Sneaky Mages and BSDs

[hazlogs]

It is currently 17:43 Pacific Time on Tue May 21 2002.

Currently the moon is in the waxing Gibbous Moon phase (66% full).

Currently in Saint Claire, it is partly sunny. The temperature is 57 degrees
Fahrenheit (13 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the
west at 12 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.02 and rising, and the
relative humidity is 66 percent. The dewpoint is 46 degrees Fahrenheit (7
degrees Celsius.)


[Pool Hall]

Pool tables, with one foosball table and an air hockey table hiding among
them, dominate the space of the hall, hardly yielding any space for the
motley crew of players chalking their sticks and eying the brandy bottle at
the bar lining one wall. The dust and scratches on all surfaces save the
green velvet lining the pool tables indicate this hall as skimping on
maintenance and cheap on cleaners. Its lack of flashy videogames and surplus
of toothless kibitzers underscores its appeal to the older crowd. No natural
sunlight is permitted into the hall, its lighting provided by bulbs swinging
from the ceiling.

A recent 'renovation' to the hall has caused many splinters and embdeed
bullet holes, adding much to the aged atmosphere. Ruddish stains, dark and
ominous even under the lights, refuse to be washed out of the floor. A dart
board brightens up the walls with its red-and-black scheme, and a moosehead
looks down on the proceedings.

Mounted from the ceiling, a television blares its glaring brightness and
noises.

A set of double doors, one locked, the other unlocked at the whims of the
hall manager, lead out to the street. Unobstructive doors behind the bar
undoubtedly lead to storerooms.


Carter shrugs, letting her have her turn again. "Who'd put up with me?
Really I don't have time for it. Other things to do. Important stuff."

Salem removes his sunglasses as he steps into the pool hall, his expression
dour. Slipping the dark glasses into an inside coat pocket, the one-eyed
Garou skims his gaze over the pool hall.

"I hear ya." Alicia says with a sneaky grin as her hands fall upon the
joystick and buttons again, guiding Ms Pac-Man across the screen. She looks
concentrated, determined to drive the score up higher.

Carter smiles, leaning on the side of the machine, where he can see her
face. "Not that I don't /date/. It's just a girlfriend... would probably
wind up getting hurt in the end. Humans are so fragile."

Salem catches sight of Alicia, and a thin smile touches his lips. But he
heads for the bar first, presumably for a drink.

"Ahhh.... Yes, well, silly humans eh'?" Smirking, Alicia glances up at him.
"You sound like yer' some kinda alien species or what not." After lil chick
pac-man bites the dust, she steps away from the machine and winks to him.
Her eyes now then glance about the pool hall until they fall on Salem.

Carter chuckles. "Sorry. Intended to include myself, of course. /You/ don't
strike me as the fragile type, though," he adds, brushing her arm as he
steps into the machine, "Miss 110 thousand points."

Salem lifts a hand in a wave across the pool hall to Alicia; he gives Carter
barely a glance.

Carter isn't tall at just under 5'6", but he carries himself as if he were.
His build is lanky and muscular, showing the signs of rigorous physical
exercise, and walks with a certain contained -potential-, like a spring,
waiting to be unleashed. He has brown eyes, with gold flecks radiating
around the pupils, and a riveting stare. His hair is dark brown and cut
Marine Corps short. While it makes him look a little younger than the late
twenties he probably carries, it somehow doesn't detract from his
appearance, on the contrary, it actually heightens it.

	He has a few bruises and cuts on his face, as if he has recently
been in a street brawl, but carries these without embarrassment. His hands
are also scarred, and seem large for his build.

	Carter is wearing a plain gray t-shirt and a light blue bowling
shirt. Embroidered over the pocket is the name 'Jesus', which Carter surely
finds ironic. He also sports a pair of black jeans, the legs stuffed
haphazardly into the tops of his half-laced docks. The ensemble is completed
by a match between the teeth, which he occasionally chews thoughtlessly, and
a goofy 'fuck with me, no, really' grin.


"Uh huh.." Alicia grins, brightening up as she waves back to Salem. Rising
up from her spot, she gives Carter a look, teasing him. "I'll be right back,
my /real big boyfriend/ over there just walked into the room." And with
that, she is heading over towards the big Glass Walker at a quick pace.

Carter glances up and frowns, slightly. "I see. Well, tell him I said 'hi.'"
He begins tapping the side of the machine as he plays; a complicated rhythm
that quickly slips out of the head.

Salem gets his drink of choice for the evening -- a bottle of O'Doul's --
from the bartender and turns to lean against the bar. As Alicia crosses over
toward him, he cracks open the bottle and takes a swig.

Alicia smiles and slides into a chair next to him, reaching out to poke him
in the side. She gazes up into his eyes, propping her chin up in the palm of
her hand.

