Gimme Shelter [Attn All Prometheans]

As the crowd turns desperate Chaser tenses slightly, half in very real, very conscious fear, half in righteous anger, he doesn’t like big groups of people, they bring bad memories, specially now, when so much is so alike, his jaw tenses and so do his fists, the little guy doesn’t even notice, but Prowler does and laughs a throaty growl of a laugh, readying itself to appear a bite someone’s face off too if it must…

Even when they start to shove the young Ulgan remains quiet but doesn’t back away, red eyes focused, ready to pounce, ready to tear, he can feel the ghostly fire inside, ready to burst through and give him inhuman might, if they don’t calm down he’ll give them a reason to panic.

Spoiler:

"Aren't there abandoned buildings they could go to? I'm sure even just getting out of the wind would be a help. Something stone, so it can't burn. In my rather short travels I have seen fires started in large metal containers... A large abandoned stone building and a number of those metal containers with discarded paper and wood would provide shelter and warmth for many people, Is that something we could do?" Ben asks Harold as he rather passively watches the mass of people seethe and shift around them.

Harold casually looks to Ben feeling that he doesn't appear to see how close they are to getting beaten to death, or close he was to being beaten to death. "I'm staying at a hotel, you can hang out if you want". He eyes the man that made him the threat sticking his hands in his pocket not sure what was coming out if he didn't react well, keys, gun, or pepperspray. .

When Harold tosses the keys into the crowd, they immediately move away from Harold, pushing and shoving to get at the keys, but they appear to be unable to find them in the three inches of snow that covers the street, After the bout of pushing and panic ends in failure, the crowd slowly starts to disperse. The prometheans had been sparred the wrath of the mob...for tonight at least.

"Good show man That was some fast thinking."

A man's voice comes from the direction of a shadowy alley way speaking with Harold. When you turn your head, you see him. He is a middle aged man wearing a worn out gray trench coat and slicked back hair. A trail of smoke emerges from a still lit cigarette.

"Some of them won't make it tonight. But that ain't your fault. I know some people that not only need the help but would appreciate it. If you're a doctor or something I know that would make a big difference."

The spirit that follows Chaser around immediately takes notice of the man in the trench coat, seemingly alerted by something about the man.

Harold's first thought as it always was, was smoking causes lung cancer, without fail, he couldn't help think that even when he had no intentions of bringing it up, maybe it was just something hardwired in him that came out every time he happened to see someone smoking a cigarette. "Thanks?", Harold said with a smile. He instinctively sizes up the man who seems to be cloaked in shadow in the alley for signs of medical issues. His calm in cold this great seemed enough to set him apart from the others in the dwindling crowd. "You have a place to sleep tonight?", Harold asks while looking for his keys.

Spoiler:

The mob seems to go away, at least for now, but it would be wise if they didn’t stay there much longer, at least while everyone is so eager to get anything…

While Harold talks to the stranger however, Chaser regards him silently, clued by Prowler’s response to him, his red eyes focus on the newcomer with some interest, wondering what can it be that is making his companion so agitated about this individual.

Spoiler:

Ben simply shifts his position to regard the newcomer rather impassively and waits to see what happens and what is said next.

Heavy footsteps and the sound of teeth tearing into something gristly and brittle can be heard, accompanied by a twinge of Azothic energy that calcifies into a dim beacon. A hulk in a tattered coat lumbers in, painted with scars. He appears to be eating a dead pigeon. He stops, dropping the half-eaten bird as he watches the gathered Created with a dim wariness in his eyes. His disfigurements appear as dry, rawhide skin and a lattice bloodless wounds plugged up with cracked clay. Pyrotic light shines dimly through the crevices.

"Give it to Mikey he'll eat anything", Harold said to himself maybe he heard him maybe he didn't. What is this union station. It sure was a lot of us here for people that didn't seem to want to be here, it was difinately turning into a first season of Heros situation. The medical dummy continued looking for his keys but casually nodded to the promethan eating a dead bird, these things happened when you were broke, it wasnt like he'd never done it.. He regarded him as if he already knew him even though he didn't and speaking was just a formality.

The man frowns a big at Harold's question.

"I've ahhh, been out of work a while man. But me and some other people, we've got this encampment not far from here. Down in this old subway station. Its not much, but it will keep a man from freezing to death. Can't say we've got much food though."

