(IC) New Bedford at Night

[Bennosuke]

Prelude

Blue, green, grey, white or black; smooth, ruffled or mountainous; that ocean is not silent.

-H.P. Lovecraft

In these last-mentioned haunts you see only sailors. But in New Bedford, actual Cannibals stand chatting at street corners; savage outright; many of whom yet carry on their bones unholy flesh.

-Herman Melville

It had been nearly four hours stuck in traffic, in the claustrophobic Winnebago before the band pulled into the parking lot in Brockton Massachusetts. Rain had pelted the top and sides of the van hard, like the water spirits had been driven into a frenzy and were trying to drive themselves into the vehicle.

Pine, the band’s self proclaimed Wolf-Blooded driver had prattled on the entire drive, completely unaware of the ominous signs in the sky. She was the only non-Uratha in the vehicle, the rest of the humans and Wolf-Blooded were in a separate truck, with all of the Band’s equipment.

The Anchor Wolves had been directed to meet an Uratha named Knowlton, Pack leader of the Arrow Head Wolves, and leader of the Brockton Protecterate. He had been the last Uratha in touch with the Harbor Wolves before they had gone radio silent, and would be the new pack’s point man before they entered New Bedford.

As Pine’s Winnebago thudded over the curb into the parking lot of a diner called ‘Hungry’s’, the man who was clearly Knowlton came into view. Resting against a rusted green flatbed, and draped in a red and black plaid button down and smoking a cigarette despite the rain, he was completely on-guard, watching the Winnebago pull up as if he were ready to pounce should it get too close. Knowlton made no move to approach the van, when Pine pulled the car to a sudden stop and parked sideways across multiple spots.

When the Winnebago door opens, Knowlton takes a long study of the band and growls, “Shiiiiit.” He throws away the stub of the wasted cigarette, and pulls long greasy blond curls away from dark brown eyes. “So you pups must be the Anchor Wolves, huh. Too bad, too bad.”

[Erulasto]

It had been nearly four hours stuck in traffic, in the claustrophobic Winnebago before the band pulled into the parking lot in Brockton Massachusetts. Rain had pelted the top and sides of the van hard, like the water spirits had been driven into a frenzy and were trying to drive themselves into the vehicle.

Pine, the band’s self proclaimed Wolf-Blooded driver had prattled on the entire drive, completely unaware of the ominous signs in the sky. She was the only non-Uratha in the vehicle, the rest of the humans and Wolf-Blooded were in a separate truck, with all of the Band’s equipment.

The Anchor Wolves had been directed to meet an Uratha named Knowlton, Pack leader of the Arrow Head Wolves, and leader of the Brockton Protecterate. He had been the last Uratha in touch with the Harbor Wolves before they had gone radio silent, and would be the new pack’s point man before they entered New Bedford.

As Pine’s Winnebago thudded over the curb into the parking lot of a diner called ‘Hungry’s’, the man who was clearly Knowlton came into view. Resting against a rusted green flatbed, and draped in a red and black plaid button down and smoking a cigarette despite the rain, he was completely on-guard, watching the Winnebago pull up as if he were ready to pounce should it get too close. Knowlton made no move to approach the van, when Pine pulled the car to a sudden stop and parked sideways across multiple spots.

When the Winnebago door opens, Knowlton takes a long study of the band and growls, “Shiiiiit.” He throws away the stub of the wasted cigarette, and pulls long greasy blond curls away from dark brown eyes. “So you pups must be the Anchor Wolves, huh. Too bad, too bad.”

The weather had not been the kind that encouraged a lively response from Kara. She wasn't bouncing around, or singing along with the radio. She wasn't engaged in pestering conversation with Pine. In fact, she only took two selfies the whole drive. One, right when she got in the Winnebago with rain-slicked, wind-tousled hair and sporting a serious pout. How much of a rant about the weather can fit into 147 characters?
The second selfie was right after she found a comfortable place to settle - maybe with her head in a lap, or sprawled across them - and taken right before she yawned, and closed her baby-blues to catch a nap. The droning of Pine's chatting, and the pitter-patter of the rain upon the Winnebago's windows was all it took, and she spent the last half of the four hour drive snoring - almost cutely - and drooling just a bit as she occasionally jerked or shifted while mumbling something incoherent.

