Meow Redux

[Blu] Cabrini Green; Sorrow's territory. Here the Eagles once watched over part of the area while other packs came and went, touching boundaries. Now the Eagles were gone and Sorrow had settled with a new Pack in the area, taking part of Eagle's turf to protect. Here she tended a shrine to the birds. Here despite her efforts and those of her Pack, drug deals went down, rape, robbery and every imaginable affront to good.

Tonight the air was heavy, rain in the air, though right now it was just a threat. This made everything sticky, it raised tempers and brought on headaches. The sun was setting rapidly and shadows were turning the coming night to shades of gray and black. Here in the Green a Fenrir Kin and True Born were found. Imogen with her beautiful red hair and Kora with her golden locks and a prickling rage that either warned others off or set them off.

[Slaughter] "I think it's time t'stop usin' that site," she says as they walk, her hands in her pocket. They're moving away from the water, away from the docks where Imogen has - in certain places, set up large oil drums in places no one will think to look - tiny imperfect crematoriums, the first step in a multi-step process of burn-bury/waterlog.

"S'been used too much."

The street lights are all burnt out along this section of the street. Her hair is the colour of dying embers, her skin the colour of porcelain.

"I'll deal wi' the barrels o'er the weekend."

[Blu] Here the smell of ripe rotting trash was strong, only broken by the faint wind coming off the river. The smell of trash mingled with the stench of super heated asphalt and exhaust. Passing trash cans brought that rotting death smell that comes from throwing away raw meat; sickening sweet. Burger wrappers, french fry boxes, newspaper, plastic bottles, broken glass, oil stains and scurrying rats were all common things here.

To one side the river took on a new life with the first lights of the city reflecting off the surface, hiding the muddy color of the water where trash lined the banks. On the other side were buildings where once upon a time low income people lived. There was the rusting remains of a slide, a broken bench, chains where swings should be and a crooked monkey bar set that had seen grander days. Now and then the skeletal remains of a car sat like the bones of some ancient Dinosaur.

[Blu] Few with good intentions came here. Fewer still with money ever came here. Yet tonight a beautiful Kinswoman and her Tribemate walked as up ahead a cart squeaked with each slow push as it moved towards the pair. Heaped up to the point that whatever propelled the cart could not be seen, this mass slowly rocked towards Imogen and Kora.

[Sorrow] "Give me a call," Kora says, quietly. They are mismatched. Imogen with her bright hair and her creamy skin, her deceptive physical fragility; Kora, her long blonde hair pulled back into a mismatched braid folded back in upon itself, her worn clothing, the distinctive sense of threat that most humans sense - and avoid - instinctively. Kora is dressed in an old t-shirt and old jeans and steel-toed workboots, colorful laces wrapped around her calves, a narrow black leather choker around her neck, old leather and fiber bracelets round her wrist. They are always there, these adornments, but these nights her nails are mostly bare.

The tall blonde's dark gaze roams the scene constantly. She's taller than Imogen by a head - more - and does not cheat her height like so many women. There's a certain intensity to her eyes, flickering over the rusting playground equipment, the burned out relic of the car on the street, all the broken signs of the blighted scab - the trash, the stench, everything.

"Give me a call then, yeah?" Kora says, a brief glance back toward the waterfront behind them; the gleam of the city's lights in the muddy surface ofthe water.

"I'll give you a hand with them." The cart ahead, piled high, hides whoever or whatever is around her. Kora frowns, faintly as it continues toward them. She's used to the effect her rage has on the world around her. The way it opens things up, clears her path. Her dark eyes flicker over the contents as she steps neatly aside, continuing her hushed conversation with Imogen.

[Slaughter] She does not have good intentions, but she does have money. She hides it here, but does not hide it completely. Older jeans, a nondescript corduroy jacket and a plain t-shirt does not hide her posture or confidence.

She never looks quite like she belongs here. A puzzle piece that is just slightly disjointed from the rest.

Kora's request that Imogen call her draws a regard from the kinwoman. "It's not necessary," she says.

The squeaking of the cart draws her attention, her brow furrowing slightly. She keeps him (her, it) in her awareness as she continues to walk. They are headed to her car. Or at least, Imogen is, and one presumes that Kora is walking her there or perhaps intending on shearing off at a cross street that leads her to her pack home.

[Blu] The cart slowly squeaks down the sidewalk towards the pair, bumping over cracks in the pavement now and then. Rattling comes from the cart and an added scuffling sound. Swish...swish..squeak..squeak... The sounds of the city are like a steady background noise to the world here, like the purring of a cat, nearly comforting. Now and then a siren blends with that purring. A horn adds it's tones to the song of the city. All of this is a backdrop to the immediate area and the soft voices of the pair.

[Blu] The smell of rot rose and fell with the wind as it stirred trash along the street. Something scurried out of the dark, running across the top of one of Kora's boots before bumping in to Imogen's ankle and scuttling off with a high pitched squeak. The lights of a passing car shedding enough light across the cart to show an array of trash piled precariously high and two old house slippers just beneath a pair of sagging ankles. Then the light was gone, yet the scuffling swish and squeak continued like the ticking of a clock.

[Sorrow] "Roman," Kora returns, low-voiced, this hint of laughter underneath the pitch, liquid without ever being fully expressed except in the shape of her shoulders and the curl of her mouth, " - would not ever forgive me if I left you to do work like that alone. So," this has an aura of the decisive to it, " - you'd actually be doing me a favor, in the end. Think of the what you'd spare me, yeah? Those things are awkward, anyway. Easier to handle, less likely to attract unwanted attention with four hands than two."

The squeaking cart, that internal rattle the only counterpoint to the white noise of the night-strewn city. Kora's eyes touch on the cart now and again as they walk. Her eyes narrow against the flash and flare of the car's headlights, then the word is dark again -

" - shit." she curses, her voice still low, turning her head to try to follow the trajectory of the rat in the dark. "Damn rats."

[Sorrow] Per + Alertness
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 4, 4, 6, 10 (Failure at target 7) Re-rolls: 1

[Slaughter] So -

"So don't tell him," Imogen inserts, her mouth twisting faintly an eyebrow arching.

Her mouth moves in distaste, lifting up her foot as the rat - or whatever it was, careens into her. Her jaw tightens and she bites back a comment, her nostrils pinching as a wash of particularly foetid garbage fills her nose.

(Perception+alertness: HAIL KAHSEENO!)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 3, 3, 4, 4, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Blu] Kora didn't notice, but Imogen had warning as another small body came their direction. Infact, Imogen noticed it wasn't just one, it was a small wave of bodies and they were rushing towards the pair from the direction of the cart like the devil was herding them. They swarmed pass the cart, around it and towards the pair. And through the song of little squeals came a high pitched cursing.

"Get away from me you nasty creatures! This is mine! You get your own!"

[Sorrow] So don't tell him, Imogen inserts, adroitly.

Kora's mouth twists into a small, sardonic curve. There's this little huff of a breath from her, this terribly subtle little laugh underneath the surface, mostly lost in the sound of the homeless woman's high-pitched cursing. With a quick, lilting little look toward Imogen, all sidelong, Kora finally assents, "Yeah, alright," she says, that sardonic note lingering in her voice, without resentment. Just this sort of expectation under the surface. " - you win that point."

"Ma'am?" Kora has no warning, just the old woman's high-pitched cuse as the small wave of rodents rocks down the sidewalk. Still, she lifts her voice, calls out to the stranger. "You know there's a women's shelter on Kingwood, near the highrises. Won't have to worry about the rats there."

The guards, maybe. The other residents. Lead paint and salmonella and rat poison in the milk and milk in the rat poison, yes. But rats: no.

[Slaughter] Imogen does not speak to help the woman, instead contracting her eyebrows, taking a step back.

"Rats seem a bit singleminded, don't they?" she observes rather mildly, given the circumstances as she points out the wave of rodents surging in their direction.

[Blu] The rats were running towards Imogen and Kora after swarming around the cart. They ran full out as the voice behind the cart continued to squeal it's warning. In a moment the rats broke around the pair, scurrying over feet and bouncing off as they split around legs in their race.

[Sorrow] "What the hell are they running from?" That's Kora's first thought. She pivots in place, turning to track the rats' collective path, over their feet and around their legs and on down the sidewalk. That passing expression of distaste has disappeared, her voice is level, touched with a hint of - alertness, firmness - and she steps aside, then, begins edging up the sidewalk toward the homeless woman, dark eyes lingering on the cart as she moves, then flashing beyond, searching out the storefronts, the empty windows, the broken doors - some nook, some cranny. Something that might frighten a great swarm like that, excite it into motion -

A glance back at Imogen, the flash of her eyes in the darkness. "See anything?"

[Slaughter] (perception again!)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 5, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Sorrow] Perception again!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Slaughter] (PERCEPTION x3 HAIL ALMIGHTY KAHSEENO!)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 5, 5, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 7) Re-rolls: 3

[Sorrow] I WILL TRY THAT TOO!!!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 5, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[Blu] Kora asked...."See anything?"....and just about then the cries of "Mine" died away along with the frightened squeal of rats. In that moment it was like all sound died as something flew over the mound in the cart towards the pair. A dark object came spinning towards them. Imogen was the first to feel something warm hit her cheek as her brain registered the object about the size of a bowling ball, was going to hit her if she didn't move. Both women feeling the sudden brief shower of wet warmth hitting them in small splats.

[Slaughter] Imogen reacts almost silently - allowing her reaction to warn Kora rather than words. She falls to a crouch to avoid the bowling ball-sized ... thing, a hand diving beneath her coat to pull free her weapon.

She twists her head to glance in the direction where the rats had run - where the object had headed, one hand lifting to touch her cheek where a droplet had sprayed her, bringing her fingers in front of her eyes.

