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[IC] Fractown: A V:tM/W:tA crossover

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  • [IC] Fractown: A V:tM/W:tA crossover

    Mr. Bailey was shaking with a high-powered rifle in his hand. Bailey's friend knew that the man had saw the beast.

    The twilight would make the shot hard, but Bailey's swarthy companion knew that missing hardly mattered at this point.

    Childishly, Bailey whispered, more to himself than to the man he knew as Mark "Here piggy piggy..." Bailey smiled at his own joke.

    A shot and a whine of pain rang out simultaneously through the uncaring mesquite. Bailey rubbed his tender shoulder, used to carrying a laptop case at best and not a "high powered" .306.

    Mark tried to ask Bailey if he shot the pig, but was interrupted by a high-pitched "whoop" blasting from Bailey's mouth. Aggies...

    "Got 'im, I take it?"

    "Fuck yes! Its gonna be sausage time at the Bailey residence!" Bailey practically leaped down from the stand, a mere 300 feet from the automatic corn feeder the hog was eating from. Mark mused at this bait-and-blast game that they called "hunting" these days.

    "He's a little big." Mark said, hanging back behind Bailey as the city-boy dashed to his kill. "They get nasty gamey when they get that size."

    Bailey wasn't listening. Fine.

    Mark gestured for them to come up.

    Bailey's eyes were two white moons in the dying twilight, taking in the sight of his kill as he stooped over the dead pig. It was already so dark that he had to fumble for his Cabela's brand overpriced flashlight to see what he wanted more clearly: the gore.

    When he did see it, Bailey was speechless with fascination. A chunky wound right where the best meat would be. Mark would be cursing if he saw such ruined ham. Bailey was proud.

    Bailey was much too proud.

    "Man this an ugly fucker," said Bailey, after he felt the creatures warm blood. Inexplicably thinking of blood as segway, Bailey then began a conversation about most pressing thing on his mind.

    "So who do I need to talk to?"

    "Fred," Mark began, as he heard a dozen hooves quietly russle the brush. "I think your barking up the wrong tree here, really. You've gone to the conventions. You've read the reports."

    Bailey smirked that insolent smile that reporters seemed to know at birth. "And its all bullshit, and you know it. You wouldn't have called me up if you didn't think that they were fucking up some how. I mean look at Fertile, and Carterston, and Deliah: the cancer rate has skyrocketed. Everyone is getting sick with little shit. There was that earthquake last week."

    "You honestly think its the oil companies doing it?"

    Bailey looked at Mark squarely, something that Mark had never seen Bailey do with anyone.

    "Mark, hurting people may not be there primary objective, but they don't give a fuck that its happening either."

    The reporter had fully indicted himself then. Bailey had courage. That courage meant he would continue to investigate, until he found what there was to find. There would be no turning him, so there was only one course of action: a course of action that Mark found to be the most fulfilling and enjoyable.

    Mark sent the sign mentally.

    Suddenly there was a great crash in the brush. Bailey saw the threats emerge from the thorns, and reached for the gun with a face grimaced in fear. Mark's hand, now gnarled with black sores and putrid claws, gripped the gun first, and sent the butt of it into Bailey's nose. Blood sprayed in a neat arc as Bailey fell backwards onto the dead pig.

    A ring of five mutated forms circled Bailey. The city boy beheld them, half-hog, half-man. His sanity began to crumble within seconds.

    Mark's eyes glowed as he watched the scene, but not with glee like most of the time. Mark was worried. How many more like Bailey would come?

    Bailey shrieked sharply, which the Skull Pigs took as a signal for dinner. They fell upon him, truncating his death cry as pieces of Bailey's silk camo shirt and silk camo pants and silk camo hat mixed with human remains. The feast did not last long: not even a grease spot was left of Bailey by the time Mark left the ranch.

    At home, Mark ordered Trojan Man to infest Bailey's computer and destroy the files. Trojan showed Mark the content of the files before he corrupted them, to his horror.

    Bailey had found far to much. The name of the Pentex connection. The location of the Brood. Pictured of inside the Lucky Lepurchan game room. Pictures of the Honey Bear well...

    Trojan Man said, in it's glitchy voice, that it would track down Bailey electronic traffic, to see who he shared these secrets with.

    Mark, or rather Lives-in-Dead-Water, knew that once Trojan found those who held the secrets, that he would have to work very quickly to silence them.

    On the bright side, though, Dead Water would be able to eat very well himself...

