Encounterlogs
Viktorins Odd Encounter Sr Tabitha 240301
In a strange encounter on the bluffs near Haven, Viktorin finds himself amidst a dire situation. Initially standing alone, pondering the cold and questioning existential musings about hell and the underworld, his solitude quickly turns to suspense. The foreboding atmosphere, accentuated by dark storm clouds and a chilling wind, hints at imminent peril. A sense of being watched unnerves him, prompting a cautious retreat from the eerie woodland's edge. His fears are realized when, despite his attempts at stealth and distance, he inadvertently draws closer to the menacing woods. Suddenly, a pair of abnormally large wolves burst from the treeline, igniting a terrifying chase. Viktorin's desperation leads him to scream and attempt evasive maneuvers, highlighting his primal fear and desperate will to survive.
As the confrontation escalates, Alexander intervenes, commanding one of the wolves with an authoritative bellow that briefly stalls their attack. However, the situation quickly deteriorates as the wolves exhibit unnatural behavior, vomiting a strange mixture of green mass and yellow petals, suggesting poisoning from unknown flora. Amidst panic and confusion, Viktorin and Alexander find themselves strategizing under duress, attempting to fend off the deranged wolves. Their improvised tactics include trying to exploit the wolves’ apparent sickness, leading to an intense physical struggle. Victory comes only with difficulty; Viktorin bears the brunt of the encounter, ending up with vomit in his hair and a profound desire for a shower. The ordeal concludes with Alexander collecting a sample of the expelled material for research, as they both flee the scene, leaving the disoriented and recovering wolves to retreat back into the forest. This harrowing experience underscores the unpredictable nature of Haven and its supernatural inhabitants, as well as the unpredictability and danger lying within encounters with the altered wildlife.
(Viktorin's odd encounter(SRTabitha):SRTabitha)
[Fri Feb 23 2024]
At the bluffs
It is noon, about 44F(6C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
(The local werewolf pack has been acting strange lately, causing disturbances and breaking the secret pact. Your target and their allies have been tasked to investigate the cause of this abnormal behavior and resolve the situation. The cause could be an external influence, a disease, or a power struggle within the pack.)
Viktorin watches returns his gaze towards the light-house, muttering quietly, "Well. All alone now. And nothin' to do. That sucks. Crawled all out of bed for a bunch of crock." A pull, swish, and zip gets a jacket on to its target. "And it's cold as hell outside. Or like... cold as an igloo? Hell isn't cold is it?" Viktorin ponders aloud, smoothing his jacket.
Hell is many things to many people, depending on who you speak to, or what mythologies you read. To some, it's hot, to others cold. Some find it a barren wasteland, some a release. The Underworld has many levels, from a pleasant afterlife, to constant punishment of one's sins. But this is not Hell. Though, by the weather, one might think so. Frozen over. Some may call Haven Hell in general, being so close to the supernatural gates.
Viktorin is wise to zip up that leather jacket of his. The wind whips along the bluffs, calling to him and telling a somber story to him. Flicking at his hair and chilling his nose. Below, the sea thrashes against the rocks, another call. Beckoning to him. But there is something else far more ominous than the song of the sea, the Siren's below whispering Viktorin's name. He can feel it. Something is watching.
Viktorin shivers and shudders, buttoning up the strap that encloses his collar around his neck. With his neck safe from the wind. The hairs on his neck raise as he feels himself being watched, and this prompts the Czech to twist and turn, to analyze his surroundings hawkishly and uncomfortably.
There doesn't seem to be anything in Viktorin's immediate area, nothing to see along the clear flatlands of the bluff he stands on, but it is Haven, and there are woods all around, and he is not so far from them, even should he feel he is so alone, standing there. The hair raised on his neck does not subside. There is that tingle one tends to get when they feel something is off. Viktorin should be far aware of these feelings. Had he not just recently gotten out of the hospital from being ambushed in the very woods that are now -- watching? The winds call to him again. What is it they say? "Run?" It chills him to his recently healed bones.
