From: kiasyd@umich.edu (Jake Baker)
Date: Mon, 03 Jan 1994 18:51:24 -0500

Unlimited Profit Margin, Part 2.

Six months earlier...

"Damn it, why," grunted Gerald Grex, as he slashed his way through the
amazon undergrowth, "there's nothing here but trees and scrub and snakes
and disease,"

He'd been searching for three weeks, and he had found nothing. Not even a
hint of the great wyrm fetish that was supposedly lost or buried somewhere
around here. Three weeks of clamoring through the brush, having to deal
with native peasants who spoke less English than most Americans, having to
make bargains, sell his jeep, even his earring, for God's sake.

Three weeks, and nothing to show for his hardships and struggle. When he
got back to America, he's have to track down that good for nothing Black
Spiral that sold him this worthless piece of information, and make him
suffer. Even now, he could feel the cursed thing's sinew snapping between
his claws.

"Damn it, why, there's nothing..."

"Ah, but there is," Said a voice. Gerald, never one to trust in the good
graces of those who don't show themselves before speaking, dropped and
rolled; he came up with the Scorpion V12 already braced, and aimed in the
general direction of the voice, which was...up???

"No good, no good," the voice said. Yes, it was definitely above him.
Hidden from his view by the branches of a tree. There was a rustling of
that tree's leaves. Gerald checked to make sure that the gun was set for
automatic, and the safety off.

There was a blur of black and feathers down from the tree, streaking down
to land in front of him. Gerald triggered his weapon, but...damn it! the
safety was on...

In stunned disbelief, Gerald looked down. In front of him, looking up at
him, was a bird. A large, black crow. It cocked its head at him, and
blinked. Gerald's grip on his gun relaxed. He slouched back, relaxed but
still wary. Imagine that, he thought, being frightened by a bird. Hearing
voices, too. I must be going crazy out here.

...Wait a sec... The inconsistency of a crow in the rainforest suddenly
struck him, and he was on his feet in a moment, looming over the bird.
"Alright, what's going on here?" He asked, slightly incredulous with
himself that he would be talking to a bird, but not finding it all that
strange - after all, he was a man who could turn into a wolf. Whatever this
thing was, it couldn't know that, so he'd keep it as his ace in the hole.

"Good afternoon, cousin Garou," said the crow in a voice like a handsaw. So
much for my big surprise, Gerald thought...

There passed a long moment where the bird and the man just looked at each
other; Gerald Grex spent the time assessing the situation, trying to guess
his opponents weaknesses and strengths, but it was a difficult task, as he
did not know what he was dealing with, what the thing was. He had heard
stories told by the Galliards of his former tribe about another race of
changers blessed by Gaia, that of the Corax. If this thing that looked upon
him now was blessed by Gaia, than it was enemy to him.

For the bird's part, it spent its time staring unblinkingly at Gerald, for
a purpose the Garou could not guess.

Finally, Gerald's curiosity got the better of his patience, "Enough of
this. Tell me what you are and what you want with me, or leave me alone.
Either of those or..."

"You will kill me," Squawked the crow, "Right, right, I know it already.
Now be  good wuff and be patient,"

Herald growled at the insult, but regained his composure. The bird took a
hop closer to him, and said, "You are frustrated by your search,"

"That's obvious, Corax,"

The bird snorted, "Get real. Anyway, your search...it's been fruitless, eh?
Can't find it, don't know where to look for it? Maybe I can help,"

"Don't people find it a little strange that a crow is flapping around in a
rainforest?"

"I suppose if they ever noticed me, they would. But I, much like you,
Gerald Grex, Philodox of Tribe Shadowlord, have become practiced at
avoiding unnecessary attention,"

"How do you know my name? Auspice, tribe?"

"Don;t you worry yourself about that, wolf boy; I know lots of things
people wouldn't me rather. But back to your problem. Can I help?"

"I don't know..." It was Gerald's turn to be silent as he judged how much
he could trust this unexpected associate. Obviously, the bird already knew
quite a bit about him; how, he didn't know. He suspected that it wasn't
some kind of telepathy or some Gift that emulated that power. He felt
nothing of the kind being used here. But he also suspected that being a
bird had some definite advantages in the field of espionage.

"Very well. I'll tell you what I'm looking for. But first you must tell me
something: Why are you willing to help me? I've done nothing to earn this
favor,"

"Trust me, this isn't a favor. You will pay me back later. But as for why
I'm helping you, let's just say we have some friends in common,"

"Gerald knew that that answer, which was no answer at all, was all he was
likely to get from the raspy bird.

"OK. Any port in a storm. You can help me. I'm looking for a wyrm fetish
that was supposedly lost or buried somewhere on this island. If you would
retrieve it for me, I would be greatly indebted,"

"Heh, a tiny bit cocky, aren't we? I'm not going to fetch the thing for
you, but I might know where it is. Now, I need just a little more
information to go on. What does this great wyrm fetish do?"

"I;m not going to tell you...oh, what the hell. Yeah, sure, OK. It's
supposed to be the mummified forearm of a ...jimi...shimi... tzimisce
vampire. It can be used to create a poison that can make people, well,
melt," Among other things, Gerald added silently to himself.

