checking in with the fenrir.

[Jackson Montgomery] [[ :D ]]

"I would say it's a safe bet to say that she's is," he says with a nod. "Neither August and Rain were particularly complimentary. Of course, I know there has to be another side of it though." A little shrug. "Always is."

When he mentions Trent, Jackson looks at the other Gaian and listens, then looks back to the car. "Gotcha. I'll keep my fingers crossed, then." A little good-humored grin is directed to his tribemate.

[Roman Turner] He paused another moment to face Jackson, speaking low.

"Truthfully, there ain't no good light to put this in, but the child Miss August has is not Paul's. She ran off from the child's father, I ain't never heard the entire story on that. Paul came along and took her and the unborn child as his own. Then shortly after the babe was born, he found some other woman and in a moment of poor judgement, was dishonorable. He tells me he never loved Miss August, he felt sorry for her and tried to do what was right. But he did what was wrong in the end. Now she is pregnant with Paul's child, so she's gonna have two children within a year, two fathers and she's understandably bitter. I just hope for her sake and that of the children that she centers herself, cause bitterness can rot a soul from inside and it spreads like a poison."

[Jackson Montgomery] He listens, frowning. What Roman said certainly hasn't endeared the Gaian Jackson hasn't yet met to him at all, that is certainly. After the Garou is done, the kinfolk nods a little.

"I can see why August is bitter, and why Rain didn't speak highly. At the same time, everyone makes mistakes..." A shadow passes over his face, and he shakes his head. "Well, if he hasn't been around, it won't be an issue anyway. Thanks for the heads up."

[Kora] The storm raged on both sides of the gauntlet and even the city's reflection is coated with evidence of winter. The weaver's brilliance temporarily dimmed, dragged down by the wild (wyld) the confluence of ice and wind and thunder and snow. The solid church seems coated in ice. Linus' flock of Hrafn refuse to leave the belltower and huddle together, feathers ruffled like their flesh-born counterparts.

The interior of the church is cold; a drift of blown snow has filtered in through one of the broken windows, and is carved out in the south transpect, sculpted smooth by the wind, it looks like nothing so much as one of those undulating Saharan dunes photographed in sun and shadow made in miniature against gray stone and white marble rather than an impossibly blue sky.

Trent and Roman and Jackson are outside when the gray-brown wolf pushes through the gauntlet, nose-first, and pads soundlessly into cold, quiet space.

There's still some smoke from the bonfire Linus lit last night to warm the huge space, drifting in coiling spirals up toward the rafters. And new things: the supplies Trent has ferried in already, some left in his eco-friendly reuseable bags on the tables near the couches, others stowed away deeper in the structure. The kerosene heaters Roman braved the wind and snow to purchase, unfired as yet. They need fuel.

She pads through the space, warm enough in a body made for winter, catches the traceries of scent. Brushes her flanks by the bags Trent left, some deep-down instinct to mingle her scent with his.

Roman, telling Paul's story to his tribesmate, can feel her closeness, a tug at the back of his mind, a tingle of awareness at the base of his spine. Trent's unaware. The space was empty when he went back to his car for the next load. While he's contemplating the shoveling the steps, though, the heavy wooden door swings open. Kora half-emerges, wearing her dedicated clothes - dark jeans, heavy black boots, a thermal and gray t-shirt. She'll need new ones, soon. Her stomach strains the fabric, pulls the seams.

She lifts her chin by way of greeting to Roman, holding the door open with hand and hip, not exiting precisely, waves to Jackson, and curves a subtle smile for Trent.

[Kora] (wow, I misread. Trent's inside! reposting. :) )

[Kora] The storm raged on both sides of the gauntlet and even the city's reflection is coated with evidence of winter. The weaver's brilliance temporarily dimmed, dragged down by the wild (wyld) the confluence of ice and wind and thunder and snow. The solid church seems coated in ice. Linus' flock of Hrafn refuse to leave the belltower and huddle together, feathers ruffled like their flesh-born counterparts.

The interior of the church is cold; a drift of blown snow has filtered in through one of the broken windows, and is carved out in the south transpect, sculpted smooth by the wind, it looks like nothing so much as one of those undulating Saharan dunes photographed in sun and shadow made in miniature against gray stone and white marble rather than an impossibly blue sky.

Trent and Roman and Jackson are outside when the gray-brown wolf pushes through the gauntlet, nose-first, and pads soundlessly into cold, quiet space.

There's still some smoke from the bonfire Linus lit last night to warm the huge space, drifting in coiling spirals up toward the rafters. And new things: the supplies Trent has ferried in already, some left in his eco-friendly reuseable bags on the tables near the couches, others stowed away deeper in the structure. The kerosene heaters Roman braved the wind and snow to purchase, unfired as yet. They need fuel.

She pads through the space, warm enough in a body made for winter, catches the traceries of scent. Brushes her flanks by the bags Trent left, some deep-down instinct to mingle her scent with his. Then finds his scent, warmer, deeper than the trace of it left on the bag, and pads through the space to find him. Her flanks against his legs: warm, distended from pregnancy. Otherwise, her wolf form would seem nearly adolescent.

Roman, telling Paul's story to his tribesmate, can feel her closeness, a tug at the back of his mind, a tingle of awareness at the base of his spine.

[Roman Turner] "No, no. I ain't defending him and it weren't a mistake. It was a damned disgrace, that's what it was. But would you want to be stuck with some fella that was bumping uglies with other women? That would shame ya more. It's ok to be a little bitter, but this ain't her first rodeo, ya got to remember that too."

He added as they started inside with Kora's presence in his face. He smiled, stomped off his feet and set the fuel can down inside the doors. Then he was burying his frozen face in to Kora's furry neck, inhaling deeply while sharing his cold with her.

"Mr Trent, nice to see ya. This here is Jackson Montgomery. He's one of my Kin. Mr. Jackson, this here is Mr Trent, he's Kora's mate. And ya know Miss Kora."

He indicated Kora as he straightened and started to unbundle.

[Trent Brumby] Glancing down to the wolf, he can guess who it is by the closeness of the Garou. Reaching down, he runs fingers over her fur, but only briefly. He's not in the habit of petting Garou because as much as she might look like an animal currently, that is the woman he sleeps with, who has his human child growing in her belly. He does not pet her in human form, either. Well, not like that.

Roman and Jackson comes in, leaving him looking at them. Trent's wearing some jeans, some boots, and several layers of shirts as well as a watch cap. His gloves are still on, but he pulls them off now in quick jerks, shoving them into a pocket to extent a hand to Jackson.

"Nice to meet you, Jackson."

Trent is not a small man. He's tall, broad and solid.

[Jackson Montgomery] Roman's words bring a nod from the man...understanding and agreeing, from the expression on his face. "Fair enough," his all he says before they head inside.

Once through the doors, Jackson almost instinctively takes the backseat. Garou in the house, and packed Garou to boot. He smiles at Trent, reaching out and taking the other's hand with his own. "Nice to meet you too, Trent." Once the handshake is out of the way he unwinds the scarf around his neck and shakes the snow off of him.

Kora gets a respectful smile and nod. "Kora-rhya. Nice to see you again."

[Hunter] A Gnawer walks through the territory of the Jarl. A Gnawer that she knows, but a Gnawer all the same. He doesn't look around awkwardly; he doesn't shy from the shadow of that ancient structure they call home; he walks calmly up steps of stone towards a door that should have probably long since fallen off its hinges. It's not that it looks uncared for--the Fenrir have put a lot of work into this abode--but it just seems old to the Gnawer, used, spent, like a relic from a time that will never come again.

The weather has been abysmal, but that hasn't kept the Ahroun of the streets. Even though today he knocks upon the surface of the door with a gloved fist, even though the collar of his jacket is popped up around his neck and buttoned tightly against the winds, even though that Rage if his burns on the surface more these days than it ever has before -- he still looks cold. His skin is pale, his eyes bright green yet frozen, the stubble along his jawline is both neat and neglected and narrowly avoids looking unkempt. Dark hair, thick, wild in the winds of a storm that brings change.

A child of the City knocks upon the door of the Church and waits.

[Kora] Miss Kora is a wolf named Sorrow, dark gray over lighter gray touched with tan, and sharp, amber eyes. The light's uncertain. Trent touches blunt fingers to the crown of her head, down her spine. Acknowledgment of her presence; then Roman comes in and wraps his arms around her, his skin breathing cold. She chuffs ones, animal, swings her lupine head to look at Jackson. Her eyes are in her human form are a fine dark blue, the color of the sky at twilight, both dark and backlit somehow. In lupus, they're brown, nearly amber, mute and alert above a narrow snout.

Sorrow shakes herself free of her packmate after the greeting, pads deeper into the sanctuary - and her body finds its natural shape. The one she was born in. The one she'll die in. The one she'll wear constantly - sooner than she thinks - when her other forms can no longer accommodate the wholly human child still forming in her womb.

There's some gesture toward privacy for the change. She's further away from the group, amongst the pews; a wolf on all fours one minute, a woman half-crouched on the floor, just balanced, the next.

When she returns to the small group, Kora's wearing her dedicated clothes - dark jeans, heavy black boots, a thermal and gray t-shirt. She'll need new ones, soon. Her stomach strains the fabric, pulls the seams. Her hair's loose. Chopsticks and broken ball point pen barrels, pencils, twigs - they don't make the trip with her, so it coils at the back of her neck, the central support of the structure of the knot gone, the rest falling apart.

She lifts her chin by way of greeting to Roman. "Jackson," a half-smile of acknowledgment for the Gaian kin as she comes up alongside Trent, rises on her toes to brush a warm, chaste kiss against his cheek. "Hey. You guys are just meeting, yeah?"

When Hunter knocks, Kora cuts a glance to Roman.

You want to get the door?

[Roman Turner] He sighed, all put out sounding despite the smile he had on his face.

"Yeah that's me, the doorman. I'll get it. No body move."

Not that they were. It was to the door he trudged to crack open the slot in the door and look out.

"Who goes there?"

[Trent Brumby] When Kora returns in a thermal and a t.shirt, Trent immediately unbuttons his large, wool jacket and takes it off. Roman is going to have to answer the door, since his Alpha's mate is busy throwing his jacket over her shoulders with this look at her that holds some sort of mild humour and a little disapproval beneath it. His jacket holds his heat and warmth, swallowing her smaller frame.

Left in a sweater and a tshirt with a thermal beneath, he's still plenty warm. "This place is freezing," he tells her quietly, and once again, wants to argue with her to bring her back to his apartment. He hates her living here, especially pregnant, but it's still that conversation that hasn't really reached the table.

[Hunter] "Hunter." Comes the reply, he doesn't move, doesn't step into the line of sight of the slot in the door if he isn't already in it, doesn't step out of it if he is. "Here ta' see Kora."

[Roman Turner] The door whipped open and a hand shot out to grab Hunter by the arm, tugging him inside before the door slammed again with a heavy thump.

"Boy howdy Hunter, get in here before ya freeze! I can't recall us meeting off the top of my head. I'm Roman."

He stuck out his hand.

"Miss Kora's packmate."

[Jackson Montgomery] "Just met, yes." He nods a little at the question, looking briefly over his shoulder when the door sounds in a knock and Roman goes to get it. He looks back, smiling to the couple as he settles his weight back on one heel a bit.

"So how are you guys weathering the storm? This is just a little bit insane, if you ask me." So says the California boy who's used to 50 degrees being cold. Still, he's pretty sure it's insane for anyone.

[Rain] It is damned cold. Cold enough that Rain cannot remember why she went out into the great white of winter in the first place (save that she knows, damn well, that she was looking for Eve). The buses and trains have been backed up all across the city, complicating her circuitous route back to the packhouse. The light behind the stained glass looks almost like sanctuary in the middle of the snowfall. She can still make out the shoulders and ridges of the roof line. The steps are clear enough, and incline marked with the firm placement of other people's foot falls.

The door slammed shut again as she rounded the last corner to the packhouse and makes her way down the block. Rain trudges up the stairs. She doesn't knock, but she does fumble a bit with numb fingers to get the latch to release so she can pull the door open and let the cold in again.

[Lukas] The Shadow Lords might be the only mad creatures in the world more pleased than rattled by a thunder-snowstorm. Even so, Lukas is pragmatic enough to drive slowly and carefully, sitting a little straighter than usual so his keen eyes can scan the road ahead for obstacles.

He makes it to Cabrini-Green without incident. When he parks by the side of the road, his BMW is the only car there whose original shape, size and color hasn't been obscured by a layer of snow. It'd be a ripe target for hijacking, except there's no one out here.

His overcoat falls halfway down his shins as he gets out. His bootheels crunch over the snow as he takes the steps up to the abandoned old church, setting solid shoulder to door to push it open. Inside, he takes off his newsboy cap, tucking into one deep pocket, leaving his leather gloves on. It's not much warmer in here -- at least out near the edges of the church. He looks around; at least some of the pack and its guests are in the nave.

The door starts to open again behind him. Lukas reaches back, pulling it smoothly open, pushing it shut again after one more snowbattered creature comes in out of the cold. He looks at -- her? it? -- with some amusement, then back at ... well, whoever there was in the nave.

"Hi." He loosens his scarf with one hand, letting it hang from his neck. "Kora around?"

[Lukas] [just fyi folks, i gotta jet in 50 minutes!]

[Roman Turner] Talk about knock him over with a feather. He's just let Hunter in when the door opened and in came Lukas and Rain. He blinked twice and yelled.

"Miss Kora! Mr. Lukas has come calling!"

Then he almost sheepishly shuffled from one foot to the other as he faced Lukas. What the heck was the war leader doing in their humble packhouse? His brain raced. Nope, he couldn't think of one thing he had done to draw attention recently.

"Howdy Mr. Lukas, Rhya."

[Hunter] A door is whipped open, a hand grabs Hunter by the front of his jacket and yanks on him. His feet step with that tug and he is hustled inside in a timely fashion. Slam. The door closes. He squints at first, adjusting to the lack of a blizzard inside the church. He has never really been in here before, though he has seen it through the doorway. Maybe it isn't quite as bad as he thought and his eyes peruse the high walls and ceiling while Roman is offering introductions.

His gaze doesn't snap back to Roman, instead it drifts down slowly, resting on the ragabash lightly before lowering to that hand of his. Hunter smiles, shakes the hand offered. It isn't a vicious shaking, nor a brutal squeeze, but it is hearty and comforting. Like this is the only handshake they will have, and it is the only one they will need.

"Nice ta' meet ya' Roman--" Abruptly the sounds of the weather outside reverberate around the halls of the Jarl as a pillar of Rage steps in. Hunter turns, slowly, eyes finding those of Lukas. A quirk of the lip perhaps but that is all in the Gnawer's face. "Evenin', was just askin' tha' same thing ma' self."

Mean while Roman is yelling, shuffling, dancing on the spot.

Howdy Mr. Lukas, Rhya.

Hunter tries to look past Roman to see if he can spot his Alpha.

[Jackson Montgomery] He looks over his shoulder when he hears the door open and voices call out--voices, as in more than one. Everyone's converging on the place it would seem, which considering the last time he was here doesn't surprise the film school-attending Gaian kin. Roman announces Lukas, who Jackson hasn't met yet.

Jackson he takes a step to the side to allow for people to come in. After all, he can feel the Rage building from the direction of the door, and--well, he's not the crazy-ass Strider kin he met the other night. Jackson knows well enough to not block a Garou's way when they're coming out of the cold.

[Starla] It's one of the 3rd worst snowstorms in the history of Chicago, people are trapped, the city is encased in a mountain of snow, and the world stops moving for a couple of days while humans dealt with the tragedy. Communications and electricity likely cut off by power outages send the city into a phase of white noise. It was harsh and cruel one end, yet blissful and serene when the drifts had stopped.

City folk had forgotten how to survive in the snow. a passing thought that runs through the mind of the girl that hikes up the snow-bound hills, dragging a weather-beaten suitcase behind her. Her face hidden under the wet layers of colorful scarves, the furred hood of her winter coat pulled down low over her head to keep out the biting wind. She waddles as she treads, snow boots crunching down the snow, taking the extra effort to lift her feet as she plods along.

The buildings all looked the same to her, grey and bleak, in the Cabrini. The only thing standing out was the abandoned church that looms over the neighborhood like a forgotten beacon, a promise of shelter. She manipulates a gloved hand into her coat pocket, pulling out the crumbled card that held the description of the place she would find assistance. Pale colored eyes slide upward as she mutters behind the scarf.

[Rain] She was too numb to feel much of anything, really. Not her nose. Not her toes. But the creep of something feral and menacing, up her spine, tickling at her ribs and stealing away her breath? Rain couldn't get cold enough to miss that. Wide brown eyes sweep tentatively up take in the man (Monster) beside her and stop before they ascend to even his cheekbones. Her line of sight lingers somewhere near his jaw. Her mouth twitches, faintly, in something that ought to be a smile.

For others, it was far warmer.

And yes, she is tense and yes, every last muscle in her small frame seems ready to break with weary logic and spend itself running as fast and as far as she can to get away from him.

