2015.09.27 - Gathering: The Showdown

**Emitter:** Jason Christopher

*A coalition of heroes arrive to rescue Jason from his father.*

Castle Lupus, Romania

From the first days Jason Christopher of the House of Lupus came to La Push, and then later Beacon Hills, he warned of it. Warned of his father and the threat he represented. Not just to the various werewolf packs. But to all things supernatural. In his mad quest for revenge against the Volturi, he had literally lost his mind. But his power to compel the changing breeds, the shifters of the world, allowed him to maintain command of the Children of the Moon. But worse, now that same power had granted him control over his son, Jason.

Having given in to The Beast within him, in a near suicide play to protect his son, mate, and friends. Jason was essentially mindless. Sheer rage, with no higher brain functions. That was when his father appeared and took control of him. Ordinarily Jason's will power would have allowed him to resist. But not so The Beast. Now, Johnathan Gregor Lupus planned to use Jason as a weapon against the Volturi. An action that, according to Alice Cullen's visions somehow resulted in humanity declaring war on the supernatural, and winning.

The map is spread out on the table. Tucson had, good to his word, found a secret hiding place in Jason's room. His thieving skills making him prone to do so. The castle that was the home of his father's court was on the edge of the Hoia Baciu Forest. Considered the most haunted forest in the world. Stiles Stilinski had been doing research for Jason on that very forest, and now it seemed there was a connection. Something existed in it, that Jason considered important. A way to strike at his father perhaps? If so, perhaps a way for them to get there now.

"So it's a haunted forest in Romania," Jacob says, standing over the table and frowning down at it. He's not pleased with the waiting, but he knows they need to go in with, at least, a *plan*. He glances over at Scott, looking doubtful. "Are you sure about this?" Shaking his head, he wishes he had more to contribute right now. Mysterious forests in Eastern Europe don't give him much to go on. "Should we be getting his plane ready?"

Scott is trying not to pace. Trying not to look frantic. Trying to keep his heartbeat steady and his adrenalin response under control. Because that's what he does, as alpha of a pack. Keeps it together no matter what. And if his eyes are burning red constantly, he doesn't notice. At least they have an objective now. That helps. And it helps that he has a duty to both Jason and Jacob. Rescue the former and be steady for the latter. Focusing on that, he says, "His father didn't take a plane. They just vanished out of the woods, right? Into the Ways? We should go that way too, if we can. They took Jason for a reason. We need to get him back and away from them before they can use him for that reason." And that's the other thing he does. As much as he's mediocre at best academically, with people and tactics, he's pretty good. Looking over to Stiles, the young alpha asks, "He had you researching this place, right?"

Stiles points to a spot on the map. "That's the whole point. This *spot* is, like, the epicenter of the whole forest. It's supposed to be one of the most haunted spots in the whole world." He frowns, shaking his head, and paces around the table a bit, idly drumming the fingers of one hand along its edge. "If he used some kind of magic to get there, then maybe... it's to a really magical spot? Like the one he had me reading about?" He shakes his head, resting both hands on his hips. "Crap," he mutters. "I need to think." And he steps away, pulling out his phone to send some texts.

"But even if we go, how are we gonna save my dad?" Sly asks, arms wrapped around him. And he frowns fiercely at all this talk of travel and options. "Look, it's obviously through the Ways," he grumbles. "If there's a Way there, why don't we just go through and follow them?" He looks around at the others, clearly not finding this war council thing particularly helpful.

Brock? He is silent. Stoic and silent, and standing tall, idly by while the rest go over these plans and maps of the area that is supposed to be searched. You can find the large blonde man standing in the corner with his arms folded over his chest, a stony look on his bearded face, while his bright eyes flit from person to person as the speak. There is much on his mind, and one of those things is impatience, at the moment. He snorts after a bit, "There ain't time ta think. Get there, get in, and make alotta noise. Somethin is bound ta come, an when it does, we make it talk, and on to the next phase. Sittin here with our thumbs up our areses is just gunna waste time."

Que the time in the TV show when the door opens and the person who wasn't in the room previously arrives like he heard the entire conversation. The door swings open and0 in comes the blond Aussie. "You're not going to need to take a plane. They may have been spying on us. They don't know that I can navigate the Ways better than anyone else I know. And unlike all of you. Brock and I are not children of the moon. Johnathan power holds no sway over either of us. If you are going to do a strike, it needs to be now. And it needs to be when they least expect it. It's time for you Alpha's to put on your big boy pants and prove your leadership abilities." It's not like Brodie didn't tell Jacob that this exact thing was going to happen exactly like this. He doesn't look as bright and cheery as he usually does. He literally was over a thousand miles away just a few minutes ago. The residual scent of San Francisco and the travel through the Way still lingers on his clothes.

Aiden Carver is leaned up against one wall, arms folded across his chest. He's being pretty quiet, mostly watching Scott. He, Ethan, and Liam have all been following the True Alpha's lead lately, even though Aiden wasn't really in the pack, but this... this was freaking them all out. Aiden grits his teeth through the talk of planes and Ways and other stuff, but he grunts in frustration at various points. "So," he finally says, glancing Brodie up and down. "If that's the plan, what're we waiting for? Let's use the Ways-thing and go kick some ass."

There is a knock on the door. Only a few minutes after Brodie has arrived. The well oiled door has scarcely even closed, still partially open. A well cultured, calm voice calls out through the open doorway. "Hello?" Jacob can easily recognize the voice as that of Carlisle Cullen. With him are his sons, Edward, Jasper, and the hulking Emmet. "I beg your pardon, Alice told us the situation. She, Esme, and Rosalie are on a flight heading for Italy. Alice is watching the Volturi, to be sure they do not become aware of this. To try and keep it that way. But we are here to help, if you will have us." He looks around the many wolves tentatively. The vampires were well aware the wolves of La Push were on high alert. Sam Ulie had all of them running the territory around their home. All save Jacob of course.

Jacob is the one to answer the door--after all, he was just stepping over to greet Brodie. When the blond Aussie arrives and starts talking about stepping up, Jacob just steps over to hug him gratefully. He's visibly relieved to see Brodie there. "Thank you," he says quietly. And then he's answering the door, letting in Carlisle and the others. He offers each of them a tight smile, and Edward--well, Edward gets a lingering look that acknowledges their need to speak, sooner or later, but for now it's let be. "So, the Ways," he says, looking to Brodie. "Just tell me how we do this."

Scott McCall nods to Brock. "Yeah. And we use the Cullens, if they will help. That super speed thing they do is amazing. And better than any of us, that I know about. We can use them to scout without being seen and then draw off guards without getting anybody on either side killed." Because that's Scott. He's not going to kill anybody unless there is no other choice. And there is always another choice if you look hard enough. He looks at Sly and Stiles and says, "So you two seem like the ones who know where we're going and how to get there. Why don't you work out a plan to get us there? Now would be good." At Brodie's words, he gives the younger werelion a thoughtful look and then, catching that scent and putting two and two together, gestures for Brodie to join Stiles and Sly. He looks back at Brock and says, "How tough are you, really? Tough enough to slow down Jason's dad as the primary hitter there? 'Cause if he can stop us because we're wolves, we need somebody to keep him too busy to do that. He probably has more people than us, so it seems to me like our best bet is to make a hole in their defenses, distract, um, Johnathan, get Jason and get out." At Aiden's words, he grins fiercely and nods. There's a reason he likes the twins, despite their involvement in the Alpha pack. They know how to fight and aren't afraid to do it. He looks back at Jacob and clears his throat, suddenly realizing he's overstepping himself. He's used to being in charge in tense situations, despite his age. And when the Cullens arrive, he looks between them and the other young alpha. It's ultimately Jacob's call, but it's obvious he thinks using the vampires is a good idea. And then he looks to Brodie as Jacob gives him his task.

Stiles returns, pocketing inis phone, and looks up to Brodie, glancing between him and the others, and he taps the spot on the map. "Can you get us here?" he asks, uncertain but hopeful. He looks over to Scott with a tight smile, nodding, and says, "Sounds like a plan. Too bad I left my bat back home." And he too looks to Brock, thoughtful and unsure. "Well, Coach?" he asks, an edge to his voice. "You gonna hit for our team this time, I take it?" Because clearly Stiles hasn't always felt that way in the past.

Sly looks to Brodie, too. "I know the ways," he says, "Can I help? I'm not... used to traveling with anyone else or opening gates get, but... I've been through them a bunch of times on hunting parties and stuff." He moves over to the lion's side, clearly very worried about his father and on edge in this situation. Brodie, at least, seems to be speaking Sly's language, making more him more at ease.

"The sun rises in two hours there. Brock and I are most powerful during the day with the sun shining. The wolves conversely are not as strong." Brodie may not be an alpha and he probably will never be an alpha. But he knows strategy and he is a thinker. "Jacob needs to take point on this one. Brock can handle Johnathan long enough for Jacob to get into Jason's head. I know the Beast. It's going to take everything to put that thing in a cage. The only way that we will be able to do this if is if Jake can get in touch with Jason. Jason needs to regain control. If Jacob and Scott can work together, they can distract the Beast. I will be able to slip in and force him into the cage and give Jason enough time to take over control." He bites his lower lip and looks around. His bright blue eyes taking in all of the pieces that they have at their disposal and he says, "Someone is going to need to target the brothers. T hey are not going to be easy to beat either. The vampires can take one. Can the twins take the other? If we get everyone together and can get ready. We can attack at sunrise. They will not expect that." He looks at Stiles as he tells him where they need to go. He closes his eyes and focuses on something. His breathing calms and he says, "Okay. So they are expecting us to go through the same Way point that their person took them through. But what they don't know, is that that isn't the only tree connected to the Way there. They all just haven't awoken. The Watchman showed me how to wake up the sleeping Tree's. If we wake up this tree here." He points to a spot on the map. "We can get there and they won't even know it. And then you big guns go in and tear shit up."

Brodie adds to Sly, "I'll show you how to wake up the tree. And you can help me with that. I don't want to use all of my energy to awaken it. So I will need your help."

"The death-spell that made me and Brodie what we are was pretty specific." Brock explains to Scott, "We would not be wolves, we would be unlike them. Ah doubt this bloke has any sway over us." Brock pushes himself off of the wall, and walks the room, which means he looms over each individual. "You just get me in the same place as him, an ah'll make plenty sure he don't bother no one else but me." A look to Scoot and Stiles, "Ah specialize in bein the biggest threat in the group, when it counts. Jus consider me yer official golden tank. Not ta mention, Brodie and I givin the mystical morale support."

Aiden Carver's next comment is the sound of his fist smacking into his open palm, a big grin spreading across his face. "Sweet," he says with entirely too much enthusiasm. "Then we go kick the big bad wolves' asses by showing 'em we're bigger and badder." Oh, he's been dying for a chance to show off what he can do, now, just *dying* for it. And Scott and Brodie are outlining a plan that, clearly, Aiden is entirely in favor of. Looking Brock up and down with clear respect, he says, "Hey, Coach," Aiden says with a really unhealthily large grin. "Wanna get even bigger and badder? All you gotta do is let me be on top."

