Title: Priority Visits
Description: Tag: Open
Tyler Tal - December 4, 2010 04:26 PM (GMT)
First impressions are important. They always have been and in Ty’s mind always will be. It was hard to shake off a bad first impression, on the opposite side it was fairly easy to make a good first impression if you knew what you were doing. It was for this reason that Ty had spent a good hour and a half making sure he looked good before heading out to High Ears. It just wouldn’t do to show up looking like a bum in his mind, sure he wasn’t rich, but just because you didn’t have a lot of money didn’t mean you had to look like you were poor and homeless and unclean.
After he had gotten off the bus in LA, his first stop was to see his brother. As he walked through the street’s of South Central with his few bags, he had given most of what he didn’t need away to others at the Sept of the Sweet Bounty before leaving. Not because he was the most generous man in the world, but just because it wasn’t particularly valuable to him and he didn’t know how much space he would have living with his brother, so getting rid of the unnecessary things made things easier. He mostly kept his clothing and that’s what was in his bags, in general. But right now, he was particularly glad he kept his weapons, and more importantly had a pistol holstered in a shoulder holster right now, since as he walked through the streets he didn’t have to be a Garou to sense the potential danger. This wasn’t some fancy neighborhood, being armed was a small comfort for him, as a result. Not that he wanted to use any weapon on his first day, but it was a comfort to have it close and accessible.
So after a love-filled reunion with plenty of hugs and talk as they caught up, Tyler was busy preparing for his visit to High Ears. You had to have priorities and for him, meeting the locals and finding out what his future as a Garou in the area would entail, was one of them. He didn’t go through the trouble of earning renown back at Anaheim just to desert the Garou Nation now. After a promise to finish catching up with his brother later on, and an hour and a half spent in front of a mirror making sure he looked as nicely groomed as possible, he was out the door and on his way.
He walked the distance to High Ears, not because he wasn’t aware of the potential danger that might be waiting along the path, but because he just didn’t have enough money to pay for a taxi and didn’t yet know the bus schedules. Despite looking fairly out of the place on the streets he walked on, he took it step by step. Ty dressed in the makings of a suit. More specifically he wore a suit jacket (basic black), suit pants (basic black), and a white button-down shirt. No tie. His hair had been neatly combed back and though it couldn’t seen, he carried a Smith and Wesson 9mm in a shoulder holster and pocket knife on him, just to be safe.
Ty arrived at High Ears without a problem, and after making his way past the large gate, he was knocking hard on the door. The doors looked too heavy for any light little knock to be heard on the other-side. He had to wonder just what would be waiting on the other side. Every Sept was different after-all, maybe he would be met by a Kinfolk…that would be a change of pace, but it would certainly be in the realm of possibilities in his mind. Would this Sept be of the more traditional type? Or would it instead follow the Random Interrupts more democratic setup? There would too many possibilities for him to even hope to guess at just how High Ears would be and how welcome he would be here. Needless to say all of the possibilities and potential variables that could change how he was greeted went through his mind. He just really hoped that this Sept didn’t have any issues with his sudden announcement that he was going to be moving into their territory.
NPC - December 7, 2010 04:52 AM (GMT)
"One bourbon, one scotch, one beer," Jorge intoned solemnly to the dark-skinned teenager sitting behind the front desk in the entryway of the caern. Cocoa laughed, kicking her feet up on the desk and leaning back as the ragabash hefted the three bottles he'd brought out with him. "Now watch carefully. You're the one who wanted to learn to throw knives, you have to learn about balance first. Right? Right. So watch." He flipped the smallest bottle, the beer, into the air, catching it by the neck. The no-moon did the same with the bourbon bottle and then the scotch.
She had to admit, Jorge could put on a good show. The bottles flipped and whirled over his head, frequently seeming to fly out of his control. The ragabash snatched them back with his trademark flair, changing their arcs, reversing their directions, sending them up without a flip, spinning them on their sides. Cocoa waited for him to cool it with the tricks before removing her feet from the table and leaning her elbows on it instead.
"It's a cool trick, but I still don't see how it's gonna teach me anything about knife throwing," she jested back to him, meeting his raised eyebrow with one of her own. "Yeah, yeah, balance, I get that, but uh...you're the one who's juggling." She tipped back in the seat again, folding her hands behind her head. "Am I supposed to be checking out that fine wrist action or something?"
"Yeah, actually," Jorge answered, laughing as he put an extra spin on each bottle. "I'm demonstrating fine motor control, dammit. Be impressed." She joined him in chuckling, casting a look over to the monitors as she thought of a good response. The well-dressed guy walking up along the sidewalk matched the description that Strangelove had appended to the email that had hit Tori's inbox not so long ago.
"I think we've got a freshie coming in," the teenager said, sitting up straight again and putting a hand on the shotgun behind the desk. "Uh...they might not be down with a Gatekeeper who's a clown. I'm just sayin'." Jorge shot her a look, catching the bottles one by one and setting them on the desk.
"And just how do you know? Our Fearless Leader is a magician. Ritemaster's a pool shark. Warder's...uh...anyway, you get my point. We're impressive," Jorge jibed back, ambling over to the door and opening it a crack. "Are you ready?" He glanced to her, getting a nod rather than a verbal acknowledgement, then stepped back, bringing the door with him. "Bienvenido a The Night Owl, mi amigo!" the no-moon announced in his best 'three caballeros' voice.
Tyler Tal - December 7, 2010 04:31 PM (GMT)
"Bienvenido a The Night Owl, mi amigo!"
The greeting was quite far from what he was expecting. The man who had opened the door, looked like he knew how to dress from what Ty could tell on first sight. He was taken aback by the Spanish greeting though. He realized almost immediately that he should have expected them to speak Spanish, what with the proximity to the Mexican border, it should have been expected and he should have taken the time to actually learn a few basic words in Spanish. Of course what should have been done wasn’t what actually was done.
