The Elmwood
Role Play Boards => Department7 => Gothic => Department7 Diary Center => Topic started by: LadyJallyn on
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I screwed it up. I was running around doing shit for the food bank and I ignored my pager. What I'm doing was important, right? There are a dozen other people who can handle things and I'm the only one who knows what is really needed on the streets. Yeah, well, because I put other people ahead of the team, the team got tore apart. Silver is gone. Babadora, Skylar and Stalker are all in quarantine and Spiderman is in critical condition. He might not make it. I swear, for each of them that doesn't come through this, I am going to take one of the bad guys, tear off their head and shit down their throat.
I'll make this up to them. I swear.
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Babadora wants to run. I'm not sure how far. I hope I can figure something out that will get her someplace that will accept her, without making her vulnerable to the douchebag that will be coming after her. I'd take her out to Flamborough but I don't think I'd be coming home with nuts still attached. Bloody bitches are even more hot headed than I am....
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Okay. Nuts are still attached. Left hand, not so much. I've never been the warrior (dragons excepted) so losing the hand shouldn't slow me down. I'm beginning to understand the one armed bandit a little better though.
Using the blackberry one handed isn't easy. Missed another call. Babadora got kicked by a bus. Mutt is starting to use his brain. I just want to see how they whitewash this one. Transformers sequel maybe?
Oh and we have a new boss. Some Egyptian with attitude and statue bodyguards. I'm gonna steal his Guccis and bond with Mutt while we both chew the shit out of them. I wonder what his policy on the disabled is? Maybe I'll hit him up for donations to the food bank before I steal his shoes.
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I want to crawl into a hole and pull the hole in around me. I scrapped it up with the vampire and kicked his ass... while singing. What the bloody hell? Then this penny fell from the sky, followed by a lightning bolt. Turns out Babadora was up there, after running off from the base to hook up with her 'Father'. Bitch is going to get me killed by the black Furies for running off on my watch. Anyway, I heard her tell Jamal that he was at the General in the pediatric ward. I sent a quick message and headed ther through the Umbra. Owen joined me. He wasn't there but he'd left behind a whole ward full of kid vampires. And I killed them. I tore them to shreds, spreading blood and guts and brains all ovber the walls. And you know what? I ENJOYED it. I enjoyed the rending and the taste and the still warm blood. Babadora was rounding them up to finish off the hospital, I think, her and Jamal. I dropped him like a bad habit, then I went after her. I bashed her against a wall. Stupid Skylar asked me what I was doing. What the fuck did it look like I was doing? I was fighting. I was killing. I was letting the Beast loose and I was bloody well singing all the while. Singing, like some bloody damned psycho nutbar loonie. Or some damned Fianna Galliard. Christ, when this is over, I'm going to need a drink or twelve. Dozen. This isn't me but I can't let them see me cry. I am the glue that holds this group together. Their contempt for me is the common thread they all share. If they start feeling sorry for me, the it's all over. As long as they can still muster the saliva to spit on my grave, we still have a chance of coming through this in one piece.
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I am not a warrior but I fought. I am not a killer but I killed. It is my place to teach wisdom to the foolish warriors but I am a fool and I have been shown wisdom by those I am supposed to teach. I am the imperfect mirror. I am the trickster, full of life and yet I bring death to all around me. I try to protect and harm those I am protecting. I have seem friends fall fighting their allies and I have seen enemies standing back to back. I have been a pawn on a chessboard and I have seen the Beast Courts dancing to a tune played by a Kindred Prince. I am not worthy to draw breath but I am needed to tell the tale of one who no longer does.
I have stood in battle with true warriors and seen them fall, sacrificing all just for the chance that the rest of us might gain a slender chance to live. I knew him as Mutt, a coyote. I am sure he had many other names. I have sworn at him, behind his back and to his face. He laughed at me. In the end, it was he and I, fighting to kill that which could not be killed. Teeth, claws and even a fetish blade were not enough to bring down an enemy made of the blood of a thousand devoured children, children that had fallen to the Wyrm even as they lay weak and scared in hospital beds. Where they should have been safest was where they suffered most and it was in the halls of MacMaster pediatrics in the city of steel that we brought the thing to battle.
It was Mutt, shameless show off and fierce defender that cast his life out on his own voice to bring about the creature's end. I have never heard such a howl, not at any Moot or from any Garou. Mutt's howl rose and the wind rose with it. The howl grew bigger than he was and yet Mutt continued to give voice and coyote howled with and through him, lending him strength. His howl tore the world, ripping it apart and all things caught within the sound begain to shred like cloth.
I seized the creature, even though it's very touch burned like fire, so that it would not be able to flee. I pulled it with me into the Umbra, knowing that the teeth and claws of that howling wind would reach it even there and if it somehow managed to survive, it would be trapped but such an act was not necessary. The creature could not have escaped the fury of Mutt's voice.
It was then that I learned Mutt had given his life to slay the beast. I saw him standing before Coyote and heard Coyote praise him. I heard Coyote laugh at me and say that I was not supposed to be standing beside one who had made such a sacrifice. He gave me blessing and cast me back so that I could finish what was yet unfinished and bring honor to Mutt's brave act. My tale, such as it is, continues but Mutt's ends here and if there is justice in the world, this tale of Mutt shall be told long after the story of Nicky Dingo comes to an end. Coyote though he was, he fought with all the courage and honour of the greatest Arhoun and I will sing his song and praise his memory for as long as I have breath to do so. Were there a thousand like him, the Wyrm would tremble and Garou would chase their own tails out of frustration. Such was Mutt. Warriror. Trickster. Coyote. When next I howl the Dirge of the Fallen, some small part of my voice will howl for him as well.
I'm going to be doing a lot of howling. Most of the Black Furies are dead, killed by the soldiers of Department Seven and the Empress of the Beast Courts. I'm fairly certain she's no fan of mine (big shock). I don't think she liked being called "a vampire's bitch" or a "backstabbing bitch". The vampire's bitch I'm not so sure about because I still think it was the bloodsucker's calling the shots but the backstabbing bitch isn't really appropriate. Yeah, she did stab the Black Fury alpha in the back but that stupid bitch turned her back to take on Silver. I think I might just leave that part out when I pass the memo on to the rest of the Black Fury pack. Silver didn't know what was going on and stuck her fangs into the middle of it. I got into the battle too late to do any good (big shock). I lashed out at whoever was closest. Just my luck that it was the Empress, some big ass spotted Bastet. I'm not sure what specific breed she was. Silver probably saved my life by tackling me. I thanked her by chewing on her throat. She's still alive. I threw her at the Empress and stepped up to her. My sense of self preservation finally came back from vacation and I backed down but not before demanding that she admit stabbing an opponent is the back. Probably not the wisest thing to do (big shock).
Babadora came sauntering in, just like everything was hunky-dory, followed by Skyler and the rest. There were a few harsh words thrown around by more than one person. Crickett was finger painting in blood again, so maybe there is a chance that things might get back to normal. In a decade or two, after a shit load of alcohol and some electroshock therapy. Our base is under an old mental hospital, after all. They probably still have that equipment stashed in some old forgotten storage room.