[Csjarrat]

Feathers reeled with the revelations, it seemed to be wave after wave of bad news. At least they had their leads to start with, but it won't take long before that thing needed to feed again.
The prof's comment on the profiling angle lit a bulb in Feather's mind. The detective should be able to provide that, though whether he would or not was a different question. Perhaps an information trade could be done that would benefit both parties
The more pressing concern was that they needed manpower and intelligence to overcome this..daemon. The thought of a second team working it somewhere from a different angle was comforting, however, back in the slums they'd be alone for the most part.
It might be worth hitting up lil' mik when he got back. If they could mobilise some manpower from the gangs for patrols, they might stand half a chance of disrupting its feeding and saving some people.
On the other hand, it might backfire terribly and get a load of people killed..
Noting it down on his AR terminal he made a note to sleep on it and figure it out tomorrow.
He waited for the Prof to lead the way to his home and let the conversation flow to its conclusion.

[ismilealot]

@ Feathers  The prof takes you to his home, a large rambling comfortable affair. Tea and a light lunch has been set out in the breakfast room. "I asked my housekeeper to make an afternoon tea for us. I find that every problem is just a bit less daunting on a full stomach. He pats his belly and smiles. "Tuck in, and then we'll tackle this ritual." There are several varieties of sandwich as well as gazpacho and a tin of biscuits and a good selection of teas. The professor chooses an India Black as well as a thick ham sandwich to go with the gazpacho. Looking out the large bay window he says, "This time of year is some very good bird watching, with so many species passing through here on their way to their winter retreats. Although the season is almost over, the birds that remain are busy, and can be seen all the more clearly because of the leaves that have dropped." He goes on to steer the topics to the mundane until your done eating and is a knowledgeable conversationalist on the local wildlife. Then he looks at you, "Ready to begin?"

[Csjarrat]

Feathers smiled at the Prof, his stomach rumbling as the void left by the soydog smelt the afternoon tea.
The flavour of the gazpacho was incredible, probably made with real ingredients. Once upon a time Feathers wouldn't have even batted an eye but a year of living on shitty soy and krill-base had reminded him of the simple joys of good honest food.
He picked a strong Assam to wash down the sandwiches with and helped himself to a crumbly oaty biscuit, forgetting his etiquette for a minute as he dunked it in his tea.
Superb...
He poured another cup and joined the Prof by the bay, talking at length about conservation and his ties with the Druid's circle. Feathers appreciated his company, he felt relaxed and welcomed, not permanently on edge as he was back in the slums. He nodded and mentally prepared himself for a session of study.

[ismilealot]

@ Feathers  Once he goes through his spellbooks and decides which ritual would be best he reads through the material components and looks at you. "Hmmm, the young lady who was willing to look for clues through the material components needed for casting seemed knowledgeable about the needs of magic. Perhaps she would be able to obtain the necessary components of this ritual. In any case it can't hurt to ask. He looks up her information from the list of names and numbers everyone gave him before they left.

@ Red  >>Hello Tanya, I was hoping you would be able to obtain the material components needed for this ritual while I teach the professor it's verbal & somatic components. Specifically we'll need 4 drams of Angel's Tears, 1 dram of dust from an evil crossroad, 1 uncia of iron from a prison, and 1 blessed symbol weighing at least 2 quadran's. If you're able to get that it would save time. If not I'm sure they can be obtained tomorrow.<< 

@ Feathers  You and the professor spend hours working through the details of the ritual and it's complex somatic components. Several times you're left sweating and drained as he pushes you through the elements, correcting and correcting and correcting your movements and your timing and your use of the material components which he simulates with water and dust and a few lengths of wood. It's obvious that not only is the prof MIT&T trained, but that he is an exacting task master of his art.

