IC - Wyoming In the Dusk [Hunter/Mortal Game]

[Sikla Alkis]

WoD: WYOMING IN THE DUSK

A Mortal/Hunter the Vigil Game with GMC Rules

Wyoming. One of the least populated states of the Union, almost perfectly square in shape, and troubled with an alarmingly high suicide rate. Not much happens in this flyover state, perched between mid-America and the former Old West; neither monster nor mortal has any special interest in it. Despite what might be the case in other states, the archaeological sites out here do not have much in the ways of artifacts or ley lines, and the small population means that victims (or potential food) are not as common. On the radar of the major hunter groups, there's little reason to have a strong presence out there, though organizations like the Union may rally around the cities. With so little to offer, it's not much of a place for many to flock to....

But this is the World of Darkness. Everything is true, nothing is impossible, and there's always a chance someone has a reason to kill you.

OOC Thread: http://forum.theonyxpath.com/forum/general/conventions-and-gatherings/play-by-post/151040-ooc-wyoming-in-the-dusk-hunter-mortal-game
Dice Roller (link to your roll): http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/

The Cast:

Brian Devereux
Age: 33
Organization: Lucifuge
Player: BridgeWarden
Appearance:

Born in France, family came to live in Northern Virginia around 1985. Discovered his infernal heritage in college, resulting in his first accidental summoning. Luckily the agents of the Lucifuge found him before too much damage could be done. He traveled to Milan briefly, before being shipped off to Wyoming for Lady Lucifuge-only-knows-why. Perhaps it's a punishment for his naive convictions about using dark powers for good. Perhaps it's because of some dire need his conspiracy has for him to go there. Perhaps Bigfoot. Regardless, he was shipped home and is driving up to Wyoming with a trunk full of arcane goodies for summoning banishing infernal beasts and the like.

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Vincent Mortain
Age: Early middle age (?)
Organization: Ashwood Abbey
Player: proindrakenzol
Appearance:

Height: 5'8"
Weight: 140lbs
Hair: Dirty Blond
Eyes: Brown
Appearance: Handsome and Fit

Vincent Mortain is a semi-Professional archer and a trust fund kid. He graduated Harvard with gentleman's Cs with a degree in Humanities. After graduation he spent his time traveling the world hunting big game and exotic entertainment (preferably female and humanoid, but, eh). He recently came to the attention of the Ashwood Abbey at a high-society soiree, word of his interests and skill having made its way to them. Vincent is interested in what thrills the Abbey can bring him.

He is in Wyoming due to rumors of creatures to hunt, while there he will procure the most lavish accommodations possible - preferably with a multi-car garage and stables.


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Eulalia Bonner
Age: 42
Organization: None
Player: crapcarp
Appearance: N/A

Eulalia had studied psychology in the city, but went straight back to her hometown when she was done as she tired of the city-life(her hometown is basically wherever this chronicle starts, as I never lived in Wyoming). Since then, she has held a small psychology clinic that she runs by herself and has a stable, though small, clientele. She employs a unique technique for her patients, in that she lucid dreams about them after her sessions with them, gaining invaluable insight from her sub-conscious. This allows her to dig deep into her patient's psych and solve problems that would take most psychologists and psychiatrists far longer to do, and even ones that they would miss. She has a poly-phasic sleep pattern in which she sleeps for 20 minutes every 4 hours to do this. She has mastered lucid dreaming to such a fine degree that she gained clairvoyance through it, allowing her to gain even more insight by seeing into the lives of her patients. Despite her small notoriety in her town and specialist circles, she still has a small clientele. Because of this, there may be times where she doesn't get quite enough to sustain her lifestyle, as humble as it is, and has been pushed to make small and sparse shoplifts from time to time.

She is very courteous and polite at all times, even when others are being extremely rude to her. It takes quite a lot to make her snap at someone. Having such an intimate knowledge of the human mind she can manipulate practically anyone to do her bidding through simple conversation. However, she knows that she could easily abuse her abilities and become corrupted, so she keeps herself humble to prevent this from happening. Due to her many years of psychology, she has learned all the darker aspects of humanity, giving her a pessimistic worldview. She is fully aware of the greater aspects, but she genuinely feels that oftentimes the worst of people is brought out more than their best.

