Difference between revisions of "June 2018 Moot"

The last rays of sun streak through the sky as folks arrive at the Carson Youth Center. The back hall has been re-arranged for the moot. Folding chairs have been deployed around the lounge to augment the seating beyond the sofas and chairs that are already there. There is barbecue laid out on the snack bar along with plates and napkins, same as in March. The River Knobs must really like barbecue.

Lounging on one of the sofas are two wolves: Rage-Against-the-Machine, with his red fur and yellow band around the right leg; and, Lies-in-Wait, her lean body of gray fur somehow taking up more space. Xavier 'Scales-of-Justice' Fitzhugh paces around the lounge, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

Roz arrived almost exactly 45 minutes early for the moot, a large flipchart under one arm. The flipchart's first page is grey, revealing nothing just yet. She appears to be in a pleasant enough mood, and waves politely to those already there as well as those arriving after, whether they've met or not. For now, she's not touching the barbecue, though she does eye it interestedly.

Sandra enters in her usual business attire, though with the temperature the way that it is, the dress shirt this time around is of the sleeveless variety, the accompanying suitcoat draped over an arm adorned with an impressive scar-- and several smaller ones, some dyed a faint charcoal, some not. She holds open the door for both her packmate, and the Fenrir kin that tagged along with the both of them, wordlessly offering nods to those assembled before draping her coat of the back of a chair close to wherever 'the front' happens to be.

Bit arrives a few minutes ahead of the start time, carrying a loaf of bread from a nearby bakery as well as a good bottle of wine. Inclining his head to those already gathered, he leaves the offering of food and drink near the barbeque, then finds an out of the way place to stand.

Hina is never not in long sleeves... there are reasons for that... and as always favors black in her attire. So she is probably miserably hot. But being mysterious means never letting them see you sweat. She's certainly in thinner fabrics anyway, as far as that goes. She has two instrument cases with her... she expects to perform as part of things after the serious buisiness is concluded. But thats for after, so she sets them aside as she finds a place. Not before she inclines her head respectfully to her betters, of course. Then she places her hands together, palm against palm, fingertips against fingertips, and... waits, dark eyes attentive.

Jim does something different this time. He's still planning to be quiet at this thing, just like he was last time, but he's not in a mood to be completely invisible this time. So he's dressed up. Black stetson, white dress shirt with bolo, dark brown coat and pants, and black cowboy boots. Walking just a little stiffly, he sniffs, and wanders up to the food. He'll take a plate with many polite thank yous given, and carrying his meal, he finds a place to lean in a corner, under where he perched last time.

Darius is early but mostly behind the scenes. Along with Xavier's people he's making sure there's sufficient supplies for the BBQ. Otherwise he is patient, sitting in the far corner as befits his station and remains attentive, prepared to fetch refreshment for any who ask.

Skylar hangs near the back, as is her habit, leaving room for Pax, or perhaps a bit of pacing. She nods to Bit as the kin arrives, and scoots a bit further to make room for him, as well.

Roz is wearing, for the record, jeans that are slightly less damaged and stained by work than her usual, along with her steel-toed boots and a faded yellow Mr. T t-shirt advertising Mr. T's cereal. It's a real shirt.

Oliver's more casual than business, next to his packmate, but the white button-down with sleeves neatly rolled, dark jeans, and chelsea boots would pass muster at almost any 'casual Friday', at least. He's got his old leather satchel with him as well, hung over his shoulder, though he hangs it on the seat beside Sandra's when he reaches it. Light nods of acknowledgement to various people as he goes, and a decidedly considering look toward the food, as well. But-- not yet, perhaps.

Tacos. Because the world is powered by tacos. Mariah has arrived with Sandra and Oliver, entering the room after the later. She passes Sandra to set up the offering of street tacos, both carnitas and chicken. Despite being under-dressed in compare to Sandra, the woman acknowledges Fitzhugh and his packmates with a bow of her head that is anything but informal. She snaps her boot heels at brisk attention before stepping back to the place Oliver and Sandra have staked out. The kin looks at the seat behind their own and then to the garou in a silent question.

The red-haired wolf practically pours himself off the sofa, his paws hitting the floor one at a time before he trots out to the center of the gathering. Xavier takes his spot on the sofa next to Lies, resting a hand in her fur. Cormac stands there, in the middle of the floor, his ears perked forward and his tail up, looking at all of those gathered for a minute.

When he starts to howl, at first it's a low croon, just a single steady note that could almost slip by unheard amidst conversation if it were any other voice making it. Once the room falls silent, he proceeds, the eerie tones of his voice calling the moot to order, but more importantly reminding all of those present of all those who have gone before and will come after.

