12409/The Pride of the Pack

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The Pride of the Pack
Date of Scene: 11 August 2022
Location: Constitution Island, New York
Synopsis: Cael's werewolf troubles finally come to an end, with her atop the pack. As Alpha she's in charge of a great number of mouths to feed, time will only tell whether or not she's successful.
Cast of Characters: Marc Spector, Cael Becker, Layla Abdalla El-Faouly, Mercy Thompson, Jonathan Sims




Marc Spector has posed:
    The full moon--the last supermoon of the year--hangs high in the sky as the group stands on the edge of a wildlife preserve about 50 miles north of Queens. There had been only a little time for introductions for Mercy; but introductions for Moon Knight on the full moon were brief at the best of times, here at the absolute height of his power they were even shorter.

    The avatar of Khonshu is all business. In his white almost funerary-style vestments, the Fist of Khonshu nods to the godling and then speaks to the rest of the group. "The plan is simple. We approach their den, defeat any opposition, and then Cael issues an ultimatum to whoever is in charge. They've been bolstering their numbers of late, but they're nowhere near the size that was terrorizing Queens, hence why we're here on their turf."

    He puts a hand to his chest where the scar of his heart being torn out by their alpha still tingled slightly. "What happens after that... is up to Cael," he adds his eyes falling on the woman in question. "We're here to give her backup and to provide support, however this goes. Any questions?" he asks.

Cael Becker has posed:
    With the moon above them, Cael was already changed into a form that she still struggles not to think of as monsterous. She's a massive, gangly thing - with the silver of her tattoo shimmering subtly on her back, and some of her bright hair dyes still somehow reflected on her head. At least it would make her easy to distinguish from the others. They stood downwind of the lair - giving her faint whiffs of the odor of these other were-creatures as she takes a few pacing steps restlessly. She's not looking forward to this evening - and she just wants to get it over to.
    She nods towards Marc at his words, adding in a gravely, slightly indistinct voice, "Don't put yourself at risk - but I don't intend to kill them unnecessarily."

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
Scarlet Scarab is already kitted and ready to roll, the gleam of moonlight against the golden wings highlighting the ceremonial garb. She looks to MK first for the basic outline of the plan, nodding agreement to him before looking to the group, "I can help with healing if anyone gets caught, but ideally we can avoid that."

She looks to Cael and smiles faintly, "This is your show, we'll do our part. Taweret says we can have tea after if everything goes well. But given the givens, perhaps a drink after would be better."

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    Mercy is not used to seeing so many new faces on so important a thing. She's fairly quiet, watchful and trusting her heart and nose. Sniffing softly and listening to her heart. She brought a side arm that is in a shoulder holster to keep it safe and read. In her arms is marlin 44 rifle, all are loaded with silver of course. She doesn't look totally happy. "If any of these wolves have ghosts hanging around them to denounce the crimes of a pack member. I still vote for execution. I'm here for support though and not clearly aware of all the.... Egyptian ties."
    She has to say everyone's outfits look.... really cool. She's hear in a tank top, a loose over sure, and simple jeans. Things she can escape from if she needs to with a shift. "Magic doesn't always work normal with or around me, you should all be aware of that." A quick shift of the gun to check the safety and ammo. "I'm ready with you all.'

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    The Archivist has finally decided to forego attempts at wearing anything like a standard superhero outfit. Instead, he's simply summoned up his own ceremonial armor around himself, in much the same way Moon Knight and Scarlet Scarab do. It's in a similar vein, too, though his is mostly teal with accents of blue and gold. This matches the wings on his back, except for a few stray blue-black feathers. And he has an actual right arm, which is weird, for him. He carries his ankh-topped staff in that hand, khopesh left in its case at his belt.

    "Tawaret always wants tea," Jon notes with a smirk. His focus, however, is on Cael, teal-tinged brown eyes watching her pace back and forth. "Maybe we'll try putting whiskey in the tea, hmm?" There's fondness in that teasing tone, like he's trying to ease some of her tension.

    He glances at Mercy and then says, "I can take their statements after we're done. Heat of battle is one thing, of course, but after the fact... Ma'at can tell whether or not they're truly irredeemable. And by tying themselves to Anubis, well... they put themselves in my jurisdiction." He says this matter-of-factly, then rolls his shoulders. "Ready when you are."

Marc Spector has posed:
    With the plan laid out, Moon Knight turns and heads into the wooded reserve. "Noted, Mercy" Moon Knight has a lot of questions, for Mercy, for Jon, but the mission takes priority. "Even so, keep your eyes, ears, and noses open for anything. We're on their territory, nothing to say they won't have traps in place." While most nature reserves are filled with the sounds of the smaller creatures of the woods, these are eerily silent. There are no crickets, no frogs, no nigh birds. The entire forest is hushed as if waiting for something, or on a knife edge at the ready for danger.

    To Cael and Mercy, the scenes of animals of the forest are thick. Deer and various rodents are most prevalent, but there are also the smells of other predators--foxes, bobcats, and even a small sleuth of bears seem to make this land their home. But what hangs over everything is a smell that is unmistakable: werewolf. They smell similar to Cael if a bit more feral than she. Their scents are everywhere through the woods, claiming the entire preserve as theirs.

    To the others, more and less obvious signs of the pack's presence make themselves known. Large scratches on the trunks of trees, disturbances in the brush by something large and dark furred, and prints in the soft, almost marshy ground by paws that no natural creature could make. Also in the air is the feeling of magic, the power behind the magic is a dark thing that is alien to all parties save perhaps Jon. It's linked to the Egyptian underworld, which tracks with what they know about these creatures.

    Nothing untoward comes to meet them until the sound of the Hudson are clear to all five of the intruders. A number of low growls precede the emergence of a number of canines from the bush. They're not native creatures--wolves are no longer found in the wilds of New York, especially Egyptian Wolves. They have the same general features as Cael, but in minature canine form to her monstrous war form. The pack is six strong and all youthful males. An advance scouting pack to give alert and defense for the den.

