Merria Visits

[hazlogs]

It is currently 19:29 Pacific Time on Thu Oct 15 1998.
Currently on this gusty and cold fall  in the general St. Claire area, it is 
  40 degrees Fahrenheit (4.4 degrees Celsius). The wind is coming from the 
  north-northwest at 18.4 mph. The ground is wet. Skies are hazy with no 
  chance of precipitation.
Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent Moon phase (33% full).

Holland Place, Apt. 1A(#3489RJ)
This tiny, rathole little apartment, though adequate as shelter, leaves a lot 
  to be desired. The wooden floorboards are unevenly dark underfoot, and 
  there's a suspicious-looking stain along the floorboards near the narrow, 
  cramped kitchen. The front room is gapingly bare, with nothing to hide the 
  ugly yellow-and-white wallpaper, and the small bedroom is empty but for a 
  military-style cot and a squat wooden dresser that looks as though a dozen 
  bored juvenile delinquints hacked at it with knives. The less said about the 
  bathroom, the better. The bedroom walls show damage in two places, as though 
  someone or something had been wrecking havoc with really large knives or 
  claws. The marks just above the cot are bad enough, but the damage is worse 
  in one corner, where both lower wall and floor are scraped and wounded.
Muffled noises from neighboring apartments can be heard through the walls, and 
  the grimy windows give a limited view of disreputable street outside. 
  There's a phone in the kitchen, but no sign of television, radio, or other 
  such staple of modern entertainment. Nearly all of the electrical outlets go 
  unused, and the ancient-looking refigerator is usually near-empty.
Obvious exits:
Out  

Merria pages: You hear the sound of the lock beginning to be worked, and then 
  a (one may imagine someone sheepish) knock.
You paged Merria with 'There's a pause, and then the usual metallic noises of 
  locks being undone. Salem jerks the door open enough for you to enter, 
  though remains behind it, out of view of the hallway.'.
Merria enters from the first-floor hallway.
Merria has arrived.
Merria's first words as she comes in and looks around the door are, "Are you 
  okay? Nigel said--"
Salem closes the door; you can tell now why he remained hidden; the Ahroun is 
  in Glabro, presumably to help heal the frostbite he got from a certain 
  winter spirit out at the caern last night. "I'm fine," he says.
Merria runs anxious eyes over the Walker, and then relaxes. "How'd you get 
  frost-bit? 'snot that cold yet." Her tone adds an unspoken, 'I should know.'
Salem finishes setting the locks and then drops his bulk into a chair. It 
  creaks. "Ritual last night. Wendigo spirit and ripping the hearts out of 
  animals." He snorts.

Salem(#2653Pce)
        A powerful, dangerous-looking hulk of a man, he's nearly seven feet 
  tall and built like a brick wall, broad-shouldered and freakishly muscular. 
  Shaggy black hair, not quite shoulder length, frames brutish features, dark 
  eyes glaring out from under a low, heavy brow and the jaw slightly 
  out-thrust. His ears, when glimpsed, are pointed, as are his teeth. Rarely 
  does this feral hulk seem truly relaxed, and often a glowering hatred rages 
  just beneath the surface of his flesh, a murderous anger held in check by a 
  tight and uncertain control. A black goatee lines his lips and jaw, and a 
  thick scar runs down the left side of his face.
        He's wearing loose black flannel shirt and a pair of black sweatpants, 
  with high-topped sneakers on his feet (also black).   <<+details>>

