cowtown... everyone's coming here...

well with my trip back to drumheller over it was time to start making my way back "home" to new zealand... meaning i had to pass through the closest big city, calgary, if only really just to get to a real airport (drumheller has a tiny one lane road for an airport).

though i have to say this whole human concept of home is weird to me. home is where you currently live, yet at the same time it is where you once lived... so in my case i'm leaving home to go home?

i guess its just my nomadic predatory instincts conflicting with this concept. back in the cretaceous a tyrannosaur probably didn't really stick around any one place unless there was food hanging around it. meaning our food was really our home... oh well

regardless, i was in for yet another surprise from this trip. not that they're that surprising anymore. i think if something goes according to the plan while i'm here in canada i'll be floored...


i headed to the calgary airport to catch my flight back to new zealand. i don't have clear pictures of the airport, as i've been told you can get in trouble for taking lots of pics around airports. i did sneak in a couple snap shots of these pterosaurs that were hanging around the ceiling of the port though. sadly you don't to fly on the pterosaurs, as i'd hoped.

rather they're just some cool statues to decorate the place. the idea is it shows the evolution of flight, as nestled among the huge quetzalcoatlus and pteranodons was a giant dragonfly ancestor protodonata, and of course my relative archaeopteryx... i didn't notice a bat in there, but for the display to be complete it should have been in there. this was more a work of art than museum display in fairness i guess...

anyways when i went to go get my ticket to new zealand, i was told that someone had rescheduled when i was flying out...

of course i didn't buy my plane tickets in the first place, someone else had (though i still don't know who?)... yet why would they buy me a trip back drumheller, only to trick me into spending some time in calgary?

i found out quick. the ticket clerk had a note to give me, sent by the "party" that had changed my flight.

i would never have guessed in an epoch who or why though...

it was my mysterious informant from the pack of the primordial feather, a coelurosaur who called them self ruffled feather. i hadn't heard from ruffled feather since they had tried to warn me about dr. spectre's attack.
`

ruffled feather was a disgruntled member in the pack who sought to hurt the group. somehow i was useful in this effort, though i wasn't clear on how? i guess my being one of only a handful of coelurosaurs who'd turned down membership in the primordial feather and had survived to tell the tale was handy... somehow?

beyond this i knew nothing about this ruffled feather, not even enough to know if i should call them a he or a she (i'm going with he for now). his note wasn't exactly much help on answering any of my questions either...

Dear Traumador,
`

I'm sorry for the disruption my actions have no doubt caused. I assure you I wouldn't have made them if it were not important.
`

You can not leave Calgary yet. Despite evading you in Drumheller, through that Spectre diversion, the pack it would seem did not lose you.
`

They have retreated to somewhere in Calgary, and they have brought the 14th crate with them! Where exactly I do not know, and I wish I could be of more help.
`



It is crucial that you make sure the contents of that container do not make it back to the pack! Thankfully anyone who can survive a run in with Dr. Spectre, such as yourself, should have no problem against the Crimson Talons. No matter the backup they will be receiving, and I have heard they are getting some!
`



Ruffled Feather
`



ps- How did you beat Spectre in the end exactly?

there was a missing connection somewhere between me and ruffled feather...


he seemed to think i knew what he was talking about, and more to the point what the pack was up to. the problem is i really didn't!
`


causing the miscommunication, i'd had thought it was the pack who was responsible for all the fossil poaching around drumheller. it in fact turned out to be two hardened palaeo-criminals (megan and jo)... i hadn't really thought about why the pack was there any further, as a few things had distracted me... however due to our conversations being interrupted, ruffled feather was never able to realize i was under the wrong impression about what was going on...
`


whatever it was the pack was up to, they had thought it awful important. they'd tried to kill me thinking i was trying to stop them.
`

the pack must have cleared out of the tyrrell during the "Spectre diversion". i know that professor paradigm had done a sweep of the museum looking for them, once he'd rescued me from spectre, but didn't find a trace.
`

so what were they doing in drumheller? ruffled feather had mentioned a "14th crate". i began wondering what it might be or mean...

as i left the airport and headed back into calgary, or cowtown as many call it in alberta, i realized the scope of what ruffled feather had just asked me. i had to find the pack and whatever they were up to somewhere in here!
`

sure, no biggie. i only had a place 50 times bigger then drumheller to search!!!
`

as i looked out over cowtown, i had one reassuring thought. despite the unfun task i'd for some reason agreed to take up, i did have a lot of friends based here in town. with a bit more time here i could catch up with the lot of them, and who knows maybe get one or two of them to help me out...