As for Ethan and Liam, they look more cautious--but Ethan seems willing to trust his alpha and his brother, while Liam... Liam would probably follow Scott anywhere, really.

The Cullens stay near the door. Edward nods to Jacob, unquestionably aware of what was on Jacob's mind. Given his ability to read surface thoughts. Jasper looks much the way he did the last time, tense, as he reads the emotional state in the room. Emmet just remains cautiously neutral, arms crossed over his massive chest. His expression seems to indicate that, if they are going to be hitting things. He hopes deeply that it is going to be sooner rather than later. Carlisle Cullen nods sympathetically to Jacob. He had seen him not so long ago, under tragic circumstances. Now once more under the same. He certainly heard Scott McCall's comment and nods to him. "If that is how we are able to help, that is fine. Though, some of the werewolves here are as fast as we are." Edward shifts some and Carlisle smiles. "Well as fast as some of us. It is likely safe to assume that is true for the type of werewolf Jason is as well." The other vampires follow him further into the home, looking slightly ill at ease. The treaty really didn't cover situations like this. Did it even count right now at all? Everything old was new again, or something.

In the center of the Hoia Baciu Forest, there was a clearing where nothing grew. There was no scientific reason for it. But locals swore the hauntings originated from there. The ghosts of an untold number of Romanian peasants, and other victims. Victims of Johnathan Gregor Lupus and the controlled Children of the Moon. Brodie's finger touched that very point on the map. The very center of the Hoia Baciu Forest - World's Most Haunted Forest.

Jacob returns Carlisle's nod, and Edward will know just how grateful he is for their presence. (Fortunately, at present, his concerns about Bella Swan's future are rather far from his surface thoughts.) Heading back to the table, he rests a hand briefly on Brodie's back as he stands beside him, leaning over to look over the map, and he nods. "I like the plan," he confirms. "Can you get us there and get us back out again? If Brock can distract Jason's dad while Scott and I snap him out of it... when we should be able to shift things in our favor." He draws a deep breath. "At least, as long as his army doesn't tear us apart, but one thing at a time, right?" He looks to Scott, meeting and seeking to hold the gaze of his fellow alpha, and gives him a nod. It's a good plan, and frankly Scott has just as much leadership experience as Jacob does. From his way of thinking, they're all going to need to rely on each other to pull this off.

Listening to the brothers speaking, Scott shakes his head. He'd been ignoring a resource in these two. Well, that's water under the bridge. He nods to them but holds his silence, finally giving Jacob a nod and a tight grin that had more to do with understanding than humor. He gives a light shrug and reaches out to rest a hand on Jacob's shoulder. The wordless message is 'I've got your back'. He looks around to the rest of the group and says, "If we've got a plan, let's get rolling. If anybody needs anything, get it now. We meet up where we need to be as soon as these guys are ready."

Brock is a leader. He has very little to lead right now, and they aren't on the field of battle at the moment either. "Ah can take em. Jus' point me in the right direction, aye?" Says the large blonde, his brows raising. He looks to Scott for a second, "Take Brodie with ya, in bringin Jason back to his senses. He'll be better suited ta help. Maybe he can do somethin on the magic side."

Stiles nods along with the various decisions being made. In particular, he glances to Brodie and says, "That's basically it, yep," to confirm their destination and what he's saying. "From here, I'm just the dumb human. Without a bat." But as Scott speaks, a little smirk spreads across Stiles' face in spite of everything. He reaches out and smacks his hand against Scott, declaring, "I love this plan--I'm excited to be a part of it! Let's do it!"

Sly seems to have decided that Brodie's the one to talk to, since he's the only one who seems to be speaking of things Sly knows. "Maybe I can help... hold the Way open for you when you come back?" he suggests. He and Jacob already had the *There's no way in hell you're coming on this mission* talk, but he's still very obviously eager, even desperate, to do something to help. At present, it seems as though the mystically attuned lion is his best bet to offer anything.

Brodie looks towards Jacob, "We can't do this without you. The moment we walk through the Ways and get into the clearing. The only person we all report to is you. When you tell us to move we move. When you tell us to stop, we stop. Everyone here falls in line behind Jacob." He cracks his knuckles. "Alright. I will get what I need for waking up the tree there. I doubt they are going to have any guards in that area. No one will want to stay there if they don't have to. Don't worry about the spirits. If you don't acknowledge them, they will not have power. And we are going there to take out the one who put them at unease in the first place." He looks at Sly and smiles. "You got it little man. Someone has to be there to open the Way in case something happens to me. The key to a good plan is have a backup. The objective, get Jason to take control again. He will finish off his father once he does. After Johnathan and his sons are disposed of. The other shifters will no longer be under his sway. They will either stop fighting or need to be put down." Brodie and Brock know all too well what it is like to be under a crazy Alpha's pack. Some snap and others see the error of their ways. "I'll go get my stuff and meet you at the Watchman." And unless anything else is said or someone objects. Brodie runs to get the items he needs for the ritual and to fight these wolves.

Aiden shrugs as Brock doesn't go for his suggestion, but he still looks pretty pleased with himself about the whole thing. He shares a knowing look with Ethan, even reaching over to clap Liam on the shoulder. "Guess we're gettin' the band back together," he jokes grimly. "I hope your puppy can play tambourine, bro." Ethan rolls his eyes slightly at Aiden's attitude, but he's clearly here and on board to do his part and make sure his pack is protected. As for Liam, he's handling the whole thing particularly well for someone so young and inexperienced. Clearly, he too has his alpha's back.

Carlisle listens to the various opinions in the room, and nods to his sons. It seems as if they have their way to, Romania. "This means of traveling. The Ways you called it. What is it exactly?" Edward seems to already know, but then it is likely people have been thinking about it. But Jasper and Emmet seem pretty clueless about it too. They all follow though. Willing to do their part to help avert a supernatural war. One in which they are all certain to be the losers.

"I'll take point," Jacob agrees, though he gives Brodie a very serious look. "But if you see anything I'm missing, you *tell me*. Call it out. You guys aren't like the wolves I'm used to. We're not all sharing thoughts, here. So we've gotta be careful and keep in contact." He adds, a beat later, "That goes for everyone." He glances at the others, resists the urge to tell Stiles to shut up--really, Ghostbusters, right now?--and reaches out to squeeze both Scott's and Brodie's shoulders, leaving his hands there for a moment. "Okay. Everyone get what you need, and then head for the Watchman." As he breaks his improvised little not-circle with the other two, he turns to Carlisle and gestures for the Cullens to walk with him. "It's a kind of magic travel. Brodie will open up a door, we go through, and then we come back the same way."

And they head to the Watchman.

Brodie smiles at Jacob. "You got this. You've been preparing for it all along." He looks at the rest and then he disappears to get his stuff. He has a small satchel of stuff with him when he arrives. When he gets to the Watchmen, he is barely wearing any clothes. He has on a pair of basketball shorts and nothing else. His golden tanned skin almost glows in the moonlight. He takes an athame out of his bag. He stops in front of the Watchmen and he starts to say a blessing for the group. He calls upon the assistance of the Sun Deity to give them strength. He then turns to Sly and he says to him. "Alright, I am going to perform the ritual. I want you to watch and learn. I am going to tap into your energy to help power the ritual so it isn't going to tap my own personal reserves. I am going to need my strength to help calm the Beast." He doesn't waste any time setting up the ritual. He shows Sly each step but doesn't slow down for the young man. He takes hold of Sly's hand and he uses Sly's magical energy instead of his own to power the ritual. It will not hurt the younger boy, but it will not leave Brodie completely useless. The ritual to wake up the tree goes rather quickly. Even if it is remotely, the tree is on the same magical 'web' of networks and so he can affect the tree from afar.

Several minutes later, Scott is standing under the Watchman again, looking up at the huge tree. He's getting a little tired of magic trees. But they seem to be a part of his life now. Looking sideways at Ethan and Liam he says, "I want you two to watch out for each other. In fact, we're going to need somebody to guard our way back." He takes a deep breath and then says something he knows they aren't going to want to hear. "Which is why I want you to stay with the tree on the other side, Liam and for you to work with Aiden, Ethan. If anybody knows how dangerous you two are together, it's me. I want you both with Jacob and me, watching our backs." He lets that alpha influence loose, feeling guilty about it, but impressing on Liam how serious he is. As strong as the young beta might be, emotionally, he's a kid. And Scott doesn't want Liam growing up as fast as Scott himself has had to mature. And then, fixing the twins with a look that he hopes gets through, "And no killing."

Stiles stands beside Scott, and he's no longer unarmed! Having found a sword--a really fancy katana with a wolf's head hilt, no less--he's decided to bring it along. It makes him feel better, anyway. At least he's kept it sheathed, slung over one shoulder by a convenient carrying strap. He gives Scott an approving look, saying to Liam, "Don't worry, pup. We'll be okay." He glances at Sly significantly. "And someone has to make sure Jason's kid doesn't get into trouble while we're gone, right?" Standing next to Scott, Stiles feels ready. Of course, he's also packing a little extra precaution, too... but that's going to stay a secret. He hopes.

"Ah'm all bout gettin on the mergy side with ya Carver, but ya heard yer boss. No killin." Brock makes mention to Aiden, the large man arriving unarmed, leaning his head to crack his neck and the like, stretching out his limbs, "Ah'm not about ta promise the same thing. Ah'll do what ah have ta do, if ah have ta do it." says the great golden king, moving in and giving crouch to plant fingers on the ground and give a sniff of the air.

Sly kneels beside Brodie, following his instructions carefully. The were-lion will sense a great admiration and gratitude from the Changeling, who's been on the edge of panic ever since his father was taken. Now, he takes comfort in the ritual and its rhythms, letting Brodie energy from him to fuel it. The wild fairy magic that thrums through Sly is a bit different, of course, but it's perfectly suited to operating the Ways, so it should prove workable enough.

Liam *doesn't* like it, but he's not going to argue with his alpha--especially when the Voice comes out to play. Aiden and Ethan, meanwhile, give each other a grin, and Aiden says, "Anything you say, Scott." Ethan says, "You got it, boss." And then, in perfect sync, they strip off their shirts. Ethan steps forward, kneeling down, and Aiden comes up behind him, literally plunging a fist into his brother's back... and then there's an uncomfortable-to-watch blending of flesh. When they rise, the twins have been merged into a single, massive wolfman shape, all rippling muscles and snarling features. A seam of flesh, like a livid scar, runs directly down the center of their shared body.

Aiden Carver phases to his merged form.

Tucson has joined the woofs at some point, a small scruffy brown coyote weaving in and out of their running formations and such. He blurs up to his human form as they approach the Watchman, and he shakes out his hands, takes a deep breath in and out, prepping himself for the ordeal to come.