    [ST: That's our first scene. Now, what are your characters up to?]
    Last edited by Murky Master; 10-31-2014, 10:14 AM.

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  • #2
    Early the next morning a weary, dusty figure can be seen walking along the side of the road that runs through town. As he reaches the edge of town he lifts his head, nostrils flaring as if he were scenting the air. He seems to smell something he likes as a grin flashes across his face, and he softly mutters to himself. "Smells like trouble, must be my kind of town." He promptly begins scanning the buildings running along the road, searching for a small diner or cafe. After finding one he briefly attempts to brush himself off, raising a cloud of dust around himself in the process. With a laugh he resigns himself to carrying a bit of the texas dirt into the diner with him, and walks into the restaurant with a crooked grin still hanging on his face...
    Last edited by FeroKE; 11-02-2014, 04:37 AM.


    • #3
      Your grin is well noticed by some of the customers of Taqueria Don Quixote, situated in the little town of Fertile that ain't so little no more. Some notice you with pleasure, others with disdain.

      The waitress, a short and happy Hispanic woman, returns you smile and asks for your drink order. Clearly cognizant of your dusty clothing, she comments to you "It's dry out there isn't it?"

      A small clutch of capital "B" bubbas is also sitting at a far corner of the restaurant. Two are black, one is white, and all are dressed in Garytech overalls. They are likely working as roustabouts for an oilfield services company.

      They were having a gay time together, talking about the trails and tribulations of putting lift kits on big trucks, but when you walked in, the main carrier of the conversation suddenly stopped and locked eyes on you. His friends followed his gaze, and now they are all looking at you with surprise, consternation..., and sniffing nostrils.

      Yes, the three Bubbas at the table, covered in the fluids of the Wyrm itself (at least according to your paranoid Garou cousins), do in fact smell like Garou themselves. Even stranger though, is the fact that they look a little familiar to you...

      And even more surprising, the Bubbas are not the only Garou you smell here. Sitting alone, in another corner, is a Silent Strider, who has also acknowledged you. It's easy enough to tell that she is Strider: her Werewolf scent, her travel worn coat, her bright eyes, and her swarthy complexion that comes form the lands of the pyramids all give her tribe away. That a Garou from such lands is here must mean there are great changes coming to Fertile indeed...

      [the three Bubba Garou are about 20 feet from you at your 10 o clock, the Strider about 10 feet away at your 7 o clock]

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      • #4
        By the way, someone kicked the jukebox and it started squealing this.
        Last edited by Murky Master; 11-03-2014, 11:18 AM.

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        • #5
          Giving a brief nod of acknowledgement to the Strider, he flashes an even bigger and wider grin at the three roughnecks in the corner before turning his attention to the waitress. "Sure is ma'am, I been walkin' a long spell too. Just come down from Mississipi. I'll take a cold cerveza with a twist of lime if you've got it." He grins widely as he settles into his seat, gently leaning his guitar against his leg and unceremoniously dumping his nearly empty pack in the chair next to his. As the cloud of dust from his pack settles he turns his gaze back to the waitress and says "I been lookin' for a spot of work, you wouldn't happen to know of anyplace in town lookin' to hire a musician would you? I can work with my hands too if I have too, fair hand at most any kind of odd job." His foot taps along to the music as he waits for a response...


          • #6
            When you look over at the Bubbas Three, the waitress follows your gaze briefly. She smiles with a look that says "I wonder if those boys are going to cause trouble here... again."
            In answer to your question, she says "The oilfield is always hiring. I think Garytech was looking for some roustabouts. But its dangerous work you know."
            She bends down low, her warm breath in your ear and her sweet scent in your nose. "A bunch of people have gone missing from the man camps around here. Last place their ever seen at are all the bars and game rooms around here. Gambling's not legal here, but nobody cares. Garytech lost a roustabout that this week even."
            She rises again, saying "But musician work, uh... there's Karen's on Highway 98. Live music on the Wednesdays. Good people, except for their night manager. Gives the ladies the ojo, and they fall for it everytime."

            [The ojo means the "eye" in Spanish, as in "the evil eye". Your character could easily suspect the night manager is a leech]

            As the nice waitress was bending over, the three Bubbas leered at her generous curves, and when they did, your memory suddenly flashed back to where you saw those three last...

            They were younger, not an iota smarter, and loved to tease and torment you on the mean streets of Baton Rouge. They were, and still are really, a pack of Bone Gnawer pups. Jefroe is the tall, dark, cornrow sporting chap, Tyrone is shorter, stockier, and balder, and Canyon is a pale white boy, unless he has been in the sun for more than 3 minutes.
            Just as you put names to faces again, they seem to recognize you as well. They did not like your grin much, and they attempt to intimidate you with much meaner glares... to no avail. They bit their lips at your impervious spirit.