[Sorrow] Alert, alive to Imogen's silent reaction beside her, Kora ducks as the dark object comes spinning toward them. She breathes out a silent curse, reaches up to touch the wetness spattered across her cheer. Her dark eyes close briefly, this sort of simmering, inward focus, before she rises to this rather awkward half-height stance, using the mounded cart as cover, and grabs the end closest to her, pulling sharply at the laden cart.

[-1 WP, Resist Pain]

[Blu] Imogen reached for Kora and fell in to a crouch just as the object spun over their heads to land with the sound of a melon hitting pavement. It rolled a foot before stopping. There in the dark wide open eyes reflected what faint light there was as the head stared open mouthed at the two women. And the cart? Kora grabbed for the cart that had continued towards them, and she pulled it to reveal the rest of the body laying beyond on the ground.

There just beyond the body were a large pair of green eyes that blinked at the two women, sparking a month's old memory. Abby cat? Where are you?"

[Slaughter] (+9!)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[Sorrow] "Fuck." That's the last thing Imogen hears from Kora's human mouth. Without the resistance of the dead woman's weight and the dead woman's slack hands and the dead woman's possessive grasp on the handlebars, the laden cart goes rolling awkwardly down the sidewalk. Crouched forward already, Kora bares her human teeth in a feral, responsive snarl at the beast in front of them, sinking into her feral form.

[+7 in homid!]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8

[Blu] Meow +8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1

[Blu] Sorrow
Imogen
Meow

[Blu] There was the feeling of large and dark. A feeling of fur standing on end and a gleam of teeth as a low rumbling growl rose up and turned to the full out howl of a very large cat. Behind all of this was the distinct feeling of muscles gathering to pounce.

[Slaughter] Imogen has her gun out by her side, the safety off. Finding the cat is as much sense as sight or sound. The gleam of teeth, the rumbling growl that becomes a disconcerting yowl, followed by the instinct that the beast is priming for battle.

The kinwoman takes aim and fires. Thee quick taps of the trigger, then a fourth.

(Split actions
1. 3 round burst
2. fire!)

[Sorrow] Sorrow moves; her fingers unfold from their grip on the cart as it goes trundling down the street, the weight an a lazy wheel making its movements awkward and unpredictable. Leaning forward, the crouching woman becomes a huge dire wolf in an eyeblink, faster. The snarl of challenge slides from her dull human teeth and her raw human throat, become something deeper, more feral as she shifts.

[-1 Rage, snapshift to hispo!. 1a. BITE. 1b. BITE. 1c. BITE. Rage 1. BITE. Rage 2. BITE.]

[Blu] Meow was preparing to leap.

[Sorrow] 1a Dex + Brawl + Hispo + Ancestors sux -3
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 3, 5, 5, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 5)

[Sorrow] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Blu] Meow....soak
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 6, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Sorrow] 1b!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 4, 4, 6, 9, 10 (Failure at target 5) Re-rolls: 1

[Sorrow] 1c!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 4, 4, 8 (Success x 2 at target 5) [WP]

[Sorrow] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 4, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Blu] meow soak
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5 (Botch x 1 at target 6)

[Slaughter] three round burst.
HAIL ALMIGHTY KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Slaughter] damage!
HAIL ALMIGHTY KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 5, 5, 7, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Blu] Meow soak
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 5, 6, 6, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Slaughter] fourth shot! HAIL O GREAT KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 5, 7, 8, 8, 8, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Slaughter] Damage!
HAIL O POWERFUL AND GREAT KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Blu] meow soak
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 6, 7, 7, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Blu] The cat gathered itself to leap. It was huge, it was the size of a pony. Kora sprang from human to Hispo in the blink of an eye, jumping the cat to leave bloody marks that brought an infuriated howl. In the same moment, Imogen opened fire and though it appeared she struck true, in the dark it was hard to tell just how true. Now the cat moved, those teeth and claws came in to play and it was going for the wolf in it's face.

[Blu] Only one claw struck out this time, and it swiped for Kora.
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 8 (Failure at target 6)

[Sorrow] Rage 1: BITE
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 4, 6, 6, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1

[Sorrow] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Blu] meow soak
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 5, 5, 6, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Blu] Kora bit again, tasting blood in her mouth and that howl of a pissed off big cat came and the flash of claws as it tangled with the hispo wolf.
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 7, 7, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Blu] dam
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 5, 5, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Sorrow] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 5, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Sorrow] Rage 2!
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 6, 6, 6, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 5)

[Sorrow] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 7, 7, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Blu] meow soak
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Blu] meow...
1 bite kora
1 r bite kora

[Slaughter] 1. fire
2. fire
3. fire
4. fire

[Sorrow] 1a. BITE. 1b. BITE. 1c. BITE. Rage 1: BITE.

[Sorrow] Kora 1a. BITE.
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 5)

[Sorrow] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 5, 6, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Blu] meow soak
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Sorrow] 1b. BITE!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 4, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1

[Sorrow] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Blu] meow soak
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Sorrow] 1c. BITE!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 6, 6, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 6 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1

[Sorrow] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Blu] Meow soak
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Blu] *-*

[Blu] It was over that fast. Fur flew, blood sprayed and the roars came to die in one sharp sound as Sorrow's teeth found purchase and snapped the neck of the beast. There in the sudden silence they stood with ringing ears and the smell of blood and gun smoke. Back towards Imogen lay a sightless head, watching the horror play out. An over turned cart of what most would consider trash lay between Kora and Imogen in the street where it had fallen over after leaving the curb. And before Kora lay the pony sized black cat, now limp in death. Somewhere in the city one small cat sat on a window sill grooming itself as the larger one died.

[Slaughter] Imogen lowers the gun, a hand lifting briefly to pinch the bridge of her nose. The ringing is loud in her ears. Her hand falls away and she says, dryly to Kora.

"I suppose tha' site can manage one more use."

There is resignation in her voice, far more than amusement.

[Sorrow] The street is quiet. There was a homeless woman pushing her cart down the block, dead now. There was a river of rats, surging, squeaking with fear, they've scattered toward the dark waters of the still Chicago River. The spasm of violence lasts a handful of seconds; in that handful of seconds, Sorrow's rage is nearly spent. The warformed Garou remains standing over the fallen beast for another handful of seconds, until the last twitch of its nervous system dies away, until she is sure it will not come roaring back to life.

Then she shifts, backing up abruptly from all fours to two legs. There's blood on her hands. There's blood smeared on her mouth, and she reaches up to wipe it away with the back of her first, glancing down at it once, a flicker of interest, before her dark eyes fall on the kill.

"Convenient," Kora says, a ghosting look towards the kinswoman as she surveys the street. " - anyway, yeah?"

After another moment's assessment of the size of the dead monster and her own strength, Kora shifts, less noticeably to her larger near-man frame, and drags the corpse into the most convenient shelter - an alley, a narrow causeway, someplace to stage things as they vivesect the corpse, to carry the pieces back to the barrels for one more use.

Garou that she is, Kora takes trophies. Both eyes for the Hrafn, and the claws for the Wyrmpole. She doesn't bother to hide this from Imogen, but does not request the kinswoman's assistance in that part of the bloody work, pulling the eyeballs from the sockets, severing the wickedly clawed paws from the corpse on her own, setting the aside to wrap them in newspaper until they can be cleansed, and taken to the Caern.

A Garou's Compliment.

[Imogen] The sun is set, it's late for a Monday night. Garou do not often care about the rhythms of human time; unless they somehow hold a human job and care about keeping it, they have no need to wake up, no need to sleep at a set hour.

But for a woman in a business suit, it is late. And odd, perhaps to be sitting in an empty park, her feet on the seat of a park bench, her behind on the back, a cigarette burning between her fingers, a coffee sitting on the bench's seat.

She lifts her cigarette to her lips, held between two slender fingers and inhales deeply. It is not quite black as pitch here, but it is dark - the nearest street light just far enough away to cast her in shadow. Still, her hair is clearly vibrant, even in darkness, the colour of faded embers. Her skin is pale.

And her breeding speaks of much.

[Night's Reprieve] New to the sept, new to the city; though not new to the life he lives. Night's Reprieve patrols, much like he has done every night since he arrived here in Chicago - a reaction to his welcoming. The first night he stepped foot in this city he was attacked by the wyrm, and the second. The third night he went looking and found a fight for himself and his companions. It's not hard to find one here in Chicago, something that both troubles and excites the Godi.

Being new here, he couldn't name this suburb if he tried. Though it isn't far from where he first encountered the wyrm, not far from that sewer entrance where abominations climbed out of in the quiet of night. Perhaps this is why its here that he chooses to patrol tonight, perhaps that's why he wanders through the park with eyes and ears intently focused on what is around him. He wears a chequered red and black flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up and a few of the buttons undone, charcoal jeans and leather boots.

When he notices the woman he pauses in his step, head turning towards her and tilting just a fraction. A smile creeps into his face and he approaches. His skin is tanned, weather beaten. His jawline a mesh of stubble and his hair short and dark. Small blue eyes look to meet hers and when he speaks his birth place is marked by strong Cajun tones.

"Evenin', Mind if I sit?" His hands, stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans while he addresses her. It's late, she's by herself. He watched a woman be dragged into the sewers and feasted on not five blocks from here. He saw woman linked by chains in those sewers. There's concern in his face and in his voice, perhaps misplaced. Perhaps not.

[Imogen] Imogen's response is not so much assent or permission as much as it is dismissal. She tilts her head slightly toward the empty space on the bench and shrugs. Her movements are slight - subtle, but for all that, sharply eloquent. Suit yourself.

She lowers her hand, the cigarette caught between it to tap ash toward the ground, the ember sparking in the shadow. She lifts it again and takes another drag - this time, when she exhales, she turns her head away from him, blowing the smoke in the opposite direction.

"New, then, are you?" she asks without preamble. It is something of note. It's not easy for kinfolk to recognize their full-blooded relatives.

[Night's Reprieve] He sits, glad for the invitation even though it lacks any real inclination towards wanting or requiring company. When she blows her smoke away from him he doesn't comment, though the corners of his mouth twitch slightly in approval. Some are not so considerate.

