+--------------------------------+ Riverdale +---------------------------------+
Originally designated as a social science research project by the University of Chicago and officially adopted by the City of Chicago. The Riverdale neighborhood extends from the Calumet River in the north to 138th Street in the south, and from Indiana Ave. in the west to the Union Pacific railroad tracks in the east. Over half of Riverdale's area is made up of the water reclamation plant, rail yards, landfills and industrial sites. In addition to these industrial usages, the community area houses a number of residential neighborhoods.
It's safe to say the social experiment failed. Numerous economic hardships have taken their toll on the residents of the various 'projects' that make up the neighborhoods housing and crime runs unchecked through the streets. Golden Gate park is the areas only really notable feature and even locals wouldn't be caught there after dark. The only people who still live in Riverdale are those who can't afford to leave and the truly desperate.
+------------------------------------------------------------------------------+
Marks of territory. Scents. There are certainly wolves about, and there's not much mistaking the subtle sigils and the sharper scent of Uratha piss.
Izi Zagu'iri. Literally: Fire winnows the (large/important) city. The pack staking its claim and boldly pronouncing its intentions. There are at least four leaving scents and patrolling. Three female, one male.
A few passes along the edges of the marked territory and he can find the area that seems to have the most concentrated scent - a run down little house with a small, but lush, yard in Riverdale. It's got a black security fence, instead of, say, chainlink.
The whole area just -feels- wrong. He's certain there are signs of the Pure working with another group, but he can't place who it might be.
John watches the house from across the street, sticking to the shadows for now. He is unsettled by his ignorance, his uncertainty. The fence doesn't seem to match the house that it's attached to, and that is curious. After a long moment spent observing the house, he begins to investigate the area around it, looking for common paths the Pure have taken, or vantage points he might safely watch from, unobserved.
White paint that needs redone. A few places where the siding has shifted and not been repaired. The garage door is slightly tilted. It's not big, grand damages, but signs of time and a lack of care for the building. for the structures and the cosmetics of them.
After a while of watching, a scrawny looking woman with raggedly cut black hair, wearing ratty jeans and a conspicuously stained wifebeater. Scars adorn her left arm - ragged, potentially from claws. Hunting up a rumpled pack of cigarettes, she shakes one out of the soft pack and lights it up, taking a big drag after the smaller puffs to cherry it.
John stops where he is, backing into the shadows. His hackles rise, but he knows he may be outnumbered, here. He barely contains the growl that threatens to sound from his throat. He sniffs the air quickly, hoping the cigarette smoke has not yet muddied the scents, wondering if her pack is nearby.
The other scents aren't on the wind, but the woman carries with her the scent of a kill. The questionable stains perhaps blood or offal. Taking a drag, she rubs the back of her neck, carrying an air of tired thoughtfulness. Concerned, but not panicked or up in arms about whatever is on her mind. Just -thinky-, like she's chewing on something of important.
The scent of the smoke is minty, but cheap. Generic menthols. The yard is well kept, the grass softly shaggy with small wild flowers allowed to take over a fair bit of it. white, yellow, purple, small blossoms nestled in the green.
The form of the wolf cracks and shifts, growing and expanding until it is a man, but more. In his Dalu form, John is over six and a half feet tall, and heavy with muscle. He snarls as he steps from the shadows, announcing his presence. "Know that you face Aziha Zuu, Rahu of the Blood Talons. What name will I sing, in the song that tells of my victory here tonight?"
There's a moment of just glancing over, then recognition of the form of the challenger. Another drag is taken from the cigarette before she drops t and grinds it out under her bare foot. "Bhu-uhur meli. Izidakh." Tears-the-Neck. Fire-touched. A madcap grin turns her thin lips into a jagged smile where lips have been split and split again with silver. Stepping down off the small back porch, she swings her hips with an unconscious sensuality as she stalks towards him, beckoning him closer.
John walks toward her at a steady pace, flexing thick fingers that end in claws. "I will tell them that you met me bravely," he says, his voice low, before he allows his body to change again. It grows and swells into the killing form, and he bounds forward to meet the Fire-Touched at a run.