            Then, a short hush falls over the crowd, as the local Sherrif waddles in, his ample gut spilling over his shiny buckle. He smells a bit funny to you, and has this odd twitch to the eyes. He has a seat, with two pretty white boy deputies at the table to your right. He picks up his menu and ostensibly scans it, but in truth is combing over the room.

            As to the Slient Strider, he looks furtive and suddenly uncomfortable at the Sheriff's arrival.

            [Roll Primal Urge+ Perception if you want to see if your Nuwisha knows what is strange about the Sheriff. Difficulty 6.]
            Last edited by Murky Master; 11-11-2014, 03:08 PM.

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            • #7
              "Well, I'm not much for workin' the oilfields. Bad business all around, but I do believe I'll take a walk on over to this Karen's. Thanks much for the help ma'am, and for the beer." He tosses back the last of his beer, rises, and with a wink to the waitress throws a handful of crumpled bills on the table. He heads towards the door, passing by the sheriff and giving him a nod of acknowledgement before making his way out the door and heading down the highway towards Karen's. [2 successes on the roll.]
              Last edited by FeroKE; 11-06-2014, 07:02 PM.


              • #8
                DANIEL WINTERS

                Palestine,Texas 1989
                The sun gave way slowly to the night as it started to set over the horizon. Daniel Winters gazed at the orb’s decent wondering what was going to happen. Ted came back last week from collage and was telling him all kinds of stories. But with every story told was only a painful reminder that Daniel was staying on the farm. Having older parents was hard. They needed him on the farm. There
                just was no other way.
                Daniel walked back to the barn to check in on the Babydoll Sheep. He heard a commotion and was worried that the fox was back. Picking up the large flashlight sitting outside, he opened the barn door. The sheep were still making noise as he swiped the light from left to right. He saw nothing.
                “I’m afraid that I’m to blame” a voice said, breaking the tense silence. Daniel jerked around startled. Right behind him stood a tall, handsome man of Middle eastern looks, but the voice had a British accent.
                “Who are you? Daniel managed to blurt out. Looking beyond the man he saw no car, only the long driveway to the road. “And where’s your car?”
                The stranger wore a very expensive, but dated black suit and bowler hat. He cocked his head to the side and said:” I did not drive. I..walked.”
                “Walked?? Daniel stammered. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Aldrige.” He took out an old pocket watch. Daniel saw the back of it. Engraved on the watch was a Eye of Horus Symbol. Aldrige opened it up and said: “If I may, just a moment of your time?”


                • #9
                  DANIEL WINTERS

                  Fractown-Present Day
                  Eric Stevens was only glancing at his kindle. In truth he was concerned. The train was an hour behind and the sun was about to set. The large box next to him housed his Master Daniel Winters, who was at the moment bent like a pretzel,asleep. Eric imagined he will be wanting out very soon. Winter's sire sent the two to Fractown for reasons unknown to Stevens.It was not Eric's place to know why, just to do.
                  Eric didn't like Daniel's sire Aldrige. He knew the story of how Aldrige woo Daniel with tales of spending eternity traveling. Instead they have never left the states.
                  The Train stopped outside of the Station and the people on board quickly got off. The Porter came and asked Eric if he needed help with the box.Eric told him no,that the small two wheel dolly would do. Once off the train the U-Haul was waiting with the man who was to drive the two of them to the house they would be staying in. The U-Haul driver got out. He was a middle aged black man of great build. Eric had been told the man's name was Terrance. With the Master securely in the back, The two men proceeded on their way. On the drive over Terrance started talking. "I'm staying with you for the night if your Master wants, but tomorrow I must be gone. The Hand has another job for me in Cincinnati. Eric shouldn't have been shocked, but he was a little. "You're Hand?" Terrance nodded and pulled back his shirt collar to show the tattoo that Chatterlings all wore. As the U-Haul turned on a long stretch of highway they found themselves the only car on the road. Without a word Terrance pulled over and dimmed the headlights, then got out and went back. Eric followed him. They opened the back door and with Eric holding the flash light, Terrance opened the box. Daniel slowly unbend himself. The two men could hear his joints popping and cracking, his eyes an inky black.
                  "My name is Terrance. Our Masters from the Hand has sent me to transport you to your home here." Terrance started to take off his shirt. "You are hungry. You are allowed to feed from me, but I must live as I am needed elsewhere in a day." He knelled and looked down to the floor. Without a trace of emotion on his face, Daniel extended his fangs and sanked them into the Chatterling's neck.


