2020-06-21 TPC: Scouting GreenMotion
Still Alive
Participants: Addison, Paola, Flynn, Sandy
Storyteller: Nate
Location: Westlake North - Umbra
Date and Time: June 21 2020
Summary: Scouting the GreenMotion lab and finding something very, very wrong.
The umbral face of Westlake North is just as depressing as in the realm. Tight, narrow roads hemmed in by looming buidings, spun thick with silver-grey webbing. Here and there the webs are beginning to peel and part, as if even the Weaver can't be bothered to put in the effort to keep it all neat and regulation-tidy.
In part this is almost certainly due to the bane life around here; spirits born of pain and greed and various mental health issues, feeding on and perpetuating the cycles of poverty and cruelty. There are wailing and howling sounds from many directions, and an ever-present air of despair weighing heavy on even the strongest hearts and shoulders. The air hums with the scents of death and hunger, of essence spilled and lives ruined.
There are a few lights in the darkness though. The Coalition for Humane Imigrant Rights is a bastion of good intentions, where fewer banes find suitable prey. One of the churches is a beacon of slightly-less-awfulness, though the other is a bloated and oversized fortress radiating Patriarchal superiority. And there, quite incongruous in the slums of the neighbourhood, is the surprisingly well-tended laboratory belonging to GreenMotion. Almost certainly built here because it is cheap, the building has a solid presence woven in grey, the atmosphere as you get closer feeling slightly less oil-slick and slightly more crisp Weaver functionality.
Once the Garou are across and safely away from mundane eyes, Flynn retakes his native shape with a vigorous shaking of relief. It's an odd expression to see on most Garou in the Umbral city, but he seems genuinely at home. He even takes a moment to reach out and touch his nose against a particularly thick clump of webbing as he calls on a gift of kinship with the Weaver. << Remember, no battles unless we need. For now, we scout and learn what lives and travels here. If this is the source, we report back and plan our hunt. >>
As the Children of Gaia champion slips through the umbra, Protects The Fallen takes on a shimmering form of light after she shifts into her war form. She takes in a deep breath, then lets it out slowly before tilting her head upwards to the moon, whispering a soft prayer of thanks. << We follow your lead, Ritesmaster. >> She confirms to the Theurge as she trudges forward through the dark, swiveling her eyes about left to right to take in the area, ears perking upwards. << I have not been here before. >>
Paola did not seem very comfortable in the car on the ride over. She opted for the back seat, but sort of--spidered herself in a corner with her limbs locked in every possible position to keep her as still as possible. The moment they had the opportunity to depart the car, by passing through the Gauntlet, she shifted through as soon as she could, coming out in the calcified otherside next to the others and landing on all fours. She is in Homid, sure, but her strange, long-limbs serve her well to walk around on all fours, even while in Homid. Almost immediately she begins flaring her nostrils and sniffing in different directions--including at her companions--and parting her lips to taste the air.
Before leaving the Bawn Addison blindfolds himself with a sleeping mask that looks a bit too whimsical for the Ragabash's tastes. He also is certain he keeps bonking his forhead on Paola's massive rack. The rack on her head, of course. Once they're at the location he pulls himself awkwardly out of vehicle and kneels down, cradling a small mirror in hand. He glimpses the moon, but narrows his eyes in focus on the mirror to step sideways instead. Suppressing his inclination to shift draws beads of sweat and lines of stress to his forehead.
<< I rarely travel this far. >> States Circuit Tracer as he pulls his nose away from the webs with the few the silvery strands clinging to it seeming to blend with his coat. He looks up to the skies and the smog-laden glow of the full moon. << This is far from the territory I know. A Garou could spend a lifetime just trying to turn these few blocks cleaner. Stay close, stay quiet. >> And lead he shall down the cracked sidewalks as he navigates towards the lab. His posture is assured despite the ominous surroundings, though he's not so confident he doesn't keep a close eye on the buildings they pass or ears turned towards the sounds of screams.
"Y'all don't need me to tell you how fucking bad this place stinks," Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh says in English, as she remains in human shape thus far. She lifts her head and tilts it in the direction of some less than wholesome smells and then just nods knowingly. For some reason, she stays close to Addison, always keeping her side or hip or shoulder pressed against him--not hard, just present. Her gaze shifts to the Glass Walker whom has just been given the lead and the moves to follow, while still keeping close to Addison. Despite her human shape, she walks on all fours in a very distinct and feral gait.
<< Just keep your heads on a swivel. Protect yourselves first and foremost. If you have gifts to call upon, take them now. >> Protects The Fallen says as she continues to move through the umbra after her packmate. She moves with confident in her posture as she rocks side to side on her hindlegs, swaying her tail about. She gives a sniff here and there, though most of her attention is glancing through the dark and trying not to step on something that would make nose.
