It's getting late on the next day that KL returns, clutching a bag to her chest. She pounds on the door to gain admittance and, when that is granted, thrusts the bag towards Gunnar. "Here's your stuff. Now make him better," she demands, ungraciously.
Kevin seems, by the time KL returns, to be growing less and less content with the company of the taciturn Viking, especially as he's still running the fever, though the last signs of the injury to his hands and feet have vanished following a night spent in glabro. "Come and get some coffee before we start?" he suggests to KL.
"We will not stay here." said taciturn Viking responds, taking the objects as offered and, after giving them a quick once over, stuffing the lot into his omnipresent ALICE pack. Slinging this over his shoulder, he turns to the door "This land is far too tainted for a cleansing to be truely effective; and it may attract unwanted attention in any case. Bring him."
"Can you walk, or do you need carrying?" KL asks Kevin. She seems to have used up all her reserves of sympathy, because she's brusque to the point of aggression. Or it could just be the phase of the moon.
"My legs still work," Kevin frowns, dividing the frown between Gunnar and KL evenly. "Take more than a little fever to knock /this/ urrah over." And he shows it by getting up and walking to the door. "Where must I go, mister theurge?"
"Outside." Comes the growled response. Of course, coming from him 'outside' could mean out the front door, or it could mean bobbing along in a longship somewhere off the coast of Greenland. Whatever the case might be, though, he follows that statement up with stepping through the door himself. As luck would have it, he does not stop just outside of the door, either; but begins a crisp, briskly paced walk towards the Eastern side of the city.
Forest North of I-90(#2354RA)
The forest is thinner here than it is south of the highway, though it is still difficult to see for far. Signs of human habitation break the stretch of woods every few miles; roads, paths, farms, and the occasional out-of-the-way home remind you that civilization is encroaching, though in this area, the battle is not yet decided. Hardwoods mix with towering firs and smaller trees, still concealing some of nature's hidden places from the nearby humans.
The forest spreads north from Interstate 90, which delineates the souther edge of this area. Marked by logging areas, farms, and other signs of human presence in places, the woods are still relatively unoccupied by humans.
"It's a good job I'm fucking fit." KL mutters angrily to herself as the three figures trudge through the forest. "Into town, out of town to fetch the fucking herbs, into town to take them back, out of town to do the rite, into town to kill the Doctor, out of town to hide the body. Fucking A class workout programme." Her hands are shoved into her coat pockets, and she's accompanied by her own personal, if metaphorical, raincloud.
It's also a good job Kevin is fit, because in his present state of health the long journey out from the city to this remote spot has left him breathless, sweating like a fire hydrant, and stumbling-tired on this last leg of the journey through the virgin woodland. He hasn't said anything for at least two or three miles, and his head is downcast, but he keeps moving on as though some force from inside him compels his feet to go up and down, up and down.
"I am surprised your jaw is not your strongest muscle." That's all Gun says in response to KL. In fact, that's all the Godi says at all throughout the entire trip. He takes the several mile hike as if it were a walk in the park; finally stopping and, lifting his head slightly, letting his gaze flicker from one side of the horizon to the other. Then, and only then, does he place the pack down and speaks once more. "This will suffice."
KL's response is a low growl, and she swings a fearsome kick at a nearby inoffensive tree, landing it with a splintering of bark and a loud thud. Having done that, she turns to face Gunnar, folding her arms over her chest and glowering at him.
Kevin lifts his head at that. "Keep it... cool, KL," he whispers, as though the effort of speaking causes him pain. "Guy's doing me... a favour here."
There's a brief twinge of his jaw there as Gunnar turns, jacket sliding of to land atop the pack in a haphazard pile. Rolling his head to one side, the Godi's eyes sweep to lock down on KL once again, a low snarling rasp rattling through his nostrils. He responds to the glower not with a like look, but with a cold, almost dispassionate stare. "If you wish to get it out of your system, let us - and make this ground sacred with our blood."