She asks him if he's new and his brows narrow. He looks at her anew and lets out a breath that might resemble amusement.

"That easy ta' tell huh?" A pause and he leans back against the park bench, stretching his feet out in front of him and crossing one over the other. His eyes leave her then and once more peer out into the darkness.

"Ya right though, I'm new. You... you I take it are not." He looks back to her and offers a kind smile.

[Imogen] The smile is not returned. Imogen's face is finely carved - high cheekbones framing dark eyes, a delicate mouth. There is no answer to his kind expression. There is, however, a smirk to what he says, a twist of her lips as she exhales a breath, something soft and soundless.

"No," she says wryly, leaning down to pick up her coffee up at her feet, beside him on the park bench. "I am not."

With their locations, Imogen sitting on the back of the park bench, her heeled pumps on the seat, and Night's Reprieve seated correctly, his legs stretched out in front of him, she is higher than he. Still, she's slight, narrow shoulders, a slender body that has a litheness that comes from fitness. She sits straight, despite the unorthodox choice of her seating, her spine neutral, her shoulders back.

"Has someone already told yeh who t'find?" these questions, it seems, are more important than the expected ones. What's your name, where did you come from. "Yer tribe and such. Yer holy place."

[Night's Reprieve] The smile fades from his lips almost as soon as she begins to speak and by the time she finishes it has all but been replaced with a frown of eyebrows and narrow eyes.

"No, no they have not. I have yet to meet any of my tribe with knowledge to share." This seems to trouble the Godi but his position on the bench doesn't change. His body doesn't shift to make himself taller though he could; he remains slouched, coiled like a spring.

He isn't the largest of men, but his frame holds no waste. Every inch of him is toned like a warrior to rival the full moons of his Tribe, but he lacks the boiling rage and lack of control that some of them exhibit.

"Is it something you could share with me?"

[Imogen] A copper brow arches. "What's yer tribe?" she asks, pragmatically.

[Night's Reprieve] Time for introductions, and now he does sit up straighter.

"My name is Night's Reprieve, I come from the Sept of New Orleans, Godi of Fenris."

It's formal, far too formal for some peoples tastes, but its how he was raised. He looks at her expectantly like she's going to return the honor.

[Imogen] "Yeh want Kora," she says, rather than returning the favour. "Fenrir Jarl." The woman's accent is decidedly not American. She's foreign, though of an English speaking country; England or one of the colonies. That it is not stereotypical muddies the waters. She is frequently mistaken for what she's not; Australian, New Zealand, and on and on.

"She 'nd her pack stay at Cabrini United Methodist. The abandoned church on -" she gives the cross streets.

A pause, before the kinwoman tacks on: "I'm called Imogen Slaughter."

[Night's Reprieve] He pauses and looks at her strangely "The Imogen Slaughter?"

[Imogen] Her reaction is swift - her jaw tightening, a tendon clenching along the side of her face; her lips pressing together. Then it's gone, the irritation controlled and slipped back beneath her careful facade.

"I wasn't aware of another," she observes, mildly.

[Night's Reprieve] "I mean no offense, I have been to the wyrm pole, the spirits favour you." He nods approval. "It is an honour to meet you, and thank you for the information."

His body language reaction to finding out who she is might be strange, he doesn't tense up or shy away. He doesn't seem uncomfortable or nervous; instead it is the opposite. He seems to relax, maybe its because things add up all of a sudden. Or maybe something else.

[Cigney North] [Sorry! Should have peeked first! I suck!...open???]
to Imogen, Night's Reprieve

[Night's Reprieve] [Yep! open]

[Imogen] Imogen shakes her head slightly - sharply, lifting her half-dead cigarette to her lips and inhaling deeply as she looks forward over the sparse and slender trees in her vision. "'The Imogen Slaughter'," she repeats, almost to herself. "Bloody hell."

Then, his words bring her back, and she glances at him. "Don't mention it." His thanks.

She looks away again. Three seconds of silence tick by, broken by the wind moving through the trees.

"So, th'wyrm pole's what then?" she asks. "Trophy pole, is it?"

[Cigney North] Another hot day, would summer ever end? As the night begins to cool th air, Cigney decided to take a run in one of the local parks. It's close to another gym she frequents for a private client. Dressed in running leggings and a indigo blue compression shirt for hot weather, Cigney checks her heart monitor and continues training in the "red zone". Just two more minutes...

Then she hears voices...and begins to slow depending on whether or not she'd need to cut around them.

[Night's Reprieve] He grins and nods his head. "Aye, trophy pole." Strange language, strange response. The question doesn't seem to bother him though. Just then his chin lifts and his eyes twitch towards the sound of incoming foot steps. His nostril's flare as if he forgets for a second that this flesh bag state lacks the perception qualities of others he feels more comfortable in.

"You expecting anyone?"

[Imogen] Trophy pole, he confirms and she exhales her breath, the edge of it sounding like the start of a word, suppressed. A curse, most likely.

She turns her head in the direction of the sound of footfall - quick moving and steady, then slowing. She can just see the approaching form, but not close enough - or in enough light for details or recognition.

"No," she answers. "But s'a public park and a large city."

If Cigney continues to approach, eventually she'll come close enough for the details of her face to be made out. The doctor regards her neutrally.

"One o' yours," she says. "Half-blood." Her voice too low to be heard by the approaching kinfolk.

[Cigney North] Her breathing is rhythmic in timing. It begins to deepen as she slows her pace. As the voices come into sight, she realizes they're seated and decides to pick up the pace again. The hair is hard to miss on Imogen's head..and if she'd heard the woman's voice, she'd have known in a heartbeat who it was.

She slows then and begins thinking. Wow what a coincidence...was it? What does she do? She doesn't want to be rude, but doesn't want to intrude either. Maybe a quick hello...quick intro to whoever it was she was with...then continue run like hell.

Cigney had come up with worse plans...

"Good evening Dr. Slaughter...?" Her voice is a bit breathless. She nods quickly, and taps a button on her chest strap.

[Night's Reprieve] She isn't expecting anyone, the Godi shifts still straighter in his seat and looks in the direction of the sound. On the back of his neck can be seen the tattoo of a great spear head curling up from beneath his shirt. His eyes snap back to her when she speaks of who is it. She senses before him, knows before him. It's impressive.

Before he can respond however, the female emerges and addresses Imogen as Dr. Slaughter. He doesn't speak up yet, but he relaxes again against the bench with Imogen's words running over in his mind. One of yours. Half blood.

[Imogen] "Miss North." In these greetings at least this is clear: Imogen had not sensed Cigney's bloodline; she had merely known the girl already.

She leans forward - Imogen is sitting on a park bench, but sitting on its back, her feet on the seat - and crushes out her cigarette against the side of the bench, before flicking the corpse away. The kinwoman is dressed in business attire - slacks, a blazer open over a camisole. It is too dark to know the colours - the suit is dark, the camisole pale.

Several seconds of silence, then Imogen says, smirking, "He's Fenrir," Night's Reprieve, "And as I recall, so are you. So if either o' you would like to complete yer own introductions," she picks up her take-away coffee cup from the bench at her feet, "Feel free."

[Cigney North] Well that's just plan awkward...but she shrugs and wipes her sweaty palms on her leggings before offering him a hand and a warm smile.

"Cigney...North..." Rather repetitive, kind of...

"It's nice to meet you".

She looks at him briefly, then looks to Imogen.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you, I'm actually on my turn around split so..."

[Night's Reprieve] He's Fenrir, so are you. That gets a smirk from the Godi and he offers his hand only a fraction of a second after Cigney has offered hers.

"Night's Reprieve, Godi of Fenris. Pleasure to meet you Miss North. You can call me Night if you wish.. or NR.. Both have been used in the past." This he suggests to both of them. They are human, kinfolk but still human. He doesn't expect them to want to use his deed name in full.

The handshake is brief and he shuffles on the bench, actually inching towards Imogen to allow room for Cigney.

"You've disturbed nothing, take a load off." And he indicates with his head towards the bench.

[Cigney North] As he offers her a seat, the silvery grey eyes look over at Imogen. She ain't moving till she's got the Dr.'s okay. The doctor is respected, that much is obvious by the way Kora and Trent acted around her.

[Imogen] Imogen meets Cigney's gaze when she looks at her. A few seconds pass.

"There's room," she says by way of prompting.

(sorry that took so long, guys!)

[Night's Reprieve] [NP!]

[Cigney North] Still unsure, Cigney looks at Night...then crosses her arms and decides to stand instead. It was polite enough, yet independent. She moves her shoulder in a stretch and goes quiet for a bit. Looking from one to the other. Hoping not to come off as a third wheel. Nobody likes the third wheel.

"So..."

Inwardly she rolls her eyes at herself. She's terrible at this.

[Night's Reprieve] She really is terrible at this, its okay though, NR doesn't comment on the awkwardness now thrown into the gathering. Instead he just shifts back to his original position on the bench. As soon as it was clear that the two of these kinfolk knew each other, Night's Reprieve felt slightly better about Imogen having sensed her before him. There was a moment there where he was literally shocked by her announcement of Cigney's arrival.

"You new here too? I rolled into town half a week ago." This directed at Cigney, his accent is strong, Cajun. It's obvious where he comes from and its not around here.

[Cigney North] "Uh, yeah...I've been here about a month now. Moved here from northern Cali..."

Oh thank goodness. A bone...

"Fitness instructor".

[Imogen] Night's Reprieve strikes up a conversation with Cigney and Imogen pays only half an ear to it as she reaches into her purse, retrieving the paraphernalia of her nicotine addiction. She lights up the cigarette without comment or offering it to either of them - though perhaps she assumes neither would be interested, one being a fitness addict, the other being a Garou who showed little interest in her fag before.

She drags deeply on the cigarette, filling her lungs before turning her head to exhale it away from the two, watching as the smoke curls away from her.