Bhu'uhur meli sprints to meet the Gauru's charge, rising at the last second with an essence fueled shift, trying to duck in under his larger frame and savagely raking claws along his belly as she surges in height and strength, jagged, slashes lips creating a visual effect of having a second row of teeth that are bared in a snarl.
The Blood Talon snarls as Bhu'uhur meli tears into the flesh of his belly, his blood spraying. He leans into the blow, though, using his greater size to drive his own wicked claws into her back, pressing his weight down on her.
Claws tear into her, deeper, tunneling all the way through the dark furred female until they burst through the other side. The wound is horrific, but already sealing when she jerks away to dismount his impaling arm and slash her claws across his chest to try and drive him further back from herself. So her innards-made-outtards can mend with the speed of Gauru.
Aziha Zuu recoils as the Fire-Touched rakes her claws across his chest, snarling as he dances back. He slashes with his own claws at her forearm, more to ward her off reflexively than as an attack.
As soon as the wounds heal, she moves again, leaving herself wide open, trying to sink claws into flesh and tear him apart. She under estimates how fast he is, and the rake of claws just adds more to his coat, rather than flaying him wide open...
Aziha Zuu lunges forward, blunting her strength by crowding her with his greater mass. He tears into her with both claws, one from each side, just above her hips. If she were a lesser foe, it would have spilled her intestines on the street. He howls his fury into the night air.
There is fur and blood ALL over the yard, soaking them both until pelts are matted down and crimson or black. The sounds of flesh ripping and snarls of pain or grunts of effort fill the space as the titans clash. Jerking back, Bhu'uhur snaps her jaws at him, catching flesh and ripping.
His right claw caught by her bite, the Blood Talon slashes with his left at the Fire-Touched's snout so that he can snatch himself free, then quickly dashes to one side, circling his prey.
Being clobbered slow her down, but she still manages to scrunch away from a heavy blow, retaliating by trying to drive her clawed fist into his middle, making a fist around hot entrails and jerking it back to add offal to the once-pretty lawn. Now it's muddy with blood and bits of knocked loose flesh, claws have dug deep furrows in the soil. As soon as the entrails are flung away, she loses size and fury, melting down to an all-fours dire wolf when the Gauru fades.
Sensing victory within his reach, Aziha Zuu snarls as he reaches out for the dire wolf's throat with the claws of his right hand. His left rakes down her ribcage, throwing up a clod of blood-soaked earth even as he, too, shifts forms. The light of the full moon glints from the teeth of a monstrous wolf, where just seconds ago the killing form of a Gauru stood.
Knowing when she's in trouble, the Anshenga does the smart thing and runs. Tail tucked, blood painting the ground, spurting when she stretches her stride, Bhu seeks escape. Fast, she pushes through the pain as she heals some of the damage done by the Blood Talons claws.
Aziha Zuu believes he has the measure of his prey, and he knows his pace. He sets out at a bounding run that doesn't not match the Fire-Touched for speed, but he will not tire, will not stop.
Bhu'uhur meli has not torn any throats today, as her name might imply she would. She does not waste precious essence to heal, beyond stopping the worst of the bleeding as they run. Over fences and through yards. She takes advantage of her nimbleness, of her speed.
But he IS relentless. Distance gained is lost, her huge urshul paws digging running-spike claws deep into soft grasses and earth or scraping on concrete for purchase as she desperately tries to shake her pursuer. The signs of the fight written deep into muscle and sinew.
Aziha Zuu has tasted the blood of his prey, and will not be denied. He lopes after the Pure, hunting in near-silence, leaping fences, crashing through hedges, charging down alleys. His pace is steady, constant.
Only at the end does he reach a sprint. When Bhu-uhur meli begins to tire, he darts forward with a speed he had not before shown, the growl as he leaps silenced when his jaws close around her throat. He feels her collapse and begin to shift as his fangs tear at ther throat, but he does not relent.
The Blood Talon rears up, shaking his prey until he feels the horrid sound of her spine snapping. Only then does he drop her lifeless body to throw back his head and howl at the moon.
| 