrawing what appears to be wicked knives. And not just any knives- these are silver, crafted entirely for werewolf killing. They begin to spread out and circle around Lola and Mason, their eyes full of anger and evil intent.
Mason was clearly trying to be the focus of the attack, and begins to trade blows with the first of the Ridden that attacks him. Leather armor proves its use as it manages to fend off the silver knife slashs that he doesn't manage to dodge while he, in turn, eventually starts to rack up some damage on that first opponent. That guy reaches his tipping point and turn to run, which Mason takes full advantage of with a swipe to put him out of his misery.
Amidst all this, the other Ridden have moved to focus on Lola, presumaly fruterated with the armor he's wearing, and one manages to cut her...which seems to annoy the big Uratha. He grabs that one's arm by the wrist just above the knife..and rips the whole damned arm off in a mess of blood and gore.
As the last turns to run away, he shifts into Garou .. so the now huge beast does not even have to move his feet to reach out and swipe the fleeing Ridden's head from his shoulders with a roar.
When things popped off, Lola's first instinct is to lunge, try and grapple one of the people going after Mason. Except that, well, she's just not built for fighting okay! So she's easily shrugged off. La Sang makes a quiet attempt to impart some aid to Lola in the form of making her crazy. Lola's eyes *do* look a bit crazed for a second or two, but whatever he tried didn't take. She just digs deep into her reserves and starts stabbing like, well, a normally crazy person. Not a spiritually enhanced crazy one. She even lands some too!
Until she gets stabbed with one of their stupid silver knives. She cries out and stumbles backward before lunging at the Ridden again, attempting to stab him in revenge. It fails, but Mason rips the dude's arm off so Lola's not too upset. La Sang expends some of his essence just to aid in making sure Lola doesn't do any bleeding out herself. While she's muttering something about these /pendejos/ that keep ruining her shirts with their knives. While Mason is busy ripping the head off the final one, Lola makes a point to retrieve the silver knives from the other two. One hand has instinctively gone to her side wound, looking over in the direction of the Garou formed Uratha once she has collected the weapons. "...Can we go now?" Looking the slightest bit pale, but mostly disappointed that all three of them were very dead and so useless to her.
It's a brutal aftermath. The Spirit-Urged didn't stand a chance against the might of a Rahu Blood Talon, even while armed with silver knives and outnumbering him 3:1. This whole place is empty now, the eerie silence only occasionally broken by the crackling of wood by the unattended campfires. The resonance in here is awful, influenced by the many spirits of decay, disease, and poverty, Their presence can be felt even more, now that there's barely any humans in here. Perhaps they shouldleave, before more of the Urged decide to arrive.