View source for 2024.11.13 - Abominations Unleashed: Truck Stop Trouble

{{Log
|title=     Truck Stop Trouble
|summary=   Otherworldly abominations descend on the old truck stop. What the literal hell?
|world=     Sangria
|location=  Old Truck Stop
|type=      Action
|plot=      Abominations Unleashed
|emitter=   [[Nicholas Vale]], et al.
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|continued=2024.11.14 - Abominations Unleashed: Truck Stop Aftermath
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|players= <!-- On game, type: '+players player1|player2|player3|...' to generate a code to paste below. -->
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{{Feat|Nicholas Vale}} {{Feat|Rykard del Santo}} {{Feat|Tyson Wright}} {{Feat|Jessie Anderson}} {{Feat|Dale Kerr}} {{Feat|Simon St. Vesper}}
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|npcs= <!-- NPCs involved in the scene; if none, remove this section.      -->
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Various [[Abominations]]
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|facs= <!-- Factions involved in the scene; if none, remove this section.  -->
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{{Feat|Les Garçons de la Lumière}}{{Feat|Black Wolf Pack}}
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|logtext=
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It's late afternoon by the time the sound of a motorcycle engine roars to life somewhere near the Truck Stop Garage. A somewhat frustrated but loud "About fucking time!" can be heard quickly following from the direction. It's only a few moments later that a black and yellow Scrambler rides out of the garage's open bay doors and out into the parking lot of the plaza. Seated behind the bars is a relatively tall, dark-skinned young man, a well-worn but maintained black leather jacket over his body flapping against his chest. The loud engine rumbles to life as he drives it over to the fueling station, pulling up and stepping off of it in one swift move. The thick motorcycle boots thud on the pavement and he sets about sliding some cash into the machine. Though his back is turned for a moment, he glances over his shoulder and lifts his head a bit as if catching the scent of something on the air, his hazel eyes scanning across the parking lot with purpose.

Dressed in a black short-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans, a young man with fair skin is just stepping out of the hardware store with a plastic bag in one hand and a cellphone in the other. He leans against the wall by the door, one foot up and pressed against the surface. After a few minutes of idly scrolling through something on his phone, he pushes off and begins to head away from the shopfront and toward the road.

Apparently completely at ease not watching where he's going, he taps on his phone while deftly maneuvering around a lamp post, then a fire hydrant and finally managing to step just right so as to not trip on an old tire someone left out. It's only after all of this that he finally glances up to take a look at his surroundings. Frowning, he mutters under his breath, "Damn unreliable rides. You would think they'd know how to find a mall easier than this." Frustrated, he taps on his phone some more.

Tyson has his head under the hood of his ancient Corolla. The boxy old car has small dings here and there and the once deep blue paint is now more of a dull silvery blue, but all in all it is maintained well. To that end, the sounds of ripping duct tape and the occasional bitter curse rise from under the hood as Ty wraps up a radiator hose that has decided the New England chill and damp are just a little too much. The short young man is dressed in jeans, sneakers and a leather jacket with a warm shirt on under it. After a moment, he straightens up, the half-used roll of gray tape still in hand as he looks around the plaza. He notes the motorcycle and rider with that 'Yeah, that's cool' expression of envy probably ubiquitous to anyone under 30 and then smirks a little at seeing the other guy stumble a bit. Then, hearing a low hiss still coming from the engine compartment, he sighs and turns back to figuring out what else is leaking.

Another young man has arrived at the truckstop, around average height, lean but muscular. He's dressed pretty simply, flattering jeans, a dark blue polo shirt, black tennis shoes. The only accessories are a right on his right hand, and a bracelet on his left. Jessie idly runs fingers through his hair as he crosses the parking lot, noticing a gathering. He lifts his hand in a wave, smiling and glancing up at the evening sky, seeming far off for a moment. He breathes in the air, a smile touching his feature as he joins the gathering. "What's going on?" He wonders curiously.

Unlike some others, Dale's vehicle of choice is over in the parking lot somewhere among the other parked vehicles. The redhead himself exits the convenience store with an ice cream cone in one hand and his phone in the other. He's half paying attention to the phone and half paying attention to where he's going as he licks and walks. And seems maybe a tad bit reckless as he traverses among moving vehicles. Yet he doesn't seem to care when he's yelled at or a horn blares at him. Almost as if by some sort of autopilot, he walks to where Tyson is working and stops to glance under the hood. "You need to be nicer to her, dude." And he takes another lick of the ice cream.

