July 24, 2005.07.24.05. - barking chain / totem phone [city gnawers-eagles] *ul[forums]
(james)
Jukebox was tempted to use the posh apartment building's high-rise roof as broadcasting tower
but something in his social graces thought the better of it
from the looks he was getting just entering the ritzy building in homid
some raggedy mutt crying havoc on the roof might draw unwanted attentionhis previous mode of transporation also abandoned
not that he had keys to re-claim it from the smartly dressed valet, anyway
soon enough the Gnawer locates another likely target idling at the next available 7-11
a less-than-notable vehicle belonging to one Robert McGillicutty
whom was stopping in for his own summer-habitual Slurpee en-route to graveyard shift
thought it would take only moments to dash through the motions and be on his way
too bad the guttermutt decided his plans needed to go thus otherwisehe'll make sure to abandon it with an apology
right now - he needs to get five too many blocks that-a-way
rubber's squealing on near-bald tires peeling out of the lot
by the time they find the still-idling car on the corner of streets A and B
James is already lost in the maze of nearby alleyways
urban streetwear gear traded for the au natural of fur and fangI am Jukebox, Adren Full Moon of Eagle's Pack, Tribal Elder of Chicago..... I need your eyes and ears!
the message begins with a flurry of lip service barks and howls
pulling the rare declaration of Name, Rank and Serial Number to grab attention
the authority stemming from sheer assumption of command echoing out of barreled chest
this is not mere bit of fluff passing along the famed Barking Chain
(....Fifi the show poodle just went into heat!..... Stone's Bakery just dumped leftover bread in the alley!....... Rover's got a cat treed in Liberty Park!....)
this is what such things were made for - this message was important
and quickly, the meat of the request is paraphrased for translation amongst the Jackal Blood's cousin kind
making sure the least amount of it is lost in their back-alley version of TelephoneUrgent! Family lost! Thirteen year old female kin! Hair and eyes the color of mud! Greyhound slender, tall as a Great Dane stands on hind paws! May be heading this way from Pine Barrens in New Jersey! May be traveling with older boy! May be injured! May be followed by those trying to harm! She is important to me! She is important to Sept of the Green! Jukebox is tracking tonight! Must find now! Return word on Barking Chain!
Gaia help them if that's not enough - at least that's one language he can still speak clearly
quick as you please, the Adren is shifting back to homid form
dedicated clothing a little worse for wear but at least he's decent on the streets
this time hoofing it back towards the posh high-rise apartment of his brother's
last thing he needs is talking his way out of GTA when he only borrowed the damned thing
the next desperate message turned inward and send on the inaudible wings of TotemPhoneEagles..... I need a Questing Stone. Family crisis. make that two languages he can still speak clearly, usually mellow tones and New Yawk accent stretched thin by emotional toil - his packmates can tell this is no mere whim inspiring the sudden plea, James is depending on the Garou's deep bond to translate the grave need he's unwilling to clarify elsewise - he knows at least one of them knows how to perform the rite I've got specifics and something belonging to the missing girl, on such-and-such Street heading back to Tristan's apartment. Fast. Pick me up on the way or meet me there.
if there was ever a time the guttermutt was truly depending on his pack......
---------------------
(justified black-sap)
Justified Back-Slap, Cliath Galliard Of Raccoon's pack, barking in! No sign of the girl on this side! Will keep eyes open and help when needed, Big Dawg.(hyde)
Hyde had been carving logs with the chainsaw again. Trying to get the wolf heads for the pack house just right. Nothing less than (( Perceived)) Pefection would be allowed. Hearing the mental query across the totem link the Eagles Godi nods.Rites. That's him.
Turning off the chainsaw he walks into the pack house. Sits it down. Grabs up what is affectionaly called his "godi bag" of rites matereals and shoulders it. Pausing he sprinkels some fish food in the tank for the wee sharkies.
Got what you need. those added componets will help center it. Silence can bring transpertation.
It was well known that Hyde didn't drive... cars had more tendancy to run INTO him than FOR him.
Heading out of the pack house the Godi steps over Buzz and closes the door. Heading down the peir to the nearest El Station, Up the stairs and on the train to go to Tristains place. Getting the address from James via totem phone. The El train car empties out... but Hyde doesn't care. He's sitting on one of the over used plastic benches, pulling a piece of cat gut and bone from his Godi bag. Already getting the stuff ready.
(kemp)
Kemp was out doing patrols when the message came through the pack link. For some odd reason, nodding his helmeted head before pulling a U-turn in the middle of the street and hitting the gas hard enough to make the front wheel on the bike lift up slightly.~Where are ya? On my bike if ya want me to pick ya up.~
That kinda meant whoever could hear the message, he didn't care.(st)
Barking Chain… fragmented words that come down as a jumble of mixed phrases and syllables. To the untrained ear, they meant nothing, even to the smartest of hounds. Family lost! Thirteen female kin! Muddy hair. Muddy eyes! Thin build and tall. Jersey Devil’s Shack! Travel with older boy! May be injured! May be harmed! Important! Important to Sept of the Green! Jukebox on the groove! Must find now! Return word on Barking Chain…
Southside—Word of mouth. Word on the street, whispered behind glass bottles of alcohol, the word was carried on the wind, translated from the snippets of barks into the human tongue.Hark! Hark! The dogs do bark, the beggars are coming to town.
Some in rags, and some in tags, and one in a velvet gown!
