Piddles pauses and looks over the people in the Church. He looks closely at Sepdet for a moment and grins. "'Eeeyyy!" he exclaims, wandering over. "Izza gudta seeya, sista. Izza Pid. Izza jus' comin' by ta see folkses an' makin' sher dey alriiite." He extends a platter-like hand.
Sepdet relaxes, shakes her hood back, and puts out a hand. "Oh. _You_." She almost sounds teasing. "Just visiting friends." She gives Wayfinder a reassuring nod.
Piddles clasps Sepdet's hand and shakes vigorously, his grin even warmer, if possible. "Izza frendsayers?" he asks, looking to Wayfinder and Gawain.
*Sepdet is looking at you.*
look sep
You see a lithe, 4'9 brownskinned waif who tends to keep to out-of-the-way places, corners, shadows, as one who is accustomed to being ignored or unnoticed. Her nondescript earthy clothes are well-suited to this; she seems to hide within the enveloping gray wool wrap, baggy shapeless top that might once have been white, black leggings, battered suede moccasin boots. A mop of tangled kinky dark hair shags out from the edge of her hood that shades her face in public. Unremarkable Black features-- a broad nose, full lips, oval child's face now beginning to fill out to that of a bony young woman--would attract little attention were it not for the odd way she tends to watch everyone and everything around her with the same curious intensity. Her mahogany complexion and thin delicate brown hands bear a few scars; most of the worst are well concealed by clothing.
Her accent is a bit irregular; mostly she is softspoken, preternaturally solemn, with a faint coarseness to her voice that's deep and growly like a gruff five-year-old's. It would be funny, if she weren't so damned serious. Every now and then she reverts, or rather, remembers, the thick street accent and slang that was hers during younger days.
The most observant will note her odd habit of avoiding mirrors.
Carrying:
TarotDeck(#2414IJVe$)
look siobhan
Her auburn hair is shoulder-length, curling haphazardly about her face. She is of medium height, lean and graceful, and seems to be in her late teens. Her skin is a pale shade of ivory, and a few old scars contrast starkly against the paleness. There is a faded old scar that slashes across the bridge of her nose, barely misses her left eye, and continues across her forehead and into her hair. Her cheekbones are high, giving her an exotic appearance. A simple tattoo of a crescent is just below her right eye, contrasting darkly against her pale skin. Dark, eerie violet eyes that are slightly tilted upwards at the outside corners peer watchfully at the world. She moves carefully, with a quiet, unassuming grace, and most times seems solemn and reflective.
OOC note: those who know Wayf from before would notice that most of her nastier scars (except for the one on her nose) seem to have faded to almost nothing, and those who are most perceptive will notice that her hands have a tiny bit of webbing between each digit.
look gawain
Before you stands a man somewhere in his second decade, though early or late is impossible to tell, something about him seeming to portray an older ambiance than his face shows. While he doesn't seem to be a hulk of a man, Gawain is fairly well built; his steps, however, manage to be carefully chosen and rather fluidic. Shoulder-length, dark brown hair enshrouds Gawain's always visible 'mood eyes,' which tend to shift from green to hazel to gold, and a scruff of facial hair has sprouted on his chin, though apparently more by accident than intent.
Usually wrapped around him, Gawain's wearing a large, black, Australian oilskin longcoat, flapping freely on his right side, but tethered very firmly on his left. Underneath the coat, he's wearing a black T-shirt which has been tucked neatly into a pair of black Levi's, a pair of black Doc Martin's on his feet. With him is also a weathered, black backpack, clearly not full, but just as clearly not empty, either.
(PER: 3, APP: 3. To any sensitive, Gawain all but reeks of silver.)
Siobhan puts a hand on Gawain's arm. "You really haven't been here much lately, have you, cher?" She rises smoothly to her feet. "I'm Siobhan, and this is my friend, Gawain." There's a slight emphasis on the word friend. "I used to teach Jimmy. You know him?"
Sepdet retrieves her hand and glances at it as if making an inventory of her fingers, but gives a curt nod at Piddles' question.