"Are we having some kind of social gathering?" asks a new voice, low and smooth and striking cool, even tones. Most would be confident there was no one standing there a moment ago. Those with keen senses or sharp attention may know it for a fact. Either way, there's now a pale young man standing there, sort of in the middle of all the others, so he could seem to be almost talking to any of them...or maybe none of them. He's moderately tall, dressed in a leather coat, and it is more of a well-worn black coat, not a biker jacket, with matching jeans and various other dark, simple street clothing. His purple hi-tops are the exception. Coupled with all that, his dark eyes, lined in black, and black hair give him a look that's low key goth, but not to try-hard levels.

"I don't even have wine," the gothy one adds, sounding disappointed. "Or chips." Because wine and chips are what you bring to a party, right?

Seeming to track the movements of each of the individuals as they appear, the biker's attention focuses on each one in turn. His notice of the goth seems slightly delayed from his appearance. drawing a near inaudible rumble in his chest when he finally tilts his head enough to watch him enter the area. He finishes fueling his bike in silence, capping the gas tank before taking a few steps around to stand between the bike and the plaza.

He turns his head towards the polo-wearing waving man. "Hey, man. Had to replace the head gasket and this," he says taking in the garage and plaza with a look between wistful and dismissive, "was the closest garage." Reaching out a hand, he strokes the yellow engine of the bike, "The Yellowjacket is ready to go though, so I'm likely headed north. What are you doing out this way?"

Ryki, for the moment apparently done with his phone, slides it into the front breast pocket of his shirt and glances over at the man with the motorcycle who seems to be rather fond of it. He notices Jessie waving and, because he's a friendly sort, waves back. If he's surprised by the appearance of another young man in their midst, he doesn't show it. The mention of food does cause Ryki to arch a brow at the stranger. "Hungry?" At that moment he reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone to look at it, and suddenly looking very annoyed. "What do you mean cancelled!? Finding this place is not rocket science." Slipping his phone into his jeans pocket this time, he looks around for alternate options to get back home.

As he considers his current situation, he muses to the nearest individual who happens to be the not-quite-goth stranger nearby, "Would be handy to have my own ride. Gotta look into that. Not too keen on bikes, though..." He turns his gaze at the other man who currently appears to be fixing his car with another commenting on the state of it. "Cars don't seem to fare much better sometimes. Wonder what happy middle ground I can figure out." Smirking faintly, he asks the young man near him, "How do ''you'' get around?" There's a playfulness to his tone.

Tyson lifts his head to give the newcomer a look. Just a long, level look that suggests he's briefly considering horrible things. Then he shakes his head and says, with a hint of annoyance in his tone, "Just temperamental. And old. And, you know, it's basically a salt-water freezer in this town, if that's a thing." Looking past the guy talking to him, he notes the other new arrivals and says to Dale, "Hh. You know, this is the busiest I've seen this place since I got into town. What? Do they do a good Taco Tuesday or something?" His tone is at least a little more amused than surly at that. Still a little surly, though. And distantly overhearing the commentary on his car garners Ryki a middle finger from Ty, though it seems more for form's sake than any actual acrimony. Because Ryki isn't exactly wrong, in this case.

Jessie isn't too surprised by the arrival of another person coming out of the convenience store. He is, however, quite caught offguard by the sudden appearance of yet another person who just...is suddenly there. It draws a raised eyebrow, after a slight jump, but he calms quickly. His attention goes back to Nic and he gives the man a thumb's up. "Glad you were able to fix it," he says. "Oh, pack had some property here on the east coast, and I was interested in a bit of traveling, so...figured I'd come and see what Port Au Feu was all about. What about you? Wasn't entirely expecting to see you here, butt it's most definitely a welcome surprise." He looks to the otthers gathered, smile remaining. "Oh, I'm Jessie, by the way," he says. "I was wondering that," he adds to Tyson, with a laugh. "I just thought I'd come and see what they have, wasn't expecting there to be tons of people."

If the town is a saltwater freezer, Dale is not really dressed for it. And doesn't really seem to be all that bothered, either. "Dude, nonsense." Without asking for any sort of permission, he bends under the hood, ice cream still in his left hand while his right fiddles here. Under his breath he whispers to the car as if he's talking to a pet or something. "It's rude to flip people off. Also often starts fights. Shouldn't do that." When he's done with his fiddling, he stands back up, to the side, and finishes off the cone. He seems to be rather oblivious of the others around, mostly, the motorcycle across the way and its presumed owner do seem to have his attention. "Wasn't expecting tons of people at a truck stop? Weird..."

