What we need is a monkey wrench!

Two years brings a lot of changes, Liam thought as he sat, cross-legged, on the earth topped roof of the bunker access building. Very few of those changes had been for the better, though they hadn't all been bad. Of the changes, he regretted Willa's departure from the Cabal the most. Yes, they still kept in touch, but it wasn't the same. Willa's family responsibilities had called her back to the mountains of North Carolina barely year after helping the Cabal acquire and purge the old missile silo/abandoned technocratic stronghold of nephandi. He shouldn't have been surprised -- living in the fast nothing between Kansas City and St. Louis was a drain upon her spirit, so she hadn't objected when her mother and grandmother asked her to return to Asheville. Liam signed. She would answer a call for help, and would take any of them in if they needed shelter, but her absence still left a hole in the heart of this place. He was thankful that she hadn't also left them without a healer, Lee had taken Willa's role as the Cabal's healer.

Opening his eyes, his gaze fell upon the lean, asian girl gracefully moving through her morning katas. Lee had grown so much since they'd met. That, of course, was to be expected as she grew into full adulthood. Her entourage, as Liam thought of the spirits who guided and advised the woman, moved in the currents made by her practice. Liam was surprised that her magickal growth had not included more spiritual prowess, but it hadn't. Possibly it was because the spirits had sensed impending need, and had encouraged her to glean what she could from Connor and Willa while they were available to her. 

Connor had disappeared months ago, answering yet another call to deal with his family's financial empire. Though it wasn't uncommon for him to disappear for short periods of time, this one had lasted longer than previously. At least Lee had gained a greater sense of the currents of potentials and possibilities from Connor, but Liam missed the gambling rogue far more than he'd expected. There had been something comforting in having the rich SOB around as a safety net. X athlete Liam might be, but he wasn't one of those idiot who only proved his manhood by living life at high speed without brakes or safety equipment.

Liam rose, lifting his censor from where it had nestled in the dirt, and let the smoke drift about him as he took a deep breath. He wandered the rows of their vegetable gardens, allowing the smoke of his incense to trail behind him. He felt the plant spirits accept his offerings, and knew they would yield a bountiful harvest this year. By the time he'd walked the perimeter of the fence that surrounded their stronghold, or was it a chantry, or a just a sanctum? He'd never been completely clear on the designations... though, since the great upheaval, he supposed any place of power free of nephandi or technocratic hold was a sanctuary if nothing else. 

Lee had finished her morning ritual and was back in her rooms when Liam descended the stairs to the common area. He wandered over to the temporary scaffolding and looked up at the ceiling. Luc was on his back at the top of the scaffolding, his brush moving in precise motions, leaving a silver tracework in its wake. Liam waited until Luc pulled his brush from the concrete.

"What are those sigils for," Liam asked before Luc could start another diagram.

"I am striving to improve the primal integrity of the living levels. That last breach could have been much worse." Luc frowned as he checked the diagrams of his spellworking. "And trying to do so without turning us into a beacon to any mage within a hundred miles."

Liam smiled. "That'd be nice. It would be a shame to have finally shrouded the prima-pool only to attract even more attention than the node had."

Luc grunted his agreement. "It would be nice if we had someone else who could do this work. I am not convinced that Willa's willows will serve as a long term solution."

"The might," Liam sighed, "and Lee seems capable of maintaining them"

"With your help," Luc grumbled as he began a new section of the working. "I don't have anyone reinforcing my efforts."

Liam nodded. "True, and as truly astounding as your sigils are, it would be nice to have more functional options."

Luc snorted. "Don't like my sigils?

Liam wandered to the fridge and pulled out the pitcher of infused water. "I must admit that as effective as they are, I'm not fond of all my clothes having sharpie patterns traced on them."

"You like being bullet proof well enough."

"True." Liam poured out two glasses before returning the pitcher to the fridge. "But it does raise more than a few eyebrows when we take the vehicles in for maintenance and they see all the sigils under the hood and around the wheel wells." He walked back over to the scaffold and held up a glass. "You should drink more, the air handlers suck the moisture out of the air something awful!" 

