Waiting for Battle

[hazlogs]

6/12/02

MacGregor Junkyard - Main Yard(#2575RJh)

In all directions, you see neat rows of piled vehicle hulks, some of them
stripped down to the bare frame, others still mostly intact. THe piles have
been moved recently; pushed to the walls and stacked a little higher to form
a formidable wall of junk. Inside, aisles lead between the piles, wide
enough to drive a forklift down, some of them ending at the walls around the
yard, others ending at one or another pile. Pools of various leaked fluids
appear around drums that haven't held up to the years. Open sheds are
distributed around the yard, with loose parts smaller than full engines
neatly shelved in the sheds. This part of the yard is set off from the
entrance by the main building, where the office, garage/shop, and owner's
apartment are. A large doghouse occupies the space between the office and
garage doors.

Hope-Star snaps at Seeker. You should have been at the planning meeting.
Tonight, we deal with this. If we survive, we deal with the next battle. The
kin has prepared many hiding places behind cars, small alleys. We will try
to corner them in these places and isolate them. We are fighting as rats and
coyotes tonight. Next time we fight as fire and storm.

Anneka brushes her jeans off and pats her pockets, then looks out along the
edge of the junkyard. She glances over towards Renee, quirks a corner of her
mouth up.

Alicia clears her throat a bit as she glances to all those gathered, rubbing
the back of her neck lightly. Heaving out a breath, she pats herself down a
bit, then dips her head in a nod.

Owen makes his way into the junkyard, keeping an eye over his shoulders when
he can. He makes a bee-line for Sepdet once he spots her and takes a spot
near where she is.

Laura notices her friend's arrival and moves in her direction, smiling
tautly. "Hey 'Licia."

Salem arrives on foot, his hair tied back, his face set into a grim, tense
expression.

To the west, in the sky, the moon begins to eclipse the sun, a prelude to a
night of darkness and heralding the darkest phase of the new moon.

"Hi Laura, everyone else." Alicia says as she crosses her arms, feeling the
light breeze blow over her hair and clothes, her jacket rippling a bit
against her frame.

Anneka lifts her chin, her eyes turning a moment to watch the passage of the
moon's shadow. Then she looks away, finds a place near her tribesmate to
wait and watch.

Seeker sighs and nods to Sepdet. "Where would you like me to set up?"

Megaera wriggles past the bus that blocks the entranceway and into the
junkyard. Expression dark and brooding, the Fury leans against a convient
car wreck and watches the gathering Garou.

Salem gives the eclipse only the briefest, squinting glances. Then, spotting
Alicia, he angles toward her.

Hope-Star's hackles rise as the sun begins to dim. Not unexpected, but
hardly a good omen. All right. I suggest dividing into pairs: no one fight
alone. Each pair take cover and watch over an entrance or lane in the maze
the kin has made. Child-holder, Flame-guarder, you're combat healers. That's
your first priority. Seeker and Wildfire, guard the entrance. Wait for them
to come in, strike from behind.

Megaera glances up at the sun, then pulls a dagger out of her vest and
begins cleaning her nails.

Laura nods to Hope-Star. "Yes, rhya." She stretches out her wrists and does
a few leg stretches as well, trying to divert her nervousness into useful
energy.

The eclipse of the sun progresses, slowly turning the round orb of the sun
into an inverted galliard's sun. The peak of the eclipse draws nearer, only
scant minutes away.

Anneka nods twice, looks to Renee then finds a place in the maze to do just
that. She changes along the way, blurring up into the war form.

Hope-Star gives one last warning as they begin to move into place: The
moment we use human guns, the cops will be coming. I do not know what
arrangements have been made with kin to distract them, and we can't count on
it. Hand to hand if you can manage it. If there are explosions, we will have
to scatter.

Alicia siddles up towards Laura and dips her head, rumbling lightly in her
glabro form. She brushes her hair back once more, then glances over towards
Salem.

Owen nods once to the adren mule before moving up to take the place directed
by her. He shifts up for war and takes his hidey-hole carefully, an axe of
sizeable proportions now in his hands.

Renee scrambles out of the bus, as the eclipse comes closer to completion.
The Galliard trudges toward the other Garou, picking up her hubcap marker as
she moves. No sense in leaving a safe trail for the Dancers to follow.
Setting the hubcaps down into a large pile, she blurs into Hispo and begins
looking for a partner.

Seeker arches an eyebrow at the sun, then nods to Sepdet and joins Wildfire,
walking over toward the narrow opening into the junkyard. "Walk along the
hubcaps, Owen. The area around them is mined."

Bridge-Mender grins, though in this guise it looks awful. She looks to
Renee, wags her tail once.

Leonard picks his way in carefully, stopping and looking for his packmates.

The solar eclipse reaches its peak. A cool, restless breeze wafts over and
through the junkyard, bearing not hope, but only the stink of exhaust fumes
and the desperation of the down-and-out people on this side of town.

