Jack And The Bread Crumb Trail Of Revelations

Nobody
[How decently are we masked today.]
Dice: 8 d10 TN7 (1, 2, 3, 8, 9, 9, 9, 10) ( success x 5 )
Kali[[Something I've been forgetting to role for, like, forever.... :(  Nightmares WP roll!]]
Dice: 7 d10 TN7 (2, 3, 3, 6, 7, 7, 9) ( success x 3 )
NobodyThe lake: an urban legend now. A hoax. A scam, a bit of flimflammery, snakeoil, light it up, candle it -- let it burn out've mortal memory: that this lake was for a few moments blood and not water [Jesus rising, or something worse (Something Worse)]. The lake: pleasant, placid, peaceful -- the ducks that're left are mostly asleep and the mortal presence so dedicated to cleaning-this-up to getting-to-the-bottom has already begun to thin. These are dark nights. Let it be forgotten, hm?

There is a man standing by the water. He is of average height and average build and he doesn't look like anybody that Kali or Mercy or Cat has ever seen before (but that won't surprise them [not when he finally says Hello]). His hair is ruddy-as-a-foxes, his jaw is square, his eyes are the color of the lake and deep-set and give him an Italianate look and speaking of looks he looks as if he's been in a few fights, as if his nose has been broken a couple of times, and there's an earring in one ear and a spiked bracelet around his left arm and he looks maybe a little goth but not so goth he'd stand out and he, thanks to an expenditure of blood, is not flushed is still as pale as the moon but is actually quite passable looking, almost attractive.

He's standing by the water, right, but the knees of his dockers are dirty, like he was just kneeling in the dirt, which he was, because he was writing a message using sticks okay? Sticks broken between his fingers and laid out to spell crudely C A T.

But he's not waiting for Cat so much as keeping an eye out for the mysterious and secretive and oh yes mad and as with all mad people prophetic Malkavian (how did she think she'd recognize him? He can't use that face, not now). He's waiting for Kali, and watching for her too, an ipod earbud in one ear (the one with the earring) but the ipod not on.

It's weird now too too strange for someone to just stand by a lake without some kind of music player or thing that makes it known they're not by themselves you know it invites questions.

KaliKali might as well set up camp here at this point; this is the fourth straight night that she's made an appearace at the side of the now-infamous lake in the middle of the park.  She's given up any and all pretenses of having other reasons to be here; what's the point?  The only one she'd be lying to is herself, and she's the only person she DOESN'T lie to it suits her purposes.

It is worth noting, however, that she's gone with a very different set of attire tonight.  Instead of the flashy outfit that is designed to show off skin and make her stand out, the drug lord is clothed in a much more subtle outfit.  She's dressed in a pair of jeans and sneakers, with a plain midnight blue hoodie.  Maybe she's trying to be low-key, or maybe the rest of her clothes are at the cleaners.  To be fair the hoodie is down, so she's not going full-out with the concealment...but then again, when the hoodie is up that's pretty much the international sign of "this person is trying to be sneaky."

So what that means is, the shock of unnaturally-red hair is in full view, bouncing lightly as she tromps along toward the edge of the lake.  She seems to be in her usual snarky mood, no major paranoia, as she comes up and, noting the figure near the water, gives him a grin.

"The goose flies at midnight.  Or some such shit.  S'up, man?"

MercyScent's, there were so many of them now, trails to follow, spoor to collect, Mercy had many of these things on a variety of individuals and she was doing her best to make sense of them all. It was more humanistic thinking then she has undergone in ages, its no longer just about whats directly infront of you, its whats behind every shadow, every little sign...it has made things.....difficult.

The tree's and rocks of her home are of no comfort to her, for the first time in decades they bring no solace, no clarity. So she has come to one of the locations which is apart of the growing web, the lake, the former blood cauldron which humanity has tried to cover up...but has failed in so many ways. The eco system would not be the same for years, if not decades, even if the humans chose to forget...the animals would not.

So she slinks from the treeline, bringing the whole of the lake into view with a deep [unnecessary] breath as she surveys the area, considering, contemplating what was the next step...what was the next bit of spoor.

Her clothing never changed it seemed, her body was still covered by those same haphazard leathers and hides, the pile seeming like some bikers woman's ball gown without any of the flash or style. She spotted the man near the lake, but for now she let him be...instead she hunkered down their at the treeline and looked about...waiting. The approach of that shock of red hair has Mercy watching her for a moment...but for now she remains where she is.

