"Wyrmthings do not make good pets."

[hazlogs]

It is currently 21:06 Pacific Time on Sun Jul 6 2003.

Currently in Saint Claire, it is clear outside. The temperature is 72 degrees Fahrenheit (22 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the northwest at 9 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 29.93 and steady, and the relative humidity is 51 percent. The dewpoint is 53 degrees Fahrenheit (11 degrees Celsius.)

Currently the moon is in the waxing Half Moon phase (51% full).

Salem and Mel's Apartment.


Renee knocks on the door with the aid of her right boot, then waits for a reply.

Renee is carefully holding onto a large knapsack infront of her, which is obviously filled with something. Gaia only knows what. "Hey. You got a minute?"

Salem opens the door a few moments later, after turning off the television. "Renee?" One eyebrow raises in curiosity; the rest of his expression is bland. "I do. Come in." He steps aside to let her in.

Renee steps inside and carefully sets her package down and takes a peek inside to make certain that everything is okay, before straightening up. "Came across somethin' interestin' It ain't a spirit an' if its a Formor, its a fuckin' weird one. Figured gettin' a second opinion would be a good idea."

Salem frowns, looking bemused as he closes the door. Arms folded, he leans against it and regards the Gnawer and her bundle. "All right. Let's see it."

Renee pulls an extreemly large pickle lar out if the bag. The jar is caped with the broken bottom of another jar and held into place with a lot of twine. Inside the jar, it looks like someone left a sandwich for far too long and it has turned into a green sludge. "You might want ta hold yer nose," The Galliard warns, as she carefully undoes a know in the twine and lifts up the makeshift glass lid. Lid off, she pulls out some dog kibble from one pocket and drops it inside. The kibble hits the slime, bubbles and pops, disolving as it releasing the nastiest smell in creation. Renee quickly recaps the jar, just as two cat's eyes rise out of the slime on two slender stalks. The thing is looking for more food.

"Great fucking Christ in a stable!" Salem's posture jerks upright, arms unfolding. "Where the _fuck_ did you find that thing?"

Renee ties the lid back into place and straightens up. "Living under the park. Whole mess of'em. Pack is dealin' with'em. Doin' some more cleanin' out tonight. Hopin' I don't loose my lunch this time."

Salem's eye shifts from the thing in the jar to Renee's face. His head cocks slightly, alert. "Pack?"

Renee nudges the jar with her toe and the stalks disapear back into the sludge. "Yea, my Pack. Rat told us 'bout the suckers. That they we're poisonin' the Glade, so we're clearin'em out." The Galliard looks back down at the jar and scowls. "Fuckin' weird thing. Eats through anything. Right down ta the bone, if you try touchin' them."

The tense stance when the sludgy slugthing was revealed evaporates slowly, but doesn't entirely go away. Salem folds his arms again, his face neutral. "Fomori come in many different shapes, some of them incredibly odd. Or..." He shifts his weight, frowning. "The sewers have been a Blight for a long time. It's said that sometimes _things_ get born out of filth. Sludge and Toxins... Wyrm elementals."

Renee cross her arms and hrms. "Now thats an idea. I ain't gonna go any deeper inta the sewer then I haveta, but these guys are doin' some real damage spirit-side. Not gonna stop until we know we've cleared'em all out. The guy is livin' acid. Only thing it hasn't be able ta eat though, is glass. Damned if I know why." One eye slowly comes out of the slime, then is followed by the second eye. One slitted pupil focuses on the Walker, while the other gives its attention too Renee.

Salem curls his lip in disgust at the thing. "What kills them?" he asks, curtly.

Renee scratches at her cheek. "Salt, if you would believe it. I tried baking soda, but nadda. Dropped some salt packets on it and it flipped."

"Salt?" Salem arches an eyebrow, then shakes his head. "Well. At least it's something _common_..."

Renee nods. "Yea. Plannin' ta lift some from a bulk store tonight. Gonna need a lot ta deal with these suckers. Still, it might be an idea ta bring some if ya ever have ta head inta the sewers, fer whatever reason." The Galliard crouches down and scowls at the jar. "Fuckin' weird bugger." She pokes at the jar, only to have the eyeball poke back in return. "Well, that was new," Renee mutters.

Salem grimaces. "Wyrmthings do not make good pets. I'd suggest you kill that thing, and soon." Unfolding his arms, he paces around her toward the kitchen.

Renee opens her mouth to say something, then clamps it firmly shut. No, she will not mention the vampire. "Believe me, I ain't plannin' on keepin' it. Got some Mages I want ta have a look at it first, thats all. Might be able ta tell me somethin' that'll help. Then, I get ta dump salt onta it until it /fries/."

Salem grunts in reply. He gets himself a glass of orange juice and changes the subject. "Have you seen any sign of Leonard?"

Renee starts repackaging her slug-in-a-jar, in preperation to leave. "Nope. Can't say that I have."

"Mmn." Salem looks dissatisfied, though not directly at Renee. "Wonder what he's up to."

Renee shrugs. "Probably tryin' ta avoid havin' you rip his head off. I'm guessin' he'll show at the Moot."

Salem grimaces. "Coward." He gulps down half the glass, then refreshes it. It's just juice, fortunately.

Renee picks up her package, shoulders rolling back in another shrug. "You know, you could try thinkin' a bit more like a Philodox, instead of an Ahourn. Can't solve everythin', by smashin' someone's head in."

Salem turns a sharp eye to the Gnawer, his expression cold. "Leonard is a menace. He kidnapped Jeremy when I crossed him, after I beat him fairly. Do you honestly think he'd pause at doing the same to _your_ kin, if it suited him? Or worse?" He gestures at Renee with the glass. "Even justice can be violent, Renee... _especially_ in our society."

Renee shrugs and turns her back on the Walker. "Thats not what I ment." The Gnawer opens the door and starts to let herself. "Jus' think 'bout it. Bein' what you are, doesn't make you the Law. Seeya." Renee closes the door behind her, still being careful with her package.

Salem regards the closed door for a moment, then mutters, "Someone fucking well has to be." His expression's dark as he drinks the glass empty.