Her attention strays, not very far, but to Hunter now. With a similar wariness. One gloved hand sweeps her hat off her head, revealing a spill of long, brown hair.

"Hi," she echoes, and the sound is far less resonant and warm and welcoming that it has been for most of the others present. It's a bit strangled. It says: Don't eat me. Again the corners of her mouth flex, and with every bit of focus she has, Rain tries to keep from bolting from the entryway like a startled doe.

It doesn't work.

She finds an excuse to hurry past them, toward the kitchen, before she's even unwound her scarf from her neck. That is, if the combined Rage in the room would allow her such improprieties.

[Kora] "Jackson's a - film student, yeah?" she looks to Jackson for confirmation, then supplies, quietly to Trent. "Roman's kin." Trent removes his coat and drapes it around Kora's shoulders. She accepts the coat with good grace, if only because it has his scent sunk into the woven fibers.

"Trent's a jack of all trades," Kora continues, " - and a kick-ass cook." Trent comments that it's freezing in here, and she lifts her chin, looking back over her shoulder toward the smoldering remnants of the bonfire. "Li built the bonfire last night after we lost power. Roman's brought back some kerosene heaters, though. Soon as we get them hooked up, it'll be better in here."

Then another look, back to Jackson. "I fostered at a Sept in Hjaltland - the Sheltlands, yeah? Stormed there all the time, but I've never seen anything like this. Linus could get the Hrafn to leave the belltower. Half of them are still roosting up there. They won't brave the wind."

Hunter, Roman - Lukas - and now Rain are in the nave. There's shelter here, of a sort, beneath the choir loft. Further, the space opens, derelict, soaring. The remnants of a still-smoking bonfire, black with carbon, settle into ash in the chancel. The stains from the smoke barely obscure the hand-painted icons some squatter added to the curving wall long after the space was abandoned by its staid congregation.

"'Scuse me," Kora murmurs to Jackson and Trent, giving the former a half-smile of apology that deepens into something more intimate when she looks up at Trent. "That's Lukas. Shadow Lord. And Hunter, Bone Gnawer. Gimme a few."

And Lo, Kora detaches herself from the knot of kin, and towards the doors, her frame swallowed by her mate's coat, except for the firm, prominent curve of her stomach. A glance from Lukas to Hunter, and back again. "C'mon in - " she says, offering them the dubious comforts of the abandoned space. "Lukas. Hunter. Have you met our kin? And can I get either of you a beer?"

[Roman Turner] He broke focus, watching Rain scoot pass like the devil might grab her soul. He'd announced Lukas' request first, what with the rank and surprise. Once Kora came forward, he moved back a couple steps, closer to the gathered Kin. God help him, he couldn't help giving Trent's shoes a quick look.

[Lukas] "Fate," Lukas returns, nodding to Roman. "Thanks for the welcome. I'm glad to be a guest in your territory."

There's a certain formality in that; hospitality observed, no matter how casually given. He's ill-fit amongst this pack: they're casual, close to the streets, bundled up in denim and flannel and fleece and cotton. Sturdy, durable. Lukas's coat is wool dyed deep and black. His gloves are leather. His scarf is wool, and his sweater is silk, and -- well, he's wearing jeans, but even that is a wholly different sort of denim.

Still. In a way, he fits these spaces, these austere, derelict arches of stone and felled oak. He tips his head back to look at the interior of this church; he's never been here before. As Kora makes her appearance, he looks at her, directly at her, and smiles.

"No thanks. I'm not here very long. Just wanted to pass through, see how your pack and territory were doing. Seems solid." There's a hint of question in that.

[Jackson Montgomery] "A film student, yeah." He smiles a little bit in confirmation of Kora's words. "Ahh, nice," he says to Trent. "Always good to be multi-talented. I wish I could be, but I get too much tunnel vision. Found my calling and I was stuck to it like nothing else."

When Rain races by, he furrows his brow in recognition of her distress but smiles in greeting. He's holding his ground, if only for the moment and because it would be improper to flee before being introduced. And Jackson does give a lot to propriety. When he is in the mood for it, anyway.

[Trent Brumby] "Not that great," Trent interjects when Kora goes on about his cooking, giving Jackson a mild wry look. It's hard to imagine the guy cooking anyway. He looks more like a criminal if physical attributes were anything to go by. It's in direct contrast to his usual mild manners.

Kora excuses herself, and he throws a glance to the newcomers, nodding at that. Business, he understands. This is pack territory and not some place to get all personal. Little does she knows that her mate has decided he's staying with them the night. While she may be Garou, he's still a male and has this need to try and make his pregnant mate comfortable as he can, and look after her in this big blizzard. These are unvoiced things.

Roman finds Trent's shoes are not some nice leather loafers today. They are work boots, suitable for trudging through snow. He probably wouldn't mind so much if these got dirty with the contents from a Garou's stomach. His other ones he threw out.

Nodding to the back of the church, where Rain has disappeared, Trent offers Jackson. "There's some food and drinks out there. Why don't we go back there?" And leave Garou to their talks.

[Starla] Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Snow flattens beneath her boots, the suitcase cutting a trail behind her. She pauses on the street corner, peering up at the abandoned church, wondering why people could live in such places. She skirts around to the pathway hidden by snow to make her way up the steps to the double doors.

The card is crushed in her hand, closing gloved fingers to make a fist and rap on the one of the doors. Thump. Thump. Thump.

[Jackson Montgomery] Trent suggests that they further back into the church, and Jackson offers a welcome nod. The Gaian is a bit more used to high Rage than some might, but it's still a bit unnerving to him from time to time, and this is one of those times. He's good at hiding it though, and he just gives Trent a thin smile. "Sounds like a plan. I can say hi to Rain, too."

He gestures, as if for Trent to lead the way.

[Roman Turner] It was like an electric shock went through him with the knocking at the door. It had become his duty to answer the door and he was sure at this rate he was going to start dreaming it was knocking. Quietly he excused himself and slipped around Lukas and Kora to open the door slot and peer out. Surprised to see a girl standing there. So the door was opened and he stood in the crack.

"Boy howdy, ya ain't selling cookies are ya?"

[Rain] Once she makes it back to the relative safety and anonymity of the kitchen, Rain can pretend she was there for a reason. She can put a pan of water on the stove to warm, to make something to offer their guests. To pretend, like playing house, that it doesn't make her hands shake to be crammed into a small space with so many of their Changing cousins.

Rain pulls her gloves from her hands and brushes the snow off them. She unwinds her scarf. Her jacket's shoulders will leave a little mess of ice and damp and cold on the floor when she shrugs out of it. All of these are things she can deal with. They're simple. By the time the other kin have found their way back to the kitchen, Rain is watching the kettle and rubbing her hands together until they stop feeling so numb.

[Hunter] Kora offers up dubious comfort and slightly less dubious beverages. Hunter accepts both. "Would love'a beer thanks Kora." He says after Lukas has politely declined the offer. After that? He just waits. Kora will get to him when Lukas is done.

[Starla] She waited for someone to answer, rapping her fist in louder thumps on the door until Roman pulls it open. He startles her, making her jump back with a startled expression. Breath rasping out in a small squeaking sound that catches in her throat, she stares at him in silence, blinking in confusion.

"Cookies?" She clutched the handle of her suitcase, hauling it up to her side. "Hai, this ain't the residence of Romeo Turner is it? I've got'a address that says he stays here."

[Kora] "It is," Kora agrees, her voice easy, low and confident. She too turns back, looking up at the broken roof. There's still snow drifting in, through the rafters, blown by the high winds through the broken places in the roof, through the shattered stained glass windows. Others are intact, and nevermind the seventy-mile per hour gusts coursing off the land, over the flat lands of the Caern, churning the placid lap of the half-frozen lake into waves huge enough to engulf an onlooker and pull him out to see like a huge breaking wave at high tide on some storm-tossed ocean: they don't even rattle in their frames. "The kinswoman who came in behind you is called Rain. That's Jackson," she's not introducing them; doesn't stop the kinfolk from retreating to the kitchen, just supplying the names to Lukas in a low voice. " - both are Gaian. And Trent's my mate."

Then, a glance at Hunter who accepts the beer. "Sure thing." She circles about to one of the coolers they've filled with snow rather than ice lugged from the convenience store. They're leaving the beer in the coolers so it won't freeze solid, rather than to keep it cold. When she returns - she hands Hunter a dark bottle of Great Lakes' Brewing Company's Edmund Fitzgerald stout. It's not a screwtop, but she trusts an Ahroun doesn't need a bottle opener.

"Our Hrafn wouldn't go out in the storm last night, but otherwise we're solid, this side and the next." She curves her narrow shoulders in an eloquent little shrug underneath her mate's winter coat. "I've asked Prayers to Broken Stone and a few others to run with us. If they join up, we'll start taking back more of the old Eagle territory."

[Roman Turner] He looked from Starla's face to her suitcase and back up. Fortunately he knew for a fact he didn't get no girl in trouble, so it couldn't be one of those calls.

"Come on in out of the cold. I'm Roman Turner."

He wasn't much to look at. At least in stature he wasn't much. He was a little above average in looks, but at 5'6", many overlooked the teen. Chestnut flattened from where the hat had mashed it most of the day. His eyes were a faded blue-gray like old denim. Though when he smiled, the room came to life and he was smiling right then.

"I reckon whoever sent ya my way knew what they were doing."

[Lukas] Lukas's lips quirk briefly as Kora mentions their Hrafn refusing the storm. He's too polite to crow about the supremacy of Thunder's ravens vs. Fenris's, but the quip is there in his eyes, a bright flicker in that incandescent blue.

There's a near-audible hum of power around him. Stormborn, stormbearing. A creature of winter and the tempest; stronger now in the heart of the storm. Or maybe that's not entirely it. It's something about his carriage too, the way he stands: greater than he was the last time he saw...

well, any of them.

He nods to the not-quite-introductions, pale eyes flicking toward each kin as they're named. Then back to Kora. "Good," he says. "I'm glad Broken Stone is joining up somewhere. I've actually asked Hunter," he nods to his auspicemate, "and Simon to work together in getting Bronzeville under control. Simon at least might ask your pack's assistance.

"I also asked Simon, as Wyrmfoe, to start coming around to the packs to assess their war-readiness. I know he can be blunt and overbearing. But if he comes here and sounds as though he's demanding that your pack prove its readiness to him, don't take offense. He's here by my request, and he'll help train your packmates if they need it."

[Starla] He couldn't make her features out very well under the damp scarf that protects her face. Pale colored eyes, a light shade of green, crinkle, staring at him in confusion. She blinks once, leaning in past the door to look inside, "This ain't some kind'a halfway home is it? I got'a letter here from Irene by way of Elizabeth, to look for a Romeo?"

She holds up the card, trying to read the blurred writing, which has smeared from one too many coffee stains. Starla stands about eye-level with Roman. He smell the purity in her blood, like an announcement to his kind that she was indeed one of this hippy kids related to Unicorn. Starla steps inside, pausing at the door to shake the snow off her suitcase, and pulls back her hood. "Roman sounds better than Romeo, Thomas' boy right?" When she speaks, her drawl is heavy and slow as if honey rolled off her tongue. Shaking off the hood, a single braided plait of brown hair falls over one shoulder, her skin a permanent dusky bronze that has more to do with genetics than a natural tan.

[Hunter] A bottle is received and Hunter reaches for a lighter in his jacket. The cap is off a second later and he pockets it along with the lighter. "Cheers." He says to her and takes a sip. Though he doesn't interrupt or offer up any sounds at all other - his eyes focus on the conversation intently.

Simon at least might ask your pack's assistance.

Cheeks are sucked in and lips purse, perhaps eyes narrow but other than that there is no reaction.

[Trent Brumby] In the kitchen Rain will find some recycled bags with food and supplies in them. There's some large containers on the bench that have stews ready to eat, and a couple loaves of bread and the like. Milk, soda's, bottled water. Toiletries, too.

Heading into the kitchen with Jackson, Trent looks to where Rain is boiling the kettle. "Hello Miss."

They had met when Trent hosted Yule dinner at his apartment. She would know from being in his home how he keeps things tidy, how even with plenty of guests, he'd tried to keep it somewhat formal rather than like some barnyard shindig, and that Trent's one of those hosts that doesn't like their guests doing a damn thing other then sitting back, drinking, eating and socializing. The pile of dishes he had been left with took him hours to get through that night.

"There's some beef stew over here and some bread from the bakery."

[Jackson Montgomery] He looks to Rain as they hit the kitchen, smiling to her. He's met several people here and befriended a few, but Rain's the one he's had the closest association with and the smile he gives is warm, open. "Hey, you. I think we can officially call it 'Holy shit' cold now."

He grins and heads over, taking a lean against the wall near here. "Good to see you haven't gotten buried in the snow for good. How are you holding up in all this?"

[Roman Turner] "Roman, yes. I ain't no Romeo, that's for certain."

His ears had started to blaze bright red as he reached for the card to open it.

"Elizabeth and Thomas are my folks."

He motioned Starla in further as he opened the letter.

"What was your name?"

Half of him head Lukas mention Simon and he clearly recalled the last time Simon come to their territory. His attention shifted to the card to read.

[Kora] Kora cuts a brief look at Hunter; her dark eyes are quiet, still. The shadows here are deep enough that the color is lost in the shadows. Blue becomes just: dark. "Simon's a friend of the pack. We've fought together, more than once. The last time on the very steps of this church, less than a moon ago. He's been eager to take a more active role in the Sept, to bring the fight to the enemy for some time."

Another brief, narrow shrug, the shape of the gesture lost beneath the coat she's wearing, sized for her broad-shouldered, broad-chested mate. "I'm glad to know you've seen his worth beneath the bluster." A glance back, touching once on Hunter, then on Roman. "I'll be out of the fight soon," this is quiet, her only concession to pregnancy. "but my pack is ready for war."

[Lukas] [what's on your mind, brah? percep + emp!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 7 (Failure at target 6)
to Hunter

[Lukas] [...SHADOW LORDS DON'T FAIL.]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 10 (Success x 1 at target 7)
to Hunter

[Rain] They'd met briefly over the holidays. Rain had been quiet and mostly stuck to the outskirts of the festivities. Now she's rubbing her hands together, and tucking them under her equally cold arms, anything to help hasten the pins-and-needles stage of defrosting up. The smile she offers Trent is far warmer than anything she coudl have managed out in the church proper.

"Mr. Trent, wasn't it?" she asks, offering him and all but frostbitten hand. He might not accept, if his fingers were warmer, Rain would understand. "'Sgood to see you again," she adds, without letting her teeth chatter too much.

"Hey Jackson." She's dropped the honorific with the other Gaian, not out of disrespect but in familiarity. There's a wider cant to her smile, but they're both well received. Jackson is just the more familiar. "I was out lookin' for Eve. I'mma go back out, once I warm up some."

Which sounds like a terrible idea, of course, to anyone with sense.

[Hunter] [hidin]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 2, 8 (Failure at target 6)
to Lukas

[Hunter] [Annoyance, anger, a sense of the incredulous]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)
to Lukas

[Starla] The card looks like one of those cheap blanket ones you find in the dollar store, it's scrawled all over with writing, giving simple instructions on where to go. A folded up letter sits in the middle of the card, the edges worn from constant wear of being folded open and closed. She lets go of suitcase handle, hands free now from the card. She starts to pull off her gloves and scarf.

"Starla Irene Navarro, mama's side of the family. She wasn't married to Willy Turner, but they sure as hell had fun together. Letter explains it, shipped up here at the wrong time I see, all that white stuff out on the lawn."

[Hunter] [oops ignore dice!]
to Lukas

[Starla] *blank

[Trent Brumby] He does take her hand, shaking it gently. "Just Trent is fine," he assures her with a warm smile. "There's some blankets out there. I carried some in." Nodding towards the door he indicates vaguely back the way he'd come. "You should grab one and warm up, not head back outside." But this is a light suggestion, talking some common sense.

"If someone is missing, a Garou can go and look for them." He doesn't press and ask who Eve is.

"Go sit down. I'll handle some tea and coffee. There's some hot chocolate around here somewhere." This way Trent can keep busy, Rain can warm up, and she and Jackson can have a talk. They're clearly familiar with each other.

[Jackson Montgomery] He raises an eyebrow. "You're going back out there? Alone?"

The school-attending kinfolk's expression clearly reads My ass, you are. He'd kind of self-appointed himself as Rain's older brother-figure, and as such he was a little protective of her. He crosses his arms over his chest, shaking his head.

"Lemme know when you're ready to go, I'll go hunting with you."

Trent gets an appreciative look at the hospitality offerings, and a smile.

[Lukas] "I know he's been eager," Lukas replies - just a hint of weariness here. "He also thinks it'll be possible to destroy the Hive entirely in a few short months. He has worth, but it'll have to be tempered with wisdom and patience first. But," a wry smile, "you seem to have plenty of that, so maybe you can teach him something in return.