Viktorin moves, cautiously, back towards Ocean's Avenue, heeding the whispers on the winds. His muscles tense as he prepares for a fight, his jaws clenching and his brows knitting together as he does his best to keep far, very far, away from the woods. As far away as he can possibly manage without leaping into the windswept seas nearby. Faintly, he touches his right arm, no mark left where a spear had plucked into him and shredded muscle, only a few nights prior. Tentative feet slip forward, with the grace of an elk, each footstep placed in a manner, toes to heal, toes to heal.
Stepping down from the raised bluffs and down toward someone, it does in fact bring Viktorin closer to a tree line, where, it may just be his imagination running wild, given the very sense that something watches -- something stalks --, there is a rustling of a bush. A crackle of a twigs where something has stepped. The crunch of dead leaves beneath one's feet. Wait -- four feet, eight? Could it be? Perhaps considering himself as graceful as an elk was a little too on-the-nose? If he turns his head, again, he'd see nothing. Nothing but maybe a flash of golden eyes before they are gone.
Stepping down from the raised bluffs and down toward the ocean, it does in fact bring Viktorin closer to a tree line, where, it may just be his imagination running wild, given the very sense that something watches -- something stalks --, there is a rustling of a bush. A crackle of a twigs where something has stepped. The crunch of dead leaves beneath one's feet. Wait -- four feet, eight? Could it be? Perhaps considering himself as graceful as an elk was a little too on-the-nose? If he turns his head, again, he'd see nothing. Nothing but maybe a flash of golden eyes before they are gone.
A pause, maybe two, and then Viktorin darts forward, towards the road, as fast as he can. His heels dig in, flinging up the ground behind him as he proceeds to launch himself forward. The Czech keeps his eyes trained upon the wood-line the entire time, fear practically radiating from his persons like a neon sign during a dark night. Lips contorted and nose flaring, he forces breath into his lungs through his nostrils, and out his mouth.
Running. The wind gave Viktorin the wrong option. Suddenly, bursting forth from the tree line are two very large, very bristling wolves. These are not normal wolves, he should know this, out here in Haven. There lope is long and wide, quickly trying to shorten the distance between Viktorin and themselves. Frothy spittle, like the white froth from the waves he had been viewing earlier, flies from snarling jowls. Large paws dig into the ground -thunk thunk- -thunk thunk-. They run in unison for a while, before one stops to let out a horrible, haunting howl. The other, listening, begins to change it's direction to try to cut Viktorin off at the pass.
Viktorin screams, probably in a very cowardly manner, "Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!" All while he's screaming, he veers from the beast trying to cut him off, going into a half-circle directionally. He heaves his breath as he moves, giving a wild-eyed stare over his shoulder at the two beasts.
One of the wolves stops in its track, and suddenly it yaks, the sound echoes in Viktorin's ears. It is a hackle, a wet mucusy cough. Onto the ground lands a clump of something. A green mass, mixed with yellow bile and yellow petals. The wolf sniffs at it, and starts to lap it back up. The beast shudders, the sticky white spittle from its vomit hanging from its jaws. It shakes its head, trying to clear it of something, and sends that string of spit flying to and fro. It begins to run after Viktorin again, but it is now disoriented. A short lived blessing for Viktorin Perhaps, but a third wolf finally steps out from the treeline. It does not try to chase or attack the elk-like man. It watches with keen golden eyes, intelligent eyes.
Viktorin skids to a halt, carefully watching the wolf that just expelled its guts everywhere. He wrinkled his nose a bit as he watched the monster, but gagged further when he noted them eating their expelled, half-digested fodder. "Dude... what the fuck is-" He starts, before the wolf begins chasing him again, prompting the man to stay put, tensing his calves like some foot-ball player about to juke someone out.
Alexander would, on approaching Viktorin off Ocean Drive see that he is circled by three wolves. Two, really. The third is just watching. But it is only a matter of time. One of the wolves has just puked up some gross green globule and re-eaten it. It has somehow affected it.
