Greenstreak lays at the edge of the water, upside down, with his paws in the air, and his head slightly in the water. His tail wags from side to side quickly, tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth.

"It just piss me off ta no end, Mulan," Nevada's voice and jangling chokechain announce his arrival,"I hope he cries himself ta sleep tnight." The Galliard, clothes slightly ripped, trudges in with a scowl on his face and a lupus Canto-Gnawer at his side.

Three-Blades sniffs the air softly, one ear turning this way and that while the other kept on Nevada. Like the dog that is there to listen, she rumbles softly. Given what you did to him, he might regret it more than you think.

Greenstreak scratches at some imaginary object, then rolls over and dips his head in the water, shaking it from side to side and splashing at nothing.

Three-Blades sniffs out a familiar scent. Trouble? She heard the cub first, before seeing her. Of course, Nevada still has most of her attentions. Poor ragey galliard.

"Good." Nevada and his lower lip skulk tremendously. His clothes are still ripped from the shifting to Glabro for healing his broken hand. He should have probably taken them off to do so, but he gave up after his shoes. His wandering eyes move over the waterfall, before they flick to Three-Blades. "My cub, huh? Where is he, that little bastard?" He squints, spotting Greenstreak. A thin smile starts to appear.

Greenstreak trods off into the water, dipping his head under it, then following with the rest of his body, before peaking his head up from beneath the water.

Three-Blades motions with her muzzle towards the water and the splashing. Ears told me about he was brought here to see the caern. She flickers her ears, tail up and wagging slowly, perhaps amused by the idea. The canto-Gnawer gives a loud bark, to gain the cub's attention.

Greenstreak lifts his head from the water and looks over at the two. He quickly turns and bounds off towards them, jumping on Nev and licking at his face.

"What in hell you doin', huh?" Nevada's asking in pretend outrage. His bad mood seems to leave slightly, as he roars and grabs Green in a big doggy hug, messing up his fur. "You little dork," he says, grinning,"What have you been up to?"

Greenstreak barks and drops to the floor, shaking himself off from the water, and soaking Nev and Yi. Been plotting. Need help. We go umbra now. He turns and walks over towards the water again, not waiting for a reply.

Three-Blades is careful to avoid wet dog, though by now it probably shouldn't matter too much to her when she's in lupus. Shadowside? In daytime? She glances up at Nevada, ears half back. Then again, it's the fullmoon, and it's the middle of the caern.

"Whoa, whoah." Nevada narrows his eyes. "Not in the middle of the day, kiddo. No light then. Bad shit then. It can wait. What's in the shadow you want anyways?" He grunts slightly as water gets on his clothes, but he could care less at this point. Might as well. He folds his arms.

Greenstreak shakes his head. Gotta go /now/ so they wont see us, they are sneaky little bastards. I'll get them. You'll see. I'll catch me one.

Three-Blades glances back up to Nevada. Remind me to teach you the dedicating rite sometime. You may need it more than me. She snorts towards Rotem. If there are banes in this area, then it's something to tell the sept. After killing the Wyrmspawn, of course.

Greenstreak shakes his head and huffs. Not banes. Water sprites. Bastards. He wags his tail. Gonna catch one. Gotta catch one.

"They ain't Pokemon, Greenie," Nevada says, a smirk crossing his face. "Water spirits. I ain't ever seen one, but you be good to them, man. Spirits got funky ass power you don't wanna mess aroun' wit', when you don't know what ya doin'. An you don't know what ya doin'. 'Sides, I wanted t'ask ya somethin'. See, I got this job f'you."

Greenstreak seems distracted but looks to Nevada. Job ok, then catch spirit. Over on water. Kaz say it okay, if can catch it. Sneaky bastard.

Three-Blades breaks off from the other two Gnawers and goes to the edge of the waterfall to drink. She keeps her ears back, listening to Nevada and his proposal.

"How long they keepin' you here, kid?" Nevada eyes Greenstreak, before he settles down on the ground, stretching out his legs.

Dont know. The cub glances over at Yi for a moment, then back to Nev. What need Green to do? Green go do. His tail is now wagging again.

Three-Blades looks up from her drink, pink tongue lapping at the water dripping from her muzzle. I think Ears just wanted him here so he wouldn't feel so confined. She's also curious about the 'job'.

"Well," the Galliard says, leaning back on his hands. "It's a mission, y'see. A real quiet one, of a real delicate nature if you gets what I'm sayin' kid." He glances over his shoulder. "I need you to 'take care of' somebody. Y'know what I'm talkin' about?"

