>>3975365

>"No."

You deliver your answer in the most deadpan voice you can manage. Gina cackles merrily as you fork some more noodles into your mouth. "Maybe it's 'cause I'm new to this, but mind-control stuff kinda puts me off. Honestly, sure she's attractive, but we've talked for like... an hour, tops? Not gonna crush on a lady over that, especially when she wants to get me to do some dirty work for her on the sly."

Gina nods, clearly satisfied. "Good answer. If it wasn't clear before, I was joking. Really, totally joking." She pokes you again, this time right on the forehead. "Do not entertain a crush on a vampire. Don't have steamy makeouts under streetlights, refrain from romantic outings, avoid hooking up and especially do not fall in love with one of us."

"Oh, wow." You blink in surprise at the sudden surety in her voice. She's all serious now, her eyes wide and piercing, her mouth set in a scowl. "Um. I mean-"

"You better not, Tim Tim." She pokes you a third time, now on your chest. She's surprisingly strong, although you suppose you shouldn't be surprised given what she is. "You're a very nice boy who I enjoy talking to, and I will not see you wrecked at the hands of some undead strumpet. And in case you're wondering, no, that sort of thing never ends happily. I've only been around for half a century, but I've seen enough. It always ends in tears and blood, and no one wins."

You're caught too off-guard to respond. Of course love isn't what Disney markets it to be, but as someone with an ember of romanticism left in their heart, it's jarring to hear someone who looks like a preteen denouncing it so harshly. Gina huffs and crosses her arms, looking away from you. You silently thank whatever power moves the universe that your soup didn't spill, and start twirling some noodles around your fork when she adds: "and just to be certain, you should absolutely be put off by emotional manipulation. That isn't and shouldn't be okay. If a lick tried to mesmerize me, I'd claw their face off."

Another mouthful of soup. "There a difference between mind control and emotional control?"

"Yes, but it's a technicality. Either one being used on you should be at least cause for alarm."

"Mh." Well, now you know for sure. You always were wary of Winters, but if another vampire's saying you should be... "She didn't make me sign anything. Thought that was nice."

"Did she?" Gina looks thoughtful. "That's unusual for one of the Tower. But hey, like I said, she's alright as far as they go, even if she does throw around her Presence. I'll never get used to that."

"What about the assassin? What was his clan?"

"Well, he was fast and could hide. Probably means an Assamite antitribu, which fits with the Sabbat."

"What are they?"

"You've got the gist of it already. Assassins, and they're mostly good at it. Looks like you found a little newbie though. Don't mess with the older ones."

>[Write In]

>>3975366
>"Do you think the older ones will try to go after me for killing off their newbie? I would really just prefer to stay out of this shit as much as possible..."
Also if given a good opportunity to ask about it:
>"By the way, you said this is your turf right? Is that like some sort of formal agreement, or is it just like the "I'll whoop the ass of anyone who does shit here" kind of turf?"

>>3975366
I think it's enough info for today.
>Thank her for information
>Ask where she lives
>Exchange contact info (if she has any)
>Be sure everything is closed and hit the hay

Did we get contact info to Winters? If not
>Ask is she has contact to Winters
>Contact Winters about sabbat
If she or we don't have it just go to sleep

>>3975908
Supporting

Exchanging contact info like >>3976220 said would probably also be a good idea. We need as many trustworthy allies as we can get, now.

>>3975366
>Exchange contact info (if she has any)

>>3975908
>>3976220
>>3977118

>"You think the older ones'll come after me?"

Gina shakes her head. "If a Sabbat vampire screws up going solo, it's on them. Especially in the case of an assassin. This won't be traced back to you, at least not for a while. If anything they'll think it was me."

Right, this is her domain. "By this being your turf, is it like a formal agreement or-"

"It's an understanding that only I get to hunt here." She smiles in that way you've come to recognize as predatory. "Not on paper anywhere, but anyone who knows anything is aware that this block belongs to the outlander. If the Sabbat wants to come out and use my playground, they'll answer to me, and I'm trouble that they'd probably rather avoid. They'll be wanting to undermine the Camarilla first of all, not play tag with an alley cat."

"I see. Then I really should get in touch with Winters." At this point it occurs to you that you never got her contact information - or Gina's, for that matter. "I, ah, don't actually have any means of getting in touch with her. Or you."

"That's because I don't have any contact information. It's something I have consciously avoided ever since cell phones became commonplace. People can track that stuff, you know?"

"Seems kinda paranoid to worry about that."

"Vampires are paranoid, Timmy. The ones who aren't are dead."

"Oh." It is that kind of world, as you're coming to realize. "Well then, how will I find you? Or her?"

"I can get her in touch with you. But you'll have to do something for me in return."

You're going to owe her a favor? This seems kinda shady, but then, it's Gina you're dealing with. "And what's that?"

She motions over to the window, where your thin, sad curtains are rustling faintly in what little breeze manages to curl into your apartment. "Get some better drapes. This couch is very comfy and I think I might like to sleep on it sometime."

You smile genuinely. "I think I could do that. I've gotta go get a new hoodie, anyway. Speaking of which, where do you live?"

"This block."

>>3977571

"No, I mean-"

"Where do I sleep?" Gina gets up and stretches. "In the ground. Before you ask, yeah, I actually just sink into the concrete of an alley, any alley, and sleep there."

"That's awful." You wince at the thought of her buried alive, surrounded by the cold immensity of the earth to hide from the sun. "Yeah, no. I'm getting new curtains and then you can sleep here anytime you want. Just don't claw up the couch; I like to sit on it too."

"So be it, Tim Tim. I'll let Vally know you want to see her, and I'll come by again when you figure out what it is that's going on with you. I have a way of knowing things. Trust me, Timmy."

"Trust you?" She's about to answer when you apply more headpats, making her squeak in the most endearing way. "You little cat demon. Sure, fine, why not. I'm already trusting you not to ruin my chair." Gina wriggles away from you, giggling happily, and bids you good night, climbing out the window and presumably scaling the side of your building. After she's gone, you close up the window, make sure the door is locked, finish eating your soup and flick off your lights before finally crawling onto your mattress. You're tired as all get-out, but you wait patiently until the first rays of sun creep through your thin curtains before letting yourself fall asleep.

>Rufus: Follow Through

>>3977573
>Rufus: Follow Through

>>3977573
>Rufus: Follow Through

>>3977573
>Rufus: Follow Through

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>>3977640
>>3977744
>>3977829

>Rufus: Follow Through

Your name is Rufus Wright, and your life is at stake.

At least, you think it is. You watched that Tim guy disembowel a pack of Garou in self-defense, and it was a narrow thing when you managed to talk your way out of the same fate, even at a price. A part of you is horrified that three of Gaia's defenders bit the dust, but another part of you says that they got what they deserved and you're a karma Houdini. The Fera aren't always right; hell, they're not even usually right, but you like to believe that when the chips are down the wolves'll throw in their lot with the good guys. Unlike last time everything was on the line.

Believe, motherfucker, or you'll burn. It's taken a hell of a lot of faith to get you this far, and you can only hope it'll see you through this new day. The trouble is that you don't know if there's trouble or not.

This is a pretty unassuming operation you've got going here. Night one was a frantic affair, googling furiously to find something resembling what you were looking for. The first problem was that you really didn't know what that something was. Searches along the lines of 'man grows feathers and runs on raindrops' got you some abstract artwork, kid's books, some truly bizarre fanfiction, and a comic strip that looked promising at first but turned out to lead nowhere. Searching through scholarly journals got you more serious but equally useless results. More occult resources didn't help you at all, except for a vague reference to some extremely secretive families overseas, none of whom had any American presence and who it was impossible to find out about without triggering digital tripwires that you were not prepared to deal with. But you did find something, unlikely as it is.

It's apparently a fantasy novel, obscure by anyone's standards; only a single copy seems to have survived its initial printing in 1996. The thing was lambasted by the few critics who deigned to give it a look, and all existing copies faded into effective oblivion, except for one. You are one lucky bird - this last copy exists in the basement of a retired college professor over in Queens. The guy himself is completely unassuming, and as far as you can tell has nothing to do with the Garou, the leeches, or the Wyrm, so you're going to have to be careful about extricating it.

