another warmoot-y thing! [attn: ALL]

[-ix-]

Thomas watches for a moment, attention resting largely on Erich, Hector and Javed. It isn't that he isn't listening, or even looking at other people when they speak, but he's watching for reactions as much as any overt instructions or questions. Only Reese, when he offers to join Lola, gets his complete attention for a full six or seven seconds.

And then he returns his attention to Erich, who by virtue of calling this meeting gets to be the person he addresses first, but then his focus broadens to include Javed and Hector. "I'll go where you need me. Tell me where it is, and I'll be there."

[errin]

Erich isn't the only one left with his jaw hanging. That revelation takes the Alpha of Desert Oracle completely by surprise. There aren't many in thia room who've been in Denver longer than Phoebe Stavros (probably that honor (?) belongs solely to the Shadow Lord knswoman who dropped that bomb. When all is said and done, it's not that big of a surprise this had been kept from her family. They are loyal to Forgotten Questions first and forever, with only their youngest Garou offering to help from time to time.

Others are speaking, though, in the time ot takes Phoebe to recover. Plans are suggested. Someone wants to go scouting around to see what the previous tenants of this spot left locked up in the deep basement storage.

"Desert Oracle will be glad to offer whatever assistance we can, to heal scouts or discover what secrets the Umbra holds down there."

[mnemosyne]

"Forgive me," an interruption, from the Shadow Lord kinswoman. Éva stands as she speaks and is looking directly at Javed, though never precisely into his eyes. It is clear from the mood of the room and the manner in which the other Garou both look to him and take his lead that he has some rank greater than the others. Who are mostly strangers, most of whom are closer in age to her children than to Éva herself.

She has no rank. No basis from which to interrupt and yes, disagree, with the loose plans coalescing around the kernel of an idea put forth by the Silent Strider. And yet,

"But I don't believe that exploring the lowest levels is the wisest course. Whatever is down there is what they seek. Whatever is down there - warded and chained and locked down there - had power enough to invade and control the minds of the Guardians. Had power enough to send toxic flames shooting up the elevator shaft into the Sept proper.

"None of you - none of us - have been strong enough to stand against the least of them. They are stronger than any other Garou. Even ranked and known and named and deeded Garou. Something fuels that strength, and if that something is as it is, locked away, warded perhaps, in the basements of 1999 Broadway, you might well be doing their work for them if you open those locks and slip in those doors. Because you do not know what will ride your skin in the aftermath, and follow you out.

"If you make it out."

--

She breathes in deeply; cuts a slanting glance that takes in the pale shadow of her hand against the table at which she was seated, before which she now stands. Exhales slowly, picks up a glass of water, and takes a sip.

Sets it down again, just so precisely on the faux wood veneer.

--

"Instead, ask yourselves: what fuels that power, and how do you disrupt whatever ritual or rite it is that gives them - such access to this spirit, this strength. What has changed from then to now, to make them stronger.

"Perhaps Fentress is the key," a spare, dark-eyed glance at Lola. " - but, merely removing the key from the lock sometimes destroys the lock. For now, he is our only clear lead. Our only link, and a living link is often stronger than dead one. If you want to scout, scout his offices. Steal his files; his e-mail, his correspondence. His financial records. His trash. His grocery receipts. His datebook. The plans and permits and filings for his upcoming projects. Follow him.

"What contact does he have with them? Are there leads in any of those records that can take us back to the Beloved Horror? Some den, some base, some seat of power for which he is even partially responsible? Or is there perhaps, some new pit he is excavating that will strengthen them further? Something we can disrupt, stop, end before it is completed?

"Then, certainly the airport and 1999 Broadway and not the only sites Mr. Fentress has designed and built in the city. Perhaps there are others. Perhaps each new one strengthens the old. Like spokes in a wheel. And if you find some way to start tearing them out, the structure itself will collapse.

"That, at least, is my advice."

And then, Éva cedes the floor to someone else.

[Kenna]

The Shadow Lord Kinswoman had some good points -- and when she spoke on whatever was down in the lower levels of Cold Crescent Lola's expressive eyebrows hiked up on her forehead, and her gaze found the side of Hector's face for half of a second, watching to see how he processed this suggestion. She'd look to Javed as well, of course, and from him to Phoebe, to Erich, to Reese, to all others gathered in that room.

Reese had volunteered to come along with, smiled and stated that he was Sam's brother. Lola seemed to puff up some, like she didn't care for the idea of a partner, and she didn't smile back in return if that polite expression was turned her way. If they made eye contact her chin would jerk up, just a little, almost as though in challenge. Yeah?, it would say, Who the fuck is Sam anyway?

But at least the Shadow Lord Kinswoman who was running this affair agreed that Fentress would be important. However, she didn't think that he ought to be killed. She figured that he should be scouted instead-- his information dug through, files searched, emails read... The Uktena drummed her fingertips on the knee of her jeans and scowled.

