Compromised Apartment
11/6/2007
07:47 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.
Currently the moon is in the waning Crescent Moon phase (22% full).
It is currently 19:47 Pacific Time on Tue Nov 6 2007.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is foggy. The temperature is 42 degrees Fahrenheit (5 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from the southeast at 3 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.11 and steady, and the relative humidity is 92 percent. The dewpoint is 40 degrees Fahrenheit (4 degrees Celsius.)
Bawn: Western Forest(#3018RA)
Tall Sitka spruce and sequoia crowd around and above you. Many of the trees are old, their branches twisted into impossible shapes, trunks broad and draped with lichen, mosses and creepers. Tendrils of moss hand down from them like green spiderwebs, snaring the unwary with cold, ghostly fingers. The patches of younger growth are dense and pale, needles tinged with silver. Matted undergrowth huddles sullenly in the occasional small clearings, clutching with thorns and burrs at the legs of those who would pass. Deer seldom venture here, but the forest is full of rustlings, and tiny glints from wary, watchful eyes.
The forest spreads out to the east, bounded on the west by Sunrise Road. From farther to the west, one can occasionally hear the distant sounds of the town of Kent's Crossing.
Contents:
Squeaks
Olga
Basil
Laora
Obvious exits:
Southwest Highway 22 Overgrown Path Sunrise Road Farmhouse Caern of the Hidden Walk Creek Central Bawn Southern Bawn Northern Bawn
"Five hundred even," Laora responds after a moment of thought.
Basil reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of cash the size of his fist. He systematically counts through bill after bill, counting off under his breath until he comes to five hundred dollars in assorted bills. "When can I expect them?" He asks, putting away the remaining wad of cash.
"Week per sword," Laora replies evenly. "Or you can wait for them to all be done in about three weeks."
The scent of humans, one very familiar, one only barely, draws the noses of two Gnawers through the fog. By the time they appear through the enclosing trees Olga is in her human skin, allowing Squeaks to lead with her keener sense; the Metis scampers eagerly forward, her ears up, her tail fat and dragging. It's wrapped against the cold in a well-knit wool sleeve, tied around the waist, lovingly crafted but by now so filthy its original colours are impossible to discern except at the top near the base, where the bright blues and yellows still show through. In her eagerness the younger Theurge neglects the elder and is almost on Basil before her homid keeper is even visible shuffling through the fog. ~Kills!~ she greets him, exuberantly scrambling forward. ~Did you bring me food?~
Not long after Olga and Squeaks manifest in the fog, another Gnawer seemingly appears out of nowhere. But those keener of ear would note the lupus'd Gnawer ragabash's approach through soft paw steps and scent carried on the breeze. Runner's gait slows from its stalking slink, and the fostern chuffs her hellos in the dark. The forward tilt of her ears rotates to a curious splay as she sniffs out the gathered Garou.
"Please, hold them until they are all done and call when they are ready. It will be nice to have my own sword for once, especially one that'll stand up to real combat." Basil steps forward and offers her the money, only turning his head when he hears Olga come wandering up with a Metis in tow. He stands there, holding out a sizeable sum of cash to Laora for about four seconds before he passes it off to her and turns, shifting up to Glabro to greet Squeaks. "I always have something I can give you, but you have to promise you aren't going to claw me up when you get excited. Sit by Olga." He grins, nodding at the Theurge in the Metis' wake.
Laora takes the money, face acquiring and undeniable look of disgust at the appearance of the young metis. "Right. I'll call when they're ready."
The Glabro Ahroun is at most an inch or two taller than the Metis, erect, and she's certainly erect: she stands there attentive and careful, her hand neatly outstretched towards Basil, the picture of patience. She doesn't say a word, but watches Laora in the periphery of her vision; her posture shows a guarded inquisitiveness, she certainly picks up something in the Fianna's mood, though her own shows no fear or offence. Olga comes up warily behind her, her hand shoved into her pocket, her bag slung over her shoulder. "Basil," she greets the Ahroun with easy warmth. "Hey," she greets the Fianna, without it.