D'Angelo Muñoz Torres, a young 19-year-old gang banger that resided in Mt. Pleasant, related to Rat’s Brood through his half sister’s fourth cousin, heard the word. It caught his attention and he began to ask questions through members of his gang to see if they have noticed any tourist in town. He even left his turf in Mt. Pleasant to head down to Whiskey Row, inquiring of the local prostitutes and homeless if they had seen anything. The Latino swallowed his balls and decided to venture close to a particular intersection of dark alleys behind an abandoned building that once served as an old textiles factory. His motorcycle parked on the street, two yards from the mouth of an alley, the warped brick walls spray painted in a rival gang’s colors.His hand comes up to cover his nose and mouth, as the overpowering, putrid stench of rotting garbage, human waste, and decay lines the interior, the other reaching back for his pistol, retrieving it from the waistband of his jeans. Brown eyes skim over a jumble of words that are written in red letters over some of the graffiti. Beware the Cyclops And for a moment, the Hispanic kinfolk felt a little like Odysseus as he stood before the great cave of the Cyclops at the foot of Mount Aetna.
“Nah, just a joke. Eddie don’t live here.” He tells himself loudly, feeling the greasy bile of his fast food dinner, lurching up into his throat. Nostrils burned, wrinkling up, as his eyes begin to water. The smell was so bad. “Hey, Eddie! You’s in there, bra?” D’Angelo took a few steps closer, breaching mouth of the alley.
“Right here, kiddo.” The raspy, chuckle greets the Latino’s left ear, hard and guttural on the pronunciation, as if Eddie had chain-smoked for too many years.
D’Angelo bit down hard on his tongue to keep from screaming, jerking away to the right, and spinning on the balls knock-off Sketchers, “Fuck, man! Don’t scare me like that. Need to speak to ya about some shit.” A few more paces back to place further distance between the bum and himself. Brown eyes raking over the filthy visage of the vagrant called Eddie the Cyclops. Rumor had it; they called him the Cyclops because Eddie had only one eye. D’Angelo couldn’t see how, he was staring at two eyes centered squarely on the weathered, tanned face of the bum.
Eddie was a man that appeared in his late 50’s, grisly brown hair fell in wild, tufts over his skull, sticking out from beneath a worn-out beanie cap that was pulled down to his bushy eyebrows, almost to his large nose. A floppy hat perched on his head. He was thick in the body, all over, but not the way a fat man appears. It was the multi-layer of clothing: polyester bell-bottom pants, angler’s boots, tee shirts, blue Hawaiian Moo-moo, flannel shirt, and a raincoat that had faded to a odd shade of light brown, the color almost indistinguishable with the various unknown stains spotting the material. He was a hideous sight, his face was square and flat, and cheekbones caved in and cut with the thin lines of a multitude of small scars, as if his head was ran through too many glass windows. Eyes were sunken into their sockets, hooded with extra layers of skin, and almost discernable. He was beyond ugly.
It made it hard for D’Angelo to look at Eddie, deciding to fix his attention elsewhere until the bum spoke up. “Talk to me about what?” Eddie replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets to rummage through his coat. He looks down, appearing to pay no attention to the Latino kid. D’Angelo quickly stammers out, “Kin-girl’s missing. She’s important to some big dawgs up Northside. I was wondering if you saw anything. People say you know shit. See shit.”
A raspy chuckle rumbles from his throat, followed by a deep, whooping cough. A gnarled fist lifts up to cover Eddie’s mouth, making hacking sounds like a cat, he spits out a large wad of fleshy green mucus, hitting the Latino’s shoe with it. D’Angelo reacts, stepping away and swearing in Spanish, wiping his foot against the concrete like he’d just stepped in dog shit. The bum lurches away, slipping back into his alley, “Tit for tat, kiddo, got something for you to do for me. A delivery. Don’t send it yourself. I suggest finding a different courier or they just might killed the messenger.” The voice grows quiet as Eddie vanishes completely.
D’Angelo frowns, slipping the gun away into his pants as he looks after the bum, deciding it was safer to not venture after Eddie, “Whatcha got, ol’man, you haven’t answered my question.” There was no answer. It didn’t feel like he would be getting one either. He waits for about three minutes before he starts to walk away to his bike. That’s about when the Latino hears the sound of something rolling out of the depths of the alley. D’Angelo looks over his shoulder, lifting an eyebrow at the rickety old and red plastic skateboard that slides right up to his feet, the edge bumping into his leg. A box sits on top of it, wrapped in several layers of newspaper, tinfoil and ductaped with grocery bags.
“Send that to the riverfront, Fox’s place. You’ll know what I mean.” The guttural voice calls out from the darkness, “Oh, and, D’Angelo, if you want to see another night to fuck that hot senorita of yours. I’d suggest no more questions about missing sugar and spice… less you want to know what little boys are made of. NOW, GIT THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!” the last part lifted up in a roaring pitch that sends a chill down the Latino’s spine. He quickly picks up the box, which was about the width of a basketball and frowns, turning away to head back to his motorcycle, firing it up and speeding away from Whiskey Row.
--
Word returns back to the Tribal Elder from a Hispanic BeeGee kinfolk that passes the 'Gnawer on his nightly patrol through Eagles' turf. "Nothing's turned up in Southside. Sorry, bra."
(decker)
Halfway there, James is surprised -- or maybe not so surprised -- by the monstered-up black tacoma screeching to a stop by him. Decker leans across and pops the passenger-side door open."Git in. Fuck's goin' on?""
Ya got AnneMarie, Kemp? Hyde's takin' tha train, he'll meet us there.
(am)
Reaction is instant. AnneMarie starts to grab for her stone - until Hyde says he has what's needed. Her staff shimmies up her arm to wrap around her bicep in tribel-esque tattoo. She heads out of the office packhouse on a run. Totemphone in reply to Kemp.Office packhouse, movin your way.
She'll take the offered 'bitch seat' behind her packmate.
(seemenow)
There's a reply on the barking chain, quickly yapped and you can almost see the little lupus that does it bouncing with the force of every sound, "See Me Now, Bone Gnawer Ragabash atcher service. Let me know if I can help!! Good luck to you and yers! I'll keep my eyes peeled." In a dingy alleyway a skinny runt of a wolf, so mangy as to be mistaken for a dog scratches behind its ears fitfully, snorting at the air. Harper Lewis hated this form, the smells always assaulted her. Still - what big eyes you have grandma. All the better to see lost little girls with. Chuffing again, the mangy thang lopes through the alleyway matrix, peering out streets and darting out on sidewalks when it dares. Later, an african american child, with hair bigger than her head and a massive rucksack, roams the streets, looking for someone with muddy hair and muddy eyes.(kemp)
Tires screeching with the sudden turn towards the Office Packhouse. Shooting back across the link.~I gotcha, heading there now.~
Turning again on to the next street to skid to a roaring halt next to Annemarie when he spotted her.