Being fair, by the time Sandra's seating herself, the top few buttons of the shirt have been taken down to show the white undershirt beneath, and it seems it's only a matter of time before it's disposed of altogether. It's *hot* out there, and there's about to be a whole lot more bodies in here. All the same, she gestures for Sonja to sit alongside the two of them rather than behind.

By the time she's settled, and the howl sounds out, her teeth are grit tight enough to make it clear behind lips that are trying not to tense into a tight line. The line of her shoulders is drawn just as tight, for a time, but it seems to settle after a moment.

As the howl brings the Moot to order, Darius seats himself briskly and comfortably. Silent and attentive, the sign of dutiful kin. He makes very quick note of the local Garou members as they arrive, looking for his own Black Fury charges and making special note of Sandra and her retinue of Oliver and Mariah. Kaminari has arrived.

Hina's tension comes for a completely different reason then Sandra. She is a Galliard. The urge to join that howl is very nearly overpowering. It shouldn't merely be everybody howling along together either... it should be a /contest/. The logical part of her mind gets why that cannot be, and so she remains quiet, hands tapping their fingertips together neatly. But part of it just feels like yet another concession to Grandfather Spider, and its galling. Vexing. It's a good thing this is far from a full moon, and her impulse control is at near its strongest.

Oliver settles in his seat comfortably. A fleeting sidelong glance toward his packmate, but then he's watching the howl calmly, listening closely to the shifting tones.

When she spotted Darius, Roz definitely waved excitedly to him, sending a grin his way. She'll do the same for Jordan. So THERE, everybody else! You just get friendly waves! She doesn't touch the barbecue for now, and instead goes to find a seat somewhere off to the side, where her height won't present a problem for anyone sitting near her; she must be used to trying not to block others' views. Her chin lifts at the howl, as she's most certainly brought to attention, sitting ramrod straight in her chair for the length of that call and several minutes besides. She, too, seems to have trouble not joining in, but as she sees others aren't, she resists with gritted teeth, the hand on her lap tightening considerably.

Kaminari continues to sit in her spot, where she has of course been all along since she would never be late. The tension in the air during the howl affects her too, perhaps it is Sandra's tactical reasons, perhaps it is her traditionalist upbringing that she too wants to join in but feels it would be unwise, or perhaps spending much of her life in cities she hasn't heard enough howls and it really speaks to her dormant instincts. It is anyone's guess really, but for now she sits quietly keeping her peace admist all of the tension.

Jim loves the pageantry every time. It's better than a Rangers game. It feels more like a passion play. He unbuttons his jacket, revealing his silver belt buckle that reads A T M, with the T larger than the A and the M. He's having to eat barbecue while staying clean, which is a terrible chore but he'll just have to manage. Quietly enjoying this.

Mariah's gaze remains on the opening howl as it consumes the attention of the gathering. Her hands set on her thighs, and there's no indication that she's paying attention to the others in the room. There's a rigidity to her posture, a sort of battle-ready poise that suggests she might be more aware than her fixed vision suggests.

When the last of his howl falls silent, Rage-Against-the-Machine explodes into his crinos, almost instantly. In this form, his red fur is shorter, but no less vibrant, and his right bicep sports a torc, but he's otherwise unadorned. He towers there, his wolf-eyes seeking out each and every individual gathered. Without a single word he instills a need to listen and pay attention. <<The People have The Litany. It must not be forgotten. Listen!>> He speaks firmly, not yelling, but loud enough that all those gathered can hear him well. <<Garou Shall Not Mate With Garou!>>

Roz shakes her head firmly as the first of the Litany is recited, looking at the others with her hands at her side, a wooden pointer in one of them. She has a big ol' closed flipchart under one arm, and she now sets it beside her. She rises, and then refocuses her attention to the flipchart, dutifully turning the first page to reveal:

As the pages are turned to the meat of the matter, she occasionally directs the wooden pointer to note various bullet points in her list, and she says, "Think about what you're saying: you're telling a significant number of our sisters and brothers at arms that in an ideal situation, they should never have been born. Is that who we are? Is that really what we're about? *No* child is an accident. Do you really think Gaia doesn't care about those of us who, through no fault of their own, have been born to unkind circumstances? Saying we have unwanted among us is the cruelest statement for those who fight with us." She scowls at that thought, then lets out a heavy sigh. "Also, I cannot help but think this is a furthering of the patriarchal narrative that punishes women for having children, while rewarding or simply not punishing the men. Think in your own life: have you seen the fathers of Metis suffer nearly so much as their mothers have? This is a rule designed to punish motherhood at its core, an unkind rule in every incarnation, and one that must be done away with." At that point, she quiets, looking about the room.