Carter pages to the room: Coincidental Mind Rote: Nothing Right Here. It
makes him very difficult to notice, as he's just /so/ bland and
uninteresting, it doesn't seem worth it to remember him. Only works when
looking right at him or trying to interact with him (overhearing
conversations, etc.).

"Easy..." murmurs the Glass Walker, deflecting the Gaian's poke with the
movement of one hand. He's in good humor, if one ignores the strain around
his eyes or the twitch of waxing-moon rage bubbling under his skin. "Having
fun?"

Carter lets the game die, slipping toward the exit. He keeps tapping out his
rhythm on his beer bottle with the ring on his finger. Loud as it may be, it
seems to die in the ear.

"No. But you know how it goes. Its hard to just relax I guess, with you know
what hanging over our heads." The smile soon leaves Alicia's face as she
puffs out a sigh, brushing away her hair.

Salem inhales a breath and lets it out. He seems to have forgotten about
Carter entirely. "Mnh. Yes." He takes another swallow of the non-alcoholic
beer. "Have you seen John today?"


[Later...]


Walker Safe House - Lobby
Contents:
John
Kaz
Robert
Lyra


The door clicks shut behind you.

Robert notes, "I would be surprised if no one knew what the Gift did," with
a nod to Kaz. "Did you retreat immediately upon seeing what it did?" he
further asks.

The Walker blinks looking at Kaz with an exression of mildly dubious
surprise... with perhaps a touch of horror to it. At the asking of a
question, his attention snaps back to Robert. "Had no choice sir. Several
minutes passed of nothing, then and advance with some bowfire and a few
gifts being bandied about. By the time they were close enough for us to get
a good look at how they were treating Kaz, and their advance, we were
pincushions, and what looked like an army was on its way. We hotfooted it
out of there maybe not even a couple minutes after we saw hostiles and quite
possibly didn't even get to gauge their reaction, completely. They moved
oddly."

Salem enters the safehouse at full stride, pocketing his keys and removing
his sunglasses. His mind's a million miles away, and he pulls up short,
brows rising in startlement at sight of Robert.

"You'd move oddly too if you were forced by a Gift to go someplace despite
what you actually /wanted/ to do," Robert observes. "You'd likely struggle
most of the way." He raises an eyebrow as Salem shows up, then nods
politely. Returning his attenion to John, the alpha continues, "What would
you have done if there had been an actual scouting party in the area who'd
been unprepared for your little plan?"

Kaz looks at John slightly oddly, but doesn't insert anything of her own in
there.

The Walker clears his throat uncomfortably, sparing only a momentary glance
for Salem. "They were natives in warpaint. And they didn't seem in a hurry
to /charge/ us, either, Sir - as I'dve expected if they knew they had to go.
Just walk. And..." He pauses. "I'd have done whatever I could to get them
out of the area, Sir. And only if I'd been aware of their presence. Point on
cohesion taken, Sir. I hadn't considered it, or expected I'd have been in
the know. I'm obviously mistaken."

Salem recovers his composure, dipping his gaze to Robert's nod as he tucks
the shades away inside his coat. Taking a place against the wall near John,
the Philodox folds his arms, listening.

Kaz gives Salem a cheerful sort of wave, and then adds, "They wouldna wanna
charge, neither, John, 'cause even if they're bein' pulled they wanna try
and use /some/ brains."

Robert points out, "You. Didn't. Think." A moment's pause, and he adds,
"Period." He pushes off from the plant. "If you never told me about your
little thing, how would I know to tell you about some other scouting going
on?" He points to Kaz, saying, "She has a point. Just because they have to
come doesn't mean their brains are removed."

John inclines his head lowly. "But in moving slowly, they make good targets.
A charge is not necessarily brainless. A viable tactic would be to
acknowledge the pull, and make a charge. And some may, yet. Seeing
slow-moving Dancers reacting to the gift could even have been a decoy, so we
wouldn't expect a swift strike in response, if used some other time. There
was considerable delay." He clears his throat again, head lowered. "And...
The need for communication and a clear chain of command is understood, Sir.
Now, Sir."

Alicia unlocks the door and slips inside, letting it shut behind her. After
taking a quick assessment of those that are inside the lobby, she ambles
over towards them, shifting her shoulders under her jacket.

Kaz says, "Mebbe these dudes thought they could break it. Anyways, so I tol'
him earlier I'd like to do more of these, if smaller; so, rhya-kahuna, you
got scouting parties scheduled sometime?" Kaz's phone rings; she mutters,
and goes off to a corner to answer it. Kaz finally hangs up the phone, and
heads back to look assessingly at Robert.

Robert looks John up and down. "Good. Understand that. Live it. Remember
it." TO Kaz, he asks, "Are you volunteering?"