Gawain snorts very gently, finally taking the time to remove his jacket from his front, swirling it around to rest it again on his back. He murmurs very softly.
*Siobhan is looking at you.*
Piddles grins large and toothily, puffing his broad chest out proudly. "Jimmy izza Pid's buddeee, yah! Buddeepalloboss, yah!"
Sepdet explains absently, "Piddles, no-moon...Silver Fang." She watches Gawain's expression out of the corner of her eye.
Gawain snorts very softly, but says nothing.
Piddles cocks his head at Sepdet and blinks, bewildered. "Pidza full moon, yah? Anna Gnawer..."
Gawain narrows his eyes a little, frowning rather deeply... and lies back down in his pew, cutting off sight of everyone other than Siobhan.
+phoon
Currently the moon is in the waxing Full Moon phase (99% full).
Siobhan laughs. "Nice to meet you, er, Pid." She holds out a hand, "Should come by with a pot of chili for you guys again, for looking after Gawain for me." She flicks a glance at Gawain out of the corner of her eye. "I know that Hank and Jimmy both like it."
Sepdet looks faintly disappointed. "Well, you never _said_. All you did is talk about some King Somebody..." she nods towards the battered book he's carrying. "Anyway. Um." She glances back at Siobhan with less humor and more uncertainty.
Piddles shakes Siobhan's hand eagerly. "Izza Piddles-Into-The-Wind," he expands. He looks over at Sepdet sorrowfully. "Izza sorrreee, Pid usuuullly *good* about dat, sayin' who he is an' stuffs." He pats the book. "Izza Shakey-speer." And then he pauses, having finally caught the mention of food. "Cheeeleeee eez Peeedddz faaayyyyv-rit food!" he chants, transported on ecstatic remembrances.
Siobhan smiles, then settles back down beside Gawain again, looking at him. "So, are you going to tell me what you've been doing? Where you've been?" Her voice drops, "I've been worried."
Piddles grins at Sepdet. "Pidza goin' downstairs lookin' fer food. Yu come too, or hangin' wit da frends?"
Gawain shuffles a little on the other side of his pew, but apparently says no words and makes no other sounds.
Sepdet chews on her lip, eying the pair worriedly. "Maybe just a bite, thanks," she demures, after a moment's pensive humming under her breath.
Piddles grins and leads the way to the basement.
You go down to the basement.
Forgotten Church Basement(#1279RJLM)
This basement is only partly below ground level, and there are windows evenly spaced on the walls, right below the ceiling level. The main part of it is a large open area with a small kitchen in one corner and a large, ratty carpet in the center, covering the cement floor. There is a rather large window in the kitchen; it looks as though it might actually open onto the street. On the wall opposite the kitchen is a large bin, and there are folding tables along the wall perpendicular to it. On the other wall there are a few folding chairs, many fewer than one would expect from the number of tables.
A hallway next to the kitchen leads off to two offices and what once might have been a classroom.
Contents:
Hank
Obvious exits:
Sanctuary
Sepdet appears in the doorway leading to the stairs, arriving from above.
Piddles clomps down the stairs, singing a little tune to himself. Something about, "Gonna eeeeat now, gonna eeeeeeeeeat nowowowowowow..."
Sepdet follows rather less nosily, although by no means silently, picking her way down the unfamiliar terrain of stairs as if she were walking a tightrope.
Hank comes out from the hallway, and grins when he sees the visitors. "Hiya."
Piddles grins big at his packmate. "Haaaaaank!" he exclaims, arms flung wide -- though he makes no attempt to embrace Hank as thoroughly as he usually does Elan.
Hank smiles at Piddles, giving him a quick hug. "Hi." He smiles, nodding politely to Sepdet. "Hello...what's up?"
Sepdet peeks around Piddles' bulk to grin faintly at Hank. "Owl messing around where ought she not again," the Strider replies, English more than usually rusty these days. "Came in town with Wayfinder to meet her human. But he didn't seem in the mood for visitors."
Hank nods. "Well, it's good to see you again, anyway. Glad you came downstairs to say hi."
