Strike (Detect magic) Exceptional success
Encounter Cinder (Empathy) 6 passes vs. DC4, hit
Cinder Attunement Complete success
Strike (Brawl) 10 passes vs. DC3, critical hit
Senses set on high alert in the fraught situation they were in, Max heard the keen from Mina, but didn't have any opportunity to try and help her as he held off the dagger of the shrilly shrieking shrew currently trying to gut him. There was a shiver of magic in the space of the subway carriage, almost pulling Max's attention away from wrestling the dagger away from the hag he was scuffling with, but no sound of pain came from Mina.
He didn't have any time to check, either with a glance or by sharpening his senses, as the creature lashed out with the hand he wasn't crushing in his clawed, enhanced grip. Sharp nails dragged across his face and he could feel blood welling along the scrapes even as they healed as soon as they'd been made. The whisper of magic from the strike told him that the intent hadn't been to draw blood, as a crushing fear descended on his mind. Max was used to fear, that clench in his gut before running straight into trouble. He had enough courage to push past it, but this was magically induced fear, overriding human logic and, unintentionally, tapping into that animal part of him he always contended with.
The fear turned wild, animalistic, bouncing out of the bounds of mere human fear into fierce animal fear that guaranteed he'd lash out. Gritting his teeth, feeling the
ache that he hadn't figured out was a parasympathetic response to the threat of a shift or his body priming itself for a shift, Max felt another snarl building, but this time it tore loose, loud and dangerous, a fearful animal going on the defence. Or offence, in Max's case, as he'd always lashed out when afraid.
Max felt like he was relying on sheer force of will to keep his head through the rushing fear and urge to tear everything around him apart. It was the only thing keeping his body from tearing itself apart and the werewolf bursting out. It managed to spur him to action, though, finally wrenching the dagger out of her grip, the ugly thing clattering onto the floor of the subway car. Max swung his clawed hand back to lash out with a viciousness that embedded his clawed hand in what passed for the spectre's gut, but it tore all the same despite the lack of blood.
There was no blood, no physical sensation, only the uncomfortable feeling of a spirit firm enough to touch and damage, and hurt, as the shriek confirmed as he clenched his clawed hand and tore at what passed as the spectres physical shape. It shrieked again, rattling his teeth in his skull and making his ears ring, trying to swing at him with the strange clay jar, but the spectre seemed to lose her presence on their plane of existence as Max tore at the strings of her spectral body keeping her there.
Max Luck 3/5
Encounter Luck 1/4