Salem tilts a look toward John, the brow over his good eye lifting.

Kaz blinks. "For scouting? I kinda make a shitload of noise, woodswards. I
could, though. Specially given as the ears might actually be an advantage,
in this case."

John frowns, and nods, folding his arms - now studying Kaz, thoughtfully.

That knocking sound was actually Owen. He stands in front of the door in
plain sight of the cameras. He isn't carrying his duffle bag with him
tonight.

"Hey, if there is scouting to be done. I'd like to help out if I can..
ya'know. Or if you guys got anything else you need me to do.." Alicia says,
showing a bit of eagerness to do something.

Salem hesitates a moment, then goes to play doorman, letting the Get in.

Sepdet buzzes up from the front door.

Salem holds the door open for Sepdet too, naturally.

John clears his throat, interrupting scouting talk. "Yeah, well... my
plate's been a little fuller today than I'd wanted. Earlier today I was
alerted to the fact that a Mage's evil alter-ego has manufactured a
staggering quantity of explosives, and is transporting it in six-panel vans.
I can't find out where to, but I know where they came from. The place is
also apparently pretty heavily rigged."

Owen steps in, looking behind him as the door buzzes almost immediately as
he arrives. Seeing the Strider, he just turns and goes further in to join
the rest, grunting by way of hello.

Kaz turns to stare at John. "Say hey what?"

Sepdet nods distractedly at Owen, muttering, "Dammit, I was right," and
pushes her way into the lobby. She folds her arms.

Salem turns sharply toward John, then closes the door firmly behind Sepdet.
"_Which_ mage?"

Robert looks over at Alicia with a slight smile. "Eventually." At John's
news, he blinks, then rubs the bridge of his nose. "Just in case things
weren't bad enough.... I want a full--and I mean /full/--report. Typed.
Double-spaced. Everything you know, and think as you write it, to make sure
you get it all."

Alicia dips her head and lets out a breath, glancing over to John at this
next piece of news.

Owen finds a place along the wall to lean up against. "Gotta kill a mage,
too, now?"

John nods in acknowledgement to Robert, then looks to Salem - clarifying.
"Carter. But not the one we caught, the other week. His 'Evil Twin'. But you
can give a description. If he's seen, the original mage requires a
phone-call given to alert him. The number's 'Aristotle'. A-R-I-S-T-O-T-L-E.
Might be an idea to keep an eye on things, though, and call for backup. In
case things go sour. I'm personally in favour of both of them dying, but the
evil one's apparently gotta go first." The Walker Ahroun straightens,
tilting his head to one side, which results in a few joints popping. "Sooner
the better, on this one. I'll do up that report. Whoever here knows about
Carter can fill others in on the rest." He looks between Kaz and Salem for a
moment, as some sort of indication. Then starts for the stairs.

Alicia blinks her eyes for a few moments, snapping her chin up. "Did you say
-Carter-?"

John's voice is thrown over his shoulder as he mounts the stairs. "Yeah.
Slimy-assed, arrogant bastard with a fucked-up sense of humour." He
disappears around the bend.

Kaz adds, "Mage, likes chaos, shuts traffic lights off for fun. He's got
some kinda agenda I don't get."

Owen just shrugs where he is, not knowing anyone by that name.

Sepdet turns towards Kaz as well. "That's not a mage I know," she says
irritably. "But the visions were pointing that direction. I still need to
find out what Jamethon's seen."

Alicia blinks her eyes again, and looks over to Salem, pointing a finger in
the air, mouth opening and closing, as if trying to find the right words.

Salem's brows furrow thoughtfully; then he shakes his head and disappears
into the rec room for a few minutes to get a glass of water and shed his
coat. He gives Alicia a curious look in passing.

Kaz asks, "D'you know about Perrin the idiot? D'you think these fucked tower
things are comin' from them?"

Owen clears his throat. "Sepdet, if you've heard Elan's, then you've
probably heard Jamethon's. From what I gather, they were near enough the
same."

"Salem, that guy I was with at the Pool Hall, ya'know.. um... the /real/
good looking one. His name is Carter and has one sick fucked up sense of
humor, one which makes me want to break his nose in." Ali' shifts on her
feet some, peering at the Glass Walker. "Did you get a look at him? Was that
Carter?"

Sepdet shakes her head at Owen, leaving that matter be for the moment while
Alicia elaborates.

Salem returns, the corners of his mouth twisted downwards irritably. "No, I
didn't."

Alicia stubs her foot into the ground, then glares slightly at nothing in
paticular. "fuck."

"He's bound to turn up again," says Salem evenly, still frowning. "Hmn. I'm
surprised there still _are_ mages lurking about in this city."

Kaz mutters, "They can be useful, you know."

