Here Be Dragons

[Marrick]

The air was surprisingly warm. She had spent a ton of time at the caern recently, and her muscles were tense and her heart was pounding. She'd gone and talked to Rat today; not quite talked, actually, more like she sat nearby and made sure that they were well fed and warm and cared for. She replaced the corn cobs, talked and left some time to think and reflect on things. She wished she knew what they were saying, sometimes, but as she sat there she wondered and reflected, and the Fury could not wait any longer. She made her way through the alleyways of Chinatown, and she had a very specific bounty in mind.

[Bai Chou]

to Brother of the Lost, Callie, Doodle, Marrick But if yer doing a Wyrm Hunt....I should bow out....I have class in an hour or so and getting caught up in combat would be bad.

[Callie]

*Chinatown is somewhere she's had some success before, especially when the day is warm enough for people to be outside, eating, drinking, chatting. So here she is after a morning spent playing for whoever passed by and having acquired a reasonable amount of cash. Heading back in the direction of home she spies Marrick across the street, waves, and threads her way through the somewhat dicey traffic to intercept her*

[Brother of the Lost]

[Ancestors]

[Doodle]

...Specific. Perhaps it was Marrick's recent efforts with the Totem Incarna, paving his way with loot and snacks and befriending a creature she could not understand (was not her place to), or maybe it was in part because of the Spirit Child who's tribe revered the Incarna itself, but for the most part, Marrick's searchings are brought to a much narrower field all of sudden... ...The Rat's are there without being invasive. Noticeable. Distinct. They swarm and flutter in and out of Marrick's peripheral vision, dancing into alcoves and cracks and around the Weaver's webwork without a hint of slowing or stopping from the Spider's machinations. Indeed, Marrick might have trouble following the pudgy brown one as it's whiskers and shape vanish through a hole, only to suddenly light on the pinkish tail of a bright white and lean rodent scurrying down a nearby alleyway. It is a quick trail, an easy one, and comes to an end abruptly within the broad expanse of a series of alleyways, so close together that the pattern web gunks up the corners and edges, spread so thick the path down the alley itself, is good enough for perhaps a single file sort of demand. ...Six different lanes lead to a navigable intersection a good twenty feet broad, at the centre of which is a black cobbled floor, that would no doubt be a litter house for the apartments that are built here on the Physical side, which are little more then gray and black paper constructs here in the Penumbra. He is standing at it's centre, looking upward; he is wearing the Gray pea coat Wendy gave him and the same black cargo pants he had on when Sheridan's Gathering had been done. His hair is a tossled and damp mess of curls, dangling round his face and cheeks and neck, while his lanky frame looks even slimmer, the eyes and features a little older then they were before. Less of a child. Less of the ignorant. Less of the coward. ...evidenced, if the slow passage of a broad black shadow overhead is any indication. Sinuous and not entirely visible from this vantage, Doodle nonetheless regards the air above him, arms loose at his sides, jaw slightly slack, his army surplus bag left to wait not a couple of feet away.

[Callie]

((ignore last post))

[Callie]

*If Chinatown is somewhere she has spent some time recently, its only in the mundane. The other side of the Gauntlet is not a place she's been before, so today she chooses to take that route across town on her way back to the pack house. After all, it pays to be familiar with both sides of any place she may need to fight.*

[Brother of the Lost]

Boy's grip on her had been loosening lately. Or at least it seemed that way. For a while he'd been everywhere, constantly at her side, or over her shoulder. Sometimes she'd arrive somewhere and, somehow, he'd be there waiting for her. Other times, she'd leave him in one place only to meet him again on the way to another. Like he was doing now. Boy moved silently in his wolf form. His quick, quiet, and long traveling form. Marrick might see him out of the corner of one eye, just on her periphery, but it would be him, sure enough. The grey and brown wolf stalked through the umbra and occasionally raised his nose higher, catching scent of something, then moving on again. When they first came to this city they made sure to explore all the areas of it. Of course, even now, some places like Chinatown were still unfamiliar. So that which was familiar called out to him even louder. His pack was here. And those who would be as well.