[Night's Reprieve] "I hope the city is treating you well, have you met many of our tribe here?"

Yes he includes her as part of his tribe, he was brought up well. Brought up in a very traditional house hold. Kinfolk are to be respected. Imogen gets a small glance when she lights up another smoke, though her addiction doesn't seem to bother the Garou at all. To each their own, though it makes him wonder what an awakened cigarette would be like.

[Cigney North] She notices Imogen lighting up, and seems a bit sad. But she doesn't say anything. Who was she to preach to a Dr. of all people. Figuring she'll probably stay awhile, Cigney begins removing some of her training gear. Looking down momentarily at the heart rate monitor, she taps a button or two to save the information. Then begin removing her watch.

"Yes, it's been a nice change. And just a few".

Cigney looks at Night, then back down at her watch.

"You're from Louisiana?" Doesn't take a genius, just watch enough True Blood I suppose...

[Night's Reprieve] "Yep, New Orleans born and raised." The playground was definitely not where he spent most of his days. He turns to Imogen and asks the next question to both her and Cigney.

"Where did you two meet anyway?"

Ah yes, the old meet and greet story. Sometimes interesting, sometimes boring. You never can tell.

[Imogen] She is not participating in the conversation - but frowns briefly while Night's Reprieve speaks, her gaze turned outward, not particularly seeing anything.

Imogen takes another drag of her cigarette, shaking her head slightly. Her hair is vibrant. In sunlight, it must be a brilliant red, the kind of colours rarely found in nature. It is also quite unruly. As she shakes her head, strands of it fall from behind the dam of her ear, slipping down over her cheekbones. She pushes them back with a hand, her cigarette still held between her fingers.

"We ha' mutual acquaintances," she says. Kora. Trent. "We met long enough t'exchange names, s'about all."

A beat.

"Has someone told yeh we're in a state o' war?" this to Cigney more than Garou, oddly enough.

[Night's Reprieve] So tempted to just ST a monster out of the shadows to emphasize that question.
to Imogen

[Cigney North] She simply listens to Imogen's response, not really adding anything. No need to cause it really isn't her place. Cigney nibbles on her lower lip, then rubs the back of her neck a little bit before taking in a deep breath. When Imogen speaks of war, Cigney blinks and shakes her head slightly...holding that breath

[Night's Reprieve] "You really shouldn't be out running around by yourself at night."

He's not coddling her or lecturing. Just pure facts. He doesn't mention what he found and killed just blocks away from here. That information is probably likely to frighten the poor girl half to death.

His attitude towards this kinfolk is completely different to his attitude towards Imogen after having found out who the suit wearing woman actually is. Not that its surprising.

[Imogen] ((*LOL* Oh the irony would be TOO heavy. and also, people named Mei must get to bed early at a decent hour tonight.))
to Night's Reprieve

[Imogen] Imogen casts Night's Reprieve a glance, her expression muted and hidden, unreadable. She merely turns her attention back.

"S'not to scare you," she says. "Or lecture you." Perhaps that was pointed, despite Night's Reprieve's best efforts. "But th'Garou ha' had it declared so for some time. So," a beat. "Just be aware."

[Night's Reprieve] Yeah for sure, I've also got a oneshot with mindy and some others in about 40 mins so will have to bail as well. Another time though, if you want. I can throw some things at Imogen and NR.
to Imogen

[Cigney North] "I'm not exactly helpless..."

But she knows what war means...

"But I'll take better precautions".

Her eyes flicker over at Night, then at Imogen.

"On that note however...it's late. I'll stick to the lighted path".

[Imogen] (sounds cool!

just don't kill me

/end paranoia

*grin*)
to Night's Reprieve

[Imogen] "That's probably for the best," the kinwoman replies, somewhat mildly.

[Night's Reprieve] AHAHA I wouldn't do that silly.
to Imogen

[Night's Reprieve] His eyes rake over Cigney once more before he replies. He almost half considers walking her out of here, or perhaps just keeping an eye on her travel home while he makes the rest of his rounds. But she says she isn't exactly helpless, he's not about to force his help upon someone who doesn't require it or wish it.

"I agree, be swift on your journey."

He'll linger a moment longer, perhaps talk with Imogen more, but he really should be leaving soon to continue his patrol. Idleness is not for one of Fenris.

[Cigney North] Cigney nods at Imogen's comment before starting on her way.

"Goodnight then, be safe".

She doesn't say anything else as an awkwardness sets back in. It's strange though, now that she's looking for something in the dark, anything really.

[Imogen] "Goodnight," Imogen replies, lifting her cigarette back to her mouth, inhaling deeply.

(thanks for the scene!)

[Cigney North] [thanks!]
to Imogen, Night's Reprieve

[Night's Reprieve] "Night." Is all that is offered from the Godi and he watches Cigney walk or continue on her run before he speaks up again, turning to Imogen. There's a quirk in his lips when he speaks and his eyes sparkle with interest for the question.

"So I told you I have been to the wyr-- Uh, trophy pole." A pause. "You've done well for yourself and its refreshing to meet a kin who actually can take care of herself beyond mere words."

There's another moment of silence there, or perhaps Imogen interjects, either way he continues.

"You have gained much honor for yourself Imogen, it is obvious to me that the other Garou respect this or they wouldn't have put your trophies up in the first place. I'm pleased to have met you."

[Night's Reprieve] [er, I forgot to put a question in there at all. *waves hands rabidly in air*]

[Imogen] (pauses in writing my reply)

[Night's Reprieve] [no its fine, just go with as is]

[Imogen] Imogen's mouth twists as he offers a word substitution. "You can call it th'wyrm pole," she says, a little dryly. "I'm not so ignorant as to need special word translations; at least not once I've had them explained to me."

He continues - she cuts him off at 'I'm pleased - '. "Don't," she says, abruptly. A pause, a beat.

"Spare me yer - awe or whatever it is. I don't want it. I never killed a thing intendin' fer the Garou to find out. And had any o' the Garou who 'respect' me so much actually asked me, did I want my trophies on the wyrmpole, I'd ha' told them no."

[Night's Reprieve] This strikes him as odd and his face shows it, his brows narrow, his eyes focus on her ever more intently. Her reaction is unsettling, albeit for a very brief moment. His jaw clenches and his body tenses.

"I.. do you know who the Garou are who have done this? Who have put your trophies on the wyrm pole? It is a great honour to be included at the caern like that. But it is a personal honour, not one that should be given against someones will."

He seems very clear-cut and definite about this point. He has strong beliefs.

[Imogen] Imogen cuts the Garou a glance, a sharp edge of it. There is tension beneath her skin, in her spine, in her muscles and sinew.

"A Garou's honour," she says, simply. "Not mine. S'your world o' glory and honour and whatever. Not mine." She's quiet for a moment. A drag of her cigarette, deep, intense. She fills her lungs and lets the poison begin to work through her blood stream. Exhales, then speaks.

"I know who are like t'ha' done it." She says, "And likely I'll let them continue t'do so because it's not affected me much. But this - " a gesture of her hand, meaning him, or perhaps this moment. "affects me. I'd rather you kept it to yourself."

[Night's Reprieve] He nods his head, his eyes drifting away from the Kin and he pushes himself up from the bench.

"I shall respect your wishes. But I must continue my Patrol. You know what's out there as well as I, I suspect. So I won't tell you to be careful like a whimpering pup."

There's a pause, he may have just done exactly what he proposed not to do.

"Be well Imogen, I'll keep an ear to the spirits about you." He grins and dips a hand into the pocket of his jeans once more. "I'm sure they have plenty of good stories to tell."

It's a compliment of course, though to use her own words; it is a Garou's compliment.

[Imogen] Imogen's eyebrow arches as he tells her to be careful by saying he will not tell her. The eyebrow settles as he continues, her mouth remaining still, even. Sealed.

It is a Garou's compliment. In the end, she merely ignores it.

"Goodnight," is all she says, lifting her cigarette back to her lips. As Night's Reprieve moves back onto his patrol, Imogen returns to her cigarette. Not long after the Garou has gone out of sight she gets to her feet and moves off, herself.

[Night's Reprieve] [WRAP!]

Cerebrus.

[Kora] The night sky is clear through the scrim of haze and light pollution that shrouds the city. Away from the museums and the marina and the piers, Grant Park is a dark edging to the city's glittering brilliance, tucked neatly against the dark screen of the lake, which reflects - tonght - both waning moon that hangs heavy in the sky and the city's office towers, bathed in light. There is a jogging path that follows the curve of the shore, lit here and there by a series of artfully wrought gas lamps, and a copse of trees between the lake and the city meant to mimic the natural shape of a young forest. Some of the trees here are older than one might find anywhere else in the city, great spreading oaks and maples, dense with overgrowth, with the sort of massive canopies that children always draw, huge and full, rounded and green.

The air smells like summer. The remnants of a barbecue somewhere close. Car exhaust and the memory of a hot, blazing sun. A city worker whistles as he walks down the path, emptying the garbage cans the path into a rattling metal bin. He's the only person in this area of the park tonight, although some tourists linger near the Millennium Fountain, awaiting the last show of light and water. He is he only person here, except a young woman seated on the railing overlooking the water, swinging her legs. She smells of bleach and cleaning products. And blood, underneath.

[Thoth Massri] In a city full of structure and hard edges, straight lines and immovable towers, it was often more difficult to get one from one point to another then one might believe, or at least longer then one might believe. Grant Park made for an excellent short cut, and a reprieve from the concrete and metal of the city proper.

And so the mountainous man, because he was quite big, strode purposefully through the greenery, making an unusually minimal amount of noise as he did so. His stride was well spaced and even paced, it was the walk of a man who had seen many...many miles behind him, and would see many many more before the day was out. He breathed in the air, briefly, and his nose wrinkled oh so slightly at the smell of bleach and cleaning products, not because they were there...but because of what lay beneath.