Standing shoulder to shoulder with Brodie, Jacob smiles and gives him a quiet nod. "With friends like you having my back, kitten, I'm feeling pretty good about it," he says with a careful show of courage and strength. It's a lot to manage, but it's what he has to do. It's what, he knows, Jason would need him to do. So he finds just enough strength to do it. He gives Scott a pointed look as well, trusting him to handle his pack--and he shakes his head in surprise at the Twins' maneuver. *That's* a new one, for sure. He can see now why Jason was so keen on helping them restore that ability. As for Brock, he gets a tight smile and a nod. "You just do your thing, big guy." A glance at the Twins. "Guys." He then looks to Tucson, giving him a look that plainly says *Here goes nothing!* And then he steps forward.

"Alright, guys. Here we go."

It is a short jog to The Watchman, it rests almost on the boarder of The Pack and Cullen territorial boundary. The great tree sways side to side, and as always has an otherworldly feel to it. The lights that seemed to dance just outside your field of vision. The tinkling sound of chimes and bells, and laughter that sounds suspiciously the very same. As the assembled group departs the breeze stirs the trees limbs and for a moment it almost...It almost seems like a bit of the ever present rain and fog whips itself into a vaguely humanoid shape. A voice, familiar to at least Jacob seems to drift on the wind, in French. "*Soyez courageux, être béni mes braves. Protège mon doux prince.*" Be brave, be blessed my brave ones. Rescue my sweet prince. Elizabet Angelle? It seemed to be her voice, distant and airy, but her voice. But then the figure just disperses, and is gone.

Brodie taps into Sly's magical power, and then sends it through the tree. The branches glow like the sun itself, warming, invigorating warmth as the magic touches it. Veins of it travel through the faerie mound. That magic burns through dead roots, awakening them. Reviving, renewing them. Reaching through an invisible network. Branches and limbs and roots that criss cross the world. Until they reach a clearing in the middle of a haunted wood a world away. A bare ring, with a plateau in the very center of the forest. Where nothing has ever been known to grow. As the magic reaches there the soil parts suddenly. A small twisting little vine it seems pressing up through the earth. Then the ground *HEAVES* as more of the earth bursts upwards, carried by branches and a massive tree trunk. The magic feeding the nascent tree, until it loomed as tall and as powerful as The Watchman through which the magic flowed. Massive vines hanging from it's limbs. Wrapping around bundles of branches and earth that looked far to much like bodies hanging by their necks for comfort.

The Gallows had been awakened. The vines and roots connected to yet another point of the world.

The tittering laughter and the slight giggles always heard around The Watchman all stopped. As the light from The Watchman's branches dimmed, the shadows seemed to lengthen and almost appear darker, and more sinister. As if the haunted Hoia Baciu forest was reaching through. Like a giant dark spider, casting out it's webs to see what it might catch.

Emmet Cullen cracks his neck, casting a quick glance at Brock, and then looks over at his brothers and father. "Naw that's not ominous or anything, right? Hope it isn't all ghosts on the other side. We need something we can actually hit!" He cracks a big smile, and can't seem to understand why nobody else is. Shrugging he goes back to watching quietly instead.

Which he is still doing, as those shadows seem to close in suddenly, leaving the world dark and cold.. Their is a terrible, gut wrenching sensation of movement. Like being tugged sideways by your belt. If the belt were being played by your guts in this case. Then they are somewhere else.

The forest is dark, not because of the time of day. It was nearly dawn now. But their is just something horrible about it. Mist clings to everything, and the earth smells of death. A wet, cloying and rotting scent. Their are sounds from the forest, indistinct, and impossible to place. Sounds that could almost be human, but are all the more inhuman for that fact. It is almost as if the mist diminishes even heightened senses. Reducing them greatly. There is a sensation here, that thrums through these woods like a heartbeat. Here and now in these woods, at this time, you are the hunted..and the hunters are hungry, very hungry.

Santiago "Tucson" Cortez could see dead people. He could see spirits. He could even sometimes communicate with them when they were willing. Tucson alone sees the mist form into the shape of a woman. A woman whose form shifts and becomes a wolf, and then shifts again back to human. The figure drifts closer to Tucson and addresses him. "Myyy Sonnnnn...My poor sweeettt sooonnn. Youuu sssmell of him....my chhillllddd. Losssttt now...Losssttt." Thos ghost is only seen by Tucson, but the mist seems to form up into countless other spirits. Restless. Screaming, suddenly and violently cut off. Vanishing and then reappearing again. The dead, those thrown to the wolves under Johnathan Gregor Lupus' reign. They are legion.

As they arrive in the forest, Jacob steps forward and squares his shoulders. "Okay," he breathes out, "here we go." He drops his shorts, then, kicking them to one side. And then he changes, phasing up bigger and, let's be honest, badder than most have ever seen him go before. Claws extend from his fingers, his limbs elongating and thickening. His back expands, his chest grows broad. He ripples with muscles, even as they're covered over with a coat of russet fur. His features distort, fading from human to a bestial version of a wolf's, all fangs and snout... and, for the first time, glowing red eyes. Topping out at some ten feet tall in his man-wolf form, Jacob has to really force himself not to give into the urge to howl. When he speaks, his voice is guttural, inhuman, as distorted as his shape: "So... let's go."

Jacob Black phases to his man-wolf form.

Scott blinks at that sword on Stiles' back and despite how serious the situation is, he grins and says, "If you cut off something you're going to need later, I'm not explaining it to your dad." A pause, "Um, Stiles, stay behind the wolves, okay? You're ... um ... breakable." He nods to the twins and shivers. Never going to get used to that. And then Brock gets a stern look. One day soon, he's going to need to have a conversation with the lion alpha.

And then they are traveling through the Ways and out the other side. When Jacob shifts, Scott can FEEL it, feel that shape and the way his mind and soul and power have to move to follow Jacob. The young alpha's instincts tell him to follow Jacob and he does. Unfortunately, he wasn't expecting a change so dramatic and his clothes end up ripped to shreds as he grows and becomes more and more bestial, until a hulking man-wolf with red glowing eyes and pure white fur replaces the high school student. Long claws swipe away the last of his ripped up shirt and Scott lets out a low, bone-rattling growl. "Hrmmm. Strong."

Couple of times, the wolves of Beacon Hills have been exposed to Brock in his beast forms, but they have so far been spared him having to actually use it, and call upon the more brutal manners. The scent of battle fills him, and the muscles throughout his body twitch and flex in excitement. His eyes take on the glow of an alpha, and his face lifts up into a snarl, a massive roar shivers through him and Brock grows to epic proportions, stretching to 10 feet of lionman with claws, teeth and muscles. And without a second word, he is off, launching ahead with no hesitation.

As Brodie opens the portal to the Gallows with Sly, he steps through first. He is on the offensive. When the spirits on the other side appear. Brodie had been expecting this. The blond Aussie pulls out the silver Athame and he says, "Okay. They have a bit more power than I was expecting. These poor people. You have to have died in an extremely terrible way to be this angry." He calls to the others. "I got this." He holds the blade up to the sky and he invokes the power that he was born with. "Goddess of the sun and light. Grant us your protection." He glows with power and lights up and it pushes back the mist. The Australian calls to the spirits. "Spirits of the victims of Johnathan Gregor Lupus, We are here to avenge you. Allow us safe passage." He steps forward and he tests this theory to make sure the spirits are not going to bother them. He moves forward and doesn't get bothered, so he sniffs the air and looks around. "Alright Jake, we are good to go." He doesn't shift yet, instead he stays in his human form for now. It's always good to keep who and what you are a surprise.

Before the trip, Stiles flashes Scott a grin and shrugs. "Hey, I feel better with something to swing around. It's not a bat, but... it'll do. Just, y'know, just don't get yourself *maimed* or anything, or your mom *will* completely *murder* me." And then they're through, and everyone's shifting, and Stiles opens his mouth, raising a hand--too late to stop Scott shifting. As he watches his friend rip out of his clothes, Stiles shakes his head, sighs, and, looking down, says, "Oh, hey, cute! Your boxers had little cartoon wolves all over 'em." A beat. "Hope they were cheap." What? Levity is basically in his job description. However, he does cooperatively keep behind the werewolves. Despite the extra insurance he brought along, he's not eager to test its limits.

The Twins, in their shared form, don't really offer much dialogue. Presumably, in direct mental contact, they're saying all that needs to be said to each other instead of aloud. However, their shared, scarred face lights up at Scott's change, clearly impressed, and when the wolves begin to move forward, so do the Twins, falling into place near Scott.

Tucson swallows as the dead rise up around him. "Guess what? It's all ghosts on the other side; Johnny-boy has raised the dead against us!" he says, long hair and open shirt blown by an unseen wind. He looks to the wailing woman only he can see. "Tell them! Tell them we did not do this to them! You know our scent, and we go to save the blood of your blood!" he says, his voice suddenly powerful in it's own way. "Tell them we will lead them against the author of their misery, the one who has disturbed their slumber, and they will have rest after they get the justice they crave!" he calls to the foggy void, his ringing voice audible to Those Who Have Passed, and other spirits as well that may be as yet unseen. Hopefully it supplements Brodie's communication, and gains them some allies on the Other Side.

The glow from Brodie's magic seems to illuminate things that were not there moments before. Paths and trails through the dense woods that otherwise were just lost and hidden in the mists. As evidenced a moment later when Brock Bryant charges back into their company. The mists and spirits turning him around and back to The Gallows. The spirits are angry, they died terrible deaths one and all. So many legions of dead over the millennia of the insane werewolf lord's life. But they do back away, or simply evaporate in the face of that light.

The Cullens are wide eyed, though they were vampires this was well outside of their usual league. Carlisle seems to handle it the best. Edward's eyes are flared wide open, and then his jaw drops a little as Jacob shifts into *THAT*. Jasper and Emmet likewise share a look. That was certainly new. Could they *ALL* do that now? If so, well A-Frigging-Men for the treaty.

The female spirit drifts slowly in front of Tucson, lamenting her lost son. Brodie's light passes over her, and she sparkles like an emerald. She is much stronger, or simply not angry. If anything she seems simply filled with remorse. But her vision gains clarity as she hears Tucson speak. "Youuu would resscuee my ssson..." She glows more like emeralds as he focus grows stronger. Appearing now in Brodie's light for all to see. A beautiful woman, with raven black hair. The same hair as her son. "I ammm Esmerelda Lyuba...Onceee Lupusss. Wife to a monnssterrr. If you would resscueee my son...I would offer you aid. The Ssspirits of the wood will help you. They have need of a ssttrong sssoul to tetherr them. To remind them of the living...One may not be enough to waken them..." The ghost looks pointedly at the Twins and their fused form. "We ssspiritss will Ssstopp my hussbandss army...From joining him in the cassttllee. For sssooo long ass we might..."