"I saw people gathered," the gothy boy says in a light, matter-of-fact tone. "So I thought to present myself and see if we might bond over a shared experience. I understand that the sharing of alcohol or snack foods is customary." He rummages in a pocket, then comes up with a candy bar, which he presents to Ryki, who happens to be closest. "I do have this," he offers. "It's dark chocolate. It has noted restorative properties, and also, it's delicious." Looking at the others, and seeming quite unruffled by stares and glares, he reflects pensively, "Though I haven't enough for everyone, but I'd imagine that shop has more. We could obtain chocolate enough for everyone." Dale may be not be paying him any mind, but the pale young man seems to be listening to those nearby, for he looks that way and says, loud enough to carry, "Exactly! This is a place of gathering, which is why I came here in search of people." A beat, and he adds with a touch more uncertainty, "As in...gathered. Together. Yes?"

"Same. About six months ago for me. Good to see you, man. Any others come out with you?" As more introductions are made around the parking lot by various groups of young men, Nic's attention turns towards the candy bar wielding youth before scanning towards the others repairing the cars. It's a slow, deliberate look. "You ever get the impression something is about to happen?"

Just then, the biker in the jacket snaps his head upwards and towards the plaza, anyone nearby might catch the subtle quick inhale of breath through his nose before his face wrinkles. The direction of his gaze is over the ride-less young man's shoulder when he suddenly shouts, "Duck!" Within seconds, a horrifying shape crests the top of the plaza's roof, silhouetted against the setting sun, giving it a corona of red that shines through the creature's sinewy, membranous wings.

What might otherwise appear to be a bat, albeit a large one, lets out a high pierced screech as it buzzes past where Rykard is standing, narrowing missing him with a pair of black talons attached to its torso by veiny, spiked arms. The idea of a 'torso' is appropriate but the diving nightmarish creature has no legs or lower body, just a mass of torn flesh dangling from its abdomen, where its hips would be. Blood red wings flap as it flies around and seems to look for an easy target, bright green eyes aglow and it's row of fangs dripping green, acidic drops onto the pavement, each landing with a bubbling hiss.

The appearance of the creature has Nic springing into action, leaping into the air from a practical stand still towards the creature. His hand reaches out to snatch at where the bat-like monster's legs would be, almost missing entirely before the creature's rotation beings one of those talons in reach. Clenching his hand around the thing's wrist, his momentum carries both of them down a few feet but not quite touching the ground.

"Run!" He shouts dangling from the air, but then his shout is answered by a cacophony of answering shrieks as a half-dozen more of the creatures appear in the sky, flying out in directions across the parking lot.

"Fuck!" He curses and looks towards the near-goth, "You got your...shared experience!"

Ryki doesn't comment on the finger aimed his way, although he does shoot Tyson a completely sincere smile. As he takes the offered candy bar, he turns that friendly smile onto the man who handed it over. "Dark chocolate? Delicious." Just as he's about to say something else, he shifts suddenly. It's a minute movement, but it manages to keep him from getting caught in the claws of a whatever-it-is as it sweeps into the area. Things seem to get decidedly more complicated as a swarm of whatever-they-ares suddenly descends onto the group. "We'll have to discuss the finer points of chocolate, especially the dark variety, later I'm afraid. Looks like it's showtime."

Swinging the bag from the hardware store in his hand, Ryki launches it at Nic's head. "Hey Biker, catch! You'll need this." Ryki doesn't seem the least bit concerned about the person he just flung something at as he turns to head towards the nearby garage. And what's in the bag, you ask? Why, it's a metal pipe.

As he gets to the edge of the garage, he turns his attention to a set of cleaning supplies just inside. Reaching for a mop handle, he pulls it out of the bucket it was in. The mop's seen better days and the water it's dripping is anything but clean. As he wanders back towards the others, he shrugs and says, "A mop's about the best I can do. They say desperate times call for desperate measures, and these things look like they could use a good cleaning," before brandishing the mop in two hands like a staff, eyeing the creatures as they swoop in.

Jessie gets a wry grin and Ty's eyebrows go up as Dale just starts ...doing stuff. With Ty's car. And lecturing him. There is a long moment of silence as he obviously counts to himself, trying to keep his composure. He grunts and says, "I'm not afraid of a fight. Also, smartass, I wasn't expecting this many people around this time." He shakes his head and asks, "Are you always this bossy?"

When the flying things appear, screeching and swooping, he hesitates, glancing at Dale as though to see how he's going to handle this. When Ryki throws away a perfectly good pipe and grabs a map in its stead, he rolls his eyes. He doesn't act, yet, because just because something is scary doesn't mean it's actually dangerous, but the stress has him on edge. Anyone near his car can feel heat rolling out from that area, ruffling hair and pushing back the chill damp of the coastal evening. Tyson stands still, breathing deeply, trying to stay calm. A gas station is probably a bad place for him to lose control. He asks, loudly, "Are we really going to fight those...things? Maybe just go inside until they're gone?" Because flying acid-demon bat things are like migratory birds, apparently. He seems to think they'll just fly past if not further engaged.