Elsewhere in Calgary...

(From the reflections of Desdemona Deinonychus, Crimson Talon and Pack Matriarch of the Pack of the Primordial Feather)

I miss the front lines!

At least on the field of battle you can tell where you are. In the midst of the hunt you know what you are to do.

I no longer know any of this with my current mission, helping with this stupid intrigue and espionage debacle Layla, matriarch of the Oviraptorids, has pulled me into.

The mission was simple enough at the beginning. Lead a troop of my Crimson Talons in guarding this "crate 14" from hostiles. At the onset of the mission the enemies were few and easy to counter. Just the runt [Traumador] and a few human members of palaeo-central. With this limited intelligence provided, may I note by our head of intelligence, there was no way I could have predicted a direct confrontation with Lance one of the most dangerous saurians on the planet!

Despite my troop being too small to proper engage Lance, we none the less confronted him to the best of our abilities. Despite taking heavy causalities, we were able to inflict considerable damage to Lance, and through these wounds we Crimson Talons turned this losing situation into a strategic draw. Through this action we kept the crate from harm. Yet when Layla ordered a full retreat, it somehow became my fault we were falling back.

I grow tired of her "command" of the operation.

If not for Layla's political connections throughout the rest of the Pack, I would have ordered my hunters to teach her a lesson in what our pride does to treacherous scavengers such as herself!

Layla is truly an arrogant fool. As she considers herself smart, Layla is under the impression she is somehow dangerous. She seriously believes that in the Packs' daily struggles, it is her schemes that will win the day. I only wish I could put her on the field of battle once, as the coward has never once joined our brave hunters on the front line! Then she would see just how "dangerous" ideas and plans like hers really are in war. The Gondwanaians will not be defeated by thinking. No, they only succumb to the tooth and claw! Which is where we foot soldiers and hunters come in. We are the true power of the Primordial Feather!

Yet Layla has the nerve to walk among us trying to show dominance. If she only knew the danger her presumption was placing her in. All of my troop, especially me, were fighting our instinctive urge to subdue her. To have earned our utter contempt as she has is a dangerous thing. For we normally reserve this for our enemies.

My lieutenant Valor [the Velociraptor] in particular was not handling Layla's demeanor well. The greatest warrior in the pack strode beside the Oviraptor in a ready to pounce stance. Had Layla uttered a single condescending word to Valor, the Oviraptor would have only had a few seconds to regret it. The rest of my hunters were containing their disdain better solely because they followed my lead better. Despite her incredible battle prowess, Valor lacked a soldier's discipline.

Fortunately an altercation was avoided, as Layla said nothing. Either she had picked up on hostile air about her as a hunter would have, or as I personally think she had simply been lucky. Either way she would live. For today at least!

Today we received reinforcements from the Pack. I couldn't have be more pleased with who was sent. A fellow matriarch of the Pack, Razi [the Saurornithoides] of the Troodontid pride.

Razi's assignment indicated just how important this crate had become to the Pack's strategy. It now had three of the Pack's main general's in the field to martial it. This was quite a tactical risk. I can only think a handful of battles with this many Matriarchs involved. The scorn for failure would be great. I couldn't help but think it would be Layla's responsibility to accept it if something were to go wrong...

Not that failure was an option. Razi's arrival heralded a shift in the command dynamic. When Layla had requested my help I saw it as my duty to protect the Pack's interests from interference. Especially since the challenge was coming from the whelp if a Royal the Runt! However, Layla misinterpreted my participation as me bowing to her authority. I most certainly would not be tolerating this any longer!

