DATE: Wednesday, September 30, 1998
Place: Outside the Turner Enterprise campus--Seattle, WA
>> Rorschach pages to the room: OK. Keen. You're behind a small rise of a hill
near Seattle. On the other side of the hill there is the Turner compound
spread out before you. It's pretty big: about three acres in size, and you
know that the talisman you seek is locked away in a safe inside Turner's
office. (Her office being in the central modern looking administrative
building...) The three acres are surrounded by a high chain link/concertina
wire fence. Two other buildings are: The Turner warehouse, a long
rectangular building with three railroad loading docks and about 20
semi-truck loading docks.
>> Rorschach pages to the room: And a squat cinder block data center with only
a few doors and no windows. There are regular fence line patrols on foot as
well as ATVs, some of the patrols have vicious looking patrol dogs. In
addition, the Glass Walkers know there is a elite security force that is
heavily armed. They generally patrol the central grounds around the
administrative building. (As it so happens.) There is also a small
guardhouse where the fence breaks to let in traffic to the parking lot.
>> Rorschach pages to the room: The entire area is fairly well lit, with lamps
approximately every 100-200 feet.
Patrick looks to the side towards Nigel & JJ. "Without slipping through at the
moment, what's Umbra-side like?"
JJ Malone is smoking down his last cigarette for a while, keeping the tip out
of sight of possibly being seen by the wandering guards. "As clean as this
kind of area gets. Worst is in there," he says, pointing out the cinder
block data center. "Rest should be okay under this moon, as long as no
one's stupid."
Salem remains silent near his tribemates, hands buried in his pockets.
Cassandra nods, seeming content to listen for a change. She bounces ligghtly
on the balls of her feet, a sure siggn of nervous energy.
Patrick nods slowly, then asks, "Just the small one? Nothing odd about the
office building Umbra?"
In the distance, you can hear the bark of one of those guard dogs.
JJ Malone shakes his head. "Nothing out of the ordinary, from what we saw last
time."
Andrea turns slowly with her eyes focused on empty air. There's a crease of
concentration on her forehead, but all she says is a soft, "Not many
spirits here of any type."
Patrick nods again, then looks over towards Andrea. "Mind leading the way into
the Umbra itself, at least for us?"
Cassandra crosses her arms and looks around as the dog barks. "Whatever we do,
we better do it quick, them puppies are gonna know somethin' ain't right
right quick."
Nigel bites his lower lip, thinking of his packmates' words. "The tainted
spiders that were observed in the cinderblock building, combined with the
rumors of medical experiments we've dug up, argue for something nasty in
the basement--and we don't know if there are tunnels connecting the
building. Be careful."
Patrick nord curtly at Nigel's caution, replying, "Noted. Thanks. All we need
are experiments...."
Cassandra snorts softly at that, but seems to be waiting for the others to
move right now.
JJ Malone turns to Nigel. "Same as last time. If we get into trouble, get a
hold of Jeff and see what the two of you can do."
Nigel looks back towards the car, hidden under netting at the bottom of the
hill. "No worries. Remember where we're parked."
Andrea nods. "The pack, sure. The rest, only if they get stuck. It takes
strength." She begins to move toward something reflective.
Salem grunts, still doing his taciturn Klingon impression.
JJ Malone follows, letting the members of Ouroborous going with go first after
Andrea.
Soren follows Andrea, his face expression particularly concerned, worried.
Luckily there's a good sized collection of water: rain run-off probably
nearby. The Adren stares intently at the water and her reflection, her pack
linking hands and then they feel the familiar sensation of sleeping into
the shadowlands. It only takes a moment to become acclimated to your new
Penumbral environment. The gibbous moon light hangs from everything giving
it a strangely comforting aura. Beyond the hillock, you can see where the
compound cuts into the vivid green and dark shadow of the Umbra forests and
meadows. The data center, you can now see does seem particularly infested
with pattern webs... although no spiders are clinging to them right now.