Greenstreak perks up slightly. Ears tilting forwards towards Nevada as his attention is now focused the water 'daemons' forgotten. You want Green should wax someone? Green take care. Anyone in particular or should Green choose. ~Black Fury~ Bitch from yesterday good choice.

Three-Blades lowers her head again to take a few more laps of water, before glancing back up again.

Which Black Fury, Greenstreak? queries the Canto-Gnawer. An ear tilts curiously, though not without some evident dislike for the way Rotem mentioned the name of a faceless Garou.

Greenstreak shakes his head softly. Judge Fury. Not remember name. Judge, Nevada see. "No." Nevada shakes his head. "Not Garou. Not Furies. Furies is good tribe anyways. Even if they treat ya like shit, respect 'em." He waves a hand. "But whateva.. Y'see, I planned t'take you hunting anyways, but today, I think I found ya target, kid. There's this bitch cat what always hangs around near this pet shop I like, right, an' this mornin', I find out it belongs to this irritatin' yuppie jackass." He makes a grimace. "Dick. Anyway, if he still let that cat go roamin' around like it damn well owns St. Claire, you can eat it. I want ya to."

Greenstreak lifts his head and looks to Nevada in the eye. Cat? You want Green to hunt a cat? He shakes his head and then growls slightly, before continuing. You lucky Submission is in Litany. Green get rid of cat. He pauses oncemore then continues. But Green expect something harder to kill next time.

Three-Blades snorts softly. So that cat belonged to the other man. She opens her jaws, perhaps a little /too/ ferally. Must be the moon affecting the Canto-Gnawer's head. She pads back over to the other two Gnawers, evidently in a hunting mood. She turns to Rotem. You don't know cats. Especially the ones who decide our territory is theirs. She lolls her tongue at Nevada, humoring the idea.

"What, like my friends?" Nevada starts to say before Yi jumps in, living up to one of her deed-names. "Cats is weak. Little ones, that is. They weak, they useless. But they quick. And they torture an' kill mice an' rats, just 'cause. Rats. Our totem, y'know?" He snorts lightly. "Plus, cats taste good. An' I wanna test you out some, kid."

Greenstreak shrugs. Green kill stupid cat. Then you take Green hunting something bigger? Green want heads! Not going collect cat head. Silly.

Three-Blades feels her hackles rising a little, just simply because of the rage floating around. She growls softly and paces about, looking up at Nevada and Rotem. So? You going to go cat-hunting, or stay here and snap at water spirits?

Nevada seems to space out for a moment, watching the waterfall. Then he blinks. "Yeah. So, what. Y'wanna stay? Go? Yeah? No? 'cause now I'm all in the mood." He reaches out to pat Three-Blades absently.

Greenstreak looks up to Nevada. We go, kill cat already. Green show cat who boss. Split cat open like watermellon. We go.

Three-Blades glances over to Nevada, then gives Rotem a slow, warning growl. Just make sure you don't endanger the Veil as you frenzy on a dead cat. She looks to the galliard, as if waiting for his motion to proceed back to the city.

Nevada snorts with a laugh. "He won't. Not if he knows what's good f'him, anyway." He gets to his feet, stretching slightly. "Alright, let's get goin'. Got a long walk back t'the Mystery Machine."

Nevada pages to the room: Which would be parked way back at the Farmhouse. ;)

Greenstreak shakes his head, looking up to Nev. No shift in scab. Hunt cat in lupus or homid?

"Lupus, dude," Nevada says as he leads off. "Y'can smell better that aways. Run faster, too. Just don't give no human people no reason t'be afraid a you, an' you be fine. Once I almost got caught by the dogcatcha.... this friend of mine saved my tail. Shadow Lord. Jarred. Real cool guy. You'll meet him one a'these days.. "

Three-Blades decides to remain in lupus. Faster this way, she rumbles. And homids chasing cats would be strange, don't you think? She whuffles with laughter.

Greenstreak shakes himself off oncemore, trying to get fairly dry before heading to Nevada's car. He then turns to nip at Yi's tail playfully, then bound off to the side. We go.