Nobody[Hmm. Do I spot a Mercy?]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 6, 6, 7, 10) ( success x 4 )

NobodyMercy slinks from the tree-line; Jack's gaze sharpens, and he watches her slink, a lost shadow-thing, first because he thinks it might be Cat, then because he knows it for Mercy.

Here's Kali.

"Christ," the fox-haired man says, turning toward her with apparent relish of the casual blasphemy: "Kee-ryst." The ghost of a Texan twang. He smiles at the Ravnos, reaching one hand up to snag the ipod and take it out of his ear. His eyebrows aren't particularly mobile; they try to rise, and succeed in just going slightly a-skew, all the drama of This Face's expressions must be in the smile and in other non-verbal cues. "Let's only hope that the geese don't start. Or, if they do start, it's only the flying - " - and like that, Jack offers Kali his hand, the gesture steady and stolid and no-nonsense, a gentlemanly hello, nodding once toward the message he's left on the ground.

"Said she'll be lurking at the lake. Other than generally lurking and hoping for an interesting story, na'much, na'much." The na'much na'much has the same cadence as 'how are you?' 'fine' - that thing people say just to get the ritual greeting out of the way before digging into an actual conversation. He grins; there's some rue in his green; it touches his eyes. Then: "Are you two acquainted," and this taut question is punctuated by a tilt of his head toward the Gangrel, so not the first she, the second she.

KaliKali is not one to worry a little blasphemy.  A better way to say that is, 'It's rare that she doesn't include blasphemy in her sentences.'  She grins a little bit and shakes the offered hand without any sort of hesitation, giving him a good and solid grip.

"Cool cool," she says in response to news of potential lurking at the lake.  Jack directs her attention to the Gangrel and Kali's grin quirks upward.  "Oh yeah, we've met.  I kinda almost got her hit by a semi.  But I don't think she minded.  S'up, Chicarillo?"

She puts her middle and index finger against her brow and flicks them outward in a flippant, good-natured salute to Mercy.  The two probably can't be accurately described as friends (gee, a Gangrel and Ravnos who aren't having Girl's Nights together?  The hell you say!), but there is at least a certain level of respect from Kali to her counterpart.  She throws Mercy a wink and then looks back.

"Good that she's here, actually.  She confirmed my suspicions last night, and added to them about tenfold."  She looks over the lake again, grin flipping around in fairly short order.  It's brief though, and back to a neutral state when she looks to the Nosferatu.  "So you have the basics from the paper, right?  Well, it was all fucking blood, and there were a bunch of fuckin' blood-covered geese attacking people.  I got the kine out of here with a few well-placed gunshots, so at least the Masquerade problems are minimized.  That shit's the least of our problems, though."

She flicks a glance to Mercy again, eyeing her a moment, then back to Jack.

"We've got not one, but two Gangrel Ancients floating around here.  And I'm 99% sure that at least one of them is related to the fuckin' shit that Cat ran afoul of in the zoo.  Probably related to the whole mess in Vegas, too.  Dear fuckin' Jesus on a corn dog stick...I hope so, at any rate."

Mercy[Per+Alert Do I recognize Jacks voice?]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (3, 4, 5, 5, 5, 7) ( success x 1 )

MercyMercy remained crouched as she watched the two interact, at first she was uncertain of who they were, but when Jack's voice carried to her on the still air of the night, and Kali's voice joined Jacks in turn it became more apparent, all the more so when Kali turned to her and threw her that salute. The woman watched for a second before looking away, considering, perhaps even scowling in her customary way as she considered things.

It seemed she would not be getting in as much time to think as she had hoped.

She stood slowly and started towards the pair, her ever glacial pace meaning that the transit time might be infuriatingly slow for Kali and Jack to watch. But when she arrived she swivelled that dark gaze between the pair of unexpected compatriots and spoke in that voice of hers.

"You are here again." She said directly to Kali. "And you...." She looks at Jack. "You are far from the graveyard."
Nobody[ooc: urk, guys, it's going to be a moment, just got an imp. phonecall!]
Kali[[No prob!]]

