Disclaimer: I’m ad-libbing from memory on stories that happened almost two years ago. If there’s errors, let me know and I’ll ammend them.

Disclaimer 2: This chronicle is for mature audiences only.

Finally, the nascent pack arrives at the address given them by the alpha of the Mountain Laurel Legion. A long sloped driveway of crushed stone revealed an old Victorian style home. A broken mailbox displayed the Creed name. The front of the driveway was littered with broken bottles. Though no one noticed, all the bottles must have been thrown from the road. There was no glass further up the property. Even from the lot, the group could see that they would have a lot of work to do before being able to live in this place; parts of the roof bowed inwards, tiles were missing, windows were broken. The place was a mess.

The inside was not in any better shape. Between the damaged roof and windows, the house had been left exposed to the elements, and the elements had not been kind. The Uratha, even in their human shape could smell the familiar scent of their own kind. Val immediately went upstairs, looking for the master bedroom. Others noted how the living room looked more like a wolves den than a human social area. There was a circle of blankets and pillows of various shapes lying a top a block of mattresses. “They must have all slept here together,” Ken muttered.

Upstairs, Val found the largest bedroom. She was disappointed how barely discernibly larger it was than the other rooms. The place must have been converted to a Bed and Breakfast at some time, and all the rooms were redesigned. Still, the one she picked looked like it got a good bit of sun and was next to the bathroom. Her room needed some redecorating. It felt like some palmist’s office. There was a telescope pointing skyward through a broken window. Rune stones and tarot cards littered the desk and the floor. Just like the other rooms, though, there was no bed. Looking over the mezzanine, Val could see the den-like circle in the living room.

The others found that the rest of the empty rooms bore a wide range of personal decor. One room boasted posters of 50 cent, Bruce Lee, and the Boondocks. It also had a replica katana from the Kill Bill movies and a kickboxing bag hung in the center of the room. “Must’ve been into kung fu,” Ken mentioned looking at the various import DVDs scatted about. Pushing some of the mess aside, he finds a laptop.

Another room had a wall decorated in beer cans. Alligator skulls of various sizes hung from the ceiling and a bookcase boasted a number of wrestling trophies.

A third room had a black couch with flames stitched into it. Wooden pillars on the dresser held various blacksmith puzzles. Some of them were as small as a keychain, others were large, made of rope and metal.

The fourth room would have been lit with bottles of alcohol, if only there was power. Dozens of bottles were strung from the ceiling with lights in them. Several shelves lined the wall filled with shot glasses from around the country and around the world. The closet was filled with provocative lingerie and role-play costumes. Elisha closed the closet door, “Either this was a chick’s room or the guy thought that being a werewolf wasn’t freaky enough.”

The final room was empty, the drawers of the dresser had been turned out. The only thing in the room was a box of trash bags. From the holes in the wall, it looked like even the posters were taken down.

Back in the main room, Anthony noticed spent gun casings on the floor. He looked about the room, taking note of the holes in the walls and the leaks from the ceiling. “They were shooting at something here before they left.”

“I’m wondering where their locus is, if they even had one here.” Ken mentioned.

“Maybe here,” Troy flipped over a rug, revealing a cellar door. The door was opened and the pack filtered down. At the bottom of the stairs was an antique chest and the group of Uratha felt a wave of safety wash over them. This was the locus, but upon opening the chest, the more spiritually sensitive members felt a sense of something missing. This sense was physically enforced by an indentation on a purple velvet pillow.

“So now what?” Jake asked once they returned to the floor level.

“We passed a hardware store on the way here,” Val stated, “We’ll go tomorrow.”

Photo is taken from here.