Andrea moves out of the way, falling into lupus form for its sharper senses
even as she pulls from the Umbral pool to let the Glass Walkers follow. For
a moment, a silver ankh glimmers next to the gold heart of her bracelet's
chain, before the jewelry is covered with a carpet of fur and absorbed into
the leg.
Cassandra steps out of the way almost absently, muttering something to herself
in some language other than English. The language is sharp enough to make
it sound like a curse, but she peers around her with brigght eyes and them
slides into a four-legged form, the better to keep up withh the group.
The two Walker ahrouns follow not very far behind Ouroboros. It's
extraordinarily silent in the Umbra, there are no spirit animals making any
kind of sound. It sounds almost completely desolate. Those of you in lupus
or using gifts can detect a disquieting odor: it's fairly distinct and very
recognizable. It's the smell of decaying human flesh -- but it seems off in
the distance... the light umbral breeze wafting toward the group.
Patrick slips sideways behind Andrea, stepping aside to let others through as
he goes Umbral. He looks around the Umbrascape for a moment, taking it in,
then peers closer at the small building. "Wonderful," he says. "At least
nothing's moving."
Soren joins the others in lupus, sliding down to the form swiftly as he paces
a bit apart from the others before circling back in. Rot.
Mark-Of-Thorns sneezes multiple times. You noticed.
Quiet gives a slight involuntary shudder, her yellow fur moving under the dark
shroud that marks the four Uktena children. She agrees with Midnight.
Death. It may only be a reflection of her power. Or it may be more.
Salem's mouth twists into a grimace, baring a hint of teeth in a lupine snarl.
He shifts upwards, but only to Glabro, choosing to stay bipedal while
avoiding Crinos (for the time being).
JJ Malone shifts upwards to glabro after reaching through, gun coming out from
under his jacket and sunglasses going in, revealing eyes the pure yellow of
a wolf. He remains silent, simply listening and observing the pack members
discussion and not adding to it, while his gaze roams the area restlessly.
Everything certainly seems still. Seems quiet. There doesn't appear to be
anything hiding or waiting to ambush you.
Patrick joins the shifting-fest and goes up to glabro, stopping there. He
peers down towards the Umbral representation of the compound again, the
throws his head back. "Now or never," he grunts, and slips in that
direction, trusting in his Gift and learned skills to keep him from being
spotted by anything that might actually be there.
Mark-Of-Thorns looks around at the others, then at her alpha, and takes a few
steps towards the compound, then a few more as Patrick moves.
Midnight slides in after the others, letting Quiet choose position before he
moves too far forward.
Quiet's application of the gift isn't nearly as effective, though she does
become slightly less obvious a yellow blot moving within dark shadows. She
pads close to Patrick's heels. Her ears are tilted forward and swivel as
she listens.
Shades comes up near Quiet as the ragabash pull away slightly--although not
with the same air of familiarity as her pack, it is with with
well-practiced ease of fitting himself into the workings of other packs,
following the Adren's unspoken lead.
There isn't, you note with some degree of relief, any sort of fence here in
the Umbra. As you near the Umbra warehouse, you can almost see through it;
it must have been built only recently. Overhead the moon still gives off
radiant cream colored light, but all of this area is dead space -- flat of
color, almost a uniform grey, tan and black. The adminstration building is
in the center of the compound, beyond the data center, near the open space
that must be the parking structure.
Mark-Of-Thorns's ears prick, swivel around briefly, then relax somewhat.
Something...of metal? Far from here and under the ground. She relays this
mildly, as if it doesn't owrry her overmuch.
Quiet's ears twitch again, and she lowers her head to sniff. Now that the Fury
flanks Patrick, she lets the two dark moons pull slightly ahead while she
teams with Soren. The two theurges stay near the two ahroun.
Patrick stops for a moment and closes his eyes, as if listening to something
faint. A frown crosses his face, and his eyes re-open. "Shit," he growls.
Mark-Of-Thorns turns her head towards patrick, though only one ear cocks
towards him. What? Just that the ground's hollow or something else?
Midnight moves with increased tension, his attention particularly focused on
his packmates.