"I have to be going," he says. "Best wishes to you and yours. Hunter," this, while he turns, meeting the other's eyes on his way out, "I'd like a word with you too at some point."

[Lukas] [okay, i gotta jet! thanks for the speed-scene!]

factory raid.

[Heartland] These are Liz's rules! Read and obey!!

1. Narrative posts in 10 minutes or less, declarations in 3 minutes or less. Rolls should be made very quickly. I aim to get this scene done in the allotted time since I have to work tomorrow and several of us are on the east coast. In light of the short time frame, I would appreciate it if you would not multitask. At the least, give the scene a chance before you run off to MT. Thanks!

2. Please PM me any applicable merits and flaws. Keep track of your own tempers.

3. If you have any immediate questions, ask me via IM. I will see IMs before I see the chat, particularly if I am working on a post.

4. If anything in the scene bothers you, please send me an IM. I will do what I can to correct it so you are not made uncomfortable.

5. I will give you one coupon for a free re-roll. This coupon can be spent only once. It is non-transferable. You can use it to re-roll any roll: damage, soak, willpower, attack, initiative, rage back - anything - and take the better of the two. Again, you may spend this reroll only once and should make sure you save it for something important.

6. I reserve the right to modify the dice if necessary for continuity and/or beneficial to the scene.

[Heartland] They gather not in the Caern, but in the interior of a cheap motel room, somewhere on the ex-urban outskirts of the city, some anonymous exit of I-94, north of the city proper. Those who have been to or raided the Hivelands before know this route, the way the city disappears into these sort of concentric circles of suburban life. An architectural expert could date the city’s expansion by the dominant styles of the homes. First the solid foursquares of the 1910s and 1920s, then the brick cape cods of the 1940s, the 50s ranchers and the 60s split levels, and so on, until it all dissolves into a sort of sameness defined by huge tract homes built on tiny lots, treeless. There are shopping malls and fast food restaurants, office parks and industrial plants, huge Wal-Mart and Home Depot developments next to aging malls and –

- well, cheap hotels like this one, where the unseen suburban labor force can rent a room for $200/week, cook microwave meals on hotplates, devour surplus burgers saved from the garbage after their shift at White Castle.

Here are the Garou: in a room with a polyester bedspread, arrayed around the room. Joel, Electric Sky – the Ritesmistress’ Glass Walker packmate – is there, keys to a pair of cars in hand. “Dr. Slaughter has developed most of the information we have,” Joel tells them, looking most seriously to Wyrmbreaker, “ – I’ll leave that to her. My Alpha has prepared three cleansing talens for you to employ, once you determine which of the raw materials is the primary source of the taint. It is primarily spiritual, but there is a physical trace element that Dr. Slaughter will test for on site. The auditors and health inspector will be tipped off and should raid the site tomorrow. This is essential to cleansing the taint and shutting them down for good.

“These,” he tosses the jingling keys to whoever wants them, “are your transport.” Here he grins, faintly. “ – I’ve rented them, but they shouldn’t be traceable back to any of our accounts. In fact, if they try to trace the credit cards or names attached, alerts should go up that might give me a bit more information about the enemy. That’s what I know.

“Dr. Slaughter?”

[Roman Turner] He almost shot out his hand for the keys because how often did anyone let him drive? And he wondered what happened if the cars didn't make it back in one piece. It was that second thought that had him behaving himself. Instead he busied himself with worrying the brim of the hat he held, having removed it on entering the cheap hotel room.

[Kindly One] Alek stands away to the side, resting back against the air conditioning unit. The old machine rattles and rumbles, sending cold air into her hands and chilling the small of her back, but the Fury doesn't move away, and she doesn't look uncomfortable. She looks like she's lounging, in a faded t-shirt and an old pair of cut-off jeans, white threads tickling her thighs. Her sneakers are old and dirty and scuffed. Her dark hair has been pulled back into a high ponytail, bangs hanging down into slightly almond shaped dark eyes. Beside her foot is a black and green Jansport bookbag, in considerably better condition than the rest of her clothing.

She listens to the other Garou discuss the mission at hand, watching with a slightly bemused expression. She doesn't reach for one of the sets of keys. Irene was always the driver of their pack. Alek got here either by bus, or by hitching a ride with one of the other Garou.

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen leans against a cheap sideboard in the room, a little distance from the others. She is not Garou, there is no one here that knows her well, though there is one certainly intent on trying.

She's dressed darkly, which only highlights her pale skin, her bright, vibrant hair. Her eyes are dark and direct as she watches the Garou whom she knows as Joel speak. When he addresses her, she shifts her weight to her feet stepping forward, first to reach for one set of the keys. One hand slips beneath her jacket, pulling out a folded sheet of paper. "I've got a map o' the factory," she says unfolding it. She chooses a central location - likely the bed to lay it out.

"There's an entrance 'ere," she says, pointing it out with a single finger, "I've a security pass t'gain us entrance and the codes we need t'get us in through the main door. At least," she says, "so long as my contact holds true, and I've so far no reason to believe that he won't.

"There's only one shift on right now - so the human guards will be light. I believe what needs t'be cleansed is back 'ere," her finger moves over the stark lines of the building's design toward the back, indicating what appear to be cylinders, a finely printed descriptor of "production line" flanking both, mirrored sides.

"And in this office 'ere," her finger moves to the middle left side of the building, "Are the real files. I need to get in there and moves them out into the main area so tha' when the inspectors arrive, they ha' something to find."

Here, she pauses. She does not ask if anyone has questions or thoughts, but the intimation is there.

[Blood-Song] Ruarc is standing by the door, leaning back against the wall, one foot up behind him against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest. Dressed in simple blue travel worn jeans and a dark tee. The tall Fianna is simply listening and watching for now. He is the new dog in town, and there is little he can offer in the way of information or strategies for now. He is muscle for this particular raid.

He does not reach for the keys for now, but he will take a pair if none of the others do so. When Imogen places the map out, he steps forward so he can look at it. Thoughtful as he studies it.
“Them cylinders… A couple nites ago, me an’ some other’s raided a facto’y wi.somethin similar.”

He points out the three areas.
“Was only th’ one cylinder there, but it held a foul creature o’ boilin flesh that tried it’s best tae eat us. Don’t rightly kno’ ifn’n these are similar, but I’ it is? We be needin tae be cautious.”

[Roman Turner] "Are the human guards tainted? Or should I put it, are they off limits if the need arises? Do we need to treat them with kid gloves or not?"

He didn't know the one girl with the back pack, but he knew Ruarc from drinking at the Brotherhood the previous weekend. When Ruarc mentioned the creature it had Roman's brows rising.

"Well, I reckon of there's some critter in the tank, that we can't rightly let the humans see in the morn, so we'll have to take care of the varmint when we do the cleanse. Though I gotta say, last time I looked in something and something was looking back at me, it gave me the willies."

[Wyrmbreaker] This has largely been a kin operation. From the time Wyrmbreaker took the samples found in community center and handed them over to Ray, to Jesmond, to Imogen, he's had no involvement in this. He's had no idea what the kin have been doing. It comes as something of a surprise tonight that Ray, who had purportedly been 'working on it', is nowhere to be seen. That it's the Fianna kinswoman who seems to have guided the entire project.

And, in truth, roles are almost reversed here. Usually it's the Garou calling the kin in, assigning tasks and outlining objectives, not the other way around. Another Garou -- another Ahroun holding the role of warmaster of the Sept -- might be offended, or even angry. Lukas isn't. Results matter more to him than methodology.

Arms folded, he looks at the map. Ruarc volunteers information; Roman asks a question. Lukas is silent a moment or so longer, and then his pale eyes flick up.

"Let's back up a minute," he says. "Is this where the trail ends? Are we reasonably certain that if we shut this factory down, we eliminate the source of corruption and have the ammunition to shut Whole Heart Farms down?"

[Imogen Slaughter] "The factory you raided was a meat packing plant," Imogen offers, her voice naturally low, her accent a sharp contrast to Blood-song's . "S'quite a different place than this - a much older facility and gettin' quite close to straddlin' the line on most things legal. This factory's more modern, and as far as Bleeding Heart can tell," a flick of a glance toward Joel, acknowledgement of his packmate, and the message which he had passed, "the ingredients are less tainted.

"The cylinders yeh see on the map won't be anythin' like what yeh saw in the factory. Though it doesn't mean yeh won't see anything, it does mean yeh likely won't see a creature o' boilin' flesh." Her mouth twists ever so slightly. "As this place primarily deals in dried goods. We know that they're adding a chemical here, as well as taint, which makes these products highly addictive."

She flicks her gaze toward Roman, "I haven't the skill to identify taint and the guards were not vetted by a Garou. Personally, because it will cause clean up issues, I'd prefer they remain alive. But not at risk o' what needs to be done. All things considered, I don't think their odds are good."

Imogen turns her head as Lukas speaks.

"Yes," she says simply, evenly. "This is the second point o' contagion. If you do yer part, the taint will be destroyed and they will not be able to distribute further. If I do my part, when the auditors come, the information they will find, plus the information that will be arranged to be given to them and the proper authorities will cripple the company."

[Wyrmbreaker] "What was the first point of contamination?" His tone is as level, his eyes incandescently blue. "The factory? What I'm asking is: has the source been checked at all -- the farms that raise the livestock and grow the raw foodstuffs?"

[Roman Turner] He sat down on the edge of the bed, listening to the question and answer session. Honestly, he was new to all of this and kind of on a point and click status.

[Heartland] Electric Sky lounges against the entertainment center, his arms crossed, a baseball cap - the Cubs, natch - pulled low over his face. He is frowning over someone's shoulder at the map; but when Wyrmbreaker asks his question, the Ragabash straightens and stands. "The meat was tainted during the cooking process. Given the description of the raid, Bleeding Heart believes that the taint was adding by the machinery, and destroying it destroyed the source of the taint. The factory was quasi-legal, and the authorities should take care of the rest.

"The dry goods," he cuts a sketch of a shrug, glancing once at Imogen. " - the taint is much less; the source more difficult to identify. We believe that it comes from one raw ingredient. There are some products that carry no trace of the taint, but all the baking mixes contained some of it. I believe we hope to shut down the company to shut down the distribution of the tainted goods, cleanse the raw ingredients. Once we identify the specific vector - and perhaps grab some additional information on their vendors - we should be able to trace it back to another manufacturer and/or the farmer's fields."

[Blood-Song] Ruarc looks up at Imogen and nods. He looks to the talens that are to be used for cleansing the taint, thoughtful for a moment before looking to the other Garou. He considers what he knows about them, then looks back to the map, working to memorize the details.

[Wyrmbreaker] "Okay. So it sounds like so far you've uncovered two major sources of taint, the meatpacking plant and the factory. Ruarc and a few others took care of the plant on Tuesday. We'll handle the factory tonight.

"Let's keep an eye out for suppliers and source vendors," he says, speaking now to the gathered raiders, "and grab samples as we go. After tonight's business is done we'll follow up and make sure this is where the trail ends.

"We're lacking a Theurge tonight," he adds, "so Blood-Song and I will form the front line while Kindly One and Fate alternate on healing duty. Are you both carrying healing talens?"

[Roman Turner] He shook his head, no.

"I don't have talens, Rhya."

And Lord help them if they depended on his great healing abilities.

[Kindly One] Alek bends to retrieve her bag. When she hefts it to her shoulder, it clatters softly. She nods once. And she looks at Roman.

"My supply isn't infinite, but I have a few to spare." She shifts her bag and divides what she has, offers four small gourds to the Child of Gaia.

[Blood-Song] ”Ah ’ave a couple wi’me tonight.”
The Fianna ahroun speaks up. He pulls the leather pack from his shoulders, laying it on the bed, pulling open the flap. He reaches into it, pulling out two small clay gourds, placing them on the bed, and then pulls out three small pieces of clay, formed to look like shields, with a feather glued to each, and marked with a gaelic sign.
“These will help ye if’n ye get struck. Toughen ye up a wee bit.”

[Heartland] The discussion of talens reminds the Ragabash of the talens his Alpha created for this mission. He turns around and rummages through an overlarge messenger bag open on the desk beside the television, and pulls out four Nalgene water bottles in a rainbow of colors. "The cleansing talens," he says, laughing them out on the cheap polyester bedspread. "You can make a circle with the water, as you would performing the rite. Use the whole bottle and it should cleanse whatever is inside the circle, as long as you keep it reasonably small. You can also pour it directly onto something if there's no room to circle it."

[Imogen Slaughter] Wyrmbreaker begins his planning - asks about talens, which Garou begin to either offer or admit to no longer having. Imogen merely waits, still, a set of keys palmed in one hand.

Her gaze flicks toward the talens as they are offered, or handed out, resting on each in vague interest.

[Wyrmbreaker] Wyrmbreaker twists a small leather sack seemingly out of nowhere. He riffles around inside, removing a few items; he passes six gourds to Aleka and Roman.

"Split those as you need. Ignite them with your spirit and crush the gourd against a wound to heal it. Your rage and your spirit will clash, so at least one of you will have to hold back while the other rages. Communicate with each other. Decide who it'll be at any given time."

He adds four faintly sheening darts, the sort you might toss at a board in a bar, passing them out one-each and keeping one for himself.

"These aren't easy to use, but they can turn the tide in a pinch. They'll knock your enemy out for three seconds, exactly, if they strike."

Lastly, the talens Bleeding Heart provided. Wyrmbreaker listens intently as Electric Sky speaks, then takes the talens and hands one each to Blood-Song and Kindly One, keeping one for himself. He explains, "If one of us should fall, there will be others to use them. Thank your Alpha for these, Electric-Sky.

"The Galliards speak well of your shooting," he adds to Imogen, "but you should probably focus on protecting yourself, especially if the battle gets thick. Stay close to us and we'll heal you as we can."

That's it; all the preliminaries on Wyrmbreaker's end. "Are you driving?" he asks Roman, who took the keys. And then, with a faint hint of a smile, "Are you going to crash?"

[Wyrmbreaker] [erase last line! replace with--]

That's it; all the preliminaries on Wyrmbreaker's end. He grabs the keys off the table in one hand, the map in the other.

Then he holds the keys out to Roman with a faint smile. "Wanna drive?"

They could all die tonight. Might as well let someone have a little fun.

[Kindly One] "I have these, too," Alek says, pulling a few braided leather bracelets from her bag and passes them around. "They'll make it harder for things to hurt you."

She then takes up a couple of the gourds laid out on the be, nodding her thanks.

[soak talens, woo!]

[Imogen Slaughter] Lukas's advice is met with a passive regard, a mere nod that is more acknowledgement than anything else - thanks or understanding.

They begin to gather their talens and Wyrmbreaker offers Roman a chance to drive. Imogen pockets the other set of keys and reaches behind herself, absently pulling out her nine millimetre, checking the chamber and the clip, before returning it to its holster.

[Roman Turner] He grinned slowly and accepted the keys with a flash in his eyes.

"Sure do, mister Wyrmbreaker."

He would drive alright, though they might all get gray hair from the experience.

[Kindly One] [dlp! replace with]

Alek takes just two more of the offered healing talens, smiling a little at the blind dart, and shakes her head to the Ruarc's piece of clay. Roman accepts the chance to drive, and Alek turns to Imogen. She quirks a brow, sweeps out her hand, indicating the Kin go forward. The Fury will be riding with her.

[Imogen Slaughter] The smallest slightly measure of a smirk flicks Imogen's mouth as Alek makes it clear with whom she'll be driving. "Shall we, then?" this to everyone in general - if there is no immediate negation, she glances to Joel - nodding once, before turning away and heading toward the door.

[Blood-Song] Rurac nods, once more hefting the small leather bag to his shoulder after taking back what shields are not taken. The leather pack is gone when he turns from the bed, looking first to Roman and Lukas, then to Imogen and Alek. He settles in and readies to leave, his intent to ride with the Fianna kin and the fury. Once Imogen starts moving, Ruarc follows without need for words.

[Roman Turner] "No guts, no glory."

He smiled like a crazy jack-o-lantern and headed for the car as soon as he collected whatever talens he was lugging around.

[Wyrmbreaker] Ever so coincidentally, everyone chooses to ride with Imogen after it becomes clear who'll be driving the first car. Lukas doggedly stays with the Ragabash, though, and the two groups split up just outside the motel room door.

[Roman Turner] He would follow Imogen's car, pleased as punch that Lukas was not only brave enough to ride with him, but because he had honored him with the trust.

"Thanks for believing in me."

Whether he did or not, it appeared that way in Roman's book.

[Heartland] They have a long, tense drive up I-94 to Waukegan, where Whole Heart Farms’ “state of the art! From the farmers with heart!” facility is located. It is late night, though, midnight or after, and the usually congested interstate is a patent artery, wide open, traffic gleaming in the brief dark stretches between the curving exits like some fantasy of a bullet train.

The drive takes a good half-hour nonetheless, no matter how recklessly Roman drives; no matter how controlled Imogen might be. The doctor’s car is doubtlessly in front, but both have been supplied with well-made hand-drawn maps that lead them directly to the anonymous, single-story, modern factory that is their target.