Instead of knowing for sure what the man had said, he was left to guess at it’s meaning. The tone was friendly, at least it seemed that way to him. So it wasn’t hard to figure that he was probably just greeted and welcomed to The Night Owl. It helped that he had seen a few movies with Spanish spoken in them and been around a few people who did speak Spanish. But even with that he couldn’t be sure that was what had been said, of course, but all of the evidence suggested it was. So after a moment or two spent without his saying anything as he pieced together what was said, he finally did react to the greeting with a smile and little bow of his head that could have easily been mistaken for a just an exaggerated nod. “Hello, hello. I’m Tyler…call me Ty, but I guess you already know that?”
Even though he thought he had just been welcomed, he didn’t immediately go to enter. Instead he looked around the inside as much as he could. It wasn’t done secretively. He wanted an idea at what was inside. Not that he doubted it was a Gaian Sept still, but you could never be too careful, not when you didn’t know the city in the slightest. The young Philodox had no intention of walking into an ambush if this Sept had been lost. He could walk into an ambush later, not when he had just arrived.
The first sight that greeted him as he looked around was a girl…probably a few years younger than him at his best guess, but not a little child either. She looked stiff and ready, he couldn’t tell from first sight whether that meant she was ready to kill him at a wrong move or run away instead. But she looked ready, that much was clear. Ready for what? That was the bigger question. Given what was the greeting that he thought he received, it seemed like they knew who he was, so maybe this was just extra precautions? If that was the case, he had to wonder whether it was a good for him to be coming here and living just a few minutes away. After all, extra precautions weren’t taken without reason…so he took it to mean that things were tense here for a reason. What that reason was though, that was the question.
NPC - December 9, 2010 05:01 AM (GMT)
"We got your message," Jorge answered the philodox's question. "So we've been expecting you." He waved the man through the doors, smiling approval at the other man's caution. So many of their visitors just blundered on up, expecting them to be Gaian on pure blind faith. It was lucky for them that Danny consistently slipped the Wyrm's searching grasp. "Please, come in. Just have a couple of questions for you and then you can come...all the way in."
As he spoke to the man before him, he signalled his fellow Bright Sider, drawing Jon closer to the wall to expand his senses in search of any taint on the new arrival. The theurge's abilities in this arena were well regarded for a reason. Within seconds he had his answer-that nothing noteable trailed after the half-moon and he could be allowed within the sanctum of the sept. "You're coming up clean, Tyler, so feel free to come in."
The moment he spoke those words, Cocoa leaned back in her seat, relaxed as could be. As unlikely as it was for the Wyrm's forces to rampage up to the front door, stranger things had happened. She'd heard the story of the Opening of the Caern enough times to know that the leeches the Wyrm had called down on them had tried that route-hence the very sturdy main doors. "I'm going to get a coke," she announced to her compatriot, certain that Jorge, of all people, could handle a single newbie on his own. "Want me to get him a handholder?"
Jorge rolled his eyes a little at the Bone Gnawers slang. "Yeah, Rick's in there sucking back my best Woodford reserve. Tell his royal Don-Draperness to perk up and come and meet one of the family." He cocked a smirk at Tyler, stepped back and gestured for him to follow. "I'm Jorge. That was Cocoa, but she's just a Gnawer, so you can ignore her," he jested, faking a wounded sigh when the teenager flipped him off. "I'm on guard duty, so you'll be taken care of by Mr. Rick Jones, who, let me tell you, would blend RIGHT in on Mad Men."
Tyler Tal - December 9, 2010 03:15 PM (GMT)
It wasn’t until after he was told that he could come in that Ty actually did enter through the doorway. Once he did, he waited for the questions that he was told were coming. It wasn’t until after he was told he was clean and the girl…woman who had been behind the desk visibly relaxed that he did as well. Things were never good when things were tense and the best way to have things go from tense to erupting into violence was to do something sudden, surprising, and stupid. Ty wasn’t about to be shot dead for something stupid like that, so he was equally as tense as waited for the okay. He knew he was clean anyways, so he had nothing to worry about in that regard.
The young Philodox gave a nod when introductions were finally made, smiling more genuinely now that the tenseness of the earlier situation was gone. He was actually able to relax a bit now and he had to admit that Jorge seemed friendly enough. Even if there was the earlier stumbling block of language…it was a big relief for Ty that it wasn’t only Spanish that was spoken here…that would have left him more than a little bit confused and feeling more than a little bit out of place. So now that they were speaking English and the first few tense moments were passed, he was more relaxed and feeling better about this Sept in general. It would be worth further investigation to find out about just what happened, if anything, to cause them to be so tense…but that would have to wait until he found out whether this was just a one-time visit for him if he would eventually come to belong to this Sept…after all a one-time visitor didn’t need to care about why they were so tense, much less look into it.
Briefly he wondered who his Rick that was mentioned was, but since it seemed like he was going to be meeting this other person soon, he didn’t put much thought into it just yet. There was a bigger reveal than the fact that he was going to be meeting someone named Rick to apparently show him around, from the sounds of it. That bigger reveal for him, was the fact that the woman who went off for a Coke was a Bone Gnawer. Now that was strange to him, and something worth commenting on. “Good to see that the every Sept isn’t like where I’m from. Really didn’t want to have to make peace between the Gnawers and Walkers here as well.” It was said with a small laugh. It was a vaguely subtle way of boasting but it was also completely true, he was genuinely relieved to see that other Septs had better relations between the two City tribes. It never made sense to him how his own tribe and the Gnawers couldn’t get along, not when they were the only two tribes to really work within cities. It was a pet peeve of his, to see such problems within the Nation so he was more than a little bit pleased to see that wasn’t the case here.