NobodyHe looks -- and be prepared for no big surprise here -- curious at this whole 'almost got her hit by a semi' thing, but it's the idle kind of curiosity belonging to a mind that always wants to know. It's different from the specific curiosity that's on so many undead minds these past nights. Jack nods when Kali mentions the paper. He puts his hands into the pockets of his skinny jeans and the spikes on his bracelet have a dull sort of lambence the kind that is a diminishment in and of itself more an explication of tarnishment and how it occurs (a science project). "Quick," he says, of Kali's wits, of the gun-shots, of the Masquerade hastily held-together as blood boiling in a lake sought to make it lace-tatting and show something of the true face of things beneath (we're here [we're hungry] we're dangerous). Mercy is approaching, and as Jack watches her approach he can feel himself readying to speak to her as he'd ready himself to speak to a rat or a cat or a stag or an ape in the zoo or a crow.

He doesn't need to take a breath. But he does once Kali says there's been confirmation of two (joy!) Gangrel Ancients. He says: "How'd you figure?" Beat. "But I would agree with you. 100%. But I - " He pauses, frowning to himself: one can almost see the unriddling going on. He's a Nosferatu, whatever his face, and what do Nosferatu nest in besides filth and trash and shadow? Mystery and secrets and cold. "I have an idea of the shape of things. I'm reluctant to declare it now: I want to check one or two things first. Maybe you can answer a question that's been preying at me."

Here's Mercy, and he smiles at her, pulling one hand out of his pocket to rest it over his heart: "Hello. Not so far, but far enough. Have you been troubled further by the moon, Mercy?"

KaliKali throws a little smile and nod to Mercy as she comes up and declares that she's here again.  "Yeah, I do that.  Silly habit."

She looks back at Jack, head cocking to the side a little as he talks.  He asks her how she's figured this out, and if she can answer a question.  That draws an amused smile from the Ravnos and she leans back against a tree.

"Quid pro quo.  You know how this has to work.  I'm not an informational charity any more than you are, my little piccadillo.  Consider me a full fledged member RIFTA...the Ravnos Informational Free Trade Alliance.  Gimme some pay equity here, and we'll talk."

MercyJack smiles, Kali smiles, everyone is smiling...everyone save Mercy, when she arrives her features are neutral, her gaze directed and alert, her body language neutral towards friendly...but she does not smile.

Jack speaks of how far he had come from their last place of meeting, and to this she simply nods. But when the nosferatu asks her of the moon, meaning her dreams and other things besides the woman shakes her head. "The moon is silent, as it is mean't to be." She lets that hang as it was, he could inquire more...or he could let it drop.

She folds her arms over her chest as she listens to Kali speak, the woman recieving more attention perhaps then Jack as they had worked together in a sense, had seen the toothy edge of a few events that had formed something of a bond...minimal as it might be. When she speaks of being Ravnos however, the other woman's features widen in the briefest moment of surprise before she looks away.

"Nothing is free."

Nobody"Oh, but I am a library," Jack says, graciously, of his own allegiance to information and the freedom there-of. Adds, "Though a DDC number is usually helpful." Dates himself (no) a little, too, because who uses the Dewey Decimal System anymore, except the older librarians? There're even some movements to strike it from Librarian School. The 'net. The 'net's brilliant even if it is closing over those who make it their business to live in the shadows [and be unfound].

He stretches because that's the sort of thing this particular fox-haired man would do and then he slips the ipod into his back pocket takes his other hand out of his other pocket and folds himself down onto the grass and the dirt, bracing himself up with one hand, one leg tucked, the better to watch the Gangrel and the Ravnos [sister-clans, hm? Brother-clans, right] as he speaks to them. He pats the ground in a please-join-me-Gangrel-girl sort of way, though he doesn't expect her to. He's already surprised to see her lurking so close to buildings, standing so close to a pair of otherdead.

"Because I have only guesswork, please consider this free. I think our not-very-friendly friends," his fingers close on the grass, knuckles press into the dirt, his words clearly chosen carefully, "below and beneath are looking for -- " Hesitate. " -- or being drawn by a book." His brow is clouded; "A book that might just burn like fire and wants for blood. A book taken from," a certain Taqueria. "They're connected. What's under the ground and that." He shrugs: "So're the crows." He hasn't stopped frowning, in consideration, and he pulls a few wisps of grass out of the ground, contemplative: "So're the dogs."

"But damn, do I wish I knew its name. Have you met Darcy yet?"

KaliKali notes that slight widening, and she can't quite help smiling a bit.  "Is this the point where we can't be friends anymore because Mom and Dad had that nasty divorce and split up the kids?"  It's said in an altogether non-spiteful way...she's not trying to needle the Gangrel.  It's more trying to share some amusement with Mercy over the situation.

