World of Darkness World of Darkness: Attrition - Trespass

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

[11:00 PM, 18 Sept 2008]

Territory. To some, the word means far off lands and old maps, perhaps scribed in flowery script as "Terra Incognita" or even "Here There Be Dragons," something lost to the modern world. To some, it denoted surveys and stakes, used almost interchangably with "real-estate". To some, it was that over which tanks rolled and bombs fell, the lines shifting back and forth through the hell that is war. To some, it marked off zones for crimes ranging from low-level drug dealing to extortion to union strong-arming.

But to a special few, the word was honor and pride and duty rolled together in a life-long calling. Almost all of those so called bore the mark of the Uratha. The tiny handful that remained included Sarah O'Neally, Dead Wolf.

She hadn't staked out the lands surrounding Holmby Park in a casual fashion, shortly after coming to Los Angeles nearly two months ago. The park itself was just wooded enough to provide the bit of seclusion she needed for her haven while being small enough to not have been otherwise claimed. The surrounding blocks were picked on the basis of proximity and defense; even a single werewolf would have trouble defending a large patch of ground, and Sarah was - despite pretense, hope and deep envy - not a werewolf; the daytime was forever forbidden to her, and the remaining night had only so many hours for the needs of patrolling her claimed turf. It touched barely on a cheap - and thus popular with students - buffet house, supplying her with sufficient if not indulgent hunting opportunities.

But one corner left the Dead Wolf at sixes and sevens, and that was the House That Hef Built. Spread in near-seclusion on five beautifully wooded acres in the very northeast corner of Sarah's territory, one of the most infamous estates in Orange County played host to parties that would make a Daeva blush. It was, she knew, an incredible asset if played right, a happy hunting ground that she hadn't even realized for what it was until weeks after she had carved her markers and begun her patrols.

It was also, unfortunately, a veritable beacon to other predators. So as much as she wished otherwise, Sarah wasn't entirely surprised when, from amid the laughter and splashing and strong scent of sex that flowed from one of Mr. Hefner's bacchanalian pool parties, she caught from her border vantage deep in the trees a whiff of something else... and her Beast flared in response. Distant and faint though it was, there was no mistaking it.

Another hunter stalked her territory. And every fibre of Sarah's undead being reached the same vehement conclusion: this could not go unanswered.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

[1:30 AM, 19 Sept 2008]