@ Duckdown & Arc  When you arrive at Duck's mothers place the usual drama is going on with the characters hanging around in front of the apartment building. The only thing that changes are the faces . . . . A young attractive breeder calls out to you, "Well hey honey don't you look fine in all dat. You want I give you a first time discount for a little of my time." as she lifts her skirt suggestively the circles under her eyes and the discolorations on her arms tell you what she's on. It's relatively pricey, and if she keeps it up, she won't have those looks for long, just a matter of time before she gets a bad batch that eats away some of that still smooth flesh. Duck takes a moment to admire the goods being offered, but he doesn't miss a beat in his walk towards the apartment door. Listening to the screaming of the trog that's obviously beating down her man, no whoops, woman, you think "Not a fragging thing ever changes around here." Soon enough you are at you mothers door and when you knock she tells you to come in. As soon as she see's you her face lights up, but all she says is, "'Bout damn time. I be in here waiting an waiting for a call from my famous son an all's I gets is a ain't no nevermind. Meantime I dun lost a granbaby to that worthless piece 'o ganger trash your brother hooked up with. Get me my cane an then come an kiss your mama."As she looks at you the mist of tears she's trying to hide films her eyes. The cataracts are definitely worse, she won't be seeing much for long. You grab your mama's cane and then kiss her."I've got the car waiting mama."

@ Arc  As you wait in the car the catcalls and deals and gangers and just plain down-on-their-luck scene rolls by your windows. This is nothing she hasn't seen ten thousand times before. Finally she catches sight of Duck & an extremely old orc that must be his mama. Just in time she remembers she's supposed to be the driver of a celebrity paying her for her time and she hotfoots it out of the car and runs around to open the door."Drek! What was his fraggin name!""Ummh, very good sir. We be going now?""Oh frag!"

@ Khali  You hit the streets when Arc drops you off, looking for Rabbit. "Baker Street Irregulars" you smile as you think to yourself. And then you stop smiling. Rabbit may be your best chance of finding out the name and whereabouts of the person the prof described. There doesn't seem to be anyone that little urchin doesn't at least know about in this hood. Your comm rings with a message from Red.

"I managed to dig up an interesting tidbit. I don't know how useful it might be, but apparently about a month before the murder started there was some sort of local tragedy. The only survivor was a girl who went insane. Couldn't stop laughing. The vagaries make me think someone's been covering it up. Dead end? Maybe something we can act on?

"That's a starting point at least. Now to find Rabbit."

"Why don't we kill the mage?"

She asks, needing more information. More more more. Always more information. It was never enough.

@ Masquerade  The prof gives you a look that clearly says you're a little slow on the uptake, "And that is exactly what this meeting is for. To plan and to marshal the resources to kill the mage."

[Tamesh]

@ Red  You narrow your filters to only have the data from a month before the murders start and the chatter involves a kid. "Only survivor", "No relatives", "Found her laughing and laughing." "She couldn't answer a single question, it drove her insane." No mention of a name or a place. Just speculation.

This sounds promising. Though the lack of details is more than a little suspicious. She sends Khali and Arc a message to tell them of her findings.

"I managed to dig up an interesting tidbit. I don't know how useful it might be, but apparently about a month before the murder started there was some sort of local tragedy. The only survivor was a girl who went insane. Couldn't stop laughing. The vagaries make me think someone's been covering it up. Dead end? Maybe something we can act on?

[Poindexter]

[Redmond Barrens, Seattle, Arcs Americar. 4:16pm]

"'Bout damn time. I be in here waiting an waiting for a call from my famous son an all's I gets is a ain't no nevermind. Meantime I dun lost a granbaby to that worthless piece 'o ganger trash your brother hooked up with. Get me my cane an then come an kiss your mama."

Mom's doing her best to hold it down. I admire that. It's obvious she wants to cry, but it aint right. Not till she sees how Zip is doing. Wouldn't be proper to grieve more than the mother, no matter what and Mom is old school. She lives by those rules. That's why she's turning all her grief into rage, like a proper orkish lady should. Fuck, I remember Zip at Lenny's funeral. Even though she was his Vruken, she couldnt let herself cry more than Mom, but god damn, did she destroy some shit that night... He grabs her old oaken cane from the corner. He'd bought it for her at the Renaissance Fair with his own money after he'd gotten his first job. She wasn't old enough to need it back then, and he was kind of being an asshole by getting it for her, but over the years, it had turned out to be an incredibly good purchase, as it's now the oldest thing she owns that still functions. Well, besides the internal oxygen tank in her chest. Some smeltery company had paid to have it installed after promoting her into an area with dangerous chemicals back when she was much younger, before Huey was born. Handing the weathered old cane to his mother, he leans down and kisses her once on each cheek and once on the forehead. He helps her to her feet, and listens to her bitch and moan all the way to the door and down the steps to the street outside, responding politely with things like, "I know," "Terrible, just terrible," and "The nerve of those motherfuckers," like a good respectful son ought to. Being as far removed as Ork families usually get, Duck is hardly allowed to grieve publicly at all. For him, it's almost a blessing. It allows him to focus his thoughts more firmly on revenge. It's actually a damn good system his people have set up.

