Logs:To Whom the Bear Tolls

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To Whom the Bear Tolls


Characters: Tom, Nilsen, Saulot
Date: 2020-05-27
Summary: A vamp, a wolf, and a four-armed grunch walk into a bar.
Disclaimers:

ToWhomTheBearTolls.png

This late at night most things are nice. Peaceful even. Doubly so with the woes of the pandemic still hitting some areas of the city. However, that peace ends up ruined by the night. Word slips around town in varius ways. To Accorded bars, Tur, and Elyisa. Something, big and hair near the outskirts of town that's already taken out two driver. Sadly, exactly what might it be is difficult discern with the great game of telephone taking home. Just that something big, hairy, and angrey is causing a ruckus on the highway. Worse, it's heading further into the city.

By car, foot, or flight the path there is largely unimpeded. The cops haven't come around just yet, so that means the mortals are either unaware or uncaring. Despite this either of them can see at least a clear path of destruction. However, it's not leading directly to the city despite the upturned cars seemingly pointing that way. The path itself leads a bit furtehr south, and skirts the borders of a church.

Tom isn't happy about being here, but he's never really happy about having to do anything. It's late, he's tired, and he was smoking some good weed when this bullshit started spreading around town. That's already expelled from his system now, and a simmering annoyance has replaced what was once a night of good vibes. The sight of upturned cars does cause him to pause, if only briefly to mutter a "Fuck me.." under his breath as he stares up at the church. "Christ, is this gonna be some religious demon crap." said out to the world at large, even as he sends his vision yonder to world's beyond for signs of obvious trouble.

"Hope not." Nilsen's there, having parked their bike a good way back and approaching on foot. They're getting paid for this, so they'd better have gotten their undead ass down to the scene. Even immortality doesn't pay all of the bills. "Never does go well with churches, does it?"

The church itself appears mundane enough. Four walls, ceiling, steeple, belfry, et cetera. Nothing too out of the ordinary. The lights are on inside, and there are five cars sitting in the parking lot. However, there's no sound coming from inside, at least none they can hear save entering the front door or one of the windows. Outside the church, though, they can spot damage around the area. Overturned trees, kicked up earth, and further along a lone body strung up between tree branches as if tossed up with relative ease. Tom just eyes Nilsen for a few moments, his mood sour already it's not exactly a friendly greeting to the pale person. ".. Something like that." he just says finally. His attention is quickly drawn to the sight however, coming to linger on the body up the tree branches. A sigh escaping him, as he makes his way over there. Intent to climb up the tree and get the poor sod down, inspect the corpse if it's the worst case.

Nilsen doesn't mind the sour greeting. They're very much used to it by now. There's work to do, anyway, even if it's securing the stiff in the trees. They can help get him down, maybe look him over. They're okay with medicine, for someone who's dead. If the person up there is /alive/, well, they might help with that.

The trail of gore ends soon enough, but when it does they can make out something along the ground. Prints from smoething big and heavy. It's a bit weird, though. It looks like two feet from who- or whatever made the mess. Then four, and further on six. Later past that a small pair of prints can be seen, and closer inspection reveals them to be shoeprints at least half as big as theirs.

The shoeprints came out of nowhere, and then disappeared as quickly. Whoever they belonged to departed back the way they came, but those bigger prints keep on going.

They can sense it well enough, although how differs between the preternatural men. The fresh smell of crminson wafts in the air, both behind them and much further ahead. The sound of footsteps crunching brunches and leaves. A heart beats, but not just one. As the vampire listens he hears another. All of it comes from something some fifteen or so meters ahead.

Tom is baffled for a few moments, as he follows the changing tracks. Scratching his messy hair, before he catches the scent and squints ahead towards its source. Fingers twitching, flexing. The promise of violence is in the air clear enough, with the blood and destruction that is around them. A moment of hesitation, before he begins to shift and change with strange unnatural sounds, a man becoming a shaggy monster of a wolf. An image painted out of the horror stories of man-eaters.

Nilsen stares into the gloom, quietly removing their gloves and revealing some pale and very scarred hands. They drop, the left one rippling as what looks to be bone slides out in a spikey and very unpleasant-looking shard. They watch Tom change with interest, holding up two fingers and nodding into the dark. Time to have a look.

It stands there, rubbing its back against the tree. Normal, bear-like behavior. The sound would have given it away if it weren't for its relatievly massive size. To the werewolf it looks like it almost equals the height of The People in war form. It's covered in shaggy brown fur and its visage is that of an ursine. That's where the similarites between it and a true bear end. Instead of the oh so normal two the thing has a total of four arms, and the claws on those paws look more like pairs of visious talons. Atop its bear-ish head are a rack of antlers that currently seem to be shedding, although the blood that drips is an oily, black mess. It was content to scratch its ass against the tree, at least until it gets sight of the pair.