"Helmet's on the back."
(taxi)
Taxi, Philodox of the Gnawers, cliath, and liker of oreos. Help if I can, I'll keep a look out for ya big guy.
(am)
AnneMarie stops as the bike breaks near her, grabs the helmet and slams it on. She's seen the kid's driving, and ridden with him before. Not like it'll muss up the butch 'do, anyway. Long leg swings over and she takes a seat, her hands light on his waist, a tap on his side.ready.
and she just hangs on...
(kemp)
Barely giving her time to get the single word ready out before the back tire was smoking and sliding to the side with the force of the spin just before the clutch was released and the bike shot forward. Ripping down the road with a mad smile that looked more like a baring of teeth. One thing Kemp liked more than porn and that was the wild rush he got when he drove like a test pilot.Heading for Tristan's place as fast as he could get them there with a crazy weave through traffic and down alley's not meant for this kind of driving. He knew all the shortcuts and wasn't afraid to take the bike on them.
(james)
the Gnawer Elder is not surprised by the monstered up Tacoma lurching to his curbside
if he couldn't depend on his packmates, he wouldn't still call himself Eagle's
a flicker of warmth ghosts across tense features for the relief that floods beneath his flesh
split-second moment that brings dared glimmer of hope...... something solid to count on when everything's spiraling out of control
the swell of sentimentality could be easily mistaken in the Ahroun's breif hesitation
half-shadowed by window's stylish tint and glare skimming his already mid-turn-step-reach for the door
all but blinking, actually double-checking the driver's identity before clambering on inthat the door was flung open for him is what truly surprised poor James
whatever question arose for such sudden hospitality gracing the Modi's normally sour disposition
(.... who are you and what did you do with my Alpha?)
it's gone soon as the BDU back pockets and loosely straggling dreads hit reinforced seats
what used to be "normal" is forgotten soon as Decker's foot stomps accelerator
he'd crack a window to keep an ear on the wind, but fast as they'll be going that's a lost cause
whatever tidbits he hasn't picked up by now will just have to wait
few block long organization spent confirming directions to apartment 321 on floor 5 for those just tuning inAbout a week ago, a young Gnawer kin named Andrea left NYC and went to go visit a boy out towards the Barrens back Jersey way. Last anyone heard of her until her wallet and ID showed up in a house in the woods just outside Jersey City. Same one those four kids were left in charred little pieces somewhere around midweek.. it's the short and brutal version, sadly, half the information coming across the pack's totem phone in graciously clear phrase while the rest fills in with gruesome impressionistic images littered with gut-emotion that's getting harder and harder to restrain As of this morning, Green's got folks on scene trying to ID the body parts but so far no word Andrea's one of them; so it's anybody's guess where she is or what shape she's in or even who she's with - but safe bet she's in deep trouble. Call's out on the Chain from both sides for any leads or sightings. Hope is she split before things got nasty and is running this way towards Family.
those are three big states between Jersey and Illinois borders, something just shy of 800 miles
the raggedyman isn't even calculating how much ground must potentially be covered
concentrating instead on the lessening blocks between Tacoma's grill and River City Condos
if the foyer security was less-than-thrilled at his earlier unfriendly appearance
likely they'll submit resignations now that he's bringing equally unfriendly associates
so much for blending into the place.....
anticipatory thought grants the Ahroun time to buck up for what's shared next
hearing and acting on it's one thing, repeating it into concrete fact is by far anotherFamily'd be Tristan.... Andrea's his little sister. and as James considers the prettyboi his own brother, that means....... I've got to find her...... bring her back.
what the Gnawer fails to clarify is whether or not he's anticipating a rescue or recovery operation
fair chance as any he's championing a quest to find what's left of beloved Andrea
and maybe that's just something that doesn't need word nor intent to be said
sometimes, in this War, closure comes in bodybags no matter how hard you try
peace found in accepting they struggle no more, even if it takes all you've got to struggle onward
they all know it better than anyone would ever want, hard part's being reminded
thank Gaia for small favors - he's spending the time thinking about navigating up to the fifth floor, instead----(tiiiimeslip, heh)----
it takes less than ten minutes for all the Eagles to converge on the posh condo
a quick connection serving to reassure the frantic prettyboi, a few words to bring him up to speed
then once again the fabulous view's forsaken as James restakes his claim on the couch
even if he's too strung too-damned-tight to get as far as actually sitting on it
pocket's emptying when they'd just been filled here such short time ago
palm-sized collection of Wilde's best, bookmark, and photograph placed in Hyde's easy reach on the coffeetable
all too close to the NY Journal still laying in crumpled folds remnant of haphazard drop
three-quarters ominous headline broadcast atop the page, daring anyone to pick it up for additional details
not sure if it's better to study the photo and connect name to living, breathing girl, is it?maybe all it takes for everything to hit home is witnessing just how hard James is working to hold himself together and not let freying edges show
the battle-hardened Warriors of Gaia have witnessed far worse things
yet still the Ahroun's tenacity leads others to rally at the mouth of war
each battle strengthening layer across the shield drawn from their very molten core
no savage beast would allow fretting worry the significance of chipping soul's armor
how else would they bear the weight of inspiring others when all seems lost
........ but then...... oft forgotten is the man sheltered behind the animal
the one himself witnessing those held dearest fall to pieces with anguished despair
the one himself unable to shed a single catharthic tremor as tensions continue to grow
for if James faltered, then upon whom would Tristan rely?and then....... there's that sudden chilling moment of realizing one is, indeed lost
raggedyman's list of preparations and possibilities is all-too-quickly reaching completion
all that's left for the guttermutt to do is join his kinsman brother in frustrated waitwaiting for Hyde to perform the Rite
waiting for word to filter back through the irregular Chain
waiting for Momma Grace to call back and confirm their darkest fears......"Pas' th' Stone, 'n whatev'r cum back ov'r th' Chain....." fingers fidget with lighting up yet another smoke in what's sure to be a locomotive-marathon of nerves and temper.... better than tearing apart the couch or some other hapless piece of furniture for alternative venting, and past the rising coils lazily spiraling before the coiled Ahroun like some sentient mockery - deep umber eyes lift to search his packmates' "'m open f'r help, 'n sugges'ons anyone's got."
