Interludes

Go down

Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Tue Jul 19, 2011 8:02 pm

An occasional thread examining the world of Falling Waters from outside perspectives.

Blight and Roadkill
July 24th, 2011 - 99th Street

Blight looked like shit. Of course, he always did, that was his nature; what I mean is that he looked worse than normal. He stood only a few feet tall, and his form remained somewhat tenuous, phasing erratically in and out of existence. I could tell that appearing to me in the mundane world was causing him great difficulty.

"What happened to you, try to go through a water filter again?" I ask, trying not seem particularly alarmed.

"The Garou... The Garou are back."

"They never left, Seta and his boys..."

"No, not those few holdouts... There were dozens of them.. They came at me all at once!"

"Dozens?"

"Yes! They overwhelmed me in seconds. You said the other Septs would not send aide... You said they would be ostracized for their failures!"

"I did. Clearly, a mistake has been made," I put aside my book and dramatically pull a sword from seemingly nowhere. The sight would be enough to impress this idiot spirit, I hoped. "Get back to the Hive, you look fucking terrible. I'll see what I can discover about our new friends."

And the spirit was gone. I had hoped the kids would be smart enough not to show their hand yet. Some show of force would need to be made to convince the others that there was no threat here.

I pulled my cellphone and got to work.

Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Thu Aug 25, 2011 2:53 pm

The Lawyer and his Secretary
Monday, August 22nd, 2011

" And you have a 10am with the mayor. Also those zoning ordinances have to be filed by Thursday. "

The Lawer sips his coffee, " Yeah yeah. Uhhhhh, any word on Omega Operation? "

The Secretary looks shifty for a moment, then closes the Lawyer's door, " Reports are coming in from the field that the most likely scenario was the actual. Operatives are disposed of, and we maintain deniability. It can comfortably be called a qualified success. "

" What was the business with the Falls? We never authorized that, did we? "

" No, sir. That is unfortunately the result of overzealous staffers. "

" I want them sacked. "

" They're not human, sir. That may be an issue. "

" Shit. Well, have them reprimanded or something. We can't have this nonsense on the evening news. "

" Right. I'll have a memo sent to Mr. Fischman's office. "

" Who would have thought that a single fourteen year old with a predilection for bumming cigarettes could make such a wonderful distraction. Make a note to utilize him again in the future. "

" Sir, I'm seeing here that he was obliterated. "

" Well. Fine. But... umm... is the church still up and running? "

" Yes sir. "

" Well, there's that. Interesting, very interesting. Hey, are we shooting that new commercial today? "

" No sir, it got bumped to the weekend. "

Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Wed Aug 31, 2011 10:24 pm

Well, That's Odd...
Zoar Valley, August 29th. 3:19am

Alone in the deep woods sits a forgotten collection of stone pillars. The first leaves of Autumn have already begun to fall, covering up the last tracks of the dozen of so Garou who were here just a week or so ago. It is a new moon, and the forest is black as black can be.

A lone raccoon scurries about, darting from tree to tree. He left something around here a while back, and he'll be damned if he's just going to give up on finding it. He thoughtfully regards one of the pillars for a moment before beginning to dig.

*bamph!* Without warning, and without any visible cause, the poor little guy explodes in a cloud of fur and gore.

A few more moments of absolute silence and darkness are broken by the sound of heavy work boots trudging through the woods. After that, absolute silence reigns again.



Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Mon Sep 19, 2011 8:25 pm

Fiddler’s Green
September 20th, 2011 – The Abyss

If you read this post, then last night you had a dream. You dreamt that you were blind. You dreamt you could feel absolutely nothing, not even your own body. You dreamt that after a million years floating through that infinite night, you finally became aware of a voice whispering a sing-song tale into your ear.

“I will go down into the dark.
Darkness will not stop me.
Pain will not stop me.
I will find her and bring her home.
There is nothing else.”

The darkness raises by.
Never ending, never changing.
The old man slipped ages ago.
His body is broken by the rocks.
His mind is broken by the dark.
His soul will not break.

“I will go down into the dark.
Darkness will not stop me.
Pain will not stop me.
I will find her and bring her home.
There is nothing else.”

He has forgotten his name.
He has forgotten his children.
He has lost the memory of light.
He has forgotten Gaia.
He has not forgotten the Maid.

“I will go down into the dark.
Darkness will not stop me.
Pain will not stop me.
I will find her and bring her home.
There is nothing else.”

The others are all gone.
The things in the dark.
His stomach devours itself.
His cracked lips dream of water.
He burns away his soul to live.
He must live.
He must find her.

He does not know how long he has fallen.
But I tell you he has fallen for one hundred days.
But I tell you he will fall for one hundred more.
But I tell you he will find her.
Be ready, little spirits.
Listen, for he chants again:

“I will go down into the dark.
Darkness will not stop me.
Pain will not stop me.
I will find her and bring her home.
There is nothing else.”

Be ready, my children.
I am the echo of light.
I will sing his song to the end of days.
An oath sworn is an oath kept.
I am Thunder
He was called Bullroarer.


[Unlike other Interludes, treat this as an In Character Event.]

Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Thu Sep 22, 2011 3:30 pm

Haunting in WNY
September 22nd, 2011 - The Internet

Mysterious Universe Podcast

(This is an IC Document. This is not meant to imply that all episodes of this show are IC documents.)

Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Fri Oct 28, 2011 7:28 pm

After Action Report
Day 3643, 2764AU - The Abyss

From The Journal of Captain Titus Marcus Sulla,

Another quiet night on the Silver Road. The death spirits have been restless the last few weeks, we have had four probing attacks on the spinward flank in just the last forty-eight hours. General Von Manstein has redeployed additional forces to that front, but he is wary of a feint and so holds back the bulk of the Legion at C^2 Delta.

Pathos harvest returns remain scant. More and more of our forces are forced to remain in slumber to avoid consumption of scare resources. We have enough men to maintain our posts, but over a long enough timeline the situation will inevitably become untenable. There is the growing belief that we must soon attempt a breakout anti-spinward. I have my doubts about the feasibility of this plan, but the men need hope, even in this dark place.

Third platoon just returned from their three month reconnaissance of the Iron Road. They reported a strange interaction with a group of shapeshifters. They were clearly lost and suffering from the adverse effects of this place. First Centurion Iverson reports that the group had clearly gone mad from their extended stay in this place. He offered them shelter for a few hours and the group happily accepted.

There were three of the creatures remaining alive. One was an old man who was attired as a Native American warrior. With him was a young man who carried a US issue M60D Machine Gun, quite an impressive bit of armorment for such a small man. There was also a woman with them wielding a bow and dagger; Iverson reports she seemed even more broken than the two men. Tears rolled constantly down the woman’s face, and she never spoke while the group was together.

They would not speak of their goals or agenda, only that their mission was a one-way affair. First Centurion’s mistake in taking in this group was made evident three hours later when the group was assaulted by two fire teams of class B adversaries. Iverson reports the group fought well and hard, indeed he says they fought with exemplary courage and determination. However, the adversary’s forces had the advantage of attacking from two directions at once, and the encounter was a decisive defeat for our forces. Iverson reports five members of his first team were forced into Harrowing, of which only three returned.

