=============
A water stained and muddy scrap of page stuck into the journal.
=============
Praetor was a title granted by the government of Ancient Rome to men acting in one of two official capacities: the commander of an army, either before it was mustered or more typically in the field, or an elected magistrate assigned duties that varied depending on the historical period. Its literal translation is "one who goes before, precedes, who leads the way".
=============
I don't know what ta write about this. I guess i'll just start with ta facts as I know em. Her Ladyship called me in and I could see from her eyes she was well pleased at somethin. Asked me if my ears had been burnin. Well, if they hadn't before, they sure were now I told her. She let me dangle a moment and asked if she should tell me. I suggested I could be as annoyin as tha worlds biggest five year old, so she was merciful and told me. She had taken tha council of her two nearest and dearest, Poncho and Denny. About me. About me in tha Institute. She had decided ta promote me. This kinda floored me. I only been a card caryin member fer a little while, and it weren't just that long ago Her Ladyship granted me tha boon of Scholarship.
Made me remember back when Her Ladyship and me had talked about how things ran when I was in Tha Pack, as Hunter then Scout Leader. She said i'd lead again one day, which I thought was nice of Her at tha time, I never had aspirations of grandure or nothin. I knew when I stepped through them doors fer tha last time as a packless Outcast, by my own paw or no, I knew i'd have ta fight ta prove myself ta tha high thinkers and sharp tongues of tha Institute. I never gave any thought ta more than bein welcome, ta belong and ta be useful.
Her Ladyship was gonna promote me, said I was a natural leader, said I could keep my head when tha waste hit tha spinnin blades, said I was reliable, and said I was on their side. Well, let me tell ya. That I am, that I am. We got all kinds in tha Institute. Angels, Demons, Fangers, Shifters and Witches. That spread doesn't push us apart, it gives us inisights inta things. Its somethin i'm proud of. Somethin i'd be proud ta serve. Proud ta help lead. Her Ladyship promoted me. Asked me if i'd be a Praetor for Her. Like I said I was floored. Still am. I don't wanna bite off more than I can swallow. I asked Her what I needed ta do, when she finished layin out what Her expetations, I said my paws were Her paws. I never expected ta lead again, but now I will, I can't imagine wantin ta lead anywhere else.
When My-She found out, she was over tha Moon. I don't use tha term lightly, neither. So excited she took me out shoppin to tha mainland fer a present. Bought me a fine rugged kilt fer me. I'm gonna wear it when Tha Goddess hides Her face and plays her prank. Goes funny with my tail, and i'll be damned if I take a knife ta it ta cut a hole fer me. Its special, it was fer ME, from My-She. She is special. Both of them are special. Fates musta smiled on me fer all tha good stuf thats been comin my way, or just balancin tha score
I went wanderin in tha South, found an old book in one of tha ruins. Encyclopedia . All neglected in a puddle, under debris. Got it out, flipped through it, found what i was lookin fer. So i pasted it in. Means a lot ta me. considerin who and what i am.
One who goes before.
Sums me right up, nose ta tail.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Grr: soldier, healer, cocktail-maker. Pt2 OOC (not in the book)
His nose for magic manifested in several ways, he could draw on the spirits of a place to help him track or guide, to hide or obfuscate him or his fellows, and to heal casualties, slowing blood flow, binding wounds, reducing pain. It also kept him and his Snarl-mates out of magical ambushes, which in later actions became alarmingly more frequent.
Grr flowed easily to Goddess worship, a manifest belief that life, nature and its cycles were Her, that the Moon was a visual reminder of that. He took what aspects from established religions he felt matched what he knew was true and filled in the rest with the direct logic of the Wild. That may have been the time Grr first started questioning the rightness of the 7RAR-L, its mission and his part in it. Hunting and killing were natural and right. Defending and taking new territory is the same. What they had been doing was far beyond that. Humans were not normal prey. Rabbit, deer, goat, sheep these were normal. It suddenly seemed amazing that his Snarl-mates were only too happy to feed on that which they were part of. More so because so many of them were Fleshie-born themselves.
One way Grr looked to deal with this was to learn to cook. Field rations being what they where he often didn't have much to work with, but fast hands and deep pockets kept him supplied him with the little extras that made combined rations, and any prey or local flora handy into not only decent, but fairly tasty meals. There were always those who made a show of not caring and eating raw carrion, freshly killed prisoner or whatever, but it seemed to Grr that this was taking for granted the subtle heritage that being on the edge of Humanity gave them all, and overcompensating trying to be “more bestial” than nature needed. Fruits, root vegetables, shoots, insects, rodents, livestock and crops all made it into the bellies of the Snarls who either went into the field or stayed in camp with Grr. Their pelts were healthier, and their eyes clearer than those how took the other path. Grr was taking the first steps as Shaman, tending his Kin, offering wholesomeness in the midst of carnage and decay.
This took a more practical sense after the incident with the 90mm shell. Spending a lot of time traumatised, strapped and caged as he recovered his higher functions, then bed-ridden thinking of healing, his purpose and his nature. Calling on the deep instinctive feelings of connection to the flow of life, he was first able to sense deep within himself to "see" the damage that was holding him back from healing fully. He looked to the other casualties, some in better shape than him, some worse. He reached out to them and found he could heal some of their hurts. When he told the medics, they ran some tests and confirmed he did indeed have "The Touch". Field medics were rare in the 7RAR-L, few Lycans had the feel for healing, more interested in dealing out the damage than mending it. Perhaps for this or maybe because of it, the regenerative nature of most Lycans made first aid generally unnecessary. Yet modern warfare brought many dangers even famed Lycanthropic healing couldn't quickly cope with. Shrapnel, phosphorous, napalm, DPU spall and explosive dismemberment would all took their toll. So when Grr requested Combat Medic training over Advanced Firearms, the brass allowed it, always mindful of keeping the 7RAR-L as self sufficient as possible: a self supporting, self feeding, self healing killing machine, just like the individuals that made it up.
When Grr was returned to the field, a new leader had been brought in, from the rifle company that formed part of the Al Muthanna Task Group in southern Iraq. The feel of the unit had been changed. More "training" was carried out, on prisoner or to discipline Snarls themselves. This was exactly the behaviour that Wulf brought to The Pack during the "Alpha Struggles" when Pack Leadership was as changeable as the moon in Toxia. Grr waited, endured, and watched. He tended the fallen, as best he could, healing them, easing their passage or helping them recover. He never shirked his duties, but on more than one occasion, was reprimanded for un-warranted displays of mercy to non-combative targets. It was only his feral savagery to opposing forces, and field-craft that stopped his Officers demoting him, in favour of younger, more unilaterally brutal Snarls. When it was obvious that the corruption of the Unit had degraded it so far that they began to turn on each other, he acted. Only officers were ever issued the generally Lycan-toxic silver ammunition, but his time in the field and in the recovery hospital taught Grr how to kill his own kind convincingly without it.
White Phosphorous incendiary grenades. Several of them. After that it was only the hardly trivial matter of eluding capture by motivated and dedicated, military trained Lycans, and finding lasting freedom. His keen senses, stealth, insurance and counter-insurance training and natural way with those he encountered along the way made that possible. Not a complex plan, just a deep set drive to be free, wild and part of something that felt right. Sneaking in to a regular Fleshie RAR base at a port town was only too easy, as was re-stocking on kit. It was just a matter of putting a word on his buddy in logistics to know which crates held gear ear-marked for the 7RAR-L, skimming off one set of what he needed, being a creature of habit, the only gear he had ever known was either standard issue kit, whatever they could get from the PX, or looting. When “off duty” Grr had taken to wearing shirts with slogans that meshed with his particular brand of humour. About as dry as a paper towel in a monsoon. Fleshie morals, and qualms amused Grr, taking delight in flaunting his feral nature at times, in the face of tradition, whilst at the same time, being quite shy about his own, and rigorously following them; Pack Hierarchy, Territory Protection, Matriarchal Mating Rites, Protection of the Young. Often Grr felt the need to educate his Snarl-mates on the ways of their Four-Legged Kin. In this, Grr was also acting as Shaman to what he considered his Pack.
It was also in these “off duty” times he took after that other grand old Australian tradition. Drinking. Beer never really appealed to Grr, to biter and bloating, but he revelled in the fruity combinations of fresh fruit and strong spirits. With whatever contraband or looted booze they could supply him with, Grr made drinks for his Snarl-mates, a battered Cocktail Guide made its way into his personal effects and Grr realised another aspect of his nature, He could combine scout and healer, cook and soldier, combine them and make them more than their parts. When he stood or crouched beside the makeshift bar in their Den, his fellows would sip at his creations, and start to talk to him, voicing their grievances, giving opinions they might not ever dare give otherwise. It was as if the Rank vanished, the Unit vanished, and all that was left were two beings, one with woes and trials, the other with open ears, and given the trust to judge and advise. Grr learnt his potions well, mixed his drinks, and tended the needs of his fellows. His bartop confessions never passed up the chain of command, save as general recommendations to his Alpha, when he thought the situation needed to be known, for the good of his Kin. In this way too, Grr took on the aspect of Shaman, as Bartender.
Grr flowed easily to Goddess worship, a manifest belief that life, nature and its cycles were Her, that the Moon was a visual reminder of that. He took what aspects from established religions he felt matched what he knew was true and filled in the rest with the direct logic of the Wild. That may have been the time Grr first started questioning the rightness of the 7RAR-L, its mission and his part in it. Hunting and killing were natural and right. Defending and taking new territory is the same. What they had been doing was far beyond that. Humans were not normal prey. Rabbit, deer, goat, sheep these were normal. It suddenly seemed amazing that his Snarl-mates were only too happy to feed on that which they were part of. More so because so many of them were Fleshie-born themselves.
One way Grr looked to deal with this was to learn to cook. Field rations being what they where he often didn't have much to work with, but fast hands and deep pockets kept him supplied him with the little extras that made combined rations, and any prey or local flora handy into not only decent, but fairly tasty meals. There were always those who made a show of not caring and eating raw carrion, freshly killed prisoner or whatever, but it seemed to Grr that this was taking for granted the subtle heritage that being on the edge of Humanity gave them all, and overcompensating trying to be “more bestial” than nature needed. Fruits, root vegetables, shoots, insects, rodents, livestock and crops all made it into the bellies of the Snarls who either went into the field or stayed in camp with Grr. Their pelts were healthier, and their eyes clearer than those how took the other path. Grr was taking the first steps as Shaman, tending his Kin, offering wholesomeness in the midst of carnage and decay.
This took a more practical sense after the incident with the 90mm shell. Spending a lot of time traumatised, strapped and caged as he recovered his higher functions, then bed-ridden thinking of healing, his purpose and his nature. Calling on the deep instinctive feelings of connection to the flow of life, he was first able to sense deep within himself to "see" the damage that was holding him back from healing fully. He looked to the other casualties, some in better shape than him, some worse. He reached out to them and found he could heal some of their hurts. When he told the medics, they ran some tests and confirmed he did indeed have "The Touch". Field medics were rare in the 7RAR-L, few Lycans had the feel for healing, more interested in dealing out the damage than mending it. Perhaps for this or maybe because of it, the regenerative nature of most Lycans made first aid generally unnecessary. Yet modern warfare brought many dangers even famed Lycanthropic healing couldn't quickly cope with. Shrapnel, phosphorous, napalm, DPU spall and explosive dismemberment would all took their toll. So when Grr requested Combat Medic training over Advanced Firearms, the brass allowed it, always mindful of keeping the 7RAR-L as self sufficient as possible: a self supporting, self feeding, self healing killing machine, just like the individuals that made it up.
When Grr was returned to the field, a new leader had been brought in, from the rifle company that formed part of the Al Muthanna Task Group in southern Iraq. The feel of the unit had been changed. More "training" was carried out, on prisoner or to discipline Snarls themselves. This was exactly the behaviour that Wulf brought to The Pack during the "Alpha Struggles" when Pack Leadership was as changeable as the moon in Toxia. Grr waited, endured, and watched. He tended the fallen, as best he could, healing them, easing their passage or helping them recover. He never shirked his duties, but on more than one occasion, was reprimanded for un-warranted displays of mercy to non-combative targets. It was only his feral savagery to opposing forces, and field-craft that stopped his Officers demoting him, in favour of younger, more unilaterally brutal Snarls. When it was obvious that the corruption of the Unit had degraded it so far that they began to turn on each other, he acted. Only officers were ever issued the generally Lycan-toxic silver ammunition, but his time in the field and in the recovery hospital taught Grr how to kill his own kind convincingly without it.
White Phosphorous incendiary grenades. Several of them. After that it was only the hardly trivial matter of eluding capture by motivated and dedicated, military trained Lycans, and finding lasting freedom. His keen senses, stealth, insurance and counter-insurance training and natural way with those he encountered along the way made that possible. Not a complex plan, just a deep set drive to be free, wild and part of something that felt right. Sneaking in to a regular Fleshie RAR base at a port town was only too easy, as was re-stocking on kit. It was just a matter of putting a word on his buddy in logistics to know which crates held gear ear-marked for the 7RAR-L, skimming off one set of what he needed, being a creature of habit, the only gear he had ever known was either standard issue kit, whatever they could get from the PX, or looting. When “off duty” Grr had taken to wearing shirts with slogans that meshed with his particular brand of humour. About as dry as a paper towel in a monsoon. Fleshie morals, and qualms amused Grr, taking delight in flaunting his feral nature at times, in the face of tradition, whilst at the same time, being quite shy about his own, and rigorously following them; Pack Hierarchy, Territory Protection, Matriarchal Mating Rites, Protection of the Young. Often Grr felt the need to educate his Snarl-mates on the ways of their Four-Legged Kin. In this, Grr was also acting as Shaman to what he considered his Pack.
It was also in these “off duty” times he took after that other grand old Australian tradition. Drinking. Beer never really appealed to Grr, to biter and bloating, but he revelled in the fruity combinations of fresh fruit and strong spirits. With whatever contraband or looted booze they could supply him with, Grr made drinks for his Snarl-mates, a battered Cocktail Guide made its way into his personal effects and Grr realised another aspect of his nature, He could combine scout and healer, cook and soldier, combine them and make them more than their parts. When he stood or crouched beside the makeshift bar in their Den, his fellows would sip at his creations, and start to talk to him, voicing their grievances, giving opinions they might not ever dare give otherwise. It was as if the Rank vanished, the Unit vanished, and all that was left were two beings, one with woes and trials, the other with open ears, and given the trust to judge and advise. Grr learnt his potions well, mixed his drinks, and tended the needs of his fellows. His bartop confessions never passed up the chain of command, save as general recommendations to his Alpha, when he thought the situation needed to be known, for the good of his Kin. In this way too, Grr took on the aspect of Shaman, as Bartender.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
the other job
==================================
pencil note, smudged with eyeliner and what may be lipstick, dated 26-4-08
==================================
job well done, Me: 6, Them: nil
well rewarded, Goddess, i love bein where i am in Life.
pencil note, smudged with eyeliner and what may be lipstick, dated 26-4-08
==================================
job well done, Me: 6, Them: nil
well rewarded, Goddess, i love bein where i am in Life.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
ANZAC day
=================
a pencil note, left pinned to the fireplace in the Library, eventually re-pasted into notebook, dated 25-04-08
=================
The Final Inspection
The Soldier stood and faced his God,
Which must always come to pass.
He hoped his shoes were shining,
Just as brightly as his brass.
"Step forward now, you Soldier,
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek?
To My Church have you been true?"
The Soldier squared his shoulders and said,
"No, my Lord, I ain't.
Because those of us who carry guns,
Can't always be a saint.
I've had to work most Sundays,
And at times my talk was tough.
And sometimes I've been violent,
Because the world is awfully rough.
But, I never took a dollar,
That wasn't mine to keep...
Though I worked a lot of overtime,
When the bills got just too steep.
And I never passed a cry for help,
Though at times I shook with fear.
And sometimes, God, forgive me,
I've wept unmanly tears.
I know I don't deserve a place,
Among the people here.
They never wanted me around,
Except to calm their fears.
If you've a place for me here, Lord,
It needn't be so grand.
I never expected or had too much,
But if you don't, I'll understand.
There was a silence all around the throne,
Where the Saints had often trod.
As the Soldier waited quietly,
For the judgment of his God.
"Step forward now, you Soldier,
You've borne your burdens well.
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in Hell."
~Author Unknown~
(edit 9/6/2022 Author - Sgt Joshua Helterbran, US Army)
Sgt Joshua Helterbran, US Army
Sgt Joshua Helterbran, US Army
Sgt Joshua Helterbran, US Army
Folks, i have ta go make a Pilgrimage, ta honour tha Fallen. I'll be back in a coupla days
Lest We Ferget
=====================
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Guarding tha Roast Beef
so, i was help, err, clean up after tha Fanger Ball, great do, great foods, when all fo a sudden, this guy pops up and takes my picture. lucky i was full, well, mostly full, and in someones eleses house . . .
he was, err, kind enough ta give me tha pic, and here it is
Haven Incident Report
The following is a report written on a Toxian General Hospital Incident Reporting Form, it is, creased and stained, as if it had been found in a semi-ruined filing cabinet, it is written in careful, but messy pencil. It looks like it has been folded, posted, filed, and returned. It is pasted into the journal.
==============================
INCIDENT DESCRIPTION + REMEDIAL ACTION
==============================
16-04-08
I got a note i picked up in a dead-letter drop-spot, a report of an incident at Haven, involving suspicious behavior of someone I know to be both a threat and capable of performing acts either in mischief or malice.
The note spoke of the marking of all common contact surfaces in the Haven by an individual matching the Shadow, Kishi, who, when asked by a witness was quoted as saying "just something to make people crazy". Given her Faction and relations in it, and the recent events of the anti-Lycan and Feline bio-weapon, the Drooling Disease, which lead to hyper-rabid behavior in its victims, as spread by infected body fluid contact, I thought it was a serious threat.
I treated a number of victims of this disease, and witnessed its spread both by the victims, and by “hosts” as a weapon. I believe I was targeted myself, I found a tear in my MOPS suit that smelt of Quiet's drool, after coming in contact with her during the epidemic.
Arriving in The Library, I met with Her Ladyship, and coincidentally she invited me to join her at Haven for a drink. I balked, which was jokingly mistaken as my fear of being turned into a couch, (actually I worry about ending my days as a rug) but instead I warned her that there was a problem, passed her over the note, and told her I'd “have her six” Her Ladyship read the note, brow furrowing and instructed me to go upstairs and grab the blue canisters, with the assurance that together we would sort the situation out.
We arrived in the Haven doorway. I held Her “six”, close behind, with a canister and a sprayer. I surveyed the current patrons, and recognized Benway, Dracken, Gabriele, and Hippi several other unknown patrons were also present.
Her Ladyship greeted the patrons, and asked them to remain where they were. She told them had been notified that the Haven may have been contaminated and that just to be on the safe side we were going to disinfect.
Dracken, Gabriele and Benway all asked what kind of contamination might have occurred, I suggested that it was the “nasty kind” Her Ladyship told them that I was going to spray the area. Hippi mentioned he has felt something unusual after sitting, and Draken took off his pants. Her Ladyship then told them there was nothing to worry about, that it was purely a precaution.
Gabriele asked what is in the spray, I had no idea, never having been told, but I was fairly sure that it was the combined antidote I had heard had been developed. I was also not in the mood for interrupting questions, so gave an answer of “ground unicorns and the cure to cancer, and that it was blue” hoping to stop further interruptions.
Benway demanded an explanation, and suggested he might take action, referring to his flamethrower, as means of removing the problem himself. HE was agitated but did not move to act. I continued my assessment of the area.
Mirah arrived at Haven, dressed in ceremonial clothes closed her eyes and whispered an incantation.
Jadienne approached Her Ladyship, she was distressed and spoke to Her asking if she could speak with Her. Her Ladyship greeted her kindly, but informed her of that we were dealing with a situation, and asked her patience.
Gabriele asked Benway if this was a new thing, he agreed. Dracken commented that iot was strange and he could not remember any contaminants being loosed in the Haven, before , jokingly adding “apart from the alcohol” Gabriele and Jadiene began reacting to the tension from the others. I could smell their fear response. Benway informed Gabriel of the recent Plagues, to which she replied that plague does not worry her. Benway then further added that as he put it the “crazy lycan, Jason Rockpup was dosing people with something that threw them into homicidal rages”
Being reminded of this set my teeth on edge, but I tried to keep my composure as I had a job to do, not a bone to chew and I tried to explain that it wasn't a plague, that it might have been a bioweapon, and that they should stay calm, as it was about to be neutralized. Her Ladyship affirmed that it was just a precaution, to remain calm and that we would be out of their hair in just a moment.