    Moon Knight reaches up and withdraws two of the silvered crescents from his chestpiece, the weapons simply coming free with no visible change in his suit. "I guess this is the welcoming party..." he says with a grin just as the pack leaps forward with snarls and barks of aggression.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Amusement is reflected, momentarily, in Cael's eyes at the mention of whiskey - and before the five of them begin to move forward, she steps in towards Jon. She towers over them like this, as she pulls them in towards her chest, and rests the end of her snout atop their head. For many, being grasped by such a monsterous creature would be a horrifying thought.
    Not so for Jon, she knows, and she holds them wordlessly for a long moment.
    "Let's go," she says abruptly as she releases them, stalking into the woods with the others.
    The approach the other other wolves is the only thing that finally slows her steps as she studies them in their slow, threatening advance. "We don't need to-" she starts - but they don't heed her words, leaping forwards with aggressive intent. Well - so much for trying to be diplomatic. She crouches to meet them, coiling her long legs, so she can leap forward with a sudden release of energy, catching the largest of the group by its throat, and trying to slam it back into a tree. Perhaps she can stun them enough to take them out of this fight - without having to case permenent, crippling injury.
    But it's a hard thing to judge when you're simply slamming them into an unyielding object.

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
This is far from Layla's baliwick, so she's largely just trying to follow along and find where she can make herself useful in the journey. A pair of Egyptian short swords are suddenly in her hands as they start seeing signs of the pack's presence. Flicking a glance towards Marc, then over to Cael and Jon, then finally to Mercy. Gauging each person's status before moving deeper into the wolves' territory.

The actual /arm/ sprouting from Jon's right shoulder gets a long stare, something looks off about it, apart from the fact that it quite simply doesn't belong. But ultimately she shakes it off and keeps moving along. The comment about Taweret has her chuckling to them and nodding, "She does. But you have to admit, it's a /great/ all purpose drink."

As they close in and the pack catches their scent, then the sight of them, she mutters something under her breath quickly and the edges of the short swords take on a silvery gleam that's at odds with the gilded appearance of the weapons. She leaps forward towards the wolves, ready to engage now that they've shown themselves to be aggressive.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    Mercy gives Jon a simple curt nod of understanding then turns her eyes back to Moon Knight. She swears that SOME of the people here give her two scents when the wind shifts. It's messing with her a bit, but she's got an okay grip on who's who. As far as dealing with the sounds of the wilds, this is what Mercy grew up in. In the back countries and mountains of Montana where the state has like population of 8 per square mile.
    When the welcome hunting party shows up she pushes any fear she has away. The fact wolves hunt and kill coyotes is not a factor now. This is time she has her own support and lots of bullets.
    When they snarl and lunge she makes no qualms. Silver bullets are expensive and she doesn't want to waste the big guns. SO she draws her pistol and fires it three times right at the wolves' feet. "I like tea," states Mercy simply after the gunshot at the wolves. "They aren't why we are here and they know where we are already," explaining the reason she fires. "Drive them off and let's get to our goal before they get dug in and a killing field ready."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon, for his part, seems perfectly content to be hugged by a towering werewolf, letting her take whatever comfort it is she's needing. Then they're off, and he follows along with the others through the preserve, noting the signs of the pack but letting Cael take the lead.

    As they run into a forward scouting party, he spins his staff and pulls up shields around their own group, shimmering blue light that cascades over their forms. It feels like running through a sprinkler on a hot day, and adds some defense against the fangs and claws of the scouting party.

    Then he glances upward, toward the full moon, and considers for a moment before saying, "I'll scout ahead. Don't worry--I can hide from far more experienced canines than these." A moment's focus and he wraps invisibility and silence around himself, washing his scent away, then launches into the air. It's quite possible Mercy and Cael, who know his scent, will be able to track him, but the hope is that he won't alert any others of the pack as he glides through the night.

Marc Spector has posed:
    The wolf Cael engages is crushed up against the tree, there is a dual layered crunch as the bark of the tree and a number of the wolf's bones crack and splinter upon the impact of the much larger creature. The wolf lets out a yelp of pain and drops weakly, its leg twitching and quivering in obvious pain.

    Layla's foe leaps for her throat and instead meets the cutting edge of one of her blades. Blood spills over the marshy ground and another yelp of pain as the animal's mouth is torn open further than it already was.

    Mercy's gun shots force her foe back, the animal showing keen intelligence beyond its ilk as it knows the danger of such instruments of the two-legs. Even as she fires another, unseen wolf has managed to flank her and leaps at her back, it hits the shield Jon conjured and bounces off with a yelp of pain as its own weight rebounds on its muscled form.

    Moon Knight seems keen to engage in the same manner as Cael and the Fist of Khonshu at the height of his power is on full display. A single punch at the muzzle of one of the beasts shatters its jaw with a sickening crunch and the beast, stunned by the sheer force is kicked aside.

    He wades forth and catches another two who pounce on him. He drops under their combined weight only to explode up out of the small pile, sending the pair flying to either side only to come down on one of them with a flight enhanced kick.

    It doesn't take long, only a handful of seconds, and the advanced scouting pack is dispersed or beaten into submisson. Those still able flee into the brush. Moon Knight lands and looks around, seeing that none of them are hurt he nods. "Let's go," he says, trudging further into the bush. Over the comm system (yes, earpieces were distributed to each member of the group) he speaks of Jon, <<Jon, what do you see?>>

    Jon flies on silent wings through the moonlit sky. Not far from the group's position, angling south west is cave set on the bank of the Hudson. There are a large congregation of wolves, and werewolves pacing about the entrance of the cave. Some carry crude weapons, axes, staves, or cudgels, but most look keen to use teeth and claw against any oncoming force. They're alert but not on edge, it would seem the approach of Cael's group hasn't met their attention just yet.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael takes a moment to crouch by one of the injured wolves, placing a gentle hand on it. "I really don't mean you harm. I suggest you and your fellows stay clear of further fighting tonight." She straightens again, letting out a huff of aggrevated air, before she strides forward. This fight is necessary, she knows - and while much of her longs for a fight tonight, this is //not// the fight she really wants.
    Still. They can't avoid it. She continues through the trees, moving as quietly as she can in her large, and still relatively unfamiliar form as they allow Jon to guide them towards the cave.

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
It will take time, but the wound to the wolf will heal, and so long as they don't attack again, Layla is perfectly alright with letting that one lope off to find somewhere to lick it's wounds. She stays with the group, starting towards where Marc's tangling with two of the wolves, but pausing when he bursts out of the minor dogpile like a daisy from the snow.