Merria drops to the floor, cross-legged. "You got to see Wendigo? Really? 
  What'it look like?"
Salem smirks, his smile humorless and twisted. "An ice-cold bastard. He 
  devoured one of the Get of Fenris."
Merria's eyes widen to the size of saucers. "Who? Not Signe?"
Salem archs a brow. "Is Signe a male lupus?"
Merria shakes her head. "She's female, an' she walks like a homid in homid."
You say "Then it wasn't her."
Merria looks relieved...but not all that much. "It /ate/ a garou? I thought it 
  was on /our/ side!"
Salem shrugs. "The cost for letting itself be bound into service to fight 
  Consumer of Stone."
Merria wrinkles her nose. "Spirits," she says, in the tone that millenia of 
  misogynists have used on the word 'women.' "/Anyhow/. Nigel told me about 
  the guy in the donut shop, 'cause he wanted me to snoop his room. So I 
  wanted to come an' look for you, an' make sure everythin' was okay."
Salem smirks. "That sick, psychotic punk? He was nothing."
Merria nods, hesitates, and scratches her nose. "Um."
Salem's smile fades. He hauls himself out of his chair and heads for the 
  kitchen. "The bastard is dead, Merry," he growls.
"I know," the Gnawer responds, her voice a bit small. "An' I know he was sick; 
  I had to use Persuasion on him /twice/." This doesn't seem to be what's 
  worrying her.
Salem pauses in the doorway to the kitchen and turns to peer at the small 
  Gnawer. "Do you know what else he was doing, Merry?"
Merria nods. "Yeah. That's what Nigel wanted me to snoop for."
Salem's face twists, his expression turning ugly. He grunts and turns back 
  again, opening the frige and grabbing a can of beer.
Merria suddenly looks startled. "I dint mean I dint think you shoulda killed 
  him!" she says,suddenly realizing that she might have been interpretted that 
  way.
Salem cracks the beer open. "I wish I'd killed him as soon as he arrived," the 
  Ahroun growls. "Fucking, cocksucking psycho."
Merria nods, and hesitates again. "Um. Did you, um, know he was a Shadow Lord?"
Salem takes a swig of beer and clumps back into the front room, dropping back 
  into his chair. His eyes narrow. "Is there proof of that?"
Merria, relieved to have gotten the news out, combines a head-shake with a 
  shrug. "I dunno. I'll ask Signe if you like - she's the one 'at told me."
Salem grunts. "Could have been a Spiral."
"Coulda," Merria says, not knowing either way. "Was he wyrmy?"
Salem shrugs. "No idea." He takes another swallow of beer. "Some Spirals can 
  hide their taint."
Merria nods. "I just wanted to tell you that's what folks were sayin', before 
  someone else did. Anyhow. I'm glad you stopped him. He was scary to talk to."
Salem grunts. "He was a murderer, a cocky Veilbreaker, and a psychopath."
Merria nods. "An' icky. Wish I coulda figured out what made him tick, but I 
  couldn't, an' he wouldn't say anythin' that let me in on it. Nigel said you 
  called the other Walkers?"
Salem nods. "We should have taken care of it better, but at least it's taken 
  care of." Another swallow. "I have to get in touch with the Shadow Lord 
  elder... Moon Otter? And get someone to agree to teach me the Rite of 
  Contrition."
Merria says "How come?"
Salem swallows another mouthful of beer. "For a job messily done, and the Veil 
  breach."
"Yeah," says the small no-moon, "but why /him/?"
Salem arches a brow. "Presumably because Black *was* considered to be a Shadow 
  Lord."
Merria wriggles a little. "An' I guess he'd know about offin' Shadow Lords," 
  she mutters rebelliously.
Salem arches both brows. "Hmm?"
Merria wriggles again. "He killed a cub, 'while back. Dintchou hear 'bout it?"
Salem downs some more beer. "Must have been before my time."
Merria grins a little. "Can'tabin. You got here 'fore I did, remember?"
Salem smirks faintly. "Yes, but no one tells news to Ronin."
Merria wrinkles her nose. "Well, see. There was this kid, an' when I met him, 
  he was all freaked totally out, because his elder--he was a Lord--his elder 
  had just made him kill some people who were tied up an' helpless, not 
  because they were doin' anythin' bad, but because the said the kid needed to 
  learn to obey orders. An' so he did, an' then his elder made him cut them up 
  an' put them down the disposal to get rid of them. An' afterwards, he said 
  they were tainted, but no one knew if it was true or not. So the kid was all 
  messed up, because, I mean, wouldn't you be?"
Salem finishes off his beer and then gets up. "No," he answers, with the 
  faintest hint of a thin smile. "Not really."
Merria shivers. "Even when you were a kid? I woulda been."
"You weren't a Shadow Lord, Merria." Salem disappears back into the kitchen.
"Well," Merria says sadly, "Now Alex isn't, either. Now he isn't anythin'. I 
  don't think I like the Shadow Lords very much. At least not the elder."
Salem grunts. "Be that as it may," the ex-Lord says from the kitchen, "I have 
  to go see him."
Merria shrugs. "Whatever."
Salem returns, having disposed of his beercan. He leans against the doorframe 
  and regards Merry quietly.
Merria looks up at the ahroun uncertainly, trying to guage what he's thinking.
Salem shakes his head a bit and heads back to his chair, dropping into it. 
  "Never mind."
Merria hesitates, then stands up. "Guess I should get goin'."
Salem nods. His expression softens just a notch. "Walk well, Merry."
Merria flashes a smile at the ex-Ronin. "You too!" Then she slip out the door 
  and patters off down the hall.
Merria heads outside for the hallway, the door creaking as she opens it.
Merria has left.