Skylar scowls as the Fool begins, looking down at the floor for a moment as she goes on. She lifts up her gaze again as Roz concludes, and rolls her shoulders back. "Punishment's up t' th' philodox. They ain't doin' it fair, that's on them. Th' rule ain't about who's doin' th' breakin'."

Sandra leans partly back in her chair, one leg crossed over the other, upraised foot bobbing intermittently, one arm drawn back to drape over the back of the chair. Her fingers drum on her knee idly, brow arching somewhat at the choice in presentation, but it's clear it's at least lifted her mood a bit from the Dour the howl brought on.

"'Don't produce metis,'" she says blandly, "for your sake and theirs, should probably be the tenet. There should probably be something in there about 'let's not turn ,our women into brood mares and our kin into chattel,' as well, but even now, it seems we're still working on that."

Bit maintains his spot near the wall and coincidentally, Skylar. When the speaking begins, he arches an eyebrow, no doubt due to having no idea what is being spoken, and his shoulders tense accordingly. Roz's presentation, however, causes him to lower that brow, and he studies her flipchart, nodding in agreement with the statements it contains. Then his hand slides to the back of his neck, his gaze darts left to right, and he pushes back against the wall, as if worried that his silent expressions and nods be considered too much.

At first Darius is pleased to see Roz in attendance. Nodding to her vigorous greeting as his expression remains cordial. As the Litany is recited as is proper, Darius' eyes shift over to Roz. Brandishing her flipchart and arguing points that are largely ceremony. He squeezes his eyes closed and slowly covers his face. When he looks up he nervously keeps his attention on Xavier and what warriors might take immediate and violent offense.

"Is it kind to bring children into the world when one knows they'll have a particularly difficult life, that others will see them as lesser, that they can never continue the line themselves?" Oliver asks, head slightly tilted. It's a leading question, obviously, and crisply asked. But he doesn't bother not to look faintly approving and about equally amused by Roz's means of presentation.

Kaminari watches the pagentry with those storm flecked eyes of hers, "Is your will so weak that you have the raging sex drive of the boys at my school? To mate or not to mate is a conscious choice for garou. Ideally it should be for kin as well, but that is another debate. Garou mating with garou? Gaia has told us to find our mates elsewhere and so we shall."

For his part, Xavier just leans back on the sofa and watches. Is that a smirk? No, it can't be. His fingers idly stroke Lies' fur. The moon is new and he knows the purpose of this bit of ceremony.

The Fool's challenge rebutted, the Fianna once again commands the moot's attention. With teeth bared he bellows, <<Combat the Wyrm Wherever it Dwells and Whenever it Breeds!>>

Roz stands in silence as the replies come, chin tilted upward and her pointer hand at her side. She's listening to the replies, but doesn't reply in kind, of course. Once again, she shakes her head as this next line of the Litany is read, though a little softer this time. She's faster to reply however, turning to the next page in her presentation:

"We simply don't have the resources to pursue this to its fullest," she notes. "We're outnumbered at every turn, and that forces us to consider at least two possibilities that violate this tenet of the Law in our current, difficult times." The pointer is gestured vaguely at the flipboard, and it's turned to the next page with bullet points. "The first is simply that we have to pick our battles. Winning a specific fight may be impossible, too costly, or tip our hand to greater enemies. There are fights we should back down from because winning the war is more important than any one person's glory." She nods as though to herself, going on: "The second is that by attacking at every opportunity, we lose valuable access to both intel and the use of soft power. Speaking with less-Wyrm-tainted creatures, such as vampires, may let us know more about the lay of the land or even offer us opportunities to turn our enemies against each other. Not every fight is won by the strongest." She squares her shoulders, going silent to look to each person in turn-- still, despite her position as the Fool tonight, she's not fool enough to keep any one person's gaze for long.

Sandra, perhaps pointedly, doesn't comment this time, instead buffing her nails on the spot beneath her shirt collar.

Hina's answer is distinct... and relatively easy. She has heard some variant of this particular fools retort before. "We are certainly free to pick and prioritize our battles. As long as we are /picking battles/. But if we abandon the cause entirely, we dishonor all the ancestors who came before, and make their sacrifices as nothing. We must persist, that we may pass on the battle to our decendents, when it is our time to walk to the sea. This is the cycle of us. Our story. We can be nothing else, or else we become nothing." Her tone seems calm enough though. It's... axiomatic. Obvious. This is what they are and do.