She gives him a faint smile and checks on Mercy to see that she's still doing fine as well, while Jon takes to the sky. There's a moment where she nearly joins him, but staying with the group is more important just now, so she keeps her feet on the ground and instead starts off with the others.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    Watches Jon slip off and mutters softly to Cael, "remind me to teach your partner that some packs can get a mystical sense of their turf and will just know if someone invades it. In case he doesn't already know." She's not a fan of them splitting up too fast. Of course it is distractions like that while trying to look calm that gets a wolf almost on your back. Mercy is trying to twist out of the way when Jon's shield saves her the trouble. She keeps a mental count on her pistol, safeties and holsters it. Shifting her main grip to the rifle again now that they seem done with the warm up match. "Body language Cael. Be big and scary. That will save more lives then kindness to a pack when you are invading."
    Mercy looks over at Layla's concern and says, "Cool outfit. But I'm fine. You'll know when I attract trouble and am in over my head." Sometimes she really gets envious of how fast werewolves can heal. Wiping her hand on a thigh before regripping the rifle she moves to follow Jon's trail as best she can, going low, and quiet.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    <<They're not very good at this,>> Jon notes over the comms. <<Their alarm ward is only about a hundred yards out, instead of right on the edge of their bloody territory. They /really/ need some direction.>> He starts moving in a circle around the cave, so as not to be in one place and risk the werewolves seeing through his veil.

    <<There's about... eight wolves and six werewolves, if I'm reading the auras correctly. At least, that's what's /visible/. They're alert and on edge, but they don't seem be aware of us. Some of them are armed, and all have the tattoos. The tattoos on these are... 'warrior' and 'guardian.' The pack from before had other glyphs as well, such as 'mystic' or 'priest' or 'scout.' None of those out here, but there's definitely magical practitioners down in the cave.>> A pause. <<That /might/ be whoever put out the mystical claim to the territory that we've been walking through. Feels like a sort of... mmm... like basically trying to use magic to push all the other predators out? Instead of just marking trees, I suppose.>>

    After a moment, Jon adds. <<You're about two hundred yards from the cave. Fair warning, there's a /huge/ source of death energy down in the cave. Not a person--a relic of some kind, maybe? Hard to tell from up here. I'll join you when you attack.>>

    The Archivist wasn't able to wrest the power of the 'Ceaseless Watcher' from Nyarlathotep for nothing. Gathering information is most of his whole purpose, after all.

Marc Spector has posed:
    After about a hundred yards, Mercy, Layla, Marc, and even Cael feel the pressure of a ward of some sort. It's not a barrier or anything tangible; the feeling is that of an alarm. A warning bell to let the greater pack know they're close. Moon Knight looks at the others. "I don't think we'll have the advantage of surprise. Best bet is to hit them hard and fast. We cross this, we run towards them, hopefully we can disrupt any defense they mount so they can't hole themselves up in this cave. Ready?"

    He doesn't wait for a response before he runs past the ward. As soon as his legs cross the invisible boundary a howl comes from closer to the river. One spreads to many and suddenly the reserve is alight with the howls of wolves in the night.

    It doesn't take long for them to emerge on the sandbank where the cave is set. True to Jon's words fourteen fighters stand between them and the cave, eight are canines, regular Egyptian wolves, animals brought for extra defense of their mystically infused brethren. The other six are massive hulking creatures like Cael, bipedal and muscular with claws and snouts filled with sharp tearing teeth all over their hulking bodies are tattoos reminiscent of Egyptian heiroglyphs, for those who can read them they denote titles as Jon mentioned: warrior, and guardian.

    One of the werewolves towards the entrace of the cave is larger than the rest. He carries a massive crude axe. "Kill them..." he growls out and the other rush forth to attack.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael's long-legged stride closes the last hundred yards in mere moments as she charges towards them - pulling off of a simple belt she wears what appears to be only a dagger, with the edge of the blade gleaming silver in the light of the moon. In her hands, though, it extends to the length of a spear.
    She remains hesitant to kill any of these warriors, as she easily bats aside one of the wolves with the butt of the spear, and continues the motion to bring it down in a brutal bash against one of the other war-formed werewolves. "Our fight isn't with you!" she shouts at the warriors. She doubts that will stop any of them. They're invading their home; who wouldn't defend their home against intruders?
    Still, she tries to slip past them, to get at the larger figure near the entrance of the cave. "Who leads you? Our quarrel's with them."

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
With Marc breaching the barrier, Layla is hot on his heels, lifting off to soar up into the air for this engagement. She gets a good bird's eye view of the battlefield and assesses the situation quickly. There's a frown and she swoops in, opting to try and remove the mundane wolves from the field in the most humane way she can think of.

Swooping in, she grabs up a wolf in both hands, at the scruff of the neck and the other hand just in front of the back legs, carrying them up into the air to toss them down into the brackish waters of the Hudson. She wheels back around to return for another wolf, looking to clear the path for everyone to focus on the werewolves rather than the wolves-wolves.

Still, with the battle engaged, she's keeping an eye overhead to see if anyone is getting in trouble and needs a bit of help.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    Mercy is hot on the heels of the others. The rifle already coming up as she sights toward some of the bigger guys. Werewolves are fast, but so is Mercy. She's also a better then average shot. It helps that some werewolves, especially mentally unstable or new ones, think they're invulnerable. She fire from the rifle, a .44 caliber silver punching a hole into one of the bigger guys charging with a weapon. Mercy doesn't hesitate to lever as she fires two more rounds. The first hit the best catching the guy on the right of his torso, second shot was a gut shot, third was more miss then hit as it grazes the werewolf's shoulder.
    Glancing to the sky, "Some werewolves can't swim well in water, Scarab." Once she's at a good range, Mercy skids to a kneeling position, braces the rifle and starts to fire. Someone paying attention will see that she's TRYING to gun an alley to help Cael and front line fighters like Moon Knight to charge.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    There's a moment of hesitation where Jon is still up in the air, still /safe/ from getting mauled or hit by stray bullets. He'll heal almost any damage, but it still /hurts/. But, then--damn it, Mercy's down there without any ability to regen if she gets hurt, and without any body armor either.

    So he swoops down in, and the werewolves probably won't like the fact that he can just summon up concepts right from the Astral Plane. He strafes the werewolves, firing bolts of liquid silver at them. He makes sure to avoid any Cael are particularly tangling with so as not to splash his girlfriend in the crossfire as he harries them.