Despite being renowned for cunning like Layla's, Razi was a most able predator. One who had personally lead troops of hunters into countless battles. I'd personally had the honour of hunting along side her, and as a result could respect orders from her. Unlike the coward Layla, who had never once tasted the blood of the enemy!

Razi did not arrive alone, however. Being a strategic and tactical prodigy among the Pack, Razi was far too valuable an asset to leave unescorted. She arrived accompanied by one of the Royal prides's most feared warriors, Vicsurus Daspletosaur. Vicsurus is one of the renowned Daspletosaurus"triplets", who serve as the Royal's personal elite guard and assassins. Her being Razi's bodyguard indicated this crate affair was of great importance to even the Grand Matriarch.

Razi and Layla formally greeted each other with signs of complete respect and admiration. As befitted their Matriarchal status. I disciplined myself, as I grew resentful of being excluded. I was equal in rank to either of them, and unlike Layla had actual spilled my own blood in this mission. Yet as it was Layla who had "saved" Razi's crate, it was she who was acknowledged.

I on the other hand was relegated to greeting the new hunter to join the mission. We warriors are not ones for pointless show and formality. Though I resented not being acknowledged by my fellow Matriarchs, I in truth much preferred the simple exchange with Vicsurus.

Though I despise the Royals as a Pride, I have a grudging respect for Vicsurus and her two sisters. Not only had her sister Rancor personally saved my life in battle from a Gondwanaian Carcharodontosaurid, but the ferocity of the three Daspletosaurus matched that of any raptor in my Pride. Something few other Royals could not boast.

For her part Vicsurus was far more accepting of us Dromaeosaurids than most in the Royal Pride. She'd been in too many battles where it was us who had turned the tide in the Primordials' favour, rather than the Royals.

Leading Razi to her prized crate, it was here we Crimson Talon's were finally recognized for our heroism. Razi personally thanked me for my part in protecting her prize. With it she could now get back on task refining its contents into, what she assured us would be, the Pack's greatest weapon.

Perhaps I was too hasty before in wishing to return to the frontline. At least until this weapon is completed!

To be Continued...

meddling worries (pack meddling part 1)

(From Layla Oviraptor's personal journal)

I find myself at the Tyrrell today, which is most unusual. Though it still proves useful, this museum is not the sort of place I can effective maintain my position in the Pack [of the Primordial Feather]. At least until possibly today.

Typically I like to stay close to the front lines, and monitor the war closely, though not too close and risk being caught in the trenches, mind you. I'm no hunter [in the pack hunter=warrior]. I shouldn't have to divide my attention as much as I have been lately.

The Gondwanaians have been getting ever more bold in their actions against us. Not to mention the challenges I must contend with from within the Primordial's own ranks. Normally I can't afford being side tracked by minor distractions. The worst of which must be the complaints made by Primordials about their contact with the human public in their postings as museum exhibits.

As a momentary aside, what they think is so hard about being a tourist attraction I do not understand? I served the pack in that capacity for 6 years, and it was by no means my hardest challenge. If anything it was among the easiest times of my life. It also served as a constant reminder just how inferior the mammals are to us saurians, and why we in the pack must always be alert and ready to pounce on any time they show weakness... However I digress.

When one is in my position in the pack, to give credence to such complaints is dangerous. Not only does it waste precious time and energy, but it makes you appear sympathetic to the weak and useless. Such weakness would undermine me as the current right claw advisor to the royals.

Yet here I am at the Tyrrell. Following up just such a complaint. Or at least a complaint on the surface. Had I not caught wind of a very minute detail that is. The encounter in the museum was not with a human, but rather a vivus dinosaurs who thinks he is a human. Which suddenly meant this complaint was not below me. Sadly it accelerated it to my top priority. Especially given its timing.

Thus here I am, in the Tyrrell's learning centre, to get all the intelligence on the situation I can.

The incident was reported by a lowly bull Albertosaur, which means I'm taking an awful risk in pursuing this personally.

He may be of the royal lineage of the pack [Tyrannosaurids] and thus be of a higher pride than myself, but as a male and a splinter [Albertosaurinae] off the true royal line [Tyrannosaurus Rex] he is, practically speaking, far below my station in the pack's hierarchy. So if it turns out I am following a mere tale of fancy, and not what I fear he is suggesting, I risk losing severe face if word of my being here were ever to get out amoung the pack.