                  • #10
                    DANIEL WINTERS

                    Middletown, Ohio 2001
                    "So are you coming over?" Brad asked. "Sure. I'm on my way" Eric answered, his voice filled with uncertainty. He wasn't certain what was happening. All this time Eric thought that Brad didn't even know he existed, and now he was asking him over.Eric didn't know what to make of it, the most popular guy on campus asking a known homosexual over.Perhaps he was right about him being gay all along. Eric had a very powerful crush on him, but never let on about it, always afraid of what he would say or do. As he pulled up to Brad's apartment, he saw that all the lights were off. Getting out he found a note on the door to go around back. "The plot thickens" Eric told himself as he turn the bend around the back patio only to find the back porch dark and the back door locked.
                    A voice startled Eric from behind"What are you doing here Faggot?" Eric reeled around to see three figures sitting in lawn chairs in the dark. It was so dark he hadn't noticed them right there. "Damn Brad! you weren't joking. One phone call and he high tailed it over here. As Eric's eyes got use to the dark he realized it was Brad with Derrick Peters and Jim Farr. They were sitting in the dark smoking and from the smell of them, drinking. A lot. Farr lifted something off the ground next to him. The glint from it in the moonlight made it out to be a baseball bat. An aluminium one. "We hear you've been looking over our friend here" Peters said. "Yea" Brad said with some uncertainty, as if he was uncertain to go further. It was a split second,but Eric took it and ran toward the woods in the back. He had seen this movie and knew how it ended for the faggot. He didn't need to stay for the show. Unfortunately, two of the men were some of the fastest runners the university had. Into the woods they ran, the men shouting slurs at Eric. Only the light of the moon infiltrated the woods, half lighting the way. The four men ran through the thick trees in a barbaric hunt. Eric came upon a clearing as the men came out some distance behind him. Their faces grim and the light of the moon now fully illuminating the bat in Farr's hands. Eric was already out of breath "Please" he struggled to say more while also gasping for air "Please don't do this. I didn't do anything.." Eric didn't finished the sentence for he noticed way off to the treeline on the other side a figure of a man staring at the four of them with eyes like a dog's that glowed in the headlights. Brad said " what the fu.." but didn't finished what he was going to say for the mystreious man, in a swift second, ran the length of the clearing, took the bat from Farr's hands and swung it so hard, he hit Farr's head clear off sending it high up in the air. Even in the moonlight Eric could see Brad pissing himself as the strange man took the bat and shoved it through Brad's chest. Brad felled to his knees and let out a sharp breath then died. Peters ran, but the man ran faster and grabbed him by the chin and twisted Peters neck to him. Opening his mouth wide, Eric could see long fangs in the man's mouth that then sank into Peter's throat. Blood squirted up into the air several feet away. As Peters lay on the ground Eric could see his legs go into a death shake and then he too was dead. All three in a matter of a split second. The man-no. The monster. The monster walked casually over to Eric, who now found himself frozen in place from fear. The monster was covered in blood. He took off his shirt to reveal a toned but very pale torso. The blood from the three men splatted on him like an Abstract Expressionist painting. He stopped about five feet away from Eric. His eyes like glowing sparks in the night. "Do it" Eric said shaking like a leaf. "Just do it and get it over with. What are you waiting for??" There was silence. Only the crickets in their nightly discussion were heard. " Have no fear" the monster spoke. "I am not going to kill you Eric Stevens. I'm here to give you a different life, if you will take it. My name is Daniel and I need a companion. He said these things and all the while Eric couldn't detect not one shred of emotion coming from this Daniel.


