World of Darkness World of Darkness: Attrition - The First Test: Cunning [Complete]

[Dawn OOC]

December 17, 2008

Sarah O'Neally, vampire and werewolf kin, balancer between two worlds, was bummed. And confused. And, truth be told, a little angry.

It'd been weeks since the Topanga's had agreed to test her for the possibility of earning enough respect to learn how to be the Wolf. And she had heard nothing from them. Had they forgotten her? Had they dismissed her? She knew that not every member of the tribe was thrilled about giving her this shot, so she'd hung well back from them, and given them time to work out shit with their pack. But surely, they should have by now. Surely, she'd hear something from them soon.

I'll go up there tomorrow night, she told herself, knowing that she wouldn't let herself. She would be patient and wait, no matter how much it grated on her nerves. For all she knew, they were testing her patience or ability to follow orders.

A flash of white caught her eye, and Sarah turned toward it, defensively preparing herself for anything. But a piece of paper wasn't a threat, even if it was affixed to a tree just outside of her territory. Pensively, prepared to be jumped while looking at the paper, she reached out and pulled it down, noting that it had been tacked to the bark. She retreated back into her territory and then opened it, reading it.

Luv, the pack & I have yer first challenge. You have to find two other packs in the LA area. You have to learn their boundaries, the name of their totem, and their alphas. Bring me the info when you have it. Good luck, duckie.

Dredge

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

"Well... fuck."

Sarah had known that these test wouldn't be easy. That much had been made abundantly clear over a month before, when the Topangas granted her request to at least be considered for training. Indeed, she'd spent much of the last month wondering exactly what they'd wind up throwing at her.

Now she had the first answer to that question. And it was a pretty mess, indeed.

Sitting at the base of an old oak, Sarah carefully began folding the page as she considered the problem, talking it through to herself as she went.

"OK, let's break this down. First off, there has to actually be at least two other packs in L.A. And with Declan's Rangers out of the running, they'll be complete unknowns at this point."

In truth, Sarah was somewhat surprised at the thought of two more packs in the City of Angels. Growing up, she'd been used to the Wrens effectively functioning as one huge pack. And in the time since - both alive and dead - she'd encountered solitary packs across the backroads of America. Nothing had quite prepared her for the reality of a city of over ten million.

"First thing first: find these other packs. Everyone marks their territory, and I sure as hell know a boundary mark, so that much is just a matter of exploration and keeping my eyes open. Same with mapping the boundaries; it'll take time, but I've got plenty of that.

"The rest though, that's gonna be touchy. There's the straight-forward approach, but that's got a lotta risk, considering who and what I am."

Sarah thought on the task as Dredge's note was folded into smaller and smaller squares, and sighed as she came to a conclusion.

"It'll have to be observation. Get myself into their territory just enough to listen in on the pack to figure out who's in charge... and if I'm lucky, who their totem is."

Finally, the Dead Wolf stop, tucking the tightly folded paper into her jacket pocket. Dead leaves swirled around her in the cold December wind, and she looked to the sky at the gibbous face of Luna.

"No point standing around here. There's work to do." Blood was pushed in strange ways within her, and a moment later a wolf bounded off into the night, searching for signs of cousins yet unknown.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

[24 Dec 2008]

"Well, this is just peachy."

This last place had looked so promising. After almost a week of scouring West L.A., after dozens of half-scents and hopeful trails that lead to nowhere and nothing, Sarah had finally come across border markings two nights earlier. The medium - spraypainted graffiti on warehouse walls - wasn't at all what she was used to, but the message was clear: the People owned this turn, so keep the fuck out.

Sarah, of course, wasn't looking to invade. Not quite yet. Mapping the bounds would come first. And two long hours later, she had them mapped: a large semi-industrial block, not far from the harbor, comprised of a tangle of warehouses and staging areas... all in relative disuse.

So, with the bounds mapped out, it was time to settle in and see who comprised the pack.

It took two nights of increasing frustration to realize that there was no pack.

Hours had turned into nights, without a trace of movement from her lupine cousins. But none came. Nothing. No patrols, nobody coming or going, just nothing. Finally, Sarah took a huge risk and entered the bounds, searching for the pack itself and willing to risk their wrath.

What she found, inside a warehouse so decrepit as to look ready to fall in a stiff wind, was a massacre. It was a mess, and both rats and seagulls had done a huge number on what was left, but whatever had happened here, none of the People have gotten out alive.