Of the Shapeshifters, the young man with the large gun sacrificed himself to protect Iverson, a sacrifice which confused and impressed the Centurion. The female engaged a full pack of the Adversaries and was destroyed in the process; though he reports that she was able to turn aside the entire attack by herself. The older gentleman survived the attack intact. After taking water and bread with our men, he said something to the effect of, ‘there is no sense putting this off anymore. I must now take the quicker path,’ then threw himself off the path and into the Abyss proper. The whole interaction was so strange that the Centurion felt compelled to return to C^2 to report the strange event.

I wonder who the old man was, and what his quest was that brought him to this dark place? I pray that his gods take him to whatever his destination was. If we are very lucky, once he inevitably dies down here, he will will report to his gods that there are men down here. These travelers were clearly heroes of the surface world; but this place makes quick work of heroes. At least someone in this strange universe will know that the Lost Legion still endures.


Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Tue Nov 01, 2011 3:02 pm

Status Quo Ante Bellum
November 5th, 2011 - Somewhere in South Buffalo, Bar Interior

The sound of pool balls hitting each other on a break mingle with music and half heard conversations. A thin pall of smoke hangs at eye level, evidence of people smoking surreptitiously or puffing away at electronic alternatives. Anthony Polanski, a young police officer in uniform slacks and a dress shirt, wrestles five pint glasses down a small hallway to a back room cut off by beads.

As a battered old card table, two obviously senior officers are smoking cigarettes and finishing off their own pints. They smile and wave him over to the table.

“Listen, I just want to say off the bat that I appreciate this. I'm not sure how high all of this goes, or who I can trust, but...” The young officer begins and pauses searching for words as he pushes two pints to his captain, one to the deputy, another to an empty chair and the last leaving in front of him. “Let me explain....”

With a loud flushing noise, a ruddy cheeked and much older officer comes out of the adjoining bathroom and shuffles to his seat.

“Hey Michael,” he inclines his head to the salt and pepper Captain of G District. “Thad,” he does the same to the nearly bald Buffalo Deputy Chief of Police. “And this must be young Anthony,” he offers his hand to the younger officer. “Liam MacRoy, pleased to meet you.”

Anthony looks up, still trying to think of what to say and shakes the older ginger man's hand.
“Trust is a hell of thing to come by these days,” reflects Michael. “Things are happening, and accelerating too, and I don't even know who to call anymore.” He shakes his head regretfully and, taking up his new pint, take a sip.

“Och, you're telling me,” Liam chuckles, “I have a small war zone down by Chestnut Ridge and..”
Anthony seems to snap back to full lucidity and interrupts. “That's what I wanted to talk to you about. We have a string of what LOOKS like unrelated crimes. People have gone missing, and like you said it was a warzone down there. I spoke with a buddy of mine in the ECSD for more information, I think..” Anthony stops and looks around in a dramatic and conspiratorial manner. “I think they're connected.... and this could be big.” His hands fail to hide his fear as his shaking hands wrap around his pint glass.

Michael, Liam and George look at each other, the very picture of stern and sagacious authority. They seem to communicate a lot with simple looks, almost imperceptible nods and shrugs. Before one produces a deck of cards and places it on the table. Anthony looks down, more confused than ever, before just as fast realizing everyone else is now smiling.

All three gentlemen start laughing, before Liam breaks waves them down to quiet.

“Deal em out boy, we're going to be here for a while... connected? Do ya think so?” He does his best display of incredulity to the others at the table before snorting into his beer again.

“Yeah, I think we're dealing with something.... strange...”

This time George cuts him.

“I'll tell you what strange, the absolute silence from this. Look, I know it's tragic and all, as it always is, no argument there. But to not follow up, that's.... that's just insulting. Mike, what do you think?”

“I put two of my kids through college based on this kind of thing. Private schools. Now my youngest is 17 and just took the SAT's and she actually did well, this is no time for them to clam up on us...”

Anthony just watches as Liam starts dealing out four hands of thirteen.

“Ummm.... am I missing something?”

They all ignore him until the dealing is done.

“Yes. I don't know who it is this time... if it's buggins, or ghosts, or whatever witches or vampires...” Liam lowers his voice with the last word. “But we're sitting on a mountain of evidence, as has been pointed out, and no one has replaced that with money.”

“I know, it's crazy... listen, Anthony, the world is a lot more... strange than you realize, and since they got to your Captain we've called you into our little cadre. There's plenty of things that go bump in the night, believe you me, more that you'd think could be in any sort of sane world, but they tend to self regulate. What I'm saying is... they tend to police themselves. Usually after something of the magnitude at Chestnut Ridge, I'd be expecting briefcases full of money by now, or at least my phone ringing off the hook. They want this buried as much as we do, but what's to be done?” Liam shakes his head.

Thad frowns, “I think they've gotten a little complacent, if you ask me. I think... they honestly think we're going to cover this up... I don't know, out of good will. I think they're not scared any more, and that's bullshit.”

George puts his hands up, palms down and waves them down to calm.

“If we have to make examples we can, but this is a little premature. We don't even actually know who, or what, is responsibility. I'd rather not call anything up that I can't put down. We have to start with calls, and introducing young Anthony to the game...”

“I uhh....I.... wha..... who...”

The older officers all put down their playing cards. They start getting up and putting their jackets back on.

“No time like the present I suppose... Anthony, you're riding with me. We have some... people... to talk to, and things for you to see..... it's going to be quite educational.”

They exit the bar via the back and get into three squad cars, two Buffalo and one Orchard Park, and drive off into the evening.

Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Thu Nov 10, 2011 4:48 am

Excerpts from The Marriage of Heaven and Hell
William Blake, 1790

Proverbs of Hell:

In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy.
Drive your cart and your plow over the bones of the dead.
A fool sees not the same tree that a wise man sees.
Eternity is in love with the productions of time.
A dead body revenges not injuries.
If the fool would persist in his folly he would become wise.
Excess of sorrow laughs. Excess of joy weeps.
The roaring of lions, the howling of wolves, the raging of the stormy sea, and the destructive sword, are portions of eternity too great for the eye of man.
The fox condemns the trap, not himself.

The eagle never lost so much time, as when he submitted to learn of the crow.

The fox provides for himself. but God provides for the lion..
Expect poison from the standing water.
The weak in courage is strong in cunning..!
As the catterpiller chooses the fairest leaves to lay her eggs, so the priest lays his curse on the fairest joys.
To create a little flower is the labour of ages.
The best wine is the oldest, the best water the newest.

The crow wish'd every thing was black, the owl, that every thing was white.
If the lion was advised by the fox. he would be cunning.
Improvement makes strait roads, but the crooked roads without Improvement, are roads of Genius.
Sooner murder an infant in its cradle than nurse unacted desires.
Where man is not, nature is barren.

Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Thu Dec 01, 2011 8:41 pm

The Dancer at the Gates of Dawn
Devil's Hole - 12/1/2011

The vampire looks around nervously, furtively, before stepping into the cave. He has been here before, but the place always gives him the heebie jeebies.

"Gentlemen, I am here," he calls out to the empty cave. Such a weird place, it looks so small in this reality, of course he knew that it stretched off into other less wholesome directions, and he wasn't anxious to spend much time there.

A man appears as if from thin air. He is dressed in a red plaid flannel shirt and ripped jeans, his beard is slight and scruffed, he's underdressed for the weather, he's just the man the vampire was hoping to talk to.