(spiriteyesthefox)
It takes a few minutes for the message to reach her. A few more for her reply to get back.I am Spirit Eyes of Fox. I will look in the south. If I had a better image or a scent I could hunt better.
(decker)
I've got to find her, James says on the totemlink. Decker's lips twist briefly. Truth be told -- and maybe it was a bitter truth -- Decker couldn't give a rat's ass about some bone gnawer kin getting whisked off. Chasing after stolen brats wasn't his idea of a mission worthy of a full pack of Fenrir. But none of that mattered.Because James called for their help.
And they were pack."Do whatcha gotta do," he says. "We'll back ya."
--
Ten minutes later, they're assembled at Headquarters Roxy. Decker takes a look around the swank condo and snorts. All it was missing now was an insular redheaded Fianna kin next door, and they'd be complete. Or, since the residents were kin this time, maybe all they were missing was an insular redheaded Fianna Garou. Whatever.
Tristan's in a tizzy. Not that Decker expected anything but a decapitated chicken response from the queer boy. James is fraught, more hovering on the couch than sitting on it, and his nerves infect them all to some degree. Decker's standing, arms folded, frowning at them all.
"Questin' Stone's pro'lly tha best way ta start. Maybe Hyde kin go ask some spirits ta help us track directly, too. I seen lost dogs in the Umbra. Fetchin' home a lost kid might be right up they alley."
(tristan/am)
Tristan's in a tizzy. James is being strong for him, and Tristan's working his way steadily through his pack of cigarettes. He's not freaking out, exactly, and not running around like a chicken with his head cut off like he wants to do - which is likely what Decker expects, and exactly the reason Tristan is holding such tight control.If it were Decker's kid sister, perhaps it'd be different for him. That it's Tristan's makes some sort of difference, but either way, that he is here to back up James is what is important. Tristan doesn't bother to say thanks - it would be sneered at anyway. Instead, he forces himself to stop pacing, and settle on the edge of a chair, waiting for them to decide what to do next. Questing stone, rites, spirits, whatever - just... doing something is so much better then doing nothing at all.
---
It takes less then 10 minutes for the Eagles to congregate, and AnneMarie arrives looking surprisingly unfrazled by the ride over on the back of Kemp's bike. She is far too controlling of her emotions to allow anything else, after all.
She nods up to the others as they congregate in the oh so posh living room, and then stands, as usual, silent.
(hyde)
Hyde was the last of the pack to arrive. Not having a car, or being able to drive had slowed him. The El ran normal routes but hearing the report over the totem link he’d stepped off a stop early. Down from the platform and his steel capped boots carry him over a block.Reaching up with his strange hand he pushed open the door to Borders. Pausing there by the door his baleful Nordic Ice eyes fall on a clerk. The poor kid gulps and tries to back away but the hand shoots out. Grabbing the front of his trendy lil apron.
”Atlas. Now.”
The kid yelps and points. Keeping a good grip on him Hyde frog marches the kid to the wall and looks over the different ones. Finds one of the US with detailed woodland maps and road maps for the country. Nodding he frog marches the clerk to the front. Pulls out some stained money, yes Hyde picked up odd jobs now and then to have some pocket cash, he pays for the thick book. Leaving the poor Borders clerk to tremble in his wake he heads out and towards the condo.
Once there he enters. Nodding to his pack. They very likely didn’t expect a hefty explination of his slight tardiness. Walking to the center of the room he kneels at the coffee table. Sweeping things to one side of it the thick heavy (Expensive) Atlas slams down.
Boom.
Opened up to a map of the north East Hyde nods. Holding out his strange strange hand for the items James had. His icy blue eyes flicker over them. Nodding he hands the photo to Decker. Alpha had to know the information first after all. The little book and book mark are sniffed.
”Yes.. these will do well… they ment something to her. Her scent lingers here… She lingers here…”
Taking the strip of cat gut from his Godi bag he ties one end around the little pocket sized book. The other end hanging down. A bone hanging there, a shard of some unidentified creature. The rite was called “Questing stone” but different tribes did it different ways. The Glasswalkers might use GPS and compass. The Red talons might use a stick.
The Godi? Catgut, bone…. And like oh so MANY of the Fenrir’s rites… blood.
His knife is drawn from under the bracer of his right arm. With out even a moments hesitation he cuts his hand. Rubs it on the catgut string. Reaching out he takes Jame’s hand, cutting it just as quick. Rubbing it on the catgut. Lastly he motions tristain over. Nodding and cutting his hand as well. Rubbing all the blood on the catgut. Apologies? No. He was Godi and this is how it’s done. The book was the girls but the BLOOD… the blood was of her blood.
Blood…. Calls to blood.
Holding the book… catgut string and bone over the map.. the bone spins… then points.. He moves it in that direction till it turns and points the other way. Slowly he revolves it around till the general area is highlighted. At this point it’s very very general. Could cover dozens of miles… but the closer they get the more the stone will point one way over another.
He looks up to his pack.
Waiting for them to call the play.
(( for the dice minded. Wits+rituals, diff7-1 for the objects of the girls. Diff 6, 3 successes for a full success on the “General location” narrowing it down will require travel to where we’re pointed and the ritual performed again.
