Skurge Redclaw... you know, I saw him two, three times and every one of those times he was just covered in gore all the way from his claws up to his shoulders? Rest of him was spotless. Damndest thingä.we used to sit around trying to figure out how he did it. My guess was that he'd found himself a regenerating hippo--he knows he's going out, fancy dress occasion or something, so go over to the hippo and SPLURRP. Guess 'Red-Elbow' was already taken as a deedname.
Was he accurate in talking about the Spirals? Damn close. See, here's the thing: your Blazers were in the big cities, and your Ferries were in the deep woods and wastelands... but that still leaves a hell of a lot of territory. All those towns, all those little suburbs too small to rate a full time bloodsipper, all those Nahants and Farmingtons and East-Southeast Bumfucks, too small to be noticed and too stubborn to die... that's where you found your Spiral Dancers.
Here, if you're not going to smoke that then pass it over. Just put it in the slot and hit the 'send' button. Good boy... still haven't reinvented filters, huh? Barbarians.
You know, looking back on my cadre's fights I can pretty much guess the tribe we were up against by the type of damage we took. The couple times we were hit by Ferries, it was big rocks dropping from trees, logs rolling down on us, fuzzy things leaping out of bushes when your back was turned... like fighting giant Ewoks, you know?
No, Ewoks are NOT Japanese drums. Jesus.
The Spirals, now... easy to tell when you were facing the Spirals. You wander into a town, might be a place you've considered friendly for years, even decades, and Woom. Every man, woman, child and housecat is taking potshots at you. Norms, mages, fuzzies, all backing each other up, and as soon as you hear that first bullet, or see that first bottle of wolf piss... they used to call those molotov cocktails, did you know that? Yes, it's a mouthful to say when one's being thrown at you... anyhow, you were screwed. If you were under Spiral attack in a town, it meant they owned the county-your arms caches, your ghouls, your supply lines were all compromised. It took 'em a century, but some Garou finally figured out how to be patient. And careful. And methodical. And sooooo practical.
Spirals NETWORKED, y'see. New thing, for Garou. A lot harder to fight. Pound for pound, Sentinels were tougher, but they'd ride in, hack-slice-slash-gutgutgut, ride out again. Blazers and Ferries, humans were as scared of them azzay were of us-more, sometimes. Spirals were like kudzu--they crept in, curled around receptive folks who were already there, and put down hundreds of roots. Once they were in a place, they were part of the landscape until you razed it down to the bare rock. Which we tried, oh my yes, in more than one town. Now hold on, I'm getting parched.
'm back. Yah, you like my bottle? The latest thing in holding pen food dispensers, you should get one for the rumpus room. Never runs out, full of this... juice... that tastes like room-temperature snake blood but isn't nearly as energizing. Now granted it looks like a king-size hamster bottle, and in ninety-three years I haven't been able to drink without having it dribble down my front, and a paranoid soul might think it was intentionally designed that way to make me look 'n' feel like an absolute PRAT. Good thing I'm a glass half-full sorta guy, huh? Now ask away, it's your dime... or scallion, or knute, or whatever they're using these days.
You can't. Next question.
AARRHHH!!! Damnit!! I dontknow I don't Know I can't tell you what I don't know you fucking big ponce!!! Look, I can't tell you how to find the Spirals because we never figured it out, they're chameleons, they blend! They'll come across as Apache down in the Singing Sands, they'll be Amish down in Pennsylvania Dutchland, they'll be running around with leather and hair gel and trying to make warpaint out of toothpaste over in Salt Lake. They're not even one set species! And the Garou in the bunch are this unholy mix-match of tribes that, if there was ANY justice, should've fought each other until the last survivor choked on a bone. Adapting and fitting in is their entire raison effin-d'etre!
(Around here they'd probably look like a balding psychotic with an itchy trigger finger...)
Wozzat, squire? Just thinkin' out loud... you could maybe try staking things out on the big seasonal days-solstices an' whatnot. They're supposed to be big on their holidays... course, so're a lot of the non-affiliated folks, and there's nothing like massacring the wrong people to get a town all pissy at you...
How to defend against an attack? Oh, my, that's rich. You start by bending forward, right? And then you grab your ankles, and----ut ut! Hold up there, hand off that lever. Okay... easiest defense, of course, is not to give them a target. Most've 'em are content to hold onto what they have, now they're on top, defend and cultivate their territories and keep them green, clean & pristine, but you'll always get the ones who like to come exploring around like fuzzy gunslingers, looking for corrupt mayors and abusive feudal-types that need to get thrashed. So, if you're on top, playing nice and polite with the peasants is your best defense. Is this an option here?