No luck that first night. Oh, the Beast had remained constant, that much was sure, and there was no doubt that it was aware of what was out there; the thing that lurked somewhere deep within the Dead Wolf's unbeating heart was as primal as the night itself, something that made other leeches tremble despite themselves. But that fear cut two ways; when the trespasser left, it was in a Bentley with a mortal wrapped close around it, roaring off into the night as safe from Sarah's claws as it would have been a hundred miles away. Any real progress toward redressing the issue would have to wait until later.

~~~

[9:40 PM, 21 Sept 2008]

Later, it turned out, was less than a week away. An altered patrol saw the would-be werewolf stalking the far northeastern edge of her claimed ground early in the night, early enough for guests to arrive... and early enough to get a good vantage point, thirty feet up in an oak that might even be older than the decrepit old fart who kept this oversized love shack in operation all these years. With a sharp eye on the circle drive, Sarah watched - and felt - as that same Beast stepped out from the back of a Mercedes, planting 4" Pradas on the paving stones with a sharp click before acres of leg and a tightly wrapped body with curves that just wouldn't quit followed them.

"Daeva," the patient hunter muttered to herself. "Of course it had to be a Daeva."

The one Succubus in town that had been known to Sarah was a sultry seductrous who had gone by Vienne. But she hadn't been heard from in nearly a month, and at any rate, this deadly little number was way out of Vienne's league. The man on her arm was dispensed of like a candy wrapper as she reached out and took that of another "lucky" guy; by the tailored jacket and Rolex on his wrist, she'd just traded up.

For the first few minutes, Sarah thought that the interloper might just be unaware, so smooth and composed she was in the light, playful banter leading up to the hunt. Only a slight flash of her eyes, a bare betrayal of acknowledgement just before she was led into the house, revealed that she was very much aware that someone was watching. The smile that crept across her flawless lips just before she disappeared from view showed that she did more than know: she reveled in it.

The limb actually cracked beneath Sarah's white-knuckled grip.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

[11:34 PM, 28 Oct 2008]

It would have to happen right in the middle of the new moon, Sarah rued.

For weeks, she had played an intricate game of cat and mouse with this damnable Succubus that insisted on hunting in her lands. For all those weeks, that same Daeva temptress had made very, very certain to keep to the safety of heavy limousines, burly guards and a never-ending parade of playboy victims, smirking all the while.

And then, tonight, she stepped into the backyard alone.

It was perfect. The trespasser, unprotected and vulnerable, there within a mere dozen yards or so of the hunter, and Sarah had the advantage of higher ground - a massive old oak, in this case. With a smile on her lips, she shifted into the new sleek wolf form that she loved so very much, prepared to pounce, and...

...a wave of weariness washed over Sarah like the Pacific surf, the weight of the hidden moon's curse a crushing mass upon her spirit. Precious vitae - so little of it left now, after the long prowl and changes of form - was desperately burned in an effort to keep from slipping into daysleep right there and then. It was nothing short of a miracle that the big wolf didn't fall right off of the thick branch she occupied.

As it was, she did slip, and with that sound the Daeva - whoever she was - was suddenly on the alert. For the first time, Sarah saw genuine fear cross her unnamed rival's face as eyes widened like a gazelle that just discovered a lion in the brush. And like that gazelle, the Succubus made a dash for the house at an impossible pace, far faster than the Dead Wolf could hope to match even at her best. Before Sarah could even try to pounce, the portico door was slamming shut behind a flowing red dress.

Utterly disgusted with the situation and the lost opportunity, Sarah slunk off to hunt and replenish her depleted stores. Even so, one tiny consolation was hers: she had tasted a rival's fear, and it tasted sweeter than wine.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

[22 Dec 2008]

Back and forth. Cat and mouse. The weeks stretched into months, and the pattern didn't so much change as stretch out. The interloper was waiting longer between her acts of trespass, but still occurred, and that was enough to boil Sarah's blood.

Why it was less frequent was anyone's guess. Was the threat of Gangrel claws enough to limit such violation of her territory to moments of necessity? Had the legendary vigor and vim of Hugh's parties dwindled? Was she - as Daeva sometimes did - simply getting bored? Whatever the reason, as much as two or three weeks would now pass before Sarah would once more feel that familiar beast, see those flashes of crimson, hear the tell-tale tap-tap-tap of Prada heels... and quell her own raging beast from throwing caution and Oath to the wind, charging in to reduce the House that Hef Built to a bloody crime scene.

And then, opportunity knocked. Or flashed, as it were, across the screen of her cellphone.

