Father Dawson (May 12, 2011 11:29:07 PM)
(This user has entered Skitter. Skitter. Skitter.) (IP = 70.94.84.190)
Father Dawson (May 12, 2011 11:32:14 PM)
*Dawson was out sitting not too far from the Sugar Mill enjoying the evening.. Penelope was nearby with her dinner.. the sounds were slightly disturbing as she ripped chunks of meat of a dead deer*
deemaunik (May 12, 2011 11:34:13 PM)
It was wet, even for the goddamned Bayou. Spanish moss clinged to itself from the branches where dilapidated highways cracked and broke entirely, the wild attempting to regain it's leverage over the land. Those sort of stretches where someone a little too tall for their vehicle invariably hits their head against the ceiling over and over and over again due to the root structures buckling and contorting the stretch. Birds called, warning of Anaconda paths, Cottonmouth Moccasins. The sort. Bats had just lifted into the sky and began hunting insects, who invariably maintained their hive mind of chittering and buzzing. The various elements that had been discussed in Court played in Dawson's mind as he made preparations to score leverage amongst other Cainites.
Father Dawson (May 12, 2011 11:36:01 PM)
*He worked on his concentration and getting the pitch for his call right... he let out a piercing call for all nearby bats to come to his bidding* (3 suxx)
Father Dawson (May 12, 2011 11:36:15 PM)
*He then waited for whatever ones would respond to his request to come*
Father Dawson (May 12, 2011 11:36:20 PM)
(sorry hit enter)
deemaunik (May 12, 2011 11:38:45 PM)
That sort of high pitched ecolocation he'd become used to since the Embrace, let alone New Orleans carried over the trees and streets. Seconds passed, and it was joined by a half dozen others, then forty, fifty. In less than a minute, a mob of animals descended to blot out the various sources of ambient light near the old Sugar Mill, perching upon tree branches and overhead street lights that had long been in a state of disuse. Clattering of claws against the steel roof of the building. Grinding and scraping as they jockeyed for leverage. Each one peering curiously at the Nosferatu.
Father Dawson (May 12, 2011 11:42:01 PM)
*Smiling to those of his children that came to his call he rose from his seat* ~in Bat~ Children seek out for me a pack of humans in this swamp... Take care one of them speaks with the animals as I do, trust not his words. Return to me when you have found them.
deemaunik (May 12, 2011 11:49:00 PM)
And, at that, the cacophony of high pitched tones almost threatened to start a headache. Dozens of the sky-rodents rerupted from the locale and fanned out across the Bayou, flitting off into the evening, leaving the Nosferatu with an almost smug sense of confidence. A minute passed, and naught but the most minute of chirps and squeals of Bat remained as they fanned out.
Father Dawson (May 12, 2011 11:54:09 PM)
*smiling as much as a Nossie could he picked out a stump and sat down on it.. after a bit he looked at over at Penelope and her Crunching and said quietly* You know you could have let me drain that before you ruined it like that...