Dec 29 01:37:36 107 PA - New Acquaintance in the Park

From Chronicles

Dec 29 01:37:36 107 PA.

PLAZA PARK

With the Moon hanging high overhead like a sliver of silver against the dark sky, the small Inuit woman has come to the park. Her favourite haunt of all the places within the city. Looking like nothing more than a very large pile of fluffy white snow is the laying down figure of Tornaq, her ever-present guardian and companion. Comfortable in the snow, and larger than your average polar bear, Tornaq is ever watchful, his round ears swiveling occasionally to catch the sounds within the night. The main sound this evening, however, is that the small Inuit woman is lightly singing to herself, and perhaps to Tornaq as well, in her native language. Monique lays on a snow covered portion of ice which is the lake in fairer weather, her hands tucked beneath her head and her dark-eyed gaze held upon the sky above. Her legs are in cross-legged fashion even though she's laying, and there are a handful of wooden poles sticking out of the ice near to her. How much of their length is buried within the ice and water below is hard to say, but the expanse which is above has been stripped of bark and worked smooth.

He hasn't been in the city long, compared to most, but compared to himself, Gabriel has been here for a while. Mid-September, give-or-take a few weeks off of this damn new calendar. As is common for a snowy, blustery evening, the Park is basically absent of humanity, making it one of his own favorite places. People are great, but sometimes, well... this world is just not right. The man, older for just about everyone who might call themselves "an adventurer" comes chugging in through the two-foot deep snow, apparently jogging, of all things. Not sprinting, just an obviously well-trained, ground-eating pace. Very unlike most people, despite the frosty air, his clothing appears pretty normal, particularly for those who do know him. Only a simple pair of thin, black-leather gloves and a single higher latch on his jacket have changed. As he is not really expecting anyone to be around, his face clearly registers surprise at seeing an Eskimo woman and a polar bear. Whether intrigued, or foolish, he turns slightly off of his existing line of travel to eventually meet up with the two.

For herself, Monique has lived within the city for a handful of years, though it doesn't really show save for perhaps in the comfort she shows for her surroundings. Though that could be attributed to the great white bear who keeps her company. A soft rumble of sound emits from the great white bear, his ears perked towards the source of the jogging. Monique's voice falls quiet, and she calmly withdraws her hands from beneath her head to instead prop herself up, pushing herself into a sitting position. Her dark-eyed gaze turns in that direction as well, one of her eyebrows quirking upwards slightly. The bear remains laying there on the ground, blending in with the snow, though every muscle is primed for movement. As the stranger approaches, drawing nearer, the great white bear leaps to his feet and rumbles a roar meant as a warning. Monique is quick to her feet as well, lifting her left hand to lightly place her fingers upon the bear's leg.

The roar is obviously quite sufficient to grab the man's attention, but obviously also nothing that really puts him off. Yes, he slows... but he would have eventually slowed anyway. If not, he'd have run right over the woman, bear notwithstanding. At a polite distance, the older man raises a hand in simple greeting, and speaks. What comes out is a very thick, rolling, Kentucky drawl - not that many people in this day and age would actually recognize it as such a thing. "Evening, miss." He makes an obvious head motion to indicate the sky, and a gentle arm motion to note the snow. "Beautiful evening to be outside, isn't it? You ride that thing in, make money by having him do tricks, or is he just a good food source to have around in case of emergency?" No, despite the words, it shouldn't sound like insult or humor. Rather ironically, it sounds like a genuine question coming from Gabriel's lips.

The great white bear shakes himself off after giving that echoing roar, and the beast lowers his head to eye the man almost on eye level. Almost. His head is still higher. The small woman lightly pats the bear's snowy white fur, and she inclines her head to the man who has stopped near to her. "Yes. Is beautiful evening. Small moon," she says softly, as though somehow that is relevant. To her, perhaps, it is. A smile touches at the corners of her lips, and she lifts a hand to push a bit of her hair from her face, tucking a bit of her hair behind one of her ears. "I not ride Tornaq. He not do tricks. He not food, either. Tornaq is Tornaq," she says softly, her tone holding a thoughtful cast to it. "Tornaq protect, be protected," she adds, giving a small nod. She has an odd flow to her speech, but that's perhaps due to the fact that English is not her first language.