Marc Spector has posed:
    The werewolves engaing Cael continue to struggle despite her words of placation. The but of the weapon is strong but it's not silver and the two bashed are stunned but only momentarily rising up after her as she makes her way towards the axe-weilding leader. They get to contend with the Fist of Khonshu on her heels.

    Moon Knight is werewolf killer, this much is known in most circles. These creatures are no different and his speed and strength at their height puts him on par with their massive size and weight advantage. He fights but even two on one he's hard pressed at his height, someone might need to help him (like perhaps his wife.)

    Layla's deposit of wolf after wolf into the water earns her some snarls and snapping jaws but nothing she can't avoid or disregard. Once dropped the creatures try to swim to safety away from the commotion on the banks. They will have to be rounded up once things are settled here.

    The pakc was not expecting silver being brought to bear against them. The first one falls to the massive round of Mercy and it draws up the others short. Which allows her to fell another. And then another. After the third the remaining monster starts backpedaling, seeming torn between fleeing the silver shooting villan before it and the will of its leader, it howls in agony as the silver cuts across its shoulder, sending a searing lance of pain that it's not prepared to handle.

    Which is exactly when Jon's lance of silver fire hammers into it and sears away fur and flesh alike as it drops into an unconscious heap.

    The lead guardian steps forward as Cael approaches and swings its axe at her in a blow meant for death. Cael has an instant's warning to know that the blade of the weapon is silver as it comes down intent on removing her head from her shoulders.

    Deeper inside the cave, dark power grows and boils from the cave mouth, defensive energies meant to bolster and strengthen the members of the pack, lending the strength of the Wolf-headed god of the Underworld, Anubis, to their defenses.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael doesn't meet the strength of the descending swing - the size of the axe, the momentum, the strength of the wielder - opposing that much force is a foolish waste of effort. By comparison, it takes very little to redirect the blow with the edge of her lance, causing it to slide down the length of the weapon, and hopefully imbed itself in the earth.
    "Do you lead them?" Cael asks - trusting her friends to have her back as she twirls her long spear, trying to sweep the legs out from under the hulking figure and land him on his back. "Or do you answer to another? I would challenge the leader here." She brings the point of her spear around to aim it at the man - the point gleaming a dangerous silver hue - but she doesn't drive it home yet.
    Maybe she'll regret that.

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
Layla is just returning from dropping the last of the wolves into the river when she spots the pair that were chasing Cael now ganging up on Marc. Brows lower as her jaw sets and every werewolf in the area is about hear the high-pitched scree of metal on metal as those metallic wings bristle and she divebombs the pair of werewolves.

The first gets to experience the feel of being hit by the equivalent of a train, Layla barreling in feet first to ride the werewolf to the ground, crushing the breastbone before a hot spray of blood accompanies an opened throat. That momentum continues as she whirls around and leaps up to bring the sharpened edges of those gilded feathers down in a deep slash across the other werewolf's face and chest. A slash that burns and bubbles as the Shield of Taweret flares those wings into a flex that catches the moonlight glinting off of silver-edged gilt feathers smeared with blood and fur.

"Get the fuck off my husband."

Half turning, she glances over her shoulder at Marc, winks, blows him a kiss, then launches back into the air to get a better view of the field and where she's needed most. If the outside werewolf numbers have dwindled enough, it will be time to head to the cave to make sure Cael has whatever support she needs in her fight.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    Mercy is aware of how squishy she can be. Hence the rifle, to help her stay away and able to still help. There is a time and a place to be up close and personal, this isn't it for her. Seeing the wolves' resolve and remembering some of what Cael said does cause Mercy's aim to shift. Less center mass and more shoot their knees, ass, or guts to take the fight out of them but less likely to be outright kill shots.
    She's trying to give Caels some cover but her next shot goes wide and dangerously close toward Cael as Mercy winces from the unexpected sound of metal on metal. "SORRY," she calls out a bit too loud and shakes her head a bit. Huh?! Scarab married the knight. Least their outfits have a shared theme. A few more shots are fired, less on their mark now. Then she starts to reload the Marlin reaching for the shells she has near her waist and feeding them smoothly to the rifle.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    As the dark power in the cave grows, the Archivist pauses at the end of a strafing run to confer with Ma'at.

    (Is Lord Anubis actually okay with this? Does he /want/ these werewolves to have this power?)
    (If Anubis supported these creatures, do you think they'd have such terrible defenses?)
    (Fair point.)

    They straighten in the air, spreading their arms, the goddess' voice overlapping their own. "Your power is stolen," he calls out. "You do not serve the Lord of the Sacred Land. You have perverted the power granted to the priests of Anubis for your own ends." They smile, almost cruelly. "You are not /ma'at/. And so we cut off your power."

    They wave the staff toward the cave, where they can see the threads of dark power tying /something/ to the ancient Lord of Duat. The gout of magical power is aimed at cutting those threads, removing the blessing of Anubis and giving Cael a level playing field for her fight.

Marc Spector has posed:
    Marc moves around the field once his quarries are defeated and dead at the hands of Scarlet Scarab. The occasional shots from Mercy are enough to fell any remainders and he ensures that they are unconscious or put out of their misery with a quick slash at the throat by one of his silvered crescents. He holds up a hand as the field quiets and Cael stands spear to the throat of the lead guardian.

    "I do not lead, I am not Alpha. We have no alpha, you and those with you saw to that... we follow the lead of our theurge" he growls out, his posture stiff and umoving against the point of the silver spearhead.

    "If you wish leadership of the pack, you must issue your challenge to him..." he says. "Spare my life, and if you win I will see that none others attempt to challenge your authority. I will serve faithfully as your second. You have my word."

    Moon Knight approaches and waves Jon and Layla to the ground as well.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael holds the spear on him - but he has, essentially, surrendered. Unless he tries to harm any of them... She can't kill him. "Where will I find the theurge?" she asks in a flat, even tone. "And I warn you - if you attempt to betray the word you just gave to me, you will regret it. You've seen what my friends and I can do," she says flatly. She holds the spear there a moment longer - before backing up.
    "If you act against me, or any of my friends - your life will be forfit," she says simply, before gessturing with the spear for the man to proceed them.
    In the cave. //That's// a great idea - but what can they do? Wait them out like a bloody siege?