"Ummh, very good sir. We be going now?"

"Yes ma'am." Duck responds politely.

After he and Arc help his mother into the car, Duck sits in the backseat with her and holds her hand for the entire ride, never objecting nor defending himself from any insults she may throw his way.

[SgtBoomCloud]

@ Arc  As you wait in the car the catcalls and deals and gangers and just plain down-on-their-luck scene rolls by your windows. This is nothing she hasn't seen ten thousand times before. Finally she catches sight of Duck & an extremely old orc that must be his mama. Just in time she remembers she's supposed to be the driver of a celebrity paying her for her time and she hotfoots it out of the car and runs around to open the door."Drek! What was his fraggin name!""Ummh, very good sir. We be going now?""Oh frag!"

Arc helped Duck's mother into the car without a word, the male ork likely noticing a tinge of rose on her cheeks around her implants as she shut the door.  Moving quickly, she got back into the driver's seat, having made sure to kill the music player of any grating metal...unsure of what Marjory preferred and all that.  Frag, this being polite drek is weird...can't believe he didn't give me a name to go by.  Oh DREK, HE DOESN'T KNOW MINE!  Subtly, she pulled on an AR glove, tapping an ARO message on her lap as she drove, trying to look inconspicuous as she shooted off a quick message, text-only, to the ork behind her.

<<Message to: Duckdown
<<Hoi, so should I call you like, Mr. Wilson or something?  If you need to, you can refer to me as Lauren, or Ms. Summers I guess.  Drek, this is weird.  Is there dinner associated with this jaunt?  Ach, sorry, dont' wanna distract

A few minutes into the drive, she took a glance back to check up on them, listening to the pair talk, the girl frowning as her thrice-fragged empathy kicked in.  It rarely came up, but there were a few things that her heart cried out to...familial loss being the closest to home.  Shaking her head, she focused on the road, avoiding a couple go-gang yahoos hogging the road.   Her commlink blipped, indicating a message.  Pulling it up, she expected it to be from Duck, but instead from Red.  Curious, she read it quickly:

"I managed to dig up an interesting tidbit. I don't know how useful it might be, but apparently about a month before the murder started there was some sort of local tragedy. The only survivor was a girl who went insane. Couldn't stop laughing. The vagaries make me think someone's been covering it up. Dead end? Maybe something we can act on?

Hmming quietly to herself, she pursed her lips, already having a couple of ideas of what could be capable of a trajedy in the Barrens.  Glancing back at Duck, she contemplated forwarding the tip-off to him.  She guessed his thought processes...but now was the Ork family's time to grieve.  Plan of action will happen later but for now, she didn't want to burden the nice Duckdown with any more to think about...for now.  Firing off a quick message back, she flicked the ARO away and drove on, finding their way to Godra's without issue, the human's jaw set as the gnawing effects of hunger started to be felt.

<<Message to: Red
<<I'll check a couple sources that /might know what the drek that could be.  Ancients will talk to me, and Lupo won't start drek with me without reason with the Howlers.  I can promise progress with at least one of those tonight, I'll get back to you on it.  Holla

Parking the car at their first destination, she deftly stepped out after killing the engine, stepping quickly...resisting the temptation to butt-slide over the hood...and opening the door for the mother and son, helping as needed.  She simply nodded with a small smile to them, only going with them if invited...she knew ork customs, it wasn't her place to impose herself.  If she was left behind, she would sit on the hood, keeping an eye on the streets and having a smoke, the lit end glowing the the evening light as time would pass.

[Tamesh]

Red is already on her couch with a fresh mug of soykaf when she gets Arc's message.