"Dammit."

With a sigh, Sarah looked around for the needed supplied for her first and last duty - and a deathly dangerous one at that - to this lost and unknown pack.

The pyre continued to burn bright well after she had slipped into the earth for Christmas Day.

[Dawn OOC]

"Hey. H-h-h-hey, dead thing." The voice was both halting and strong, but Sarah was more concerned with the sudden sense of a Beast. Its presence tore at her, impelling her to do violence against another who dared to come so close to her. It was stronger than hers, but her feral mindset didn't care. She didn't see anyone at first and still she heard the voice, ferally whispering to her. "Up h-h-h-here. Th-th-the owl."

Sarah twisted her head up and stared at the owl on the branch. She knew that it was a vampire, so when the owl's head twisted around and it muttered, "Fuckin' accent" she wasn't surprised.

The feathers melted away as the form shifted and grew into a humanoid shape. Sarah jumped back with a growl, able to stand toe-to-toe to another predator as if it were an equal.

"What do you want?" Sarah snarled, wondering if she'd stumbled onto another's territory. Fuckin' vampires never mark things clearly!

"What do you want?" the vampire asked in return. His dirty hair fall in a matted mess over his eyes, which glittered in his skull like black onyx. He appeared to be well-built, his muscle constricting impressively as he crouched on a tree branch. "I saw you settin' that fire."

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

A growl began rising in the back of Sarah's throat, one that belied the (mostly) human look about her. If he'd seen her lighting the pyre, there were some very ugly possibilities on the table.

"Were you involved?" she half-said, half-spat at the filthy thing. "Are you part of what did that to my kin?"

As she spoke, the Dead Wolf's footing shifted into a more open stance, knees bending ever so slightly. Of greater concern to any who knew the truth of what she was, her hands began to flex, tensing as if trying to stretch themselves longers at the fingertips. Stronger or not, there was no doubt in the other Gangrel's mind that the wrong answer would bring pain and suffering from those twitching fingers.

[Dawn OOC]

The unnamed beast rolled his eyes. "Slow your fuckin' roll, sweet-stuff. Assumptions are dangerous, not to mention dumb. If I had done it, I'd now know to watch you. Luckily for you, I was a trading partner with the Weavers."

"Weavers?" Sarah asked, frowning, thrown a little off balance by this strange statement.

"The Death Weavers of Greater LA." The vampire eye-balled her and smirked widely. "For supposed kin of their's you don't know shit. I guess you meant something more spiritual?" When Sarah didn't answer, he shrugged. "Anyways, we passed info back and forth, for our mutual benefit, dig? Sorry to see them go." The black eyes narrowed again. "Now, I've given you a pretty payment. Time to make like yer kin and pay up."

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

This thing's been dealing with us? Sarah thought, without even realizing the irony of where she placed herself with that final pronoun.

Her stance relaxed - slightly. With wariness still thick in her voice and from beneath brows still lowered in distrust, she said, "They were dead. All of them, slaughtered, and just left there in pieces. I gave them a pyre." Reverence tinged the last words, competing with the wariness for dominance; they wound up at a shaky draw.

As the adrenalin - or whatever passed for it in her undead body - eased off, the sharper aspects of Sarah's mind kicked into play. If he traded with this pack, maybe...

"You wouldn't happen to know any other packs in the area, would you? I'm trying to... reconnect."

[Dawn OOC]

"Reconnect?" The dark eyes narrowed until even the shrewd glitter disappeared. "There's another group around, but they aren't as friendly as the Weavers. All of their 'trading' is very one-sided and enforced by sharp claws. Do you wanna know where they are?"

"Yeah," Sarah said, trying not to sound excited and instead making it too rough.

"What will you give me for that info?" the vampire asked, removing his hands from his knees and taking a more secure grip on the branch. Sarah watched his muscles tense as he said, "Ain't nothing for free, sister."

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Sister. It rankled her to think of this thing as a sibling; since her embrace, Sarah had thought of herself as a Dead Wolf, not a Gangrel, even before the bloodline had fully manifested within her, and she truly wanted as little to do with other vampires as possible. Still, this one might have information that she needed, and payment would have to be made to get it.

"Well..."

Sarah pondered. She was, after all, a relative newcomer to Los Angeles; her stock of information was pretty shabby. Still, there might be a tidbit or two of use.