"Fine. We don't kill him yet. But I think we should detain him, at least. Interrogate him for what he knows. Hold him, keep him from fuckin' around with anything. What if he's actually smart enough to figure out when someone's been poking through his shit, 'eh? What if he can release a torrent of bullshit from the Airport catacombs? The city'd go to a mess, and we'd have to either let it or we'd have to leave Cold Crescent exposed again while we're trying to clean it up. Or, alternately, shift manpower away from Forgotten Questions, and then we're leaving the real Caern exposed.

"We keep him still, keep him from dicking around and changing or releasing anything. And we can dig through his data then, instead of letting the guy roam about free to continue his dirty work while we snoop and hope we don't get caught."

[CourtCat]

"If it's in his emails," Reese says with a smirk at that expression, that chip on a kinswoman's shoulder - it's not foreign to him, no, or even completely unexpected - but that confident aura around him doesn't falter as he jerks a thumb between himself and Sam next to him, "we can find it. And if it's on his hard drive, the only thing that makes it harder to get is having to retrieve the physical thing. I'm not a shoot first kind of guy. Nor am I an interrogator. I'll leave that to someone who wants to do that kind of damage."

He's not a shoot first kind of guy unless he's being paid for the job, but it's been a long time since that was his gig. Same with interrogation.

[Samael]

Keisha has been listening since she spoke up and suggested that the ley lines and other aspects be looked at to determine how to break the ritual, and she nods a little at Eva's words. "I agree with that," she says, rising again. "The ritual is the source of their strength; it seems to pretty clearly be the thing that has been giving them their strength. It ties them to Dragon and it obviously doesn't seem to be just in the manner of a pack bound to a totem. We've been looking at ways to figure out its source and what can be done to break the connection."

She looks to her packsisters, then back around. "We just got done talking to Fern and I think we got some information to go off of. I'm sure we would be happy for any additional help or insight."

She turns her attention back to Eva. "When you were doing research, did you happen to get full blueprints for either here or the airport? I'd like to take a look at them if we have them, do some research and see if there are any clues in the way everything was laid out."

[kai]

[I'm going to ask that this thread be wrapped up before next Monday so I can start prepping for the October moot and my end-of-October ST rotation in regards to its outcome! Keep posting and solidifying ideas/plans!]

[errin]

Phoebe waits for the others to speak, for Keisha to have her question answered, before she speaks again. It's taken that long for her to fully wrap her mind around the things the kinswoman of Thunder has said. The Sept of the Cold Crescent is not the place that holds Phoebe's stronger allegiance, but she's helped out from time to time over the years. She and her pack and the rest of the Theurges of the city ran themselves ragged after the events on the top level as they tried to calm and quell and satisfy the spirits.

She knew Champion of Honor, even liked him, and anyone who met him and says they didn't is a liar.

She has lived on the south side of Denver for all of her life. Her family has been here for a few generations. The Stavroses are known by nearly everyone who has lived here for any length of time, by name at least if not closely.

The revelation that the city sept's building was constructed above a place of the Wyrm is quite the shock, particularly for a Theurge. Her response before was no less true for all that it was automatic.

But she processes that shock, and when there is a lull she says in to that brief quiet, "There's a simpler solution, and that's asking the Warder himself. He's still there, he would know, and with all the others allegedly involved being dealt with by Forgotten Questions, it's possible he won't be as resistant to questions as before. Or," she says, her mouth taking on a wry quirk, "he'll be more resistant. But I'd rather face an angry Warder than go wandering around where the Wyrm once and may still dwell and risk stumbling across an incarna of the Dragon itself." Especially her with her unique draw to the spirits.

[Samael]

The Strider turns his attention to Eva when she speaks up, that one good eye focusing fully on her while the other one...well, does what completely clouded-over eyes do and sits there uselessly. His arms are crossed over his chest as he sits there next to his packmate, taking in the Shadow Lord kin's words with a calm expression that is, perhaps, surprisingly discerning when you consider the impediments to his senses. He turns his head to Avery a moment when Eva stops and takes a sip of her water, perhaps finding a level of solidarity in setting eyes on his packmate who, while he recognizes her face no less than anyone else in the room, he feels a recognition deeper than any that visual acuity can bring. It's the connection of pack.

He is quiet, considering Eva's words when Keisha speaks up and Phoebe after. Once the Fury is done, his voice rumbles to life again.

"Asking Warning Threshold-rhya would be a wise choice. The leaders of Cold Crescent have not been forthcoming, and perhaps considering the context of what Miss Illeshazy has brought to our attention, there is a level of that which could be understood."