Out here, the development is spottier. Great tracts of newly built cookie-cutter housing border wetlands that turn into parking lots and industrial parks snug up against the dying centers of old downtowns, from days before the interstate and the car. They know – some more intimately than others – that the Hivelands are close, somewhere off to the west, somewhere beyond the horizon, hidden among a rolling landscape of farms and wetlands and bucolic suburban developments and small-town charms.

The exit is 72-A. They pass a sleepy shopping center, the frontage supplied with one of every imaginable fast food restaurant. Only Taco Bell and White Castle are still open, and a pair of teenagers stand in the drive-through of the White-Castle badgering the cashier, demanding service. They are clear as a bell to the passengers as they drive through – one on a skateboard, performing tricks, the other with a hand planted on the sign, bent over, yelling an order into the mouthpiece again and again.

The factory is set off the main road via a long, curving drive, bordered by mature pine trees. There’s a hint of fog in the warm, humid night, rolling in off the lake, not far to the east. Ahead, the masonry fence – tall and imposing, rather much for a food manufacturing facility – is a pleasant sand-colored hue. The gates are dominated by the wholesome logo – a farmhouse and barn, with silo, in relief against a rising sun – adopted by the concern. Imogen has the keycard and codes; she swipes them in and the gates open. Roman has to be quick on the gas pedal to follow before the automatic mechanism begins to close.

The parking lot is mostly empty, but there are a handful of cars here – three or four – including a black pick-up with Illinois plates that appears to be heavily splashed with mud. The bed is covered by a truck-topper that has seen better days, and the bumper sticker says My Kid Beat Up Your Honor Student.

The factory is illuminated by floodlights, and there are a handful more streetlamps in the parking lot, but mostly the place is silent, the air dominated by the screed of crickets and the lovesongs of bullfrogs. Ahead, the front doors, the interior just visible, a single lamp left on somewhere. No one appears to have noticed their arrival. Not yet.

[Roman Turner] He followed, and resisted messing with the radio. Concentrating on his wonderful driving skills, completely baffled why Sparrow refused to let him drive her car in the city. When they went through the gates, he was on Imogen's tail. Following her to park next to her.

[Imogen Slaughter] "There are cameras in the lot," Imogen says as they separate, casting a quick glance toward Roman, her eyes fixing on the young Garou. "Watch where I park and park beside."

It's a long drive. Thirty minutes with Garou with whom she has nothing in common. Imogen makes no effort at conversation. No attempt to speak, though she presumably shares blood with Ruarc, a gender with Alek.

She rolls down the window to scan her badge, her gaze flicking up toward the camera, wary, but comforted to see no illumination or activity on it.

The parking spot she chooses is specific, the path she takes through the parking lot is the same. She pulls into a spot and unbuckles her seatbelt getting out to wait as Roman pulls in beside her. Her gaze lifts up, scanning the light posts, the parking lot and the building as she pockets her key and waits for the others to get out.

[Kindly One] On the way to the car, Alek called shotgun. The lanky teen sat in the front passenger seat, knees drawn, feet resting just above the glove box, her book bag on the floor in front of her seat. She gave out directions as necessary, but mostly she looked out the window and watched the shapeless blackness of the landscape pass by, occasionally illuminated by street lamps.

It was entirely different from treks across the country with her sister. The vehicle, the people, the feel of it all was completely different. Yet Alek took up her customary place as navigator. Not that she was needed. Imogen knows the route well enough.

When they enter the lot, Alek shifts. She opens her book bag and takes out a few talens, stuffs them impossibly into the pockets of her dedicated cut-offs. The gourds, the dart, and a handful of apples. She checks the bracelets on her wrist, makes sure she has everything she needs. Then she gets out, and she moves around the car to lean near Imogen, thumbs hooked into her pockets, one ankle crossed over the other.

[Blood-Song] Ruarc is quiet for the car ride. He glances out the window of the car. When they enter the long curving drive with the pine trees approaching the factory, he closes his eyes. Drawing in a deep breath as if tasting the air inside the car. When he opens his eyes again, there is determination on his face.

The leather pack opened once more, he pulls out one of the small clay shields, as well as a roll of tightly wound crimson cloth. He finds the edge of the fabric, and starting with an arm, begins to wrap it around his skin, focusing his spirit as he does so.

A few moments later, the bandage seems to melt into his skin, and he grabs the clay shield in one hand. Closing his eyes, he closes his fist, crushing it. A long breath escapes him with another burst of focused spirit.

By the time Imogen parks the car, Ruarc has put the pack away once more and is sitting quietly. A glance to the other two, then he opens the door and steps out behind Imogen. He looks around slowly until his gaze falls on the factory itself. Studying it for the moments it takes for the others to get out of the car’s. A breath drawn in, and he calls on the gift of his tribe to help him fight of any wyrm toxin they might encounter. There was no telling if the chemicals or tainted ingredients would be toxic, but best not to take the chance.

[1 gnosis > BB, 1 gnosis > ST, rolling for Resist Toxin]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 6, 6, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) Re-rolls: 2

[Kindly One] [-1WP activate resist pain, rolling for soak talen]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 6, 9 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[Wyrmbreaker] "Maybe I just wanted to look brave in front of attractive kin," Lukas deadpans as he's getting into Roman's car. The door shuts. He buckles up, and then turns to the Ragabash with a grin that sets unexpected dimples in his cheeks. "Let's go."

They drive.

Thirty minutes, they drive, the more reckless of the two drivers following. It's a long time to wait, a long time to think, a long time in which to get wound up. Some Ahrouns would jitter a leg, flex their fists over and over, as though eager for blood. The one in Roman's car does not. He sits quietly, relaxed and calm, his seat pushed well back to give his length of leg room. There's an undeniable presence about him: his purity of blood, his rising rank. A sense of quiet strength and confidence -- both his own, and confidence that another could place in him.

There's a sense, perhaps welcome, that when you fight beside Wyrmbreaker you would triumph. There's a sense that he would not let you fail.

As they close in, he stirs, sitting a little straighter, eyes alert and clear now. When they park, he looks out the window at the factory, then pulls the door open and gets out. He's tall; a lot of height, a lot of muscle and bone rising out of that compact rental. He glances down at the map crumpled in his hand, then at the building -- eyes narrowed now, comparing what he sees with the handdrawn floorplan in his hand.

He's looking for cameras, too. Or windows. Or, hell, laser-sighted rifles. Anything out of the ordinary.

He asks Imogen, low, "Do your codes work on the loading dock or the side door?"

[Wyrmbreaker] [-1WP resist pain, -1Gn soak talen, -1Gn BB. Will do Luna's Armor next round!]

[Imogen Slaughter] "The front door," Imogen answers. "Side doors are emergency exits and the loading dock codes weren't accessible."

[Heartland] There are cameras in the parking lot; there were cameras at the security gate. The former have a particular trajectory, and are obviously posted on the streetlamps illuminating the largely deserted parking lot. The building has no obvious windows. It appears to be primarily steel construction, although there are cheery brick-fronted planter boxes lining the frontage, full of summer flowers.

The logo is set out in a brick-and-masonry sculpture on the small area of front lawn. Down the side of the building, they can see a grassy area with plantings and picnic tables, a gazebo in the dark distance. There are small, discrete signs along the sidewalk that point toward the small gazedo, with "Smoking Area" emblazoned on thm.

The place appears still. Thus far, there is no sign that they have been spotted, and their parking places keep them outside the trajectory of the camera.

[Blood-Song] Ruarc moves around the car still looking towards the building. Imogen reveals that the front door will be their entrance and a smile curves his lips upwards slightly. He tips his head to the sides, first left then right, muttering something under his breath in old Gaelic tongue.

“And through the mist of the glens of the island did the spirit travel. Upon those strange shores did the fire rise and its enemies rose in numbers beyond reckoning. As great battle was joined, the pipes of war were played, and a cry rose through the heavens, to shake the very earth. It was the song of Blood.”

The soft chant is nothing more than a murmur to the ones close to the Fianna, but words have power, and these words stretch through time itself, focusing the spirits of the ancestors of his line, bargaining for their power and prowess of battle.

He falls silent for a moment after, then looks to Lukas first, and then to Imogen.
“Shall we?”
An easy smile on his lips.

[Ancestors roll for brawl]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 8) [WP]

[Wyrmbreaker] [Current gnosis -- peek! Let's put a WP on this.]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 8 [WP]

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen glances at, but does not return Ruarc's easy smile. "Front door's got a camera, but it should be disabled like the gate." A pause, and she looks up at the lights and posts again, then down. "If we follow this row then cut across to the front door after this post, we should more or less keep in the blind spots."

She palms her keycard, her jaw working briefly, a tendon moving along the side of her face. It is a rare concession to her feelings on this raid. Overall, it may be read as tension. To the more perceptive, it may be more like reluctance or even resignation.

"The genuine files tha' I need t'move are closest, but the cleansing is more important.

"I'll let you," it is a general 'you' directed at no one in particular, "enter the door first, and follow yer lead."

[Wyrmbreaker]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 10 (Success x 1 at target 8)
to Heartland

[Roman Turner] He was more than happy to volunteer to go in front of Imogen. Once more his hat was in place.

"You get the door open and get behind me, I'll take anything comes your way Miss Doctor Slaughter, Ma'am."

He kicked in the Gift of Resist Pain.

[Heartland] The umbra is not as bucolic as the setting; it is near enough to the dark of the moon that there is little light from luna falling over the landscape. The electric fence has a stark umbral presence, though, and seems to glow - suggesting that the owners have taken some precaution against umbral intrusion. Outside the circle of the fence, there are spiritis - rather sickly - of trees swaying in the night breeze. The factory floor is the size of a football field; perhaps longer. He sees some weaverspiders clinging to the electric lines, and a handful of smaller banes on this side. There are more, further down - he would roughly estimate around the factory floor - but it is difficult to see that much through the gauntlet, in the dark.
to Wyrmbreaker

[Wyrmbreaker] There's no answer for a moment. Lukas's eyelids close That's to spare his compatriots the rather harrowing sight of his eyes going opaque, going colorlessly white as he looks across the Gauntlet.

He stands still and silent. A moment later his eyes flick open again.

"Plenty of banes," he says. "We'll stay Realmside as much as we can. Go ahead," he adds to Imogen, and then, with a faint popping of bones, slips into a larger form and takes his place immediately behind her. When the door opens, he'll be the first through.

[Wyrmbreaker] [annnd luna's armor, -1gn.]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 3, 4, 4, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 7) [WP] Re-rolls: 1

[Wyrmbreaker] [SHADOW LORDS DON'T SUCK! -1gn!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 4, 5, 5, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 8) Re-rolls: 1

[Blood-Song] Ruarc moves up to follow Lukas, placing a hand on Roman’s shoulder with a smile and a wink.
“Ye be a brave lad, but let me’self an’ Wyrmbreaker-rhya do ou’a job.”

He moves on. He will be right behind Lukas into the building. His body shudders, and bones pop as he also slips into the war-form, moving on all fours to keep as low a profile as possible as they make their way towards the door.

[Imogen Slaughter] Roman leaps to the opportunity to protect Imogen - Imogen merely looks at him a moment, a line forming one her brow. It fades swiftly, Lukas addressing her, her head turning to regard the Ahroun.

She nods, and then turns and starts toward the door, following the path she had laid out. Though the sound of shifting behind her tightens her spine and stance as if a wire had been pulled tight through her body, she does not look back.

She sinks to a crouch at the door, bending so she can see the keypad, her mouth setting in concentration; she presses the password out of memory and then passes her keycard over the scanner.

A light on the scanner is red. It flashes once, then turns green with a soft beep, the door clicking as it releases.

[Kindly One] Alek pushes off from the car, comes around to stay with the group.

"Figures," she says, of the banes. She looks over to Imogen, sizing the kinswoman up. It makes sense for her to stay back, letting the Garou take the brunt of whatever comes at them inside. Unlike Lukas, she remains in her birth form, smaller and more agile than Glabro. And she hangs back, keeping behind the Ahrouns and in front of the kinfolk, ready to defend the woman.

When they reach the door, she touches the insides of her wrists, the hilts of the swords tattooed there. The blades are curved, and dark to minimize their reflectiveness. Like the others, she keeps low, and light on her feet. She takes two of her bracelets, slides them over the curved hilts, and expends her spirit energy to make the blades just a little sharper.

[damage talen +1]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 6, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[Roman Turner] He knew his place in line and that was right there where he could make sure his Lady Wuv, the mother of his future children, the grandmother of his grandchildren, the Angel of his life was safe. So after the door was opened, after the two storm troopers went in, he slipped in to shield Imogen's entrance and waited for Aleka as he looked around for that office. Trying to remember which way on the map.

[Heartland] These are double-doors, smoked glass reinforced. Human sized. The quintet is reflected in the glass: Imogen, slight, Wyrmbreaker hulking behind her, caveman sized. Blood-Song behind them both, war-formed, huge. There is no low profile in war-form, he looks hunched awkward, the size of a small car. To Imogen's doubtless relief, the cameras set into the entrance - below the awning - and between the two sets of entrance doors - are both dead-eyed, turned off.

There is enough room for a handul of people in the foyer area between the doors, the crisp, cool blast of air conditioning. They see an umbrella rack, and the reception area, quiet and as the second set of doors swing open.

The reception area is small, and claustrophobic with the presence a war-formed Garou. There is a high-topped receptionist's desk to their immediate right, and a couch and several armchairs to their left. Ahead, locked double doors lead back to the factory. Beyond the receptionist's desk, a small hallway branches off to the right, heading toward an area marked on the map as "locker rooms." To the left, another door, this one all glass. Beyond it, offices are visible. Or rather, the beginnings of a small warren of cubicals, all decorated in the finest pre-fab furniture staples has to offer.

[Wyrmbreaker] Once inside, out of the eye of the wider world, Wyrmbreaker reaches upward another rung on the shapeshifting ladder. The last vestiges of humanity drop again. Thick black fur replaces clothing. His posture changes, looming forward, arms longer than human proportion.

He looks behind the receptionist's desk. Sniffs the mouse, the screen on the computer. Gingerly pulls open drawers with a single claw. Provided nothing is remarkable here, he moves to the locker rooms, pushing the door open and tasting the air within as well.

Last, he goes to the office door. He peers through. He bends down and cranes up to sniff around the cracks of the doors, trying to catch a whiff of what's within. A moment or two, tail moving slightly. His claws tick on the floor as he turns back around and, moving, shifts between forms again. He has an ease with his changing body that many human-born Garou do not. Then again, he also has a spirit connection stronger than most.

"Fate," he whispers, "scout ahead on the factory floor. If Slaughter's codes can't get you in, you'll have to get across the door through the Umbra, so pull your cloaking gifts on now. Get a look at where the guard patrols are if you can, and if you have the chance, Peek across and see where the banes are concentrated. Those might be our tainted containers.

"Don't take chances, though. If you can't get an easy look, just leave it. Don't get caught.

"The rest of us: let's get started with those files. And keep an eye out for any links back to suppliers or growers. We'll look into them after."

[Blood-Song] [To sway or not to Sway...]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 5, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Roman Turner] "Yessir, Rhya sir."

He wiggled his brows, shot Imogen a worried look that was combined with pure puppy love, so likely he looked like he had gas. And he pulled for gifts and sneakiness to head for the swinging doors on out to the factory floor.

[Blood-Song] Ruarc follows Lukas in, then moves towards the left side, towards the wall next to the door leading into the office area. He stops there, swinging his massive head around slowly, scenting the air. He turns yellow eyes to Lukas when the other speaks, looking towards Roman, then to Imogen before turning his head to look into the office section, sniffing the door.

[Kindly One] Alek follows into the office, still remaining in her human skin. She activates a second talen, hooks that onto the hilt of her sword. Then, reluctantly, shifts them both to her right hand, holding them with blades pointed down. At least they're still in hand, still ready should she need them.

With her free hand, she starts going through files, looking for suppliers, vendors, anything that might be useful.

[damage +2]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 1, 5, 7 (Success x 1 at target 5)

[Kindly One] [ignore that last line!]

[Wyrmbreaker] Roman peels off. Wyrmbreaker nods at the glass office doors, turning to Imogen.

"Can you get us in?"

[Heartland] The air has the crisp, sharp scent of Lysol and air conditioning. There is an uncurrent of bread baking, particularly strong through the factory floor and in the locker rooms. The whole area is dark, but if Lukas lingers close to the doubled set of double-doors leading onto the production floor proper, he will see the shadows of the machinery against th second set of port-hole windows. The door to the offices requires the keycard and a code at this hour of the night. Beyond, a handful of lights are on amidst the warren. Here a potted plant, something meant for the low-light conditions of the cubicals, spills over a divider. There, some grinning, overweight couple stares out at a camera. They are standing on a beach somewhere tropical, both wearing leis and grinning like loons, pale skin lobster-red from the sun.

And so on.

[Imogen Slaughter] Somewhere between leaving the car and here, Imogen has added latex gloves to her hands. They cover to the wrists, encasing her fingers in white.