Ty followed Jorge further in, as he was led in that direction. After that tense first encounter, he was far more relaxed and not looking for an ambush now. Maybe that wasn’t the smartest idea, but it was the case. Before, when things were so tense, there was reason to expect some ambush or surprise attack if the absolute worst was true about this Sept. Now though, there was no reason to, so he had no problem following Jorge further inside without looking first for every possible location of a potential attack. He was still looking around, but for a completely different reason now. Now it wasn’t to spot threats, now it was see the way the place looked and general state of everything. Frankly, it didn’t look like a whole lot from what he could tell. It was big and seemed nice enough but it wasn’t richly decorated for a bunch of corporate wolves or apparently for a bunch of random interrupts either. Not that he could see right now at least. That didn’t necessarily mean bad to him, but it did mean something. So far though, the biggest thing he could tell from what he had seen was that it felt relaxed, now that he wasn’t at the entrance at least.
The Mad Men comment was another one that he didn’t fully understand. He knew it was a Television show, but it wasn’t one that he had ever seen, so he couldn’t tell exactly what it meant beyond what he could gather from the commercials, which wasn’t much. It was either a show about the mob in the 50’s or corporations from what he could tell. That alone helped him form some expectation of what this Mr. Rick Jones would be like though. It wasn’t much but with what was said before about his “royal Don-Draperness” and now the reference to such a show, he was at least expecting someone in a suit and tie…and possibly fedora, probably belonging to the Wise Guys camp, from what he could guess at.
“Never saw the show myself, good to know though, I’m guessing he carries a Tommy Gun?” That would be a sight to see, if it was the case. A Garou dressing like he was from those old 50’s Gangster movies with a Tommy Gun and Fedora. Such a person would have to be in perpetual black-and-white under some curse from the Weaver he realized, just to best sell the look. It would be a terrible fate to be under such a curse, but it would be a requirement to sell the part.
Rick Jones - December 11, 2010 12:01 AM (GMT)
When summoned Rick picked up his glass polishing off it's contents in a rapid quaff. With his petite frame all that mattered after his second glass was that the scotch was old enough to buy it's own scotch. He grabbed the bottle and a second glass. He hadn't been expecting to work, but at least he was armed.
“Welcome to the Sept! Glad to see you! My name's Rick Jones and I'll be advising you on your Chiminage options. What can you do for Chiminage? Well the whole point of Chiminage is to do something nice for the Sept in general. This is going to be your new; Home, Office, Military Base, Temple, Hideout, the list goes on. So you need to show these guys and the land in general that you mean to be a good house mate. Welcome to the Real World Garou Sept addition!” he said with the zest that only a combination of scotch and ambition could provide. It's not like he actually drove himself places on official business.
“But I have good news for you! Ever since the 2009 collapse of the economy this Sept has been on the cheap. Which means that when you give'em something nice it'll be extra worthwhile.” make 'em laugh, make 'em laugh, but get paid, “Let's start with the basics. Using the list I just gave you I'll tell you some sample Chiminages. Then we'll get to know you a little better and see which ones for you.” he said with an open helpful grin that a property salesman would die for. He poured the new man a stiff drink and raised his own for a lengthy toast.
“A toast to what you must do should you wish to join our most illustrious ranks, for we are as uncommon as they come.” he didn't remember standing on the chair, but once there why leave.
“If you're going to call this place Home, you should shovel the mule shit. A week of that is degrading as fuck, but will show you're serious. A Silver Fang once bowed to do it. Money also works.” he dropped down a few bills in the Don't Punch Me Until I'm Done fund.
“If you're going to make this place an Office then provide something nice for the space itself. I for one always bring in a bottle of something new and leave it here when I go. Urrah are a crafty lot and we ain't too proud to recycle booze. Money also works.” better tip. After all wasn't your Waitress worth it?
“If you're going to use this place as you're Military Base then you gotta help with the defense. The best way to do that is to volunteer for guard duty. Now if you're an Ahroun type you're gonna want to volunteer for a lot of that shit. Me being just a defenseless Ragabash I scout and help pay for the bullets. Money also works.” more bills. Why rock a stable boat?
“If you're more a Temple fan then you'll need to speak with our Rite Master. He's the guy over there named Jon Call-Your-Shot. If you know a Rite that needs teaching you can bargain with that. Odds are you'll need to teach it to someone on the Sept, but maybe not Jon. Like the Military Base the Sept as Temple needs to be renewed with new Wisdom. I don't do much here I just try to always wear my Sunday best and live a little more.” no money. You don't pay the spirits.
“Finally if you're going to treat the Sept as your Hideout then you got to worry about a different defense. The humans are a constant threat to us and only the most Cunning of Urrah take them on. Keep the Veil from lifting is a 24/7 job now. Any volunteer work you do there will help us immensely I'm sure. Money also works.” he added dropping more cheddar with little enthusiasm. Money worked. He'd used money, but it wasn't the best method. To chase the thought away he downed the full glass in one long gulp. It was rare that he got drunk but something about talking about the Sept had made him feel reckless inside. This Ty was going to pay some Chiminage there was no doubt of that, no challenge in that. No, the game here was could he sell Ty the perfect Chiminage? The one that fit him like a glove and made both him and the Sept better. Made all three of them closer. And could he do it drunk? He did so love Ragabash training.
He finally sat. “Now that I'm done my little opening speech, why don't you tell me a little about yourself and what you might like to do for us? What's your rank, breed, auspice, tribe, and human occupation? Oh and do you have a preference on the options I mentioned? I'm willing to customize an order especially if you have a rare or valuable resource you'd like to share. But I have to tell you most people pick from the basic packages.” he added earnestly. It never paid to work too hard.