Kaminari folds her arms across her chest, "English may be my second language but I think you do not really understand the meaning of combat here. It does not say you must immediately kill, it does not say throw yourself in to destroy or die, it says combat, oppose, fight against, but there are many ways to fight and many ways to combat the Wyrm. Not everything is claws and blades."

"'Hearts and minds,'" Sandra says mildly, flicking a bit of thread off to one side.

Mariah's hand lifts from her thigh and she brushes a piece of hair behind her ear. There's a telltale twitch at the corner of her mouth, and she turns her gaze to Sandra as the garou speaks. The hand drops back to her thigh with a little more tension resting in her shoulders than a moment ago.

Darius is largely thankful that Xavius just seems to take this impromptu critique of the Sacred Laws of the Garou Nation in comical stride. He otherwise tries to weather the storm by sitting comfortably and very silently. So far none of the hide-bound types seem to be immediately challenging Roz in combat and that's good .. as far as he's concerned anyway. Cooler heads seem to be prevailing.

Skylar looks from the Fool to Bit and worries at her lower lip. "Y' don' gotta throw y'self into th' pit tryin' t' stop what's down there," she says, though her voice is quiet, this time.

Gazing at the flip chart, Bit lowers his head to gaze at the floor instead, clearing his throat and staying ever so still, not making eye contact. If he has any critique about Roz's representations of the DC universe, he keeps it to himself.

"Combating the Wyrm can be as straightforward as gutting a Fomor, or as subtle as arranging for a tainted factory's many legal violations to be discovered and made public by someone who doesn't even know you exist. It's still combating the Wyrm," Oliver says. Though if anything, the tiny upward quirk at the corner of his mouth's gained a degree or two at the new slide.

Rage-Against-the-Machine continues through to the next tenet--Respect the Territory of Another--Roz proceeding to the next slide of her presentation, and the gathered Garou rebutting.

Then, the Fianna speaks, <<Accept an Honorable Surrender!>>

There's silence from the Fool as the replies come, and once more, she doesn't reply in kind. That's not the purpose of this exercise. However, as this tenet of the Litany is read, Roz shakes her head yet again in disagreement. She's done it every time to various degrees, and this time it's a gentle shake as she turns to the next bit of her presentation:

"It's one thing to say that Garou shouldn't kill Garou in the heat of the moment-- our numbers are thin, and training a warrior takes time and resources we don't have in great supply." She hovers her pointer over the bullet points, looking out among the crowd of those gathered. "However, we *are* warriors, and we should not think of any battle as being without consequences. Frivolous challenges *should* carry a risk higher than a little renown loss so as to teach the young to pick their battles with care instead of flinging themselves into it without forethought." She purses her lips, going quiet at that point, and eyes the others at the moot thoughtfully.

"The Philodox have categorized an entire array of Punishment Rites ranging from the embarassing to the hellishly grueling fates worse then death, and everything in between." Hina points out. "There are no lacks of consequences for those who fail to learn lessons that must be learned." She raises one of her perfect hands then, palm pointed upwards as if holding or balancing something, and observes. "Challenge and combat with the honorable is not merely conflict resolution. It is also a form of testing and honing strength. Determining pecking order. Discovering ones weaknesses. All of that is undercut by killing someone merely because you dislike them... which is the only reason to do so if you have won. Besides... if I had to fear death every time I make Challenge, I shall grow timid... and that is something we cannot afford to be either. There must be the capacity to win without killing, and thus, to accept loss without /dying/... or we eat ourselves."

"Yes," Sandra says, "and while we're at it, we may as well note that never once, in human or Garou history, has this proposal ever proven to be something that could be easily and rather frequently abused by so-called superiors." Beat. "We're more human than wolf these days, and we have more than our share of MacArthurs and McClellans, no matter how venerated."

"To refuse an honorable surrender is to show you have no honor, your own death will soon follow." Seems to be all Kaminari has to say on the matter.

"Given the historical tendency for our people to challenge each other at the drop of a hat or hint, the demand that an honourable surrender be honoured in turn is probably the only reason most of our family trees ever managed to produce us. Besides, it's hardly sporting to kick them when they're down," Oliver says, leaning back a bit in his seat.

The recitation continues--Submission to Those of Higher Station, The First Share of the Kill for the Greatest in Station, Ye Shall Not Eat the Flesh of Humans, Respect Those Beneath Ye for All Are of Gaia, The Veil Shall Not Be Lifted--with questioning slides and voiced rebuttals.

Finally, the Fianna says, his tone rather grave, <<Do Not Suffer Thy People to Tend Thy Sickness!>>

As the replies and rebuttals come, Roz stays quiet, keeping her expression as neutral as possible. She hasn't gotten angry, and she hasn't smiled, but it's most likely been a struggle at times. After the next tenet of the Litany is read, her head shake is firmer, a grim expression on her face. She pulls herself up to her full height, and shakes her head a second time, slower, as though unable to believe what she's just heard. With a huff of breath, she turns toward her presentation again.