Roman's heartfelt gaze had largely been ignored, as Lukas asks the question, Imogen nods, half absently. "I can get us to the executive reception area, but we're on our own fer getting into the office. Preferably withou' breakin' down the door."

Her gaze lifts briefly, scanning the walls where they meet the ceiling and the walls themselves, before she lowers her gaze, lifting her chin toward the glass doors. "Let's go."

A flick of her gaze toward Blood-Song in his full crinos form, "Bit visible, aren't you?" she asks, somewhat rhetorically, before she starts toward the executive suite, her keypass still palmed.

[Blood-Song] The massive crinos huffs in response to imogen, looking back at the cube farm. His lips pull back to reveal sharp fangs, and a shudder passes through his form as he slips down, taking to lupus as he enters the cube farm. Ruarc is full-moon, but he isn’t stupid, and they are still sneaking. No sense in wading through cubicles as if it was a field of greens back home.

He slips in, easily vanishing among the cubicles in the smaller wolf skin.

[Wyrmbreaker] Wyrmbreaker waits for Imogen to unlock the door to the cubicle farm. When it's open, he again takes point, while meanwhile the Fianna slips down to his wolf form.

They move past empty cubicles. It's dark in here, only emergency lights on. Pictures of the workers and their families grin out at them. Wyrmbreaker wonders if it's just his knowledge of what goes on here that makes them look empty-eyed and entirely too toothy.

[dex/stealth!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 6, 8, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Blood-Song] [Dex + stealth]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Kindly One] [dex + stealth (please please please)]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 7, 8, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Imogen Slaughter] The Garou lead the way and Imogen follows, her slight form dwarfed by the others, even in their human flesh.

(dex+stealth: HAIL KAHSEENO!)
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 8, 8, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Blood-Song] [Sniff. Sniff. Where did Irma hide the red velvet cake?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 4)

[Heartland] Wyrmbreaker nearly knocks over the picture of someone's kid - someone's unfortunate, pimply-faced thirteen year old boy, wearing a polo shirt and the frozen smile of an adolescent posing for a school picture after waiting in line for forty-five minutes fantasizing about the two girls in line in front of him. The picture moves on the molded plastic desk, but doesn't fall.

They ghost tough the surroundings, past the cubicles until they come to the halls leading to the proper offices. There is a conference room, and a handful of locked rooms, with names in nameplates outside the doors, mounted to the walls. The dry smell of paper predominates, but there is still the scent of fresh-baked bread, the traces of humans scattered around the place, each scent distinct, settled around a particular office. The carpet here is plush, though worn down through the traffic areas. Visible lines from the vaccuum cleaner are evident amongst the cubes. As Blood-Song continues, though, he begins to pick out scents that seem less settled, more recent, following the traffic pattern they have found through the cubicals, down the hallways, past, the restrooms.

There's a light left on in the men's room. No one is inside.

They arrive in the waiting area outside the president's office. There is a large wooden desk out front, with a nameplate "Jackie Hollingbeck" "Executive Assistant" and a plush leather sofa. Amidst the well-made wooden bookshelves sits a neatly camoflaged plasma television. The door into the president's office is locked, wooden, heavy -

- secured not by electronic security, but by an old-fashioned lock.

[Wyrmbreaker] After a glance to ensure the kinswoman did not carry the key to this lock, Wyrmbreaker moves to the door.

"Wait here," he says. finding his reflection in the polished brass nameplate, he begins to push across the Gauntlet.

[Wyrmbreaker] [gnosis vs gauntlet, -1 for shiny!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [annnd popping back! *sacrifices a duck*]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 3, 4, 6 (Failure at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [stealth! HAIL KAHSEENO.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 8)

[Wyrmbreaker] [-1R to lupus.

Note to self later: Lukas is now down 4G, 3WP, 1R

sneaking toward inner office!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [peek!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[Heartland] [do I see you?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 7, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [percep + alert -2 diff (lupus)]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 3, 8, 9 (Failure at target 4)

[Wyrmbreaker] [*sacrifices a whole herd of cattle!!*]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[Heartland] [pause!]

[Blood-Song] [Note: Ruarc has spent 2G, 1 WP. He has BB activated (4HL's, Soak talen, 2 extra soak dice, Brawl 4 + 3(ancestors), Resist Toxin activated.]

[Wyrmbreaker] [oh right.

Total expenditures: 4G, 3WP, 1R
Bonuses: resist pain, BB, soak talen +3, +1 from Luna's Armor.]

[Heartland] Wyrmbreaker plunges across the umbra and finds himself in the dark, the building's outline a ghostly thing, illuminated more by the spiders' webbing than the dark face of the moon or any other spirits. The chain-link fence, the inner of the two fences, is illuminated against the darkness, enlivened - awakened? - but otherwise the building itself is quiet. The definition of office and production floor is barely evident here. The spiders go everywhere, following visible lines that tie the facility to the powergrid. Darker spirits lurk here, though, brazenly plucking off the spiderlings when they need a tasty snack. One of them, shovel-headed, looks up from where it studies a crawling spider and watches Wyrmbreaker as he sneaks across.

[Heartland] 5
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1

[Wyrmbreaker] +20!
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3 (Failure at target 6)

[Heartland] Bane: Blast Wyrmbreaker!

[Wyrmbreaker] 1a/b/c/d: CHOMP!
e: held!

[Wyrmbreaker] dex+brawl+hispo+totem-5(split)
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 2 at target 5) Re-rolls: 1

[Wyrmbreaker] [oh right. *sacrifices an iguana!* str+hispo+2(bite)+1(succ)!]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 4, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Heartland] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 5, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] b. *SACRIFICES AN ELEPHANT.*
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 4, 5, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[Wyrmbreaker] [seriously? i gave you an endangered animal, kahseeno!]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 3, 3, 6, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Heartland] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 3, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] c. this is a test of my faith!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 6, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5) Re-rolls: 2

[Wyrmbreaker] [MY FAITH IS STRONG!]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Heartland] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [AWAY, FOUL 1's!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 6, 8, 8 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[Wyrmbreaker] [AND STAY AWAY!]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 4, 4, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Heartland] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 6, 6, 7, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Heartland] Blast!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 5, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [soak: stam+hispo+3(talen)+1(useless gift)]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [e. GO AWAY, 1's! chomping. +1 diff for action change!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 8 (Failure at target 6)

[Heartland] Bane: Incite frenzy!

[Wyrmbreaker] [percep + PU!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 6, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] Second verse, same as the first! Well, sort of. Just five split-action chomps! No rage.

[Wyrmbreaker]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 4, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 5) Re-rolls: 3

[Wyrmbreaker] [dam +4!]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Heartland] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 4, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] b!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 4, 5, 7, 7 (Success x 2 at target 5)

[Wyrmbreaker] [dam +1!]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 4, 6, 6, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 9 at target 6)

[Heartland] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 7, 7, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Heartland] x.x

[Wyrmbreaker] c!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 5, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 5)

[Wyrmbreaker] [percep + alert!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [cross! +WP. let's not get stuck!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6) [WP]

[Wyrmbreaker] That was not the sort of performance one expects from a Fostern, a Shadow Lord, an Ahroun who calls himself the Alpha of his auspice. Though Wyrmbreaker is instantly on the foe, his snarls caught in his throat and the only sound the clap and snap of his teeth, it took an infuriatingly long time for the bane -- a minor wyrmling at best -- to die. It had more than enough time to call for aid. His luck that it did not; nothing more.

Biting back the urge to growl, the Ahroun twists a small mirror out of his side and drops it on the floor. He finds his reflection in it, hulking and black, one paw planted on the mirror's edge...

...and realmside, air rushing away from his instantaneously appearing body presses against eardrums; rustles paperwork and indoor plant-leaves.

[Heartland] Imogen, with Alek and Ruarc - still wolf-formed, wait in the still darkness outside the president's office. The office furniture is clearly finer tan that anywhere else in the offices through which they have walked - silent, modern but generic, made of plastic and fiberboard with wood veneers and stain resistant fabrics. Here: the gleam on the receptionist's rather large desk is real wood, well maintained and polished. The contents of that desk are precisely kept, a crisp white blotter, a daybook, a handful of pens in a leather cup banded in gold. The nameplate says, Jackie Hollingbeck, Executive Assistant. There is no computer in sight.

Well-made book shelves behind the desk camoflage a crisp black plasma television. A plush leather sofa sits invitingly against one wall.

--

Two locked doors away, Lukas Wyrmbreaker plunges back through the gauntlet into the hidden file room. The room is narrow and generic, white walls, a handful of closed circuit television feeds, lateral file cabinets, and a huge paper shredder are the dominant furnishings. A single metal desk circa 1968 is an addition, with a pair of armless rolling chairs and a worktable rounding out he contents.

--

- and, somewhere further back, Fate lurks, hidden in the deep shadows, listening to a quiet conversation.

[Blood-Song] Blood-Song scents the air. After Wyrmbreaker vanished to the other side, he took up guard position, scenting the crisp air-conditioned air, eyes gleaming yellow in the weak artificial light, never letting his guard down.

[Wyrmbreaker] The direwolf shakes his head once, hard, to clear his ears. Some faint glistening strands of metallic spiderweb fall from his fur, disappear before they hit the floor. He moves forward -- and up, shifting back into his homid shape in an instant. The mirror is taken and pocketed. A moment after that, Glabro again, huge and cro-magnon, unmistakeably inhuman in all but the briefest of glances.

He goes to the door and unlocks it. The door past that, too, if possible.

[Imogen Slaughter] While they wait, Imogen is not idle. She walks around the administrative desk, pausing briefly to turn the nameplate toward herself. Her brow furrows, then clears as she sets the nameplate down back on its small adhesive markers before turning to the desk.

"No computer," she says, mildly, to no one in particular. Perhaps there is a laptop docking station. Perhaps Ms. Hollingbeck has an incredibly boring job without even the internet to keep her occupied.

Everything she touches, she does so carefully. A finger keeps the place in the day planner, if there is one, as she carefully goes through the appointments, interested in the meetings of the man whom the secretary serves.

The sound of the opening door at her back freezes her, a moment of utter, animal stillness.

She is not Garou. But forgot not her blood of wolves. It's in her blood, and in moments like this - the stillness of a predator and not prey.

She closes the book slowly, then turns toward the door. The glass is one way - and not in her favour, at least unless Wyrmbreaker turns on the office light, letting it seep through, letting vision in, murky and shadowy, merely an effect of the original design rather than intent.

Regardless, when he comes into view, however he does, her hand slowly slides out from the small of her back, empty.

[Heartland] Both doors open, easily from within. He swings open the door from the file room and crosses through the hushed confines of the president's office. There are darkened windows looking onto the factory floor, nothing visible beyond the smoked glass with the production lights off. The office is dominated by a huge mahogany desk and an oversized black leather seat. Leather bound books line the walls. The observant might guess them to be paste mock-ups on closer inspection, ordered from some set-decorating warehouse, shelved about for looks and looks along.

The observant would be correct.

While Imogen pages through the hand-written day calendar, she will see a heavily marked appointment written in an unusual hand two days ago. "ER STRAT MTG, w/HG" the entry says, in big black letters, underlined in sharpie strongly enough to bleed through three days' worth of appointments. There are other appointments, written in that sort of shorthand: some appear to be business related, during office hours. Others include meetings with the Cook County Board of Education, and fundraisers for various politicians running for House or Senate, or for more mundane but just as influential positions - sheriff, magistrate, supreme court, county commissioner, and so on.

[Roman Turner] It was a good thing Lukas got the doors unlocked. A good thing because not long after the swinging doors he had vanished through slipped open and were pushed closed. Blurred as he was, when he moved like this there was no hiding someone or thing was moving. Quiet and swift as he was, there was no hiding doors that suddenly opened and closed and his rapid breathing. And quick as he was, not so far behind him the sound of those swinging doors came as they opened yet again and this time closed on their own accord. There was no hiding the sound of footsteps from more than one. Nor was there any hiding the sweep of flash light beams back behind him. And as soon as he found the others he blurted out in a hushed, breathless whisper.

"Two guards coming this way...didn't see me. It's a setup. Pack of spirals in the warehouse, at least 5 of 'em. Two went umbral to watch, three waiting for guards to lead us to a trap."

It was rushed, it was quick and he barely got it out before he dove back against the wall next to the door leading to the room. Flat on his back with his legs pulled up and facing the doorway.

[Kindly One] [this is not the Fury you thought you saw *jedi mind trick*
Lukas gets back: 2 Gaia's Breath and a Sense Dep]

[Blood-Song] Blood-Song’s shaggy head turns towards the closed door as the first unseen one opens. His ears twitch, turning as he listens to the approaching steps from within. There is tension in the Fianna full-moon, but no sound escapes his fangs for now. Instead, he watches as the second door opens. A glance past Wyrmbreaker, then he moves to take up position near the open doors. He does not enter for now, instead watching their backs as the others go in search of the documents to be moved.

Then Roman shows up, materializing out of the dark to whisper a warning. The yellow eyes of the Lupus is fixed on those lights however. Lips pull back to reveal sharp teeth, but the Lupus shrinks back towards the desk to find cover from those beams of light. Once he is behind the desk, he curls low, stretching his forepaws in under the desk and slowly drags them over the floor, claws scratching over the rug as he sharpens those claws with his auspice gift.

Blood-Song holds for Wyrmbreakers command however, glancing to the fostern.

[1R spent for Razor Claws]

[Wyrmbreaker] "The ones in the Umbra are likely to find the bane I killed. I didn't have time to conceal the remains." He holds the handdrawn map out to Roman. "Show me where the three Spirals are, and where the guards are coming from."

He doesn't have to tell the Ragabash to be quick.

[Roman Turner] He blinked and pointed behind him, hissing.

"Guards, now!"

And slid to the floor against the wall right next to the last door he came through. His intentions? Trip the damned guards.

[Imogen Slaughter] Her reactions are subtle and slight. Roman appears, seemingly from no where as Lukas opens the door, offering his whispered warning. Her gaze lowers toward the Lupus sneaking by her thigh to slide beneath the desk. Her gaze lowered, slightly narrowed, she watches as he tears through the rug to the concrete beneath, his claws igniting a spark as they scrape across stone.

The sound tightens her jaw. Still, she gets the intended meaning.

Her hand, gloved, disappears beneath the fall of her jacket once more, this time coming out with her weapon. It clicks softly as she removes the safety. Wyrmbreaker asks where the guards and Spiral are. Imogen glances beyond him toward the record room she needs, but does not yet move.

[Wyrmbreaker] Oh. That close. Wyrmbreaker reacts instantly, a quiet snap of his fingers pointing Roman and Blood-Song to either side of the door -- to flank and ambush whoever comes in.

"You, behind me."

That's to Imogen. And then he's shapeshifting.

[to hispo!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 3, 6, 7 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[Wyrmbreaker] [FINE THEN, TO CRINOS.]

[Blood-Song] Blood-sing reacts immidiatly, moving behind the door and then his body shifts up as he moves to his war-form, hidden behind the doors, ready to strike in ambush.

[Sta + primal urge]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6) Re-rolls: 2

[Wyrmbreaker] [oh hey, i forgot my two glabro dice!]
Dice Rolled:[ 2 d10 ] 4, 6 (Failure at target 7)

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen only has a time to glance at the Ahroun Elder, a cool regard, as she moves further back behind Lukas, giving ample space between them and her, half obscured, her weapon by her side, her finger on the trigger guard.

But not, she suspects, for long.

[Wyrmbreaker] [stealth!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Blood-Song] [Stealth? Sneaky? Wut?]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Imogen Slaughter] stealth! HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 4, 4, 4, 6, 6, 7, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Heartland] Greg [Per + Alertness]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 5, 10, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Roman Turner] stealth
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Heartland] Hank [Per + Alertness]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Heartland] [Int + Security: Hank!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 3, 4, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Heartland] The quartet can see the flare of flashlights in the reception area through the crack underneath the shut door. It is dark inside the office, and the room seems infinitely smaller with the presence of three Garou, two in their warforms. Outside, the sound of footsteps is muffled by the carpet.

"Those fuckers, man." one of the voice remarks to the other, it has the simmering aura of old grievance, this. "I know how to get them, though. Some day." he says, vicious and wistful at the self-same time. " - some fucking day."

"Shit, Greg," the second voice is shark, a hint of quaver to it. "They've got ears like fucking bats. They hear you makin' threats like that, they'll flay you for sure. I heard from one of the guys at HQ that that chick had pants made out of the skin of someone who mouthed off to her. Like, I heard it was her husband or something."

"Fucking coward. It's easy to take care of them. Stake to the heart or a silver bullet to the - "

The footsteps are closer, now. There is the shaking out of keys and the turning of the doorknob.

Inside the room, in the dim gleam of ambient light, they can see it turn. And then stop.

"Shit. Shit." - says Hank, the nervous one, his voice sharper now, a certain keen point of distress centered therein. " - you think Jackie would've forgotten to lock up, man? The door's unlocked. Still think this is all an overreaction?"