Hyde
Sun 10:49PM CST
Dice Validated
6D10 Dice Roll: 8; 6; 10; 4; 1; 9 ))
(tesryn)
Treylyn Chases-Lightning, Gnawer, Ahroun, Cliath, help wanted? Help offered, just call!
(st)
The Eagles are gathered at the posh condo, awaiting the results of Hyde's rite. The piece of bone that dangles from the string of catgut, begins to sway back and forth, slowly at first, with indecisive motions.The Godi soon receives a hard tug on the catgut as the bone vibrates on the string, lifting up to point in a southernly direction over the Chicago area. A bit south of where the Eagle's current location is.
(james)
others need - a Hood provides, that's the way it's been since the Camp could remember
when trapped in a time of most dire need, count on a Hood to catch wind and perform a good deed..... or some such shit
most would be hard pressed remembering a time James actually asked the others for anything
usually the Ahroun simply does as needed and expects nothing in return
rare is it when roles suddenly reverse, and it's the Gnawer putting himself so vulnerably on the line
the born and bred Hood relying on others for aid.....(..... oh, the humiliation of it all, Jamey-boy, even if they don't realize the true nature of who's asking, hm? where's your proudly fierce independance now.....)
if it weren't the underlying thread of Family attaching the Full Moon to the whole ordeal, it may be a different situation entirely
whether it's obligation enforcing his determination
whether it's compassion convincing his resignation
whether it's....... something that doesn't matter anymore
some things are beyond reason or explanation"Whatev'r'll point me in th' righ' direc'shun." half nod-up cataloging Decker's suggestions amongst the rest rattling around "Dunn care 'bout those oth'r kids." how eviscerating that confession must be "Jus' gettin' Andrea foun'. Owe Momma Gee tha' much'n willin' to buck th' cos' -"
James is well aware spiritual aid comes not cheap no matter the form
there's a niggling thought wondering if he's got what it may take
and as Hyde's blade slides unapologetically into his hand
(.... sumBITCH)
train of thought lapses into silence for a moment of recollection
not truly surprised, so to speak, familiar enough by now with the Fenrir's ways, just thrown breifly off kilter
beading blood smeared clean on his thigh to break smoke-circuit monotonydark eyes peer at the generalized area on the atlas map
and follows the book's sudden jerk towards the South Wall
quick ascertation between the more "educated" wittles it down to a surprising facttarget's nearby, somewhere in the Southern reaches of Chicago itself
one brow cocking towards hairline, entertaining a minimal thought
(..... might as well, Jamey-boy, test yo' newfound skillz....)
focus suddenly slipping a bit out of sorts now that the impending "conflict" has narrowed
it's the same distant look Eagles get when totemically conversing
but at the lack of input coming across mental lines from the Gnawer
it's apparent he's doing something else entirely for a few momentsbad enough he's pulled a full pack of Fenrir into this situation - it won't be blind risk
She's not alone.... the words are mumbled aloud, thus hardly resembling English in any form, fortunately clarified across the TotemPhone though strangely off-center, he's still learning the ropes, after all, passing the information as it comes With.... two others. Young girl. Black kid. Allies hidden in a tight space.... like an SUV or truck's camper shell..... tucked away in an alley with access to nearby park. Tense and skittish. Scared. There's something keeping watch nearby, but it's not what they're hiding from, this is something else, they don't know about it..... not a threat now but damn well could be to all of us with a wrong step. Straight shot as it lays, now.
a delayed blink as the illusory feed suddenly clicks off quick as it began
reality filtering in across the patience of a few straggling seconds
dark eyes swinging towards the pack's Theurge, then Alpha, then Den Mother Kinsman
wondering how much that elementary attempt helped their cause
knowing how much it affected the prettyboi"Hy'e.... what parks tha'tlas show're South've us? Tris, get Momma Gee on th' line and bring'r up a speed s'you see fit." earthen gaze ticktocks back towards the ranking Modi before the raggedyman takes first step towards the door - just because his relation is on the line doesn't mean James has forgotten his place "Y're call, Boss."
(st)
A formation of a plan seems to blossom before the raggedly man as he has a location, a sense of direction and of what events may come from. It was still hard to say what could happen between that moment and to the next when they reach a final destination.Things can always change. A monkey-wrench thrown in to fuck up their plans. James was certain he'd be able to keep abreast of the situation, should something dire come about. The request is relayed to Tristan to get Mama Grace on the phone.
Right on cue... the telephone rings. It loud chirp of Tristan's cellular phone cuts through the tension in the air. The number appearing on the display has a New York area code, but it was unfamiliar to Tristan. It wasn't Mama Grace's number.
ring.ring.ring.
(tristan)
The blade comes for his hand, slicing quickly, and sharply and he doesn't grab it back. A wince crosses over his face, inhaled breath a hiss, but still he says nothing, just clenches his hand to make sure enough blood is given.Blood calls to blood.
Heart to heart.He is not privy to what comes over the Totemphone, but he knows soemthing is going on. he just smokes. and smokes. and waits for word, half of him expecting them all to just... say fuck it. It's only the faggot's sister, anyway. but knowing that one of them, at least, will see to it that Andrea - or her body - is found.
He nods, slightly, as the order comes, watching where the bone is pulled too, taking note. He'll go alone if he has too, and the strength of will it takes to wait is showing in his face. Perhaps that's why he keeps it down, hidden under curls, or turned away. When James gives him a task, however, he stands and snatches his phone off the table where it's rested..
just in time to have it ring in his hand, and startle him into almost dropping it. NewYork number - unrecognized. His brow furrows, and he flips it open. "Yeah?"