                    • #11
                      (It looks like this story is starting out in the morning, and since my character would be catching up on their beauty sleep, I’m going to start out from the perspective of my ghoul retainer. Alston is the ghoul of Erin’s contact in the city. I hope this is okay. I’ll post again once the sun goes down in game.)
                      Sabina Garin backed the black car carefully up the driveway belonging to the brick faced haven and into the waiting garage. Three men waited for her to stop the engine before they set out to close the garage door and began attempting to block the rays of sunlight that sneaked through the cracks of the door.
                      Sabina stepped out of the driver’s seat and stretched her aching back. The nineteen hour drive from her isolated Southern California city of Los Olvidados to Texas’ City of (Fertile or Fractown? wasn't sure what city Erin be in) had been grueling and caffeine driven, and she was glad to be done of it.
                      Once the light resistant sheeting had been secured in place, one of the three men approached her. He was a tall white balding man in California business casual who only appeared overweight when contrasted with the gym-rat lackeys he ordered around.
                      “Everything is secure, Miss. Garin. Should we begin moving Master Moore into his quarters?” the man asked.
                      Sabina scrutinized the florescent lit garage with a tight lipped frown. “Shouldn’t we turn out the lights to be sure that the room is sealed off completely, Mr. Alston?”
                      The ghoul grinned widely before turning back to his company to share a knowing nod, “I don’t think that will be necessary. This is our master’s finest emergency safe house. She has us conduct this drill twice a year, just to stay in practice. Everything from here to the customized basement room is secure.”
                      “That will be fine then.”
                      Sabina moved to the passenger door, and unlocked the compartment that was customized to be separate from the front seats of the vehicle as well as completely light prof. The short limo had been the most expensive thing she had ever driven, and that was before all the custom work, but the knowledge that one mishap with the automobile would lead to immediate destruction had made her a careful driver.
                      The men began to pull her master, who had been asleep for some time now, out of the car as she hovered behind them. Erin Moore was all long limbs and a thin waist. Their tanned skin and dark brown hair set them as definably ‘not white’ while their features betrayed no race. The men paused a moment to puzzle over Erin’s long face, they had straight thin nose and combination of the rest of their feature made it impossible to guess the gender. Sabina grinned inwardly, if the men wanted to know they could ask Erin themselves.
                      Once Erin was deposited safely on the basement bed Alston handed her the house keys, wifi password, and his phone number before leaving with his men. Sabine checked one final time on her master before unpacking their luggage, and checking that nothing needed to be ironed. She selected a desk in one of the studies and set up a temporary office, making sure that the latest issue of The Economist and the day’s local newspapers were neatly placed beside their laptop.
                      Sabina paused her actions as recalled the situation that had led her here. Sabina had entered the office and handed them the small folded envelope. Erin had read it over fast, then once more methodically before walking the length of the room. Sabina watched Erin as they paced back and forth in the office. Usually with these sorts of thing Sabina would have been dismissed almost immediately after the note was read but she wasn’t. Therefore a decision was to be made. Erin was tapping the letter gently as they finally turned to Sabina.
                      “The Fucker from Phoenix, Arizonahas been seen in some city in the middle of Texas” They handed the letter back to Sabina.
                      “I would like you to organize my trip there, I will provide you with an address shortly” They moved back behind the desk before settling back into their chair.
                      “This whole thing could be a bust, but be prepared to stay for as long as necessary if its not” Sabina could feel the dismal even if it wasn’t said and exited the room.
                      Sabina shook herself into the present there was still things that needed her to attend to them, there would be time for pondering later.


                      • #12

                        [Time at POST START: November 11th, 10 a.m.]

                        Your scent tells you that the sheriff is an addict... to vampire blood.

                        Some Leech owns the county Sherrif, and it is certainly not the hard-working tax payers of Secorilla County. As you pass the ghoul by, he gives you a lifted eyebrow that twitches more than a mexican jumping bean. Maybe he knows what you are too, or maybe he's just paranoid...

                        You soon enter Karen's. It's a honky-tonk if you have ever been in one, with an indoor stage and sound equipment that is fine enough for your purposes.

                        The owner of the place, Karen, is more than happy to have you play tonight and wishes for you to do well. The venue opens for music later after sundown, so [I assume] you spend most of that time setting up for the nights work.

                        While you do so, you find out quite a bit just from eavesdropping.

                        You learn that the boom arrived in Fertile around 2008, and over the past 6 years many things have happened. The mayor was caught laundering money and was replaced with someone that just moved in from Austin in what some whisper was a "roughneck election": meaning that he was voted in by the employees of the oil companies that now work in Fertile, as if the company made its employees vote a certain way. Property taxes have shot through the roof, making the town and county fat with tax money, as evidenced by the brand new Fertile city hall. People complain that it would not have cost half as much money if they didn't build the basement floors that no one is allowed into.
                        Crime has also skyrocketed in Fertile. Elderly landowners with windfall from oil leases stuff illegal "game rooms" that cover their track by giving away Chucky Cheese type prizes that can be "reimbursed" else where. Meth dealers swarm the streets. Hookers work grocery store parking lots. Gang wars have escalated, the "native" Hombres de Armas battling weekly with the invading Gatos Negros from San Antonio. Its gotten so bad that the county has purchase a corner's van and hired their own Coroner, a strange foreigner from Italy...