Runner takes an interested sniff in Laora's direction, moving a bit closer to the Fianna and so coming into a better view of the gathering. The identification process for the wolven ragabash goes on for a few seconds. Likewise, she sniffs at Olga, Basil, and finally Squeaks in order of meet and greet.
"Sure. My number is 241-562-8902. Cellphone." Basil explains, smiling at the Fianna. "I won't worry about a receipt or question your work. I saw the sword you made for yourself in action." Basil turns back to Squeaks and reaches into his pocket, taking out what appears to be... Something in a thermos sized tupperware. Basil takes out a paper towel and dumps it's contents out onto it, passing the warm contents onto Squeaks. "It's called 'Nachos'." He explains, looking up at Olga with a bemused smirk. He looks then to Runner, his happy expression fading a bit.
Laora pulls a pen out of her back pocket and jots down the number. "Right. Got it." The number and pen are tucked away, as the Fianna looks over the gathered Gnawers and can't completely repress a shudder. Eww. "Right. I'm out of here. Seeya." With that, Laora shifts in to lupus and dashes away in all haste.
"Guess we scared her off," Olga says, her voice gruff and thick and displeased. She watches the Fianna leave with her shoulder cocked and her bag still on it as Squeaks rapaciously devours her nachos (with, of course, a perfunctory ~Thank you Kills-the-Cries-rhya,~ before she starts). She watches her leave for a good five seconds, before snorting derisively, the sound high and wheezy, like she was trying to dislodge a piece of Lego from her nostril. "Hey Yi," she greets the Fostern more levelly, only once she's done showing her annoyance.
Runner steps to a side as Laora takes off, head cocking at the disappearing Fianna before turning back to the Gnawers in general. She shifts after licking her chops once, dutifully ignoring the nachos and assuming breed form. "Who was that?" Yi wonders aloud once she's in a more communicable state. "And honestly Basil... nachos?" Spoken with good humor though, the fostern smiles at her tribemates.
"That was Laora. She doesn't like us much, but she *does* like the cash I just paid her for the swords she's going to make me." Basil reaches into his pocket and takes out a bottle of Peach Schnapps, offering it to Olga. "Like Olga's going to love this after being trapped out in the damned woods forever."
Squeaks doesn't speak, though it would be unfair to call her quiet. The crunch and crack of nachos echoes through the foggy forest. "I'm not out of the woods yet," Olga answers Basil drily, ominously, with a faint sheen of amusement. "But thank y'," she says, tight and grateful, as she reaches out to take the bottle; she grips it for a few seconds without doing anything, feeling the cold of the glass, as if trying to decide if she should nip in immediately. She must decide otherwise for she drops her bag and begins making it a place. "What's the occasion?" the Theurge asks, curiously. "And why you so flush all of a sudden?"
Yi eyes Basil at that last bit, watching the passing of the schnapps. "Flush?" repeats the fostern with a tone hinting at a very thin grasp of understanding the phrase.
"I found a few thousand dollars. And by 'found', I mean some Red gangers were shooting at me. So I shot back until they were dead and took their money. I got enough money to help my pups, and treat my friends to a few things. By the way, you have a new Kin named Ed. You'll like her. She wrinkled her nose when I said I lived with Walkers." Basil smirks at Olga, shifting back down into Homid as he turns to speak to Yi. He hesitates briefly before he takes a deep breath, closing his eye just long enough to clear his head. "Yi." Basil begins again. "This.. Ah. Silver Fang Kin, she came into town. To make a long story short, we went drinking a few times, and ended up back at your place but never in your bed. Turns out she was... Kind of a Spiral spy. I moved everything I saw in your apartment out to a safe place. Your place is now bare of everything but the roaches."
Olga might've responded, but when Basil speaks again to Yi she clams up, obviously feeling this other news takes precedence. All she offers is an oblique curse regarding roaches, muttered under her breath. She watches but doesn't interfere as Squeaks, finished with the nachos, proceeds to swallow the paper towel they were served on.