"This is antiquated on every level. We're not nomadic anymore; we have access to places where the ill and infirm can have shelter much more easily. We have access to better medical care, more advanced training, and numerous Gifts and Rites that have been honed over the intervening years. Back in the Civil War, more people died to infection than bullets. *Surely* we can do better than that, and *surely* we can do better than to tell our Elders and our wounded, 'thanks for your *years* of service dudette-slash-dude, we'd feel better if you offed yourself, though!'" She frowns deeply, pausing before going on, "Discarding our own *isn't* a necessary evil; it's barbaric, undignified and unworthy of us." She pauses to look at those present. "This Law needs to go the way of the dodo, or *we* will," she says with conviction, her wooden pointer tapping twice on the line reading, 'Have a heart!' Her hands fold in front of her, pointer between two fingers. With that, she silently awaits rebuttal, her eyes scanning the room.

For once, Hina dosen't have alot to say this time... her response is quiet, and simple. "The eldest demand and deserve all due reverence and honor, for they are the wisdom and the accomplishment. The final duty required of them is not to make it the responsibility of their children and lessers to decide when are too much burden to continue amoungst warriors. Such undercuts our entire social order. Seek the sea on the final day, find no fear in it, and join the ancestors. We should all be so fortunate as to have the chance." And that is all she has to say about that.

Lifting his head, finally, Bit dares to look at Roz's next page, listening closely as she speaks. Despite his earlier struggle not to show emotion and reveal agreement or disagreement with the Fool, now, her words seem to move his heart enough that the expression shows on his face. Sadness floods his features, as if, despite the charming illustrations, he's thinking of loving or caring for someone in their final days. His lips part, as if his own thoughts could spill from them, but he remembers his place here, and presses them back together, swallowing his own opinion rather than give it voice. Mariah's expression slips from firm, to mildly vexed as she listens to Hina. There's a perceptible tightening of her jaw, followed by an audible pop in her spine. The kin carves a look toward Sandra, but presses her lips into a thin line - also maintaining her silence despite the toll it takes on her composure.

"Again, the wording here is important. Thy, it is a personal choice. It has nothing to do with nomads, it is for the elders to know if they have begun hindering the fight instead of helping it, to seek the sea or to climb the mountain and find their place to rest. Would you deny them their honorable end?" Kaminari's sentiment in many ways echos Hina's.

There's a moment after Oliver's previous comment that Sandra glances over at him, and purses her lips to avoid a smile. The loft of her eyebrows fills in the blanks on that, though, and she turns her attention back to the proceedings. As it continues, the humor is gone, and that brow is slighty raised again.

"Ask the Resistance how suffering their Alpha's sickness went," she says, "and feel free to let me know what the answer is, assuming you get out of the conversation alive." A brief pause. "'Infection' and 'infirmity' in our line of work can take more than a few different forms," she says. "Should we do away entirely with hard-earned expertise simply because the Garou in question is aging, and poorly suited for the battlefield? No, but we should absolutely put them in a position that doesn't bring undue harm to those they command.

"Fortunately, this isn't often a problem, as many of us die rather early," she says blandly, "but that's besides the point. Similarly, should we ignore the warning signs of those that are succumbing to everything they've seen, heard, and experienced?" Beat. "Keeping in mind how that can manifest in creatures capable of racking up the kind of numbers that would make even a mass murderer blush."

Three more principles are spoken, with three more slides, and three more rebuttals: The Leader May Be challenged at Any Time During Peace, The Leader May Not Be Challenged During Wartime, and Ye Shall Take No Action That Causes a Caern to Be Violated. After the final rebuttal, the Fianna reverts to his Homid form, that torc evident under the sleeve of his band tee-shirt. He looks at Xavier, and says, "All yours, Rhya."

"Thank you, Cormac," Xavier says, rising from his spot on the couch and walking out to the center floor, placing a hand on the young Fianna's shoulder as they pass. Cormac plops back down on the sofa, and rests his hand in Lies fur.

The Philodox stands in the middle of the floor for a long moment, looking at all of those gathered, peering at them with those judging eyes. Roz especially. "I'm proud today to be in Detroit," he declares. "I am proud to be here, with all of you, fighting the Wyrm, fighting Damian Shaw. The last time I stood before you and told you all to take the fight to him, and you have. I'm proud of you for that."