"Archbishop, it has been too long. Far too long," the two briskly shake hands and step back out into the night.

"Jim, I don't want to step on any toes, you know I don't," begins the vampire, he's wearing a black trenchoat and his face is obscured by a dark cowl, "but you know damned well that I have my own plans for this region. I've heard what you have planned, and I wanted to politely let you know that the Sword isn't going to tolerate this sort of nonsense. Buffalo is under our sphere of interest; if anybody is going to level this place, it's going to be us. We respect your interest in sewing a bit of chaos but..."

The flanneled man puts up a hand and smiles, "Relax man, I don't know what you've heard, but we don't have any apocalypses planned for at least the next year or so. I don't know what you've heard, but we've got nothing to do with it."

The two walk along the riverside for a few minutes in silence,

"Bullshit Jim, I've got to say it, this has your stink all over it. I have heard from at least three independent seers and prophets that something really bad is coming down the pipeline here, something to do with some lovelorn spirit coming back from the dead or something. That bit where your boss collapsed the near realms was bad enough. You know what sleeps out there, we're not Nephandi, we don't want the show to end until we're ready for it."

The man shrugs, "Fair enough, I'll admit I do suspect I know what you're talking about. I swear to you: the Garou are blundering into this one themselves. What do you want me to do, save them?"

The vampire stops walking and pokes a gloved finger against the man's chest, "That's exactly what I want you to do. Fischman thinks he's king shit of fuck mountain, but the regional board politely reminds him that he is still part of a larger organization with its own timetables."

"And what's your time table, Archbishop?"

The vampire smiles, his face still in shadow, "Ask me again in April."


Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Thu Dec 15, 2011 8:42 pm

The End of the Beginning
December 16th, 2011

THUNDERSNOW

He was weak. Weaker than he had ever been. He had been so proud of this Caern; he still was, but something had changed in the world. The snows did not fall, the land remained warm. The seasons were broken. The world hung on a knife’s edge.

Alone at the center of his Caern, he strums a song on his guitar. The song fills his heart and very quietly he begins to sing.

"Don't you understand, what I'm trying to say?
Can't you see the fears that I'm feeling today?
If the button is pushed, there's no running away,
There'll be no one to save with the world in a grave,
take a look around you, boy, it's bound to scare you, boy,
and you tell me over and over and over again my friend,
ah, you don't believe we're on the eve of destruction."



Victor

Mom wouldn’t tell him what was happening, but he knew something was wrong. This should be an adventure, staying at Grandpa’s house, not going to school, really pretty nifty. He knew he was little and he needed to stay out of the way, but he just wished there was something he could do.

He wished he could protect his mom, he wished he was big.

Fischman

Piles of paperwork sit at his desk, unattended. He stares out onto the still flowing river. All his planning, all his hopes, all his work, all his achievements, and still he had no idea what was going to happen next.

He thought back to his youth in the Black Sea. Thought of his mother, God, he hadn’t given her a thought in decades. He wondered what ever became of her? He knew he had made compromises along the way, but he had always compartmentalized, always kept himself focused on his goals, on his dreams.

But this was Christmastime, and he always allowed himself one day a year to feel, one day a year to remember who he was.

Alone in his office the Chairman of Pentex begins to sob.

Owl

All was going according to plan. He just wished he knew what the plan was.

Roadkill

Roadkill stands at the river’s edge, incredulous. In front of him is a sheer concrete wall where a cavern used to be.

Everything changes, but nothing is truly lost, he reminds himself.

Rat

Home. What is home? It was obvious no man could serve two masters, but could a father truly love his two sons equally? He decided that he would take one to his bosom, the other would be fine. The other one was always fine.

Broken Sword

He sleeps the sleep of centuries. Hidden away beneath the world, he waits for the current age to pass away, that he might walk the Earth again. But his dreams are restless. In his sleep he calls out to her. But even in his dreams she no longer comes to him.

Adom

Benghazi was as beautiful as he remembered. His family had lost most of their possessions in the rioting of the past months, but that was the way of the world.

He sat at his favorite tea shop and sipped at the daily special. Perfection in itself. Life was good.

When the old spirit appeared in front of him, he had to catch himself from falling out of his chair.

An Office

There is a place beneath the earth where men in uniforms mill about, discussing plans, organizing intelligence. They are not mages, nor werewolves or vampires. They are men, and they've had just about enough. Their leader studies them all, hands crisply held behind his back.

His soldiers go over the plan again, he reviews every detail, he questions every element. Finally he nods his assent.

“ Gentlemen, this is it. Tell your men we move at nightfall. ”


Last edited by Stbrian on Mon Aug 20, 2012 9:58 pm; edited 1 time in total

Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Thu Jan 26, 2012 7:50 pm

Reciprocity
Janurary 22nd, 2012

Collins leaned against the snow-covered tree. His everything hurt. Five Dancers against a crippled Theurge and some nobody Bone Gnawer. Should have been an easy grab. But his pack had gotten their asses whooped. He was going to need a new suit.

The other survivors would have went their own separate ways to heal up. That was standard pack protocol, no reason to get everybody killed if one of the group had been followed. Last he saw, only one of his men had been killed. That was a good thing, but missing an opportunity to grab a Path Stone? That was an unforgivable offense.

“Roadkill,” Collins barked in his shrill bird-call of a howl, “Show yourself.”

Roadkill manifested a few moments later. Collins didn’t entirely trust him, only a fool trusted the dead, but he had always been a good source of info for his pack.

“What the hell happened there, ghost? Why didn’t you act? Standard procedure, you are supposed to posses one of them, but you did nothing?”

The ghost shrugged, his hands in his pockets, “Things are much worse than you might think. Our Lady has been turned to the enemy. We have lost our Hive’s Totem. “

Collins falls to his knees. The pain from his broken body faded to nothing, the world nearly melted away… he realized that he could no longer feel Her presence…

“Yes, I wasn’t there,” the ghost continued, “the confrontation took place in the Umbra, where of course I cannot venture. Somehow Wishbone has gained a power far beyond himself. How a Garou of his rank could do such a thing… I don’t know…”

The ghost disappears into a puff of smoke as Collins claws at it, “You, I knew you could not be trusted… you arranged all of this… you have destroyed us! I’ll eat your fucking heart.”

The cloud moves up into the branches of the tree before remanifesting, “Pull it together man, you know who I am, what possible motivation could I have to sell you out? We need to get the others together. Quickly. I warned her that it was not her place to be wandering around playing hero, not if she was going to maintain a Hive. No matter, we will be drinking toasts from Wishbone's skull soon enough."

Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Fri Feb 10, 2012 9:19 pm

A Sufi Formula:
As stated by Robert A Wilson

The Stages of Illumination:
1. Lord, use me.
2. Lord, use me but don't break me.
3. Lord, I don't care if you break me.

Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Sat Feb 11, 2012 1:36 am

True Love Waits
Lyrics by Thom Yorke

I'll drown my beliefs
To have you be in peace
I'll dress like your maid
And wash your swollen feet

Just don't leave
Don't leave

I'm not living
I'm just killing time
Your tiny hands
Your crazy-kitten smile

Just don't leave
Don't leave

And true love waits
In haunted attics
And true love lives
On lollipops and crisps

Just don't leave
Don't leave
Don't leave
Don't leave


Last edited by Stbrian on Wed Feb 22, 2012 7:20 pm; edited 1 time in total

Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Thu Feb 16, 2012 10:27 pm

Eternal Recurrence
Falling Waters

May 1590
How could they all be dead? I am Dreams under Ice, only a Fostern myself. But as the only Philadox left, the others looked to me for guidance. I don't know what to tell them.
Night after night I walk the empty halls of Falling Waters. Once the Elders of the Croatan had walked these halls. Once? They had only be gone a few weeks now. They had all abruptly packed up and raced down to the sea, though I don’t know what exactly happened to them, the spirits had been very clear to the remaining Thurges : The Middle Tribe was never, ever coming back.
Falling Waters had always been their Caern. With them was lost not just experience and manpower, but generations of working knowledge. With only a ragtag band of cubs and cliath, an unlikely mix of Wendigo and Uktena, how could the Caern be maintained?
But though only a Fostern, I am the oldest of the Garou who remained. A moot would need to be called soon. The Maid would need her chimerage, the Onigara rituals would still need to be held.

June 1590
Their kinfolk were gone too. How had I missed that? The rituals were still carried through at the villiage, as they had been for centuries… but what was the point? They weren’t coming back. Worse, the forces of the Wyrm had discovered the weakness of the Caern. A group of Banes and Formori had attacked only a week ago. The attack was repulsed… but it was a much closer thing than it might have been.
The Maid tells the Theurges they need to have faith. Faith in ourselves? Faith that the Wyrmbringers will be turned aside? She does not say.

July 1590
I am now Adren. Years before I thought I would be, but needs must. Relations with the humans have gone sour. They blame us for the loss of their protectors. How to explain to them that we are just children? The Middle Brother…. I grow tired of repeating myself. There must be a way for us to regain our lost strength.

October 1590
The winter is cold and early. The deer do not come. The people outside are starving. We have plenty of food stored up here… but our numbers are so few.. could we hold off a war party from the villiage if they took our supplies? No, we need to hold onto what we have. There have been rumors that the Sacrifice of the Croatan is only the first battle… spirits say the Apocalypse will soon come, and we must prepare ourselves. The Maid remains silent. She has not spoken to us in months. I am a patient soul, but we could use some serious advice right now.
This Caern will be ready for the final battle, I swear it.

May 1591
Three more dead. There are only ten of us left. Ten! Absurd. Blazes Away and the other Ahroun believe we need to start bringing kinfolk within our walls. We have to be ready for a long siege if the leeches or the wyrmbringers start to appear on our borders.

August 1591
We have secured a dozen or so kinfolk. Most resent being kept here in the dark. They must be made to understand. Only for a little while. We just need to get our strength back.

March 1592
Stories trickle into our hunting parties of monsters that look like men, but with sticks that shoot fire being seen in the forests nearby. The Frenchmen are another sign of our peril. So tired of staying in the dark. But the end could come at any moment. The battle could begin… we will hold the line.

October 1592
Another early winter. Could this be the end?

January 1593
Supplies low. So hungry. So hungry. The kinfolk have had several children, they are hearty and strong. We do our duty. The Maid still does not speak.

June 1593
A year without a summer? The ice lasted on the lake until this week. Bitch doesn’t deserve our food when we have so little to spare. Why doesn’t she speak?

July 1593
Theurges tried to open the Caern today. The Maid refused to give up her Gnosis. I don’t know what we’re doing wrong?

Dec ember 1593
The villagers attacked our hunting party today. Said we were stealing what little meat there was to be found. I regret that we had to kill a few of them as a warning. The party brought back no food that day. How can we be ready for the end if we are nothing but starving husks? Gaia will want us to be strong.

January 1594
We must have no further contact with the village. I have ordered the gates barred. We will make due. Another attack by the monsters last week. I have never been in such a hurry for a child to grow up. We know three of them will be Garou… but do we have time to wait?

July 1594
We made her talk today. We have all the Gnosis we need. Gaia be praised, how dare she hold back from us? Now we have food and Gnosis. We prepare our defenses. We are the fist of Gaia. We will be strong when all the rest are wasted husks. The glory that will be ours, our shame will melt away in the glory of that glorious day! Only a few more weeks… I can't stop crying, don't let us be wrong about this. Please.

Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Fri Mar 02, 2012 6:58 pm

Fischman
March 10th, 2012

" Gentleman, phase one is complete. The child has been denied safe haven and the Garou are doing their best impression of a ant colony filled with boiling water. It is time to begin phase two. Roadkill, it is time to active the \/\/34\/3R L0RD, or whatever the fuck that leach is calling himself these days. "

Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Interlude for May

Post  STBucky on Fri May 18, 2012 11:27 pm

Meeting of the Minds
On an absurdly large and posh yacht floating somewhere on Lake Erie

Men and things that barely pass as men walk in patrols on the outside of the boat watching as smaller cigarette boats run patrols in all directions and some, with different sight, watch things in the penumbra lumber on the boat and churn the water menacingly.

Seated around a large mahogany are several figures, almost universally men, and most are wearing suits. Save for one who seems to favor jeans, and one in a voluminous terry cloth robe and speedo....

FISCHMAN: “To business. We have some guests waiting, but more importantly we need to complete our board... it's taken a long enough time to vet these gentleman, but I think they each bring something important - and heretofore lacking – to our concern...”

From an inside door first walks in a severe looking gentleman in a simple black suit, black over coat, and black leather gloves. He has a rugged handsomeness usually seen in action movie stars. He's blond, bordering on gray at the temples and blue eyes.

THE VAMPIRE: He walks in a businesslike fashion and pulls a seat from the table “Gentlemen, it is an honor and privilege to make your acquaintance. I look forward to making our working relationship official and hope we can advance our mutual goals. Thank you.” He takes his seat.

FISCHMAN: “And...” For a moment Gil seems at a loss for words, a rare event indeed, and the others look at him curiously. “Pardon me...” The rotund man in his accustomed terry cloth robe seems to listen to something only he can hear..... “THE HOROLOG....”

A scuffle can be heard from the hallway, and what appears to be a tall and lithe image of statuesque and feminine beauty physically pushes a man onto the dance floor. If unsuccessfulness had an avatar, this would truly be him. His suit is rumpled and ill fitting, his tie wretched in both form and execution, his briefcase battered, and his shoes are scuffed. Two oversized and reflective lenses make him look owlish and permanently shocked.

THE HOROLOG: “Sorry... I... yes. Thank you.... I too, uhh....” His seems to constantly be glancing hither and yon. “Working relationship... yes, of course... and our mutual goals.... mmm.... very important. Yes... uhh....” He struggles with his tie. “Thank you.” He rushes over to a chair and sits, his hands folded in front in front of him and his eyes locked on them.

The rest of the board seems flummoxed but Fischman waves them to obeisance....

FISCHMAN: “Gentlemen... The sun is down, the temperature is up, the wind is gentle and chop is low... and I propose a toast.”

Clearly rehearsed the staff comes in bearing champagne bottles, and they pops the corks, pour and hand out flutes of Cristal.

THE INDUSTRIALIST: “Umm, sounds good. Didn't take you for the sentimental type...”

THE LAWYER: “Second.”

ROAD-KILL: Grins, although it seems somehow world weary. “Third.... while we're at it.”

THE BILLIONAIRE: “Whatever.”