"I thought Ed was a boy's nam-" Yi starts to say, but cuts off as she is addressed. What thought she had goes flying out the window, replaced with a long stare at the ahroun. And for the longest time, the fostern doesn't say a word. When she breaks her quiet, though, it's with a growled curse of her native tongue, a turn away from the others, and a run of her dirty hand through her hair. "Who was it? And how much does she, did she, know?"
"Her name is Roxanne, and we don't know how much she knows because she was shot in the face before anyone could ask her. It was quite messy, all in all. And loud. And I burned my hand trying to get the gun away from the Walker shooting her." Basil shakes his head at her. "I'm sorry, Yi, but I moved everything out of the apartment including the furniture. My room at the Walker's house is very... Full."
Olga is quiet, withdrawn from the conversation, and Squeaks is finally quiet as well: she licks her sharp teeth and hunches over, more comfortable looking up at the Homid Garou than down. She merely watches, more curious than concerned.
Yi swears again, somewhere in there adding a 'bloody hell' to it. She turns back after she takes a moment to calm herself, and regards the trio. "What about the Odeon?" she asks. "Is it safe?"
"I never told her about it or led her there. As for other places, the Glass Walker house, and the Silver Fang's house are also compromised." Basil looks up towards the sky. "As well as the farmhouse. Man, I made out with a Black Spiral Kin. Seriously, what kind of crazy ass fuck shit is that?"
Yi shakes her head, fingers rubbing at the temple. "And nothing was found out from her at all before she was killed? Nothing at all?"
"Don' sound too proud of yourself," Olga chides mildly, amusement and concern both playing in the edges of her voice. She tilts her head at Squeaks, a faint quirk of a smile spasming across her lips at the small bit of paper towel she's trying to lick out between her teeth. "The Odeon's safe. I never seen her there, and if Basil didn' take her, who else would've? I think if a Fang was hangin' around there anyway we'd've known sooner things weren't right."
"Trust me. It's a head trip. Even if it means I did get freaky with a Spiral Kin that was also bred to hell like a Silver Fang." Basil shakes his head, turning to look down at Yi. "Mouse got pissed and shot the girl in the face, but she had a good reason at the time. Couldn't get any info out of the body, obviously, but Val might have got something."
Yi stops her temple-rubbing gesture, looking back up at the ahroun and then the theurges. "Still, the Odeon should be better protected in case. Basil, thank you for taking care of the flat. I wouldn't write it off yet either, though. If you feel it's too crowded in your room with all that furniture, then get rid of it. Sell it, give it away, or maybe see if the Odeon could use it. I only need to keep the important things." What those are, though, she doesn't yet specify. With a hard sigh, the ragabash turns again, this time making to leave. "I will let the Warder know about this. Again, thank you."
Olga's quiet for a few seconds; when she speaks, her voice is thin and level, and her eyes are down, though not on the mule who sits before them. "I dunno," she says to Basil, "there're ways of making the dead talk, I been told. S'probably too late for that now, though." She glances up at Yi when she moves to go, the look quick and her smile quicker. "Back to your rounds, eh?" she asks, swiftly and purposefully, as if just to change the topic. "It's a hard life you guys lead, I thank y'for it." The compliment is strange, almost out of place, but she seems sincere.
"I still say you should come back eventually. But don't worry about your things, I will guard them. Is there anything that I should take care of above any others? Everyone has some sentimental things." Basil asks her, turning to look at Olga with his brow raised. "Make them... Talk? Like a corpse puppet?"
Off in the distance, someone's singing Oldies songs.
Yi peers over her shoulder and out of the corner of her eye at the theurge a moment. Slowly, the ragabash nods once in acknowledgment of the compliment. And to Basil's talk about animating corpses, the no-moon suddenly grows more uncomfortable and shakes her head quickly. "The dead should stay that way. If we want to know more, we can ask someone else." A last glance is taken, this time towards the oldies floating by, before she adds in answer to the ahroun, "I will give you a list." And that said, she nods back to them and shifts back down to her lupus form. In moments, she's away disappearing into the fog the same way she'd come.
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