Between Bleeds Well and Nathaniel, Emily's hackles are rising. she pulls herself up, a low growl rumbling. "Hey, new guy? Don't go slinging around accusations you don't fully understand. You know nothing about this city, or us." She rounds on Nathaniel. "And you. Will you quit it with the delusions of grandeur? Spirits are on the side of spirits and their own natures, not any of Daddy Wolf's kids. We aren't going to raise a fucking spirit army with one pack of wolves of standard reknown. You should know that by now. On top of that, you don't know what happened here. Nobody does. Not really."
The Ithaeur turns to Hector. "Chief, this can't work! What he's saying would take dozens of wolves, a rite of phenominal proportions.... Untill the Uratha return en mass? We can't pull off crap like that!"
Emily, so often laid back, stands agitatedly, looking at the pack. "Okay. it's pretty clear there are some real gaps in knowledge gaps here, and some things I've kept largely to myself for a while. So listen up, because this is fucking important before you all go bum-rushing off to wherever in this city."
For all her jokes, and playfulness, she took her role as Ritemaster and Spirit speaker dead seriously. Emily looks around the group. "Every story starts the same way. This Story is true. So here it is - In Sacramento, the Pure won." She reaches into her pocket, and pulls out her tobacco pouch, and starts rolling a cigarette. "They performed a Rite that shattered the Hisil, twisting spirits and turning them all on us. There weree several Foresaken packs in this city, and they all banded togeter to fight back. to restore the Gautlet back to what it was. they found several items of power, great fetishes powered by great spirits, and brought them together here. At this very Tur."
She licks the cigarette closed, and toys with it between her fingers. "And, they thought they had beaten back the tide! The shattered Hisil restored! And, for a few short months, they were right. And in that time, the packs relaxed. Families begain to return to their usual duties, went about their business. But something wasn't right, and the older wolves noticed. The Pure were moving for something huge and the Alphas made sure that some of their precious babies were safe." The emphasis is cold and bitter.
Date |
|
Action |
|
Roll |
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Result |
2019-10-17 07:06:22 |
|
Emily rolls 4 to Call Fire: Sta+Surv+Pur (10 Again) |
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9, 10, 10, 3, 10, 8, 10, 3 |
|
6 successes |
Emily's hand flares suddenly into a bright fire in the darkness, the palm wreathed in yellow flame flecked with blue. She lights her cigarette and waves ot the flames, taking a long drag on the cigarette anblowing a long plume of smoke out into the cool Autumnal air.
"One of those "precious babies" was sent away, and when she returned, all the packs were gone. Pure. Foresaken. Vanished. No bodies, no investigations, nothing. She combed the city, looking for signs of her pack, her father. Nothing. She was very, very alone." The voice quavers ever so slightly.
"So when you say "no wonder you need allies", remember that this city lost everything. No fucking shit we need allies, but it's been six fucking years and the only wolves that have showed up and hung around are in this damned pack." She jabs a pained nail at Nate. "When you say "Let's look for the massive battle," fucking remember that I fucking tried, for years looking for where my dad went, and this isn't some fucking Aragorn-Lord-of-the-Rings bullshit that will raise and army of lost spirit wolves to fight, because real life isn't like that!" She snaps.
The Ithaeur slouches off a few paces. "This city is my home. I'll do anything to keep it, and fix it. I'll take almost any help. But it's a broken place, way more than anywhere I ever known. So these things aren't just flick a switch and we're away, okay? I'll the best sarcastic asshole around here, but dont, just don't, make light about the packs that were here or this city, okay? Becuase that fails to respect all the High that are gone. And that's a part of our Oath right there."
Emily stalks a little way down the hill, the embers of her cigarette glowing in the darkness.
I don't fucking even with that roll, peeps.
Now, some of that story is likely a bit out - that's the flaws or oral history, folks! But Emily is sure she has it right.
Also, she's not leaving the scene, just putting some distance to simmer down herself.