"An interesting and powerful fetish, this. And what, may I ask, does a
Garou, child of Gaia, want with such a thing?" asked the crow in its
handsaw voice. 

"If I am a child of Gaia, I renounce my mother and her slow, moribund ways.
I..." his voice faltered, then came back, strong and proud again, "I have
been offered great powers by the Wyrm if I slay my pack for him. But I am
no Ahroun, no warrior - I could not single-handedly kill the entire pack.
So I am hunting this powerful fetish, so I may kill them without them even
aware they are being poisoned..." 

"Like the coward you are..." rasped the crow, easily dodging the Garou's
angered blow with a flap of its wings. It perched in a near-by tree.

"I am no coward!" screamed Gerald, looking up at the bird with murder in
his eye. But the bird just sat, watching him, and after a while, Gerald
regained his composure, realizing the bird was of greater use to him alive,
and his arm gently transformed back into that of a man's, loosing the long,
curved claws, and the thick growth of gnarled, black fur.

"Heh, calm again? Good. Follow me," With that, the crow fell into the air
from the branch of the tree, and there was just a moment pause before the
air caught under its wings, and it was not flying, but falling. Gerald
followed as well as he could, but the jungle became dense quickly, and he
had to shift to lupus form just to keep up with the unnatural avian.

That close to the ground, wolf-Gerald could smell all the scents of the
jungle, in their almost infernal mixture: the soft decay of fallen plants,
the stinging scents of flowers, the thousand smells of animals and the soft
waft of rain. Wolf-Gerald heard more than saw the jungle sliding past him.
He heard the flapping wings of birds, heard their caws and trumpets, he
heard the howls of monkeys chased by predators, heard the multitude of
small animals under his ears, and he heard the patter of the beginning
rain.

Then, after what seemed like hours, was actually hours, after they had long
out-ran the storm, after the scents and sounds of the jungle has almost
numbed Gerald's mind, the crow stopped flitting form tree to tree, and
waited perched on a low branch out into a small clearing. In the middle of
this clearing was a pool of quiet water, the dying rays of the sun,
eclipsed by clouds and canopy, echoing off the water like flashes of
silver.

The bird said, "In there, Gerald, is your fetish. Reach in and grab it, and
it is yours,"

Gerald shifted to Glabro. Kneeling, he peered into the pool of water. The
water was clear as crystal, and carried a scent of cleanness, unlike the
other waters of the jungle, which all smelled like plants or lichen. There,
at the bottom of the pool, just two feet away from his eyes, Gerald could
just make out the form of the fetish; it was a hideous site, bloated and
distorted, bent and angled all wrong, but it could be nothing else, and
Gerald smiled. He plunged his arm into the pool of water to grab the
fetish...

...and pulled it out screaming. His eyes turned red with anger and narrowed
dangerously at the crow. Holding his badly burnt arm against his body, he
took a step toward the bird.

"Ah," it said, "Don't be angry, Garou, I thought there was some trick to
retrieving the fetish. I was sure that the Children of Gaia theurges who
placed the wyrm fetish here after liberating it from its former owner had
set some kind of trap for the wary, but it was not sure what. Awk, but now
I do. See, that water is holy water - holy to Luna, that is."

Gerald, recovering with usual quickness from his rage, finished for the
bird. "Of course. And as long as Luna shines somewhere on this Earth, this
pool is empowered by her magic..." Realizing the difficulty of what he
faced, he simply sat down.

"No," said the crow, "What if there was another way. Now, I'm thinking..."

"No, bird, I will not owe you another favor. I will figure this out for
myself. Go. Leave. I don;t want your help anymore,"

"But I have friends who may help..."

"No. Go away. I will find a way by myself,"

But Gerald never did. He spent nearly another month trying to retrieve that
fetish. He attempted everything his cunning could come up with: he tried to
lead the savages here, to reach into the pool an get it for him, but either
they would not approach the area in superstitious fear, or they
inexplicably disappeared as he was leading them to the pool, never to be
seen again. He tried to bring in machines, and more men, and construction
crews, to come in, and hopefully pollute Luna's magic. But to no avail - he
could not provide adequate directions to the foremen leading the crews -
it's too far away, they always said. It'd take them a year just to get a
path cleared away. He tried going into the umbra, beseeching aid from
powerful banes and spirits, but none could help him - lunes guarded the
umbral airt. And so, in the end, Gerald almost gave up.

He  packed up his bags, marked the location of the fetish as well as he
could; at least it was information he could sell. He took the next ship off
the small island, then booked passage at the nearest airport for a flight
back home. His mode was sour; so touchy, that he almost lost it several
times, and ended up killing a few villagers.

But then, just as he was about to board the rickety airplane home, without
any idea of how he would now complete the wyrm's mission, the large black
crow flapped up to him. By some coincidence, no one else was around to
notice. And it carried the wyrm fetish that he had tried to get in its
talons. It dropped it at his feet.

"There, great Garou. See, you couldn't get the fetish without me," and
without waiting for an answer, it flapped away. Gerald was filled with so
much happiness and joy, he didn't even question how the bird had gotten it.
He called after it, "What do I owe you? How can I pay you back,"

And all the bird called back was, "When the time is right, I'll let you
know,"