"The zoo. Stay the fuck out of the zoo, unless you want to run into something that looks like a pig and an ape got happy and the result drank a gallon of acid. Fuckin' tough things to kill." Not that Sarah remembered the end of that fight with perfect clarity; she'd fallen into the grips of frenzy.

"As for me...." She hesitated for a moment, trying to decide if a name would help. Maybe she could get his in trade, since that seemed to be all he really cared about. "...I'm Sarah O'Neally. Dead Wolf."

[Dawn OOC]

"Sam. Dead." He tilted his head, his dark eyes looking at her with a canny, measuring light. "What's a Dead Wolf?" he asked.

Sarah started to say, but she stopped herself. "Nothing's free," she said smuggly.

Sam laughed, tipping his dark head back. "Right. If you tell me, I'll tell you who killed the Weavers." His knowing smile said that she wanted to know.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

She wasn't sure what was trying to fight its way up her throat at that point: a growl or a chuckle. Either way, she choked it back.

"Fair trade. A Dead Wolf is a kind of Gangrel. We're close with the werewolves; runs in our blood. My sire was Juan Garcia, who I understand was known in the clan. And that's pretty much the sum of it.

"So who killed this pack?"

[Dawn OOC]

"Kinda limp information there kid," the other Gangrel said. Then Sam shrugged, rolling up one pale, muscle-corded shoulder. "Yer new, so whadafuck. It was a group of humans with magic." On the word 'magic', he waggled his fingers in the air.

"Like mages?" Sarah asked, her stomach sinking.

"Fuck if I know. I didn't exactly stop them and ask to see their membership card. Ruddy - that's the Weaver's last Alpha - told me they'd have troubles with some people who kept tresspassing. Warned them off, but they came right back. Ruddy's brutes beat them up, sent them packing, and the next night the warehouse was burned to the ground. I could find more, if you're interested - and if you can pay."

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

"Maybe later," Sarah replied. "Last thing I need is a bunch of warlocks coming down on me. The shit they can do is pretty damned scary." Though I'm gonna have to ask Lucien about this. Does he know any others in the area now?

Rather than ponder further, she forged on with her original task. "What I really need to know is where I can find this other pack you mentioned. The mean one. And before you ask for payment, Sam, that's what the warning about the whatever-they-ares up at the zoo was about." A sudden thought came to her, and she added, "By the way, you wouldn't happen to know anything about the Weavers' totem, would you?"

[Dawn OOC]

"Totem? Nah, I heard one mention that once, and I asked and Ruddy nearly took both our heads off. It was a big-time seeeee-kret." He winked at her, then dropped off the branch. "The Black Meanies, which is my nickname for the other bunch of wolfies, is to the south, closer to the beach. In fact, I think they have some spiritual tie to the ocean. Does that help?"

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Hoping for the totem to be handed over was a bit much, Sarah realized. But there were other options there, ones that she could explore after dealing with this Sam. And what he had just given her actually was pretty useful; she hadn't planned to range that far south.

"Beachfront, south L.A.... thin info, but it's enough for me to find 'em. Thanks." She started to head off, then stopped and turned back to the Gangrel. "So you know, my turf's up east of UCLA. You run across any fuckin' Daeva that giggles about screwing with it, let her know I'll rip her a new one." With a nod, Sarah turned back toward the south. There was a lot of work to do... and it would start with a phone call, as she dug her cell out of a pocket and starting dialing for Ariel.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

[6:50AM, 26 Dec 2008]

"Ariel, it's Sarah. I need a huge favor from you. Would you be able to take me across to the Shadow at the locus of a dead pack? Please let me know. Thanks." BEEP!

Ariel stared at the phone for a solid ten seconds in the pale morning light leaking in around the shades of her apartment. "You've got to be kidding me," she finally said to nobody in particular. A brief tap of the caller ID confirmed it: Sarah had called her house a good three hours before dawn and left a message about packs and the Shadow.

"What in hell is she thinking?" For a moment, Ariel began to make a call, but stopped before actually hitting 'Send'. Sarah was no doubt asleep by now - in the ground, if her claims were to be believed.