Her attention turns to Jack when he speaks, and she plays off the book.  Sure, inside she's running around like her hair is on fire screaming at the top of her lungs "GOD DAMMIT BAJA WHY DO YOU GET ME IN THESE SHIT FUCKING SITUATIONS AUUUUGGHHHHHH!" but outwardly she's cool as a cucumber.

"Really?"  She smirks, eyeing the Nosferatu.  "Tell me more about this book.  What do you know about it?"  It's got that knowing tone that suggests she has some idea what he's talking about, but she's not playing her hand yet.

"No, don't know any Darcy."
[[Manip+Subterfuge: No, I'm not freaking out about this book thing, why do you ask?]]
Dice: 8 d10 TN6 (1, 2, 4, 5, 5, 8, 10, 10) ( success x 3 )

Mercy[Manip+Subter: Ditto]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 6, 6, 9) ( success x 3 )

Nobody[What? Did you say something? Perc + Sub.]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 3, 4, 4, 5, 6, 10) ( success x 2 )

MercyMercy watches as Jack [not jack] takes a seat in the grass, reclining like they were discussing each others stock options and future plans for boat ownership. He even goes so far as to try and draw her down with his look, to have her sit instead of stand. Those dark pools that were her eyes pin the nosferatu to the ground for a moment, not in hostility, simply in awareness before moving on to Kali.

"The anger of my brothers and sisters is not mine. I have greater things to concern myself then with that....dispute." She says firmly, not taking to the levity in this particular situation. She wanted to make this very clear, and would save anything more for later.

She then turns her gaze to Jack, shaking her head when he spoke of someone named Darcy, a brief sniff given to show her obvious indifference to meeting them, or not meeting them as the case may be. But then the talk of crows, and dogs clicks in, and that at last has Mercy lowering herself into a crouch next to the Nosferatu, the feral woman leaning in and staring into the eyes that were, and were not his.

"What do you know of dogs?" She asks slowly, turning her head to the side as she drew in a deep breath through her nose, as if she were trying to glean something further than what he might simply say.

Nobody"He's newish. Winthrop's family tree. 'Winny.'" He looks around as if thinking perhaps the name of the Malkavian's idol might conjure her at least creeping out of hiding, but no. No Cat appears. "He's interested in all this, too. Very hungry."

Jack is a serious Jack. He is serious without rancor and solemn without sharpness, sitting on the grass in the muddy bank of a lake that has been visited by revelations-esque horror, grass-blades between his fingers. Kali's cucumber impression is admirable to the umpteenth degree of admirability. You could cut her into pieces and use the circles to chill your eyes and rejuvenate your skin (but don't do that please because it would be gross and she is a vampire not a cucumber to be sliced). He gives her a some-what searching look at that oh so knowing tone of voice, something rueful about the cast of This Face's mouth and the angle of his shoulders and the line of his arm, but he certainly doesn't seem to think that anything he said was a pebble dropped in a pool and poor Baja is getting mentally cursed.

"No more than what I said," says he. "Fire and blood and drawing them," he knocks the ground, knuckles it, lets the grass-blades drift away, "out and up. Be wary, please," and this is said to the Gangrel. "Because I suspect they'd try to drink you -- " He specifies. It is deliberate. " -- through the ground and re-claim their vitae." He says he suspects because he does. Of course he has a reason. Of course. But Jack is a cautious creature, even with his self-assurance, his Luck-Hangs-Over-Me. His gaze switches from Mercy, who's crouching, and returns to Kali: "Don't worry. You've my word that when I've found it out you'll know." He grins; it fits This Face.

The grin diminishes, because, what do you know of dogs? He's serious Jack, again. Serious, searching Jack, see? And Jack brings his knees up to his chest, sitting up, resting his chin there-upon. "That I prefer cats and rats, but not owls. And I'd like to better know what you know about dogs."

KaliShe takes the name in, remembers it.  Darcy.  Ventrue.  That suddenly puts a frown on her face, as if remembering something foul.  (Mainly because that's what she's doing.)

"Speaking of so-called 'High Clans,'" she says, looking between the two of them.  They are all 'Lower Clans' in the eyes of the Ventrue, the Tremere, the Toreador.  It gave them a common ground that they might not otherwise have.

"Keep an eye out for one particular citrus-flavored douche.  One of the Robed n' Chanties...Malcolm Redknapp."  She scowls a bit from her lean against the chair.  "I dunno if it's just Brujah he has an issue with or if it's all us guttersnipes...but he forced a Brujah into frenzy and then beat the shit out of him.  Probably woulda killed him if I hadn't shown up.  The Bru was an Anarch, but still...keep an eye out.  S'all I'm saying."