When she was roused to meet Knowlton, Kara would rub the sleep from her eyes and sit up. The black eye-liner would only smudge a bit, and she'd card her fingers through her hair as much as possible before it had been bound together in a pair of loose braids.

Kara would snort a bit at Knowlton's response to their presence. "Must we? You say it like that's a bad thing."

[Thundercracker]

Blaze

Blaze stepped down from the Winnebago and looked up at the pouring skies.

“Rain rain go away... the F*** you want with me anyway?” he half sang, half muttered. He pulled out an umbrella and held it over both himself and Kara.

“Yo,” he said, spotting Knowlton, “I think it’s raining man.”

[Bennosuke]

Kara would snort a bit at Knowlton's response to their presence. "Must we? You say it like that's a bad thing."

Knowlton's nose twitches ever so slightly, before his lips peel back into a grin, revealing yellowed teeth. He chuckles in a deep throaty voice before responding, "Nah. But I was hoping Portland would maybe send a slightly more experienced pack." He says this in a relaxed thoughtful matter, again running a hand through dripping strands of wild hair.

“Yo,” he said, spotting Knowlton, “I think it’s raining man.”

Shrugging, Knowlton says, "Always; but when you pups are ready, I suppose we can go inside." He looks back over at the diner, a low and fat white rectangle with neon signs that seem too tired to glow through the evening light. Perhaps the windows are tinted, but it is hard to imagine any lights on in the diner, and judging by the otherwise empty parking lot, it possibly wasn't even open.

[Ladorak]

As with any roadtrip Solomon had spent most of his time staring down at the printed word. This was not any roadtrip however and he had been quite unable to settle. He had set his copy of the Gita Govinda aside long ago. Too cerebral, too nuanced, too metaphysical even for an Uratha , not a book to read when one cannot dedicate one's whole mind to it.

He had thought guerrilla warfare by Che Guevara would be more engaging, but his failure to absorb the words of the man who taught men to be wolves was clear evidence of his disquiet. He pretended to read so as not to worry the others and tried not to focus too much on what might lurk beyond the horizon. He was singularly unsuccessful in this, so focused in fact he saw 'Hungry’s' before Pine. Something not quite a shiver travelled down his spine and hackles that weren't currently there raised.

He was the first out of his seat and the first to leave the Winnebago. He doesn't speak though, merely nodding respect to Knowle as he takes in the surroundings with a keen eye. He lets Kara and Blaze get the pleasantries out of the way, they're good at that. When Knowles looks back at the diner Solomon moves to walk past him toward it. He passes unusually close and hisses a whisper barely audible even to himself over the sound of the downpour 'We are here because we are expandable. We know that, but I'd thank you to stop reminding the p... The younger pups. We gave up alot to come help your Protecterate.'
Louder he said 'Rain doesn't bother me, but if the rest of you are feeling particularly human today I guess we can go inside.'

[Bennosuke]

Knowlton lets Solomon pass, not flinching or turning his head to acknowledge that he is being surrounded. He tilts his head back and lets out a roaring laugh at Solomon's words but does not respond. It becomes clear that Knowlton is either incredibly foolish and ignorant, or incredibly brave; meeting a strange pack alone in his own territory and seemingly showing no anxiety or weakness, nor reflexively turning to a show of dominance.

[Daishain]

Bear doesn't say anything at first, instead looking about this new place and sniffing the air. If something took the Harbor Wolves, he wasn't about to let it take him and his as well, not without a fight.

When Knowlton comments on their experience, he states, a little defensively, "Don't worry about us, just share your knowledge if you will. We'll find a way."

[Ladorak]

Remaining behind Knowlton turns to face his pack, mouthing the words Be careful around this one. He reeks of danger.
'Thank you for coming out to help us, we really don't know as much as we should about what we're heading into. It's appreciated... Bear's right though, we're more capable then we look...' Something was off about this whole thing but mention of Bear's name recalled Solomon's manners 'That's Bear. I'm Solo. Those two are Blaze and Kara. That's Iago and Juno getting off the bus, and Pine still behind the wheel.'

