Sam Spaid World of Darkness: Attrition - Lost to the Night - Part 5: Something(s) Wicked [FIN]

[Sam Spaid]

August 24th, evening

The last arc of the sun lay simmering on the horizon, burning a deep blood red, and staining the city like some kind of profane prophecy. Long shadows stretched out into the crimson light like ghastly claws stretching through pools of blood. Sam sat in her car and fought against the raw nerves that were making her regret getting out of bed that morning. She was clad in black from head to toe, a conceit to stealth that did nothing to help cope with the late day heat. Black boots, leggings, tee-shirt under a black sweatshirt, and a black ball-cap with her hair pulled through the loop in the back. Her car was parked down the street from Brad's bloodsucking leech of a master's home, and she was waiting and watching. Once the sun fell below the horizon, which would be very soon by the way the ember was dripping down toward the sea, the creature would wake and then it and it's blood addled slaves would apparently leave apparently to rob the UCLA business school.

Sam intended to shadow them, follow them to hopefully win an opportunity to free Brad from the monster's clutches, if that was even possible. The woman, Bonita, probably deserved it too, or maybe she had at one point; now she was as cruel and evil as her master, but she was at least human. The whole process wasn't an exact science. Hell, it's barely even a plan, Sam grumbled to herself.

Night fell. Officially. That just meant that the last burning trace of the sun finally fell below the horizon. In actuality the dark merely took a stronger hold as the last long streamers of direct light evaporated into nothingness. Twilight now clad the city in in dim light that would wane for the next hour or two before full dark finally banished the last of the reflected natural light.

In her car, Sam lurked like a living shadow until the barely glowing hands of her watch indicated half past ten. The garage door rolled up and a van backed out. Sam started her own car and followed the van, sparing to thought to the possibility that all three may not be within. Whichever of them drove they drove carefully, never going above the speed limit, never running a light or rolling through a stop sign. It was so conspicuously safe and legal that only somebody unaccustomed to crime would think to drive that way. The drive took nearly forty minutes but finally they breached the campus perimeter. The van stopped, the lights going out immediately. Sam quickly pulled into a spot further down the street and got out of her car. In all black she was a shadow walking in darkness, and she hoped that that would be enough.

The three figures got out of the van and started walking, Sam wondered why they didn't drive directly to the business building, but then figured that it would be more conspicuous for a van than for three figures with fully laden backpacks. Whatever they were planning to steal would be small and valuable. That or there was more to the plan that Sam would learn in time. It didn't matter, she'd find out soon enough. She trailed along behind the three, her rubber sole boots making little noise, and her slim, black clad form darting from tree to shrub, to car.

Up ahead the two ghouls plodded on with singular purpose, oblivious to their tail. Henrik was a hunter, and man with experience. He had made Sam long ago, almost as soon as they left the haven. He smiled; tonight's meal had come to him.

Shadowing

Sam

[jameson] 9:20 pm: Dex 2 + Stealth (shadowing) 2(3) = 5 dice, just for giggles and drama

jameson *rolls* 5d10: 6+4+2+1+3: 16

[jameson] 9:22 pm: Brad 5 dice

jameson *rolls* 5d10: 6+5+1+7+3: 22

[jameson] 9:22 pm: Bonita 6 dice

jameson *rolls* 6d10: 5+3+4+7+2+7: 28

[jameson] 9:23 pm: lulz

[Jeremy] 9:23 pm: lol

[jameson] 9:23 pm: Henrik 5 dice

jameson *rolls* 5d10: 10+8+8+9+8: 43

jameson *rolls* 1d10: 2: 2

[Jeremy] 9:23 pm: ....your luck run out

[jameson] 9:23 pm: ruh-roh

[jameson] 9:24 pm: Sam's gonna need some help

[Jeremy] 9:24 pm: hmm...

[Owns-The-Night] 9:25 pm: The Yard Snake to the rescue!

[Owns-The-Night]

"It happens sooner or later." Lise had told him as they'd sat on Santa Monica pier and watched the sun rise after a night's talking and learning. "There's some other members of the family who take a territory as theirs, and if they keep it they end up bonding with the land, like old-style kings were supposed to, symbolically, only with us it's real. Most of us younger wolves like to live a little more freely."

As far as Owns-The-Night was concerned, having a large range and a place to call his was close to heaven. He'd spent his entire adolesence and adulthood in a state of impermanence, bouncing from school to foster home to orphanage to school... And then to juvie for a few months before getting out and enlisting into a life just as transient. So the Vargr took his territory seriously. It was his, and if someone wanted it they'd have to go through him, because if they went around sooner or later he'd catch them.