Luc paused, turning on his side to reach down and grab the glass. "So, by 'practical' you mean you want someone who can improve the equipment?"

Liam nodded. "None of us are technologically inclined. Sure, we can all change light bulbs, know how to use computers and can put on a spare tire, but none of us knows a thing about circuit breakers, lift engines or ventilation systems. And, frankly, I don't want to depend upon esoteric means to keep stuff running." He grinned. "Could you imagine what would happen if we were to call in a repairman to fix a fan motor?"

Luc rolled his eyes. "And we thought this place would be a good location for a chantry why?"

Liam looked unerringly toward the base of the main silo. "It was an unclaimed, secure structure housing a wellspring of primal forces?" 

"I have distinct memories of the prior inhabitants." Luc set his water on the scaffold planks and went back to tracing his spellwork.

"Primal Vermin... we cleared them out... eventually."

"After three assaults, and months of cleansing and fortifying during which time we had how many unwelcome guests?" 

"You act like that wasn't expected. Of all of us, you should have been the least surprised by the difficulties in reclaiming a previously lost sanctum... or... what is it the technocrats call them?"

"Who knows... I try to avoid having to converse with any of the technocrats. They've fucked shit up so bad at this point I'm surprised any of us can still do magick."

Liam sipped his water. "It could have been worse."

Luc spat. "Horizon shattered, nephandi polluting the world unchecked, most of the elders dead, how much worse could it have been? They tried to awaken everyone, and like we already knew would happen, the human race just ignored the call."

"They could have destroyed the traditions utterly, or their failed awakening could have locked the world down even worse. Sure, things went crazy but it went crazy for everyone, not just the traditions... I hear there have even been split offs from the technocracy, like when the Adepts and the Sons broke free." Liam took another sip and flopped down in one of the overstuffed chairs. "Its been over 15 years, and people are seeking alternative truths even more today than before the shit hit the fan."

Luc grumbled again, then finished another arc in his spellworking. "Anyway, you were talking about bringing a mechanically inclined person into the fold?"

Liam thankfully returned to the original conversation. "Yes, and I think I've found someone."

Luc stopped his brush and turned to look at his companion. "Oh?"

"There's a practitioner up in Marshall who looks promising. Works at a garage and is renting a little place that I bet he wouldn't mind leaving." Liam shrugged. "Only hitch is he appears to have a younger sister or cousin living with him. I don't think she's awakened."

"Just a little hitch," Luc said dryly. "Have you talked with Lee about it?"

"She wants to scout them out before we approach the mechanic, but she trusts when the spirits point me in a direction."

"Of course she does..."

Liam raised an eyebrow. "Just because you're nearly spirit blind, you can't really say the rest of us are wrong."

"I can, but I don't. I simply don't like depending upon information from sources I can't verify."

Liam grinned. "And you really dislike the idea that someone could just walk into your rooms without you knowing it." Liam gestured at the sigils about the room. "Thus, the primal reinforcement."

"Unwanted guests are unwanted guests."

Liam took another drink of his water. "No arguments there."

Connor Murphy Description

Name: Murphy, Connor

Age: 27

Ancestry: Black Irish

Born: Boston, MA

Height: 6'2"

Weight: 170 lbs

Build: Lithe, trim

Hair: Dark brunette, close cropped

Eyes: Green

Skin: Pale

Foci: Set of semi precious gemstone studded dice

General Description: Tall and lean, physically firm.  Attractive, but unremarkable face.  Overly pale, almost deathly pallor that others often find somewhat disturbing.  Excellent 'poker face' that can be rather difficult to read.

Clothing: Semi formal and business casual, Often wears long, charcoal grey overcoat in cold/wet weather.  Carries a .45 ACP caliber pistol in a concealed underarm holster.

Willa Stone Description

Name:  Wilhelmina (Willa) Stone (no given middle name)

Height: 5'10”

Weight: 155 lbs

Build: Strong, slim, muscular build (like a dancer)

Hair:  Naturally light blond with even lighter highlights; thick and fairly straight and long (to the middle of her back)

Eyes: Large and blue/green

Nose:  average and non-remarkable

Mouth: Thin, straight lips that are naturally pink

Skin: Fair with pinkish undertones, but is prone to tan rather than burn in the sun.