Alexander lets out a loud bellow. "HEY!" he shouts towards the wolves, striding toward, he gazes about, and raises his ringed hand, glowing bright as he bellows a command at a wolf circling Viktorin. "SIT!"
While Alexander can momentarily halt the circling of one wolf, and he does as it sits at his order, head tilting to the side to watch with golden eyes that have some humanity behind them. There is no moon to bring upon lunacy, so it is something else that is causing it, and the other, to come out midday to chase Viktorin. Likely to eat. Surely to eat. Why else track a gazelle-like man?
The other wolf that was quite affected is still padding forward, though it's target is no longer Viktorin. It finds a better meal in Alexander.
Viktorin watches the second wolf, sighing quietly. With a glance towards Alexander, he tells them, "Hey, if you keep the nasty one still, I'll tackle the one heading towards you!" And with that, probably horribly thought out and expressed plan, he charges forth, aiming himself at the other wolf prowling towards his welcome ally. It's slowly becoming quite clear that the Czech is in, way over his head. Cluelessly, he thunders forth, cluelessly, he raises his arms, unwittingly screaming all the while.
"Uh!" Alexander can only really exclaim toward that plan. He gazes around and reaches out, is there enough nature to bring to bear? If not, he levels his handgun, a warning round and a sharp whistle.
The first wolf, still sitting with Alexander's mancing capturing it's attentions, turns to look at Viktorin, but all it does is bring up a back leg in order to scrach at the back of an ear, like a good little boy. The second wolf comes to a screeching halt, gravel from the road piling up along large paws. It turns and snarls at Viktorin with anger and bloodlust. It does not run, now, but it crouches low, creeping and stalking toward Viktorin. The third howls. Tossing it's head up into the air to allow the sound to carry to the two. They do not listen.
Alexander takes a slow deep breath and stops himself from losing his cool. Engage with this, he reminds himself. He keeps his ring raised, energy focused and keeps his gaze on Viktorin. A single wolf is daunting but he has handled worse has he not? It's the howl that grabs his attention and something stirs, resonant perhaps with his natural connection or mere intuition. "...There is something wrong with this pack," he says. No brainer.
Viktorin skids to a halt, yet again. This time however, he side-steps, as if trying to lead the wolf now prowling after him, into a circle. He doesn't dare lift his gaze from the wolf as he speaks to Alexander in a panicked tone, "Dude, I know like... squat about werewolves, other than the fact that they're people that can turn into fuzzy monsters. And they go ape-shit during the full-moon." He continues to speak, throatily informing his ally, "Well one of them puked up weird yellow flowers, and I dunno why wolves would eat flowers, so maybe that's it?"
Alexander says "...Wish Tabs was here, she seems like she knows shit about weird yellow flowers."
It is true. Wolves are omnivores. But these are also not normal wolves. They are people who turn into wolves. They could have been vegetarians who fight an urge to eat meat. How dare! What kind of wolves would even? Viktorin is still being stalked, a slow, snarling shuffle made the wolf. It hunches down, ready to make a long leap, a pounce onto his prey. Meanwhile the other is snapping out of the spell Alexander has placed on it. But again, it starts to pant and its stomach muscles tense, trying to push something out. Again, a glob of green and yellow is expelled, and it is sniffed at. The third wolf begins to pace, anxious, eyes darting between its pack and the two humans. At least it seems to be unaffected, but also unable to do much to help but pad up to the stalking one. It is met with a terrible growl.
Alexander bellows. "We shall buy time, Vik, it has to expel that waste! Perhaps you could sicken it!?" He darts forward to intercept the pouncing wolf for Viktorin. "Use your blessing!"
Viktorin squints at Alexander's words, his eyes honed upon the way the wolf's muscles tense. Lifting up his hands, Viktorin tenses his own legs, and then springs forward, attempting to land a tackle, anywhere on the beast, concentrating and shifting his hands wildly, both to account for a struggle and to find flesh, any flesh, to harass the beast with a deathly touch of his cold hands.