<<Message to: Red
<<I'll check a couple sources that /might know what the drek that could be.  Ancients will talk to me, and Lupo won't start drek with me without reason with the Howlers.  I can promise progress with at least one of those tonight, I'll get back to you on it.  Holla

Awesome. The vague nonsense might not be a dead end after all. She types out a quick reply between sips of her beverage.

"Sounds good. Let me know if there's anything else you need on my end. I feel like I've already blown through all my options already, but I'll let you know if anything else comes up."

[Csjarrat]

It had been many a year since he'd been put through his paces like this, the old prof at college had been a hard task master, but the training then was exhausting because he was learning everything from scratch.
He was getting too old for this he thought to himself as he wiped the sweat from his brow, walking to the table of the large ritual hall and pouring himself an ice water from the large jug.
He motioned to the prof that he needed five minutes to catch his breath and poured another glass for him.
College was a few years back now {he laughed}, last time I worked this hard I was studying banishing rituals for my finals!
He drank the last of the water and stretched out his lower back, aching as it was from standing up most of the day.
So, tell me about yourself. How'd you get to all this, and how did you get started?

[Triskavanski]

Masquerade sat during all of this, carefully watching each and every movement of the professor and other mages. This was just how life was down here.. You get to the point you could just barely start pulling in favors, even possibly a few things of blackmail, and blam. Some super natural horror of horrors shows up and rips up all your work. She couldn't disguise herself, poison it, reason with it, blackmail it, collect information on it, or anything but be the damsel in distress.

It was beyond even her mentor spirit, as the thing could not be tricked. Then again... maybe this? The creatures weakness was it still needed that mage. Kill the Mage, save the world. It would have to be a mage so purely evil that it would attract the creature. All of this ritual stuff probably wouldn't even make that monster flinch.

She could rule out all the gangs she knew about in the region, as she knew practically every little detail about them after years of observations. So.. to begin again perhaps? If there was any logic that could be applied.. Perhaps the creature had a territory it hunted in.. If that's the case, then in the center of this territory was likely to be the mage. The focal point.

"Why don't we kill the mage?"

She asks, needing more information. More more more. Always more information. It was never enough.

[ismilealot]

@ Feathers  The prof looks at you for a moment when you as that question, and then accepts the water from your hand. "My parents were anthropologist studying cultural shifts among indigenous tribes in Amazonia. I got to see first hand some of the terrible uses of blood magic by the sorcerers there. When I Awakened I apprenticed to one of their shamans, and learned the rush of power blood magic gives it's practitioners. I became as addicted to it as any junkie to his fix. Until the night I almost killed my mother performing a spell I was pushing so hard that I needed just a bit more and a bit more and a bit more. My horror at what I'd nearly done wasn't enough though. I'd performed the ritual incorrectly, and instead of a spirit bound to my will I had something that was both free, and very hungry. My mother was weak from the loss of blood, it killed her and fed on her while I ran screaming. I swore off blood magic that day. And my father sent me to Boston on an MIT&T scholarship. The rest as they say is history. You?"   When you're done telling him your story he says, "Hmm, Tanya hasn't messaged me back with a yea or nay as to the supplies. No matter, we've got a bit of time."

@ Red  When you're done sipping your tea you receive a message from Khali, "Got it. I'm going to pursue that with one of my contacts. I'll let you know if I find anything.<<

@ Duckdown & Arc  The years have done little to mellow Marjory Wilson, she is a master of profanity and she gives you what for on a variety of topics. There is no subject safe from her acerbic tongue and her fluency with Or'zat gives her far more dark, foul and colorful expletives with which to scathingly comment on every subject near and dear to her heart. And to verbally assault both Duck and Arc during the entire ride. It seems to give her strength, for the mist across her eyes disappears.  When you get to where you're going, a burned out mail truck Godra found to hole up in and sleep her high off, she gives a look of disgust at it. And slowly climbs out of the car with Arc's and your assistance. And tells you, "Call her." it's not a statement, it's a command. When Godra, dressed in everybodies cast-offs, stumbles out of the van she looks her straight in the eye. "Vut uyataa, zakhan to all my clan. You come near me or mine and there won't be enough o' you left to feed a devil rat." and she spits at Godra. She may not be able to see, but that doesn't seem to affect her aim as it lands right in her eye. Godra, still high off of some drek or another swings at her. Only to be stopped by Duck as he blocks the blow and punches her hard enough to bounce her off the back wall. Your mama looks at you an nods, "We kin go now." she says as she spits one last time at Godra and then turns leaning on her cane and walks back to the car.
 