He does not say condoned, but neither is his considerable rage spiked; it emanates at the same level, years of careful control and his ingrained sense of honor and duty keeping it in check as he looks around. His tone is without judgment because it is not his place to judge his superiors; he is no Philodox, but an Ahroun, and his thoughts run entirely to the tactical. "My point is that they have not been dishonest, and with this new information presented it may be time for us to get an answer. As the duty falls more upon us to maintain order and responsibilities at Cold Crescent, that does include security and there is not a scenario in which awareness of what may or may not lie beneath the Sept is not a security matter."

He turns his singular gaze to Eva again. "You are correct that there is risk in securing the underground levels, Miss Illeshazy. This is a risk that can, with hope, be minimized if we do ask Warning Threshold-rhya and he is forthcoming. However, I would dispute some of your conclusions regarding the Guardians. If whatever is down there--be it Dragon or something else--was simply able to invade our minds or those of the Guardians, it would have done so well before now. It was only after Champion of Honor was abducted and something was done to him to turn him into a Trojan Horse, presumably by the Beloved Horror, that he became open to something. That something may have been what is in the basement, or it may have been something which was already implanted in him during his abduction.

"I agree that care should be taken," he adds. "We should certainly not send a large group down; this would be a reconnaisance mission, not a mission to search and destroy. If we take care and if--Gaia willing--we learn some semblance of the protections, bindings and whatever else may in place so that we do not set them off, then it should be done."

He gestures to Reese and Lola then. "And of course we may also look into Fentress, as well. And the ritual, and other aspects. We are many Garou, many kinfolk, more than one pack. And I do not believe that this is a situation that merits just a single approach"

[kai]

As at the previous warmoot, Miss Avery Chase is quiet for the vast majority of the discussion. She sips her tea, occasionally dunking a bit of shortbread into the Earl Grey before taking small, tidy bites. Like the other Silver Fang in the room, she all but gleams. It isn't just the strength of her purity, it's the quality of it; the Silver Fangs do have something, don't they? Something bright and effervescent, as though they come closer than any other creature, even among their own kind, to some Platonic ideal of savage royalty. She is impossible to completely ignore, even in her silence.

Javed sits on the arm of the heavy, soft armchair Avery commandeered for herself, his form held higher than her own, his rank higher than her own, but there is a sense of at least some equality between the two of them. She holds her tongue while he speaks; he casts glances to gauge her reactions to things. Noticably, there's no point when one or the other's eyes go far away, vaguely unfocused, the subtle but telltale sign that packmates are speaking to one another through their totem spirit's voice.

Even when, as Eva tells them that 1999 Broadway has 2 hidden levels,

that there may be some kind of attraction or gateway there to utter horrors,

that the Beloved Horror wants it back,

Avery's teacup rattles slightly, china against china, as she sets it back down on the saucer. Her eyes are not widened, but are unblinking, focused intently on the Shadow Lord kinswoman. Avery has gone very still, very silent, and this is the reaction that Javed catches on her face when he looks at her. The tenor of his voice, low and firm, seems to calm her a bit, as she turns to set the cup and saucer on the end table beside her, dusting crumbs from her fingertips with a small napkin. She breathes deeply but silently.

And, as this is a warmoot, ideas and plans and questions begin instantly: getting to the lower levels, the rituals that the Beloved Horror is known for, getting backup for sneaking around the lower levels. Javed volunteers the two of them to go with Celduin as well, and Avery merely nods. There's a small frown that passes over her face as Lola and Eva talk about the architect, the airport, and avoiding the lower levels, but it does, in fact, pass. She turns to look up at Javed, who (as he does frequently enough to have made her want to pack with him almost immediately upon meeting him) speaks with both boldness and clarity. For the first time since her round of greetings to various friends and respected allies in the room, Avery wears a small smile. She speaks up for the first time as well, addressing the room and not a specific person within it:

"If I may." Of course she may. The calm in her voice twines with the gravity of it, a sound that feels like a gentle, heavy hand on one's shoulder, giving the sense of solidarity that goes beyond whatever words fill the space of that sound. It is compelling, and it is also strangely comforting.

"It is possible that the architect is unaware of what he has wrought." She doesn't ask them if they think this is possible. She doesn't say 'might'. She does not say this as a musing-aloud; she says it as a reminder. And before there is room to insist that he must know what he's building: "As I sincerely believe Champion of Honor-yuf,"

for he was yuf to her, after his death,

"was unaware of what he did. As I trust the Guardians were unaware of what they were doing. There were other influences, powerful ones, beyond their knowledge or control, and even our own kind have rites and gifts to compel action from both mind and body, enemy or friend."

She leans back in her chair a bit. "I recommend that any investigation into the architect begins with confirming or discounting such influences as they may be acting on him. Doing so may provide alternate avenues besides espionage, kidnapping, interrogation, and assassination, all of which hold the risk of reprisal not just from the architect but any mortal or supernatural allies he may have."