Sepdet states irritably, "I've heard something of Perrin. Met him once.
Gathered a little. Cleansed one of Yi's tribemates when I couldn't." She
takes a breath. "Most of the visions reported show a black tower, and some
show it falling down--it suggested the caern itself. But some details don't
quite fit. There are inscriptions and carved figures. It's..." she reaches
for words that won't come. "It's too ordered for the madness of most of the
Wyrm's creatures, although there's shadows and storms and all the usual
trappings of doom. But not enough to go on. Tell Elan and Jamethon, if you
see them first, that I desperately need /any/ detail they saw."

Salem flicks a look toward Kaz. "I didn't say that they couldn't."

Kaz holds a finger up. "Yo." She reels off a credible imitation of Elan
describing his vision, and then adds, "He's lyrical." Kaz says this, as if
critiquing his technique.

Sepdet listens carefully. "A hazard of our moon," she replies with a ghost
of her former smile. "Thank you." She falls silent again, pondering.

Kaz adds, "Perrin once came to the Farmhouse. Did I mention he's a moron?"

"Once or twice," Rbert says drily.

Alicia groans. "Perrin.... I have.. a history with him."

Kaz subsides, muttering, "Sorry. But honestly. With the Garou the way they
are around here--" she shoots a look at where John disappeared to-- "You'd
think he'd have more sense."

Sepdet nods. "That would be news that no cub would have been careless enough
to let slip in front of me. His sense of self-preservation suggests he's
more of a danger to us through ignorance than malice. Which is not that
unusual in their kind."

Owen simple grunts about mages keeping clear of him.

Kaz says, "Yah. Hence why I was so firm about makin' sure he wouldn't do no
shit like that again. Anyways, so Robert, do you actually wanna send me
scouting, or was that just a passing thought?"

Robert replies, "I'll have someone get in touch with you, perhaps. If you're
that bad in the woods ... we'll see."

Kaz admits, "Well, I ain't tried it lately. And I /have/ gotten myself a
Totem of Cunning, since then. Huzzah Raccoon. So, y'know, maybe that'd work
better. But ok."

Owen coughs to clear his throat. "Perhaps a lupe, Robert, if you're talking
about scouting the woods?"

Robert observes, "I'm not sending anyone into the woods scouting alone, no
matter how good they are. Perhaps a lupus-born among others, yes."

Alicia tilts her head and nods to them, heading out the safehouse. "I'll be
back later ta'night, I just need to snag a few things. Good night, if I
don't see most of you later."

Robert nods to Alicia. "I should head out, as well. I have miles to go befor
I sleep, to quote Robert Frost."

Kaz says, "Oh. And I was gonna ask about, like, overall strategy and shit."

Owen straightens up from the wall and crosses his arms on his chest.
"Robert, are you too busy diddling with your navel over this war? Or is
there some super secret plan you've got concocted in your head somewheres
that requires us to figure out on our own?"

Kaz jerks a thumb at Owen. "Or, I could ask it like he did."

Sepdet grimaces faintly at Alicia's wording. "Good night, Alicia.
Robert-rhya--" she breaks off with a faint smile as the others say it for
her.

Salem has been listening in silence. Now, though, he listens with sharper
interest, his eye on the Athro.

Robert leans back up against the potted plant once again. "Do either of you
have a good, concrete idea how many Spirals are out there? What they're
doing? What their plans are? What the current state of the caern is? First,
we need information. In the process of getting that information, I don't
mind as slightl war of attrition--as long as the attrition is on /their/
end, not /ours/," the alpha points out.

Kaz says, "Nope, nope, nope, and nope. But do we need to know /their/ plans
to kick them outta /our/ home? Knowin' their plans takes metric buttloads
more info than just knowing how many, where, and when."

Owen frowns a tad. "Bo... (ahem) Robert, I don't have any authority here
except over my own small tribe. I worried about Andrea being alpha should
war happen and I think she did the right thing by stepping down. I'm looking
for guidance here and your the man. You know more about the Caern than God,
already, and you know the whole Sept. I'm trying to form folks into packs
for better organization. What do you want ME to do NOW?"

At this point, John returns - trenchcoatless - with a pencil between his
teeth, and a pad of paper in one hand. A cell phone's in the other, being
fiddled with - messaging, probably. He keeps an ear open for the
conversation, as he moves down the stairs.