[Kora] The young woman on the railing isn't human. That, however, is not obvious at first glance. She's dressed in worn jeans and an old black t-shirt, washed so many time it has become soft, more gray than black. Her pale hair is pulled sharply back from her features, twisted into a knot that is held in place more by the way its weight pulls against itself. The large man - with his purposeful strides - is not wholly silent as he walks down the path, and when he is close enough to smell the sharp scent of bleach in the air around her, he is close enough for her to hear his approach. She turns, lifting her chin as she glances over her shoulder, eyes dark in the shadows flickering over him as he walks. There's a certain curve to her mouth even now, when she is still and expressionless, one of those Mona Lisa smiles, half-formed, inartful.

" - yuf," she greets him, low-voiced, sure. "I'm not sure we've ever met formally."

[Thoth Massri] The man pauses as the young woman addresses him, not in the manner of humans, but in the manner of garou, it takes a moment for the man to ply his mind, to search through memories of the moot's and of his interactions with the other garou of this city. At last he recognizes her, and while he knew her name...he had never spoken with her.

"You are correct." The man says curtly, his voice rumbling like thunder in the distance as he changes his direction and steps towards her. His eyes gauge her, watch her...they sarch for weakness or fault...a judges gaze.

"I am Thoth Massri...known as The Scales Fulcrum." He says as he stops before her.

[Kora] "Kora," she names herself, swinging easily over the railing, with this supple physical confidence that seems to be written into her sinews. There is no pure blood in her to mark her tribe, and her accent is entirely American, the broad tones of the suburbs and cable news, without any sort of regional inflection. Except when she gives the next name, which she pronounces wit the precision of a native speaker of some exotic language. "Eyjólfsdóttir, to my kin, in the Sept of Wind and Rain where I fostered in Hjaltland.

"Just," the faintest curve of her smile, here. "Kora to most now. she who offers sorrow to the Nation, Skald and daughter of Fenris. And Jarl of the tribe, such as it is." Both legs swung over the railing, she pushes off and slides easily to the ground. A human would offer a hand shake now, but she merely slides her hands into her front pockets, her dark eyes gleaming on him. There's nothing to be read n her gaze - not judgment, not assessment. You follow Mila, yeah? Twister, is it?"

[Thoth Massri] "I have followed her for sometime as her Beta." He says as he watches her as well, no intention of offering his hand. He simply stands there opposite of her, considering her. "My purpose has kept me apart from much of this cities social gatherings. It is...pleasant to meet you at last."

He says without any real pleasure in his voice, but then his tone has been neutral from the beginning, perhaps that is just the way he talks. She has smiled at him, but he has not returned the smile, not yet at least.

[Kora] "You seem," she replies, when she does, in that same voice - rich and low and confident, "pretty contained for someone who follows Twister, yeah? I thought Twister was all - movement and destruction, the wisdom that comes after everything's been torn down. Mind you," Her thumbs are out of her pockets, her fingers buried to the first knuckle. The night around them is dark here, the nearest streetlamps are out, and those further away seem - cushioned somehow. The humidity from the lake, maybe, the way it texturizes the air.

"It's not really my scene. Nor my place to judge." There's a certain - rustle in the upper canopy of the largest trees as the wind picks up over the lake. It carries with it that dark scene, shadowed water, vegetative rot, oil slicked and sunbaked.

[Imogen Slaughter] Late night. Not many people about.

Imogen moves along the pathways, her body silhouetted by the lamplight above as she passes through the pools of illumination, then shaded as she steps into the shadow. She moves without hesitation or discomfort of her surroundings - as a woman might under these circumstances. Late night, isolated pathways, empty, shrouded park. The kind of place that should require a quick step and furtive glances.

The kind of place that, in a horror movie would end in Imogen's certain death.

She walks through this the way she'd walk through it on a summer day: alert, but unafraid; or perhaps merely brave. It's impossible to tell anymore. There is no one left to whom she'd admit fear.

And maybe she has none anymore.

Whatever: Dark night, slender woman walking along the pathway. The Garou are at the railing over the water. She sees the blonde of Kora's hair, the darkness of Thoth's skin. Both familiar, one more than the other. She moves their way.

[Thoth Massri] Thoth raises a brow now, perhaps the first real reaction in his face since they had begun to talk, and he shook his head slowly from side to side, the look on his face was of slight ever so slight annoyance but in the end there is the slimmest of smiles that cross his face.

"Is the sky and the land not calm and quiet before twisters arrival, before destruction...death and rebirth?" He asks of her as he stands there. "Twister is many things, and capable of much, it is...a shame, that few see it for what it truly is."

Another body approached, another...woman to be precise and Thoth's gaze briefly turned to regard her, he remembered her...but from where?

[Kora] Two wolves, one kinswoman, whose breeding is so sharp it flavors the air around her. There are old stories inside Kora, dimly remembered, and then only when she is haunted by her ancestors, by the living past that too-often inhabits her body - overlaying the present, this startling sense that there is something just beyond the reach of her conscious mind that she can almost touch in the living memory that is Imogen's blood. Thoth will hear the way the Skald draws in a brief, sharp breath through her nostrils, before she lifts a hand to Imogen from a distance.

No matter the horror movie setting, the depth of the shadows, the loneliness of the path, the silence fall of Imogen's steps on the decomposed granite walkway, her blood calls across the distance, and Kora identifies her with that first winging glance. "I've never been in a tornado," the Skald replies, quiet sensibly, that half-smile still on her mouth. "So I don't have personal knowledge," she continues, with a neat, faint shrug of her narrow shoulders. "but since you follow the whirlwind rather than the land, I don't know. I'd expert more -

" - whirl, yeah?" There's a rustle in the trees, the breeze from the lake dropping lower. Low enough that the underbrush, the brambles, the vines, the dogwood and floribunda roses shiver in the beeze. Kora glances at the foliage, then looks back at Imogen. "You know the doc?"

(Everyone can roll perception + alertness!)

[Imogen Slaughter] (perception+alertness)
HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Kora] Kora: Per + Alertness
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 4, 4, 6, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Thoth Massri] [Per+Alert]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 6, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Kora] The wind is not low enough to hit the underbrush. There's a specific area that's moving, and just that area moves.
to Imogen Slaughter, Thoth Massri

[Kora] Imogen hears something low - from behind the underbrush. A low growl, something like it.
to Imogen Slaughter

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen glances briefly at Thoth, answering for him. "We've met - " though her sentence was complete, the final word cuts off a little more abruptly than perhaps it should have.

The doctor's head turns toward the underbrush, a line forming between her eyebrows.

"Are either of you expecting a friend?" she enquires, her voice deceptively mild and low. "Perhaps of the animal nature?"

[Thoth Massri] "It has been sometime since we had last met." Thoth says as he watches both woman, but then his eyes turn and catch on the underbrush watching it move, listening to Imogen talk before the man shook his massive head.

"I am not." He comments as he turns towards the disturbance fully and steps towards it, his fists closing as he did so. "Kora?" He enquires with just her name, a brief look in her direction before he returns his gaze to the underbrush, his eyes narrowing as he did so.

[Kora] "Do you see that?" Kora says, quietly to Thoth. She lifts her chin, in a slow rising look toward Imogen, her dark eyes steady distance, then tips her head toward the thicket at the base of a great, spreading oak tree. This is a public park, so those little signs Thoth and Imogen pick up could simply be - part of that, movement in the park, someone walking a dog late at night. Her voice is low, controlled. She shakes her head once, sharply to Imogen' question, then holds out her index finger, her middle finger, then, after a pause, her ring finger, counting out one, two, then the pause, maybe three.

"Get ready." The Skald warns them, very, very quietly.

[ -1 WP, Resist Pain!]

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen's mouth draws tight - it's a sharp, sudden expression that then fades merely as she nods in Kora's direction.

Her hand lifts, sliding beneath her black blazer. The snap of the gun holster's restraint is barely audible, the weapon large and improbably in her hand as she slides it out. She moves backward and away from the Garou, keeping her line of fire on the bush clear.

Her gaze flicks over their surroundings as they move, a quick appraisal for humans; for unwanted witnesses.

[Thoth Massri] "Fight us...and die." Those words were instructional it seemed, it certainly sounded like it. Thoth seemed to have no illusions as to what was about to happen, he was simply illustrating the quickest and most efficient way that this...thing could get through the next few moments.

His eyes never leave the bush, he waits there, prepared to catch or perhaps to simply annihalate that which appears...the calm before the storm indeed.

[Kora] There's a low bark, then an answering bark - deeper. The parks are doglike and meaningless to the Garou. Underneath the second bark, a low snarl that starts as a rumble of warning and turns into something rather more vicious, liquid underneath. The sound of the last half-second before a dogfight erupts, the rustling of the leaves and behind it, the snap of a leash. The sharpest ears among them might hear someone ordering, rather frantically plotz. plotz. one (?) of the dogs about to fight, but then there's a break and a crash, and a great beast of mutt leaps out from the thicket -

- with two heads, and a huge spiked collar surrounding its massive neck, a leather leash trailing behind it. The two-headed dog is shorthaired, with a mottled coat and the big, pugnacious build of a pitt bull. Except that it exceeds a pit bull's size by a good two or three hundred pounds, not quite a match for a Garou in hispo in terms of size, but close. One of the heads has the snarling snap of a rottweiler's mouth, its ears turned forward, slavor swinging from its maw as it charges toward the trio. The second head has the curl coat of a standard poddle, though its mouth is pulled back from its sharp teeth, a vicious growl rumbling in its chest.

A half-second later, the owner plunges through the thicket after the two-headed dog, lunging for the leash. His head is hidden by a black cowl, but his hands have elongated, thickened nails, with the fingers fused together in two groups of two.

Imogen sees no humans in the immediate vicinity. The closest are a good walk away at the Millennium Fountain.