"Tornaq eat great quantities of fish!" comes a voice from the distance. Sebastien wanders down the snow-blown trail, his white jacket blending much better than his dark nylon pants. A touch of synthetic fluff puffs around his cheeks, and the young man has his hands tucked into his pockets, as he plows through the thick powder's encroachment on the footpath to pass under a snowglobe street lamp on his way towards the pair. "But he doesn't make a mess of her apartment," Sebastien notes quizzically, peering at Tornaq. "Perhaps that is why he is so large? To hold it all in?" He grins at the great beast, greeting, "Hello Fish Breath," on his way towards Monique, giving her a warm grin and a peck of a kiss atop her head. "Hello Monique." Then turning towards Gabriel, he quirks an eyebrow. "I heard you had a bit of excitement?"

The Kentuckian, now revealed, nods, and gives the bear a good, unconcerned stare right back (though yes, being not much taller than the woman, he does need to raise his eyes). Just rather... looking. Seconds pass, then he returns to address the woman. Sebastien is temporarily ignored to be polite to the fairer sex, if nothing else. "Y'know, miss, I've been all over this damn world. Or my damn world. Seen all kinds of things. Lived and fought in just about every place you can imagine and probably some you can't. But I've never seen a polar bear in Missouri. You come down from Nuniamiut, up in Alaska? North slope?" Sebastien is briefly addressed. "Yes, excitement, because nobody fucking listens to the one person with genuine, lengthy combat experience. Instead they just walk into an obvious fucking trap, and I have to go along because I'd rather die in a useless battle trying to help than to sit there and watch people kill themselves." Gabriel seems rather upset. "By the way, I'm giving the swords back. One's too damn heavy for me to use anyway. But I appreciate it."

"Sometimes he eat fish. Sometimes other things," Monique agrees, her attention turning to Sebastien and a smile quirking at the corners of her lips. "He not make mess, he clean. He big because he Tornaq," she comments, giving a small nod as though that simply settles that. Because to her, it does. Tornaq rumbles at Sebastien, eyeing him for a moment and giving a nod. "Hello Sebastien," Monique says, giving a small nod, her dark eyes showing a sparkle to them. She looks to the Kentuckian, who speaks differently than what she's heard, and she tilts her head slightly to one side. "Tornaq come with me, when I come here. He not from here, I not from here. But, live here now. Not from Alaska. From far North, above Canada provinces," she says, a smile touching her lips. She blinks a touch at the unfamiliar word he uses, tilting her head slightly to one side, then looking back and forth between him and Sebastien briefly. Tornaq keeps his attention more on the stranger than Sebastien, since he's familiar with the latter of the two men.

Sebastien belly laughs, coughing as he inhales a big gulp of cold air, and he agrees, "Like herding cats, non? No leader, no sense, just SWARM!" He snaps his fingers, suddenly, and points at Gabriel. "Non, not like cats. Like a soccer game full of eight years olds, all running after the same ball." He chuckles again more cautiously, shaking his head, and he adds, "This is why I am unpopular. I don't put up with such antics, I try and give directions. So I am excluded. Sooner or later, they will lose some people and learn. Until then," Sebastien shrugs. "You need to spend some time with me at the gym, old man." He leans back a touch, slowly pushing hands out from his chest in a bench-pressing motion. "One good thing about our line of work, when you do it with you have enough money to sit on your ass and train up for the next job. Lots of down time."

"Really? The Yukon, Northwest, or Nunavut Territories?" Gabriel seems to know what he's talking about, which may seem odd. Or perhaps it sounds odd because no one else knows what he's talking about. In any case. Then, "Is Tornaq a name, or a breed?" Turning briefly to Sebastien, the older man smiles and says, "I've not lost an ounce of ability with my years. And with age comes wisdom. With wisdom and experience comes victory. With victory comes peace." He then winks, a good solid wink, and adds, "Besides, bench-pressing is for pussies and Olympians." It should be clear at this point that this is said in fair jest, and some confident knowledge, as well. Sebastien may be a warrior from this world, but the essence of combat really transcends time. A short nod, then returning to the young woman. He extends a hand in greeting, a hand-shake being offered, and bowing shortly at the waist with a mild twist of his head. "My name's Gabriel. I believe that we've still yet to meet, but proper and polite introductions usually help to break the ice with that kind of thing."

Monique eyes Sebastien as he mentions herding cats, and she shakes her head a little. "Why herd cats? It not normal," she says softly, her brow furrowing a little bit. Leave it to the small Inuit woman to end up missing the meaning of the words. She eyes Sebastien a little bit more, then lightly shakes her head, confused, her attention slipping back to Gabriel. "From Northwest, near border where they make Nunavut land," she says, giving a slight nod, a smile lighting her features. "Tornaq is name. He come from out of snow and ice, to travel with me. Breed different," she adds, ducking her chin a little and giving the bear a gentle stroke with her hand. "Peace better than war. Hard convince others make peace," she comments, her tone holding a thoughtful cast to it. She reaches out one of her hands to place it in his, accepting and returning the handshake. "I, Monique. Already know Tornaq," she says, by way of introducing herself and her companion.