Robert observes, "If we know their plans, then we know better /when/ to
strike, and possibly /where/. You'd best believe that they knew when we'd be
likely to have the fewest Garou in the caern--and struck then. There are
several of us who know that bawn like the backs of our hands, even with the
minor changes that the Spirals are inevitably doing. Things can be set up,
but there are two major things I'd like to know--our resources and theirs,
at least in the vaguest of terms. And I've been trying to get an idea of the
latter." He pushes off from the plant once again and looks at Owen. "You're
a fighter. I want you to fight. Not obviously. I don't want a suicide squad,
not /yet/, at least. What I can use are a few Garou to find a few Spirals,
hit them, and retreat. I know they at least equal us in numbers. That's one
thing I want more uneven, on our side." He gives a slight smile, then asks,
"How many Umbral scouts does anyone know of that have been scouting
recently?"

Kaz says, "Ain't heard of none. Sepdet?" She adds, "Hit and retreat, I'm
good at. My /tribe's/ good at it. We'll keep at it. And, you know. Informing
you."

John frowns, tilting his head up. "Given what the Dancers are already
probably doing to the place, what's your stance on what we do to the bawn or
the Caern, in trying to take it back, Rhya?"

Sepdet nods. "That can be done. The moon is getting strong. I have taken a
look from a distance, but not enough to see more than that they are
concentrating more in the Realm."

Owen just about spits right then and there. "Since Wolverine disappeared
after the attack, I ain't shit in the umbra. But if you want attrition, you
got it." He turns almost immediately to John. "You're gonna havta stop
gettin' yer dick wet for a while, Johnny-boy. I'm putting you to work."

Robert smiles at Sepdet. "And you know why?"

Sepdet raises an eyebrow. "I get the impression the caern's spirits have not
entirely been overwhelmed. That, and they came when the moon was darkest.
You guess there is more to it?"

John eyes Owen and grunts, "I can do both."

Owen snorts. "You soon won't have the time." He then turns to Sepdet. "And
for you, Hope-Star-rhya, a request."

Sepdet ignores the colorful language studiously. "Name it."

Robert shakes his head. "You have the most of it in the first. Wyldlings are
a pain in the ass to fight against, so the Spirals are weakening them in the
Realm first before taking them on. I witnessed one fight, albeit witnessed
secondhand. The spirit did itself well, though it fell in the end. They need
to corrupt the caern soon. I don't know why they didn't during the dark of
the moon, though. /That/ surprised me."

Salem stops clinking the ice cubes around in his otherwise empty glass and
gives the Gaian a surprised look. "They _haven't_ turned it yet? Are you
certain?"

Owen grunts. "So Fog has some strength after all." He regards Sepdet once
again. "We're gonna need lots of help, I'm sure you already know. Whatever
stockpile of talens and fetishes we had at the Caern are now in use against
us. We seemingly don't have squat anymore but a few rounds of silver. Think
you and the other theurge can pull some shit together? I'm sure Elan can
suck enough spirit dick to appease them for this war."

John gives Owen a wry look that suggests that there's /always/ time for the
important things in life, but pays close attention to the Alpha.

Kaz shoots Owen an admiring sort of look. "Don' forget Seeker, neither. For
reasons I don' get, he does talens, too."

Sepdet growls, "You'll have them. Andrea has started preparing talens. I'll
pass word around to others." To the athro, she adds, "It's weakening,
Robert-rhya. I can feel the blood leeching out of it, as when Saul ben Isaac
attacked. You authorize a scouting, then? Andrea and I can prepare one as
soon as she returns from Western Eye; they set out tonight. I am also doing
an /inipi/ rite to try and learn more about the tower, and the mages' part
in all this."

Robert shakes his head at Salem. "It's not turned yet, and I'd love to know
/why/, because it makes me wonder. I'm not about to Summon Fog, because I'm
sure he's trying to hold them off. But it's an interestig fact, hm?" He
raises an eyebrow at Owen and comments, "Most talens given as chiminage have
long since been used, and fetishes handed out to Guardians. Pretty things do
no one any good unless they're /used/."

Salem's eyes narrow. "Interesting, yes." But the ex-Ronin looks more
disturbed than relieved.

Kaz gives Salem a curious look. He may well have a persistent Gnawer on his
trail, soon.

Owen shoots Sepdet a short smile (a rare thing from him, even if it's a
little superficial). "Good!" Back to John, "I also want a report. You're the
resource man here. I want to know everything you got to bear here. And I
will want everyone in a pack, temporary if need be, even you."

Sepdet puts in, "I have an additional resource, when the time comes to
attack in force."

Kaz beats John to it. "He's in one. With a Totem, even."

Owen also gives Robert a nod. "Good to hear."

Robert raises an eyebrow at Sepdet. "An additional one? Share later, perhaps?"

Salem lapses back into silence, missing the look that Kaz tossed his way.
His brow remains furrowed.

John inclines his head in agreement. "Cockroach totem. And the pack was more
city-focussed. It's still pretty rough here. As you can tell from the latest
news." He eyes Sepdet warily, murmuring, "I /do/ seem to recollect asking
all unpacked Garou to present themselves for packing, at the last moot, too.
Funny, that."