[Thundercracker]

Blaze

“Nice,” Blaze said once he was inside and had folded his umbrella.

“You know the lost pack well?” he asked.

[Bennosuke]

Knowlton leads the pack out of the rain and into the diner, though he indicates that Pine should stay with the van.

The inside of Hungry's was equally depressing, a fake and faded linoleum checkerboard floor contrasted angrily with drab pho-leather booths. Multiple tables sported stains and spills that had clearly been ignored for days. When the pack enters a sad and overweight waitress in her middle ages and a cliche 60's uniform complete with mustard stained apron glares from her place at the register, and offers a grunt when Knowlton says, "Hey Bertha, hope you don't mind."

Knowlton leads the pack to the back where a large booth with the only clean table awaits. Despite a small sign that reads "no smoking", there rests an ashtray studded with butts like a pin cushion. Knowlton removes his drenched plaid overshirt, revealing a slightly less wet but very well worn Metallica T that had clearly been worn while painting something white. He tosses the overshirt into the next booth, quickly shakes his head back and forth spraying water everywhere like a dog out of the rain, then throws himself into the corner of the booth and lights up a cigarette.

“You know the lost pack well?” Blaze asked.

Knowlton blows out his first puff and then grins again, this time only one side of his mouth turning up. "Kinda," he says without commitment, "they were a hard group. Had only been in the area for about a year or two. It's damn hard to find a Pack that can keep a hold of the New Bedford area. That place is ****ing cursed." He stops to draw hard on the cigarette and blow out again before continuing, "And Portland chose a hell of a time to send you guys down here. All hell is breaking loose out there."

[Erulasto]

Knowlton leads the pack out of the rain and into the diner, though he indicates that Pine should stay with the van.

The inside of Hungry's was equally depressing, a fake and faded linoleum checkerboard floor contrasted angrily with drab pho-leather booths. Multiple tables sported stains and spills that had clearly been ignored for days. When the pack enters a sad and overweight waitress in her middle ages and a cliche 60's uniform complete with mustard stained apron glares from her place at the register, and offers a grunt when Knowlton says, "Hey Bertha, hope you don't mind."

Knowlton leads the pack to the back where a large booth with the only clean table awaits. Despite a small sign that reads "no smoking", there rests an ashtray studded with butts like a pin cushion. Knowlton removes his drenched plaid overshirt, revealing a slightly less wet but very well worn Metallica T that had clearly been worn while painting something white. He tosses the overshirt into the next booth, quickly shakes his head back and forth spraying water everywhere like a dog out of the rain, then throws himself into the corner of the booth and lights up a cigarette.

Knowlton blows out his first puff and then grins again, this time only one side of his mouth turning up. "Kinda," he says without commitment, "they were a hard group. Had only been in the area for about a year or two. It's damn hard to find a Pack that can keep a hold of the New Bedford area. That place is ****ing cursed." He stops to draw hard on the cigarette and blow out again before continuing, "And Portland chose a hell of a time to send you guys down here. All hell is breaking loose out there."

Kara strolls into Hungry's, bouncing on the balls of her feet a little as she grins widely. "Oh my God! It's like a living, breathing stereotype! Now I know this story'll be good!" She flips out her phone and snaps a selfie with Bertha scowling over her shoulder before hopping into the booth, torn-stockinged feet clad in her comfy travel shoes - a pair of custom made Ugg boots that seem to suspiciously look like the same for coloration and pattern as Juno's wolf - are propped up.

"A curse, huh? What kind of curse? Like...a real, honest-to-Wolf Witches curse? Or is that..like....some local slang?"

[Ladorak]

Solomon lets the rest of the pack past him, waiting to have a quiet word with Pine 'Keep a sharp eye. You see anything suspicious start hitting that horn and don't stop. If you feel like you're in danger don't wait for us. Hit the gas.' He reached up to offer a reassuring pat on the leg 'You want me to get you some coffee or something?'