[Marrick]

Even her bests efforts, with focus and thought and determination, were nothing compared to what Doodle knew about the spirits. Even her best efforts could only do so much without the assistance of a knowledgeable theurge. She followed the rat, something a little round and moving quickly and moving in and out and around the webs and the walls. When you knew what you were looking for, you saw it everywhere. When you knew to notice, she did notice. There was a broad, black shadow passing overhead. Not entirely visible, but she couldn't leave well enough alone. She cleared her throat to give some sort of herald to her arrival. Someone darted out of her periphery, and she didn't budge. She just smiled slightly; there was comfort in that. She moved to come a little closer to the theurge, knowing full well that she had some backup.

[Doodle]

"...Hey Marrick..." It is soft, without the purchase of glee or over-enthused excitement that would normally come with the Theurge's behaviour. The melancholy of his recent times in Chicago is not present however. Indeed, one could see an almost resolute sort of function on the little Theurge's face, as he regarded that wavering Shadow overhead fingers curling and coiling into fists every so often. His tongue darts out, licking dry lips. "I found-" A wince, leaning back slightly as the shadow over their heads, darts and cuts a rush of air down into the cramped space of the cobbled alley intersection. A heavy weight in that movement "-I found Black Unicorn." A statement of fact. He carries no pride with it, but- "-Found out what he wants. What he needs and what we have to do." We. Not you.

[Callie]

*It's really the last thing she was expecting . . or close to it at any rate. There is Marrick, unmistakeably her, stalking something Callie can't quite make out . . and Doodle standing not far off. And something else too . . something that now has the attention of both of them. Carefully, making no attempt to conceal herself but still moving slowly in their direction, Callie approaches*

[Marrick]

She inhales, and the Fury winces as though a rib were punctured. As though breathing in so deeply was painful. They were going to stand with her, despite all things. Despite everything she had cost them. "... what do we need to do?" We. Not I.

[Brother of the Lost]

There was silent padding, the softest thump that was only made audible by the click of claws that followed directly behind it. The grey and brown wolf had circled, somehow. And as Callie approached the others it followed close behind her, changing and shifting until Boy, dirty red Chuck Tailors and all, followed close behind her. He didn't know what exactly had brought them all to the same spot. And he didn't pretend to know either. That was the thing about Uktena. Sneaky or not, they're less likely to talk about things they know than they are to ask questions about things they don't. Questions like. "What's that thing?" His eyes followed the moving shadow above them curiously. Cautiously.

[Doodle]

It is not entirely visible, a dark stain against the backdrop of the glaring sun that peeks through clouds. What of it that they can see, is a broad thing, swimming in tendrils and reaching images, too obscure to define accurately. It is almost as if the clouds had fallen, gone to war and were making bloody glory just overhead, the tangibility of their presence in question and doubt, enough to make one second guess their meanings and motives. A sky war of obscurity. Boy's question rises and Doodle doesn't even pull his gaze down to greet his Alpha, instead taking a deep breath, the wince flickering across his features as his lower lip cracks with the tension, a thin line of blood welling up. "...It's a dragon." Awe mingled with trepidation. The name and word were well outside of the Theurge's domain, used to dealing with the vermin and the rodents beneath streets, not Lords and Monsters in the skies. "...It's in slumber. Lost to it's own dreams. I-..." He pauses, a frown lighting youthful features, wool gloved hand rising to brush his hair back from his eyes and face. "...It's a Warrior Spirit. A wyldling." Another deep breath, calming and reassuring (he hopes). "...Fights back the Weaver's touch here in the Dragon Walk. Keep's back the spiders. Keep's back the Weaver in general. There are a lot of them here..." He waves a hand distractedly around, the cue probably more meant for Chinatown as a whole, rather then the alley junction they were in. "...He's slumbering so he can't do what he's supposed to be doing. Which is why the Weaver's so..." He motions around them, pointing at the Webwork, eyes still not falling from their place above, where the opaque shadow continues to veer and loom aimlessly.

[Callie]

oh . . *she says, and then . . comprehension dawning* oooh! *Wide eyed, staring up at the thing as it coils and flutters, dark above them all. Unassailable, unreachable, incomprehensible from here so far below. It fascinates even as it draws fear and trepidation up from inside, running through her as a shiver of cold* and if we wake it?

[Brother of the Lost]

Boy's eyebrows jump. They literally leap from their usual bed of consternation, to a newfound awe and curiosity as he looked at the the theurge, suddenly looking as young as Doodle, and then back up to the roiling and wavering shadow in the umbral sky. A dragon. It sent a desirous shiver through him, and made his mouth gawk. He turns to Callie, blinking. She was asking questions. The questions he would have asked had she not been faster to it. Boy clapped his mouth shut. There were the first hints of a smile in his eyes and on his lips. And then he was looking up again, waiting for the answer.