He takes a few steps to stand in a slightly different spot, like the practiced orator that he is, and then continues. "Some of those gathered here have recently challenged for, and gained rank. Eyes of the Storm, Ouroboros, and Razor-Eater, congratulations once again on attaining Fostern."

Another few steps to yet another spot, and he looks out at all the faces. "When I last stood here, I exhorted you all to form packs, and yet none have. I cannot stress enough the need. We are Garou, and Garou are stronger in packs. Garou are stronger with the strength of their totems. We need that strength in the battles to come. So, please, get with it."

Finally, he takes some steps toward one side, very evidently yielding the floor. "Eyes-of-the-Storm, you had some things you wished to discuss? The floor is yours."

Kaminari bows to Xavier, "Thank you Rhya, Progress has been made on many fronts, locating MDCI's forces and weakening them, deprieving them of their helicopters. At the same time I have continued studying the river. Zug Island may not be our only target there. Tests done by my non-profit WYLD have revealed both Zug Island and another island, Fighting Island are significantly enhancing the pollution levels of the river. The island is in Canada though and owned by one of the world's largest chemical corporations. I am currently working on arraging a visit to the site, if any would like to assist with investigating this place, please let me know." and that said she takes a step back again.

Roz sits again once she's done making her points, closing up the flipchart once more and placing it back under one arm. She relaxes in her seat a bit, seeming just as pleasantly cheery as before as she pays attention to the speakers. As Kaminari takes that step back, Roz nods, though whether she's volunteering or just registering the information for herself is unclear.

Sandra glances in Oliver's direction, her brow arching slightly. Fair to guess the two are having a brief silent exchange, given the pointed nature of that look - coming at roughly the time Fighting Island gets mentioned - but her attention returns to Kaminari rather quickly.

"Following up from the last moot, my estate has also been rebuilt after the attack, but the Los Zetas remain an issue. The police have had no luck in finding who was behind the attack and we still do not know what lead to it occuring. Until we have more answers it is best for everyone to be on their guard. Anyone who can help finding the one behind this and figuring out exactly what they know, your help would be greatly appreciated. Thank you Rhya." She bows to Xavier again and takes another step back returning the floor to him.

Hina is watching Kaminari and her presentation like a hawk... and that is for more then one reason. Her head is a bit lowered now, fingers steepled partially in front of her face. It's vintage 'I am considering something' posture, and she isn't being subtle about it. Much of this she is already aware of, but thats not really the point.

Certainly a possibility, given that Oliver glances toward Sandra at about the same time, and there's what might be the ghost of a nod before his attention, too, returns to Kaminari. A slightly clearer nod in response to her remark that everyone ought to be on their guard.

Xavier nods and steps back to the floor. "Thank you, Eyes-of-the-Storm," he says. Then he glances over toward Oliver and looks at him for a moment before saying, "Ourorboros, I believe you had something you wished to bring up. Now's the time." With that, he steps back to the sidelines.

The young woman beside Oliver and Sandra watches as Eyes of the Storm speaks. It's not until she mentions the Los Zetas attack that Mariah shifts her attention. A brow lifts slightly and she turns her attention to Sandra and then Oliver as he is addressed by Fitzhugh.

"Thank you, Scales-of-Justice-rhya," Oliver says, inclining his head to Xavier, and he rises, moving to where the map of Detroit hangs on the wall. A small collection of rolled papers extend from a now-open flap of his satchel. Reaching the map, he turns, and pauses, glancing around the room. "Most of you will recall from last Moot that there was a plan to surveil each of the MDCI warehouses we've identified locally, and a request for volunteers. Since then, Bit and I went out and examined the sites, determining good points of observation for each. I've watched two of them -- the ones that seem to supply Zug Island -- and Kaminari has observed the airport location, but we still have four warehouses remaining. Handily, we also have four Ragabash."

"There are two in industrial parks on the southwest side," he says, pointing at each on the map in turn. "I'll take the more westerly of the pair. Kaminari, I'd appreciate it if you'd cover the other. Skylar, if you'll please take the one in Hamtramck, and Roz, I'd like you on this one just north of the Jefferson Corridor." He moves to the three in turn, then, handing over a rolled piece of paper to each. "These diagrams indicate the vantage points Bit and I noted. Anyone else interested in helping should feel free to come speak with me after the moot; I'm sure any of us would appreciate someone to spell us now and then. We need at least a week of surveillance to determine a pattern of shift changes and other general activity at the sites and their neighboring buildings, to help establish our best paths and likely windows of opportunity. Do not, of course, actually engage the sites in any way at this time. I'd like to see all of these completed and have the findings by the end of this month."