It was the description given in the reviews that got your attention. Through the account of weird abstractions, characters wantonly breaking physics and self-indulgence, the critics made mention of the characters using the power of the moon to transform into half-bird half-men creatures, using improbable powers like - the kicker! - balancing on falling rain. Might be a coincidence, but at least worth a look.

And that's why you're perched on a telephone line outside Dr. Geoff Beaumont's house at noon, having seen him drive away a few minutes ago. How will you infiltrate?

>Chimney
>Window
>[Write In]

>>3977991
>It seems a bit suspicious that this guy has the ONLY copy of this book. I better be careful in case someone out there, maybe another one of those things, didn’t want people knowing what it said.

Do we have a human form or are we all bird all the time? If we do, and if we have a reasonable excuse as to how we know he has this book
>Look up some other similar books and books by the author and ask politely while pretending to be an enthusiast. With our knowledge of the supernatural, we can definitely pass off as some folklore otaku or whatever they would call it. Plus, this guy is a retired professor, humans love it when you talk about their interests, especially elderly ones or educators, and this guy is both. Considering I have enough trouble already, maybe the safe way is the best way on this one.

If not
>Go in the window. Going through the chimney will just get us dirty and track soot everywhere. If I’m right, I would rather leave as little a trail to follow as possible...

>>3977991
>Window

>>3978232
We have a human form

>>3978232
Suppin

>>3977991
>window
Human form
Last thing we need to do is wind up a dead raven in a chimney

>>3978232
Support

>>3978232
This

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Hab bird man

>>3978232
>>3978238
>>3978354
>>3978538
>>3978831
>>3978881

>Window.

The book, as your research has shown, is the only work produced by this author - or at least, the only one produced under that name. Dr. Beaumont's acquisition of it seems to have been a coincidence - a timely purchase back when copies were still circulating - but just to make sure, you looked him up. He had a long and reasonably successful career, which allowed him to retire comfortably at this residence. More importantly, he wasn't affiliated with any of the organizations you know to be tied to the Wyrm, and doesn't appear to have had any substantial interest in the occult, which leads you to believe his ownership of this book is out of actual appreciation for its contents.

If you weren't here on business, you might wait until he comes back to chat with him and get him to tell you about his experience with the book himself. But now that you suspect it to be linked with Tim in some way, it's become a serious matter, and one that you'd prefer to take care of while the man isn't at home. If something goes wrong, you don't want him there to get hurt by it. You're no saint, but you're not a monster either. Enough people have been hurt recently by your mistakes.

You flutter down from the wire, over his lawn and around the side of his house. There's a small window there, and when you perch on its sill, a quick glance inside tells you it's locked. No matter; nothing is really locked to you. You tap your beak on the glass, and as if by magic, the lock on the other side of the window clicks open. You wedge your beak under the frame and, with considerable effort, pull the window open and hop inside. You're pretty sure no one saw you; most people will be at work at this time of day, and the pedestrians on the sidewalk paid you little attention. So you're in. Now to locate the basement.

>>3979332

Takes you a bit of flapping around, but you do find the door that opens to a downward staircase. Making sure that your silhouette won't be visible through any windows in case Beaumont's neighbors are around, you take your homid form and descend into the basement. Contrary to many basements you're accustomed to, it's nice, and rather spacious. Old man clearly spends time down here. There are rows of shelves, each one containing several hundred volumes. One of your contacts, a real estate guy whose help scouting places out has been incredibly useful through the years, was able to tell you that the shelves came with the place, and the refurbishing was out of Beaumont's own pocket. There's a desk with a reading lamp, and though you reckon you could find a lot of these books through the public library system, the urge to sit down at the desk and crack one open is not minimal. Something about physical paper as opposed to PDFs that makes you feel all scholarly.

But focus! You're here for one thing, and you've gotta be in and out with it before the old man gets back. You begin with the shelves, and discover to your immense relief that they're alphabetically organized. Helios bless Dr. Beaumont; you can't remember the last time you broke into the house of a guy this considerate. You go through the letters, until you reach 'J'. There it is, an unassuming paperback with a crinkled spine. It's likely been read more than once.

Legend of the Silver Raven, by H.J. Snaketongue

It's an author's pseudonym, and a stupid one at that. 'Snaketongue'? What a laugh. Nevertheless, this is what you came to find. You pull the book out of the shelf and stuff it into your leather jacket, and are about to leave when you hear a door open upstairs. It's abrupt, and you think you recognize the sound of breaking hinges.

Fucking hell, it can't ever be simple, can it?

>Become a raven.
>Stay human.
>[Write In]

>>3979334
>Become a raven, get the fuck out in as swift a manner as possible

>>3979334
>>Stay human.
Well lets hope it takes a bit of time to get to the basement.

>>3979334
>Become a raven.
Leave quick
>the sound of breaking hinges
What does this mean?

>>3979628
door's getting bashed in off its hinges, which means we probably don't want to meet whatever's doing the bashing

>>3979334
>Become a raven.

>>3979600
this

>>3979600
>Bird mode and book it.

>>3979600
>>3979628
>>3979647
>>3979743
>>3979809
>Make like Lynyrd Skynyrd and play Free Bird.

You're not a fighter. Leave glorious deaths for the wolves; you've got a head you'd like to keep on your shoulders, and you're damn sure these aren't run-of-the-mill robbers. How exactly they found you when you were in bird mode you can't be sure, but that's not important right now. What's important is that they're up there and you're down here, with no apparent way out. No windows down here leading aboveground.

So somehow the situation needs to be reversed; ideally, you want them never to even see you leave. You could cross into the Spirit World, but if they recognized you coming in your corvid form, they've definitely got a way of seeing in there and won't be fooled by your stepping sideways. So with your life on the line, you resolve to make Helios proud today and give these intruders a runaround they won't forget. How thoughtful of Beaumont to leave you these shelves to play with.

You hear footsteps at the top of the stairs, and voices: "I'll stay here and cover the way out."

"Be up in a minute. He won't get past us."

Oh, won't you? You grin and shift; now you're a raven, and with the book held firmly in your talons, you fly up onto one of the shelves. You've got two of their voices, and you're pretty sure that's all you'll need.

Two near-humans come down the stairs, patches of dirty fur on their faces, visibly sharp teeth and each boasting some serious muscle mass. Even in this way, you don't want to tangle with them. They come forwards, creeping towards the rows of shelves, one on either side. You're hunkered down on top of the central row, with two on either side of you, so they don't see you just yet. This'll do just fine.

As soon as one of them reaches the wall, you speak in a perfect imitation of the second voice you heard: "Hey, over here, I found him!"

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>>3980109

One of them begins moving quickly through the shelves, his movements uncertain, clearly thrown off by the voice not coming from where he expected given his colleague's last seen position. The other guy begins loudly protesting, which is exactly what you wanted. The more audible confusion in the basement, the better. Also, it'll make the man upstairs more inclined to appear when you say this next thing:

"Get down here, man! We need you!"

You're already in flight, leaping off the end of your shelf and flying towards the stairs. There's a whoosh of displaced air behind you, making you fairly certain you just avoided bloody death by inches. Rapid footsteps sound on the stairway, and as soon as the third guy pokes his head into view, you go for it, driving nose-first into his eye. You hear a horrible scream, and feel the structure of his face begin to change as he warps into his war-form, but by the time his claws come up to meet his face, you're already booking it up the stairs, nearly crashing into the wall, banking sharply and, in a cloud of feathers, rocketing out the window with the book in your claws and an eyeball in your beak. Gotcha, bitch.

You're in the open again. Even if they manage to track you down, there's not a thing they can do to you without causing mass panic wherever it happens - at least until nightfall. You have, for all intents and purposes, dunked on these fools; you only hope they'll leave before Dr. Beaumont gets home. You head into the sky, eating the eye just for the sake of leaving nothing behind, and screech in triumph.

>Fly North. You'll be closer to finding Tim that way.
>Fly West. You can regroup at your hideout.

>>3980111
>>Fly North. You'll be closer to finding Tim that way.
Tim could take em in a fight plus we dont want them following us home.

