Devil's Tower

WHO: Jack and Azrael
WHEN: Very early Monday morning
WHERE: Jack's room, Mountain Lion Lodge
WHAT: Az can't sleep, and ends up visiting his girl.

Azrael's wild hair had been tamed to some degree by his meeting with Slick and Ace, and then hours upon hours of strategizing by himself. He had locked himself in his office afterward, missing dinner and sleep and every other task he had to perform in favor of planning himself a war. Az was a very thorough person; now that the order had been given - the one that would set things in motion - he set about researching every possible outcome. After all, one couldn't expect to win a war just because one decided to start one. There were things that had to be considered, like what would happen when the Wolves cut off the Lions' food supply, as they inevitably would. Azrael spent hours and hours in that room with only the sound of the rain on the windows outside as his soundtrack, losing track of time as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon.

When he finally snapped out of it, it was pitch dark, his desk lamp the only source of light casting pools on the pages of writing now strewn across his desk. His Rolex read three in the morning. Azrael still wasn't tired, but his back was stiff from bending over the desk. He stood to his full, considerable height and stretched, then for something to do, headed down to the kitchen. Toast was quick and easy to make, and he crunched on a piece as he continued to wander the Lodge, his fortress stronghold. It had been his parents' legacy, and now it was their son's, but a completely different kind of legacy than they'd imagined passing on to him, Az was sure.

Popping the last bite of bread in his mouth as he climbed the stairs again, Azrael decided on a whim to stop at the second floor rather than continue on to the third, where his office and his quarters were. He opened the door to a room that was not his, and shut it quietly behind him. It was dark, and she was sleeping. He didn't want to wake her up, as he would if he got into bed with her, so instead snagged a chair and drew it toward the window. On his left was the rain, on his right was Jack, asleep. He alternated watching them both, and they calmed him down.

***OOC: Be sure to label the subject line of every post with either "Open" or the names of the chars that are involved in a particular thread! This will help eliminate confusion and let you know what threads are up for grabs!***
Who: Anyone and everyone who’s in Sundance at the time!
What: St. Patrick’s Day/Spring party!
Where: The Trading Post
When: Saturday
Why: Because it’s fun!

In the warmer months the Trading Post is almost always busy, full of drifters and members from every tribe who come there to barter, socialize, and a whole host of other things. It’s generally a peaceful place since it exists in neutral territory and everyone who comes there seems to have an understanding of an unspoken truce. The Trading Post is a large park the sits on the banks of the Belle Fourche river. There are picnic tables, a delapidated swingset and monkey bars, old grills, and of course trader stands. There’s also a dock there, but it is understood to belong to the River Runners, as it’s where they are docked most of the year and those wishing to use it usually have to give the RR a token of some kind, or at least ask nicely.

The St. Patrick’s Day/ Spring party was not planned or hosted by any tribe. The whole things seemed to have come about on its own, first as a rumor and then with complete strangers and tribe members alike planning for it. Saturday morning the place was busy with people decorating in any way that they could. The place was strung with streamers of all different colors, some torn and ratty. There were candles, and lanterns strung about and a few different musicians set up throughout the park. By the time the sun set the park was teaming with people, more people than it had seen in years. Between the boos and the open admission there was no telling what the night would hold.

WHO: Azrael, Ace, and Slick
WHEN: Sunday afternoon
WHERE: Mountain Lion Lodge, conference room.
WHAT: Those crafty baddies are at it again. They're getting restless.

Today was one of those days for Azrael - a rare one, when he wasn't quite as calm and collected as usual. He couldn't sit still, and there was a manic glint in his eye that scared off everybody he came across. Not that Az wanted to talk to the commoners anyway. There were only two people he wanted to talk to right now. There was plotting to be done.

He sent somebody insignificant out to find his two best friends and partners-in-crime when he was sure he was done with what duties they had for the day. Knowing them, those consisted of tormenting the rest of the Lodge in some form or another. This was the kind of day that was most dangerous for all three of them. Whatever demon possessed the triad's usual voice of reason from time to time didn't care much about reason at all. Azrael was still as calculating as ever, in this kind of mood, but more reckless. He wanted action. Results. He was going to get them, no matter what it took.

Az paced while he waited for Slick and Ace to join them in their usual meeting room, though he usually would've been standing still to greet them, watching the rainwater drizzle down the window. He didn't care about the weather much today; there was no time for brooding.