***********

Inside Solomon takes seat with clear lines of sight toward the entrance and to the Winnebago 'It doesn't surprise me it's turning to Hell, we were told the Harbour Fangs complained of a Rat-Host infestation before they... disappeared. If your lot hasn't done anything about it they'll be chewing on the gauntlet unmolested. I doubt that's the curse you speak of though...' He left the rest unsaid, it was rare for an entire pack to fall to Beshilu, although not unheard of for they were sneaky little bastards. Such a victory must have weakened them substantially, why hadn't the Brockton Protectorate finished the job? Why hadn't they claimed the territory?

[Daishain]

Bear looks a little impatient with the vague ominous warnings. "Head of the snake, heart of the hydra, nest of the hive. Whichever it is, what's our first target?"

[Thundercracker]

Blaze just grins when he sees the ashtray, and lights yo his own cigarette, content to listen to the others for now.

[Madmal]

Iago gives a nod at Knowlton when his name is mentioned and follows after Kara, gesturing a small apology to Bertha as she storms through to the other room. He was supposedly used to claustrophobic spaces, giving his hispanic family and his short size; but it had been the infuriatingly slow pace that had put him in a surly mood. Still, he would stay near and pay attention.

[tonberryking]

Juno was quiet. Sitting shotgun across form Pines, the petite werewolf remarkably listened to all of her yammering the whole four hours, though often during the discourse she came off as navel gazing. Something about actually being on a road trip fascinated the previously alienated girl; Papa Alexei never took his family anywhere and even Kara at her worst and Bear on a bad day would not compare to being stuck in a mini-van with her half-dozen horrible brothers for any longer than it took to trip to the grocery store.

At a glance, she's not much to look at as she climbs from the winnebago. She's short. "Still looks like a tween" short and skinny, and she's wearing Bear's handmedown jeans from before he was a tween under a large hooded gray jacket which has an overly ornate "knight dagger" design on its back. But at more than a glance, something seems... off about her. Her eyes are large, puppyish but hold way too much flint, making her seem on edge. Her black hair is probably quite long but it's been harshly braided and wrapped into a Gordian knot of a bun of complicated deliberateness. And just before she pulls her jacket collar up, a deliberate move she makes when Knowlton gives her a once over, her Blood Talon scar is across her neck. Thin and delicate, she must have done that to impress someone or make a statement or both, but the fact she didn't kill herself putting that there will probably one day make the rounds amid stories of her exploits... if she doesn't die stupid first.

"Even pups can bite, you know." she says with a salty tone, shuffling into the bar.


She does sniff at the diner's interior, looking around not for exits or defensive points but for the janitor's closet and a jug of bleach to end the misery of this place before they get down to grilling this guy. She gives Blaze a rather sour look for lighting his cigarette and fights to get a seat away from him, and only after she's settled, sitting up straight and proper, does she speak again.

"Just how long do packs usually last around there? And what else is going wrong with the place?" she says, nodding to when Knowlton mentioned everything going to hell.

[Bennosuke]

Pine smiles reassuringly at Solomon and says, “Don’t worry about me. I can handle myself.” After his offer for coffee she looks dubiously at the diner and responds, “I think I’d be better off waiting...”

Inside, as Kara snaps her selfie Knowlton stares curiously and chuckles, though Bertha growls something guttural, and Kara can smell the “wolf blood” on her, mixed with burnt coffee and grease. The photo develops showing Kara beaming cutely and Bertha looking cross eyed and like she is about to sneeze.

"A curse, huh? What kind of curse? Like...a real, honest-to-Wolf Witches curse? Or is that..like....some local slang

Solomon sighs, and takes a puff of his cigarette before responding. “Something like a real curse anyways. There are weird rumors about devil worshiping cults both in New Bedford, and off the coast on an Island called Cuttyhunk,” he responds with a tone too serious to be taken as a joke, “and the Hisil can be impossibly thin in certain parts of the Protecterate. Most of the Uratha near Cape Cod refuse to go near the city, even when there are a pack or two trying to hold it down. They say the Native Americans of those parts cursed some of the locals, and that their are family lines who still carry the stain of that curse.”

He pauses again, and then based on the looks on everyone’s faces he chuckles and says, “But who knows. Most of it could all just be rumors. The Uratha have always been a superstitious sort, and the same can be said for the citizens of these parts. I’m not really one for ghost stories but...”

