August 01, 2005
.08.01.05. - we are not alone [eagle pack] *ul

[forum]

(st)
Some secret location. The warehouse in the riverfront that once served as the first pack house seems to be abuzz with activity. Any comings and goings in the prenumbra will result in some surprising spiritual houseguests.

The rats are back.

A large brood swarms in and out and around the warehouse, keeping tabs on each member of the pack, especially the little kinfolk girl Andrea. There is a larger rat-gaffling, bigger than your average house cat that leads this particular batch of spirits.

It's easy identifiable by the newspaper boy's cap it wears on its head and the cigar stub it chomps on. If Hyde bothers to speak to the rats, this one in especially, it introduces itself as Mickey the Rat.


(decker)
It was hardly a secret to begin with. But that was never the point. The point was to keep bloody fuckin' mary and her pyrotechnics away from the real packhouses. And, one supposes, crazy rat bastards like these, too.

Decker, entering via Umbra, barely restrains himself from tearing the cap off the gaffling and kicking it on the rump just to see how far the cigar flies. Projectile fuckin' motion, baby. He keeps himself tightly leashed to a silent baring at his teeth at it, though, then slides across the Gauntlet and throws his keys down on the pile of rugs that serves as a crashpad.

Then his wallet. Then his pack of cigarette papers. Then his baggie of pot.

And finally, he sits his ass down for his turn at the watch. Every time he came back here he got a little more disgruntled. A whole fuckin' pack, wheeling around one kin. It stuck in his craw. Hypocrisy aside.

Hyde, there's a fuckin' rat tha size of a lapdog smokin' a fuckin' cigar in th'Umbra. Next time ya swing 'round figger out wtf it wants.

(hyde)
Hyde stepped sideways and reverted to his breed form. Streching out his arms and legs he looked around. Little motes of electrisity playing along his steel gray fur. Blue fires burning behind those nordic ice eyes. Here in the umbra his elemental nature really came to the fore.

Looking around he noticed all the rats and nodded. Approaching the one that apperently was working as a central or controll. Kneeling down he nods. Micky. That's cute. Using the speech of the spirits he asks some questions. He had his own ideas as to the answers but he could try.

"Micky.. a pleasure to meet you.... *Strange 3 clawd hand dipping into the Godi bag at his hip. Rummaging around and pulling out..............................

Cheese. he'd taken to carrying some with him since his fostern test. Unwrapping it he softly places it on the ground for the spirit. Every spirit was to be met with chimerage. Every one had it's place with Gaia...

A motion to the cheese and then to the spirit and it's brothern.

"Why are you and yours here Micky?"

(st)
Werewolves.... go figure. The next time Decker sleeps. He'll find his wallet missing and the rat-spirits have all seemed to taken to staying out of sight when that Fenrir is around.

That rat in a cap is there still chomping a cigar stubb, bigger than a house cat. It gives Hyde a glance over, wary of the Godi, and not turning its back on Hyde.

The offer of cheese strikes its attention, it whistles for its broodmates which come scurry out of shadowy spots and attack the cheese, carrying it off again. They leave Decker's empty wallet in its place.

"We's tryin' ta help yous out. Beats-heads-on-Bongos, the big Kahuna of the Bee Gees an' yous guys did us a favor by gettin' rid of nuisance for us. We ain't gonna have ta worry about ol' Eddie anymore. So's like we's wanna help. Ol' Mama Rat wants us ta keep an eye on the goil, see. She's a bit concerned since thrice her kin have died cuz of ol' Bogeybitch." Mickey takes the cigar from its muzzle, pointing it at Hyde, "Beautiful job by tha way. Love what ya done so far. Seems yas alpha ain't like us 'round so we'll stay outta sight for now."


(hyde)
Hyde nodded and listened to the big rat. Ears flickering forward in a crinos 'smile' as it were at the information. He nods sagly and closes his eyes. Summoning a bit of his own spiritual essence he forms it into a little orb and offers it to the "head rat"

"Thank you for your assistance. It is appreciated in the nature it was given. We are all just very stressed about the girl and the deaths that have been occuring. Rat is a strong and honored totem of war and any assistance you give will be gratefully appreciated."

Softly he picks up the empty wallet. Nodding his thanks and steps back. Shifting down and across the gauntlet.

Finding Silence he tosses the empty wallet to him and runs a hand over his shaved head. Speaking via totem phone for all of the pack.

Rats are here to repay a preceived dept.. killing of the TRUCK MURDERER has put us in thier graces.. they also want to watch over the girl and don't like the Bogeybitch. Rat is the totem of the Gnawers and the totem is looking after it's own. Rat is a war totem too and has sharp teeth. We should honor their aid in the spirit ((little 's')) it's given and be greatful for their contribution.

As a side note... the spiny tailed wood rat likes to take things... you call them "pack rats" here in the States. Might want to mind your personal items till this is done.

A bit of a grin to Decker.


(st)
The big rat-gaffling gives Hyde the best thumbs up it can manage with claws before it scurries off into darkness of the warehouse. With the presence of this brood of rats, perhaps the Eagles will be able to have some free time to breathe.