Seeing Mirah was in place, I asked her if she would start the Cleansing she had let me know she would work in parallel to our decontamination, with her starting, I commenced decontamination.
Again, Gabriele asked if the process would harm them, Mirah replied that no harm will come to those who mean no harm to the Haven. Her Ladyship reaffirmed this, adding that were there to help, not to harm. Benway then asked if we knew who might have put it here and how we knew about it to which She replied “We are the Omega Institute, it is our business to know these things.” Benway shrugged and countered that the “Talamasca” said something similar, to which Gabriele laughed and commented that they were a bunch of fakes. Hippi made a series of odd comments regarding his hair.
Mirah McGuire walked through the door of Haven, carrying a stone bowl from which came a cleansing, wafted by the feathers in her other hand, swirls throughout the bar, it seemed to touch and caress each and every surface. I began spraying in tandem with her Works.
Gabriele then asked who the Omega Institute were and Benway looked at Gabriele supprised at her comment on "the Talamasca?" Her Ladyship smiled at Gabriele and suggested she was new in town. Gabriele looked at her with a sideways glance and said nothing, and I catch her eye and simply pointed at Her Ladyship, not feeling the need to explain. Benway spoke up again, stating that Gabriele was indeed new and if Her Ladyship cared to answer her question, to which She simply said She'd like to ensure everyone's safety first if that was all right with him.
To keep him quiet and to take the edge his building frustration, which I could smell I told him we look after lost puppies, and keep the Library books from going missing, he seemed content with that quip.
Mirah continued through the bar, chanting a purification ritual, followed by words of protection, the smoke carried her words, her message, her invocations, upwards and returns with cleansing white light. I could feel the Working, smell its tang in the air.
Jadienne entered and stood looking for a moment until she spotted me and called out to me as I sprayed surfaces. Benway was confused as to who was doing what, and why. One of the unknown patrons began to pray, adding to the Power in the room. Another commented that the combined effects actually felt quite good. Gabriele was still uneasy, and a note of disquiet still rose from her.
Mirah spread the smoke which curled around the chairs, tables, candles. It traced the bar, slides softly over each seat, swirls around and in each tip jar, every bottle, every glass, each container, cup, mug, and goblet. The smoke touched all the cabinets, inside and out, the knobs, levers, the coffeemaker, teapot, blender, sink, lights, shades, fixtures, cleaning cloths, fountains, fridges and everything inside them. The sweet sage smoke caressed everything, every crevice, purifying it.
“ better be safe than sorry” commented Hippi, to which I heartily agreed as I started spraying near him. Dracken: sighed and said he might as well put his pants back on. Benway joked he always thought 'blowing smoke up your ass' was just an expression, which cheered me up as I worked, and replied “no no, pants are bad” and told him he would get double doses, just to be sure.
Gabriele finally smellt the thick cloying smoke, and relieved, commented it was just incense, and I told her that it was ALSO my blue spray. Mirah, still in her Working, told her it was sage and would case no harm The purifying smoke and the words of Mirah's ritual flowed through Haven, wafting over the pool table, balls and cue sticks, chalk, the windows, posters and pictures, floor, ceiling.
Hippi complained that he wouldn't breathe anything that was not air, Benway suggested he just refrain from breathing, Gabriele relaxed and commented laughing, that it was just like the holy men. I told Hippi he was a long way from pure air in Tox, and Dracken hoped aloud that it wasn't not red fire sage he said he was allergic to. Hippi said he liked the Toxian air, preferring it to strange chemicals that strangers were spraying around. I tild him it was too late now, having already sprayed him before he commented and that i wasn't a stranger, i worked in the Haven, and I wanted it to be a safe place to work.
Mirah continued her Work, wafting smoke over the dance stage, cleansing the floor, poles, and tip jars, each and every stool, chair, couch, and loveseat. The smoke rolls over and through the dj booth and all it's equipment, before smiling and moving up the stairs to the second floor, the smoke cleansing the stairway, its walls of rough brick touched by the wisps of sage.
Hippi blurted out with a comment about his trusty gasmask which he had been wearing since I had mentioned the spray, I reassured him that it should be ok, as long as he didn't touch anything in there before he put it on, to which he quipped “or anyone, since i don't have a long stick with me”
Mirah McGuire continues to chant her invocation, fanning the smoke with the feathers. Smoke swirls around the walls, floor, ceiling, the paintings, booths, tables and seats upstairs. Each candle.. each lapdance chair is touched and cleansed by the smoke and the Power being called down.
I kept spraying long and wide upstairs, covering each area after Mirha. From downstairs I heard Her Ladyship tell Draken he should be fine to go now and to have a pleasant evening. She thanked everyone for their cooperation,
Mirah moved back down the stairs.. the smoke flowing everywhere.. the words of her ancient chant filling the space, making my tail tingle, she moved into the back room, tending every cloth, seat, light, mirror, locker and countertop is cleansed as well as all the stored cases of alcohol and people's belongings.
I met Her Ladyship at the door, where she stood speaking to Jadienne, thanking her for waiting, asking her if she would like to talk there, or in The Library. Jadienne said The Library because the incense was getting to her. I padded up to Her Ladyship and handed Herself a swab, capped, in a biohazard bag, telling her it was from before we started. With that we should be able to tell if there really was a contamination or if it was all a sick joke to drive us nuts.
The smoke cleansed the inside and the outside of the Haven, from foundation to roof
Mirah walked to the door of the Haven, whispering "purify and cleanse this place, Sweet Mother, Blessed Father.. return the poison three times three times three from whence it came." I could sense the strain to Mirah so gave her something to lean on, me.
Mirah raised her arms, looked upward, her eyes glowing .. "thus have i prayed in Perfect Love and in Perfect Trust, Sweet Mother. So Mote It Be!" to which I added my own Call to the Mother. Her Ladyship, before leaving with Jadienne, turned to Mirah and thanked her too.
Mirah lowerd her arms, closed her eyes, deeply fatigued, and releases the Power back to the Universe, with a soft word of thanks. The air lost its tang. Mirah stumbled against in her fatigue. Pix arrived and greeted both Mirah and me as we readied to wander over The Library and asks whats going on. I told her we had just decontaminated Haven, Mirah, exhausted, replied "we think Kishi might have poisoned the Haven last night, we just cleansed it..."
Pix raised a brow and asked a bunch of questions. "Kishi did what?, Was that when she was behind the bar? is the whiskey ok?" This raised some eyes and ears in the Haven, and Benway asked me directly who did it and to try to defuse the situation I tell him "the Green Demoness" counting on him not to know who i meant. It works, but he went on to ask me if anywhere else might be affected. I made motions to escort Mirah out, avoiding any more speculation about who did it or why. Pix had already been set off though, but had axes enough of her own to grind, so I didn't need to contain much. I took Mirah over The Library, she wanted to thank Her Ladyship and I wanted to get her off the streets. For several reasons, retaliation not the least.
==============================
FINAL SUMMARY OF EVENT
==============================
Tipoff that Kishi of the Shadows may have been lacing the Haven with poison and/or bioweapon.
Collected sample for assesment of actual threat.
Took precautionary decontamination action both conventional and themeturgical
SPECIAL NOTE: only hours later, personally observed Kishi repeating the reported actions, glibly in full sight of both Mirah and me.
==============================
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INCIDENT DESCRIPTION + REMEDIAL ACTION
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16-04-08
I got a note i picked up in a dead-letter drop-spot, a report of an incident at Haven, involving suspicious behavior of someone I know to be both a threat and capable of performing acts either in mischief or malice.
The note spoke of the marking of all common contact surfaces in the Haven by an individual matching the Shadow, Kishi, who, when asked by a witness was quoted as saying "just something to make people crazy". Given her Faction and relations in it, and the recent events of the anti-Lycan and Feline bio-weapon, the Drooling Disease, which lead to hyper-rabid behavior in its victims, as spread by infected body fluid contact, I thought it was a serious threat.
I treated a number of victims of this disease, and witnessed its spread both by the victims, and by “hosts” as a weapon. I believe I was targeted myself, I found a tear in my MOPS suit that smelt of Quiet's drool, after coming in contact with her during the epidemic.
Arriving in The Library, I met with Her Ladyship, and coincidentally she invited me to join her at Haven for a drink. I balked, which was jokingly mistaken as my fear of being turned into a couch, (actually I worry about ending my days as a rug) but instead I warned her that there was a problem, passed her over the note, and told her I'd “have her six” Her Ladyship read the note, brow furrowing and instructed me to go upstairs and grab the blue canisters, with the assurance that together we would sort the situation out.
We arrived in the Haven doorway. I held Her “six”, close behind, with a canister and a sprayer. I surveyed the current patrons, and recognized Benway, Dracken, Gabriele, and Hippi several other unknown patrons were also present.
Her Ladyship greeted the patrons, and asked them to remain where they were. She told them had been notified that the Haven may have been contaminated and that just to be on the safe side we were going to disinfect.
Dracken, Gabriele and Benway all asked what kind of contamination might have occurred, I suggested that it was the “nasty kind” Her Ladyship told them that I was going to spray the area. Hippi mentioned he has felt something unusual after sitting, and Draken took off his pants. Her Ladyship then told them there was nothing to worry about, that it was purely a precaution.
Gabriele asked what is in the spray, I had no idea, never having been told, but I was fairly sure that it was the combined antidote I had heard had been developed. I was also not in the mood for interrupting questions, so gave an answer of “ground unicorns and the cure to cancer, and that it was blue” hoping to stop further interruptions.
Benway demanded an explanation, and suggested he might take action, referring to his flamethrower, as means of removing the problem himself. HE was agitated but did not move to act. I continued my assessment of the area.
Mirah arrived at Haven, dressed in ceremonial clothes closed her eyes and whispered an incantation.
Jadienne approached Her Ladyship, she was distressed and spoke to Her asking if she could speak with Her. Her Ladyship greeted her kindly, but informed her of that we were dealing with a situation, and asked her patience.
Gabriele asked Benway if this was a new thing, he agreed. Dracken commented that iot was strange and he could not remember any contaminants being loosed in the Haven, before , jokingly adding “apart from the alcohol” Gabriele and Jadiene began reacting to the tension from the others. I could smell their fear response. Benway informed Gabriel of the recent Plagues, to which she replied that plague does not worry her. Benway then further added that as he put it the “crazy lycan, Jason Rockpup was dosing people with something that threw them into homicidal rages”
Being reminded of this set my teeth on edge, but I tried to keep my composure as I had a job to do, not a bone to chew and I tried to explain that it wasn't a plague, that it might have been a bioweapon, and that they should stay calm, as it was about to be neutralized. Her Ladyship affirmed that it was just a precaution, to remain calm and that we would be out of their hair in just a moment.
Seeing Mirah was in place, I asked her if she would start the Cleansing she had let me know she would work in parallel to our decontamination, with her starting, I commenced decontamination.
Again, Gabriele asked if the process would harm them, Mirah replied that no harm will come to those who mean no harm to the Haven. Her Ladyship reaffirmed this, adding that were there to help, not to harm. Benway then asked if we knew who might have put it here and how we knew about it to which She replied “We are the Omega Institute, it is our business to know these things.” Benway shrugged and countered that the “Talamasca” said something similar, to which Gabriele laughed and commented that they were a bunch of fakes. Hippi made a series of odd comments regarding his hair.
Mirah McGuire walked through the door of Haven, carrying a stone bowl from which came a cleansing, wafted by the feathers in her other hand, swirls throughout the bar, it seemed to touch and caress each and every surface. I began spraying in tandem with her Works.
Gabriele then asked who the Omega Institute were and Benway looked at Gabriele supprised at her comment on "the Talamasca?" Her Ladyship smiled at Gabriele and suggested she was new in town. Gabriele looked at her with a sideways glance and said nothing, and I catch her eye and simply pointed at Her Ladyship, not feeling the need to explain. Benway spoke up again, stating that Gabriele was indeed new and if Her Ladyship cared to answer her question, to which She simply said She'd like to ensure everyone's safety first if that was all right with him.
To keep him quiet and to take the edge his building frustration, which I could smell I told him we look after lost puppies, and keep the Library books from going missing, he seemed content with that quip.
Mirah continued through the bar, chanting a purification ritual, followed by words of protection, the smoke carried her words, her message, her invocations, upwards and returns with cleansing white light. I could feel the Working, smell its tang in the air.
Jadienne entered and stood looking for a moment until she spotted me and called out to me as I sprayed surfaces. Benway was confused as to who was doing what, and why. One of the unknown patrons began to pray, adding to the Power in the room. Another commented that the combined effects actually felt quite good. Gabriele was still uneasy, and a note of disquiet still rose from her.
Mirah spread the smoke which curled around the chairs, tables, candles. It traced the bar, slides softly over each seat, swirls around and in each tip jar, every bottle, every glass, each container, cup, mug, and goblet. The smoke touched all the cabinets, inside and out, the knobs, levers, the coffeemaker, teapot, blender, sink, lights, shades, fixtures, cleaning cloths, fountains, fridges and everything inside them. The sweet sage smoke caressed everything, every crevice, purifying it.
“ better be safe than sorry” commented Hippi, to which I heartily agreed as I started spraying near him. Dracken: sighed and said he might as well put his pants back on. Benway joked he always thought 'blowing smoke up your ass' was just an expression, which cheered me up as I worked, and replied “no no, pants are bad” and told him he would get double doses, just to be sure.
Gabriele finally smellt the thick cloying smoke, and relieved, commented it was just incense, and I told her that it was ALSO my blue spray. Mirah, still in her Working, told her it was sage and would case no harm The purifying smoke and the words of Mirah's ritual flowed through Haven, wafting over the pool table, balls and cue sticks, chalk, the windows, posters and pictures, floor, ceiling.
Hippi complained that he wouldn't breathe anything that was not air, Benway suggested he just refrain from breathing, Gabriele relaxed and commented laughing, that it was just like the holy men. I told Hippi he was a long way from pure air in Tox, and Dracken hoped aloud that it wasn't not red fire sage he said he was allergic to. Hippi said he liked the Toxian air, preferring it to strange chemicals that strangers were spraying around. I tild him it was too late now, having already sprayed him before he commented and that i wasn't a stranger, i worked in the Haven, and I wanted it to be a safe place to work.
Mirah continued her Work, wafting smoke over the dance stage, cleansing the floor, poles, and tip jars, each and every stool, chair, couch, and loveseat. The smoke rolls over and through the dj booth and all it's equipment, before smiling and moving up the stairs to the second floor, the smoke cleansing the stairway, its walls of rough brick touched by the wisps of sage.
Hippi blurted out with a comment about his trusty gasmask which he had been wearing since I had mentioned the spray, I reassured him that it should be ok, as long as he didn't touch anything in there before he put it on, to which he quipped “or anyone, since i don't have a long stick with me”
Mirah McGuire continues to chant her invocation, fanning the smoke with the feathers. Smoke swirls around the walls, floor, ceiling, the paintings, booths, tables and seats upstairs. Each candle.. each lapdance chair is touched and cleansed by the smoke and the Power being called down.
I kept spraying long and wide upstairs, covering each area after Mirha. From downstairs I heard Her Ladyship tell Draken he should be fine to go now and to have a pleasant evening. She thanked everyone for their cooperation,
Mirah moved back down the stairs.. the smoke flowing everywhere.. the words of her ancient chant filling the space, making my tail tingle, she moved into the back room, tending every cloth, seat, light, mirror, locker and countertop is cleansed as well as all the stored cases of alcohol and people's belongings.
I met Her Ladyship at the door, where she stood speaking to Jadienne, thanking her for waiting, asking her if she would like to talk there, or in The Library. Jadienne said The Library because the incense was getting to her. I padded up to Her Ladyship and handed Herself a swab, capped, in a biohazard bag, telling her it was from before we started. With that we should be able to tell if there really was a contamination or if it was all a sick joke to drive us nuts.
The smoke cleansed the inside and the outside of the Haven, from foundation to roof
Mirah walked to the door of the Haven, whispering "purify and cleanse this place, Sweet Mother, Blessed Father.. return the poison three times three times three from whence it came." I could sense the strain to Mirah so gave her something to lean on, me.
Mirah raised her arms, looked upward, her eyes glowing .. "thus have i prayed in Perfect Love and in Perfect Trust, Sweet Mother. So Mote It Be!" to which I added my own Call to the Mother. Her Ladyship, before leaving with Jadienne, turned to Mirah and thanked her too.
Mirah lowerd her arms, closed her eyes, deeply fatigued, and releases the Power back to the Universe, with a soft word of thanks. The air lost its tang. Mirah stumbled against in her fatigue. Pix arrived and greeted both Mirah and me as we readied to wander over The Library and asks whats going on. I told her we had just decontaminated Haven, Mirah, exhausted, replied "we think Kishi might have poisoned the Haven last night, we just cleansed it..."
Pix raised a brow and asked a bunch of questions. "Kishi did what?, Was that when she was behind the bar? is the whiskey ok?" This raised some eyes and ears in the Haven, and Benway asked me directly who did it and to try to defuse the situation I tell him "the Green Demoness" counting on him not to know who i meant. It works, but he went on to ask me if anywhere else might be affected. I made motions to escort Mirah out, avoiding any more speculation about who did it or why. Pix had already been set off though, but had axes enough of her own to grind, so I didn't need to contain much. I took Mirah over The Library, she wanted to thank Her Ladyship and I wanted to get her off the streets. For several reasons, retaliation not the least.
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FINAL SUMMARY OF EVENT
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Tipoff that Kishi of the Shadows may have been lacing the Haven with poison and/or bioweapon.
Collected sample for assesment of actual threat.
Took precautionary decontamination action both conventional and themeturgical
SPECIAL NOTE: only hours later, personally observed Kishi repeating the reported actions, glibly in full sight of both Mirah and me.
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Monday, April 21, 2008
Ryders, brains and angels.
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Pencil entry dated 20/4/08 a suspicious gray smear stains one page
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So, I been tryin ta chase down Jadienne tha ex-Righteous Ryder, she was lookin ta talk ta me, Fleshie ta Bartender like, fer some bar-top confessional. Last I seen of her she pulled me up and told me she needed ta chat, and that she could trust me. I guess I got one of them faces, like they say, that folks can trust. Even had tha Green Demoness believe that' I think, I hope. She had asked me about what i'd feel if I couldn't trust one of my Family. So I knew it was important ta her.
Anyway, I found her screamin her way outta Haven, with Noelle upstairs. They were tradin shots about respect, and trust. I guessed i'd worked out who she was pissed at. I tried ta get her ta talk but she brushed me off. I guess she was passed carin. Some slapper Kit comes up ta us, plastered and tries ta get me ta scram. Looked like she was plannen ta scrump Jadienne, and figured I was competition. Me and Jadienne basically flipped her off, but she wouldn't leave off. I didn't need it, so humped it, half time over ta tha ballroom in time ta catch Her Ladyship and Pontifex in their slow dance, and get an idea how deep still water flows.
They were too caught up in their tagetherness ta much mind me, so I had a little sway and paw tap ta their floatin and flittin, before headin back out. Not everyone likes witnesses ta their matin rites. I head back out in time ta catch Philipa(3465 Kharg) tha slapper Kit from before layin Jadienne out and puttin tha boot in. Now, usually I'd be jumpin in about then, but I noticed all tha Ryders standin by, Noelle as well, so I figured they had it on hand. They did, when Philipa tha Slapper looked ta smear Jadienne, Noelle stepped up, like a good beta and made ta stop her packmate get killed. Dead troopers don't learn tha lesson a thrashin gives.
Jadienne don't want a bar of it, spittin and bawlin Noelle out, even as she was bein rescued. Things went south from there. I took some stray rounds in tha ensuin firefight, some fucktards never check their fields of fire in crowds. You got it, tha slapper. Had tha ass ta get upset when I came up shovin her skanky ass about and ballin her out fer bein a fucktard. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't inconvenienced by her pathetic 45's, but if I hadn't awready killed my dress shirt she woulda ruined it. And that woulda upset My-She.