The wolf is faster, and its mid-air when Viktorin tries to charge it and tackle it. The two tumble, the wolf taken off-guard by a human charging at it. They land hard on the ground, with the wolf unfortunately atop of Viktorin. It's spittle slings to and fro from its muzzle, it dangles and dares to land on Viktorin's face. One little string does fall finally, across Viktorin's open mouth. But fortunately, his fingers are also buried into its fur, and it knows that something has happened. It is not hurt, however. Though it does relax its stance, it is still far more powerful. Urgh, hack... Its stomach starts to pulsate.
Alexander drives a foot into the side of the beasts gut to get it off of Vik, and maybe encourage that nausea.
Alexander's chief concern is Viktorin's dignity here, of course.
Viktorin coughs a little, the wind knocked out of him as the two clash and tumble. As he ends up on bottom, he yelps, and rears his head into the ground as much as he can. With spittle falling across, and perhaps between his parted lips, he gags and sputters, flinging curses. And as it relaxes and begins to show the tell-tale signs of heaving, he screams amidst his gagging, practically gargling, "Not the face! Not the face!"
As for Alexander's own wolf problems, when he focuses on the other, it begins to stalk too. The kick to the one's side startles it and though it does not barge much from the kick, it at least changes the trajectory of the vomit, and it ends up sliding along Viktorin's ear, into his hair there, and slowly drips to the ground. The calm wolf finally reacts, and pounces on the stalking wolf. They roll and tumble with each other, a flash of teeth and blood as the alpha here begins to win and make ground.
Alexander reaches for Viktorin and tries to haul him up. "Listen!" he declares to the wolves. Warily watching the trio as best he can, focused on the one not fighting.
Viktorin screams and shudders, "Aaaaaa!" In desperation, he presses both his hands against the wolf's flank and heaves, as hard as he can, to get the beast off of him.
The wolf, who has been emptying its stomach contents of some sort of poisoned flower, is heaved off Viktorin with a good shove. It looks miserable as it continues to hack up the remaining of what else is in its stomach, including what is probably undigested raw elk meet. It is far too focused to expel whatever it is that remains.
"Unless we want to play a roll in the pack's hierarchy, I suggest we move our ass, Vik," Alexander notes somberly.
Viktorin nearly begins heaving as well, from the smell of the belongings of the two very sick wolves who have been expelling their contents everywhere like a pack of drunkards. Especially since some is smeared on to once side of his face. Gagging, he nods along to Alexander, weakly whimpering to them, "Dude... I want a shower."
If Alexander and Viktorin do not leave soon they may find themselves surrounded again. It does seem like things have sorted themselves out on their own, with the two wolves regurgitating whatever all they had eaten in the morning. It is common for sick animals to eat grass, and in that process they may have eaten some poisonous flowers or some mushrooms not meant to be edible. Now, these things are strewn across Ocean avenue, the heat from the piles and splashes in sour-bile waves.
Viktorin quickly picks himself up, and, not bothering with appearance, proper form, or any of that, begins sprinting, scrabbling for Ocean Avenue. Worriedly, he calls to Alexander, "Come on, let's run, they'll be angry at us for interrupting their wolfy proceedings or something!"
"We need to do some research," Alexander peers down disgustedly and tries to pluck a sample into whatever bottle of water he can dump out. He follows after Viktorin soon after.
It is all over Viktorin to be sampled, if Alexander is so inclined to get a sample, sticking in the man's hair like a more terrible version from There's Something About Mary. The wolves, luckily, are too confused, and now, at least the two of the three seem dehydrated, and have started to wander back to the woods whence they came, the first with its tail between its legs, bested by the only one not effected. This one howls once more and turns to walk after the sick wolves with no further interaction to be had with Alexander or someone.