__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ __


Piero J. Abelli
Age: 25
Organization: None
Player: ocel
Appearance:

He kind of looks like that character from Dishonored, tall, lanky, thin, wearing thick glasses, baggy eye lids, casual clothes, when not working, likes jeans and khakis, cotton shirts and such.

Piero J. Abelli was born on April 15th, 1989, in Albany, New York. His mother, Emily Miller, grew up in Wyoming, Michigan, where her father, William, worked, refining oil into gasoline, kerosene and other goods. William's wife, Jillian, was a stenographer for one of the city's courthouses. The Millers moved to South Orange, New Jersey on 1968, September 8th, reaping the fruits of their labors. Emily enrolled in Seton Hall University a year later, she met a young man there named Daniele Abelli. They married on 1979, November 12th, in the university's chapel, shortly after graduating. -- His parents encouraged him to pursue an academic career at an early age. He became a paramedic on 2012, May 5th, for one of the hospitals there. The place was robbed a year later; he was there that day, hiding in a closet, overhearing them shout to the personnel, demanding to load stores of blood onto their truck. Afterwards, he was sent to witness protection, in a remote corner of Wyoming...

[Sikla Alkis]

WEEK ONE

Brian Devereux:

Your Monday starts like something out of a bad comedy movie. After leaving a motel that was in the middle of nowhere (and frankly, the kind of thing you'd find in Psycho — the shower had odd, brown stains on the bottom), you found yourself swerving off the road to avoid a lost cow. Yes, that's right: a cow, followed by its ever-so-helpful herd that ended up running around the road for an hour. You were forced to stay in your car thanks to an angry bull, which left a dent and a broken headlight before the farmer (and some highway patrolmen) managed to round up the mooing horde. A tow truck was called, and one of the patrolmen was nice enough to pay to get you towed to a little hamlet about ten miles north. Your cabin will be not far from there, and it has a small store where you can pick up supplies as needed. You are currently riding shotgun with a burly, middle-aged man with a farmer's tan, sporting a handlebar mustache and thinning, greying black hair. He's said barely a word to you as he's driven, and the smell of barn permeates the truck as country classics twang from the radio.

Traffic whizzes by, coming and going as it usually does. You don't have a lot of options for entertainment; you could always look at where you are, strike up a conversation, or try to change the station. Then again, it's up to you on how you kill time.

Vincent Mortain:

Unlike Brian, your current ride is far more luxurious and accommodating. You are in a limousine behind Brian's tow truck, and Brian's driver refuses to let yours pass. Champagne and glasses sit perched in a custom cupholder; a small TV, fitted above the window to the front, is blaring some program or another. You can hear the driver cussing angrily beneath his breath, but as of now, you are unsure why the limousine is wavering back and forth. Your father would probably have a fit if he saw how your current chauffeur is acting, but he's not here — or in America, for that matter. To make up for missing your last birthday, he's given you a paid vacation to some sort of hunting lodge in the middle of Wyoming, and while that's happening, he's over in Europe for some sort of business affair.

The driver cusses again, this time a bit more loudly. You could look around, ask him what's going on, or see what's on television right now. But you're the king here, rich boy — what do YOU want to do?

Eulalia Bonner:

You don't usually make house calls, but today is an exception. You're driving all the way from Laramie, Wyoming to a hamlet in the middle of the plains; a frantic call for help has come from a single mother living on a farm. She is at the end of her rope, her daughter nearly catatonic — from the frantic chatter that came over the phone, you heard that the girl was threatening to commit suicide. She's fourteen years old, and for the past six months, has been on a wild downward spiral after witnessing her father hang himself in the family barn. The girl's been in-and-out of a psychiatric care facility since then, but the family's bills are racking up, and the farm is threatening to go into foreclosure. You're not sure how this woman got your number, but she mentioned a patient of yours having given her your contact info.