Just then a couple of trap doors open. One in front of Mark-of-Thorns, and one
behind the group near the two Walker ahrouns. The creatures are
eight-legged constructs -- both with human heads that leak a foul smelling
ichor that might have once been blood. They strongly resemble a
daddy-long-legs with sharp metal legs and an oversized human head.
Quiet's head turns toward Midnight suddenly, the expression almost startled.
There's a definite feeling of silent communication among the pack for any
that have seen the totem-granted gift at work. Wyrm and spirits, below, she
suddenly says aloud. Her warning comes too late as the spirits pop out
before she even finishes the short howl.
Shades snarls and spins around to face the one behind the group, taking only
the swiftest of glances before aiming and firing two shots at the thing's
head.
Mark-Of-Thorns growls as the thing leaps up right in ffront of her face, and
backpedals several steps before catching herself and trying to shift to a
fighting form. The sense of silent communication abruptly dissolves from
her expression.
Salem turns as well, his frown twisting into a definite snarl. Lacking
firearms, the other Walker chooses a far more direct way of fighting, his
body twisting upwards, and then dropping to all fours as he shifts swiftly
past the more frenzy-prone Crinos form to take the hulking brutishness of
the near-wolf.
Patrick mutters a few curses as the spiders erupt from the ground, his
concentration going more on the one in front of his packmate, eyes
narrowing as he glares at it as if to stare a hole through the beast.
Reacting before almost anyone can blink an eye, two gunshots ring out and
break the silence. The smell of spent sulfur hangs heavy in the air as both
shots strike the intended target. The head explodes like a ripe melon --
blood and rot spray across the entire party -- and that's precisely when a
large metal spike slams through Shades' midsection. Two meancing pincers
reach for the body of the metis Walker -- almost as if to rip it in half
like Bishop from Aliens.
Rage fuels Salem's movements, huge claws digging into the ground and
propelling the dire wolf-shape forward, massive, fanged jaws gaping as he
lunges for the thing attacking Shades.
Quiet raises her tail and fixes her gaze on the spirit that menances her
packmate. Her ruff flares as she snarls in the language of spirits. *Attack
your kind.* There's the lash of command in the words as she brings the gift
to bear.
Mark-Of-Thorns completes her shift to Crinos and, ignoring Quite's Gift. leaps
for the thing right in front of her, trying to use its legs as a jungle gym
and thereby get on its back.
Midnight shifts into crinos but remains beside, Quiet as if protecting her.
The now-hulking form of the former Ronin leaps for the arm that seems to have
impaled Shades on the end of it like a shiskabob. Lightning fast, the other
ahroun flies through the Umbral night, hurling himself and his claws at the
joint weld. The metal creaks and bends some and there is an uncanny hissing
sound like steam escaping a cylinder. One of the pincers reaches Shades and
clasps firmly around his upper legs and thighs -- and not much longer after
the metallic smell of iron rich blood can be detected, mixing in with the
decay. meanwhile, Mark-of-Thorns does a gymnast impression, the mechanical
monstrousity suddenly flailing around as if it can't see clearly. After
Quiet barks her order, the thing trundles right past the group of
Ouroboros, toward it's partner -- it is then that Cassandra manages to
scramble on top of the metal spider.
Letting out a howl that might almost be a Crinos version of a cowboy's whoop,
the Black Fury straddles the thing's neck and searches for a clawhold on
the thing's neck and head.
Shades howls in agony, the sound piercing the night like fingernails on a
chalkboard, body contoring around the skewer as it shifts up to crinos.
Thoughtlessly, a clenched hand is raised, attempting to smash down onto the
spike impaling him, to shatter it.
Patrick spins and dashes for the other spider-thing, the one impaling Shades,
giving it a good punch as he reaches it, puttting as much energy as he can
from the short dash into the punch, hoping to at least distract the thing a
little.
Midnight leaps forward to assist Thorns, working in tandem with her attacks.
Quiet turns her attention on the one behind her now. Rage bubbles under the
command as she again lashes out with the gift. *Drop the Garou.*
Dark One snarls, closing his jaws over a convenient part of the spider-thing
impaling Shades.