Sepdet purses her lips. "Very well, Robert-rhya."

Kaz says, cheerfully, "Share now, f'that matter. But knowin' you, you won't."

The Walker Elder murmurs, "Secrets are a habit, in this Sept. Perhaps a
slightly restrictive one."

Chaser knocks on the front door, and steps back. She stands with arms
crossing, practically jittering with impatience.

Sepdet looks a bit nonplussed herself at Robert's request, but any response
to the others is cut short by the sound of the door buzzer.

Robert notes, "Fog is a secretive totem, and sometimes a poker hand is best
kept close, lest a friend's face give one's hand away. If it's something you
don't /mind/ sharing, then by all means, tell. If it's something you'd
prefer to keep, then later is fine. EIther way, I need to know so it's not a
total surprise at the last moment."

Salem lets Chaser in after a pause to search his memory for recognition. He
gives the Get a polite, if curt, nod in greeting.

Sepdet chuckles then. "I was about to say it when you caught me, Robert.
It's just this. I think we can flood the caern... possibly quite rapidly."

As the ex-Elder of the Get enters, John just sort of... stares at her for a
little, and then looks away to Robert.

Kaz brightens. "Chas, you're a sight for sore eyes." Then she stops to stare
at Sepdet.


[Chaser] Her eyes are striking: an intense green, glinting with rock-hard
cynicism in a face that has more character than beauty.  A shock of short,
spiky dark-auburn hair sets off the deep color of her eyes and the pale
ivory of her skin.  Some might call her classic features attractive, even
elegant--but tension usually compromises that symmetry, and her expressions
tend toward hard or even bitter lines.  She stands a few inches under six
feet, lean and athletic, perhaps in her mid-twenties.  The lines of her
figure have a sharp, edgy look defined by well-developed muscles and
sparely-distributed curves.  Chaser walks with a predatory grace: the
silence of the hunter, rather than the lightness of the dancer, beautiful
but somewhat disturbing to watch.

Ripped and faded jeans cling to the spare curves of her legs, held up by a
studded belt of black leather. The frayed denim descends into a pair of
beaten-up combat boots, the once-black leather scuffed beyond recognition.
The thin knit of a white t-shirt drapes over her wiry torso, tucked in at
the waist; over this, she wears a well-scuffed biker jacket of black
leather. On the back of the jacket, small tears in a rough, wide diagonal
swath obscure a painting of a wolf's face, marring the art almost beyond
recognition.

The edge of a black tattoo, a pattern something like a thorny vine wrapped
about her wrist and arm, marks the back of her right hand with sinuous
points and curves.


Chaser's lips curve in an expression that does not, in the least, resemble a
smile. Her eyes are hard, when they encounter John; she gives the Walker a
cold, so-what stare until he looks away, and then she turns slightly softer
eyes on Sepdet. "You always were creative," she says in that gravel-rough
voice of hers.

Owen blinks, slowly turning as he hears there is a Chaser in here. He has to
see this with his own eyes.

This time, both of Robert's eyebrows go up. "Well. That is /definitely/
something I'd rather be able to plan for." He nods politely to Chaser, but
somewhat absently. Rather, he seems to be considering the implications of
what Sepdet's said.

Sepdet gives the long-lost Get a wry salute with a fingertip, a brief smile
actually lighting her face. "As you say, Robert-rhya. I'm not quite sure how
to exploit this, but it might give us the edge in surprise. Salmon's waters
are at your disposal."

Chaser catches her tongue between her teeth, thinking. "Can't fight 'em
out... Wash 'em out!" She flashes Kaz a raw-edged smile.

Kaz sings, "Gonna wash that Wyrm right outta my hair."

Owen just shakes his head, turning back to John. "Might want to invest in
scuba gear, too."

John's eyes gradually find their way back to Chaser, thoughtfully. "I'll
teach you how to fight underwater, sure," he murmurs. Then tilts his head -
as if listening to something. "I'd... better finish this up. And everything
else I've got that others might not. Been working on it for a while." He
waggles the pad around. "I trust you'll all be either shown out or let
yourselves out when appropriate. Evening, folks."

Robert steeples his fingers. "Excellent. I'm certain that that ability could
be invaluable in the right circumstances. We'll just need to manufacture the
circumstance...." He trails off, then shakes his head. "Let me know before
any raids. I'll want to coordinate at least one or two with scouting
missions at other locations, and perhaps a diversion as well. Keep them
guessing, and busy." He starts to move towards the door again, saying,
"Unless people need more, I need to go check on a couple of other things
before I get some fitful rest."

Kaz tells John, "Catch you later, dude," and gives Robert a half-salute.