FISCHMAN: Sighs... “Not too long ago the Sept of Falling Waters lost another one of it's members. And do you know what we did to bring that about?”

All four gentlemen glance amongst themselves and shrugging, look at Gil.

FISCHMAN: “Ab-so-lutely NOTHING... Not a g'd damned thing. They did it for us. I told you, the garou nation's worst enemy has always – and always will be – themselves. I think that deserves a toast.”

The assembled board begins clapping. As they drink and Fischman looks around to drink in the applause his eyes meet those of the lady in the shadows. Something unsaid is passed between them. She smiles as he drinks....

END SCENE



Last edited by Stbrian on Fri May 18, 2012 11:48 pm; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : Brian obsessively formatting. No content changed.)

STBucky
Admin

Posts : 204
Join date : 2011-06-24

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Wendigo

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Fri May 18, 2012 11:34 pm

Children's Story
Tom Waits.

Once upon a time there was a poor child,
with no father and no mother
And everything was dead
And no one was left in the whole world
Everything was dead
And the child went on search, day and night
And since nobody was left on the earth,
he wanted to go up into the heavens
And the moon was looking at him so friendly
And when he finally got to the moon,
the moon was a piece of rotten wood
And then he went to the sun
And when he got there, the sun was a wilted sunflower
And when he got to the stars, they were little golden flies.
Stuck up there, like the shrike sticks 'em on a blackthorn
And when he wanted to go back, down to earth,
the earth was an overturned piss pot
And he was all alone, and he sat down and he cried
And he is there till this day
All alone:
Okay, there's your story!
Night-night!

Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Tue May 22, 2012 2:12 pm

Man Escapes the Drowned.
Victoria Day Weekend


Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Thu May 24, 2012 6:09 pm

A Verbal Beatdown
The Pit

The Hive is filled with celebrations. Dancers frolic about, breaking open bottles of Champagne and otherwise enjoying the fruits of His Myconic Majesty. But in a quiet corner of the Pit, two figures have a much less joyous discussion. The room is barren aside from a small altar adorned with a few bits of old fur and a few small stone idols of an old spiritual ally of the Hive.

Roadkill: " Let me get this straight. You never got a clear shot at the primary objective, he was never alone. Fine, I dig that. But why oh why would you go after the Galliard and not destroy whatever their Wraith repeller is? That was clearly your secondary objective. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get an agent inside that Caern these days? "

Well Dressed BSD: " Sir, I had a clear shot. All our intell said he always had the parcel on him. It should have been a simple snatch and grab. I admit I failed, I allowed myself to be seen, and I left the Galliard alive. "

Roadkill: " The Hat wasn't even on your list of priorities. With everything going on around here right now, do you think the Old Man would even be welcomed around here? That one was a relic of an old age, and the new boss doesn't like to be reminded that he hasn't always run things around here. You were careless. "

Well Dressed BSD: " Sir, you know I've always got your back. I just thought... "

Roadkill puts a finger against the BSDs chest.

Roadkill: " You stow that shit and you stow it right now. We'll always have a special place in our heart for him, but this isn't his show anymore. You want to start a war around here? Now? At this moment of unity? Father is the past. He's gone, and we all need to accept that. This is Fischman's place now, and you better fucking remember it. "

Well Dressed BSD: " Yes sir. "

Roadkill: " I aught to have you flayed. Now get out of my sight. "

Both the creatures regard each other for a moment. Is shit going to go down here? But then Roadkill winks to the BSD. The Dancer is startled for a moment, then roughly salutes and heads back out to the party.



Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Mon Jul 23, 2012 8:17 pm

An Interjection.
Fischman's Yacht
7/21/2012 10:09 PM

Another board meeting, Roadkill reads off the month's business...

" ... And we're showing profits should be up seven percent over last quarter, after we control for shifts in the local market, of course. But overall, we're projecting another record quarter. Our fraking endevours continue to pay off handsomely, with only four percent of net profits filtered back through to state and local governments. In related news, we're going to allow the Bills to win ten games this year, just enough to give folks around here a bit more hope. Lab guys are saying we can cut population loss by three and a quart - Wait... not now! "

Roadkill gasps and drops to a knee. Fischman stuffs a slab of steak into his mouth and exclaims to the Russian to his left, " The hell's amatter with him? "

The vampire hops to his feet and runs over to Roadkill, who looks up at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, then the Wraith flickers out of existence.

The russian vampire looks back to Fischman, his expression grim, " I think... I believe he just got pulled into a Harrowing. "

Fischman nods, cutting another bloody chunk of steak. He seems to be thinking the situation through, finally he asks, mildly embarrassed, " The fuck is a Harrowing? "

Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Mon Aug 20, 2012 9:27 pm

Unfinished Business
Delaware Park
8/20/2012 – 8pm


The sun had set only a few minutes ago and the dagger-sliver of the crescent moon still hung low in the brilliant red of the western sky. Only eight more minutes until the moon set. Barethought the Master was going to have to be quick. In a perfect world he would wait until later in the month to go into the old Freehold, but time was of the essence and the Duke would have to know the disposition of the place before he could proceed.

The old stone bridge, so incongruous in the midst of the park, was exactly where his sources told him it should be. The way was locked and sealed, but that posed no great obstacle to the Sluagh. With a wave of his shriveled hand, the stone slid aside and opened into a dank and forgotten hall.

A breeze of old and musty air greeted him as he stepped inside. The place was dark and covered with the dreams of cobwebs. The guardians had long since dissolved into the stuff of Glamour, but he could still sense old minds watching him, observing for some sign of ill-intent. Great wooden beams supported the walls of the great Feasting Hall, so long forgotten, so long left empty. But he would not be caught unawares by some forgotten enchantment.

“I come on the authority of your Duke, Brendan Ó Cuillinn ap Fiona, named by Queen Medb as rightly Lord of the Western Door; I am vassal to your master.”, Barethought whispers into the void. The last Duke, so many years gone, he was a Troll, renowned for his goodness and nobility. Indeed, a certain Trollish sensibility still pervaded the place. A raised throne in the center of the place still radiated the memory of majesty, old tapestries on the wall eaten by the possibilities of moths and dust still watched with barely sentient eyes. But most importantly, a massive wooden hammer sat draped across the Ducal dais.

“It is still here then. It is as we feared, Steelskin is dead.”

With a grunt of effort, Barethought picked up the old Troll’s weapon. Not a weapon that suited him, but it had certain uses that would prove important in the days to come. Time to go.

Dragging the Hammer behind him, he returned out into the cool evening air. With a wave of his hand the gates resealed behind him. Idealism, goodness, nobility. Three roads that lead only to death. We will not make the same mistakes again. The Prodigals will pay dearly. Walking briskly, the thin little man whistles to himself. This will be a good night.

Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Fri Sep 28, 2012 8:56 pm

Closing Time
Allegany State Park


The old stone sits alone, a few miles outside the place popularly known as Thunder Rocks. Barethought knew the forgotten truth about those rocks, and he kept himself well clear of the more popular parts of the park. There was another place nearby, one he knew would not have been disturbed by men.

It was a natural obelisk over fifteen feet high. It stands alone in an an open field. Nothing grows for some distance around this spot. Which was as it should be.

The handholds were wellworn, and though a bit too far spaced for the Fae, he was able to climb easily enough.