It is all over Viktorin to be sampled, if Alexander is so inclined to get a sample, sticking in the man's hair like a more terrible version from There's Something About Mary. The wolves, luckily, are too confused, and now, at least the two of the three seem dehydrated, and have started to wander back to the woods whence they came, the first with its tail between its legs, bested by the only one not effected. This one howls once more and turns to walk after the sick wolves with no further interaction to be had with Alexander or Viktorin.
As the confrontation escalates, Alexander intervenes, commanding one of the wolves with an authoritative bellow that briefly stalls their attack. However, the situation quickly deteriorates as the wolves exhibit unnatural behavior, vomiting a strange mixture of green mass and yellow petals, suggesting poisoning from unknown flora. Amidst panic and confusion, Viktorin and Alexander find themselves strategizing under duress, attempting to fend off the deranged wolves. Their improvised tactics include trying to exploit the wolves’ apparent sickness, leading to an intense physical struggle. Victory comes only with difficulty; Viktorin bears the brunt of the encounter, ending up with vomit in his hair and a profound desire for a shower. The ordeal concludes with Alexander collecting a sample of the expelled material for research, as they both flee the scene, leaving the disoriented and recovering wolves to retreat back into the forest. This harrowing experience underscores the unpredictable nature of Haven and its supernatural inhabitants, as well as the unpredictability and danger lying within encounters with the altered wildlife.
(Viktorin's odd encounter(SRTabitha):SRTabitha)
[Fri Feb 23 2024]
At the bluffs
It is noon, about 44F(6C) degrees, and there are a few dark grey stormclouds in the sky.
(The local werewolf pack has been acting strange lately, causing disturbances and breaking the secret pact. Your target and their allies have been tasked to investigate the cause of this abnormal behavior and resolve the situation. The cause could be an external influence, a disease, or a power struggle within the pack.)
Viktorin watches returns his gaze towards the light-house, muttering quietly, "Well. All alone now. And nothin' to do. That sucks. Crawled all out of bed for a bunch of crock." A pull, swish, and zip gets a jacket on to its target. "And it's cold as hell outside. Or like... cold as an igloo? Hell isn't cold is it?" Viktorin ponders aloud, smoothing his jacket.
Hell is many things to many people, depending on who you speak to, or what mythologies you read. To some, it's hot, to others cold. Some find it a barren wasteland, some a release. The Underworld has many levels, from a pleasant afterlife, to constant punishment of one's sins. But this is not Hell. Though, by the weather, one might think so. Frozen over. Some may call Haven Hell in general, being so close to the supernatural gates.
Viktorin is wise to zip up that leather jacket of his. The wind whips along the bluffs, calling to him and telling a somber story to him. Flicking at his hair and chilling his nose. Below, the sea thrashes against the rocks, another call. Beckoning to him. But there is something else far more ominous than the song of the sea, the Siren's below whispering Viktorin's name. He can feel it. Something is watching.
Viktorin shivers and shudders, buttoning up the strap that encloses his collar around his neck. With his neck safe from the wind. The hairs on his neck raise as he feels himself being watched, and this prompts the Czech to twist and turn, to analyze his surroundings hawkishly and uncomfortably.
There doesn't seem to be anything in Viktorin's immediate area, nothing to see along the clear flatlands of the bluff he stands on, but it is Haven, and there are woods all around, and he is not so far from them, even should he feel he is so alone, standing there. The hair raised on his neck does not subside. There is that tingle one tends to get when they feel something is off. Viktorin should be far aware of these feelings. Had he not just recently gotten out of the hospital from being ambushed in the very woods that are now -- watching? The winds call to him again. What is it they say? "Run?" It chills him to his recently healed bones.
Viktorin moves, cautiously, back towards Ocean's Avenue, heeding the whispers on the winds. His muscles tense as he prepares for a fight, his jaws clenching and his brows knitting together as he does his best to keep far, very far, away from the woods. As far away as he can possibly manage without leaping into the windswept seas nearby. Faintly, he touches his right arm, no mark left where a spear had plucked into him and shredded muscle, only a few nights prior. Tentative feet slip forward, with the grace of an elk, each footstep placed in a manner, toes to heal, toes to heal.