Uh-huh. And when the harvest failed, what did you...
Uh-HUH.
Sigh... ...alright. Next option's out--infiltrating them. But damned if I know how... we threw a lot of magic and mindbending into the effort, tried some mass-Ghoulings or sending the H-3s in to 'modify' some places, got a few of the slow or unlucky ones, but half of those turned out to be plants. No, not like mandrake, I meant double-agents. We never ever worked out how they knew what we were up to, and how they dodged us--rumors ranged from a bigtime-mojo magic mirror, to a spy network of spiders and bugs, to a collection of crazy old women who could see through time as they sat on their porches and made quilts. Or was it, sat on their quilts and made taffy.
Just as a side note, squire, never let a Malkavian get interested in quilting. Nothing's worth the price you'll pay...
Right. So, next piece of advice. If a direct confrontation's inevitable (and it sounds like it is) call in a lot of outsiders. Hire mercenaries, set out monster-bait, whatever it takes, but beef up your forces with folks 'n' critters who aren't as likely to've been co-opted. Forget your locals. Any force they've been able to observe, they'll have a counter for. Surprises are your best bet. You'll still lose, of course, but it'll take longer.
You know, you could consider bringing a couple dozen people in here for me to bite-be crack troops, loyal, perky... you're shaking your head. Well, I had to try.
'nother thing: if you've got the resources, start big trouble somewhere else. It might distract them for a while. Distract them long enough, and maybe you'll've croaked in your sleep by the time they make their move.
'Fraid that was the best-case scenario. Ever consider just leaving? They'll always care a lot more about the townsfolk than in chasing down a lone scumbag-that's another thing that sets 'em apart from the other tribes. Lace up your sneakers and get the hell outta Dodge... you'd have to burn that outfit, though. Crime against nature like that, they'd pursue you to the ends of the earth---what's WRONG with it?? Look at 'em, man, how the hell did polyester survive the Apocalypse?! You look like Baron Harkonnen at Club 54, you do. Well, o.k. Looks like it's Plan A, then: waiting 'til the fighting starts and trying to bull your way through. You might get lucky and take out the first wave-course, that'll just mean you've attracted the attention of a lot more of 'em. Week's grace, maybe. 'And then the wolves come marching out into the fray/Chewing up the enemy and carrying the day!/Hark, the blood is squirting out yer ear...' Yer lookin' pale, squire. Don't like musical theater?
Hey, when you come back bring more cigarettes!
Damn damn damn, this place has gone downhill since his grandfather died.
You can come out now. Y'heard all that, of course? I'm so not surprised.
What, I should've lied? 'Oh, the Spirals, they're no problem as long as you leave some milk and cookies out at night'? Shyah, I have some shred of self-respect left thankyouverymuch. And it's not like it did him much good, izzit? Be so kind as to notice all the advice on hostages and human shields I didn't give him-you bastards come across all tough and growly, but you've still got yer morals, and I'm betting a couple of babies duct-taped to his chest would've still caused some problems, am I right? He'd do it, too--not like he'd smell much worse.
So, look, while we're on the subject of your morals and what you're willing to do for the greater good--you've seen Junior, and you've seen how jumpy he is. And how fond he is of pulling switches and pressing buttons when things don't go his way. He might not even know about the nuke buried under the town--I sure as hell didn't tell him--but do you want to chance it?
Or do we have a deal?
Notes: The Spiral Dancers are by far the largest of the tribes, and can be found in almost every climate and culture, including (it is rumored) underwater and in space. Their ranks include large numbers of Kin, and every type of Shifter and Mage, as well as some spirits and a few things no one is really sure about. This has led Spiral Dance Gifts and Rites to be much more varied and eclectic than those of any other group. Some sages are able to make a good guess at a Spiral Dancer's origin, and even his or her teacher, merely be observing minute cues in their body posture and tone of voice as they call upon Gaia.
Wisdom was embraced early on by the Spiral Dancers as the pre-eminent virtue; the terms 'wise guy' and 'wise ass' have been claimed as deeply affectionate compliments by them. While intelligence is prized, knowing what to DO with information is stressed. This can be frustrating for members of other groups, who sometimes stereotype the Spiral Dancers as detached yokels who sit around talking about the ethics of a particular Gift rather than actually using it. For their part, some Spiral Dancers can sometimes give the impression that members of other tribes are arrogant, overbearing twits who move too fast, think too little, and would drown when it rained if not for their help.
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