Piddles looks around eagerly. "Offered da prity ladee sum food, yah? Since Pid wuz on his way ta eeat an' stuff. Izza okie?" he asks Hank.
Hank nods to Piddles. "Sure, Pid. We always share what we have with friends."
Sepdet twists her hands awkwardly in her cloak. "Tell Jimmy hello for me," she offers, looking around a little wide-eyed and wary. "Aiya. Will I _ever_ repay Rat for all the times you've let me in your dens?" But the mention of food has put a spark in her eye almost as bright as Piddles'. She doesn't really look like she's been eating properly in a long time.
Piddles grins big. "Wuzza baad day fer da sooooots onna street, yah. Dang ol' tiyyytwad, dey jingle dey change an' don' givva ones' dog a pennee, naw!"
Hank smiles at Sepdet. "I'll tell him. And you're welcome." He hmmms. "Not sure what we've got stocked at the moment. I'm sure we can find something for ya, though. You look like you could use a bite." He grins at Piddles, as he describes the day.
Piddles waggles his wiry eyebrows -- what's left of them -- at Hank and grins toothily. "Gots one-a dem back fer kickin' dis ol' laydee, tho. Follered 'im twenny blocks an' peed on 'is niyysss, 'spensiv shoooos an' pants, jus' as he's a-goin' inta 'portant meetin'."
Hank laughs! "Good for you."
Sepdet's mouth quirks into a tight grin at that. "I wonder if I could still pick pockets," she muses. "Don't get much practice in Umbra, out in the wild."
Piddles looks extremely pleased with himself as he starts making short steps in the direction he's seen food come from before. "Pid's herd dat pickin' pockets like fallin' offa bike," he offers.
Hank grins at Sepdet. "You ought to come into the city more. You'd be welcome..."
Sepdet opens and shuts her mouth, Hank's simple words bringing an almost pained flash of bemusement to her somber face. "The Wheel turns..." she mutters. "Well. Maybe I will. I lived here, once." She moves hopefully and doggedly after Piddles, still taking in the unfamiliar geometry of walls, floors, and ceiling as a country she hasn't seen in many years.
Hank grins. "Come on...let's see what we can find to eat...."
Piddles forages with skill. "Pid's smellin' cheeeken."
Hank grins at his packmate. "Chicken, huh?"
*Hank is looking at you.*
look hank
Hank appears to be somewhere in his mid-teens, though exactly where is hard to say. He's about 5'7", and his arms and legs seem a bit too long for his body. He's also fairly skinny, though not unhealthily so. His hair is dark brown and somewhat short, but seems to be growing out a bit. A slightly shaggy forelock doesn't quite reach his brown eyes. A glint of gold can be seen in his left ear. Although pleasant enough, nothing really stands out about the rest of his face. It tends to have a serious expression on it, broken by a grin now and then.
Hank's wearing a pair of faded black jeans, held up by a black belt with a silvery buckle. He's got on a red t-shirt, over which he's wearing a black leather vest. Old-looking black army boots, scuffed to a matte appearance, round out the look. A 'button' is pinned onto the vest.
Sepdet pokes about hopefully, a bit more cautiously, and triumphantly pulls out a pair of onions.
Piddles nods, sniffing again. "An' dere's col' pizza."
Sepdet holds out one towards Piddles and Hank, clutching the other one like a talisman. She shakes her head slightly at the pizza.
Piddles delicately takes the proffered onion and looks at Hank, then Sepdet, then Hank, then Sepdet.
Hank grins. "You guys go ahead and eat. I snacked some earlier, at the deli...."
Sepdet starts in on the one she's kept, nibbling on it with a mouse's care. Looks like it may take her the rest of the night. She relaxes enough to sit down on the floor. "So...what's been happening in town? Or on ground, for this matter. I have been on the other side, a moon now."
Piddles munches loudly on his, making smacking, slurping sounds.
Hank mms quietly. "We went up against a person who was giving out tainted food...candy to little kids and the like, a couple days ago. We've got to find a creature that managed to escape us there - our totem was following it."