Sighing, she finally sent a quick text message, then tried her best to shove thoughts of needy vampires and excursions to spirit worlds from her head as she prepared for another day of protecting and serving the Really-Real world.

~~~~~

[6:10PM, 26 Dec 2008]

Pulling herself free from the soil, Sarah caught a cold wind swirling in from the sea. Southern California or not, this was the end of December, and an artic blast was swirling down from somewhere in the hellish Northern Pacific to blast the coast. A reflex somewhere deep in her brain wanted to shiver in response, but her dead body was having none of it; the resulting conflict left the Dead Wolf confused for a split-second until the body won.

Only after giving her surroundings a quick once-over with senses far beyond anything considered human did she reach into her jacket and pull out the expensive Blackberry that Lucien had given her months ago. To her gratification, there was a message - text, for some reason, from Ariel. Pulling it up, the smile faded from her face.

*DONT MSG ME LIKE THAT*

Her face fell until she saw the second message, sent sometime later in the forbidden day.

*CALL ME WHEN YOU WAKE UP*

Picking up her wounded pride, Sarah dialed Ariel to meet.

~~~~~

[7:00PM 26 Dec 2008]

"So let me get this straight." Whatever she was feeling, Ariel's tone was pure cop as she tried to confirm what the vampire was telling her. The park - well south of the campus, and not in either's territory - was thankfully empty on this cold night, but she still kept her voice low.

"You found a pack that was torn to shreds. You burned the bodies on a pyre - one that wound up taking down a warehouse - instead of calling the cops to report a murder. You found another vampire that says humans with magic killed them. And now you want want me to go with you to the scene of the crime, take you across to the Shadow, and try to find the dead pack's totem?"

To Ariel's consternation, Sarah nodded like it was the most natural request in the world. The cop pinched the bridge of her nose in a vain effort to stave off a headache that was sure to come.

"Ariel," the vampire said, "look at it this way. Do you really want the police trying to investigate a supernatural murder? Can you imagine the kind of hell that'd bring down on us? All they have left now is ashes, instead of what looked like someone had brought some movie monster in and turned it loose.

"And," she added, "don't you want to find out what happened? Who better to ask than the totem, if it's still around?"

A twinge of pain sparked to life just behind Ariel's right eye. Sure enough, the promised headache had arrived.

"Do you have any idea just how much of a mess you're asking me to step into, Sarah? Any at all?"

Sarah nodded. "Yeah, I do. But we both took the Oath, and it doesn't go poof when things get messy. Someone - probably warlocks - came in and wiped out an entire pack of the People. It's up to us to find out who. You're a cop, Ariel, in more senses than one. So help me with this. Please."

There was not a doubt in Ariel's aching mind that she would regret this.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

[10:45PM 26 Dec 2008]

You could smell it from two blocks away, despite the efforts of the Orange County Fire Department. The acrid smell of soot and cinders carried through the cold winter air, though the smoke was long gone; fire fighters in this tinder-dry city were more than adept at crushing any hint out of a blaze.

Yellow crime-scene tape was wrapped in haphazard fashion around most of the block. But aside from a couple of squad cars parked at points of obvious egress, the police were nowhere to be seen. By and large, arson investigators worked the day shift, and by now were home with dinner in their belly and a television flickering before their eyes.

Nobody watched as two wolves cut across the industrial landscape into the ruins.

Careful to avoid any lingering hotspots, Ariel and Sarah made their way through the charred remains of the former center of Death Weaver territory - one keeping an eye out for mortals or worse, the other looking for something entirely more ephemeral.

Fortunately, Ariel's search was the one to succeed. The tell-tale feel of a locus caught her Uratha senses as they neared the center of the burned-out warehouse, and she gave a quiet series of wolf-like sounds to the dead thing that ran on all fours beside her.

*This is place. You sure you ready?*

For her part, Sarah was anything but ready. She'd been to the Shadow before, and knew it to be an utterly alien place... one she could not hope to escape without the help of one of the People. But for the information that this could yield, the Dead Wolf nodded her head and braced herself.

Grabbing Sarah by the scruff of the neck with her teeth, Ariel dragged them both across into the Shadow.

[Dawn OOC]

The darkness of the Shadow at night was almost complete. Luna's Shadow-side mirror was dark, with only a hint of light at one side. She was one night away from darkness, and the Shadow emphasized that, as it always did.

Fire spirits took in the two wolves and scattered, spitting curses as they scurried away from the locus. Ariel could see that it already bore the marks of abuse from the local spirits. Another spirit, one made of threads and yarn turned to face them. It had been defending the locus, or trying to - it was vastly outnumbered. <Uratha,> it said eagerly, <Take up your duties and clean away the unwanted spirits.>

<Is... was this your territory?> Ariel asked, frowning a bit. The... fasteners spirit bore the marks of recent battle, and it was unusual for a spirit to appeal to the Forsaken for help, unless it was used to them, or dependant on them.