Stepping down from the raised bluffs and down toward someone, it does in fact bring Viktorin closer to a tree line, where, it may just be his imagination running wild, given the very sense that something watches -- something stalks --, there is a rustling of a bush. A crackle of a twigs where something has stepped. The crunch of dead leaves beneath one's feet. Wait -- four feet, eight? Could it be? Perhaps considering himself as graceful as an elk was a little too on-the-nose? If he turns his head, again, he'd see nothing. Nothing but maybe a flash of golden eyes before they are gone.
Stepping down from the raised bluffs and down toward the ocean, it does in fact bring Viktorin closer to a tree line, where, it may just be his imagination running wild, given the very sense that something watches -- something stalks --, there is a rustling of a bush. A crackle of a twigs where something has stepped. The crunch of dead leaves beneath one's feet. Wait -- four feet, eight? Could it be? Perhaps considering himself as graceful as an elk was a little too on-the-nose? If he turns his head, again, he'd see nothing. Nothing but maybe a flash of golden eyes before they are gone.
A pause, maybe two, and then Viktorin darts forward, towards the road, as fast as he can. His heels dig in, flinging up the ground behind him as he proceeds to launch himself forward. The Czech keeps his eyes trained upon the wood-line the entire time, fear practically radiating from his persons like a neon sign during a dark night. Lips contorted and nose flaring, he forces breath into his lungs through his nostrils, and out his mouth.
Running. The wind gave Viktorin the wrong option. Suddenly, bursting forth from the tree line are two very large, very bristling wolves. These are not normal wolves, he should know this, out here in Haven. There lope is long and wide, quickly trying to shorten the distance between Viktorin and themselves. Frothy spittle, like the white froth from the waves he had been viewing earlier, flies from snarling jowls. Large paws dig into the ground -thunk thunk- -thunk thunk-. They run in unison for a while, before one stops to let out a horrible, haunting howl. The other, listening, begins to change it's direction to try to cut Viktorin off at the pass.
Viktorin screams, probably in a very cowardly manner, "Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!" All while he's screaming, he veers from the beast trying to cut him off, going into a half-circle directionally. He heaves his breath as he moves, giving a wild-eyed stare over his shoulder at the two beasts.
One of the wolves stops in its track, and suddenly it yaks, the sound echoes in Viktorin's ears. It is a hackle, a wet mucusy cough. Onto the ground lands a clump of something. A green mass, mixed with yellow bile and yellow petals. The wolf sniffs at it, and starts to lap it back up. The beast shudders, the sticky white spittle from its vomit hanging from its jaws. It shakes its head, trying to clear it of something, and sends that string of spit flying to and fro. It begins to run after Viktorin again, but it is now disoriented. A short lived blessing for Viktorin Perhaps, but a third wolf finally steps out from the treeline. It does not try to chase or attack the elk-like man. It watches with keen golden eyes, intelligent eyes.
Viktorin skids to a halt, carefully watching the wolf that just expelled its guts everywhere. He wrinkled his nose a bit as he watched the monster, but gagged further when he noted them eating their expelled, half-digested fodder. "Dude... what the fuck is-" He starts, before the wolf begins chasing him again, prompting the man to stay put, tensing his calves like some foot-ball player about to juke someone out.
Alexander would, on approaching Viktorin off Ocean Drive see that he is circled by three wolves. Two, really. The third is just watching. But it is only a matter of time. One of the wolves has just puked up some gross green globule and re-eaten it. It has somehow affected it.
Alexander lets out a loud bellow. "HEY!" he shouts towards the wolves, striding toward, he gazes about, and raises his ringed hand, glowing bright as he bellows a command at a wolf circling Viktorin. "SIT!"