I shoved off again, with Jadienne and Philipa and Noelle screamin at one another, and Philipa pummilin, blastin at and cuttin on Jadienne. Its a good thing tha Slapped was an amateur, or she mighta killed Jadienne instead of incapacitatin her again and again. I mean, really, doesn't anybody realise ya can’t beat respect inta someone, only fear and resentment.
So I took ta wanderin again, no news, got some more leftovers from tha ball. I ate a LOT. Good thing too, I needed it soon afta. I passed tha Garage ta see Jadienne comin out, fair bumps through me, shove and all. I see tha Slapper wearin Ryder Colours now. I figure that’s ta punish Jadienne. So catch her draw one of her mini-Uzis, draws one and take one tender look at tha bunch of them before going around to the side of the garage. "woah woah" I mutter and duck around tha other way, in case she was getting ready ta double back and hose them from tha far door. That’s what I woulda done.
She ain't there. Tha other option comes ta me, and I double-time back ta tha alley she went inta. She's there, starin at tha wall, girly-uzi up in tha air, limp like. "Grr, go away. " she says ta me. "well, yer tha one with tha gun, guess i better listen, hey . . " I say ta her, but don't move a muscle. No sudden movements ta startle tha prey. She wipes tears away from her eyes with her sleeve, "Grr, step away now." I aint gunna, so I give her a line from tha Battle of Thermopylle "see, i got this cramp, in my leg, can't seem to walk too good" its a good line, I wonder if its wasted. I hear Duard tha Ryder come up behind me. He's no real threat, and I only got eyes on tha prey right then. "problems puppy?" tha fella is as thick as two short planks. He thinks I’m tha problem. Hearin Jadienne's words but not their meanin. Seein me, tha big scary Shifter "meanicin" his packmate with tha drawn weapon. I'll give him that, he went ta her aid, "can i help you? " he puts in, but Jadienne butts in.
"Then crawl, I don't give a damn." I don't move but ta avoid getting capped by this guy, I say "no problem mate, just sittin, workin off this cramp . . . " and start making stretching motions. Duard tells Jadienne ta holster her weapon. Big mistake. Ya NEVER order a head-case ta give up their symbol of power. She is backed inta a mental corner now so she points the mini-Uzi to her temple, "Get away, both of you." I try ta ease her down. "now, see, we got a Irish standoff now . . if i move, i might scare ya, and make ya slip, i'm a scary fella" I try ta disarm her mood. Let her know she's in control. Block-head doesn't get it "holster your Uzi Jad, now. Great, perfect. Stupid bloody biker punk. "I said get away Duard." she flicks the safety off and presses her finger tightly on the trigger.
Finally he gets it "did he attack you, Jad?" he asks, takin tha preasure off her a touch. She comes out with a corker "No, Grr's an angel." Least he ain't gonna club me from behind now. So I take a chance "now, mate, perhaps ya wanna back off a touch, ya might get mess on ya" lettin Jadienne mull over an image of what would happen. Seems her mind's made up though "I'm the one who needs to leave here: Permanently. " Duard Klamath turns to me. Again I try ta reach her. "well, no need fer name-callin . . . i'm just sittin, talkin ta my matey here, mate" even as i say it i see her puttin slight pressure to the trigger, and closes her eyes. I see its gonna have ta be soon.
I keep watchin Jadienne close, not making eye contact, being VERY relaxed. Tha blockhead now realises its not good at all . . . and tries ta talk her down "well . . . . please Jad . . . " but she just sighs, and says "I'm sorry it had to be this way." and looks ta make her move, trigger pressure bein what it is, i knew i had ta move fast and light, so i LUNGE to slap away the Uzi, upwards, with a long swipe of my long arms, folks get shocked how tall iam, another good reason ta crouch, not just comfortable, makes them underestimate me.
and i yell "no fuckin cappin yerself, that'd ruin my day, totally, and its been a swell day" she shrieks as the Uzi falls out of her hand and she collapses on the ground. She kicks at me tryin ta get away and reaches for it, and puts in her mouth. I jammed a finger in the breach, and reached to re-safety it in the same motion but: she manages to get pressure once more to the trigger and pulls it as i try ta wrestle the gun away without exerting my full strength and breaking her arm, or tearing it off. "SOME. HELP. MATE" I was too late, and her head explodes, blood bones and brains splattering the side of the wall, and all over me. The gunshot seems to reverberate through the night.
Duard just stood there "you are insane Jad, let him . . " not comprehending, i'm not so pleasantly oblivious, wearin a bunch of the insides of Jadiennes head as i am "RRRAARR FUCK!!" is all i remember sayin as i grabed tha Uzi, and smashed the cast-metal body of it with one paw and threw it at the wall. Just a moment too late . . . Jadienne slumps forward her breathin stoped, her heart beat whisperin its last pulses as blood slops into my lap and over my fur. Blood and brains, and shards of bone and her hair. This ain't new fer me, not even someone blowin their brains out all over me. I had Timmos do that just outa horror at tha sight of us bustin in on em. This time it was someone i wanted ta stop. Fer good reasons. I draged Jadienne's body forward, craddling her head in my lap, and cupping it, started muttering a prayer, before callin out "SOME HELP HERE" Duard tha blockhead just stares, yammerin "dam lady" I keep at the Workin, the energies crackle around me and Jadienne's fallen body, i feel my fur standin on end, she lays, body still technically alive, the massive trauma being combated by my healin. I take tha chance ta call out again "SOMEBODY HELP"
I know tha Ryders are just on tha other side of tha wall, i can hear em movin about, smell em in there, but they wont come ta tha aid of one of their own. So i keep chanting, cradeling Jadienne's broken open head and calling down who knows what. All of a sudden A Feline Ryder pokes his head around the corner, and i catch his eye "you, Ryder, get help" i startle him, he hasnlt seen what i'm holdin yet. "whop, me?" is all he can say as I cradle Jadiennes broken head, pressing the brains back in, then keeps at my chantin and wouldn't ya know it, I begin to glow, and all my fur standing on end, like i'm a Goddess damned poodle or somethin. Tha little Feline fella swallows hard a couple of times and puts his hand over his face. He's seen her leakin now and he wobbles a bit, befer leanin around the corner and calling ino the Garage "uhh.. we need some help round the corner here. I finally hear them get involved. I hear Dracken call out "ok lead the way" Tha Feline comes back, looking like he's ready to throw up, looks away and just points. Dracke looked down at Jadienne turned to one of the other Ryders and said "i think we got a problem auntie" then turned back to me "Grr can you carryer her to the hosptial? I don't answer, busy but they keep talkin, tryin ta put two and two tagether, as I keep at tha chantin, holding Jadienne's popped skull together with my paws and magics they see tha spray of blood and brain on the wall next to my left, and tha smashed Uzi on the ground next ta me.
I keep chanting, fur standing on end, crackling wih energy as i pray and hold her head in my lap, still bleedin
and all of a sudden all tha Ryders take a step back or so. Her body begins a transformation and her skull and facial features reform themselves and from her back begin to sprout what seems to be wings. Madness i tell ya. I seen all kinds of regens, and all kinds of Shifts, but this is new ta me. All of a sudden, her light green eyes flutter and open and stares up at me, a peaceful expression on em, "Who are you...?" One of tha Ryders, Dracken's Aunt it seems finally speaks up ": ....she ..she is talking..!!...look brother " And i start, as she asks me who i am, I just bark out "Grr"
So, long story short, she finally gets a crowd of helpers, some more helpful than others, she's lost her memory, but i'm guessin that had somethin ta do with tha pawful of brains i was holdin, and tha rest i was wearin or decoratin tha wall of tha Garage. She fully sprouted wings, and started talkin about tha White Light, and God and i knew she had crossed over and get sent back. She said""I don't remember anything, except a white light, and someone telling me to return here." Well, tjhat was me. I maded an Angel taday. I got covered in blood and brains ta do it, and called on SOMETHIN out there ta manage it, but, yeah, like i told My-She "not bad fer a critter from tha Zoo, huh?"
One other thing, when i showed My-She tha pawful of brains and pointed at the smashed Uzi and told her "i'd been there, done that, and i fixed her . . .uhh, kinda" My-She came back with "kinda.....
Mirah McGuire: and she gets wings.. i've always liked wings, but um.. dont "fix" me so i get wings ok? "Ha, never even pictured tha, but what DID come ta mind, was what i told her . . ." you got it Sweetness, i was thinkin little bitty scales, all different colours, like a rainbow, like dragons have"
We watch tha new, Angel Jadienne spar with Krismorel, and take a poundin and all i could think ,as we wandered off was "thats messed up . . . serious, messed up"
I made an Angel, taday. A good days work, really . . .
Pencil entry dated 20/4/08 a suspicious gray smear stains one page
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So, I been tryin ta chase down Jadienne tha ex-Righteous Ryder, she was lookin ta talk ta me, Fleshie ta Bartender like, fer some bar-top confessional. Last I seen of her she pulled me up and told me she needed ta chat, and that she could trust me. I guess I got one of them faces, like they say, that folks can trust. Even had tha Green Demoness believe that' I think, I hope. She had asked me about what i'd feel if I couldn't trust one of my Family. So I knew it was important ta her.
Anyway, I found her screamin her way outta Haven, with Noelle upstairs. They were tradin shots about respect, and trust. I guessed i'd worked out who she was pissed at. I tried ta get her ta talk but she brushed me off. I guess she was passed carin. Some slapper Kit comes up ta us, plastered and tries ta get me ta scram. Looked like she was plannen ta scrump Jadienne, and figured I was competition. Me and Jadienne basically flipped her off, but she wouldn't leave off. I didn't need it, so humped it, half time over ta tha ballroom in time ta catch Her Ladyship and Pontifex in their slow dance, and get an idea how deep still water flows.
They were too caught up in their tagetherness ta much mind me, so I had a little sway and paw tap ta their floatin and flittin, before headin back out. Not everyone likes witnesses ta their matin rites. I head back out in time ta catch Philipa(3465 Kharg) tha slapper Kit from before layin Jadienne out and puttin tha boot in. Now, usually I'd be jumpin in about then, but I noticed all tha Ryders standin by, Noelle as well, so I figured they had it on hand. They did, when Philipa tha Slapper looked ta smear Jadienne, Noelle stepped up, like a good beta and made ta stop her packmate get killed. Dead troopers don't learn tha lesson a thrashin gives.
Jadienne don't want a bar of it, spittin and bawlin Noelle out, even as she was bein rescued. Things went south from there. I took some stray rounds in tha ensuin firefight, some fucktards never check their fields of fire in crowds. You got it, tha slapper. Had tha ass ta get upset when I came up shovin her skanky ass about and ballin her out fer bein a fucktard. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't inconvenienced by her pathetic 45's, but if I hadn't awready killed my dress shirt she woulda ruined it. And that woulda upset My-She.
I shoved off again, with Jadienne and Philipa and Noelle screamin at one another, and Philipa pummilin, blastin at and cuttin on Jadienne. Its a good thing tha Slapped was an amateur, or she mighta killed Jadienne instead of incapacitatin her again and again. I mean, really, doesn't anybody realise ya can’t beat respect inta someone, only fear and resentment.
So I took ta wanderin again, no news, got some more leftovers from tha ball. I ate a LOT. Good thing too, I needed it soon afta. I passed tha Garage ta see Jadienne comin out, fair bumps through me, shove and all. I see tha Slapper wearin Ryder Colours now. I figure that’s ta punish Jadienne. So catch her draw one of her mini-Uzis, draws one and take one tender look at tha bunch of them before going around to the side of the garage. "woah woah" I mutter and duck around tha other way, in case she was getting ready ta double back and hose them from tha far door. That’s what I woulda done.
She ain't there. Tha other option comes ta me, and I double-time back ta tha alley she went inta. She's there, starin at tha wall, girly-uzi up in tha air, limp like. "Grr, go away. " she says ta me. "well, yer tha one with tha gun, guess i better listen, hey . . " I say ta her, but don't move a muscle. No sudden movements ta startle tha prey. She wipes tears away from her eyes with her sleeve, "Grr, step away now." I aint gunna, so I give her a line from tha Battle of Thermopylle "see, i got this cramp, in my leg, can't seem to walk too good" its a good line, I wonder if its wasted. I hear Duard tha Ryder come up behind me. He's no real threat, and I only got eyes on tha prey right then. "problems puppy?" tha fella is as thick as two short planks. He thinks I’m tha problem. Hearin Jadienne's words but not their meanin. Seein me, tha big scary Shifter "meanicin" his packmate with tha drawn weapon. I'll give him that, he went ta her aid, "can i help you? " he puts in, but Jadienne butts in.
"Then crawl, I don't give a damn." I don't move but ta avoid getting capped by this guy, I say "no problem mate, just sittin, workin off this cramp . . . " and start making stretching motions. Duard tells Jadienne ta holster her weapon. Big mistake. Ya NEVER order a head-case ta give up their symbol of power. She is backed inta a mental corner now so she points the mini-Uzi to her temple, "Get away, both of you." I try ta ease her down. "now, see, we got a Irish standoff now . . if i move, i might scare ya, and make ya slip, i'm a scary fella" I try ta disarm her mood. Let her know she's in control. Block-head doesn't get it "holster your Uzi Jad, now. Great, perfect. Stupid bloody biker punk. "I said get away Duard." she flicks the safety off and presses her finger tightly on the trigger.
Finally he gets it "did he attack you, Jad?" he asks, takin tha preasure off her a touch. She comes out with a corker "No, Grr's an angel." Least he ain't gonna club me from behind now. So I take a chance "now, mate, perhaps ya wanna back off a touch, ya might get mess on ya" lettin Jadienne mull over an image of what would happen. Seems her mind's made up though "I'm the one who needs to leave here: Permanently. " Duard Klamath turns to me. Again I try ta reach her. "well, no need fer name-callin . . . i'm just sittin, talkin ta my matey here, mate" even as i say it i see her puttin slight pressure to the trigger, and closes her eyes. I see its gonna have ta be soon.
I keep watchin Jadienne close, not making eye contact, being VERY relaxed. Tha blockhead now realises its not good at all . . . and tries ta talk her down "well . . . . please Jad . . . " but she just sighs, and says "I'm sorry it had to be this way." and looks ta make her move, trigger pressure bein what it is, i knew i had ta move fast and light, so i LUNGE to slap away the Uzi, upwards, with a long swipe of my long arms, folks get shocked how tall iam, another good reason ta crouch, not just comfortable, makes them underestimate me.
and i yell "no fuckin cappin yerself, that'd ruin my day, totally, and its been a swell day" she shrieks as the Uzi falls out of her hand and she collapses on the ground. She kicks at me tryin ta get away and reaches for it, and puts in her mouth. I jammed a finger in the breach, and reached to re-safety it in the same motion but: she manages to get pressure once more to the trigger and pulls it as i try ta wrestle the gun away without exerting my full strength and breaking her arm, or tearing it off. "SOME. HELP. MATE" I was too late, and her head explodes, blood bones and brains splattering the side of the wall, and all over me. The gunshot seems to reverberate through the night.
Duard just stood there "you are insane Jad, let him . . " not comprehending, i'm not so pleasantly oblivious, wearin a bunch of the insides of Jadiennes head as i am "RRRAARR FUCK!!" is all i remember sayin as i grabed tha Uzi, and smashed the cast-metal body of it with one paw and threw it at the wall. Just a moment too late . . . Jadienne slumps forward her breathin stoped, her heart beat whisperin its last pulses as blood slops into my lap and over my fur. Blood and brains, and shards of bone and her hair. This ain't new fer me, not even someone blowin their brains out all over me. I had Timmos do that just outa horror at tha sight of us bustin in on em. This time it was someone i wanted ta stop. Fer good reasons. I draged Jadienne's body forward, craddling her head in my lap, and cupping it, started muttering a prayer, before callin out "SOME HELP HERE" Duard tha blockhead just stares, yammerin "dam lady" I keep at the Workin, the energies crackle around me and Jadienne's fallen body, i feel my fur standin on end, she lays, body still technically alive, the massive trauma being combated by my healin. I take tha chance ta call out again "SOMEBODY HELP"
I know tha Ryders are just on tha other side of tha wall, i can hear em movin about, smell em in there, but they wont come ta tha aid of one of their own. So i keep chanting, cradeling Jadienne's broken open head and calling down who knows what. All of a sudden A Feline Ryder pokes his head around the corner, and i catch his eye "you, Ryder, get help" i startle him, he hasnlt seen what i'm holdin yet. "whop, me?" is all he can say as I cradle Jadiennes broken head, pressing the brains back in, then keeps at my chantin and wouldn't ya know it, I begin to glow, and all my fur standing on end, like i'm a Goddess damned poodle or somethin. Tha little Feline fella swallows hard a couple of times and puts his hand over his face. He's seen her leakin now and he wobbles a bit, befer leanin around the corner and calling ino the Garage "uhh.. we need some help round the corner here. I finally hear them get involved. I hear Dracken call out "ok lead the way" Tha Feline comes back, looking like he's ready to throw up, looks away and just points. Dracke looked down at Jadienne turned to one of the other Ryders and said "i think we got a problem auntie" then turned back to me "Grr can you carryer her to the hosptial? I don't answer, busy but they keep talkin, tryin ta put two and two tagether, as I keep at tha chantin, holding Jadienne's popped skull together with my paws and magics they see tha spray of blood and brain on the wall next to my left, and tha smashed Uzi on the ground next ta me.
I keep chanting, fur standing on end, crackling wih energy as i pray and hold her head in my lap, still bleedin
and all of a sudden all tha Ryders take a step back or so. Her body begins a transformation and her skull and facial features reform themselves and from her back begin to sprout what seems to be wings. Madness i tell ya. I seen all kinds of regens, and all kinds of Shifts, but this is new ta me. All of a sudden, her light green eyes flutter and open and stares up at me, a peaceful expression on em, "Who are you...?" One of tha Ryders, Dracken's Aunt it seems finally speaks up ": ....she ..she is talking..!!...look brother " And i start, as she asks me who i am, I just bark out "Grr"
So, long story short, she finally gets a crowd of helpers, some more helpful than others, she's lost her memory, but i'm guessin that had somethin ta do with tha pawful of brains i was holdin, and tha rest i was wearin or decoratin tha wall of tha Garage. She fully sprouted wings, and started talkin about tha White Light, and God and i knew she had crossed over and get sent back. She said""I don't remember anything, except a white light, and someone telling me to return here." Well, tjhat was me. I maded an Angel taday. I got covered in blood and brains ta do it, and called on SOMETHIN out there ta manage it, but, yeah, like i told My-She "not bad fer a critter from tha Zoo, huh?"
One other thing, when i showed My-She tha pawful of brains and pointed at the smashed Uzi and told her "i'd been there, done that, and i fixed her . . .uhh, kinda" My-She came back with "kinda.....
Mirah McGuire: and she gets wings.. i've always liked wings, but um.. dont "fix" me so i get wings ok? "Ha, never even pictured tha, but what DID come ta mind, was what i told her . . ." you got it Sweetness, i was thinkin little bitty scales, all different colours, like a rainbow, like dragons have"
We watch tha new, Angel Jadienne spar with Krismorel, and take a poundin and all i could think ,as we wandered off was "thats messed up . . . serious, messed up"
I made an Angel, taday. A good days work, really . . .
Saturday, April 19, 2008
7RAR-L: history, training and mission
==============================================
Torn pages from a watermarked TOP SECRET report, muddied and bloodied, pasted into the notebook
==============================================
During the Viet Nam war the Australian military began investigation into the use of non-standard forces in its order of battle. Faced with the difficulties of jungle and bush warfare in this conflict it was felt the newly identified sub-classes of humanity, the lycanthrope, vampire and theumeturgic, could be utilized.
Initially, previously identified active servicemen were asked to volunteer to form a new commando unit for trialing these new soldiers. Non-compliant identified servicemen were "selected for advanced training". It is unreported how many of these servicemen survived. Once formed and quickly trained up to fulfill their new roles these fresh mixed-race units were sent into the field in a variety of hazardous and challenging operations to asses their effectiveness.
Some of these operations were abject failures, others significant successes. What it proved to the US and Australian military was that there was a resource to be tapped. Screening, selection and training programs were improved and the different divisions of the armed forces used their own strategies. The Army created the 7RAR-Lycanthropy Corps under the guise of its Mechanised Infantry. Later on when a sufficient feline presence had been established the 5RAR-Feline Corps, to keep relations between the sometimes antagonistic races better under control. For logistical purposes the 5/7RAR was formed, but generally the "Snarls" and the "Furfs" acted separately.