Piddles nods vehemently. "Heya, Hank, didja heer da ting onna Barkin' Chain bout sumwun dyin'? Didn' get it reel good. Nobuddy givin' me deetails."
Gawain pages to Hank, Piddles, and Sepdet: Due to the WONDERFUL insulation and walls of the church, not to mention stairwells 'n stuffs, you can hear Gawain call out Siobhan's name in shock/fear/worry? from the Church proper.
Hank sighs softly. "Yeah....I heard. It was Alexander...." He blinks, glancing towards the stairs at a call from above.
Sepdet drops her onion and scrabbles to her feet. "Leeches?!!" she snarls, eyes widening with sudden dismay. She stumbles towards the stairwell. "Siobhan...something's wrong."
Hank nods, and starts for the stairwell, getting a headstart since he wasn't sitting down...
Hank vanishes up the stairwell to the sanctuary.
Piddles startles and gulps down the remainder of his onion. "Leeeches???" He starts to bolt, then helps Sepdet toward the stairs.
You climb up the stairs to the ground floor of the church.
Sepdet appears at the top of the basement stairwell.
Gawain is standing next to Siobhan, a silver katana drawn and in his hand, worry etched onto his face.
Sepdet nearly sprawls chin foremost on the stairs, and accepts the help with an embarrassed and distracted grimace as Piddles rights her.
Siobhan turns blank eyes on Gawain, voice low and intense. "Wrong. Leeches. Leeches are wrong. Have you been...?" She breaks off, turning away. "We have to find out." She falls silent as others arrive.
Hank comes runing up the stairway, a little ahead of the others. "What's up?"
Gawain snarls a little bit, his eyes locked on Siobhan, refusing to shift his position or attention, tense, "Siobhan, get a hold of yourself. What's going ON?"
Sepdet takes a somewhat wild-eyed scan of the church, before her gaze comes anxiously to rest on packmate and the human holding a sword uncomfortably near her.
Siobhan reaches out to rest a finger lightly on the blade. "I saw leeches. My Lady showed me leeches." She turns and looks apologetic at the others. "It's okay. I just did a Rite, and saw some things I didn't like." She spreads her hands. "Hank...do you and the others know of any leeches in the city, and their whereabouts?"
Hank frowns. "I don't...but Elan might know more. He knows a bit more about them. More 'n I do, anyway."
Gawain growls softly, looking around the Church, "...you saw them where, Siobhan?"
If the Strider were in any other form, her hackles might be fairly bristling to the rafters. "There is one, but I have never managed to find it," she growls in a low bitter voice. "Packmate, what did you see?"
Piddles shrugs, still on the alert. Perhaps it's the moon, perhaps it's the strangers, perhaps it's just the mention of leeches, but the ahroun is abruptly jumpy. He scans the church evenly, standing in a loose pre-combat stance, flexing his hands.
Gawain has, if the observant are to notice, an astoundingly tight grip on his sword, a tenseness in his muscles, showing, for once, strongly beneath his coat. He looks ready to strike with his sword, though seemingly not sure where, or at what, just yet, his eyes wild and darting, "WHERE, Siobhan?"
Siobhan abruptly takes her finger from the blade, looking at Gawain. "I don't know where they were. If I did, I would be on my way to kill them." Her voice is downright chilly. She pauses, "I saw a lot of things. A man. A lake. A bird falling, it was shot. Falling in the lake. And there was me. The blade, /this/ blade, the old blade too, with blood on them. And bodies." She shudders, "Bodies that leeches had fed on."
Gawain snarls, his grip and pose not easing, "...which mean what, Siobhan? Future? Past? What?"
Piddles eyes Gawain cautiously. He shoots a questioning look at Hank, then looks back to Gawain. His eyes rest mostly upon the sword.
Hank frowns, listening....
Sepdet flinches at the human's sharp voice and hunches her head and shoulders, pressing her lips flat and tight over her own questions.
Siobhan once again reaches for the blade, this time reaching over it, and pushing down lightly. "Put it away, Gawain. You're making people nervous." She sighs. "I don't know when these things were. Or where. My Lady's Rite doesn't usually tell such things, I'm afraid." Her eyes are downcast. "I will need to find someone who can delve into this more deeply."
