While the rest of the Prodigals rushed headlong out the Caern, Eaton stood silent as images flashed in his mind. It was as if he was reliving the same vision he had received the night before they had set out from Nacogdoches: The boiling pool of silver, the cries of the pained spirits, the mysterious figure whose identity was now revealed . . .
He was pulled back to the present as the thunderous howls of the rage-driven Garou startled him from his thoughts. He lifted his head as paws and fangs grew twice their size, bones and muscle expanding rapidly to double his height. Penelope would be fine, he reassured himself. Now was the time for her to cleanse herself.
And it was time for him to go find some twisted aberration and tear it apart.
Even in his brief pause almost every Garou had left the Caern, leaving only a few who were sure to take to the field any second. On all fours Eaton shot though the caves, over the shallow river and into the night.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been running; surely he was some distance from the Caern now. Eaton paused and sniffed the air as he detected a foul odor, that of decay and death, that of something just begging to be destroyed. Getting a sense of its direction, the wolf took off with greater ferocity. The forest soon cleared to reveal an open field with a dilapidated fence a short distance away. Bounding right over it he saw what was originating the stench: several cows laid dead among the overgrown foliage, their harnesses still attached as if they had dropped on the spot. With his keen eyesight he could see several dark figures stumbling through the high grass, their direction seemingly aimless at first but Eaton noticed they were slowly making their way his direction. His attention was diverted by a sharp pain in his front left paw. With a growl he shot his gaze down to see a small scorpion, its stinger still embedded in his flesh. He brought his other massive paw down on the vermin, smashing it with a satisfying crunch.
Hearing a mighty roar come behind him, he looked up to see a Crinos Garou shoot past him. In the moonlight Eaton could see the familiar markings of Peace-in-Strength adorning the beast’s skin as he thundered deeper into the field towards the shambling creatures. Forgetting the irritating pulse in his paw he chased after the Arhoun, not about to let him go in alone. Getting closer Eaton could make out the creatures: They appeared to be human, wearing worn settlers clothing though he could tell that their pale completion was not due to Luna’s light. Reaching the creatures first, Peace-in-Strength grabbed hold of one of the man’s arms and wrenched it from the body with little effort. Eaton leapt into another, knocking his foe to the ground as he bit into its chest.
His companion called out his name, but Eaton already knew something was wrong. Instead of the warmth of blood in his mouth and the sound of a snapping ribcage, the Bone Gnawer’s maw was coated in the cold slime of a dozen crushed scorpions as venom seeped down his throat. He looked down at the body to see the damaged corpse split nearly in two as more vermin poured from tattered remains. He looked to Peace-in-Strength, whose opponent disintegrated on the spot into yet more scorpions. Even in the brief pause, the taste in his mouth changed from a numbing revulsion to a sickening sweet taste. At any rate it would make defeating these things easier, he thought. Though their numbers were many Eaton crushed all of the scorpions he could in his massive jaws, ignoring the pain of their countlesss stings. Although at first he suffered through their bites they instead changed from a burning weal of misery into a numbing sensation and eventually to soothing warmth. He really never thought destroying these creatures would be this enjoyable.
He shot over an occasional glance to Peace-in-Strength who clearly was not as enthused to bite into these creatures as he growled through the stinging. He leapt over to one of the cows and lifted the bloated corpse over his head before he brought it down on the mound of scorpions. While the Garou pair destroyed the two swarms the remaining humanoids disintegrated, the vermin coalescing into one giant swarm of the stinging creatures. While he was eager to dive into the horde, he thought that this ought to be shared. As the scorpions advanced, the Galliard lifted his head with a great howl calling out to his totem spirit. He stood still for a moment, ignoring the Ahroun at his side eyeing him questioningly. The sounds of the advancing swarm were drowned out by the scuffle of creatures approaching behind him. A chittering throng of rats poured forward out of the tall grass, rushing past the two Garou to meet the incoming arachnid swarm. Barbed stinger and fanged maw met as the two vermin hordes tore at each other, pieces of the scorpion thrown in the air amid the squals of spasming rodents. Eaton leapt into the carnage, tearing at the scorpions as he let let the bile drip freely from his jaws. As he stormed across the battlefield, his strange roiling gait made it look like he was performing a bizarre dance.
Eventually, the clashing armies feel silent, as the last stray scorpions were torn apart by the wolf while the surviving rats vanished into the field. All the wyrm creatures had perished, but he didn’t care: so intoxicated with their venom he continued to tear at their remains only so he hold on to the taste of their innards. So enamored with the sensation he didn’t hear the Ahroun let out a pained growl as he stepped closer to him, the Warder’s arms wrapping around him, pulling him up out of the slime. Eaton thrashed about in Peace-in-Strengths grasp, but was not strong enough to escape. He roared out a curse in Garou tongue as his jaws snapped after the vermin’s remains. Peace-in-Strength holding him still, a third hand reached out touched Eaton’s stomach quickly gesturing up his chest. Eaton calmed down for a second, before coughing and vomiting over himself. Immediately after, the stings on his skin became painfully apparent, while he sputtered trying to get the wretched taste of wyrm out of his mouth. The hand placed itself over one of his stings, which ceased radiating its painful bite. Peace-in-Strength placed him gently on the ground, the Galliard’s breathing returning to normal. Eaton looked up at his healer and could recognize the robes of the Sicarii the homid Garou wore. Even in the moon’s weaker light his hair was a fiery red, though his eyes were dark as he smiled at Eaton’s fast recovery.
“Glad that you are feeling better.” He said in a slow, deep voice.
“Thank you . . .? Eaton said, not knowing his savior’s name.
“Watches-From-Afar.” He said with a slight bow, “I observed this battle from the Umbra and seeing you act strangely, I gathered that these creature’s venom did not just poison your body, but also your mind. You fought as though you did not feel it, but they were killing you just the same.”
By now the swelling had subsided, and Eaton stood up on all fours. The Sicarii healer laid his hands over Peace-in-Strength’s injuries as Eaton said,
“But I did feel their stings. They just felt . . . enjoyable . . .” He stopped with a hint of disgust evident in his voice. Watches-From-Afar gave him a curious look as he finished healing the Ahroun,
“That is . . . quite revolting. Although between the two of you these wyrm-tainted fiends were destroyed, if they were able to claim you their purpose would have been served.”
He surveyed the area, before returning his gaze back to Eaton,
“I do not sense any more of the wyrm’s presence in this place. I will continue to keep watch over those still hunting the enemy.”
Without another word, the enigmatic Garou slipped back into the umbra leaving Peace-in-Strength and Eaton standing in the field. Eaton turned to the Child of Gaia and said,
“Are we gonna settle for just some bugs?”
The Ahroun turned to the Bone Gnawer with a fanged smile,
“The night is still young.”
Eaton let out another howl as both Garou tore off once again into the night under the full moon.
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