2014.05.26:BBQ Crashers

BBQ Crashers
Gorehounds crash a BBQ, Carolyn is handy with blades, Quinn is really Little Red Riding Hood, and Trekome is literally a Devil Dog.
IC Date	May 26th, 2014
IC Time	Afternoon
Players	Carolyn, Quinn, Trekome
Location	State Park
Spheres	Gaian Garou, Seelie

RP Room 2

One of California’s many state parks. This particular area has a nice open stretch of grass for games or camping, with a couple picnic tables and a fire pit. A well maintained gravel road leads up to the field, with trees surrounding the area, providing a fair amount of privacy.

Contents: Quinn Carolyn Obvious Exits: Lobby <LO>

Late afternoon and the picnic grounds are deserted, save for Carolyn who's setting out food on one of the rough tables the state park service provides. The weather is even good.

Trekome is out by his pickup truck grabbing the grill out of the bed. "Hey, ma'a- Carol, did you want Jim or Jack? I got both in the cooler, along with some beers." Yup, Marine: meat and whiskey and he's good to go. Now toss in some guns and tobacco and it's a party.

Quinn came with Trekome. she's in her new found wardrobe of long skirts and tank tops and letting her hair down. If Care hasn't seen it, it's well below her waist and red and wavy. She moves to help Trek by taking the cooler. Yep they came for a cook out.

"Just a beer," Carolyn answers. "Thanks." She goes to collect said beer, the other food laid out. Wind swirls around the clearing, directionless and vague. Carolyn frowns. There's something about the breeze that sets teeth on edge.

Trekome hauls over the grill and sets it down nearby before going over to the table to look over the fixin's. "Hey, pretty nice. Looks like you pu-" The sentence is cut short by the breeze, making him furrow his brow at it. "Put a lot of time into it." he says after a moment.

Quinn sets the cooler down near the grill and stands looking up curiousely to the Captain. "you ok Carolyn?" she asks, curiouse and finally using the officer's name.

Carolyn's put out quite a bit of food...chips, salsa, salad, chocolate cake....there's meat to grill of course as well. She nods absently, and is busy looking around. "This could be bad," she mutters. Maybe not maybe she was talking about hte food saying 'just a tad.' "Yeah.. fi....." a foul smell, iron and feces wafts across the wind. "I hope you guys are armed," she says. Just back in the trees there's an animalistic bellow, then another. And the sputtering buzz of a chainsaw.

Trekome perks his head up at the smell alone, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He looks at Quinn, "Pelican cases in the back of the cab, grab them." He looks at Carol, furrowing his brows, "Still got your M&P on you?" he asks, "And what's is that /thing/?" he asks, voice dropping to a low gravely tone.

'I hope you guys are armmed' is all she needs before quickly drawing her personal conseal carry of her Sig. and looks off towards the sounds. her eyes are keen far more keen than a mortal. infact her sence of smell, touch, hearing and sight and she uses all of them trying to sence what is coming. She nods to the leiutenant moves to the truck quickly while also combing the horizon for the danger.

Carolyn doesn't answer Trek. She's looking into the trees where the sound comes from. There's not long to wait. Four large ... men, more or less, burst out of the woods. One brandishes a chainsaw, the others, axes and machetes, and they sprint toward the vehicles and the cookout. Trailing behind is a more normal size man, impeccably dressed, who hangs back and watches, an ugly smile on his lips.

Quinn is at the truck and holstering her sig in order to pull the cases from cab. she tosses on her pack and pulls from it her 1911 and high tails it back to the group.

Trekome doesn't think there's going to be anywhere near enough time to grab the rifles out of the truck before the threats are too close for comfort, and draws his pistol when the sounds keep drawing nearer, keeping it at the low ready. "Quinn, rifles!" he calls out, too late though, the gorehounds appearing just as he calls to her. "Contact!" The word is pretty damn universal for anyone military: threat. He doesn't wait for actual hostile intent; the simple fact that there are five armed men charging at them is all he needs before he raises his pistol and fires at one, catching it in the gut.

The gorehound stumbles, but then straightens, roaring with rage and pushes on. Blood and worse ooze out of the wound briefly, but only briefly. One of the monsters head for Carolyn, the one Trek shot, swinging its chainsaw, heads for him with another for backup, and the last for Quinn.

Carolyn does...something, and there's a blade, a sword really, in one hand, a dirk in the other. The sword blazes like it's carved from lightning as she gets ready to receive the attack.

Quinn makes it back only to a few yeards away from trek before contact is called. she sets the cases down and dips into fireing position. She sees the hound take a hit and keep coming so she attempts to shift from center mass to a head shot with her .45. no good however as it just hits flesh and continue on.