General Description: Her overall appearance is strong, fit, and healthy. She is quite attractive, but in a symmetrical and non-remarkable way. There is not one feature that could be considered stunning, but the parts combined makes for a quite lovely whole. She has the appearance of a Swiss milkmaid, in that she in slender but strong, and has long blond hair and fair skin.

Clothing: Willa dresses in casual, almost bohemian type clothing. She favors blue jeans, long skirts, sweaters, and shorts (when the weather permits). Hiking boots, Tevas, and sandals are the only shoes she owns. She does not wear many bright colors, but rather prefers earth tones and natural colors. She often wears beautiful wooden and stone jewelry and that she has created, and has been known to stick a just-picked flower into her hair, which is normally worn in a braid down her back.

Lee Discription

Name:  Zhu Liu Min  / Emily Lee Emerson / Lee

Chinese/Caucasian

Height: 5'7
weight: 135
Hair:  , thick, slightly coarse, dark brown cut blunt to the top of her shoulders, with straight bangs.
Eyes:  grey, epicanthic fold not as pronounced as is typical in Chinese ethnic group
Nose:  straight, narrow, more prominent than typical

Her overall appearance is typically Chinese at a quick glance, but her Caucasian ancestry is obvious upon closer scrutiny and, with cosmetic help, she could pass for a slightly exotic Caucasian woman. She is not beautiful, but her features are regular, her skin is clear, and appearance average.  She tends toward thinness and must work to keep her muscles.

Skin: light brown
Long limbed, gymnast build, smoothly muscular

Clothing:  Lee dresses in a mix of Western and Eastern styles with an eye toward freedom of movement, close but not tight fit, and subdued colors.  She does not typically wear anything with patterns, logos, or symbols, and prefers shades of white, cream, grey, brown, or black with the occasional touch of blue, green or peach.  She prefers pants to skirts, never wears more than a very modestly heeled shoe, and tends to chose jeans, a simple Asian style shirt, and either light boots or sneakers

Lee -- Backstory 1

"Liu!  Liu, you bitch!" 

A skinny girl child curled up tight in a space between garbage pails and stacks of old chicken cages, her pale face half hidden against her knees. 

"Liu, you better come out now.  I'll find you, and I'll beat the hell out of you for this!"

"He won't find you," whispered Mushu.  He coiled around her neck, only his long snout sticking out from under the ragged fringe of her dark brown hair.  She had cut it short so it was harder to grab, and that had made Jon angry with her.  Nothing hurt quite like being grabbed and jerked off her feet by her hair.

Jon peered around the dark, crowded, and dirty alley.  He wore an expensive suit that didn't fit him well, and he wore rope thong sandals instead of shoes.  She could see the grime on his toes as he moved passed her spot.  His rolled up cuffs and shirt collar were also stained and greasy, and a large gold ring glinted on one of his fingers.  He owned the brothel where her mother worked.

Used to work, she reminded herself.  Ma died just a few days before, beaten to death by a drunken customer.  At least, that's what Jon had told her, right before he told her she belonged to him now and had to work off the money Ma owed him.

Not that she hadn't worked for him ever since she'd been old enough to toddle around the many rooms and hallways of The Summer Peach -- that's what Jon had named his little empire deep in Kowloon's underbelly.  She'd carried drinks, swept floors, emptied ashtrays and wiped spills.  As she grew into a thin, quick eyed youngster, he'd sent her out to pick pockets and shoplift.  She had a talent for that.  People didn't notice her, or weren't fast enough to catch her when they did.  Eventually Jon employed her to sneak into the houses and offices of his business rivals to steal valuables or even money.  He said they refused to pay debts to him and the items belonged to him by rights.  She thought he lied, but she did it because Ma had to pay him for their place in the Peach, their room and food and protection.  With the money Ma brought in from her many regular clients, Liu calculated between them they had not only paid rent for several months in advance, but had paid off the money Jon had loaned Ma when she'd left the Peach before Liu was born, when her mother had been beautiful Mai and had met the American who took her away and married her. 