                        You also overhear a few customers ask how Harvey is doing, and Karen answers them all the same way "not well."

                        Turns out her son, an all american marine vet of Iraq, is struggling with a nasty cancer.
                        This is not to say that all cancers don't have their nastiness, but Harvey's oncological nightmare is especially graphic. He has a rare and very rapidly spreading skin cancer that has mutilated his face, torso, and right arm. Unashamed of her child's disfigurement, Karen put a picture of him as he is at University Hospital in San Antonio, next to his standard issue Marine portrait. Before the cancer, he filled out his alphas well with healthy muscle. Now, all of his bulk has seemed to been hungrily absorbed by the purple and black tumors that are building ever higher on his body.

                        Even a pup like yourself knows that cancer does not work that way, unless its made with love from the Wyrm itself...

                        "Them doctors say they don't know where it comes from" Karen tells her sister as they talk on the patio, smoking cigarettes during a much needed break, her cigarette bouncing on her lips. "But I know where he got it from. It ain't just a coincidence that he got it three months after starting at the fracking job."

                        Karen’s sparkly sister, Erin, listens with all sympathy, her gaudy and exotic Shabby Chic fashions contrasting with the t-shirt and blue jeans of her sister.

                        Erin bits her finger in thought, then brightly asks her sister. “Oh! Have you heard of Dr. Kairos?”
                        Karen frowns skeptically.

                        Erin explains that the doctor is a specialist in Fertile, whose office is strangely open 24-7. She heard about him at the health food store that she frequents in order to remain 4 sizes smaller than her sister. Supposedly he has helped oil field workers with many conditions that seemed to have developed in them since they starting working on fracking jobs, ranging from arthritis to schizopherinia.

                        Dr. Kairos has an alternative medicine practice, of course, but Erin makes a good point to Karen: conventional medicine has so far failed her. Karen eventually gives in, and says she will talk to him either or right after her shift is over at 5:00 p.m and Ricky, the lady-killer leech boy, comes in.

                        To an outsider, the trials of a mother and her dying child would hardly signify. But to you, this drama has special importantance.

                        Because hearing the name Kairos has triggered some nasty flashbacks...

                        [Roll Wits+Enigmas, Difficulty 5 to see if Gabriel resists going too deep into the flashbacks. Only one success needed to be out of danger. If he fails, roll Rage for a frenzy (if Nuwisha Frenzy...)

                        If he gets lots of successes, Gabriel might learn something…]

                        [Time at POST END is November 11th, 12:00 pm]
                        Last edited by Murky Master; 11-11-2014, 03:11 PM. Reason: CUZ!

                        "Litera scripta manet"
                        Check out my blog at

                        Hire me! Copywriting, Adobe InDesign work, Grant Writing, Social Media Managment, RPG writing and more! Contact at


                        • #13
                          DANIEL WINTERS
                          Eric sat down in the new home. He was exhausted,having spent the whole day cleaning and preparing the place for Daniels first night in "Fractown". He watched as the sun sat in the sky, a single ray of light penetrating the front window and landing on his face. No sooner had the sun gone down then Daniel came up from out of the basement. Daniel was dressed very nice, but at last all in black. Always black. "Out on the town?" Eric asked. "Yes. Though I think it will be a short night. This seems to be the only place in the town's borders" he held up a flyer with a place called "Karen's" on it.


                          • #14

                            [November 11th, noon]

                            There is a knock at your master’s door. Looking out the peep hole, you see a well dressed man patiently waiting, his Lexus idling in the driveway. He wears a fine suit, black gloves, and a confident, the predatory smile on his face framed by slick black hair. A brooch on his under undershirt, which he is subtly showing you, displays the Camarilla Ankh on a silver shield.

                            The brooch means that he has been sent by an Archon or perhaps even a Justicar. You see a red wax seal on the parchment, and several daggers and a gun on the inside of his jacket. What ever brings him here is deadly serious, even though his grin tells you he enjoys his job.

                            If he has come from the Justicars, he may either be coming to deliver a message to your master, or to execute a blood hunt on her.

                            Do you let him in?

                            [November 11th, noon]


                            [November 10th, 7:00 p.m.]

                            [Blue Thomas, you may note that your character is one day behind it the chronolgy of the game. Let me explain.