[Imogen Slaughter] (+9)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10

[Kora] in homid, Kora, +7
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1

[Thoth Massri] [in Homid +5]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4

[Kora] Cerberus, Jr. +4
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10

[Kora] Charon! +6
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6

[Kora] ze order is:

Imogen 19
Cerberus, Jr. 14
Charon 12
Thoth 9
Kora: 8

[Kora] Kora: [Rageshift to hispo!] 1a. BITE 1b. BITE; Rage 1: BITE, Rage 2: BITE. Starting with Cerberus, Jr. Moving to Charon.

[Thoth Massri] [Rageshift to Chrinos] 1a: Claw Cerb, 1b Claw Cerb, Rage 1 Claw Cerb.

[Kora] Charon: 1. Molt!

Cerberus, Jr. - Poodle: 1. BITE Thoth. Rage 1: BITE Thoth.

Pit Bull: 1. BITE Kora. Rage 1. BITE Kora.

[Imogen Slaughter] Split action:
1. 3rb Charon
2. SHOOT Charon

[Imogen Slaughter] Three round burst
HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Imogen Slaughter] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Kora] Charon - soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 3, 9 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[Imogen Slaughter] Shoot!
HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 4, 6, 6, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Imogen Slaughter] Damage!
HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Kora] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 3, 9 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[Kora] Imogen shoots the 'owner' of the dogs, who plunged through the underbrush chasing after the leash on which they were kept. Both rounds connect, the first going through and through his shoulder, the second hitting him in the gut. He staggers back, reeling, blood slick on his hands, his eyes glazed, stunned. His skin was already turning liquid, moving like ripples of water down a beaded line - but that is all he does, staggering backward, coughing up blood, struggling to remain concious and standing.

[Kora] Poodle! Biting Thoth
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 6, 6, 7 (Success x 2 at target 5)

[Kora] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 7, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Thoth Massri] [Soak]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 5, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Kora] Rottie, biting Kora!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 7, 7 (Success x 2 at target 5)

[Kora] damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Kora] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Thoth Massri] Claw! [Dex+Brawl]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 6, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Thoth Massri] [Damage!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Kora] Cerberus: soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 5, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Thoth Massri] [Claw 2!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Thoth Massri] [Damage]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 7 (Failure at target 6)

[Kora] Kora: 1a. BITE!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 7, 7, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5)

[Kora] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 3, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 6, 6, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Kora] Cerberus: soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Kora] 1b. BITE:
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 3, 7, 8 (Success x 2 at target 5)

[Kora] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Kora] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 6, 6, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Kora] Poodle: bite thoth!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 5, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Kora] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Thoth Massri] [Soak]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 4, 5, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Kora] Rottie: bite kora!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Kora] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 4, 4, 6, 6, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Kora] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 7, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Thoth Massri] Claw!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 5, 5, 5, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Thoth Massri] [Damage]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 5, 5, 6 (Failure at target 6)

[Kora] Rage 1: Kora
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 9 (Failure at target 5)

[Kora] Rage 2: Kora!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 5) [WP]

[Kora] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 5, 5, 5, 7, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Kora] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Kora] Cerberus +4
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4

[Thoth Massri] [Init +6]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9

[Imogen Slaughter] (+9!)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[Kora] Charon +6
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10

[Kora] Kora: +9
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9

[Kora] Kora: 19
Charon: 16
Thoth: 15
Imogen: 14
Cerberus: 8

[Kora] Cerberus: 1. Poodle: Bite thoth! Rage 1: Bite thoth!

2. Rottie: Firebreath! Rage 1. Bite Kora!

[Imogen Slaughter] 1. 3rb
2. Shoot!
Target: Charon

[Thoth Massri] [Declare 1a Claw, 1b Claw, 1c Claw, Rage 1 Claw [starting with cerberus moving to Charon]

[Kora] Charon: 1a. Enshadow! 1b. Run run run run run away!

[Kora] Kora: 1a. BITE. 1b. BITE. Rage 1: BITE. Cerberus, then Charon.

[Kora] 1a. BITE
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 5, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1

[Kora] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 3, 8, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Kora] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Kora] 1b. BITE
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 4 at target 5)

[Kora] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Kora] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 5, 6, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Kora] Charon: enshadow!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 6, 6, 6, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Thoth Massri] [Claw]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Thoth Massri] [Damage]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Kora] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 6, 6 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Thoth Massri] [Claw]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 5, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[Thoth Massri] Claw
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 1, 10 (Failure at target 6)

[Kora] x.x

[Imogen Slaughter] I SEEEEEE YOOOOOOOOOU
(I hope)

HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 3, 3, 7, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Imogen Slaughter] Three round burst!
HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 7) Re-rolls: 2

[Imogen Slaughter] Damage!
HAIL ALMIGHTY KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Kora] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 2, 6 (Failure at target 8)

[Kora] x.x

[Kora] The massive, two-headed dog falls first. The beast is already wounded sorely - enough to lay out even a Garou flat on his back - but still furious, mindless, slavering, the pooble and rottweiler heads working together only because they are fused together, the two brains strengthening the massive, muscled body beneath. Sorrow tears it open; and then at last the Strider ends the thing, popping an eye and tearing the poodle's head half away from the falling corpse.

The broken man, with his fused fingers and his faintly bubbling skin, pulls shadows around him to obscure his position and then turns to run back through the brush. Imogen remembers when he started, though, and levels her weapon at the shadows, aiming through the darkness - and hears the satisfying crash of a body through the brush as he falls, the shadows peeling back from his body when he dies.

In the end, only the Fenrir is wounded, a hunk of flesh torn away from her shoulder, though she cannot feel the wound through the curtain of the gift which keeps the pain at bay.

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen lowers her gun and turns her head to look about herself, about them, their surroundings. Her gunfire has an advantage - several, in fact, but it's one main disadvantage is noise. Gunshots in Grant Park.

Again.

She really should stop coming to the park, one of these days.

The tendon in her jaw shifts and tightens, then releases as she brings herself back to reality: that there are three very strange bodies in the middle of the park of which they need to dispose.

She holsters her gun and sets to work.

[Kora] The hispo Garou plunges through the undergrowth searching for other scents, other enemies, other ambushes. The others can hear her circling through the copse of trees as she noses through the brush, returning when she is satisfied that nothing else remains hidden amidst the leaves and trees.

When she returns - human skinned now, a young woman instead of a monster, the wound hidden by her t-shirt, the blood essentially invisible in the darkness, where it soaks the black fabric. - she wipes off her hands on the hem of her t-shirt, and joins Imogen in the bloody, unpleasant work. No smalltalk, not now - and no evidence of that injury when she moves for some time yet. Even when the pain returns, she will grit her teeth and continue, working quietly, quickly, until the grosteque work is finished.

The Warehouse

[Sorrow] The non-descript warehouse near the river at the edge of the neighborhood is a good mile or more from furthest edge of territory claimed by Eagle's Chosen at the height of their power. That power had diminished by the time the pack - such as it remained - died with the death of The Sandman. In the end, Silence himself kept clear and cleansed only a center core of his pack's territory on the northern boundary of the Caern, following the river back toward the center of the city the way an arrow courses toward the heart of a thing. That's the territory they've claimed, Roman and Sparrow and Kora, working outward from the slowly expanding core, seeing what they can cleanse, balance, hold.

The cleaning supplies have to be brought in physically. They can't drag bottles of bleach into the umbra, course through the bleak streets of the scab under the gleaming lines of the pattern web, beneath the hungry chittering banes. So they walk. Sometimes, they catch a bus. If they drive, it's Roman. The work is slow and dehumanizing. It would be dehumanizing if they were human, like all the corpses trapped in the freezers lined up down the long corridor, toward the central workspace. Just now, Kora is sitting on the steps outside. It's dark, and the moon is full, but the late, nameless, demented doctor chose the location for its isolation. There's little to no traffic on the street. The nears buildings are empty, derelict, ghostly underneath the light of the full moon, glowing down at them through the haze of the city's light pollution.

[Alexa Thanos] Each day since their first night coming to the warehouse, the Silent Strider has turned up to help clean the place out. Any cleaning supplies she had bought with her have been stolen, swiped from storage facilities, from the many buildings that are cleaned by night, or by factories with poor security. Being penniless means being resourceful. But for the most part she has been here performing the Rite of Cleansing, leading Garou through the Rite, chasing away the taint of the Wyrm that had laid in this place, festering up through the misery and callousness of a doctor gone mad.

She exits the warehouse now, coming out at the top of the steps that Kora sits upon. The air is fresher out here, compared to that within, and she breaths it in, fills her lungs with it and wipes her nose with the back of her hand after. Boots tread softly across the step, until she folds herself down to sit next to the other Garou, with a small space between them.

Alexa doesn't talk much.

[Roman Turner] His driving skills left a fight with the Wyrm looking like a walk in the park. Still, it didn't stop him from snatching Sparrow's car and using it, which made getting supplies a little easier. At this moment he had plopped down next to Sorrow. When Alexa came out he made room for her.

"I think my nose hairs are burned out."

He was rubbing his nose at that very moment, giving his voice a nasal sound.

[Imogen Slaughter] A car pulls up along the road, one headlight burnt out. It's a volvo, aged and rusting, its engine rattling uncomfortably.

It is precisely the kind of car one would never expect a woman of her calibre to drive. Exactly the kind that would not be stolen because who would waste their time? Nondescript. More rust than paint.

She pulls up the parking brake with a straining creak and gets out, flexing her hands briefly from the effort of driving a car which may have power steering, but really, it has seen better days. Despite the ordinariness of the car, the kinfolk is hardly so. Her redhair burns like dying embers in the pollution diffused moonlight. Her skin is pale as if never touched by the sun. She moves with a confidence and grace that, while not a warrior, can match or beat some Garou.

She does not move right away, looking at the trio of Garou, a moment's pause. Then, she does, stepping around her car and walking toward them, her flat shoes silent on the broken and uneven concrete.

[Roman Turner] He actually stopped breathing when Imogen stepped out of that heap of a car. The very air around him seemed to still. Time stopped and it wasn't till several heartbeats had passed that he finally let his breath out.