Regan Avenue East, Downtown
Red brick buildings rise, some of them crumbling from disrepair and disuse, others patched together by repairs. Graffiti covers some of the walls near street level, some rude, most crude, but the occasional drawing is meant for a lighter-hearted reaction. The graffiti becomes a colorful, almost gaudy mural at the western end of the district, an announcement of the Regan Hope Project's presence. Trash litters the majority of the gutters, from Harbor Park in the east across to just before the Regan Hope Project's domain, where the trash is less prevalent and the buildings less run-down. Small shops with apartments in the floors above them span a block here and corners there: delis, second-hand clothes, textiles, small restaurants, a grocery store. Sandwiched between the buildings are weed-choked empty lots.
Contents:
Nevada
Obvious exits:
Harbor Park The Gunbarrel Abandoned Lot Empty Lot Pizza Parlor Regan Hope Project North South West

You paged the room with 'Are we assuming Nev parked the car at the church and we walked?'. After the journey back to the farm, the ride in the Mystery Machine has been faster than usual. Nevada drives like a motherfuck on open highways. He's parked the car in his usual spot, a discreet alleyway away from the Church. There, he's left his clothes, having shifted to lupus. Maybe get pizza after, he's 'saying' now, trotting his chokechain-jingling way down a side-alley. You ever eaten a cat before, Green?

Greenstreak shakes his head softly. Green never eat cat. But Green watch cat. Green know how cat think. He pauses and looks around. Where is cat supposed to be?

Three-Blades idly muses what cat would taste like with pizza, but decides to forego that thought until a later time of experimentation. Couldn't be all that different from snake, one thinks, she rumbles quietly as she stays mostly in the alleyways of the buildings. She glances to Nevada for the answer to that question.

Around. It might not even be here, if that dumb monkey finally put it inside. If we can't find it, we get another cat. Plenty of them to go around. Our cat smells like ~expensive shampoo~. Like ~raspberries~. Hatchet trots along, nose close to the ground.

Greenstreak scampers ahead, forgoing the smell and running off to look for the creature. Desciding he has just as much chance to find it with dumb luck. He leaves Nevada and Yi behind him and trots off.

Three-Blades sniffs around for this smell of expensive very berry shampoo, taking in the scents wafting around like pizza and the occassional scent of some bum's piss as they go through the alley.

Hatchet bumps the Canto-Gnawer in the shoulder as he passes, tongue lolling out as he heads down another side-alley. He jingles slightly.

Greenstreak heads across the street from the two, darting across and dodging a car as he runs past to look for the cat in a different alleyway.

Hatchet pages: You could probably smell just faint strains of it now. This is the cat's hangout area, starting upon. Stinky shampoo :)

Three-Blades watches Rotem tear off in some other direction, and patiently sniffs. Her ears turn backwards then she glances about and sniffs some more. The cat's been here, she growls softly to inform Nevada. Her nose just inches from the ground spot, she follows the scent picked up like a bloodhound.

Hatchet misses the growl. He's a little interested in a brown paper-wrapped bottle left behind a dumpster. Tail wagging slightly, he looks up, brown eyes peering about. Where'd Mulan go.

Greenstreak darts back through traffic, a car screetches to a halt as Green darts past. He moves back towards the two Gnawers. No cat there. I checked. We move on? Three-Blades thinks she sees a movement in the corner of her eye as something darts behind a trashcan. She leans off to one side, as if thinking this will aid her in seeing. An ear flicks back to listen around for the other two Gnawers.

Hatchet rowfs? He trots after Three-Blades, starting to quicken. What? Do you see something? He sniffs about, busily, tail wagging slightly. The scent of shampoo is here, beneath the grease-smell and cat-stink. Something smells catsy.

Greenstreak joins the two, although not sniffing at all, he jumps up onto the trashcan, with a loud crashing noise, the sound of a cat shriek, and a thud, he is back on the ground, as well as the trash can. The cat darts off, frightened.

Three-Blades snarls as the trashcan clatters and clangs onto the ground, the cat shrieks, and just really surprises the hell out of the Canto-Gnawer. She gathers her wits back in the next millisecond and darts after the cat, silent in her hunt.

'Frightened' would be an understatement. Fluffy the cat reeeoows and goes running like the hounds of hell are after her. For all she knows, that's exactly what they are. She shoots off down a side-alley, skittering past a few dented beercans.

Greenstreak barks and growls as he darts off after Yi, following the cat down across the side alley. As he moves he continues his loud yapping, enjoying the cats flight. As Three-Blades and Green close upon the cat he spends a point of rage to pull ahead of Yi and leap for the cat.

Three-Blades hears and scents Rotem first before the cub actually pulls into view, but her attention is on the cat's hiney. When the ahroun streaks past her in a blur, she actually slows to allow him the forerunner's position. Mainly, because she's not that familiar with the side-alleys yet. Not in lupus anyway.

