Log edited with Logedit 2.6.6pl on Sat Jan 2 03:41:57 EST 1999

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Patrick comes down the staircase sleepily, rubbing his eyes and yawning widely. "We about ready to go?" he asks around the yawn.

Andrea is cross-legged on the floor, next to the recliner where Soren dozes. She looks up at Patrick.

Soren's eyes open, slowly. "For?"

Patrick grins wryly and ansewrs, "Running around through the Umbra in nasty areas and getting our asses kicked while trying to liberate a fetish from a leech."

Andrea says dryly, "Oh joy, oh rapture."

Soren mms and nods, standing. "Sounds like a busy night."

Patrick snorts and nods. "Yeah, you could say that. At least I'm well-rested," he adds, just before yawning. "Well, mostly."

Soren walks across the room to where his satchel rests on a milk create. "We expecting it all tonight, then?"

Patrick shrugs and starts to reply as the door to one of the bedrooms opens. He yawns again and asks Cassandra, "Ready?"

Andrea pushes herself up from the floor. Musingly and with a slight smile, she says, "I can see why my mother's ancestors wore woad. Meditation helps me center myself, but it seems poor garb for battle."

Cassandra walks out of the opening door, shrugging on the black leather jacket. She seems to have omitted the chains for this purpose, probably becuse of the amount of noise they make. She nods to Patrick, flashing him and the rest of her pack a grin. "Uh-huh. Sup?"

Soren pulls his satchel up over his shoulder, nodding. "The night isn't getting any younger."

"It ain't even old yet, Soren," Cassandra returns with a laugh, cracking her knuckles. "How ya doin', Andrea?" she then asks, eyeing the Child of Gaia curiously.

Soren smiles thinly at Cass, nodding.

Andrea turns her wry smile on Cassandra. "I've had better seasons," she admits. "But I'm ready. Let's go. May the Mother watch us all."

Cassandra turns to follow with a grin. "Oh, she will. She always does."

Patrick zips up his leather jacket, completing his 'urban ninja' look, and politely opens the door. "After you."

Cassandra takes a step towards the door, then stops, waits, and gestures Andrea and Soren to go first.

*************************************

JJ Malone is smoking down his last cigarette for a while, keeping the tip out of sight of possibly being seen by the wandering guards. "As clean as this kind of area gets. Worst is in there," he says, pointing out the cinder block data center. "Rest should be okay under this moon, as long as no one's stupid."

Salem remains silent near his tribemates, hands buried in his pockets.

Cassandra nods, seeming content to listen for a change. She bounces ligghtly on the balls of her feet, a sure siggn of nervous energy.

Patrick nods slowly, then asks, "Just the small one? Nothing odd about the office building Umbra?"

In the distance, you can hear the bark of one of those guard dogs.

JJ Malone shakes his head. "Nothing out of the ordinary, from what we saw last time."

Andrea turns slowly with her eyes focused on empty air. There's a crease of concentration on her forehead, but all she says is a soft, "Not many spirits here of any type."

Patrick nods again, then looks over towards Andrea. "Mind leading the way into the Umbra itself, at least for us?"

Cassandra crosses her arms and looks around as the dog barks. "Whatever we do, we better do it quick, them puppies are gonna know somethin' ain't right right quick."

Nigel bites his lower lip, thinking of his packmates' words. "The tainted spiders that were observed in the cinderblock building, combined with the rumors of medical experiments we've dug up, argue for something nasty in the basement--and we don't know if there are tunnels connecting the building. Be careful."

Patrick nord curtly at Nigel's caution, replying, "Noted. Thanks. All we need are experiments...."

Cassandra snorts softly at that, but seems to be waiting for the others to move right now.

JJ Malone turns to Nigel. "Same as last time. If we get into trouble, get a hold of Jeff and see what the two of you can do."

Nigel looks back towards the car, hidden under netting at the bottom of the hill. "No worries. Remember where we're parked."

Andrea nods. "The pack, sure. The rest, only if they get stuck. It takes strength." She begins to move toward something reflective.

Salem grunts, still doing his taciturn Klingon impression.

JJ Malone follows, letting the members of Ouroborous going with go first after Andrea.

Soren follows Andrea, his face expression particularly concerned, worried.