Sepdet inclines her head. "I suppose 'dream well' is a futile hope, but walk
safely, Robert-rhya."

Chaser turns hard eyes to the Walker, watching him with a subtle tension
that speaks of suppressed enmity. Whatever runs between the Get and the
Glasswalker is powerful, for certain. She says nothing to him, though,
merely watching with eyes like sharpened steel until he turns and leaves.
The tightening of her mouth is a subtle thing, but speaks of a snarl held in
check.

The newly arrived Get gives Robert a curt nod. "I'm at Sig's. Call me. I'll
put together a scouting run."

The Walker even stops at the top of the steps - before they turn - to see if
the Get woman is still watching. He sends her a frown, and keeps moving off.

Owen grunts to the retreating Gaian. "Sure, Robert."

Salem shifts his weight, pulling his attention more fully back to the
here-and-now and says, quietly, "Sleep well."

Robert smiles grimly at Chaser. "Consider yourself called. You're still one
of the best scouts we have." He nods again to the group, saying, "May Luna
light your paths," and leaves out the front door. Robert leaves by the front
door.

Kaz, once Robert has left, asks Chaser, "Geez, what'd John do to get up your
ass? An' also, Christ on a stick, can I talk you into doing some fuckin'
ambushes, in addition to some scouting?"

Owen looks up at the ceiling for a moment after Robert leaves, saying
nothing about him being a Smiling Asshole but obviously thinking it. He then
turns his attentions to Chaser. "Things settled, or is war taking
precedence?"

Sepdet exhales sharply, whether at the tension between Chaser and John, or
Robert's departure is hard to say. She glances towards Owen. "That," she
said, "was quite possibly the most useful thing you've ever done for the
sept, Get."

Chaser's lips curls as she watches the Gaian leave. Her gaze remains fixed
as she says, tightly, "Sure, Kaz." Then she looks over her shoulder, an
eyebrow raised. "What'd he do?"

Owen eyes Sepdet, not quite sure if he should take that as praise.

"Gave the Gaian a kick in the ass," answers Salem, with a wry edge in his
voice.

Sepdet mimes a firm kick in the general direction where Robert was standing
a few moments ago. At about the same height as his rear end.

Kaz tells Owen, "It's a compliment, dipshit," and adds, to Chaser, "I got
th' Wyrm callin' thing, so basically, I want ideas on ambushes, because boy
howdy can we use 'em. An' I want people that'll shoot quick."

Chaser cracks a smile. An actual teeth-showing genuinely amused smile,
though it's touched with a certain cynical bent as always. "Well done,
Baldy," she says.

Owen just shrugs, thinking he was just being himself and nothing special.
"Chaser, welcome back. Before we get too mushy, though, I do need to know
what the status is on your pack."

Chaser snorts. "Kyle's MIA, and so's the freak. So there's been no pack for
a coupla months at least. Ask Sig, maybe." She lifts a shoulder. "I been out
of it since I left town, so."

Sepdet manages to keep from cracking a smile, but in the process assumes a
rather smug expression. Owen's question brings her full attention back on
the no-moon. "You didn't miss too much," she says baldly.

Chaser narrows her eyes at Sepdet. "Yeah. Glad I wasn't here to *LOSE THE
FUCKING CAERN!*" The last words, delivered in a shout, seem directed out at
the street--after the departed Warder, perhaps? Then she lets out an
explosive sigh, and ducks her head, raking one hand back through her spiky
hair in a habitual gesture. "Right. Better now." She glances across their
faces. "Somebody gimme a sitrep?"

Owen holds back a snort at Chaser's little outburst. "Well, I would see you
in a pack while you're back, Chaser. Form one, join one, I don't care." He
lets those with a more natural bent for spreading news do so.

Kaz sighs. "Like at least 50 Dancers, a lost Caern, one dead cub, but no one
/else/ is dead, we've got, uh, valiant hearts and a lot of guns on our side.
Or something. How much detail do you want?"

Chaser narrows her eyes. "Is the Caern their center of ops right now?

Salem's scarred face does a twitchy grimace at Chaser's shout, lips thinning
but not quite peeling away from his teeth. Moon-edginess. Tense, he vanishes
back into the rec room for a few moments.

Kaz shrugs. "I would assume so, but they have some pretty ass on coordinated
patrols, so we haven't been able to tell yet."

Sepdet doesn't bat an eyelash at the explosion, although her ears would
probably be blown back against her skull by the force of it, were she any
smaller. "A band of the foe came to the bawn with TV cameras rolling, a cub
hostage, to divert guardians while their forces surrounded the bawn and
struck in force. Overwhelming numbers. Guns were jammed by the guardians in
the bawn, but they also used darts to take down Warder and other defenders
at the caern's heart, and a retreat was called. Pathstone secured in a
remote location. The cub's the only casualty, though several were badly
wounded. We've had one scouting party with limited success, and one raid,
the same. I've sent three to Western Eye to ask for aid."