<Yes, yes it was,> the spirit said eagerly. <Will you reclaim it?>

"No... I mean," <No,> Ariel said. There was something sad about the spirit trying to convince them to take over the guardianship of the locus, not even knowing that Sarah wasn't a werewolf. <We just need to know your name.>

The spirit looked rejected - not even that, really. It looked as if it had lost hope. <I am called Weave.>

<Hnnh.> Ariel remarked. <Are you a spirit of... cloth? Knitting?>

The spirit nodded. <I was born when the humans created here. Then, my pack needed to be woven together, after creation stopped. Now...> It didn't finish its sentence; instead, it hurried to chase off a spirit in a fight that it would not win.

[SalmonMax]

<Wait!> Ariel yelled after the spirit.

Always too soft-hearted for my own good...

<Come back Weave! There's more we need to know, and maybe more we can offer you as well.>

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

*What... what's it saying?* Sarah yipped out in wolf-speak. All appearances aside, she was utterly lost in the strange sounds of First Tongue.

She had been endlessly thankful when what looked like living flames had scattered to the winds, but that brief relief had waivered when she saw the utterly sad state of what still felt like a totem spirit. The strange compilation of yarn and threads was tattered and torn, fraying almost as she watched. And from her past, she knew why. Attacks by other spirits certainly played a part, but more dire for the thing was the loss of its pack.

Before Ariel could answer, she saw what the lost totem was about to try to fend off: a rat spirit full of wicked teeth that would go through yarn like butter.

Uratha or no, Sarah was instilled with certain truths, and one of those was that a pack's totem needed defending. Without waiting, she tore across the greyness of the Shadow, her own wicked death coming to light just as she tore into the monsterous rat.

Click to reveal..

Attacking with claws:

(Sarah_OOC) rolls 5d10 and gets 3,1,1,5,8.

One Agg to the rat-spirit

[Dawn OOC]

Weave didn't turn back. It ran toward the locus, yarn and strings flapping wildly as it pounced on the rat. Hands pummeled the rat with surprising strength. Still, the pounding didn't affect it much, not as much as Sarah's attack had.

The rat spirit twisted around and bit Sarah savagely, its incisor teeth digging deeply into her shoulder. A moment later, that bite began to burn and itching, a sensation that Sarah hadn't felt in a long time.

[OOC:

Weave's attack: 1d10=5, 1d10=10, 1d10=7, 1d10=8, 1d10=1, 1d10=3, 1d10=9

Rerolling the ten: 1d10=8 = 4 sux

Rat's attack on Sarah: 1d10=1, 1d10=2, 1d10=9, 1d10=9 = 2 sux

Spends 2 essence to heal 2 bashing, 1 to activate Spirit Venom; Sarah loses a point of Vitae]

[SalmonMax]

Oh hell...

Ariel lunges forward into a brisk run. She skids around the haunches of the swollen, misshapen creature and, acting purely on instinct, tries to get her jaws around its midsection so she can shake it and break its back.

(Attack! 8d snappy bitey pool)

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Whatever the hell this rat-spirit had just done to her, the Dead Wolf didn't like it one damned bit. Nor was she going to let it slow her down.

Instead, she forced a bit of vitae into her muscles, including the hurt shoulder: not to heal, but to put some extra force behind what she was about to do.

As new strength surged through dead tissue, Sarah gauged the enemy, watching for the right opening between the yarn-totem and Ariel's utterly brutal attack... and when it came, she struck.

Razor-sharp claws tore parallel gashes down the side of the rat-spirit that went to and through bone, and the thing screamed in agony.

Click to reveal..

Spending vitae to boost Strength

Attacking with claws

(Sarah_OOC) rolls 4d10 and gets 10,1,10,3.

(Sarah_OOC) rolls 2d10 and gets 7,1.

Two Agg to the rat-spirit

[Dawn OOC]

As Ariel dropped the rat spirit, Sarah's claws ripped into it. With a squeal, the rat ran away, ripped and torn. Weave watched it go, then turned back to the two "Uratha." <I enjoyed your aid. But... it will happen again. My locus will die.>

[SalmonMax]

<It doesn't have to,> Ariel told it. <I'll tell you what. Right now I don't have a pack, but I'll come by here when I can...once a day or every other day, and help keep it clear. Then if a pack comes along, you can talk to them about what comes next. Or if I join one. Look, did you see what happened to your old pack? Can you tell us anything about that?>

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

As the blood washed back out of Sarah muscles, so did some of the fight. Her shoulder still burned, and Ariel and the yarn-spirit were back to yammering in spirit-speak.