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
Layla lands as the fight has wound down and negotiations are under way between Cael and the guardian. She paces up next to Marc and bumps her shoulder lightly against his before looking around and motioning Mercy to come join them before turning her eyes towards Jon and checking in on how he's holding up. With everyone's wellbeing looked after, she can turn her attention towards the guardian Cael is speaking to.

Mention of a theurge and challenging him, she eyes the creature with a narrowed gaze, seeking any hint of a lie in his tone or eyes. She remains quiet, however, folding her arms neatly across her chest as she watches.

Mercy Thompson has posed:
    All the attention is on the Beta, and the pack. Dead or down as it goes, with some wolves having scattered. Mercy knows that Cael is with Jon and others and this is her show. So she takes this chance to slip away. Move shooting locations and try to get up a tree and stay silent as a ghost. Coyotes are good climbers, walk right up a chain link fence. While Mercy is not /that good/ in human form, she can do far better then most. And knows to put herself in relation to the wind and the camp. She'll stay back and provide support and overwatch. She sees Scarab looking for her, and maybe finding Mercy depending on when she looked and how good her eyes, but someone has to stay outside the cave to play rear guard. Tracking down the wolves after the dust settles shouldn't be too too hard. Assuming they win and get the chance to do so. But everyone going into a cave when there are rogue wolves and other things seems unwise.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon comes in to land, furling in his wings so he can easily follow the others into the cave. He takes a moment to look over the others--well, to look at Mercy, really, to see if she's been injured. But she's gone up a tree, and so Jon goes to stand near Cael.

    "You've got this," he murmurs. "Alright, love?" He smiles, and then turns to head down into the cave with the others.

Marc Spector has posed:
    The warrior nods and turns to lead the four into the depths of the cave. A few steps in, the cave widens considerably. The smooth walls speak of unnatural work being done on the passage, it slopes steadily down and then winds in on itself some going into the depths of the earth under the Hudson River. Eventually the passage opens onto a great cavern.

    There are torches interspersed through the great cave, providing illumination to the archaic furnishings for the creatures living there. All told the number can't be higher than forty or fifty people. And they are people, some are in the war form, some in canine form, and others in human forms seeming to not have any preference among their number. The humans among them wear loose fitting clothes: tee shirts and sweatpants, none have shoes from the look of it. They're grouped together in pockets around the cave for safety.

    At the back of the cavern the floor simply gives away to a gaping chasm that goes deep into the darkness of the earth. Before that chasm is an altar. A large statue of a wolf-headed man adorns the central dais. Two pits of fire frame the Egyptian God of the Scales. The smooth stone slab that serves as the offertory base for the god holds a large black stone, about the size of a bowling ball. It pulses with the energy of death, but around the entire altar is a ring of teal flame, holding whatever mystical energies were being fueled from it within the confines of the circle. Ma'at's interdiction against the power the werewolf mystic was attempting to utilize.

    The theurge stands at the flame, waving a staff topped with bones and feathers above the fire attempting to dispell the barrier Jon erected against his workings. He turns at the entrance of the group. "The wayward child returns" he says in the gutteral broken English that is commong among the warformed. "So are you ready to take your place among your people or do you still pretend to claim some semblance of your humanity?" he asks mockingly.

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael follows the man down into the cave, holding the spear at her side, and remaining alert to any signs of danger as they walk - but not traps or ambush stop their progress. Briefly - her free hand reaches out to touch Jon, her gaze flicking towards them - but that's all she'll allow herself in this moment. They all need to stay focused, or they might not all make it out alive.
    As the theurge speaks, her lips peel back to bear her teeth. The wayward child. Did that imply this was done to her on purpose? Or was she reading too much into those words? "This pack has been misusing its power. The people of New York are not your prey. I've come to ensure that stops - now. Are you responsible for the death, and murder we've been fighting against?" Cael asks in a cold tone - made all the harsher, and more threatening by the form she wears.
    "If so - you pay for that tonight. If not - you will prove it by submitting to the judgement of the Avatar of Ma'at," she commands firmly.
    Sorry, Jon. You've been voluntold.

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
Layla follows Cael and Jon down into the cave, eyes trailing over the gathered people as they come to a halt. She glances sidelong to Marc and stage whispers to him, "I wonder how many of them even realize they didn't /really/ have Anubis' blessing, but that the theurge /stole/ the power, against the God's wishes. Anubis is pretty pissed, Taweret says she can still hear him cursing up a storm." Just in case any of the people gathered have been being lied to in order to get their loyalty.

She keeps her focus on the grouped people, making sure that nobody tries to lunge for Cael, or for any of them, fully ready to step in and protect her friends as needed.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon actually growls at 'wayward child,' but stops a little ways behind Cael. He was pretty much expecting to be volunteered, here. They've already had some conversations about the matter.

    "She has more right to this power than you," he says, voice still resonating with power, with an undercurrent of anger. "Cael Becker has been to Duat, twice. She has spoken to Anubis and has the respect of Ma'at. The Fist of Khonshu counts her among his allies, and the Shield of Tawaret stands behind her tonight. What do you have? Dupes and tools, people who don't know any better." He shakes his head.

    He rests the butt of the staff on the ground. "Having a bit of trouble there, old chap?" he adds in his own voice, flicking a glance to the flames that surround the stone. Raises a brow. "What's the matter, afraid you can't win a fair fight?"

Marc Spector has posed:
    The werewolf mystic snarls out a curse in Egyptian. It's not a nice word at all. "We know you Jonathan Sims. You and your position, are the only things keeping her alive right now. Otherwise she would have lost her head to our supposed guardian." He beats his own staff against the stone of the cave. "You come here to deliver threats? We are a legion dedicated to seeing our god rise up to his rightful place once more. A place usurped by an animated corpse. No better than the bloodsucking fiends in our opinion."

    He spits to one side. "You claim that humans are not our prey, but we kill no less than you kill your own."

    Moon Knight nods to Scarlet Scarab and steps up beside Cael. His doesn't bother hiding his words, they can hear the whispers anyway. "You need to declare the challenge directly. Call him unfit to lead, and state that -you- are here to challenge that position" he says.

