Due to a multitude of factors, most of them related most heavily to the amount of time this has already taken, I've decided that instead of dragging this thing on to next December or however long it'll take, it's time to throw in the towel and go with a handy summary of the planned ending. All of this is free to be tweaked and adjusted according to personal character preferences.( Read more...Collapse )
It hasn't exactly been the walk in the park Cliff was expecting when he started off on this particular plan. Sure, he anticipated certain losses and setbacks- but this isn't like that.After he fled the scene of his...injury, Cliff went to ground in another quiet hiding place not far from his old place. It's the backroom of a grocery store he worked part-time at one summer and made a copy of the keys to. In better days, it made stealing from the place a cinch. Now, when he has to fumble with his left hand to get in and out, it's not quite the same.There are several exits in and out, and it's not a likely place for the leader of the insane wolves currently roaming the city to be, which makes it adequate for his needs. He hasn't told anyone what happened, not just yet.He keeps telling himself it'll heal, and the sling he's fashioned to carefully, carefully bend his dead arm into (ignore that sound of snapping, ignore the smell, ignore how it feels more like paper than skin) is there to make sure there's something to heal when it gets to that point."Fuck," he says, quietly, leaning his head back against the bare wall and closing his eyes after God knows what attempt to pour his spirit down through his arm and bring it back to miraculous life.
This part of Winnipeg doesn't exist in many other Winnipegs across the multiverse, if any.Where would anyone really need to build a warehouse right up against the edge of the Red River, so prone to flooding, and then leave it there for fifty years virtually untouched? Water damage is evident on the sides of the squat, ugly grey block of a building, huddled on the bank away from the road in this run down section of town.It's not the best place in the world for a church, you'd think, and such an empty and unguarded one at that- unguarded, if you don't count the fact that everyone who lived in this area is inside it now, black eyed and cross-legged on the floor, and the broken roads stretched over frozen water and sewer lines. And...other, quiet things, hiding in small corners and feeding.This is what the last group is slowly working their way towards, black stripes sewn, clipped, or stuck to their outer layer of clothing. This is the group composed mainly of werewolves, illustrated in ritual paint and scars.Ginger and Burns-Like-Acid hang near the center- Ginger, because that's where Threnody is (and no one else wants her that close), and Burns-Like-Acid because...well, she likes annoying Ginger."So you're her aunt?" She inquires of Threnody, a little louder than anyone around her wants her to be talking as they slip around the side of a building on the outskirts of the Wound.
People bound for the Wellington Crescent house chosen for the ritual received one of the rarer luxuries in Winnipeg lately- car travel. After a great deal of cursing, prayer, and magical help, a few cars were started and sent off in relative comfort to the brick house in one of winnipeg's 'best' neighbourhoods, if wealth is what makes a neighbourhood best.It's a diverse bunch who arrives and is set up in the wide and quiet basement, lit by a few bare electric lightbulbs with slits set in the concrete floor in twisting, complex patterns radiating from a slightly raised dais in the center of the room. Werewolves, witches, vampires, and one pretty Filipina who demurred to explain her exact nature to anyone but Lefevre."Does anyone need refreshments?" Said small vampire inquires, with some boredom, flanked by his anxious ghoul. "It's going to be a long day, don't try to tough it out."
The sun didn't come up this morning.Everyone expected it to, and maybe it did, in other places, but as the minutes ticked on they had to accept it wasn't going to here. The remarkable thing is how well the assembled defenders took it, or maybe it's the discipline that's developed lately. The sky is a blank and dark plane that seems to scrape the top of buildings, but no one's looking up to see it.Prince Lefevre remarked, when he woke up, that this just meant they could send absolutely everyone out- there are a few unexpected vampires mixed into the group now, with hoods they don't need over their heads and every possible inch of skin covered. You can't be too careful.The remaining mages and werewolves (and a few lucky humans and supersoldiers) are divided into squads and sent into the streets, moving quietly and quickly from the safehouse to various parts of the city. The newcomers from the Nexus were assigned a battered, laconic white werewolf named Rob, Betty Chen with her collection of knives, and directions to part of Portage Avenue by Jenny Juniper, who sent them off with a quick, ironic salute and a crooked smile. This part of the street isn't far from the hospital, and lined with closed small businesses and still, beige apartment blocks all built along the same pattern.Countdown to attack in an openly Bale Hound held area: not very long.
Okay, here we are, about to wrap up Ye Olde Apocalypse Plotte. I hope that with combined effort, we can get through this in between a week or two weeks.Posting order for each post is as follows, just to have that clearly available (if this doesn't work, just let me know):Post 1: Grif, Mack, Cyrille, NPC.Post 2: Ana, NPC.Post 3: Threnody, Ginger, NPC.
( and we all read the news today...Collapse )
The safehouse can be described in several ways; 'safe' isn't the one that first springs to mind. It's almost derelicit looking, with all but a handful of windows boarded over and a chainlink fence bowed under the weight of snow. The rest of the neighbourhood seems deserted, or at least quiet, and the other houses are in no better shape. Smoke trails from a leaning chimney without being dispersed by much wind to speak off, and it's intensely quiet.The only sign of life is a girl in her teens on the front step, sitting on a foam pad and warming her hands around a small lantern as she shivers even while looking like a puffy snowgirl in her winter clothing.
Session Start: Sat Jan 12 22:32:47 2008Collapse )
Cliff went and got himself a new t-shirt on the way here, which is one of the very few rooms he's bothered to have kept heated for their use. Not much, but it'll make sure a person won't become frostbitten, which is all it needs to do. It doesn't make a difference to him.Kevin is laid out on the floor with Cliff crouched next to him patiently, hands folded together as he waits for the other boy to wake up. He's sure it won't be long, though he really doesn't envy the headache the curly haired little white boy is going to have when he returns to the land of the reasonably conscious.A different person would be shaken by the latest turn of events, but Cliff's one of those people with vision. This is just a temporary setback he can easily turn around, so he's not going to worry. He has more than enough tricks up his sleeve to stay on top of things."Waaaake up, Kevin," he sing-songs, quietly, leaning over him.