Like the bloodsucking sonofawhore who'd been sniffing around the campus on and off for the last few weeks. Always gone before Dec could catch him, and his scent getting on the freeway to god-knows where. Some human scents accompanied him at times, a woman mostly, but a man more recently. Tainted, though. They smelled a little like the vampire. Slaves, but semi-willing ones. Dec had dealt with them before. They panicked as easily as other humans, but their loyalty to their master, or the vampire whammy, kept them focused enough to maybe be dangerous.

And now the wind carried their scents to him again. Both humans, and the vamp. Looks like they're making a play.

The huge dark-furred wolf rose from his favorite resting/hiding place roughly in the middle of the campus, between two large bushes where scents could still carry to him as he lounged. Silent as a shadow, he slipped out into the night he laid claim to and drifted carefully towards the offending scents. It was late, and no-one was around this area - the business building if Dec remembered rightly - at this time of night, especially before term-time. But still the great lupine took it's time, making sure to cause no noise, make no stirring that would alert even his own senses. Paws the span of a man's head trod lightly, the steel-sprung tendon and muscle under the thick black fur controlling every motion as he crept closer... closer.

The wind shifted a little and he froze: it was a momentary eddy only, but it had carried another scent to his nostrils, one he remembered. The lady P.I... Samantha. She of the pretty eyes and young laugh... and the butt. Let's not forget the butt. But now she was nearby. What the fuck is she doing here? he silently raged. Eyes that could read small print on a moonless night made out the black-clad figure stalking along, trying not to be noticed and doing a damn bad job of it... from his perspective anyway. The vampire and his two servants seemed oblivious. Great. Just great. Go away, lady! Can't do my job if you're tryin' to... wait.

Wits and Intelligence to remember Brad's face.

Owns-The-Night *rolls* 5d10: 9+3+5+2+2: 21

I'll be damned. You found him, and he's something's pet now. This was a new wrinkle. Owns-The-Night had revealed himself to August because it was that or let her die. Now that crazy (or determined) P.I. was about to get put in the damsel chair... if she got caught. Stay well back, Samantha. Don't get TOO close, frail. The Vargr circled closer to the three intruders, getting ready to pounce.

[Jeremy]

The bird flying overhead observed Sam, the alert looks of the vampire- Just when I thought this would go right for once... trouble, nothing but trouble.

OTN Stealth vs Jer Perception

Owns-The-Night *rolls* 11d10: 3+3+1+3+10+5+2+1+1+6+6: 41

Owns-The-Night *rolls* 1d10: 7: 7

[Owns-The-Night] 4:49 pm: There. Shit

Jeremy *rolls* 8d10: 9+5+5+3+1+2+6+1: 32

[Jeremy] 4:50 pm: heh

[Owns-The-Night] 4:51 pm: Defender wins. Wow.

[z-August Turner]

Brad walked with his head down. He didn't like this; they were going to rob the business school, his school. His dad had gotten his MBA there; his parents had met on the benches outside the building. It seemed like a massive betrayal, but Brad couldn't make himself stop.

"Bonita." The Master's voice cut though Brad's thoughts. "Go to the woman in the car, the one who is watching us. Bring her to me."

"Yes, Master," Bonita said, turning away from the Master. She wasn't good at sneaking and hiding, but she could circle around and come up from behind. "I'll bring you the woman." The built woman moved away, feeling the .45 she had tucked in her belt. She could intimidate the woman out of her vehicle and get her to go to the Master. No doubt the Master was hungry.

"Brad. Continue with the plan," the Master ordered. Brad glanced at him, and saw the burning eyes that bore into his mind.

"Yes, Master," Brad whispered, dropping his head and moving forward.

[Sam Spaid]

Sam flitted from car to shrub, to mailbox and back to another car. Moving from shadow to shadow taking cover behind whatever cast a long shadow and would block the view from ahead of her if one of them happened to look back. Sam thought she was doing well, nobody up ahead had turned to look back, and she was keeping up with them easily enough despite the dark of the night.

And then one went missing.

Sam was following three shadows when she lit behind a tree. Emerging after a moment there were two remaining. One was gone; the woman. Sam cursed to herself and skidded to a halt next to an SUV. Crouching low she cast furtive glances around into the darkness hoping to catch the woman, What was her name again? Bonita, before she got caught blindsided. Crap.

Perception

[jameson] 8:40 pm: making a perception roll

jameson *rolls* 6d10: 6+10+7+6+9+8: 46

jameson *rolls* 1d10: 6: 6

[jameson] 8:40 pm: 3 sux

[jameson] 8:41 pm: yes?

[Carver] 8:41 pm: Yes, 3 sux.

[Owns-The-Night]

Owns-The-Night saw it clearly, heard the murmured command as though he'd been standing next to the vampire. The latina went wide and circled round as soon as Samantha's vision was obscured, and her path took her right past the Vargr's hiding place. Meanwhile, the kid... Brad, wasn't it?... was all 'yes marthster' and doing something with the door as the vampire looked on. His enemy had split their forces.