Luckily there's a good sized collection of water: rain run-off probably nearby. The Adren stares intently at the water and her reflection, her pack linking hands and then they feel the familiar sensation of sleeping into the shadowlands. It only takes a moment to become acclimated to your new Penumbral environment. The gibbous moon light hangs from everything giving it a strangely comforting aura. Beyond the hillock, you can see where the compound cuts into the vivid green and dark shadow of the Umbra forests and meadows. The data center, you can now see does seem particularly infested with pattern webs... although no spiders are clinging to them right now.

Andrea moves out of the way, falling into lupus form for its sharper senses even as she pulls from the Umbral pool to let the Glass Walkers follow. For a moment, a silver ankh glimmers next to the gold heart of her bracelet's chain, before the jewelry is covered with a carpet of fur and absorbed into the leg.

Cassandra steps out of the way almost absently, muttering something to herself in some language other than English. The language is sharp enough to make it sound like a curse, but she peers around her with brigght eyes and them slides into a four-legged form, the better to keep up withh the group.

The two Walker ahrouns follow not very far behind Ouroboros. It's extraordinarily silent in the Umbra, there are no spirit animals making any kind of sound. It sounds almost completely desolate. Those of you in lupus or using gifts can detect a disquieting odor: it's fairly distinct and very recognizable. It's the smell of decaying human flesh -- but it seems off in the distance... the light umbral breeze wafting toward the group.

Patrick slips sideways behind Andrea, stepping aside to let others through as he goes Umbral. He looks around the Umbrascape for a moment, taking it in, then peers closer at the small building. "Wonderful," he says. "At least nothing's moving."

Soren joins the others in lupus, sliding down to the form swiftly as he paces a bit apart from the others before circling back in. Rot.

Mark-Of-Thorns sneezes multiple times. You noticed.

Quiet gives a slight involuntary shudder, her yellow fur moving under the dark shroud that marks the four Uktena children. She agrees with Midnight. Death. It may only be a reflection of her power. Or it may be more.

Salem's mouth twists into a grimace, baring a hint of teeth in a lupine snarl. He shifts upwards, but only to Glabro, choosing to stay bipedal while avoiding Crinos (for the time being).

JJ Malone shifts upwards to glabro after reaching through, gun coming out from under his jacket and sunglasses going in, revealing eyes the pure yellow of a wolf. He remains silent, simply listening and observing the pack members discussion and not adding to it, while his gaze roams the area restlessly.

Everything certainly seems still. Seems quiet. There doesn't appear to be anything hiding or waiting to ambush you.

Patrick joins the shifting-fest and goes up to glabro, stopping there. He peers down towards the Umbral representation of the compound again, the throws his head back. "Now or never," he grunts, and slips in that direction, trusting in his Gift and learned skills to keep him from being spotted by anything that might actually be there.

Mark-Of-Thorns looks around at the others, then at her alpha, and takes a few steps towards the compound, then a few more as Patrick moves.

Midnight slides in after the others, letting Quiet choose position before he moves too far forward.

Quiet's application of the gift isn't nearly as effective, though she does become slightly less obvious a yellow blot moving within dark shadows. She pads close to Patrick's heels. Her ears are tilted forward and swivel as she listens.

Shades comes up near Quiet as the ragabash pull away slightly--although not with the same air of familiarity as her pack, it is with with well-practiced ease of fitting himself into the workings of other packs, following the Adren's unspoken lead.

There isn't, you note with some degree of relief, any sort of fence here in the Umbra. As you near the Umbra warehouse, you can almost see through it; it must have been built only recently. Overhead the moon still gives off radiant cream colored light, but all of this area is dead space -- flat of color, almost a uniform grey, tan and black. The adminstration building is in the center of the compound, beyond the data center, near the open space that must be the parking structure.

Pack> Patrick sends over the pack link, "Dead. Deaddeaddead."

Mark-Of-Thorns's ears prick, swivel around briefly, then relax somewhat. Something...of metal? Far from here and under the ground. She relays this mildly, as if it doesn't owrry her overmuch.

Pack> Mark-Of-Thorns says "Not quite, but damned close."

Quiet's ears twitch again, and she lowers her head to sniff. Now that the Fury flanks Patrick, she lets the two dark moons pull slightly ahead while she teams with Soren. The two theurges stay near the two ahroun.