"Get on with the fucking rite." KL manages to squeeze the words out between clenched teeth. "I have someone to spend my rage on later. And I do not trust myself to stop before I have rendered you into mincemeat, and then what would happen to Kevin?" She swivels her feet, digging her boots into the ground as if she is trying to get a more solid footing.
Kevin nods wearily. "Let us make a start. I am in your hands, Gunnar."
At the moment, the Get's attention seems completly on KL. "I tire of your blathering." The Godi replies in another snarl. "And I take not kindly to your insinuation. Come, then, and prove your words - or leave this place. If you truely were concerned as to the boy's welfare, you would not mewl so."
KL's eyes widen in shock and surprise at the Godi's words. There's a tense moment, during which she remains motionless, and then she flashes up to Crinos form and launches herself in a flailing leap towards Gunnar, claws glinting nastily in the late evening sun.
"Ahh, no," groans Kevin. Ill and tired though he is, he too swells up into his war-form, and leaps at KL, aiming to hit her from the side and deflect her assault on the theurge.
He reacts quickly - quite quickly, as a matter of fact; though Gunnar may be a Crescent moon, he's Fenrir first. Body arching into a sharp snap of muscle, bone and metal he, too, shifts to the war form; though he does not rise initially. Rather, the Godi seems to wait, coiling that fury until KL reaches a certain point - then reacts to her assault not by trying to get out of the way, but by lunging upwards as well, one claw sweeping into an uppercut sort of motion towards her chest as he throws his weight against her.
The fight has been brief, of course, but bloody. KL a whirling dervish, blinded by her fury, landing blows on both of the Garou fighting against her. Kevin, despite his sickness, fast as anything, and Gunnar, the ferocious get, pounding at the Fury with immense power. The net result is a battered, bleeding and unconscious Ahroun on the ground, and two very wounded combatants, themselves barely able to stand. After the sound of tooth and claw rending skin, and the cries of rage and pain of the wounded, the clearing is filled with a deathly silence. KL's blood flows in rivulets across her rent hide, clotting in the fur, dripping onto the disturbed dirt.
Breathing snarled and rasping - moreso than his usual speech, perhaps - the Get in question remains in a somewhat coiled forwards posture; arms hanging at hisdes, fingers curved into readied claws. Crimson shows up rather well against his fur, matted along the lengths as the Godi rolls his weight to a more upright posture and turns, with a low snarl, to Kevin ~You should not have interfered.~ That said, he lets his attention trail back to the area around them, turning away from the Fury ~Now we may begin.~
Power-Up lifts one hand to his head as he's done several times in the last two days, but this time he's wiping away not sweat but a trickle of blood. ~She was wrong to assault you,~ he states. ~And Fenris demands that whenever I can fight, fight I do. Let us commence, yes.~
~It was not your fight to enter.~ The Godi replies rather brusquely, as he goes about unpacking the things from his pack once again. Dropping into a three point stance, he lays out the herbs that the Fury had since brought, lifting several to eye level and, appearantly, going through a rather painstaking process of selecting the best of each bunch. These are set aside in a slightly more reverant fasion, as the deer sinew is unwound and wrapped about one massive forearm - stretched and pulled into cord-like shapes.
Power-Up seems too tired to argue the point. ~Is there anything demanded of me yet?~ he asks as the theurge begins to prepare.
~No.~ Gunnar replies without looking up. ~Do not leave this area.~ Ahem. Right. A moment later, though, he does tack on ~And ensure that no one observes us.~ The sinew, once uncoiled, is - in what appears to be a rather painstaking labor - braided together into two or three heavy lengths of cord; which are then set aside with the preselected herbs. Another few objects are pulled from the pack then; a flask of what seems to be water, some flint and tinder - thankfully large enough for Crinos hands - and, yes, a large sharp knife.
Power-Up circles the immediate vicinity, keeping Rune-Scar within sight, and satisfies himself that the noise of the fight has not attracted any attention. This done, he returns.