I'd gone out of my way to suppress and bury his report. Apart from my two trusted matriarchs, none in the pack had picked up on the issue's significance from what I could tell, and I had waited and watched a good week to ensure it had remained unnoticed before pursuing it.

The bull told me precisely what I'd expected to hear. Last week the runt had indeed shown up here at the museum, at least noticeable shown up. I suspect he has been here longer, but I had no way of confirming that. At least not yet! In either case it was a most annoying and potentially disastrous turn of events.

I'd already planned and put in place an entire operation against Traumador, but in New Zealand. It was perfectly designed to bring the runt to his knees, and force him to join us. It was all in place and ready, but waiting for him in Dunedin. For the longest time the runt has simply disappeared from the map after a reported presence in Australia. Only to show up here!

The runt's Australian appearance I had deemed to be a mere coincidence. Yes on the one hand, he suddenly appeared in close proximity to my other large project, the absconder Lillian, right as I was in the middle of executing my plan against her. However the fact I successful played two of the Primordial's key foes, Paradigm off Annex Co, and thus effectively ended Lillian's last remnant of stardom, was proof the runt wasn't in Australia for any true reason but rather due to pure chance. Had he been there in an effort to stop me, I would have expected the result to be better than him randomly shipping the absconder across the world.

Yet now I wasn't so sure. His timing was too perfect. For a second time no less!

The pack was on the eve of reaping untold gains from our long investment into the "14th crate" (as Razi Saurornithoides, matriarch of the Troodontid pride, had dubbed her pride project). The "crate" was not only being kept here at the Tyrrell, where the runt was now poking around, but we were in the midst of the most sensitive phase of the operation, a timing on the part of the runt I couldn't help but feel nervous about.

Did he know of our plans? In the most likely case of yes (why else would he come back to this the place of his ultimate disgrace?!?) how was it he had come to know them? Most important of all, what was he planning? Clearly he wouldn't have come all the way here unless he planned to challenge us.

I couldn't risk ruin to this operation. Razi had pegged too many of her hopes on the "crate" to have them all come to ruin. As her closest ally among the matriarchs I had no choice but to help her. Especially given the current engagements occupying her in Asia.

Again, my presence here was risking enough. I couldn't afford any more problems developing.

Fortunately being a matriarch made this situation easy to take control of. Especially since none of the prides or matriarchs had ever headquartered here. The Tyrrell was too tied into Paradigm's schemes and thus under heavy monitoring of Palaeo-Central for any of us to be stupid enough to invite his meddling.

My first order of business was silencing the Albertosaur. I couldn't risk anyone I didn't wish to, learn of my presence here or the threat that probably loomed over Razi's project.

The problem was even though we had several pack members present at the Tyrrell, I couldn't retask any of them to help me. I couldn't trust any of them with this information, and more to the point none of them were able hunters. I was going to need extremely able warriors to deal with the runt, and yet not draw attention to themselves or the "crate".

Paradigm's presence here at this time was no coincidence either after all. He clearly suspected something was going on here, but had he known for sure, he wouldn't be waiting. Paradigm as a mammalian hunter. He'd have made the kill already. The "crate" was still safe, but only for now.

None of my own pride were capable hunters or very discrete, and in most cases neither. This meant I was going to have to approach another matriarch for assistance, not a prospect I longed for, but given the situation, a prospect I was going to have to bear none the less.

As I worked my way through the potentials, I could only make one choice. Which pained me, as if I had any other choice I'd have taken it. However I had no other choice.

Swallowing my pride I contacted Desdemona. Fortunately her Dromaeosaurid temperament saw the runts actions as an affront to herself, on behalf of the pack, and thus she missed any political leverage my approaching her might gain her. Meaning I would be gaining Desdemona's assistance at no cost to myself.

More to the point, I was about to get the Crimson Talons at my full disposal. The runt was about to very much regret his decision to meddle in our affairs!

To be Continued in: The Gathering Storm