The lab is not difficult to find. It sticks out like a sore thumb; much better maintained than the neighbouring buildings, and with that slight shift of feeling from 'oily despair' towards 'metallic orderliness'. The lab's front is bordered by waist-high walls and a metal gate, though the latter is only represented by gossamer-like wisps of webbing as it moves so often. There are no spirits in that front area, though the building's windows are less webbed than the rest of the building, providing very short-range visibility if one gets close enough.
Nothing inside seems to be responding to people approaching however. Either there's nothing there, or the approaching four haven't yet been seen.
Addison peels the blindfold up off his eyes and peers across the Umbral Landscape now. His gaze settles on the churches as the move along. Paola's persistent nudging does keep the Ragabash's mind from wandering for too long. He glances down at the Metis loping along on her humanoid hands and feet. She was just one Glabro shift away from looking like a true Pleistocene nightmare. When they reach their destination his nose wrinkles. "That oozone smell... Weaver..." He looks to Circuit Tracer as if gauging the Theurge's reaction. He'd rarely seen a Glass Walker Theurge in action and never a Lupus. "Should I nose in closer? Scout it out?"
As the atmosphere shifts from Wyrm to Weaver, the very subtle patterning on Circuit Tracer is more noticeable. Tiny threads of iridescent against the silver of his fur that form a circuit pattern. The wolfborn looks at ease, mindful but not put out at all by their surroundings. << Carefully. >> He replies to Addison and loops in Paola as he speaks. << You both together. See if you can get near the closest windows and see what may be in there. I'm going to make sure that the grounds are clear. >> He looks back towards his packmate, << Keep an eye on their back in case they draw trouble. >>
<< No problem. >> Protects-The-Fallen assures the Glass Walker as she gives a firm nod of her head towards the other two. << You heard him. I'll be lurking near if things go sideways, but I will try and stay out of sight so not to draw attention to you both. >> She knows Addison is slippery, so mostly her comment is directed for the metis. She gives a flick of her ears and blurs down into her hispo form to gain a lower profile, trotting along the fence line as her eyes gleam brightly.
Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh only nods once in acknowledgement of Circuit Tracer's orders. There's a quick glance to Protects-the-Fallen, just to be certain that there will be no conflicting order before she moves in tandem with Ghostwalker--that might be part of the reason she has been keeping herself pressed against him to some degree, gauging the way his body is moving and adjusting her own gait to walk with him as if they were a unit. That is why she says nothing as she lopes forward on all fours, nostrils flaring, mouth tasting the air, and eyes wide and searching carefully. Her antlers, which are not *actually* larger in the Penumbra, still seem to loom a little more *present* than they do--or perhaps it's just that she hasn't bothered to try to hide them in her hair since they've gone spirit-side.
Addison nods and steps forward. As he moves there's a crack and crunch of poppin joints has he sinks down into his smaller lups shape for scouting. The Ragabash's form is not like any wolf species left alive today. The Mogollon Mountain Wolf and Florida Black Wolf only remained as traces in Garou bloodlines now, their wild cousins were all extinct. In this shape his dark dusky fur covers sharp, almost coyote-like features and long lanky legs. Ghostwalker keeps pace with Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh, only when they close in on the building does he try to sneak a bit closer and sniff for traces of that which could not be seen. He scans any windows, if there were any, for traces of movement.
Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh gives Ghostwalker a look, an expression that can only be made with a human face, but it not the most natural for her nevertheless. She mouths something to him that looks like 'Brujeria' and lifts one hand twirling her finger around. She then puts her hands against the side of the building, lifting herself up to a window to pick through, but then she is moving past the window, and climbing up the side of the building entirely merely by sticking her palms and soles to it, like a creepy, long-limbed, antlered, spider-woman.
It's not long before she finds a tiny space in the webbing surrounding the building that she is able to fit her head into, and once her head goes in, the rest of her body twists and bends in bizarre and impossible ways that would probably break someone else's bones, and she squeezes inside.
Ghostwalker's wolf snout wrinkles at whatever he senses in the building. He pads around in a circle with a low growl as his tribemate squeezes her way into the building. He stands up on his hindpaws and tries to see if he can follow behind the Lupus. If not he'd have to search for another way in.
Hearing some kind of noise, a housecat-sized pattern spider crawls out of the building through one of the gaps, up onto the walls. It seems to be scanning around for whatever made the noise, but doesn't actually spot Addison or Paola, and is utterly uninterested in anyone else not on the lab grounds.
Paola turns her head back almost as if she might look through one of the holes to see if she can see Ghostwalker and get some clue of what he might think or what his advice could possibly be--but she turns about 45 degrees toward him, and then just looks back. Her eyes wide and almost sparkling (if anyone could see them) she pads forward on all fours, nostrils flaring and lips parted to taste the air. She makes her way closer, lowering her face toward the cube-like thing, and trying to get a better look at it, or search it over for any clearer clues of what this discovery might entail.