WHO: Jack and Azrael
WHAT: Az needs to lighten up.
WHERE: Mountain Lion Lodge; Az's office
WHEN: Monday afternoon

Azrael was in full austere leader-mode. He reclined behind his desk in his large, comfortable chair with his feet propped on the desk itself and his arms crossed over his chest. His boredom and mild annoyance showed on his face, but Azrael listened attentively to complaint after complaint from his loyal followers. They were stupid problems that Az usually would've foisted off on his best friend, but things were still tense between himself and Ace, and Az had refrained from speaking to him lately in a form that could've been taken as commanding, in the spirit of avoiding another fight.

As time passed, his expression became harder and the punishments he was obliged to mete out grew harsher. Azrael had little patience for people, especially the less intelligent sort that he more often than not found himself in command of. They served their purposes, but there were many reasons why Az didn't mingle with his subordinates often, and this was one of them. What he sincerely hoped was his last case ended with the girl he was dealing with shaking with nerves and finally bursting into tears as she left the room, after only a few harsh words from the tall blonde behind the desk. Azrael rolled his eyes and rubbed his hand down his face, finally getting up out of his chair to look out the window. It was a beautiful day outside, but in the glass itself he caught sight of the stormy look on his face.

Who: Jack, Azrael, and Ace.
What: Being really awkward.
When: New Year's Day
Where: Lodge kitchen.
Rating: PG-13?

Unlike most of the population of the Lodge, Jack didn't waste any of the first day of the New Year by sleeping in. Once her eyes had popped open, she hadn't lounged around in bed, enjoying the warmth or quiet. Instead, she'd hastily gotten dressed and retreated to her own room so that she could change. At least no one else was around to see her do the walk of shame from Ace's bedroom. Not that it was the first time. Not even close. Still, she shot a few nerveous looks over her shoulder as she darted down the hallway. Safely behind her own door, she stripped off her clothes from the night before. They still smelled like pot smoke, moonshine, and Ace. Leaving them in a heap, she pulled on something clean, bound her hair up in a pony tail, then went out to find some new way to distract herself.

Sure, she could have gone back to bed. Jack certainly felt like she could sleep for a few more days. On top of the embaressment that always came from getting seduced by Ace, she was feeling pretty hung over. Maybe there was some tea or, god willing, coffee down in the kitchen. Actually, any sort of liquid with a taste to it would be fine, as long as it wasn't booze. Her stomach did a quick roll at the thought, and her head pounded in sympathy. Mumbling something about her body hating her, she trudged down the steps. She'd still yet to see anybody. It seemed that the rest of the Lodge was doing the opposite of her self-inflicted torture and sleeping off the previous night. At least she'd be left alone.

Just like the day after Christmas, the common room was littered with people who had slept where they fell. Jack grinned as she stepped around those who'd crashed on the floor. At least she'd actually made it to a bed last night. Then again, she'd made it to a bed at the Christmas party, too, though the details on that were still foggy. Shrugging to herself, which made her stomach twitch again, she pushed open the door to the kitchen. Again, empty. Oh well. More whatever she managed to find for her. Jack didn't have to search for long before she hit gold. At least one person was still on good terms with the Twin Feathers herbalist, and she had the very best tea mixes.

Dragging out a dented kettle, she filled it with water and set it to boil. Then, since there was no one around to witness her shame, she stretched out on the kitchen's small island, hands pressed over her eyes. Maybe, once the tea was done, she'd feel a little less like dying.

Who: Jack and [OPEN to the Mountain Lions]
What: New Year's shindig.
When: Starts around sundown, goes alllll niiiiight.
Where: The Lodge.
Rating: You saw the X-mas party, right? Like that, only potentially worse...

Jack was having a weird week. It had all started with waking up on the day after Christmas, sprawled across her bed with ther shoes still on. At first, she'd just wondered why she'd left her shoes on, since she didn't recall being quite that stoned. Then she remembered that she hadn't even fallen asleep in her bedroom, which made her questioning just how in the hell she'd gotten there. Eventually, she came to the conclusion that she must have sleep-walked upstairs. That didn't seem entirely logical, but neither did any of the other explinations that she'd come up with.

After a few days, she'd caught on to yet another quirk in her life. Slick seemed to be watching her a lot more closely. Jack had started doing everything in her power to avoid running in to the other woman, afraid that somehow she'd managed to piss her off. There was a chance that she had, and now all Slick was doing was waiting for a chance to pounce. Since living with Slick for a number of years hadn't dampened Jack's fear of her, she figured it was just best to stay away.