Sees-True's hackles are up and she growls softly, more to herself then to
anyone in particular. Lets find a good place to attack our enemies,
Bridge-Mender.

Megaera flows into her glabro form, after pulling a massive combat dagger
from one boot. Clutching onto the knife hard enough to turn her knuckles
white, the Fury locates a perch on one of the old wrecks that looks down on
an 'alley'.

Bridge-Mender lifts her muzzle, drawing the air in as her ears turn down.
She glances to a spot where the maze turns, where there are places for
wolves to wait.

Leonard heads high as well, slipping into an old car and readying -- of all
things -- a bow and arrow, ready to pick off the enemy from his hiding spot
above.

Hope-Star whuffs softly from under the bus as the last of the stragglers
arrive, warning them to form pairs and take cover, prepare for ambush. Then
she moves to join her own packmate, sliding into war-form and crouching
behind a burned-out Yugo.

Hope-Star contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
Hope-Star shifts into Crinos form.

Seeker finds a place just beyond the minefield that is shielded from them
but close enough that they can attack from behind when the Dancers come
through. He shifts to the warform and crouches low to wait.

Sees-True joins Bridge-Mender in their chosen hiding spot. Hunkering down
and waiting.

Dane finally finds the right address and slips in quietly, looking for
familiar faces.

Laura points out a spot to Alicia. It's not the best tactical position, but
for healers it's just sheltered enough, and just roomy enough to go to work,
with a decent view of the battlefield.

Salem wrinkles his nose at the ill-born smell on the wind, then skims the
crowd for another of his tribemates to gang up with.

Alicia nods her head and retrieves two heavy looking beretta's from her
jacket, turning off the safetys. Heading after Laura, she ducks her head a
bit, murmuring a quiet prayer to the good Mother.

Francisco espies his packmates, who tend to be hard to miss in a crowd, and
goes to join them.

The eclipse begins to pass, leaving the sun, blood red from pollutants in
the air, to slowly sink below the horizon. Darkness begins to descend. The
air becomes heavier as night falls.

Francisco contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
Francisco shifts into Crinos form.

Tobin strides quickly into the junkyard along with Aubrey and Cameron, and
looks around at all the familiar people who are quickly going into hiding.
He quickly figures out what's going on and looks around for a good hiding
place for them and nods to a giant 1953 Desota station wagon. He shifts
quickly to lupus and trots around behind it, hoping the other two will
follow his lead.

Bridge-Mender is well taller than any human, but nevertheless she is not so
large for crinos. She pulls herself into a spot where two cars nearly join,
wide enough to reach and low to the earth.

Salem bares his teeth at the other Walker half-moon in something that really
couldn't be mistaken for a grin. He gestures toward Francisco (and John, if
he's there) and makes for a suitable place of concealment, shifting upwards
as he does so.

Salem contorts and blurs as he is transformed.
You shift into Crinos form.

Jamethon is already there when the three thurge cubs pick their place and
move to it. He simply offers a quiet grunt to the wonder theurges and seems
a bit disturbed to see them there, but says nothing on the matter.

Gaia-Will-Judge shifts into a more useful form and finds a nice hiding spot
in one of the racks of parts.

Seeker finds a bit of concrete as he waits and draws his claws across it,
sharpening them to a razor edge.

Long-Past chuffs a very quiet, respectful greeting to Jamethon and settles
himself down to watch and listen. He is completely still except for one ear
or the other occassionally swivelling about.

Fights-For-Hope drops down to the lupine form, to take up less space... a
difficult task for the Get.

John takes up a position, carefully, with the Get and Strider Ahrouns. In
glabro, he stands ready in the assumption that if there's fighting to be
had... the serious stuff'll be here. Yet also far back enough that if cops
need to be distracted, he can be free to do what needs to be done.

Alicia completes her prayer, fortifying herself against pain as she
activates a tribal gift. Crouching a bit in the darkness, she grips her tow
guns, chin tilting up a tad as she waits, listening intently.

Salem sniffs the air again, then growls something subvocally, sounding
irritable. The ex-Ahroun flexes his claws, then drags them across the metal
side of a rusting car, channeling his rage into sharpening them into a
hopefully lethal keenness.

Leonard glances up at the roof, notes Megeara, nods to her before slinking
down in the seat, readying a few other weapons that aren't quite so ranged.

Skyscraper joins Salem in a suitable hidey-hole and crouches back on his
haunches, ears up and tail still. And then flattens his ears against the
sound of claws being sharpened.

Laura crouches, facing a different direction and drawing her knife. Pitiful,
compared to the armaments some of the others have.

Darkness descends like a blanket over the sky, held back only by the buzzing
sodium streetlights emitting their sickly yellow glow. All is relatively
quiet with nothing out of the ordinary.

Fights-For-Hope offers a quite muted promise of blood in prayer form to
Fenris and his collar glows red for a few moments.