    Even as he says it the theurge bristles and shakes with unbridled rage, foam forming at the corner of his muzzle. "Unfit! I have served as Alpha longer than that upstart brute who killed you could ever hope, Moon Knight! I -made- him and still he had the audacity to claim leadership! He is dead and I am here! I am Alpha!"

    But Cael's senses as a wolf are attuned, he isn't the alpha. A figurehead sure, but the true leadership of a pack is more than just claiming a position. He hasn't been tested. He hasn't earned the position or the title.

Cael Becker has posed:
    "Oh?" Cael asks. "Because the way I've heard it, this pack has no alpha." Her eyes remain fixed on the theurge, as she starts walking towards him. "I challenge you. If you think you are fit, then step forward. Otherwise - save your life, and step aside." Her posture radiates confidence and strength - and every step is the graceful movement of a well trained warrior. If this has to be a fight - then it has to be fight - but she intends to end it quickly, and decisively.
    "Decide. If you are fit," the sneer in her tone and her lips shows how unlikely she considers that, "then show me. I promise to make your death swift, and then Anubis can let you know his opinion of your service."

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
Layla moves towards the gathered others, meeting eyes wherever she can. "Let this be a fair challenge. And let it determine who shall lead moving forward. We will not interfere, and we will ask you to not interfere either." She keeps a somber expression, a neutral tone, "It is not your fault you were lied to." She glances back towards Cael and the Theurge, then back to the gathered, "We seek only justice, balance."

Moving away, she rejoins the others and takes up a spot behind and slightly to the side of Cael, showing her support of the woman, still in that full ceremonial garb that marks her as an Avatar.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    There's a spark of anger in the Archivist's teal eyes, as the goddess' ire flares up at the term 'animated corpse' to refer to the Lord of the Underworld. Osiris is the rightful ruler, even Anubis has agreed to that, even if the situation still irks him sometimes.

    But Jon... /laughs/. "You're playing with things you don't understand. You shouldn't have called on the gods of Kemet without bothering to learn the first thing about our society." Like the way Osiris taking over from Anubis--and then Ra taking over from Osiris--was driven in large part by the continual collapse and re-unification of Upper and Lower Egypt. That the dead were revered, and mummies were far more than 'animated corpses.'

    No matter. He shakes his head and steps back, over toward Layla and Marc, to give them room to fight. "Ammit will enjoy eating your heart." Clearly the Archivist and Ma'at figure the weighing of the heart will be little more than a formality. He won't interfere. He's confident in Cael.

Marc Spector has posed:
    Moon Knight steps forward, the light of his eyes brightens to halogen levels of illumination. When he speaks it's not his voice, but the voice of Khonshu that comes out. "This fight should be under my eyes, who governs your power. Even if bestowed by Anubis, it is my light that fuels your strength and so let it be under my light that the rightful Alpha of this pack is determined."

    He gestures up. "Besides, it's hardly fair to have you here at the seat of your power for a challenge. If it's to be fair, let all aspects of it be fair. Unless, you want to forfeit right here and now. That's perfectly fine as well." It seems the curmudgeony god of the moon hasn't entirely lost his sense of humor.

    The Guardian at the cave's entrance steps forward, "Honored Theurge, I must impore that you listen to wisdom... you have claimed the right and none of us question your power under the god of Death but... you are not our--"

    He cuts off as the Theurge raises a hand. Dark power radiates from his clawed hand. "Finish that statement at your own peril Silas. I assure you even if the Avatar of Ma'at has severed the ability to bestow power to us all, I still hold much of it in me without the conduit." He releases the Guardian who drops to a knee, gasping at air. "I agree to these terms, let us all go topside and we can watch as the prodigal is laid low and killed by my hand." The room slowly starts to move, givnig a wide berth to those standing with Cael.

    Topside, Mercy is given a moment's pause as fifty people emerge from the cave... and not a single one of them is Cael, Jon, Moon Knight, or Scarlet Scarab. Still, she exercises caution and doesn't drop a hammer shot of silver into any of them, instead waiting to see what happens next.

    As the foursome comes up, followed by the Theurge and the Guardian, (still reeling from the attack he sustained from his priest). The werewolves, under the light of the full move all shift to warform one by one and form a large ring on the blood strewn sand of the beach, with the River Hudson raging beside them. A small space is allowed for Cael's companions to join in the circle.

    Once made the Guardian, Silas, moves forward to the center of the ring. He clears his throat and speaks. "This will be a trial of leadership. The winner will claim true right of Alpha of our pack and will be the one who dictates our path forward. There are to be no weapons other than tooth and claw" even as he speaks, the Theurge removes his cermonial garb and hands it and staff to a young female who approaches him. Silas continues. "The fight will be until one of you dies. If there are no objections?" He pauses, and hearing none gives a nod before backing into the circle. "Begin!"

    The Theurge wastes no time, his claws extend from his massive hands and he lunges at Cael, he's obviously at a stength disadvantage but he is rather spry for one so focused on mystical teachings.

Cael Becker has posed:
    You wouldn't think it possible for Cael's expression to darken - but the look she gives the theurge for his assault on Silas really should sear a hole into him, in a fair and just universe.
    Alas, this is the only universe we have.
    We as the pack moves back up the tunnels, Cael turns to go with them - her hand brushing briefly against Jon again. As much as she wants to hold them in her arms, and seek their reassurance once more that being like this is not a monsterous thing. It helps that, for the second month in a row, she retains control of herself under the light of the moon.
    As they emerge into the moonlight and the terms are laid out, Cael hands off her spear, and briefly cups Jon's cheek in one massive hand. It's still strange to her to be looking down on Jon - but she doesn't have time to reflect on it as she turns to stride towards the center of the open space.
    The old man closes on her abruptly - and perhaps he's counting on his years of combat experience to best the younger fighter. He cannot possibly know the centuries of combat knowledge that had been implanted in Cael's mind when she took up the amulet. He cannot possibly know how easily she reads each of his movements as he lunges, perhaps hoping to catch her offguard. She drops beneath his reach - allowing him access only to her back, as she grasps hold of his arm, and tries to use his own momentu against him, to pull him over her shoulder, and throw him forcefully to the ground. Even as she can feel his free hand clawing at her back for purchase, she's already adding the strength of her own movements into the throw, hoping to slow and injure him already, in addition to putting him in a vulnerable position.