>>3980111
>Fly North. You'll be closer to finding Tim that way.

>>3980111
Fly to a crowded fountain and get the smell off (if that will even help against these guys idk) then head north. If one found you you don't know who else has your scent. Wonder why wolves are after you. Hope that crazy weirdo can keep them away for delivering his book.

>>3980111
>Fly North. You'll be closer to finding Tim that way.
Somebody's on our tail, and we gotta deliver the book before we get got.

>>3980111
>>Fly North. You'll be closer to finding Tim that way.

>>3980111
>Fly North. You'll be closer to finding Tim that way

>>3980115
>>3980177
>>3980276
>>3980360
>>3980507

>Fly North

Much as you might like to take a look at the novel and see what's so shitty about it, you've got more pressing things on your hands. There's little doubt in your mind that you were just attacked by Black Spiral Dancers, those Garou who have fallen to the Wyrm's corruption. What was a pack of them doing in Queens? Nothing good, you're sure. But you can investigate that later; right now, you're going to save your neck and give the Tim Reaper this book.

Of course, the very first thing you did was find out where he lived. Partly so you could give him the info, and partly in case, if you by some misfortune were unable to find this stuff, you'd know where exactly to be farthest away from. What you've dug up about him is hilariously insubstantial: he's a McDonald's employee who graduated from High School two years ago with better-than-average grades. He's worked there for six years, had a single run-in with the law when he defended his coworkers from a violent customer, and done nothing else of any note. Nothing. Zilch. The guy is almost disgustingly decent.

And maybe that's exactly what this world needs.

You fly over cemeteries, over Woodside and Astora Heights, past the airport and across the water to the northernmost borough where you know Tim lives. It's not a short journey, and you'll probably want to stop by a fountain over there in case they've got your scent. Things haven't gone quite as smoothly as they could have, but you're alive, you've got the book, and soon your debt will be paid and your freedom restored. Hopefully you don't stumble across that scary urchin again; she looked like she would've ripped your head off if you hadn't intrigued her with the matter of your business. There's a sinking feeling in your breast as you realize you're heading into her territory, and Murphy's law will probably see your paths cross again.

Ah, well. Nothing for it! Onward to make good on your bargain.

>Tim: Awaken

>>3981224
>Tim: Awaken

>>3981224
>Tim: Awaken!

>>3981224
>Tim: Awaken

>>3981224
>Tim: Asleepn't

>>3981224
>Awaken, my master

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>>3981389
>>3981394
>>3981439
>>3981492
>>3981575

>Tim: Unsleep

Sheesh, you almost overslept. Understandable after staying awake for an entire day and night; the limitless energy of the night of your first transformation has diminished, but not died. It's like a slumbering beast, waiting to awaken and join whatever battle dares to trouble its rest. That battle is not the day-to-day struggle of McDonald's; the job is the job, and each evening spent at work means you get to keep living your life for another day. All there is to it.

It feels almost strange, going about your afternoon routine as if nothing has changed, as if there isn't a world of monsters crouching behind the curtain of twilight. The beyond is a step away and has always been - the only real difference is that now you know where to look. And you're part of it. There's another thing you still have to wrap your head around: at least on some level, you are not human anymore. Humans don't grow bird feathers and talons or glow silver. You look down at yourself as you stand in front of the bathroom mirror, before staring up at your reflection. You're not sure what you're looking for, but it feels as if there should be something there. A sign to look for.

A warning.

Whatever. You grab your uniform and head out. On the way to work, you find yourself glancing down the alleyways, wondering where Gina sunk into the asphalt to sleep. Ah, yes - curtain shopping, not to mention getting yourself a new hoodie. You've got some money saved in case of such things, and you know where to get those items cheap. Never mind. You clock in five minutes ahead, as usual, and begin your shift.

It seems mathematically improbable that so many customers could be rude, inconsiderate and devoid of self-awareness, but fast food seems to bring out the most petty sort of unpleasantness in people. Even more wondrous is that you still care about them as human beings. That guy who just snapped at the new part-timer and almost made her cry? You know the dislike you feel would be shoved aside if you saw him getting attacked on the street. It's a matter of decency, which is an ideal you strive to uphold with dogged - some would say idiotic - determination.

On the other hand, you have no problem telling the man that his behavior is unacceptable and if he snaps again he'll get ejected. It's one thing when people are boorish, and another when they upset those under your management. Thankfully, the clientele agrees with you, and the guy mumbles an apology and leaves with his food.

Three hours into your shift, the kid working the drive thru taps you on the shoulder. "Hey, Tim? Last customer said there's a big-ass black bird harassing the people at the outdoor tables." Sure enough, a glance through the glass doors lets you see the raven eating fries on an abandoned table.

>[Write In]

>>3981929
>go shoo the bird away

>>3981929
>go shoo the bird away

>>3981929
>See if we recognize this bird
Didn't it have golden eyes / the same eyes as Rufus?
>Shoo it away, but alter response depending on whether we recognize it or not. If just a bird, tell it to go away. If Rufus, tell him to go away but tell him "go harass people at the apartments, not here." Hopefully he gets the message to wait by the apartment.
Tim doesn't want anyone messing with his job, right?

>>3981929
>go shoo the bird away while saying "If you want to feed the birds, please do it at home." to the customers and hope if its Rufus he gets the message.

>>3982235
+1

>>3982164
This

>>3981942
>>3981956
>>3982164
>>3982235
>>3982237
>>3982420

>Go shoo the bird away.

"Alright. I'll take care of it." You step out from behind the counter and head out across the floor, pushing open the door and stepping out into the chill air. It'll be winter soon, and if the cold keeps progressing as it has been, you expect there'll be snow on the ground before the month is out. The raven doesn't mind the cold, but you are reminded of your intent to go hoodie hunting. Beyond a light snowfall, you'll have to make do with your old coat.

As you walk towards the raven, you notice that it's only you out here. The clientele have been well and truly chased away, one of them abandoning a medium fries, which the bird is tucking in to. You're on the verge of shooing him away, when he catches your dark eyes with his golden ones.

Quoth the raven, "'ey buddy."

"Christ! That you, Rufus?"

"Nah, it's another talking raven randomly hanging around. You got a minute?"

"What the f- no, I haven't got a minute, I'm working and you're screwing with our business. Come find me at my apartment after dark."

"No can do, friendo. I'm on the run."

"From who?"

"Would take too long to explain. But hey, I think I solved your mystery." Rufus plants his claw on a book - you guessed it belonged to a customer - and pushes it towards you. You really shouldn't be humoring him, but if this is what he says, you can't just blow him off. You step over to the table and take a look at the cover. It readsLegend of the Silver Raven, and the illustration depicts three birds of different colors flying across what might be the moon. It looks like the sort of book that would get passed over for the much more visually interesting young adult fiction to either side of it on the bookstore shelf. In other words, it reminds you a little of yourself.

>>3983847

Hellooo...

And if your head voice is taking notice, maybe the likeness isn't so far-fetched. "Where'd you find it?"

"Not important. I got stuff to do, you got stuff to do. If I don't pop up at your place within the week, it's 'cause I'm dead." The raven cocks his head. "So we square now?"

"Depends on what this is," you say, picking up the book. You examine its cover once more, flip it over to read a blurb that isn't there, and when you look up again, there is no raven. Nor are there any fries. You turn around to see one of the part-timers looking through the glass door in confusion. Not letting your straight face slip for a moment, you walk back into the building, holding up the book for the part-timer to see.

"Someone left this out there. Put it in the lost-and-found drawer, okay?"

"Okay." The kid goes to stash the book away, and you move back behind the counter. Well, that's done. With any luck you're gonna make it home without any incident. But of course things won't be that simple. Nothing's been simple. So when three guys walk in ten minutes before closing and ask the cashier if she's seen a very large black bird around here, you know something's up.

The guy on the left is squat, middle-aged and balding, with a slight paunch in his stomach. On the right is a tall, well-built man whose sideburns are going almost as hard as his jawline. And the young man in the middle looks like you, if you'd gone into a goth phase in high school and never come out. Skull earrings, facial tattoos, an iron chain around his neck, and an eyepatch, he's the one who posits the question. The cashier looks at you, unsure of the answer.