Crouching down with the other cub Theurges, Cameron takes a deep breath, and
lets it out in a soft, low whistle. He licks his lips and looks around to
see how things are set up.

Sepdet settles down by Leonard to wait with the grim patience of a trapdoor
spider.

Announcement: Tskilegwa announces "Objects near you begin to vibrate softly,
then shake. Light, loose objects slowly move a quarter inch westward, then
the vibrations cease completely."

Bridge-Mender curls her claws out, sharpens them on the fin of an ancient
Cadillac. Her ears skew at the sound, turn west as bits and pieces of debris
jitter about her.

Sees-True's ears flatten, as she watches the small pebbles hop up and down
infront of her for a few seconds.

Alicia lets out a soft breath as her eyes narrow some, glancing over to
Laura, leaning against her, back to back. She grips the guns a bit more
tightly, then darts her gaze around the rest of the junkyard.

Laura braces herself with a hand. "The hell..." she murmurs.

Wildfire looks to the ground for a moment, taking a short break from
sharpening his claws with the blade of his axe. He soon resumes doing his
business.

Sepdet's ears stand straight up as the ground shudders. Lips pull back from
her teeth, but she doesn't voice suspicions. There's nothing to be done from
here.

Leonard narrows his eyes, looks down towards the ground.

Salem flattens his ears at the vibration, hunkering down with bared teeth.
Black fur bristles around his shoulders and spine.

Gaia-Will-Judge cocks his ears thoughtfully as he estimates how strong that
was.

Long-Past starts as the ground trembles, hoping halfway to his feet and
staring dumbly at the ground with ears erect. After it stops he settles back
down with a suspicious air about him, as if he doesn't quite trust the earth
to stay still.

Seeker tenses as the vibrations start, not moving. He prepares himself as
the shaking stops, looking warily up at the piles of junk around him.

Skyscraper bares his teeth in echo of his tribemate, hackles rising, claws
scraping the ground.

Sepdet stares down from her perch, sinking even lower and peering around the
bumper as the vibration subsides, eying the clear ground below-- what little
there is of it-- warily.

Fights-For-Hope resists making noise, instead studying the actions of the
world around him, looking for explanation in the unexplainable.

John keeps an eye on the walls of the junkyard, and the sky. Expecting
something unusual, perhaps. One hand strays to the inside of his jacket.

Bridge-Mender skews her ears as she looks up towards the sky, then down
towards the earth. She rests a hand on the oily ground, turns an ear back,
then glances towards her tribemate.

Salem waits with tensely-controlled impatience, clawed fingers flexing
methodically, one by one by one.

John simply remains standing in the shadows, motionless, with his hand in
his jacket. After a while, it looks as if he may as well be a statue.

Seeker stands up and crouches back down several times to avoid cramping. He
also struggles to remain patient.

Alicia listens for a moment, then rises up to her height, sliding one gun
into her jacket, keeping the other out. Rumbling lightly, she glances to the
others, shrugging.

Laura doesn't move, still watching the yard. It's not as though Spirals are
supposed to be punctual.


[Time passes.  Nothing happens.]


Hours are easy on the Strider theurge, but she knows well the patience level
of other Garou. Meditation, however, gives her one advantage, which she
finally puts to use. As the cold gray of dawn finally signals an end to the
tiresome vigil. Finally each of them hears her speak in their ear. They must
have seen our defenses. They fear us. Well done. Rest now.

Salem exhales a deep, long breath; hard to say whether the sound is relieved
or annoyed. He snaps back into his breed form, grimacing in disgust. "...Or,
they're fucking with us." The half-moon rubs at his eyes.

"Think maybe we were fed the wrong info on /purpose/?" Alicia asks as she
shifts down to her own breed form, heading back towards her pack.

Skyscraper rumbles. ~What he said,~ he growls, and drops back to a homid
form.

Laura starts to slowly massage the stiffness from her limbs. "I dunno.
Someone check the Rialto?" She can practically hear the creak of tired bones
as she stands straight.

Bridge-Mender is at least familiar with the junkyard. As the night grows
heavy, she settles down, finds a spot to sit and wait. With dawn-- she's
bleary-eyed, curly hair sticking out everywhere, some tired teenaged kid,
scrambling out from amongst the old wrecks.

Long-Past stretches as he gets to his feet and pads out from his hiding
place. We would have heard by now, I think, if there had been an attack
elsewhere.

Apparently emotionless, John simply emerges from his quasi-hiding-place, and
rumbles, "Don't assume." Moving quickly without a hint of stiffness, he
slips out of the junkyard in what remains of the darkness.

Salem looks over toward Alicia. "If so, then either they _knew_ when the
alpha's pack would be spying on them, or they can see the invisible." His
tone is grim.

Sepdet stands and descends, carefully, to level ground. ~Yi has not seen
anything at the Rialto. I do not think Ouroboros was seen the night they
overheard the enemy's plans, or they would have been attacked. But the kin
have spent days here installing weapons, changing the layout. Apparently the
Dancers are not oblivious to this.~

Seeker shifts back to homid and shakes his head at Alicia. "I doubt it,
unless they knew Andrea and the others heard them."