He moves back to stand before the map, fastening the flap as he goes. "Once we have our baseline observations, we'll be able to plan our actual infiltrations. This is likely to involve more than just the Ragabash, so Talens for Blur or a similar effect would be of use. We'd also be well-served by Talens or other means to stealthily disable or confuse technical security such as cameras and motion detectors, or to easily access and copy data off of computers without having to worry about dealing with passwords and the like. Ways to swiftly get data from paper would be interestingly useful as well. Anyone interested in assisting by creating these Talens, or with other solutions to these or other likely needs, should also let me know."

Once Oliver yields the floor, Xavier once more steps out. He looks to each of those gathered and then turns his attention to Sandra. "Razor-Eater," he says. "The floor's yours." Then once more he steps back. Roz sits up further in her seat at the mention of Ragabash, tilting her head as though to be sure to catch every word that follows. When she's called out by name, she nods firmly, frowning more with concentration than any sort of disapproval. She nods to Oliver again to indicate she's heard him.

Sandra inclines her head to Xavier in turn, and raises to her feet to say, "Thank you, Rhya," then turns to those assembled. "First things first: I'd like to again thank everyone that participated in the attack last month. Without the distraction, those of us taking part in the ambush could have easily been overwhelmed. No matter how small you may have thought your contribution was, it made a hell of a difference.

"As for the prisoner we took, I wish I could say gained more information than we did, but we didn't come away empty-handed. The man in question was named Otto Wagner, a German citizen recruited by Fairchild as a werewolf hunter. We assume he was approached due to the fact that he had the capacity to not only face a werewolf attack in the midst of his teenage years, but fight back without flinching. More importantly, he remembered the incident clearly.

"It should be noted that this was a natural resistance to Delirium-- not immunity. When face to face with him, he had many signs associated with the condition. But resistance - however rare - is enough, in this case. It's due to this rarity that I'm uncertain of whether or not he can be used as a benchmark for recruiting methods, and, quite frankly, I'm not sure how we can track for that without sniffing out every instance of a werewolf attack on humans - be it the result of a Thrall, a First Change, the work of Spirals, or some of the more--" she makes a vague gesture, "let's call them 'enterprising' Red Talons - much less any that yielded survivors, which would be a poor use of time in the best of circumstances.

"Nonetheless, what we know about the werewolf hunters now may only be based on one man, but given that some of the more," and in comes yet another vague gesture, "evocative statements being made were stongly connected to the Teutonic Knights, we can at least assume that there's not only an organizational basis backing them, but a moral one, as well. Similarly, it's safe to assume that Fairchild isn't their entry point into their new professions. Wagner, specifically, didn't appear to have ever crossed paths with him."

She pauses for a moment. Then, "I can't stress enough that we have severe knowledge gaps where it comes to Fairchild specifically-- and it's worth pointing out again that, even once we take Shaw out for good, we'll still be dealing with MDCI and its overseas benefactor. We need to start learning more about him sooner rather than later, which may well, and probably *should* necessitate a trip to the UK to do more direct research. That said, what little we *do* know about him speaks of a man whose holy crusade is the outright eradication of our kind, and he's willing to bargain with one of our traitors to make that happen.

"What's worth pointing out about that is the fact that Wagner didn't seem to believe that this was an alliance, or that Shaw was anyone of interest. He referred to Shaw as little more than a businessman that acts as the rough equivalent of an ATM---- not as someone who's calling the shots at a local level. He, similarly, had no understanding of the whippoorwill 'alert system' put in place throughout the White Zone, so take the assumption with a grain of salt, but it seems to me, the more we learn about Fairchild, saying nothing of his connections to Shaw, the better chance we might have of destabalizing his organizations. If the zealotry runs as deep in the others as it did in Wagner, that's a tool for us to put to use-- but as I said before, we need more information on Fairchild, and we need it yesterday.

"Shaw may be an active threat," she says, tone turning quite a bit more blunt, "and a powerful one, at that, but I suspect that, in Fairchild's world, he's a lightning rod meant to draw all our focus. Mark my words: the moment he's gone, it's Fairchild we'll be facing down, and we need to prepare for that eventuality *now*-- *not* when we're in the thick of it, and scrambling to catch up."

Hina simply nods once after everything is said. This makes a great deal more sense in her mind. There have been... problematic gaps and contradictions so far. But she offers no commentary... this isn't that sort of meeting after all. But she is /paying attention/, drinking in details.

Oliver moves back to his chair once he finishes, with a nod to the group as a whole, and settles in as Sandra rises. There's another slight nod or two as she speaks, these of agreement.