Jessie smiles and nods to Nic. "Good to see you too!" he exclaims, and shakes his head. But he seems to notice the same thing Nic does, because at around the same time Nic shouts to duck, he's doing so, eyes narrowsing. Any thoughts of chocolate, hhe'd been looking toward that candy bar ever since Simon had pulled it out, are gone from his mind. Most people's first reaction to something like would not be to strip. Jessie...is not most people. he tugs off his shirt as quickly as he can, and keeping his shoes on just a touch loose comes in handy when he quickly slides them off. he drops his jeans and steps free of them as fast as humanly possible, perhaps even faster, and then the reason for his shedding clothes becomes very clear, very fast. He grows and expands, in a way that would destroy his clothes if he'd kept them on, flowing upward and outward, fingers extending into claws, face contorting, and soon, a huge, hulking bipedal wolf creature is there. He growls with rage and leaps at one of the flying creatures, to sink in his claws and bring it down to the ground, to be torn apart. He's certainly wasting no time.

"Only when necessary. Usually let the captain be bossy." And yes, Dale just basically said Tyson needed to be bossed at. He turns his eyes back to Tyson, ignoring the monstrous things, to say, "You need to stay calm. There are fuel lines all under the place." And his voice is actually rather soothing, helped along by sea witch voice. Not quite on par with a Siren or a Nyxie, as he's nit actually singing, but there is that mystically soothing undertone. "We can with them if we have to, but it don't look like we must. Yet. Focus on your control." All the while he is saying this, he is countering the heat with the frigid cold of the sea depths, hoping Tyson can keep his composure and he won't have to take drastic measures to keep the heat away from the various combustible fuels.

The gothy one doesn't react as sharply as many of the others. He turns almost serenely toward the flying creature, tucking the candy back into his pocket, and regards it for a full beat. Then, tilting his head slightly, he speaks, and while it LOOKS like it should come out a whisper, it's much more guttural, loud, as he growls out the word, "...Abomination." A shadow passes over his eyes, and then across the ground.

Actually, dozens of shadows around him begin to deepen. Shadows of that discarded tire, a discarded pop can, the nearby gas pumps. They lengthen, darken...and then they turn liquid, flowing swiftly over the ground to gather at the pale young man's feet, rushing around him, coating him, and for a moment seeming to completely devour him. They subside into a pool on the ground, boiling in place, and then a slender form rises from them, a three-dimensional shadow, and moves with inhuman speed toward the nearest of the creatures.

The figure's arms and fingers lengthen, spreading, until they look like thick, sinewy whips ending in talons. He speeds towards the creature, arms whipping around, aiming to tear into it with clearly murderous intent.

Acting on instinct alone, Nic's free hand snatches the flying bag from the air, the covering falling away when his hand wraps around the pipe inside, as if the two had rehearsed the move before. An incredulous look crosses his face, "the hell? You on your way to a dinner party?" He doesn't have time to explain the reference between his body is jerked higher as the bat-like monstrosity's wings propel both of them higher into the air. With one arm stretched out to hold tightly to the creature's hand, Nic raises the metal pipe and slams it against the thing's shoulder once...twice...and a third time. Each time it collides with that thick skin, there's a reactive shrill cry and the satisfying crunch of maybe bone on the last hit.

The acid-dripping bat creature carries the young man across the parking lot towards the garage, the pair sinking to within about ten feet of the pavement. A female scream tears through the air near the convenient store as one of the creatures grabs a woman by the hair and starts to lift her off the ground. "Don't think their with rideshare," he calls down to the tight build blond. "You don't seem helpless," he adds almost as an afterthought as his nose twitches a bit while looking in the blond's direction. With a flash seen in the encroaching darkness, Nic's iris glows briefly on the outer edge with a golden hue.Seeing Jesse wolf out draws a snarl from his lips, muttering "Show off..." before he heaves his body upwards one handed and wraps his legs around the creature's chest.

Nearby observers might notice that the biker's face grows more facial hair, a deep growl emerging from his throat, and long claws embed themselves into the flying terror's other shoulder, threatening to send both of them towards the ground.

Ryki arches an eyebrow as Jessie begins to disrobe, cocking his head to the side before it becomes apparent why. "Ah. That explains it." Tyson's suggestion that they ignore the monsters doesn't seem to hit home with Ryki, who seems every bit ready to fight. However, as Simon literally melts into shadows next to him, Ryki blinks his eyes a few times, not sure if what he's witnessing is correct. "Okay then... that's new." As the shadowy tendrils sweep toward one of the monsters, Ryki turns his attention to watch Nic as he's flown around the area. He calls out to the other, "They aren't American Airlines, either. Try not to fall too far, it might sting a little." He then turns to his own battle.