Unfortunately, with time being of the essence, it doesn't help that there's a fish-tailing limousine driver in front of you. Every time you try to pass him, he gets in front of you, and it looks like there's a car in front of him that doesn't want to pass as well. Your cell phone has rung four times already, and now it's ringing a fifth time. You could look around, try to get in front of the limousine driver, or answer your phone somehow, but it's up to you. There's a million things you could be doing, and right now, your mind's addled on what to do first.

Piero Abelli:

You're on your way from Laramie as well, though you're not as hurried as the woman driving in front of you. Unlike Eulalia, there is no urgency to your cause, but you might be feeling unnerved anyways. One of the blood bank thieves has been spotted at the Wyoming border; he was driving a stolen car with Michigan plates, and gunned down a patrolman before driving off. Nobody knows if he went into Wyoming or not, but Witness Protection has told you to be careful, and that you're going to have to move your safehouse. There's a tiny hamlet to the north that's an ideal hiding place; it has low traffic, most of the people there are related to the local patrolmen, and it's far enough from any urban center that few people have a reason to go out to it. You are tuned in to a Wyoming news station, which is currently chattering on about the shooting caused by the thief.

Music switches on, the radio announcer putting on some sort of song about big rigs and their rig jockeys. You could look around, fiddle with the radio, or think over your plans for your new house. There's a million things you can think of, thankfully, to get your mind off the fact that someone who wants you dead might be close to your bolt-hole.

[BridgeWarden]

Brian's eyebrows knit into a scowl as he looked out the window at the passing terrain. Boring, flat, redundant terrain. He still didn't know why the emissaries from Milan had shipped him out here, but some small part of him was starting to wonder if it wasn't simply to keep him away from even the remotest possibility of occult happenings. Even the legions of hell wouldn't be interested in a place like this.

Perhaps that was for the best though- considering most of his occult supplies were still in the trunk of the dilapidated Subaru. He was certain some of the jars had broken when he'd had to swerve to miss the herd of confused bovine on the way here, and it wasn't likely he'd be able to replace a lot of what he'd brought in the Podunk little town they were driving to. Glancing back towards his car in the mirror, he saw that a line was starting to form up behind the driver. Deciding that a direct collision with his trunk was sure to shatter even more of the assorted esoteric supplies he'd brought along, Brian glances over at the driver, doing his best not to let the annoyance show on his face or carry into his voice.

"Maybe we should give these folks a chance to get by... that moron driving the limo looks like he'd be more than happy to slam into the rear end of my car, and I'd hate for you to have to wait while I take down his insurance information."

[proindrakenzol]

(Vincent is 28 years old)


Vincent looks up from his book (Wytchcraft Around the World, picked up on a lark due to the silly 'y') in annoyance at the sudden weaving; he takes a deep breath before keying the intercom.

"Are you trying to make me nauseated, or are you just incompetent? Just straighten out and drive."

Vincent releases the com button and looks over at his bow and chuckles darkly. "Wouldn't be much sport but it might be amusing."

Taking a sip of his champagne he looks up at the show playing on the TV. If it's anything other than news or business he changes it to a news channel.

Picking his book back up he flips to the chapter on mystics and psychics.

[crapcarp]

Character Sheet (updated the link to the Mythweavers sheet)

Eulalia puffed out yet another annoyed sigh as the phone blared on. Answering it was out of the question. She may have been in a hurry, but getting into an accident would delay her far longer than this traffic. She didn't want to try getting ahead of the limousine again, as it was fruitless at this point, and trying harder might get her into an accident. She would just have to wait it out.

"Why is there so much traffic here all of a sudden?" she wondered. This wasn't a particularly busy road, and there was a limousine in front of her. Why would a limousine of all things be driving through these plains? She also noticed the cause of it's swerving, a tow truck that wouldn't let it pass. The phone's ringing really started to drill into her ears, especially considering it was probably from the mother and she couldn't answer it.

Unable to do much of anything else, she decided to at least comfort herself by turning on the radio to drown out the ringing and the fact that she would arrive to her destination eventually.

[ocel]

Piero checked the rear-view mirror of his car to see if there was anyone tailing him. He read the inscription on it, objects in (the) mirror are closer than they appear, and looked over his shoulder to confirm that. He saw, from this vantage point, that it wasn't a typo.