"Just how long do packs usually last around there? And what else is going wrong with the place?" she says, nodding to when Knowlton mentioned everything going to hell.

“Well that’s the thing,” he says, “I wouldn’t believe in all the rumors, but most of the packs we send out to New Bedford don’t last more than a year or two. It’s had its fair share of Beshilu infestations, and wild Spirits. There’s always some problem that seems to bring the new Uratha down. This time it was the Rats.”

'It doesn't surprise me it's turning to Hell, we were told the Harbour Fangs complained of a Rat-Host infestation before they... disappeared. If your lot hasn't done anything about it they'll be chewing on the gauntlet unmolested. I doubt that's the curse you speak of though...'

“Yep, from what we heard, it was the Beshilu. Then one day The Harbor Wolves just went radio silent. The Rat Hosts are cunning, and my guess is that they plotted and ambushed ‘em. And no, my lot hasn’t done anything but push back against the Beshilu and plague spirits that have tried to bleed over into our territory; that’s OUR job.” He takes another long drag on his cigarette, now nearly spent, then stubs it out while blowing out a long trail of smoke, which has begun to thicken up the air in the diner. “But you are right. It sounds like the Beshilu have done a hell of a job. A small epidemic has broken out in Dartmouth and parts of New Bedford. It’s all over the news. Some sort of respiratory infection that causes such bad sinus infections that peoples faces are literally exploding open with mucus. The news is calling the infection Captain Drips. Almost certainly Plague Spirits.”

"Head of the snake, heart of the hydra, nest of the hive. Whichever it is, what's our first target?"

“Well, we’ve managed to confirm that one of the Harbor Wolves’ safe houses is near unmolested. It’s an old warehouse out on the waterfront. It used to be a shipyard back in the whaling days, and has a Loci on it’s property. I’ve got a pair of keys for the back entrance here. Your first stop should be to get there, if you can, and secure it’s Loci out on the dock. After that, it’s up to you, though my thought would be to carefully investigate what happened to The Harbor Wolves. You will have to be very careful, since it sounds like things have gotten pretty bad out there.” Knowlton lays a key ring with two bronze keys onto the table.

[Erulasto]

Solomon sighs, and takes a puff of his cigarette before responding. “Something like a real curse anyways. There are weird rumors about devil worshiping cults both in New Bedford, and off the coast on an Island called Cuttyhunk,” he responds with a tone too serious to be taken as a joke, “and the Hisil can be impossibly thin in certain parts of the Protecterate. Most of the Uratha near Cape Cod refuse to go near the city, even when there are a pack or two trying to hold it down. They say the Native Americans of those parts cursed some of the locals, and that their are family lines who still carry the stain of that curse.”

He pauses again, and then based on the looks on everyone’s faces he chuckles and says, “But who knows. Most of it could all just be rumors. The Uratha have always been a superstitious sort, and the same can be said for the citizens of these parts. I’m not really one for ghost stories but...”

“Well that’s the thing,” he says, “I wouldn’t believe in all the rumors, but most of the packs we send out to New Bedford don’t last more than a year or two. It’s had its fair share of Beshilu infestations, and wild Spirits. There’s always some problem that seems to bring the new Uratha down. This time it was the Rats.”

“Yep, from what we heard, it was the Beshilu. Then one day The Harbor Wolves just went radio silent. The Rat Hosts are cunning, and my guess is that they plotted and ambushed ‘em. And no, my lot hasn’t done anything but push back against the Beshilu and plague spirits that have tried to bleed over into our territory; that’s OUR job.” He takes another long drag on his cigarette, now nearly spent, then stubs it out while blowing out a long trail of smoke, which has begun to thicken up the air in the diner. “But you are right. It sounds like the Beshilu have done a hell of a job. A small epidemic has broken out in Dartmouth and parts of New Bedford. It’s all over the news. Some sort of respiratory infection that causes such bad sinus infections that peoples faces are literally exploding open with mucus. The news is calling the infection Captain Drips. Almost certainly Plague Spirits.”