Similarly the newly formed 2RAR-Thaumaturge - Light Inf "Tarts" and 3RAR-V (vampiric) - Para "Reavers" were assigned their own roles and operations. It is rumored that Strategic Command hosts a number of Angelic and Nephilic entities but at the time of reporting, this can not be confirmed at this security clearance. . . .
==========================
Glossy pages from an encyclopedia style book, torn out, and also pasted into the notebook, with a red marker scrawled under it "Pretty lies for tha press"
==========================
In 1999 5/7 RAR relocated from Holsworthy to Darwin. Later that year the battalion made its first operational deployment when it deployed to East Timor as part of INTERFET and transitioning in February 2000 as the 1st AUSBATT of the UNTAET mission. This deployment proved highly successful, with 5/7 RAR providing the force with a powerful and highly mobile battalion. After a seven-month tour, the Battalion returned to Australia shortly after ANZAC Day 2000. 5/7 RAR served a second tour in East Timor between October 2002 and May 2003, though it operated largely as a light infantry battalion on this deployment. The deployment also included a company of General Reserve soldiers.
5/7 RAR's final deployments were to Iraq. In 2004 5/7 RAR provided a rifle company for security duties in Baghdad. During 2005 and 2006 a rifle company from the battalion formed part of the Al Muthanna Task Group in southern Iraq. 5/7 RAR provided the headquarters and support elements of the second rotation of the Task Group from November 2005 - April 2006. The rifle company in Iraq was mounted in ASLAVs from the 2nd Cavalry Regiment as it was judged that these fast and well armed vehicles were better suited to conditions in Iraq than 5/7 RAR's elderly M113A1s.
On 3 December 2006, the 5th/7th Battalion was formally de-linked into its antecendent units.
Torn pages from a watermarked TOP SECRET report, muddied and bloodied, pasted into the notebook
==============================================
During the Viet Nam war the Australian military began investigation into the use of non-standard forces in its order of battle. Faced with the difficulties of jungle and bush warfare in this conflict it was felt the newly identified sub-classes of humanity, the lycanthrope, vampire and theumeturgic, could be utilized.
Initially, previously identified active servicemen were asked to volunteer to form a new commando unit for trialing these new soldiers. Non-compliant identified servicemen were "selected for advanced training". It is unreported how many of these servicemen survived. Once formed and quickly trained up to fulfill their new roles these fresh mixed-race units were sent into the field in a variety of hazardous and challenging operations to asses their effectiveness.
Some of these operations were abject failures, others significant successes. What it proved to the US and Australian military was that there was a resource to be tapped. Screening, selection and training programs were improved and the different divisions of the armed forces used their own strategies. The Army created the 7RAR-Lycanthropy Corps under the guise of its Mechanised Infantry. Later on when a sufficient feline presence had been established the 5RAR-Feline Corps, to keep relations between the sometimes antagonistic races better under control. For logistical purposes the 5/7RAR was formed, but generally the "Snarls" and the "Furfs" acted separately.
Similarly the newly formed 2RAR-Thaumaturge - Light Inf "Tarts" and 3RAR-V (vampiric) - Para "Reavers" were assigned their own roles and operations. It is rumored that Strategic Command hosts a number of Angelic and Nephilic entities but at the time of reporting, this can not be confirmed at this security clearance. . . .
==========================
Glossy pages from an encyclopedia style book, torn out, and also pasted into the notebook, with a red marker scrawled under it "Pretty lies for tha press"
==========================
In 1999 5/7 RAR relocated from Holsworthy to Darwin. Later that year the battalion made its first operational deployment when it deployed to East Timor as part of INTERFET and transitioning in February 2000 as the 1st AUSBATT of the UNTAET mission. This deployment proved highly successful, with 5/7 RAR providing the force with a powerful and highly mobile battalion. After a seven-month tour, the Battalion returned to Australia shortly after ANZAC Day 2000. 5/7 RAR served a second tour in East Timor between October 2002 and May 2003, though it operated largely as a light infantry battalion on this deployment. The deployment also included a company of General Reserve soldiers.
5/7 RAR's final deployments were to Iraq. In 2004 5/7 RAR provided a rifle company for security duties in Baghdad. During 2005 and 2006 a rifle company from the battalion formed part of the Al Muthanna Task Group in southern Iraq. 5/7 RAR provided the headquarters and support elements of the second rotation of the Task Group from November 2005 - April 2006. The rifle company in Iraq was mounted in ASLAVs from the 2nd Cavalry Regiment as it was judged that these fast and well armed vehicles were better suited to conditions in Iraq than 5/7 RAR's elderly M113A1s.
On 3 December 2006, the 5th/7th Battalion was formally de-linked into its antecendent units.
Grr: soldier, healer, cocktail-maker. OOC (not in the book)
When going through Induction and Training, Grr was pegged as a scout: low aggression, attentive, stealth and concealment skills, as well as natural ambush tactics. Something of a disappointment to the 7RAR-L brass, who were more interested in shock-troops, but there was a role that needed filling regardless. Never one of the heavy hitters, Grr became proficient in defensive claw to claw fighting, close quarters firearms, booby-traps and sniping. In his advanced training he was instructed in ambush and counter-ambush tactics, psych-ops and infiltration. 7RAR-L (transliteratevly nicknamed the Snarl) training was always performed on live targets. With the high number of illegal immigrants arriving in Australia it was always easy for the Army to find training targets. It was an incentive to the highly predatory "Snarls" to have live prey.
Scouting allowed Grr the freedom to roam in the wild, ranging further and more frequently than the Ravagers, as the regular Snarls called themselves. Mostly being human-born, changed either by surviving an attack by the infective strain of lycanthropy, inheriting the traits or in rare instances, magically lycanthropic, the majority of the Snarls retained many human mannerisms and habits, yet unmoderated by normal human restraint. Expressing their Lycan nature in patterns typical to folklore, by brutal and savage struggles for dominance, blood lust, hyper-aggression and superiority complexes.
Grr reacted to this in typically canine fashion and submitted to those of higher stations whilst honing his natural talents at stealth, integration, infiltration, defensive and evasive combat. This didn't mean he avoided combat, just that he tended to be on the edges of the battlefield, taking out sentries, those fleeing or survivors, rather than the main thrust of most assaults. It was this drive to shine against his pure-combat unit-mates along with a flare for small-unit leadership that earned him his corporal's stripe, and later, field promotion to sergeant.
Capture, subjugation and field expedient interrogation were the norm for any prisoners they took, yet any captivity was only temporary, as a "no-extra-baggage" policy was strictly enforced. It was common for these prisoners to end the short remainder of their lives screaming. They also often supplemented the "Pal + MightyBites" rations. Whilst not officially sanctioned, the taking of trophies was common, as was the posing of the dead and leaving of gruesome markers for anyone returning to a "swept" area. Grr learned a great deal about the application of pain, how the body works, and what it can cope with.
The Snarl's were constantly monitored and given regular training when not active in the field, because they bored easily, and a bored Lycan is dangerous. Instruction in a variety of topics was available and Grr took what he could. Never having been to school, nor having grown up in human society Grr was disadvantaged both in the field and academically, but he knew it. Whilst many of his Snarl-mates would drink, scrump and brawl during their whole down-time, Grr always took time to watch the movies supplied (or bootlegged in) and slowly learnt to read and write. He also looked into his own history, and that of the 7RAR-L, and learnt as much as he could of his kind, and whatever files he was able to access on the other races that populated the world.
As he was less often a front line fighter, and as such less laden with gear, fitting his role as a scout, Grr was often first on hand to treat casualties as the metal hit the meat. He quickly built up first hand knowledge of trauma, massive flesh loss and all manner of burns. He also became familiar with the spread of psychological conditions afflicting Lycans, Fleshies and their other allies. This built on the basic first aid and psych-ops training all Snarls received. Grr's native empathy and understanding of his place in the natural order, as an apex predator put him in a key position to intercede if his Two-Leg Snarl-mates would break down when faced with the bestial nature of their natures. It also put him in a place where he could bring a raging War-Form Lycan back to a semblance of self control. This was essential for unit cohesion in the field.
His nose for magic manifested in several ways, he could draw on the spirits of a place to help him track or guide, to hide or obfuscate him or his fellows, and to heal casualties, slowing blood flow, binding wounds, reducing pain. It also kept him and his Snarl-mates out of magical ambushes
TBC
Scouting allowed Grr the freedom to roam in the wild, ranging further and more frequently than the Ravagers, as the regular Snarls called themselves. Mostly being human-born, changed either by surviving an attack by the infective strain of lycanthropy, inheriting the traits or in rare instances, magically lycanthropic, the majority of the Snarls retained many human mannerisms and habits, yet unmoderated by normal human restraint. Expressing their Lycan nature in patterns typical to folklore, by brutal and savage struggles for dominance, blood lust, hyper-aggression and superiority complexes.
Grr reacted to this in typically canine fashion and submitted to those of higher stations whilst honing his natural talents at stealth, integration, infiltration, defensive and evasive combat. This didn't mean he avoided combat, just that he tended to be on the edges of the battlefield, taking out sentries, those fleeing or survivors, rather than the main thrust of most assaults. It was this drive to shine against his pure-combat unit-mates along with a flare for small-unit leadership that earned him his corporal's stripe, and later, field promotion to sergeant.
Capture, subjugation and field expedient interrogation were the norm for any prisoners they took, yet any captivity was only temporary, as a "no-extra-baggage" policy was strictly enforced. It was common for these prisoners to end the short remainder of their lives screaming. They also often supplemented the "Pal + MightyBites" rations. Whilst not officially sanctioned, the taking of trophies was common, as was the posing of the dead and leaving of gruesome markers for anyone returning to a "swept" area. Grr learned a great deal about the application of pain, how the body works, and what it can cope with.
The Snarl's were constantly monitored and given regular training when not active in the field, because they bored easily, and a bored Lycan is dangerous. Instruction in a variety of topics was available and Grr took what he could. Never having been to school, nor having grown up in human society Grr was disadvantaged both in the field and academically, but he knew it. Whilst many of his Snarl-mates would drink, scrump and brawl during their whole down-time, Grr always took time to watch the movies supplied (or bootlegged in) and slowly learnt to read and write. He also looked into his own history, and that of the 7RAR-L, and learnt as much as he could of his kind, and whatever files he was able to access on the other races that populated the world.
As he was less often a front line fighter, and as such less laden with gear, fitting his role as a scout, Grr was often first on hand to treat casualties as the metal hit the meat. He quickly built up first hand knowledge of trauma, massive flesh loss and all manner of burns. He also became familiar with the spread of psychological conditions afflicting Lycans, Fleshies and their other allies. This built on the basic first aid and psych-ops training all Snarls received. Grr's native empathy and understanding of his place in the natural order, as an apex predator put him in a key position to intercede if his Two-Leg Snarl-mates would break down when faced with the bestial nature of their natures. It also put him in a place where he could bring a raging War-Form Lycan back to a semblance of self control. This was essential for unit cohesion in the field.
His nose for magic manifested in several ways, he could draw on the spirits of a place to help him track or guide, to hide or obfuscate him or his fellows, and to heal casualties, slowing blood flow, binding wounds, reducing pain. It also kept him and his Snarl-mates out of magical ambushes
TBC
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
After the Smoke cleared
=================================
pencil entry, dated 16-4-08, looks like it has been stopped and started frequently
=================================
Damn, all that report writin has given me tha worst cramps in my paw, ain't I supposed ta re-gen writers-wrist? But there was more ta my mornin than just foilin plots and sprayin blue stuff. Once we got done there, like I say, I eased My-She over ta tha Library an ushered her up ta Her Ladyship.
As we got ta tha doors I heard some ruccous from out on tha street. From inside I hear Jadienne get upset and say "It's Latiana. She hates me." I smell her and Her Ladyship inside, so I signal My-she in and catch Her Ladyship's smile as I pat tha stone and sit at the doorway, keeping an eye on the street for a moment, scanning rooftops, windows. Now ain't tha time ta be complacent, not till tha Wards are set. Snipers who know might be able ta find a way.
Jadienne speaks up "She's ok, don't worry, We were just talking." but i'm still in Alert Status and just mutter "looks clear . ." which makes Her Ladyship chuckle..."I don't think it was me he was worried about." Jadienne gets it "Oh, I see..." I tell them I thought My needed somewhere ta crash and be safe, fer a bit. Jadienne offered fer her ta stay at tha church.
Her Ladyship offers her a seat and tells her that she's been of great assistance to us tonight. My smiles and bows.. forefingers and thumbs meeting to form a circle.."Omega.. its you i thank.. " then whispers i dont usually do rituals in public.. Her Ladyship just smiles.." it was a great pleasure to view some of your.. work." ta which My smiles back"it isnt my work though.. it is Hers"
I climb on back between the couches, watching the streets. I guess this kinda thing bothers Jadienne or she ain't used ta a well trained Shifter bein around, so she asks "What's wrong?" but Her Ladyship smiles, nodding.."He's just.. keeping an eye out." My-she's got a lot ta worry about, so I get it when she asks me if something new going on. Jadienne asks further why i'm watchin the streets, and again Her Ladyship sees inta tha heart of things "It's his nature" Then Jadienne asks a question I don't quite get "For whom?" . Whom is a person, or peoples, who do I watch -for-? Well, that’s fairly easy, realy, I just swivel my ears and points over the couch without looking "Hers" plural. I watch for my hers. Her Ladyship and My-she.
Her Ladyship speaks up fer me, I’m in tha zone, focus shifting from rooftop to rooftop, corner to corner, with practiced fluid movements, all from just eyes and ears above the sill. "One of the many reasons he is such a great asset to us." I can smell My-she glowing for me. I feel 3 meters tall! My-she clears her throat with a throat and with a smile asked if anyone minded if she changed out of her fancy ritual clothes. Her Ladyship told her "Of course not, though I must say, they are very beautiful indeed.. I haven't seen an outfit like that since.. well, not for a long time." Which gets another smile from My "its not something i wear often... um.. normally i do rituals skyclad. I know what THAT means, i did some time liasin with tha 2RAR-T's in my time, thats kinda what spun me towards Shamanism so when she said that, it made my ears twitch, and a smile could be seen from almost behind me. Her Ladyship comments that that IS tha traditional form, ta which My replies "i am not a very traditional witch.. but some things... you know"
I zone out fer a bit, watchin tha passage outside, there's some gun-play and some one out there is bleedin out in tha gutter, i can smell it. All of a sudden i sniif, and can smell My-she's tears. Somethin's happened between them all, and i missed it. My says "i wish you knew what this means to me Omega" ta which Her Ladyship come back "I think we shall have to offer you a place with us". Jadienne seems a little unsettled, "I'm going to leave you two alone." Her Ladyship looks around ".. two?" and Jadienne corrects herself "I mean three." I am starin at My, and she just beams, tears runnin down her pretty fuzzy face "Family..." i can feel my eyes go big, and my mouth drop open as Her Ladyship makes a funny ta Jadienne "oh, I get that confused ALL the time." and winks over at me. I get it, Jadienne forgot i was a person, heh, it happens. I stir her by getin all indignant sayin ": hey, . . ha, i CAN hear ya . . ." I just keep lookin at My-she, and grinning
Her Ladyship calls me by my proper name, i ferget sometimes she's a Fanger, and her throat can cope with sayin my name. "GrrBrool, come here." I bound over tha couch, and She reaches a hand out and puts it on my head.. "For your services to the Institute, I am elevating you to the Rank of Scholar."
My-she beams!! and all i could do was grin and gawk. She says to me "I expect a lot of you. Do not dissapoint me."
My-she and me hug fer a good long time. its good ta have Famiy. Good ta belong. Good ta be doin what ya are on tha Path ta do, and be good at it.
Later on, i get more good news, Choi and Pix had got their heads sorted out by their patron. Its all startin ta look awright out there. I'm on top of tha world, with a full belly, and a warm safe bed. Does it get any better than this?
pencil entry, dated 16-4-08, looks like it has been stopped and started frequently
=================================
Damn, all that report writin has given me tha worst cramps in my paw, ain't I supposed ta re-gen writers-wrist? But there was more ta my mornin than just foilin plots and sprayin blue stuff. Once we got done there, like I say, I eased My-She over ta tha Library an ushered her up ta Her Ladyship.
As we got ta tha doors I heard some ruccous from out on tha street. From inside I hear Jadienne get upset and say "It's Latiana. She hates me." I smell her and Her Ladyship inside, so I signal My-she in and catch Her Ladyship's smile as I pat tha stone and sit at the doorway, keeping an eye on the street for a moment, scanning rooftops, windows. Now ain't tha time ta be complacent, not till tha Wards are set. Snipers who know might be able ta find a way.
Jadienne speaks up "She's ok, don't worry, We were just talking." but i'm still in Alert Status and just mutter "looks clear . ." which makes Her Ladyship chuckle..."I don't think it was me he was worried about." Jadienne gets it "Oh, I see..." I tell them I thought My needed somewhere ta crash and be safe, fer a bit. Jadienne offered fer her ta stay at tha church.
Her Ladyship offers her a seat and tells her that she's been of great assistance to us tonight. My smiles and bows.. forefingers and thumbs meeting to form a circle.."Omega.. its you i thank.. " then whispers i dont usually do rituals in public.. Her Ladyship just smiles.." it was a great pleasure to view some of your.. work." ta which My smiles back"it isnt my work though.. it is Hers"
I climb on back between the couches, watching the streets. I guess this kinda thing bothers Jadienne or she ain't used ta a well trained Shifter bein around, so she asks "What's wrong?" but Her Ladyship smiles, nodding.."He's just.. keeping an eye out." My-she's got a lot ta worry about, so I get it when she asks me if something new going on. Jadienne asks further why i'm watchin the streets, and again Her Ladyship sees inta tha heart of things "It's his nature" Then Jadienne asks a question I don't quite get "For whom?" . Whom is a person, or peoples, who do I watch -for-? Well, that’s fairly easy, realy, I just swivel my ears and points over the couch without looking "Hers" plural. I watch for my hers. Her Ladyship and My-she.
Her Ladyship speaks up fer me, I’m in tha zone, focus shifting from rooftop to rooftop, corner to corner, with practiced fluid movements, all from just eyes and ears above the sill. "One of the many reasons he is such a great asset to us." I can smell My-she glowing for me. I feel 3 meters tall! My-she clears her throat with a throat and with a smile asked if anyone minded if she changed out of her fancy ritual clothes. Her Ladyship told her "Of course not, though I must say, they are very beautiful indeed.. I haven't seen an outfit like that since.. well, not for a long time." Which gets another smile from My "its not something i wear often... um.. normally i do rituals skyclad. I know what THAT means, i did some time liasin with tha 2RAR-T's in my time, thats kinda what spun me towards Shamanism so when she said that, it made my ears twitch, and a smile could be seen from almost behind me. Her Ladyship comments that that IS tha traditional form, ta which My replies "i am not a very traditional witch.. but some things... you know"
I zone out fer a bit, watchin tha passage outside, there's some gun-play and some one out there is bleedin out in tha gutter, i can smell it. All of a sudden i sniif, and can smell My-she's tears. Somethin's happened between them all, and i missed it. My says "i wish you knew what this means to me Omega" ta which Her Ladyship come back "I think we shall have to offer you a place with us". Jadienne seems a little unsettled, "I'm going to leave you two alone." Her Ladyship looks around ".. two?" and Jadienne corrects herself "I mean three." I am starin at My, and she just beams, tears runnin down her pretty fuzzy face "Family..." i can feel my eyes go big, and my mouth drop open as Her Ladyship makes a funny ta Jadienne "oh, I get that confused ALL the time." and winks over at me. I get it, Jadienne forgot i was a person, heh, it happens. I stir her by getin all indignant sayin ": hey, . . ha, i CAN hear ya . . ." I just keep lookin at My-she, and grinning
Her Ladyship calls me by my proper name, i ferget sometimes she's a Fanger, and her throat can cope with sayin my name. "GrrBrool, come here." I bound over tha couch, and She reaches a hand out and puts it on my head.. "For your services to the Institute, I am elevating you to the Rank of Scholar."
My-she beams!! and all i could do was grin and gawk. She says to me "I expect a lot of you. Do not dissapoint me."
My-she and me hug fer a good long time. its good ta have Famiy. Good ta belong. Good ta be doin what ya are on tha Path ta do, and be good at it.