[Sorrow] Alexa emerges from the warehouse, Kora lifts a Nalgene bottle filled with cool, clear water up in a wordless offer. There's another one, still capped, tucked beside her against the brick facade of the old building. Both bottles are large, colorful, with carabiners to attach to a belt loop or backpack for hiking. One of them has a harness and strap so that it can be worn over the body, like a cross-body bag. Kora lifts her chin to Roman when he emerges, offers him the bottle, accepts it back when he's finished with it. His comment just draws a faint huff of amusement out of Kora, she doesn't otherwise remark on his nose hairs - or the smell from within.

Then, she offers it to Alexa as the Strider emerges, the water inside catching the light. "Are you sticking around for the moot?" Her attention is alert, curious. Watchful.

The headlights flash ghostly down the empty street. As the car creeps forward, Kora is still, wary and alert. Before it is parked, though, she recognizes Imogen through the windshield, and relaxes, this subtle unwinding of her lean, tense frame. "Hey doc," Kora calls out when Imogen is in easy earshot. Her voice is low; she doesn't raise it at all. No need to draw attention to the strange now-quartet on the steps of the abandoned building.

"This is Alexa. Alexa, Dr. Imogen Slaughter." Kora had mentioned the kinswoman earlier; not just her name but her work, both for the Nation and for the state. The sort of expertise she had in matters like - "Thanks for coming, doc. I appreciate it."

[Alexa Thanos] She had drank a small bit of water, and then another sip before offering it back. "Yes, I'll be here for the moot." Of course she is.

"My throat is raw," the Strider offers, counters to Roman's nose hair. The bleaches that they have been using burned the back of her throat. It's killed most of her senses along the way too, and she's sure she's going to smell that awful chemicals for a good week, even after leaving this place.

When the car arrives, Alexa watches it from where she's sitting, leaned forward with her forearms braced into her thighs, more into one. Imogen gets out. Roman stops breathing. Alexa throws him a subtle side glance.


Being introduced has her sitting up a little more and offering Imogen a small nod. She doesn't offer to shake the womans hand, not because she's trying to be rude, but because she's not in the habit, and she's also conscious of what might be lingering in her own pores.

[Imogen Slaughter] "A pleasure." Alexa does not offer Imogen her hand, but neither does Imogen offer hers. The kinwoman, though western-civilized and possessing a latent sense of etiquette, does not seem to notice the lack.

Sorrow says she appreciated it while Roman perhaps stares at the kinwoman with his usual adoration. Imogen shakes her head at the former, and ignores the latter.

"Don't mention it," she says, dismissing the appreciation.

A glance at the warehouse, "This is it, is it?"

[Roman Turner] He jumped to his feet and touched the brim of his hat, catching the front edge of the brim between his thumb and forefinger in a brief salute complete with a small cant of his head in greeting.

"Even'n Miss Doctor Slaughter. It's a right smelly bit of nasty in yonder. Might need a mask for all the bleach that's been used. It'll burn the hairs right out of your...er....not that ya have hairs there...er...and er...wonderful night. ain't it?"

[Sorrow] "This is it," Kora confirms, with the ghost of a half-smile curving across her mouth. Then she's capping the bottle and tucking it back against the brick. Then she's rising from her seated position to stand on the steps, already tall made taller by the additional six or twelve inches between them. She glances up at the sky, seeking out the moon's position to learn the hour.

"I didn't give you any of the background, did I?" This, to Imogen. "The short version is: this insane doctor was holding veterans here, cutting bits and pieces of them off to put together a supersoldier, Frankenstein meets GI Joe, yeah? We didn't know anything about it until a kinsman disappeared from the VA, an we tracked him here. I can't tell you how many bodies there were in there, locked away in freezers. He apparently prefered to harvest parts from the living rather than the dead. So, we've been cleansing and cleaning. I want to make sure we're getting what we need to get scrubbed scrubbed. That we're not leaving stuff behind we shouldn't, you know? I suppose," a glance here toward Roman, then Alexa, her brow furrowed. " - we could take the freezers to a metal scrap yard when we're done here."

[Alexa Thanos] The others stand and she follows suit, stepping out of the way, moving back up towards the door instead. It leaves room for Imogen to head through, for Alexa to open the door when they're ready to give up the kinder air for the foul stench within. At Kora's glance, the suggestion of the scrap yard, Alexa shrugs a lean shoulder and nods.

[Roman Turner] "I think dismantling them, giving them a hosing down and selling the scrap is a great idea."

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen regards Roman with a bit of narrow eyed puzzlement as he trips over hairs from her... what? nostrils? Anything else, she refuses to consider.

"... Yes." She answers him, blandly, "it is, isn't it?"

Her attention turns to Kora now, as she speaks. A shake of the head offers an answer - no, Sorrow had not given the background. The kinwoman's attention is fixed upon the Skald as she clarifies.

"Well," Imogen observes, drawing a deep breath through her nostrils, slow. "That's just charming." Her assessment of the situation.

"Yeh may want to take them to several scrap metal yards," she suggests. "Separately. It will draw less notice."

She scratches absently at the tip of her nose with the curve of her thumbnail, then lets her hand fall, reaching into her jacket pocket. Plastic crinkles and she draws out a sealed bag of latex gloves. "Alright, then," this a mere place holder as she lifts her chin to indicate the warehouse. "Shall we?"

[Roman Turner] "Ya should of seen it. This nut case used spiders for his spies. Kind of ingenious when ya think about him as the spider and the webbing his telegraph. But he was also making Frankenstein's monster meets the transformers or something."

He moved forward to open the door for the ladies.

[Alexa Thanos] Alex raised an eyebrow at Roman when he came over to where she was standing, but she stepped out of his way so that he could be the gentlemen and open the door for the lot of them. Under different circumstances she might have been bemused. She waits for others to head in before she follows through. It's not pleasant inside, but it's a lot better then when they first had walked in.

[The Truth] The insides itself resembled a strange amalgamation of chop shop, hospital, and slaughter house. Save for the fact that no effort had been made to sterilize, or properly store the decaying flesh tossed about like it was useless trash. The entire operation would appear crude though Imogen, being a doctor herself, might pick up on the precision with which the one behind the entire thing worked. He seemed unbothered by the lack of sanitation, not because he was unsanitary but because the decay served as bait. It called to and lured the creatures who, to this day, still lurk beyond the horizon casting a thin haze of rage over the area.

The strange machine things that were being constructed were not the sterile weaver creations one might expect. Just as the wyrm uses the power of rage and the kiss of the wyld to weasel its way into the minds of the Garou so too can the Wyrm manage to take the intentions and desires of creative humans and twist them to its own end. There is no doubt at the sight of decaying corpses, and half constructed mechanical abominations that this was one such instance.

Cleansing the place is more than just a matter of a simple ritual... This entire operation will need to be dismantled and covered up. That would take effort on its own...

Still none of this matter would give answers. Perhaps it was best no one be given a glimpse into the mind of a monster. Perhaps it would be best to simply burn the place to the ground and forget about it. Still this operation was surprisingly well hidden and seemed to serve some kind of function.

For those brave enough to seek answers there were possibilities. Three separate computers were networked together. Three separate computers loaded with all manner of interesting data. Tucked away in the office... No doubt their owner had not intended them to fall into the hands of anyone. Unfortunately his plans didn't work out as he had intended did they?

[Alexa Thanos] [I think that the garou have been here doing clean up since it all went down Nick. Like, I'm sure that there's not decaying bodies lying around anymore, at the very least.]

[Sorrow] So: the four of them outside the only doors to the warehouse that were not bricked over or welded shut or otherwise firmly sealed. Kora pulls open the door. There are lights inside, those battery powered camping lanterns, just a handful if the electricity is not on, and against the chance that it might, at any time, go out if the power grid still words. The first long hall is filled with the freezers that were both prison and tomb to most of them men who died to make the corrupted doctor's super soldiers.

"We've gotten all these cleaned out," Kora says, grabbing the lantern just inside the door. The smell of bleach and oher strong chemicals is sharp, here. "We've been bleaching to get rid of the blood, and have cleaned up, cleansed, and burned most of the bodies we found here. There are a bunch of computers in the office, too. I know we can't just throw those away."

[Imogen Slaughter] "Magnetize them," Imogen says. "Strong magnets on the harddrives and the motherboards t'wipe any potential data."

Her nostrils pinch slightly at the burn of cleaning solvents in the air as she steps through the doorway, her gaze moving over the long hallway of freezers. She is silent, taking in the scope of them.

"Though," she says mildly. "You may want to check them for his suppliers first. And his source o' income. This," a movement of her hand, gesturing at everything. "Does not come cheap. I find it hard to believe tha' someone financed it privately."

[Roman Turner] "Ya might find his schematics and plans. Maybe even his Dear Diary notes on them computers."

He didn't like this place and found himself constantly knocking spider webs down.

[Sorrow] "I can transfer iTunes to an iPod. I can send an e-mail or an instant message, if you let me near a computer, doc," a sidelong glance at the doctor as they continue down the long hallway, the stench of the cleaning producs makes a grotesque admixture of old blood and the sharper scent of bleach applied with a liberal hand.

" - but I haven't touched one in what - four years? Maybe five. I'm not going to get much of anything from his computer. I'd like to know, too, though, who was helping him snatch those patients, you know? Someone had to find him folks who didnt have much in th way of family, or whose families wouldn't really notice that they were missing." She glances at Roman as he suggests that they might find his Dear Diary notes. She gives him this twist of her mouth, edging toward a smirk, made sharper by their surroundings, by the brutal work of the clean-up.

"Maybe you know someone who could pull that info from the machines before we destroy the data?"

[Alexa Thanos] [dont wait on me, fixing lunch for kids.]
to Imogen Slaughter, Roman Turner, Sorrow, The Truth

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen's mouth twists slightly, though it's not a smirk, something more like a grimace.