Shades smashes down on the arm that holds him and there is a jolt as the
arm/spike falls off the spider base completely. Mark-of-Thorn's claws find
a nice claw hole -- the head itself seems to be the only very soft place.
It feels like warm jello between your claw's digits. The other spider thing
stumbles about with a missing arm -- there is a howling sound as the other
Garou slam, punch and beat on it. More legs wobble. Meanwhile, the spider
Cass is "riding" shutter steps about, moving generally in the right
direction. Another razor sharp leg/spike stabs for Patrick, but narrowly
misses.
Quiet finally shifts now, hulking into crinos. She waits until she's nearly
achieved the form before moving toward Shades at a four-legged lope.
Mark-Of-Thorns nearly pulls her claws out as they sink deep, but grabs ahold
of herself and yanks at the gelatinous mass, trying to rips its head clean
off.
Midnight moves in swiftly beside Thorns, his claws swiping deep at the
creature as he howls with fury.
Patrick punches at the spider again, being a bit more cautious this time of
swinging spikes.
Shades seems oddly, or perhaps not so oddly, oblivious to things going around
him. Still letting up ragged snarling-whining-howls of pain, one leg
clearly nearly severed, he begins to simultaneously try to pull the spike
from his torso with one hand, while the other hand and "good" leg pushes
along the ground, trying to put distance between himself and the source of
his agony.
Dark One lunges for one of the spider's remaining legs, bringing his weight to
bear as bites for the thing.
The head pulls off like a grape -- feels like one too. Noxious ichor spreads
across the fur of the dark moon Fury. That's when a tremendous panel opens
in the top of the spider and and a 3 inch round metal spike skewers her
upper thigh clean through the middle. Midnight's blows knock at the thing's
side and hurt it some. Then abruptly, the two spider creatures seem to
freeze in place... some gear or another cracking and clanging shut. The
arms freeze. The spiders freeze -- even their "blood" and ichor stops
flowing (but not dripping). Legs sever under the assault and finally there
is a two nearly simulataneous "ping" sounds from both.
Patrick looks warily at the things again then shakes his head. "Injury
assessment?" he says lowly, but with enough force to be heard.
A couple more trap doors open, but nothing comes up.
Mark-Of-Thorns lets out a scream of pain and jerks back as her leg is impaled.
She tries to break off the spike to free herself, but pauses, her head
cocked, then shouts, ~They're ticking! Get outta here!~
Dark One growls, jaws snapping toward the opening doors, and then backs up a
step, golden eyes turning toward Shades.
Midnight hears Cass's warning and moves, grabbing hold of Thorns as he does so
to assist her, if needed, to move swiftly away.
Quiet grabs a hold of Shades and starts dragging him away.
Dark One, muzzle twisted and teeth bared, lopes close alongside Quiet,
glancing once or twice back over his shoulder.
Quiet sees her two male packmates near Cassandra, and so abandons the attempt
to heal the ahroun right this moment. Instead, she pushes under Shades' arm
and attempts to hoist him up. Her voice is no longer sharp with a command
gift, but there's a bite to it nevertheless. ~Salem, get JJ's side!~
Shades manages to rip out the spike and toss it away as Quiet begins dragging
him, limping to help the Gaian in the flight. His free hand moves to hold
in guts trying to slip free from the now gaping hole in his belly, nearly
severed leg dragging uselessly.
Patrick hesitates long enough to make sure Shades is covered, then scrambles
to give Midnight a hand with their other packmate. "When we get her,
/run/," he tells Midnight meaningfully.
Dark One snaps his jaws together with a sharp click and shifts upwards,
rearing onto his hind legs in Crinos as he takes Shades' other arm, helping
the other Walker along.
Midnight nods to Patrick, using what strength he has to break the spike free
from Thorn's leg.
Mark-Of-Thorns herself works frantically to break the spike protruding through
her leg, supressing whines of pain as she and Midnight begin to work
together .