Ryki smiles as one of the creatures closes in on him, his stature most likely making him look like an appealing target. As it dives down, he parries its claws with the mop handle, which quickly begins to disintegrate as the creature grips the mop with its talons. Ryki doesn't seem fazed, however, as he immediately lets the handle go. The acid-bat doesn't notice the maneuver as the distraction it is, the short boy immediately leaping into the air and delivering a spinning wheel kick right to the monster's face. The acid quickly eats through his shoe, leaving it a bit of a mess. Oddly, the young man's foot seems perfectly fine as he shakes the remnants off. "Damn, I really liked these shoes, too." The creature staggers in the air, momentarily dazed before it hisses at Ryki and continues forward toward him.

Tyson gasps and his jaw drops as he sees the sudden werewolf. Demon bats are scary, sure, but damn. Werewolf. "Holy fuck!" That is said with a bit of a yelp as his hands come up, balls of fire flickering into existence around them, blue-white and blazing. After Dale's warning, Ty grimaces and tries to cause that flame to disappear. He says, "I... damn it! I'm cool." He isn't really, but after a few seconds the flames go away. Tyson dashes for his car door, pulling it open and pulling out a tire iron. Almost unwillingly, he tells Dale, "Thanks." And that's when the shadows start moving around and the shadow monster thing appears. He looks down at the dull steel tool in his hand and then back up with a frown. "This sucks.

Ty knows himself too well to stay that close to the pumps at this point, so feeling a bit like a coward, he runs out towards the parking lot, trying to get well away from anything that might explode when he loses control. Not if. He can already feel it building. Which is when he hears the scream of the weird devil bat thing that is swooping in his direction and he looks up at it, his eyes gone from honey-brown to literally blazing and flickering yellow-red as his magic rises without direction.

Jessie would've responded to Nic's quip of him being a showoff with a little grin, were he not engaged in wrestling a bat thingHis fists clench, digging those claws in and ripping through flesh, and he bodyslams the creature, pounding it into the ground, again and again, with accompanying crunching noises, hoping that this thing can actually die. He roars with rage as he does this, the muscles in his body bulging as he puts all his strength into ending this creature's existance. He doesn't even seem phased when the creature manages to bite into his fur, singing it with that acid a bit, though it starts to heal rather quickly. Of course, hearing the scream of the woman, his attention shifts. Dead or not he leaves the creature, or whatever's left of it, on the ground and rushes over to aid that woman in dealing with the creature, and perhaps give her even more trauma than the flying acid bat thing. Hopefully someone can modify memories here, he most certainly can't, but he's not thinking about that now, baring down on the flying bat thing with claws and sharp, deadly jaws, eyes glowing the scarlet of fresh blood.

When Tyson settles down, enough to not leave the area a smoldering crater anyway, the sea with turns his attention toward the flying things for the first time since they appeared. Unlike Tyson, Dale has had his whole life to learn control. The air suddenly gets blustery, moving violently and being pulled to Dale, circling him and starting to look a bit like a miniature tornado. If shadows and werewolfs are coming out of the woodwork, a bit of a storm can, too. He motions toward one of the flying creatures and the winds home in on it, whipping around it and making flight quite difficult. Nearby, water coalesces from the moisure in the air and Dale motions that toward another creature, freezing into a lance of ice on its way.

Here, there be monsters! Two werewolves and a murder of horrors, and of course there's the shadow-thing now moving among them. With silent grace, it whips out those arms, which elongate to lash around one of the flying abominations, talons ripping and tearing, hooking into it, entangling and trying to either pull it down or pull the shadow form up, eve as the other arm wrists, writhes, and explodes, detaching and reforming into a projectile, now some kind of spinning shadow-net that flies toward another creature, aiming to bring it down, hopefully down into range where one of the werewolves can give it the mauling it so deserves. As for the first, the shadow creature shifts shape, becoming batlike itself, and what was previously its arm is now a long, barbed tail, which tries to whip around and fling the creature into the path of what seem like two very angry practitioners of the Craft. Does the shadow know they can handle it? Probably not, but it seems to assume that they're all just as happy to wade into the fray as it was.

The abomibatimation spins in the air wing over rotted stump, carrying Nic with it, and as if Rykard might be a prophet, the two hit the ground hard, the spin carrying them across the parking lot in a roll until the pair collide into the side of one of the cement posts at the fueling pumps, some dust and pieces of concrete settling over the pair. Before the dust settles, as it were, Nic's already rolling on top of the creature, and within the tangle of limbs, manages to pin one of it's arms down and get his hand wrapped around the creatures neck as it snarls, and lunges to try and bite him.