"Moving on," Sandra says, "there are a couple things I'd like the Theurges and the more spiritually inclined to work on in the upcoming months. Specifically, I'd like them to start summoning more of the spirits around Belle Isle to get a clearer picture of the Isle's significance. We are quickly running out of time to do much of any research on the matter, so I'd like as much time as you have available to devote to it.

"That availability might be a bit sparse, mind, as I have another project that needs Theurges at the helm. Namely, in getting a clearer picture of the Great Web, and its nature. One thing I observed during the ambush was that the whippoorwills barely seemed to pay the spirits Grayson summoned much of any mind, and weren't pursued when they moved to deliver their messages, and Weaver spirits don't much care about interlopers, provided they don't present themselves as a threat. So far as we're aware, those messages are still waiting where they were delivered, practically sight unseen-- which opens up an opportunity to put spirits to work on giving us a better understanding of what we're dealing with. Summoning spirits that can keep a low profile, won't create too great a disturbance, and can give us continuous reports in trade for Gnosis would be optimal, but we can talk more in detail about that one on one, if need be.

"Last but not least where the more spiritually inclined are concerned, we'll also need you to take time out to start looking into possible caern sites, but that can be considered a low-priority project in comparison to the other two. Nonetheless, any spare time you have should be devoted to this. Darius Galanis can give you details on the sites that have been pinpointed as distinct possibilities, and, chances are, I'll be joining you for the initial visits to make my own observations.

"For the rest of you, I'm going to echo Kaminari's sentiments. There's still the matter of the Zetas," she says. "It's probably best to assume that Shaw was calling in some favors to make it happen, and that effort has so far gone unanswered. I have Mariah Larsen," she says, gesturing to the younger blonde that arrived with both she and Oliver, "looking into the more mundane aspects of what happened, in her capacity as law enforcement, but given one of our members and her family are currently on lockdown, we need to start looking into it a lot more aggressively than we have already. If this can be traced back to Shaw, and we currently have no reason to believe that this isn't the case, then this should be considered a direct attack against the entire sept, and we need to answer in kind. The sooner, the better. After the attack we conducted on the chopper, there's no reason to believe there won't be some form of retaliation carried out some time in the near future.

"Lastly-- I'm not sure how many of you are aware, but there was a school shooting recently, at the school Shadi Najafi attends. We have reason to believe this is tied in with the rally that occurred in October of last year, which itself had some members of the Asatru Futhark in attendance. Not only that, the speaker at that event was capable of persuading people to his fascist ideology for reasons that had little to do with racial unrest, or making a compelling argument, as some of the people in this room can attest. Given the shooter was speaking German in spite of never having been known to speak it before, and that he was seemingly under the command of a dog that accompanied him, I'd say there's good reason to believe these two events are at least loosely connected.

"We have leads to follow up on in Toledo, Ohio, with some Get of Fenris contacts, but I'd still like people to look into the matter locally, when they have time." With that having been said, she pauses for a time-- then adds: "I know this sounds like a lot-- and that's because it is. We still have Sebastian to deal with, and the trip to Battleground to look forward to on top of everything else, the latter of which is something I'm told is being worked on-- but I'm confident that we can manage, and I'll be right there with you to put in as much effort as needed to make sure it all gets done." With that said, she pauses one last time, and says, "That'll be all," offering Xavier another nod before sitting back down.

Mariah acknowledges Sandra as she's introduced, lifting her face up and looking about the room slowly so that anyone interested can get a decent visual of the face to go with her name. Hands remain on her lap as she continues to listen to the reports.

The only time Hina gives away a reaction, as she is otherwise quite... remote... as she simply absorbs the details of what Sandra is spreading around... is when she mentions Shadi and the shooting. It's only at that point that her eyebrow... twitches... and her expression becomes a little bit far away for a moment. At the same time her left hand... spasms briefly, a few of her fingers demonstrating themselves to be decided double-jointed in the weird motion. It's a blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment though, as moments later she is cool and composed again.

As the Garou present the myriad issues, Darius listens and watches carefully. Occasionally he writes notes down on an old fashioned notepad with pen, underlining certain names and locations. It takes several pages .. Which does not hearten him but he's lining up the problems and beginning to mentally prioritize and consider how best to be of assistance in each.

Xavier nods back. "Thank you, Razor-Eater," he says as he steps back out into the center of the floor. "There's quite a bit laid out before us all, folks. This is the time for us all to step up--as you have all been doing--and show the Wyrm what we're made of." He stands silent for a moment, and then his stern expression eases. "But, now, let's have some fun and listen to some stories." With that, he heads back toward the sofa where his pack is, sitting down in the spot Cormac vacates, and leaves the moot in the hands of the Galliards.