[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.
[Kindly One] [flaws: Slip Sideways and No Partial Transformation]
to Heartland
[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)
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.
[Kindly One] [flaws: Slip Sideways and No Partial Transformation]
to Heartland
[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)
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