Jon growled various threats under his breath as he continued down the alley, poking occasionally at piles of cardboard or stacks of pallets.  Many shops and bars backed onto this alley and they all used it.  The wet stink of rotting food and vomit kept most people away.  Rats rustled and glared at Jon, but stayed out of site of the assorted cats that also haunted the trash heaps.  Jon recoiled from their glaring eyes.

"Liu, damn you!  Ungrateful bitch!"

Mushu chuckled in her ear.  She knew why.  She had no reason to be grateful to Jon. She was only collecting on the debt he owed her. He beat her when he was in a bad mood, complained about every bite of food he saw her eat, and begrudged her even the cast-off clothes Ma gave her to wear because he might have sold them.  Ma made her sleep in cupboards or under the bed.  She'd learned to sleep lightly, aware of any change in the constant traffic of working girls, party boys, and clients that might mean danger.  She'd learned to move unseen among the glowing high rises full of business suited people with briefcases and cell phones, through the crowds of gawking tourists, to find her targets and bring back her gleanings of money, jewelry, and expensive electronics.  She didn't owe Jon anything.  Her work had paid for the ugly, expensive suit he wore.

She waited patiently, ignoring the growing cramp in her spine and the tingling in her feet, while Jon skirted her little spot, knocked over a pile of plastic bottles, and cursed as he stumbled away from the mess.  His voice gradually faded into the general hum of the city.

"Not yet," Mushu warned her as she lifted her head and wiggled her toes.  "He'll come back."

"Then I should move," she replied in a voice so low only the little dragon could hear her. 

"Not yet," Mushu insisted.

"No, no, not yet," echoed a dozen or more transparent voices, like so many tiny breezes whistling through cracks in the walls.  She shrugged to loosen her shoulders, flexed her fingers, and settled again, her face hidden against her knees, her thin arms shielding her eyes.

"You'll have to move soon, Emily." 

Mushu nuzzled against her ear and made a little dragon sigh.  "I know, Baba.  But Mushu..."

"I heard Mushu."  Her father's voice was just a little louder than the other voices she heard, almost as loud as Mushu's.  Her dragon didn't look like the cartoon dragon in the Disney movie, but she was so little when he came to her and that was the only dragon name she knew.  Her father had spoken to her even longer than that, maybe since before she was born.  "You can't wait too long or you'll miss your chance."

Before she could respond she heard voices at the far end of the alley.  Jon returned, pushing a smaller, younger man in front of him.  The young man wore baggy, torn blue jeans and a worn sports jersey.  She recognized Kim, one of the punks who did dirty work for Jon in return for drugs and, occasionally, cash.  Jon shoved him again and he staggered.

"You find her.  She's hiding in here somewhere.  I saw her run down here.  You find her and bring her back, and it will be worth it.  You don't find her and I see you again..."Jon let his voice trail off in unspoken threat.  He wheeled around, casting his angry glare at the walls and stacks of garbage.  "When I get you, Liu, I'll beat every single coin you stole out of you!"  He stalked down the length of the alley, his rope sandals flapping against his crusty heels.

Kim stared numbly around the twilight alley, swaying a little.  Maybe he was drunk or high.  Liu wasn't sure.  She couldn't see him very clearly.  Slowly, shaking his head, he moved toward a pile of crates and pushed them to one side.  A few toppled off and he flinched.    The afternoon sun was already too low to shed much light into the long, narrow passage between streets, and the neon glow on the street didn't reach far into its constant twilight.  Controlling her breathing and ignoring the growing throb in her muscles, she listened and watched.  He wouldn't look for long, she was sure.  He'd go work for some other pimp or dealer, or he'd get knifed in a fight, or maybe he'd get picked up by the police.  But he wouldn't look for long.  She just had to wait.

Once he left, she could run to her special hiding place where she had stored clothes, food, money -- everything Baba had said she would need. It hadn't been hard to sneak into Jon's office and pilfer money a bit at a time, or to lift from shops and stands things she might need.  She'd started preparing weeks ago when Baba warned her something dangerous could happen.  He didn't know what, but he said she should stay away from the Peach as much as possible.  He warned her that something might happen to Ma, and she had tried to warn her mother.  But Jon had hooked her mother on one of his illegal chemicals, either the smoke or the needle or the pills -- she didn't know for sure -- and her mother had become hollow and memoryless, just a body that others used.  Over the last year, it felt like she forgot she had a daughter at all.