Gawain lets his sword be pushed down, but doesn't make any immedeate move to put it away. He shakes his head, snarling, "I'll do no such thing. They can come from anywhere at any time, and I'm not taking any f**king chances. For all I know, your--" He glances up at Sepdet, then Piddles... then drops his gaze, still tense, still wound up, but eyes low, letting his rant drop.
Sepdet glances at Gawain sharply, checked anger showing in the tightening of her jaw as she fills in the rest of his words. But she manages still to keep silent, wrapping her arms around herself defensively.
The clenching of the ahroun's jaw suggests that his temper is only barely in check.
Hank frowns....looking frustrated, but not as mad as the other two...
Sepdet says reluctantly, "The...the leeches once tried to 'own' some of our land. That one, the Prince, they say is gone now." Her tone suggests strong and bitter doubts. "And there was another, a man, who hurt--a friend of mine. I could never find him. He must still be rotting somewhere in this city. But this doesn't sound like his way. He never killed, he only twisted." She scowls. "Which means we may have a new enemy. Or will. Let the city folk watch their humans closely; we can't hunt until we have another sign."
Gawain hisses out sharply, his eyes snapping to Sepdet for a flashing moment, "They ALL manipulate, damnit. Every last one. And they all kill. It's in their nature, a part of their cursed f**king being. Every last f**king one."
Siobhan keeps her hand on the blade, holding the katana in place. "These are friends." Her tone is firm. "But how friendly they will stay with you and I pretty much depends on how well you treat them, right now. If we are going to solve this thing, fight it, we may need them. Please, "She lowers her voice, becoming more persuasive, "Put away this blade that I gave you, so that my vision does not come true."
Sepdet matches Gawain's gaze hollowly, the uncharacteristic hatred in her face mirroring his words eloquently. "Some first destroy the soul, before destroying the flesh. It's one of their games." She speaks quietly again, anger slipping away now. "It's all right, Siobhan. I just hope your friend has a chance to put that blade to use on a fitting prey."
Gawain sneers noticeably, though a little of the tenseness has worked its way out of his system, his eyes turning and locking on Sepdet. "Be glad that I don't find children fitting prey, whelp."
Gawain carefully starts putting his sword away, quite noticably with defiance.
Piddles bristles, eyes widening. He draws himself up. "Speak with respect, sirrah!" he snaps in a booming voice. "She has given you no reason for such behavior, and not HERE." The ahroun towers, glowering, temper almost visibly flaming. "You will give the lady an apology NOW."
Sepdet blinks owlishly, slowly, and gives a short bark of laughter. The insult manages to snap the Strider the rest of the way out of the last lingering feelers of frenzy.
Hank rolls his eyes at Gawain's behavior...and seems quite approving of Pid's.
Gawain snaps the tip of his sword up, unsheathing it back, aiming it in Piddles' direction, "Watch your own tongue, b**tard mongrel, and scuttle off back to your hole. She's insulted me in front of sensitive company, and now acts as if I don't know my enemies."
Siobhan flinches visibly, then her jaw tightens. "That wasn't fair, Gawain. And you know it." She turns towards the others, spreading her hands. "He's not himself. Please...it might be better if you all went away and let me deal with him."
Piddles draws lips back from his teeth in a wild, feral snarl, eyes wide and white in his dark face.
Hank gives a soft growl under his breath. "Pid....leave it, for now." He might need to follow his own advise, though, since he's glaring rather pointedly at Gawain.
Piddles's foot steps forward, seemingly of its own accord.
Sepdet folds her arms, looking suddenly tired. "I am no whelp, but neither shall untruths hurt me, Piddles. He says we mock him for not knowing his enemies. But his only blindness is in not knowing friends."
Gawain snorts gently, pulling the sword away from Piddles' direction, but keeping it drawn and ready. "I know my friends, whelp. I know that there are none in this twisted world. I know my enemies. And I know those who mean nothing. I know leeches. If you ever claim otherwise..." He shakes his head, letting the sentence drop, eyes flickering, but not lingering on any faces.
