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Honestly, as much as I'd love for it to be otherwise (especially since we're just now getting to the Mists), I don't think I can realistically promise a more reasonable posting schedule. Sounds like the better part of valor is for Taryn not to have gone through the portal after all. (Or maybe for her lupine nature to take full control?) Either way, thanks for the game and I hope to play with y'all another time when I can put in the work.
"Well what are we waiting for?" Taryn scowls, "Nothing's gonna bring her back for us." After a pause a beat longer than she'd planned, Taryn steps into the portal.
Taryn sniffed at the oozey leavings of the dead false-wolves, but wasn't able to suss out anything new about them... "So the wolves have come knocking at the pigs' door. What next?"
Taryn's wounds continued to heal, leaving smears of blood across her increasingly unmarked flesh as she stalked over towards the door-wielding hunter. Rather than dive in, Taryn instead reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a long-barreled magnum. "Drop the door and get the f&#* out of here or I will put you down."
Taryn pants heavily from her exertions, her wounds already closing as she hurls herself after her fleeing prey!
Potential Kickass roll: Wrenching at the other un-wolf she tore at its flanks, punishing it for daring to ignore her!
Taryn growls in what was supposed to be exasperation, but her toothy grin betrays her. "Just keep that one held! I'll bring the other one down..." With equally little care Taryn hurdles through the smashed window and into the conference room after her prey.
Taryn rolled the deputy off of her none too gently and pounced, her muscles coiling and bunching to fling her onto her rival once more.
Her eyes gleamed with joy as she hit home, her mouth dropping open unconsciously as she sought to force the lesser wolf to submit!
Taryn doesn't waste any time, simply storming into the fray, hauling the linebacker sized hunter away from his wrestling partner, and smashing away at him with inhuman strength and wicked claws extended.
"Hn. Didn't know they were all cops. Might've helped if you'd pointed that out earlier," Taryn groused at Oscar, easily keeping pace with him as she loped towards the station.
I've got some thoughts :-) Though figuring out how to theme her kryptonite being bird spittle, fish breath, mountain roots, stomping cats and bearded women might take a bit of doing.
Taryn looks down at the backpack and storybook in confusion that quickly dissolves into anger. With a snarl she shoulders it in case Rani or someone can make use of it later and stalks back into the woods for the long walk back. No telling what else was going on while we followed this dead end.
I guess... Is there something I missed that would let Taryn know that tracking this thing/person back to their home wouldn't work? Or should I roll for a hunch to intuit this? It's not that she doesn't think that figuring things out wouldn't help predict future things, it's that her plan is to forestall those things by striking first. Her toolset is animal senses and gut instinct. And it's fine if those aren't the tools needed, but Taryn will be faster to try other things if she has any sense that that's the case.
So the trouble I'm having is that Taryn's goal is to find the killer, not to investigate the murder. As it stands she's at their house, has no reason to think they're anything but a disturbed human, and has no problem with the plan of waiting til they return. There's information she's missing, but she doesn't know that it's information she should care about since her goal is stopping future killings rather than understanding this one.
Taryn lets out a long growl of frustration that stops just short of turning into a whine. "A dead end? Really?" Without taking much care to keep things intact, she rifled through the house, giving everything the old lift n' sniff to make sure there was nothing they'd overlooked.
Taryn gave a cursory look for any signs or stickers that this house might be alarmed, and then went in the back door.
Taryn's eyes were still narrowed, not reacting for a moment while Oscar spoke. There's something familiar about her, but what? Is it just that she's mad as a- "Fine." She padded around the side, gingerly sniffing to see if that same awful reek was here too.
"Why is this tea so important. What happens during your 'Cuppa'?"
A needle that's never been threaded
"The killer left a trail." She points to the slight scuffs and marks that lead off deeper into the woods. "Let's get after it before the cops get into more trouble."
So Taryn's not **trying** to leave Oscar behind, which is why she told him what she's up to. That said, neither I nor Taryn assumed he wouldn't be able to join up with her for a half hour. Soo... if Oscar wants to join in, assume a followup text of: "You coming?" was sent. That make sense?
Taryn fished out her phone and scowled. "Applebaum's hurt and needs help." She pointed back towards Oscar, and when the Sherriff turned, Taryn stepped wide of the obvious crime scene, but otherwise didn't acknowledge his words as she plunged into the woods.
Reluctantly Taryn sent Oscar a message:
And the trail was telling its own story too. How heavy the treads were, the length of their stride. Anything that deviated from human norms would tell her something, and in rough terrain like this, it was very likely that something would have been snarled in the underbrush, some fur or cloth, or even flesh...
Her eyes were watering with the strange scent, but there was enough here without the odor to show that this was no normal kill. The cops can figure out who this was. The cops can figure out what exactly they died of. Maybe they'll even find some sort of excuse for a motive. Where did it go? But whatever did this was probably big, wasn't traveling light, and blood was shed. There'll be tracks.
Taryn points west and flashes her eyes at Oscar. "Don't get shot." That said, she lopes off towards the scream at something just beneath a dead sprint.
Taryn locked eyes hard with Oscar, and immediately ignored Golding's instructions, spiking her flags and walking off towards where Beverly had gone missing. "More eyes, right?"