Pack> Patrick mentions, over the link, "Magic. Definitely." Pack> Mark-Of-Thorns says "Oh, wonderful. I hope that thing ain't cloer than I think it is."

Patrick stops for a moment and closes his eyes, as if listening to something faint. A frown crosses his face, and his eyes re-open. "Shit," he growls.

Pack> Midnight sends over the link, a nervous agitation carried too. Someone dies tonight. Pack> Mark-Of-Thorns ssnorts back, her normal goodhumor bent somewhat. Don't tell me that. Now I'll be off in space wondering who it is.

Mark-Of-Thorns turns her head towards patrick, though only one ear cocks towards him. What? Just that the ground's hollow or something else?

Pack> Midnight is serious, sister Thorns. I... can see it. Pack> Mark-Of-Thorns says "So'm I, she retorts. If you see who it is, please don't tell me. I don't wanna see the future, k?"

Midnight moves with increased tension, his attention particularly focused on his packmates.

Just then a couple of trap doors open. One in front of Mark-of-Thorns, and one behind the group near the two Walker ahrouns. The creatures are eight-legged constructs -- both with human heads that leak a foul smelling ichor that might have once been blood. They strongly resemble a daddy-long-legs with sharp metal legs and an oversized human head.

Pack> Mark-Of-Thorns roars over the link as the things appear, "Pattern Spiders on crack!"

Quiet's head turns toward Midnight suddenly, the expression almost startled. There's a definite feeling of silent communication among the pack for any that have seen the totem-granted gift at work. Wyrm and spirits, below, she suddenly says aloud. Her warning comes too late as the spirits pop out before she even finishes the short howl.

Shades snarls and spins around to face the one behind the group, taking only the swiftest of glances before aiming and firing two shots at the thing's head.

Mark-Of-Thorns growls as the thing leaps up right in ffront of her face, and backpedals several steps before catching herself and trying to shift to a fighting form. The sense of silent communication abruptly dissolves from her expression.

Salem turns as well, his frown twisting into a definite snarl. Lacking firearms, the other Walker chooses a far more direct way of fighting, his body twisting upwards, and then dropping to all fours as he shifts swiftly past the more frenzy-prone Crinos form to take the hulking brutishness of the near-wolf.

Patrick mutters a few curses as the spiders erupt from the ground, his concentration going more on the one in front of his packmate, eyes narrowing as he glares at it as if to stare a hole through the beast.

Reacting before almost anyone can blink an eye, two gunshots ring out and break the silence. The smell of spent sulfur hangs heavy in the air as both shots strike the intended target. The head explodes like a ripe melon -- blood and rot spray across the entire party -- and that's precisely when a large metal spike slams through Shades' midsection. Two meancing pincers reach for the body of the metis Walker -- almost as if to rip it in half like Bishop from Aliens.

Rage fuels Salem's movements, huge claws digging into the ground and propelling the dire wolf-shape forward, massive, fanged jaws gaping as he lunges for the thing attacking Shades.

Quiet raises her tail and fixes her gaze on the spirit that menances her packmate. Her ruff flares as she snarls in the language of spirits. *Attack your kind.* There's the lash of command in the words as she brings the gift to bear.

Mark-Of-Thorns completes her shift to Crinos and, ignoring Quite's Gift. leaps for the thing right in front of her, trying to use its legs as a jungle gym and thereby get on its back.

Midnight shifts into crinos but remains beside, Quiet as if protecting her.

The now-hulking form of the former Ronin leaps for the arm that seems to have impaled Shades on the end of it like a shiskabob. Lightning fast, the other ahroun flies through the Umbral night, hurling himself and his claws at the joint weld. The metal creaks and bends some and there is an uncanny hissing sound like steam escaping a cylinder. One of the pincers reaches Shades and clasps firmly around his upper legs and thighs -- and not much longer after the metallic smell of iron rich blood can be detected, mixing in with the decay. meanwhile, Mark-of-Thorns does a gymnast impression, the mechanical monstrousity suddenly flailing around as if it can't see clearly. After Quiet barks her order, the thing trundles right past the group of Ouroboros, toward it's partner -- it is then that Cassandra manages to scramble on top of the metal spider.