Tyler Tal - December 11, 2010 02:11 AM (GMT)
The way Mr. Rick Jones showed up and immediately started giving a speech the likes of which he would have expected to hear had he been appearing on a game show…well, it was more than a little bit different than what he had been expecting. Ty was expecting some big guy in a 50’s style suit and fedora, carrying a Tommy Gun who’s role was to warn the newcomer to not try and screw them over in any way. He was also expecting said large man to be in perpetual black and white due to some Weaver curse…with a cigar and a bad accent. Okay, so his expectation was far fetched to begin with. But what he was greeted with instead? Well suffice it to say, it was a huge difference, just in build alone. Not even including the fact that Mr. Rick Jones was drunk, at least Ty hoped he was drunk and not like this all the time.
Ty suddenly had the impression that he was dealing with a used car salesman as Mr. Rick Jones continued on with his speech. The words were fast and furious, if he wasn’t such a good listener they would have probably gone completely over his head. But in his view, a good Philodox had to be a good listener, so he made a point of becoming a good listener. It was useful in almost all situations in his experiences. And right now, he was more than a little bit grateful for having had those experiences and learned that lesson. The drink he was given, well he took it but he didn’t drink it. There was just something that told him he should make it a point of remaining completely sober about the way this Mr. Rick Jones was.
As far as first impressions go, when you’re immediately met with a tenseness that makes you feel like you're about to be shot…and then a little bit later met with what seems like the absolutely slimiest used car salesmen around, well one more strike and Ty would be out. Gone. Exit stage left. One more bad sign and it was safe to say Ty would leave the same way he came in, fully prepared to never return. At least that was his thought for all of the next minute or two. Until a nagging memory returned to the surface and told him that if the Sept was dealing with a drunken used car salesman like this Mr. Rick Jones and tense to newcomers in the way he was greeted, it was a safe bet they could use a Philodox with some ambition to at least try and get them less…slimy and hesitant feeling, for the good of the Garou Nation as a whole.
Of course, along with that memory came the realization that just maybe Mr. Rick Jones didn’t completely embody the rest of the Sept and he just might be an oddball of sorts within the Sept. Which if that was the case, would give him some hope for the rest of the Sept and leave him less inclined to leave. Along with this thought came the question of why Mr. Rick Jones was so apparently drunk right now? That thought brought the most obvious answer to his mind that he was probably not expecting to have to do anything remotely considered work…which if such was the case, would make Ty feel more than a little bad about the situation, given that it would have been his fault for the other man having to work on a day off.
He was too lost in his thoughts to immediately notice that Rick got up on the chair. Once he did well, Ty set the glass down on the nearest table, figuring that he probably wasn’t being watched at that second and wouldn’t have to carry the drink with him that way. Especially since he didn’t have the slightest intention of drinking it, now when he was dealing with someone as apparently slimy as Rick was. Had he not come off seeming like the quickest talking, least trustworthy Glass Walker, Ty had ever met, Ty just might have had that drink. But Rick did come off sounding like the quickest talking, least trustworthy Glass Walker Ty had ever met, so the drink was discreetly set down without a word.
As Rick continued to talk, Ty listened quietly. He wasn’t about to interrupt such a well-prepared sounding speech, not when it was so very informative and entertaining. When the money was thrown down, well he couldn’t help but glance at it. Being fairly poor, money was a rare commodity. Fortunately he had enough restraint not to dive after it like a starving dog with the smallest modicum of food. But he couldn’t say that the thought didn’t come to him, to do just that. He didn’t follow it though.
…After the speech was done, and the questions asked, well the first thing Ty did was take a seat himself. Not because he had been standing for some long period of time or walking for a similarly long period of time. No, he took a seat because it just felt awkward to be standing as he answered the clearly drunken Rick’s questions and looking down at him in a very literal fashion. Sitting down himself removed that feeling of awkwardness to it for him.
“Well…I don’t have a job right now, only just moved in…earlier today. As for my tribe, I’m a Walker myself, a Cliath and a Philodox. Far as the rest goes, don’t know that I necessarily will want to join this Sept yet. Not until I know that I’d not feel like a complete outsider will I really be willing…so why don’t you stop with the soft sell crap and tell me more about this city? Like I said, I only just got here and don’t know anything more than that the neighborhood my brother’s apartment is in, seems to be gang central for the humans.” So it was a bit less diplomatic than he normally was, but hell this Mr. Rick Jones was drunk, what were the odds he’d even have taken in a single word that Ty just said much less remember it the next day? Slim at best was his guess, and that meant his usual polite manner wasn’t necessary. Besides, he was somewhat annoyed (or perhaps indignant was the better word) to be treated like some no-nothing cub…even if he was just a Cliath, he knew how things went mostly and didn’t need some long winded speech about chiminage from an apparent drunk who made him feel like a dirt-poor homeless person with the way he was just casually tossing money down to the floor. That probably contributed to removing his normal politeness.
Rick Jones - December 19, 2010 07:08 AM (GMT)
It was a slap in the face. He'd spoken, he'd practically danced, all on a day off and yet Tyler just held the drink he was given. Correction the expensive drink he was given, that Rick was trying to use to symbolize Sept membership. The whole thing was an insult, but there was a rule in business. You sold to the customer you got, not the one you wanted. Rick would have loved to have someone who was ready to commit, had a sense of humor, and wasn't a Philodox. He got Tyler Tal. Nobody said being a Corporate Wolf was easy.