[Doodle]

"...It...could be happy. Sad. Angry. Anything really, but...if we can...it might just go back to doing what it normally does. Biting back at the Weaver and ensuring she is kept busy." A pause. "Too busy to do what she's doing here..." Another motion of a hand made toward the webwork that calcifies many of the buildings nearby. "...It would also prove something of a Boon for the three Errors that Black unicorn needs answered. Dietrich's passing from the Pack is being held on our Shoulders and we have to answer for his..." A frown. Trying to decipher- "-Negligence. It cost our Sept and our Brothers and Sisters, time, resources and concern...that could have been avoided had he done Black Unicorn's will and fought alongside those in War." Doodle's gaze lifts. "...Maybe if we return one Guardian to it's rightful place, we can make up for the failures of another."

[Brother of the Lost]

Boy's eyes danced with the motion of the thing. When Doodle mention's Marrick, how his transgressions were being held against them, his jaws flexed, tightened, and loosened again. There was subtlety in the motion, although it spoke volumes for those who know how to listen for it. He would not speak on this. Not audibly anyway. He turned his attention to Doodle, nodding approvingly. "So how do we do that, little brother?"

[Callie]

hmmm . . *she hasn't moved, head still tilted back as her eyes follow the twisting shape above them. Like cloud itself, sometimes it seems to have form, and then it's gone. Back into swirling shadow. Holding her breath, it has that effect, as if waiting for something momentous to occur, it's a while before she says anything more.* it makes a kind of sense I suppose . . I guess it's a question of working out what would get it's attention. After all, if it hasn't woken before, its going to have to be something out of the ordinary

[Doodle]

"...Agreed." It is the first time Doodle pulls his eyes from above, tilting his head around on his stalk thin neck to regard Callie, a broad grin, reminiscent of his more well-known expressions, gliding onto his features. That gaze travels to Boy, nodding, tendrils of hair bouncing around his face and brushed back by errant fingers nearly as quickly. "We're going to have to find the source of it's Slumber. What is keeping it from doing it's duty, from being awake. All spirits have...laws and rules they need to obey to survive. Not just live by, like the litany is for us-" An example for the Philodox in Boy "-...More like..." Twirling his hands in the air, trying to find some emphasis "-...If we break the litany, we get punished, but the law is still broken. Metis are still around. Caerns still get destroyed. It's a principle thing but for Spirits-" An he points up at the mesmeric dance of what he's dubbed a Dragon. "...Breaking the law is akin to trying to tell your brain to shut down. Or your heart to stop being. Mis-step and it affects you like a hammer hit to the head. You sleep because you acted outside of what you were. What you are." He lifts his gaze again, trotting carefully over to the trio of La Familia as he does. "...We have to figure out what laws were broken, so we can put them right again..."

[Callie]

maybe . . *she hesitates, just long enough to glance down at Doodle before her eyes are drawn back to the sky dragon again* maybe if it's a guardian like you said . . maybe it failed in its duty before and thats why it's sleeping. Then . . if we . . I don't know . . *her hands come out of her pockets now, literally grasping for ideas* if we did waht it failed to do, would it wake up?

[Brother of the Lost]

That sounded familiar. Boy's eyebrows creep even higher, and he shoots a glance to Marrick, pointing with his chin to Callie before smiling, crossing his arms, and listening. Perhaps if the prospects were left on their own long enough they could figure this all out.

COMBAT MISSING!

[Riot]

The remains of the pair of creatures are scattered across the walls of the cramped little apartment complex hallway. Blaclk ooze and ichor paints and coats, peeling wallpaper and broken plaster, the smell like crude oil and caustic exhaust, dripping and swarming into puddles at their feet. Marrick's throat is a raw mess of pain and foul taste, while the lights have been dimmed as some of the black liquid coats the glass bulb used to diffuse the light bulb's glare. The bodies of the Chinese Elderly and children remain at their feet, a layer of the black molasses coating their silent forms, evidence of the wyrmish taint still clinging to their lips and chins, where the creatures had no doubt choked the life from their wane and weaker forms. Still, the pair stand victorious, the hallway's stretch little more then a half dozen open or ajar apartments, barely large enough to be considered a one bedroom and no doubt housing a small family of five or six at least. Onward, beckons the mission at hand.