Letting out a howl that might almost be a Crinos version of a cowboy's whoop, the Black Fury straddles the thing's neck and searches for a clawhold on the thing's neck and head.

Shades howls in agony, the sound piercing the night like fingernails on a chalkboard, body contoring around the skewer as it shifts up to crinos. Thoughtlessly, a clenched hand is raised, attempting to smash down onto the spike impaling him, to shatter it.

Patrick spins and dashes for the other spider-thing, the one impaling Shades, giving it a good punch as he reaches it, puttting as much energy as he can from the short dash into the punch, hoping to at least distract the thing a little.

Midnight leaps forward to assist Thorns, working in tandem with her attacks.

Quiet turns her attention on the one behind her now. Rage bubbles under the command as she again lashes out with the gift. *Drop the Garou.*

Dark One snarls, closing his jaws over a convenient part of the spider-thing impaling Shades.

Shades smashes down on the arm that holds him and there is a jolt as the arm/spike falls off the spider base completely. Mark-of-Thorn's claws find a nice claw hole -- the head itself seems to be the only very soft place. It feels like warm jello between your claw's digits. The other spider thing stumbles about with a missing arm -- there is a howling sound as the other Garou slam, punch and beat on it. More legs wobble. Meanwhile, the spider Cass is "riding" shutter steps about, moving generally in the right direction. Another razor sharp leg/spike stabs for Patrick, but narrowly misses.

Quiet finally shifts now, hulking into crinos. She waits until she's nearly achieved the form before moving toward Shades at a four-legged lope.

Mark-Of-Thorns nearly pulls her claws out as they sink deep, but grabs ahold of herself and yanks at the gelatinous mass, trying to rips its head clean off.

Midnight moves in swiftly beside Thorns, his claws swiping deep at the creature as he howls with fury.

Patrick punches at the spider again, being a bit more cautious this time of swinging spikes.

Shades seems oddly, or perhaps not so oddly, oblivious to things going around him. Still letting up ragged snarling-whining-howls of pain, one leg clearly nearly severed, he begins to simultaneously try to pull the spike from his torso with one hand, while the other hand and "good" leg pushes along the ground, trying to put distance between himself and the source of his agony.

Dark One lunges for one of the spider's remaining legs, bringing his weight to bear as bites for the thing.

The head pulls off like a grape -- feels like one too. Noxious ichor spreads across the fur of the dark moon Fury. That's when a tremendous panel opens in the top of the spider and and a 3 inch round metal spike skewers her upper thigh clean through the middle. Midnight's blows knock at the thing's side and hurt it some. Then abruptly, the two spider creatures seem to freeze in place... some gear or another cracking and clanging shut. The arms freeze. The spiders freeze -- even their "blood" and ichor stops flowing (but not dripping). Legs sever under the assault and finally there is a two nearly simulataneous "ping" sounds from both.

Pack> Mark-Of-Thorns says "I almost got spikefucked."

Pack> Patrick says "That would be bad."

Patrick looks warily at the things again then shakes his head. "Injury assessment?" he says lowly, but with enough force to be heard.

A couple more trap doors open, but nothing comes up.

Mark-Of-Thorns lets out a scream of pain and jerks back as her leg is impaled. She tries to break off the spike to free herself, but pauses, her head cocked, then shouts, ~They're ticking! Get outta here!~

Dark One growls, jaws snapping toward the opening doors, and then backs up a step, golden eyes turning toward Shades.

Midnight hears Cass's warning and moves, grabbing hold of Thorns as he does so to assist her, if needed, to move swiftly away.

Quiet grabs a hold of Shades and starts dragging him away.

Dark One, muzzle twisted and teeth bared, lopes close alongside Quiet, glancing once or twice back over his shoulder.

Quiet sees her two male packmates near Cassandra, and so abandons the attempt to heal the ahroun right this moment. Instead, she pushes under Shades' arm and attempts to hoist him up. Her voice is no longer sharp with a command gift, but there's a bite to it nevertheless. ~Salem, get JJ's side!~

Shades manages to rip out the spike and toss it away as Quiet begins dragging him, limping to help the Gaian in the flight. His free hand moves to hold in guts trying to slip free from the now gaping hole in his belly, nearly severed leg dragging uselessly.