Sebastien laughs, "Pussies, Olympians, and people who want to lift a chainsword. There is nothing quite so disconcerting as realizing your magical ass is not so invulnerable, and the lunatic on horseback with a chainsaw is your kryptonite." He grins, and rubs a hand up Monique's back. "She's only happy the four months a year my balls are hugging my pelvis." He leans closer to the woman, stage-whispering to Gabriel, "I think she's afraid of the sun!" Sebastien's eyes slide sideways to give the small dark woman a fond look, and adds, "And she is an optimist. There are being out there that act like ... angry wolves. You can understand them, perhaps you can even try and feed them, or scare them away. But there is never peace. At best a truce, forged by fire. And that, ma cherie, is where we come in."

"You know, when I was in my first week of boot camp, and until I graduated AIT and got sent to the Raiders, my drill sergeant drilled into our heads, and made us constantly recite this like a prayer: 'Si vis pacem, para bellum.' Latin," Gabriel explains, "If you want peace, prepare for war." The man then seems to address both man and woman at once. "I have no desire the fight and kill. Not for money, not because I'm a lunatic who gets a hard-on from it. I joined up because fucking Hitler was getting ready to take Europe, and it seemed pretty obvious to me that it wouldn't take long to cross the Pond. I got into this profession to protect my family as best I could. Simple as that." He nods to Sebastien again, perhaps a visual explanation of, "I'm not ignoring you, I'm being socially polite," and turns to more directly address the little Eskimo woman. "Nice to meet you, Monique. You're form up north there, huh? I know that area pretty well. Or at least what it used to be. I'm from Kentucky." Gabriel quickly realizes that that means nothing to anyone he's yet to meet. As he's currently facing north, he extends his right arm. "Kentucky's a long distance east of here. Up in the mountains. Beautiful land."

"Chainsword? Kryp-toe-nite?" she asks, blinking at Sebastien, confused again. Sigh. Tornaq and the small Inuit woman exchange a look between them, the bear giving a rumble and the lady lifts one of her shoulders in a faint shrug, giving a mild mutter in her native language. "I not afraid of sun. I out in daylight, I not vampire. Night pretty, too," she points out, eyeing Sebastien for a lingering moment. "Angry wolves, yes, but if wolves learn can defend self, then they less likely to attack," she comments, tilting her head slightly to one side as she considers the notion further. It often worked up North, anyways. "Nice to meet, Gabriel," she says softly, a smile lighting her features. "Ken-tuck-y? Mountains pretty. Only see from distance, not cross in come here," Monique adds, giving a small nod and sounding a little sheepish.

"All I'm saying," Sebastien replies to Monique, "Is that you spend all summer indoors with air conditioning, venturing outside only before dawn to kill deer like they insulted your family. You spend all winter outside in the dark and the snow. It's a very good thing you can't show a tan!" He grins at her, a teasing look in his eyes, and tilts his head to the right. "You'd like the mountains, I think. If you go high enough, you can venture out on to permanent glaciers. Of course, you also go above the tree line, where not so much lives."

Gabriel shrugs. "My world at least had everything to offer. Grasslands, mountains so tall that you couldn't climb them without oxygen, huge canyons, hog jungles, dry deserts, broad oceans... a lovely place to get around, if people aren't shooting at you. Well, actually, as long as you knew what you were doing, it was still interesting to be there when people were trying to kill you." The older man offers a rather ironic shrug. "'course, I always like it when we had time back in Virginia. My adult home." He offers a hand, palm-up, questioning, inviting an answer. "My story is long, detailed, and most people find it tiresome. The short version is that I really don't belong here. By 'here' I mean this world. Are you from 'here,' Monique?" Sebastien's gentle jabs about air conditioning are allowed to slide past for the moment, just more information to be gathered in silence.

"Summer hot, like snow better," Monique comments, eyeing Sebastien for a moment longer. "I kill only what need. Kill only what use, what eat, what Tornaq eat. If more, then trade extra for things. Not kill just deer... hunt rabbit, birds, fish too," she says, her brow furrowing slightly. "I see snow on mountains, when did pass near them," she adds. Her attention shifts to Gabriel once more, listening attentively as he speaks. "Hog jungles?" she inquires, clearly not understanding the term used. His question draws an expression of curiosity to her features, and she gives a small nod. "Am from North, here. As far as now, here, anyway. I not know if different, since North always North, always same North. People same, animals same. Weather same," she says softly, considering the notion as though for the first time. She's never thought that her world could be a different one than what she's in right now.

