As long as it stays that way. He gives Johnny a hard lok that says that he won't hear anymore on it. He looks back at Claymore, then at Johnny again, observing their expressions.

But if either of you causes me any problems tonight, I will bury you.

Get your shit together Ancients. We roll in 5.

Pinn goes back to his gear, giving it a last check, before roving through the pack of a dozen or so assembled Ancients. Most of them carry SMGs with small modifications, along with the ocassional combat shotgun or assault rifle. A built elf named Raze pulls his harley up along side Pinn, talking for a bit, apparently working out the riding order, while his younger, and scrawnier brother Razz Ma'Tazz finishes a lewd joke while pumping his shotgun suggestively.

Izzy, a chromed gillete that's more blades than bullets, straps down a bandolier of throwing knives across her chest, while her partner Gain finishes an adjustment on his laser sight. The quiet elf is former UCAS military, serving as one of the Ancients primary gunmen. The Ares Alpha he's handling is about a modded as they come. He's not the friendliest sort, which makes him a good counter point to Izzy, who rarely manages to shut up.

Chester walks back to his bike to double check his gear.

Ok...gun....check.....Bike works....check.....some extra ammo....kinda check... Okay. I suppose Im ok.

Chester looks around the room astrally.

Where the fuck is Juno?

Claymore stretches as he rises, glancing around once more in the hope of spotting Haven among the gathering Ancients. With a small shrug, he turns his attention to the big Harley. The bike's saddlebag opens to his touch, and the elf pulls out a pair of matte-black Ingram submachine guns. After a quick once over, he slings one over each shoulder and across his chest, adjusting the guns so they hang free near his hips.

Absently fingering the Smartguns' sling-mounted magazine pouches as his eyes once again roam the room taking in the assorted weaponry, Claymore nods to himself and grabs a few more clips from the saddlebag and stuffs them into one of the few remaining empty pockets of his long leather jacket. He scoops up a fresh pack of Virginia Reals before shutting the container, cracking it open and lighting up as he waits for the others to finish their preparations.

Pinn looks around the garage one last time looking annoyed. Haven's absence is obvious, as is of course the addition of an unplanned Ancient. Things are already not going according to plan. He climbs onto his bike, keying up his comm and sending a quick message off, then secures the device to his wrist.

Mount up!

Pin climbs onto his Harley, the other Ancients following suit. Soon the garage is aliv with the roar of engines and the voices of Ancients, their excitement rising as they prepare to roll out. Headlights illuminate the slick Seattle streets,cutting through the nights light fog like search lights. Engines rev as the elveswait for the word, chomping at the bit to be let loose. The tension grows as they wait, a dozen elves strapped in and ready toride, unsure of what the delay is. When the familiar bikes of Sting and Green Lucifer rip through the night, trailed by Slide, Shalimar, and Spectrum, the Ancients let out a cheer. Pinn's call of Roll out!is lost in the roar as the collective Ancients tear out into the night, instinctively forming up on their leaders.

An ARO opens on each riders commlink, directing them to an encyryption package, followed by an AR maproute with their position, marking a course to Touristville, Redmond. In a second window is an AR display of their crew, an overhead view directing their unit dispersal. Ahead, two more blips appear, marking two out riders, Ambar and Sammael, Ebonvert members, blazing the trail for the Ancients leadership. Something big is going down tonight.

Astral

The Harley's engine settles into a comfortable under the elf as Claymore waits for the action to start. At the sight of Sting riding next to Green Lucifer, he can't help but raise his voice with the others, pleased to see that at least she was aware of her lieutenant's latest venture.

Gunning the motor, Claymore swings the big bike out into the street, falling into a position near the back of the pack. Snarling unconsciously in irritation as the AR overlay pops into view, he none-the-less closely studies the displayed data, smiling slightly in reassurance as he notes the presence of his Ebonvert brothers.

At Pinn's order, Chester hops onto his bike and straps in. Lowering his goggles, he revs his engine until its time you ride out. He weaves in and falls in line but making his way forward until hes riding up close to Slide. He gives a quick nod and smile to anyone who takes notice to him. Playing it cool, barely containing his excitement. Like Claymore, he can't help but shout along with the others, while keeping an eye on the AR screen to watch for anything.

Fuck me this is great! Alright, calm down. Gotta get your head in the game. Dont crash, God, Lucifer wouldn't ever let me hear the end of that. Or any other Ancient for that matter.

Jester gets a stern glare from Pinn who gestures at his intended position on the AR setup.

The Ancients ride through town, their trip through Terislar met with cheers from the locals. The thrill of the Ancients folk-hero status is very much in their veins, at least until they get out into the city. The Ancients hit multiple freeways and city streets, alternating their route seemigly at random. The trip to Touristville takes longer than it needed to, but is remarkably uneventful.

The elves ride to a Redmond club, Tusker-derro, known for it's goblin rock and less than kind attitude towards smoothies as a whole. Pinn signals his commands, relayed on the AR display, for the dispersal of the elves, keeping a loost perimeter around the gang's leaders. His AR message flashes across the gangers field of vision.