It was too tempting not to take advantage of. Both instinctual wolf and trained soldier knew to eliminate the weakest part of a force first, should they so obligingly split up.

Silently he slipped after Bonita as soon as she was far enough not to hear the rustle of leaves as he broke cover. It was dark, and the great wolf kept in the shadows of the trees as he padded slowly in the minion's wake. But his eagerness for action, for this little hunt to be over and for the main event to begin, caused him to err, to move too quickly as the woman's back came nearer...

Sam, after a moment's looking around, saw Bonita clearly. Whatever uses the vampire had for her, stealth wasn't one of them, as was demonstrated by her laughable attempt at sticking close to cover. She was so busy eyeballing Sam's position she clear forgot to mask her own. Even as the detective's mind raced over her options on what to do next, she saw something that chilled the blood.

Behind the comically creeping latina was another moving shape, darker and more stealthy... and larger. As Sam stared, lights from a nearby pathway reflected silver in two eyes, and the rest of the shape resolved itself into a wolf- no, the wolf. Black-furred, easily the size of a pony, and padding intently after the woman with it's gleaming gaze levelled on her back, head low on the massive shoulders. It was as much awe-inspiring as it was terrifying, the sight causing her mouth to dry up even as her mind agilely moved to cope with the fact that another, deadly variable had entered the fray.

Bonita saw the woman fifteen feet away and smiled, reaching for the gun in her waistband and pulled it free. She paused at the nagging sense that there was something wrong, though... The woman's face was pale and her eyes wide as she looked at Bonita- No... Not at. Past. And the ghoul became aware of a footfall behind her on the grass and a sense of someone... someone or something close behind her, and she spun.

For a moment, she stared at the impossible sight that met her eyes. The dark wolf raised it's head slightly in shock, ears going back as black lips pulled back from teeth the size of steak knives. The two of them remained frozen for a long moment: Bonita paralysed by terror, and Owns-The-Night by surprise and chagrin at being discovered.

To Sam, it was plain that any minute now all hell would break loose.

Dex + Stealth roll for Bonita:

Owns-The-Night *rolls* 3d10: 7+6+5: 18

[Owns-The-Night] 1:51 am: jim - Well, Sam spotted Bonita *trying* to sneak towards her.

Wits + Composure: Bonita's own Perception roll

Owns-The-Night *rolls* 6d10: 9+10+9+3+2+10: 43

Owns-The-Night *rolls* 2d10: 8+8: 16

Dex+Stealth+Catwalk+Darksight

Owns-The-Night *rolls* 12d10: 1+10+4+5+5+6+7+5+1+10+2+1: 57

Owns-The-Night *rolls* 2d10: 7+1: 8

[Owns-The-Night] 2:01 am: heh. I suck.

2 succs

Initiative roll for OTN:

Owns-The-Night *rolls* 1d10: 5: 5 +8

Initiative 13

Initiative roll for Bonita:

Owns-The-Night *rolls* 1d10: 2: 2 + 6

Initiative 8

[Sam Spaid]

Sam saw the woman coming a mile away, or a good dozen yards at any rate. Oh, crap! Her hand darted to the small of her back, her waistband, where her gun ... wasn't. Shit! Stupid, stupid! A little less consideration for stealth, or maybe vainity, and a little more toward practiced routine and her gun could have been where it always was. Instead it was shoved haphazardly into the sweatshirt pocket on her right because between the tight leggings and the short sweatshirt, a gun would have stood out above her ass plainly.

The woman turned suddenly as Sam fumbled for the Glock. Behind her was something unreal, a wolf the size of a compact car, and three times as frightening. Sam saw Bonita's hand going for her own gun, and could only feel a tickle of gratefulness that she was now occupied with the half wolf half Yugo. A stray shaft of light, orange halogen from the street, illuminated the beasts face showing a pair of silver eyes like headlights and a mouth full of ivory teeth that made Sam flinch backwards, bumping into the SUV behind her.

Initiative

[jameson] 8:45 am: Initiative:

jameson *rolls* 1d10: 4+5: 9

[Owns-The-Night]

Owns-The-Night was driven by the necessity of a quick kill, or at least putting the vampire's servant down so hard she wouldn't be getting up in a hurry. He sprang for the woman as she pulled out her gun, the pounce poorly timed due to his haste, but his great jaws still found a mark in the flesh of his prey. Even as her right hand closed on the grip of the .45 in her waistband, Bonita cried out in shock as the oversized wolf's teeth lodged in her shoulder. Biting down, Owns-The-Night carried her behind the nearby cars with the force of his momentum before releasing his poor grip and sending the ghoul sprawling five feet away from Sam, blood soaking through the clothing over the woman's ripped shoulder.