>[Write In]

>>3983852
>"A big bird? That's not really helpful, you know, big birds in the city are everywhere. You got anything more specific? What kind of bird, what's it sound like, does it have a tag or something."

>>3983866
>big birds in the city are everywhere
Correction: "big birds are a dime a dozen in a city"

>>3983862
>Point to a “Please don’t feed the birds” sign and deadpan “Yeh, have you checked the parking lot?.”

>>3983862
>”could you be more specific about what type of bird it was ?”

>>3983925
+1

>>3983925
This

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>>3983925
>>3983929
>>3984252
>>3984432

>trollface.jpg

"A big black bird?" Nice alliteration there. You break eye contact with the cashier and lock gazes with the questioner, and without looking away, point your thumb at a wall next to the door. There is a plastic sign hung up there, advertising in large, unmistakable letters: 'PLEASE DON'T FEED THE BIRDS'. "You checked the parking lot?"

"Wise guy," the young man hisses, and takes a single step forwards before the square-jawed man on the right takes him by the shoulder.

"Wait a minute now," says the mediator, clearly taking care to keep his tone moderate. "This gentleman is only trying to help us. We should assist him in that regard." Words of reason, but the way the youth's eyes dart back and forth before standing down, you know you only got away with that answer because there are people around and he doesn't want to cause a scene. Or maybe he does, but can't afford to.

Whatever the case, these are the guys on Rufus's tail, and though you owe the wereraven nothing, if these are servants of that Wyrm thing, aiding them is probably not in your best interests. They're definitely not good news; this situation reminds you all too much of the ambush in the park, and if you were alone with them, you're fairly certain there would already be blood on the ground. The voice of reason speaks once more, smoothing out his suit which contrasts sharply with the goth attire and casual wear of his companions. "Despite my young friend's disposition, I assure you that we are not here to cause trouble. This bird is very particular - it's been trained, you see, to speak simple phrases and perform tricks. It might exhibit, shall we say... unusual behavior. Also, it is big, much bigger than most of its genus."

"What's its genus?"

"Ah, excuse me, sir. An animal's genus is-"

"I know what a genus is, sir. What species of bird exactly are you looking for?"

"Well, then!" He hides his surprise well, but not so well that you don't see it. There's this tendency for customers to assume that whoever's behind the counter is there because they're not smart enough to work anywhere else. It stopped irritating you years ago; it's just another facet of your job, and everyone makes assumptions, consciously or not. "He's a common raven. Corvus corax. I assume I don't have to describe it to you."

"You don't. Anything else?"

"Only an apology for troubling you. I hope we haven't alarmed anyone, but this really is of the utmost importance." The suited man smartly pulls a business card from his breast pocket and hands it to you. "If you see a bird like we've described, please give me a call. Thank you for your time." With that, he nods at his fellows and departs, with the portly man and the youth in tow, the latter casting a murderous glare at you on his way out. It takes every bit of your willpower not to smile.

>>3985752

"Um...?" Hearing the cashier's quiet voice, you look over at her, and at once know that something's up. She's gone pale, her shoulders are tight, and she seems to have shrunk away from the till, beads of sweat running down her freckled forehead. A quick glance around at the few remaining customers reveals similar reactions - tension, nervous stares, sweating, almost hyperventilating in one person's case. Hoping beyond hope that the three didn't guess you are anything other than a perfectly normal human, you take a deep breath and address the cashier.

"You're done for the night. I'll close up by myself."

"O-oh, okay. Am I in trouble, Tim?"

"Not at all. You're doing fine. Just let me take care of this. I'll make sure you get paid for the whole shift."

She flushes in gratitude, nods and practically flees towards the break room. You replace her at the till for the few remaining minutes, taking the last orders, making sure all the customers have left before telling the present staff that they're off for the night. You tidy up, make sure everything's locked, and head out into the night, the business card in one hand and the novel in the other.

You should have punished his insolence. Made him howl in front of all those humans like the dog he is.

"And you should keep your mouth shut. I don't need your input." You say these words aloud, not even pausing to question the fact that you're talking to yourself on the street at night. As far as this weirdness goes, sanity is starting to seem pretty relative to you.

You stand at the mouth of your alley for a whole minute staring into the darkness, trying in vain to pick out any hiding figure among the shadows. Either there's no one there, or they're so well-hidden that you haven't a hope in heaven of detecting them. You briefly consider calling "I know you're there!" before deciding that might be a bit silly, and climb the fire escape to the dubious sanctuary of your home. Once your shoes are off, you plop onto the couch and look at the two items you've acquired. Which to examine first?

>Fantasy Novel
>Business Card

>>3985760
>Business Card

>>3985760
>Fantasy Novel

>>3985760
>Fantasy Novel

>>3985760
>bird book

>>3985760
>Fantasy Novel

>>3985760
>Business Card

>>3985760
>Business Card

>>3985760
>>Business Card
Cards are shorter than books

>>3985760
>Business Card

>>3985874
>>3986141
>>3986479
>>3986485
>>3986619

>Business Card

The book's gonna take a while to parse, so you decide to look at the card first. It doesn't tingle when you hold it, so you don't think it'll explode, but at this stage you're ready for anything. When after five seconds it still hasn't blown up, you give the print a long, hard look. The man's name, Mark Prowe, you don't recognize, but the company logo you know very well. Everyone knows Pentex. They're a multi-national megacorp, with their fingers in more pies than you care to remember. You haven't shopped at any of their subsidiaries before, but their stores and products are all over the place. You know there's at least one in your neighborhood - Herrick's, which has been responsible for the swift decline of competing grocery stores in the area. The place you frequent is a few blocks further up the incline from Mac's, quite a bit closer to your place than Herrick's is, but it's only a matter of time before that one is gone as well.

You narrow your eyes as you look from the name to the logo. A Pentex affiliate is chasing Rufus? What does this mean? It could be that his business with the wereraven is tied to the company he works for in some way, considering he gave you his business card. You figure you should probably look into this. Trying to unearth the company's possible ties to were-creatures online is probably a doomed venture, but then, that's not exactly what you'll be searching for. Not to mention you'll have to get your damned computer to work if you'll want to find anything at all that way.

>>3987261

With a heavy sigh, you rise from the couch and walk down the hall to the one other room in the apartment - your bedroom, which besides your mattress also houses the ancient desktop you kept from your mom's old place. It's installed on an equally aged table that looks ill-suited to bearing the machine's considerable bulk, and every time you boot it up, you wonder if this might be the end of both the computer and the wooden Atlas bearing it. You sit down in front of it, crack your knuckles, and press ON.

Ten minutes later, you're typing in your password.

It's almost half an hour before the thing is ready for you to begin your search.

Abiding patience has always been one of your finest virtues.

Luckily, the fast internet prevails over your prehistoric monitor, and the investigation begins. Mark Prowe does have an internet presence, but his position doesn't appear in standard corporate hierarchy. He is, as his profile puts it, a 'Senior Acquisitor' of Pentex's eastern branch, which has its home office somewhere in the City. A query into the job market has you learn that an Acquisitor is supposedly an employee whose job it is to collect new assets for the convenience of various subsidiaries, or, should the situation call for it, retrieve lost ones. It's the sort of person who might be sent to secure a shipment, oversee a transport of goods, or examine a potential investment.

It is presumably not a job that would see its holder chasing a monster while on duty. Putting it all together, considering the reactions of the cashier and clientele at McDonald's, the familiarity of the altercation and their impressive efficiency in following Rufus, you're pretty sure that the three men you met were werewolves. So either Prowe is using his career at Pentex as a cover for supernatural affairs, or...

Or Pentex itself is somehow involved.

>Pursue this investigation.
>Put this on hold and read the novel.
>[Write In]

>>3987265
>Put this on hold and read the novel.
Pentex might have alarms in place or something. We should talk to people more in the know before we pursue this.

>>3987265
>>Put this on hold and read the novel

>>3987265
>Put this on hold and read the novel.

>>3987265
>Put this on hold and read the novel.

>>3987265
>Put this on hold and read the novel

>>3987265
>Put this on hold to ask Gina or Winters, as for all we know this might be some common knowledge thing between monster, and read the novel.