(st)
The number unrecognizable. Tristan is greeting with heavy background noise, the sounds of metal grinding, the loud yells of voices speaking to the caller, the occasional train passing by. The sound of a throat clearing, a feminine voice, if an older one. Speaking in a soft tone with a hint of southern flavor to the accent, "This be Trista Stern? Mother Larissa asked for ya to be called since Mama Grace can't make it to the phone."A pause more yelling over the receiving end, "Demmit, Hubcap Willy, I'm on the phone! Yeh, I got'em. Sheesh..." static comes over the line, "Trista, ya there?"
(tristan)
His brow furrows, deeply. "Yeah, this is Tristan - where's Momma G? What's going on?" Loads of noise, lots of sound, and Larrissa asked him to call? This is not helping him at all, not at all."Yeah, yeah, I'm here!" Just hold on, pretty boi....
He lights another cigarrette as he waits. Hopefully she has news that will ease the bands of tension twisting his back into knots...
(st)
"Awesome, this is Bonefish, I run with Willy. So like, this Mama Grace ain't feeling so hot right. She had to take it easy while some o'us went down to Jersey and see what's up, like yannow. Good news and bad news....I'll give ya the good news first, Andrea ain't dead just missing. We ain't rightly sure where she's gone, she's alive. BUT--" there is always a but to this, Tristan can hear the cheery tone of the woman's voice shift to an ominous one.
"Bad news, Trista, spirits all wonky about the house. About events that went on. Blood rituals and sacrifices and shit. It's like their afraid to speak about it, we couldn't get much outta them except for something of pissed off Stag spirit. Seems one of his buddies was killed or something... at that house. A kin-fetch destroyed, we couldn't get much else out of the gaffling. The Fianna ain't too happy here either. Mother Larissa says there ain't much else we can do on our end, except to give ya a heads up."
(tristan)
"Is she ok?" Momma first. While many, many call Momma...well, Momma - he is her only blood son. Even Andrea is adopted. But he shows a bit of relief about the good news, and the rest is chewed over."Thanks, bonefish. Give Momma my love, and I'll call soon, ok?"
He hangs up, and turns to the rest, thumb and forefinger pressing either side of his nose, briefly applying pressure in attempt to remain in control. If it were the Full and in the presense of all this rage, he'd have lost it a long time ago.
Deep breath.
"Momma's not feeling well. Was Bonefish, one of Willy's gals. They hit Jersey - Andrea's not among the dead. The bad news being the spirits there at the house are right scared shitless and a Stag gaf...thingy is right pissed off. Some kinfetch got killed too, and the Fianna are in a tizzy. Ain't much more they can do on their end, Mother Larissa's done what she can."
(st)
"Bye, Trista!" The phone clicks off, ending the conversation abruptly, he's not sure if this Bonefish heard everything he said.
(hyde)
Hyde looks up from the map where he was pointing out the parks and shakes his shaved head.”Stag spirit was killed? Oh joy.. we’ll be getting no help from ANY of that brood on this..Stag… Merlin… Hern.. Danu.. Bridgid… Salmon.. god knows how many spirit ancestors those Guiness blooded bastards keep around… chances are they’ll be down right hostile… The Umbra might not be so safe till this is concluded. The Fianna brood are pretty.. chummy… Even outside Stags protectorate.. there are many that Honor and respect them. They might be simply.. not helpful.. “
The theurge shakes his head.
”Secondly.. a kinfetch was killed. Kinfetch watch over prospective Garou and fetch the closest Garou when the cub changes the first time.. That’s all the do. For one to be killed, means that what ever killed it, can 1) see and effect spirits. 2) likely knows what a kinfetch is and 3) either the cub changed and the fetch was on it’s way OR… they were afraid what they were about to do MIGHT bring on a first change… and the Fetch would go screaming…. “
His Nordic Blue eyes look to Tristan.. then James…. Then finally back to Decker. Stating the obvious.
”Anything that could force a first change.. isn’t likely going to be pleasant… and if… the girl…. Or… which ever target wasn’t… it’d probably kill them… “
(kemp)
He got himself and Annemarie there and despite the nasty ass, lung choking smoke, he took up stance next to Tristan. Wasn't much he could do in the way of comfort except squeeze his shoulder. Listening as information was gathered and the call came in. All the while those murky green eyes drifted from one to the other. He would do what he could to help but the fact it was a girl and there was talk of rituals, murder and death, well it just didn't give him a good feeling in his gut. It just brought Carmin to mind, making his jaw tense.Looking towards Decker when Hyde made the comment about anything that could force a first change wasn't likely going to be pleasant. Decker had forced him into his first change, scared the holy fuck out of him. Not sure which was scarier, the big hairy ass monster chasing him around that apartment a few years back or the fear it would catch him and hump his skinny ass.
Absently patting Tristan's shoulder like that would make it all better.
(decker)
While the figurative ball passes from packmate to packmate, the Modi's just listening. Head down, arms folded, a frown wrinkling a line between his eyebrows. He listens to James' report of the placement of the potential enemy. To Tristan's update on the spirit life of the area. To Hyde's comment on that.When they're all finished, he raises his head. "Alright. Tristan, you sitcher ass by the phone 'n call me," he pulls out his cell, miraculously on his person today, "if anythin' changes.
To everyone else: "Let's ride."
They'll work out the details on the way. Heading down the stairs, Decker talks -- low, terse, brusque, laying out the rough scaffolding of the plan. This wasn't set in stone. Far from it. Like anything else, he's throwing out an initial scaffold for the pack to shake and batter until they were sure it was solid.
"We'll git within a coupla blocks 'n walk when we know where we goin'," he says. Their footsteps echo down the stairwell as they file down in ones and twos: the pack mobilized in full force. A rare enough sight. "Two groups on the approach. James, you take the Kid 'n Annemarie realmside. Might wanna send Kemp ahead ta scout."
He pushes open the front door, kicking it wide so it didn't bang shut in someone's face. Same deliberate pace, speech and gait both, unhurried but not dawdling either, slowing just enough for everyone to catch up and walk abreast, and hear.