Sarah had been taking a break from her latest project - a search for werewolf packs within the City of Angels, part of her ongoing tests by the Topanga Pack - by tapping out lines on a back corner of the CalNet chatrooms. This room, she knew all too well, was populated entirely by things other than human: her estranged cousin, young Ariel, a surprise appearance by long-absent Declan (who thankfully hadn't written her out of his life, but rather taken a wilderness break from the city), and the strange little undead cipher that was Adrian (or Cresent Sun, as he prefered online). The last wasn't her favorite person, but out of politeness she tried to at least have some token conversation with him... and was rewarded in unexpected fashion:

(21:53:42) (Sarah): (whispers to (Cresent_Sun)) How you holding up, Adrian?

(21:54:38) (Cresent_Sun): (whispers) I went and joined a coterie. Not sure if its the best thing, but I'm giving it a shot. How about you?

Well, he's gone native, Sarah had thought. Of course, it was unclear what else the little Shadow was supposed to do; he certainly wasn't - and never would be - a wolf.

(21:55:37) (Sarah): (whispers to (Cresent_Sun)) Oh...kay. Well, if you're gonna survive the leech rat-race, that's one of the better ways of doing it. Going it alone is damned rough. As I know.

(21:56:03) (Sarah): (whispers to (Cresent_Sun)) I'm doing all that weird werewolf stuff, as usual.

Which was really the extent of what he needed to know. The business of the People was just that: of the People (and occasionally Sarah), not of some nosey little Mekhet. Which Adrian reinforced with his next line of text.

(21:57:09) (Cresent_Sun): (whispers) Yeah, well I realized I don't have a shot in hell of the whole Pack thing, so I figured I had to do something. I can't go running to Declan every time I have a problem.

A few minutes passed, and then a moment of inspiration struck. If he was in a local coterie, maybe he knew something....

(21:59:47) (Sarah): (whispers to (Cresent_Sun)) True enough, I guess. Good luck, for what it's worth. And hey: if you run across a drop-dead gorgeous Daeva with a penchant for red dresses so tight they look painted on and excursions to the Playboy Mansion, tell her to stay the fuck off my territory before I rip her a new one.

(22:01:06) (Cresent_Sun): (whispers) I'll ask around. It could be one of mine. We have the obligitory Daeva Queen.

Paydirt? Or coincidence? Either way, Sarah pressed her point. Maybe, just maybe, she could put an end to this.

(22:01:44) (Sarah): (whispers to (Cresent_Sun)) Just a friendly warning. You're a good Joe, for what you are, and I don't want to wind up fighting you.

(22:02:54) (Cresent_Sun): (whispers) Thanks. For what it's worth, I won't fight you. Say, any way someone can beg permission to hunt your domain?

Hackles began rising on Sarah's neck.

(22:03:34) (Sarah): (whispers to (Cresent_Sun)) *sigh* At Hefner's?

(22:05:00) (Cresent_Sun): (whispers) Most likely. I don't want to see my new compadres get into a fight they don't need to be in. It isn't like there aren't ten thousand other ways to die in this place.

She had to actually surpress a growl. Oh, no... no, no, no.

(22:06:02) (Sarah): (whispers to (Cresent_Sun)) You want me to give permission to little Miss Bitch? She's actively been revelling in the trespass - knowingly - for months now. Not a chance. If it was you, that'd be different. But she'd have to come on her fucking knees.

(22:07:12) (Cresent_Sun): (whispers) On her knees eh? I'll toss it out on the wall in the off chance in hell that it sticks. I'm really hoping it isn't who I think it is. Pride and all that.

(22:07:43) (Sarah): (whispers to (Cresent_Sun)) Yeah. Pride. Like the kind I take for my territory, Adrian.

(22:09:26) (Cresent_Sun): (whispers) I like keeping it to my home. I'm simplier that way and besides, if someone trespasses, I have the option of calling the police.

Home? Didn't the little guy get it?

(22:11:24) (Sarah): (whispers to (Cresent_Sun)) My territory *is* my home.

(22:12:01) (Sarah): (whispers to (Cresent_Sun)) She's walking into my goddamned kitchen and rummaging around in my fridge while flipping me the bird.

(22:13:35) (Cresent_Sun): (whispers) Do you want me to go around and start spreading the word this Gangrel has set up shop in you neck of the woods to maybe less some of this? I don't use Dead Wolves because almost no one knows what that is.

And suddenly, Sarah remembered why she bothered talking to Adrian. Every once in a while, he managed to say something amazingly useful.

(22:16:26) (Sarah): (whispers to (Cresent_Sun)) That'll work. "Extremely territorial Gangrel with nasty disposition. Not worth screwing with. Plenty of other prey in the city." That kinda thing.

(22:18:51) (Cresent_Sun): (whispers) I'm not that good at lying, but I'll talk up tale as best as I can.

(22:19:51) (Sarah): (whispers to (Cresent_Sun)) Good deal. Should save everyone a lot of trouble. And pain.

(22:20:52) (Sarah): (whispers to (Cresent_Sun)) And yeah, I know damned well that I'm a Gangrel. I just self-identify better as a Dead Wolf. I'm different, not delusional.

And that ended that. A few minutes later, Adrian begged off the rest of the chat - "No time like the present to go out and hang with the desperate Pre-Christmas time crowd" he had announced in awkwardly public fashion - leaving Sarah to argue in a different set of private notes with Amber... an argument she wasn't likely to win anytime this decade. Only a few minutes after that, and the room was empty once more, with Sarah closing the connection and tucking the expensive little phone carefully away once more as she resumed her search for sign of other packs through a series of northside parks.

Still, a smile couldn't help but crease her slightly blue lips. "Maybe a little well-placed fear will resolve this after all."