“Well, we’ve managed to confirm that one of the Harbor Wolves’ safe houses is near unmolested. It’s an old warehouse out on the waterfront. It used to be a shipyard back in the whaling days, and has a Loci on it’s property. I’ve got a pair of keys for the back entrance here. Your first stop should be to get there, if you can, and secure it’s Loci out on the dock. After that, it’s up to you, though my thought would be to carefully investigate what happened to The Harbor Wolves. You will have to be very careful, since it sounds like things have gotten pretty bad out there.” Knowlton lays a key ring with two bronze keys onto the table.

Kara grimaces at Knowlton's description of the respiratory illness, and mutters under the breath. "That's so ****ing disgusting." While she was listening to the various answers provided to her Pack's lines of questioning, she's been dutifully scribbling down notes and descriptions of what's going on in her tattered notebook. She's got to have all the details if she's going to do their story justice, after all.

Suddenly, she shifts in her chair and pulls her feet from their higher perch before tucking them under her and sitting cross-legged in the booth. She chews on the end of her pencil - the ratty thing looking quite like a dog had used it for a chew toy - and frowns after a moment.

"You said the safe house was unmolested? So...what? Did other safe houses for the Harbor Wolves show signs of being ransacked, or attacked or something? What makes this one so special, I wonder....and if it had a Locus in it, then I wonder why the Beshilu - or something else - haven't tried to y'know...take it for themselves? Seems like it'd be a pretty prize for someone."

Kara hums a thoughtless tune quietly, brow still crinkled in thought. "I don't wanna be obtuse or anything, but when you say 'things have gotten pretty bad out there' what are we talking? Aside from rats and maybe plague spirits? Like...come on, you make it sound like a war zone, man. Do we at least have a clue on who else is fighting the battles, n'stuff?"

[Bennosuke]

Knowlton’s face hardens, and the muscles of his jaws flare several times as if he is grinding his jaws. “We know very little,” he says flatly, in words as cold as his dark eyes. His hands reflexively go to his pocket and remove his box of cigarettes, but he puts the box on the table, rather than removing a third stick. He runs a hand across his chin and through his dark blond beard and says, “We ran a few recon-hunts into New Bedford, but had to high-tail it out of there pretty quickly every time.” He pauses for a second, then choosing his words carefully says, “Unmolested may be the wrong words. The place was sacked, but it hasn’t been infested by Plague Spirits or Beshilu as far as we can tell. All the fetishes and weapons that The Harbor Wolves had stored in there were gone, but we weren’t clear who took ‘em. In fact the whole Waterfront district is pretty queer. Not a whole lotta evidence of Beshilu activity down that way at all. Hisil seemed real thin, but things were quiet. That seemed pretty... off, but we figured that would probably make it the safest base of operation for you. All the Beshilu tunnels in that area seem pretty much abandoned.”

"I don't wanna be obtuse or anything, but when you say 'things have gotten pretty bad out there' what are we talking? Aside from rats and maybe plague spirits? Like...come on, you make it sound like a war zone, man. Do we at least have a clue on who else is fighting the battles, n'stuff?"

“Well that’s just it. The Beshilu have clearly unbalanced everything out there. We tried to push our investigation into Dartmouth but were harried so bad by Plague and Death spirits that one of my youngest nearly got killed. There are talks of The State condoning off parts of Dartmouth to prevent the spread of Captain Drips. The Plague Spirits have literally created a face-exploding super virus, that if not gotten under control could be the next Bubonic Plague. And now most of my pack and most of the others in the Brockton Protecterate are pretty much refusing to travel back there to try to balance the **** storm... that’s why you guys got shipped out here. So ya, it may as well be a war zone.”

Knowlton’s voice had risen during this speech, becoming riddled with bullet holes of frustration dripping with anger. He pauses now, letting his emotions settle while his hands work nervously at the cigarette box. His eyes look bloodshot, and his face strung out. “This isn’t going to be easy. Do what you can, but don’t be stupid. I will try to muster up as much support for you pups as I can. Don’t go charging into danger, and you call me if you think you need help.” He writes his cellphone number down on a napkin and passes it around.

[Daishain]

Bear smirks a bit, "Sounds like it might be a good opportunity to live up to our pack name. If the city itself is too dangerous to simply pass through, lets use the water. Make our first goal the one we reach before anything else."