The knob slowly turns back to neutral. The door remains closed.

[Wyrmbreaker] Actually -- the doorknob stops turning. And it begins to turn back.

And at that moment, Wyrmbreaker explodes forward, rears back, slams his clawed footpaw into the door with all his might.

[Wyrmbreaker] [+19!]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9

[Heartland] Hank +6
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 1

[Blood-Song] [Init +8]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7

[Heartland] Greg +7
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2

[Imogen Slaughter] +9!
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10

[Wyrmbreaker] [ambush roll! dex+stealth.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 3, 3, 3, 4 (Botch x 1 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [*sighs, sacrifices lamb* FINE, HAVE MY DINNER. *eats peaches instead*]

[Roman Turner] +7
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3

[Heartland] Wyrmbreaker: 28
Imogen: 19
Blood-Song: 15
Roman: 10
Greg 9
Hank: 7

[Heartland] Hank: 1a. Electrical Field! 1b. Start running!

Greg: 1. Claw Wyrmbreaker. Rage 1: Claw Blood-Song. Rage 2: Claw Roman.

[Wyrmbreaker] "That one first!" -- Hank.

To Imogen, it sounds like nothing more than a short, savage bark.

[Roman Turner] shift to warform
1a. claw guard
1b claw guard

[Blood-Song] [Declare

1a. Claw Hank
1b. Claw hank
1c. Claw Hank

[Imogen Slaughter] (Letting the Garou be badasses.)

[Wyrmbreaker] 1a. hulksmash door!
b. claw hank
c. bite hank
--> greg if hank dies

[Wyrmbreaker] a. -3 dice!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 5, 6, 6, 7, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [dam +5 to door!]
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 4, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [door!]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 4, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [whoops, +1 to damage]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4 (Failure at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [gah! dice all messed up! *LOL*

str + sux -1!]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 6, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Heartland] Hank - soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 3, 3, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Heartland] The door explodes outward, splintering in the face of one of the security guards. He lifts his hands to shield his face, screaming in the face of -

[Wyrmbreaker] b. claw!
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 3, 3, 4, 6, 6, 6, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [dam +4]
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 2, 2, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Heartland] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 5, 5, 9, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] b. sdlkfjdklsdjskl. claw -4
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [dam +2]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 3, 5, 5, 6, 6, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] c. bite -5!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 5)

[Heartland] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 6, 7, 7, 7 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [dam +3!]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 9 at target 6)

[Heartland] The door explodes outward in a frenzy of motion. Wyrmbreaker barks a sharp, savage command. Before the others have had the chance to react, the Shadow Lord dispatches the quaver-voiced Hank, who was standing at the door, his ringful of keys still in hand.

His body is torn in two, quite literally, and the blood is spattered around the room in great, spurting gouts from the torn and broken corpse - the last beat, the last two beats, of the dead man's heart. The word painted red, and then nothing. His flashlight rolls quietly on the carpeted floor, under the desk. Beyond him, the second guard is snarling in reaction.

[Imogen Slaughter] Perception+alertness. HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 5, 5, 5, 8, 10 (Failure at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Imogen Slaughter] RAR!

HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 7, 7, 7, 8 (Success x 3 at target 7)

[Blood-Song] [1a. Claw Greg -3 split ]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 4, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Blood-Song] [Damage + 5 ]
Dice Rolled:[ 15 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 8, 8, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 9 at target 6)

[Heartland] Greg Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 5, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Blood-Song] [last claw -5 split]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 4, 5, 5, 6, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) Re-rolls: 2

[Heartland] Rage back?
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 2, 2, 5, 7 (Failure at target 8)

[Blood-Song] [damage +4]
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 7, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 10 at target 6)

[Heartland] The second guard falls as quickly as the first. There is a haze of blood in the air, sharp, the shattered door, the pair of corpses - a great confusion of bodies and rage in a small space. The assistant's chair has been knocked on its side and is covered in blood. Her blotter is soaked. The stillness that follows the brief skirmish is almost preternatural.

[Roman Turner] Well that was over fast and all he could say in the sudden moment of violence was.

"There went surprise. And there's five more of them, a pack for sure. Boy howdy, two were Umbral get ready for incoming."

He took up position within reach of Imogen fully intending to shield her.

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen's voice, low, quiet breaks the preternatural silence. She is quiet to begin with. She is almost soft now.

"There's more coming. A flashlight," A twist of her head, sharp, indicative toward the one-way glass at the front of the office. "Down there."

A glance at the beast as it moves toward her. She has can hazard a guess as to who it is.

"Make yeh a deal," she says. "I'll stay out o' the way. And you stay wi' the others."

[Blood-Song] Blood-Song straightens up from the bloody mess that was the remains of Greg, turning massive snout to look around. He shakes his claws almost lazily, splattering blood on the floor around the corpse.

He turns his gaze to Roman, huffing in agreement, then looks to Wyrmbreaker until Imogen speaks up. His head twists back towards the one way glass.

[Roman Turner] He was chestnut and shaggy but his head turned toward Imogen with a flicking of ears, one swiveling her way. And his attention went to the one way glass. He wasn't going to squish through the broken door with the others, he was eying the glass like something might come through or he might do the honors.

"Coming."

The single yip given to the others.

[Wyrmbreaker] [to hispo, ffs!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 3, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] The guards are dispatched in the blink of an eye, fast enough that the flashlight is still lolling back and forth on the ground when Wyrmbreaker picks it up. In his massive handpaw, it looks like a penlight. Delicately, with one claw, he switches it off.

Darkness. Roman alerts them. Wyrmbreaker motions them back, into the inner office, behind the one-way glass.

"Back to back. Be alert. Those two in the Umbral will try to ambush us from the other side if they have half a brain between them."

He stoops again, sweeping the guards' guns off the ground and handing them -- not tossing, but handing -- to Imogen.

"Check." English is guttural and gruff in this form -- "If silver, use."

-- and then simply impossible as he completes the shift to his direwolf form.

[Blood-Song] Blood-Song glances around, then follows Wyrmbreaker’s command, moving in to form up with the others. Back to back, hopefully they would not be taken by surprise at any rate.

He remains in crinos, hulking and massive, lips pulled back as if snarling, but he does not let any sound aside from the ragged breathing escape from him.
~we could bring fight to them. Take them through wall? Keep moving to avoid ambush.~

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen regards the war-formed Garou evenly as she slides her own weapon back into its holster and takes the weapons, silent.

She checks chambers or clips expertly, quickly. In the end, one gun is set aside. The other remains in her hand, unfamiliar in her grip.

The Garou speak to each other. She can only dimly guess that they are speaking. The language is impossible.

[Wyrmbreaker] "No."

For a moment it seems that's all he'll say; all the explanation he'll give. Then he nods to the doorway.

"They can only come through that door single-file. We can see them before they come." He indicates the one-way glass. "And the Gauntlet here is stronger. While I was on the other side I failed to press through once, right here. Spiders will have reinforced it further by now.

"Besides. The files are still in there. Without them, this is an exercise in futility. They'll be back up and running in weeks."

[Heartland] Imogen noted the flash of the flashlight across the glass. By the time she draws the others' attention to it, the light is gone. Outside, the factory floor is too dark to be seen through the glass. There is a certain overarching quiet except when the Garou grunt or growl, speaking quietly as they shoulder their way through the inner office. Of the two weapons collected by Wyrmbreaker, one has a clip with the soft bullets gleaming silver in the darkness.

Somewhere, blood is dripping from a high plane to a lower one. From the secretary's chair, perhaps, onto the floor, where it pools dark and crimson: drip drip drip, drip drip drip.

Drip

- drip

--- drip.

Otherwise, the room is quiet except for the labored breathing of the Garou, as they huff back and forth in a language Imogen cannot understand.

Then, the silence is shattered. The old-fashioned black dial-faced phone on the president's desk, a relic it seemed - one of those kitschy office decorations concealing a clock or a candy bowl -

- rings.

[Wyrmbreaker] The Shadow Lord's head snaps around, ears pinning. A beat. Then he chuffs at Imogen. Maybe he means unplug it. Maybe he means pick it up.

[Roman Turner] He nearly jumped out of his skin when the phone rang and moved closer to Imogen, trying to keep her inside a triangle of Garou because he had a bad feeling.

[Blood-Song] Blood-Songs ears swivel, straining to pick up any sound over the dripping of blood. The sudden ringing of the phone causes his head to jerk around, a low growl escaping him.

[Imogen Slaughter] Wyrmbreaker is the Ahroun Elder of the Sept. He is a Fostern in a Sept of Cliaths, a Shadow Lord. He is predisposed to leading. To wanting to lead, when there is a gap.

When he directs the kinfolk, he finds it unnecessary. After a bare moment of surprise, the kinwoman crosses the room, the only human (not quite) in the room, she is the only one with the necessary appendages to answer the phone. Or unplug it.

She presses the speaker phone button, opening the phone to the room.

She says nothing. She merely waits, the absence of ringing, the hum of an open line the only sign that the call has been answered.

[Roman Turner] For a horrible moment he had to fight the sudden urge to breath/pant heavily into the speaker of the phone. It was nearly overwhelming and vastly amusing to him. Just like any kid doing a prank phone call.

"Is your refrigerator running?"

All sorts of humor flashed through his brain in that split second of waiting.

[Heartland] There is silence from the other end, too. There is just the hum of the telephone line, perhaps the caller as muted the originating handset. Maybe it is an automated sales call, and this is the moment of silence between the point of attachment, when the computer finds it has reached a living person, and the point of transfer, when the call center employee in Bangalore or Split or Cheyboigan jumps in with an offer you cannot resist. Credit monitoring or ID theft. Free vacations in exchange for sitting through a spiel about time shares. The dolphins or the children in Haiti or your favorite candidate's changes are dying without your $25 contribution. The Economist wants you back, at the low low price of just -

- no. It is not one of those calls. The silence extends for three heartbeats, then four.

Then, a woman's voice like a curl of smoke lingering over a glass of whiskey that gleams in low light.
It takes them a moment to hear inside that voice that she is laughing.

"Speaker phone. Hear that?" the suggestion of background noise, a grunt or a snort, quickly swallowed. "The Alpha's there. If he is not, tell him this:

"I don't give a [i]fuck[/] about this place. I have two machine guns and a grenade launcher trained on your position. You can die up there like cowards. Or you can skulk out and die like Garou. Either way," the suggestion of a rich laugh, "I am going to find your kin when we are done, and claim them for myself. Skin and blood and flesh and bones. Or you can give yourselves over to the truth you each know in your guts and in your bones. The Father's winning. The Father is winning and his war is sacred. Is necessary as breathing.

"Make your choice," she finishes, then. If she has not been interrupted. If they have not shut off the connection. "Either way, I look forward to hearing your screams."

[Heartland] There is silence from the other end, too. There is just the hum of the telephone line, perhaps the caller as muted the originating handset. Maybe it is an automated sales call, and this is the moment of silence between the point of attachment, when the computer finds it has reached a living person, and the point of transfer, when the call center employee in Bangalore or Split or Cheyboigan jumps in with an offer you cannot resist. Credit monitoring or ID theft. Free vacations in exchange for sitting through a spiel about time shares. The dolphins or the children in Haiti or your favorite candidate's changes are dying without your $25 contribution. The Economist wants you back, at the low low price of just -

- no. It is not one of those calls. The silence extends for three heartbeats, then four.

Then, a woman's voice like a curl of smoke lingering over a glass of whiskey that gleams in low light.
It takes them a moment to hear inside that voice that she is laughing.

"Speaker phone. Hear that?" the suggestion of background noise, a grunt or a snort, quickly swallowed. "The Alpha's there. If he is not, tell him this:

"I don't give a fuck about this place. I have two machine guns and a grenade launcher trained on your position. You can die up there like cowards. Or you can skulk out and die like Garou. Either way," the suggestion of a rich laugh, "I am going to find your kin when we are done, and claim them for myself. Skin and blood and flesh and bones. Or you can give yourselves over to the truth you each know in your guts and in your bones. The Father's winning. The Father is winning and his war is sacred. Is necessary as breathing.

"Make your choice," she finishes, then. If she has not been interrupted. If they have not shut off the connection. "Either way, I look forward to hearing your screams."

[Roman Turner] Well, they could fire through the window, that would work. Otherwise, he couldn't figure out how they planned on using those weapons. The Garou could cross over, that would make the weapons pretty mute but then Imogen went boom. That thought kind of irked him. When he was irked he kind of did silly things. So though his response came out as growls and snarls, the other side would understand him.

"Eeewwweee, I am shaking in my boots. Ain't everyday a goat raper calls for a donation."

[Wyrmbreaker] [HAIL KAHSEENO!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 8) [WP]

[Imogen Slaughter] When the growls come, Imogen promptly taps the phone on mute, "Don't give them anything they can use," she says in the direction of the Garou whom she suspects may be Roman by his proximity. "They're trying to rile yeh up, and every one o' you who speaks, yeh give away numbers, and I imagine, yer form, possibly as much as yer position."

A beat.

"Whichever one o' you is Wyrmbreaker: yeh won't gain anythin' from this conversation. End it, decide yer plan and act. She's exaggerating. It's fer show."

A sudden, improbable smirk twists her mouth. "Growl, if yeh agree."

[Blood-Song] Blood-Song doesn’t respond to the insults. His head is turning around slowly, looking at their situation, searching for options. Then Roman replies. It makes the massive Crinos half turn towards the young Ragabash, looking at him for a moment before huffing and looking back towards the doors. He isn’t to keen on leaving Imogen behind by shifting over to the other side either, into whatever trap was waiting there with banes and spirals. His gaze is drawn to the one way windows, considering them.

[Heartland] She's mostly sincere; still, there was something to the speech that pinged his senses. When Imogen says that she's exaggerating, she's likely right. The firepower: she's exaggerating about the firepower.
to Wyrmbreaker



[Wyrmbreaker] [amendment to post!]

There's a pause; the hispo's head cocking. It's hard to catch the nuances of the woman's -- the Dancer's -- tone. It's hard to be certain of what he's hearing. He knows they're looking to him to make this call, though. He knows what he decides in the next split-second could well determine whether they all live or die. That's the burden he took on willingly. It's not one he backs down from now.

Wyrmbreaker crosses the room. He flows into his human shape. He picks up the phone and says, courteously:

"Come and get us, ikthya."

He hangs up and turns to the others. His tone is level, utterly calm.

"The only reason they're calling us," he says, "is to taunt us in hopes of luring us out. If we didn't have an advantage in here, they would never do that. If they had that kind of firepower, they would've used it already.

"Get in position. Be ready. Roman, remember to heal. And stay out of Slaughter's line of fire."

As he speaks, he removes a tiny ziplock of ash from his talen bag. Crouching, the Ahroun rapidly scatters the ash on the floor, tracing out a rough square, perhaps three yards on each side.

"This is an arrowkiller talen," he explains, quick and precise. "Projectiles cannot cross this line. If you're taking heavy fire, retreat across a line. Slaughter: be sure you're not firing from behind a line, or those bullets will be wasted."

And then -- direwolf again.

[Blood-Song] [Note: Ruarc has spent 1R 2G, 1 WP. He has BB activated (4HL's, Soak talen, 2 extra soak dice, Brawl 4 + 3(ancestors), Resist Toxin activated. Razor claws activated]

[Heartland] [Pausedly pause pause!]

[Wyrmbreaker] [Lukas has spent 1R, 4G, 5W. He has Resist Pain, a BB for +6, a soak talen for +3, and LA for +1.]

[Heartland] The handset is in his hands. He can almost hear her smile. She is equally level, perfectly calm, but underneath - the fervor of a true believer. "He is the Way, the Truth, and the Hope of the world. I will enjoying introducing you to his truest face."

--

Then, click.
to Wyrmbreaker

[Roman Turner] He snorted, well it was more a sneezing sound.

"I want to star sixty nine her and tell her to have "Kkryt'chin and Riig'sh to stop off and pick a pizza before showing up."

[Blood-Song] Ruarc just pulls his lips back in a snarl that might be as close to a smile as the crinos shaped beast can show. It was settled. Either they would die when they opened up with the heavy weapons, or they would fight gloriously in close combat, tooth and claw.

He does however turn his eyes to Imogen for a second. The kin’s blood called out to him. It spoke to him instinctually. He knows why she has to be here. Another part rages against it.

He lets out a long growling huff and turns back to look towards the door, head swinging slowly as he scents the air.

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen steps back as Lukas steps forward, her eyebrow arching as he speaks, a smirk twisting her mouth which does not seem to be pleasure, but something inward, wry and contained. It fades quickly.

She glances toward Roman, the eyebrow lifting again, though the expression is different. "'Kkryt'chin and Riigh'sh?" she echoes.

With that, she moves along the edge of the room, then forward. She approaches the glass at an angle, away from a direct line, her eyes fixing on what lies beyond.