Brock Bryant says, "I am off the weekend"

Jacob snorts his approval at Scott's transformation, and he actively stares at Brodie and Tucson as they seek to calm and even sway the spirits around them. Damn, but that's useful. Witches and mediums... every pack should have someone like that, clearly. And then there's Esmerelda. Jacob inclines his head to her a bit and growls out, "We'll save him. Or die." And then she says the spirits will follow them, he gives a decisive nod. "Thank you," he growls, and then he looks to Scott, to the Twins. His thoughts echo clearly enough for the other alpha to read: His people, his decision, but an army of ghosts *would* be pretty damn useful.

Scott's are still glowing red as he regards the merged twins and then looks back to Jacob. He growls, turning his attention to their newly discovered medium, "If it's safe, then please do it." And then back to the twins. "Please." He makes it a request, because there is a difference between risking his life for Jason and asking them to possibly risk being possessed or worse. But because of that imprinting on both Jason and Jacob, he begs them to take the risk.

Something happens in Brodie's eyes, his outward appearance is strong and confident. But the words of the spirit hit him hard. His big blues gloss over and he fights back the tears. And as he does, that power inside of him. That power that Brodie has been known for comes out. Everyone will feel the confidence, they will know that they can get through this all. Why has the teen become so emotional? Esmerelda suffered the same fate as the woman who made him and Brock no longer wolves, his mother. "We will rescue your son. We will avenge you and your people." He glows brighter and he turns to Tuscon. "You should probably lead the way. You're the strong soul who can tether the spirits. I'll back you up. My light will protect us from any spirits who need a little extra reminder." He waits for Tuscon to take the lead. Without the help of the spirits, it would NOT be fun to travel through these woods.

Stiles gives a low whistle. "Man," he says, looking to Edward Cullen, who happens to be the one standing nearest to hand, "when did our lives become freakin' *Lord of the Rings*? Not that I'm complaining, but *dude*." And then he falls quiet, realizing that his particular brand of banter might not be completely welcome, here, and that he was just trying to chat with a *vampire*. This was, without a doubt, the *freaking weirdest* weekend of all time.

The Twins, taking in what is said, sensing Scott's need... stand by their alpha. Their shared form gives a slow, definite nod, and in a coarse voice they rumble, "Do it." There is a definite air of frustration as they go to crouch near Tucson, nodding for him to do what he needs to do. They speak up once more, probably Aiden's impulse, to growl, "Kick some ass for us."

From Brock flows an unbridled confidence. This confidence is transferred out unto everyone else that is fighting along side of him. Potentials can be achieved, fears are dissolved, he is a paragon of virtue, and he is on the warpath, searching for a target. One being in particular. And anything in his way gets trampled and splintered, which means trees, as Brock crashes through them with no effort save for the steady pace that he keeps.

Tucson walks forward as Brodie motions him, and he gives a sad smile to Esmerelda. "Thank you," he says. "Follow my soul and maybe we can move quicker through the Nevernever, following the Paths of the Dead rather than the Way that Johnathon has possibly warded and trapped. Tricksy is the watchword," he says, eyes twinkling. "Esmerelda, light our way?" he says as he walks forward, arms outstretched, "Wolves, we walk the Cold Path. It was made by those who are Dead," he says, throwing that last in for Stiles.

Esmerelda Lyuba Lupus floats towards the merged form of the Carver twins. She gently strokes their chest, and it seems like their fused soul just shines out of eyes, ears, nose and mouth. The light expands outwards in a brief flash. A wave. Then they gently come to rest against The Gallows. The Spirits of the wood are gone now. The mist is gone as well. The forest is simply ancient, and quiet, as dawn starts to break. Save for the sound of Brock Bryant literally barreling *through* trees.

Esmerelda nods her head slowly to Brodie Bryant and smiles ever so softly. "Sssaavvee him...again..." Did she know how much these people had *already* saved him? It seemed she did. As she slowly faded from view, just a faint outline highlighted in the light of the magic. Her glow lighting the way through the darkness of the woods that remained, at Tucson's behest.

Edward Cullen glances at Stiles and shrugs some. "That worked out pretty well. I think better that than say The 13th Ghost." Emmet pipes up, boisterous as ever. "I LOVED that move. Rose hated it. But I really liked it. Remember that one with all those railroad spikes through him? That was great!" The other Cullens are staring at him again. Emmet shrugs and quiets down again, muttering about people not knowing how to have fun.

As they make their way through the woods, the landscape seems to blur in and out of focus. Another gift of the spirits, as they walk the paths of the dead through the near Nevernever. Guided as Tucson had asked, by Esmerelda. Until finally, they can see it in the distance, through even the dense trees. A decaying and ancient castle can be seen. Built into a cliff, with one side of it a sheer drop. A long, narrow and winding road twists along the cliff face to it's crumbling gates. Water, likely a river, can be heard in that direction by now restored superior senses. A river, and the angered roars of werewolves as spirits start to engage them.

It was of course The Castle of the House Lupus. Where the mad Jonathan Gregor Lupus reigned over his court. Where his son was now a prisoner, trapped within his own body. Where the insane werewolf lord planned the damnation of them all. Tonight, on the eclipse of the Blood Moon, the Children of the Moon will attack Volterra Italy. Lead by Jason, they will attack the Volturi in the seat of their power for all the world to see. Beginning a war that will end with the nigh extinction of the supernatural species. A Bad Moon Rising, one to end them all, for all time. Unless. Unless he could be stopped. Now, once and for all....

*To Be Concluded.*

*Last Time...*

Jason Christopher has been taken. Taken by his insane father, who is set on revenge against the Volturi for the death of his brother. So much so that he is willing to start a war between humanity and the supernatural races to achieve it. A war which Alice Cullen has already scene, that the supernatural species will lose. Jason, trapped in his Beast form, is to be the weapon his father uses to start the war.

Needless to say this plan is not sitting well with everyone. Those Jason has befriended, as well as those that have come to mean quite a bit more than friends, to say nothing of unlikely allies like the Cullen vampire coven. Together they have mounted a desperate rescue attempt. Both to save Jason, as well as potentially eliminate the threat of his father's insane plans. Once and for all.

To that end the group has awoken The Gallows. One of the druidic ritual trees, hidden deep in the very heart of the Hoia Baciu Forest. Traveling through it, they encountered the deceased spirits of those slain over the millenia by Jason's father and the Children of the Moon. Including, Jason's mother, Esmerelda Lyuba. Enlisting her aid, the spirits of the forest now act to distract Johnathan Gregor Lupus' army of werewolves. Allowing the small team of rescuers a chance to sneak into the castle, and face their true enemy, the werewolf lord awaiting within.

Jacob Black phases to his man-wolf form.

Jacob Black, in his newly achieved man-wolf form, makes his way along toward the castle amidst their gathered army of the dead. Thanks to the path opened by Brodie and said spirit force, rallied by Tucson, they're making progress that is much more swift and direct than might have otherwise been expected. Jacob's shape, it may be noted, is not quite the same as other man-wolves, such as Jason and those of his kin. Jacob's shape is a bit more stocky, his features a bit more reminiscent of his wolf-shape. The difference is subtle enough not to be noticed immediately, but it does lend him a strikingly variant look. As they move forward, he lopes more than runs, his eyes--his most recent change, thanks to Scott's fairy wishes--glowing a deep, dusky red.

Brodie has remained in human form the entire time. He is still just wearing the basketball shorts and nothing else. The blond has the bag of supplies slung over his shoulder. it doesnt seem to be a burden at all. He lets Tuscan take the lead and he follows shortly behind him. The blond aussie is still glowing with that radiance of the blessing that his diety gave him. "once we find where they are keeping Jason, things are going to happen quickly. So lets be fully prepared once we get Inside." Brodie looks around and keeps an eye and ear open.

Scott is even newer to his wolf-man form than Jacob, from whom he derives the shape thanks to his fairy 'gift'. And like the other werewolf, he has that slightly more feral, solid build, though, like his human form, he's a bit leaner than Jacob, not quite as muscular, and his white fur looks like gray mist and silver in the moonlight. His eyes also glow red and there is a sense of tightly wound energy waiting to explode as he near silently stalks with the group. At Brodie's words, he turns his muzzle to the young were-lion and lets out a low chuff of approval and then goes back to watching his path.

Stiles, walking along behind Scott and Jacob and near to Brodie, is also all human. Also, fully clothed. He's carrying the sheathed katana slung over one shoulder by its carrying strap, and he's... well, for the moment he's keeping his mouth shut. He'd feel better brandishing a good bat, frankly, because that's usually what he can count on having, but a sword's good! At least, it's good as long as he doesn't lop something off. The whole situation is pretty freaky, but more than anything, Stiles is having to hold back comment on Scott's and Jacob's almost-matching werewolf shapes. It's just as well, too, because his first inclination is to tease Scott with exaggerated gagging sounds. All in good fun and in the name of friendship, of course.

Tucson is in his jeans and open shirt, worn running shoes on his feet; he's looking around carefully as they advance, sometimes nodding to unseen presences, or cocking his head to unheard sounds. The young man moves swiftly along the tangled ground, giving lie to his earlier clumsy performance on the dance floor. "Damn right things will happen quickly. It's.. well, the dead travel quickly and time passes weird here in the between. Could be kinda weird when we pop back over."

"Alright! Ah'm gunna go make a distraction. A big distraction. Might wanna slip in under the cover of the confusion." Brock, in his humongous lion-man form stops advancing, and he drops down to crouch on his mighty legs, "Brodie. Fill em in." The great lion growls and a second later, his legs give flex and a ripple of air can be felt as the king jumps straight up up up above the trees and into the sky. It's really really high, to be sure, and it would make seeing him from down there a very difficult thing to do. Luckily, Brodie gets relayed what he is planning to do, just in case it might be a bad idea. There is still time for him to abort his plan.

The path through the forest rapidly gives way to a crumbling ancient bridge over a rushing river, partially frozen still along it's banks. There is a window, several hundred feet above in the sheer wall of the castle still broken, to this day. Would Jacob recognize that as the window Jason was kicked through near a century ago? Here in the realm of the dead, time moves oddly. For a moment it almost seems like there is an image of someone plunging from the window. But the images there give way to the present. Tp spirits antagonizing and leading werewolves in various states of change. Of a trail, switchbacking up the near sheer cliff face, terminating at a great set of doors.

It is there that Esmerelda stops. Her voice hollow as she intones. "The casssstle. I can go no further. The gatesss will be guarded. They will be guarded ssso loooong asss we might. Rescue him....rescue my soooonnn." Then she slowly fades away, as the gates open. Tucson might be able to continue through the near nevernever along the dead paths. But it will be without their guide. There are dangers in either route. But there is also a thrumming sense of malevolence from behind the inner doors, into the castle. No doubt what that is...Jason's father. Lord Jonathan Gregor Lupus.

Jacob halts in front of the doors, his massive, clawed hands flexing and relaxing, and squares those immensely broad shoulders of his. Having been more crouching than standing, he rises to his full height and gestures toward the doors. In his low, rumbling voice, so little like his natural human speech, he more growls or snarls than says, "Open it. Time to go in." Time to end this and rescue Jason.