He looks around at the other prometheans that are milling about. "You guys can come too if you need a place to keep warm tonight."

Chaser gets the impression from observing Prowler that either the man had come into contact with some kind of spirit recently, or that another spirit was lingering close by. Its not clear though which it is though.

"I don't really need a place to stay", said Harold who may have been equally offended that he thought he looked like a vagrant, but he didn't really get emotional in that way so he didn't know what offended him. "though, I can hit the grocery store and get you guys some food, if you know what stores are open I don't live around here", said the medical dummy Brushing away snow in search of his keys.

Ben shrugs and helps Harold look for his keys. As he gets closer, he quietly asks him, "If they do not have food, why would they invite more people and provide a further drain on already limited resources? That seems odd."

For a second, Chase felt tempted to force the Divine Fire up, to enhance his perception and allow him to pierce through the fog of twilight…

But before he could contemplate the idea for too long, he felt it again, that hint, that strange bit of recognition, that sense of belonging, a Flame reaching out to another, the kinship of another Azoth, before he could react to himself he was looking over his shoulder, he was short, and the great number of people around them would normally make it hard for him to find someone amongst them.

But if anything, this giant was not hard to find.

Red eyes focused on the towering brute, noticing the scars and the fire first, and then wondering how many fights he must have pushed through to get them all, a mixture of awe and recognition dawning on him “I think we got another one”

The young Ulgan said to no one in particular as he rose his hand in direction to the newcomer calling him towards them.

Spoiler:

"Food would be good, but what we really need is a doctor. I got people that are injured down there. Come on, I'll show the place myself."

The man lets his cigarette fall to the ground and tightens up his trench coat. A coat that looked far too clean for someone apparantly living on the streets.

He starts walking, motioning for the created to follow him

"I am no doctor," Ben questions, "So why am I coming?"

Quietly, under his breath, he adds, "Especially when I do not trust you."

Harold smirked casually, "I'm a doctor, I'll see what's going on down there. How serious is it, we talking emergencies and dying, or we talking slow deterioration", he said, wanting to get a clue as to what he was walking into... medically speaking. Being a doctor he didn't have the luxury to judge others intent, if someone was sick it was his job to fix it. He'd like to say that situations where mysterious strangers popping out of nowhere bringing him adversities were not his everyday life, but if he did he'd be lying.

He looked to Ben, obviously having some sort of issue. The medical dummy leans in close so that it'd be difficult for anyone but Ben to hear him. "I don't know if you're following the pilgrimage, I don't make assumptions like that... but if you do you have to trust, at least enough to find some meaning. You have no clue what you might end up doing down there, maybe something good happens, maybe something shitty", Harold shrugs, "That's life". "But even if you don't believe in fate or god or whatever do it so I don't get my ass kicked down there", he said with a smile giving no grandiose speech about obligation to humanity or a higher purpose, in the end he hoped he'd prefer to get his back then not. He realized it was foolhardy to trust strangers with his life, but he lived as if death was over his shoulder and whoever wanted to stick the knife was welcomed to take their shot. He didn't live in fear of anything least of all death.

"Hadn't really thought about it, honestly," Ben replies quietly. "But, may as well help make sure you make it out of there."

With that, he shifts his backpack and follows behind the medically inclined Promethean.

“Hey, wait for us!” Chaser followed the other two older created after a few seconds, although he wasn’t particularly interested in the well being of the mortals, he was mildly curious about Rex’s devotion to help, something in him feeling akin to that call, even if he lacked the skill to do so.

Plus, he wanted to ‘see’ what did that guy was up to, or at least, had around himself.

So as soon as they got away from the mob enough to not be immediately spotted and the man wasn’t looking his way, the young Ulgan let the Pyros burst, the spirit-blood that made him whole being set aflame with Divine Fire, tempering his senses like the flame tempers steel…

His vision sharpening and his perception growing deeper, the illusion of life shattering for a few seconds, his eyes visible as crimson as they really were, his skin becoming deadly pale and the torn edges on his flesh becoming obvious, even more so, the pitch black abyss stuff visibly flowing from within, the left side of his youthful and handsome face literally bleeding darkness as he became aware of the invisible world once more.

Now he would find out.

The man looks at Harold and hesitates.