Patrick hesitates long enough to make sure Shades is covered, then scrambles to give Midnight a hand with their other packmate. "When we get her, /run/," he tells Midnight meaningfully.

Dark One snaps his jaws together with a sharp click and shifts upwards, rearing onto his hind legs in Crinos as he takes Shades' other arm, helping the other Walker along.

Midnight nods to Patrick, using what strength he has to break the spike free from Thorn's leg.

Mark-Of-Thorns herself works frantically to break the spike protruding through her leg, supressing whines of pain as she and Midnight begin to work together .

The mechanical ticking sound grows louder as the seconds elapse. Patrick and Midnight finally lift Mark-of-Thorns free of the spike jammed in her leg and they begin to carry her off; Shades meanwhile is being caravaned by the younger Walker ahroun and Quiet to safety. The two groups make a good hearty dash for it when there are two loud pings and then a sound like a flashbulb has gone off -- that ultrahigh insistent whine -- there's a pair of concussive blasts of force, which knocks everyone to the ground. Molten hot metal schrapnel flies everywhere, and bits of metal hail down from the sky. Mark-of-Thorns emits a piercing scream as a huge basketball sized hunk of debris rips a hole through her upper chest, the searing metal stuck inside of her rib cage. Behind lie twin hulking, smoking craters. The piercing scream, and then silence from the Fury.

Pack> Mark-Of-Thorns's mental presence through Jade drops as well, leaving only a hole in its place.

Midnight lifts himself up from the ground where he has been knocked, pain bit back in clenched jaw as he turns to Thorns, his focus remains as he turns to her. "Looks bad. Hold my hand, sister," he says as she shifts into glabro, his other hand flattening against the wound on Thorn's chest. Chanting quickly, his hand glows in a ruddy light: "Fader Odin, Fenris mester, gi Datteren styrke imot fienden's vold."

Gradually, the Fury's Crinos form dwindles slowly down to her breed form as the Get works.

Shades's strangled snarl is a harsh counterpoint to Mark-of-Thorns, intermingled with the primal sound of rage bubbling up from the smoking depths of hell, railing against the abuse being subjected to his body, which like a plug being drawn from a bathtub suddenly swirls away into nothingness. Once again, his body shifts, to crinos once more, sagging like deadweight between Quiet and Dark One.

Dark One grunts, ears flattening against the sudden pain, and then the sudden sagging weight of his elder. Snarling, the ex-Ronin digs his hindclaws in, bracing himself against JJ's weight.

Patrick, thrown to his knees by the concussive force behind him, picks himself up after a moment and starts cursing. "Fuck," he exclaims explosively. "Two." He looks at the groups and the sagging Garou, then up at the office building, measuring it as if measuring his foe.

Quiet's harsh and gutteral cry doesn't come so much from the pain of the body as the other aftermath. Knocked to one knee, she tilts her head back. Blood drips in thin streams over her sandy fur on the sides of her head. Though her hands are on the Glass Walker instead of her packmate, the healing gift surges as much in response to Cassandra's need as the ahroun's. Still, Shades is the one that receives the gift, if it succeeds.

Although Quiet can feel the Gnosis flowing out of her, it doesn't seem to take in the Walker's limp crinos body.

Sadly, the result is much the same for Cassandra Mark-of-Thorns. There is a final twitch as Soren lays his hands on and chants, but in the end, she is still and reposed.

Dark One begins cursing in a gutteral, twisted mixture of Serbian and Garou.

Patrick nods, as if finding what he expected to find as he looked around. Shifting up to crinos, he growls, ~The time for subtlety has passed; we have lost enough already,~ and takes to the air, up towards the top of the Umbral building and Turner's office.

The administrative building gives a sense of looming although it can't be higher than four or five stories. The night once again falls into still silence, broken mostly by the sound of Patrick's wings overhead. Still above even him, the moon watches gently hazed by a misty cloud cover.

Midnight rises up from Thorns' body, a howl shaking with fury and anguish in his throat. ~No! No!~ he howls as he turns toward the building. ~He cannot go alone, Quiet.~

Quiet begins to shake, her hands still buried in the dead metis' bloody fur. Her breathing quickens and harshens. ~No.~ Which death she is protesting is unclear. Either. Both. ~No!~ Something of the younger Gaian of past years spills out in that angry declaration. Her words oddly match Midnight's as if they think together, but her red-eyed glare shifts at the theurge's warning of Patrick's actions as Soren keeps speaking after she stops. She surges to her feet in jerky maddened rage. Looking for Patrick. Looking for a target. Perhaps looking for the fled spirits of the dead Garou. Her hands clench tight enough that her claws draw blood from her own skin.

