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Doug looks out over Washington Park and E and 16th. The Vergence of Stampinos to the south, the park and the school labled this as a good starting point off 16th or otherwise known as the Tur Line.
Doug hops out of his Hummer and marches south across E street from the parking lot. Senses open to any Loci that may be near.
Abasi arrives shortly behind doug. Studying the enviourment for hints of a locus as they waited for the other two.
Rashid steps out of Doug's car. It's been a while since he was in a vehicle besides the ratty trucks that let him hitchhike on his way to California. He steps out into the city. It's the first he's been in a proper city since he left the South Side of Chicago, since he bypassed Denver and stayed on the outskirts of Tuscon on his long winding journey south, west, and north. He grabs his rucksack from the trunk, makes the sign of the cross, and walks wordlessly with his new acquaintances. His senses are open to the hidden world.
Scott steps out of his convertible and joins the others.
OOC
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As the four wolves cross the street they find that this area of Sacramento appears to be completely normal. Unfortunately for them, that means there's not Locus for them to sense. Of course, any Locus in the middle of a street probably would have been drained dry long ago.
Everyone should roll Wits + Occult + Primal Urge - 3.
Rashid refuses to fail the way he failed in Tahoe Park. He concentrates deeply on shifting his sight and opening his mind to the spirit world.
3 successes
Scott can only guess that the others are disappointed at the lack of a locus. He wasn't expecting to find anything anyway.
Inept
failed
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Roll 3sux
Doug heads deeper into the park itself, intent to draw close to both the school and the market to the south. If anything. He will see the place, if at night.
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As they walk, Doug and Rashid both see it. A spirit in the Twilight, canine in basic form. Though it's obviously been twisted by something...just beyond the comprehension of the werewolves, the conventions of the mortal plane. The skin beneath ephemeral fur seems to constantly shift and writhe, protruding as the form twists subtly in ways that the two wolves can barely comprehend. A Magath, obviously, and it's heading North.
Tsali
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