The mechanical ticking sound grows louder as the seconds elapse. Patrick and
Midnight finally lift Mark-of-Thorns free of the spike jammed in her leg
and they begin to carry her off; Shades meanwhile is being caravaned by the
younger Walker ahroun and Quiet to safety. The two groups make a good
hearty dash for it when there are two loud pings and then a sound like a
flashbulb has gone off -- that ultrahigh insistent whine -- there's a pair
of concussive blasts of force, which knocks everyone to the ground. Molten
hot metal schrapnel flies everywhere, and bits of metal hail down from the
sky. Mark-of-Thorns emits a piercing scream as a huge basketball sized hunk
of debris rips a hole through her upper chest, the searing metal stuck
inside of her rib cage. Behind lie twin hulking, smoking craters.
The piercing scream, and then silence from the Fury.
Midnight lifts himself up from the ground where he has been knocked, pain bit
back in clenched jaw as he turns to Thorns, his focus remains as he turns
to her. "Looks bad. Hold my hand, sister," he says as she shifts into
glabro, his other hand flattening against the wound on Thorn's chest.
Chanting quickly, his hand glows in a ruddy light: "Fader Odin, Fenris
mester, gi Datteren styrke imot fienden's vold."
Gradually, the Fury's Crinos form dwindles slowly down to her breed form as
the Get works.
Shades's strangled snarl is a harsh counterpoint to Mark-of-Thorns,
intermingled with the primal sound of rage bubbling up from the smoking
depths of hell, railing against the abuse being subjected to his body,
which like a plug being drawn from a bathtub suddenly swirls away into
nothingness. Once again, his body shifts, to crinos once more, sagging like
deadweight between Quiet and Dark One.
Dark One grunts, ears flattening against the sudden pain, and then the sudden
sagging weight of his elder. Snarling, the ex-Ronin digs his hindclaws in,
bracing himself against JJ's weight.
Patrick, thrown to his knees by the concussive force behind him, picks himself
up after a moment and starts cursing. "Fuck," he exclaims explosively.
"Two." He looks at the groups and the sagging Garou, then up at the office
building, measuring it as if measuring his foe.
Quiet's harsh and gutteral cry doesn't come so much from the pain of the body
as the other aftermath. Knocked to one knee, she tilts her head back. Blood
drips in thin streams over her sandy fur on the sides of her head. Though
her hands are on the Glass Walker instead of her packmate, the healing gift
surges as much in response to Cassandra's need as the ahroun's. Still,
Shades is the one that receives the gift, if it succeeds.
Although Quiet can feel the Gnosis flowing out of her, it doesn't seem to take
in the Walker's limp crinos body.
Sadly, the result is much the same for Cassandra Mark-of-Thorns. There is a
final twitch as Soren lays his hands on and chants, but in the end, she is
still and reposed.
Dark One begins cursing in a gutteral, twisted mixture of Serbian and Garou.
Patrick nods, as if finding what he expected to find as he looked around.
Shifting up to crinos, he growls, ~The time for subtlety has passed; we
have lost enough already,~ and takes to the air, up towards the top of the
Umbral building and Turner's office.
The administrative building gives a sense of looming although it can't be
higher than four or five stories. The night once again falls into still
silence, broken mostly by the sound of Patrick's wings overhead. Still
above even him, the moon watches gently hazed by a misty cloud cover.
Midnight rises up from Thorns' body, a howl shaking with fury and anguish in
his throat. ~No! No!~ he howls as he turns toward the building. ~He cannot
go alone, Quiet.~
Quiet begins to shake, her hands still buried in the dead metis' bloody fur.
Her breathing quickens and harshens. ~No.~ Which death she is protesting is
unclear. Either. Both. ~No!~ Something of the younger Gaian of past years
spills out in that angry declaration. Her words oddly match Midnight's as
if they think together, but her red-eyed glare shifts at the theurge's
warning of Patrick's actions as Soren keeps speaking after she stops. She
surges to her feet in jerky maddened rage. Looking for Patrick. Looking for
a target. Perhaps looking for the fled spirits of the dead Garou. Her hands
clench tight enough that her claws draw blood from her own skin.