The body had been picked clean by the birds. Nothing remained aside from the bones, which he gathered up into a bag. These he would grind up and sprinkle over a certain hill a few miles from here. What hate remained in those old bones might still have some power over the creature imprisoned there. Or not. His work here was nearly completed. He sits down and lights a cigarette, it is going to be a glorious sunset. The Sluagh looks faintly absurd, wearing an old felt top hat.

<<Not much time left now. I can feel the last of the bindings fading. I can feel myself dying,>> whispers the hat into the Fae's mind. It seems more surprised than anything else.

" It is as it should be; Spring will come again, but not until the wheel crushes all of us. "

<<As it should be,>> the hat agrees reluctantly, <<But for so long I raged... I raged against this moment. Now it seems so... anticlimactic.>>

The disc of the sun touches the horizon, Barethought takes another drag, " Will you tell me? "

<<Thousands of years of life. Dead for no reason. I always thought it would be for something. I thought... I always thought he would be the one to kill me. It seemed to make sense to me. When I discovered he was dead, I thought I had escaped; cheated Mother Death once again... >>

" Will you tell me now? " he asks again, impatient.

<<There are rules, child. There are always rules. You have worn me, so I sworn to answer any of your questions. But some things I am allowed to withhold, even from you.>>

Barethought motions to remove the hat, " Then you'll die alone, you old cocksucker. "

A resigned sigh from the hat, but nothing else.

Barethought reaches the bottom of the stone as the sun drops finally away. He does not look back at the old hat, sitting alone atop the tower. He quickens his pace and steps back into the Dreaming. Night will be here soon, and it is getting colder at night.

By the time the moon rises, there is nothing there but dust.












Last edited by Stbrian on Fri Sep 28, 2012 9:00 pm; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : Badly need to edit this. But wanted to get it posted.)

Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Thu Oct 18, 2012 10:39 pm

A Helpful Quote from Sandman
Back in Comic book land.

CORINTHIAN: Oh, he'll help us, whether he wants to or not. I told the truth. I would not kill him. The death-curse of a god is an evil thing. But I can hurt him. And I will... and besides... have you never wondered, little bird, what it must be like to see the world through the eyes of a god?

Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Mon Nov 19, 2012 10:56 pm

I Would Walk 500 Miles
Iron Island

After a long time, she comes back to them. She is on her feet, in glabro, and she points at all of them accusingly, before crumpling to the ground and falling back to homid as she does. She screams until her voice goes hoarse and then, over the course of a few seconds, her screams turn to sobs, and then to a harsh barking laugh, she shifts to lupus as she laughs, and her howl becomes the harsh barking of a mad dog. The rest of the pack hangs back while the Theurge maintains the vigil.

Finally, she begins to calm, so the Theurge approaches, and not unkindly he kneels beside her, " Hey kiddo, you still in there? "

She shifts to crinos and rolls on her back, covering her face with her enormous hands, which rake and tear at her face, " Oh god, oh my god-shit, its beautiful. "

He lowers his mouth to her ear and whispers, "What is, darling? What is beautiful? "

She arches her back and moans, tearing her eyes out as she does, they pop like grapes and release a flurry of maggots which skitter and race across the ruins of her once beautiful face, " The Wyrm. He's like daddy and god and jesus all ah' once and now he's inside me forever. "

He puts his hand over her eyes, putting her to sleep and healing her all at once.

"She will survive. Our pack is whole again. "



Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Fri Nov 30, 2012 2:39 am

Clues From a Hundred and Sixty-Four Years Past
1848

When Columbus first sought this continent — when Christ suffered on the cross — when Moses led Israel through the Red-Sea — nay, even when Adam first came from the hand of his Maker — then as now, Niagara was roaring here. The eyes of that species of extinct giants, whose bones fill the mounds of America, have gazed on Niagara, as ours do now. Contemporary with the whole race of men, and older than the first man, Niagara is strong, and fresh to-day as ten thousand years ago. The Mammoth and Mastadon — now so long dead, that fragments of their monstrous bones, alone testify, that they ever lived, have gazed on Niagara. In that long — long time, never still for a single moment. Never dried, never froze, never slept, never rested.

Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Thu Jan 17, 2013 2:52 am

Army of Me
Not all battles in the World of Darkness are seen, even by those with eyes to see.

January 6th, 2013
Mariott Hotel, Buffalo

Ten Sabbat, proven and true, sit lounging on sofas all around the suite. The room is large and tastefully decorated. Their leader, proud and mighty, addresses them from the front of the room. He paces back and forth as he speaks.

"You might think that the task in front of you is an impossible one. You would be right. But that is what we do; we specialize in the impossible. Our movement, our whole society is built around doing the impossible. And I promise you, with the intel we have gathered over the last five years, and with the weakening of their defenses several months ago, we have a legitimate shot. We can cripple the Camarilla here, we can destroy the Nosferatu of Buffalo, once and for all!"

The motley crew of vampires rise to their feet and cheer.

"You know the plan," he points to a map nailed to the wall, " We go in through these abandoned tunnels under City Hall, we set off charges here and here," he points to two points in the sewers, "From there we can subvert almost all of their defenses and begin to burn those ants out of their holes. Our enemies in that other faction have showed us the way, though they fell short. We can do this. We have the training, and we have the love of Caine. We can only succeed!"

The Sewers under City Hall, Sometime later...

Dublin Chase was feeling good. The rebuilding process down here had been slow to get started, something had been sapping Gnosis from the Caern for months now. But with that problem solved, things were looking up for the next year.

The Ratkin is distracted from his thoughts by a squeaked warning from one of the guards.

"Invaders? Vampires?" he shakes his head, " To arms, to arms! "

A few feet above them...

Two Tzimisce in Horrid Form made quick work of the sealed entrance at the bottom of city hall. Two Malkavian Seers reported back from their Astral Scouting... all seemed to be clear; no sign of those Camarilla dogs at all.

"Teams Apple and Bob, secure your hold points," their leader barks, and the two packs quickly salute and descent into the Sewer below. He nods approvingly as he watches his team descend with military precision. There would be no fuckups this time. With the battles to the west, he was confident that this was the moment, this was the time when he would finally spring his wrath upon the 'Kindred' of Buffalo.

He barely has a chance to light his first cigarette when the screaming begins. A few moments later a fountain of blood erupts from the sewer entrance.

Dostoevsky takes a step back and reaches for his headset, " Team A, report. Anybody? " Static. Nothing, " Team B?"

"Sir, I'm making a run for it. They... they were singing... I've never seen anything move that fa-" a crash and the line cuts out a moment later.

The elder vampire takes a slow step away from the hole. After a few more moments of silence, he takes a few more steps back, and then he's running out and away.

"What the hell is down there?" he whispers, barely paying attention as his valet whisks him away.

Back in the Sewers

The assembled Ratkin continued their sweep for another few minutes before assuring themselves that the threat had been dealt with. Chase nods respectfully to Rat as the Caern's Incarna withdraws back to the Heart. He chews thoughtfully on the tip of a pencil as he scratches down a few verses on a tattered bit of paper.

"The fuck kind of idiot vampire just walks into a Caern?" he laughs, taking a moment to regard the evening's poetry. Not his best, but improv had never been his specialty.

Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Sat Mar 16, 2013 12:48 am

Reflections on the Western Door
The Southern Tier - March, 2013

From the Journals of Memory, Volume CDLXXXVIII

... The irony we must always dance around, of course, is how many of our characters never know about the story in which they find themselves playing a leading role. If we reflect on the five principal supernatural groups that dwell within the Western Door, we see that none of them have precise memories of events only five hundred years ago. This is not entirely unexpected, but the author finds himself constantly wishing he could yell at the principals, 'you're making the same mistakes again! We've been through this all before'. But of course, that is the nature of the cycle of history. Indulgences to the author's ego aside, that is just the nature of things, and is to be understood, if not condoned.

Disgressions aside, let us continue through the month's events:

The fledgling Seelie Court continues to shake with intrigue. The blindness of their Duke shows no signs of disappating, and there are many, even among his own family, who openly talk of abdication. It is, of course, predictable that the Sidhe would turn against themselves after nearly a decade of near constant warfare. The recent return of the Nunnehi to local notoriety can only be seen as an interesting development. Perhaps it will prove a strain between the Sept of the Falling Waters and the Scions of the Queen of Apples, or alternatively it might glue the courts more closely together. Only time will tell.

The Camarilla Court continues its near constant warfare against their oldest and most powerful enemy: The Camarilla Courts. The reign of Prince Solomon continues as it must, and while the recent changeover in the Primogen Council can only remind us of previous periods of horrific instability, other factors are in play that will most likely maintain the status quo at least through the next year.

The Sept of Falling Waters stands on a threshold. They have been the underdogs for so long, the author wonders if they are even capable of noticing that they have demolished most of their existential threats. If one were to offer advice, one would advise his Garou cousins that now is the time to draw your strength together and deal the final blow to your most obvious enemies. Peace never lasts, and the earliest signs of a greater war become clearer and clearer with the passing of the seasons.

The Triumvirate is deeply shaken by the passing of Michael DeAngelo last month. The author imagines that this will provide an opening for some of the younger Wraiths, but only time will tell... the Jade won't wait forever for a counter-attack, and on a long enough time line, they have never lost. They do not realize it, but the mouth of Oblivion always lurks right around the throats of the oldest and the proudest.

And the fifth? Well, they continue as they have for the last age. Berift of the leadership of the one long lost, they hide in the broken places in the world. But their strength grows. If events continue as the author fears they must... how much longer until the hand of the Destroyer once again reaches out to bring home his lost children?

Soon, the Market will come again, the first of its size and scope since before the changing of the world. Perhaps the author will buy a pony.

The date is the fifteen of March in the two-thousand and thirteenth year of the Common Era. Antihelios continues to shine, as it has the last fourteen years. Only one of the Ten remains lost. The foundations remain firm. The gates are locked firmly. Like a stubborn old man, long past any medical hope, the world absurdly continues to exist.

The author looks forward to having coffee with Works for Food again sometime soon.

Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Sun May 19, 2013 9:24 pm

Allegany State Park
Salamanca, NY

A Tourist Web Site Says...

The Seneca nation has long regarded a forested stretch of land between the Allegany River and Ga’Hai Hill, today located in Allegany State Park, as a haunted region filled with evil and mystery. Ga’Hai Hill is said to be the site of an ancient battle that took place 1,000 years ago. It is believed that the spirits of those slaughtered on the hill remained there to haunt the area. It became known as Witches’ Walk, as only witches and wizards would dare to walk there at night amidst the occult influences.

A local resident of Ga’Hai Hill.

Ga’Hai became known as “Witch Light Hill” when people reported seeing lights in the fields and hills around the area and along the river. These glowing, volleyball-sized spheres were said to be the method by which witches traveled at night. Some even claim that if you get close enough, you can see a human face inside the light.

In addition to the witches, a variety of other Seneca folklore monsters are said to haunt the area. The most famous and spooky of these is the cannibalistic giant known as High Hat. Legend has it High Hat walks the woods at night wearing a tall hat and baring his pointy teeth, because only an idiot cannibal would forget to sharpen his teeth. Other reports note deer walking on their hind legs (maybe they’re just trying to hightail it away from High Hat?) and talking animals. Spooky nightly sounds and a heavy feeling that something isn’t right has supposedly scared some campers away, but have you seen Allegany State Park?

We’d share a tent with High Hat to camp amidst that scenery!

Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Fri May 31, 2013 9:52 pm

Countdown to In the Shadow of the Western Hills.

Spot Check.
Zoar Valley – Summer, 2009

“Lord, I do hate the woods.”

Mister White was having a shitty year. As the only local representative of the Technocratic Union, he was constantly having to run from place to place to investigate the various weird events in the Western Door. His constant demands to the home office to send more support staff continued to go unheeded. Instead it was him, alone, with only a small office over a disused warehouse, trying to maintain a semblance of Order in a region that was really going down the shitter.

So, here he was today, placing observation equipment around the hole in reality that had been torn by the Last of the Stone Giants only a few days earlier. The smell of death was still strong in the woods here. He had stumbled across two Garou bodies in the woods already today, and had flagged both with GPS flags for retrieval later today. Luckily there wasn’t much in the way of hikers around here these days. Folks might not know what was going on around here, but even the most ignorant of Sleepers had a pretty strong hunch by now that these woods were not a safe place.

The glowing hole in the fabric of reality was definitely a good example of that. It was about ten feet across and floating a good two stories off the ground, the ruins of a stone castle lay littered around it. Something really bad had happened here just a short time ago, and while he wasn’t clear on the details, he knew for certain that something was going to need to be done to seal this fucking thing.

First things first though. Observe, Plan, Act was the proper sequence, and he had a hell of a lot of Observation in front of him before he dared try to close this thing. He spent a good hour planting multispectrum recorders all around the site, the better to try to work out the best course of action.

The hole seemed to punch straight through the Penumbra, collapsing the Gauntlet not with this world, but with the other local realms, and the effect seemed to have spread over nearly a hundred miles. All the local spiritual realms, merged into one. Luckily he wasn’t a ghost or a spirit, because he suspected they were having a really terrible time of it right now. No, he was only concerned about the real world, and he had reason to suspect that the phenomenon could lead to a cascade failure of reality in the region, with repercussions that would be impossible to anticipate.

And they still wouldn’t send backup. Shitty shitty and shitty again.

White was distracted from his thoughts by a cracking of a twig somewhere nearby. Reflexively he rendered himself invisible and went still. Two figures were approaching, heading straight for the ruined castle and the gaping wound in the world. He had to stop them before they got too close…
Wait. He knew these two. Tremere, both of them. Vampires. Interesting.

He was too far away to hear their conversation, but he watched as both figures stood under the hole and gestured emphatically.
That’s right guys, it’s bad news. Very good. Now leave. Leave. He thought at them as hard as he could, but not wanting to risk any will working around them, the figures ignored his silent demands.

Abruptly, there was a great rumble in the earth. A faint earthquake or something large moving along the ground. He and the distant figures both looked around wildly, and all three of them stared in awe at what happened next.

There was something coming out of the hole. Something large, something impossibly large and fleshy. Slowly, with obvious discomfort, the thing pushed itself through the hole. So big, bigger than a whale, bigger than a blimp. It emerged into the still night air and hovered over the valley. Fleshy and alive, like nothing he had ever seen before. It had no eyes he could see, no mouth, no limbs, just a floating ball of flesh. It knew he was looking at it, somehow he could feel it looking through him.