[Boy]

There was no blood on his hands. He couldn't turn to his packmate with pride at the way the blood glistened in the light. The only thing that marked either of them of their victory here disgusted him too much to revel in. Boy sneered at the quivering goop at their feet. "We have to cleanse this. Its too dangerous to leave it the way it is."

[Bones to Dust]

She regarded it all, and she looked at the bodies, covered in filth. They wouldn't have lasted half as long as Marrick had, and even then she had difficulty forcing the ooze from her body. She kept that disgustingly foul taste in her mouth and she looked around. She let her eyes fall to them. Someone's family. Someone's child, grandchild. Daughters, sons, taken by something they could not fight against. She looks at Boy and nodded. "Make sure they get a proper sending."

[Boy]

And he nods back. From his back pocket he brings out a flask. It was scratched and tarnished, but that wasn't the important thing. The important thing was what was inside. He'd traveled long and far to find the brook the water came from. Risking his life to reach a spot no man had been to. It was untouched. It was pure. And as Boy lashed splashes of purest water about the hallway, the muscles in his throat flexed and shifted, growing heavier and more powerful until the sounds they produced shifted from an angered shout, to a howl. Let the spirits that tainted this place hear him and know that he would fight the wyrm wherever it bred. Wherever it fed. [Rite of Cleansing: Char+Rituals, diff 7]

[Boy]

[Retest, +1 Diff. HAIL KAHSEENO!]

[Boy]

[Stam, diff 5]

[Bones to Dust]

She doesn't do anything, and she helps when she can. Boy, however, knows this rite. He knows what he's doing, and he knows how to cleanse the area and the bodies as best as he can. The area is tense, and the Fury finds her thoughts wandering to where this will go next. her muscles are tense, her breathing rhythmic, like she had been running. Once all is said and done, she speaks. "let's get to th'room."

[Bones to Dust]

(roof, not room, oi sorry)

[Bones to Dust]

(stamina+expression, diff 5)

[Riot]

Boy and Marrick step forward to call the Spirits forward to help chase away the pressures of the Wyrm here, the Eater of Souls soaking in the warmth and comfort of a job well done. At first, the Philodox has trouble, as the water is sprinkled and the pair lift their voices to push back the Taint and send in screaming into the night, no doubt shaking the walls and sending shivers of terror and subconscious fear into the hearts and minds of the surrounding population... ...The Taint itself seems to battle back, their howls not spreading but absorbing and failing to push beyond a few dozen meters from the building itself. The black ichor is almost hungry, as it sucks in that sound and tears it apart, the presence of Gaia on the gauntlet's other side withering. Frustration mounts and Boy is forced to empty the entire flask as the pair renew their efforts to clear the taint... ...And slowly the taint begins to recede, the pair's voices straining to hold the Howl long enough for the Spirits on the other side to scramble and revel against the gathered presence of the Eater, but eventually, inevitably, the Wyrm taint recedes and of the black ichor, little is left by dried black flakes that peel and disintegrate under the slightest of movements or brushes. The bodies wane and sallow affliction, diminishes slightly and the Dead lay as the Dead would.

[Boy]

Hey sighs, having completed the task, and closes one eye to peer into the mouth of the flask before capping and replacing it in his pocket. "Alright." He says with finality. "Lets get moving." And they continue on with their task.

[Riot]

The Pair manage to climb their way through one of the apartment's, pushing through thin halls, cramped quarters, over chinese regalia and past the lives of the Dead made out in substance, material and the presence they left behind. The smells, tastes and sensations of that cramped little quarter a haunting sort of thing against the skin. Marrick and Boy manage to make their way to one of the open windows, leading out onto a very tiny balcony, barely room enough for the pair to fit in homid and look up at the Roof, still a good dozen or more feet over their heads. Holes in the brick and mortar, cracks in the wall, rain gutters, eaves. The means to reach the roof are there but the fall...a good thirty feet down, would be a painful one.