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
Layla takes a dim view to hurting people just as a means to show off. So does Taweret. So after Silas has done his duty to start the challenge, she sidles her way over to the guardian and glances up at him. Surreptitiously reaching out to 'accidentally' brush her hand against his arm, and letting Taweret's healing flow through him, removing any lingering traces of the dark magic that gripped him by the throat.

Pulling her hand back, she offers an apologetic glance, "Sorry, din't mean to bump you like that." Then she gives him a nod and moves around a bit more to get a better vantage of the fight. Watching the Theurge closely for attempts to cheat through use of the power he claims to still have 'stored within'.

"His heart is heavy.. it will never pass the scale.. you can /feel/ the weight of it..." Its murmured to Taweret as the pair watch through Layla's eyes. Those eyes glow as Taweret responds, "Oh no, dear. He's going to be facing Anubis personally for his crimes. One can almost feel pity for him, but he did bring it on himself." Layla nods her agreement to that last part.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    The Archivist just stands back, arms folded across his chest. Jon was a Champion of a Hell Lord for a year, practices with ancestral memory while he sleeps, trains with Saint Uriel and bested Saint Michael... and Cael /still/ consistently hands him his ass every time they spar. Maybe not as easily as before, but she still does. How much of it is the amulet and how much is any natural talent for reading people is hard to say, but--well--he has no doubts as to who's going to win this fight.

    And if this theurge /does/ kill his girlfriend, well, he'll just have to pair up with Tawaret and bring her back, right? Or kill the theurge. Or both. Poor guy really backed himself into a corner.

Marc Spector has posed:
    As the man goes over Cael's shoulder in an akido toss there is the loud snapping of bone, the theurge yips in pain and srabbles to his feet. His right arm hangs uselessly at his side, but Cael knows it's only a short period of time before it slides back into place--werewolf healing being as exception as it is.

    Still, his own fury is running hot and he doesn't waste much time stalling, he scoops his free hand to the sandy beach and tosses a massive spray of sand into her face before pushing off with powerful legs, his jaws parting to tear at her abdomenal region in the hopes of disembowelling her on the battle field and ending the fight quickly.

    All around them snarls and growls of approval and disappoval sound as the members of the pack seem to enjoy the blood sport before them. Moon Knight starts in place. "Augh... don't... -do- that..." he breathes out to himself. He looks to Scarlet Scarab and says, "How do you -stand- that so easily?" he asks. "Just... handing over the reigns like that?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    While he's down - Cael aims a mauling kick for his throat, but he was faster than she expected, and rather then an easy kill, she only scores a glancing blow across his shoulder. A shame, she wanted to end this quickly.
    Her eyes never leave him, and she watches as he scoops up the sand. It's one of the oldest dirty tricks known to man - so it's no surprise to her when the man hurls it into her face. She puts up her hands as if to ward off the sand - briefly closing her eyes to protect her vision as she lets out a loud, "Shit!" that's completely feigned.
    Let the man believe he's blinded her. Lure the old fool in.
    And she knows he only has the one good arm with which to attack her.
    While she fumbles as if trying to clear her eyes, she never truly lets her full vision of him be obscured - and she captures the man's arm once more. This time, rather than tossing him, though, she twists his arm painfully, with one hand - using it to try to control him, and relying on his other arm still being useless.
    He's a cruel man, she reminds herself. He's a murderer. This is necessary. This is her only choice. She can make it swift, for him.
    Still, it doesn't feel good to her when she twists his arm around behind his back - and reaches over his shoulder with clawed fingers, to go for his throat.

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
Layla watches the match carefully, the glow in her eyes showcasing when Taweret is the dominant presence in Layla's body. When the question comes from Moon Knight, the glow is present as an impish smile plays across his wife's lips, though it fades as Layla responds with, "Taweret says it's a matter of trust and finesse. Khonshu tends to... to /grab/, to /take/. It's rough and sudden, there's no conversation, no permission requested. But with Taweret, we talk alot even when she isn't controlling my vocal chords. So when she wants to speak aloud, I'm already prepared for it and am able to relax."

She motions towards Marc and smiles, "You and Khonshu fight for control each time. Understandable, given the givens. But if you two spoke more often, you could come to the same sort of arrangement Taweret and I have. We went through nearly a year of the same sort of tug-o-war you go through with Khonshu before we really sat down and hashed it out. Taweret gives me a heads up when she wants to speak, it lets me relax and just... go with the flow. Makes the transitions smoother, no pain, no jarring."

Her eyes begin to glow again as Taweret takes to the forefront with a wide smile, "Hello dearie! Khonshu, it really is bad form to not give your Avatar warning before you take over! Don't you remember that Avatar of Pakhet's back around, oh, 5 or 4 AD? ALWAYS a fight between those two! And eventually the fight for control caused her poor Avatar to hemorrhage something fierce. Poor dear bled out on the sands and Pakhet went roaring off on a rampage for the better part of a dynasty!" Her/Layla's hands come up, moving as she speaks, turning this way and that in a manner that is very much a Taweret trait rather than a Layla trait. "Anyways! Once I realized that I was heading down the same path with Layla, I made the effort to sit down with her and come up with a sort of signal for her to know when I wanted control. We both know I can take it anytime, and she would rather share control for a short while than build towards an early death."

The glow fades as Layla takes control once more, giving a wry smile, "It took a bit more conversation than that, and I still think it's /really/ invasive... but Gods are Gods, and she made a good point that I agreed to this." She shrugs, then chuckles, "Yes, Taweret, /and/ we get along much better now. That helps a lot."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon only glances aside for a moment, to Marc. "Don't think of it like reins. On either side. Think of it like a partnership. It'll go a lot better." Of course... he also doesn't have a /human/ body anymore. And he's more /sharing/ than Ma'at taking over. Still.

    He keeps his attention mostly on the fight, though, wincing briefly as Cael feigns being blinded--and then smiling rather viciously when she grabs him and twists his arm. He tenses his jaw as she goes for the throat--can she actually go through with it? With intentionally killing this man?

Marc Spector has posed:
    Moon Knight seems to consider the options offered and nods. "I'll... keep that in mind. Maybe he and I can discuss some sort of arrangement. I dunno..." His attention is turned back to the fight as Cael moves to take the victory. He nods, indicating as best he can that this is way it has to be for her to be accepted. The will to take a life is the only sign of trust this group has for those who lead.