While Alexander can momentarily halt the circling of one wolf, and he does as it sits at his order, head tilting to the side to watch with golden eyes that have some humanity behind them. There is no moon to bring upon lunacy, so it is something else that is causing it, and the other, to come out midday to chase Viktorin. Likely to eat. Surely to eat. Why else track a gazelle-like man?
The other wolf that was quite affected is still padding forward, though it's target is no longer Viktorin. It finds a better meal in Alexander.
Viktorin watches the second wolf, sighing quietly. With a glance towards Alexander, he tells them, "Hey, if you keep the nasty one still, I'll tackle the one heading towards you!" And with that, probably horribly thought out and expressed plan, he charges forth, aiming himself at the other wolf prowling towards his welcome ally. It's slowly becoming quite clear that the Czech is in, way over his head. Cluelessly, he thunders forth, cluelessly, he raises his arms, unwittingly screaming all the while.
"Uh!" Alexander can only really exclaim toward that plan. He gazes around and reaches out, is there enough nature to bring to bear? If not, he levels his handgun, a warning round and a sharp whistle.
The first wolf, still sitting with Alexander's mancing capturing it's attentions, turns to look at Viktorin, but all it does is bring up a back leg in order to scrach at the back of an ear, like a good little boy. The second wolf comes to a screeching halt, gravel from the road piling up along large paws. It turns and snarls at Viktorin with anger and bloodlust. It does not run, now, but it crouches low, creeping and stalking toward Viktorin. The third howls. Tossing it's head up into the air to allow the sound to carry to the two. They do not listen.
Alexander takes a slow deep breath and stops himself from losing his cool. Engage with this, he reminds himself. He keeps his ring raised, energy focused and keeps his gaze on Viktorin. A single wolf is daunting but he has handled worse has he not? It's the howl that grabs his attention and something stirs, resonant perhaps with his natural connection or mere intuition. "...There is something wrong with this pack," he says. No brainer.
Viktorin skids to a halt, yet again. This time however, he side-steps, as if trying to lead the wolf now prowling after him, into a circle. He doesn't dare lift his gaze from the wolf as he speaks to Alexander in a panicked tone, "Dude, I know like... squat about werewolves, other than the fact that they're people that can turn into fuzzy monsters. And they go ape-shit during the full-moon." He continues to speak, throatily informing his ally, "Well one of them puked up weird yellow flowers, and I dunno why wolves would eat flowers, so maybe that's it?"
Alexander says "...Wish Tabs was here, she seems like she knows shit about weird yellow flowers."
It is true. Wolves are omnivores. But these are also not normal wolves. They are people who turn into wolves. They could have been vegetarians who fight an urge to eat meat. How dare! What kind of wolves would even? Viktorin is still being stalked, a slow, snarling shuffle made the wolf. It hunches down, ready to make a long leap, a pounce onto his prey. Meanwhile the other is snapping out of the spell Alexander has placed on it. But again, it starts to pant and its stomach muscles tense, trying to push something out. Again, a glob of green and yellow is expelled, and it is sniffed at. The third wolf begins to pace, anxious, eyes darting between its pack and the two humans. At least it seems to be unaffected, but also unable to do much to help but pad up to the stalking one. It is met with a terrible growl.
Alexander bellows. "We shall buy time, Vik, it has to expel that waste! Perhaps you could sicken it!?" He darts forward to intercept the pouncing wolf for Viktorin. "Use your blessing!"
Viktorin squints at Alexander's words, his eyes honed upon the way the wolf's muscles tense. Lifting up his hands, Viktorin tenses his own legs, and then springs forward, attempting to land a tackle, anywhere on the beast, concentrating and shifting his hands wildly, both to account for a struggle and to find flesh, any flesh, to harass the beast with a deathly touch of his cold hands.