When Ghostwalker manages to get his snoot inside the building. His eyes squint as he looks upon something either too terrible to look at for long. <<"Not enemy. Sick. Need cleanse.">> The Homid wasn't the best at communicating in his lupus form. He's able to study it for long enough to know what it is, though. He retracts his head and looks about, looking for some way to get Circuit Tracer's attention or even if the Glass Walker could be seen.
The grounds seem to have been uneventful as there was no warnings from Circuit Tracer or sounds of scuffles. He's just coming back into view shortly after Ghostwalker is hunting for him, and the Theurge cranes his head towards the Uktena. Enough of the intent seems to get through and the Theurge is shimmying through the webs like an old pro. He doesn't even get a question out when his eyes fall on the cube and he stops utterly. There's the split-second sense that this must be what seeing a calcified Garou is like. The expressions on his face cross from rapt, to awed, to downright terrified. << Stay back! >> He warns with his hair on end from the nape of his neck to the tip of his tail. << This shouldn't be here. ...who did this? >>
As she rounds the perimeter slowly, the hispo form of the Child of Gaia rounds towards the others. She rumbles out in her packlink to Circuit Tracer. ~What's going on? What did you see or feel? Give me details, brother.~
If Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh heard Ghostwalker, it's not apparent. Even as Circuit Tracer manages to scramble through the webs to join her, she does not originally respond to him. There's a secret here, and she doesn't know what it is, and certainly that's the most important thing in the world right now. She sniffs closer to the cub, reaching out to touch it--but then she finally gives pause when Circuit Tracer literally barks an order at her. A visible change comes over her body as she steels herself and straights her back and lowers her hand and slowly takes a single step back, tilting her head to look over her shoulder, "yes, Circuit Tracer-rhya, of course." She shrinks back a little, allowing the Glass Walker the space between her and the cube, "What is it? I can sense it's...Grandfather Spider tricks, but I don't know them."
Ghostwalker makes way for the Theurge to join them. <<"Nest of the Fire Bird. Does not belong in the Near-Velvet. Have heard about this Spirit once from the Skywalkers.">> The Ragabash growls. <<"Maybe we could cleanse it... or bind it? Or do both and take it away from here?">>
The normally cool-tempered Ritemaster looks shaken. Badly. Whatever he's seen rocked him, and that initial fear and shock shudders under the pull of the full moon and his muzzle twitches and twists into the first rictus of a Rage-fueled snarl. It's only by virtue of years of battling his own anger that he bites back the worst of it, but the adrenaline has him physically shaking. << Tricks?! What kind of trick is this?! >> He snaps at the air. << Who are they to /dare/ trap a Firebird, to corrupt it, to twist it and imprison it... This must be Cleansed, now. >> His eyes turn back on the plasma-hued cube, and when he speaks with the spirit tongue it carries a ring of compulsion. ~Tell me the name of the individual who did this to you.~
From a hole in the cassock, a tiny hole that seems far too small to permit a bird the size of a medium dog to pass through, a spirit emerges. Pure flame in beautiful avian form, this creature has the distinctive streamlined shape common to many birds of prey, but shaped from fire that burns in ever-changing hues of purple and blue. It has a magnificent crest running from the top of its head down along its spine, and very sharp eyes of cerulean blue. Wings spread, it shrieks a challenge at those who DARE come near its nest, clearly preparing to attack.
Two pattern spiders, lurking on the interior walls of the lab, take place at the bird's flanks, clearly willing to follow it into battle.
The command from the Glass Walker gives the bird a slight pause. It casts an imperious eye his way, and even those who are not spirit-aligned can see the distain there for one who was once something much greater. ~I do not know his name. A spiral. Like you, once of the Tribe of Falcon.~ The fact that it has been compelled to answer seems to only increase its anger.
The Ragabash stands between the flanks of Circuit Tracer and Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh. When the speaks the Uktena whips his head to peer at Flynn. Ghostwalker looks over the Lupus's circuit traced form and then back up at the bird. Using the speech of Spirits Ghostwalker growls, ears pointed forward. <<"Let us Cleanse you, Spirit. Then together we will hunt this Spiral.">> Ragabash attempts to sway the spirit with with words not that the Theurge had it under control. He pads the ground gently with his right forepaw, scratching marks in the Umbral floor of the lab. The Ragabash was already working through a contigency plan, preparing to use a gift if they should fail.
Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh bones crack and her muscle reorganizes itself across her body, hair sprouting where she had none on her cheeks, arms and legs, and the voluminous hair she already has exploding into a veritable mane. She steps back, looking between both Ghostwalker and Circuit Tracer, and presses herself up against the wall where the hole she crawled through was. She keeps on it, just in case she needs to make another escape, but she does not escape through it just yet. Her eyes on the tricksters themselves--the servants of said Grandfather. She bares her teeth and snarls.