Bonita's teeth were drawn back in a snarl of her own as she rolled to her knees gun in hand, the inhuman vitality of her Master's blood allowing her to treat the wound as a painful annoyance rather than a potentially crippling injury. She started to bring her weapon up as the wolf turned back towards her, the burning silver eyes edged with gold.

"C'mon, puto!" she hissed through teeth tight with pain and fear as she tried to draw a bead on the beast. It was too damn close for comfort, and even as her mind tried to rebel against what she was seeing, the street-raised latina knew a life-and-death struggle when she saw it.

[Owns-The-Night] 7:05 pm: Str + Brawl + Spec + OMG-Teeth + WP - 3 Defense = 12 dice...

Owns-The-Night *rolls* 12d10: 9+9+1+7+3+2+7+10+7+4+6+4: 69

[jameson] 7:06 pm:

[jameson] 7:06 pm: heheh 69 .... heheheh

Owns-The-Night *rolls* 1d10: 1: 1

[Owns-The-Night] 7:06 pm: Ahh, well. 3 isn't too bad I guess...

Bonita suffers 3 lethal HLs damage (8 remaining) and spends her action drawing her weapon. As a ghoul, she isn't subject to the Delusion (the milder Delirium ferals cause)

[Sam Spaid]

If Sam could have pushed through the SUV's door, or somehow slide under the vehicle in her current position she likely would have. The wolf, That's no wolf, that's goddamned nightmare! rushed the ghoul woman. Jaws the size of hedge trimmers snapped shut on her shoulder even as momentum and mass carried them both past the SUV and into the street in front of the parked car. Ohshitohshitohshitohshit. Sam's hand couldn't find the opening of the pocket. She kept rubbing her hand on the tee shirt covering her roiling belly. The heavy composite weapon bumped her wrist however and her instinct managed to right the figurative ship enough for her hand to squirm backwards and outside the sweatshirt. The cool fiberglass and polymer body of the Glock slid into her hand like an "L" shaped bundle of courage. She yanked the gun violently from the cotton pocket, and thumbed the safety. Dimly in the rear of her mind she was relived that she had neither vomited nor peed herself. Small favors on what she was starting to fear was the night she would die.

anti-blubbering like a scared little girl

[Velvet] 3:19 pm: Jim: A giant wolf mauling a woman roughly 6 feet away? Within leaping distance? I'd say -3 to throttle back on the instinctual panic.

[jameson] 3:19 pm: works for me Vivi, thanks

[Velvet] 3:19 pm: Welcome

jameson likes horror in his modern horror games

[jameson] 3:20 pm: Wits 3 + Composure 3 - 3 situational penalty

jameson *rolls* 3d10: 2+3+8: 13

[jameson] 3:20 pm: ha!

Sam manages to draw her glock.

[z-August Turner]

Some men had liquid courage to give them the ability to fight against overwhelming odds; Bonita had a mix of liquid courage and stupidity. The vitae in her system burned hot and raw, giving her more than enough courage to raise her gun and point it at the nightmare. Her shoulder hurt but that pain was distant as she pulled the trigger.

[Carver] 8:43 pm: Dex + Firearms + Weapon – Defense: 3 sux 0 sux

Carver *rolls* 6d10: 2+1+7+3+1+7: 21

[Carver] 8:45 pm: Oh! Wait!

[Carver] 8:45 pm: No Defense with firearms.

[jameson] 8:45 pm: extra dice

[jameson] 8:45 pm: how many?

[Carver] 8:46 pm: 3 extra.

[jameson] 8:46 pm: roll em!

Carver *rolls* 3d10: 10+8+8: 26

[Carver] 8:46 pm: Gah!

[jameson] 8:46 pm: ruh roh!

Carver *rolls* 1d10: 5: 5

Dec pointed out they're in melee range, which gives OTN his defense.

Bonita burns a vitae to heal 1 Lethal

1 Vitae spent; 2 Lethal taken

The gun was loud in the night; the .45 was a big gun and the roar was particularly loud in the quiet night. A countdown was started; someone would report that to campus cops and they would come, eventually.

Declan felt the bullet whiz by his shoulder, arcing away into the night.

[Owns-The-Night]

As the bullet whined past him Owns-The-Night was already in motion, and this time his attack was neither hasty nor off it's mark. The massive wolf lunged for the woman, fangs seeking her throat and bearing her back against the car behind her. Sam heard Bonita's gargling scream as blood splashed across the paintwork of the S.U.V, the werewolf's growl a bass counterpoint to the shrill sound of her pain as it worried at her neck.