>>3987284
>>3987347
>>3987451
>>3987607
>>3987629
>>3988015

>Put this on hold and read the novel.

Having reached this juncture, you reluctantly push the chair back from the table and click out of the opened windows, pushing the ON button again to send the dinosaur back to sleep. This is doubtless another rabbit hole that you could spend hours upon hours plunging down, and you have more immediately pressing matters on your hands. You'll make a point of finding out how or if all of this ties into Pentex, but it can wait; tonight's concern will be reading the book Rufus brought you.

Legend of the Silver Raven is a long book - literally. The page size is unusual for a novel; it looks more like a textbook than a work of fiction. Looking at it reminds you of school, dull memories of lifeless halls and false cheer almost enough to make you hesitate. But, ever dauntless, you grab the book, sit back on your couch and open to the first page.

"Before the Great Flood,
Before the Impergium,
Before the Mythic Ages,
Before the Sundering,
There Was Something Else."

Vague and cryptic start, but okay. You wonder if the 'Great Flood' refers to the biblical event, but beyond that, these names are alien. If the books makes no further mention of them, you'll have to do some more googling; hopefully it comes through. It begins by describing a world of demons, gods and spirits, ruled by the Dragon-Blooded - men and women that are explicitly stated to be capable of surpassing all but the most powerful of supernatural beings in power and skill. This is the world the alleged protagonists are born into: alleged because they feel less like protagonists and more like... case studies.

The writing style isn't truly awful, but it even feels like you're reading a textbook. There are dates given here and there, important events are mentioned in passing - though related to other, more focal events due to influencing them - and the youth of the characters is described somewhat dispassionately. They also have weird names - Shadow of Eagles, Cloaked in Deepest Blue, and Dauntless Silver Raven. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

The aforementioned trio struggles together, born into poverty in a small rural village. Oppressed by their Dragon-Blooded overlords, they watch their neighbors and families die one by one, and they are changed by their experiences. Shadow of Eagles wants desperately to improve conditions for his people. Cloaked in Deepest Blue wants to believe there’s something out there that could save them, praying to the gods of the forest and field to provide for her kin. And Dauntless Silver Raven nurses a flame of hatred for those above him, and swears retribution for every slight against him. Then, a plague strikes, sweeping across the land and through the village, and slays all within it - except for the three.

>>3988454

They emerge from the ruins of their village, having endured for weeks, and have become incredibly powerful. The book then launches into a detailed explanation of their powers, and when you find matching descriptions of your own abilities, you realize why the reading has been so strange. The reason Legend of the Silver Raven looks and feels like a textbook is because it is a textbook. This isn’t a fantasy novel, but a record of the lives of these three individuals, who gained power similar to yours and whose use of that power was worthy of a title as pretentious as this. Lunar Exalted, the book calls them - the Chosen of the Moon.

You continue to read, your intrigue growing by the page. There are your powers listed among the basics, and so, so many more. It’s practically a document unto itself, detailing all the incredible things these three were capable of. Cloaked in Deepest Blue becomes a great sorceress, capable of wondrous miracles through which she aids those she encounters and foils her enemies. Dauntless Silver Raven is a warrior who could be honestly called terrifying, even by your newly elevated standards. You thought you could do cool stuff, but within a year of gaining his power the guy has single-handedly crushed armies, raided fortresses and outfought gods.

Quickly your favourite of the three becomes Shadow of Eagles, who manages to organize the peasantry in a revolution that, through his canny leadership, absolutely steamrolls the Dragon-Blooded in power. He quickly brokers peace with a nearby barony, and negotiates so fantastically that the resident nobility actively sides with him against their neighbors and imposes new laws in their land to aid those born in less privileged positions. With Deepest Blue and Silver Raven at his side, he directs the revolution with surety and acumen.

A girl from the villages they save, a thief of inhuman skill who aids the three in their quest, falls in love with Shadow of Eagles, and their romance is almost as epic in itself as the revolution itself. Finally, these nobodies from nowhere conquer the land, making a new kingdom of true prosperity, having bargained with gods and danced with dragons to get there. At the behest of the people, Shadow of Eagles becomes king. It’s a happy ending by anyone’s standards; the just found love and triumph, and the villainous were met with justice and cast down.

But you’re only a third of the way through the book.

You can almost hear the thing in your mind smile.

Now things get interesting.

At several hundred pages in, you’re halfway between being riveted by the story and annoyed by the writing style. So far, you’re convinced that Legend of the Silver Raven would be awesome as an actual novel, and think it’s a shame that it’s written so dryly. You also think that it’s getting kind of bright outside, and come to the realization that you spent the whole night reading.

>Keep reading.
>Go shopping.

>>3988459
>Go shopping.
Take a break for now

>>3988459
>Go shopping, but keep the book on us in a backpack/bookbag. You are pretty sure those guys were after Rufus, and you doubt it’s a coincidence. If they could track him as a bird who can fly around, you doubt they would have any problems finding and breaking into your apartment.

>>3988510
+1

>>3988510
This

>>3988510
Might as well. It's not a bad idea. I have to say, I really enjoy this quest, OP. Your writing style is nice and crisp as well.

>>3988459
>>3988510
+1

>>3988634
Yeah, he is pretty good.

>>3988637
>>3988634
>>3988459
Yeh OP you have been doing great so far. With how /qst/ is these days, it’s super impressive how well you are running.

File: Rain.gif (4.76 MB, 936x528)

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>>3988465
>>3988510
>>3988581
>>3988621
>>3988634
>>3988636

>Go shopping.

You fold the corner of the page you're on, to save it for later, and get up to stretch and yawn. You are tired, and should sleep soon, but you want to get some things done before you crash - namely, invest in some thick drapes and a new hoodie. The way things have been going, you pretty much expect to be intercepted by some oddity at night, so you figure morning would be a good time to get stuff done. If you time it right, you'll be able to hit the stores just after they open, grab what you need, and be home to get a decent rest before getting ready for work.

You make yourself some cereal using the milk Gina so thoughtfully got for you, standing in the kitchen and watching the clock carefully as you eat. As soon as you're done, you leave the bowl to soak, grab your messenger bag and reach for the doorknob before pausing and looking back into your living room. Maybe it's paranoia starting to kick in, but something makes you think it wouldn't be a good idea to leave Legend of the Silver Raven lying around here. If those men found Rufus, odds are they'll be able to find you too, should they decide to look for you. If they show up here while you're out, you think it might be wise to have the book on you. So you drop it into your bag and head out down the fire escape.

You have to go down the incline to get where you're going. This'll take you past the site of your near-death. In retrospect, the idea of following a random bird into a park seems hilarious, a course of action only a lunatic would seriously follow. But maybe you were mad that night, and maybe you have been since. What did you expect to find there in the shadows? The book makes you wonder if, after all, it was destiny guiding your footsteps to the edge of death and back.

Destiny makes nothing happen.

You've heard that before, from that same source. Its odd phrasing makes you wonder if it doesn't mean what it seems to, and if the voice in your head were less keen on one-liners, you might feel prompted to ask it about what it's trying to say. The sky is grey today, as if threatening to cast down rain or snow and make your walk that much more miserable. Even if it did, you'd be willing to endure it. Forward is the only way to go.

Walking among people makes you feel a little off. Out here on the street, it's faintly reminiscent of the crowds downtown, and your impulse is to pull your hood up. You reach for it before remembering Winters's unexpected compliment, and decide to leave it down again. These are your people. You're one of them. No one shies away from you, nor does anyone give you a second glance, and the neutrality of it makes you happy.

And then it does start to rain, and your good mood is somewhat dampened. Of course: when it's not vampires, werewolves or spirits, it's the weather. You suppose you should count yourself fortunate.

>Dan: Make This Count

>>3989365
>Dan: Make This Count

>>3989365
>Dan: Make This Count
Will there be multiple choices at some point?

>>3989365
>Dan: Make This Count

>>3989365
>>Dan: Make This Count

>>3989365
>Dan: Make This Count
Who's Dan again?

>>3989365
>Dan: Waste your opportunity

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Preach to gain followers for this CRUSADE, Deus Vult! We shall take the vault!