[Sikla Alkis]

Brian Devereux:

The driver's stony gaze flickers over to you, his lip sourly quirking. His mustache droops a little on one side, a gruff General American accent going, "Yeah, and the little bitch wouldn't let me pass ten minutes before I pulled up to you. It's called 'payback', son." He makes an unpleasant sound of approval, his statement having been tinged with pride, and he proceeds to crank up the radio. Though the limousine driver cannot hear the country tunes played, it seems to be a further tool of defiance, starkly contrasting something more fitting for LA or New York than the open road.

[BridgeWarden]

((Guess I'll go ahead and post my character's response since that part is finished...))

Brian arches a brow, but finally just turns and resumes looking out the window. No need to start making enemies in town if it could be helped at all. Crossing his arms, he waits for their eventual arrival in town, engaging the driver in brief dialogue if he says anything but otherwise keeping silent. Closing his eyes, he tries to relax his mind and meditate somehow, in spite of the irritating music blasting out through the speakers.

[Sikla Alkis]

Vincent Mortain:

"I apologize, sir, but someone in front of us will not let us pass," said the driver, curt yet polite in his tone. "I do hope the young master isn't too nauseated. I shall 'straighten out', as you said, though we may arrive at our destination later than expected."

There's nothing interesting on the next closest news channel, CNN. Stories about a couple of shootings and some random celebrity events are airing, but nothing too terribly important to the hunter cause. Commercials flick by like the endless Wyoming landscape — a new toothpaste, a brand of hair gel, another morbid-but-cheerful antidepressant commercial, a local psychic hotline....

Eulalia Bonner:

As the radio drones on, your phone rings again, and again, and again. Nothing can cease the unrelenting barrage of calls, and it appears you'll have to pick up sooner or later. At least your ring tone is catchy; the beep-beep-boops are not nearly as grating as some of the ringtones of old. In fact, they seem almost soothing, hypnotic to the tune of your heartbeat, the whirr of the wheels below you....

"North...."

It's just a whisper, but it filters through between notes of music and the buzzing of your phone. In fact, it might even escape your notice. (Roll Perception using the linked dice roller to hear it)

Piero Abelli:

As you look over, you see a bright red sports car pulling up behind you, already uncomfortably close. It's clearly not local, flashing NJ plates; the driver is a tanned, bleach-blond twentysomething that looks straight from Jersey Shore. He is riding incredibly, uncomfortably close on your bumper, and appears to be half-driving, half air-guitaring to something on his radio.

[proindrakenzol]

Irritated by the driver Vincent snorts an affirmative and leans back. Vincent writes down the psychic hotline number thinking about investigating for legitimate witchcraft later.

[crapcarp]

Perception Roll(6 dice)((Exceptional success FTW, w00t!))

"That's odd," Eulalia thought as the whispers caught her ear. She turned off the radio to listen.

[ocel]

"Damn it," Piero grumbled. He turned back to the windshield, searching for an exit.

[Sikla Alkis]

Everyone:

You catch it between the roll of your wheels, the jarring cry of your phone and the blast of music, Eulalia. You only hear it when all three play: "North, north, north...." It's a whisper from somebody, androgynous and faint; there is no one else in the car with you. The sound undulates, steady like a heartbeat, dribbling like liquid mercury.

The rest of you hear something fuzzy, poking at the edge of your hearing like a thorny shrub into your side. The sound is not as clear to you as it is to Eulalia, nor can you tell what it is. In fact, you might even brush it off, if you so choose. (Roll Perception if you want to hear it, using the linked dice roller)

[proindrakenzol]

Vincent cocks his head, thinking there might be something in the background noise. 1 success: http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4525727/

[crapcarp]

Vincent cocks his head, thinking there might be something in the background noise. 1 success: http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4525727/

((Just a friendly note about the dice roller, you can use a code so that it automatically counts successes. Just put in xd10.hitsopen(8,10). The code counts all the rolls of 8 or greater as successes, and rerolls all the 10s it gets. You can take a look at my roll for an example.))