"Don't sound like there's much Umbral but it don't hurt ta be sure. 'Specially if somethin's been killin' spirits. Don't want some fucker ta ambush us from th'other side."
He pauses, at the Tacoma now, waiting for everyone to get in. Decker and James presumably up front, the other three squeezed into the back with Kemp's bike in the bed. Hyde's still toting the atlas -- and the Questing Stone. "Gimme directions," Decker says to Hyde, offhand, starting the truck up and hauling it around one-eighty to head south in the vague direction the Stone had indicated. Then he continues:
"Hyde's good with spirits, so maybe if tha pissy Stagling's still around it won't attack 'im. 'll go with him. We'll stay separate 'r recombine dependin' on what we find when we git close." Pause. "Y'all's thoughts?"
(tristan)
Kemp's comforting touch accepted, though he's right, it doesn't do much, but the though is what counts.Decker speaks, though, and his gaze snaps up...
...and he just nods. He won't argue. As much as wants to go, as much as he needs to go...
He turns, and faces the window, and the view he can't see, the muscle of his jaw jumping as he clenches his teeth, his own cell in his hand.
He trusts them like he's trusted no others. If she can be saved, they'll manage it. If not, they'll make sure it's as quick and painless as it can be. He'll deal with picking up the pieces later. Right now, he'll deal with simply trying to remain calm, and here.(kemp)
Leaning in to whisper to Tristan before following the others out the door."Hey, it's gonna be ok."
Like he could predict that, but wasn't that what you were suppose to say when something bad was on the wind?
Tromping down the stairs, listening to the plan as Decker laid it out. Then he was shoving his precious bike in the back bed and climbing in behind the front seats to squeeze in way too close with the other two.
"Sounds pretty good to me."
(james)
just ......peachy
shit keeps getting better and better with each passing minute
fingers raking back through floppy mop of dreads while Hyde's little lecture assimilatesapparently, he was supposed to give a damn about the kids little more than leftovers in that house
that their mission was limited to locating Andrea and remove her from harm's way was..... just a pipe dream
clusterfuck brewing back in Jersey merrily planning to complicate their immediate futures
James should have known betterthe pack vacates posh apartment as abruptly as they arrived
a calloused hand clasped over his brother's shoulder all that serves as good-bye
Gnawer silent throughout the route from living room to front seat of Tacoma's cabBike'll cover more ground in less time. following a nod, the raggedyman's input delivers over TotemPhone for sake of discussion's clarity Saves the rest of us backtracking on foot. then there's a slight pause when the Adren glances towards the young Rotagar squished in back Shit hits the fan, you get Andrea on that bike by any means necessary and the fuck outta Dodge, got it? Take her anywhere you think is safe enough until we can regroup - keep moving if you have to, just don't go to Tristan's in case whatever's chasing her thinks he's suitable enough an additional target. Gaia better strike him down before making him face Momma Grace bearing that kind of news...... I hate to call the other two expendable but they're not my priority or what drug our asses into this bitchfest. AnneMarie and I will deal with picking up any pieces we may have to on their part. I'm depending on you to get Tristan's little sister out if I can't.
yeh, James can figure out the source of Kemp's deepest unease at this situation
he remembers that night they lost little Carmen, too, and elements are once again all too familiar
now it's just hanging on to the notion that this isn't Carmen
and they wouldn't have lived this long if they didn't learn to avoid repeating past mistakes(decker)
"No."(no?)
"No." Firm; not even drawled. "Kemp don't git tha fuck outta Dodge." The Modi's storm-grey eyes flicker up into the rearview mirror to lock briefly on the Rotagar's. "He's Rotagar, not Ragabash. He's tha blood'a Fenris. From cub ta almost Fostern, he ain't run from a single battle. Not a single one. We ain't gonna dishonor him by orderin' him to."
They're stopped at a red light now, the engine idling as Decker turns to face James. His brother in arms; his oldest packmate.
"The brat means tha world ta Tris, 'n so she means tha world to you. Fine. You count yer priorities 'n do whatcha gotta do, Drums-on-Skulls. If that kid means more'n seein' the battle through hell 'r high water, grab her 'n run. But I think, push comes ta shove -- yer gonna be standin' with us. So don't cut Kemp tha slack you don't cut yerself, 'r make 'im do what ya won't do yerself."
The light's turned green a long time ago. Drivers behind them are honking and swerving around them, shouting in anger. Decker ignores them. They roll over his consciousness like a wave over a stone. He holds James' look a beat longer, evenly but ungivingly, and then arches his hips up to dig the cell phone back out of his pocket.
He tosses it into the back, in the vague direction of Kemp, and then puts the truck in gear and starts off again.
"Call Roxy up -- Hyde, you got a better idea o' where we goin' yet? -- tell'er ta wait fer us coupla blocks away. Say on Fellstone 'n Hadrian, at tha Seven 'leven. When we git that kid, she kin do a fly-by 'n pick 'er up while we clean house."
(am)
AnneMarie moves out with the others, and climbs into the back seat willingly enough. She even squishes over as far as possible to allow the Godi the room he needs. A nod for the plan, and her part in them.The Modi already preparing for battle. Calm as her deedname. Deadly calm.
(st)
Preparations are in the works as they begin to formulate a battle-plan during the drive. Hyde huddles over the map with the bone swinging on the string of catgut. It seems to keep a southward direction, swaying over a small area in green and stays there. He can see the name on the map, Fuller Park.James' battle awareness is heightened with the aide of his gift, what felt like a simple task. Just go in and get the girl seems to be changing slowly. The monkey-wrench. He knows tactics are changing, the allies have moved into the open, no longer hidden. The enemy has prospered in numbers, five and armed; that minor threat also seems to linger closer and closer to the kids.
Drums-on-Skulls begins to have that sinking feeling.... something is going down before they even get there.
