All Along the Watchtower - Act 1

Ragoza

Quarter goat on my mother's side.
Original poster
FOLKLORE MEMBER
OCC - BY INVITATION ONLY - All Along the Watchtower - OOC

June 15th 2016. 16.00. Pine Mountain, WA



Aaand that was Led Zeppelin with "When the Levee Breaks", as requested by regular texter Mitch Freeman. Keep those texts coming in folks. This is your very own Trevor Holliday presenting Afternoon T right here on Pine Mountain Radio, 140 to 142 on the FM dial. For those listeners just joining us now, today's top story is the ongoing search for two hikers missing since last night in Pine Mountain National park. Both the Parks Service and our good friends in the Sheriff's department have been combing the trails since early this morning when the pair, believed to be visiting from Portland on a hiking holiday, failed to check in with their familys at the appointed time. Unconfirmed reports say that the famous Pine Mountain lights were seen last night for the first time in eight years, leading some to speculate that this disappearance may be unnatural. Ghosts, goblins, witches or aliens, what do you think folks? Call or text now at 564 140-50142 and share your thoughts!"

It's a cloudy afternoon in Pine Mountain. Business as usual around town, but the buzz on everyone's lips is the disappearance of two hikers up on the mountain last night. More importantly to the Awakened, strange lights were seen in the sky around the mountain, something that hasn't occurred since the last time a hiker went missing eight years ago. You'd be a piss-poor Mage not to be interested in that.

@Chaka @FuzzMonster @Excession @Alexandra @Hair
 
Alex Practice

Alex was driving back from a run in Portland when the news came on the radio. "Jesus fuck." He shook his head like trying to clear cobwebs. "Jesus fucking tapdancing Christ." He hadn't been in town the last time the lights were seen, but he'd heard rumours. Better head to Cassidy's, see what the story was. And if he was doing Mage shit, he needed to get in to character.

Alex's car was his uncle's, a Mustang '68 GT that purred like a kitten, looked beautiful and had a tape deck someone installed in 1992 as the only means of playing his own music. One hand on the wheel and no eyes on the road, Alex took some time queuing his playlists up and digging out the cassette-to-headphone-jack converter he tracked down on EBay. Finally ready, he switched the radio over. Well fuck," he announced - to no-one in particular - "Let's get to work." He finally looks back at the road and starts heading in to town, his battle hymns getting him ready for what's about to come.

 
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Howard Reznor


Howard is humming a rough approximation of "Take Five" to himself as he gets Jazzkaban ready for opening. As the news comes on he turns the volume up slightly, though the humming continues. As he listens however, the humming peters out. "Hmmm. This badness again."

He had watched the lightshow from the street after locking up early that morning, and remembered the last time it had happened, shortly after his awakening. "Once, as they say, is a mistake. Twice... Twice though..." He mumbles to a halt, brow furrowed slightly as he falls down a hole of hypotheses, analysis, counter analy-- He snaps from his reverie in front of the piano, the spidery writing of his foolscap page calls to him from the stand. "No, not now. Lindsay will be here soon. Surely someone will be in tonight that I can mull this over with, and if not, there's always tomorrow."

He busies himself preparing Jazzkaban for the evening, waiting for Lindsay's grounding presence. He was sure that trouble would find him soon enough.
 
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Ryan

Fuck Starbucks. Fuck Venti. Fuck caramel latte. And drink some fucking coffee, guys. Coffee. Half of what I sling across the counter is coffee-themed milkshake.

Ryan is enough of a hypocrite to fill a thermos with iced coffee, a splash of creamer, and one little hit of sugar, before signing out and shucking his apron.

"Yo Jeff, I'll see you Friday!"

Padding between the various regulars and visitors at the dark wood veneer franchise furniture, Ryan leaves the afternoon shift downtown in Pine Mountain.

The part-timer contemplates. An evening of vaguely bosky disquiet awaits. The plot thickets, and terror lurks between the leaves. Ryan might just copse his pants.

At his car, in the lot around back of the commercial block in which he spends too much goddamned time, Ryan chucks the thermos into the back seat. In the car boot there's a pack with a folded tarp, two sealed water bottles, a kilo of trail mix, hunting knife, compass, spare lighters, little bottles of salt and ash, a polaroid camera, and rope. The entire pack's been there for weeks. There's a neatly folded cotton jacket tucked away, with a pair of combat boots, clean but unpolished, lurking behind the driver's seat. Ryan opens the door, but Mordred sits behind the wheel.

Fuck it.

A beat up '07 coupe pulls out of the lot and starts towards the trailhead.

Knight, errant.