[Bones to Dust]

That's a thirty foot fall... it wouldn't just hurt, it would be demoralizing. It would be demoralizing because... well.. it would mean that they would have to get right back up and try to climb it again. And there were only so many times that a person could climb up a roof and fall before they didn't want to get back up. That said, Marrick Fisher seemed the type who was willing to fall off of a very sharp incline to get what she wanted. they could reach the roof without a problem. They could do this, "just like rock climbing... but more interesting."

[Bones to Dust]

(dex3+athletics3, diff 6)

[Bones to Dust]

(same)

[Boy]

[Dex+Ath, 1 of 3]

[Boy]

Dex+Ath, 2 of 3

[Boy]

[Dex +Ath, 3 of 3, 1WP]

[Riot]

The Pair scale, climb and huff together. Pack bond or no, they are connected. Eager. Shared experiences, memories and pain. Triumph. Call it what you want, Boy and Marrick stand together. Perhaps this is one of the reasons Black Unicorn is so upset. That their transgressions have come when separated is no karmic demand or even coincidence. Simply a bastardization of what should be. Of how this sort of thing should work. Pack for life. Pack for ever. Family. They scramble their way up the Wall, pushing past the ledge of the Roof, which crumbles slightly underneath Boy's grip but holds long enough for the pair to finally stand on the patchwork surface and regard the statute. It is a small thing. Stone, carved and etched with the loving hand of a craftsman and an artist. Whoever he was loved what he did and did it without fail of passion or earnest and honest desire. The sinuous shape and attention to whispers, scales (individualized, even beyond the weather and vandalism damage left behind by birds) and eyes are exquisite. The fault lines and stress cracks showing up through the figure are obvious but do nothing to take away from the majesty that was so honestly poured into the creature's presence. This was an homage. To something ancient. To a myth forgotten in a city forgetful.

[Boy]

"Its Beautiful." Said Boy. Brother of the Lost. Flag bearer. Gift giver. Maker and creator for as much as he was built to tear, rip, and destroy. He had an eye for these things. He recognized craftsmanship when he saw it. Recognized the time and effort required to create such a thing. "Doodle said break it but..." Hesitantly he moved closer, hands reaching out to caress the curves and carved scales.

[Bones to Dust]

She looked at the statue again, and she let her fingertips grace the edges. She's trying to think about what to do, and for now she regards it again. She sighs, and she looks back at Boy. She is hesitant. It's beautiful. This is art, this was made with reverence and care. Whoever made it, made it because they were trying to honor the spirit that was in there. "Maybe... maybe we should look to the other side and see if us dealing with whatever was inside might have helped?" she didn't want to break it... but Doodle said to break it. "We're sorry," she told the statue.

[Bones to Dust]

(god, I hope she doesn't fail...)

[Bones to Dust]

(once more, and she's gonna be outta willpower after this...)

[Boy]

Boy stared at the statue, hands still running over its curves. His lips pursed and brows furrowed in consternation as he tried to piece it all together. And silently, he reached out the knowledge of his ancestors, praying for some sort of guidance. [Int+Enigmas+ 1 from Ancestors, 1 WP]

[Riot]

to Boy "...Often times, we find the World wanting for the things of Logic, young Philodox..." An old voice in Boy's head, somewhere distant and from ages gone, where Bone Gnawers were thought to be an ignorant tribe. Where others thought as such, He spoke wise. "...Often times, this can prove your undoing, especially where the Triat are concerned. Do not walk with the Wyrm, it is your enemy and your balance. Let him degrade what must degrade and bleed the weak." "...Do not sit with the Weaver, for her grasp is static and routine. Walk her to her destination that she put pause to those things that seek to move too quickly. Seek to step where it is unstable." "...Do not run with the Wyld. It's pace is hectic and swifter then you could fathom, in thought or physical both. Stand and watch as the destruction it wroughts, brings a change both vast and impressive."

[Boy]

Slowly boy's eyes squeezed shut and opened again. It was only an instant, but to him it felt like an entire lesson had passed. He let out a breath held tensely until just then, and ran his hands over the beautiful stone structure. "Its beautiful, Marrick." He said, sounding almost remorseful. "But this isn't what that Dragon is. It isn't what its supposed to be. The Dragon's a wyld thing. And this. As beautiful as it is...isn't as beautiful as a wyld thing ought to be." And his eyes fell on his sister again, heavy and burdened. "Doodle was right. C'mon. Lets take it to the edge. Then we can watch the Dragon fly again, like it ought to."

FINAL PART MISSING!