"Its a bunch of stuff. Some of them are crazy. Getting bit by animals, cuts, and what not. Definitely some frost bite too. Oh yeah you can call me Gerald man."

For those following Gerald the following unfolds. [Note its entirely optional whether to follow him. You guys are in the drivers seat]

Gerald leads you down into a nearby subway station that is about a mile from the shelter. The station appears to be under construction as the entrance is surrounded by yellow caution tape. As you enter the underground, the raging cold and howling winds from outside recedes.

Gerald points to one of the tunnels as he pulls out a flashlight and turns it on, shining it out through the pitch black darkness.

"Its a little ways down these tunnels."

The journey continues through the pitch black tunnel that appears to be descending further underground. At the first juncture, he veers off down a narrow maintenance corridor and motions for the others to follow.

"Come on, we're getting close."

Eventually, the narrow maintenance tunnel broadens out a bit before leading into the entrance of what looks like a whole other station.

One can see what looks like a crude barricade of rotten furniture, trashcans, and other items at the entrance to the new station, manned by two ragged older men with full beards, and carrying a couple of hand axes.

Behind them one can see a few camp fires burning, some tents. A wrecked rail car from a by gone era lies at the center of the area.

"Who's there?" One of the men at the barricade calls out as he sees the flashlight.

"Just me yah crazy old bastard." Gerald replies, brought some new folks with me. They're here to help.

[Note for chaser: If he activates his bestowement, he would not have located any other spirits yet, but can sense that he is drawing very close to one. By the time he reaches the underground campsite, he can make out the dim contours of something in the train car that lies just ahead]

Harold follows Gerald without any hint of fear or distress. The medical dummy checked out the old architecture of Boston, it was one of the older cities in the united states he had been to. He had been all up and down the continents of north and south america but one day he wanted to venture to the rest of the world.

The medical dummy instinctively began diagnosing problems the moment he saw his first shanty town settler. He smiled and waved at anyone that bothered to look and didn't past up the chance to get into a conversation if it seemed as if someone was willing. He walked the camp looking for the worst cases first.

Spoiler:

Ben trudges along quietly, looking at things as they move through the tunnel, although he doesn't seem to be admiring any of it. It almost seems like he's making mental notes of what they pass.

As the group reaches the shanty town, he tenses a bit seeing people wielding weapons, but relaxes as they seem to be let in. So far things seemed to be on the up-and-up, but the trap may just not have closed yet. Reaching back to his pack, Ben unzips it a few inches, pulling the zipper up the side. With that done, he just follows the medical dummy around and takes note of everything he sees, mentally counting people as he sees them.

One of the guard's at the barricade nods his head to Gerald and gestures for the group to enter."Help? We could use that," he mutters.

The camp is composed of a score of tents, a kitchen of some kind, and a few campfires. A ragged band of around 20 people, mostly older looking men, huddle around the fires for warmth.

One of the men, a crusty looking guy with a long white beard appears injured. But not from frost bite. A blood soaked bandage is wrapped around his neck.

Gerald frowns as he walks over to the old man, putting a gloved hand up to his forehead. "He's got a fever, I'm thinking the wound might be infected. He might also need some stitches I'm thinking." As he says this his gaze drifts over toward the wrecked subway car, seemingly distracted for a moment.

Crimson eyes remained sharp and alert as they lower within the city’s bowls, underneath it, trying to remain aware of what possible escape routes could exist if things took a turn for the worst…

That-Which-Prowls-For-Blood, for all its poise and anger, seemed quiet now, eerily aware that they were probably going towards whatever dark thing had left its impression on this particular meat-bag, a low growl escaping its snout as they can sense more than see the spirit presence in the deeper parts of the tunnel.

As they arrived and Gerald took some time to show Rex who needed what, Chaser remained behind, but once the mortal moved closer to the subway cart, the young Ulgan took the chance to investigate too, urging his ephemeral Companion to remain close and be ready for anything.

Harold took in the scene while rifling through his medical bag. He diagnosed the older man for his true ailment. He showed no sign of alarm or concern for his own well being and was completely at home no matter where he was. If you had no home you may as well get comfortable anywhere you lay your hat because you'd be miserable most of the time if you didn't . He casually looked around nodding to whoever nodded back.

Ben stands behind Harold, watching intently with a look of curiosity, glancing around them out of a sense of vigilance from time to time before looking back to watch what happens.