“Well I'm sorry to hear that Tyler.” Rick said taking the Philodox's drink and putting it to one side. “I was under the impression that you came here looking for a Sept, not to window shop. They usually only bring me in when it's time to hammer out a deal that works for everyone. Oh I'm Richard Jones, Glass Walker, Cliath, and of course Ragabash.” he added cheerfully. Afterall hadn't he just mentioned about how helpful he was.
“If you're worried about being an outsider then I wouldn't. Simply put we're a Coyote Sept so we thrive on diversity and tolerance. We don't have all that many Philodox so a man of your auspice could do well here. None the less choosing a Sept is an important decision so I won't rush you. If you'd like I can answer questions you might have about the Sept or show you around.” he said helpfully. He didn't bother feigning sobriety but he could fake affability easily enough.
“Oh and I asked about your job status because I'm a big employer of kinfolk and Garou. In fact just today I inked a deal that saw the creation of 218 kinfolk jobs. Not all of them here mind you, but work is work.” he added as an after thought.
(sorry about the delay)
Tyler Tal - December 22, 2010 05:09 AM (GMT)
The response he received for his rudeness was enough. He still may have thought that Mr. Rick Jones was a slimy fast-talking used car salesman. But the reaction to his rudeness made him feel bad about it. It was an almost instant reaction, even though he wasn’t given puppy dog eyes or pouts or harsh reactions or tears or anything of such an extreme level, he still felt bad for what he said. Ty couldn’t pinpoint exactly what caused that, but the best he could figure was that Rick had taken away the drink…such a small, insignificant gesture, but it was enough for him to feel bad about it. He felt like he had just kicked a puppy or said no to a cute child asking for a single piece of candy. It was a bad feeling, but you didn’t give in just because that. It would be even worse to give in at that point.
So despite feeling like he should apologize for what he said and ask for the drink and be merry and apparently just go with the flow and get drink with Rick, he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Besides, having a drink now would hinder his ability to be in control of himself and he had resisted peer pressure before, it was never fun, but he was able to resist it now. Even if he felt in the wrong for doing so, he wouldn’t just do that. Not before he actually found out about this Sept.
The young Philodox wasn’t particularly surprised to learn he was dealing with a Ragabash. It had to be that or a Galliard and Rick just felt less trustworthy than he expected a Galliard would. So it was no surprise to him to learn that much, although it was good to have those suspicions confirmed. If just because it meant that he was right in his first impression of Rick that he was a slimy fast-talking used car salesman. Finding out he was right about that, unfortunately didn’t set right the uneasy feeling he still had that he had kicked a puppy in being rude to Rick.
He didn’t know yet if he could trust what Rick said next. That this Sept wouldn’t make him feel like an outsider. That was how he felt at the door, although that feeling didn’t last, it did unfortunately return though while he was given that speech from Rick. Less because of the speech and more because while Rick was clearly less than sober, he wasn’t even slightly inebriated. It was hard to not feel like an outsider with this. Granted, it could have been worse, there could be more going on that made him feel like an outsider, but that wasn’t the case right now.
Of course that thought had to go and prove completely wrong, when after looking around, Ty took note of how more than one other person happened to seem to be inebriated…not quite at Rick’s level from what he could see, but it was clear that more than just Rick had been drinking. Granted he didn’t see a large mass of people like that, but there wasn’t a large mass of people period…not that he saw at any rate. It didn’t help him to feel like he belonged here though, which was a big strike against his possibly seeing what chiminage would be appropriate. But he wasn’t going to just decide that this second. There was still more to find out first. That and well…other people drinking wasn’t an issue, even if it led to problems more often than not. It was just the idea of drinking himself that he was against.
The mention that this was a Coyote Sept may as well have gone completely over Ty’s head. He was no Theurge so he didn’t really know much of what it meant. He could guess that it probably signified trickier and laughter occurred, but that wasn’t based on any sort of actual experience with Coyote’s spirit or physical, rather just on his impression of Coyote’s from folklore and myths…and mostly television. Which meant his the Coyote he was most familiar with was a walking Acme advertisement that was opposed with roadrunners and plans that were sure to fail.
Few Philodoxes was an interesting point. A big selling point as far as Ty was concerned frankly. Because it either meant one of two things to him. Either this Sept had little need of Philodoxes or more likely the fact that the Sept had few meant that more were needed. That was a big deal to him, because if it was latter it would mean that this Sept would potentially be good for him, and if it was the former, it would be absolutely not the type of Sept he would want to call home.
“You said this Sept thrives on diversity and tolerance…meaning what exactly?” It was a prudent question to him, which was why it was the first asked. But there were more things to ask about and more things to say, so he didn’t just stop after asking that one question. “What’s the situation in the city, as far as this Sept is concerned? As I said, I only just arrived earlier…so if there’s a particular area to be avoided, that would certainly be good to know as well.”
“You say there aren’t many Philodox’s here…should I take that to mean it is because there aren’t many needed here?” Of course he couldn’t help asking that question, even if he didn’t want to necessarily ask that one…he felt compelled to do so. …And then, in large because he still felt bad about before, he had to say more about the job’s that Rick had apparently provided. “Two-hundred-eighteen jobs…that’s a lot.” Some things were understatements and some things were understatements. “Do you provide a lot of those jobs for those at this Sept? Or just work in general for any tied in some way to the Nation?” His tone might not be expressing it at that exact moment, but he actually admired Rick as it stood…with the number of jobs he had created. Having lived in cities and around humans most of his life, Ty certainly understood the importance of work…more-so because he was never particularly wealthy. He didn’t particularly understand how some within the Nation could go without seeking work at all…sure, fighting for Gaia was important. But being able to support yourself and those you cared about was just as important and necessary. For both Kinfolk and Garou in his eyes.
Rick Jones - December 30, 2010 07:59 PM (GMT)
Rick blinked at the number of questions, then smiled. Questions were good. They denoted interest. He could work with interest. Maybe Mr. Stuffy-Pants might work out afterall. Still it was worth throwing in a surprise here and there.