Owns-The-Night felt the blood on his tongue, with the reek of vampiric taint making him even more angry. Snarling, he ripped his teeth out of the woman's throat, causing a second spray of blood, and danced back a few steps, weight balancing easily on steel-sprung legs as he awaited his next opening. The tinge of gold in his silver eyes was stronger now, dreadful eagerness to kill this intruder writ large by the gleam of eye and fang as he half-crouched, ready to spring to the attack or defense.

Bite attack: Str + Brawl + Spec + OMGTeeth - 3 Defense = 9 dice

Owns-The-Night *rolls* 9d10: 4+5+10+10+2+6+5+3+10: 55

[Owns-The-Night] 8:24 pm:

Owns-The-Night *rolls* 3d10: 4+9+8: 21

[Owns-The-Night] 8:24 pm: Nice.

5 succs

Bonita's now on 7 lethal out of 11

[Sam Spaid]

Blood splashed over the windshield. Sam shuddered at the sound, the scream, the sound of flesh being torn, the snap of bones cracking in the woman's shoulder. The detective struggled to keep it together. Then the blood dripped into her hair, a warm wetness. Sam reached a hand back and touched the spot. Her hand came away slick with blood that looked almost black under the orange light of the street lamps, and the last of Sam's resolve fled. Pushing herself off of the SUV she ran, her gun before her in a white knuckle grip.

Wits+Comp

ameson *rolls* 3d10: 7+4+2: 13

[jameson] 9:00 am: heh, fleesville, population: Sam

[z-August Turner]

Henrik straightened at the gunshot, his eyes going wide. That was the sound of his plans going awry. It wasn't enough that he had to deal with the Monster der Universität. He also had to deal with Bonita fucking up a simple order. "Open the door," he snapped to Brad. "Get us inside."

Henrik is waiting on Brad's turn to open the door and move.

[z-August Turner]

Bonita's breath rasped in her throat and fear made her heart pound. There was no fear in her eyes as she lifted the piece and aimed between the monstrosity's eyes. This was for her Master, the one who had given her meaning and power. "Fuck you," she hissed and pulled the trigger. The spray of blood and resulting yelp of pain from the massive wolf made her coming death meaningful.

[Carver] 9:40 pm: Dex + Firearms + WP-Dec's defense

Carver *rolls* 9d10: 7+2+5+10+10+2+10+4+3: 53 = 4 sux

Carver *rolls* 3d10: 10+4+4: 18

[Asarasa] 9:40 pm: Damn!

Carver *rolls* 1d10: 2: 2

Burns her second to last vitae to heal damage; 6 out of 11 damage taken

[Owns-The-Night]

The bullet creased the huge head, tearing a furrow in his scalp and caromning from the skull with enough force to make Owns-The-Night reel under the assault. Even as he corrected from his sideways stagger he leapt in once more, jaws slashing at the woman's gun arm and opening it from wrist to elbow, fracturing the bones under the vitae-reinforced muscles and causing Bonita to scream harshly through her ruined throat. The great wolf stayed on his kill, sensing that the end was near and eager to finish this tough opponent so that he could move after the vampire and his other slave.

[Einherjar] 8:42 pm: Making an attack roll for OTN: Str + Brawl + Spec + OMGTeeth - 3 Defense = 9 dice

Einherjar *rolls* 9d10: 10+4+1+1+8+10+4+4+7: 49

Einherjar *rolls* 2d10: 1+8: 9

[Einherjar] 8:43 pm: 4 succs

[Adrian Moss] 8:43 pm: That for wicked?

4 Lethal damage to Bonita; 10 out of 11 damage taken, -2 to all dice pools.

OTN spending 1 Essence to heal 1 Lethal wound.

On 3 lethal now. 9/10 essence

[z-August Turner]

Bonita was dead. She felt the weakness of her body – something that she’d not experienced for a long, long time. She was going down in service to her Master. It was a good death, all told.

Her legs weren’t steady and she was one knee. This gave her a great angle for an upward shot, however, and the bullet tore into the wolf’s throat. The monster screamed in outrage as darkness began to close in around Bonita’s eyes.

[Carver] 7:37 pm: Dex + Firearms + Weapon + WP - Defense - Damage mod: 5 Lethal damage

Carver *rolls* 7d10: 10+10+8+5+10+9+4: 56

Carver *rolls* 3d10: 7+3+3: 13

Ahead of Sam, the door was slowly closing on the building. She could see the lock and knew that if she could get solid walls and light around her, she’d be safe. She knew this with the surety of instincts gained from her ancestors huddling around a fire, staring into the terrible night.

Brad and the Master were inside. Brad froze, but the Master locked eyes with Sam. “Freeze,” he ordered her, his will reaching out and ensnaring her mind like a trap closing.