"I can try," a brief glance, wry, in Kora's direction. "I know a bit more than instant messaging and email."

[Roman Turner] "Glasswalker could. Me, I'm, good ole home schooled. I can tell ya the right crop to put in and when to rotate them. Work on a combine and I can buck hay till the sun goes down, but computers are a curse. Ma says ain't got nothing but them poor naked girls on them. And them girls lost their way, that's why they are on there with all the bomb makers looking at them little parts God didn't mean to be shared with more than one person at a time."

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen's glance to Roman is sharp, her mouth twisting - and this time, it is a smirk, barely suppressed.

"The naked girls are with the bomb-makers, are they? That seems like an unwise distraction when dealin' with bombs."

[The Truth] [Is Imogen sitting down at a computer?]
to Imogen Slaughter

[Roman Turner] "No, no, they might be the bomb, but they ain't the boom bomb makers. They are showing their little girly parts to them searching the web for bomb plans. And speaking of web. Kind of funny...the web...the webs this guy had all over. Sounds like more than one kind of webbing going on and yet they crossed."

[Imogen Slaughter] (not yet.)
to The Truth

[Sorrow] "C'mon, then," Kora returns, low-voiced. She's hushed in this tomb of a place, except when Roman's comment about naked girls and bomb makers makes her laugh, briefly, surely, a flare of her nostrils, the subtle whuff of air from her nose and mouth.

Their footsteps are sure down the long hallway; they pass through a much larger room, then, with a huge purpose-made freezer in the center. The door has been brutally wrenched away from its welds, smashed through from without. The largest of the soldiers has been dismantled. Kora removed the weapons and the armor for trophies, but cleansed and burned all traces of the body parts used to construct the thing.

Then, they take another turn, down the last hallway toward the office that Alexa first discovered, where they found the computers. "What the hell," Kora asks, as head to the office, with the computers, if only to distract Roman from discussions of naked girls and bomb makers. "does it mean to buck hay?"

[Roman Turner] "Ya ain't never bucked hay?"

He was clearly surprised with that response.

"Well sucks Miss Kora, folk been bucking hay for centuries. Ya gotta cut it first, then someone drives the baler with a truck where all the bales get caught as they come out all nice and neat. Then when ya get to the barn, one guy goes on up in the barn while the other stands in the bed of the truck and bucks the hay up to the catcher. The catcher bucks the hay up to the top of the pile. It's called buckin cause ya lift up one of them 75 to a hundred pound square bales and ya catch them on your gut, supporting it with your thighs. Then ya buck against it as ya thrust up with the bale to give it lift. Ya can always tell the jeans worn during bucking, the thighs are all worn and faded."

[Imogen Slaughter] "Hm." This is all Imogen says to Roman's ramble, letting Sorrow divert him as she leads them into the office. Once inside, she surveys the computer(s) first. Brand, set up. She looks for a modem, a router, any signs of a network or any signs of a network which would possibly go into other parts of the building, indicating computers elsewhere.

[The Truth] The computers themselves are storage devices, and looking through any of them would reveal they weren't used in the typical manner as raw data storage. These devices were extensions of their users brain... As if he was using them to multi-task in his project.

All three were left on, and not a single one was currently connected to the outside world... Though a nearby connection could be plugged in to change that it was apparent that he was not looking to make himself readily available to the outside world. Projects like this tend to get frowned upon by the local authorities these days. Ahh the good old days of Nazi Germany when a scientist could be free to pursue science instead of being limited by small minds standing in the way of true understanding.

Each computer was custom built and scattered about the office was a number of computer parts... It was hard to tell but one could probably put together a number of computers from the scraps left lying about alone. Though the three active computers were pretty impressive themselves. Streamlined for speed and function and a glance at the keyboards would reveal that most of the letters had been worn away from use. Implying these computers were used a lot more than just casually. It's really hard to smudge the ink off a keyboard that can't be more than three months old without constant use.

[Sorrow] "I ain't never bucked hay." Kora responds, throwing in an ain't and a double-negative as she responds to Roman in a casual tone that is rather dry. Her dark eyes linger on Imogen, and she holds up the lantern for general light, offering Imogen the direct beam of a flashlight if and as necessary to trace the networking wires or ethernet cables or - Kora does not know the names of these things. She cannot identify the parts scattered around the office. She stands, alert and wary, ready to act if and as necessary. The room is quiet except for the humming of the computer fans, and the strange banter between the packmates.

"Shocking, isn't it? You ever buck hay, Two Step-yuf?"

[Imogen Slaughter] (Sorry, I think I am going to need clarification.

Can you let me know how Imogen knows these computers are storage devices and what you mean by that? And what you mean by devices being extensions of the user's brain?)
to The Truth

[Roman Turner] "Two Step, I like the Two Step. Even better if it'd done in a line."

[Sorrow] "Don't tell me you line dance, Roman," Kora returns in that same, dry voice. Quiet enough. No echoes in the room.

[Alexa Thanos] "I've never bucked hay," she tells Sorrow with a small curl of her mouth. "I've bucked in the hay, if that counts?" Standing off to the side, her fingers are tucked into one of her jean pockets, at the back. She chuckled quietly at Roman's little nudge at her deed name, which is something she's heard plenty before.

"You know it's Two Step in the Blindside, in case, you know, you missed the whole thing." This is said with another small quirk of her mouth. "A bit hard to do that in a line."

[Roman Turner] He snorted with Kora's question.

"Everyone line dances on Friday Night and special occasions and any party. I mean, it's simple standard dancing, though I prefer the Cha Cha steps."

[The Truth] [*Chuckles*No worries... Ahem. I figure the purpose would be obvious. They're not connected to the outside world. There is a printer nearby but even that isn't actively plugged in. The computers themselves are networked together to allow the free exchange of information back and forth without allowing it to be shared with the outside world. So they were used as utility... Storage would be a pretty logical conclusion. Ahem, trying to paint an image for an investigator sort :) To be able to walk into a room and kinda piece together how things might have been used etc...]
to Imogen Slaughter

[The Truth] [*Chuckles*Sorry trying to give things tailored to an investigator sort. If I give too much info in the posts please correct me!]
to Imogen Slaughter

[Sorrow] Kora lifts her pale brows in a neat furrow of a question. "Does that count, Roman?" Before he answers, though, he shakes her head and casts a look back to Alexa. "I don't think that counts, though. And Roman will be scandalized when he figures out what you really meat." Then, back to Roman, "Show me a cha-cha step."

[Alexa Thanos] There's a quiet chuckle from her at Sorrow's remark, and she looks between them after a brief glance to Imogen, to see what the Kinfolk was up to. She really is a quiet Garou. Not much for her to say, only the small quip here and there. They're all waiting to see what can be found out on the computers. Alexa doesn't even know how to turn one on.

[Imogen Slaughter] (hah, well, it's more that computers which are networked together and are not connected to the outside world aren't necessarily storage. *grin* so I wanted to see what details might make her think that.

and I just want to make sure that the whole "extension of the user's brain" thing is not like ... uh. Some weird weaver thing is it?)
to The Truth

[Roman Turner] Well, it ain't easy without music with the right beat, but it's simple enough. Just follow my moves."

Slowly he went from one foot to the other and back again with a rocking of hip and backside. After a few one two three steps slow enough to follow, he kicked in to full speed. His back straight and on each rocking cha cha cha step his hind end and hips made the proper rocking pop motion.

"It's better with music."

Yeah he could dance, infact he liked dancing despite it making Sparrow giggle at him.

[The Truth] [Sorry I'll try to give pure data! And let Imogen filter it as she sees it! What's the fun of playing an investigator sort if you don't get to... Umm... Investigate?]
to Imogen Slaughter

[Alexa Thanos] A young Garou, cowboy, telling the Get of Fenris how to do the Cha Cha and showing how in the middle of a warehouse that recently housed a spider man doctor, intent on making some monster-man-machine, out of soldier body parts -- Alexa absorbs it all in, the absurdity of it all and scrubs her hand through her mane of hair before looking out through the office door and onto the main floor.

She might as well do something, so with a small nod to the others, she left them in the office to wait for answers, and headed back to grab up a thick bristled broom to resume some scrubbing with bleach on the floors.

[Imogen Slaughter] (yep, exactly!

though, uhm. I have to go to bed and I know Roman and Sorrow have to as well. How do you want to handle this?)
to The Truth

[Roman Turner] So he gave his lesson in brief and after a bit like Alexa, he wanted off to his own chores here. His involved ratchets, screw drivers, drills, drill punch, saws all and even a welder's torch. Back to dismantaling he went. He wanted all the creatures to be headless, brains drained and limbs removed.

[The Truth] [*LOL*I might have to give the information out as private messages if people wanna do that!]
to Imogen Slaughter

[Roman Turner] (and now I must sleep for work) (Tank you)

[Imogen Slaughter] sure, sounds good to me.
to The Truth

[The Truth] [*Chuckles*Alright gfolks... Since I was late and kept everyone behind... I am gonna go ahead and send some private messages out to folks detailing what is found on the computers... I will also put up a little detail on the status of the War. I know what you all are looking for out of it so I will try to customize the posts so as to include what folks want!]
to Alexa Thanos, Imogen Slaughter, Roman Turner, Sorrow

[Alexa Thanos] [kay, thanks Nick!]
to Imogen Slaughter, Roman Turner, Sorrow, The Truth

[The Truth] [So yeah everyone can head off and I will get you all on umm... Whatchamacall it! The Forums!]
to Alexa Thanos, Imogen Slaughter, Sorrow

[Imogen Slaughter] (awesome. *bleary eyed* Thank you very much Nick! *Grin*)
to Alexa Thanos, Sorrow, The Truth

[Sorrow] (Thanks Nick! I'm going to drag Alexa off for fifteen minutes and then crawl off to bed, too. Appreciate both your patience and your accommodations!)
to Alexa Thanos, Imogen Slaughter, The Truth