Samuel Johnson; March - April 2010
Samuel Johnson; March 19, 2010
I will use my extensive network of contacts to try and talk to some REAL occult people. They won't be likely to do me any favors but I will try to convince them to sell me some owl's blood or sell me the name and location of someone who will.
You call some of your informants and have them delve into research regarding the sordid world of illegal owl trade. You find out that several members of the occult community might be able to help you, especially (as you suspected) the Asatru, neo-druids and members of other Pagan groups whose traditions are linked to agrarian culture and nature magic. You're eventually hooked up with a New Age store owner and farmer named Tabitha Hearns who is a hobbyist herbalist, weaver and falconer and who apparently was involved in some manner of hilarious Samhain animal sacrifice story... she's said to be a bit of a character.
You eventually, after a game of phone tag, get her to agree to meet with you one evening at her farm house a little ways upstate. When you arrive, she greets you at the door, absent-mindedly carrying a semi-skinned rabbit. You aren't quite certain if you're supposed to shake hands or not.
Tabitha, a friendly overall and flannel wearing woman in her late thirties, smiles as you look somewhat askance at the meaty lapine in her hand and exclaims that you've come just in time, as Boris is just about to be fed. She remarks that she really is glad to hear from you, as the little beastie is a pain in the ass to manage after the divorce and all. She mostly maintains the aviary out of obligation. Her ex was apparently the aficionado while she did all the clean up - not that she doesn't love birds mind you... it's just that Boris never really took to her. He's a bit... intense. She lets you inside and tells you to help yourself to the fresh peanut brittle on the counter as you're led through her rather cluttered and cat-filled kitchen to the converted garage where the birds are kept. You hear the anticipatory vocalizations of several largish-sounding avians as she begins to click open the dead bolt.
As you enter the garage, the trilling, screeching and barking halts, and seven sets of black piercing eyes turn to glare at you. You're a little unnerved by this, even as you note that the gaggle of kestrels and hawks all seem to be securely tethered. Tabitha, invading your personal space, pats you on the back firmly as she notices your discomfort. "Oh don't let them get to you, hon. They're all real sweethearts mostly. Just don't let them know you're afraid."
You scan the room, trying to ascertain where Boris is. You are a little startled when you find what you presume to be your intended owl is just a few feet from the door, looking at you with a quiet contemplative expression. He hisses a bit as you make eye contact.
"Aw! Whose's a grumpy boy today!?" Tabitha trills as she presents him with the freshly peeled rabbit. Boris takes a few moments to latch his beak into her well-gloved hand and shriek menacingly before he is eventually cajoled into satisfying his aggressions on the dead rabbit's skull.
"How's $2,000 sound? I'll throw in the full equipment and a case of pinkies?"
Later, after a rather harrowing van ride (you are *not* risking placing Boris anywhere near your jag) you arrive back at the Chantry, you're new animal companion in tow. He was rather unhappy, all things considered, to have been placed in a cage.... and rather more unhappy to have had that cage placed in a motor vehicle... and was, in fact, made exceedingly less than happy by having that vehicle begin to move. Given all this, you decide to let him have some quiet time before you move him to the basement and attempt to extract his blood. You toss your crate of "pinkies" (which you find out is slang for fetal mice) in the Chantry refrigerator.
Larissa, whose been in the library continuing her studies into overlapping umbrae and the manifestation of spirits therin, raises an eyebrow as you pass by but doesn't comment. This process is repeated when you finally get up the courage to transport the very large cage with the very large angry bird inside of it into the building. She politely refrains from making any Hogwart's jokes.
OOC Note: Boris may be bled enough to charge one Scry per downtime without seriously injuring him, or may be killed and juiced for enough blood to charge eight Scrys ... you think... maybe. Lacking the Animal Ken or Medicine Abilities makes the process very tricky. It should be noted that Boris hates everything and can smell fear.
if my contacts cant find blood removed from owls I will use them to find suppliers of live owls and buy as many as I can, though not more than 4.