(james)
(No.)(...... no?)
they're stopped at a red light and Decker's turned to face him
curiosity cocks James' brow, but he's always met that gaze head on - now isn't any different
reprimand would shove most Garou back down a notch or three before the Modi
especially in the immediate presence of bonded pack as they rally towards potential battle
the Gnawer just slides the partial curve of a smile above chested half-chuckle
proof-positive just how long the two Full Moons have guarded each other's backBattlescar fucked up my speech, Silence, not my brain. You know better than any of the others I've never taken this pack or it's Blood for granted. Never understimated. Never forgotten. Never dishonored. I've stayed by your sides in battle until cut down, and will do it again until the day I don't get back up. Don't expect any different of anyone in this truck.
light's turned green, lined up cars grow impatient, horns being blaring, drivers begin yelling
and the two Adren sitting up front remain cool and even as if they were the only ones on the roadWhat I don't expect is a Blood of Fenris to fall saving a Gnawer girl, even if I would do it myself. Hard enough pulling you in as it is. muscular shoulders roll in a shrug, dreads shifting as the guttermutt breaks the gaze first, defference confessing what remains beneath the bonds that otherwise equalize Eagle's two chosen Tribes If Roxy's in, that's good a solution as -
light's just about to turn yellow when Decker punches it across the intersection
when they're a block past and opening, caution's color clicks to warning red
right about the same time James' thoughtrain breaks off as spine stiffens against the seatParty's starting up ahead without us. Watcher's closed in, five more in range with arms. Got this sinking feeling we're just about out of time.
((Barring getting stuck at the hospital for whatever reason, I'll be around long as things don't run past 10 or so pm pst))
(decker)
Decker snorts. "Fuck, no. Ain't none'a us dyin' fer no Gnawer brat. Ain't none'a us fightin' fer no Gnawer brat neither. We's here 'cause you called. Jus' like you'd be here if any'a us called."He rolls down his window, spits, and then rolls it back up. It seals with a muffled thump. Gotta love them 'lectric windows.
"We's pack."
Nuff said.He shuts up, then, as James breaks off. Sitting a little straighter in the bucket seat, the Modi gives it a little more gas, sensing the urgency long before James gives the message.
When he does, Decker flicks a glance over his shoulder at the three in the backseat. Particularly Hyde, who hadn't spoken yea or nay.
"Then let's move. Anythin' else?"
Last chance before this show hit the road. Not that any Garou plan survived more than the first thirty seconds of implementation. But that was all right. This was a starting point. From here on out, it was improvisation -- half the pack behind James in the realm, the other half Umbral.
(kemp)
First James spoke, then Decker. Catching the phone while looking between them and listening. He was already making the call. He'd grab the girl if he needed to, but he would never forgive himself if one of the pack died because he wasn't there.Dialing the number to reach Roxy and pass on the instructions, making sure she could be there.
Kemp calls Roxy, informs her of the details. He receives a confirmation that she'll be there with backup if need be.
(hyde)
*Hyde had been looking at the map as they drove. 6'6" form bent up and cramped in the back seat. Quietly seething and finally reaching over, picking up Kemp and putting him in AM's lap.Fully opening the book he snorts and nods.
"Fuller Park, due south..............."
A long pause then and his icy blue eyes flicker up to James at the leaving part of Kemp. He shakes his head but before he can open his mouth Decker shoots that down.
The fight as a pack they die as a pack. They wern't sending one out alone to save a Kinfolk. If shit was so bad they had to run.... well... Strike that.. "Advance to the Rear" They'd go as a unit. It wasn't the Margraves Daughter or some shit. Even then garou first.
Breathing in though his nose he nods. James was just worried about family. It happened.
Listening he looks back to the book.
"First time you said someone was watching on high. Means they have a tactical advantage. Could have a rifle and start picking you off as you enter. Skilled sniper can drop at over 2000 yards. 5 more armed moving in on our primary targets amplifies the chances the one on high is on overwatch. A sniper watching their asses, or maybe waiting for them. We don't know yet.
Silence and I will be in the umbra and I can probably pull us across the gauntlet PDQ if I have to but we need to stay in contact via totem phone though out. Use your senses. All of them. Scent as well as sight and hearing."
AM was born metis like he, but the rest were homid. Scent wasn't their primary sence.
"I'll try and send a few elementals forard before us to scout.. if there's any around when we cross over but I don't know if there will be and we've no time to summon. Push comes to shove though, Silence and I can move in hispo in the umbra and cover distance. You guys in the real world will need to be our spotters.... "
He thinks a few more moments and sighs. "As... alien as it is to our natures we may wish to take somone alive... to question as to the "why's" of this... don't know about you all but I don't wanna get a call next week that this girl is kidnapped again and again because we killed the first group but not know WHY it's after her.... "
Other than that he nods. It's about as much as he could plan just now. Thick finger traicing the complex chain tattoo under his bracer of his left arm where his Fenrir Flail is dedicated.
(decker)
Snipers. Decker grunts. Hyde has a point. Hand to hand was the Garou's way, and especially the Ahroun's way. Anything else was cowardly. But they weren't necessarily up against Garou. They weren't even necessarily up against werewolves...Maybe, just briefly, the images Imogen had shown them flicker through his head. The mutilated prostitute, and the nameless, faceless kin behind it all.
"They start shootin' 'n you cain't git to 'em in three seconds, don't try. Cross Umbral. Even if ya git stuck halfway across, 'least you ain't a sittin' duck. They follow, 's a hell lot harder ta hide in the Umbra."
They were coming up on the park now. Decker slows, changing lanes into the right to look for parking.
"James, you keep on feelin' someone watchin' from on high, see if you kin send Kemp ta pop Blur 'n take 'im out. Otherwise we all 'vance on tha target together. Calls is yours ta make long'as I'm Umbralside. Keep a runnin' commentary goin' on tha totemphone."
He pulls up the parking brake and shuts off the ignition, turning in his seat to give his pack a last one-over. Just to make sure they had nothing else to say before this show started.
[cont'd next scene]
Posted by james at July 24, 2005 12:00 AM