>>3989365
>Dan: Make This Count

>>3989919
I don't want TOO much more than ~8, I like that range.

Hello everyone! Sorry for the late notice, but I’m currently on vacation in a country where internet is hard to come by. Tim Quest will resume on January 2nd.

>>3991695
That's cool, Vegan. Happy New Year to you and yours.

>>3991695
Have fun m8

File: Bury It Today.gif (7.85 MB, 800x600)

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>>3989561
>>3989567
>>3989621
>>3989622
>>3989657
>>3989676
>>3989993

>Dan: Make This Count

Your name is Dan Huang, and this is it.

When Luka approached you with this proposition, you understood that whatever choice you made would impact not only your pack, but the entire sept as well. The elders, so concerned with petty cultural baggage, seem blinded to the true enemy spinning its web under their very noses. The fate of the Garou seems to be withering away under the claws and scorn of their kin, until they are too weak to do their duty and fight the Wyrm. You hate seeing them at each other’s throats, all while preaching about the values of patience and how they can’t let their glory be besmirched by their rivals. What good will saving face be when there is no face to save?

Luka understood this. You understood this. Your whole pack understood this, and you agreed on their behalf. You are here, in the parking lot outside Herrick’s, because you still believe. The time is now; this is it.

You take a moment to put in the single earbud given to you by Raquel, and exhale long and slow. Your objective is simple: an executive from the head office will be stopping by Herrick’s today to issue a new business mandate, which of course will be nothing good. The six of you are going to put a stop to it, seize the weekly shipment and dispose of the Pentex products within it. Most importantly, you also want the executive - preferably alive - to take back to the caern. So those are the objectives. But what’s the plan for reaching them?

>Have the Theurge create a distraction (risks suspicion).
>Make the Galliard start an impromptu broadcast through the speakers (risks police involvement).
>Pose as a visiting health inspector (risks exposure).
>Send the Ahroun in through the back to take out security (risks isolation).
>Walk through the Umbra to traverse the store unseen (risks attention from Wyrm spirits).
>[Write In]

>>3999144
>Walk through the Umbra to traverse the store unseen (risks attention from Wyrm spirits)

Welcome back

>>3999144
>Walk through the Umbra to traverse the store unseen (risks attention from Wyrm spirits).

>>3999144
>Walk through the Umbra to traverse the store unseen (risks attention from Wyrm spirits).

>
>>3994029
Have the Theurge create a distraction (risks suspicion).

>>3999144
>Have the theurge create a distraction.
I don’t know the system, so it’s a bit hard to choose.

>>3999272
>>3999311
>>3999476

>Walk through the Umbra.

In a place like this, you'll risk attracting Banes with your spiritual presence, but it'll go a long way in preventing the human shoppers from getting involved. The last thing you want is to cause collateral. You tap your earbud and hear the [i]click[/i] of the mic turning on. "We step sideways," you declare, and turn to walk discreetly among the parked cars. It doesn't really matter if anyone sees you, since they'll rationalize your dimension-hopping away, but it's best to be cautious nonetheless. It's not long before you break through the Gauntlet, and the world falls away to grant control of reality to the Penumbra.

This took you a while to acclimate to. It's like the material world, only a half-step removed. You can see people moving as hazy silhouettes, returning from their grocery runs to their cars. Those are still visible, though to you they seem as the swirling masses of machine-spirits. You avoid walking through them or through people and stride across the parking lot to the store. It's definitely still there, though now it's a thing of jagged edges, spiked walls and rotting foundations. The rot bubbles every so often, a sure indication of the corruption that suffuses this place.

The employees you know to be innocent of crimes against Gaia ;they're just people trying to get by, working for a profitable chain. But the higher-ups at least have an inkling of what's happening, and the top-level executives are hand-in-hand with Pentex's directors. If you run into the latter, there won't be time spared for words. You were made a wolf for a reason.

>>4001305

Halfway across the lot, the earbud buzzes to life, and Gareth's voice comes through, singing that stanza from Wolf Totem:

"I breathe fire like a dragon killing demons!
I'ma go hard, yeah, we gotta seize the day!
Hellfire raining down upon my people!
If they're gonna bring the evil we can bury it today!"

That's the idea. What you start on this day will spark a fire to burn Pentex out of this great city. Well, that, or everything goes horribly South. Gareth's song stirs your Garou blood, filling you with drive and certitude. Once again, this is it.

Raquel hops in through a window whose glass no longer exists in the Penumbra. Gareth enters through a side door, making short work of the lock. Luka is nowhere to be seen, but that's to be expected. Amelia boldly strides through the front doors, already shifting into her near-human form, and you follow suit.

Herrick's is a big grocery store, rows upon rows separating you from your destination. Most of it is actual produce, bought cheaply from farms out in the country, but there's just enough brought it from Pentex's personal stock to give it this aura of degradation, even in the Spirit World. Looking around, you don't see any Banes out here, but you're sure there will be some in the back. Amelia, eager to fight, moves quickly towards the doors marked 'EMPLOYEES ONLY'. The rest follow at a more steady pace.

>Tell her to wait for the others.
>Tell everyone else to hurry up.
>Give no orders and continue.
>Have the Ragabash scout ahead.
>[Write In]

>>4001317
>Tell her to wait for the others.

>>4001317
>>Tell her to wait for the others.

>>4001317
>>Tell her to wait for the others.

>>4001317
>Tell her to wait for the others.

>Tell her to wait for the others.

>>4001377
>>4001461
>>4001535
>>4001759
>>4002001

>Tell her to wait for the others.

You issue your command, and for a moment it looks like she's going to ignore it and surge on ahead, but as she looks back, she catches the steel in your eyes, and begrudgingly slows down to let the rest of you move along in time with her. Gareth looks just as eager as her, but he's having an easier time reining it in, though there's a big shit-eating smile on his face at the carnage and glory to come. Raquel has her eyes closed, likely trying to sense where the Banes ahead will be. You still can't see Luka, but you can feel him nearby. If you were to catch a glimpse of him, he'd resemble little more than a shadow in the aisles.

In the Penumbra, these formerly bright aisles are choked with fumes and piled with refuse, their shelves rusting, and disgusting slime pooling on the floor. The silhouettes moving between them remain wholly unaware of what it is they're walking on, what they're touching, what they're bringing into their lives. Letting the Wyrm in seems so easy for them. Sometimes it's hard not to resent them for allowing themselves to be so effortlessly taken, but they don't know, and there's no good way for you to tell them. You turn away, and make for the 'EMPLOYEES ONLY' door.

"Raquel," you murmur.

"Yeah?" comes her answer from the earbud.

"You got eyes up ahead?"

"Three Hoglings are hanging around the ceiling of the supply room." Smog Banes, lurking in the fluorescent light. Insidious creatures, one and all, and though they won't pose much of a threat to the five of you, they can and will alert any Pentex operatives in the supply room.

You stop just in front of the doors, and signal for the rest to do the same. Somewhere beyond those doors is Chester Mornes, CFO for Pentex's eastern branch, whose sphere of operations encompasses the activities of every subsidiary in the state. His business here, no doubt, has to do with Herrick's failure to subsume or otherwise overwhelm the Cooperative Market. Thankfully, the folks down at Hunts Point have declined Pentex's sponsorship, albeit under unclear circumstances, and so Herrick's has been the megacorp's vengeful answer. From what you've uncovered, it hasn't quite been yielding the results that Mornes was hoping for, so he's here to have words with Herrick's regional manager.

You'll be wanting to strike during that meeting. In one fell swoop, you'll be able to cut down a corrupt official, kidnap another, and in doing so gain access to a whole network of information that will allow you to vivisect the Wyrm from the City, one subsidiary at a time. All dependent on your next move.

>Have spirits grapple with the Banes while you engage the humans.
>Ignore the Banes and go straight for your human targets.
>Slaughter the Banes before focusing on the humans.
>Wait and see if Raquel detects anything else out of the ordinary.
>[Write In]

>>4003628
>Wait and see if Raquel detects anything else out of the ordinary.

>>4003628
>>Have spirits grapple with the Banes while you engage the humans.