I will get cages and "pinkies" and hoods and heavy leather gloves before purchasing them.
Your contacts arrange for you to meet with Vladimir, a High Quality Avian Acquisition Specialist. You are to board the Red Line at 2:48 AM from the subway station at Applewood and 25th. You will bring $2000 in cash.
A man boards at the next stop. He looks to be about 6 and a half feet tall, has a glass eye, a long beard, and a large coat. He you are fairly certain that he is Vladimir. He says nothing, only looks at you with his one eye and opens his palm. You quietly hand him the cash. He counts it, counts it again, and then cracks a smile. You think his teeth are made of steel.
He unceremoniously reaches into a pocket of his coat and hands you a paper bag. Then, thinking for a moment, he reaches into another coat pocket and hands you a live rabbit.
You look at him confused for a moment. He sighs, takes the rabbit back, and deftly snaps its neck, before sticking it in the paper bag and handing it back to you. He says nothing, and gets off at the next stop.
Upon returning to the chantry, you open your goodie bag to discover that it contains not one, but two High Quality Avian Acquisitions, along with a dead rabbit. They seem much less frightened now that they are not in a terrifying Eastern European's pocket or a paper bag, and hoot at you adorably. Your Animal Ken x1 suspects that they have just imprinted on you.
Samuel Johnson; April 10, 2010
using transportation people, sam will get as many owls as he can smuggled in for him.
Your friends in the shady underbelly of New York that is the avian black market inform you that with the recent Audubon Society findings, owls are a bit more in demand, and prices have had to have been adjusted accordingly...
What's that? You aren't interested in acquiring a Greater Spotted Snickering Owl? Well... maybe we can cut you a deal... Perhaps some manner of budget-friendly owl can be obtained for you.
You eventually travel once more to Applewood and 25th. This time with $4000 in cash. Apparently people have had to deal with... *unexpected expenses* as they attempt to meet with the new market demands. You repeat the process of yester-fortnight and are once more handed a brown paper bag containing one avian acquisition.
Vladamir brings a pre-snapped rabbit along this time.
Samuel Johnson; April 24, 2010
Sam will buy a few pairs of the thickest longest gloves he can find.
The thickest of gloves are not as thick as Boris' hate.
Samuel Johnson; April 24, 2010
Using his new gloves, Sam will extract a trait of blood from Boris and Achilles once a cycle and store it in the fridge. Achilles is exempt this cycle as he was used during court.
If his feeding is going particularly well, Sam will boost his physicals before taking on Boris.
You slip several juicy pinkies into Boris' cage and watch him crush their not-yet-fully-realized little baby mouse heads with much aplomb. He does not look happy to be eating, but you get the sense that he is not horrifically irate at you at this exact given time. His irateness, all things considered, seems merely mundane as he devours his succulent meal of rodent flesh.
Seizing the moment, you open the cage just a crack and attempt to insert a small veterinary syringe into the feasting Boris.
Boris is unamused.
His beak, red with so much infant mouse blood, doesn't succeed in it's intentions toward your fingers, thanks to your gloves. However, Boris' ire has been invoked, and once he sees that you seem unpained by his ministrations he makes an attempt to swat open the cage door as he barks like a maniac. You have a hard time of dissuading him from this pursuit, given that he is firmly latched onto your arm.
What happens next you don't entirely follow, but the door is somehow opened. As possibility arises that Boris may free himself, you are forced to take decisive action, and somewhat panicked, you clumsily block his egress with your face.
All things having gone according to what you must assume is Boris' sinister plan, Boris requites the injury to his person, leaving you with two lethal and very little pride. By some miracle granted you by a merciful god, your eyes remain relatively not eaten through the process.
You, as a player, may determine to what degree you shriek like a little girl before the cage is finally closed and your Boris blood is obtained.
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