"The land of giant magic bears," Sebastien points out. "That could be another dimension, or that could be Cleveland. Or." He glances at Monique, "North. Either way, she's one of us now." He grins at Monique, and reaches an arm around her shoulders to give the woman a squeeze. "And for all Tornaq may seem strange to you, Monsieur Gabriel, he is not half so odd as the story you tell. A world of darkness. Honestly, I thought we had it bad. I can see why you came here!"

The older fellow smiles at the young woman, who is obviously as out of place as he is, if perhaps for a very different reason. "You mind if I ask why you've come all this way? Seems a long way to come to, well... sit outside in Missouri snow." Gabriel's eyes glance rather modestly toward the huge bear. "I understand that he's Tornaq. He protects, and is protected, apparently. I'm afraid that those words mean just about zip to me." He indicates this by making a circle with his thumb and index finger, holding the gesture up for all to see. "If it has anything to do with magic, or psychic shit - pardon me, Miss Monique - I'm out. I just don't get it. In fact, there's a lot of technology that I don't understand either. But at least this," he pats the unusually long-barreled sidearm at his hip, "came with me. Not much else."

Monique raises an eyebrow as she looks to Sebastien, leaning against him a bit. "Tornaq not common, even in North. Nanuq many, but he few," she says softly, making a clear distinction. Which may seem odd because Tornaq looks just like a polar bear only larger. "Tornaq protect me, be protected by me," she explains, trying to make it more clear. Despite living here for so long, she still stumbles with the language. "I not understand much technology. Not like use, very strange. Use... small things. Thing in kitchen, make fire without ash... I use, boil water," she says. This seems to be the only purpose that she's put this technology to, however, as Sebastien could easily attest to. For cooking, she actually makes a fire. "Magic, can make, not able explain how work, but... know it work," she adds, raising an eyebrow slightly. The great white bear listens, exhaling a rumble that seems to come from deep within his chest, and he noses at Monique's shoulder as he settles to his rump, returning to his impression of a snow pile. "I leave North when it feel wrong to stay. When feel must leave. Welcome in North, still, but felt need to go. Spoke with Elders, share decision. Then come to where feel pull. Not know why, Spirits not share if know," she replies, tilting her head slightly to one side. Tornaq whuffs softly, and she lifts a hand to bring her fingers to rest upon his black leathery nose, doing so without needing to look to the great white bear.

Sebastien leans back, giving Gabriel a knowing look and a nod while subtly hooking a thumb at his chest as if to say, 'For me.' He dips his chin while adding, "And shower, and underwear, and central air." He hrms softly, stepping away from Monique to consider. "Flush toilets. You rode in an airplane, once. You've slept in a bed once or twice." He winks, and muses, "The one thing I can't train her to use? Furniture. Not even a bean bag chair." He wags a scolding finger at Monique, admonishing, "Your lower back will be mush by the time you're ..." he gives Gabriel a considering look, "old enough to be his daughter."

The man from the lost land of Kentucky sighs. "Well, you're more fortunate than me, Miss Monique. I don't belong here, and I didn't fucking - pardon me - ask to be here, either. I was perfectly happy exactly where I was and when I was." Gabriel turns to address Sebastian with a smirk. "Young man," he ads with an obvious humor flair, "I have flown more times, in more aircraft, for more hours logged, than you could possibly imagine. I'd go so far as to say that it's unlikely that you'll ever rack up the same hours in a cabin." Yes, it's said good natured, but there's a very strong undercurrent of flat-truth to it, as well. But he continues on a more lighthearted note. "Sebastien, I'm sure that you'd disagree with my lifestyle, too. I have a camp, a hammock, a little stream, some trees for cover, and a firepit. Catch my own food, start my own fires with an ancient flint-and-steel, exercise right on the ground, on God's green Earth." His gaze turns to the young woman. "Perhaps you and I are not so different than we may seem." He ends with a smile, and a very incongruous statement. "You remind me very much of my Ana. But with somewhat darker skin."