Later on, i get more good news, Choi and Pix had got their heads sorted out by their patron. Its all startin ta look awright out there. I'm on top of tha world, with a full belly, and a warm safe bed. Does it get any better than this?
Monday, April 14, 2008
Tha Green Demoness
Haven: my body clock tells me its late, not far from sack-time. I been doin my rounds, had another of my verbal spars with Nareth. "One is Three, Three are One", her usual line. I think I get it, more than she gives me credit fer, at least. Some new kid came in and I was given her tha low down on tha Library, includin a safety brief, when Nareth pipes up and corrects me when I say tha Library caused tha Tenguska Blast. I'm three in one as well, but I ain't gonna bring that up with her neither. Same reason.
She said it were her, but when I pressed her she said she'd directed it, cause it was a part of her. I'm fine with that, tha place is alive, its got a mind and Spirit. Well, she didn't like that analogy, called me some more names "supersticious". So I hit her with another- that she was tha targeting and guidance system of tha weapon system that was tha Library.
That didn't go over too good neither, but I think I reached her a bit more. She said weapon systems aught not have thinking minds. I had ta disagree with that one. See, I been trained ta see myself as a thinkin weapon. Don't get me wrong, I ain't a GOOD weapon, actually i'm pretty crap, more like a Combat-Ready Reccy Package. I didn't bring that up again, last time ended up with Tenguska.
She don't like me near, but I don't realy get why. Strangest mermaid i'il ever know, I swear. Yeh, shes one of Calypso's thatÃs fer sure. Nic came on in, so I scooted. I get it, about Nareth bein part of tha Library, she's a Pesonification. An Elemental, some folks might call her an Avatar of tha Library. That I can understand. I seen her bond with tha place, seen her movin with tha energies flowin over her, smelt where it came from. I think I know what she means by Three too: Her, transient flesh. Tha Library, lasting monument. Knowledge, tha Aetherial aspect of tha other two. Or maybe i'm talking out of my tail hole.
Haven, thatÃs where I ended after makin my exit. Haven, where I needed ta check last fer news on Choi and Pix. I had seen Pix in tha street, ad she was all "i'm fine, Choi is a little messed up, i'm fine." thatÃs typical Post Traumatic Stress. I seen that before. Hell, I been there before. Takes a while fer a bold and brash hard-case like Pix ta come ta terms with getting worked over by professionals like tha Shadows. Takes a while till anybody moves on from somethin like that.
Haven: I get in and there she is. Tha paw of tha Shadows, tha Green Demoness. I been trackin her through Tox fer tha last few days, ever since tha attack on Pix and Choi. From tha sounds of it tha Shadows were reactin ta a violation of their territory, and doled out their brand of punishment. Tha bastards always take things too far is all, and I can't abide that. There's a big difference between harsh and cruel, and tha Shaows always chose on thm side of cruel.
Haven: there she was, tendin bar, where me and my-She usually tend. I dunno if she's caught wind of me trackin her, I almost got busted tha night before last scopin out Vulcan's home comin. I slip on in and keep my head and tail down. I see Drak in, and remember my-She tellin me by Comms that Drak got done over too, so I head fer him, ta see what I can learn.
Tha Green Demoness glances between Emmy and the other at tha bar "either of you two?". She's doin tha tendin deal, askin fer drink orders. I pad up to Drak and tap him on the side of the knee plates of his exo-suit ta get his attention. "Grr!" he comes out with, "Goggy!" pipes up his mini-bot. "how ya doin? heard ya might have had some troubles" I ask him, tryin fer a neutral intro, "a bit" he follows. "mmhmmm" says I. Tha Green Demonesc waves to me, all friendly like, and tha sound of her voice gives me visions. I see Choi crucified, scalped, de-eared. I see tha wild look in Pix's eyes. My fur all fluffs up and I flatten my ears instinctive like. I grit my teath and breathe ta relax. I keep talkin ta Drak. "so, how are ya feelin?" I look him in tha eye, lookin fer signs. Windows of tha souls, eyes are.
Drak tells me he needs a scotch, I tell him i can do that. He grumlbes at the current bar keep and mutters "She is among them" I can hear tha Green Demoness perk at hearing the "i need scotch" and is already setting to work pulling out a well aged single malt "ice?" she asks. "I wasn't talking to you, Fucking Shadow scum" mouths off Drak. I take my cue and wander casually to the bar and snatch a bottle, drop a fistful of notes on the bar, and pad back over to where Drak is sittin on tha long couch.
Malayka tha Ryder walks over with a concerned look on her face, "scotch fer two, right here matey" I say ta Drak but he grabs Mal's hand, a little too hard as she come on over "Sorry" he says at her look. Drak's Mini Bot pipes up " Drak doesn't like shadow.
Tha other folks at tha bar are chattin ta Green Demoness, more Shadows, or their pals, at least. Drak thanks me fer tha drink and tries ta pay me back, but I make a show of refusin, "pfft, keep it man" says I ta which Drak says "Dammit Grr take it" I don't want him ta pay tha Green Demoness, via me, and I want him ta know it. At tha bar she shrugs dumping the ice she had for his scotch set up reaching back for a glass whiping up a chilled rose and adding an umbrella before brining it to her pal. They keep chattin one of em laughs "But hopefully no more blood will be spilt....until our home is ready" So, i know they are of tha same kind, tha lot of em.
Mal listens to the background chatter and mumbles under breath,,,"what the fuck?". Tha Green Demon hops back behind the bar pouring a vodka into a chilled glass and pops over to Vic's table for delivery. I turn back ta Drak reaching over to clink glasses "So, Drak, mate, like, what gives?" Hey says "Fighting shadow, as always" I press him, throwing in a curve, his old mates, tha Cybers "is that on tha agenda fer you lot is it?" Drak looked up to the bar where tha Green Demoness kept glibly servin drinks, i look under under my arm at the bar as well, followin his gaze as easy as a paintin laser "or just personal?" i ask him. His reply is kinda what i expected "I am not lot Grr, I am as they say a GDI" He looks shifty fer a minute "The bar has ears". I kinda work it out and pipe up "Goddess Dammed Individual?" ta which he comes back "God Damn Independent I owe nothing to noone but all shadow will die ALL OF THEM " he looks ta tha bar again. She doesn't react, just smiles turning back to the bar to make up another before putting it back out beside her friend a new coctail umbrella, a blue one this time, peeking its little paper head. "but not tanight, i'm guessin?" i prompt which he follows up with "One day at a time Grr, When they will buck up and fight." I can se where this is goin, i think, so i try ta get it definite in my mind, and his "and, err, would this be bacause of say, some recent events with some friends of ours?" I look at him, tryin ta get him ta come out with what happened, but before i do, something happens to drive all my investigation out tha bloody window.
Tha Green Demoness sighs ignoring Drak "get you anything Grr hun?" she smiled at me. Drak Jefferson looks to the bar again "WHORE!"
I stop mid sentence, stand, turn and walk to the bar. Each pad-fall i see Choi flinchin away from me, I see tha blank look in her eyes when she looks at her friends. Each pad-fall i see Pix, crazed, each pad-fall, i tha bandages on Choi's head, and tha wad of Choi's hair offerd by tha Demoness to my-She, as a tip, in this very bar. I walk up, standin ta my full height and looks her in her eyes. Eyes i'd seen a friend in fer a long time, since before she's gone ta tha Shadows, since before she'd given up her Form ta take tha skin of a Demon. I wait a moment, and then i talk to her. "yeah, Kishi, i do." Drak's Mini Bot whispered "Drak I don't like her" and Drak replied to it in the silence "Nor I mini bot"
She just stood there, smiling, watching me. "i want Choi's sanity back, her ears healed, and a goddess damned explanation, but i dont think i got any thing ta offer so, all i can say is that i'm bloody pissed it came tha that" there are so many memories all floodin back ta me, tha First and Second Pack-Shadow wars, all tha betrayals, torture, lies, poisonings, kidnappings, and just recently, tha Droolin Disease. Tha disease they spread, tha disease that they tried ta jab me with. I found a needle hole in my MOPS gear, and had remembered back ta Quiet tryin ta hug me, and tha smell of her drool on tha spot. Never try ta sneak somethin past a SNARL, we'r egood at that crap. All this came back ta me as i stood starin at her. Yet, she used ta be my kin, and its in her nature ta do this. It was a prt of it then, and now, bein a Demon, its just all too easy, i guess, ta ride tha wave, and even start yer own waves.
"ya are who, and what ya are, and who am i ta tell ya ta change, or stop, or be anything else than who and what ya are" i say ta her, all level, more sad than angry, revolted, rather than wrathful. Drak butts in "Fucking Shadow scum balls" so i try ta shut him up with a finger. She looks at me tilts her head watching me with this look of utter nievaty on her face. Drak's Mini Bot butts in too "I bet she wonders why she doesn't get tips, Drak" Funny little bugger, not tha time fer jokes though, i ain't in tha mood. Drak laughs under his mask but starts over towards me. "Grr you are a good guy but never hush me, I will call scum scum " i totally ain't in tha mood fer this, neither. I rotate the shushing finger to the bird, and back, keeping my eyes on her, expectin some surprise attack. I look her over again, most of her Green is gone, these days, tha green that she wore so proud, back in tha Pack.
"yer spalttered in tha blood of folks i care about, and green suited ya better than red, is all i can say, and i'm sorry it ended up this way, i dont know what i expected . . . but. . . just know that, it aint right, but ya are what ya are, thats all" I turn ta Drak, who's come up behind me, still lookin unhinged. "later man, i gotta be elsewhere than here" he nods, and i make my move out, as i turn, i hear tha Demoness crawl up onta tha bar, and i can see from tha reflection, she had her arms outstretched ta try ta hug me, not sayin a word. Maybe she wanted reassurance, maybe she wanted comfort for all we'd known tagether. Maybe she was gonna stab me in tha back of tha neck with a shark-stick and blow my fuckin head off, bar-rules be damned.
I left her hangin.
I feel like crap. Time ta go kill mutie fishes. Tha cordite always hides tha smell of my tears.
She said it were her, but when I pressed her she said she'd directed it, cause it was a part of her. I'm fine with that, tha place is alive, its got a mind and Spirit. Well, she didn't like that analogy, called me some more names "supersticious". So I hit her with another- that she was tha targeting and guidance system of tha weapon system that was tha Library.
That didn't go over too good neither, but I think I reached her a bit more. She said weapon systems aught not have thinking minds. I had ta disagree with that one. See, I been trained ta see myself as a thinkin weapon. Don't get me wrong, I ain't a GOOD weapon, actually i'm pretty crap, more like a Combat-Ready Reccy Package. I didn't bring that up again, last time ended up with Tenguska.
She don't like me near, but I don't realy get why. Strangest mermaid i'il ever know, I swear. Yeh, shes one of Calypso's thatÃs fer sure. Nic came on in, so I scooted. I get it, about Nareth bein part of tha Library, she's a Pesonification. An Elemental, some folks might call her an Avatar of tha Library. That I can understand. I seen her bond with tha place, seen her movin with tha energies flowin over her, smelt where it came from. I think I know what she means by Three too: Her, transient flesh. Tha Library, lasting monument. Knowledge, tha Aetherial aspect of tha other two. Or maybe i'm talking out of my tail hole.
Haven, thatÃs where I ended after makin my exit. Haven, where I needed ta check last fer news on Choi and Pix. I had seen Pix in tha street, ad she was all "i'm fine, Choi is a little messed up, i'm fine." thatÃs typical Post Traumatic Stress. I seen that before. Hell, I been there before. Takes a while fer a bold and brash hard-case like Pix ta come ta terms with getting worked over by professionals like tha Shadows. Takes a while till anybody moves on from somethin like that.
Haven: I get in and there she is. Tha paw of tha Shadows, tha Green Demoness. I been trackin her through Tox fer tha last few days, ever since tha attack on Pix and Choi. From tha sounds of it tha Shadows were reactin ta a violation of their territory, and doled out their brand of punishment. Tha bastards always take things too far is all, and I can't abide that. There's a big difference between harsh and cruel, and tha Shaows always chose on thm side of cruel.
Haven: there she was, tendin bar, where me and my-She usually tend. I dunno if she's caught wind of me trackin her, I almost got busted tha night before last scopin out Vulcan's home comin. I slip on in and keep my head and tail down. I see Drak in, and remember my-She tellin me by Comms that Drak got done over too, so I head fer him, ta see what I can learn.
Tha Green Demoness glances between Emmy and the other at tha bar "either of you two?". She's doin tha tendin deal, askin fer drink orders. I pad up to Drak and tap him on the side of the knee plates of his exo-suit ta get his attention. "Grr!" he comes out with, "Goggy!" pipes up his mini-bot. "how ya doin? heard ya might have had some troubles" I ask him, tryin fer a neutral intro, "a bit" he follows. "mmhmmm" says I. Tha Green Demonesc waves to me, all friendly like, and tha sound of her voice gives me visions. I see Choi crucified, scalped, de-eared. I see tha wild look in Pix's eyes. My fur all fluffs up and I flatten my ears instinctive like. I grit my teath and breathe ta relax. I keep talkin ta Drak. "so, how are ya feelin?" I look him in tha eye, lookin fer signs. Windows of tha souls, eyes are.
Drak tells me he needs a scotch, I tell him i can do that. He grumlbes at the current bar keep and mutters "She is among them" I can hear tha Green Demoness perk at hearing the "i need scotch" and is already setting to work pulling out a well aged single malt "ice?" she asks. "I wasn't talking to you, Fucking Shadow scum" mouths off Drak. I take my cue and wander casually to the bar and snatch a bottle, drop a fistful of notes on the bar, and pad back over to where Drak is sittin on tha long couch.
Malayka tha Ryder walks over with a concerned look on her face, "scotch fer two, right here matey" I say ta Drak but he grabs Mal's hand, a little too hard as she come on over "Sorry" he says at her look. Drak's Mini Bot pipes up " Drak doesn't like shadow.
Tha other folks at tha bar are chattin ta Green Demoness, more Shadows, or their pals, at least. Drak thanks me fer tha drink and tries ta pay me back, but I make a show of refusin, "pfft, keep it man" says I ta which Drak says "Dammit Grr take it" I don't want him ta pay tha Green Demoness, via me, and I want him ta know it. At tha bar she shrugs dumping the ice she had for his scotch set up reaching back for a glass whiping up a chilled rose and adding an umbrella before brining it to her pal. They keep chattin one of em laughs "But hopefully no more blood will be spilt....until our home is ready" So, i know they are of tha same kind, tha lot of em.
Mal listens to the background chatter and mumbles under breath,,,"what the fuck?". Tha Green Demon hops back behind the bar pouring a vodka into a chilled glass and pops over to Vic's table for delivery. I turn back ta Drak reaching over to clink glasses "So, Drak, mate, like, what gives?" Hey says "Fighting shadow, as always" I press him, throwing in a curve, his old mates, tha Cybers "is that on tha agenda fer you lot is it?" Drak looked up to the bar where tha Green Demoness kept glibly servin drinks, i look under under my arm at the bar as well, followin his gaze as easy as a paintin laser "or just personal?" i ask him. His reply is kinda what i expected "I am not lot Grr, I am as they say a GDI" He looks shifty fer a minute "The bar has ears". I kinda work it out and pipe up "Goddess Dammed Individual?" ta which he comes back "God Damn Independent I owe nothing to noone but all shadow will die ALL OF THEM " he looks ta tha bar again. She doesn't react, just smiles turning back to the bar to make up another before putting it back out beside her friend a new coctail umbrella, a blue one this time, peeking its little paper head. "but not tanight, i'm guessin?" i prompt which he follows up with "One day at a time Grr, When they will buck up and fight." I can se where this is goin, i think, so i try ta get it definite in my mind, and his "and, err, would this be bacause of say, some recent events with some friends of ours?" I look at him, tryin ta get him ta come out with what happened, but before i do, something happens to drive all my investigation out tha bloody window.
Tha Green Demoness sighs ignoring Drak "get you anything Grr hun?" she smiled at me. Drak Jefferson looks to the bar again "WHORE!"
I stop mid sentence, stand, turn and walk to the bar. Each pad-fall i see Choi flinchin away from me, I see tha blank look in her eyes when she looks at her friends. Each pad-fall i see Pix, crazed, each pad-fall, i tha bandages on Choi's head, and tha wad of Choi's hair offerd by tha Demoness to my-She, as a tip, in this very bar. I walk up, standin ta my full height and looks her in her eyes. Eyes i'd seen a friend in fer a long time, since before she's gone ta tha Shadows, since before she'd given up her Form ta take tha skin of a Demon. I wait a moment, and then i talk to her. "yeah, Kishi, i do." Drak's Mini Bot whispered "Drak I don't like her" and Drak replied to it in the silence "Nor I mini bot"
She just stood there, smiling, watching me. "i want Choi's sanity back, her ears healed, and a goddess damned explanation, but i dont think i got any thing ta offer so, all i can say is that i'm bloody pissed it came tha that" there are so many memories all floodin back ta me, tha First and Second Pack-Shadow wars, all tha betrayals, torture, lies, poisonings, kidnappings, and just recently, tha Droolin Disease. Tha disease they spread, tha disease that they tried ta jab me with. I found a needle hole in my MOPS gear, and had remembered back ta Quiet tryin ta hug me, and tha smell of her drool on tha spot. Never try ta sneak somethin past a SNARL, we'r egood at that crap. All this came back ta me as i stood starin at her. Yet, she used ta be my kin, and its in her nature ta do this. It was a prt of it then, and now, bein a Demon, its just all too easy, i guess, ta ride tha wave, and even start yer own waves.
"ya are who, and what ya are, and who am i ta tell ya ta change, or stop, or be anything else than who and what ya are" i say ta her, all level, more sad than angry, revolted, rather than wrathful. Drak butts in "Fucking Shadow scum balls" so i try ta shut him up with a finger. She looks at me tilts her head watching me with this look of utter nievaty on her face. Drak's Mini Bot butts in too "I bet she wonders why she doesn't get tips, Drak" Funny little bugger, not tha time fer jokes though, i ain't in tha mood. Drak laughs under his mask but starts over towards me. "Grr you are a good guy but never hush me, I will call scum scum " i totally ain't in tha mood fer this, neither. I rotate the shushing finger to the bird, and back, keeping my eyes on her, expectin some surprise attack. I look her over again, most of her Green is gone, these days, tha green that she wore so proud, back in tha Pack.
"yer spalttered in tha blood of folks i care about, and green suited ya better than red, is all i can say, and i'm sorry it ended up this way, i dont know what i expected . . . but. . . just know that, it aint right, but ya are what ya are, thats all" I turn ta Drak, who's come up behind me, still lookin unhinged. "later man, i gotta be elsewhere than here" he nods, and i make my move out, as i turn, i hear tha Demoness crawl up onta tha bar, and i can see from tha reflection, she had her arms outstretched ta try ta hug me, not sayin a word. Maybe she wanted reassurance, maybe she wanted comfort for all we'd known tagether. Maybe she was gonna stab me in tha back of tha neck with a shark-stick and blow my fuckin head off, bar-rules be damned.
I left her hangin.
I feel like crap. Time ta go kill mutie fishes. Tha cordite always hides tha smell of my tears.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Her
=====================================
Pen entry on damp loose paper, the ink has bleed somewhat during the writing process, but only smudged occasionally, numerous sections have been crossed out into oblivion.
=====================================
been wonderin if i should write somethin here about Her. Her tha person, not Her tha Goddess, although, i suppose tha two could be exchanged, from time ta time. Been wonderin, rather than just doin, because i wonder if i'd be puttin her at risk, by writin about Her here. SO i guess i'll call Her, well Her, and leave it at that.
where ta begin? i wonder. Well, i guess it all begins in tha Haven, when i was doin a lot of tendin there, well before i left Tha Pack, just ta pass tha time, and scope out tha scene, and She was there, on and off, time ta time, sometimes in front of tha bar, sometimes behind it. We had some chat, knew some of tha same peoples, and basically, that was it. I was runnin fairly average in those days, feelin a bit lonely fer company, as tha lass i had had my eye on, and paws from time to tiem, had up and scooted, kinda leavin me hangin. So i wasn't really lookin around fer prospective partners, just kinda mopin and keepin my fur on, day ta day.