When they get to the door and Jacob commands them to go in, Brodie nods his head. He pulls off his bag and he opens it up and pulls out the guitar. He zips up the bag and has the guitar out and ready to go. The Athame is put in the bag and is kept close for easy reach. "Brock is coming in from above. We can communicate if need be." He did that ritual and allowed the two to communicate with one another in any form. He pushes out his other senses and he checks the doors and surrounding area for magic. If there is something on the doors, the blond is going to know about it. His big blue eyes focus on the door and surrounding area. He nods his head. "Free of magic. There magic guy must really suck." He looks around and says, "Here we go." And he goes to open the door to let them in.

He'd never admit it to anybody else, but this is Scott's favorite part of the weird life he has now. When the planning is over and the the die is cast. When the need to talk and scheme and observe is over. When he can stoke the fires of the wolf inside him, let rage and anger and frustration go almost completely free. He was loping along at speed and when Jacob says he wants the door down, well, that's all Scott needed to hear. Jason is in there. And Jacob wants a path cleared. With the werewolf army outside the castle dealt with, it's time for the direct approach.

Scott lowers his head and moves. A low growl starts in the back of his throat and rises as he charges the wooden barrier. Almost ten feet tall when upright and several hundred pounds of supernaturally enhanced bone and muscle, the young alpha's impact on those huge, old doors is not unlike that of a white-furred Mac truck. They explode inward with a thunderous crash, sending wooden splinters and shards into the courtyard beyond as Scott barrels through them, that growl becoming a full-on Alpha roar loud enough to wake the dead. If they weren't already walking.

Stiles watches Scott, and all he can think is *yep, Scott's gonna do that True Alpha thing in three, two--aaannnd, there it is*. He winces just slightly as the doors go down, and he can't help but smirk and shake his head. "Well," he says to no one in particular, "that outta get their attention." He glances around, half-grinning, as if looking for someone to laugh with, but he's surrounded by what seem like a bunch of *Scotts*. Sigh. Typical. The token human, 'til the end.

Tucson walks back and forth in front of the huge doors, a small man among big werewolves."Wow, what a huge pair of knockers," he says, looking at the pullrings on the massive portal, stepping aside as Scott bashes the doors open. He looks to Brodie. "Or he's just that good," the young man says, shifting his feet nervously.

Shots are fired from on high. Or something like that... The air is distorted from the great shots of sound that rain down against the castle and it's walls. There are about three of them in succession and they look weird as they move in to pummel against the stone. Once they are close enough, it becomes clear what they are. A lion's roar of destructive sonic proportions slam down to weaken the structure of the stone in the castle. Three guesses where those came from. Not long after, Brock can be seen approaching from above, just like Brodie says. Strength is the lion's biggest trait, next to his size, and Brock is coming in strong, straight for the wall of the castle. He's gonna make a lot of noise and probably do a lot of damage when he his, falling into the weakened wall like a shot cannonball or a falling meteor. The largeness of the hulking lion cuts through the air and makes a brutal sound, which is nothing compared to the explosive eruption and spray of destruction his is gonna cause upon impact, fist punching.

The doors to the inner keep shatter as their ancient strength is contested against the True Alpha's power. Scott McCall's momentum carries him into the center of the courtyard. The inner courtyard is in shambles, even bereft of the debris Scott contributes. Chaotic. Perhaps mirroring the mind of the lord of the castle. The Lord of the Werewolves. The courtyard is clear of anything to impede their approach. The werewolves that might have otherwise been there distracted or left their posts chading the spirits that seem to be the actual threat. The solid stone ground does ripple as they enter the area. Like the ancient stone was almost water for a moment. But there does not appear to be any magical reason for it.

The doors into the actual castle had wards on them. But it appears to Brodie that they have recently been removed. They actually swing open as the group approaches. A bellowing voice from inside. "ENTER FREELY...Of your..own volition." Then a chuckling, dark laughter bubbles up from inside to dark, cavernous maw of the castle's doors. The voice sounds old, and yet not infirm. Resonating with a certain power. A definate authority. And utter and complete scorn filled malice. It is a voice that could only belong to one person. Jason's father.

Brock Bryan's roars of sonic destruction make the walls of the ancient structure shudder, but where they crack and start to shatter, they pull back together at the last moment as if possessed of a intellect. So much so that as Brock drops at the walls, they flow like liquid into the shape of a stone fist, which swings at the great lion as he falls!

For those that venture inside, into the castle's throne room, Jonathan Gregor Lupus is seated in a massive throne, on the open air second floor of the room. The first floor has had it's various exits sealed. The spaces between pillars on the open air second floor are magically barred, a faint glowing between each. At Jonathan's feet, on a chain leash and a massive spiked collar is Jason, still in his Beast form. To either side of him are his other noteable sons, Valeri and Roberte. Four others are spread out around the second floor as well, watching. Though one of them seems distracted, as if looking toward the outer walls, with one arm raised and a fist formed.

Jacob reaches out to briefly rest his hands on Brodie and Scott, acknowledging their strengths and his gratitude, and then he bounds inside, taking the frontal approach in his own way, now. He holds his center of balance low as he moves in, taking in the dangers of the situation with caution, but once he spies Jason, everything else seems to fade into the background.

He snarls, approaching Jonathan's throne. Raising one clawed hand, Jake gestures toward him and says, "I'm here for my mate. Anyone who wants to get in my way, come get some."

And that's all the big, heroic speech he seems to have in him. For one, the man-wolf form is a bit limiting for vocalization. Besides that? Jacob just isn't much for speeches. There are no ultimatums, no final offers for peace. They all know they're here to throw down, so the only reason he's even talking at all is to give the others--Brock, Brodie, Tucson's spirit-warriors--the chance press their advantages as best they can.

Brodie smiles at Jacob, "Everything is going to be fine Jake. We got this." And then Brock is doing his best Hulk impression but it doesn't seem to be working on the enchanted castle. Brodie closes his eyes and communicates with his brother through that telepathic bond. << This place is not breaking up. Whatever the enchantment is, it's ancient and strong. We need you inside here big guy. They are pretty nasty.>> He looks around the area and he focuses on all of those gathered with his super senses and checks out the aura to see just exactly Jonathan has gathered for his group of shifters. He is assessing the potential of their enemies.

Scott McCall stops just behind Jacob and off to the side. His red-glowing eyes narrow at that person up on the balcony making gratuitously theatrical gestures. Admittedly, he's only been at this whole Supernatural thing a couple of years, but that has rarely been a good sign in his experience. Still, he has a surge of pride in Jacob as the other Alpha delivers his ultimatum. That telepathic link lets him feel Jacob's near frantic need to rescue his mate, but that doesn't show in the werewolf's growled challenge. Scott's grin is a truly disturbing show of teeth as he growls, "I'd listen. He's the reasonable one." But he's done this before. They never listen. Which is why Scott's knees bend and he hunkers down, getting ready to make that two story leap to rain hell down on the upper landing. But not until they attack first or Jake gives the word.

Dramatic entrance, check. *Big damn heroes* entrance, check. Big cluster of bad guys inexplicably standing around instead of attacking them? Check. Yeah, Stiles doesn't need Admiral Ackbar to see what this situation has written all over it. One hand behind his back, clutching the sheath of the katana (which he keeps irrationally wishing were a baseball bat), Stiles looks around the room pointedly, glances to each of his companions, and heaves a heavy sigh. Muttering to himself, which of course anyone in the room can hear, he says, "I'd say *It's a trap!*, but he hasn't even *Star Wars* to get the reference." Looking appealingly to Tucson, he says, "But *I've got a bad feeling about this*."

Tucson nods to Stiles as he makes a waving motion over his shoulder. "Smart guy," he says to Stiles. "OK, guys.. see that small woof there? That one? *Get him!*" he says, using what persuation he can muster to give their spirit allies a target to go after. "Stiles. That guy *right there*? He opens the Ways. Tell them to knock him on his ass." Then between one step and another he's a coyote and then? He's gone, gone to sight, scent, sound, everything as he sprints around the sides of the chamber to get another viewpoint, to see if he can determine something.

Brock wasn't expecting the walls to fight back. Brock comes crashing into the fist, blow for blow, and the two forces collide, creating a spark that doesn't quite send Brock through the wall, but does a great bit of damage, which doesn't stick, "Bloody..." the great lion growls deeply, leaping back away from the wall, flicking his clawed fingers to test the feeling. Brodie's message to him causes Brock to snort, and the lion breaks off into a run to join the others. Now-- he's mad.

Jonathan Gregor Lupus throws back his head and starts laughing heartily. He actually wipes his eyes. "There is an army here little child. You've distracted some of it, yes. But you have no hope here. No chance at all." He looks down at the gathered group and his eyes start to glow red. "YOU ALL DIE HERE NOW!" Spittle flying from his mouth. Then in a distant voice he laughs some. "My boy. My boy is home now. Do you think I'd let you take him from me? My boy is here, and he won't leave here until I say. Not this time. Not this time." Then he grows dark again, growling out. "NOT until I send him to kill the Volturi. DRAAAGGGGGG THEM OUT...out of their rat holes and INTO the sun!" He starts barrel chest laughing again.

Valeri laughs as well, and cracks his neck, apparently used to his father rambling this way. "You? You're his mate. Oh that is JUST what I wanted to hear. I will enjoy this. I killed his last bitch too." His claws start to grow and he licks them. "I wonder, if your blood will taste just as sweet?"

Roberte is sneering at the group, but then nonchelantly says. "Father. Killing them with numbers. It seems a waste of a chance to do it ourself. Look at them, like they have any chance." Jonathan looks at him and chuckles. "Ahhh ever the little spy, the little assassin, the little TRAITOR!" He fixes his gaze on Roberte. "DID YOU THINK I WOULDN'T KNOW! That I wouldn't wait for you to make a mistake?" He chortles in amusement. "I have my weapon back. I don't need a second rate traitor any longer." Roberte steps back, paling. But Jonathan continues. "But your riggghhttt. Lets make this sporting, entertainment fitting for the day of our victory!" Roberte stiffens up and then relaxes, as his father takes control of him. Now looking down at the gathered group with murder in his eyes.

One of the men on the second floor fixes Stiles with a murderous look, he brandishes a sword as well, licking the blade as he stares at him with a certain hatred in his eyes.

Brodie is able to see the auras of almost everyone present. Jonathan and his sons radiate old power. Though Roberte is the youngest of the three and seems to possess no special ability. The others above, all do, they are old and have gifts. Save for the man that stares at Stiles. He is, something....not quite human. But also, not a werewolf either. The huge one making a fist seems to have a massive power he is presently channeling. But what Brodie senses most clearly, is the wolf glaring death at him. The one radiating a powerful magical ability as well.

The smallest figure on the second floor, who Jacob might recognize as Vincent. He pales as Tucson points at him, and immediately spirits begin to harry him. "S..s..sss...SAMYEL Help!" The wolf glaring at Brodie makes several passes with his hands, and the spirits shriek as theu are dispersed magically. Then he starts shifting, shaking out his elongating fingers for more magic.