"We could acquire a boat, land it at this dock, and secure both the locus and our base of operations without risking getting sidetracked. Everything from there could be taken one step at a time."

[tonberryking]

"Boats can get expensive." Juno looks up at Bear, "And just renting one would get the wrong people suspicious especially if we or 'they' trash it," she glances at Knowlton, "Unless you can get us one? Would that be covered int he support you're offering us? And... you said the Belishu tunnels were abandoned.. can we block them up? Has that ever been done?"

[Ladorak]

'That's not right... A waterfront with a thin Gauntlet and no Uratha. It should be swarming...' He could think of two explanations, neither of them good. 'If something scared the Beshilu away we shouldn't attract any attention to ourselves when we arrive. In fact in the Waterfront area we should appear to be nothing more than the best band to come to that town in decades. At least until we're sure there's no eyes on us. I'd say the same about the rest of the town, but there's no time to waste...' He stopped to regard each of his friends, assessing their capacity and resolve through predator's eyes 'That means leaving our backs exposed to potential danger to focus on the crisis. We cull the Rats in New Bedford and then see what can be done in Dartmouth, as horrible as Captain Drips sounds it's not the worst thing that could come through if we leave the Beshilu alone.
'This plan is not without risk, but this is the one I suggest. We swing wide of Dartmouth, come into New Bedford from the east, quietly set up in the waterfront, start running scouting runs into the north of the city.' He turned his attention to Knowlton 'If we're hunting Beshilu on unfamiliar ground we'll need gasoline, a lot of it.'

[Bennosuke]

Knowlton nods his head at Solomon’s words. He says in calm confident drawl, “Your boy is right. Taking to the waters is likely more trouble than it’s worth, though if you want, I will try to arrange a boat for you. But Brockton is land locked, which means you will have to swing well around New Bedford to get to the Southern Cape to get a boat to swing back. And that leaves the question of what you do with your car and any equipment you have, where you would dock the boat, and if any of you can even drive one.”

If we're hunting Beshilu on unfamiliar ground we'll need gasoline, a lot of it.'

Yellowed teeth show behind a rueful grin and Knowlton responds, “I like the sound of that. I think something can be arranged. Gas happens to be quiet cheap in these parts. We can probably get you some drums, you will just have to be careful with it. Something we can figure out when you get to needing it.”

[tonberryking]

Juno's eyes slide from Solomon to Knowlton, processing what's been said. She hates to leave Bear in the lurch so suddenly, but... "I won't brook any rats in my kitchen," is spoken with some dire finality.

"I think we'll still need a boat for the future though; better to ask for one now than when we get into a lurch of some kind and don't have the ability to it it so easily.
But what about the locus? Do we just go rat hunting from out of a motel before hand or should we still risk claiming that? The fact that looters didn't go after that place but sacked the other safehouses bothers me almost as much as a Beshilu problem..."

[Erulasto]

Kara abruptly stands, and shimmies across the booth, sliding over any of her Pack between her and the freedom to stretch her legs. She tucks her gnawed-on pencil behind an ear and gives a long, groaning stretch, before stepping over to Bertha and ordering a coffee and a slice of whatever pie they've got available. Extra whip cream.

While she waits, she leans back on the counter top and grins. "We could do so much with a warehouse if we gave it a lil' love and attention. Think of it like a big, old loft. We'd have a place to park, a place to rehearse, sleep and maybe we could...y'know...fortify it or something? I'm not saying I don't like the idea of a boat. But....I can't help but think there could be some..y'know...truth to the whole saying: rats abandoning a sinking ship." Kara sighs dreamily, and crosses her arms over her chest in a relaxed pose.

"Are we really planning on going in guns blazing? So to speak. If I had to guess....hmm....plague-spirits'll be hanging around the hospital. Unless this story has some patented M Night Shyamalan 'what a twist' moments coming, it's the most thematically appropriate place. What, with the exploding-face-full-of-mucus type epidemic."

Suddenly, Kara stills rather abruptly and turns to Knowlton with a scowl. Solomon had struck a chord in her mind, and she was grasping for something tangible.