If the small Inuit woman notices the subtle thumbing of the chest, she doesn't acknowledge it. "Bah. My People have small clothes, not need come here for that," she points out, shifting her weight slightly. "Shower not very different from rain. Can make hot or cold, but still like rain better," she adds, lifting one of her shoulders in a faint shrug. "I strong like my People, back not turn mush when older. Elders still hunt, still gather. Like younger but more wise," she points out, raising an eyebrow slightly. "Not like airplane, metal beast. Run better. Furs better than bed," she adds, giving a sage nod. She steps aside, to the wooden poles that are in the ice, taking hold of one of them to pull it out. The small axe is taken from her waist, and she uses it to chink the ice from it, repeating the process then with the trio of others that were in the ice as well. "Flint good, make fire. Reliable. Many things similar," she says softly, her tone holding a thoughtful cast to it. She gives a small nod to him, and a smile. "We talk more, when path cross again. He know your camp. Hunt together? Tornaq say storm come. I go talk Hag, convince be gentle," Monique says, her tone and words both enigmatic in nature. Despite his rampant teasing of her, Sebastien gets a kiss on the cheek, and then she steps back to touch Tornaq's shoulder, the great white bear giving a rumble. Unless further delayed, the two will take their leave, having a task to attend to despite the late hour.

Fair enough, old timer." Sebastien replies just as flatly, giving Gabriel a smirk. "I've killed zombies. Demons. Killer robots from another dimension. Dinosaurs. I think even a dragon? It's hard to keep track." He winks at Gabriel, muttering, "Come to think of it, it's amazing I have as much left of my face as I do." He smiles at the kiss, and turns to give the woman a hug, his head burying briefly in her hair before shooing her off. "Not mush? Funny. I thought your kind only made hard men." He grins at her, not really expecting the woman to track, and adds, "I'll see you later, Monique. Tornaq, a pleasure as always." He gives the bear a little bow, watching them go.

Gabriel smiles and grunts, "That's fair, Sebastien, you got the really weird fucking kills - pardon me, miss - I have the geographic and temporal experience." He turns to the young woman as she begins to move off and offers a similar little bow as the one that he'd introduced himself with. "Good evening, Miss Monique. It's been a pleasure meeting you and your giant bear. Have a safe trip home, wherever that is. Kingsdale isn't such a great place for a young lady. Even one with a giant bear." He reaches up to his hairline and taps at it as if tipping a hat that, in this case, just doesn't happen to be there at the moment.

"This is a great place for a young woman!" Sebastien protests, giving Gabriel a shocked look. "Mon Dieu man, just because you are out of the game does not mean we all have to be! It just means they need ... you know." The young Sebastien grins. "Strong men. It gives even ugly mugs like me a chance." He reaches over to give the older man a playful backhanded slap to the shoulder. "But you never did mention what you found out there. The sign in front of the city says dragon? Did the swords help?"

The older man shrug, nods, laughs, swears, and generally offers up a number of other equally incongruous emotions and bits of body language. "Dragon? Fuck man, I don't know. Last time I saw a picture of a dragon was at the Louvre, when St. George had just slain it. Ain't seen one of those yet. Thing that pisses me off though, like I said, is that people don't listen to people who know how to keep them alive. Or at least, give them a better chance at staying alive. The *only* goddam thing they listened to, and it was only a half-listen at that, was, 'don't drive all the way to the target, instead, park about two miles away and walk.' They stopped about, oh, maybe three-quarters of a mile away. Then things really went to shit in an hand-basket." The telling of the story halts for a moment. "Apparently you know exactly what I mean. Maybe I'm just nicer about it." Gabriel offers a knowing smile to the other warrior.

The young man furrows his brow, and tilts his head. "So, if you did not see a dragon, what did you see? Start at the beginning. You went in, they did not listen to you and brought the vehicle most of the way to the lake. Were you able to scout ahead? Was there a ley line nearby? Or did you simply run up and poke around?" He gives Gabriel a quizzical look.

"Ha! Fuck no! Two dumb bitches just started wandering in, followed by one almost equally-dumb bitch, and one dumb bastard!" Gabriel grunts derisively. "I was nominated tail-end Charlie. I have no complaint with that. I don't need to lead, and someone needs to cover the back. But they didn't even give me *time* tell say, 'Hey, slow the fuck down!' Nope, just marched right through dead wilderness, talkin' and laughin' at the top of their goddam lungs." The man takes a short break from fuming. "Of course, all I'd been able to get out of Sage was, 'a polluted lake.' No. Polluted was when the Erie River caught fire. This was just liquid death. You could tell just by looking at it. What was our objective? To see if there was a pillar. There was no pillar, and I pointed that out, pointed out that we should leave." He shakes his head again, once again trying to calm down. "But did they listen? Nooooo" comes the exaggerated complaint. Well, perhaps not too exaggerated.

