Battle of the Betas

[rassafraggin]

When the door swings open, the outside light has to push through the umber dimness to cast itself upon the planked floor and shapes of furniture ahead, the very start of the long dining table, but no further. The candlelabras and wall torches are guttered greasy smoke which joins the thick swirls obscuring the ceiling of the feast hall. The kitchen hearths seem distant and indistinct, same with the shuffle and clink of stoneware cleared and cleaned. Enough of a background glow keeps the clawed spread of antlers a visible outline where the head of the table should be - and the Alpha's chair.

Ruby ventures further inside, moving with the hesitance of someone feeling like they're trespassing. Taking in a breath of the ambience, she's blinking away at how the smoke tries to make her eye tear up. She halts near the table, not coming closer until she's made her presence known. The darkened corners don't show much to her, so she focuses on the Alpha's chair. Her throat is cleared and she pushes rests her knuckles on the edge of the table. "I'm back."

Activity does not cease, if anything the scraping sounds quicken. The sound of an interrupted meal coming under rabidly narrow focus, gathered and wolfed always with one eye turned toward the potential thief. From the left and right both, the moving haze takes on the shapes busily hunched. Creeping away again to the deeper shadows as though the touch of her gaze could be felt like a hand reaching out.

"So soon, and alone, too. But you should know I'm not in the habit of do-overs, candidate." Floating voice amid the craven rush of scraps disappearing.

Ruby hefts her bottom lip up and over the upper. A grunt as her eyes slide to the those other silhouettes. Taking a deep breath and letting it out, as if she's had such weighty things on her mind, she straightens, one hand on her hip. "I don't need no escort tah pay a visit. Besides, I ain't never been your normal can-di-date. Can't measure me against tha past ones. Bet you've never been brought tha kind 'o delights I brought. Surely past open mouths gotta go some way towards an open ear?"

"Never has a way of being measured in lifetimes. So I won't say never.. but.. long enough." The glutting sounds recede, there's some panting, a fervour finishing up. Silence follows that holds the notes of discontent. Gazes wandering, possibilities forming, then even these dissolve as the stalking commences. "Want to talk, do you, now, when you've already given your mouthful? Very well - let us sit." A pit of cherry glow flares from the dark center below the antlers as new aroma and smoke twirls into the air.

Ruby forms a slight smile and narrowing of eyes. A satisfied Toad-like expression trying to solidify. "Goodness, tha'd be nice." Towards an available chair she goes. Down the table a little so as not to invade the personal space so much. His cloak of smoke and darkness and suggestion still his domain. "You know I try an adhere tah all yer rules. Didn't set out tah break any bridges, roight? I make 'em now, Truth. I can appreciate who you are, what you doo. Found myself in small situation tha maybe you can benefit by."

Ruby hefts her bottom lip up and over the upper. A grunt as her eyes slide to the those other silhouettes. Taking a deep breath and letting it out, as if she's had such weighty things on her mind, she straightens, one hand on her hip. "I don't need no escort tah pay a visit. Besides, I ain't never been your normal can-di-date. Can't measure me against tha past ones. Bet you've never been brought tha kind 'o delights I brought. Surely past open mouths gotta go some way towards an open ear?"

"Never has a way of being measured in lifetimes. So I won't say never.. but.. long enough." The glutting sounds recede, there's some panting, a fervour finishing up. Silence follows that holds the notes of discontent. Gazes wandering, possibilities forming, then even these dissolve as the stalking commences. "Want to talk, do you, now, when you've already given your mouthful? Very well - let us sit." A pit of cherry glow flares from the dark center below the antlers as new aroma and smoke twirls into the air.

Ruby forms a slight smile and narrowing of eyes. A satisfied Toad-like expression trying to solidify. "Goodness, tha'd be nice." Towards an available chair she goes. Down the table a little so as not to invade the personal space so much. His cloak of smoke and darkness and suggestion still his domain. "You know I try an adhere tah all yer rules. Didn't set out tah break any bridges, roight? I make 'em now, Truth. I can appreciate who you are, what you doo. Found myself in small situation tha maybe you can benefit by."

