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Reggie turned up on my doorstep Tuesday night with a dead turkey. Unplucked. Recently killed. A gift in exchange for teaching him that throw I used that inadvertently killed that boy-fomor in the alleyway a few weeks back. I tried redirecting him to seek out a judo instructor in town, claimed I'd only picked that throw up while in college taking a PE class (I did take a karate / self defense class, but that throw was not part of the curriculum), but Reggie said him and a human martial arts instructor was probably a bad idea. Shit. So I guess I need to learn and pass off a judo move by the next crescent moon. Preferably one that actually does something similar to what I did.

I gave the turkey to Emma the next day while our paths briefly crossed, garou dropping off fireworks and me assembling them alone--all part of an extended ritual that, frankly, seemed to pay off in transforming about $1500 in fireworks into seeming like $30,000-40,000 in fireworks. And a little Time magick to see just into the future to get the timing in counterpoint with the city's finale. Nice. Did have to do a little phone work to let another pack, Winging It, know we were doing stuff in their territory.

I think, next year, maybe a flaming Viking funeral barge that just floats down the river. Less hoop-jumping. And I think Emma'd get a kick out of the Get heritage being represented. Maybe she and some other Get could build the barge?
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Nick "Nicodemus" Dalton

January 2020

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