The creature's broken wing slams into Nic's side, knocking him sideways enough that the acid-filled fangs clamp down around his forearm, leaving a gash that sizzles across his flesh. Nic snarls and cries out, his head lifted to show the presence of his own fangs now, not quite the full on transformation Jessie had overgone, but enough to know he's not entirely human right now. There's no pithy remarks as he wrenches his hand tighter around the bat thing's neck, and with a fluid motion tears them across it's throat. The movement carries him rolling off the half-bodied corpse as acid spurts from the open wounds and starts to pool under it. The sizzling doesn't last long as the creature seems to dissolve an instant later, leaving behind a scorched area on the pavement where it had been, joining the others that were killed in leaving behind little trace of their presence once killed.

Feeling the heat of battle, Nic springs to his feet and misreading the blond's erratic movements for uncertainty, rushes towards one of the bat things flying in a jerky fashion down towards him. When he rushes past the fueling station, he grabs the large double-sided metal trash bin, its contents spilling out onto the ground as he tosses it upwards to meet the path of the flying terror.

As the others all join the fray to fight, Ryki frowns faintly. Werewolves, the elements, and even shadows are being brought to bear against the demon-bats. Why does everyone have cooler powers than him? He's not pouting, really!

Toeing off his other shoe, Ryki shifts into a familiar stance as the bat approaches. Now barefoot, which may seem like an odd choice against acid, he crouches momentarily before leaping into the air, gaining more height than one might expect from someone so short. Using a straight axe kick to the creature's face he knocks it down a few feet, before immediately twisting into a back kick against its side. The bat-monster, caught off guard by the maneuver, is knocked sideways -- and straight at one of Simon's shadows. "Hey chocolate, here's a gift back. Bon appetit."

Tyson stops fighting the magic and he lifts both hands up to shoulder height. All around him, a circle of fire blazes up to knee height around him and more lines form a pentagram with Tyson at the center. That bat thing dives for the kill. Which is when the steel trash can slams into the thing, knocking to the ground in front of the young fire witch. Tyson's grin is just plain wicked as his hands form the ritual gestures that let him direct the magic and he points at it, "Burn!" The blast of fire that is released is something more akin to a jet engine than a flamethrower given how intense his emotion is and how long it has been since he's let it out. The demon bat screams as it is literally incinerated to ash, leaving behind a small crater of molten tar in the parking lot.

It feels ...good. Too good to stop just yet. Ty's hands start to shape a sphere, as though working invisible clay. In the center of it, a white-hot flare forms. He breathes life into the ball of flame, compacting more and more magic, tighter and tighter. It starts to float up, out of his hands as licks of flame continue to flare from his hands to the sphere, charging it more and more as the globe starts to slowly spin.

Jessie leaps and grabs hold of the bat thing. He pushes the woman out of the way, she may well sustain some minor injuries, but certainly better than what the bat would've done to her. He winces a little as the creature manages to bite into his own arm, while he clings to it, and is carried into the air. One hand claws at one of its wings, attempting to tear it off, or at least damage it enough that it can't perform its function of supporting the creature's weight in the air. Seeing the giant fireball building, he bares his fangs, and throws all his weight into direction the creature's flight right tooward tthat fire. He pulls, hard, trying to bring the creature down as its damaged wing fails it, before letting go, meaning that creature is fly falling right toward Tyson and the rapidly building ball. Jessie falls, hitting the ground hard, which doesn't even phase him, before leaping up and hurrying away, not wanting to be near that explosion when it happens.

The trash from the bin start to spin rapidly around a central point and the mass gets tighter together until it's a compact mass and disappears. Because that's the important thing for Dale to do in the middle of a battle with the forces of nightmare hell. Once that's done, though, Dale looks across the truck stop and probably does the next most important thing. He starts to sing. An old song about gathering in the town square for a festival. But then, people start to gather to him, entranced. As they come to him, they vanish from the senses of the creatures, concealment magic woven into his enchanting song. He doesn't stop, keeping the spell in play while his supernatural voice keeps the humans enthralled. The others can defeat the things. He can keep the vast majority of the normies out of harm's way and muddle their minds enough to keep them from freaking out and turning this attack into an event.

The shadow forms twisting through the air split apart, turning to something almost like smoke, and whirl around almost drunkenly, slamming into the ground and flowing across it like a low-lying fog, pooling again to that liquid-like state, swirling around the abomination that Ryki threw down. The deepening shadows surge and swirl, sharpening -- and then the shadow vortex does a spot-in impression of a wood-chipper, grinding and shredding the horrible creature apart with hideous efficiency. The shadow flow away an instant later, leaving behind just another singed pile. A voice not unlike the pale young man's, but again with that guttural undertone, rumbles from the shadows near Ryki, warning him matter-of-factly, "Don't try to eat them. They taste terrible."