Exasperated, Sarah shifted up... and immediately regretted it. "Dammit! Fucking clothes," she exclaimed, naked as a jaybird.

Sighing with annoyance, she turned to Ariel once more. "What's it saying?"

[Dawn OOC]

<Old pack... dead,> Weave said disconsolately. <Strange beings came and fought them, killed them. Beings were entering territory, would not stop when First-Bite talked with them. So Night-stalk waited, and killed one who dared to trespass. Left the body where found. Next night, they came. I felt my pack die, one after one.>

<How?> Ariel asked.

Weave sighed. <It could not be seen from here. But they fought to save one another, to the end. And the last was lost to Death Rage. She died with their blood soaking her hands, when she was beaten and fell into death.>

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

There was literally nothing for Sarah to do as Ariel got the story from the strange totem-spirit. For lack of a better plan, the Dead Wolf took to stalking around the area, growling and bristling at any of the seemingly malevolent spirit creatures that showed an interest in returning. It wasn't her territory. It certainly wasn't and could never be her locus. But it was better than feeling useless.

[SalmonMax]

Ariel finally looked back at Sarah and realized she'd been a bit...overly focused.

"Sarah, sorry about that. Weave...that's the spirit...was just telling me what happened. It says people started coming into their territory. The leader of the pack talked to them, asked them to stop, but they kept doing it. So they stalked one and killed him, to show they were serious. Next thing they knew, more were showing up, and killing them. Last one to go down went into a death rage...took a bunch with her."

By the end, Ariel's voice is quiet and sad. "Hell of a story. If I had to guess, I'd say the bodies may have been burned after they were dead. Keep them from coming back, maybe."

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

"I'm the one who burned the bodies," Sarah replied, still unavoidably naked as she walked back over with a lean and easy predator's gait. "There was no way to give them a proper burial... and as many pieces as they were in, no hope of life. A pyre was the only proper way out."

She sighed, looking around at the forlorn spirits - something that looked like a living bobbin, bent well out of round, half-limped, half-rolled it way over to the wounded fastener-spirit while the yarn-totem looked about in alien yet obvious distress - still trying to hold this little corner of the Shadow together. "Is there anything we can do for them? I mean, I know you can sorta feed them a little; that one of those things I can't do. But they're gonna get massacred here, if not tonight then later."

[SalmonMax]

"What do you want me to do?" Ariel asked. "I don't like it, but I can't just unpack a sleeping bag and move in here. I already told the little guy I'd come by every other day or so and check the locus. What else can I do?"

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

"I..." Sarah began, and stopped just as quickly. Really, what did she expect Ariel to do, beyond what the werewolf just told her would happen? Or was this really about Sarah's own inability to do anything to save the totem that had just - albeit indirectly - helped her?

Giving up, she shrugged and muttered, "No, you're right. You're doing all you can. Let's get back." Not waiting for a response, she sent vitae rippling through her skin to bring out the wolf for the very short yet impossibly long trip home.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

[2:00 AM, 7 Jan 2009]

Sand was in Sarah's boots. And jeans. And underwear. And - as she tapped it carefully against the heel of her hand - the speaker of her Blackberry. She gave a silent sigh in frustration and hunkered down in the dune again.

For two weeks now, she'd been coming here, a little dune half-covered in shore pines next to a slender cresent of beach. As L.A.'s beaches go, this wasn't the usual tourist spot; cliffs made it damned hard to reach, the nearby property was so rough as to shrug off even the infamous Southern California developers, and the waves that came in broke across a jagged series of shoals that could tear a would-be surfer to shreds in a moment of bad timing. No, right now it was just Sarah... and half a dozen werewolves.

So far, the Black Meanies hadn't noticed her. At the very least, they didn't make mention of it. When Sarah had heard of their connection with the ocean, she'd take a gamble that whatever spirits dealt with this pack were ones that didn't concern themselves overly much with what happens on dry land. Maybe her hunch was right.