She's quiet a moment, then looks at Jack.  "You know anything about a supposed artifact in this area?"  Whether it's related or not isn't immediately clear from the look on her face.

MercyJack plays coy, and this has Mercy leaning in more, like a great cat coming in for a good long sniff to see if your a meal or something else entirely, a scowl twitches its way across her features when he remains mute on the subject and he might..might think for a second that she was about to bare her fangs and sprout claws in anger. But the frown/snarl does not hold and she leans back, just a bit, to give the Nosferatu his space.

Her ears here Kali, and draw in the information she has to offer, but her gaze [dark pools of unblinking ferocity] her nose [sniffing regularly] and her touch [fingers moving slowly through the grass towards Jack] are entirely fixed upon the Nosferatu.

"I know the Sabbat are after one of mine, a special breed." She says sharply as she rips up a chunk of sod with one hand. "Now....share......please." The words drip slowly from her lips, she liked Jack, as much as an animal can like someone....but it was always best to remember that feral animals liked you...and then ate you if things turned that way.

Nobody[Uh, before I say anything, is it related to this Malcolm sucker, or are you referring to an earlier point in our conversation? I'm totally socially adept! In spite of being all gross! Percept + ... Subt?]
Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 5, 6, 9, 10, 10) ( success x 4 )

Nobody[DO YOU WANT TO CHOMP ME, PRETTY MERCY? like I can't tell. ;)]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (2, 2, 2, 6, 9, 9) ( success x 3 )

Nobody
Kali frowns and if Jack thinks it's a surprising expression to see on the Ravnos's face after mention of the old guard Ventrue then he sure doesn't look like it. He looks, not unexpectedly, intrigued when she drops the name. Malcolm Redknapp. Kali can see Jack committing the name to memory, and he nods his thanks for the gossip. "Perhaps they had prior history. I hope it wasn't Ezra. Kee-ryst. Christ." Twang. Like a harp-string, or a banjo-string, an instrument to be used.

Now, Kali still holds his attention, right? His attention even sharpens, becomes quizzical when she asks about an artifact; he shakes his head. But it will be confessed that, were his attention to be illustrated in pie-graph format, that as the conversation becomes a double-headed snake of a thing, Mercy's slice of the pie would be just a little larger. This has all to do with her feral nature; all to do with what Jack believes about animals and women who are being transformed into them (from the inside [out]), and leaving pieces of themselves in the mountains.

So he gives Kali a one moment please sort-of look and stops hugging his knees to his chest. He lets them sag instead - a limber sort-of goth with burnished hair and deep-set eyes and the ghost of a Texas twang. He does this the better to make his body language open and readable by the Gangrel. The Gangrel, who wants to give in to one instinct, The Gangrel, who also doesn't wish to, and who likes Jack as well as any feral thing ever liked (and let's not pretend trust and like are anything different with the shy wild things that bite and claw) man. His forehead is creased and he says, quite deliberately, as simply as he spoke in the graveyard:

"The Sabb -- Them? Not what I expected. I know little about their dogs."

He can imagine, though. He can imagine some flesh-crafted monster of the kind spoken of during the city's winter nightmare. He can imagine it set loose and wild or lost and experimented on. He can imagine what might make it special. He can imagine a creature as between-things as Mercy saving one. He can even imagine something mad and old pricking a creature like Mercy into doing what she did. Using her. What he can't imagine is how it connects to the rest of the story. He was so certain, so sure, and with his surety rattled the Nosferatu is a touch crestfallen.

But he rallies. Jacks are universally bold, even Jack Cravens, and this Jack isn't one of those oh no. That's some other Jack's story. "But I believe I might know something about yours, if I could see it. It's like a strange new scent. You smell the new thing, it is familiar, but you do not recognize it until you find its fur. Please think about it, Mercy."

Nobodyooc: Er. I know little about their dogs.

Kali
Kali shakes her head when Jack says he hopes it wasn't Ezra...from the expression on her face, the name doesn't ring a bell.  "Johnny St. Germain.  He'll be fine."  She grins.  "Thanks to me, anyway.  Always wanted a life boon in my back pocket."

Jack is more interested in what Mercy has to say and silently asks for a moment, so she gives it with a little nod.  She listens to the two talk about gods and such, not entirely following--this isn't her interest at the moment.  But it could be, so she still listens, willingly fading back a little as she lets their conversation take center stage.