(decker)
Huh. Go figure. Decker wasn't one to easily trust, and he has his misgivings about a bunch of rats suddenly showing up. But he did trust in the judgment of his own packmates.

Glad I ain't kicked tha big one on the ass 'n sent 'im packin', then.

Decker seems to get a kick out of his little pun... though when the wallet comes back empty, he's a little less amused.

"Fuckers." It gets stuffed into his pocket. But at least this means he could stop sitting around watching a little brat sleep. Or cry. Or both.

'm goin ta find this van-drivin' fucker. He might be outta state, fuck knows. So James, stick close to tha warehouse while 'm gone, jus'in case yer rat buddies need help. Git some answers outta those gunmen with Kemp, too. Hyde 'n Annemarie, y'all're gonna hafta double up on turf patrols fer a while 'cause Kemp 'n James cain't run their full patrols.

'll be back soon.


(am)
She's in the office packhouse, having stopped by for a shower, a change of clothing, and a meal before she was headed out on patrols. A sandwich in hand, she's eating while reading through the book on Turtle care. In the center of the table - which she drug out of the kitchen to the sparring room where she spends most of her off time. Or where she did spend most of her off time. heh. heh. heh. - is the bowl with it's little half land half water type of enviornment set up in it. Inside is the new house watch d... Turtle! Sniper, the vicious full moon Snapping Turtle is handsized, and he bites, hard.

She's gone shopping too. She'll get a new bigger tank set up soon, but for now, she's amused by feeding him bits of her sandwich and the red lettuce that the book said he'd love. He does. She's penned a neat sign set over the tank.

This is Sniper, AnneMarie's Snapper Turtle. He bites. Hard.

They've been warned. OOH! LOOK! They LOVE FISH! Baby sharks are fish, right? Things to think about. And needle Hyde with.

The Message comes about doubled partrols, and there's a nod. Then a mental No problem -OW! you little SHIT!- Decker. And she's sucking on the edge of her finger. Again. Smugly proud of the viciousness of the little beastie. Teach her not to pay attention while her hand's in the tank, hm? Wonder how long it'll take Decker to poke him...


(hyde)
Hyde comes though shortly after AM had left. Still taking the El to cross town and stuff. Entering into the pack house he looked around for his packmate. Sniffing the air and... finding a new scent.

Eyes narrow and he crouches. Inching though the office pack house and peering around the door frame. There.. that was the source of the smell. Something. reptilian...

Drawing the thick bladed knife from beneigh his bracer he inches forward. More.. more.. seeing the bowl on the table. Finally getting up to it and blinking.

The hell?

He slips the knife away beneigh the bracer and leans down to look though the glass. A raise of his brows. Nordic ice eyes shifting and picking up the book. Flipping though it and then laying it back down.

Looking at the Turtle and then the sign. A raise of brow and he leans over the table peering down into the bowl.. It... looked like a rocky lil turtle.

It bites. Hard.

How hard did it bite? Like an angry cat or more like a badger...

Hyde looks around and back in the bowl... thinking.. then smiling. Hand goes to his hip where the "Godi bag" satchel always hangs. Opening it up he rummages around and pulls out a sim jim. Skins it and then cautiously inches it over the rim of the bowl and down into it.

Closer...

Closer.......

SNAPPPPPPP!!

*He jerks back and stumbels back about 3 steps and starts laughing.

"Fuck me SIDEWAYS..."

Inching back up he gives it another bite of simjim... yes... teaching it to like meat. The grins dropping the last bit in there.

Heh... Sniper.. heh.... I like it.. Where are you? Was gonna meet up for patrols. I'll tell you the legend of TURTLE... and why your pet personifies honor and glory.


(am)
He bite you? and of course it does.

Was there any doubt that a Modi's pet would personify anything else? But it's said with amusement, and followed by directions. You just missed me. I'm a block to the east - Drew's coffee shop. I'll wait.

She gets a refill of her coffee-to-go while she watches for the Godi to appear.

(james)
Yeh, boss.

as Hyde makes his way to meet the other resident Modi
James passes his packmate with a trademark nod up
entering the old warehouse for his sentinel shift on the herald of crinkling plastic
several "fun-sized" bags of assorted chips pulled out of BDU cargo pocket
one's dropped by Sniper's personal little world, though the Gnawer is smart enough not to test the warning
instead settling cross-legged just off the domestic island's stretch of grubby carpet
remaining baggies piled just off to his left in chiminage salutation thanking his Tribe's totem for lending their aid

two short lengths - maybe a foot each - of pale stick-ish things are drawn from yet another pocket
errant light casting shadows on the symbols burned and sanded into the slender material
delicate tips clicking out an intricate rhythm on the cracked cement slab before his shins
the very first cadence the guttermutt learned back in his primary pack days in Albany

even realm-side, the resident brood should recognize Rat's particular bone rhythm
James honoring the guard-brood as best he can with limited resources or experience
repeating the miniature jam session twice more as time slowly passes

.... not much else he can do while waiting for the POW gunmen to reanimate enough braincells for questioning

[in progress]

Posted by james at August 01, 2005 12:00 AM