With a barking laugh Jonathan just shouts out with ungisguised glee. "KILL THEM, LEAVE NO THROAT UNTORN!" The wolves leap over the railing and land in the throne room, now arena. Only the wards around Jonathan and Jason still present now.

As Brock comes in the largest wolf, Markov, grins at him. The stone floor flows over him even as he shifts to his man-wolf shape. Leaving him a massive statue like man-wolf made seemingly of the stone of the castle itself! His actions draw the stone from one of the sealed doorways, leading apparently into an ancient library. He strides forward, immoveable object and irresistable force preparing to meet!

Samyel hits the ground in his wolf-man shape and starts immediately casting offensive magic at Brodie. Like seeking like. Arcane bolts beginning to take shape for him to throw.

Vincent stays on the upper floor. Small of stature and weak physically apparently. But he runs do a chalk outline of a door on a wall. Already starting to pull open a path into the ways. Likely to summon reinforcements!

Valeri grins, exposing ALL of his teeth. He roars and shreds his clothing and flesh off of his body as he assumes his man-wolf phase and uses his leaping power to great effect. Springing high into the air and coming down like a meteor right at Jacob Black.

Roberte leaps and shoulder rolls and is in his man-wolf phase by the time he uses the momentum to propel himself at Scott McCall. Claws and fangs both primed to do damage, despite having been controlled to do so. Of course they are all controlled really. Other than perhaps Valeri. An important distinction to make.

Gerald De Montier stalks through the room. Until he is nearly behind Stiles. "You. Are mine little boy." He brandishes a sword and grins in a manner that is perhaps best described as unhealthy. He clearly knows VERY well how to handle a sword. "Defend yourself."

Jonathan's words don't seem to surprise Jacob at all. All they do is lead him to hunker down, preparing to spring, waiting for his moment. The glow of his red eyes might as well reflect the hatred he feels for this mad king and all his knights and pawns, matched by the snarl at Jake's lips. The only thing that marks any change at all is when Valeri speaks. It's a dramatic moment, after all, so Jacob obliges with all the dialogue he cares to offer.

"You want blood? Come choke on your own," he growls, and then he's leaping through the air, hell-bent on Valeri and absolutely ready to tear out his throat. As he flies, he lets out his roar--his alpha's roar--with fangs and claws flashing.

There will be no more words.

Brodie takes a deep breath as he assesses all of the people that Jonathan has at his disposal. "Fuck me." Yes, very elequant of him. He doesn't have any of Stiles witty commentary for this one. And then of course there are things targeting him. Of course they are going to target him, he's blond and pretty and he's all magically inclined. Brodie however, lost the use of his active magical powers. He's not exactly a fling spells at peoples faces kind of witch right now. However, he has been training for his entire life in regards of magic. "Alright mate." His bright blue eyes focus on Samyel and only on Samyel for the time being. As the wolf starts to cast offensive spells, Brodie does what he does best. He says a magical incantation and he throws up a magical barrier. "So you're Samyel? Is that your real name? We'll find out." The magical barrier will protect him from the Arcane Bolts. But it is the spell that he is building up with the man's name that is going to pack the biggest punch. "Samyel. You have abused your gifts. In the name of the god and goddess I bind you. Bind you from using your powers to harm others. I bind you from doing harm to yourself. By the power of three times three. I bind thee." He takes the athame and slices open his hand. As soon as he does, this intoxicating scent fills the air. His blood is pontent, a blessing and a curse. It has been known to drive people crazy. People would kill to get his blood. It is also why he has not shifted. The white lion is too rare magically to just let anyone who knows about magic to know. "With the blood of my line. I bind you Samyel. I bind you from doing harm to others. I bind you from doing harm to yourself. As I will it, so mote it be!" His eyes glow a bright blue and he throws his blood on the other witch. And the few drops of blood that hit him are like being hit with a ton of bricks. The blood contact seals the spell and locks the lesser witches power away.

And this is the part that kills Scott every time. He's the Alpha. And a friend. It's his job to keep everybody safe. And that can't happen in a pitched battle. He has to trust his friends and loved ones to be able to defend themselves. And he can't even go all out on his opponent who seems to be mind controlled. But that doesn't mean he's not going to fight like hell. He launches himself out of that crouch meeting Roberte's charge. But rather than try to slam into the possessed wolf or beat him down instantly, Scott's claws dig into the other werewolf's shoulder and opposing flank as the True Alpha pivots on his hip and bodily throws Roberte ... right at Gerald. Because sometimes you trust your friends to protect themselves ... but you cheat like hell to make sure they can. His voice is guttural and growling as he shouts, "Hey, Scara-douche! Catch!" Yes, he hasn't watched Star Wars but his English class covered Sabatini last year.

"Someone heard that, right?" Stiles says, glancing around. "Someone heard to attack the little one with the Way powers, right?" Dammit, why's *he* the messenger boy, here? That's not cool at all--especially not with Jason's father up on his throne delivering his best Emperor-Palpatine-by-way-of-Hannibal-Lecter villain dialogue.

As things start to go south, Stiles actually stops to reach up and pinch the bridge of his nose as though the situation were putting him in physical pain. He shakes his head vigorously as though he can literally throw off the moment, and then suddenly there's a psycho with a sword coming toward him. Stiles takes a cautious step back, fumbling to unsheath the katana from where it hangs on his back, and holds it out in front of him, brandishing it defensively. For a whole half second. Then he shakes his head.

"Oh, the *hell* with this!"

And then Stiles turns and just runs like hell. "Freaking sword-licking maniacs coming after me," he shouts at nobody in particular, "Who does that? *Freaking* psycho should've cut his damn tongue off. *I didn't sign up for this shit!*" See, this never would have happened if he'd brought a bat. This is what happens when you bring a sword to a wolf fight.

Tucson's small scruffy form materializes out of the shadows on the second floor, already leaping towards Vincent; in the air, he changes into his human form and tried to overbear the young werewolf to the ground, hoping to lay him out with a surprise punch, a simple right cross to the jaw.

Brock bursts in, huge muscled arm slamming through the door. But what stands behind it is a little more than a regular gigantic lionman, but the very essence of beast, as Brock has gone to the feral side. His eyes the deep glowing color of the alpha, a vicious saliva dripping from his maw, his brilliant mane is a golden glow, flowing as if trapped in some wind that isn't there, the waves of his Majesty can be felt through the whole place. No matter where they are, no matter who they are facing, they know that Brock is with them. And the rest? They know that the beast is against them. His mind is so very close to unclear, and the voice that leaves his lips toward the stone shifting man is like the words from the lips of a beast-god. "BrEAK. YuU. NO. EScAPE. NO. MErCY." his lips curl up to form the words, death reflecting in his smoldering eyes. His huge maw suddenly opens and a cracking roar breaks through the castle. Muscles ripple with supernatural strength, and Brock launches in a pounce, lunging for his target, intending to get his claws in him and lift him from the ground. The alpha lion is there with his companions, and there against his enemies. Sometimes the king has to remind fools why he is king.

Valeri and Jacob meet in mid-air with a bone crunching impact. They are both very powerful wolves. But those vaunted powers do not allow them to defy gravity. The impact with the ground is equally bone crunching. Valeri and Jacob are seperated in the drop. Even as they both heal from the fall, Valeri is getting ready to use his leaping power to spring again. It is his most sure tactic, and the one he is most anxious to employ. If at first you don't succeed after all. "What happened to that little brat that was with you in the woods? Or that other mangy little wolf I kicked? Did he die? Or are they both just cowards?" A sharp eye might notice it. The Beast has not moved since they walked in. But it stirs, ever so slightly, as Jacob unleashes his alpha roar.

Brodie Bryant's wards glow as Samyel's arcans bolts splash against them. Throwing off sprays of harmless secondary magic. But as Brodie intones his own spell Samyel, pulls up short. Brodie is a much more powerful witch. Samyel might have a chance of going a few rounds with him normally before Brodie overwhelmed him. But as it stands, Samyel is dominated. Slower, and somewhat weaker as his will is subjugated. The droplets of blood reach their mark, and the werewolf's eyes go wide as he fades to his human phase in shock. He screams and thrashes around, falling to the floor as his magic dies in his hands. With his will and his magic subjugated he is currently little threat to anyone.

Roberte whines as Scott's superior speed catch him and throw him. But Roberte is no slouch in agility. He has needed it to keep up appearances of court assassin while secretly being a double agent all these years. He pivots in mid air, back hand springs and lands in another crouch. Sprinting at Scott and seeking to use martial arts and physical dexterity against him to compensate for Scott's greater strength. The wounds on his body slowly closing.

Gerald moves to duck as Roberte is thrown at him. But then the lithe wolf recovers so he returns his attention to Stiles...Who has exited stage right. "Merde! Stay and fight! Have you know honor! Die!" He starts to give chase, hearding Stiles towards the library.

On the second floor Vincent is straining to pull open a door into the ways using his special ability. He sees the little coyote appear but ignores it. Until it turns into a human being, one a little larger than he is! He yikes and the door slams shut even as Tucson's fist slams into his jaw. It isn't enough to knock him out, he is a werewolf even if he is scrawny. But a drop of his blood is on Tucson's fist. Vincent stiffens up and points at it. "Bluh..Bluh...My...My Blu..Bluuuhh" BAM he goes over. Just flops like a puppet with it's strings cut.

Markov strides at Brock, bringing up his massive stone arm to slash at the lion with claws longer that an average adult's index finger. Brock leaps over him though, as the claws swipe through empty air. Markov is IMMENSLY strong in his stone form. But he is slower, and he has one true weakness. He must maintain contact with the stone surface he is manipulating or, well terrible things can occur. The stone ripples and pulls from the castle floor trying to stay connected to the elemental wolf. But as Brock lifts him, it stretches like taffy and then snaps. The stone on Markov implodes partially, shattering quite a few of the bones in the wolves body. He goes limp with a horrible whine of agony. Healing already, but quite badly injured.

The Cullens manage to fight their way inside. Being dead they had trouble with the dead path and only now manage to join the others. Carlisle and the rest look like they have been fighting. He yells to the others. "The spirits are starting to falter. We will hold the gates as long as we can!" Then he turns back outside and joins his sons again to try and hold the werewolves from outside back. That, likely will not last long. Time is of the essence now!

Perhaps it's fitting that Jacob's eyes are already glowing crimson, for the more Valeri speaks, the more assured it is that Jake is seeing red, both literally and figuratively. The taunts are met with only a snarl and bared fangs, and this time he moves differently, keeping low and bounding on all fours like his more familiar wolf form. He lets Valeri leap, and the he lunges up underneath him, powerful jaws snapping for his legs, center mass--low enough to get a grip, high enough to avoid clawed toes--and not flinching for one moment. Whether he connects or not, Jake then rears up, his own clawed hands slashing up towards Valeri's belly. It's ugly, it's bloody, it's cruel, but Jacob has been pushed just that far. He'll tear Jason's brother open without even flinching if he can manage it.