(perception alertness! HAIL KAHSEENO!)
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 6, 8, 8, 9, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[rolling gnosis this time!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 5, 8, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Heartland] They are standing in a large office. The western wall is blank, covered in book shelves. The northern wall has a half-hidden door, set back into the paneling, leading into the file/shredding room that Wyrmbreaker discovered. The two exists are: the door back to the receptionist's area, set into the southern wall of the office which leads out back into the warren of offices through which they crept earlier. The door has been shoved off its hinges, collapsed out into the waiting room where the cooling corpses of the two guards remain.

The eastern wall - the eastern wall contains two large glass windows. The glass is smokey, and appears to be one-way - not unlike the glass in a police interrogation room - looking out into the factory floor. The factory floor is dark, and it is difficult to see through the smoked glass unless one is very close. A third door is set into the southern wall. Roman knows that it leads onto a metal balcony and down a metal half-level staircase, onto the factory floor.

[Imogen Slaughter] Imogen glances briefly, almost dismissively toward the ash where it's laid out on the ground, before her gaze lifts to Wyrmbreaker, nodding once. She'll stay out from behind the line; likely would not trust it's protection, anyway.

Then her attention turns back to the eastern wall, the smoky glass and what lays beyond, slowly stepping closer as she does. She remains out of direct line with it, approaching it at an oblique angle, her head turned to accommodate.

[Roman Turner] He nodded with Lukas' orders and went to stand closer to Imogen, his intentions were not to get shot by anyone, including Imogen and to intercept anything that came near his Goddess. He's sooner die than see her shoes scuffed. He was back in homid as he murmured

"Yeah, that's the name of two of the pack mates of the five I saw. Those two went umbra to watch for us. And shouldn't we like be getting those files while we wait for them fellas to work up the courage or insanity to rush us?"

"Or at least goading them in to doing something brash?"

[Wyrmbreaker] "We stay together," Wyrmbreaker growls.

[Roman Turner] "Who said anything about going alone? I'm just thinking we are sitting here waiting for them to make a move. They are sitting there hoping we freak and make a move before they get to itchin in their britches. It's like a Mexican standoff and neither one is getting nuttin done."

He shrugged faintly.

[Wyrmbreaker] "We. Stay. Here."

Every word is a rough snarl, showing teeth.

"If you want an explanation, you'll get one when we're finished."

[Blood-Song] ~Will the files be of any use? With so many traces of us here, can there still be a raid from the human agencies against this place?~

The plan had been to replace the fake files with the real ones, but the place was already scarred by fighting, doors torn of hinges and bodies that were soon to multiply. The Fianna did not know enough about the mortal side of things to know if it required a change of the original plan.

Of course, that would all dependond on them living, but who could stand against the might of gaia’s warriors on a mission, right?

[Imogen Slaughter] "There's a human-formed closest to us," Imogen interrupts the Garou, or perhaps is not even aware they are speaking. "A war-formed further back.

"A wolf, approaching."

Her finger is on the trigger guard. "No heavy weaponry o' any kind."

[Roman Turner] "Beats the tar out of me."

He shrugged and scratched his nose with the back of one hand. His gray-blue eyes were on the window, watching for movement out there in the dark while fighting the desire to smother Imogen in protection she didn't need. Then Imogen spoke up and he added.

"And two went Umbral a few minutes back."

[Roman Turner] "They got a totem link, I saw the look. So they are pack. Now, if I were that wolf with the scarred face, I'd have my boys on the other side moving in to position to pop in to the rooms joining this one so they can come through two different doors and beat the tar nations out of us before we know the tornado is a hittin."

[Wyrmbreaker] The Ahroun's fur is on end, his breathing deep and even. His teeth flash with one word:

"Quiet."

His shoulder brushes Blood-Song's as he pads toward the door overlooking the factor. Roman is left behind to watch their backs; Imogen in a loosely flanking position near the window.

And

he waits.

[Heartland] The is little sound in the room. The sound of their own breathing, the hum of the electricity. The room is large and luxurious, the carpet underneath their huge paws plush. The office is dominated by the huge mahogany desk, the walls by row upon row of bookshelves, full of books that are either expert facsimiles purchased to look important, or never-read leather-bound volumes manufactured for similar reasons. There's little light in her. The glow of a some soft light in from the hallway. They are left in half-shadows and the room feels close - closer. Wyrmbreaker lays out his protective talen in the cente of the room, and they array themselves - some warformed, some human skinned. Imogen leans against the window frame, looking out onto the darkness of the factory floor via an oblique angle.

There's silence. They wait. A minute passes.

Then two.

Then - who is counting anymore? they measure the passing seconds by the beating of their hearts, by the pulse in their ears.

[Roman Turner] He was starting to feel like the fish in the barrel and someone was pointing a gun down in the open lid. He pushed up back in to warform and turned with his back to Imogen. He could feel the heat of her body. Right now he had little to do other than admire how sharp his claws were, scratch here and there, watch the other doorways that came in to the room and pray he didn't get a nervous gas attack because in this form it could be really deadly.

[Roman Turner] per+alert
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Blood-Song] Blood-Song is quiet. He seems almost detached in the way he held his form low to minimize hisprofile. He moved to be able to keep the door in sight, angling to make himself a small a target from it as possible. Hard to do in war-form, but anything might help, however small. He glances around. They were probably being watched from the umbra. His lips pulls back in a snarl, but he keeps Wyrmbreakers orders. He keeps silent. Scenting the air, eyes searching for a target, a threat.

[Wyrmbreaker] [percep + alert/PU! same pool.]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[Imogen Slaughter] "The wolf is at the stairs." Though she did not understand Lukas's order, Imogen is naturally quiet. Quieter now. "The warform is no longer visible. The human -" she lifts her gun pointing the muzzle at the window.

"Has put down his weapons."

(HAIL KAHSEENO!)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 2, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Roman Turner] + one more
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Blood-Song] [per + pu]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 7, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Heartland] Both hear the faint creak of metal outside the office. Roman remembers the metal balcony overlooking factory floor. It is not particularly wide, constructd in the manner of a fireescape, with a fixed set of stairs leading down to the factory floor. The sound is enough to set them on edge, but it doesn't quite sound like a body on the stairs.
to Roman Turner, Wyrmbreaker

[Roman Turner] His ears swiveled towards the sound and he breathed out.

"Something just moved on the metal balcony that looks down on the factory floor, I think."

[Imogen Slaughter] "Fight behind the ash."

Is all she says before firing.

If she's lucky, she'll be first.

[Blood-Song] They do not share a totem link which forces them to communicate in other means. Ruarc swivels his ears first towards the staircase, then towards the other room where the guards lay dead. Eyes narrowed.

He reaches out, brushing a large paw across Wyrmbreakers massive shoulder. Roman had already told him about the balcony, but Ruarc motions towards the dark room beyond the broken door, holding up one claw, then making a motion with his hand, moving it forward in a low, slow motion. Not perfect perhaps, but Wyrmbreaker might catch the meaning.

One, small, stealthy

Then Ruarc takes a step towards the door, keeping against the wall to be able to strike at anyone coming through the opening, readying himself for it.

[Blood-Song] [sneaky!]
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 5, 7, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] Wyrmbreaker's ears swivel at the sound, but it's too faint -- he doesn't discern it.

The hand on his shoulder makes hims start faintly, ferally. His head whips around; not a sound leaves his throat. He watches Blood Song's pantomime, then blinks his eyes once, deliberately, in agreement.

The Fianna moves off, astonishingly quiet for a warrior so huge. For his part, Wyrmbreaker gives Imogen one lightning-eyed glance, and then takes a step back behind the faint line on the floor.

It's a trust of sorts. He heard, and saw, nothing that would make him think this is necessary.

[Imogen Slaughter] (+9!)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9

[Heartland] [Bubba +6]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8

[Imogen Slaughter] Reflexive:

"Yeh bleedin' ijjit, get behind the fucking ash." Hissed at the war-formed beast near her shoulder.

Split action 3 ways
(shoot bubba.
shoot bubba
KILL Bubba)

[Imogen Slaughter] dex+firearms+3(for aiming)-3(for actions)
HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 4, 4, 6, 6, 6, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 9 at target 6) Re-rolls: 2

[Roman Turner] She said it! The love words! And his knees very nearly gave out as his heart skipped a beat.

"Yeh bleedin' ijjit"

She so loved him! It took all he had to step behind the ash and his attention was locked on her, ready to snatch her out of harm's way.

[Imogen Slaughter] Damage!
HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 5, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Heartland] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 4, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Imogen Slaughter] dex+firearms+3-4
HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Imogen Slaughter] Damage. HAIL ALMIGHTY KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 7, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Heartland] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 4, 5, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Imogen Slaughter] dex+firearms+3-5+WP
HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 4, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP] Re-rolls: 1

[Imogen Slaughter] Damage!
HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Heartland] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 5, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Heartland] There is this sort of living tension in the room; then, abruptly - Imogen aims and squeezes off three separate shots through the glass. There are three smoking holes in the security glass now, and splintering cracks throughout the window. The retort of the gunshots is sharp in their ears. Perhaps the Garou can hear the dull thud as the kinswoman's bullets impact the body; maybe they can hear the man's cry as he's wounded. They will all hear the clatter of his weapon over the surface of the metal desk, his last word - "FUC - " started but never finished as he staggers forward and falls, first to his knees, then to the factory floor.

There's a moment of silence, then. This sort of errant, echoing silence -

- before all hell breaks loose.

[Wyrmbreaker] 20
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8

[Imogen Slaughter] (+9)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6

[Blood-Song] [Init + 8]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8

[Roman Turner] Int +8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10

[Imogen Slaughter] "Never mind."

This is incredibly mild as Imogen steps back from the window, giving space and giving space between her and the glass.

She does not smile, but there is something quiet and vibrant beneath her skin. Her heart pounds and her ears ring.

And she no longer finds it unpleasant.

[Wyrmbreaker] [-1Gn *beats chest* HAIL KAHSEENO!]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 6, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 1 at target 7)

[Roman Turner] He blinked slowly, almost as if he were starting to fall asleep while the entire time he was processing the change in Imogen as his ears rang from the shots. Now he knew what got her excited, it was plain as the fur on his rear. She thrived on the adrenaline rush of shooting something. This made things a lot more interesting. The way to Imogen's heart was through her blood lust, so all he had to do was find things for her to shoot dead and she would be like putty in his hands. Hot damn!

[Heartland] S'krrrrdch: 20
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[Heartland] Crsssssss +8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 9

[Heartland] Flurp +7
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6

[Heartland] Swarm +5
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8

[Heartland] Wyrmbreaker: 28
S'krrrrdch: 25
Roman: 18
Crssssssss: 17
Blood-Song: 16
Imogen: 15
Flurp: 13
Swarm: 13

[Heartland] Swarm: [holding action.]

Flurp: [Outside the room: 1 Gnosis - Shroud.]

[Imogen Slaughter] Split x3
Shoot Flurp
Shoot Flurp
Shoot Flurp+1WP

[Blood-Song] [Declare

Reflexive: holding until AFTER Imogen shoots Flurp

1a. Jump at Flurp, trying to get on top of him [Salmons leap] (Or just run at him if it isnt possible)
1b. Claw Flurp
1c. Claw Flurp

Rage 1. Claw Flurp or closest if Flurp is dead
Rage 2. Claw Flurp or closest

[Heartland] Crsssssssssss: [holding action]

[Wyrmbreaker] [reflexive to Roman -- ]

"Go! Bring him down!" He means Flurp.

[Roman Turner] Oh this should be interesting, he was ordered to go charge the guy coming through the other doorway while Imogen took a bead on the target with her gun. He was a lot bigger than Imogen and wasn't sure where Blood-song went. Oh well, only one way to do it.

Running towards door and Flurp to dive for the guy's belly.

[Roman Turner] 1a run for Flurp
1b bite him

[Heartland] S'krrrrdch [1. Full auto burst at windows. Rage: 1 - move into position outside office.]

[Wyrmbreaker] 1a. kick down door
b. True Fear on S'k
c. Spur Claws on Crss
R1. Bite Crss
R2. Bite Crss

[Wyrmbreaker] 1a. kick down door
b. orient self
c. True Fear on S'k
d. Spur Claws on Crss
R1. Bite Crss

[Wyrmbreaker] a. kick!
b. look!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 5, 6, 9 (Success x 1 at target 5)

[Wyrmbreaker] [er. *coughs* -5 dice. look!]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3 (Failure at target 5)

[Wyrmbreaker] [change actions:
c. bite crss.]

[Wyrmbreaker] [-6 dice. +1 diff for action change.]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 5, 6, 6, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [dam +4]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 4, 4, 5, 8, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Heartland] Crsss Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 1, 2, 5, 6, 8 (Failure at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] d. spur claws, -7 dice. +1R.
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6) Re-rolls: 2

[Wyrmbreaker] [dam +3]
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[Heartland] Soak!!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Heartland] [Action change: Crsssss: 1a. BITE lukas. 1b. Bite of the Bat!

Swarm: move toward the office!]

[Heartland] S'k - full auto spray on windows.
Dice Rolled:[ 16 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 4, 4, 5, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 8) [WP]

[Heartland] Lukas: damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 3, 4, 4, 4, 4, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Heartland] Imogen: damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 6, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Imogen Slaughter] SOAK! HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 4, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Roman Turner] 1a...was run.....

1b bite Flurp
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 5)

[Roman Turner] damn
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 4, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Heartland] Flurp: soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 6, 8, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Heartland] Crssss: Bite Lukas! -2
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 5, 5 (Botch x 1 at target 6)

[Heartland] Ouchies! 1/2 damage from biting self.
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 5, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Heartland] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 5, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Heartland] 1b. BITE! -3
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 5, 6, 8, 8, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6) [WP]

[Heartland] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6, 8, 8, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [soak!]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 5, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Imogen Slaughter] dex+firearms-3

HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 5, 8, 8 (Failure at target 6)

[Imogen Slaughter] HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 2, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Imogen Slaughter] damage. HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Heartland] (Flurp can have no soak.)

[Imogen Slaughter] 1d10 'cuz Mei forgot her checkbox!
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Imogen Slaughter] and additional damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Imogen Slaughter] Shoot'em!

HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 3, 6, 7, 7 (Success x 4 at target 6) [WP]

[Heartland] Flurp says: :`(

[Imogen Slaughter] Damage!
HAIL ALMIGHTY KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 4, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Heartland] Flurp: rage back!
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 8) [WP]

[Blood-Song] [1a. Run to Flurp

1b. Nom on Flurp, The other white meat (-4)]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6) Re-rolls: 1

[Blood-Song] [Damage +4]
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Heartland] Flurp soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 8, 8, 8 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Blood-Song] [1c. Clawing Flurp - Stay down!]
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 3, 3, 5, 8 (Success x 4 at target 3)

[Blood-Song] [Damage +3]
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 5, 5, 5, 6, 7, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Heartland] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 5, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] R1. chomp crss!
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 5, 7, 8, 8, 8, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 6 at target 5)

[Wyrmbreaker] [dam+5]
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 7, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Heartland] Crsss: Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 4, 4, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Heartland] S'k - Dex + Athletics - jump onto balcony.
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Blood-Song] Rage 1. Running back into room
Rage 2. Climbing out behind Crss on the metal balcony

[Heartland] The battle is a flurry of activity. Wyrmbreaker charges through the door and savages the hispo crouched beneath the windows, waiting for the opportunity to ambush him. Instead, the creature - a scaly thing thing mottled fur and a lashing-snakesskin tail instead of a proper animal's tail - is ambushed, and savaged by the fostern. The first bite tears away loose of cheesecloth or muslin wrapped around his body; Wyrmbreaker tastes something foul, but not apparently poisonous in his mouth, some lingering hint of dark magic. The next bite, and the next - tear away the creature's flesh. Somewhere below the fray, someone unleashes a barrage of automatic weapons fire. Stray bullets and/or glass hit Wyrmbreaker and Imogen. The former is unhurt; the latter is nicked. A thin bead of blood is raised on her shoulder. Unlike the Garou, she can feel the pain.

Roman charges the half-hidden Spiral in the reception room and connects, but the creature's hide is thick, and he is left without blood in his mouth. Imogen aims with her weapon and drops the Spiral in four rounds. The thing rages back to life, but Blood-Song ends it, then charges back into the office and climbs out onto the balcony behind Crsss.

At the end of the round:

Roman is in the reception area.
Imogen is in the office.
Ruarc, Crsss, Lukas, and S'k are on the balcony.

- which was not necessarily made to bear the weight of four war-formed Garou.

[Heartland] S'k: +20
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 3

[Roman Turner] 8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[Blood-Song] [init +8]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 2

[Wyrmbreaker] +20!
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 8

[Imogen Slaughter] (+9)
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 6

[Heartland] Crsss: +8
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 10

[Heartland] Swarm! +5
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4

[Heartland] Balcony!
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 5

[Roman Turner] per+PU
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 6, 7, 8, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Heartland] Wyrmbreaker: 28
S'krrrrdch: 23
Crssssssss: 18
Imogen: 15
Roman: 13
Blood-Song: 10
Swarm: 9
Balcony: 5

Kkryt'chin: end of round. (arriving in waiting area from umbra at the end of the round)


Flurp: x.x

[Heartland] Roman is alone in the receptionist's office. He senses the umbra thinning in the room, and knows that something is crossing the gauntlet. The Garou on the balcony can hear the deep groan of the structural steel undergirdings, the crumbling of drywall, the sway of the structure. It's not clear whether or not it will fall - but it very well may.