The wolf is faster, and its mid-air when Viktorin tries to charge it and tackle it. The two tumble, the wolf taken off-guard by a human charging at it. They land hard on the ground, with the wolf unfortunately atop of Viktorin. It's spittle slings to and fro from its muzzle, it dangles and dares to land on Viktorin's face. One little string does fall finally, across Viktorin's open mouth. But fortunately, his fingers are also buried into its fur, and it knows that something has happened. It is not hurt, however. Though it does relax its stance, it is still far more powerful. Urgh, hack... Its stomach starts to pulsate.
Alexander drives a foot into the side of the beasts gut to get it off of Vik, and maybe encourage that nausea.
Alexander's chief concern is Viktorin's dignity here, of course.
Viktorin coughs a little, the wind knocked out of him as the two clash and tumble. As he ends up on bottom, he yelps, and rears his head into the ground as much as he can. With spittle falling across, and perhaps between his parted lips, he gags and sputters, flinging curses. And as it relaxes and begins to show the tell-tale signs of heaving, he screams amidst his gagging, practically gargling, "Not the face! Not the face!"
As for Alexander's own wolf problems, when he focuses on the other, it begins to stalk too. The kick to the one's side startles it and though it does not barge much from the kick, it at least changes the trajectory of the vomit, and it ends up sliding along Viktorin's ear, into his hair there, and slowly drips to the ground. The calm wolf finally reacts, and pounces on the stalking wolf. They roll and tumble with each other, a flash of teeth and blood as the alpha here begins to win and make ground.
Alexander reaches for Viktorin and tries to haul him up. "Listen!" he declares to the wolves. Warily watching the trio as best he can, focused on the one not fighting.
Viktorin screams and shudders, "Aaaaaa!" In desperation, he presses both his hands against the wolf's flank and heaves, as hard as he can, to get the beast off of him.
The wolf, who has been emptying its stomach contents of some sort of poisoned flower, is heaved off Viktorin with a good shove. It looks miserable as it continues to hack up the remaining of what else is in its stomach, including what is probably undigested raw elk meet. It is far too focused to expel whatever it is that remains.
"Unless we want to play a roll in the pack's hierarchy, I suggest we move our ass, Vik," Alexander notes somberly.
Viktorin nearly begins heaving as well, from the smell of the belongings of the two very sick wolves who have been expelling their contents everywhere like a pack of drunkards. Especially since some is smeared on to once side of his face. Gagging, he nods along to Alexander, weakly whimpering to them, "Dude... I want a shower."
If Alexander and Viktorin do not leave soon they may find themselves surrounded again. It does seem like things have sorted themselves out on their own, with the two wolves regurgitating whatever all they had eaten in the morning. It is common for sick animals to eat grass, and in that process they may have eaten some poisonous flowers or some mushrooms not meant to be edible. Now, these things are strewn across Ocean avenue, the heat from the piles and splashes in sour-bile waves.
Viktorin quickly picks himself up, and, not bothering with appearance, proper form, or any of that, begins sprinting, scrabbling for Ocean Avenue. Worriedly, he calls to Alexander, "Come on, let's run, they'll be angry at us for interrupting their wolfy proceedings or something!"
"We need to do some research," Alexander peers down disgustedly and tries to pluck a sample into whatever bottle of water he can dump out. He follows after Viktorin soon after.
It is all over Viktorin to be sampled, if Alexander is so inclined to get a sample, sticking in the man's hair like a more terrible version from There's Something About Mary. The wolves, luckily, are too confused, and now, at least the two of the three seem dehydrated, and have started to wander back to the woods whence they came, the first with its tail between its legs, bested by the only one not effected. This one howls once more and turns to walk after the sick wolves with no further interaction to be had with Alexander or someone.
It is all over Viktorin to be sampled, if Alexander is so inclined to get a sample, sticking in the man's hair like a more terrible version from There's Something About Mary. The wolves, luckily, are too confused, and now, at least the two of the three seem dehydrated, and have started to wander back to the woods whence they came, the first with its tail between its legs, bested by the only one not effected. This one howls once more and turns to walk after the sick wolves with no further interaction to be had with Alexander or Viktorin.