Trekome waits just long enough for the effects of the first round he fired to show, eyes narrowing when he realizes this is /definitely/ not your average threat. He fires off three rounds in quick succession, aiming for center of mass and getting good hits around the chest, but the rounds seem to do nothing. He curses under his breath, wanting to take on his war form, but refusing to do it with Carolyn still here. He'll have to try to tough this one out.

Carolyn stands in a ready position, but if you look her way she's different...Fury rolls off her like smoke, not that the gorehounds notice, and she seems limned in faint light, her clothes are finer and then there's the sword. She steps forward to the attack, parrying against the closest with her dirk and taking a cut at the other with that blazing sword...

Carolyn partially parries the axe that swings at her, taking an ugly gash to her leg. Her sword, however, cuts cleanly across teh chest of the gorehound attacking her, opening an ugly wound in spray of blood and stink of burned pork. The beastman bellows in pain and rage and pulls back for anotehr swing.....

Trekome looks oddly calm for someone who's being charged by a couple of maniacs with machettes and chainsaws... actually, he looks pretty peaceful, like this were how the world normally operates. He grins when the chainsaw is swung at him, waiting for the chainsaw to start halfway through its arc before jumping out of the way, though the second guy with the machette manages to get luckier with the lighter weapon. The blade grazes his chest, cutting the fabric of his blouse and shirt, but otherwise doesn't hurt him. Lucky.

Quinn actually lunges out of the way. She's not calm, this is not normal. She relys on her training but doesn't look at peace the way Trek dose. while on her knees she grabs the rifle case and begins backing away from the front line, her .45 raised and ready to fire again at the attacking target.

Trekome sees the chainsaw swing around again and jumps out of the arc narrowly. He points the gun straight at the chainsaw wielding maniac and dumps the rest of the mag. Normally this would be an easy shot at point blank range, but the second asshole brings the machette down onto him, making him recoil from the blow and miss entirely. The wound is pretty harsh, shredding his blouse and shirt and leaving a deep cut down his back, making him roar out in pain.

Carolyn times it properly this time around, and deflcts the axe swung at her with her dirk. She uses the force of that parry to add to the blow she swings with her sword, and slashes halfway into the thing's chest, flames roaring on the blade and filling the air again with the sick smell of burned flesh . The monster bellows, or tries to, but it turns into a gasp as lungs are cut. The beast staggers back, mortally wounded but not down.

Quinn tries to hold her ground over the rifle case planning on going for the more powerful rifle as soon as she has the chace. she fires rapidly attempting to put the attacker down as quick as possible. Everything she has been taught says the baddie should be destroyed by as many round she put into it. she relies on that knowledge and doesn't back away or think about backing away untill its to late and she it far too close.

Her opponent wounded and staggering, Carolyn abandons defense for attack. No feint, no subtlety, just a forehand cut that jerks through the things spine and removes its head in a spray of gore. She turns, and surveys the rest of the battle briefly....

Trekome feels the blood gush from the wound on his back, soaking into the fabric around it, the cool air hit the open wound. He sees look at the others and sees one go down, but Quinn is still being attacked. He makes the call: he can't keep taking this beating and go down, not when the others can be killed. He taps into the rage deep inside him and forces himself to shift, muscle and bone mass shifting and growing near instantly, clothes ripping and falling off in tatters. The one with the machete swings again, but he's already moving to rip into the one with the chainsaw, and takes the hit his back. He focuses on the hit, solid form and pure strength, starting low like an uppercut and slashing up the gorehound's body. His claws dig deep, ripping flesh like it were paper, gutting him, spilling entrails, and snapping his ribs like twigs while shredding lung tissue.

Quinn 's slide locks back and she knows she's in trouble. she pulls another mag from her pack and drops the one from the pistol. it's a fluid motion as she slids the second mag in, keeping the weapon at eye level and getting back into fire stance quickly. but she's too close to the attacker and though she weaves as she sees the attack it still lands. she's never been wounded in battle, never seen her own blood flow. but there's no time to think on that.

The gangly man at the back draws a sword and starts, hesitantly toward Carolyn. Carolyn doesn't hestitate in the least. She charges him. Her voice, normally quiet, carries like a trumpet over the chaos of the fight. "Honor in deeds! Death to he who flees!" There's a clash of blades and flash of fire when the steel meets and the two pull back a pace, the man's face pale, eyes wide with fear.

Quinn looses ground finally having to jump back to avoid another swipe. the rifles are lost, but not all is lost as Trek goes Crinos Quinn is sure the tide will shift.

Trekome finishes ripping through the first attacker, letting what's left of his body fall to the ground, and spins around to face the second attacker. He sees the machete come at him in a wide arc, stepping back quickly but still feeling the blade find his flesh. It's nothing though, barely a flesh wound, and immediately moves in to bite at the gorehound, managing to catch it's arm and hurting him.