Or maybe the spirits - or the Meanies - just didn't care that some dead thing was dug into a pine-covered dune at the edge of their territory... at least, at was seemed to be the edge, if Sarah was seeing the right thing as their mark. It seemed to have some of the same rough patterns and curves she'd come to know over the years as a boundary warning (even if she couldn't actually read it), but some of the deeply-carved elements just seemed even more foreign than the usual indecipherable stuff. The Dead Wolf had a theory on that, not that she liked it much. Sarah strongly suspected that she was watching a pack of what her family had called "the Pure".

Whatever they were, the werewolves dancing under the fat waxing moon weren't what she'd call civilized, circling the driftwood fire in near-human and near-wolf forms. They also didn't care a damn about English; a week's worth of observation and senses tweaked to the max hadn't garnered a single word that Sarah could understand. Everything she heard sort of rolled around the inside of her skull, refusing to be grasped fully in memory, let alone turned into something intelligible. For maybe the ten-thousandth time, Sarah regretted that the language of spirits wasn't available to things like her.

So far, her mission - her test - wasn't going well here. Oh, she knew the borders of this pack, how they'd taken chunks of coastline in the southern part of the city as their own, sheltered beaches like this one where they could dance naked to primal rhythms and primal voices. But she had no idea what the Alpha - a huge black-haired thing with a knife at his side the size of a small sword and carved with what looked very much like a kill-tally - was called, let alone what strange sea totem they followed. Indeed, she didn't even know their name; "Black Meanies" had been the brief description of this pack by that information broker Gangrel she'd met near Death Weaver territory.

And after a week of listening to everything they did, Sarah knew full well that she'd never get the info on her own, unless she walked up and asked. Not being the suicidal sort, she chalked it up for later discussion with one of her friends, sighed once again, and carefully backed away from the dunes and the enigma on the other side.

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

[11:30 PM, 8 Jan 2009]

Mighty Poseidon threw wave after white-capped wave against the rocks, cold spray nearly freezing in the January air. Declan and Sarah watched them crash ashore from the vantage of towering cliffs after a tortuously difficult climb. And between, down on the narrow crescent of sand and stone, the bonfire burned, surrounded by dark shapes that seemed to belong more in ancient myth than modern L.A.

Following Adrian's instructions to the letter, Sarah began setting up the tool of tonight's trade. One by one, the sections of the parabolic reflector snapped into place, and Sarah cringed with each snap; by the standard of her ramped-up senses, they were tell-tale giveaways in the night, and she watched the pack below for any indication of awareness. So far, they'd been lucky; the eyes of the Black Meanies didn't venture upward, even for - or perhaps in spite of - the nearly full face of Luna above.

[Owns-The-Night]

The crash of the surf and the wind coming off the ocean were potent camouflage. Declan crouched alongside Sarah, his eyes, nose and ears all trained on the circle of dancing, chanting werewolves. He tried to sort through the noise of wind and ocean, concentrating on the distant guttural shouts and growls of the First Tongue. Without wolf senses, it was impossible to make out anything clear, and shifting shape would be a hassle involving the removal of clothes.

As Sarah finished setting up the microphone, the notion of shifting shape lost it's importance. Declan took a set of headphones and began listening, his eyes on the group down below.

[Dawn OOC]

It was a ceremony, or a rite. The forms, when combined with the guttural First Tongue, became a joyful dance to combat, war and battle.

"Luna, Mother, Father's silver-faced bride

We are your children, we are guided by your son

We hail the War-Wolf, Fenris, Destroyer and Devourer

We look to your grandwolf, Garm, for war-enlightenment.

We ask for your blessing, for our arms, for our corded arms.

We ask...

The chant went on and on, whipping the wolves into an ever-higher frenzy. The gathered werewolves continued to sing of Luna, and Fenris Wolf and of Fenris's child, Garm. It wasn't, Declan realized, a group of Pure of all. It was a group of Blood Talons that had packed up together and even seemed to be members of the Lodge of Garm. Those mono-packs happened occasionally.

Finally, the Uratha collapsed to the sand, their song finished. After a moment, one said, "The dead one is back. And there's a Uratha with her."

[Owns-The-Night]

The relaxation in Declan's posture as soon as he made out the first line became a full-fledged smile as he listened to the warrior's song of the pack below him. His moon-touched eyes gleaming, he swiftly and with a reverent hush to his voice translated the song to the Dead Wolf beside him, even as his own heartbeat sympathised with it's rhythm. As the pack finished and collapsed to rest, he turn to Sarah.

"They're Blood Talons: my tribe. That was a rite of some kind, praising Luna, Fenris and someone called Garm. I wish I knew more about my tribe's lore. I'm damn sure that's important. They're true Uratha, though." He grinned a little. "I'd say none better, but I'm biased." Then he made out some more words and his smile faded a little.