MercyA low reverberation escapes Mercy's lips, the sort of sound one expects from a bobcat or a mountain lion. But even as her eyes narrow Jack can tell that the danger is passing, and the woman rocks back on her haunches leaving Jack alone in his personal space.

"Tell me what you believe you might know...and then perhaps I shall let you see him." She counters, obviously not willing to give up something she clearly see's as her's without a very good reason to do so. "I fought hard to claim the Beast, I will not squander him on your curiousity alone."

Words...Mercy uses them this time, in a tone that was not her usual savagery, there was something mometarily cultured in the woman as she regarded Jack before her eyes narrowed once again and she scuttled a few feet back and remained their squatting as she watched them.

"They will fight soon, the ancient and the ancient gangrel...they will destroy everything in their path." She comments idly on the coming danger. "It is what predators do."

Nobody
He stays in the same open go-ahead-and-read-my-body-language position even when Mercy edges back to give him more personal space. He stays in that position when she scuttles back again, regarding him narrow-eyed and reveletory. But once she is the teensiest bit further, he picks up one of those twig-sticks he'd used to write Cat's name and breaks it into littler bits and scatters them deliberately (that word again!) on the grass.

"I would if I had words for it, friend Mercy," says he, gentle. "But I do not quite recognize what I find so familiar. I need more details. So: Only think about it. And if you decide to show it, you have my solemn word, witnessed by that one over there, that I will not try to claim the beast from you."

He feels a momentary pang of apprehension. Does he really want to see some Sabbat-fed beast? No. No he does not. But once again, this is Jack. Fortunate Jack. Jack of the Honey Voice and Jack of the Nosferatu and apprehension in Denver is common enough.

It doesn't seem as if Jack is going to push Mercy any harder on that particular subject, either. He looks as if he's going to let it drop, unless she pursues it; and his attention becomes once again a little more equally divided between Gangrel and Ravnos.

But he doesn't swing the pendulum of conversation back just yet; he's a gentleman, and he'll wait his cue.

Kali
The Ravnos hasn't moved from her spot against the tree, listening.  She lights up a cigarette out of habit, letting the two finish their conversation before she presses her earlier question that the Nosferatu asked for a moment on.

Mercy
"I will." Is the only response she gives to Jacks words.

Mercy for her part seems finished with that line of conversation as well. She seems to have fallen back, taken to regrouping and considering. It was her turn to fall silent, to allow the others to discuss something as they would. She absently reached up into the tangled mess of her dark hair and scratched at some unknown itch, but then one might well imagine the horrors nestled in the curled locks of Mercys hair.

Her gaze shifted towards the lake in that moment, a look of deep thought upon her features as she wondered.

Nobody
He nods; only that.

Then that conversational pendulum swings, like so: "A supposed artifact. Something already here, buried in the deep, or something brought in from outside -- " He sounds almost wry, but it is more edged toward rueful again " -- like a book?"

KaliHer turn again.  The Ravnos smiles as she pulls her cigarette from her lips, exhaling a long, slow drag of smoke.  She throws her gaze at Mercy for a moment, watching her curiously, before she looks back at Jack.

"Artifacts CAN be books...but no, not in this case.  Some kind of stone, or altar.  I have sources that say that such a thing--a very heretical thing--may be involved in some manner or another.  Heard anything about such an item?"

Nobody[Hmmmm. Occult?]
Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (1, 5, 6, 9, 9) ( success x 3 )
Nobody[Hmmm. Noddist Lore?]
Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (3, 7, 9, 10) ( success x 3 )

Mercy
To think that Mercy wasn't paying attention would be a mistake, though she was no longer looking at their little imprompt grouping, there was indeed a sense that the gangrel was all to aware of the words being said, of the import of the topics being discussed.

A hand reached down and absently scratched at her side and the woman huffed out a forced breath as she thought while the others spoke. Her gaze seemed to settle upon the zoo in the distance and her eyes narrowed as she started to get up her body facing it specifically.

"The zoo..." She rumbled to herself. It would make sense....it was the sort of place she would frequent when surrounded by the lights of the city, for an ancient recently risen gangrel...its cages and animals would be far more comforting then the streets of the city.

[LES PAUSE]
Legend and Myth (Joey e-mail)

An overabundance of knowledge can be a surplus. There are so many pages to search through. So many paragraphs and sometimes they all blur into one. But certain words and figures that are uttered and loom in the wings of the stage stand out, devices of plot and characters (some ancient dei and their machinations), all waiting for the cue to send Jack's fairy tale in a new and horrible direction.