Feebly, idiotically, he reached for his gun, hoping to Calcify the thing in place… but as quickly as it appeared, the strange living ball of flesh rose up into the night air, hesitated for a moment, then drifted off into the western sky. Somewhere along the line, distantly, as if it were happening to someone else, he realized he had fumbled his weapon and dropped it. He was running now, running away from this terrible horrible thing. He was screaming.

He regained his wits a few minutes later and realized he already had his phone out. Home Office better send the damn A team this time.

Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Wed Jun 12, 2013 10:55 pm

In the Shadow of the Western Hills
The Mountain Goats

Spread out the old maps on the floor
plot the course of the infection
trace from its beginnings to the present
is there no one here who's making this connection?
Feral cats out by the trash cans
to the true believer everything's a sign.
Scrape the pigments from the baseboards
in the shadow of the western hills
and paint my vision on my body
in the shadow of the western hills.

Bleak rose petal sky in three dimensions
black tree line a blade that cuts across it all
can't seem to sleep or find my appetite
since i got back from the hospital
call up Rebecca maybe try to explain
but she hangs up while i'm still talking

 i walk out into the rain
wander from the alley to the darkness
sink down completely leave no trace
trapped beneath the surface of the ice again
lie still with the moonlight on my face
wait for the wolves to keep their promise
listen for their footfalls on the snow 

can't hear things clearly to be honest
in the shadow of the western hills
he gets most healed that waits the longest
in the shadow of the western hills



Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Thu Jul 11, 2013 10:03 pm

Wait for the Wolves to Keep their Promise
Somewhere in the Umbra

A collection of disembodied voices:

- So many of them dead, and for what.  The Theurge survived.
- We should have just killed him, what is death to them?
- I only agreed to this because we didn't have to take an active hand.  I'm still not comfortable with what we're doing.
- Well, its all shot to hell now.
- Yeah, we should just kill them all.
- No.
- No, that's not who we are.  We'll lay low and run out the clock, that's what we agreed to.
- I only agreed because we didn't have to actually do anything.  If we're just going to hide, whats the point of us?
- The point is, we still exist.  Without us, our people are truly gone.
- Everything passes, everything fades.  We can still go with a modicum of dignity.
- Dignity?  Thats cold consolation when we're thrown into oblivion.
- The balance must be respected -
- What balance?  Balance has been shot to hell since a billion years before we were born.  Gaia doesn't remember or care -
- Now thats just blasphemy.  You've all gone mad.
- Unfair.  The only ones who have gone mad are the folks upstairs.  We are powerful spirits, we cannot just be thrown aside because some celestial accountant decides it time to balance his books.
- What about the other six, has anyone spoken to them?
- The five remain seperate, as they must.  And our brother remains -
- Yes yes, too deranged even for us.
- If they find them, it won't matter where we hide.
- Its only for a few months.  Only for a few months.  We only need to hide until the year is up.  The Garou will forgive us.
- Yes, forgiveness is definitely in their nature.
- You don't have to be rude about it.
- I'm not the one who wanted to go soft on them, now look what its gotten us?
- There are some things I cannot compromise on, nor you.  That is our nature.
- I'm scared.
- Me too.
- I'm too young.  Just a little more time.
- Just a little more, I agree.  We must be there for the Apocalypse.  What's the point of any of this otherwise?
- The Fae have returned, you know.  I could always go to them, leave the rest of you behind.  They would protect me.
- But you won't.
- No.   No I won't.

Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Stbrian on Thu Aug 29, 2013 9:23 pm

I've always loathed Joyce
Zoar Valley

Fischman, High Hat, Broken Sword, The idiot Scots, the ghosts and boggans.  Only one more thread to be resolved.  Dostoevsky smiled grimly.  It was amazing how much you could get done if you walked briskly and kept yourself on target.  Having a hitmark or two in reserve never hurt either.  The Technocracy was just as easy to manipulate as anything else.  You just had to feed them the right information and make it think it was their own idea.

Digging the werebear from his lair had been no easy task.  Three First Teams had gone in, and only four battered soldiers were still left alive.   That was more than enough for the Chairman's purposes.  Formori were a renewable resource.  Which was sort of inspiring, really.

They drag the old hippy out of the cave.  He doesn't look like much, bereft of powers or gifts, he was just another old bastard slumming around in his backyard. Memory still holds himself proudly, of course.  He would think Dostoevsky was here for information.  That was always why folks would always come calling.  Not this time.

" What is this all about? " the Gurahl asks.  He's covered in blood of various hues.  Even stripped of powers, it was quite the job to keep him restrained.

" I've been here on and off for more than a century.  I thought it was rude that I never came calling, " the vampire turns to the man next to him.  An nervous frail stick of a man, " Make sure all the books are in there and accounted for. "

The man, the clock guy, generally unflappable but otherwise useless, scampers inside the cave.

" You could have knocked.  I will generally speak to anyone.  You have ruined my home, " Memory protests.

" Perhaps.  I thought we should have this meeting on my own terms.  I have a thing about bears.  They creep me out. "

" And so... what do you want to know? "

" Oh, we'll get to that. "

Memory's eyes go wide as he sees the thin man emerge with a stack of books, then go back in to get more.

" You seek to steal my secrets?  You know that's not how this works... "

" Steal?  Oh my, nothing so gauche.  Nothing so gauche.  Tell me, how old are you? "

" Nine thousand, seven hundred, eighty seven years, fifty-seven days.  I'm sure you know that.  I've been here since before this place really existed, and I will not be permitted to die until my work is complete. "

The Vampire grins, the look does not suit his features.  " Yes yes.  I'm sure that makes you feel very empowered.  But, you know.  Right now, you have no power at all.  I could kill you with a little tilt of my head.  Just a little twitch of a few muscles, and the great Memory is no more. "

" You wouldn't dare.  I am the last of the triumvirate, I am the voice of - "

" You're a sad old man who no one will miss.  Nobody remembers you, ironically enough, and nobody will care when you're dead.  Nobody cares about the hidden Gates of the Dawn.  Nobody will ever go looking for the true Stone of Help, of which Mordecai North's was just a pale shadow; there will never be a desperate search to learn the story of the First People, those who were here before the red men came over the ice.  You're a left over.  You're a remainder. "  He nods to a large Formori, who kicks out Memory's knees and brings him to the ground, " Frankly, you're in the way. "

" I am the immortal embodiment of the history of this region, if you kill me, you'll be lobotomizing yourself.  I'm not a partisan, I don't give a crap what you're up to.  The Wyrm, Pentex, none of that means anything to me...  but then, none of that means anything to you, does it? I could be useful to you, you know.    I am the voice of what has come before!  I know secrets no man has ever heard before... I can... Please.  I'm not ready. "

The Vampire nods to the attendant Formori, who drives a sword through Memory's neck, neatly decapitating him.  Dostoyevsky lights a cigarette, seemingly unmoved by the Gurahl's death spasms.

" History, my friend, is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake. "

He walks away as his men build a pyre from the old shapeshifter's books.  He doesn't look back.

Stbrian
Admin

Posts : 2964
Join date : 2011-06-17

Character sheet
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Fianna

View user profile

Back to top Go down

Re: Interludes

Post  Sponsored content


Sponsored content


Back to top Go down

Back to top


 
Permissions in this forum:
You cannot reply to topics in this forum