>>4003628
Kill the banes, keep it quick and quiet

>>4003628
>Have spirits grapple with the Banes while you engage the humans.

>>4003734
>>4004032

>Have spirits grapple with the Banes while you engage the humans.

"Raquel, I need those Banes distracted while we grab Mornes. Luka, just to be absolutely sure - we're definitely not facing a BTK in there?"

"I'm sure we're not," comes his hissing voice from somewhere to your right. Raquel whispers a summons, and the lights above you flicker as electricity elementals uncoil from within them and descend towards you, floating around your Theurge's shoulders and cackling to one another. Their hatred of the Wyrm is as great as any of yours, and they will not hesitate to plunge into battle. You know you can count on them to hold the spiritual enemy at bay while you lock down the material one. Gareth growls, a deep, fierce sound that comes rumbling up his throat and out between rapidly sharpening teeth.

It's time.

You slam open the doors of the employees-only room and stride in. Amelia's already ahead of you, her bones and joints shifting as she takes her war-form. The Banes open their mouths; one gets out the beginning of a fume-breath before the first of the electric spirits coils around its neck like a lightning snake and begins shocking it into oblivion. Others fly to join the ethereal melee, and you turn away, fixing on the figures visible through a window on the second floor of the store. There's Mornes, an imperious expression on his face as he speaks to a red-faced woman, who obviously is in a state of shock and outrage. Her mouth opens to shout something, and as she does, the man behind Mornes pulls out a gun and aims it square at her face.

Before the colour has drained from her face, you're sprinting for the stairs. Amelia apparently hasn't got time for that; she lunges straight for the window, leaping fifteen feet into the air, phasing back into the material world as she does so, and smashing into the manager's office. Several Herrick's employees faint outright; others back away, hyperventilating; others still wordlessly make for the doors at top speed. They have unanimously and faultlessly decided that werewolves popping out of thin air is not for them, and you are banking hard on Delirium to keep this from devolving into a Veil-breaching shitshow. There's a bang of gunfire from the office building, but you're too far up the stairs to see where the bullet went. As you reach the second floor, you spin on your heel, step into the material world, make the sign of the Children of Gaia and shout the most ludicrous thing you possibly could.

"Everyone stay calm!"

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>>4007371

And it works. The gifts that Gaia gave to those of your tribe do you justice; horror fades from faces, breathing slows, and shoulders stop shaking. These employees have every confidence that things are going to be alright, that you and your friends are going to fix this situation, and that they need only to continue about their business and wait for things to blow over. This is... better than before, but the risk of collateral is still nail-bitingly high. Your worry only grows when you see the blur of brindled fur and snarling fangs that is Amelia go flying back out the window head-first, landing heavily on her back. Eyes widening, you throw open the door to the manager's office to find Mornes pressed against the wall, his teeth set in fear; the regional manager of Herrick's standing still, her bone-white face frozen in astonishment; and the man who was standing behind Mornes, who has presumably - impossibly - just ejected Amelia from the office window.

He turns to face you, his expression equal parts calm and deadly even as he smokes a cigarette. He seems to be standing in a casual pose, but you've met enough fighters to know when you're looking at one. It strikes you that there doesn't appear to be a security team accompanying Mornes, and then it clicks: this guy is the security team, and any single person who Pentex deems capable of protecting one of their upper-level operatives on their own is definitely dangerous.

>Distract him by fighting.
>Distract him by talking.
>Try to escape with Mornes.
>[Write In]

>>4007376
>Distract him by talking.

>>4007376
>Distract him by talking.

>>4007376
>Distract him by talking.

>>4007376
>Distract him by talking.
Whoops.

>>4007403
>>4007411
>>4007448
>>4007525

>Distract him by talking.

"...Excuse our sudden intrusion; my colleagues have something of a flair for the dramatic."

"That's putting it lightly." The man in the suit lets out a smoky breath, his expression still disarmingly calm. You can sense the Wyrm on him, horrible and infuriating, but there's something else mixed in. He glances over at Mornes, who's shaking with fear against the office wall. "You're here for him, right?"

"What if we are?"

"Then either you walk away unsuccessful, or you puppies die. I have orders to keep this man from falling into your paws."

"K-k... k...!" There's a sputtering from the wall. You both turn your heads to see Mornes pointing a trembling finger at you, his face white with rage. "Kill him!" he finally screams. "I'm ordering you, Michael! Kill him and all the other fucking monsters this minute or by God I'll have the Board of Directors come down on you like a fucking hammer, do you hear me?"

"And leave you unguarded, idiot?" Michael flicks the cigarette away, and it flies unerringly into Mornes's breast pocket. As he screams and frantically tries to smother it, Luka materializes between Michael and Mornes. Before any of you can react, he shoves with all the might in his slender body, and the suited man is sent out the window to the waiting claws of Amelia and Gareth. Luka glances at you meaningfully before springing out after the falling operative, leaving you in the office with Mornes. His face is a mask of utter terror, and is now looking between you and the manager. The woman seems to still be in shock, the Delirium of seeing Amelia in her war-wolf form having taken deep hold, but Mornes is lucid enough to make a dash for the open door.

>>4009114

You haven't gotten much combat training, but you're certainly quick enough to trip him and send him sprawling facefirst into the doorframe. As he struggles to his feet, you shift into your near-human form and deliver a vicious punch across his jaw - not hard enough to kill him, but you'll be damned if it didn't knock him senseless. It's a surprise, then, when he lifts his head again... and lets out an inhuman screech, smoke billowing from his open mouth.

Your earbud buzzes and admits Raquel's panicked voice: "One of the Banes broke loose and possessed Mornes!"

"I'm aware of that," you snarl through clenched teeth. So this is how it is - if they can't keep him, no one will, eh? It'll take a precious minute and a lot of exertion to pry the Bane from Mornes's body, and it will not stop fighting until either the executive's body is in pieces or you back off. Though it would be vastly better to take him alive, killing him would be a not-insignificant blow to Pentex's financial operations, forcing them to scramble to instate a new branch CFO.

Her voice comes through again, and you're about to tell her that now is not the time before she blurts: "What about the manager?"

Now there is something to consider. Being a high-ranking member of a Pentex subsidiary, she could very well have a lot of inside knowledge that could be useful to you and the Sect. If you can't take Mornes after all, she might prove a decent substitute. There's also the matter of Michael - who, judging by the sounds of fighting below, is still very much alive and keeping at least two of you busy. As the Philodox of the pack, it's up to you to take charge of the situation and decide what happens.

>"Everyone, lock down that security guard while I kill Mornes."
>"Luka, grab the manager and let's go. We'll follow."
>"Raquel, get this Bane out of Mornes. We're taking him."
>[Write In]

>>4009118
>>4009147
>"Raquel, get this Bane out of Mornes. We're taking him."
So only one then ?

>>4009147
>"Raquel, get this Bane out of Mornes. We're taking him."

>>4009166
Sorry about that. The original post I wrote up had more options, but I forgot to delete the multi-option prompt when I posted.

Also I seem to be having trouble with bold and italics. It's [b]bold[/b] and [i]italics[/i], right?

>>4009147
>"Raquel, get this Bane out of Mornes. We're taking him."

>>4009178
>Also I seem to be having trouble with bold and italics.
That's because your ID is different from in the OP post and only the OP can format bold and italics.

>>4009166
>>4009178
>The original post I wrote up had more options
I just realized what this meant
>>4009225
Changing to taking both the manager and removing the bane from Mornes to take him as well, but only if it doesn't spread our forces too thin to hold off Michael. If it turns out we can't take both and fight Michael, then leave the manager.

>>4009166
>>4009174
>>4009232

>"Raquel, get this Bane out of Mornes. We're taking him."

You've come this far; you're not about to let your prize go just because this Bane decided to pull a fast one. You narrow your eyes, shift into your war-form and lunge. Even with a Wyrm spirit in his body, Mornes doesn't nearly have the strength to fight you. You slam him against the railing above the stairs, then pick him up and pin him to the wall. The Bane shrieks horribly, filling your face with poisonous smog, but you hold your breath in time to avoid the worst of it, and then the Bane starts screaming again - this time in pain. You can't see Raquel, but you can sense her nearby, performing a ritual to drive the spirit out of the CFO's body. It's not a quick process, and it definitely isn't painless. The executive's back arches, his eyes bulge and tear up, and blood begins streaming from his nose as the Bane fights tooth and nail to stay put.

