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Rising Phoenix Gaming

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About This Club

A werewolf game inspired by various sources of Werewolf Literature, the Marvel Comicbook Werewolf by Night, the television show The Incredible Hulk (1977), and the Reacher series of novels, movies and Streaming TV Show. this game will be using a heavily modified version of Werewolf the Apocalypse 20th anniversary for mechanics only. The Setting is semi-modern North America.
  1. What's new in this club
  2. Keith already knew most of the best spots, both on Camp property and public land. They'd done alot of work to prepare the grounds, but mother nature could be fickle as hell at times. He'd go out this afternoon and make sure he saw the right things, that way it would only come down to luck and their skill if they caught fish or not. He had his own personal kit, and he had some that he kept mostly for newbies and kids. As these were adults, he knew they'd expect better, and possibly bring their own, but unless they came in a private jet that was unlikely. So he headed over to Gordon's Tackle&Hunting, an outfitter that had pretty much everything you could need for regular fishing and hunting. After parking he head inside, and saw Gordon himself at the counter. "So the mighty hunter comes to town finally, is it that time already?" He teased Keith, much as he had in times past. "No hunting today, I'm pretty much ready on that front. I've got some sports coming in who want to do some fly fishing, so I figured I'd come ask the expert." Keith smiled back at him. "You're not gonna get a discount with flattery." "Not after a discount, just a real fishing report. I'm told these guys are important, and want to have a good time. I'd like a spot or two each where I can put them on quality or quantity." "Another guided trip?" "Well that is how I make my living, it's not like they're regulars enough to remember where I take them and find their way back without me." Gordon chuckled "fair enough." He pulled out detailed map of the area, something that came from the department of the Interior survey. He pointed to two spots on the main river. "here and here for quality, but don't expect better than a fish per ten casts. Even that's generous." He pointed to two spots abit further northeast, "Here and here, you'll catch every other cast almost, with a good mix of species, but nothing over two pounds." "Thanks Gordon, I need 4 of the 8 foot Berkley combos, the line, and if you've got any reccommended flies, 4 of each. " Gordon's eyes narrowed. "That's alot of kit, these guys must be big." "Well, always good to be prepared, and make the right impression." Once he had it all together, Keith paid, trusting that he'd make his money and more back in tips. Gordon helped him load it all up in his truck, and he shook his hand, giving him an extra 20 for the information. "When they catch fish, I'll get you some new pictures for your wall, along with the gear bought here." "Always nice to get good press, Keith." With that, Keith head on to the next stop.
  3. The sunlight played among the branches of the tall Firs and Pines, the breeze caused the limbs of those same trees to bend and sway which in turn created shadows which danced along the forest floor. Birds and small animals added their own furtive movements and their calls and songs harmonized with the sounds of the breeze and the gurgle of water rushing over rocks in the many creeks that were known for their wonderful fly fishing. All in all, it was a naturist dream. Northern California, Klamath National Forest in May of 1975, Gerald Ford was President and Saigon had just fallen and was on the front page of every newspaper in the country. Keith Cranston, folded the paper in half and laid it down on the picnic table set up on the yard deck. The deck was the only new structure added since he had inherited the place from his grandfather. Keith was a Vietnam vet and wondered what all the blood spent, no, wasted, over there had been for. He picked up the mug of coffee and took a sip. It wasn’t his war anymore and he had his own problems to deal with. He was startled when the phone rang in the house. It was early, must be Ethan calling with a job. He got up and carried his coffee into the Cabin. He left he paper on the table outside. The Cabin was brand new, rustic, and sparsely furnished. It had been modeled on the cabin his grand dad had lived for over fifty years, lived in and died in. The cabin had burned down with his grandfather still in it. His grand dad had left everything to him and that included a shelter that had been built under the old cabin and so Keith had built the new one right on top. Very few people knew about the shelter and what it contained. He answered the phone by