Everything else was normal enough, though. People spent the day or so after Christmas recovering from a little too much indulgence. Then, they started looking forward to New Year's. Even the people who didn't care too much for the holiday's were kind of psyched about this party. Again, there wasn't any real reason to celebrate, since it wasn't like there was anybody keeping a calender, but it did give them another opportunity to forget about how much things sucked. Jack was a big fan of that. It wasn't like things weren't going to suck just as much tomorrow, so escaping for a few hours was just dandy.

In that spirit, she'd been helping out all day with the preparations. They'd uncovered some old party stuff, horns and other noise makers mostly. Though there wasn't anybody in the tribe that was big on decorating for that sort of thing, they'd strung up a few streamers. Most of the focus went to the entertainment. They'd blazed through a lot of their recreational supplies. Luckily, they were on excellent terms with the River Runners, who were more than happy to trade for more. Jack went with a small group to bring back as much as they could get from Moe. It just wasn't a Mountain Lion party without plenty of once illegal substances.

When the sun finally started to set, Jack was already in the common room. Unlike Christmas, she'd actually worn a dress. A short one, too. Of course, she'd worn it over a pair of jeans, with her favorite old Chucks, which kind of ruined any image of glamour. Not that she cared in the least. She was sprawled over one half of one of the couches, and unlit joint between her fingers. It was on that joint that most of her attention was focused. She knew that it was kind of early, everybody wasn't even there yet, and that if she started smoking now, she'd pass out quick. Still, there wasn't any reason not to, if she paced herself better later. Decisions, decisions. Though the temptation was fairly strong, she listened to the good angel. At least, for the moment.

Who: OPEN to all Mountain Lions
What: Christmas festivities!
When: Christmas Day, from mid-morning to night.
Where: The main room of the Lodge.
Rating: We've got it all, man - language, sexual references, very heavy drug use...

Azrael sat in an armchair by the fire in the main room of the Lodge, looking out at the people milling around the room. His people - all of them. There seemed to be more of them than he remembered, when they were all together in one room, but nobody was out of place. He remembered each one, and the circumstances under which they had come to be a part of the tribe. Not all of them lived in the Lodge, though, and those who lived elsewhere he saw even less often than those who lived at home base.

They had all gathered together today to observe that most wretched of archaic holidays. If Az had his way, Christmas would've died out with the adults. He had hated this time of year when he was growing up, because it meant that everybody who was anybody felt compelled to throw ridiculous and redundant parties, which he in turn was compelled to attend. His family never spent any more time with each other than was absolutely necessary, even at Christmas, but they went through the motions of tradition for show, and there were a good eighteen years of picturesque greeting cards of the attractive and perfect Fraser family out there to prove it. Azrael had thus spent every Christmas he could remember since his family bought the Lodge in this building, with too much brandy and eggnog and forgettable girls who managed to corner him under the mistletoe. He'd spent each one of those parties preoccupied with plotting as quick and inconspicuous an escape as possible.

Now that he was in charge, Az could've just decided that Christmas would not be celebrated in the Lodge. However, he had to accept the fact that the holiday was an element of the old world that wouldn't be easily forgotten. Those with happy memories of the day liked to carry on their family's traditions, or take the time to reminisce. Those who were like Az - those who didn't like to remember, for whatever reason - tended to appreciate the opportunity to drink as much as possible. Surveying his tribe, Azrael had to admit that even though he thought the holiday itself was useless and outdated, it did put most people in better spirits than normal. There was a Christmas tree, decked out in the decorations preserved in the basement of the Lodge, and holly and garlands and mistletoe, and food, drink and alcohol enough for the entire tribe to have an all-day party.

People had been wandering in and out of the Lodge as they pleased, but as lunchtime approached, they had pretty much full attendance. Several had said hello to him so far, and most who took notice of him seemed to be waiting for him to do something. It was understandable; most of his tribe only saw him when he had something to tell them. Really, Azrael just thought that he should make an appearance, and wasn't really planning on saying anything. He would've been perfectly fine just sitting with his drink - which may have been intended to be eggnog, but it tasted kind of funny, and then he'd added a generous shot of moonshine and after that he couldn't taste much of anything - but what was one more Christmas toast? He'd only had to make one every year since he was about fourteen, after all.