While you're holding him down, you hear Gareth call your name, but not on the shared comm. It's a cry out loud, full of pain and rage, and it gives you the worst feeling in your gut. You cannot be everywhere at once!

"But I can," Michael says flatly, and delivers a brutal kick into your back. It hurts way more than any human kick should, especially considering how resilient this form is. No wonder Amelia got defenestrated. You howl and lunge for him, but he's not there - somehow he's just a little to the left of where you aim your claws, and he answers by way of a leg sweep that sends you tumbling over the railing onto the stairs. You leap up, only to be met with a dropkick to the jaw that knocks you over the next railing, all the way to the floor. Where the workers are.

Shaking off the pain, your mounting rage is almost enough to drown out the buzz from your earbud. What comes through is the voice of your sixth member, Y2. He's breathing raggedly as he talks over the comm: "Dan, we've got a problem. I found some Black Spiral Dancers heading this way."

"You can't be serious," you growl in Garou Tongue. Trying to speak English in war-form is a hassle at the best of times; in a situation like this, it would come out as no more than a jumble of snarls and barks. "Lead them away. We cannot afford for them to find our kinfolk."

"They caught up with me. I barely escaped." Your heart sinks. "They're on their way. I held them off for as long as possible, but if you're still in Herrick's, you've got to leave, now."

"Y2, the kinfolk-"

"Yes. You have to get them out of there immediately."

"But the supply truck..." You watch as Amelia goes racing up to the second floor, followed closely by Gareth. Luka is lying motionless on the ground.

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>>4012433

"There's no time for that. Either have them abandon it or burn it. Get out of there." The earbud clicks, and Y2 is gone. Diverging fate swims before your eyes like a sea of fire, igniting your Rage. Through the spirit-flames, you see Mornes let out a shuddering breath before slumping to the ground. Right on cue, Luka jerks to his feet and leaps.

Everything happens at once. Amelia's claws rip through Michael's right forearm, which spins him into Gareth's path. The Galliard bears down on him with incredible speed, but not fast enough to stop the security guard from leveling a handgun at his head and pulling the trigger. A bolt of lightning roars out of the gun, and Gareth collapses, his body charred and already shrinking back into his human form. Amelia frenzies, losing her mind in a howling maelstrom of Rage. And Luka, blessed Luka, vaults onto the second floor, seizes Mornes around the waist, and vanishes into the Umbra.

You viciously jab your finger at the earbud, opening a channel to your kinfolk at the supply truck outside, and roar in mangled English: "BURN AND RUN!"

Amelia fights like a goddess, befitting someone of her Black Fury lineage. Even in this undisciplined, mad onslaught, she's magnificent. It makes it all the more heartbreaking when Michael cuts her down, He avoids every strike, no matter how fast or sure, simply appearing to glitch out of the way like a bad 3D model, and smoothly unclips a chakram from his utility belt. The way it burns as it carves through her flesh, opening her stomach, her neck, her skull, you know it to be silver. Michael turns to face you after stepping past Amelia's falling corpse, and he hurls the chakram at your head. It flies faster than fast, defying the very idea of distance as it comes to claim your life.

It meets your face in the same moment that you enter the Umbra.

You sink to one knee, gritting your teeth through the agonizing pain. You hear Raquel sobbing out loud, and feel rough hands pulling you to your feet. "Come on, Dan," Luka hisses. "Amelia and Gareth didn't die so we could, too. More servants of the Wyrm are approaching."

"Black Spiral Dancers," you confirm, trying in vain to choke down the bitterness in your voice. "They hit Y2 hard. I ordered our kinfolk to burn the Pentex supplies and split. They're on their own now." You glare hatefully at the unconscious body of Chester Mornes. It has cost the lives of two Garou and who-knows-how-many kinfolk to capture this spineless, Wyrm-ridden scab, but you've got him, along with a terrible new foe.

It better have been worth it.

You hoist the CFO over your shoulder and stare out across the ghostly expanse of the Penumbra with your one good eye. You're going to have to take the long way around to throw off the trail, maybe even delve further into the Umbra to really lose them, but one way or another, you have to get across the river and back to the Sect with your prize.

"To the City."

>Tim: Admire Your New Stuff.

>>4012441
>Tim: Admire Your New Stuff.

>>4012441
>Tim: Admire Your New Stuff.

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>Tim is coming

>>4012441
>Tim: Fondly Observe your Recently Acquired Possessions

>>4012441
>Tim: Regard Your Recently-Gained Rewards with Rapture

>>4012494
>>4012505
>>4013013
>>4013125
>>4013126

>Tim: Gawk in Satisfaction at Your Novel Acquisitions

By the time you got out of the store, the rain had stopped. You took advantage of it, hurrying along home with your prizes: thick drapes that will faultlessly keep that pesky sunlight out so that Gina can come snooze on your couch, and a new runway-ready hoodie. ...Well, that might be an exaggeration. You got the drapes at a sizeable discount, because you've just that keen of a nose for bargains, and the hoodie is brandless and extremely banal. It's actually a slightly different shade of grey than the last one; let it never be said you don't change up your look once in a while.

In truth, the fact is that the only look you can reliably pull off is muted-colored hoodies and jackets, so that's what you go for when a blue moon's appearance signals that it's time to shop. Hopefully this one outlasts the spears and daggers of your possibly numerous enemies.

When you get home, you set aside the curtains and hoodie for now and climb into bed. You were up all night researching and reading, and this outing certainly marks a good point to call it a day. You set your alarm clock for an hour and a half before work, handily ignore the sunlight drifting through your curtains, and crash like a truck.

Your alarm does its duty just fine. When you wake up, there's no hint of grogginess or lethargy; you practically spring out of bed, ready to go make some money. You're a bit more on edge this time, having kind of been operating under the conception that your job would be an escape from all the oddity, but yesterday's events made you a bit wiser. The weirdness is on twenty-four-seven, and you've always gotta be watching out for someone looking to use you as a political tool. Whatever brought this fate upon you, it could not have chosen a worse chess piece. Not to mention werewolves coming to your fucking job and asking questions is the new top contender on your 'Reasons I Might Get Fired This Year' list.

>>4014963

As soon as you get to work, one of the part-timers informs you that the manager wants to see you. No big deal, right? You take a deep breath before heading to the office.

"Have a seat, Tim."

Fuck.

You do, sitting down on the chair opposite him. He's rubbing his glasses clean, then puts them back on and adjusts them before fixing his gaze on you. It's kind of funny: vampires and werewolves don't scare you, but this man's stare makes you nervous as all get-out. He waits, strategically waits until the tension reaches its breaking point, and then decides to make small talk.

"You hear about the fire at Herrick's?"

You blink. "The what?"

"You didn't hear? There was a fire at the Herrick's in Melrose. Started in a truck and spread into the supply room. Two dead and a few more injured." This news is disconcerting for two reasons: first, because people died in a fire, which is awful to hear; and second, because you were just thinking about Herrick's the other day, the reason for that being that it's tied to Pentex through a multitude of deals that make it a profitable outlet for their subsidiaries to sell through. With all the business that's been going on around you, you highly doubt that this fire was an accident. You've only heard a snippet of what happened, and it already stinks of supernatural involvement.

"Jesus, I'm sorry to hear that. Did it burn down?"

"No, they saved the building. Lost their supply truck, though. They're closed for repairs. But that's not really what I want to talk to you about."

"No?"

He sighs and steeples his fingers. "One of the part-timers was concerned about you. Said he saw you talking to a bird at the outdoor tables yesterday."

"Oh. Um..."

>"It was parroting English words back at me."
>"Nah, I was just trying to chase it away."
>"Yeah, I guess I was just having an off day."
>[Write In]

>>4014969
>"Nah, I was just trying to chase it away."

>>4014969
>"Nah, I was just trying to chase it away."

>>4014969
>Someone taught the bird to parrot words. Was trying to see how deep the bird's vocabulary could go.