"Wait a moment," Sebastien replies. "They had three magic users. I know two of them had good educations. The third is ... how do you say? A medium. Sage is a medium and a botanist. She should have had some warning of what was to come from a mile away. Premonitions of trouble weeks ahead." He narrows his eyes as his lips become a hard line. "How about samples? Of the dead trees, of the lake? Or ... were they able to sense anything there? Before the trouble came? What sort of trouble did you encounter?"

Gabriel offers up a hand - visibly trying to calm himself as they stand together in the Park - and counts names off on his fingers. "Sage, Valeriya, Vixen, Leonard, and me. That's it." It may be noted that he has very unusually left off the polite and accepted, "Miss" that he gives to every young woman. "No samples, no. Sage and Valeriya walked right up to the lake. Right the fuck up to it! Could have reached out a toe and dipped it! Anyway, these three ugly fuckers just climbed out of the ground and started attacking. Sage and Valeriya had a chance to start swinging." The man then holds up a hand and looks away. "What happened next, I accept was my error, and possibly a little bit of equipment malfunction. But I'm not making excuses. Combat's a bitch, and things happen, but I fucked up. Tossed a blinder into the group. Figured that the four of them - our guys - would have seen it, after all, I called it out, but they didn't. Fortunately, everyone but Valeriya managed to keep from getting blinded. And I learned that these things - apparently 'undead' things - are not affected by blinder grenades. That was my fuckup." He raises his eyes to the stars. The rapidly disappearing stars, as a new front begins to blow in. "Let me grab a breath. This grand little fucking story of a series of fuckups by mostly not me, is coming to a close." He slaps his hands together. Not for warmth. He's just pissed.

"And they took pictures, oui? Or some sort of video? May I take a look?" Sebastien looks hopeful, though he holds up a hand for a pause. "Wait a moment. Describe these 'ugly fuckers' in the lake. You say they are undead. It warms my heart to hear this -- this is why I provided you silver and fire -- but you've not seen these before. Describe them. Rotting human? Rotting alien? Skeletons? Red slime? Something else?"

The older man gives a vague shrug and a screwed up facial expression. "I didn't have a hell of a lot of time to look," Gabriel states, moving past the first questions and onto the next. "Best I could say, it looked like the zombies from 'The Night of the Living Dead.' Yeah, rotting, skeletons, fucked up in general. So yeah, I put away the rifle, pulled the swords - only because that's what the others were doing. Then, yeah, I know this sounds nuts, but this huge... really fucking big, thing that looked like a thirty-foot tall robot, but made out of pieces you'd find in a junkyard, but with bits of dead flesh, too... anyway, came out of the 'water' if you can call it that." Gabriel offers one small happy face. "Fortunately, it was slow, and its aim was bad. Hit me once, barely did any damage. I called for a retreat, no one listened. Only when Vixen suddenly decided to retreat, did anyone decide to retreat. Fine." He shakes his head again, and holds an angry hand toward Sebastien. "Then this giant, talking wolf appeared out of fucking nowhere. Like, same size as tornado, or tarmac, whatever the bear's name is. But talking. Then, through sheer luck, I noticed that something had pushed, armed, and set my three HE grenades to blow. Tossed the whole sack just in time to keep from killing us all. Don't know how that happened. But this wolf, it was, magical somehow. Was not impressed by your swords. I don't know." He shakes his head again, as if clearing his head. "But we did get out, everyone survived, basically unharmed, God be praised." Finally, as an afterthought, "Video, pictures? No. You'd think that Vixen of all people would have been on top of that. But as far as I know... nothing. No dragons, as far as I know." He offers an ironic look. "Sorry, I'm pissing, moaning, whining, and babbling. But idiots should listen to those who know what we're doing."

As Sebastien's listens, his face grows increasingly grim. "Monsieur, I have seen this before," he speaks flatly. "Your lasers would have been ineffective. The undead, they are harmed by silver and magic. These are not home-grown undead. Perhaps some of them had local armor?" Sebastien makes it a question, "But did some wear chainmail? Ancient suits?" He leans forward, cursing in French. "Short-sighted fools. Why did they not bring me? I've *fought* this before. Those undead that you met, the small ones, are the souls of fallen warriors. They know hate and nothing else. They like to lay in piles, with weapons strewn about, an ambush waiting for those who come to strip the dead." Sebastien stares ahead, into the snow, and points. "When I saw them last, it was cold like this. Three winters ago?" His head ducks, and he shakes it. Bad memories. "I wish I'd known then ... I learned a lot. You must destroy their armor by conventional means, then change to silver. The warriors are slow, but very resilient. There is another type often seen in conjunction, a ... slime. Red. It envelops its target, and begins digesting them alive. You must use fire, or to a lesser degree energy attacks. You cannot block nor parry their attacks, they simply glom on and run you down to the ground. And then you're eaten alive." Sebastien's eyes rise, at that. "The large ones. Did you see a crystal? A green stone, like..." He reaches into his shirt, fishing about, and pulls out a small shard of something broken. A fragment of green crystal, translucent, held on a chain. "Like this? If there is a way to harm the large ones, I don't know it. They can absorb so much punishment. These crystals bind them together. Destroy it, and you destroy the beast."