[Triskavanski]

Masquerade grits her teeth. "Tsk." she grumps, crossing her legs  and arms now. "Then why are we worried that a cannon cannot kill the creature?. Silver, iron, water, holy symbols, garlic.. Most things have some sort of weakness like that." Even though she had volunteered to be bait, she was clearly unhappy about being only bait,

[Csjarrat]

Feathers listens to him talk, confident but not aloof. The story is horrific, he can see that it still troubles him in the subtle change of his demeanor.
Well I come from a long line of farmers so that was supposed to be my destiny, but when all that craziness kicked off years ago it turned out my bloodline had "the talent" as my folks called it.
It was weak in my dad, though it was strong enough to change his world view. He began to want more for me than just looking after the business and tending the cattle and the crop drones.
He used Pop's inheritance to get me a tutor, "to do it right, to learn the talent by the book". He was a very academic man, liked his books and his study, but I was always more hands-on.
I stuck with it though and my tutor put me in for the exams.
I did pretty well in the end but I'd always been called to Eagle and began to look into the visions and callings he'd given me. Eventually I stumbled across the Druid's 'Trix site and went along to a couple of meets and went from there really. Just fitted more of what I thought about the power I'd been blessed with and how it should be harnessed.
Kept my eye in over the years, dabbled with a bit of research after my training, done a lot of restoration of natural space with the Druids, worked a bit of security here and there over the years when the money was good, and then pissed my remaining money against the wall fighting a fight against Ares that I couldn't win.
He drifts off, rubbing his forehead at the soreness of the memory.
Thankfully, the 'circle have a stake in the safehouse in lower downtown. They put me up there, which is how I got into this whole shebang
He motioned at the pile of fake reagents, sticks and open books.
If she's having difficulties sourcing them then I'd imagine Nbungu could help? I'll give him a call if you'd like? 

[Poindexter]

[Redmond Barrens, Seattle, Arcs Americar. 4:18pm]

Marjory was always a linguistic master of profanity, truly a minor league shakespeare in her own way. Duck sits next her and listens as she spews it forth in new ways he'd never considered before. She's the only one who can still offend him with language these days and he always said that if he met another woman who could turn his stomach with words the way mother can, he'll marry her. He does his best not to laugh when she drops some horrid bit of gallows humor the way she does. It's not until she gets on the subject of, "Well, at least we won't have to scrape this one off the highway like we did her fuck stick of a father" that he interrupts her. He doesn't say anything, he just squeezes her hand and looks her in the eye. She meets his gaze as he shakes his head slightly She stops cursing and leans forward, resting her forehead on his for a moment. "I'm sorry, Huey. Lenny was a good boy." Then, as quick as the moment began, it's over and she pushes his head away from hers, jabbing at him with, "Better than this miserable keeb slottin ass trog here!" As the verbal assault continues on, raging in topics from Duckdown's "Spo'ocha" ponytail, to the poor quality of graffiti around town, to Arcs driving. If she drives too carefully, she accuses her of being some zenned out wageslave with no balls. If she's too reckless, she screams that some crazy squish is trying to assassinate her. There seems to be no middle ground. After an especially vicious outburst, during which Marjory uses several words neither Arc nor Duck have ever heard before, Duck gets a message from Arc, the ARO popping up in his upper right field of view.

