[Sodium_noir] A snapshot in the Night

Fri Sep 7 08:07:09 EDT 2007

Monday 27th of October

2 AM

 Beyond the Suburbs

The Bobkane river is a tributary of the Gotham River that heads inland just south of the Plaza.   It eventually winds its way south West and comes within a mile of the Football stadium (bitching about the tailback on the bridge every Sunday is a citywide obsession) before plunging into the woods that circle the National park. Early settlers used to drink from it, as did the local Amerindians, before the city spoiled its taste somewhat. 

Even today though it is a well-liked and well-stocked fishing river and its little oxbow lakes and Levees make popular day trip destinations. Within the Woods it has a long stretch of white water used by the more adventurous pleasure seekers. The Gotham Tourist committee describes it as a meandering and serene body of water.

That description is being sorely tested right now. 

The bodies, two of them, cover much more ground than is usual for their size. Having been torn asunder and liberally scattered around, the remains now decorate tress and shallows in a twenty-five foot circle. The rapids a hundred feet down river are already turning pink from the congealed blood. Little fish nibble at the clots and gibbets of flesh. 

"How long?" Asked the tall aged Garou. "The air still smells of fury and rage."

"An hour, not much more!" Brill replied. The Guardian of the bawn was much younger than the one asking the questions, but he had many more scars. His ugliness in all forms is what earned him the position. The position that kept him away from the cairn heart for long periods. The role suited his Silent Strider wanderlust and proclivities.

Brill was a park ranger, although Garou with jobs in the human world were far from unusual in Gotham. He'd found the two corpses on his way back to his range rover parked far away from the Werewolves gathering. Despite the long healed gash on his snout he had no trouble recognizing the scent of his own. Two young Garou, less than two summers since their first change. Rising stars in the Sept.

"There is no scent to follow?" The elder asking the questions was called Ion Tyrant-Heart. A Shadow Lord of much renown. "I have no doubt you would have followed any if it had been here earlier!"

Brill did not answer, he didn't need to. Shadow Lords may be arrogant but sometimes their simplicity of expression suited the Garou nation all to well. There was a degree of respect being shown in the statement. That he didn't need to question Brill's capabilities was as close to praise as the children of Grandfather Thunder ever came.

"That alone tells us something. Living things give off scent. They leave it behind whenever they touch something. Cause and effect. There is only blood and  dead Garou here, only the sweat and innards of these two pups. Whatever killed them had no scent of its own, not even in battle. It was a cold dead thing. A machine or a Spirit or ."

"A vampire!" the third voice belonged to Absalom. He had been scouting the woods for more signs. "or a pack of them to be precise. They came from the West, bringing banes and the angry dead with them!"

"The dead .." Brill snarled.

"These Leeches kill whenever they feed." Absalom stated. "They make a celebration of it, a communion with their Wyrmly masters. Worse than the pale things pretending to be human, worse than the petty Gypsy and his ilk. They are Sabbat, the worse the undead have to offer!"

"Great!" Whispered Brill peering around at the shadows. "Now I'm gonna be infested with spooks!"
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