Azrael heaved a quiet sigh, and then stood up. The people nearby grew quiet, looking at him expectantly, and the hush spread gradually throughout the room. It always amused him when he didn't actually have to do anything, and he held back a smile.  "To the Mountain Lions," Az toasted, raising his glass to his audience. "Merry Christmas." He knocked back the remainder of his drink as the words were echoed throughout the room. It wasn't exactly a profound oration, but it was short and sweet and very Azrael.

Who: Dez and Azrael
What: The two meet up yet again and she still doesn't know who he really is
Where: The suburbs of the city (ML turf)
When: Afternoon
Rating: TBD

If she had to deal with another guy trying to feel her up or trying to get her to make out with him just because they were cooped up in the housing for the Wolves, she was going to go absolutely nuts. Dez had a temper and if you pushed her too far you were going to get yourself punched in the face. And if you were a guy you very well could get yourself kicked in the balls and punched in the face. She didn't know how the girls in Sundance operated, but just because she had a figure and might have been pretty didn't translate into her being a whore. When people made that assumption it made her mad, naturally. It was maddening spending all of her time inside to the point that she got a bit stir crazy. And when that time came, it meant she needed to get out somewhere. Anywhere as long as it wasn't around the rest of the wolves.

Dez put a zip-up hoodie on over the pink striped shirt she was wearing, leaving it unzipped and then stuffed her hands in her pockets. Without much of a word to anyone she left the apartments and started to walk around in the city. Time got away from her rather easily when she did things like this and she didn't always pay attention to where she was going. Not that it mattered. She had a sense of direction and could find her way back eventually.

It was an hour or two before the little "ghetto girl" had made her way to the suburbs of the city. It was technically Lion territory, but she was more than sure that she would have been able to handle any guards that might have been there. She might have had looks, but there was no doubting that she had fighting skill too.

With a sigh she kept on walking, no real destination in mind.

WHO: Azrael
WHAT: The note Azrael sent back for Gypsy with Jed.
WHERE: The Lodge
WHEN: Given to Jed when the boys met on Monday morning.

Who: Jed and Azrael
What: Jed swallows the tribes pride and asks the Mountain Lion's for help
Where: Mountain Lion territory
When: Monday morning

Being second in command meant pride and jealousy were sometimes things Jed had to squash deep down inside of him, he had to smother the seething rage he felt when someone knew they were all out of options just incase he punched the prospective saviour in the face. Gypsy had often said that perhaps decision making was not his strong point but he just brushed her off reassured her he could handle it with a well placed 'darling' and then walked off. He knew as he walked up these slushy banks that asking the leader of the Mountain Lions was going to be extremely hard.

Embarrassing even.

Jed walked slowly up to the ranch and prepared himself to be quizzed within an inch of his life before being able to set foot in the 'royal abode' As two soldiers came up to him, trying their best to look menacing despite Jed being a good three years their junior, he tried not to laugh. "I'm here to see Azrael," he announced confidently.

"Who are you?" the smaller of the two spoke up, his duffel coat covering his mouth so the demand was quite muffled.

Jed snorted, "Just let me in you moron's it's cold out here and I have no doubt Azrael's expecting me," Jed tried to puff out his chest but despite the wavering looks of uncertainty between them both they didn't budge. Jed sighed heavily, "It's Jed from the River Runners,"

Seemingly content with having titles to go with demands both the soldiers escorted him to the doors and they lead him to the office Az liked to occupy. Jed hadn't been in that room for a long time but he knew it was a nice size, it looked cosy and the bed was plenty big enough. More room for the ladies though he was sure their leader didn't use it for that, "More's the pity," Jed whispered to himself, letting his thoughts escape his lips. As one of the soldiers hammered on the door and uttered introductions Jed was allowed to enter at his own pace. He watched as Azrael stood against the nice desk he had and Jed smiled blithely at him, "You're welcoming comitee is going a bit downhill, I think a meeting is order," Jed smiled blithely not caring for the rather abrupt and not entirely to the point greeting.

Who: Ace, Slick, and Azrael
What: The gathering of the Mountain Lions. The important ones anyway...
When: Wednesday Afternoon
Where: Lodge Conference Room
Status: Complete

Ace had arrived at the conference room long before the agreed upon meeting time because he had nothing better to do and he was eager to get on with things, they'd put this off long enough. While he sat waiting he repeatedly bounced a rubber ball against the wood-paneled wall.

-bounce- -thunk- -catch-

It was a nervous habit he'd picked up in junior high and never let go of. It was rather juvenile, yes, but it was also extremely satisfying. The noise. The repeated motion. The fact that it often drove other people crazy but there was nothing they could say about it because he out-ranked them...