Francisco stretches, shoots John an annoyed glance, and rubs a hand over his
scalp. He doesn't say much, listening to what folks have to say.

Laura sighs. "Dammit." She shakes her head, looking around the junkyard and
shouldering her pack again.

"Well, this seems to be yet another /wonderful/ night that -they- had the
step on us." Alicia says, holstering her last gun, then takes the side of
her packmates. Sliding her hands into her jacket, she shifts a bit on her
feet, annoyed.

Salem's eye falls on Sepdet as the little Adren speaks, and he dips his head
in acknowledgement, though it's clear that the Walker has his own paranoid
doubts. A hand comes up, tugging free the band that keeps his hair back.

Long-Past shifts back up to homid as well and scowls at the ground. He looks
extremely unhappy. One hand shakes slightly as he brushes his hair out of
his face. He leans against the side of the station wagon and stares at the
ground, arms folded across his chest.

Aubrey has remained observant, quiet and wide-eyed during the entire event.
She slips from her hiding place with Long-Past, lightly hitting her fist on
the hood of the old car. "They're wussy..." she mutters. "Damn pranks."

Gaia-Will-Judge crawls out of his hiding place and shifts back to his
birthform with a soft grumble.

Seeker walks back over to Sepdet. "Was that a natural earthquake or
something else?"

Francisco looks down at Alicia with a grim-half smile. "We're getting there.
Slowly."

Sepdet looks sharply at Alicia. ~All right, have it your way,~ she says
drily. ~The Wyrm has already won, and there's no point in rejoicing over the
fact that we have not lost any ground here tonight, that the source of the
information leak has been caught, and that we are planning two attacks on
them, because we're all going to die horribly.~

"Ha-Ha. I feel so warm and fuzzy now with that bit of info. I'm ganna go hug
a tree." Bitterly, Alicia kicks at a rock on the ground, head tilting to the
side, popping joints.

Salem drags his fingers back through his hair. He looks like he might say
something in reply to Sepdet, but resists, turning to Alicia instead. "Get
some sleep. It will help."

Anneka glances towards Sepdet, then twists about, clambers her way up a few
flights of-- cars, scrambles into the front seat of something that may have
once been a beetle. She pops into view after a moment, looks out across the
junkyard, yawns. She nods, twice.

Fights-For-Hope simply, silently, shifts back to homid and waits.

Laura continues stretching out her muscles, not uttering a word as she
surveys the area. She gnaws her lip in frustration.

Francisco murmurs to his packmates, "I've got to check on Jacob. I'm sure
he'll be glad to know we're not all dead." He lays a hand on Alicia's
shoulder. "Come on, we lived to fight again, that's what's important."

Anneka glances over her shoulder at the sun coming up, then ducks down out
of view again. The car is a fair enough place to sleep.

Tobin glances over at Aubrey, then at Cameron, and straightens up from where
he was leaning on the car. "It's time we faced our failure," he says
gravely, and walks from the junkyard without another word, knowing the other
two will go with him.

Sepdet looks to Alicia. ~I know you want to fight. So get ready and stop
complaining. We have seven days, now, to prepare for attacking the caern,
assuming the alpha goes forward with Andrea's plan. Seven days to marshall
spirits to fight at our sides. Seven days to gather people to fight with.
Seven days to watch, learn, and scout. And in the meantime... keep
patrolling here, and keep an eye out. They may choose a different night.~

Cameron shakes his head a little, as he looks to Aubrey. He rises, and
follows Tobin, but notes mildly, "He's big on the failure. Needs to take a
step back and look at the Real picture."

Grunting a bit at the Strider's words, Alicia lets out a light hiss of a
breath, then glances away. "Yah, sleep -- sure." Rubbing her shoulder, she
starts back for the bus. She doesn't seem exactly enthusiastic with the idea
of being fucked in the ass again by these damned spirals, but, whatever,
simply whatever.

A Gnawer slinks around the corner, peering around- thenstops short in the
alley, as Tobin and Aubrey and Cameron walk out. "Hey," Lyra calls out
softly, running up to them. "You blokes wouldn't know where everyone is,
would you?" She scuffs the ground with one sandal. "I'm not sure where I'm
supposed to be, and I know cubs should be away from the Junkyard but...I
couldn't find anyone."

Salem eyeballs Alicia's back for a moment, then nods to Francisco. More
quietly, he asks, "How is he doing, by the way?"

Aubrey sighs, "It's not a failure, really. We have too much on our plate."
She looks across at the other two as they make their way out of the
junkyard. Her head turns to look over her shoulder towards Lyra, giving a
light shrug.