Command, Dominate level 1: 4 sux

Carver *rolls* 9d10: 7+8+6+9+10+3+9+4+4: 60

Carver *rolls* 1d10: 4: 4

Resisted with Resolve + Power stat

Assuming the commanded action is one that can carried out for some time, such as “wait” or “sleep,” the subject obeys for a number of turns equal to the successes obtained on the Command roll.

[Sam Spaid]

Before this evening Sam would have not considered herself a coward. She wasn't even particularly skiddish when it came right down to it. You didn't tend to get far in the police if you were, there were plenty of desk jobs for those without the mettle for a street job. That or a meter maid. Somewhere in the front of Sam's brain this reflection was taking place as the primitive lizard portion of her hind-brain took over, sending her into fleeing prey mode. In bare seconds a wolf the size of a Buick had all but eviscerated a woman not a yard from where Sam had somehow managed to not wet herself. Flight seemed a pretty good option after that, she only hoped that the thing would be too busy devouring the other woman to give chase.

So she ran.

The path she somehow kept to led her away from the street and toward a large stone building. Her instinct was starting to recede, replaced by adrenaline soaked consciousness that would better serve her in the aftermath of immediate flight. She charged up the steps, two at a time, propelled by fear power legs and all but dove through the door. Somewhere her hat had gone missing, she lamented as she slammed the door behind her. No, it had flown off but was caught in her ponytail. She shook her head and then saw them. Brad and the other man; the monster of dead flesh and supernatural blood.

"Freeze."

... and she did.

Resist, kinda

[jameson] 9:14 pm: ok spending a WP then (5/6)

[Carver] 9:14 pm: Mortals have no powah!

[jameson] 9:14 pm: Resolve 3 + 3

jameson *rolls* 6d10: 1+7+5+10+3+6: 32

jameson *rolls* 1d10: 10: 10

jameson *rolls* 1d10: 6: 6

[jameson] 9:15 pm: 2 sux

[Carver] 9:15 pm: Aww, for a moent I thought it was going all the way!

[Carver] 9:15 pm: moment*

[Owns-The-Night]

The huge wolf yelped and snarled in one breath, a sound as deafening as the gunshot as he felt the bullet penetrate flesh and bone, entering his neck and lodging deep into the left lung. Owns-The-Night hated this vampire-tainted woman, hated her damned gun, hated that she wouldn't just fucking die already. The fight had taken maybe ten seconds, but it was ten seconds too goddamned long, and his regeneration was going to be working overtime. He was furious with himself for the messed-up stalk, furious with himself for the overconfident approach.

Next time, go for the gun arm and rip that fucker off FIRST.

With a snap of sharp jaws, the ghoul felt her throat being crushed... and then everything went black. Owns-The-Night, his fury not abated, clenched his jaws tighter and shook the limp body as a terrier shakes a rat, feeling the snapping sound of vertebrae under his teeth as Bonita finally died, the gun falling from her hand. The Vargr couldn't afford time to celebrate, however. Samantha had run for the Business School... where the vampire and the other fucking sucker-slave were waiting. However nice a guy this Brad may have been, Owns-The-Night doubted that he'd be helping the private investigator out now that the vampire had his hooks in him.

Also, there was now a badly-mauled body and blood everywhere. Growling under his breath, the huge wolf picked up the dead woman and ran away from the parked cars. The ghoul's corpse flopped as it hung from his mouth like a rag doll. She was trailing blood, and so was he, though his supernatural energies were working overtime to staunch the bleeding and repair his throat and lung. By the time he reached the side of the Business School, the bleeding had slowed.

Heading away from the Business School through the trees, the Vargr went maybe thirty feet before turning, bunching his preternaturally strong muscles, and leaping to a spot parallel to his previous course. That should confuse any blood trail, at least long enough for him to finish up here. The cops would be on their way, he mused as he headed round to the back of the building, and he couldn't afford more delays. It was the work of moments to hoist the body into a dumpster, then Owns-The-Night turned towards the service door to the Business School. Fur receded, flesh flowed, and Dec growled as he felt his wounds pulling and reshaping uncomfortably. He tasted blood in his mouth: his own and Bonita's, and resisted the urge to spit it out. Let's not give the cops any bonus clues.

Pulling a piece of plastic wrapping from the dumpster, he covered his bloody fingers and, after a moment's thought, swiftly pressed the right combination into the keypad that warded the service personnel's entrance. He wasn't strictly speaking supposed to know that, as he was 'outdoors' staff, but the combinations were right there in the Estates offices for those who knew where to look, and Declan had memorised most of them months ago. He dropped the plastic back into the dumpster and slipped into the Business School, his eyes, nose and ears peeled for sign of the intruders. He kept to two legs for now, though the wolfen form was only an eyeblink away should he need it.

OTN spending 1 Essence to heal 1 Lethal wound.