-bounce- -thunk- -catch-

Now that Danni had returned to the Lodge, Ace was in a noticeably better mood. Of course it would hardly have been possible for him to be in a worse mood; he'd spent the last six days brooding and snarling at anyone who was unlucky enough to cross his path. Now he was nearly back to his usual self. Not that Ace was typically a shining ray of sunshine, but he was at least civil and even friendly to those he deemed worthy of friendliness. He wasn't especially patient though, even at the best of times.

-bounce- -thunk- -catch-

Azrael wanted them all to talk about things. Fine, they'd talk. Then when the time for talk was over, it would be time for action. That was what Ace was really waiting for.

WHO: Azrael and Slick
WHEN: Thursday afternoon
WHERE: Mountain Lion Lodge
WHAT: Getting ready for a snowstorm.

Wolf "On his high as the" Skyhorse, may disapprove of Azrael's methods of command, but for the Mountain Lions, they were quite effective. The fact that he was always in his office or not far from it made him easy to track down in the event of an emergency. The weather had taken an abrupt turn for the worse around lunchtime, and instead of a calm December snow as they'd had the day before, the stuff was coming down in harsh sheets. Azrael couldn't see a thing out of his office window, and to quote the old song, "it doesn't show signs of stoppin'." He had been informed the moment it started, and the troops had been mobilized, retrieving all the wood the place could carry, just in case they were snowed in for the long haul.

Azrael was quite comfortable directing all of this from his office, giving orders to anybody who poked their head in with a question. After about an hour and a half of this, the questions became fewer as the soldiers fell into an efficient routine. Az himself was not a fan of the cold, so he sat in front of the fire in his office, legs propped up on another plush chair with a book open in his lap, and a cigarette forgotten in one hand. As usual, his attention wandered, mentally checking and double-checking everything they'd need to do for another winter. The blizzard had come early, but it wasn't unexpected. This was a piece of cake, compared to the tribe's first winter. Azrael didn't like repeating mistakes, so he didn't; it was as simple as that. Well, simple as something that involved a lot of hard work and planning and headaches could be. Azrael really missed things like Tylenol.

WHO: Dez and Azrael
WHAT: She's out for a walk and meets someone
WHERE: Along the river, on the border between Wolf and Lion territories
WHEN: Early afternoon
RATING: TBA

Well this day was just going perfect, wasn't it? First, she woke up all cold. And surprise! Her hoodie had a huge hole in it, probably a small tear that had ripped open over time. Great. Just great. Not wanting to stick around the apartment building all hay, Dez decided to take a walk. Heading out very early, she walked down the street, her arms hugged around her to fend off the goosebumps. She got cold easily, though she didn't like to show it or complain about it. Complaining was a sign of weakness. She didn't like to be weak. Not ever. "Could today get any worse?" she muttered to herself, pushing back the dark waves of her long hair. Hopefully it wouldn't.

Weird people, namely guys, liked to follow her when she was alone. Probably because of what she looked like. Girls like her were a dime a dozen back in Georgia, but here things were just a bit different. Dez couldn't help it if guys liked girls who looked like they actually ate on a regular basis.

"Hey there," a voice called from behind her. A male voice. She rolled her eyes. She really couldn't go out just once without meeting up with one guy like this. Dez kept walking, ignoring him. But when she heard the footsteps start to follow she scowled a bit to herself. Stopping and turning around, she said, "Could you stop following me before I make you?" Her voice had an edge to it, one that meant she was entirely serious. But this loser just didn't get the hint.

"Aw, c'mon. Don't be like that..." Dez squared her shoulders as he came closer. As he reached a hand out she smacked it away. "Feisty aren't we? I like that in a gi--" His words were cut off by her smacking him hard across the face. "You better back off or I'll feistily punch you in the mouth," she said, voice laced with attitude. His hand was on his cheek as he backed away.

"Yeah, I thought so." She flipped her hair and strode off in the other direction. Out of the city. The guy had just reminded her why she wanted to get out sometimes. It got annoying being around people who so easily aggravated her. And there were too many of those people around for her liking.

Dez wandered for awhile, her walking eventually bringing her to the river. She walked along the bank, vaguely remembering that she was near Mountain Lion territory. But she wouldn't be stupid enough to cross that boundary. She might have been tough, but even she was scared of what the Lions did to people. It was terrible. No sane person would want to risk that happening to them.