the fifth ring. It was Ethan. After the pleasantries he launched right into the reason for the call. “Keith I got a job for you. A guy who has booked with me a few times before you came up here. His name is Cliff Morris, he’s a corporate type out of Sacramento. Anyway, he has some clients coming in from back east and wants to give them a good time with some fly fishing. There will be four in all Cliff and three of his clients. I know its short notice, I’d take them myself, but the Kelly’s are booked for this weekend as well and I know you don’t want to deal with those kids or Mrs. Kelly. They will be flying into Scott Vally tomorrow morning so that gives you a day to get supplied and ready. Thanks a bunch pal.” A weekend out in nature without a care except finding the fish. Do him some good. He made a list. And headed into town. ____ Peggy finished her breakfast; the diner was a small and crowded but she had grabbed a booth near the bathrooms when a group had got up and left. She slid in before it had even been clean, the waitress had given the teen a stern look taking up a booth when she could have sat on a stool at the counter. But she didn’t say anything, just took the order. Peggy took out the worn road map, found where she was on it and drug her finger to Fort Jone, which was where the sheriff that had sent the box was at. Still forty miles. She looked around the Diner for prospective rides and didn’t see any, everyone here looked like locals. Well, she had feet so she could walk and she had a thumb and she was wearing tight jeans. ____ Maurice was enjoying the drive; His last episode was in the rear view mirror and he had a whole month before he needed to worry about it again. And the Van had a new starter and was humming along fine. That had cost him two days and most of his spare cash but today he would be at his destination or at least the part that he had an actual name for. Maurice had spent the last couple of months hopping from one place to the next looking for anyone who had known or even heard of his uncle Oscar. So far zero luck. But when the van broke down and he was running short on cash he had called his buddy, Tom, to see if he could wire him some cash. Tom had come through and had scrounged up a hundred bucks and even better when he wired it to him he sent along with a message to go to Fort Jones and Look up the county medical examiner. Where Tom came up with this was a mystery but that could wait. And that was why he was on the narrow road running through the Northern California Forest and saw up a had a tall, slim, short hair girl in a t-shirt and tight jeans with and oversized shoulder bag, holding her thumb out waiting for a ride…
  4. Name- Peggy Sue SullivanRace- WerewolfAge- 18Concept- Cursed Runaway Sigh, where to begin. I don’t like telling this story, reliving it. It’s personal, but I suppose, all things considered, you deserve to hear it, to know the truth. My name is Peggy Sue Sullivan. My parents who were 17 and 18 when I was conceived were big fans of Buddy Holly’s song, I was born the same year it came out. So, that’s where the name came from. I got teased a lot for my name especially in junior high and high school. I also got teased for being a tom-boy, for looking and dressing different, for not being a proper little girl in a pink fluffy dress. I was moody growing up, I had and have a temper. I would get into fights, not with other girls but with boys. I didn’t like it when boys picked on me, but it made me red hot mad if a boy was picking on any other girl. Those are the boys I fought. I won too, mostly. I didn’t fight fair. That got me in trouble a lot too. Okay that’s enough bullshit I guess, back to the real story now. My dad is Tom Sullivan, he was too young for Korea and almost too old for Vietnam, so he never got drafted. Plus he had one of those jobs that gave you a pass anyway. My mom is Kathy Buchanan, she didn’t have a job except for housewife. Both of them came from big Irish American families and both of them couldn’t stand being Irish. They didn’t want a big family, hell they didn’t even want me. If they hadn’t been Catholic, I’d of been a smear running down a drain I’m pretty sure. So, anyway no brothers or sisters for me but a lot of cousins. Like I said big Irish families. It began the week I got my first period. I was almost fifteen, I developed late, such as my development has been, I’m still flat as a board in the boob department, not that I really cared. So I was a lot older than I should have been when puberty hit, I could easily pass as a boy if I wanted to. And I did sometimes. It was just easier to do things and get stuff like cigarettes if you were a boy. You know stuff us little girls weren’t supposed to be doing. My parents thought there was something wrong with me. I guess there is, it’s