- and then, there's something. There's something in the air - like a cloud of gnats. It was barely visible in the shadows of the factory floor- shambling near-human looking thing - before it deformed into this buzzing swarm of insects now about to - descend on Wyrmbreaker, en masse.

Kkryt'chin: arriving from umbra, end of round, in the receptionist's room.

Balcony: ? can it hold?

Swarm: Gnosis slurp - Lukas!

[Blood-Song] [Declare

1a. Claw Crss (or closest if dead)
1b. Claw Crss (or closest if dead)
1c. Claw Crss (or closest if dead)

Rage 1. Claw Crss (Or closest if dead)

[Roman Turner] He cocked his head and shifted position so he could intercept what he felt pushing through, waiting till there was a target.

[Roman Turner] 1a claw
1b claw
1r claw

[Imogen Slaughter] split 2 ways
Head shot: S'krrdtch +wp
Retrieve glock
Fire at S'krrdtch

[Heartland] Crssss 1a. BITE Lukas. 1b. Jump inside! Rage 1: BITE - any "bad guys" who jump inside. Rage: 2. Ditto!

[Heartland] S'k: 1a. Claw Lukas! 1b. True Fear Lukas! 1c. Jump inside! Rage 1: Claw whoever follows inside. Rage 2: Same!

[Wyrmbreaker] 1a. true fear s'k!
b. bite!
c. bite!
R1. bite!
R2. bite!
-- biting crss first. then s'k.

[Wyrmbreaker] [HAIL MOTHERFUCKER!]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 3, 3, 5, 8, 10, 10, 10 Re-rolls: 3

[Wyrmbreaker] b. chomp crss!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 4, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9 (Success x 6 at target 5)

[Wyrmbreaker] [dam +5!]
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9, 9, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 11 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [without 10's]
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 2, 2, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

[Heartland] Crss: soak! is kinda pointless. Howsabout Rage Back?
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 1 at target 8) [WP]

[Wyrmbreaker] c. chomp s'k!
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 5)

[Wyrmbreaker] [dam +1]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 3, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 7, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Heartland] S'k Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 2, 2, 4, 4, 4, 7, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 7 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [Reflexive!]

A snarl of an order: "Fur gnarl!"

[Heartland] S'k: Claw Lukas! -3
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 3, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Heartland] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 4, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 8, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Heartland] True Fear: Lukas! -4
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 5, 10

[Heartland] {In light of the admin ruling on True Fear, I am changing declare: s'K 1a. True Fear Ruarc; 1b. Claw Ruarc; 1c. Jump inside! Rage 1: and Rage 2: Clawing - closest.}

[Heartland] True Fear Ruarc -3
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 3, 4, 5, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10

[Heartland] Claw: Ruarc -4
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 2, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 7)

[Heartland] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [soak for ruarc!]

The Fosterns, Gaian and Wyrm, snarl terribly at each other. The Shadow Lord is a breath faster; his foe, which he is reasonably certain was the anonymous caller earlier, turns on the Fianna by his side instead.

Wyrmbreaker moves with her. A swift step to the side, the downraking claws taken squarely on the meat of shoulder. In the same motion he pushes Ruarc toward the window, snarling --

"Leave her to me. Help the others!"
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 4, 4, 5, 5, 5, 6, 8, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Blood-Song] [WP roll vs true fear to be able to act against others]
Dice Rolled:[ 4 d10 ] 1, 2, 6, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Blood-Song] [Redeclare based on True fear ruling
1a. Jump back into room and moving to Imogen
1b. Block any attack vs self or Imogen
1c. Block attack vs Self or Imogen

Rage 1. Same as 1c.

[Imogen Slaughter] head shot! KABLAM! Close range, called shot, etc.

HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 4, 4, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 3 at target 6) [WP]

[Imogen Slaughter] Damage! HAIL KAHSEENO!
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 4, 5, 6, 10 (Success x 6 at target 4)

[Roman Turner] 1a claw
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 1, 3, 6, 7, 9 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Roman Turner] damn
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 5, 9 (Failure at target 6)

[Roman Turner] 1b claw
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 4, 4, 4, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Roman Turner] damn
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 3, 5, 7, 8, 8, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Heartland] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 1, 4, 7, 7, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Heartland] Swarm: Gnosis slurp - Lukas!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 3, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Heartland] (Lukas loses Luna's Armor to the Swarm of Evil Weevils.)

[Heartland] Balcony: soak?
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 5, 6, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Imogen Slaughter] The bullet breaks the skull casing. Deforms the bone. It is not enough. The kinwoman reaches behind her - left hand now, pulling another weapon out - this one slighter, smaller in her hand.

No less deadly.

She fires, the sound of the report of it muted in her ears.

(HAIL KAHSEENO!)
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 6, 6, 7, 10, 10 (Success x 4 at target 5) Re-rolls: 2

[Imogen Slaughter] (Damage! HAIL KAHSEENO!)
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 6, 7, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Heartland] S'k Rage back!
Dice Rolled:[ 6 d10 ] 2, 4, 4, 6, 9, 9 (Success x 3 at target 8) [WP]

[Heartland] s'K: Rage 1: Claw!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 5, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [waiiiit! *waves arms*]

[Wyrmbreaker] [R1: jump in front of S'K!]

[Blood-Song] [Block!]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 6, 6, 8, 9 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Roman Turner] 1r claw
Dice Rolled:[ 8 d10 ] 1, 5, 6, 7, 9, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Roman Turner] damn
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 4, 4, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 8 at target 6)

[Heartland] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 5 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Heartland] Rage Back!
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 5, 7 (Success x 1 at target 8) [WP]

[Heartland] Kkk'yrtg: rages back to incap, out.

[Wyrmbreaker] R2 - chomp SK!
Dice Rolled:[ 13 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 2, 3, 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6, 8, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 5) Re-rolls: 3

[Wyrmbreaker] [+5]
Dice Rolled:[ 14 d10 ] 1, 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Heartland] Soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 12 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 2, 3, 3, 6, 7, 8, 8, 8, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Heartland] Claw!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 2, 2, 2, 3, 4, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Blood-Song] [Block!]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 1, 1, 2, 3, 8, 8, 8 (Success x 2 at target 6) [WP]

[Heartland] Damage!
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 1, 1, 4, 4, 6, 6, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 3 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker]
Dice Rolled:[ 11 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 3, 5, 5, 5, 5, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10 (Success x 5 at target 6)

[Blood-Song] [WP - Ruarc needs to stop shaking and hit that damn swarm!]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 5, 10 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Heartland] Stuff happens, too quickly for anyone to remember. There is a spiral coming through the Umbra in the reception area, laid out on the floor, still alive, frenzied, incapable of movement. There is a spiral collapsed on the balcony, incapable of movement. The balcony is swaying, but has not yet collapsed.

Roman is in the receptionist's area, breathing heavily over the laid-out Spiral who just jumped through the umbra. Lukas and Ruarc are frantically taking hits for Imogen, whose silver bullets took her to death and brought her back again, frenzied. The air is full of a swarm of insects, like a cloud of gnats.

[Heartland] Wyrmbreaker: 28
S'krrrrdch: 23
Imogen: 15
Roman: 13
Blood-Song: 10
Swarm: 9
Balcony: 5

Kkryt'chin: -.x
Crssssss: -.x
Flurp: x.x

[Blood-Song] [Declare - Still Feared

1a. Block for self or Imogen
1b. block for self or Imogen

[Heartland] Balcony: is likely to fall this round. Will need a per + crafts roll if you REALLY want to know what it is doing. Then it will speak to you. :)

Swarm: Toxic rain!

[Blood-Song] [Quick redeclare

1a. block for self/Imogen
1b. Shield imogen from Rain

[Roman Turner] 1a finish the Dancer
1b bound in to the others
1c? gourd the one that looks the worse that is not a bad guy.


[onoz! lost some rolls!]


[Wyrmbreaker] [I HAZ A BUKSHELF.]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 4, 5, 6, 7, 7, 8, 9, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [reroll on 10: strength - sustained!]
Dice Rolled:[ 1 d10 ] 4 (Failure at target 6)

[Blood-Song] [Soak! Hey, War & Peace, now thats heavy reading!]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 3, 4, 7, 8, 8, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Roman Turner] He looked for a fire extinguisher and as soon as he found it, ran to the doorway where the nasty stuff was going on and started spraying through the doorway at the swarm.

[Imogen Slaughter] Soak! ow!
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 5, 7, 10 (Success x 2 at target 6)

[Heartland] The air around the insect swarm seems to coalesce, this grotesque greenish light - the eerie color that settles against the horizon just before the worst sort of thunderstorms - and there is the sense of faint, sizzling droplets in the air. Imogen, Ruarc and Lukas are protected by bookshelves. Roman is outside the room.
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 3, 3, 4, 6, 6, 7, 9, 9, 9 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [i gotz an umbrelluh!]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 2, 2, 3, 3, 7, 8, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Blood-Song] [Soak green ickyness]
Dice Rolled:[ 9 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 5, 5, 8, 8, 9, 10 (Success x 4 at target 6)

[Imogen Slaughter] soak!
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 2, 3, 7 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Wyrmbreaker] [umbrella toss!]
Dice Rolled:[ 10 d10 ] 1, 2, 3, 6, 9, 9, 9, 10, 10, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6)

[Roman Turner]
Dice Rolled:[ 7 d10 ] 2, 3, 5, 6, 6, 6, 9, 10 (Success x 6 at target 6) [WP] Re-rolls: 1

[Heartland] - Wyrmbreaker throws the bookshelf at the cloud of insects; Roman sprays the fire extinguisher at what remains of the cloud. Together, they manage to disperse the cloud. It will be at least a round before the Swarm can coalesce again - if, indeed, it even intends to do so.

[Roman Turner] "Yeehaw!"
He sprayed and rushed in as soon as it looked like they managed to stop the things. Rushing to the worse looking of the bunch first to use a gourd on.

[Heartland] This is the scene: Roman is standing outside the office. There are four corpses in the receptionist's area: two humanish security guards, one Crinos corpse, and one lupus corpse. Inside the president's office, faint, sizzling droplets of greenish substance are sizzling as they soak into the carpet. One of the bookshelves has been upended, books spilled all over the floor. s'K is incapacitatd on the floor of the office. The area is covered in fire retardant foam. The insect swarm is dispersed enough that the garou sense some breathing room.

Outside the office, Crssssss is incapacitated on the metal balcony. The structure is unstable and ready to fall.

Other than their breathing: there is silence.

[Blood-Song] [WP - I can haz my nuts back?]
Dice Rolled:[ 3 d10 ] 3, 5, 8 (Success x 1 at target 6)

[Imogen Slaughter] Several droplets of the rainwater splashes back, spraying her gloved hand. The heat of it seeps through the latex, melting it with a hiss and a sudden sharp pierce of pain. She strips the glove from her hand abruptly, dropping it to the ground and scrubbing her hand against the curve of her dark jeans, her mouth tightening in annoyance.

"Thank-you." She says this quietly, but apparently to no one in particular. Both Garou are deserving of it.

She turns away then, stepping toward the credenza, glancing about the room, waiting for the potential of the swarm's return. A glance toward the balcony, creaking with its breathing victim. A bottle in one hand, her gun in the other (the other, empty of its clip, on the floor near where she'd once been standing. She does not remember dropping it) she steps toward the balcony, but not out onto it, to take aim at the prostrate victim.

The report is as loud as all the others, but seems ever quieter. There are soldiers who have forever lost a certain range of their hearing. It is recognized by audiologists. Imogen sometimes wonders if she might be the same by now.

Mostly, she does not think about it.

[Wyrmbreaker] Lukas does not know Imogen well enough to know how rare that thank-you can be. His dark head turns toward her, sideways and downtilted to account for the vast, vast height difference between them. He whuffs.

Then, while his allies begin to dispatch the incapacitated, he goes to Fate and takes the fire extinguisher from him. Perhaps even Imogen recognizes the methodical, ritualistic circle he describes around the nearest corpses, and around what buzzing gnat remain of the swarm.

It's a rite of Cleansing. And he undertakes it with the swiftness of long practice, using the fire extinguisher's foam spray in the place of true water. He suspects the spirits will understand.

[Blood-Song] Ruarc? The massive Crinos is shaking, shivering and shaking his fur from the acidic slime as the others chase it off with extinguishers and bookshelves.

His gaze turns first to Imogen, looking her over quickly, but she is alive. She is breathing and she will be alright.

While Wyrmbreaker begins to prepare the cleansing, Ruarc steps up to the incapacitated Garou on the floor. He looks down at her with cold eyes, then he snarls

‘The sound of his massive clawed foot crushing what is left of her skull into the floor is abrupt and loud.

Then he is quiet.

[Roman Turner] Lukas too the extinguisher and so Roman came in and checked to see who was hurt and unplugged one gourd that he promptly, unceremoniously, dumped over Imogen's head.

[Blood-Song] After his rage has been settled, and his foot wiped off on the floor next to the body, he turns to help Lukas with the cleansing, knowing the rite well.

[Imogen Slaughter] "Wha-" the beginning of the first syllable of her question is as far as she gets, as Imogen, even as she's stepping back away from Roman and the suspicious looking fruit shell approaches her with purpose.

He dumps it over her head without warning and Imogen's eyes shut reflexively, her mouth drawing into a tight, taut line.

"Thank-you, Roman." This gratitude has a distinctly different tone than what she had offered the Garou who had put their bodies in front of claws for her sake. She raises her ungloved hand to wipe it over her face, then up over her hair, swiping away water, dropping her hand to flick the water away. With that, she raises the hand to show its unblemished back. "All gone."

She withstands the cleansing. She recognizes it for what it is. She's seen it done more than once. More often in the last year than she ever has.

When it's done, she disappears into the file room, moving through the files with her single gloved hand until she finds the ones she needs. If others come to help, she tells them, simply, what she's looking for.

[Wyrmbreaker] The Fianna is very quiet as he helps with the cleansing rite. Wyrmbreaker glances at him only once, not missing a beat in his ritual circle.

When it's finished, though, he speaks quietly to his fellow Ahroun. "You were brave and valiant tonight," he says, "even when the Wyrm tried to force you to cowardice. I know that's perhaps small comfort, but I don't think you've anything to be ashamed of."

[Roman Turner] He smiled, though it probably looked more like he was going to eat her. Never in his life would he EVER admit he could of done something else with the gourd other than dump it over Imogen's head. NEVER, EVER.

Once that was completed he turned to watch the ritual and hover at the door Imogen went through. Unfortunately he didn't know the rite of cleansing, so he guarded.

[Blood-Song] Wyrmbreakers words are strangely enough comforting to the large Fianna. He looks over at him, watching him for a moment, then nods. The normally loud and boisterous man has no stomach for his own voice right now. His tongue still bleeding from where he had bitten it to keep from yowling in fear of the spiral.

He goes about with the rite, focusing on it, then once it is done moves to the door to stand guard, eyes hard and cold.

[Heartland] The rite catches and cleanses some of the swarm. Other insects fluttering away - out the shattered windows, dispersing into the factory's interior, crawling away under cover of night in a thousand different directions.

Now they have seven corpses. There are four in the receptionist's office - two cursed Garou, one metis, one lupus, both dead - and two cursed humans in security uniforms. The female -her head crushed by Blood-Song's massive clawed foot - becomes simply human, a scarred girl of no more than 17, almost innocent in death, except for the wounds in her body, smoking with silver, except for the claw marks scoring her face. Those are scars, old wounds.

The male outside reverts from hispo to crinos when Imogen shoots him. Something about the spasm of death, the sudden change, sends the balcony and staircase sheering away from the offices. The metis' corpse falls with a splat to the factory floor. Out there, too, is a dead human with the long tongue of a newt and a picture of his three daughters in his wallat - all dark haired and cherubic, grinning back at the camera, squinting against the glare of the sunlight, the familiar face of Mount Rushmore in the background. They are stair-stepped, the children, 7, 6 and 5.

---

Roman counted five Garou. They have four corpses of known Garou. Perhaps the newt-tongued man was the fifth.

There have hours until dawn. The battle - no matter how distended and distorted time seemed - took less time than it takes to eat a happy meal and play with and break the toy. Imogen will find the files. The Garou will find the particular raw ingredients that appear to be tainted. They will apply the talens. And so on.

Throughout the evening, they stomp and swat at stray insects. One here, two or three there. There are no more swarms. Perhaps they have done enough to destroy its larger powers. Perhaps it will take years to rebuild itself. Perhaps days.

And when they leave the factory - whatever the hour of the night - they will find a heart inscribed in lipstick on the windshield of rental cars in the parking lot, an arrow drawn through it.