    The Theurge struggles as Cael wrenches his good arm back and then he's pulled up as her claws reach around to his throat. "No! I'm the alpha! I deserve it! Not some foolish--" His words are cut off with a gurgle as the claws dig into the soft flesh of his throat and fill his windpipe with blood. A gout of the dark fluid is coughed out and there is a sickening ripping sound, like paper being torn as she rips the majority of his larynx out with a quick jerk of her claws.

    And with that it's done. The pack howls in unison and all drop to their knees before the victor. All save Silas, he moves forward and meets Cael's gaze. "Is it done. You are now our Alpha. We follow as you dictate. What is your will?"

Cael Becker has posed:
    "I promised you it would be swift," Cael murmurs quietly as she holds the man up - her hand sticky with warm blood as she feels eat beat of his heart pumping it out in weakening spurts.
    Is this what she is now? How is it //not// monsterous? Had there been a better choice, though? With few deaths?
    She drops the body as it reverts to a human form in his death, and turns her gaze first to Jon - allowing her pain and confusion to show for only a moment, before her attention turns to Silas.
    "We don't hunt humans. Innocent people have nothing to fear from us," Cael asserts firmly. "And anyone who breaks that rule, faces the same facte as the theurge." She nods her head to the man at her feet. In moments, he would start twitching spasmodically in death as the last remnants of electrical signals fire through his muscles. ...she doesn't want to see it.
    "Some of our fellows were injured when I arrived - they must be treated, and the dead tended to. And some of the wolves were injured, and others of them were scattered. They must be gathered, and treated as well."
    Was she forgetting anything? Anything important?

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
Layla moves towards Marc, reaching out to take his hand, fingers lacing through his and giving a squeeze, "We figured it out, and you've already shown you can have a better working relationship with Khonshu. I'm sure you can come to terms."

Then Cael is taking ownership of the pack and Layla nods to her first commands, then glances towards Jon, agreeing with their statement. "Sharing! Yes, much more like sharing."

She looks to the pack and offers, "The wolves were dropped into the river, they should be unharmed, but some of them swam for the opposite shore. Anyone that's in need of healing, we're willing to help."

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    "Do you still want them judged for their past actions? Or do they get a clean slate, with new leadership?" The Archivist speaks calmly, but firmly, loud enough to carry. He glances around the field under the moonlight. "After all... they may have thought they were merely doing what was right."

    A pause, and then he adds, "...And do they, once you're certain they can be trusted among others, get to go back to their families, if they want to? Return to former lives?" How many of these people had basically been forced into this, after all? Given no choice, nowhere else to go?

Marc Spector has posed:
    Moon Knight walks over and nods. "There's a lot to take care of. They've been scattered and directionless for months. And before that they were without guidance. You need to be a compass. Fifty mouths is a lot to feed and, as the Archivist said, many of them have families that they may want to return to but hadn't known they could." He looks to the cave. "Then there is the matter of that alter and the stone..."

    He looks to Silas and then to Cael. "It may be a good idea to tend to the wounded and injured," he gestures to Layla and Jon, "gather the pack and then come back to decide the day to day matters and what comes next with a proper list." He pauses and holds up a hand in placation, "That is simply my suggestion, not an imperative or a command. They are you're people after all."

    Jon's suggestion is given some weight. "I think... given the nature of their previous two alphas, it might be best to start fresh. After all, would you judge the sword or the person who swung it if it took a life? That's what these people were to their past alphas, tools, weapons to be used and discarded after their use was over."

Cael Becker has posed:
    Cael's gaze goes to Jon at his question, and as much as she dislikes even thinking about more death tonight... "I won't condemn people simply because they were misguided," she confirms. "But if they have no remorse for their actions and the pain it caused..." Then what are the odds they'll truly stop?
    She looks at the gathered werewolves, then looks from Moon Knight, back to Jon once more. "Can you judge them all, Archivist? If... If any of them are truly unrepentant, then I'll carry out the required sentence, myself."
    Maybe they really were //all// forced and manipulated into it. She certainly hopes so.
    Looking over her pack once more she adds, "I won't hold anyone captive here, as long as they're abiding by the laws of human society. All will be welcome here, and we'll continue to support one another. But you should be free to live your lives."

Layla Abdalla El-Faouly has posed:
Layla bites her tongue on offering advice. This is all very sudden for Cael and she'll likely need time to really absorb it all. But at the asking for judgment, she does glance sidelong at Marc for a moment before glancing away. She's not comfortable with this and it shows. But, not her pack, or her people.

She glances to Silas briefly, then murmurs to Marc, "I'm going to go start rounding up the wolves and bringing them back..." Giving a quick smile, she squeezes his hand, then turns and lifts off into the sky.

Jonathan Sims has posed:
    Jon glances around at the group. Fifty statements is going to take a while. But where else does he really have to be tonight?

    He looks around at the group. "The process is simple. I will ask for your statement, and you will give it. I will give you your judgement. Ma'at will show you the impact of your actions upon the world, regardless of how you've been judged. And you'll be given a chance to change. To redeem yourself. To bring yourself into balance."

    A pause. "Or, anyone who doesn't want to give a statement is free to run, but we /will/ hunt you down. And then we'd have to turn you over to the mortal justice system, and I don't think you'd like their options. If you've killed people, and you're willing to change, we'll give you a second chance. The police will lock you up in a heartbeat. 'Forced into a werewolf pack' is, unfortunately, /not/ an acceptable defense to the New York DA."

    His expression softens. "If you've been party to things that weigh on your heart... now's the time to unburden yourself, to come clean, and start anew."

Marc Spector has posed:
    Moon Knight looks to Layla and gives his own nod. "I'll help you" and with that he too takes off into the air, his cloak spreading around him like a crescent moon and he heads off with his wife to hunt down the wildlife.

    There are a few who do try to run, but they are quickly brought to their knees and sentenced accordingly. In the end, ten more of the pack died that evening, all unrepentent in their acts of violence against humanity. The business is bloody and long and by the time it's over the sun is cresting the eastern horizon.

    Sometime during the ordeal, Moon Knight and Layla both headed back to the Mission, leaving Jon and Cael to tend to the business at hand. There was still much to do, but the pack's wellfare was in good hands for once and it seemed that it might flourish under the guidance of its new Alpha.