But every hero must fight their dragon. Who knows? And maybe all these many dragons foretell that Jack's meant to actually finish this story triumphant.

Of course, Jack grew up hearing old German fairy tales, and few have happy endings, instead meant to scare children into behaving and keep them in their beds where the things beneath can't reach out and gobble them up.

In any case...

The altar.

The stone.

Oh, yes, Jack rifles through pages and finds that scrap that had last surfaced in... The Middle East, was it? Lebanon? Or was it on the Iberian Peninsula, during the Spanish Inquisition?

But that's not what truly gets his attention.

Add in the word heresy. These days that means trifling things like shunning and excommunication. In the past? For the kine it meant flaying and weeks on the rack before confession, ending in burnings, drownings and myriad other means of destruction. For the vampires? It was more an erasure. You talked too much about Noddist mysteries, about the First City, about Caine and the Antediluvians, and you might find yourself tucked away in the dungeons under that Ivory Tower for eternity. Disappeared. Forgotten like the nightmares the Camarilla tries to forget.

That's what draws his attention.

A heretical altar. That would make him think of Malkav. The first prophet. The first heretic.

And the Altar of Blood.

Like most things in vampiric prehistory few agree as to its origin. Some think it was just a stone.

Other myths say it was exhumed from the ground where Caine committed the first murder, slaying his brother Able, and there god's wrath was so strong it created a black stone out of that patch of scarred earth.

The most common theory as to its name's origin (cause and effect is obfuscated here) is that the Altar of Blood, also known as the Cornerstone of Enoch, Bloodstone of Caine and numerous other names, sat at the center of the temple to Caine where Malkav studied to break away from the limits of Creation and the God that damned the First Sire and all vampires after him.

And here is where we return to the dragons. After the fall of the First City, the Altar was lost in the deluge, unearthed long after the Second City fell, and after the disappearance of Malkav, by five of his childer (or grandchilder, or great-grandchilder, it is unsure and things get foggy with the lunatics). The Lernaean Quorum, the called themselves or were called. Also the Many-Headed Methuselah, the Lernaean Hydra, again, names have many meanings. They protected the stone while other ancient vampires sought it out for its unknown powers.

And here is where Jack is left, more questions created than answered, as he stands before the Ravnos and Gangrel.

Nobody

Jack doesn't answer Kali immediately after seeking clarification (a thorn [sharp]) and receiving it. He doesn't answer because he is thinking, you see. He is thinking, and he is making connections, and if he doesn't close his eyes that's because he no longer needs to shutter his lids to look at things that do not exist except as thoughts and memory and he doesn't need to shut out the world because he already has. The world is a story, don't you know, peopled by stories, and this is a story, and he is almost rapt - warily rapt - as something clicks into place. Then something else, something else just conjured up and out.

He doesn't need to breathe so there's not much chance of him choking on air, unless he's in the middle of talking or pretending to drink, but recognition of something is clear. He doesn't bother to try to hide it; there's a time to pretend you know nothing, and a time to let them know you know something, eh? Or maybe he just doesn't bother trying to hide it because what he's remembered makes him go:

Oh,

followed by,

shit.

"As it happens, yes. You wanna," he pauses, furrowing his brow at the lake, then at the ground beneath his feet, which he is no longer sitting on. He got up, "let's continue this somewhere else, huh."

Kali

Kali is not a stupid person, nor is she a poor observer of human reactions.  Granted, none of them are human anymore, but...yeah, you get the idea.  None of them are so removed that the skill doesn't still have value, either.  She watches his reaction, head cocking to the side, and then she nods a little.

"Yeah, that's fine.  The less chance of ghoul duck attacks, the better."

Mercy

Mercy's own watch is broken, her eyes slowly peeling away from the zoo itself and turning towards the others. She sniffs the air one more time as she watches them, they were talking about going elsewhere, leaving this place. She turned towards them slowly and inquired.

"Where...will you go?"

She stands there then, quiet and stalward, awaiting an answer so that she could make a decision, even if she wasnt invited.

Nobody

"Ideas, Kali?" He's a gentleman, remember? Also: "I came by bus." 

Kali

She runs through possible ideas in her head, a look of faint irritation on her face.  There's one option that stands out as the best, but she's been inviting a lot of people over there lately and it's supposed to be for her business, not her...you know.  THIS business.

God damnit.  I'm gonna have to get another apartment just to handle my secret vampire bullshit, aren't I?

