Augustus Nicholson was young, barely out of his education, but he was the last heir of the de Lacy family, and the idea was to raid Nemsemet's bastion at the Museum of History, through the subway tunnels and try to find something that they could use to destroy the ancient tyrant. The plan was improvisational, and the holes in it had to do with what they didn't know about their foe, which was a lot. The ancient Egyptians, for some reason, saw fit to erase the name "Nemsemet" from everything.

Tony could take a stab at why; the old sorcerer was a fucking nightmare.

The raid was brave but foolhardy, impatient, and the sort of thing a young man might do; fight a melodramatic and romantic last stand to cast defiance in the teeth of something as a symbolic act, except the symbolism was lost on everyone who saw it happen-- Nemsemet, who killed off de Lacy's court with a ruthless and utterly terrifying efficiency and power in spellcasting, essentially disintegrated Nicholson in an inferno of his summoning; Nicholson and his followers had just breached a service corridor in the museum when Nemsemet summoned fire and turned the narrow hallway into an oven. 

Nemsemet, too, understood the power of symbolism; he preferred his symbols crispy and well done on the inside. 

There were those that argued against the attack, and they were vindicated, for all the good that did them.

The word of Augustus' demise reached Tony through Walton Moon, a member of the Moon family, who were fairly decent folk as the werewolves went -- they were dirt poor but they owed Tony some favors that he did to try and keep them from being completely swallowed up by poverty; they said that Nemsemet's soldiers, particularly the lycanthropes and vampires, were going to hit the hiding place next. And Tony knew where Augustus had been hiding before he launched the raid. Dumb kid; he sank his safe house and his allies with that forlorn hope bullshit.

That was the last favor; the Moons put themselves out to warn Tony, and there'd be no more help from his fellow werewolves, who were all pretty much on Nemsemet's side.

A toned, trim and well put together man with an afro, he'd looked on Augustus' demand of service due a Lord of the city with a benign sort of amusement reserved for teenagers that didn't understand the way the world worked. Nemsemet was an evil old muthafucka, but that didn't mean that Tony was about to hang his black ass out to dry for some entitled early-20's punk still wet behind the ears and demanding this and ordering that and not taking any advice.

He hadn't been the only one to advise calm and caution, but he'd been blown off like the others. The ones that went with Augustus were the juiced-in guys, the ones higher up the food chain. The Court's enforcers and various parasites and courtiers -- and they weren't ready for the sort of ugly direct combat and magic employed against them. Nemsemet rallied just about all the vampires and all the werecreatures onto his side, and as a lycanthrope himself, Tony could relate to why they did so. Most lycanthropes came from impoverished families and were given very little by the system while being used for the free labor afforded to those with any title at all in the Court. Caradoc de Lacy was something of an arrogant bastard, but he was one among many in various cities, and his court wasn't the worst...nor was it really the best.

Tony expected to be written off on his advice. The suspicion of decades ago clung to him in the eyes of Augustus, even though Tony had not joined Nemsemet like most of the others.

So Parael's place was warded up and rigged good, but apparently someone talked, and Tony found himself knocking frantically on Parael's door, not because he wanted shelter, but because that shelter was compromised, "C'mon man, open the hell up."

When someone finally did open it, he told them, somewhat out of breath, "Gotta get the hell out, Augustus and the entire raid got killed off and apparently someone talked."