The smoke is winding, diffusing column, its source proves to be stationary so long as it continues its unbroken line. From all around, the story's different. Plenty movement, but obscured by the swirling haze. "Yes, I can," agrees the Alpha. "I can and I will, Candidate.. or I should say, Candidatesss." That extra sibilance he gives it promises remorse in retrospect.

Ruby was wary before, and is now heightened further with the threat. Her eyes sweep this way and that. Her hands find purchase upon one of the chairs and her grip tightens. "Oh I see." She rolls her head upon shoulders and dearly wishes she had had something substantial to eat prior. A grunt and she rasps, "...Buffet ain't done then."

"Oh, not them." This denial is all there is time for, then the thick warm air spins and breaks from the thing that charges from behind. Three taps on the planked floor heard, then nothing, as it goes airborne, flying for Ruby's back.

Ruby hears the noise upon the floor and turns as swiftly as she can. In her hand is the chair wrenched from the floor. The swing is wild without eyes on the back of her head. It's all instinct and pent up tension powering the wide swing of furniture.

The yellow jumpsuit worn by the capering jester has details up close that could never have been caught before, what with the constant capering and shifting lights. Baggy loose in fit, it still wraps close to the gangly figure in patches that have seeped through with an infectious-smelling stain. The chair sweeps air and it's Ruby's torquing arms that connect with the painted clown, folding his neck with a sound like popping seams. Dislodged from her shoulders, Ronald flips into a backwards somersault, dropping under the swipe of the chair legs. He tumbles wildly into the smoke.

Ruby's too jacked up to be able to pause in creepy revulsion. Not feeling the satisfaction of smashing to chair solidly into the Joker, the chair wants to keep going and put her off balance. An acidic curse is sent after the clown as it is obfuscated and out of range. "Ffff-" The chair is brought around and down before her. A loud crack and sundering as its wrecked spectacularly. Ruby gets both hands on two of its remaining legs and rips them free. The uneven splintery pieces of wood are hefted and she backs away from the smoke. "Got some oak for yer throat!"

"Oh, now," the Host clucks over the shattered chair from his matched dining set. The cherry glow bobs.
The gash in the smokescreen fills in again, coiling in the scraps janitor's noodlely wake. The pat and tap of his leaps and hand springs might be tracked better than the coy shapes that loom and dissolve through the haze. He's whirled an arc, he's coming at her from the left now.

That dinnertime rule about no weapons under the table would appear to be withdrawn from this situation. With Ruby's defenses facing outwards, her back comes once more under attack, legs grabbed around the shins by feast gauntlets that come pistoning out from the shadows below. A ferally girlish grunt and wiry strength behind the little tines and blades that sink into her taut tendons and lean musculature there.

Ruby screams out in shocked pain. She's winding up to lay a double whammy on the clown but the surprise sneak attack aborts her lunge. Ruby almost topples forward with the momentum being committed to feeding blunt trauma to the nimble jester. She commits to a defensive parry to whatever comes from the left and shrieks as she scissors her legs wider apart to try and break the hold of one of those darn munchmitts.

A pint-sized yeowl issues when Ruby kicks one leg wide. Instead of letting go, the gauntlet stays lodged by its bloody incisions and rips free of the slim scrabbling hand which bore it. The other glove is abandoned as well, then, the sneak attacker backing off beneath the table again.

Cartwheeling, the Joker breaks cover to land with a clomp his shovel-shoes, deadly momentum in the lunging torso, and hands clutching broken dagger shards of crystal wolf bone. The stabbing stops short of impaling Ruby's face and neck as her raised oak legs contact his wrists with a brutal smack. The burned-balding head, the poached eye slits, skinned nose, close in. Devoid of malice, the expression is unseeing and gleeful, a raw mannequin visage from which the grease paint runs. Starting to rear back from the parry, he seems about to either strike out lower, or flip back away.

Ruby thunders forward into her visible foe, stamping towards the horrific Jester while still wearing the gauntlets. Recalling how noodlerific the thing dealt with being clotheslined, she bears in close with her wooden clubs held up in place. Leaving the evil goblin to skulk near the table she presses onwards to carry herself and the clown to the nearest obstacle, such as a wall. As much as she's reluctant to get any closer to the enemy, she snaps her head forward to headbutt.