The shadows then flow to surround Ryki, encircling him, and begin to spread out in points, until a rosette of shadow blades is surging and swirling around him defensively. The wolves and witches seem pretty well to have their end of things under control, but Ryki is harder to be sure about. As for that poor woman, well, it's not likely that she'd be very comforted by a shadow-beast, anyway, right?

Nic has a split second to revel in the sight of one of the creatures tumbling down onto the ground from colliding with the trash bin before his whole world is awash in red flames and heat. The guttural sound that erupts from his throat echoes off the nearby wall of the station and Nic recoils and backpedals in a rapid flurry of limbs, slamming into the car door of a nearby Nissan and causing the car's alarm to joint he chorus of high pitched screeches and the roar of flames. The young man crouches against the car's bent fender a moment, the flames of the sphere reflected in the golden yellow hue that his irises change into.

It's not until the song fills the air that Nic's faculties seem to return, and while he's not enthralled as the regular humans are, it does seem to clear his head. The golden rings around his irises remain as he slowly stands, one hand on the hood of the banged up car. Keeping his distance from the ball of fire consuming at least one of the creatures hurled by Jessie, the human in wolf's casual wear surveys the area, taking in that most of the creatures have been dealt with, barring the last couple. He moves slowly towards the dark set of shadows, keeping a wary eye on the shape that nearly caught him by surprise earlier. Moving his head slowly up towards the origin of the creatures' appearance, he lifts his head and scents the air. "There!" With that, he runs straight away towards the plaza, grabbing hold of a metal lamppost to aid his parkour like maneuvers onto the roof and over, disappearing out of sight.

With the bat-thing he was engaged with effectively eliminated by shadows, Ryki watches as those same shadows swirl around him protectively. He looks slightly puzzled as one of the men breaks out into what sounds like a song, especially given that this is followed by a rather mass movement of people toward the man. With most of the crowd effectively enchanted to stay out of the way it seems, his gaze turns to the woman nearby that Jessie knocked out of harm's way who is cowering nearby. Eyes scan over her briefly before he calls out in a soft and soothing tone. "It's not safe for you out here, miss. There's a small clinic right over there, you should go and let them check you out. The door's locked right now because of all the commotion, but knock on the far right of the window and someone will hear and let you right in." He doesn't make any move to approach her, but nods encouragingly in the direction of the small med facility.

The woman, looking somewhat terrified and with several cuts and scrapes, scrambles up and over to the clinic where she doesn't even think before following instructions, knocking at the window. A beat later, the door opens and a similarly alarmed-looking nurse pokes her head out, the two women disappearing inside.

Ryki glances down once more at the shadows around him. "Wow, just met me and already you're getting possessive. I don't know whether I should be concerned or flattered." At least there are no more creatures moving in his direction. The others all seem to be making short work of the few left.

Tyson is angry, but also happy? It's all a bit confusing to him. These devil bat things are attacking and that's really pissing him off. But blasting them is really good? He's fairly sure there's at least a year's worth of therapy to unpack in there somewhere. But at the moment, he sees the injured abomination more or less sailing towards him and he makes a twisting gesture with his left hand. The ball of fire arcs out and intercepts it. This one doesn't die as quickly and neatly as the first as the ball blasts through it, letting flaming chunks rain down, but Tyson is too caught up in the magic to care about anything else. His hands form mystical sigils. He breathes terribly pronounced Latin under his breath, feeding more and more magic into the ball, which grows from softball to basketball to beach ball to wrecking ball. And then as he snaps both hands down and lets out a shout of almost orgasmic release, explodes into a sheet of flame that covers damned near the entire parking lot and truck stop for a few seconds, perhaps 30 feet above the ground, well over the cars and building roofs. The briefly superheated and displaced air produces an almost thunderclap of explosive sound, there and gone, leaving ears ringing and skin tingling with sudden 'open oven' heat. The crisped remains of several bats fall to earth in larger and smaller pieces as Tyson sighs in relief. Damn, it felt nice getting that out.

He finally hears the mystic song and helps calm him down, if not draw him in and he looks around, realizing, belatedly, that maybe he should have held back a little, given the bat debris that is denting the roofs or hoods of several cars in the lot. Some still burning. He looks a bit sheepish as he says, "Ah. That's on me. Sorry. Got heated."