No, there are no more words from Jacob for Valeri--but instead, he tears his jaws free, rending anything he can, and bellows, even if amidst spattering blood, "Scott, Brodie! *Make Jason hear you!*" And then, throwing back his head, Jacob lets out an alpha's roar. It's not like the first alpha roar he gave at the Watchman. It's not even the roar of rage he released a moment ago. This roar stands in for everything he'd say to Valeri if he were one to put his anger into words. This roar stands in for every snarl of outrage he would offer at what's been done to his newfound loved ones. At the horrors that Jonathan's madness would unleash upon his world. Even at the love he feels for this strange motley around him, who are not his pack--and, of course, for his mate, who has had his very will robbed from him--and it is *that* which explodes from Jacob's throat, filling the chamber with the primal sound of a born alpha's power.

Jacob Black lets out a bellowing roar of a howl.

Scott's eyes widen as his foe comes flipping back at him. Ninjawolf. Another one. He really needs to get some formal combat training. And then he sees Stiles fleeing and glances towards Jacob and the restrained Jason. That costs him a nasty set of claw wounds down his chest as Roberte takes advantage of his distraction. The blood is like rubies against his pristine white fur and the pain is sudden, sharp and nasty. Sure, he'll heal, but the feel of razor-sharp claws parting flesh like watered silk is something you don't forget. Knowing he can't beat the other werewolf's training or agility, Scott does the only thing he can, he barrels into Roberte, attempting to slam into the young werewolf, bear him down to the ground and keep on punching until the bad guy is beaten senseless. And it is punching, as Scott tightens his hands into fists, letting his claws dig into his own palms rather than risk killing Roberte.

And then, at that command from Jacob, Scott lifts his muzzle, red eyes glowing like coals and gives voice to his frustration and anger and most of all, his claim to these people. To Stiles, who is running for his life. To the others fighting around them. And especially to Jacob and Jason, upon whom he is imprinted. He might never be theirs to love, but they are his to adore and protect. His alpha roar comes from the soul, as loud and deep as an earthquake, right in poor Roberte's face, but focused on Jason, harmonizing weirdly with Jacob and in a kind of infra-sound chorus that shivers bone and rattles stone hard enough to rain dust down on everybody in the great hall.

Stiles isn't a stranger to trusting the werewolves to handle the fighting. Nope, he's been here plenty of times, but usually he doesn't have a psychotic mercenary chasing him with a freaking sword--and he's even French! What's that about?! Stiles charges into the library, desperately turning to wrench at bookshelves and heaving with all his might to pull them down after him, hoping to at least create an obstacle or two in the path of his pursuer. He stumbles slightly as he spins around, having seen there's nowhere to run but between the book stacks, and he brings the katana up again, glancing around wildly for something, anything, to help him out while muttering to himself, "See, this is why Batman has a utility belt. Plenty of useful shit in a utility belt. If I live through this, I *swear to god* I am getting some damn gadgets and *I don't care what anyone says!*"

Tucson makes sure Vincent in at least comfortable where he is, poor guy, and he throws back his head to howl the sharp high yipping soing of a coyote to Jason, hoping to lend some stregnth to the song of the others.

Nope. It's not over. Brock may have just cut him free of his source, and done much in the way of damage, but Brock told him there was no escape, and he meant that. With both arms, overhead, Brock begins to fold him, first in half, right in the muddle, to make the back of the wolf's head touch his butt, creating all of the cracking and popping that breaking bones can offer. Snorting and snarling, Brock continues to fold him further and further, smaller and smaller, squishing him where possible, until he is starting to ball him up like an unwanted wad of paper in Brock's massive claws.

Valeri is a fighter, he has survived for centuries and he knows his tactics and he sizes his enemies up well. But Jacob's man-wolf form is something new. Jacob and the Quileutes are something new. He gets bit in the ankle and drug down onto Jacob's claws. Thrashing like a speared fish, and gurgling softly at the ruination those claws make of his insides. He falls thrashing to the floor and kicking with his good foot to put distance between himself and Jacob. Healing, but not with the speed that Jason did. Then as Jacob watches Valeri scrabbling away, he roars. He puts his heart and soul and anger and passion into that roar. It ripples with a force and a power that is palpable.

Scott manages to catch Roberte's ankle as he is cartwheeling aside after clawing him, and drag him to the floor. The smaller wolf puts up one hell of a fight, still managing to block and slash at Scott several times. But ultimately, his heart isn't really in it he is being controlled. Finally he stops fighting back, and phases to his human guise. The fight just beat out of him. He looks up through black eyes and bloodied lips and whispers in a broken voice. "Thank...you..." Then his eyes slip closed.

Scott's roar mixes in with Jacob's The sounds seeming to harmonize, to come together as naturally as thunder and lightning. Wind and Rain. Elemental in their affinity and their synergy. The room literally shakes with their fury, tiny rivulets of dust and debris falling from the high, vaulted ceilings.

Gerald strides after Stiles, batting his sword aside several times. Then lunging at him as the bookcases tumble. Roaring in anger as he skewers four books. Stopping his sword thrust and plopping a book into Stiles' lap. 'The physiology of werewolves' The book looks older than the residents of Beacon Hills. All of them. Added together. Times 3, maybe 4. Even the ones in the nursing home. Gerald starts trying to pull the books off of his sword screaming obscenities in seven languages. At least 4 of which are dead. It resolves itself into a 'kill you' as he sword swings his way through several more books trying to close the distance.

Chasing Stiles further across the room. Then back across the room again. Through a dusty servants entrance, back into the room. Into a hallway. Through a study. They run into one another once in the hallway but Stiles is wiry and wiggles away under the sword swipe. Finally back into the library again. Up a set of stairs to a second floor hallway over looking a torture chamber. Gerald bull rushes at Stiles with maddened determination. Slipping on a lose page of paper stuck to his expensive boots he careens past Stiles arms pinwheeling! He falls over the railing, still swiping his sword at Stiles as he goes over, severing a rope. Dropping to the floor below he rolls down a set of stairs, his head slamming back into the cushioned rest of a...Guillotine. The blade, held up until a moment ago by the rope he severed drops. Gerald gapes and manages. "Oh Puta-" SHIIIINNNKKKK....and thats when ALL HELL BREAKS LOSE.

Tucson adds his voice, his howl, to the cacophony of the alpha roars. Oddly, it is heard just as well even with them, the sound a low key counterpoint to the raging flood of those roars. Much like Tucson himself, more low key than the alpha wolves Jacob and Scott, certainly. But exceptionally effective every bit the same.

Brodie Bryant takes out his guitar and starts to sing. His voice strong and sure as it intermingles with the more primal sounds of the howling wolves and coyotes.

> *Hands*
>
>
>
> *Put your empty hands in mine*
>
> *And scars*
>
> *Show me all the scars you hide*
>
> *And hey, if your wings are broken*
>
> *Please take mine so yours can open too*
>
> *Cause I'm gonna stand by you*
>
> *Oh, tears make kaleidoscopes in your eyes*
>
> *And hurt, I know you're hurting, but so am I*
>
> *And love, if your wings are broken*
>
> *Borrow mine so yours can open too*
>
> *Cause I'm gonna stand by you*
>
> *Even if we're breaking down, we can find a way to break through*
>
> *Even if we can't find heaven, I'll walk through hell with you*
>
> *Love, you're not alone, cause I'm gonna stand by you*
>
> *Even if we can't find heaven, I'm gonna stand by you*
>
> *Even if we can't find heaven, I'll walk through hell with you*
>
>
>
>
> *Love, you're not alone, cause I'm gonna stand by you.*
>
>

Markov was quite helpless, as Brock folded him up and shattered him. Needless to say the werewolf would not be able to recover in that shape. Just how much damage one of them could take and recover was uncertain. But, well, that was rather quite a bit. Maybe he was complicit with the werewolf lord? Most of the Children of the Moon were not. But, well....maybe?

Johnathan Gregor Lupus screamed at the carnage below him. "YOU THINK YOU'LL WIN! I'll kill you all myself! Then! Then I'll kill your runty little wolf pack families! And! Oh and you think I don't know?! I'll kill my damned grandson again! You are all dead! DEAD DEADDDDDD! I will TEAR OUT ALL OF YOUR HEARTS!" More spit and saliva flying from his jaws. All around him there was a storm. A terrible raging storm, and the ground beneath him just crumbling away until there was little left to stand on. The thunder crashed and through it, over it, in it he heard the same thing over and over. 'You Deserve This' It slammed at him, as wind and shards of stone blasted into him. All he could feel was resentment. Was rage. He was not angry, he was MAD.

There was a sound though, suddenly drowning out the thunder. He knew that sound. There was music as well, and The Beast screamed as it was thrown down, and this time did not rise again. The sounds, the howls of wolf and coyote. The musical voice and the calming touch. His father, ranting in rage. His son's face dancing before his mind's eye...He deserved, no not this, not this nightmare of his father's. Maybe he didn't deserve those other things either. Those good things he had found. Maybe he didn't deserve those he loved, who loved him now in return. With the life he had lead, maybe he didn't deserve that happiness.

But he wanted it. Gods and Monsters. How he wanted it, and them.

Jason Christopher of the House of Lupus rose up all at once, and roared his response to his loved ones. The Beast was gone now. Gone as finally after over 400 years, man and wolf rose as one now. Truly and forever one. Jason still towered in the Beast's body, the ultimate expression of a mother's gift coupled with a father's bloodline. The ultimate expression of his wolf. He grabbed his father by his neck, hauling him high into the air. The older man wriggled about in clawed hands that could wrap fully around his head and touch his neck they were so large. The words that ripped out of his chest were like a chainsaw roaring to life.

"YOU'VE TORN OUT MY HEART ONE TOO MANY TIMES. NOW I'M RETURNING THE FAVOR." His free arm pulled back, and lunged forward. The sound was a wet tearing one. Jonathan Gregor Lupus spasmed, mouth still moving silently. Unheard words of hatred and venom, as his eyes glassed over. Jason Christopher Lupus slammed a bloody fist to his maw, then through back his head and HOWLED. A sound that seemed to still every one of the Children of the Moon.

The King was Dead.

Long Live The King.

Jacob would have charged after Valeri if not for the sudden, bloody display when Jason returns to his senses and tears out his own father's heart. And ate it. And that might have given Jacob pause. Hell, it might have *freaked him the fuck out*, if not for the advent of the Quileute wolf imprint. Because in the moment where Jacob might otherwise have some very serious objections... instead all he can think is that Jason needs him to be strong now. So, despite Jason's scene-stealing sudden hunger for patricide and heart tartare, Jacob starts to approach him with relief in his heart--but there's Valeri. So before Jacob can reunite with his mate, he has one thing to see too, first. He advances on his foe.

The next moment isn't his proudest, but he ends it quickly.