Carolyn and Janvier trade blows, a fog of steel swirling around them as blades ring off blades in a sort of mad blacksmith's chorus.

Quinn didn't like giving up her ground but the extra space makes gives her a better target. her training keeps her rounds on target as she rapid fires into the beast, actually hurting it. she knows she isn't going to have enough time to reload before the beast is on her again.

Trekome sees the maniac with the machette aim a thrust at him and lunges forward, sidestepping at the last second and extending out his claws to dig them into his belly. The machete does nothing to him; papercuts would be more annoying than this. His claws, however, rip open his belly and spill hits guts to the ground.

Trekome immediately turns his attention to the gorehound that's attacking Quinn. He immediately follows his momentum and swings to dig his claws into its back, tearing flesh and muscle and leaving the thing staggering in front of Quinn.

Janvier lunges at Carolyn who slips the lunge with a deft parry, her counterattack is rushed, but wounds Janvier, scoring a painful slash across his ribs. He cries out and drops his blade and turns to run....

Quinn watches her attacker get malled by Trek in Crinos right infront of her eyes. this is usually what messes up humans, and gives kin nightmears. So why is Quinn Smialing. after she sees the creature stagger from Treks attack she walks up reaches way back and slams her fist into it with all her might, putting it down for good.

Janvier gets about two steps when a raven flies at him...it touches him and there's a flash of lightning and deafening crack! He falls, dead. The raven caws once and settles on Carolyn's shoulder

Carolyn watches Janvier fall, and looks at him for a minute. She spits on the body and turns back to Trek and Quinn. She walks slowly toward them, still in her fae seeming in the mortal world....Gleaming brown hair, shot through with hilights of gold and copper, eyes grey and glittering as frost...the sidhe woman is fair, light as the dawn, terrible and splendid as a queen of old. The sword continues to blaze incandescently, pale smoke wafting off it.

Quinn watches the raven of death strike down the last man and fly back to Carolyn. she holds her arm that took most of the defencive wounds from the mauling best. she doesn't seem like she needs rushed to the hospitol but deffinatly looks like she's been in a fight. Her attention however is on Carol, and while watching odd woman and taking a steps backward till she is at Trek's side.

Trekome turns his attention just as he sees the last one fall, nodding once as the fight seems to have ended. He turns immediately to Quinn and looks her over, smelling her blood and looking concerned for a moment. She's standing though, and she looks like she's still ready to go, so he gives her a knowing nod. He turns his attention to Carol, watching her come over, and grins a bit, finally relaxing but staying in crinos form as his wounds close up and heal slowly.

Carolyn walks up to Quinn, putting the sword away as she comes. "Relax," she murmurs. She reaches out a hand to touch the wound Quinn’s holding, drawing her finger gently down it while murmuring under her breath, soft words that call to mind ancient halls under towering trees under the stars. The wound knits as Carolyn draws her finger along it.

Quinn puts her uninjured hand on Trekome, gripping onto his fur as she is approched and touches by the glowy woman. she doesn't quite relax but she stays still and lets Carolyn work whatever she is working. If she didn't have a hand on Trek she would be far more nervouse about the Fae. but it's not entierly nervousness that keeps her so close to the Crinos.

Trekome just watches Carolyn, eyeing the sword until it's put away. He nods slightly and relaxes, doing his best to take a less aggressive stance, which may be hard for a Garou in war form. He watches Carolyn curiously as she touches Quinn, keeping a close eye on what she does, though he knows that if she were inclined to hurt either of them she'd have done it by now. He smiles when he sees Quinn's wounds heal up and dips his head to the Fae.

When Carolyn lowers her hand, the glamour fades, sinking into her and she's her normal self again....bleeding from a gash on her leg, hair a bit wild, but herself. She looks up at Trek, then at Quinn. "Let me guess. You're really little red riding hood?"

Quinn snorts a chuckle and wraps both her arms arouns Trekome's ... as much as she looks like a child next the the 9 foot beast "I don't know what you're talking about... we're just Marines. Are you going to be able to heal yourself? I hope you didn't waist your healing ... um... spell on me."

Trekome just grins at Carolyn and reaches down to rub Quinn's shoulder, well, rub as gently as he can figuring that she's probably a bit sore. He doesn't say anything just yet, most of his speech probably just sounding like growls right now, but his facial expression does show appreciation.

"I know the marines are called 'devil dogs,'" Carolyn tells QUinn, "But that's ridiculous." She looks at the hairy wolf-man that is Trek and tilts her head. Her hair falls in her face so she takes a moment to pull it out of the way and back into her usual ponytail. "Loup-garou. What is your clan? I've known many brave warriors of the Fiana, in the past."