Dunno if She had made eyes back then, or not, i was kinda inward and at tha same time, all outward, ya know? Anyways, things were flowin on pretty normal like, tha usual Tox bollocks, and i was keepin my eyes peeled and ears swivlin. Spring came around, and i was hit pretty hard by tha love bug, all mopin and huffin, which, i can tell ya, weren't faked, when tha Season calls, we follow . . . Thing was, i guess, bein a bartender, i get ta talkin and empathisin with folks, and She had had a pretty down experience herself in tha matters of tha heart, and pants.
So there i was, mopin, watchin all these couples gettin tagether, moonin all over each other, havin a grand old time, and just gettin deeper and deeper in a funk, and She was real nice, and hcatted with me, and told me it would all work out. Real Priestess-like, ya know? got ta tha heart of tha thing. Well, it was hard goin fer me, but, at least no one was gunner fer my head or anything, so, i shrugged, and got back ta the Scoutin buisness. Then Tha Pack all went over ta tha way of tha war-beast and i made myself even more alone. Nice one Grr, ya tool, just when ya need company the most, ya make yerself an outcast ta boot . . .
My friends at tha Haven were all real good ta me, lettin me know that i'd made a call fer good, not just because i was poutin, or anythin. She was one of tha stronger voices, healin my burnt heart like any good Den-Mother would, she has tha touch of tha Goddess to her, like i told ya awready. We had some good long talks then, even took her out mutie-fishin, when my temper got ta me. Got a couple of good ones that time too, had ta unload a few clips from tha M4, and a few from tha Sniper too, but it was a good fishin day. We got ta talkin again and sharin some outlooks. I caught some hints, but though it was all just good bar-side flirtin, and her friends and mine started givin us both tha hard word.
I guess i still didn't get it, must have wool in my ears, i tell ya. Anyways, after quite a few of these chats, well, and some pokin from tha other bar-flys, this one time, when we happened ta be closin up, all alone and She all of a sudden, well, she lent over and kissed me. I guess it kinda snuck up on me, who'd have thought. All of a sudden i saw Her as more than just a hot friend who seemed ta understand where i was comin from, what i was runnin from, and where i was headin. I saw her as someone who might want ta share more than just time at tha bar.
She's got tha cutest swishing butt too . . .
Pen entry on damp loose paper, the ink has bleed somewhat during the writing process, but only smudged occasionally, numerous sections have been crossed out into oblivion.
=====================================
been wonderin if i should write somethin here about Her. Her tha person, not Her tha Goddess, although, i suppose tha two could be exchanged, from time ta time. Been wonderin, rather than just doin, because i wonder if i'd be puttin her at risk, by writin about Her here. SO i guess i'll call Her, well Her, and leave it at that.
where ta begin? i wonder. Well, i guess it all begins in tha Haven, when i was doin a lot of tendin there, well before i left Tha Pack, just ta pass tha time, and scope out tha scene, and She was there, on and off, time ta time, sometimes in front of tha bar, sometimes behind it. We had some chat, knew some of tha same peoples, and basically, that was it. I was runnin fairly average in those days, feelin a bit lonely fer company, as tha lass i had had my eye on, and paws from time to tiem, had up and scooted, kinda leavin me hangin. So i wasn't really lookin around fer prospective partners, just kinda mopin and keepin my fur on, day ta day.
Dunno if She had made eyes back then, or not, i was kinda inward and at tha same time, all outward, ya know? Anyways, things were flowin on pretty normal like, tha usual Tox bollocks, and i was keepin my eyes peeled and ears swivlin. Spring came around, and i was hit pretty hard by tha love bug, all mopin and huffin, which, i can tell ya, weren't faked, when tha Season calls, we follow . . . Thing was, i guess, bein a bartender, i get ta talkin and empathisin with folks, and She had had a pretty down experience herself in tha matters of tha heart, and pants.
So there i was, mopin, watchin all these couples gettin tagether, moonin all over each other, havin a grand old time, and just gettin deeper and deeper in a funk, and She was real nice, and hcatted with me, and told me it would all work out. Real Priestess-like, ya know? got ta tha heart of tha thing. Well, it was hard goin fer me, but, at least no one was gunner fer my head or anything, so, i shrugged, and got back ta the Scoutin buisness. Then Tha Pack all went over ta tha way of tha war-beast and i made myself even more alone. Nice one Grr, ya tool, just when ya need company the most, ya make yerself an outcast ta boot . . .
My friends at tha Haven were all real good ta me, lettin me know that i'd made a call fer good, not just because i was poutin, or anythin. She was one of tha stronger voices, healin my burnt heart like any good Den-Mother would, she has tha touch of tha Goddess to her, like i told ya awready. We had some good long talks then, even took her out mutie-fishin, when my temper got ta me. Got a couple of good ones that time too, had ta unload a few clips from tha M4, and a few from tha Sniper too, but it was a good fishin day. We got ta talkin again and sharin some outlooks. I caught some hints, but though it was all just good bar-side flirtin, and her friends and mine started givin us both tha hard word.
I guess i still didn't get it, must have wool in my ears, i tell ya. Anyways, after quite a few of these chats, well, and some pokin from tha other bar-flys, this one time, when we happened ta be closin up, all alone and She all of a sudden, well, she lent over and kissed me. I guess it kinda snuck up on me, who'd have thought. All of a sudden i saw Her as more than just a hot friend who seemed ta understand where i was comin from, what i was runnin from, and where i was headin. I saw her as someone who might want ta share more than just time at tha bar.
She's got tha cutest swishing butt too . . .
Saturday, April 12, 2008
being Home
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Pencil entry dated 12/4/08
===================================
today when i padded inta tha Library, i found Lorne and Brit standin about. Lorne had just got in too, and i have no idea where Brit goes when she aint there. I asked how they were goin, and as soon as i had closed my yap, Brit hit me with a cheery barrage of questions.
Still not a person?
When do i change?
Does it hurt?
Can i change one part at as time?
What can i change?
All in tha one breath, stumped me fer a bit, till Lorne spoke up tellin me that Brit "often asks all her questions at once", so, what could i do, i tried ta it as best i could, i don't mind talkin ta Brit about anythin, she's well, so open, and tha truth is, i think that she shoulda been told a lot more, sooner, she's not a pup anymore, but i get tha feel she's like one, inside.
So, i told her about my three forms: Fleshie, War and Native, i told her about tha bloody prankster that Luna is, and that how these days it hurts ta change, cause of tha shrapnel that i carry about in me body, and why no one has been able ta fish it out of me yet.
She got all worried about me, which was real sweet, cause, well, i'm this big hulkin scarred war-vet Shifter, right? well, i tried ta ease her fears, let her know i was awright, and that it was just a few minutes a month, that i didn't Shift all that often in Tox, it bein safer fer me in my War-Form and that even if somone tried ta magic them out, because of tha way i've healed about tha chunks, i'd been told i could die from it, and thast, anyway, feelin pain like that did a couple of good things fer me.
First up, it makes any other pain i get dealt on just wash right over me, which is a bonus, i guess, givin tha dangers of scoutin in places where yer often not wanted, and capture is always a risk, but second, it gives me an insight when i'm medicin folks, lets me tie inta their pain, and gives me a better chance at helpin em.
Twas after that, that Lorne spoke up, told me it was good "I always could see the good in somethin", and we got ta talkin about me havin been put on tha books of tha Institute, and he approved. This really meant a lot ta me, Lorne bein tha first Omegan i got ta talkin to way back when, and knowin that he and tha others thought it was a good thin ta have me. I'm still not sure what i'm gonna bring ta tha Unit, but, hell, anythin i got and anythin i not got yet is what i'll give.
Nic came on in, as Brit was practicin her "swoonin" and they had a giggly good time, which is always warmin ta my heart. Ya spend enough time stalkin through tha bloody jungle on "double-slow silent-hunt" huntin down escaped kiddie witnesses ta massacres, and well, its good ta be around folks who aint either terrified of ya or don't know yer there till yer on them and SHOULD be terrified of ya. Not that i think many of tha Omegas would be terrified of me, considerin who and what most of em are. Still tha good thing is that they have brought me in, and welcomed me more than just ta sit by their fire, but ta be part of somethin, somethin good.
So, i got a bit restless, and figured it was time ta take a run. Gotta keep tha claws ground down ya know. Well, i got tha distinct feelin that Nic was givin me tha once over, which, well, made me blush, i could feel that hit me ears, so, out i ducked, givin proper respects ta tha Library on my way out. Out inta tha night, and off i ducked. Quicker than tha arrow from tha Tartars bow.
Still not a "person", i guess, but, at least, they like me and want me ta be around. . .
Pencil entry dated 12/4/08
===================================
today when i padded inta tha Library, i found Lorne and Brit standin about. Lorne had just got in too, and i have no idea where Brit goes when she aint there. I asked how they were goin, and as soon as i had closed my yap, Brit hit me with a cheery barrage of questions.
Still not a person?
When do i change?
Does it hurt?
Can i change one part at as time?
What can i change?
All in tha one breath, stumped me fer a bit, till Lorne spoke up tellin me that Brit "often asks all her questions at once", so, what could i do, i tried ta it as best i could, i don't mind talkin ta Brit about anythin, she's well, so open, and tha truth is, i think that she shoulda been told a lot more, sooner, she's not a pup anymore, but i get tha feel she's like one, inside.
So, i told her about my three forms: Fleshie, War and Native, i told her about tha bloody prankster that Luna is, and that how these days it hurts ta change, cause of tha shrapnel that i carry about in me body, and why no one has been able ta fish it out of me yet.
She got all worried about me, which was real sweet, cause, well, i'm this big hulkin scarred war-vet Shifter, right? well, i tried ta ease her fears, let her know i was awright, and that it was just a few minutes a month, that i didn't Shift all that often in Tox, it bein safer fer me in my War-Form and that even if somone tried ta magic them out, because of tha way i've healed about tha chunks, i'd been told i could die from it, and thast, anyway, feelin pain like that did a couple of good things fer me.
First up, it makes any other pain i get dealt on just wash right over me, which is a bonus, i guess, givin tha dangers of scoutin in places where yer often not wanted, and capture is always a risk, but second, it gives me an insight when i'm medicin folks, lets me tie inta their pain, and gives me a better chance at helpin em.
Twas after that, that Lorne spoke up, told me it was good "I always could see the good in somethin", and we got ta talkin about me havin been put on tha books of tha Institute, and he approved. This really meant a lot ta me, Lorne bein tha first Omegan i got ta talkin to way back when, and knowin that he and tha others thought it was a good thin ta have me. I'm still not sure what i'm gonna bring ta tha Unit, but, hell, anythin i got and anythin i not got yet is what i'll give.
Nic came on in, as Brit was practicin her "swoonin" and they had a giggly good time, which is always warmin ta my heart. Ya spend enough time stalkin through tha bloody jungle on "double-slow silent-hunt" huntin down escaped kiddie witnesses ta massacres, and well, its good ta be around folks who aint either terrified of ya or don't know yer there till yer on them and SHOULD be terrified of ya. Not that i think many of tha Omegas would be terrified of me, considerin who and what most of em are. Still tha good thing is that they have brought me in, and welcomed me more than just ta sit by their fire, but ta be part of somethin, somethin good.
So, i got a bit restless, and figured it was time ta take a run. Gotta keep tha claws ground down ya know. Well, i got tha distinct feelin that Nic was givin me tha once over, which, well, made me blush, i could feel that hit me ears, so, out i ducked, givin proper respects ta tha Library on my way out. Out inta tha night, and off i ducked. Quicker than tha arrow from tha Tartars bow.
Still not a "person", i guess, but, at least, they like me and want me ta be around. . .
A Letter to the Institute
===================================
Pencil draft of a letter left out on the writing table, in painfully careful childlike writing, the final piece in smudged pen
===================================
G'day all,
I figure I better add a little something here about me, too. You've all been good enough to allow me to share your fireside for a while now, your thoughts and even if you didn't realise it, a sense of Family. Now, it's formal.
I guess I'll go backwards and ease you into things. I've been in Tox now for a good number of seasons and up until this Spring, I ran with The Pack. My reasons are my own, but I'll say just that their path and mine split and I won't run with them where they are going. My Path is the Shaman's path. I was one of their Scout Leaders, a Hunter Leader before that, and had been with them through thick and thin for many seasons until now. It's been a hard month, I'm not a loner, I need Family. I've lost three now, but I think this time it will work, I know it will.
Before I came to Tox, I was in a special branch of the Australian Armed Forces, the 7RAR-L, 7th Royal Australian Regiment - Lycanthropy Corps. They sent us to do bad things to bad people. Eventually, worse things to any people. They trained me and schooled me, in everything they though I needed. What they didn't expect was under the fur and claws and fangs, I had a caring heart. That and they had trained me too well to be able to keep me. Or find me. They've come close, but, I?m a sneaky critter. I listen, I watch, I wait in the dark places.
They found me in Melbourne Zoo in 1995, where I was born, in 1992. The dark of the New Moon sends me into my average-Joe Fleshy body, in case you ask. It's embarrassing, and with the shrapnel I carry about, painful. That's right, I'm a wolf-were, so they say. Born and raised with all the social skills of feral canine, with military barracks for a finishing school.
Yes, I am house-trained
No, I will not fetch
Yes, I will put my very only body in harms way for Family
No, I will never betray a trust given me
Kin, Pack, Blood
You are my pack.
Grr
Pencil draft of a letter left out on the writing table, in painfully careful childlike writing, the final piece in smudged pen
===================================
G'day all,
I figure I better add a little something here about me, too. You've all been good enough to allow me to share your fireside for a while now, your thoughts and even if you didn't realise it, a sense of Family. Now, it's formal.
I guess I'll go backwards and ease you into things. I've been in Tox now for a good number of seasons and up until this Spring, I ran with The Pack. My reasons are my own, but I'll say just that their path and mine split and I won't run with them where they are going. My Path is the Shaman's path. I was one of their Scout Leaders, a Hunter Leader before that, and had been with them through thick and thin for many seasons until now. It's been a hard month, I'm not a loner, I need Family. I've lost three now, but I think this time it will work, I know it will.
Before I came to Tox, I was in a special branch of the Australian Armed Forces, the 7RAR-L, 7th Royal Australian Regiment - Lycanthropy Corps. They sent us to do bad things to bad people. Eventually, worse things to any people. They trained me and schooled me, in everything they though I needed. What they didn't expect was under the fur and claws and fangs, I had a caring heart. That and they had trained me too well to be able to keep me. Or find me. They've come close, but, I?m a sneaky critter. I listen, I watch, I wait in the dark places.
They found me in Melbourne Zoo in 1995, where I was born, in 1992. The dark of the New Moon sends me into my average-Joe Fleshy body, in case you ask. It's embarrassing, and with the shrapnel I carry about, painful. That's right, I'm a wolf-were, so they say. Born and raised with all the social skills of feral canine, with military barracks for a finishing school.
Yes, I am house-trained
No, I will not fetch
Yes, I will put my very only body in harms way for Family
No, I will never betray a trust given me
Kin, Pack, Blood
You are my pack.
Grr
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Grr's Magic Hair Attracting Potion
=====================================
a page in pencil, annotated on one side in marker "never fails"
=====================================
40% Capt Morgan Dark Jamacian Rum - 3 to 4 shots
Fresh, pulped, Lime juice - 2 limes
Ginger Syrup - 2 shots
dash of water
Muddle limes in a highball glass (or to be even more authentic, an old jam jar), pour in ginger syrup, the rum, and serve. When finished, eat the limes.
Ice is optional but recommended for tropical and desert conditions.
Children and those recovering from injury should add some water, to cut the syrup a little . . .
a page in pencil, annotated on one side in marker "never fails"
=====================================
40% Capt Morgan Dark Jamacian Rum - 3 to 4 shots
Fresh, pulped, Lime juice - 2 limes
Ginger Syrup - 2 shots
dash of water
Muddle limes in a highball glass (or to be even more authentic, an old jam jar), pour in ginger syrup, the rum, and serve. When finished, eat the limes.
Ice is optional but recommended for tropical and desert conditions.
Children and those recovering from injury should add some water, to cut the syrup a little . . .
Library Card
======================================
battered, old Library card, filled in in red pen, there is a corner missing and some blood staining
======================================
Toxian City Public Library Card Application
[Don't put RL INFO]
Full Legal Name (Last, First): Lykin, GrrBrool
Preferred Title: Hunter
Address: The Den Garden, above the Porn Store
2007-02-18
Ref Number: 239858
======================================
the number correlates to the following application, wherever that was filed
======================================
Full Legal Name (Last, First): Lykin, GrrBrool
Preferred Title: Hunter
Address: The Den Garden, above the Porn Store
2007-02-18
Ref Number: 239858
Free access to the library is for city residents only. All others will pay a surcharge for its use.
Books may be borrowed for two weeks without fine. Reference books are not taken out. The library does not provide copy services.
Please mark your interests as they apply:
___ Book Clubs ____ Geneology
___ Writing ____ Medical
___ Current Events X Military History
___ Toxicology X Environmental Concerns
X Mythology and Folk Lore ____ Religion
___ Arcane Alchemy ____ Break and Repair (Mechanics)
___ Computer Technology ____ Mixology and Entertaining
X Weapons and Artillary ____ Bikes and Cars
battered, old Library card, filled in in red pen, there is a corner missing and some blood staining
======================================
Toxian City Public Library Card Application
[Don't put RL INFO]
Full Legal Name (Last, First): Lykin, GrrBrool
Preferred Title: Hunter
Address: The Den Garden, above the Porn Store
2007-02-18
Ref Number: 239858
======================================
the number correlates to the following application, wherever that was filed
======================================
Full Legal Name (Last, First): Lykin, GrrBrool
Preferred Title: Hunter
Address: The Den Garden, above the Porn Store
2007-02-18
Ref Number: 239858
Free access to the library is for city residents only. All others will pay a surcharge for its use.
Books may be borrowed for two weeks without fine. Reference books are not taken out. The library does not provide copy services.
Please mark your interests as they apply:
___ Book Clubs ____ Geneology
___ Writing ____ Medical
___ Current Events X Military History
___ Toxicology X Environmental Concerns
X Mythology and Folk Lore ____ Religion
___ Arcane Alchemy ____ Break and Repair (Mechanics)
___ Computer Technology ____ Mixology and Entertaining
X Weapons and Artillary ____ Bikes and Cars
Grr's Backstory - OOC (not in the book)
GrrBrool Lykin OOC backstory, some details and likely the whole thing will come out IC, but in dribs and drabs, ask, and he will probably talk . . .
=======================================
-Toxian
Arriving on the docks in Toxian in his two legged, Fleshie form GrrBrool was lucky. He quickly came across a couple of other were's, one he came to know as FireStalker. Introducing himself as Grr, he was given a rundown of the city, its groups and history. The Pack's structure and status in the city, its membership and importantly the Den. Not long after, Grr, feeling welcome in his Were form was offered membership to the Pack. There has been a lot of change in the leadership of the Pack but its very wildness makes this natural to GrrBrool. The strong lead, the loyal second the leaders, and the Pack follows. Grr, with his military background was designated as a Pack Hunter. He took to patrolling the streets. Quickly learning that some forces were never going to be understood, he escorted his then-Alpha Maverick to the Pit, lair of the Shadows. They were on a mission to rescue a fallen Packmate, but little did Grr realise how fallen Krazy was. The House of Shadows was not simply claiming the bodies of the Pack, but also their minds and souls. During the confrontation Grr learnt a harsh fact. The Pack for all its strength was not in a position of power in Toxian. He made it his duty to see to the hurts and hearts of not only his Packmates, but to all his Furred kin, Canine, Vulpine or Feline. Not always a popular cause, but a heart felt one. Fleshies, Fallen, Fangers, Freaks or Furred, his neighbors were here to stay and so was he.
-this is the Army Mr. Lykin.
Taken from his zoo home, awakening in the Facility, faced with a strange dominant male wolf GrrBrool was introduced into a strange new world. A world of mystery and amazement. A world of pain and blood. A world of inky darkness and blinding light, and all that lays between. Grr was a shapeshifter, a lycanthrope, a WereCritter. The zoo had been the testbed, knowing of his heritage but not how it might manifest, nor in which of his litter. When it did, he was taken by the Institute, a division of the Australian military.
He was trained, taught, enlightened, awoken to thc world outside the zoo and for this he was grateful, but not the rest. He became a weapon. Literally a Dog-Soldier, a controlled, conditioned member of the 7RAR - Lycanthropy Corps. Sure, he was instilled with plenty of true-blue Aussie values: mateship, ANZAC Digger spirit, a bloody minded stubborn streak, the traditional laconic humor. Yet, underneath it all was the training, the duty, and the work.