It was about early afternoon when she stopped by the river's edge, just sitting down and stretching her legs out in front of her. As per usual, she wasn't dressed to be modest. A fitted red shirt with 3/4 sleeves covered her top half. With it she wore a short denim skirt and her trusty pair of black Converses. Her entire outfit hugged each curve God had graced her with. If you had it, why not flaunt it, right?

She looked out at the water and started zoning out a bit, making her unaware of anything else around her. Little did she know that there might have been someone else there.

Who: Wolf and Azrael
Where: Mountain Lion turf
When: Wednesday morning
Why: Wolf wants a meeting with Azrael concerning the power outage.

Visiting Mountain Lion turf was the last thing that Wolf wanted to do, and going there with the intent to see Azrael himself was even farther down on his list. The two of them usually kept their distance. Two year old actions still dictated every nuance of their relationship, which was far from a pleasant thing. He hadn’t been able to sleep the night before. Not that he’d had much of a chance anyway. After the meeting he ran around town checking on people’s personal supplies, and even chopping or retrieving wood for those who needed it. By the time he hit the pillow it was 3am. Despite his exhaustion he didn’t fall asleep until 6am and then once again woke up around 10am. He gave up on trying to sleep and drug himself out of his warm bed. He could hear the wind outside and the thought of riding all the way to the Mountain Lion lodge in it made him groan.

He rode alone to the edge of the Mountain Lion territory and waited for one of the patrols to find him. They made him get off of his horse so they could search him and his saddle for weapons or anything else. Even though guns were scarce they still had to watch our for knives and other deadly weapons. He rode the rest of the way to the lodge with one guard behind him and one guard in front of him. It was a decent ride from the edge of the Lion’s territory to the lodge but the tense atmosphere between the guards and him kept him alert and on edge. God, he was so tired and had no desire to do this but he had to. He never would have dreamt of sending anyone else into the Lion’s den. He owed it to his tribe and so for the next few hours, or how ever long it took he’d have to play the game. He knew he’d have to really be sharp around Azrael and keep his exhaustion to himself. It was like Azrael could smell weakness and Wolf didn’t want to appear weak in the least.

When they approached the lodge another guard came up to Wolf and ushered him off of his horse. Wolf tried to glance around inconspicuously. Even though it was daylight he couldn’t tell if they were using electricity or not, though there was a steady stream of smoke pouring from the main chimney. Wolf walked into the lodge with the guard behind him. “I’ll see if he will see you. Wait here.” The guard gave Wolf a threatening glare with which Wolf returned a look of cold indifference.

He sighed and brought his hands behind his back as he waited, studying his surroundings from the place he’d been told to stay. Now all he could do was wait and see if Azrael would even meet with him.

WHO: Azrael & OPEN
WHERE: The Lodge
WHEN: Saturday afternoon
WHAT: TBD

The office at the Mountain Lions' lodge was on the top floor and had a large picture window, equipped with a scenic view of the power grid looming on the horizon. It had a large writing desk, a couch, and a few chairs, but the space not taken up by professional furnishings was occupied with piles and piles of books - everything from reference to poetry - strewn haphazardly across the room in a system of organization (if there actually was one) known only to their owner. Most of the books had long ago been inscribed on the inner cover with the name "J. Fraser" in the untidy cursive befitting a teenage boy, but others said boy had accumulated in the past couple of years since the virus by theiving them out of various places from which they would no longer be missed.

It was in this office that the majority of the Mountain Lions' decisions were made, most of which called into question their morality. The character of their leader, specifically, seemed to be a popular subject of scrutiny. This room, with its calming watercolor landscapes hung on the walls and other conservative, tasteful decor, was witness to all of the crimes and cruelties of J. Fraser, better known as Azrael.

When the Lions had adopted the lodge as their home, Azrael had immediately staked out this particular room, once an administrative office of some sort, as his war room/library. It was where he held his meetings and spent a good portion of his time reading, and his followers could usually find him there unless he had ventured out due to business or just plain restlessness. At any given time there was likely to be a number of books lying open on various surfaces around the room, and the mahogany writing desk was usually covered with papers scribbled across in that same scrawl. Azrael was usually seated behind the desk accomplishing said scribbles, or lounging across the couch with a book in hand.

Today, he stood at the window, arms across his chest, watching the rain drizzle on the other side of the glass. Winter was coming, and Azrael was in a generally down mood. He hadn't even gone to the dance the Wolves had hosted the night before; he just didn't feel like causing trouble at the moment, which was quite uncharacteristic of him.