 
@Chaka
The Mustang's purr syncs surprisingly well with Jello Biafra's voice as you hit the road in earnest. For a blissful hour there's nothing but your car, your music and the road blurring into a symphony of noise and speed. All too soon you're there, parked in your usual spot at the back of Cassidy's Irish Pub. It's an ugly building on the edge of downtown, brings Moe's Tavern to mind. Surprisingly good punk scene, though, and the man himself keeps the place to a high standard.

@Hair
Lindsay can be safely relied on to be quarter of an hour late for her shift. At this stage you just allow for it. Right on schedule she arrives at 4.15, bags under her eyes but in good spirits. Your mood must be showing on your face, as she approaches you as soon as she hangs up her coat.
"You OK, Howard? You look like you need a stiff drink."

@FuzzMonster
Cloud and pine trees. Pacific Northwest summed up, right there. It threatens to rain as you drive up to the trailhead, but never quite commits. The road is busier than usual, lot of police cars especially. When you arrive you see a familiar face. Hirvi, a Mysterium acquaintance, better known as Tim Perry, in his full park ranger uniform arguing with a sheriff's deputy in the car park of the Pine Mountain State Park visitor center.
 
Alex

Alex barrels in to the bar on a mission. It's still late afternoon so only the most hardcore addicts are at the bar, getting their fix of Johnny Walker, Ian McKaye or both. He nods at a few of the old heads and catches the bartender's eye.

"Hey, have you seen Luther or The Cassidy today? Wanted to catch up on some shop-talk."
 
@Chaka

Brian's on this afteenoon. Solid, boring, dependable Brian who gets a nice cash bonus every month and knows better tgat to ask questions. The Cassidy's kept him around for nearly ten years. The bar is quiet this time of day, two of the local alcoholics at the bar and a couple in their twenties in a corner. Brian nods at the door to the back stairs.
"Boss is upstairs in the back office. Luther was in this morning, said he had to go up to Seattle."
 
Mordred

He’s in his official capacity, and thus is Perry. Very well.

Mordred parks up, grabs his pack, and shambles on over in the rough direction of the argument. Not a beeline, no, but a vague arc. Ryan’s phone is switched off, in a waterproof pouch tucked into the pack. Mordred’s phone pings its wakefulness, helpfully, so he pauses within earshot of the row to check any messages or updates.

I’m going hiking today. You can inconvenience me or not, that’s all.
 
Alex

Alex bombs up the stairs too at a time, knocks twice and opens the door. "Hey Cass, what's shakin'? I heard the news coming in from Portland. Sounds like some sleepers got themselves Twin-Peaks'd up the mountain."
 
@Chaka
"Close Encounters of the Third Kind, more like. Have a seat, Al."

The back office is surprisingly large. Too large for the building, if you think about it. Haphazard bookshelves line the walls, leatherbound tomes sharing shelf space with Stephen King and Excel for Dummies. A moth earen couch sits in the far corner, an old blanket crumpled up on top of one of the cushions. The shaft of light coming from the single window high on the left wall sends a shaft of light onto the Pine Mountain Angling Club 2005 calender sitting on the wall above a Japanese peace lily. In the centre sits an old desk, a surprisingingly modern computer on top of it and a tall backed leather office chair behind it. Occupying the chair is The Cassidy himself, thin, grizzled and looking over his circular glasses at you. He waves to the matching office chair on the opposite side of the desk.

@FuzzMonster

Sms message from: Sc.
Come visit me thus evening. We need a chat.

The argument is pretty heated. Tim is standing in front of the trailhead facing the deputy, whose voice you don't recognize.
"If the sherrif feels so strongly then he can cone here and talk to me himself, deputy. Trail one and two are closed to the public for the search effort but until I'm told otherwise the rest of the park stays open."
He looks at you, knows you, gives you the nod.
"You're gonna have to take the other trail sir, round the back of the visitor's centre. You see anything suspicious you contact the proper authorities, y'hear?"
 
Howard

"Hi.. Lindsay. I'm.. Yeah, I'm alright. Didn't get much sleep last night, bad dreams and all, and now the news about the hikers... You know anything about the folks they're looking for?"

Howard finishes polishing the table he was working on and tosses the cloth to her.

"You finish these off and open, I'll get the kitchen fired up."
 
Alex

Alex sits as instructed, contemplating the slender man across from him. The Cassidy wasn't even his real Shadow Name, he mused. Whichever Free Council got saddled with the rathole always went by it. He'd told him what it was once, but Alex forgot. Cass had come up in the 80s, and it was some New Romantic shit or other.

"What do we know, chief?"
 