                            I was thinking, by having your first few posts be a day behind, that I could have you do some stuff the night before, and then when you wake up again, we can skip forward through the MORNING of the 11th to get to the evening of the 11th, where everyone is going to mostly be at.

                            If you don’t like this idea, lets hash it out amoung ourselves on the OCC. I’m wide open to suggestions.

                            Anyway, moving on…]

                            You and Eric arrive at Karen’s, to a packed house. The majority of the customers are oil-field workers, mostly men. Oily, smelly, strong and husky men.

                            You get a text message from Aldrige, telling you to check your email. If you do, you will find a long, long letter of instructions.

                            “Dear Daniel,

                            Prince Hayden is playing into our hands.

                            Hayden, the prince of Austin, has charged you and I with protecting his childer Damien, who he is installing as a “Prince” of Secorilla County, with Fertile as the seat of his Domain. Hayden is attempting to create a pincer of Camarilla forces around the Sabbat in San Antonio. Hayden claims he has successfully rested control of New Braunfels from the Tzmicse driving Count Topperwien into San Antonio proper. Hayden will use his contacts in the oil companies, especially Garytech, to assist Damien on the financial side of things, while you, I, and others help establish a Camarilla foothold in Fertile.

                            I will be doing the majority of the “bodyguard” work myself, and will have you and your retainer perform some investigations, and as you become strong, some assignments to weaken the Sabbat hold on the area.

                            I am traveling to Fertile with the princeling Damien and one of Justicar Daniel’s men, Rodgers. Justicar Daniels is functioning as a representative of the Inner Circle in this matter, and has sent Rodgers as his daytime proxy. I met the Justicar when I and Prince HAyden spoke, and he says that their is a Lasombra, one Erin Moore, who owes a large prestation debt to him. Most likely Erin will be forced to join us in our efforts. A Tremere Primogen of Austin, Jessica Dethridge, is also sending one of her wizardlings to us, a Maxine Rothbery. Three is the magic number, it seems. No doubt a few others will be coming in as well.

                            You, me, Maxine and Erin will be meeting at Karen’s Bar and Grill tomorrow at 8 p.m. Don’t be late, and remember that you are a Toreador.
                            Stare at Damien if you have to: I suppose he is handsome.

                            Keep a close watch on Erin Moore, as vampires forced into situations are often the least trustworthy, but don’t turn your back on Maxine. Her machinations come from arcane sources indeed, and Maxine’s true goals maybe quite similar to the real reason why we are in Fertile.

                            What we really are here for, Daniel, is power.

                            Another Hand, Robert Grimm, a kouldon of Old Clan Tzimcse, is my contact on the Sabbat side of Fertile politics. He is a Bishop under Archbishop Razor, who has been recently given command over the Sabbat of Fertile. Grimm tells me that Archbishop Razor, another Tzimice has been receiving curious “treatments” from an independent vampire of unknown clan by the name of Dr. Kairos. These treatments, Razor’s claims, have given him greater command over his Vissicitude, as well as curious magics that rival the works of the Tremere. Dr. Kairos also apparently treats, and experiments on the oil-field workers of the area, operating a 24 hour urgent care in Fertile.

                            I want to learn more about Dr. Kairos. Grimm is trying to meet with Kairos himself and find out what he is up to. I want you to look into Dr. Kairos’ patients whenever you can. I don’t have a list of patients to give you, but if you here about someone who has been to the docotor, spy on them. Find out if the patient changed mentally or physically, whether their condition improved or not. Kairos may have simply come up with some sort of minor alchemical solution to add to the blood, but my intuition tells me that Dr. Kairos is more potent than that.

                            Do not start investigating Dr. Kairos until after our meeting tommorow. I am only making you aware that I want to learn more about him, in case you over hear something about Kairos between the time you read this email and our meeting.

                            Something tells me, in fact, that there is a power more potent than all the vampires in the country that is at work here. I have more to tell you and show you, Daniel, but not yet. Soon.

                            Remember, 8:00 p.m. at Karen’s.

                            Delete this email after you commit it to memory.


                            [There was a lot of info in there, but right now the most important things to worry about are 1. Make note of anything you hear about Kairos and 2. Attend a meeting tommorow]

                            Not even a few hours into Fertile, and Aldrige is already giving you orders…

                            As for right now, you may be feeling a bit peckish. There is a fine boned young man, sitting at Karen’s bar. While his three burly friends talk about the things they claim they do with the women they claim to bring to bed, he seems disinterested. He has stolen a few looks at you, that familiar heat in his eyes that tells you he finds you beautiful. Technically, he has qualities that you would have found beautiful in life.