Francisco chuffs a sigh after Alicia. Looking back at Salem, he replies with
something that's almost a real smile. "For a cub that's a week changed, he's
doing magnificently. I wish we had somewhere to go, though. Dragging
ourselves from bolthole to bolthole gets old." He pauses, and considers
something. "By the way, could I ask a favor from you? A gift for battle?"

Sepdet twists towards the entrance as Lyra steps out. Noting the growing
light, the Strider shifts back down to something safer. "All clear," she
tells Lyra. "We were here, Ouroboros in the woods, and Yi at the Rialto. Few
had no responsibilities tonight."

Sepdet contorts and blurs as she is transformed.
Sepdet shifts into Homid form.

In the growing light of dawn, near the piles of cars by the entrance to the
junkyard, a tall, dark shape can be seen moving around. The shape moves
without sound but with confidence towards through the entrance, and past a
tall pile of junk. The light of the rising sun does nothing to illuminate
the person in the shadows of the tall piles of cars.

When someone else speaks, it's only then that Lyra turns and glances into
the Junkyard, seeing the signs of activity and Sepdet herself. "Oh," the cub
says softly. She plays with the edges of her sweatshirt sleeves idly, taking
a small step into the junkyard. "Was...was I supposed to do something too?"

Seeker says "Better to be here and have nothing happen than to not be here
and have another of our refuges destroyed."

Alicia steps towards the bus and carefully maneuvering about the deathmines.
She doesn't catch sight of the moving thing near her, her mind heated,
racing from being snubbed from could be stolen glory.

Laura looks at Lyra with a friendly, and very tired smile. "Don't think so,
aside from probably hiding."

Leonard watches patiently from his perch up in the smushed car. He eyes the
black-robed figure, and slowly gets his bow ready.

Salem studies the other Walker Philodox for a moment, steadily. "The gifts I
have for battle I learned when I still followed the full moon," he replies,
arms folding across his chest.

Sepdet motions towards the others to pipe down, shoves her hands in her
pockets, and heads towards the stranger at a slouch.

The cub smiles back wanly. Lyra doesn't seem tired, just not all there
lately. "You were here all ni-" she starts, then as Sepdet motions "hush",
falls silent.

Francisco catches Sepdet's motion and doesn't reply to Salem, watching the
Strider elder and tensing up.

Salem's powers of perception are average at best, but his paranoia-instincts
are well-honed; his head snaps around.

You can hear something metal, and heavy, fall off of a junk pile with a loud
clang. A moment later, you hear a young voice among the wrecks. "Shit."

Alicia stops quickly and glances over, sliding a hand into her jacket,
whipping out one of her baretta's. Quietly, she makes her way over slowly,
ducking her head down.

Laura stays where she is, watching her surroundings.

Dane slips around toward the crashing noise until he can see a little more
clearly, without the parts rack obstructing his view.

Leonard nocks an arrow to the string, frowning, and follows Sepdet's
movements with his eyes, covering her.

Sepdet says loudly, "You need some help with that, sir?"

Lyra looks up at the pinking sky, then sits down cross-legged on the ground
and traces her finger through the dirt, ignoring the others.

A tall and dark Native American teen steps out from behind a pile of
twisted, rusty cars. His clothes are familiar, yet a more dirty, and in some
places, torn version of themselves. The hair, undeniable. The bad attitude,
unmistakable. The young Wendigo makes his way out into the open, eyeing the
tall car-totems as though they were evil incarnate. "Sonofabitch..." He rubs
his head, and then looks to the assembled Garou. "Help? The whole world
needs help, ~Sepdet-rhya.~" He stranger continues to rub his head and scowl
at junk.

The demeanor of the man standing before you is as rigid and cold as the body
it inhabits. A proud, dark, and young Native American man, probably no older
than 19 or 20, with earth-brown skin and a well-muscled, athletic frame. His
wet-obsidian black hair is set into a striking traditional mohawk. If the
eyes are the windows to the soul, then the bright eyes with impossibly dark
irisis of this young man epitomize the fact. He wears a pair of blue jeans;
dirty and faded but still in good shape, and a pair of heavy hiking boots.
About the man's angular and muscled torso is a red flannel shirt, tucked
into the jeans; it's buttons fastened save for the highest two, and it's
sleaves rolled up to the man's strong biceps, revealing aspen-thick scarred
forearms, with strong callused hands. He wears a white undershirt beneath
the flannel, and a choker of stark-white shells. He almost never smiles, and
his brow seems set in anger or contempt. His face is young and clean, but
mirrors on a level deeper than perception the hardships he's faced.

Leonard breaks into a slow grin, puts the bow away, and gives a strange yelp
that ends in a scream, pulling himself from the car window and climbing down
to the ground below like a monkey.

Sepdet relaxes her shoulders visibly-- miming it so certain hidden
sharpshooters will see the gesture. "Sorry, Cougar, nothing for you to bite,
here. Nice of you to stop by."

Francisco eyes the stranger warily, having never clapped eyes on him before,
but relaxes when it's obvious that Sepdet knows the fellow. He sighs and
glances back at Salem.