Gabriel shakes his head negatively. "No, no. I won't argue against your experience, Sebastian, but these fuckers weren't wearing armor. At least, nothing that caught my eye. Just broken, decaying flesh. Didn't seen any red goop, either. They were pretty brainless. Just sort of clawed around. You know, if they'd been susceptible to normal weapons, it would have been a turkey-shoot. No green stones. Nothing. Just... dead, rotting shit. Sage sliced one with a blade, and it wounded it. But you're the expert." After having pretty much calmed down at this point, the older gentleman asks, "Any ideas about this dragon thing? I saw a big-ass talking wolf, but no dragon. And yeah... just decaying fleshy things and a giant conglomerate of crap. Everything from concrete to pieces of vegetation to human bodies."

"It's magic," Sebastien says unhelpfully. "Listen, it could be anything. From a hell hound, to a shape-shifted human mage, probably not a dragon, but even a talking dog is not out of the question. You do not know if it is even the ring leader. It did have," he pauses, narrowing his eyes at Gabriel. He tugs his chin up, and Gabriel's pistol raises a few inches, barrel still trapped by the harness, "telekinesis. This can be magic or psychic." Sebastien shrugs and the pistol falls back into place. "I could not do several grenades at once, so if it was a psychic, it was a powerful one." Sebastien pulls the crystal back and tucks it into his shirt, shaking his head. "But you got no evidence. I could be completely wrong about everything, just going on descriptions. What we saw last time was preceded by every psychic in the city going crazy, dark dreams, the world shrouded in nightmares and blood. I've felt none of that, and I'm one of the people who'd get it first." He widens one eye to give Gabriel a look. "Perhaps it was a shifter, and the large creature was a tectonic entity? Listen, you need to get someone in there who knows this stuff. I've been to school, and I've seen some shit, but I'm no scientist. I could barely tell a pine from a fir, much less what's killing them. You can call it a day, you've done your job and been paid -- for what I don't know, with not even a picture as proof that you were there -- but you can walk away. Or, you can find someone less Mickey Mouse than your old friends."

The man from long-lost Kentucky offers a smile, though very visibly and deliberately locking his handgun back in place. "I don't know, I'm just telling you what I saw. If these idiots decide to go again, well... I guess I'm an idiot, because I'll go too. Not that I want to for adventure or interest, but I can't in good conscience let them wander off alone like babes." A single shoulder is raised. "I don't know if these things would have any interest, but if they decided to come here to this wretched piece-of-shit city, a lot of innocent people could be killed, and I wouldn't be able to live with that, either." Gabriel offers a wolfish grin of his own. "If things are really getting worse, like that sign says - which incidentally, I don't know how people would know that - and people do go back out there, I might try to pull at the heartstrings of good people like you and Miss Erica, play to your gentle side, convince you to come along, so that perhaps I'm not the only voice of reason." There's actually a loud laugh. "I'm pretty sure that my being from not exactly this world probably doesn't help my credibility, despite what I've demonstrated on other operations. But you never know." He then looks up as the wind blows harder and the snow becomes thicker. "Blizzard coming." Interestingly, he seems to pay no real attention to the cold, his clothes as normal as they were in September, save for a thin pair of black-leather gloves. "Before we part ways tonight, whenever that is, let me swing by and grab your swords. Give 'em back to someone who can truly use them properly."

"Erica," Sebastien repeats, and he makes a small noise. "Good luck with that one. Maybe she'll listen to you. She never did me." He shrugs, and sighs. "Listen. Before that happens. Before they go back. Do you really think they'll do more than just pack heavier weapons and more armor?" Sebastien narrows his eyes, and folds his arms before him to give Gabriel a long look. "Absolutely not," he answers himself, presently. "So. Do yourself a favor. Get a friend. Go out there. Do some recon. Get a feel for their force strength, take some samples, record some video, then go back to the library and do some opposition research. And then look around the city. I said we killed a dragon. And not a baby, one nearly a thousand years old. What I did not say, was that prior to our expedition, someone went out and scouted this dragon, identifying the species as one terriblement vulnerable to fire. That individual sold us a workup. So, we purpose-specific hired a burster -- a psychic whose specialty is making large fires even bigger -- and brought a flamethrower. We made a small fire, she made it a large fire. Most dragons? This would not hurt. Our dragon? Extra Crispy." Sebastien smiles at that. "Without that, we might have all died."

