World of Darkness World of Darkness: Attrition - Special Delivery [Fin]

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

[early morning, 21 August 2008]

Diesel belched from the massive bus as it rumbled off westward around the bend of Sunset Boulevard, leaving Sarah at the foot of Temescal Canyon. A young couple had clambered down the stairs after her, but quickly crossed Sunset to walk off, hand in hand, toward the lights of apartments to the south. Turning her back to such mortal comforts, Sarah hesitated only a moment before setting a somewhat quicker pace into the northern darkness.

This wasn't her first time walking along this lonely road. That had been the previous week, when hope for connection with the local pack had been rudely but not unexpectedly stabbed through the heart with a single silent guesture. Now, her nerves were on edge for a different reason altogether. As she started up the long and winding canyon road, Sarah had no great hopes for her chances if one of the Topangas found her there at the bounds, tacking up a note to a marker tree.

Something else was tickling at her mind though, something that had somehow been buried by sense of duty and a variety of worries. The sky was taking on a hue that she seldom saw, and that's when it hit her: Sunrise!

A trick of local topography had all but hidden the telltale signs of the coming dawn until the sky above started shifting to a hazy pink, and she knew that there would only be a few minutes before golden rays would rain destruction beyond death upon her. Scrambling off to the side of the road and into Temescal Gateway Park, Sarah quickly found a relatively secluded spot; in a wholly unnatural act that had become second nature to the young vampire, she sank into the sandy loam just as the first true light of day began to shine above, and fell deeply into the sleep of day.

[Dave ST]

[Just after sunset, 15 August 2008]

Embracing the Earth Mother was a parlor trick for most vampires who learned with discipline and time to dissolve themselves away to hide from the sun's rays.

There, in the arms of Gaia she slept throughout the day. As dusk slowly faded and Luna once again shown down upon the firmament looking over her children and blessing them with her love and guidance, it was then that Sarah once again arose from her earthly tomb.

Slowly the soil loosed it grip uopn her, rising her to the surface with unseen force as if she were the Queen of the ancient Topangan glades.

"Oi pet, right fancy trick that." came the thick Welsh accent that about jump started the heart the Damned's Queen.

A dirty man covered in layers of rags and coats leaned against a tree just few steps behind Sarah dragging his finger through a can of tuna, or was it cat food, trying to get every bit of nourishment he could apparently.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

At the first bit of vocalization, Sarah was pouring vitae into her muscles and tendons... not for power, but for speed. She leapt up and twisted with preternatural grace, dropping into a crouch, fingers begging her to release ebony death from their tips.

By every right, she should have attacked the bum. Her beast raged at her to do just that. But something was wrong here. People didn't watch bodies emerge from the ground without recoiling in shock unless they were stoned or drunk out of their mind... and nothing about this bedraggled man indicated either. What the hell is going on here?

"Who are you?" she more demanded than asked, hoping to arrive at a quick answer as to whether or not killing would be called for tonight.

Code:

Tries for Intimidation, no successes.  Comedy ensues.

[Dave ST]

Casually, and completely oblivious to any attempts Sarah made to to sound stern and aggressive, he man tucked the can into one of many pockets. "Look 'ere, there's two ways we can do this. One, you can go mental, an we tussle and end up all hurt like. Or two: Ye can git up off t' ground an we chat, all sibil like."

"Wozzit goin' ta be?" he asked moving from where he stood by the tree more in line with Sarah's vision. She noticed the pivot of his foot, grounding into the soil as he set himself to receive her assault.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Still as taut as a Stradivarius, Sarah nonetheless came up out of her crouch to at least a semblance of erect posture, carefully measuring out the distance between herself and this refugee from Oliver Twist. Whoever it was, he didn't give a damn about the unnaturally pale cast of her skin or predatory stance, and that was a matter for no small concern.

Meanwhile, the gears were finally turning in her head. Supernatural, certainly. Knows how to stand, so a scrapper. No beast, probably not a vampire. Werewolf, maybe one of the Topanga? Or something else?

"OK," she managed to not quite growl, "we can talk. Pretty obvious you knew where I was; I'll assume you have some idea who or what I am. So starting with who you are would be just ducky."

[Dave ST]

"Name's Dredge, Sarah. An you left sumtin wiv some people." With classic slight of hand 'Dredge' whipped the card Sarah had left for the Topanga Pack just a week before.