“Ok. That's a butt load of questions, let's start with tolerance. What I mean by tolerance is that Coyote doesn't really care who you are as long as you serve Big Momma Gaia. In an extension of that, we don't really care or at least we're willing to overlook who you are provided you're willing to serve Mom and help the Sept.” he said with a grin. The Sept's overall utilitarianism had struck a cord with Rick. Sure a bunch of Sept members were slackers, but they were slackers for Gaia.
“As for the city itself, well the City Mother pack is your best bet for specifics, but I'll give you the low down. Starting off, we're in a city so the Wyrm and the Weaver are here in big numbers. It's a problem, if you're a coward, although by the look of you shoulders I doubt that you are.” he said giving the Philodox a once over that was perhaps a little inappropriate in it's length and intensity. But inappropriate was part of the Ragabash job description. No sense getting your license to trick revoked. He covered by drinking straight from the bottle. Yup I'm just a drunk, not a lecherous gay.
“Oh and stay the Fuck out of Long Beach after dark. Everything I've heard says that's a bad place to be at night.” he added providing a stern look and a quaff for emphasis.
“So as to the matter of Philodoxery. There is a lack of Philodox around. The other No-Moons will probably beat me for saying this, but we could use a Philodox around here. If you choose to stick around I might even have a good paying job for a man of your auspicious talents. I do have a tendency of providing jobs for Sept members. Just one of the many ways I help out around here. I currently have two Garou employees, but I could use a third to keep them on the straight and narrow. Well at least the narrow.” he added mischievously .
“So if you decide we're right for you, you'll have a job. But no deal from me until there's a deal for the Sept. I'm happy to make jobs for any kinfolk in the country, but jobs for Garou are for my Sept. Any other questions?”
Tyler Tal - December 31, 2010 04:23 PM (GMT)
So that’s what was meant by tolerance. Not being a Theurge, he of course, had no way of knowing for sure if that was something specific to this Sept, or if Coyote was just like that in general. Open minded towards others, as long as they did what they could to help Gaia. Of course, being a non-wyrm tainted Garou, Ty wouldn’t dream of helping any other spirit aside from Gaia. Sure, helping smaller spirits was fine, but at the end of the day it was Gaia who his allegiances really belonged to. That was why he wanted the Nation to run smoother than it was, that was why he wanted the old grudges and fights to be forgotten…because then the Nation could work the most efficiently towards Gaia’s ends. Of course, Ty didn’t say any of that. Not now at any rate. It would be bad form to start going into a lecture about the biggest problem he saw in the Nation without any prompting.
As a result, he only gave a nod of understanding…or perhaps approval, of the information that Rick had given him about Coyote. Rick’s comments about the city having a lot of Wyrm and Weaver influence…well it was almost insulting to Ty, with how obvious it was. He was a Glass Walker after all, not some hick from the middle of the country who had never been to a city. Just because the city he was from, was smaller, didn’t mean he didn’t know that about cities in general. They were havens for humans and that attracted both Weaver and Wyrm in his eyes. Both used humans and thrived on them…that was why the Glass Walkers and Bone Gnawers were around. To bring Gaia’s will into those same havens, at least in Ty’s eyes that was the general purpose of both tribes. They just went about it differently.
…If it was just the comment about his shoulders, he wouldn’t have thought anything of it. If it was just the comment that he didn’t look like a coward, he wouldn’t have thought anything of it. But the look that he received just after that comment, that made him uncomfortable. He had a sudden feeling that he wasn’t wearing nearly enough clothing. A sudden feeling of being a piece of meat, with the way that look was. It was unsettling on more than one level for the young Philodox. He just didn’t get looks like that. It wasn’t any kind of common occurrence and it wasn’t anything he was used to. Not from a male or female. Not from a Garou, Kinfolk, or Human. It was inappropriate and it made him shift in his seat, pulling his suit jacket closed as though that would help.
Had Rick not seemed drunk, Ty would have probably done something more to make it clear how inappropriate he thought such the look was. But Rick was drunk, at least as far as Ty could tell, and that meant he probably didn’t even know he had made Ty so uncomfortable, much less how inappropriate that look was. At least, in Ty’s mind. He did his best to put that look out of his mind, besides he was probably just imagining it anyways, right? That was what his experiences suggested, at least. That was what he hoped was the case at any rate.
Try as he might, he unfortunately couldn’t immediately forget that look or the feeling it left him with. As a result, he missed all but the main points of the rest of what Rick had to say. Long Beach bad after dark. Philodox needed at this Sept. Possibly good paying job offer. What that job was though, he completely missed.
Standing up, Ty started to pace in a very small line, walking back and forth, giving the appearance of being in serious thought. Really, he was trying to focus his mind and not keep seeing the way Rick had looked at him before. Focus on the reason he was here and not the feeling he had from that look. Focus on the issue at hand and not the drunken actions of this used-car salesman Ragabash. Focus on what mattered and not some look that had passed or feeling that didn’t last. “They say the law is 10% hard and fast rules and 90% interpretation. I figure the Litany is the same way. Some very few parts of it can’t be interpreted and looked at closer, they just have to be accepted for what they are. The rest are open to interpretation and searching for the real, most efficient meaning. How does this Sept treat it?” Yes, focus on something you know and something important and not something that doesn’t matter anymore.