obvious I’m not normal. So, the week my period came the first time was the same week Great Grandma Buchanan died. Gran Buchanan was old; she had been born in the late 1890’s no one was sure exactly when. She had been dark and mysterious to me the few times I had seen her. One time I remember when I was seven maybe eight, it was Christmas and for some reason we had went to the big Buchanan family holiday and I was sitting off by myself because I’d gotten into a fight with one of my cousins and had been spanked because it was my fault like it always was, even if it wasn’t. Anyway, everyone was having fun, eating sweets, and playing. Me, I was off in a corner feeling resentful and sorry for myself when Gran Buchanan walked up to me. She was thin as a rail and looked like old leather stretched across a skeleton. She was scary. She walked with a cane, an old gnarled wooden thing that looked more like a club than a walking stick. Anyway, she came up to me and just stood there looking down at me then she spoke to me in Irish, two or three sentences I have no idea what she said to this day. Then she took a little wrapped package out of her dress pocket and dropped it in my lap then walked away. It was a package of hard candies. For me. She lived alone and was active and cared for herself right up till the end. She had eleven kids, five of them were still living, four daughters and one son. At least that’s what we thought, until Uncle Buck showed up. James Kelly Buchanan was Gran Buchanan’s fourth boy, born in 1916 he grew up to be the black sheep of the clan. Always in trouble, fighting, didn’t fit in or get a long, terrible disposition if even half the stories I heard after were true. Sounds a lot like me. He joined the merchant marine when he was eighteen and traveled the world but when World War two broke out he joined the army. He fought in Africa, Italy, France, and Germany. Three of his brothers also fought in the war, two in Europe and one in the pacific. He was the only one who came home. But he didn’t stay long, by nineteen forty-eight he was back in the merchant marine and after fifty-two or three he pretty much vanished all together. Everyone thought he was dead. Then there he was at Gran Buchanan’s Wake. Irish wake’s are supposed to be a celebration of life, lots of stories of good times and memories lots of drinking… well this wake had the drinking. Gran Buchanan didn’t elicit the good feeling stories and most of the men just sort of stood in clumps and drank and occasional talked sports or politics, the women, crowded around the four living daughters and told their stories Nana Buchanan, my grandmother, mom’s mom, was one of those. Jasper Buchanan, who we thought was her only living son, wasn’t there. He was in a Home cripple and sick. He had had polio when he was a child. Dad didn’t even come. The cousins made their own clumps of groups talking about movies and music. Then came Uncle Buck. He had been called Buck in the army and it stuck afterward. He came into the house and you could hear a pin drop everyone staring. Now I didn’t have the faintest idea who he was then and didn’t find out until the next day when one of my friendlier cousins, Francis, told me. Anyway, Buck came in and glared at everyone and went straight to his mother’s casket and stood there looking at her for about five minutes then he leaned over and gave her and kiss on her forehead. After that he went to his sisters, and they talked, or he talked for another five minutes. None of them hugged or touched. It was a cold greeting. After that he went and got a glass and a nearly full bottle of whiskey and went and took a chair which he pulled up near the casket and sat there drinking and glaring at everyone. It was my first wake. I was having my first period and, my god, I had never seen a dead person before. Just in movies or TV. To say I was an emotional wreck is an understatement. When It was time for me to go pay my respects I walked up and I could feel Buck’s eyes on me, then I was standing there, Looking down on Gran. I started cramping but I could leave and couldn’t look away. Nana had to come over and lead me away to a corner where I drank ginger ale and let tears fall down my cheeks. I don’t know why I was crying. I barely knew the old crone, had no emotional connection outside of her giving me that candy so long ago which I had suddenly remembered. I wiped my eyes and looked around and there was Uncle Buck drinking whisky and staring at me. I turned away. The way he was looking at me was, I don’t know, frightening. I glanced back over my shoulder, and he was still looking at me. Every time I looked his way the rest of the wake there he was, watching me. After we went home, I went straight to bed and had the first weird dream I ever had. I was at the wake, but I was the