Dane peers curiously at the stranger, now that two people have apparently
identified him.

Salem stares at the newcomer with an expression that almost as cold as
Wendigo itself; the tiredness has slipped away or -- knowing Salem -- been
ruthlessly repressed. He breaks the look as Leonard yelps and Sepdet
relaxes, and turns back to Francisco. "You were saying?"

Alicia blinks her eyes a few times, then shakes her head, slapping it a few
times. "Cougar...?" She trails off slowly, clearing her throat.

Tyler tosses a half-wave to Leonard as he falls off of a car.

Lyra continues tracing in the dirt, nothing more complex than stick figures,
or perhaps she's writing someone's name. She seems to be paying no
attention, but she's stealing quick glances as people make odd sounds, like
yelping and falling off old vehicles.

Leonard picks his way across the yard, keeping to the hubcaps, then tackles
Tyler, putting him in a most uncharacteristic headlock.

Laura shakes her head again, then runs a hand through her hair. "Man, I need
some sleep or some coffee. Is this the all clear, rhya?" she asks Sepdet,
looking around the junkyard again.

Alicia pauses for a few moments, then turns around, heading back towards her
pack quickly, sheathing her gun again. Her eyes blink a few times as she
clears her throats. "Guys.... I need to talk to you.. Sepdet.. you too."

Francisco is about to continue his conversation with Salem, but the words
never quite make it out, and he turns to Alicia, eyebrows raised. "What is
it?"

Dane turns to Alicia and cocks his head thoughtfully.

Sepdet nods to Laura. "For tonight. I'm afraid we should mount extra patrols
for a few nights-- they may have seen us mustering and are hoping to catch
us offguard. But a skeleton watch should be sufficient."

Tyler balances with one arm out in front of him. He growls low to the
happier, smaller Wendigo trying to kill him. "Buffalo... down boy." He moves
his other arm slowly towards Leonard's head, as if preparing for some kind
of harsh throw. "What's going on here...? I went back into the city for
supplies... junkyard party?"

Dane blinks and almost jumps at the mention of Buffalo.

Lyra steals another glance upwards, blinking at the mention of 'Buffalo',
then stares back down at her dirt-art, finger stilled. For a moment. Then
she erases half of it and starts anew.

Alicia lets out a breath and says. "I had a dream the other night, and it
just now hit me. I pushed it into the back of my head up until now." Rubbing
her neck, she murmurs. "Until the word cougar was said.."

Sepdet says grimly, "Our guests failed to show. A scouting party a week and
a half ago overheard the enemy planning a strike here on the new moon. We
were hoping to catch some of them."

Salem's face does quite still; he eyeballs Alicia almost warily.

Dane nods slowly as he listens to Alicia.

Leonard releases him, straightening. "Thought you were dead." He punches the
older Wendigo in the arm, looks at Alicia, smile fading.

Laura looks Alicia over, nodding slowly. "Okay..." she says softly.

Sepdet allows herself a moment to give the tall Wendigo a friendly tap-- a
light punch in the upper arm, actually--before turning back to Alicia. "You
saw Cougar?" she asks with some surprise. "It has mostly been ahrouns."

Tyler stands up, pushing Leonard off of him nonchalantly. "I've had this
dream, too. I figured it was meant for me, though." He crosses his arms, and
looks both releived and confused at the same time.

Alicia flexes her fingers out a bit, then glances over to Tyler for a
moment, staring at him for a few seconds. Then, she glances back to her
pack, taking Sepdet into her line of sight. "This is fucking creepy as hell.
I was staring into the sky, watching it change, from black to white, back
again, etc'. Right?" Pacing slightly back and forth, she brushes back the
whips of red and brown hair back from her face, dark eyes gleaming under the
faint articles of light. "It was like I was in the Umbra, eh'? And I could
see the spiders. /Huge/. They were spinning in the sky, this web that looked
totally freaked out, all crooked and shit. Big spiders, little spiders, all
busy helping each other out." Her voice is a mere soft voice, not too loud,
not too quiet. "Suddenly, I could hear this loud yowling, like a scream in
the distance, and woosh, they all took off, in a quick blur, into the east..
Well.. a whole lot of time passed and right when I thought everything was
getting boring, they came back, with /cougar/ wrapped up tightly in web."
Nodding her head, she murmurs. "They dropped it near me, then, I too, became
wrapped up in the web, to the point I could not see.. and that was it.
Darkness..."

Leonard tilts off-balance, straightens, elbows Tyler back. "Probably
somethin' you ate." He gives the Mohawk a sly look, then watches Alicia.

Tyler cocks his head to one side. "That is not the dream I had."

Laura wrinkles her nose. "Eugh..." she murmurs, wiping a hand across her
eyes.

Lyra's dirt art has now become rather complex, reaching out as far as her
hand can go. She stops, then looks up as the group of Garou discuss a
vision, finally showing interest in something other then the damn dirt.