Jobs to sensitive to leave to "normal" troops. Jobs too messy for the delicate minds of his Fleshy Digger brothers and sisters. Insurrections to start or quash. Dissidents to vanish, villagers too close to valuable mining resources. Send in the 7RAR-L. 'snarls' the Brass would call them.
Indonesians massacring the East Timourese? Send in the 'snarls'. No prisoners or bodies. Illegal Chinese fishing disrupting supply? A burnt out blood-filled wreck last seen drifting. Normal troops pinned down by snipers or artillery? Send in the 'snarls', they regenerate, and if you do manage to kill one, all you get is a bloody broken wolf corpse, or puma, or fox or coyote. Its not like they are PEOPLE or anything.
Mission after mission saw Grr doing his killing wholesale. Mostly it was indigenous Fleshy militia and supernatural political Black Ops. He took some serious heavy metal in Timor, a 90mm artillery shell that hit a bodies length away, which knocked him into a ditch an almost to the next life. It also almost cost him a leg, both arms and his maleness. Only after the action was resolved and his mates came to scoop up his remains did they realise he was still alive. Regeneration is only so fast and Grr was out of commission for a while.
Always inquisitive he took great notice of his medics, the recovery staff and physios. Learning all the time, he noticed that for all their training most of them knew very little about what it meant to be a Were. Still they tried, and he did have some fun with them, especially the females, Fleshie or otherwise. Whilst he was out of action however, his Unit underwent some drastic changes.
New leaders filled empty slots, new Brass with new ideas and agendas. The structure was changed and there were cullings. 'Redeployment' they called it but you can't lie to a Were who can smell the blood and death of a fellow on you. The missions became darker too. Fewer stand-up fights, more wet-work, 'cleansing' and anti-supernatural actions. The guerrilla fighting appealed to Grr, the massacring of whole villages for a pipeline did not.
In his last assignment with 7RAR-L, that was exactly what he was ordered to do. He tried to reason with the CO. He tried to call off the strike to save the civilians. In the end he couldn't take any more, and before the end, he walked up to his CO to give his report, ' accidentally ' spilt his mug of hot tea in their lap, and when leaning over to quickly mop it up, Grr took the grenade rings on their harness in both sets of 'up-yours' fingers, yanked them and brandished the rings for a moment. "fuck you, sir" he stated to his open-mouthed CO and ducked behind a mostly ruined wall.
Two frag and two incendiary grenades going off on ones hips at once will put a dampener on anyone's day, and the chaos gave Grr a chance to leg-it into the bush. Well trained, well equipped and well motivated there was no way his unit could catch him, even if they had tried. They hadn't. That much firepower makes a big mess, and doesn't leave much in the way of remains, which is why 7RAR-L were issued them.
Making his way to the coast, then on to one of the free-ports, Grr stowed away on a transport junker, laying low until his first port of call, where he jumped ship. He arrived on the docks of Toxian early February 2007. Homeless, alone, renegade.
-beginnings.
GrrBrool was born in Melbourne Zoo's red-wolf enclosure in 1992. His litter also contained his two brothers and two sisters. His mother had been installed there pregnant, as part of a breeding program and good will program between Melbourne and Denver. He grew up happily enough, safe from hunger, predation or sickness, but not free, and under the constant eye of the public, his keepers, the vets and the mysterious "Institute".
Growing larger than normal established him as the leader of the cubs, and his cunning saw many headaches for the keepers, and delight to children and adult patrons alike. The Institute people and the vets were a constant nusciance to him. He would wake groggy and sore, and learned to mistrust tasty treats left out just for him, and hide at the sound of a "safety" being flicked off.
Learning the sounds humans made to one another, GrrBrool began to have an understanding of what was happening. He and his litter-mates were being tested to see if they would show "the Change". Late one night something happened which changed everything. The moon was hidden and Grr was asleep in a hollow of his enclosure, vividly dreaming of walking through the zoo, looking in on the other enclosures and seeing the other inmates he had only heard or smelt. A loud yip startled him, and he woke cold and sore.
The ground was chilled, the rocks sharp and rough, the tussock grass spiky and uncomfortable. Looking across the enclosure as he struggled up to sitting, the view was wrong, and he couldn't smell his family. A weak sounding yip of 'alarm' from one side and looking he saw his youngest sister, backing up in an aspect of fear. Grr looked at her, sat up straight and postured warm curiosity. He tried to walk over to her but his paws wouldn't work. Looking down at them Grr could hardly believe his eyes. His paws were gone, and in their place were the long pink fingers of a human hand. His belly, pink and barely haired. Lanky human legs sprawled onto the dirt beneath him. A startled yelp tried to form, but came out as a yell.
That’s when the alarms went off, the floodlights came on and the men came with the dart guns and the nets. When he woke, there were men in uniforms with clipboards looking at him, as he drifted in and out of dreams. In waking moments he could not move, his limbs were heavy, but he saw his paws, and wagged his tail.
After more sleeping he woke refreshed and able to move. He was in a large, open but high walled pen. He was not alone. A large timber wolf was sitting in the far corner and instead of posturing for dominance or attacking, the wolf spoke to GrrBrool. . .
=======================================
-Toxian
Arriving on the docks in Toxian in his two legged, Fleshie form GrrBrool was lucky. He quickly came across a couple of other were's, one he came to know as FireStalker. Introducing himself as Grr, he was given a rundown of the city, its groups and history. The Pack's structure and status in the city, its membership and importantly the Den. Not long after, Grr, feeling welcome in his Were form was offered membership to the Pack. There has been a lot of change in the leadership of the Pack but its very wildness makes this natural to GrrBrool. The strong lead, the loyal second the leaders, and the Pack follows. Grr, with his military background was designated as a Pack Hunter. He took to patrolling the streets. Quickly learning that some forces were never going to be understood, he escorted his then-Alpha Maverick to the Pit, lair of the Shadows. They were on a mission to rescue a fallen Packmate, but little did Grr realise how fallen Krazy was. The House of Shadows was not simply claiming the bodies of the Pack, but also their minds and souls. During the confrontation Grr learnt a harsh fact. The Pack for all its strength was not in a position of power in Toxian. He made it his duty to see to the hurts and hearts of not only his Packmates, but to all his Furred kin, Canine, Vulpine or Feline. Not always a popular cause, but a heart felt one. Fleshies, Fallen, Fangers, Freaks or Furred, his neighbors were here to stay and so was he.
-this is the Army Mr. Lykin.
Taken from his zoo home, awakening in the Facility, faced with a strange dominant male wolf GrrBrool was introduced into a strange new world. A world of mystery and amazement. A world of pain and blood. A world of inky darkness and blinding light, and all that lays between. Grr was a shapeshifter, a lycanthrope, a WereCritter. The zoo had been the testbed, knowing of his heritage but not how it might manifest, nor in which of his litter. When it did, he was taken by the Institute, a division of the Australian military.
He was trained, taught, enlightened, awoken to thc world outside the zoo and for this he was grateful, but not the rest. He became a weapon. Literally a Dog-Soldier, a controlled, conditioned member of the 7RAR - Lycanthropy Corps. Sure, he was instilled with plenty of true-blue Aussie values: mateship, ANZAC Digger spirit, a bloody minded stubborn streak, the traditional laconic humor. Yet, underneath it all was the training, the duty, and the work.
Jobs to sensitive to leave to "normal" troops. Jobs too messy for the delicate minds of his Fleshy Digger brothers and sisters. Insurrections to start or quash. Dissidents to vanish, villagers too close to valuable mining resources. Send in the 7RAR-L. 'snarls' the Brass would call them.
Indonesians massacring the East Timourese? Send in the 'snarls'. No prisoners or bodies. Illegal Chinese fishing disrupting supply? A burnt out blood-filled wreck last seen drifting. Normal troops pinned down by snipers or artillery? Send in the 'snarls', they regenerate, and if you do manage to kill one, all you get is a bloody broken wolf corpse, or puma, or fox or coyote. Its not like they are PEOPLE or anything.
Mission after mission saw Grr doing his killing wholesale. Mostly it was indigenous Fleshy militia and supernatural political Black Ops. He took some serious heavy metal in Timor, a 90mm artillery shell that hit a bodies length away, which knocked him into a ditch an almost to the next life. It also almost cost him a leg, both arms and his maleness. Only after the action was resolved and his mates came to scoop up his remains did they realise he was still alive. Regeneration is only so fast and Grr was out of commission for a while.
Always inquisitive he took great notice of his medics, the recovery staff and physios. Learning all the time, he noticed that for all their training most of them knew very little about what it meant to be a Were. Still they tried, and he did have some fun with them, especially the females, Fleshie or otherwise. Whilst he was out of action however, his Unit underwent some drastic changes.
New leaders filled empty slots, new Brass with new ideas and agendas. The structure was changed and there were cullings. 'Redeployment' they called it but you can't lie to a Were who can smell the blood and death of a fellow on you. The missions became darker too. Fewer stand-up fights, more wet-work, 'cleansing' and anti-supernatural actions. The guerrilla fighting appealed to Grr, the massacring of whole villages for a pipeline did not.
In his last assignment with 7RAR-L, that was exactly what he was ordered to do. He tried to reason with the CO. He tried to call off the strike to save the civilians. In the end he couldn't take any more, and before the end, he walked up to his CO to give his report, ' accidentally ' spilt his mug of hot tea in their lap, and when leaning over to quickly mop it up, Grr took the grenade rings on their harness in both sets of 'up-yours' fingers, yanked them and brandished the rings for a moment. "fuck you, sir" he stated to his open-mouthed CO and ducked behind a mostly ruined wall.
Two frag and two incendiary grenades going off on ones hips at once will put a dampener on anyone's day, and the chaos gave Grr a chance to leg-it into the bush. Well trained, well equipped and well motivated there was no way his unit could catch him, even if they had tried. They hadn't. That much firepower makes a big mess, and doesn't leave much in the way of remains, which is why 7RAR-L were issued them.
Making his way to the coast, then on to one of the free-ports, Grr stowed away on a transport junker, laying low until his first port of call, where he jumped ship. He arrived on the docks of Toxian early February 2007. Homeless, alone, renegade.
-beginnings.
GrrBrool was born in Melbourne Zoo's red-wolf enclosure in 1992. His litter also contained his two brothers and two sisters. His mother had been installed there pregnant, as part of a breeding program and good will program between Melbourne and Denver. He grew up happily enough, safe from hunger, predation or sickness, but not free, and under the constant eye of the public, his keepers, the vets and the mysterious "Institute".
Growing larger than normal established him as the leader of the cubs, and his cunning saw many headaches for the keepers, and delight to children and adult patrons alike. The Institute people and the vets were a constant nusciance to him. He would wake groggy and sore, and learned to mistrust tasty treats left out just for him, and hide at the sound of a "safety" being flicked off.
Learning the sounds humans made to one another, GrrBrool began to have an understanding of what was happening. He and his litter-mates were being tested to see if they would show "the Change". Late one night something happened which changed everything. The moon was hidden and Grr was asleep in a hollow of his enclosure, vividly dreaming of walking through the zoo, looking in on the other enclosures and seeing the other inmates he had only heard or smelt. A loud yip startled him, and he woke cold and sore.
The ground was chilled, the rocks sharp and rough, the tussock grass spiky and uncomfortable. Looking across the enclosure as he struggled up to sitting, the view was wrong, and he couldn't smell his family. A weak sounding yip of 'alarm' from one side and looking he saw his youngest sister, backing up in an aspect of fear. Grr looked at her, sat up straight and postured warm curiosity. He tried to walk over to her but his paws wouldn't work. Looking down at them Grr could hardly believe his eyes. His paws were gone, and in their place were the long pink fingers of a human hand. His belly, pink and barely haired. Lanky human legs sprawled onto the dirt beneath him. A startled yelp tried to form, but came out as a yell.
That’s when the alarms went off, the floodlights came on and the men came with the dart guns and the nets. When he woke, there were men in uniforms with clipboards looking at him, as he drifted in and out of dreams. In waking moments he could not move, his limbs were heavy, but he saw his paws, and wagged his tail.
After more sleeping he woke refreshed and able to move. He was in a large, open but high walled pen. He was not alone. A large timber wolf was sitting in the far corner and instead of posturing for dominance or attacking, the wolf spoke to GrrBrool. . .
An old report, a prelude of things to come
===================================================
A Report to the Pack, dated 12/07
===================================================
Alpha, Beta, Leaders, Omega
I can't make tha meetin., time zones and tha like, but i wanted ta let ya all know how i felt, fer better er worse. I've attached some files both of logs i've recorded, bein a Scout, through and through, but also of some of tha key aspects of what being in tha Pack means ta me
we got serious cohesion problems with tha Pack, ya all know that. and i'm bloody relieved that we're finally doin somethin about it.
over tha last few months we've had all kinds of troubles, both with tha Shadows, and with our own. We've had our leaders leavin, gettin possessed, goin crazy, leavin randomly and leadin us all into tha mouth of tha Abyss.
We had brutality and a reign of sullen terror. This wasn't tha way of tha wild, not of nature. This wasn't tha way any pack of wild street dogs would behave, let alone an outfit with a history and tradition like tha Pack that -i- came ta Toxi City ta find.
We lost that nobility fer a long while, and tha respect of our allies and our foes alike.
Havin folks comin and goin from tha Pack as they saw fit, and tha roles of Leaders, and tha Ranked, choppin and changin every which way, well, it weakens us all. Tha damn Shadows got ta laugh at us "your leadership is like a revolving door" i heard one say. That hurt, and i was ashamed.
We've had strange Were's come into tha city, two tight Packs worth, and they saw what a shambles we were in, and they sneered. Fer one, i tried as best i could ta keep us together, keep some unity, and give a little guidance ta both tha rank 'n' file, and ta tha Ranked, and my Leader mates.
I like ta think that tha trust put in me wasn't misplaced, and that what what i done made a difference, and kept tha Pack a little safer than it woulda, otherwise. But.
I'm just a Leader, it's not my place ta make policy, but ta enforce it. Enforce it where my heart lets me, i know tha difference, any of ya who've gotten ta know me may know my history, and why i'm here in Tox, and not back in tha 7RAR-L.
We need ta keep tha Pack together, strong like a Pack should be, we ain't an iron fist, we're Family. We ain't a battle hard fightin force out fer blood and glory, we're a Pack. We fight ta keep what we need, what we deserve. We need ta be able ta trust in our Leadership, and in our Packmates. Trust that we always got each others Six
Trust that no one is gonna stab ya in tha back, or sic their pet on ya if ya disagree with them. Trust that ya ain't gonna be raped. Trust ya ain't gonna get made someone's slave. Trust.
Trust that even if we might come ta blows, might get inta a bloody mess, trust that whilst ya might hate each other, ya'll never TURN on each other. Trust in tha PACK.
Thats all i gotta say. We need that trust, in each other, and in all our leaders.
Without it, we're nothin better than a bunch of rabid dogs runnin fer scraps in this town. Nothin better than tha damn Shadows.
and even THEY look after their own.
A Report to the Pack, dated 12/07
===================================================
Alpha, Beta, Leaders, Omega
I can't make tha meetin., time zones and tha like, but i wanted ta let ya all know how i felt, fer better er worse. I've attached some files both of logs i've recorded, bein a Scout, through and through, but also of some of tha key aspects of what being in tha Pack means ta me
we got serious cohesion problems with tha Pack, ya all know that. and i'm bloody relieved that we're finally doin somethin about it.
over tha last few months we've had all kinds of troubles, both with tha Shadows, and with our own. We've had our leaders leavin, gettin possessed, goin crazy, leavin randomly and leadin us all into tha mouth of tha Abyss.
We had brutality and a reign of sullen terror. This wasn't tha way of tha wild, not of nature. This wasn't tha way any pack of wild street dogs would behave, let alone an outfit with a history and tradition like tha Pack that -i- came ta Toxi City ta find.
We lost that nobility fer a long while, and tha respect of our allies and our foes alike.
Havin folks comin and goin from tha Pack as they saw fit, and tha roles of Leaders, and tha Ranked, choppin and changin every which way, well, it weakens us all. Tha damn Shadows got ta laugh at us "your leadership is like a revolving door" i heard one say. That hurt, and i was ashamed.
We've had strange Were's come into tha city, two tight Packs worth, and they saw what a shambles we were in, and they sneered. Fer one, i tried as best i could ta keep us together, keep some unity, and give a little guidance ta both tha rank 'n' file, and ta tha Ranked, and my Leader mates.
I like ta think that tha trust put in me wasn't misplaced, and that what what i done made a difference, and kept tha Pack a little safer than it woulda, otherwise. But.
I'm just a Leader, it's not my place ta make policy, but ta enforce it. Enforce it where my heart lets me, i know tha difference, any of ya who've gotten ta know me may know my history, and why i'm here in Tox, and not back in tha 7RAR-L.
We need ta keep tha Pack together, strong like a Pack should be, we ain't an iron fist, we're Family. We ain't a battle hard fightin force out fer blood and glory, we're a Pack. We fight ta keep what we need, what we deserve. We need ta be able ta trust in our Leadership, and in our Packmates. Trust that we always got each others Six
Trust that no one is gonna stab ya in tha back, or sic their pet on ya if ya disagree with them. Trust that ya ain't gonna be raped. Trust ya ain't gonna get made someone's slave. Trust.
Trust that even if we might come ta blows, might get inta a bloody mess, trust that whilst ya might hate each other, ya'll never TURN on each other. Trust in tha PACK.
Thats all i gotta say. We need that trust, in each other, and in all our leaders.
Without it, we're nothin better than a bunch of rabid dogs runnin fer scraps in this town. Nothin better than tha damn Shadows.
and even THEY look after their own.
Bug-out Note
===================================================
A hastily scrawled note, on a Haven drink coaster in red marker pen, left on the wall by the punching bag in the Den. Penciled beside it in the notebook is "2/1/08"
===================================================
"they found me, somehow they tracked me here, and I gotta scram fer a bit. I bet it was that poor bastard in Logistics, i knew gettin him ta air-drop me extra booze might get him in trouble, but i expected him ta have a bit more backbone. i think i caught tha scent of tha 7-RAR-L tracker MP's, by tha docks, so i gotta go walkabout fer a while, lay low till they buzz through.
if ya hear any Aussies with bad haircuts, sunglasses and big canines askin fer me, ya never knew me. I'll be back as soon as i think tha coast is clear.
one of yer Scout Leaders . . ."
A hastily scrawled note, on a Haven drink coaster in red marker pen, left on the wall by the punching bag in the Den. Penciled beside it in the notebook is "2/1/08"
===================================================
"they found me, somehow they tracked me here, and I gotta scram fer a bit. I bet it was that poor bastard in Logistics, i knew gettin him ta air-drop me extra booze might get him in trouble, but i expected him ta have a bit more backbone. i think i caught tha scent of tha 7-RAR-L tracker MP's, by tha docks, so i gotta go walkabout fer a while, lay low till they buzz through.
if ya hear any Aussies with bad haircuts, sunglasses and big canines askin fer me, ya never knew me. I'll be back as soon as i think tha coast is clear.
one of yer Scout Leaders . . ."
Postcard
===================================================
A bent and folded postcard, showing farmland, cows and fields of plants with the title "
Koo Wee Rup: Australia's largest asparagus growing district" On the back in a cramped, messy hand is written . . . Postmarked 17 January 2008. It looks like it has been rescued from the rubbish.
===================================================
Pack-Mates,
I hope this bloody message gets to ya, its had ta come through a few paws ta get here. still hidin out, trying ta shake tha bloodhounds from tha 7RAR-L. Bloody SNARL's, they trained us not ta get caught, now they're payin fer it. Might be another week er so till its safe ta show my muzzle in tha old haunts. Same as before, if any 'yessir, nosir" Aussie types show up lookin fer me, ya ain't seen me, they'll get theirs . . .
Hope ya all takin care, lookin out fer each others tails, we're tha only Family we got. Stay Safe, Happy Huntin, and Good Scoutin to ya all.
A bent and folded postcard, showing farmland, cows and fields of plants with the title "
Koo Wee Rup: Australia's largest asparagus growing district" On the back in a cramped, messy hand is written . . . Postmarked 17 January 2008. It looks like it has been rescued from the rubbish.
