Fiction World of Darkness: Attrition - Giving the Gift of Indigestion [Complete]

[z-August Turner]

July 28, 2011, The Red Dragon, 9:00 p.m.

"Any other fund-raising suggestions?" Amy Zellker gazed around the table, her plump face set in cheerful lines. Amy was an Organizer. She lived to be the head of an organization, pouring her time and energy into it. It became the source of her self-worth and pride. And everyone else in the club let her, because it meant they wouldn't have to do it.

August was relieved when no one else came up with anything else. They'd been here for three hours and the wait staff was starting to get annoyed. Maureen was doing her best to remain an actual customer by continuing her trips to the buffet, but even she was slowing down. August stifled a sigh as she eyed her empty glass; the staff had stopped filling them an hour ago in hopes of making them leave faster. Had this been a Film and Photography Society meeting, they would have already been done. The Graduate Cinematography SA was a different beast, far more pompous.

"Then I think we're done," Amy said, still cheerful. Money appeared and was tossed on the table, until everyone had given their part. Then the club broke up into ones and twos, everyone heading their own way.

August pushed through the door and into the muggy LA air. Her steps turned north, toward home. It was a longish walk, but she was short on cash until her student assistance started to pay out. Walking was much cheaper than driving. The problem wasn't the walk. It was what she might see on the way.

They were always worse when she was alone. They were always worse when it was dark. This walk promised to be bad. Oneca was out tonight, Aradia didn't have a working car and August would sooner ask a live cobra for a ride than ask Saja. That chick gave her the creeps and was also hateful.

August's sandals thumped against the concrete of the sidewalks. She kept her head down, trying not to see anything unusual. She didn't want to see or react to them. Sometimes they noticed when you reacted to them visibly. Clutching the handle of her backpack, she walked on, sweat gluing her shirt to her body.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

*Her! Take her!*

Sarah swatted - reflexively, uselessly - in the general direction of the otherworldly whisper. She'd already set her sights on the besandled young woman walking north from the Red Dragon; the last thing she wanted was a spirit urging her on.

Yet urge it did. This she knew was a hunger-spirit; it and its ilk had been dogging her for the past three nights, as she went through one of the periodic dry spells one endured in suburban Los Angeles. Well, that one endured if one was a vampire.

Usually, Sarah would have waited for a guy. They were easier, particularly in the vicinity of UCLA. A smile, a wink, and some lumbering jock would follow her off for a round of necking with emphasis on the neck. But pickings were slim tonight, and with resignation Sarah hove in on tonight's target of necessity.

The option of choice was to come from across the street, at an angle. "Say," she called out as the distance closed, "is the Red Dragon still open?" For all her denim-clad ruggedness, her lips settled into a hopeful smile.

[z-August Turner]

August turned at the voice. The girl coming toward her didn’t set off any real alarms. She was Irish in appearance, with red hair and pale skin. In the glare of the streetlamps, any further details were just suggestions. The denim only solidified August’s impression of an outdoorsy woman. Without thought, August’s fingers reached up and closed around the wolf’s head amulet she wore on a chain.

“No, sorry,” she said to the red-head. “The Dragon closes at nine on Thursdays.” August paused, then added, “There’s probably still a restaurant open on campus, though.” Her duty to be a generally helpful human being done, August turned to leave.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

"Guess I'll hafta eat out," the red-head muttered... then cold hands reached around to grab August from behind, one clamped firmly over her mouth, the other tight around her ribcage as the assailant began dragging her off toward an alley.

Click to reveal..

Initiating a grapple: Str + Brawl (back is turned, no Defense)

Sarah Dead-Wolf *rolls* 5d10: 8+2+5+2+6: 23

One success. We have a grapple.

[z-August Turner]

August felt a hot spurt of panic when the woman grabbed her. She was no stranger to violence and her immediate reaction showed that; with a burst of panic, she shoved against the person holding her.

Click to reveal..

Spending a WP

Str + Brawl – Sarah’s Str = 1 die + WP dice = 4d10

Carver *rolls* 4d10: 8+2+6+3: 19 = 1 sux, grapple is broken.

Fear gave her strength, and August jerked away from her attacker. “Help!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, spinning to face her assaulter. “Just get away!” she shouted, backing away from the red-head, her eyes wide and terrified.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

"Dammit!"

The smart thing to do - the accepted thing - would have been to run, hell bent for leather, as far and fast from the screaming woman as possible. It would have been sane and safe.

But after three nights without a meal, the safe route could very well mean that Sarah wouldn't wake up tomorrow.

Why does this always have to be so damned hard? she asked herself with a silent sigh... then lunged after her target with a full-on, all-out tackle...

...and hit the sidewalk face first as the screamer slipped through her arms at a full run.

Click to reveal..

Grappling again, all-out attack (+2) minus Defense (3)

Sarah Dead-Wolf *rolls* 4d10: 7+3+1+5: 16

Complete miss.

"This," she managed in a voice blended with pain and frustration, "just ain't my night."

[z-August Turner]

August darted to the side, out into the street. As Sarah watched, she shot around her and back to toward the diner. There was light and people there! There was help there! Even if they were closed, they’d let her in and let her call the cops!

Click to reveal..

August’s action is a full move.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

For a long, long moment, Sarah considered going after the screaming snack. Shift into a wolf, run her down, try and chase her away from people and lights....

Instead, she sighed a sigh that only the dead can manage and drew back into the shadows to make her way - hungry and dejected - back toward the park. While the idea of a chase had its appeal, the risk was simply too high; it was hard enough being a Dead-Wolf in L.A.

[z-August Turner]

August didn't stop running until she reached the doors of the Red Dragon. Pounding the glass frantically resulted in a waitress showing up to shoo her away with a wave of her hand and insisting, "We closed! Come back tomorrow!" August persisted and the door was finally opened.

"Call the police!" she all-but yelled, startling the waitress into closing the door on her face. And they called the cops, alright. August spent thirty minutes explaining that she hadn't been trying to rob the restaurant, that she'd almost been mugged. Finally, she was able to give her statement. By that time, the memory of her attacker had been reduced to a woman with red hair, wearing lots of denim. Even as she struggled to describe her, she could see the cops giving up already. "Can I go, now?" she asked when she'd finished.

"Yeah, you can. Call us if you think of anything else." August took the card she'd been offered and pocketed it. The officer looked her over. "Would you like a ride, miss?"

"Yes, that'd be great, thanks," August replied, smiling gratefully. At least she'd be home safely soon.