Jessie is definitely satisfied when Tyson manages to take out that bat thing he threw, and he scans around for something to do. Then he spots Nic leaping out of sight, and, believing something to be there, he quickly hurries after him to find out what had him running. Then he's distracted by that massive sheet of flame just above him, causing him to pause and lose track of where Nic might've gone, leaving him standing on a rooftop, looking around and blinking, trying to process what the hell just happened, eyes wide, before he recovers himself, trying to find Nic once again to resume following him.

Dale reaches into his pocket and pulls out two popsicle sticks and some loose yarn. As he sings, he wraps the yarn around the sticks to create a sort of web with a knot around the stick every so often. When the string is used up and the last know is formed, Dale hangs the little ornament in the air as if it were hooked on something. He stops singing then, but the enchanted song continues, woven into the ornament along with the concealment magic. Freed to tend to other things, he starts to rifle though human minds, searching for memories he can warp, turning the incident into something more mundane. Like a sudden sea storm.

That hissing, guttural echo of the goth boy's low, smooth voice rises from the shadows around Ryki, sounding eerily calm and introspective for a surging vortex of chewy, stabby shadows. After a moment, sounding very conversational and reasonable, the shadows say, "Don't be alarmed. Just relax." Then, they suddenly surge around Ryki, lifting and carrying him as gently as can be, flowing over the ground after where the wolves went, perhaps curious to discover what's going on and what the two seem to be charging after. They continue to swirl protectively around Ryki, though.

There are small favors and there are big favors to be thankful for. That Nic is not still in the parking lot when the sky catches fire is a big favor. The heat reaches him even on the other side of the plaza's building, but it's far enough that he's not useless. His aura scent carries him around to the back near an abandoned utility shed. Letting out a low growl of frustration after several moments of trying, and failing, to track what he caught wind of, Nic slams a fist into a telephone pole. It shakes briefly before the young man jogs back around the building to see the aftermath, the last of the creatures' bodies having dissolved into nothing but caustic scars on cars, roofs and pavement.

"Whatever brought those things was here..." he says gruffly, though with human vocal cowards having returned to normal on his way back to the parking lot. "One of you might get more information...but whatever it is...is headed south...towards Port-Au-Feu...." The news settles in on his expression as he balls his hands into fists at his side and casts his gaze in that direction.

Ryki seems only slightly alarmed as the shadows carry him off in the direction the werewolves went. The fact that he can pull off as much of a straight and calm face as he does suggests either a very good poker face or someone who always expects the unexpected. Maybe a little of column A and a little of column B. As the shadows move toward the edge of the plaza, he spots Nic returning and hears what he says. "Wait. Those things didn't just show up on their own? Shit."

Closing his eyes, Ryki tilts his head back and forth as if he were trying to crack his neck. Sighing, he opens his eyes up again as he regards Nic. "Sorry, I got nothin'. Hopefully whatever it is... well, wishful thinking would say hopefully it just goes away, but experience has taught me better. So yeah, there's that."

Tyson starts walking towards Dale, perhaps a little dazed and light-headed looking. He says, "Damn. That was something. Cool, um, witchy stuff." He's a bit embarrassed that he has no idea how Dale actually did the whole calming thing or the magic he senses still coming from the other witch. Ty is basically good at one thing when it comes to magic. Though, he grins to himself, it's a REALLY badass thing. Seeing the others, doing their thing, he gives people a nervous, if companionable nod and then Nic gets a more worried expression. "Maybe we should, um, do something about that?" But what? He's pretty sure he's not allowed to be the magical sheriff. Anyway, apparently, if anybody from the coven is, that would probably be Dale. And then, a little softer, for his fellow witch's ears only, though of course, at least the wolves and perhaps others can hear him, "Bro! Werewolves! And a shadow witch...guy. Person. And mop dude. I guess they're tight or something? Mop guy is probably his side kick! But ...werewolves! How fucking dope is that?"

Tyson starts walking towards Dale, perhaps a little dazed and light-headed looking. He says, "Damn. That was something. Cool, um, witchy stuff." He's a bit embarrassed that he has no idea how Dale actually did the whole calming thing or the magic he senses still coming from the other witch. Ty is basically good at one thing when it comes to magic. Though, he grins to himself, it's a REALLY badass thing. Seeing the others, doing their thing, he gives people a nervous, if companionable nod and then Nic gets a more worried expression. "Maybe we should, um, do something about that?" But what? He's pretty sure he's not allowed to be the magical sheriff. Anyway, apparently, if anybody from the coven is, that would probably be Dale. And then, a little softer, for his fellow witch's ears only, though of course, at least the wolves and perhaps others can hear him, "Bro! Werewolves! And a shadow witch...guy. Person. And mop dude. I guess they're tight or something? Mop guy is probably his side kick! But ...werewolves! How fucking dope is that?"
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