only one there. I went up to look at my Gran and she looked the same, but her lips were red, and her cheeks were rosy. Suddenly she sat up and reached out to me and I woke up with a terrible cramp. I went and took some aspirin and went back to bed and had the same dream except this time Uncle Buck was there and we both went up to view Gran. In the dream we walk up, side by side and we are holding hands. We stop at the head of the casket and look down at Grans body but it isn’t gran in the casket it’s me! I’m lying in the casket. And I’m standing above me too. Then Uncle buck looks at me and his eyes are yellow, and his mouth is open wide showing sharp crooked teeth and he howls and bends down and I can hear ripping and crunching and when he comes up he is covered in blood and the me in the casket is covered in blood and my throat is ripped out and. I think I woke up I don’t remember. I did not have any more dreams. Not that night. The next day I learned that Uncle Buck had left as suddenly as he had appeared. I found out that no one had called him or wired him a telegram telling him his mother had died. No one knew how to get word to him, even if anyone had thought about him. I heard stories about him from Francis and I told her that he had been staring at me all during the wake. She said it wouldn’t surprise her if he was a queer pervert and she giggled and said he might have thought I was a little queer boy. She always made fun of my small tits. Hers were big and round. But for some reason her joke struck me a s cruel, and I felt myself getting mad. It passed and life went on. After a few weeks it was just a memory. Wanted Dead or Alive. You know, that show with Steve McQueen. That show was my favorite. I would watch it after school every day out local channel ran the reruns before the news. Steve McQueen fascinated me, but only in that show. I wanted to be his character, him. I cut my hair short and as close as I could to the way McQueen wore it. I wore jeans and a T-shirt everywhere. My folks got mad at the hair but nothing they could do. But they did make me wear a dress to school. I would leave the house in the dress and change into my jeans in the corner diner’s bathroom before I got to school. So yeah, I was a little weird. Everyone thought I was bent, who knows, maybe I did too. I didn’t like boys, except for Steve McQueen, but I didn’t like girls either. To be honest I was indifferent to the whole sex thing. I did my schoolwork but didn’t participate in the school bullshit. I daydreamed. And I got into fights. Looking like I did, I got teased a lot and I had fucking temper and I would just hold it in until I couldn’t. Then Id just fucking lay into who ever was teasing, usually a boy sometimes a girl, but the girls I think were scared of me. Eventually the boys learned to be scared too. This one time, when I was sixteen, It was prom time. I couldn’t give a shit about prom but There was this girl. She was fat and not very pretty. If kids weren’t teasing me, they were Picking on her. Well, this time they drug me into it. Teasing the fat girl by saying that the only person who would take her to Prom was that weirdo lesbian Peggy Sue. That was the first time I got called a lesbian where I could here it. I was at my locker, the kids had ringed the fat girl and I just reached into my locker and picked up the heaviest text book I had. I walked right into the circle and hit Tony Copetti In the face with that book. I swung it like a bat, like I was hitting a triple homer at Wrigley Field. Tony was lifted off his feet and ended up flat on his back. I didn’t stop. I dropped down and sat on his chest and wailed on his head with that book. It took two teachers to pull me off. I got suspended for three weeks. Probably would have been expelled except my mom pleaded with the principle, and they had a history, so he relented. And that was just one incident. Not all were violent. I got in trouble for smoking, shoplifting, not doing my homework. I was maybe a little too much acting out my Steve McQueen rebel fantasy. I dropped out of school a couple of months before it happened. I was seventeen and I didn’t want to go to school anymore. It was like I was an alien every time I walked into that place. So I just stopped going. Of course that led to some pretty big fights at home dad kicked me out two or three time and mom always talked him down. I had had enough and packed my bags two or three times but mom always stopped me at the door and talked me out of leaving. I wish she hadn't. I really wish she hadn’t. It was late fall this last year, when I started having the dreams. Dreams about wolves. At first it was just nature dreams, wolves running in woods, hunting, shit like that. Always a bunch of them, what they call a pack. But after about a week my dreams seemed