Dark One bites off a final curse and then remains silent, teeth bared in a twisting grimace, his body trembling as he stares at his elder. Ex-elder.

Patrick covers his head with his arms and heads straight for one of the windows in the Umbral building, one near to the area where Ashley Turner's office supposedly is. His emotions seem to have gone cold for the moment, and he ignores Midnight's call in his pursuit of their ultimate goal.

The ragabash sails higher, up the side of the building. There are no windows for Ms. Turner's office, consider what effect sunlight has on her kind, but there is an executive conference room -- which Patrick shortly finds himself inside of.

Midnight shakes his head bitterly, growling, ~Not leaving him alone.~ With that, Soren shifts down into the direwolf form and bounds toward the building, thick powerful head swinging from side to side as he approaches the entrance.

Quiet's hot gaze lingers on Cassandra's bloody body for a moment before her anger boils up and she surges after Midnight. She doesn't shift, but she does run with all fours.

Patrick starts making his way towards the office, stopping regularly to be cautious enough to watch for other pattern spiders or other nasties, but evidently determined to reach his goal. He stops a couple of times, in the hallways, to peek back into the Realm, but mostly heads for the original target.

It is quiet inside the building, deadly still and silent. Not even the floor creeks. Midnight and Quiet, meanwhile, bound up stairs toward the top floor. Patrick is inside the office.

Midnight moves with focused determination, but not with wanton abandon of caution. The goal, as with Patrick, remains the same.

Quiet, on the other hand, only keeps her luck so far because Midnight watches and the area seems clear of other spirits for the moment. There's no consideration in her jerky actions, and her claws scrape the stairs as she treads with heavy anger and pain. A low ceaseless growl mutters deep in her throat.

The two packmates make good time up the stairs, and the building remains devoid of spirits ... or other foes.

Midnight wastes no time with the office door, using the bulk and power of his size in his attempt to burst it open.

Dark One, as is probably obvious by now, has chosen to remain behind, with the bodies of the dead Garou (and in particular with JJ). His form dwindles back down to Glabro.

Patrick, who has been peeking sideways a few times, regaining some degree of caution, looks up and crouches into a ready position as the door is shredded. As he notices who it is, he just grunts a welcome and goes about shredding some webbing in one corner of the office, explaining, ~Camera. One over there, too.~

Quiet's eyes follow where Patrick indicates, then she moves to tear into the webbing. She lashes out at the sticky stuff with her claws, still wordlessly growling.

It shreds effortlessly.

Midnight takes a moment to focus, studying the office deeply.

Pack> Quiet's presence on the pack link throbs like an infected wound, hot with the maddened anger she's barely controlling.

Midnight rises up into glabro as he moves across to one wall. ~Here. This painting.~ Soren runs a hand along its edges. Focusing his attention on it, looking for a catch or something. IF nothing, he'll pull it off the wall.

Patrick observes coldly, ~In the Realm. The safe won't be on this side.~

Pack> Touch Deer's voice jumps, suddenly, onto the link. "What? What happened? I was asleep..."

Quiet doesn't stop until there's nothing left, then her paws drop again to the floor and she paces around while her packmates talk.

Patrick drops back down into homid, then waits until the guard has gone by again before staring at his reflection in the glass of the picture.

Soren joins Patrick, still in glabro.

Pack> Quiet doesn't seem able to answer with words, right now. Just the feeling of anger and pain drom her, announcing her presence if not her entire sanity. Pack> Touch Deer is quiet for a long pause of time before shouting, "Where's Cass?!"

Quiet does not follow, at least not immediately. Instead, she stays in the Umbra, still in crinos. Still pacing.

The packmate pair soon feel the sense of parting and then returning to the corporeal world. Outside, the guard is humming something -- it sounds like "Fly me to the Moon."

"I'll watch the door," whispers Soren quietly as he takes a step that way, preparing for the guard or anyone else who might think to come in.