Gabriel's face contorts into a humorous, friendly, somewhat ironic smile. "Why Mr. Sebastien, did you just volunteer to go on a recon mission with me to save the asses of those who are too stupid to do it themselves.? His crosses his own arms - very leisurely so - and shrugs. "Miss Erica and I have a pretty good report." But it's primarily the first statement that manages to hang in the air, even after the second one has been made.

"Me?" Sebastien asks as one of his hands raises to his chest. "Good God man, no!" He shakes his head, and laughs. "No, I bring the hammer. I can't see them coming until I'm right on top of them, and I can't move without waking the dead. Put me in the woods, and you'll be up to your ears in trouble before you know it. You want to kill them, I'm your man. Half my weapons are silver, from swords to automatic shotguns. You need wood? I have a crossbow that can put a bolt on target a quarter mile away. Fire? I have all kinds of plasma. My bases are covered. But if you want covert, there are people in this city who can fly over the ground to not leave a trace. Who can disappear into thin air, sense magic from hundreds of feet away, even turn the undead with a few words spoken. Just .. I'm not that man."

"Ah, the tank to my small unit. You bring a cannon. My job for twenty years has been to get in, kill, destroy, or observe, then get out, without anyone knowing I was there. The Raiders, we used seven-man teams. The Company, most of the time, single operatives with a loose connection to support. Of course, Natasha and I were always teamed. My Special Agent and her Special Operative. Worked quite well as a model later to be followed." Gabriel nods with a bit of pride. "We were quite good." After swishing his lips around for a while, the man asks, "In this situation, only a fool would go alone, and you know this city better than I. Any suggestions for who might be able to pull it off? And please do not bother to mention the name 'Celaeno.' I don't care if she's the finest for the job. She's reckless, and for reasons that I won't go into, I wouldn't trust her to guard the shitter." As he speaks, his drawl rolls in and out of strength and stability.

Sebastien nods and gives an open-handed gesture, "Oui, especially with Sara, like a tank. My armor is twice as thick as anyone else's, and she carries more armor than most vehicles. And even when I am against something so superior to me that I could not take them alone, often I can goad such things into hand to hand combat where I take damage slowly, so as to tie them up while my support deals damage with rifles from afar." He laughs, and notes, "Obviously, this works best when fighting a dragon, or a giant robot, or something else where my friends can aim *up* and not hit me!" He falls silent then, thinking. "Sage should have been perfect. Ah, perhaps Isabeau? She is also a medium, and a botanist, and would be able to tell something of the trees while alerting you far in advance of stumbling on the living dead. But I think she is inexperienced in combat, she does not have transportation and I don't know if she is very subtle. Vargus, perhaps? He is a dimensional traveler and an accomplished mage. Honestly, your friends should have had all the expertise you need, they just ... didn't use it?" Sebastien shrugs.

"Miss Sage failed to detect the undead zombie things before. How could she help now? I'm not following the wisdom of having a botanist around, either. Like I said, most of the area leading to this lake was as barren as the Atacama. It was only around the lake itself that was more of a thicket - perfect place for an ambush, if you're stupid enough to walk into it. Oh, hey! I know people that stupid!" Gabriel allows a sorrowful chuckle. He considers. "Leonard. He travels. He has the magic. Doesn't make a lot of noise. But if I'm going to find the 'undead' I think that I'll need to have someone who can detect it. I don't know any of those other people you mentioned. Never been in a place to even offer a quiet 'hello' in passing." The man looks up at the darkening sky and stiffening breeze. "You know, Sebastien, the weather isn't bothering me, but the hour is. I have a bit of a rigid schedule that I like to keep. Judging by the Moon, I should probably be on my way. But I'll swing by your place to return your weapons on the way."

"Well, look around. Advertise, maybe?" Sebastien shrugs, and nods. "I work soon, at the hospital. Night shift. Get off at seven in the morning. So oui, I should also head out." He chuckles, glancing over his shoulder. "And then? I can wake up Monique." He grins at the thought, and clears his throat.

Gabriel reaches out to the much taller man, and offers him his own clap on the shoulder. "Talk to you later, Sebastien. Be kind, don't wake up a little Eskimo girl. Oscar Mike." After a sloppy military-to-civilian "salute," the man is then chugging west through the two-foot snow at an impressive, ground-eating pace that can probably be kept up for hours.