Siobhan flinches again, as if struck, and closes her eyes. Her tone turns low and expressionless. "Please, sister, friends...go back downstairs. When you come up again, we'll be gone. I am sorry, yuf. "She says this to Hank, eyes meeting his for a moment before dropping away, "That your guest isn't more grateful. He does not have friends because he cannot trust. And that is because he is not himself. We will go."
Elan walks in from the street, munching a large apple. He blinks as he sees the group assembled, and blinks again when he sees the sword. "Ahem," he clears his throat, "Someone mind explaining this?"
Piddles' towering, painfully upright form quivers with the effort to restrain his temper. Through the rictus snarl on his lips, he says, "I would say that he is a fool, but fools have wisdom; this one singularly lacks that." He backs away a step. "I know that those who believe they have no friends are hollow, empty, and meaningless." He takes another step back. "And after this, I will believe nothing otherwise." He turns his head, forcing the snarl down. "I hope he treats you with more respect than he seems to have in his body," he tells Siobhan, and he turns his back.
Gawain smiles bitterly, grabbing his backpack with his free hand, snapping a gaze to Elan, then back at Piddles, "...and you wonder why you're fighting a losing War. Play with your words, quell the beast, and run back to your hole, mongrel." Slowly, with only Elan to his back, he begins to back out of the church.
Sepdet says quietly, "You would rather argue over this than find common ground to fight a foe we all hate, Gawain. I told you only what happened to me, and to the one I love most in the world, whom the leeches twisted almost beyond my power to heal. I do not mock you. And you mock me. But as you will." She looks towards Wayfinder. "Call me if you--if you want me. I cannot fight well anymore, but I think I still have the strength to tear out a leech's throat. I think I will go back to the shadows where I belong."
Piddles snaps upright again as if he'd been stabbed in the back. Only the trembling of his arms and fists show his anger now.
Hank mutters under his breath. "Sepdet...stay. Please."
Elan's lip twitches, and the apple slowly begins to crush. He fights to remain calm, still knowing he doesn't have the full story. He narrows his eyes to golden slits at Gawain's back.
Siobhan catches hold of Gawain's arm, and hauls on it, toward the door. "No. You will be quiet. You have said more than enough to make a teacher's heart bleed." She flashes a warning glance at Elan, as she heads around him. "And you will no longer call this place home, until you have apologized to all of them."
Pack> Elan says "What's this about leeches, guys?" Elan's voice through the link is cold and distant.
Sepdet shakes her head at Hank and takes a deep breath, stepping through without daring to look back.
Elan nods at Sio's statement.
Sepdet opens one of the double doors at the back of the church, leaving for the streets.
Gawain shakes his head, snapping at Siobhan, though noticeably not shaking her off, "I've learned more than you've taught me, Siobhan, and I've more left. This never was my home."
Gawain mumbles something else, too softly to be heard, before leaving.
Pack> Piddles replies, his voice vibrating with contained Rage, "The woman had a vision. Of Leeches. The male lifts his leg and pisses on everything."
Gawain opens one of the double doors at the back of the church, leaving for the streets.
Hank growls under his breath as Sepdet leaves....
Pack> Hank says "I'm going to kill him....I really am."
Pack> Piddles assures you with a snarl, "If he crosses my path again, he will not breathe beyond my first strike."
Pack> Elan says "Just from what he said to Pid, he ain't ever coming back here. I don't care what the provocation."
Siobhan follows, silently, shoulders hunched.
Pack> Hank growls. "An' he chased off Sepdet, after I told her she was welcome here."
Pack> Elan says "I'll go get her back. Lemme try, OK?"
Pack> Hank says "If you think you can. Don't blame her for leaving, really...not after the way he was actin'."
Elan watches the door with a silent determination. He turns to his packmates and sits down on the steps. "What the fuck was that all about? Leeches?"
Hank mutters under his breath. "Wayfinder did some kinda rite...apparently gave her a vision. Couldn't figure out what she was sayin' all the time, because of the way HE kept actin'."