Patrick pulls a pair of gloves out of his pockets and dons them, then reaches up to look over the painting before taking it down from the wall as quietly as possible.

The office is closed in, two interior windows facing the reception area; they are shuttered and closed. The door itself is gently ajar, but is made of solid heavy oak. The rest of the office is very tastefully decorated -- several pots of greenery, cherry wood furniture and a large sumptous leather chair. the painting is of a three masted schooner in a harbor -- possibly San Francisco. In the background of the picture is a forbidding looking storm rolling towards the artist and the man pictured in front of the ship. Dressed to the nines, the man is obviously very wealthy. The picture has a date in one corner, 1854, along with the artist's signature.

Pack> Patrick sends through the link, "I'm about to be decidedly unsubtle." Pack> Quiet finally says words, flatly. "Dead." Pack> Soren remains numb.

Patrick goes directly into crinos with incredibly speed, shifting instantaneously up from homid. In the next moment, he grabs something around his neck, and vanishes.

Pack> Touch Deer is quiet, again, for a few moments before he asks, deadpan, "Where are you?"

Outside the guard seems to be humming "My Way" to himself. If he's noticed anything going on inside the office, he sure doesn't give it away.

A moment after Whitestreak disappears from sight, the door of the safe quietly rips itself off its hinges and vanishes as well. It reappears, leaning against the wall of the office.

Soren remains standing in position beside the door... just in case Frankie decides to investigate.

Quiet continues to pace. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Pack> Quiet answers, finally. Near sea. Far.

The safe is opened forcefully, but surprisingly no one seems to notice. Inside is a small disc shaped medallion attached to a fine gold chain. The medallion is a gold cut away. The negative space of the object seems to form a two "yin/yang" pieces, while in the center is a cleverly fasioned, intricately shaped dragon lizard beast. The eyes of the lizard are jeweled, and that's when you realize with a touch of surprise that the edge of the circle is itself an ouroboros.

A flashlight beam swings through the crack in the door, and the guard's humming gets a touch louder, but then it fades as he walks down the other hall.

Pack> Touch Deer's voice falls silent, but everyone can sense how his emotions are pulled taught like a bowstring.

Patrick reaches into the safe and grabs the medallion, blinking in surprise as he actually gets a look at the item. A suspicious look crosses his face as he shifts back down to homid, then he waves to his packmate, and looks back at his reflection in the painting's glass.

It only takes a few long breaths and then both Garou slip back into the quiet still shadow, and still Quiet paces.

Soren rejoins Patrick, his own attention fierce on the medallion until they reach.

Patrick growls, "Let's get the fuck outta here. I don't like it at all." He turns and heads out the door, and back down the Umbral corridors and stairwells, rather than the more direct route he took up.

Soren follows, still numb, still cautious.

Quiet's glare fixes briefly on the symbol of her pack, for which one of her pack died. She then indicates that she agrees. She pulls ahead in heading for for the bodies and Salem.

The quiet three exit the building without raising an alarm. The night is still, nary an alarm or spirit to be seen.

As they get back outside, Patrick nods at the bodies. "How the heck to we get them back out of the Umbra?"

Salem is standing near Shades' motionless form, staring down at it with a deep frown. He doesn't look up as the pack nears, but instead goes down on one knee, placing a hand on the metis' chest. His head tilts.

Quiet answers Patrick finally, after staring at the body for a short time. Then she moves to pick up the shell of her former packmate. Cassandra's homid body cradles in Quiet's crinos arms like a sleeping, bloody babe. Only the eyes, open and staring in death, ruin the impression of sleep.

Salem's expression lightens, just barely. Without looking up, without even taking his hand from JJ's chest, he says, "He's not dead."

Patrick reaches over and closes his former packmate's eyes, then looks at Salem. "We got what we came for, I hope. It's ... what?"

Quiet also turns, but slower. The anger is finally beginning to fade into numbness, and it shows in her movements.

"He's not dead," Salem repeats, still without looking up. "He's breathing. Barely."

It's hard to see, but those looking for it might see Salem's hand rise and fall barely as it rests against the metis's chest.

Patrick rolls his eyes slightly and kneels down to check for a pulse at the metis's neck. Patrick blinks and motions Soren over. "Heal 'im, or try. He's not quite dead yet."

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