"You got questions ye said. Well, I'm ere' ta answer them."

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Despite the revelation that the "man" standing in front of her was something that could easily reach over and snap her in two like a twig, Sarah visibly relaxed.

"Glad to meet you, Dredge. Yeah, I did leave that behind, after Jackie-Chan-on-steroids showed me the door. Gotta admit, I'm kinda surprised that you didn't burn it." She gave a small, grim little grin at that.

"That said, you just saved me a helluva hike. Got a message for your pack from Declan Perault." With care, Sarah reached into her jacket, withdrawing the folded scrap of notebook paper from the night before and handing it over to the "bum".

[Dave ST]

The shoulders shuffled a bit on the ragged man. "Eh. Met Shadows of Night did ja? We call im' 'Shiva'. Trained over in India despite being Chinese. Good bloke, never speaks."

He took the note from Sarah. The paper crackled as he opened it up with gloved hands, Sarah notice the fingers cut away. "Wot's ol' Crazy Perault wont, eh?"

His eye scanned the paper. "Bloody 'ell. Ol' Lightin' ain't gon like this one bit 'tall."

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

At Dredge's explanation of his silent packmate, Sarah wanted to smack herself in the forehead. Hard. Never speaks. Great. I hike up into the hills for three days and I wind up trying to communicate with a fucking mute. Yeah, that's about my damned luck.

Then the grungy man read the note, and his mirth fell to the ground like dirty rain.

Whoever "O' Lightin'" was - presumably Dredge's alpha, though one could never be sure - Sarah felt it best to go along. "Probably not. This is some bad shit, and the evidence is pretty solid. Whoever it is, he's an Oath-breaker in a big way, and Declan's gonna try to take care of it. With a little help," she added, not entirely wanting to elaborate on just how much of that help was of a non-breathing variety.

[Dave ST]

"Try an take care ov it? 'Ow?" Dredge tucked the paper away. "Sarah, it woz Sarah right?"

"We'll deal wiv all dis. Owns The Night's got no enemies 'ere, he's jes a pissy ol' ermit. Tell'im he's got one cycle to deal wiv it."

Whomever Dredge was, he was in a position to set terms, which made him respected, powerful, or both. "Or we deal wiv it, and deal wiv his failure as well."

"Now, wot was you wanted, eh?"

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Well, so much for a friendly notification. Gonna be a world of not fun letting Declan know he's on a timetable.

Then it came to her original question, and Sarah shifted mental gears.

"I came up here last week hoping for some help in finding my cousin. She is - or was three years ago, anyway - a wolf-blood by name of Amber Wren, of the Wren clan in Massachusettes. Lit out in February of oh-five, and the family sent me after her. Been trying to track her ever since. Lawson's Pride back in Barstow did some spirit-talk for me, and said that she was somewhere in L.A. I was sorta hoping that she'd made contact with your pack."

[Dave ST]

"Das it?" He looked at her confused. "You 'iked all dis bloomin' way for information on 'er?"

He sighed. "Aye, I know of her. She's a herroin addict last I 'eard. Suckin dick for a hit and gettin' her kid taken away coz of et." Very little happened in L.A. the Dredge didn't know about. Especially when it came to the People. "An she ain't wolf-blood, luv. She's Uratha, but none of us'll pay her any mind. She's lost cause an 'as no honor." He spat the ground.

"I dunno know where she's 'oled up now pet. She was doing a guy named Kryze for smack. Now 'im I can direct ya to." He scrawled down an address on the back of the label that was covering his cat food can. "I'm doing this coz you've been polite, and sensible. I like that."

He handed Sarah the paper.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Sarah looked at the paper with wide-eyes and somthing approaching disbelief. Three years - three years! - she had been searching. Across twenty states, she had travelled, the last three on foot. She had lost her chance at a career, her friends, her car, and even her life on the quest. And now someone who looked and smelled like he had just crawled out of a Birmingham sewer was handing her the end of the road.

It took a second to shake off the shock, and with a slightly trembling hand, she took the paper and carefully stowed it away close to her unbeating heart. Then she was left with the sheer enormity of looking back up at Dredge and trying to find some way of saying thank you.

What came out was more or less a jumble. "I don't... you... this is... three years... I...." After a hopeless string of words showed no sign of gaining anything resembling coherence, she stopped, took a deep and awkward breath, and simply said, "Thank you."