Elan winces. "You should always be quiet when a seer speaks." He stands up. "Guys? I'm gonna go chase down Seppy, OK? I'm worried about her. I'll try and bring her back here."
Elan turns and goes through the doors, trotting down the streets.
Hank mutters under his breath. "Shoulda just punched the guy out, an' let him wake up with the consequences..."
Piddles still trembles with the effort of containing himself. "I would not... have stopped... with a punch..." he says through his teeth. "Not when he carries so much silver."
Hank glances at his packmate, and reaches out to grip his shoulder. "C'mon...steady down. I don't like the bastard, either....but from what I hear, he carries the silver t' use on leeches....not us."
Piddles takes a deep breath. "I've never heard," he says, taking another deep breath, "of silver being efficacious in the killing of vampires."
Hank shrugs. "I don't know that much about vampires, m'self....but I read one or two books that mentioned usin' silver against 'em. Maybe he read the same books?"
Piddles nods and shrugs, which helps him to slouch a bit. He grins tightly at Hank. "I hope we can follow Sarge soon."
Hank nods. "Yeah, me too....wanna get that thing taken care of." He sighs. "Worried, though. You an' Jimmy got hurt bad, this last time...Morgan too. I'm worried that wherever it's goin', it's gonna be even worse."
Piddles nods again. "I'm sure it will be."
Hank nods. "We're just gonna have t' be more careful..."
Pack> Elan says "I found her guys. We're in the city umbra, near the Shelter I think."
Pack> Hank says "She OK?"
Pack> Elan says "I think so, man. She's talking and calm, at least. We've...had some words before, about leeches. They've caused her more pain than they ever did me, even for all those years."
Pack> Elan says "Pids? You came to Sepdet's aid?"
Pack> Piddles seems calmer now, though his diction still indicates an underlying active tension. "Yes. I saw no reason for him to insult her, in *our* place."
Pack> Hank says "Yeah...he was great, too."
Pack> Elan says "You /damn/ right about that, packie!! Sepdet has been a friend to us and this sept long before he ever came 'round. And I count her as a personal friend. Yeah, I've trained with Gawain a bit. You could have whupped him easy, even with the pigsticker."
Pack> Piddles hesitates. "I... considered it. But thought that it might bring more pain to Siobhan, who seems to care for him, although he seems to have no regard for her." He pauses. "Though if he'd said one more word, he wouldn't have had time to pull the sword."
Hank squeezes Pid's shoulder. "You calmed down yet?"
Piddles nods. "Gettin' there," he says through marginally less gritted teeth. "The moon," he adds as explanation.
Hank nods. "Yeah...I feel it too. Least I'm only a crescent, though."
Pack> Elan says "How are things going, guys? She sorta weepy, here. Brought up all sorts of bad memories for her, apparently."
Piddles nods and sighs.
Pack> Piddles says "Pid's settlin' down, yu need enny help?"
Pack> Elan says "I think I'm fine Pid. Sepdet and I...we, um, have some stuff in common. I can tell ya later."
Pack> Hank says "Things are quietin' down here. Let us know if you need anything, OK?"
Pack> Elan OOC also notices Pids' vocabulary jumps about seven grade levels and two steps up the food chain when he gets mad. Wow.
Pack> Hank OOC grins. I noticed the same. :)
Pack> Piddles OOC: Piddles grins.
Back to home.
Forgotten Church
The old church is dark, dimly lit by outside light coming in through scum-encrusted windows during the day, and tomblike during the night. There is a coatroom in the back of the nave, with separate doors leading off to mens' and womens' restrooms, and two staircases, one going up to the balcony and bell-tower, and the other leading down to the basement. The double doors leading out to the street are at the back of the coatroom.
The hard wooden pews in the sanctuary are, for the most part, still intact. There are even Bibles and hymnals left in the shelves along the back of each row, although many of them look rather chewed on. The altar on a dais at the front of the church is empty, and the lectern that once stood next to it has been knocked over. Rotting red cloth hangs at the very front of the church; there might once have been a design on it, but it has long since faded or been eaten away.
Contents:
Siobhan
Gawain