You met Hobland Nash once before while investigating the Heaney place in Hadley. The locals didn't seem to like him, and even a cursory investigation turns up quite a few people who can't stand Hobland Nash. His reputation is of a paranoid crackpot and a fringe survivalist. But Hobland also knows how to cover his tracks. Fortunately, you're a capable investigator and you've started to make headway with the local criminal fringe, especially the crust punks and the ecologically minded anarchists. After just a few minutes of asking around, you have an address, or at least a vague area. Hobland is just over the border in Westhampton, and the roads are clear of snow this week, so you can bike there. You arrive after less than an hour and study the compound. Hobland's place consists of one trailer covered in snow, some kind of hobbit-hole-looking underhill bunker, a wooden shed, and a Jeep parked under a metal carport covered in solar panels. This isn't just some kind of macho survivalist compound: you see a greenhouse and raised beds for a vegetable garden (the former thriving at the moment, though the latter is buried in snow), and a finished but uninhabited goat pen.
"How did you find me?" the man with the pistol asks, aiming it at your head. You never saw Hobland coming. You didn't even hear him.
"I'm a werewolf, remember? You used to help us. Stand down. I'm here for your help."
"You better shoot to kill, Mr. Nash. You know what I'm going to do to you if you don't."
"I talked to people. Do you remember what people are like, Hobland?"
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"Can't say I'm a fan of 'em," he says. "But they're everywhere, aren't they?"
Hobland chuckles, then he holsters the automatic.
"Guess I'm too fond of my creature comforts to spend much time away from them," he says. "Come on, I'll show you around."
The survivalist is obviously proud of his compound, and in your professional opinion as a werewolf, he has a right to be. This isn't some rich moron's idea of off-grid living, with canned pork and two Range Rovers; no, Hobland has thought it through: farmed food, flowing water, solar power, security cameras and motion detectors (that's what got you), and an armory that's only huge because Hobland collected the weapons of the dead Garou after they all died. But when you see him studying the weapons, you realize the depths of his rage. Hobland is no Garou, but his fury is still terrifying. You can see that he wants revenge—bloody, terrible revenge on those who destroyed the Broad Brook Caern. You wonder if he'll ever get it.
"I could learn a lot here. If you're willing to teach."
"Hell of an arsenal. You could really go to war with this stuff."
"This place is impressive. And I like that there aren't any people."
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