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krowe

Preparations

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Curator

Friday, October 5, 2007 - 2pm

Riley sat cross-legged on a large, flat rock as he carefully inspected and reassembled the rifle. It was the fourth time he had done so today and as his familiarity with the weapon increased he personalized it a little more. It already sported a series of etched designs and glyphs meant to impress favorable Spirits. A collection of assorted beads, bones, and feathers sat at his side, waiting for their role when he applied the finishing touches. He wasn't sure that such a weapon could be Dedicated, let alone contain a Spirit, but if he ever decided to try either the more meticulous work would already be done. As he finished attaching the accessory rail, the last necessary piece, he lifted the rifle to his shoulder and peered down the open sight. He never cared for firearms himself but he respected craftsmanship and he had to admit that those boys at Quantico sure had made a damn sexy weapon. Placing the rifle into the foam embrace of its form-fitting case, he took up the scope that had come with it and gave it yet another look, running his fingers over the stylized depictions of eagles, owls, and vipers... symbols of the keen senses and enhanced capability that the device provided. Meeting his approval, he placed it alongside the rifle, moving next to the cylindrical suppressor. He sat it in his lap and reached for one of his tools, elaborating on some symbols for quiet, concealment, and stealth that he had begun to carve into its surface on the last pass. He cocked his head to one side, sticking his tongue out a bit as he often did whenever he was being artistic. When he was satisfied, he sat it inside the case with its companions and took up the rifle once again. He selected a black feather, a few beads, and strung them on a thin strip of leather before fixing the simple talisman to the weapon's receiver.

He was stringing a line of teeth and beads whenever he felt something brush against him from Twilight and turned his ears towards the immaterial for a moment. The squawk of a raven. Karasu's alert. Someone was coming this way, but without a sense of urgency, it wasn't anyone the Raven Spirit felt was threatening.

Riley glanced across the rock at his assorted tools, gatherings, and weapons. There was the rifle complete with a kit of accessories and ammunition in its military issued case, a common 9mm pistol, a handful of different blades from simple pocket knives to tactical folding hunting knives and, of course, his pair of Klaives. There were his collection of tools... common screwdrivers and pliers, chisels and awls plus the necessary odds and ends to maintain his other equipment like the stones and oils for his blades or small, specialized wrenches to adjust the rifle. Then were his other Fetishes and Talens... the feathers, bones, skulls, and other decorated bits that a knowing eye would obviously realize were more than they seemed.

He wondered for a moment if he shouldn't try to pick things up so that his guests couldn't gauge what he may have at his disposal but then brushed the thought aside. Anyone coming out here looking for him was either looking for trouble, and sure to find it, or was someone who he was waiting for and would see this stuff sooner or later anyway.

He picked a can out of the pack of soda at his feet and popped it open, taking a drink and resuming his work on the rifle while he waited for his guest(s)...

Anyone who likes the idea of being that guest or guests hop on in...

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Curator

Johnny whistled softly to himself as he walked along the path, guitar case slung over one shoulder. He walked slowly, letting his eyes drink in what was around him. He was new to the area and the subtle differences to home enchanted him.

He turned the corner to where the man sat; surrounded by the paraphenalia of his craft, tools and feathers. This was the man he'd come to see.

"Riley?" he says, half-greeting, half-question.

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Curator

"That would be me."

He raised the rifle, checking to be sure that his decorations didn't obscure the sighting or interfere with any actions. He nodded and allowed himself a content smile before looking over at his visitor. A guitar... interesting.

"After Luna found me I was given the name Stolen Shadow. I am just as happy with it as Riley."

He placed the rifle back into its case and began to gather his things.

"So, if you're out here looking for me then you must have a story. What would it be? Oh, and feel free to grab a soda if you want. I hunted and trapped them myself, I promise."

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Curator

"Wily beasts those sodas. Or so I'm told," Johnny says po-faced as he sits down. "I'm good though thanks."

He carefully sets the guitar down before looking back up at Riley.

"Everyone's got a story. Of course, that don't mean that they're of any interest as a rule," he makes a half-smile. "Still, a Cahalith should be able to make his interesting."

"I'm John. Or Johnny. Luna's children sometimes call me Little Stormcloud," he adds wryly "and as you might be able to tell, I'm not from around here."

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"Not many are. I think the Elders that guard this place may even be from Canada, originally. I hear there's a pack a ways north, though, that traces their lineage back to the original native tribes of the area. I have a... friend, of sorts... near them. I may pay take the long way to this battle site and swing by to talk to them. They may have some useful information for me. Well... for us."

He stopped his packing for a moment as he considered that.

"Us? Hrm. Have to get use to that again." He glanced up, realizing he was speaking out loud, before he went back to stowing his assorted gear, "So, Johnny, you ever been in a Pack before or will this be your first time trying to play well with others?"

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He cocks his head slightly as he looks back at Riley, thinking a little. His face relaxes into a smile after a moment.

"Nah," Johnny says "First time. After I woke up I took to wandering by myself. Followed my dreams and they led me to here and now. I'm not certain why but then, us singers and dreamers are never quite certain why we do what we do. Only what we should be doing. But hey," he adds, the smile growing into a big grin "I'm a quick learner."

"What about you? Sounds like you were in one before this."

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Riley tucked the last of his belongings into a pack and slung it over his shoulder before kneeling down to pick up the rifle case and the carton of soda. He nodded at the comment.

"I have only ever been in one real Pack and, in fact, I am still in it now." He glanced over at Johnny, "There is a difference between being with a Pack and being in it. I belong to Whispering Mesa even when I am called so far from them but I will run with whoever follows me into this."

He looked around and took a deep breath of the air. He liked this place. Not the forest or the area... but this specific spot. This rock where he had spent his day. He smiled in satisfaction and starting walking towards the path that would lead back to the main campground.

"I suppose I am just more comfortable with my Auspice that most. I'd bet even some other Irraka would say that I take our habits to extremes, but I was alone for a long time." He paused, considering those memories, "Anyway, this is what I do. Sometimes I get a call or an email, sometimes a Spirit shows up and delivers a message, or sometimes my Alpha sees something in his nifty fetish-bowl and I'm off."

As they followed the path Riley inhaled deeply but quietly, wondering who else they may meet out in the woods today.

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Johnny nods as if all this makes sense and falls in besides the other man. He doesn't have much to add, so he doesn't bother, preferring to drink in the atmosphere. Its a good day and its the first time he's been here and he lets his sense of wonder roam as his feet do.

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