Kim poked and pushed through the garbage, his lackluster eyes shifting from side to side without ever focusing.  He walked up and down the length of the alley in this desultory way and then settled almost in the center, his back against a rusty door, directly across from her hiding spot.  His gaze drifted around the dim, shadowy piles before coming to rest on the ground, his chin on his chest.

"He can't know you're here," Mushu said.  "He can't see you."

Her heart thudded against her ribs hard.  Did Kim know where she was?  Why didn't he just come for her?  Did he just suspect?  What was he waiting for?  She fought to control panic.

"It's the only clear place."  Her father's spirit voice spoke calmly.  "The other doors have more trash around them.  This door is relatively clear."

Her panic subsided into a general rumble of irritation and anger.  If Kim didn't move, she couldn't leave this tiny space, and she couldn't get to her stores.  If she couldn't get to the money and clothes she'd squirreled away, she would miss her chance to leave Hong Kong.  Jon would find her eventually, and he'd chain her up in one of the rooms in the Peach or sell her to someone else.  Or, worse, he would pay for thugs smarter than Kim to find her and kill her or bring her back.  She seethed invisibly at Kim.  Mushu writhed impatiently around her neck.

"You'll have to run, Em," Baba told her.  "He'll grab for you.  If he misses, fine, keep running.  If he gets you, you'll fight.  I'll tell you how."

She drew in a deep, long breath, slowly uncurling her limbs, letting the feeling come back to them, breathing through the exquisite pain of returning circulation, waiting through the numbness.  Carefully she slid back the layer of old newspapers and sacks which covered her hiding place.  The increasing darkness of evening helped hide her movements, as did the rising noise of nighttime business on either end of the alley.  Hawkers shouted, food vendors sang, and the hard beat of dance music rose from the clubs and bars. 

"Don't move until you can move all at once," Baba warned her.  Other voices, the whispering babble she'd known all her life, rose and fell like the sound of the ocean behind his voice.  "Get yourself ready.  Pick your path.  Lay it out in your mind.  Now....go!"

The layout of the alley, the placement of each pile and stack and spill, blazed like a map spread in her mind.  She unfolded herself, a skinny shadow in a recess behind the crates and cans, and slid out of her niche, turning to her right as soon as she was clear of the obstructions.  Kim's head snapped up.  A second passed as he blinked at her appearance, giving her one more step before he moved.  She gathered her strength to run.  His hand snaked out, his body tense and already lunging, and before she could take the next step, his grimy fingers around her wrist and tightening.

Baba's voice whispered steadily.  "Keep his arm extended.  Pull your arm close to your center.  Spin to his outside.  Aim for the elbow."

She flung herself into Kim's arm without thinking, practicing one of the tricks her father had patiently and carefully taught her.  It didn't take great strength or great size to win a fight, he'd told her many times.  It took skill and speed and precision.  Kim's scream almost drown the crack of bone as his elbow joint strained and gave under the force of her body slammed against it, forcing it unto an unnatural angle.  His fingers dropped from her wrist as his body tried to curl protectively around the injured limb.  She kept going, spinning once or twice as she regained her balance, running in the opposite direction than she had started, leaving him behind, his moans lost in the noise of a Kowloon night.

Lucrenaris description

Apparent Age: 30’s

Hair: Black

Eyes: Right Green, Left Blue. Not immediately noticeable

Race: Caucasian

Height: 5’ 10”

Weight: 135

Sex: Male

Facial features: pale, bookish, rather nondescript save for eyes. See above. Wears neat moustache, but shaves beard.

Clothing: three piece suits when possible, understated. Best suits are well-tailored. Twill trenchcoat when possible, pre-’armed’ with armor formula in lining, ready to be activated. 

Shadow Name: Lucrenaris

Appearance/Nature of Avatar: Vigourous-looking old man with long white mustache wearing white suit and carrying cane.