"They've spotted us. And they saw you before, too, on previous visits. No sense running: not only will they think we're up to no good, but I'll be damned before I turn my tail and flee. I've only ever met a Blood Talon once, right after my First Change. Maybe they're down there." Something wistful was in Declan's eyes now as he looked down at the large shaggy forms by the fire. He came to a decision and stood, shifting to Dalu, the loose baggy sweatpants and hooded top stretched out as his muscular frame swelled. Without taking his eyes off the pack below he removed the earphones, handing them off to Sarah. "You don't have to come. You know who they are now. If I come back, I'll tell you what I learn. But I need to do this: need to find out more about who I am."

With that the Rahu, with Luna's full light glimmering from within his eyes, swung over the ledge and began the perilous descent with deceptive ease, his steel-hard muscles and large hands clinging easily to the rock-face.

Click to reveal..

Making a roll to climb down a cliff in Dalu shape.

Str 5 (4+1 in Dalu) + Athletics 2 = 7 dice in this form

(21:38:35) ChatBot: (Dec) rolls 7d10 and gets 1,7,10,3,7,5,8.

(21:38:44) ChatBot: (Dec) rolls 1d10 and gets 10.

(21:38:54) ChatBot: (Dec) rolls 1d10 and gets 8.

4 Successes

[Sarah Dead-Wolf]

Don't need to come?!?

Sarah fumed; there was no way in hell she was being left behind on this little venture. If nothing else, she had to explain herself to these Blood Talons, make clear to them that she wasn't just some leech interloper. And she still needed to know who their Alpha was, and their totem.

She did not, however, madly scramble over the edge. She saw the treacherous nature of this cliff. More to the point, she saw the bonfire at the bottom. With careful focus on the task, Sarah maneuvered herself to the edge, looking for the best track, then began her own way down... a touch slower than Declan, but still making it looks smooth and simple.

Click to reveal..

Spending Willpower for +3 to the pool

(18:46:53) ChatBot: (Sarah_OOC) rolls 6d10 and gets 4,5,4,8,7,8.

Two successes

[Dawn OOC]

Dec, being the first down, was the first greeted by a half-ring of snarling werewolves. "You're on our territory, boy," the center wolf snarled. Her teeth gleamed white as she asked, "No one taught you manners?"

"We can teach him," another said.

"Relax, he's one of the Talons," another, familiar voice said. "And he was always a bit hard-headed before joining us, so I don't recommend trying to box him there." Disbelieving, Declan turned to see Juilo "Nest-Burner" Ramerz. The burly Uratha grinned. "Told ya I'd be around, Dec."

"Hey, the corpse is coming down, too," one of the Uratha pointed.

Juilo glanced at Declan, then spoke softly. "If you value your dead friend, you'd better convince us it's ok. We're not fond of the dead. They tend to leave some messes and screw up the spirit world. But I know you aren't dumb, either."

[Owns-The-Night]

"Juilo?" Declan blinked, then gave his once-mentor a wide grin. "Damn, but it's good ta see ya." He sobered up a little as he looked around the half-circle. "I apologise fer intrudin', but let's face it: you saw I was there, and I didn't make a secret that I was comin' down. I wanted to meet you and..." He shrugged, a little embarrassed. "And find out more about my tribe. Juilo told me a fair bit, but I was still in 'what the fuck?' mode when he was teaching me. First Change and all that."

He looked back over his shoulder to where Sarah was still picking her way down the cliff. "That's Sarah O'Neally. Short version: she's a wolf-blood from the Wren clan back east who was sent on a shit detail and ended up nearly dying before some Gangrel vampire turned her. Her 'bloodline' is known as Dead Wolves, and they have a kinship with us. Some old story to that. She ran with the Ajo Runners pack in Arizona for a bit after her change, and they gave her an auspice: Crescent Moon. She's a solid friend, her territory is next to mine and we've watched each other's backs on more than one occasion. Helped me and some friends take down a man-eater." He hesitated for a brief moment, but his straightforward nature wouldn't allow him the possibility of a misunderstanding. "She's been peeking in on you guys because the Topanga pack are giving her some sort of Rite of Passage, and she needs to find out about a couple other packs in the LA area as part of it. Yours is one of them." He looked each of the Uratha in the eye as he spoke, letting them judge him by his words.