Once he was talking, he couldn’t stop. Words flew out of his mouth fast and furious. “I heard once that there’s over a thousand laws in this country alone. A thousand. Can you imagine that? And we have only thirteen. Precious thirteen. Lucky thirteen. Seven of which should be added to or altered in some fashion. The Veil shall not be lifted. …except in emergencies. But what constitutes an emergency? Garou shall not Mate with Garou. What does mating mean? Producing a child? Any sex act? Falling in love with? Holding a monogamous relationship with? Submission to those of higher station…as long as they’re worthy of that submission. How is that decided? Maybe we need more laws or at least more specific ones. Maybe we should follow the human’s example and get a thousand laws and even more lawyers to argue the merits of them before one great Elder who’ll decide each and every one. Vague and uncertainty doesn‘t work when it comes to things that have such repercussions as the law.”
“Laws are a strange concept. No one likes them until they need their protection and no one wants to follow them, until they’ve seen them broken. Even humans are like that. Yet here we are, capable of flying off the handle at the smallest provocation and flying into a murderous rage, and yet we have less laws then humans.”
Shaking his head, Ty finally stopped pacing and sat back down. Never mind that minor crazy moment, pay no mind to what was said. Don’t think about it and just keep going with something important again. “What sort of Chiminage would be appropriate?” There it was, the question at hand. The question that said it all, he was sold. If they needed a Philodox as Rick had said, as long as he wouldn’t be a total outsider, Ty was comfortable filling that role to the best of abilities. That question said that much, even without it being said. And with his mind off of what had happened earlier, in large part due to his sudden talking of laws that worked to distract himself, he was able to focus on why he was here again.
Rick Jones - January 11, 2011 11:07 PM (GMT)
Rick observed with delight as his look turned Ty into Mr. Squrimy-Pants. It was worth the risk just to see the Philodox lose his composure. The little taunt seemed to break the Half-Moon's back because moments later he was ranting on about the Litany and the variable interpretations of the Law to End All Laws. Being a Ragabash Rick heard moral flexibility displayed in the 'dox's words. He could work with Flexible.
“Well dealing with you're law problem first. I'd say you'd be one of the people who would decide what the Law means. The first line of defense so to speak. You're also the police which my Auspice enjoys policing the most. Don't worry about it though, you seem to be a pretty even guy. You've done real well with this meeting despite the challenge of working with a drunken host. In the end you heard my words and less my mannerism a skill which will see you do well here.” he said providing the Philodox with well earned praise. If you don't play good cop sometimes, the judges will all act like criminals. “Speaking of which...”
“If I were you, I would do three things for chiminage. First I would clean out the mule pen. It needs doing and it'll prove your honorable. Respect those beneath ye and all that jazz. Second I'd go and get a good bottle of liquor for the bar. This'll showsss that you'rrr not gonna be lame, which is a wise thing to show.” he said wrangling the sentence back from drunken slurs, “Finally I'd do some guard duty shifts and maybe get a new gun for the Warder. This'll help you familiarize yourself with the Sept, show that you're glorious, and even help convince everyone to treat you like an authority figure, Law Man.” he added with a smirk. Good to his word the trails he'd described would indeed make Ty more respectable, they'd also get a shit ton done at the Sept. So far almost everybody had won out on this deal, there was just one little arrangement left to make.
“Once you're done the mule shit, and pledged to do the others you'll be a Sept member. Once that happens you should give this number a call.” he said sliding over a business card with Ashley's number on it, “It's for my personal assistant and mate. Her name is Ashley and she'll go over the details of you're new employment.” he said pouring two drinks again, this time modest ones. “To working together!” he raised in a toast hoping the other Glass Walker would follow suit.
Tyler Tal - January 15, 2011 08:49 PM (GMT)
If Ty were the more Alpha type, he might listen to and agree with compliments when he received them. If he were the more Alpha type, he might be more inclined get a big ego from the compliment. As it was though, Ty just brushed it aside as not real and ignored it. He had been called a good listener in the past, so it’s not like it was some kind of new compliment that would have taken him off guard at all. As a result, it was easy enough to ignore and move past without a second thought for him.
Instead Ty paid considerably more attention to the answer to his question. The information about chiminage, that was far more important to Ty than the compliment that he had received. Cleaning the pen, that wouldn’t be difficult. Probably not fun at all, but you had to do what you had to do and if it required cleaning out some Mule’s living space, well, he could handle that. Buying a bottle of liquor, well he wasn’t rich but he could manage that. It would be more difficult to find out what constituted a good bottle of liquor and how much such cost, it’s not likely he drank on a regular basis, so he didn’t really know what was good and what wasn’t.
Guard duty shifts, well he could manage that. Guard duty wasn’t particularly difficult to do, as long as nothing happened, which was generally the case during most guard duty shifts. It was only the ones that things happened that were difficult. But in general, guard duty was a fairly easy thing to do. It might not be his favorite activity, but he could manage it. Buying a new gun for the Warder? That may be more tricky. What sort of gun? A pistol for conceal-ability and precision? A shotgun for sheer force and brute power? A submachine gun for the unreliable and overly excessive spray and pray tactic? Maybe a rifle for more long ranged shooting? So many options, all of which were fairly expensive in his experience. Of course then there was also the legality issue. Would the Warder want a gun that could be tracked by serial numbers and had records about it? Or a gun that was less than legal and far easier to use because it was so much more difficult to track? Possibilities, possibilities, all of them flooding through his mind.
No sense trying to guess however though and not being particularly shy, he had no problem asking the questions on his mind. Even if all this seemed abit excessive for Chiminage it wasn’t too much to make him not willing to do it or feel like he was being played. So he was willing to ask his questions and make it clear that he was interested, taking the card that was offered as he did, he didn’t look at it immediately though, instead put it in his pocket. Bigger concerns had his focus now. “What constitutes good liquor? And what kind of a gun? Pistol? Shotgun? Rifle? Something legal or illegal? Something with special that’s harder to come by like a SMG? A Pistol would be the easiest to conceal, but they tend to lack the sheer power of larger weapons. However, I’m not particularly wealthy so I could only afford to get something within a budget, which would limit the quality of the weapon.” His mind was working over all the possibilities of the gun. If nothing else, his words should make it clear that he was a gun enthusiast.