There is little time to waste, this thing obviously not being of this world. Tom stalks forward, suprisingly silent seeing as he is a giant monster wolf as if taken out of a fairy tale. Fur raised, keeping low as he approaches the tree and the warped ursine, sniffing silently, savouring and catching its scent. Closer. Closer.

Nilsen goes low, looking at the monster with narrowed eyes. Well, this certainly was new. They're not as stealthy, not for lack of trying. Their path has more twigs and they can't switch out shoes for paws. But they're ready to fight, feeling the blood rise in their undead body.

Shit, this thing is bigger than what Nilsen is used to. They're more of a two-legged hunter than anything else. In terms of size, this is up there, except for that incident with the mordibly obese lady in that parking lot. The bones, still slick with blood, swing out in their attempt to gouge into the flesh of the bear...thing.

The creature isn't the deftest of things, but it does get lucky enough to narrowly evade Nilsen's attack. As it does so it catches an unseen opening in the Knife's defense. Just as the boney blade just cuts away a bit of fur all eight claws are sunk into the vampire's ribcage.

It's with a savage growl that Tom leaps at the large bear, claws seeking purchase in its thick hide as massive jaws snap and slobber. But the hide proves too thick, not managing to get a proper hold. Quickly falling off it in the wake of his attack, circling the beast.

Ouch. Well, that's no good. Nilsen takes the hit, blooding running between the claws digging into them as their arm snaps to try and catch that bear again. It's a nasty weapon jutting out of their arm, good for...well, hopefully this bear-thing. Nilsen's pretty pissed at it.

The thing clutches at where its been hit with one paw. It covers up that wound with its left, and from its right tries to swipe at Nilsen again. Two sets of paws come sailing at them, just barely missing their head and in turn the beast's backside is exposed to Tom.

Circling, circling. Tom eventually does pounce the great bear oncemore, this time finding purchase as he sinks his long fangs into its throat. Snapping shut and tearing, blood pouring down his throat and muzzle as chunks are torn clean off, claws digging into its side as he latches onto the prey. Instinct kicking in as he bites in a savage fury.

It was ready to lunge at Nilsen one more time before Tom sinks its teeth into it. It roars in pain, a terrible thing that carries an echo with it. The secondary voice almost sounded human, something child-like and angry as it roared, "No!" Despite the creature's defiance it's ripped away from consciousness by the Uratha's attack. As it begins to bleed its vile ichor, it swiftly begins to decay. A cloud of black mist erupts all around them, destroying much of the plantlife in the process, rotting them into brown lifelessness.

Nilsen steps back once the thing starts to rot, kneeling to look at the destroyed plants after the thing explodes into murk. They're hurt, that much is clear, but they're alive. "...Thanks." Pause. "Good boy?" Eh, they tried to joke. To diffuse tension? They're like tr- ah, whatever. Wait. "Do we check inside the church?" This is a bit above their pay grade, they're not sure.

Blood drips from Tom's muzzle, and gleaming yellow eyes give Nilsen a less than humored stare at the joke. But the hulking monster steps back as well from the terrible fumes, snorting and sneezing with a low growl. Sniffing into the air, keeping tense, low, still. Ready for more prey.

The path back is undisturbed, although the creature has left a right mess behind. The mist finally ends after spreading about ten meters, and left nothing short of decay among the plantlife. Past that the trail of odd paw prints, blood, and viscera. A few seconds after the death of the creature the church bell tolls, signalling the change in hour. As the bell rings the wind blows, taking much of what's left with the creature with it.

Nilsen rises, shuffling their feet in the brown grass, taking in the surroundings. Alone, save for a wolf? Alone. A light crackling is heard as the bones in their arm knit and gnarl back into a normal shape. They've been avoiding looking at the lighting of the church, hand in front of their face as they take in the belltower tolling. "Any idea what that was?"

With a snap and a disgusting sight Tom becomes a man oncemore, a man whose chin and t-shirt is stained with wet blood. He spits some out onto the ground, wiping his mouth with the back of a hand. "I've an idea or two. - I can't smell any more of them. Fucker took a kid, I think."

"A kid?" A sour look crosses their face. "Shit." Well, they're both kind of fucked up, this situation is /entirely/ fucked up, and there's probably going to be a lot of people here very quickly. "We gotta bug. You tell your people, I'll tell mine. If they'll listen to me." Wince. They're not going to say they don't want to be seen feeding. These wounds were deep.

Tom spits out blood again, the taste not as compelling to a human tongue. "Sure, I'll let them know." he gives them a look briefly with a faint frown. Before he shakes his head, and takes off.