Salem's mouth thins, a little twist of distaste edging past the rigid mask
of his face. He turns his face away slightly to look toward the junkyard
entrance, arms folded tightly across his chest.

Dane swallows and whispers, "Cougar, too?"

Sepdet's eyes unfocus as she tries to commit this next one to memory. "This
one is different," she observes quietly. "The ahrouns' dreams have all been
of blood and Cougar's death, as it was before. Now... does the Weaver strive
to balance the Wyld which has held sway here for four seasons?"

Dane takes a deep breath and says softly, "My dream was of Buffalo. But it
wasn't exactly a dream, either."

Lyra stands up softly, taking a few steps towards the group, but still
outside of it. Buffalo was what she wanted to hear about.

Tyler looks back to Leonard, and says quietly, "We need to copyright the
vision-quest. Now everybody's doing it."

Alicia runs a hand back through her hair, then rolls her shoulders a bit,
turning about. She starts to head off, murmuring. "Good luck with it guys."
She says softly.

Sepdet gives Tyler a wry glance. "At such times," she murmurs, "The
Harbingers get tired of headaches. But these -- these do not come to those
seeking them. The caern is reaching for us to warn us in every way it can."
She returns her attention to Dane. "Go on."

Laura withdraws her notebook from her pack and begins to furiously scribble
notes on Alicia's dream. She has a seat on a nearby wreck of a car, careful
not to unbalance anything, or spear herself on a random piece of metal.

"Yes," mutters Salem, practically under his breath and apparently to
himself, "but warning us of _what_?"

Dane takes a deep breath. "It was a small clearing...There was a campfire to
my right, a mound to my left, and a stone table in front of me. A large
buffalo was standing between me and the table.

Francisco murmurs, "Need to tend to my cub," and slips away.

Sepdet moves to take a seat on a crate, still minding her feet rather
suspiciously.

Dane says, "It stood and let me stroke it, from its muzzle to its
shoulder..." He pauses to take a deep breath and blink away something in his
eyes. "It had gored itself. In both shoulders. It let me hold it, for what
could have been forever, or maybe an instant. It was one of those kind of
moments."

Leonard narrows his eyes, but doesn't interrupt.

Salem turns his head and looks at Dane. Hard. His face, his body, is rigid.

Laura scribbles onward, occasionally glancing up at Dane or Sepdet.

Lyra glances at Laura working at her notebook before looking at Dane,
knowing how his vision would end. But the cub says nothing.

Dane swallows. "Then I saw myself put an old...really old, like cowboys
wear...old revolver to its head, and end its pain with a shot." He looks
down at his hands for a moment. "When I woke, one hand smelled of buffalo,
and the other smelled of gunpowder."

Sepdet shoots a glance towards Laura, a tight smile touching her lips
briefly as she spots the notebook again. "Many of the half-moons have had
that dream, Dane, or something close to it. We are seeing echoes of the
totems who died for the caern the last time it fell. They say: do not let
their deaths be in vain. Do not shoot their memory. I think. But there may
be more."

Leonard's jaw works, fiercely. He turns and stalks over to his car perch,
climbing up the pile of twisted metal and pulling himself through the
window.

Tyler looks to Sepdet, and says, shifting his position a little. He starts
to say something, but stops as he sees Leonard walk away, before turning
back to the Strider. "What happened to Fog after the attack?"

Laura pauses a moment in her writing as Dane finishes speaking, then makes a
final notation. She wipes a hand across her eyes again, then withdraws her
flask from her pocket and takes a long drink. "And..uh...anyone else have
dreams to speak about?"

Dane nods. "I hope there's more. That...we can find a way to bring life
back."

Leonard climbs back down, much more heavily-armed than when he went up. He
stalks back over to Tyler, face set in its usual scowl. "Heading back to the
Bluff."

Sepdet tells Tyler carefully, "Fog has hung on. The Wyld energies are giving
them a great deal of trouble. But Ouroboros was summoning Fog away from the
caern tonight, I hope, to give it strength and protect it from the enemy at
moon's dark."

Tyler scowls.

Lyra turns away, only interesting part over. She stands over her dirt art,
then starts drawing the heel of her sandal in it, slowly erasing it. "Ashes
to ashes, dust to dust," she mumbles.

Laura looks around for any others willing to volunteer their stories. With
none turning up, she flips her notebook closed and tucks it away in her
pack.

Leonard follows one of the trails around the building and out of sight.
Leonard has left.

Tyler turns without saying anything, and follows his Injun companion out of
the junkyard. He seems wary of the tall piles of dead cars as he makes his
quiet exit.

Tyler follows one of the trails around the building and out of sight.
Tyler has left.

Sepdet follows her packmate's departure with her eyes. "I need to think,"
she mutters. "The Weaver doesn't fit with what has been seen so far."

Salem rubs at the back of his neck, his gaze drifting upwards, toward the
pre-dawn sky.