Chaser nods to Sepdet, curtly. She looks elsewhere, then, her eyes hazy with
thought. "Do we have a list, far as who we got? Our fighting strength?"

Kaz says, "You want the folks who're supposedly members, or just the folks
I've /seen/ lately?"

Owen snorts at Kaz' comment.

Chaser purses her lips. "We oughta put together both. A full list--and the
ones we can actually /rely/ on."

Kaz grins. "That, I can do. I can reel off a list of folks we can rely on
right /now/, actually, but I don't imagine you want to hear me blather
names."

Chaser nods. "I'll walk you home and then I can scribble shit down," she
mutters. A sudden, fierce scowl crosses her face. "We'll kick the bastards
out. Preferably in a fine red mist."

Sepdet ignores sarcasm, closing her eyes for a moment to review. "Here's
who's left in the woods. Ouroboros is ready at Lake Arthur, once Andrea
returns from Western Eye: Touch Deer is back as Quiet Wind now. Their
strength is in the umbra, spirits, and camouflage. Salmon's Leap is back to
strength now, good for some scouting, spirits, cleansing work, general
fighting. No ahrouns, but reasonably experienced. Rides-fire, Nightflash,
and Shadow-of-Blood are our lupus. I'd like a rundown of the city packs and
groups myself; I still have trouble keeping everyone straight out here."

Owen adds on to Sepdet, "Staging areas so far: Lake Arthur is still free.
Wolf Woods is no longer safe but Shadow-of-Blood and the other lupes are
getting the wolves to safety. Bawn is right out, so's the farmhouse. Can't
speak for the Fianna's grotto. KC seems clear. My den seems a common ground
for folks staging things nowadays."

Kaz says, "Yo, I can do that. Tell her who's in Ouro and your pack, though.
So anyway, City packs is Synthesis, which is the Walkers. Salem, who's an
asshole but useful. Philo. Roger, who's batshit but useful, John, who you
know and dislike but is useful, Francisco, who's rockin' and a half moon,
and Leala, who's some chick. The Walkers also got Lianne, who can't fight
but has money, and Jeremy, who's a geek. Elan's gone and joined Ouroborus,
so whatever, but he's around. You got my pack, too, which is Bernie and Max
and Nevada and Little Tim. We ain't in the Rialto or the Church no more, too
many people know 'em." Kaz adds, "And the Coggies have this Kin named Alec,
who kind of has 20 billion clues." Kaz adds, "Oh, and Anneka's with us,
too."

Chaser nods absently. "Yeah, I 'member him. Doc." She ticks off on her
fingers. "Ouro, Salmon, Walker pack, Gnawer pack, plus a few lupes. Order of
twenty-five or thirty." She glances to Kaz. "Is that Chinese no-moon still
around?"

Sepdet wrinkles her nose. "Oh, is /that/ what he's doing with us? I
wondered. Falcon's rest is another city meeting place held by the Fangs:
Kristine, Brigid-- who was guardian, but lost an arm in the rout-- and the
Princess. The only Fury I know is Laura, who is a combat healer. Yi's with
Salmon's Leap, Chas. To keep us from going completely native. I also have
Leonard and an Uktena cliath with a fair amount of sense whom you don't
know: Mitwichuck."

Kaz grins. "Yi's with Sepdet. And you forgot the ex-Guardians. Isaac, who's
dumb as a rock but can do all kinds of shit anyway. Brigid, some chick Fang.
And Adam, but he left a bit before this happened."

Chaser purses her lips slightly, and nods.

Kaz tells Sepdet, "Megaera's back. She's a Fury philo chick with more
anger'n sense, sometimes. An' Helen's around. Somewhere."

Chas paces a little, frowning. "More like thirty, then." One hand scrubs at
the back of her head. "I'll sit with Kaz somewhere, make up a bigass list.
That Yi, she's good for scouting. Dunno who else. Maybe some a the Uktena or
Wendigo types."

Kaz says "Oh, Eamon's around. He's kinda spacy sometimes, but he's
definitely a scout, y'know?"

"Right. Eamon's on the list, then." She looks over to Owen. "Who're you
packed with?"

Sepdet shakes her head. "Little Bear is not subtle enough as a scout.
Mitwitchuck has good instincts, but you've got Raccoon folks here in town.
You know where to find Patrick. There are also the wolf-born." Her lips
flatten only slightly, personal feelings on the one fairly well camouflaged
these days. "There's a half-dozen other cliaths and past-due,
soon-to-be-rited cubs to draw on, but mostly theurges. I think that's the
muster."

[Salem vanishes upstairs somewhere around this point.]