<< The spiders! I will try and tame the bird. If I fail, you may wish to run! >> The Hispo calls out from the other side of the spiderwebs as she dances along on her large paws. << Firebird! >> She howls out to the spirit. << Feel the love and glory of Gaia! Stare into her beautiful light and remember who you are! >> There is a swirl of rainbow, hypnotic colors that spark about the eyes of the Children of Gaia, followed by a wash of warm, loving light as she sings out a prayer towards the firebird.
The revelation lends a strange dichotomy to Circuit Tracer and Firebird. Once both under the same patron. One turned to Weaver, one to Wyrm. The Ritemaster utters a low warning growl to the spiders - one predator of the web to another - but his eyes remain predominantly on the fiery raptor. ~I have run my path, but you have not. You are greater than this. We will Cleanse you and free you from these chains holding you.~ As his packmate's gift launches, the Theurge seems to see something else in the light. He swings his head towards the other Garou. << Go, now. Out. I need more tools to handle this right and this isn't a battle. Yet. >> He says quickly to the lot, his voice strained like he detested calling for a retreat.
Raising its wings higher, the Firebird seems set to attack, until it is hit by the stream of light and song from Protects-the-Fallen's gift. Feathers of fire ruffle and settle, and it instead moves to perch atop the strange nested-square structure built from blue and purple light, the long plume of its tail curling down protectively over its cassock. It does not respond to Circuit Tracer's promise, unable to as it is lost in visions.
As the Firebird stands down, so too do the spiders, scuttling away from the Garou to resume their weaving of webs over walls and windows.
Ghostwalker watches as the bird settles back in its nest, ears going flat warily. He turns to the other two wolves to give his report. <<"This place smells of ozone and spiderwebs but the odor of the of the wyrm is not so deep, here. The bird mentioned a Spiral Dancer. Maybe the tainted one placed this spirit here and done other things to pervert the good intentions of mortals.">> There was much left to explore here, yet the Ragabash already seemed to have a hunch. The knots in his wolf muzzle expressed an ire to this place, but he didn't seem ready to burn it all down.
Addison licks his own nose and looks to Flynn. <<"Talk to other spirits? Maybe someone else broke in to meddle?">>
Perhaps the slight-of-frame Her-Wounds-Are-Fresh does not bring the greatest amount of Rage or murderous prowess to the table--she is no Warrior-moon--but having a Lawgiver with you during contentious times is reliable, if nothing else--when Circuit Tracer gives the order, the order is followed without question. In Glabro now, and far too large for *most* to squeeze through those webs, she still manages to push through, her antlers knocking into weird angles and her bones bending impossibly so that she can squeeze through, worming out the other side in a semi-liquid state before she scrambles down the side of the wall on all fours to meet Protects-the-Fallen.
<< I agree, we should back off and form a broader plan. I don't know how this fits with the gasoline situation, but there are many elements at play that are concering me. >> Protects The Fallen says from behind the other side of the web, tail swaying back and forth. << And my gift won't last forever. We should bring this information to the Alpha. >>
<< We'll speak more at home where there are less ears. >> States Circuit Tracer towards Ghostwalker as he turns to return through the hole that he first arrived through. And that seems the most he intends to speak for the time being as he leads the group back to where they initially crossed over. Even on the ride home, he is withdrawn deep in thought, his human expressions dark and haunted with their discovery.
On the ride home, and back in Homid, Paola tries to keep her head tilted into the corners of the car while holding on to any possibly holdable surface, but despite this aspect of discomfort, she prattles on like no one would believe. At first it's questions about the spirit, and about Black Spiral Dancers, and why would Dancers use Grandfather Spider as an ally, but then it's talking about how incredible and unknowable Grandfather Spider's tricks are and how much respect she has for the Glass Walkers for navigating them so effeciently and then it's about how she thinks Bunny Wu is her friend because she's taking Cantonese lessons with her kids, even if she doesn't always see the woman, and then it's how much she loves kids--and she doesn't really wait for anyone to answer any of those questions--she just...doesn't stop, the whole ride (unless she gets a big elder command to do so).
Ghostwalker follows back out through the hole. By the time his feet hit the ground he's homid again. Addison again. His human face looks all the wearier, because a Garou's work was never done. He reaches up to replace his blinder for the trip home. "Something tells me someone will need to break in on the mortal side of things," he says with a weary sigh. Some of Paola's prattling questions from the Ragabash namely: "All are prey before Grandfather Serpent, even servants of Grandfather Spider. Kill or corrupt, deceive or manipulate. He doesn't care as long as He wins in the end. Poison runs the length of Spider Webs." For the rest? The Ragabash attempts to get a nap in while they're stuck in traffic.