===================================================
Pack-Mates,
I hope this bloody message gets to ya, its had ta come through a few paws ta get here. still hidin out, trying ta shake tha bloodhounds from tha 7RAR-L. Bloody SNARL's, they trained us not ta get caught, now they're payin fer it. Might be another week er so till its safe ta show my muzzle in tha old haunts. Same as before, if any 'yessir, nosir" Aussie types show up lookin fer me, ya ain't seen me, they'll get theirs . . .
Hope ya all takin care, lookin out fer each others tails, we're tha only Family we got. Stay Safe, Happy Huntin, and Good Scoutin to ya all.
Pack Resignation Letter
===================================================
A rumpled, then carefully re-flattened page, written in pencil in a painfully careful childlike hand. The page looks like it has been written on top of many times, erased in many spots. A canine paw-print in ink marks the bottom of the letter. The page is dated Feb 2008.
===================================================
Alphas, Betas, Leaders, Omega.
I regretfully hereby resign my commission as a Scout Leader of The Pack, effective immediately. I can no longer in good conscience hold office in a group who’s aims and objectives differ so from what I am trying to be. I fled the military who were my family for all of my Changed life, 13 years out of 15, for that same reason. Some of you know the details.
I have been on the run from them since then and thought I would find security, peace and family in The Pack. Now I know I can not. I will not be a monster again. I will not be a beast of carnage again. I will not be a horror of war again. I will live free and wild and if necessary, alone.
Kin, Pack, Blood. My credo, but I can no longer call you my pack. May the Spirits look fairly on you.
GrrBrool
Specimen 071239 "Gabriel"
Royal Melbourne Zoo
Platoon Sgt
7th Royal Australian Regiment - Lycanthropy Corps.
Scout Leader
The Pack
(canine paw-print)
********
A rumpled, then carefully re-flattened page, written in pencil in a painfully careful childlike hand. The page looks like it has been written on top of many times, erased in many spots. A canine paw-print in ink marks the bottom of the letter. The page is dated Feb 2008.
===================================================
Alphas, Betas, Leaders, Omega.
I regretfully hereby resign my commission as a Scout Leader of The Pack, effective immediately. I can no longer in good conscience hold office in a group who’s aims and objectives differ so from what I am trying to be. I fled the military who were my family for all of my Changed life, 13 years out of 15, for that same reason. Some of you know the details.
I have been on the run from them since then and thought I would find security, peace and family in The Pack. Now I know I can not. I will not be a monster again. I will not be a beast of carnage again. I will not be a horror of war again. I will live free and wild and if necessary, alone.
Kin, Pack, Blood. My credo, but I can no longer call you my pack. May the Spirits look fairly on you.
GrrBrool
Specimen 071239 "Gabriel"
Royal Melbourne Zoo
Platoon Sgt
7th Royal Australian Regiment - Lycanthropy Corps.
Scout Leader
The Pack
(canine paw-print)
********
Walkabout
===================================================
Musings of the life of Grr.
===================================================
Its been almost a full turn of the moon since The Pack changed its colours. Almost a full turn of the moon since a devoted member laid down his markings and broke ranks. Its been almost a full turn of the moon, so short a time, and yet to one, an eternity. This is no melodramatic posturing, but a struggle between instinct and belief for a being to whom time is measured by the day, the moon and by season. To a being born to two legs or spawed in the heavens, the below or the beyond, this might seem trite, primitive or pitiful, but to one born and bred of four-legs, belonging to family can be a driving need.
Even amongst his own kind, the Lycans of Toxian City, GrrBrool felt the need to remind his cousins in The Pack that they had a sacred bond to each other and all their Kin. Love them or hate them, they were Kin, all the Furred Peoples. He knew it was natural for fighting to occur, it kept the Order of the Pack, those of high station were to be followed or overthrown. He knew that outsiders were to be challenged and driven off. He knew of the Hunt, and the need and rightness of it. To one born to four-legs this was natural and instinctive. Moreover he took the Role of Leader, when it was offered him very seriously, and used it to instruct and guide those under him. Acting as teacher, healer, councilor and guard to those beneath him, and adviser when needed to those above him.
The life and training that governed his past from the time he underwent his First Change influenced his perceptions of all that went on in Toxian City since his arrival so long ago now to him: days, moons, seasons ago. The Pack had been strong, but the House Of Shadows, for as long as he had known was stronger and always at the throats of The Pack. His Family, as they became almost as soon as he arrived, needed marshaling, and due in no small part to their very nature, his cousins and Kin were all too easy to goad into bloody and brutal combat which more often than not left The Pack's position weaker than when it started. Two bloodbaths at The Pit brought back horrific memories to GrrBrool of his years of service in the 7RAR-L and he knew he needed to safeguard his Kin from annihilation.
He had always been an infiltrator and mediator, and put his Scout Leadership to good use in this, forming good relations with the other Factions, the watchers and the leaders. He kept watch in the dark, the very Hours of the Wolf, looked in the hidden places and started loitering in Haven, listening, learning and befriending the Others. Always however, the wellbeing of his Kin and The Pack was foremost in his mind. His credo, from his Army years "Kin, Pack, Blood" was as true in Tox as in the jungles of Timor as in the mountains of Tarjikistan.
Always Family was on his mind and in his heart, from the time he was born in the Zoo, where all he knew was his Dam, his litter mates, the keepers and the public, to the years in the 7RAR-L where it meant the difference between life and death under a hail of artillery shells and opposing claws, to the many moons in the Pack where his Kin were often feral and directionless, Alphaship changing with the phase of the moon at times, GrrBrool always strove to better The Pack, to keep it safe and strong, but above all, true. True to the Wild, true to essence of Natures cycles and true to their beings as creatures blessed as Skin Changers.
He weathered the fighting, from rival Factions, marauding monsters, from within as his Kin succomed to their baser, brutal sides driven by lusts for pain and suffering, and from the scorn of the general populous for his Race as a whole. "Animal", "beast", "mutt", "dog", "wolf", "Lycan", words all, some true and proud, regardless how they were offered, but all hurtful to a thinking being who knows the short distance from word to blood. He defended his Kin, his Pack from these thoughts, setting himself as the example, noble predator, spiritual and thinking, (though few might call him wise) at one and at peace. For a while, it was true. Then one New Moon came, bringing with it the winds of Spring, and change, and all that came crashing down.
His particular Lunar cycle brings with it not the forced change into his between-form, the one he wears almost always in Toxian City, but his Fleshy body. The change is never a comfortable one, shrapnel lodged in his body from the life changing assault he was nearly killed in, in-operable and resistant to his regeneration, and each change rolls muscles over the pieces, and bones shift and flex against them. Each change brings pain, so he never looks forwards to the New Moon, even though it makes for easier travel through regular human society, for the few times he ever needs to, without fear of an accidental change. It is a harsh measure of time, but life can be harsh, and never asks either way.
Yet with this change brought the winds of Spring, and to GrrBrool, a very real sense of need. Dulled somewhat in his Fleshy form, he still felt its pull, but was unsure at first what it was. Until all the couples started appearing, first one or two, the usual in Toxian City, any given night there might be a canoodling couple, that was nothing new, but again and again, beings around him started Coupling. Words and deeds were exchanged before his eyes, over and over the same story presented itself to him. The pain of his return Change hammered it home, it was Spring, and he was un-Mated. He had felt the touches of this twice before, two denizens he had grown fonder and fonder of, and who then vanished before he could make his feelings properly known. All he had was The Pack, and the friends he had made. He needed, longed for, Family, belonging, and he began to realize, a Mate.
Then The Pack turned. More than just a change of leadership, a new agenda by a new warlord calling themselves "Alpha", as Wulf and others had done, but a turning, from what GrrBrool thought of as a natural and right family of his Kin, into the darker side of that. Not content to exist in relative harmony with their neighbors, but to expand aggressively, to hunt beyond need, to Hunt the weak and the solitary for the thrill of the kill and all the other, darker aspects of their natures, seemingly for the sake of it. This was everything that had driven GrrBrool to the lengths he had to escape the 7RAR-L and come to Toxian City in the first place and it horrified him, that seemingly as a whole, his Family, his Pack, would take such a Path.
He knew what he had to do. Without hesitation, GrrBrool found a quiet spot, the Library, of all places, and wrote, he wrote a letter, painfully, with a clumsy hand and a broken heart, but he wrote, and posted his resignation from The Pack. This was the third time he had lost his Family, once from the Zoo, second escaping the 7RAR-L and now this. Topping his longing for a mate, he was now adrift, in exile, but his own choosing perhaps, but again, instinct took over, he treated The Pack with the fear and hesitation any wild outcast would have, fearing his former family's reprisal on an outsider. He avoided the Den, and any Pack member he came across. He took to wandering the streets, not patrolling, as he once did, but aimlessly, out of habit, stopping to soak up the company of any friendly group he came upon.
The Ryders and Omega Institute offered him the most comfort, after his companions at the Haven bar, where the remainder of his time was spent, drowning his sorrows in service to others, even as bartender. Still he was driven to find a Mate, but this seemed even more hopeless now that his ties to The Pack were cut. The majority of his kind in Toxian City were now potential enemies, and he was in his minds eye, a pariah, deserter and outcast.
He watched and listened as the other goings on of the City washed over his life, new conflicts between The Pack and seemingly everyone filled him with hurt, knowing that once he had had a voice that occasionally soothed over the conflicts between his hot-headed Kin and the rest of the city. He stood back whilst beings came to him demanding answers, the only response he could give was that that was the way they were, what they were, and that he was not part of it or them, for that reason.
Long dark times they have been for GrrBrool, a flash in the pan for some, but a day, a moon, a season, time is flexible to a being like him. In that time his eyes were opened to the natures of some of the other inhabitants of the City, and many a fire-side discussion was had in the Library, or over a damp cloth at the Haven bar. Knowledge can also destroy, not all wisdom brings joy. On more than one instance, he was sent running, for fear of his fur, but always he crept back, needing that feel of Family, unable to abandon all those he called friend, willing to bear harsh words and scorn for that sense of belonging.
Two things happened suddenly, that brought new insights to GrrBrool. A Plague was visited upon the Vampire population, supernatural in nature and cunning. GrrBrool feared it would cross species and be visited upon his own Kin, for a time it seemed to be contained, but soon, news came to his ears, and eyes, that something was also afflicting the Furred Peoples of Toxian City too. At times in this period GrrBrool would have welcomed a visit from Death, had it been offered, but the nature of the disease that was now hitting the Furred Peoples was no simple creeping death, but was driving its victims to slathering rages, blinding them with ravenous hungers and crushing their minds. It was the worst possible contagion he could have been presented with. Yet he could again, not abandon his Kin, and donned his MOPS gear, the anti Nuclear, Biological and Chemical suit issued by the 7RAR-L to protect its troopers from just this very kind of weapon, and several times, went out and about, searching for stricken Kin to tend, as best he could.
The second thing that happened, much to his surprise, was to find out that one of his friends from the bar, herself a loner, without Faction or Family, thought that she might feel more for GrrBrool than just as a friendly bartender. Even as he stripped off and got into his MOPS gear, swearing he hadn't thought he would be wearing camouflage again so soon after putting it all away, well before the current dark times, he was looking into her eyes, feeling perhaps for the first time, that this was not just a fun tumble in the making, but something that might run deeper. A feeling not unlike Family, like that which he was beginning to feel for those he shared the fireside with.
Two darknesses had risen, and also two points of light. GrrBrool is still on his walkabout, but now he feels something more than sorrow, loss and the abandonment of a pack-creature without a pack. He feels he has someone at least, to come back for. Its been almost a full turn of the moon, GrrBrool has something to live for. Its been almost a full turn of the moon, who knows what it will bring.
Musings of the life of Grr.
===================================================
Its been almost a full turn of the moon since The Pack changed its colours. Almost a full turn of the moon since a devoted member laid down his markings and broke ranks. Its been almost a full turn of the moon, so short a time, and yet to one, an eternity. This is no melodramatic posturing, but a struggle between instinct and belief for a being to whom time is measured by the day, the moon and by season. To a being born to two legs or spawed in the heavens, the below or the beyond, this might seem trite, primitive or pitiful, but to one born and bred of four-legs, belonging to family can be a driving need.
Even amongst his own kind, the Lycans of Toxian City, GrrBrool felt the need to remind his cousins in The Pack that they had a sacred bond to each other and all their Kin. Love them or hate them, they were Kin, all the Furred Peoples. He knew it was natural for fighting to occur, it kept the Order of the Pack, those of high station were to be followed or overthrown. He knew that outsiders were to be challenged and driven off. He knew of the Hunt, and the need and rightness of it. To one born to four-legs this was natural and instinctive. Moreover he took the Role of Leader, when it was offered him very seriously, and used it to instruct and guide those under him. Acting as teacher, healer, councilor and guard to those beneath him, and adviser when needed to those above him.
The life and training that governed his past from the time he underwent his First Change influenced his perceptions of all that went on in Toxian City since his arrival so long ago now to him: days, moons, seasons ago. The Pack had been strong, but the House Of Shadows, for as long as he had known was stronger and always at the throats of The Pack. His Family, as they became almost as soon as he arrived, needed marshaling, and due in no small part to their very nature, his cousins and Kin were all too easy to goad into bloody and brutal combat which more often than not left The Pack's position weaker than when it started. Two bloodbaths at The Pit brought back horrific memories to GrrBrool of his years of service in the 7RAR-L and he knew he needed to safeguard his Kin from annihilation.
He had always been an infiltrator and mediator, and put his Scout Leadership to good use in this, forming good relations with the other Factions, the watchers and the leaders. He kept watch in the dark, the very Hours of the Wolf, looked in the hidden places and started loitering in Haven, listening, learning and befriending the Others. Always however, the wellbeing of his Kin and The Pack was foremost in his mind. His credo, from his Army years "Kin, Pack, Blood" was as true in Tox as in the jungles of Timor as in the mountains of Tarjikistan.
Always Family was on his mind and in his heart, from the time he was born in the Zoo, where all he knew was his Dam, his litter mates, the keepers and the public, to the years in the 7RAR-L where it meant the difference between life and death under a hail of artillery shells and opposing claws, to the many moons in the Pack where his Kin were often feral and directionless, Alphaship changing with the phase of the moon at times, GrrBrool always strove to better The Pack, to keep it safe and strong, but above all, true. True to the Wild, true to essence of Natures cycles and true to their beings as creatures blessed as Skin Changers.
He weathered the fighting, from rival Factions, marauding monsters, from within as his Kin succomed to their baser, brutal sides driven by lusts for pain and suffering, and from the scorn of the general populous for his Race as a whole. "Animal", "beast", "mutt", "dog", "wolf", "Lycan", words all, some true and proud, regardless how they were offered, but all hurtful to a thinking being who knows the short distance from word to blood. He defended his Kin, his Pack from these thoughts, setting himself as the example, noble predator, spiritual and thinking, (though few might call him wise) at one and at peace. For a while, it was true. Then one New Moon came, bringing with it the winds of Spring, and change, and all that came crashing down.
His particular Lunar cycle brings with it not the forced change into his between-form, the one he wears almost always in Toxian City, but his Fleshy body. The change is never a comfortable one, shrapnel lodged in his body from the life changing assault he was nearly killed in, in-operable and resistant to his regeneration, and each change rolls muscles over the pieces, and bones shift and flex against them. Each change brings pain, so he never looks forwards to the New Moon, even though it makes for easier travel through regular human society, for the few times he ever needs to, without fear of an accidental change. It is a harsh measure of time, but life can be harsh, and never asks either way.
Yet with this change brought the winds of Spring, and to GrrBrool, a very real sense of need. Dulled somewhat in his Fleshy form, he still felt its pull, but was unsure at first what it was. Until all the couples started appearing, first one or two, the usual in Toxian City, any given night there might be a canoodling couple, that was nothing new, but again and again, beings around him started Coupling. Words and deeds were exchanged before his eyes, over and over the same story presented itself to him. The pain of his return Change hammered it home, it was Spring, and he was un-Mated. He had felt the touches of this twice before, two denizens he had grown fonder and fonder of, and who then vanished before he could make his feelings properly known. All he had was The Pack, and the friends he had made. He needed, longed for, Family, belonging, and he began to realize, a Mate.
Then The Pack turned. More than just a change of leadership, a new agenda by a new warlord calling themselves "Alpha", as Wulf and others had done, but a turning, from what GrrBrool thought of as a natural and right family of his Kin, into the darker side of that. Not content to exist in relative harmony with their neighbors, but to expand aggressively, to hunt beyond need, to Hunt the weak and the solitary for the thrill of the kill and all the other, darker aspects of their natures, seemingly for the sake of it. This was everything that had driven GrrBrool to the lengths he had to escape the 7RAR-L and come to Toxian City in the first place and it horrified him, that seemingly as a whole, his Family, his Pack, would take such a Path.
He knew what he had to do. Without hesitation, GrrBrool found a quiet spot, the Library, of all places, and wrote, he wrote a letter, painfully, with a clumsy hand and a broken heart, but he wrote, and posted his resignation from The Pack. This was the third time he had lost his Family, once from the Zoo, second escaping the 7RAR-L and now this. Topping his longing for a mate, he was now adrift, in exile, but his own choosing perhaps, but again, instinct took over, he treated The Pack with the fear and hesitation any wild outcast would have, fearing his former family's reprisal on an outsider. He avoided the Den, and any Pack member he came across. He took to wandering the streets, not patrolling, as he once did, but aimlessly, out of habit, stopping to soak up the company of any friendly group he came upon.
The Ryders and Omega Institute offered him the most comfort, after his companions at the Haven bar, where the remainder of his time was spent, drowning his sorrows in service to others, even as bartender. Still he was driven to find a Mate, but this seemed even more hopeless now that his ties to The Pack were cut. The majority of his kind in Toxian City were now potential enemies, and he was in his minds eye, a pariah, deserter and outcast.
He watched and listened as the other goings on of the City washed over his life, new conflicts between The Pack and seemingly everyone filled him with hurt, knowing that once he had had a voice that occasionally soothed over the conflicts between his hot-headed Kin and the rest of the city. He stood back whilst beings came to him demanding answers, the only response he could give was that that was the way they were, what they were, and that he was not part of it or them, for that reason.
Long dark times they have been for GrrBrool, a flash in the pan for some, but a day, a moon, a season, time is flexible to a being like him. In that time his eyes were opened to the natures of some of the other inhabitants of the City, and many a fire-side discussion was had in the Library, or over a damp cloth at the Haven bar. Knowledge can also destroy, not all wisdom brings joy. On more than one instance, he was sent running, for fear of his fur, but always he crept back, needing that feel of Family, unable to abandon all those he called friend, willing to bear harsh words and scorn for that sense of belonging.
Two things happened suddenly, that brought new insights to GrrBrool. A Plague was visited upon the Vampire population, supernatural in nature and cunning. GrrBrool feared it would cross species and be visited upon his own Kin, for a time it seemed to be contained, but soon, news came to his ears, and eyes, that something was also afflicting the Furred Peoples of Toxian City too. At times in this period GrrBrool would have welcomed a visit from Death, had it been offered, but the nature of the disease that was now hitting the Furred Peoples was no simple creeping death, but was driving its victims to slathering rages, blinding them with ravenous hungers and crushing their minds. It was the worst possible contagion he could have been presented with. Yet he could again, not abandon his Kin, and donned his MOPS gear, the anti Nuclear, Biological and Chemical suit issued by the 7RAR-L to protect its troopers from just this very kind of weapon, and several times, went out and about, searching for stricken Kin to tend, as best he could.
The second thing that happened, much to his surprise, was to find out that one of his friends from the bar, herself a loner, without Faction or Family, thought that she might feel more for GrrBrool than just as a friendly bartender. Even as he stripped off and got into his MOPS gear, swearing he hadn't thought he would be wearing camouflage again so soon after putting it all away, well before the current dark times, he was looking into her eyes, feeling perhaps for the first time, that this was not just a fun tumble in the making, but something that might run deeper. A feeling not unlike Family, like that which he was beginning to feel for those he shared the fireside with.
Two darknesses had risen, and also two points of light. GrrBrool is still on his walkabout, but now he feels something more than sorrow, loss and the abandonment of a pack-creature without a pack. He feels he has someone at least, to come back for. Its been almost a full turn of the moon, GrrBrool has something to live for. Its been almost a full turn of the moon, who knows what it will bring.
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