Hatchet brings up the back with loud barking, his voice like the sound of a clanging blacksmith's hammer hitting metal. His chokechain jangles around his neck. He knows these side-alleys by heart, but this hunt is for the others.

Ahead, the cat zings down a murky city corridor. The alley there is a dead-end, and with a hiss, the animal leaps up onto the dumpster and garbage piled there, trying to make it over the partition.

Greenstreak jumps up after the cat, snapping his jaws at it while still in the air, hoping to grab a nice fleshy hold on the creature.

Three-Blades is just a few steps behind the cub, but slows as she notices the dead end. She finds a pile of boxes and springs up onto one, tossing a short glance to the cat.

There's a horrible screech as Ahroun's mouth shuts over Fluffy's tail. The cat buckles in mid-air, twisting around in a flurry of claws. Hatchet trots to a stop, guarding the mouth of the alley. He watches.

Greenstreak jerks his head aside, flinging poor fluffy into the wall, whipping the animal about by its tail. He quickly presses his paw down onto the creature and moves in for the kill.

Anyone who has seen cats fight know that cats don't go down that easy. Not alleycats anyway. But Yi is careful as she takes up a spot on the crate and simply watches. Her gaze goes to Nevada, and she whuffs over the yowling fray, You want him to eat her too?

Hatchet dips his head once, an absent human mannerism carried over. He lets his teeth show, watching the cat's last moments. Eat the rat-catcher, Greensteak. Let's see some blood.

Greenstreak closes his jaw about the back of the cats neck and jerks his head back, the animal falling still. His teeth are red with the creatures blood, the fur around his mouth stained as well, with a sneer Greenstreak tosses the body down to the ground.

Three-Blades snorts quietly at the wet sound of the cat's neck being snapped. All too familiar a sound lately, since the Gnawer has taken to hunting. She gazes down towards the cub, as if expecting him to eat the carcass now and live up to his name.

Greenstreak doesn't let Three-Blades down, he drops to the ground as well, grabbing the animal in his jaw and ripping the belly open. It's a small meal but it will do. He starts ripping at the flesh, taking a bite and chewing it quietly, then swallowing it down.

Hatchet watches, his tail up like a proud battleflag.

Three-Blades takes the opportunity to scan back down the alleyway behind Nevada, just to make sure there isn't anyone who will come up behind the galliard and witness what would be normally a grotesque scene for a human to watch. Living up to his name, he is, she comments with a rumble of humour before hopping off the crate and moving back towards the alley entrance.

Greenstreak swallows down the first bite then stops, dragging the cat over to Nevada and pushing it to him. Almost forgot. First share.

Hatchet looks completely amused, in that dog way, his tongue hanging out. He nuzzles Three-Blades as she approaches, and then licks Greenstreak's ear. Good cub. Good Ahroun. You showed her! The Galliard cants his head to the side, sniffing interestedly at the cat's body, before he rips into it with gusto. He likes it messy.

Greenstreak sits down on the floor, licking at his paws now, letting Nevada eat while he cleans. To himself he muses, My paws are prettier then hers anyway.

Three-Blades looks markedly amused by that comment, but keeps watch now that Nevada is eating. Her thoughts about cats and their flavor are kept inward as she scratches idly at her ear. Just think what a surprise it would be if the cat was tainted. The comment is delivered with no hint of sarcasm. Must be she's encountered one or two nasties before, somewhere along her lifetime as a Garou.

It'd taste bad if it was tainted, the Galliard replies at a messy pause. Now he's yellow, black, brown, and red. His tail wags like a maniac. He doesn't know, Green... she has some pretty paws.

Greenstreak growls softly. They are fucking paws. Paws. Who gives a damn? That is one messed up puppy. I told her she had dirt on her paws and she cleaned them for two hours. Next time I'll tell her I see a scratch. She'll flip.

Three-Blades perhaps catches the reference to a certain other galliard? Who are you growling about, Streak? The Canto-Gnawer evidently decides to clear up the confusion about who the cub is referring to, either the cat or Alicia.

Greenstreak looks up to Yi, having finished cleaning his paws. Silly cub at caern. We in fight for Wyrm, war. She in fasion show. No priorities.

Blooms. Hatchet growls slightly as he pulls roughly on cat parts. Now he rolls on the carcass. She is smarter than you think, Greenstreak. And a good fighter. Very quick one. The once-yellow wolfdog springs to his feet, snorting with a sneeze, eyeing the remains of the cat. He takes the body in his mouth, trotting over, tail-up, towards the dead-end. He flings the cat-body down, letting it slump messily over rained-on trashbags in the corner.