<<Message to: Duckdown
<<Hoi, so should I call you like, Mr. Wilson or something?  If you need to, you can refer to me as Lauren, or Ms. Summers I guess.  Drek, this is weird.  Is there dinner associated with this jaunt?  Ach, sorry, dont' wanna distract

Responding without moving a muscle,
<<@Arc [Duckdown] Naw, let's stick with "Sir." It worked. No need to fuck with it, right? But if it should come up, I guess it'd be "Mr. Shabazz">>

[Redmond Barrens, Seattle, Arcs Americar. 4:26pm]

A few minutes later, and they've arrived at Godra's squat. She's found herself a burnt out mail van that she's hung up a cot big enough to hold her massive form during her many blissnaps. She's lucky, alot of blissheads aren't as big as her, and thus aren't able to protect a good sleeping space like this to bliss out at. Everyone's seen these unlucky fucks on the corner and in the park, doing the "bliss bounce" as it were, just trying to stay on their feet. If Godra weren't a troll, she's probably be one of em. Survival of the biggest on the streets...

"Wait here, Ma'am. we won't be long," Duck says politely to Arc as he walks towards the van with his mother. She stops about 15 feet away, turns to Duck and calmly says, "Call her out here." "GODRA! Wake up and get your blisshead ass out here right now, for Marjory Wilson has words for you!" There's an immediate crash from inside the van, and then a few moments later, a dazed and groggy troll with long blonde hair and deep rings around her eyes staggers out of the back door. She wears a faded white "my little pony" tanktop and no bra, a heavy brown winter jacket, dark baggy jeans, and a pair fuzzy bunny slippers. It's obvious from looking at her that she's been blissed to bejeezus all night, but that she's also been crying alot. Poor junkie's been in a blisshole all night. Fuck. I had one a those once, wouldn't wish one on my worst enemy. Marjory is far more restrained, far more business with Godra than Duck expected her to be. She says her peace and does the direct spit of death as is the custom, but Godra totally breaks form by swinging on her. This is the reason Duckdown is here. Sometimes, people swing at you when they get spat on. Before the massive junkie can get within a meter of the old woman, Duckdown springs his entire body forward with his right fist extending away from his shoulder, and connects squarely on the underside of her jaw, sending her off balance, and backwards onto her ass on the refuse strewn pavement. Standing between the two of them menacingly, he shakes his head and says quietly to the downed troll, "This is over. Don't make it worse." Without another word, the troll begins crying, howling into the sky with grief and shaking her entire body with the guilt of it all. Unfazed by any of this, Marjory turns back toward the Americar, and with no hint of emotion whatsoever, spits on her one last time and says,

"We kin go now."

The three of them get back in the car, headed for Zipline's place. This ride is markedly different from the first one. Marjory doesn't speak at all for the entire ride. She just sits in the backseat alone this time, Duck having sat in the passenger seat without a word being said about it. He sends another message to Arc though.

<<@Arc [Duckdown] Not another word until she's out of earshot. And don't help her get out of the car up here. You're doin great.>>

[Hillside, Seattle, Arcs Americar. 4:45pm]

Once the Americar pulls to a stop outside the motel where Zip lives, Marjory opens her door, and with great effort and support from her cane, lifts herself out of the vehicle and starts to walk toward the entrance to Zip's room. After taking a few steps, she pauses and without turning around, says ""Next time I see you, I wanna hear what's gonna happen. Are we clear, boy?"

"Yes, mother."

After a few blocks, Duck lets out an audible sigh of relief, turns to Arc and says, "Holy fucking shit, that was rough! Ok, now we're going back to your place to change clothes before it's time to meet the shark. But first..." He reaches into the inside pocket of his blazer, removes a spliff and lights it. After hitting it a couple times, he offers it to Arc. "You fraggin KILLED it back there, girl! Master of the theater, you are! I owe you somethin HUGE!"

[ismilealot]

 [ Friday @14:10 ]
@ Masquerade  The prof looks at you, "Exactly, and once we have decided on the ritual of binding we will need those items. The combat mages should also be prepared and have plenty of their reagents to hand for an extended battle." He nods at you.

 [ Friday @18:10 ]
@ Feathers  He nods at you in agreement, "Yes he should have most of that. Although I will be surprised if he has the Angel's Tears. It would grieve his heart to much, and as they are used almost exclusively in dark rituals, he would justify not carrying them on that account." He heads on over to the sideboard where the housekeeper had set out more tea, lamb stew, a hearty peasant bread and some fruit over an hour ago.

@ Arc & Duck  The traffic is much heavier now. But the only thing left to do, meet Blindside, isn't for a few hours.