Dark One bites off a final curse and then remains silent, teeth bared in a
twisting grimace, his body trembling as he stares at his elder. Ex-elder.
Patrick covers his head with his arms and heads straight for one of the
windows in the Umbral building, one near to the area where Ashley Turner's
office supposedly is. His emotions seem to have gone cold for the moment,
and he ignores Midnight's call in his pursuit of their ultimate goal.
The ragabash sails higher, up the side of the building. There are no windows
for Ms. Turner's office, consider what effect sunlight has on her kind, but
there is an executive conference room -- which Patrick shortly finds
himself inside of.
Midnight shakes his head bitterly, growling, ~Not leaving him alone.~ With
that, Soren shifts down into the direwolf form and bounds toward the
building, thick powerful head swinging from side to side as he approaches
the entrance.
Quiet's hot gaze lingers on Cassandra's bloody body for a moment before her
anger boils up and she surges after Midnight. She doesn't shift, but she
does run with all fours.
Patrick starts making his way towards the office, stopping regularly to be
cautious enough to watch for other pattern spiders or other nasties, but
evidently determined to reach his goal. He stops a couple of times, in the
hallways, to peek back into the Realm, but mostly heads for the original
target.
It is quiet inside the building, deadly still and silent. Not even the floor
creeks. Midnight and Quiet, meanwhile, bound up stairs toward the top
floor. Patrick is inside the office.
Midnight moves with focused determination, but not with wanton abandon of
caution. The goal, as with Patrick, remains the same.
Quiet, on the other hand, only keeps her luck so far because Midnight watches
and the area seems clear of other spirits for the moment. There's no
consideration in her jerky actions, and her claws scrape the stairs as she
treads with heavy anger and pain. A low ceaseless growl mutters deep in her
throat.
The two packmates make good time up the stairs, and the building remains
devoid of spirits ... or other foes.
Midnight wastes no time with the office door, using the bulk and power of his
size in his attempt to burst it open.
Dark One, as is probably obvious by now, has chosen to remain behind, with the
bodies of the dead Garou (and in particular with JJ). His form dwindles
back down to Glabro.
Patrick, who has been peeking sideways a few times, regaining some degree of
caution, looks up and crouches into a ready position as the door is
shredded. As he notices who it is, he just grunts a welcome and goes about
shredding some webbing in one corner of the office, explaining, ~Camera.
One over there, too.~
Quiet's eyes follow where Patrick indicates, then she moves to tear into the
webbing. She lashes out at the sticky stuff with her claws, still
wordlessly growling.
It shreds effortlessly.
Midnight takes a moment to focus, studying the office deeply.
Midnight rises up into glabro as he moves across to one wall. ~Here. This
painting.~ Soren runs a hand along its edges. Focusing his attention on it,
looking for a catch or something. IF nothing, he'll pull it off the wall.
Patrick observes coldly, ~In the Realm. The safe won't be on this side.~
Quiet doesn't stop until there's nothing left, then her paws drop again to the
floor and she paces around while her packmates talk.
Patrick drops back down into homid, then waits until the guard has gone by
again before staring at his reflection in the glass of the picture.
Soren joins Patrick, still in glabro.
Quiet does not follow, at least not immediately. Instead, she stays in the
Umbra, still in crinos. Still pacing.
The packmate pair soon feel the sense of parting and then returning to the
corporeal world. Outside, the guard is humming something -- it sounds like
"Fly me to the Moon."
"I'll watch the door," whispers Soren quietly as he takes a step that way,
preparing for the guard or anyone else who might think to come in.
Patrick pulls a pair of gloves out of his pockets and dons them, then reaches
up to look over the painting before taking it down from the wall as quietly
as possible.
The office is closed in, two interior windows facing the reception area; they
are shuttered and closed. The door itself is gently ajar, but is made of
solid heavy oak. The rest of the office is very tastefully decorated --
several pots of greenery, cherry wood furniture and a large sumptous
leather chair. the painting is of a three masted schooner in a harbor --
possibly San Francisco. In the background of the picture is a forbidding
looking storm rolling towards the artist and the man pictured in front of
the ship. Dressed to the nines, the man is obviously very wealthy. The
picture has a date in one corner, 1854, along with the artist's signature.
