First, here is the source of the noise: a crude dam of cement and piled stones, supported by a cage of rebar. Water flows through the dam in three sections; the water's flow as it hammers into the cement and turns some kind of plastic turbine produces the racket. It's also why the landscape has flooded in this particular way.
Second: the smell.
"How could anyone do this?" Elton says, momentarily overwhelmed even though, as a Garou, he knows exactly what drives humans to do things like this.
He stumbles back, choking on the caustic reek as you wade through muck, closer to the cages where David Banicki kept the horses. Eight animals are in the broad pool formed by the dam, chest-deep in filthy, muddy water that stinks of rotten meat. Crude plastic binders hold them in place as flies swarm over them. All are blind, their eyes eaten away; blood drools down their mouths into the foul water. Five more horses are dead and half-skeletonized, their bones pink in the pale sunlight. When the wind shifts, the still-living animals sense your presence and start to scream, as if they're being burned alive. Crude shacks served as David Banicki's workrooms for…whatever he was doing to the horses.
Your Rage momentarily blinds you. Or maybe it's not blindness—maybe it's ecstatic clarity. You know what you have to do. You know what Gaia blessed you with Rage and wisdom to do.
An act of mercy: I head into the nearest workroom, find a sledge, and systematically kill all the defiled horses.
"We have to rip this place down, Elton." We have to work together to destroy this affront to the Litany and Gaia's laws.
"I'm going to take notes, and then you're going to destroy things when we're done." I take out the Field Notes and turn my education toward understanding this dreadful operation.
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