She gives a faint shrug and nods, looking to Mercy.  "My apartment.  Where we took my erstwhile clanmate Baja last week."  She looks at Jack and gives him an address.  "I came by bike, so I can only carry one o-ya."

Mercy

The apartment was far, and Mercy had little interest in riding public transit, she looked at Jack, and then back at Kali before shaking her head.

"Another time perhaps." She says as she looks out in the park.

"It is to far to walk, and return to safety."

Nobody

Her erstwhile clanmate Baja last week. Hmm. He doesn't quite look as if that's setting off bells. But he's counting: one, two, three. Three is his favourite number. "Was that," and here, the sliver of a smile, although it's rather weak -- clearly, he is still thinking, and not enjoying what it is he's thinking, "before or after the accident with the semi?"

Another time perhaps, the Gangrel says. Jack raises his eyebrow at Kali in a well, there, that's settled sort of way, although his body is turned toward the Gangrel still, and he says to her, "I mean to pay a visit to the zoo soon. Will you be my partner in crime?"

And then, given any kind of answer, Jack just stands back, brushing his hands off on his already dirty dockers and giving Kali an after you sort of body-cant. 

Kali

The Ravnos actually has a moment where she looks regretful that Mercy isn't coming.  As much as they're polar opposites in almost every way, Kali kind of likes the other.  She gives a little shrug and nod though not fighting her on it.

"If you wanna show up, feel free.  S'up to you."

She looks back to Jack and smirks slightly.  "C'mon, fair knight...your chariot awaits in the parking lot."  And she heads in that direction.

Mercy

It would seem that their little gathering was at an end, two would go one way and the other...well the other would go her own way. There are questions, and their are offers given to the woman and this in of itself causes a speculative brow to rise on upon her grimy features, as if she was not entirely certain what to do about the fact that they exist, it seems as if she tries to contemplate the greater meaning of this before frowning and snorting as she turned one last time to look at the Zoo.

"I will help you." She says, and then looks at Jack to indicate who it is she is speaking too before the dark pools turn and fixate upon Kali as well the woman shaking her head.

"To far....the sun comes sooner then later." It was a statement of fact, for those who exist in the modern day, such things meant nothing, cars, motorcycles and a variety of other methods of transit made crossing large gaps of space easily. One could only imagine what someone like Mercy must have to do to reach various areas in a city in one nights time. 

She looked at them both one last time before her nose curled slightly and she turned to go. 

Nobody

"Then I will be in touch," he says, to Mercy. He doesn't say how, but trust in a Nosferatu to find a way - hm? His forehead is still furrowed, but he doesn't offer to call a cab, or anywhere nearer; his hidey holes are far-flung, far-afield from this place, and tell the truth: he likes it that way. He doesn't want to live next-door to ancients stirring in the deep, drinking the life out've things through the ground, or duck ghouls. Duck ghouls! (Ooh-woo-woo).

Then he grins at Kali, going so far as to sketch out an awkward knightly-bow (it fits This Face, too, going loose at the limbs like that, 'scapegracing poetry into Here and Now), and he heads in that direction too.

Hey, Kali. He only stinks of earth tonight, and maybe stale pastries: isn't that nice? considering.

Kali

Kali is used to scents far worse than those that Jack gets off.  To be frank, some smells time does not erase, and they stick in your memories for eternity.  Those are the kinds that allow her to tolerate the worst a Nosferatu can throw at her.  

She leads Jack on to the parking lot--go figure--where her early '80s-era Harley Softtail waits.  She climbs onto it, notably not putting a helmet on or having one TO put on.  She looks over her shoulder at him and winks.

"I'll try not to crash us, I promise."

Mercy

And at that...Mercy walks off into the evening gloom, to who knows where, and what, or whom for that matter.

Regardless...she is gone.

Nobody

Kali doesn't put on her helmet. Jack doesn't ask her for one. He doesn't seem like the kind of guy who rides motorcycles regularly, and the somewhat ginger way he perches himself behind her, apparently bony dirt-covered knees all a-jut, would seem to lend credence to that hypothesis. Or maybe it's just the way he looked at the Harley, like the whiff of 80s coming off of it is just too strong and it got into his nostrils and started buzzing around his skull like bats in a belfry singing down the moon into dark.

But he grins again, once he's astride, and says wry-but-in-jest before she revs up and out: "I'd be far more re-assured if I knew exactly how you almost got Mercy hit by a semi."

Scene change.