Patrick goes directly into crinos with incredibly speed, shifting
instantaneously up from homid. In the next moment, he grabs something
around his neck, and vanishes.
Outside the guard seems to be humming "My Way" to himself. If he's noticed
anything going on inside the office, he sure doesn't give it away.
A moment after Whitestreak disappears from sight, the door of the safe quietly
rips itself off its hinges and vanishes as well. It reappears, leaning
against the wall of the office.
Soren remains standing in position beside the door... just in case Frankie
decides to investigate.
Quiet continues to pace. Back and forth. Back and forth.
The safe is opened forcefully, but surprisingly no one seems to notice. Inside
is a small disc shaped medallion attached to a fine gold chain. The
medallion is a gold cut away. The negative space of the object seems to
form a two "yin/yang" pieces, while in the center is a cleverly fasioned,
intricately shaped dragon lizard beast. The eyes of the lizard are jeweled,
and that's when you realize with a touch of surprise that the edge of the
circle is itself an ouroboros.
A flashlight beam swings through the crack in the door, and the guard's
humming gets a touch louder, but then it fades as he walks down the other
hall.
>> Down below, while Salem waits and his rage inexorably abates somewhat as
time passes, something impinges on his instincts of not being quite as they
should be. Nothing defined, just...a slight sense, which might just as
easily be ignored as an overactive imagination if he chooses to.
Patrick reaches into the safe and grabs the medallion, blinking in surprise as
he actually gets a look at the item. A suspicious look crosses his face as
he shifts back down to homid, then he waves to his packmate, and looks back
at his reflection in the painting's glass.
It only takes a few long breaths and then both Garou slip back into the quiet
still shadow, and still Quiet paces.
Soren rejoins Patrick, his own attention fierce on the medallion until they
reach.
Patrick growls, "Let's get the fuck outta here. I don't like it at all." He
turns and heads out the door, and back down the Umbral corridors and
stairwells, rather than the more direct route he took up.
Soren follows, still numb, still cautious.
>> Salem frowns slightly, eyes narrowing as he tries to pin down the source
of the feeling.
Quiet's glare fixes briefly on the symbol of her pack, for which one of her
pack died. She then indicates that she agrees. She pulls ahead in heading
for for the bodies and Salem.
The quiet three exit the building without raising an alarm. The night is
still, nary an alarm or spirit to be seen.
As they get back outside, Patrick nods at the bodies. "How the heck to we get
them back out of the Umbra?"
>> As he stills and tries to pinpoint it, the feeling increases a little. And
then, he hears it: barely audible, probably only audible because of the
deathly silence, a slight sigh of breath.
Salem is standing near Shades' motionless form, staring down at it with a deep
frown. He doesn't look up as the pack nears, but instead goes down on one
knee, placing a hand on the metis' chest. His head tilts.
>> Barely noticable, but you think you can feel Shades's chest moving just
slightly under your hand.
Quiet answers Patrick finally, after staring at the body for a short time.
Then she moves to pick up the shell of her former packmate. Cassandra's
homid body cradles in Quiet's crinos arms like a sleeping, bloody babe.
Only the eyes, open and staring in death, ruin the impression of sleep.
Salem's expression lightens, just barely. Without looking up, without even
taking his hand from JJ's chest, he says, "He's not dead."
Patrick reaches over and closes his former packmate's eyes, then looks at
Salem. "We got what we came for, I hope. It's ... what?"
Quiet also turns, but slower. The anger is finally beginning to fade into
numbness, and it shows in her movements.
"He's not dead," Salem repeats, still without looking up. "He's breathing.
Barely."
It's hard to see, but those looking for it might see Salem's hand rise and
fall barely as it rests against the metis's chest.
Patrick rolls his eyes slightly and kneels down to check for a pulse at the
metis's neck.
Patrick blinks and motions Soren over. "Heal 'im, or try. He's not quite dead
yet."