Laura massages the back of her neck as well, watching Sepdet with tired eyes.

Dane nods slowly and drifts toward teh exit.

Wordlessly the cub slips out of the junkyard the way she'd come. Diagonal
smudges are all that remain of her intense project.

Dane follows one of the trails around the building and out of sight.
Dane has left.

Lyra follows one of the trails around the building and out of sight.
Lyra has left.

Sepdet smiles faintly at Laura. "Get some sleep, healer. Work or no, you've
earned it." She nods towards the notebook. "Tell me if you come up with
anything there. Insights may strike anyone with eyes open and searching."

Laura looks about ready to say something, but yawns instead. Once she's
shaken that off, she digs out her pen and a piece of paper. "I've gone
City," she says. "I..." Another yawn. "Got a cell phone yesterday. Here."
Quickly, she scribbles out the number, distributing it to those still
present. "If I'm needed, someone call me."

Sepdet takes it and tucks it away with her Tarot cards. "Thanks. At least
this is one they won't have gotten," she murmurs.

Salem's hand drops back down to his side. He inhales a deep breath, then
lets it out and steps over toward the Strider.

Laura nods. "Yeah." She starts back out of the junkyard, waving as she goes.
"Good day. Good sleep." Avoiding the danger spots, she slips out and wanders
off down the street.

Laura follows one of the trails around the building and out of sight.
Laura has left.

The sky's lightening more, and though it seems he can't have had enough time
to have scouted much out, John is returning. With a long bundle of thick,
woolen cloth, that probably conceals a weapon. Or some sticks. He enters the
junkyard without pause for greeting.

Sepdet says "Dream well, Laura." Sepdet notes John's arrival with a weary
nod, then steps over to the hulking Walker, staring up at him. "Something,
Salem?"

Jamethon still sits there, simply meditating in a nearly sleep like state.

Salem stops short, arms folding across his chest again; a glance notes
John's return, and then his attention's back down on Sepdet. The half-moon
speaks slowly, almost carefully. "Julie Nicholson... Glissa's daughter. How,
ah, is she?"

John continues closer to Tribesmate and Strider, coming to stop a distance
behind Sepdet's shoulder. He looks between the two, eyes narrowed, waiting
for the response.

Sepdet exhales. "She is being as silent as only a Strider can be," the
theurge says, helplessness touching her eyes for the first time this
evening. "Strong child. But I am no judge of human children, Salem. I wish I
were. I have to trust my kinfolk to care for her."

Salem nods once. For a moment, he looks about to say something else, but
then evidently chooses not to. Instead, he dips his head to the Strider and
glances toward John. "I've obtained a new cellphone. I should give you the
number."

John rumbles lowly, "The girl's in good hands. Vicki's a good mother, and a
good woman. They'll be fine. ...Though she may move out of town, soon. Still
thinking about it." He looks at Sepdet a moment, consideringly, before
looking back to Salem and wordlessly offering him the bundle in his hands.
"Rescued it. Before the explosion. No case or anything. Sorry."

Sepdet exhales and nods to John. "Thank you."

Salem's brows lift. He accepts the bundle, unwrapping it just enough to get
a glimpse of the Soviet sniper rifle concealed inside. He lets out a breath,
covering it back up. "Thank you. I... the case is nothing. Easily
replaceable. Did you, ah, manage to save the scope as well?"

John inclines his head. "It's attached," he grunts. Then looks to Sepdet.
"Should talk to you about dreams sometime, Rhya. Most importantly... about
making them /stop/."

The Walker Ahroun looks distinctly uncomfortable, and perfectly willing to
save the conversation for some other, unspecified time.

Sepdet raises an eyebrow. "I know the feeling, John. A..." she touches the
tiny beaded medicine wheel she wears. "Something like this? I fear Joseph
was the one who was best at fashioning them."

Salem eyes the medicine wheel hanging from the Strider's neck.

Shooting a glance around the rest f the Junkyard, John leans a little
closer, with his head down, as he growls, "I'm lucky I was alone the night I
got the dream. In my sleep, I... Tore up the earth. Quite badly." He clears
his throat and looks the diminuitive Strider in the eye.

Sepdet holds his gaze. "I understand," she replies quietly. "I can't help
you for a few nights; you'll have to hold on. But meet me at Harbor Park
when the moon comes back. Perhaps we can put together a talen to hold you
for a month or so. I'll need you to assist me in feeding any spirit I
convince to do it."

John inclines his head again, low with respect - and when she glimpses his
eyes, gratitude. The look disappears quickly, and John turns to leave.
"Later, you two. Things to do. Plans. Vigils to keep. For all of us, I'm
sure."

"'Miles to go before I sleep,'" mutters Salem. He nods, giving the junkyard
a final, dour look before heading for the exit himself.

Sepdet touches her forehead. "Thanks you both for being here," she murmurs,
then heads out for her own long trail to the forest.