Mordred

Make the appropriate obeisance to authority, and carry on.

"No problem man, just taking a short hike this afternoon is all."

He's gonna be tied up with this shit for a while.

Mordred carries on up the trail, his senses open to the world around him. The afternoon breeze stirs the trees on the trail into a reel of green.

In his pocket, his phone finishes sending his reply.

Sms message to: Sc.
I understand. See you later.
 
Jason

Jason sat eating in the nearly empty mall food court after work. Jason’s phone buzzed to life. He dropped his slice of pizza and grabbed a bunch of napkins, wiping away the grease from his fingers one-handed. He took a long sip of orange soda from the fast food paper cup.

Jay, know you’ve seen the news. Gonna need you to check this out. I’m in the middle of something. Gonna be BIG!! Let me know what you find out. ;)

For something as big or noticeable as the lights, he’d hoped Ed would have come out with something more substantial or helpful than his usual of late “go do the thing”. Jason couldn’t even remember what Ed’s latest artistic craze was. While he pondered that question, his phone buzzed again in his hand.

Might want to find some help for this one. “Round up the usual suspects.” ;)


“That’s supposed to be what you’re for” Jason mentally grunted as he stared in disbelief at his phone. (Ed does not understand emoticons and no attempt to explain them has ever accomplished anything.) He put the phone down and went back to his pizza. There really wasn't a list of "usual suspects", so Jay figured maybe one thyrsus is as a good as another... before shaking his head, okay, probably not. Still, he picked up his phone and texted Mordred:

Hey, where are you? The Duke wants me to head out to the trails. Rather not go alone.

Then he went back to quickly finishing his pizza and drink.
 
Mordred
To Jason

The text response is swift.

sms message: My foot is already on the trail. You can find me, I will be looking ahead.
 
Jason
Jason grabs his phone mid-chew of a bit of crust. That was faster than expected. He grabs up his stuff and heads out to his car. After gulping down the last of the pizza and putting the half full large orange soda in the cup holder, he quickly changes from work slacks and loafers to jeans and sneakers in the backseat. Not ideal for hiking but good enough and not far from what he usually wears on these outings to Ed's dismay. Then he sets out for the trails.
 
@Chaka You've never been sure if The Cassidy's ability to make a bottle of Jack appear from thin air is magic or just sleight of hand. He pours out two glasses and places one in front of you before making the bottle disappear again .
"You weren't in town last time we had the lights were you? August 19th 2010, colored lights orbiting the mountain just like last night. Looked like the Fourth of fuckin' July if you looked with Prime Sight. And just like last night, someone camping on the mountain went missing. College kid from Seattle, they never found a body. And that was far from the first time. There's no set pattern, but every couple of years for the last three centuries or so the same thing happens. It was one of your uncle's pet interests."
He pauses a moment, takes a deep sip of his drink. The Cassidy doesn't talk about it much, but the two were close for years.
"He musta turned over every rock in that damn forest, never figured it out. And of course, every time it happens half the Mages in the tri-state area come for a poke around. Town's gonna get mighty busy.

@FuzzMonster
The wind whispers greetings on the edge of your hearing. The branches bow before you, leaves rustle applause. The forest welcomes you home, and welcomes you to it's depths.

@Delling
Whole lot of police cars on the road. You get to the park in good time, just in time to see a red-faced Sherrif's deputy slam the door of his car and pull away, clearly fuming. Standing at the trailhead is Hirvi, a mage of the Mysterium. He's dressed in his park ranger uniform and shamelessly smirking to himself.
 
Jason
Jason smirks back as he walks up to Hirvi. He gets close enough to whisper in case there's anyone else in earshot.

"Hey! How's things? Just going for a hike," he begins with a wave and in his normal voice as he approaches. Standing next to Hirvi though, he asks in hushed tones, "I'm s'posed to join up with Mordred. Know which way he went?"
 
Alex

Alex takes a deep sip of the glass, thinking for a moment about the eccentric old man he never really knew at all. You'd love this, you daft old bastard. Here's to you.

"Alright, so what's the plan? The Pentacle'll be all over this like white on rice. Want me to get involved?" He doesn't try to hide the note of hope in his voice. He wants to be involved. How couldn't he?
 
Mordred

He'll catch up to me. If he's capable.

Mordred pauses, and accepts the greetings of the forest, to that limited extent which he feels he can safely and deservedly do so. He proceeds deeper along the trail.

In the back of his mind, forming as a chant, the key words linked to the emblems and seals stitched into the pauldrons of his jacket, is the image of a spell.

Between the leaves, show me the trail of human heartbeats....