"Have any of your fuzzballs actually seen any rats around the water since the Harbor Wolves went AWOL?" She shakes her head, and pulls the pencil from behind her ear and makes a few more notes in her little book. "Since...y'know...like Solo said, their tunnels are mostly empty? Rats abandoning a sinking ship analogy? Helllloooo? If they know something a lot squickier is coming, then maybe they're finding safer ground? Why would they invest the time in offing our missing Pack if they were just gonna move onto safer ground? I dunno...just talking out loud."

And just like that, Kara's manic tirade has ended and she glances towards Bertha while awaiting her pie and coffee.

[Thundercracker]

“I vote we go by boat and set up shop in the warehouse,” Blaze said, “then go poking around using it as a base.”

[Ladorak]

'Regardless of what approach we take to the city we won't need the gas for a couple of days at least. However if you could have it loaded up and ready to go please? When we know where we'll need it we'll probably want it ASAP. Your people will be willing to drive it to us in New Bedford? We could send someone to pick it up if needed, but that costs time.' He turned back toward his friends and his voice noticeably changed. With Knowlton his tone had been tightly controlled, the words clipped, he had deliberately overemphasised pleasantries like please and if you could
With his friends he was less respectful but far warmer and the formality simply disappeared 'There is one other possibility, although it tastes no better.
'The Hosts may not have abandoned the Waterfront out of fear, they could be focusing all their resources at key points elsewhere in New Bedford. Even the Meninna don't know how the Beshilu behave when there's no Uratha to hide from. They might all be gnawing one giant hole in the gauntlet, they may have split into a dozen breeding pits, they might have gathered for some blasphemous ritual. I think them being scared away is more likely, but we simply don't know enough about the insane little bastards.'

[Bennosuke]

To Kara's question, Knowlton responds, "No, very little evidence of Beshilu down by the waterfront. In fact, it's the safest area we found, that's why I figured it would be the best place for you to set up shop. The rat tunnels we found were mostly abandoned, though there were a few Nihhilim. The trouble really began as we moved inland; when we started trying to make inroads to The Harbor Wolves' main house in Dartmouth. We were overrun, first with minor spirits, then eventually with various rat Anshaga. We didn't notice anything too foreboding around the waterfront, and I have no idea why they were so concentrated inland."

[Daishain]

Bear scratches his head, "Yeah, it sounds like the waterfront approach is better, long way around or not. We avoid dealing with the masses without a fallback point, and if the waterfront is abandoned because there's something even nastier there, we'll find out about it and be dealing with it while we're still fresh."

"We can have the non Uratha with us bring the vehicles in once the warehouse is secure. They shouldn't attract attention from the spirits like we will, especially if we cause a fuss elsewhere as a distraction."

"I think we can pitch in for a boat. Couple hundred at most for a simple one, and it'l probably come in handy for later use too. Everybody can swim right? Just in case?"

[Erulasto]

Bear scratches his head, "Yeah, it sounds like the waterfront approach is better, long way around or not. We avoid dealing with the masses without a fallback point, and if the waterfront is abandoned because there's something even nastier there, we'll find out about it and be dealing with it while we're still fresh."

"We can have the non Uratha with us bring the vehicles in once the warehouse is secure. They shouldn't attract attention from the spirits like we will, especially if we cause a fuss elsewhere as a distraction."

"I think we can pitch in for a boat. Couple hundred at most for a simple one, and it'l probably come in handy for later use too. Everybody can swim right? Just in case?"

It's an unusual expression to see on Kara's face, but there it is: awkward uncertainty and a hint of a shadow of fear in her eyes.

"Oh....um....swim...yeah. I can swim. I just...eh...haven't in a while? Maybe you can like....take the boat out and I can hold down the fort? Or something? I'd sorta kinda rather stick to...well...shallow water, if I have to. The...deep stuff...gives me the heebie-jeebies." Kara is caught in an uncomfortable moment - a blush coloring her cheeks at having to admit a weakness, and a bit pale or green around the gills at the thought of being on the open water.
The thought bringing with it tenuous and quixotic figments of the half-remembered dreams that had begun to worm their way into her mind only days ago, before they had begun to make their way to their new....home.

She huffs, and turns away from the small gathering of Knowlton and her Pack. Kara scoops up the pie and shoves it in her mouth with an uneasy scowl.