Then he returns to Jason's side, feeling both exhilarated and suddenly weary, and can think only one thing: *Can we just please go home, now?*

Scott gives a lupine snort as his foe surrenders, but the huge clawed hand he rests on the other werewolf's chest is half-protective, half-warning. Anybody who knows Scott can tell, even in that form, that's seriously thinking of adding another responsibility to his plate. The True Alpha shivers and then slowly reverts to a human form. Looking towards the other alphas, all with blood on their claws, his expression is grave and stricken. But at least they are all safe. And with that thought he goes running after Stiles, only to find his friend saved by luck or fate. And then returns to find Jacob has killed ANOTHER fallen foe. His expression is profoundly disappointed and Jacob can feel the heartbreak flowing down that link between them. He goes to stand over Roberte and then pick up the former enemy, eyes glowing red as though he's daring anybody to kill the foe he spared. Scott looks sideways at Stiles and says, "C'mon. We're going."

Meanwhile, back at the Stiles...

Gerald, chasing Stiles, managed to critical fail his *chase panicking teenager* roll. Like, so badly that it would be *hilarious* if not for the fact that the dude was just decapitated. Which, really, when you--and that's when the first bolt of electricity arcs across Gerald's body.

Stiles pulls up short, holding the katana carefully so as not to make the same mistake, and draws his head back, a puzzled expression on his face, and he's just opening his mouth to comment on the oddity of this phenomenon when it arcs again. And again. And the third bolt actually leaps from the corpse, showering the room with sparks, as it streaks through the air--

Right into Stiles' chest.

He barely manages to get out a "Holy sh--!" before the power of that electrical blast brings him to his knees, the energy crackling and snapping as it dances across his body, leaping across him. More sparks erupt around him, and webs of electricity dance across his skin, along the blade of the sword, and Stiles finds himself crying out in shock from the sheer intensity of it. *Crap*, that hurts!

And nobody was even there to see it. Just like nobody sees when he slumps to the ground, face-first, in a most undignified position. Nobody sees that while he was being struck by multiple bolts of lightning, a cloud of black smoke went blasting out of his open mouth. Nobody sees when, coming to his senses, Stiles looks at the book in front of him--*The Physiology of Werewolves*--and, on general instinct, picks it up and tucks it under one arm. He sheathes the sword. And he goes stumbling back toward the throne room to see how the others are faring.

But why in the hell does he suddenly have Queen stuck in his head, anyway?

Tucson cracks knuckles as he watches the aftermath of a centuries-long bloodfeud, and he just feels tired afterwards, and oddly at peace from all the fighting. He lenas down and picks up little Vincent and throws him over his shoulder - the others can figure out what to do with him, after all.

Then he cocks his head and listens, and nods, breath suddenly visible in the swirling icy air around him. He smiles slowly. He adjusts Vincent's weight on his shoulder, and walks downstairs whistling 'Scotty Doesn't Know' by Lustra. This was going to be fun.

Roberte Lupus starts busying himself with getting the throne room back in order. For all of his talk of not being able to lead, he actually seems quite capable of it. He has lived on the periphery of it for centuries. Even though Jonathan Gregor Lupus was mad. He was effective at leading even bereft of his power to influence and control. Roberte had learned much, even if some of it was just how he would rather things were. He nods to his brother as he does what was asked of him. "Iason, if you wish to return. It will be some time before things are back in any semblence of order here. I should like you to see things when they are, and of course." He pauses a little sheepishly. "Vincent knows where to open a gate for me to join you once things are ready here."

Samyel approaches Brodie, head slung low. "You are a more powerful weilder of magic than I am. I offer my apologies, for using my magic against you." He stops short of saying he had no choice. None of them did outside of Valeri and Gerald. He nods his head quickly and then moved to retreat.

Jason walks back over to Scott and says quietly. "I know you disagree. I know you believe there had to be some other way. I told you just days ago Scott. That is not always the case. I wish I lived in your world sometimes. One where these choices weren't needed. But unfortunately, I've lived in mine far to long to believe the one you are in really even exists. So I am not sorry for what had to be done here. But I am sorry you had to be a part of it. You have no blood on your hands Scott. And for what it is worth, as I told you the other day. I will always try and keep it that way. Even if it means having it on mine instead. I know who I am, and what I am. And I know I never want you to be as I am. Not if it is in my power to help it." The other day he said similar words pragmatically. This time there is more caring behind them. Maybe not on quite the level Scott feels. But there is definately something there. He sighs and then nods to Scott before looking at Stiles. "You smell like you were put in a microwave with a fork. What happened to you Stiles?" He takes a deep breath through his nose and cants his head to the side. "Interesting scent Stiles. It's been pretty much the same since we met...But not anymore." He doesn't go into any detals why. But Jason knows something there.

Jason is certainly not blaming Brock for Markov's mauling. Maybe the wolf would survive. His kind could survive a great deal, well and truly appear dead. There were even legends of them spontaneously ressurecting from death under the light of a full moon. Tonight was a supermoon, and an eclipse. So, the signs and portents might favor it. Brock and Jason were a lot alike. Brock was a soldier, Jason an assassin. But even though Jason was much older, they both understood. There was always another fight, because if you believed in anything at all. Someone was always going to come along and make you fight for that belief. He nods to Brodie and smiles some. "Yes I think it is time to go..." He looks around and sighs some. This was home once. But not in many many years. "Home..."

Jacob has little more to say for now. He squeezes Jason's hand, then reaches to touch Brodie's shoulder, saying quietly, "Thank you. Thank you for making this possible." He looks, then, to Brock. "You, too. I might want peace, but I understand fighting... and thank you for fighting with us today." He passes over some of the others without much comment, but when he gets to Scott, he offers him a faint, pained smile. "I need you, Scott," he says softly. "I need you... to live your life. And be happy. I need you to do anything you can to be happy. I need you to feel free. More than anything else, that's what I *need* from you, Scott." He too offers Scott a hug, and then he steps back, looking again to Jason. Yeah. Home. Home would be good.

Scott McCall is quiet as Jason speaks. He shakes his head and says, "I understand what you are saying, Jason. But I don't agree with it. And I told you before, I don't need protection. I can handle my problems, my way." Which is to say without killing. "I ...." He pauses and swallows. He wants only the best for Jason, wants to help him and make his world better. "You can do better, Jason. I know you can." And then Jacob is speaking to him. He takes that dismissal for what it is. His eyes go wide and his expression is momentarily stricken at what functionally amounts to an order from Jacob that hits him on a level so deep that it's instinctual. He nods and steps back, trying to keep his expression neutral.

Looking back at Brock, Scott shakes his head again. And when he hears Brodie's words, he shrugs and says, "Just because they are willing to do something doesn't mean we should be. But that's not my fight. I guess it's yours. Both of you."

Brodie looks at Samyel and he claps him on the shoulder. "It is okay. If you are meant to have your powers. the Gods and Goddesses will return them back to you. You can earn them back. You'll just need to prove that you are worthy of them." Could he remove the binding, probably. Will he? Nope. Samyel needs to show that he isn't the man that helped slaughter all of those people. He's not about to let a powerful potential killer on the loose. To Scott, "You know what happened when Brock let them live last time we dealt with a pack like this?" He turns his bright blue gaze to his brother up by myself. "They kidnapped me. They tortured me. They tried to turn me evil. They kept me for years. Now you try living through that mistake twice. Knowing because you showed mercy, Jacob gets kidnapped and tortured. And then you tell me he was wrong in putting a dangerous killer to death. And then you can try judging my brother for his actions." He bites his lower lip. Jason's words to Stiles are a good distraction. "Yes, I can take people anywhere they want to on the Ways. If anyone needs to go back to Beacon Hills. La Push or anywhere else. Just let me know." He smiles at Jacob and says, "You did it Jake. I was just here to offer support." He shrugs his shoulders and moves to get his stuff. "I'm ready to go. Samyel. If you want to come with us. I know some people who might be willing to take you in if you are looking for redemption."

"Uh," Stiles answers Jason warily, feeling a bit silly since his joke fell even more flat than he expected. "That's kind of an interesting story. And it involves a crazy dude with a sword, him managing to cut off his own head, and me getting struck by lightning. And now I feel all... funky." He raises and lowers his shoulders in a shrug. "And it's not even Tuesday. Go figure, huh?" He shakes his head a bit, then offers Scott a supportive smile... and looks over to Brodie. "Didn't..." he says slowly, looking puzzled, "Didn't they say these guys were all mind-controlled? I mean, sure, I'm all for the bad guys being de-clawed, but if they weren't actually bad... and the one making them do bad stuff has had a *major* cardiac myometcomy, or... something like that... so..." and he trails off in a shrug.

"Ah may not be that much older than you, McCall. But ah know more about this; what we are." Brock moves and turns himself around, looming from his high place, "Ya ain't a were-rabbit, or a were-mouse. In you beats the heart of a predator. A carnivore, and a killer. That's it's nature; that's YOUR nature now." Brock moves, climbing himself down from his perch, his shoulders flowing like strong fluid as he moves, advancing and using hands to go with his feet while walking, keeping his eyes on Scott. "Ya can't deny that anymore ya can deny yer human nature. An if ya only indulge yer human side and feelin's... well yer more aggressive side is gunna get jealous, start ta turn against ya. Know what happens when ya turn against yerself? Yer gunna lose, every time." Brock lion-strolls his way on close and then around Scott, "Ya keep it mad at ya long enough, it's gunna claw and rend at ya from the inside, turn ya inside out, and do what it's gunna do anyway. Without yer human side ta reign it in. When that happens? Do ya think it is gunna care who it is? Someone ya care about? Someone innocent? It ain't." Brock's feline eyes shrink to a slit, "Yer gunna have ta hunt. Yer gunna have ta fight. Yer gunna have ta kill. Do it while ya can still choose WHO ya do it to. An' make yer choice one of wisdom."

Jason Christopher smiles faintly at Scott and shrugs. "Maybe so Scott. Maybe so. But I hope you can try and understand this much. There is a very big world out there. With many different beliefs and philosophies. Of which your's is one. That you believe it with such heart and such conviction speaks well of your character. But it makes it no more right for all that belief. It is a human belief, and one not even all human beings share. Would that belief sustain a wolf in the wilds? No." He looks between Jacob and Scott and arches an eyebrow. But then he just raises Jacob's hand, already in his, and kisses it. "Home..." heading for the doors to the castle. Jason stops though and looks at Stiles appraisingly. "Stiles...We are going to need to talk, very soon Stiles. I mean this, very very soon. And, we are going to need to teach you something about how to use that sword. Keep it..." He looks at Jacob again and then heads out the door. He is not going to discuss any more philosophy or the rights and wrongs of ending a threat permanently today.

Samyel looks back at his people and then at Brodie. He shakes his head slightly. "I am needed here, among my people. We have much to rebuild. Maybe once that is finished." He just nods and lets the thought drop. Heading back to do whatever it is Roberte may need of him.