                            Does Daniel still find him beautiful?

                            Will Daniel devour that beauty?

                            [If you do munch him, just tell me how it goes, no roll needed]

                            [DANIEL end at November 10th, 7:15 pm]


                            [November 11th, 7:00 p.m.]

                            Your Inn is fully booked, like it has been since March. It is stuffed full to the brim with “Oil-Field Trash” as they proudly call themselves. Big dually trucks choke the parking lot, and your staff had to throw away another load of white linens ruined by the oil that these roustabouts drag in.

                            Everyone is loud and edgy, fight are frequent and drugs are plentiful. Many vampires have come in, and you have had to call Templar Keller several times last night to discpline shovelheads that thought your sign said “Eagle Ford All Night Vampire Buffet”. In addition to Mr. Long, a Gangrel that you hired as night muscle, Keller has assigned two of his Cadets to protecting your joint, an odius pair of Blood Brothers by the names of Dick and Fred.

                            Now a new SNAFU. Archbishop Razors’ pet Lasombra ducti Lucinda came to cluck at you, saying that Mr. Illisio, the town’s new Giovanni coroner, claims that one of your cleaning staff has been looking through his papers. Lucinda gave you the usual lecture about how Razor will stuff your head into the fryers at Bush’s Chicken if you don’t put a stop to it.

                            Why Bush’s Chicken? Becuase the Sabbat, having control over the mortal city council, had their torture chambers built under neath the joint, and recruit shovelheads out of the place reguarly. Razor's new Pander pet, the kine's County Sheriff has already broken it in.

                            Your records indicate that Johnny Bastille, a new hire, was working the room that night. You could probably snap the little shit in half yourself.

                            But, everytime you think about confronting Johnny, you get the same willies you got when your Washington State buddy said “This dude invited us to this killer party man!” on that fateful hot summer night in Port Aransas.

                            Then there is a knock at the door, and a beutiful woman wrapped in shadows tight to her skin struts into your office unbidden. She is Lasombra, but you haven’t seen her before.

                            “We need to talk, you and I.” she says with a friendly, but knowing smile. No heebee jeebees from her, yet...

                            You see Mr. Long appear right behind her, looking over her shoulder at you with a face that asks “Does she need to leave?”

                            Maybe Mr. Long, Dick and Fred can go take care of Johnny, while you handle this Keeper.

                            [ALEX end at November 11, 7:05 p.m.]
                            Last edited by Murky Master; 11-15-2014, 05:42 PM. Reason: Details, Formating

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                            • #15
                              For a moment I had considered having Mr. Long and the twins throw her out. I already had enough on my plate with that bitch Lucinda, the growing ‘rowdiness’ of the hotel’s guests, both living and unliving, and the recent problem with Mr. Illisio, a newly arrived Giovanni. Another Lasombra bringing another headache was not something I was in the mood for right now.

                              Still I could only blame myself for the latter as I had instructed the staff to pay ‘special’ attention to certain rooms and the maid had gotten a little careless. I had heard stories about the Giovanni and the idea of inbred, necrophiliac mobsters worming their way into town didn’t sit right with me. But at least they thought it was just a maid trying to steal something rather than me trying to dig up useable information on a potential threat. If they had realized the truth, there would be no threats, they’d just drag me into their torture chambers under that disgusting fried chicken joint.

                              “No,” I answered, waving my security off. “That won’t be necessary at the moment Mr. Long.”

                              With that the men left my office, closing the door behind them but undoubtedly waiting in the hall. I turned to the grinning woman, weighing my options. I didn’t like that smile of hers. Smiling strangers seldom brought good news. But it was better to hear the woman out. If she brings me a headache then I’d have her thrown out. Besides she might just have something of value to trade for whatever she wanted. Or she could be with Razor and Lucinda, one of their agents with something they needed handled discreetly and turning her away could incite their anger. I definitely didn’t need that. Better caution over comfort.

                              “Take a seat Miss,” I said, intertwining my fingers together. “You’ll have to forgive me but I have number of things I need deal with at the moment so let’s skip the pleasantries and get straight down to business, what do you want and what are you willing to pay for it?”

                              Homo sapiens. What an inventive, invincible species. It's only a few million years since they crawled up out of the mud and learned to walk. Puny, defenceless bipeds. They've survived flood, famine and plague. They've survived cosmic wars and holocausts. And now, here they are, out among the stars, waiting to begin a new life. Ready to outsit eternity. They're indomitable. Indomitable.