We've got a Peace Pass with the locals tonight. No starting fights or picking up old grudges. We're here on business. If drek looks like it might hit the fan, tell me or Slide before doing anything. We're going to have a couple of factions here tonight, so keep it arctic.

Jester moves back into his intended postition after his staredown from Pinn.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After reading the message, Jester simply waits to see what his leaders have in store.

I wish Juno was here, maybe she could figure this shit out.

Pinn sieltny directs a number of Ancients into perimiter positions around the place, making sure that entrances and approaches are covered. It looks as though the orks present have many of the same areas covered. After taking a minute to assess the scene, the Ancients realize there's a second group present. There's a group of perhaps a dozen people, various races, in eclectic clothing. The style is vaguely hippy-ish mied with neo tribal and techno-phile. All are armed as well, mostly with small arms and the occassional shotgun.

Claymore is directed to a street post, watching the approaches to the club next to an ork strapping a pair of heavy pistols, and a dwarf sporting a tie-dyed armored jacket and a ruger 990.

The Ancients leadership heads in, Ambar walking into the club along side Sting. Pinn silently gestures for Chester to take up a place by the door.

Chester obey's Pinns gesture and takes a position by the door. Keeping focused, and ready to act when neccessary.

Chester waits by the door, a couple of big orks, and a human in a button festooned leather vest and leater pants keeping him company. They seem to enjoy encroaching on his personal space. Slide rides by slowly, "walking" the perimeter, and hollers out to Chester.
Keep an eye on the astral wizkid. Anything that doesn't look like it should be here, fry it first, fry it last, and let me worry about asking the questions, soka? She smiles as she rides past, not waiting for a reply. On the up side, the mention of hi being able to perform Feats of Frying earns Chester a bit of elbow space as the others back off a bit.

Over on the street, Claymore seems to have earned his own personal bubble, thanks to the magic of his Powerful Scowl. While in no way deserted, the streets of Redmond are uncharacteristically quiet tonight. Not a lot of people are out and about, and those that are are taking pains to stay away from this particular multi-cultural gathering.

After a few minutes of tense quiet, with only the soft rumble of motorcycles breaking the night's silence, Sammael rides up next to Claymore. The young looking elf nods her head in respect, eyeing the others nearby. She leans in, speaking in sperethiel.
I do not like this. Ambar and I were told only that we would be running escort to protect a sit down against possible assassins. We weren't told of anything on this scale. Do you have any clue of what's going on here? Who the hell are these people?

Chester smirks at Slide and nods toward her as she drives past. He looks back at the orcs and human, then looks ahead again chuckling and shaking his head and muttering some curse words in Sperithial. Chester changes his sight to astral, taking a look around.

Astrally, the place is buzzing. The building it's self does not appear to be warded, but there are two dozen guardian spirits around it. It's the arcane equivelant of parking a couple of SWAT teams out front. Whatever's going on inside, they're apparently concerned enough about it's security to bring the big guns to bear and let people wonder.

Roll Assensing

Roll for assensinng:

"Your guess's as good as mine."

Quite pleased to see the pair of Ebonvert spellslingers, Claymore flashes Sammael a brief grin and reassuring wink. Turning his attention back to the task at hand, the gunslinger's eyes constantly roam the street and rooftops in search of any sign of impending danger.

"Fact is, you actually seem t' have more info than me. All I been told is that we ain't s'posed t' start nothin'."

The elf falls silent for a moment as he sparks up a cigarette.

"I'll tell ya though, I'm glad you're here. I ain't feelin' all that warm an' fuzzy 'bout this drek."

Claymore
They're compartmentalizing information. No one knows more than they need to. I don't like it either. We probably won't know what's going on until it's too late to do anything about it from the looks of things. But at least whatever it is, Sting and Green are doing it together. The Anceints could use a little more solidarity.
She leans forward on her handlebars, looking around , keeping Claymore's new "partners in her perephial vision. It's clear they trust her just as far, as their stances changed as soon as a second elf approached. No one is comfortable here.

Jester
Assensing

Chester keeps an eye on the dwarf and everything else as best he can. Can't be too safe. He quietly sends a message to Claymore.

Glad you could make it, omea. There's about two dozen guardian spirits around the building. Think the arcane equivelent to a swat team. Also, the dwarf next to me appears to be and X-Man(An adept, for the mojo lingo challenged). Be careful. Pass the word if you can. Im sure a few sleepers here would like to know whats goin on astrally.

He glances up at the dwarf, and gives him a cocky grin.
Heya omea, try to smile.

The dwarf turns his head, looking up at the yound elf for a moment. He grins big, overly exagerating the grin, then drops it as he flips Chester the bird.
Fraggin' keeb he says to no one in particular.

Chesters face hardens.
Atleast I'm taller then my dick. But that might be given you too much credit. But listen, for some reason or another, we have to tolorate each other. So just keep your mouth shut, and so will I.

Chester turns his focus back to the task at hand. With out looking at the dwarf he says:
And you better watch that keeb talk, some folk around here aint to keen on following orders exactly. In other words, call me that again x-man, and I might accidently fry your ass. I'd hate for that to happen. Wouldnt you, omae?
He smiles again to himself. Still focusing on his job.