On 7 lethal now. 8/10 essence.

Making an attack roll for OTN: Str + Brawl + Spec + OMGTeeth - 3 Defense = 9 dice

Owns-The-Night *rolls* 9d10: 3+10+1+1+10+1+4+7+2: 39

[envoy] 3:32 pm: what do tens do in WOD?

Owns-The-Night *rolls* 2d10: 7+4: 11

2 succs

Bonita's down and dying.

Dec takes an extra turn to finish the annoying fucking woman off (and healing an extra health level)

OTN spending 1 Essence to heal 1 Lethal wound.

On 6 lethal now. 7/10 essence

Picking up the body and hightailing it around to the back of the Business School building. Taking steps to confuse the trail of blood: heading off in one direction, then leaping really far back onto his intended course, etc

OTN spending 1 Essence to heal 1 Lethal wound.

On 5 lethal now. 6/10 essence

Note: I dropped Dec out of combat time. Feel free to have Sam and her nemesises play catch-up until you deem we're sharing the same time-zone again.

[z-August Turner]

Brad blinked nervously at Henrik. The vampire was smiling at Sam in a way that turned Brad's stomach. He wondered what happened to Bonita. There sure had been a lot of gunfire and screaming. He stared at the door, his expression a little lost. Some part of him thought that he should go out and check on her, but the Master was right here.

And walking around the woman, eyeing her. "Mmm, it iz not ovten that dinner comes to me," he all-but purred. Moving behind Sam, the Master pulled her hair to one side - and prepared to feed.

Brad watched dumbly. Part of him was screaming in denial while another part wanted to be in her place. He was trying to be the man he'd been once, but it was so hard, when all he could think was that with Bonita gone, there'd be more blood for him. He remembered being a better man, but there was no room for that now, not with the desire for the Master's blood burning in him. So he watched and fought with the sorrow in his heart and mind.

The Master's teeth slipped into Sam's skin; she whimpered, chained by the magical bonds he had cast on her. For all of the invasion of this blood-taking, the master held her gently, almost delicately. Not a drop was wasted as he carefully supped at her throat. Brad watched with empty, longing eyes, his erection an autonomic response.

This was the scene that Owns-the-Night found: the captive woman being drained, the mind-raped ghoul absently guarding and the monster claiming them both in the heart of the room.

[Owns-The-Night]

The vampire was lost in the reverie of his slow, exquisite supper, the ghoul absentmindedly watching the debauched scene when he should have been watching the door. Brad was seated on a desk, partially facing the doorway but with his gaze on his Master. Ordinarily, Declan would have ignored the slave and gone for the head... but Brad had a 12-gauge laying across his lap, and the Vargr had been shot enough for one night.

He burst into the room, a dark furry shape with blazing silver eyes that seemed to fill Brad's whole world as he turned towards the sudden noiseless movement. Panic gripped the ghoul and before he could aim, his finger convulsed on the trigger of the shotgun - which blew a nice circle in the wall about three feet to the left of the door. Nerveless fingers gripped the slide, ready to load another round, but the giant wolf's jaws were already gaping wider, his head tilting just enough...

...to take Brad under the jaw. Henrik gaped, his meal forgotten as his ghoul's blood sprayed across the floor and desks. Brad, filled with the same unnatural vitality as Bonita, tried to put up a fight, but Owns-The-Night shook him like a terrier shakes a rat, jaws clenching tighter and tighter until finally there was a *snap*, and all fight went out of the young man. Dec stood over him, muzzle raising and lips peeling back as his blazing eyes fixed on the vampire. A thunderous snarl reverberated through the room, communicating louder than words that here lay death, final death. Henrik was alone.

[z-August Turner]

Henrik was taken by momentary fear but he brought himself under control through the force of two hundred years of existence. The blood of the mortal woman flowed through him, and she was slumped to the floor in the aftermath of the bliss of his Kiss. Sustained on fresh blood, Henrik invoked the ritual he had started earlier tonight, her blood becoming his vitae which fueled him.

“Nótt, segne deinen Sohn,” he invoked as the monster of the LA campus charged him. All he needed to do was place his hand on the beast.

The wolf-monster slammed into him, its slavering jaws closed his body. Unlike his hapless ghouls, he didn’t need to breathe, or even to not have large holes in his body. He pressed both of his hands against the monster’s jaw and released the Fangs of Persephone.

He might die, but with fortune and Nótt's blessing, he’d take the monster with him tonight.

[Owns-The-Night]

Sharp as knives the magic ripped into Owns-The-Night's body, tearing apart sinew, organs and arteries and causing the Vargr to spasm and release the vampire from his grasp. Henrik felt cold air on the terrible wound the wolf-beast had torn in his belly as he watched it stagger, coughing blood before it sank to the ground. Somewhat unsteadily, the vampire straightened from the desk he'd been thrown against and stepped towards the monster, only for his cold eyes to narrow as he saw that the verdammt thing was still breathing.