By the time he was finished asking those questions the drinks were both poured. Ty didn’t even pretend to drink it or such as someone who was in less control might do. Instead he pushed the glass closer towards Rick, shaking his head as he did so. “Thank you, but I don’t drink. The offer is appreciated though. But back to what I was asking…what would be the most fitting?” What Rick had said while pouring the drinks wasn’t lost on Ty. The card he was given with the number on it was to his mate. So that look that had made him so uncomfortable earlier was either purely in his imagination or more likely the result only of the alcohol in him. More reason not to drink. Proof right there of one big reason not to drink. If he had any doubts at all about his decision not to drink, they were certainly gone now.
Rick Jones - February 1, 2011 04:58 AM (GMT)
Rick sighed inwardly. Nothing was ever easy. He'd given Ty the answer he'd been brought in to give, but instead of release, he was bombarded with still more questions. Not only was the Philodox trying to pawn the Wisdom part of his chiminage off on Rick, he was being stupid about it. A gun could be any gun. Technically a water pistol would have been appropriate, and even honorable, after all the Ragabash hadn't specified. This so incensed Rick that he was tempted to demand something illegal and high end for the gun.
But he just couldn't do it. He was planning of working with Ty so screwing him over, while gratifying in the short run, would be unprofitable in the long run. One always had to respect the bottom line, Gaia likes to stay in the black. “Any gun will be fine. Illegal weapons are preferable, but I doubt anyone would mind if the gun was legal. It's not like the people the Warder shoots get back up again to complain. As for booze, again anything will do. A 6 pack of Bud wouldn't go a miss, but you should probably reconsider before bringing in any boxed wine. Don't want the Gnawers thinking you're better then them with your fancy boxes.” he concluded with a grin.
Having decided that this meeting was at an end, Rick's whole appearance changed. He stood with surprisingly perfect posture, his face gone serious, his arms crossed over his chest. Gone was the drunken fool, and in his place was a drunken alpha male. “That is all the information you need to perform your chiminage. Part of the test is to see if you're wise enough to make decisions for yourself. It's an important skill for a Philodox to have, and one you'll need for you're new job. Aaron, the Ahroun you'll be protecting, isn't very bright, so he'll need someone to help him and the customers make wise decisions. He'll also need someone to protect him from the more subtle attacks that Wyrm might use. Aaron works in my club so it's helpful that you don't drink. Also lucky for me.” he added finishing off the glass he'd offered Ty. He let himself stumble afterwards for effect. “Well it looks like I need to take myself for a walk. The mule space is downstairs. Remember to call Ashley when you're done.” he said stepping away from the table. “Oh and welcome to High Ears.” he added gleefully, before shifting to his stray dog of a Lupus form. The suit and shoes were attuned, but the rest of the clothes weren't so the pile of mismatched fur which called itself Rick Jones, took the torn fabric in his mouth and headed out. Ty would sink or swim on his own from here.
Tyler Tal - February 3, 2011 02:38 AM (GMT)
What Rick had said at first set Ty more at ease. Any gun would work…of course choosing just the right gun would still be important. However knowing that an illegal gun was preferred was valuable information. It would make the actual weapon more expensive and probably more difficult to find, but if nothing else, it should make it more interesting. It would probably be the one aspect of the chiminage he was to do that would be actually interesting for him.
The joke about boxed wine wasn’t lost on Ty. It got a chuckle from him. Even if he thought it was intellectually or morally wrong to laugh at another tribe’s expense, it still got a chuckle from him. Finding a decent bottle of liquor would be more difficult with the reminder of Bone Gnawers. While they would certainly be capable of appreciating it, he didn’t want to alienate someone by making them think he somehow thought he was better than them when he didn’t. That made it trickier, politically at least. But he was sure he could find something. If nothing else he could always go the safe route and pick up more than one something. Specifically something for the Bone Gnawers and something for everyone else…hell the Gnawers might feel special if that was what he did.
Rick’s sudden change had the effect of putting Ty on edge once again. Whereas before he was finally a little bit comfortable, that suddenly changed with Rick’s very sudden sobering up. The way Rick stood tall over him, Ty had the sudden impression that he was dealing with someone in charge. Of course he knew logically that wasn’t the case, Rick was a Cliath like him. He might be in charge in this particular situation, Ty seriously doubted that Rick was in charge of the Sept. Still, it was effectively unnerving and made him feel uncomfortable again.
What Rick said after that sudden change wasn’t lost on Ty. He was a good listener and the change that Rick went through in states of being, from a sloppily drunken used car salesman to a sober, alpha-personality in charge type, well…that just helped to make sure he fully heard what was said. If he worked for Rick, by his understanding of what had been said, he would be babysitting an Ahroun…that could be very hazardous to his health. Unfortunately money was money and he was by no means wealthy, as such it was needed and well…beggars couldn’t be choosers. Not if he wanted enough of an income to be able to pay his brother rent, even if he didn’t have to.
Ty watched as Rick left after saying his peace. What was said replayed itself in his mind several times as he stood up afterwards. He was already out the door by the time he realized he was leaving. It wasn’t until he was on his way ‘home’, that he realized he should have asked the Warder in person what sort of weapon he would prefer. Unfortunately for him, he would feel really very foolish to turn around and do all that. On auto-pilot as he was leaving, he had apparently said good bye to the current guard at the door and made mention that he would be back with his Chiminage. He only realized this occurred due to recalling the events as best he could. It was mostly a blur thanks to his focus being on what sort of weapon.