Taryn's personal care regimen was very simple. "Don't keep poking it." After all, as long as she wasn't actively aggravating it, even a shackled werewolf could recover from just about anything given time. *** She'd tagged along with Oscar, trying to avoid whatever weirdness was going on with Alfie's ghosts. Besides, who better than her to go on a hunt? "Do you have dogs?" she asked the sheriff, "Do you have anything with her scent for them to track?"
"There's nothing they'll see from here that we can help. Let's just go."
Taryn wrinkled her nose, but when she didn't smell any spatter of ectoplasm, her interest turned to scorn. "Alfie. Tell us what is happening in a useful way or I am going to sit on you."
Taryn's mouth twisted in a sour snarl, and she darted out ahead of Alfie, glancing back over her shoulder periodically to make sure she was still on his path as she ran ahead.
Taryn wrinkled her nose at the sudden smell of varnish, but nodded begrudgingly. "Learn what you can. We weren't quiet." With that she slunk back outside, waiting for all too certain trouble.
Maybe you could bar the crate? I have suspicions about how well it will contain this thing...
Taryn's lips pulled back into a joyful smile as she piled in, writhing and twisting with the creature's greater mass as she relentlessly forced it back towards the case, slamming it and herself into the shelves again and again, thoughtlessly earning bruises that would be healed before she ever saw them so long as it wore the Beast down as well before finally slamming it into the crate!
Taryn stayed hunkered down by Ahmad for a moment. "This would've been easier if you hadn't sprained my damn ankle..." The joint popped quietly as it resettled. "But fine, you distract it and I'll get it in that crate." Kick Some Ass?: Taryn was patient when she had to be, but it wasn't her favorite way to hunt. She preferred her prey to be frightened, to know that she was coming and that she would, not, stop. Silver itched at her skin in familiar patterns, reminding her that there were some limits to her hunt, now. But as Oscar drew the Beast's attention, for a moment it felt like she was free again...
Hell. This is why I only worked with people who could handle themselves Taryn spun away from Ahmad, working her way out of her long coat as she did, then threw it over his face, trying to use something that wasn't skin to scour it away.
Roll:
Taryn's lip curled back as she bared her teeth, surging forward along the shelves to meet the lupine beast claw to claw. She went low, trying to get underneath its greater reach, but willing to pay a toll in blood to get there. Instinctively she hunched a shoulder up to meet his fangs, though the thick ruff that would have been her shield was replaced only by a trenchcoat and a thick sleeve of tattoos. Let it spill, bleed me dry, just let me get my claws wet too. He was bigger; he was stronger, but that wasn't enough to stop her. He's taller, he's heavier, that's good for brawling... Blood flowed, but the stink of conquest was even thicker in the air, thicker even than the offal of his gutted prey. ...but not good for balance. Bring him down, put him down beneath you and see if he has the stomach to rise again. Taryn heaved, all the bunched up muscles in her legs uncoiling to send him into the air, and then down to the floor far beneath her where he belonged. Bleed his strength away. Run him down til his heart bursts. See if wounds can lay him low... Her wounds burned, but her snarl just spread wider as she watched to see if the lupine would. ... 'cause my wounds won't. I never stop once I've tasted my prey. Healing:
Taryn gave a curt nod but a broad smile as she hauled herself up the shelves, looking to get a clean look or sniff or... anything of the hunter above. It's not acting like prey though.
Potential Dice:
"I can break the lock, but they'll look into it tomorrow. If someone else can deal with it quietly that would be better."
"Fine. Stay here then." In a single smooth motion Taryn rose, striding immediately from the room. "Good night, Roger Davidson."
Returning to the shadows she filled the others in on her little interlude. "...and I believe he will not seek us out. The other cameras are not being immediately monitored, but any recordings of them will be offsite. "Destroying one to gain our entry might be simplest."
A frustrated growl rumbled quietly in the back of Taryn's throat. "You've been smart so far. Don't change that." She quickly shoved the pistol beneath her long jacket again, and pounced. A stretch of one leg let her quickly straddle "Rog," with one hand gripping his shoulder with unmistakable strength. "You're embarrassed. Maybe a bit distracted. Don't worry. Soon I'll be gone and I'll forget all about Roger Davidson of Sioux Falls."
"Go on, answer him. You're not stupid. This is just an easy gig, and you know what not to do if you want everything to stay easy." She waited patiently for Roger Davidson to deal with the voice on his radio, gun leveled on him the whole time. "Now you show me how to turn off these cameras, Roger Davidson of Sioux Falls. This'll all be over soon."
Taryn rolled her eyes. "The gun is so he won't get hurt." Setting off at an easy lope she circled far from the rest of the hunters, approaching the guard from the blindspots in the camera coverage that they'd already discovered. She didn't care too much about when he saw her, just watched for that moment of realization in his eyes when he realized the shadows weren't empty. Or unarmed. "Play this smart and you'll walk away without anyone ever being the wiser. Drop your phone, radio, and any weapons on the ground, then walk over here. Neither of us want what'll happen if you don't." Manipulate roll?:
Frustrated annoyance poured off of Taryn in a single blink of her eyes. "I'm going to have him take the cameras offline." For a moment the strange tattoos that crept back up her sleeves seemed to crawl, but she instead reached into the deep pocket of her trench coat to pull out a preposterously large six-shooter. "So I won't have to hurt him."
"Forklift won't stay quiet. Even if we steal it quiet. I can climb that pipe though, if we really need to get on the roof. Simpler to just steal the guard."
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