Greenstreak shakes his head. Silly cub. Green could take her. He turns and walks off out of the alley, stopping for a moment by the garbage can he knocked over earlier, in order to sniff at the contents, uninterested he moves out of the alley.

Now that the cat is thoroughly dead, what to do next? She looks to Nevada, perhaps deeming this his decision to make. The Gnawer nomoon opens her jaws in a wide yawn, accompanied by a soft whine.

Back to ~Church~, Hatchet replies, puffing up slightly as he looks over the slummy alley. He rolls on the ground, snorting slightly, getting dusty before he trots off.

Forgotten Church(#1801RAJLM)
The old church is dark, dimly lit by outside light coming in through scum-encrusted windows during the day, and tomblike during the night. There is a coatroom in the back of the nave, with separate doors leading off to mens' and womens' restrooms, and two staircases, one going up to the balcony and bell-tower, and the other leading down to the basement. The double doors leading out to the street are at the back of the coatroom.
The hard wooden pews in the sanctuary are, for the most part, still intact. There are even Bibles and hymnals left in the shelves along the back of each row, although many of them look rather chewed on. The altar on a dais at the front of the church is empty, and the lectern that once stood next to it has been knocked over. Rotting red cloth hangs at the very front of the church; there might once have been a design on it, but it has long since faded or been eaten away.
Contents:
Hatchet
Mural
Obvious exits:
Street Basement

The church door's nosed open. Blood drying on his splotched yellow fur, the Galliard trots inward, tail up and wagging. The chase has improved his mood. He darts about the church, racing up and down the aisle, chain jangling like mad.

Three-Blades comes in a little more cautiously as she looks behind her shoulder constantly. Paranoid, she is. Or maybe just force of habit. Her mood lightens visibly once she's inside the church and bumped the door closed. Watching Nevada run around, she lolls her tongue. Good hunt today.

Hatchet roars playfully as he zings about the church, chasing his tail, chasing dust, chasing imaginary cats. He blurs up through the shapes as he returns to homid, blood-streaked and dusty and naked on the dais. He wears a chokechain collar, a huge grin, and some pretty interesting tattoos at this point. He air punches. "Yeah. That was good. I'm all tough and wild now." He makes claws with his hands, hiking them up. "Rarrr!"

Hatchet contorts and blurs as he is transformed. Hatchet shifts into Homid form.

Three-Blades whuffles and lopes towards the dais, ears perked towards the galliard. That journey you made to the desert must have heated your spirit too, as I see. She lolls her tongue, shifting up to homid as well. With a brush of her fingers against her jeans, she sniffs the clothing dedicated upon her body. Going to have to wash them again. For a Gnawer, she's pretty studious about being clean.

Three-Blades contorts and blurs as she is transformed. You shift into Homid.

"That were one helluva time," Nevada says with a laugh, agreeing. "We got any clothes around here? Think I got pants or something up in the balcony. Oh! Hey, Yi. That reminds me." The trampy Gnawer snaps his fingers, as he heads barefoot across the church. I WOKE UP WITH THIS TATTOO shows briefly for a moment in doing so. "You got a dress yet?"

Yi smiles shortly, and nods an affirmative. "I'm not sure about it being suitable to wear to your uptown restaurant, but it should do," she says, now a little less bothered with skin shows.

"All right, Mulan!" Nevada calls. "I'll wanna see it. You could probably go dressed in a trash bag an' it wouldn't matter, chica." He disappears up the staircase. General creaking is heard. Some shifting around noises. "Heh. Somethin's been chewin' on my pants. Check it out. This a good sign or what. Maybe we should leave mo'food out for the lil' rodent guys." Mischief creeps into his voice. "You know I can talk to them, right?"

Yi flushes lightly at the galliard's compliment and chuckles. She raises an eyebrow, glancing up at Nevada. "You can speak to rats?" The knowledge is new to her, anyway.

"Can I ever," Nevada replies, indulging in an ominous chuckle that booms from the balcony. It sounds greater than he'd imagined. "An' speakin' a rats," he says, footsteps thunking down the stairwell,"I shoulda been gone ten minutes ago. Can you believe I'm supposed to go get a pizza dinner? Won't beat the one I had t'night, but hey, we're supposeda be walkin' stomachs or somethin'." He's barefoot, wearing just pants and blood he's trying to wipe off as he jogs toward the door. "See you around, Mulan!" Beaming a grin, he's out of the church and into the cold.