"You. You are a hard one to kill." he commented, wagging a finger at the large dark-furred beast as he looked around for a means to kill it. Ahh, there was Brad's shotgun, laying on the ground next to the boy's cooling body. Such a shame, Henrik thought as he stepped slowly over to the corpse. No doubt Bonita was likewise dead, but the ghouls had served their purpose admirably when push came to shove, laying down their lives for their Master. And without the beast who'd claimed this territory around, Henrik would have the run of UCLA. Plenty more worthwhile ghouls to be found here, he was sure. He scooped up the shotgun from where it lay in a puddle of congealing blood and, racking a round into the chamber, started to turn back to his downed enemy...

...When jaws as powerful as a shark's closed on his arm, shearing through undead tissue and bone with a crunching sound. Henrik screamed, more from shock than pain, but the giant wolf twisted and shook it's prey, flailing the two-hundred year old vampire around like a ragdoll. There was a ripping sensation and fresh pain, and Henrik screamed once more as he was flung through the air, crashing into tables and chairs hard enough to break some of them. Struggling to his feet, he realised with a sick sense of horror that his right arm was gone below the elbow, and he reached out with his left to grab for purchase on a desk. Owns-The-Night was merciless, however, and his jaws closed around the vampire's left arm just below the shoulder.

"Nein! Damn you, creature!" the vampire howled as once more he was whipped through the air, a rat in the jaws of a huge terrier. Once more he felt that horrid rending, separating sensation, once more he was flung the length of the classroom. His left arm was completely gone, and though he knew vampires could survive such injuries, the experienced Ventrue realised that this time, he was not likely to be given the chance. The wolf approached, blood dripping from it's jaws as it's silver eyes blazed, and Henrik momentarily envied humans their ability to pass out from pain.

"Damn you." he whispered with some heat. "A thousand curses on you, you verdammt-" were his last words as those huge jaws gaped wide and, with a snarl, the wolf closed them on his head with a loud crunch, ripping it free of the body and spitting it out to one side. A smell of rot rose from the body, putrid and strong, then was gone as suddenly as the vampire progressed through the stages of decay with unnatural rapidity. In moments, only dust remained.

Owns-The-Night paused, every breath hurting as he drew it, and listened. There were sirens outside, and men shouting. He could hear men entering the building, and growled. There was no time to clean up, no time to take care of the loose ends. He had to go, and go now. He stopped by Sam, sniffing at her, and whined in the back of his throat. The vampire had taken too much blood, too quickly. He, Owns-The-Night, had been too slow in dealing with the slaves, and the Master had claimed the life of someone the Vargr felt had been a good woman. She had a child, he thought sadly. A son. Does he have a dad? Does he have anyone? Samantha would be the center of a mysterious multiple murder investigation, and what would the boy know, except that his mom had died.

More shouts in the hallways. Not here yet, but soon. Owns-The-Night slipped from the room silently, his large form making no noise as he ghosted through the darkened building to the rear service door, which was mercifully still open. A moment's pause to listen, and he emerged into the deserted rear lot by the dumpsters, nudging the door closed behind him, and took off across the tarmac to the treeline. He was badly injured, and couldn't risk shifting down into a smaller shape right now, not until he was able to heal at least enough that his wounds wouldn't kill him right away. The supernatural vitality that powered him was almost spent, but the great wolf used as much as he dared as he trotted towards one of his caches of clothing.

Using 5 of his remaining 6 Essence to heal as much as he can. Still in bad shape though.

Only then did he risk shifting, feeling his wounds pulling at him so hard that he nearly collapsed. Breathing deeply, the Vargr dressed hastily and started to walk home, staying off the paths and avoiding any late-night stragglers - an easy enough task with his senses. As he went, he ran down the litany of how fucked up tonight had been. The messed-up stalk on the first ghoul, the protracted battle with gunshots bringing the authorities down on the whole mess, and finally giving that vampire a chance to kill the woman and do some weird magical shit that had nearly killed him. The only thing he'd done right was putting down the kid with the shotgun.

Every fight you survive teaches you lessons, even the ones you lose he heard his uncle say. Declan grunted, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. I'm sorry, Sam. Didn't really know ya, but you sure deserved better than that. I joke with August about bein' the Yard Snake, but I ain't a hero. I'm not Batman - I'm just a wolf guarding what's his. He shook away the morose thoughts, though he knew they'd come back to haunt him. Failure never tasted right, and despite beating his enemies tonight, it still felt like a failure. He went home.

He needed about four pounds of steak and twelve hours of sleep.