to start to focus on one particular wolf. I don’t know, it was strange, when I dreamed, I could always focus on this one wolf. And it was always the same one. Then one night the dream was just that wolf. I never dreamed about the pack again. And the dreams changed. The wolf wasn’t in the woods, it was in the city. My city. And then It was in my neighborhood. Then one night the wolf was in my room. That day we got the package and the letter from a sheriff in California. The letter was to inform us that James Kelly Buchanan had been killed in a what appeared to be a hunting accident. My parents could figure out why they had sent this to us and not to one of his siters. I was getting a terrible hollow feeling in my gut. I could feel something inside twisting. The package contained Buck’s personal effects. A fancy and expensive Rolex watch, a bowie knife, a couple of heavy rings and a turquoise necklace like the Indian boys wear. And a Letter addressed to me. I grabbed the letter before my dad could open it and ran to my room. My heart was pounding, and tears were streaming down my cheeks. I tore it open. The letter was one sheet of paper, it had one sentence handwritten, in the middle of the page “I am sorry”, it was signed Uncle Buck. Uncle Buck. I’d never said a word to him. But that’s what I’ve called him ever since. There was also a Key in the envelope. It wasn’t a house key or a car key it was smaller like a post office box key or one of those boxes you can rent at a bank. I showed my parents the letter and that just made them more mystified. I didn’t say anything about the key. That night I dreamed about the wolf coming into my neighborhood again and the ended with the wolf in my room. I woke up with a start and there not three feet away from me was a wolf. In my room. The same wolf from my dream. I looked at it too scared to move. It looked at me with those big …blue eyes? Eyes just like mine. My stomach flipped and suddenly I was the wolf looking at me in bed, except the me in bed was still asleep. I felt weird. I felt like a wolf. But not like a wolf too. I padded around the room sniffing and pawing at my clothes. I went to the door, and I reached up and opened it with a paw that seemed to have fingers but didn’t at he same time. Like they were only there so I could open the door. I was asleep in my room, but I was a wolf in my living room too. I opened the front door the same way I had the bedroom door and trotted outside. I went exploring as a wolf in my dream not a dream. I should have been freaking out, but I wasn’t, I was a wolf. I was dreaming but the wolf seemed so real, everything in the dream was so real but it couldn’t be. I ran all around the neighborhood. Scared the shit out of the neighbors cats and dogs, none of them had seen a wolf before I guess. It was wild I was a wolf but I could think and feel and it was just the weirdest fucking dream I ever had. I ran around in this dream for what seemed like hours until I started feeling tired. That was a freaky feeling. Getting tired in a dream. I made my way back to my house but didn’t go back inside cause that would have been way too weird. Instead I went and laid down in the bushes outside my bedroom window and fell asleep. When I woke up I felt good and a bit disoriented. I wasn’t in the bushes I was in my bed. I’d been dreaming I was a wolf. I got up and went to get something to eat. Dad was already gone to work but mom was sitting at the table. She grilled me like a cop. She wanted to know why her uncle would be sending me letters and had I been talking to him. I told her no that the only time I had ever seen him was at Gran’s wake but she didn’t believe me. She didn’t say it but I know. I sort of forgot about the letter and the key, I wanted night to come so I could dream about the wolf. It took me about two weeks to figure out that I was actually a wolf in my dream and that the wolf was real or at least real when it was there. I also discovered that I could do other things. I was at the corner store getting cigarettes and when I stopped outside and lit one up it almost made me sick. The smell and taste I threw the cigarette away and gave the pack to a wino who was nursing a half empty bottle. He seemed grateful. I crossed the street. Something was calling me I don’t know. I went around the corner and there were two guys roughing up a girl. She was about my age, wearing short shorts and a tube top, Both the guys were black and one was poking his finger in the girl’s face while the other guy who was big like a football player was behind her blocking her from running away or even backing up. I don’t know what I was thinking but I called out from across the street and started towards them. “Hey, you assholes leave her alone!” I clenched my fist and came up on them “Mind your own business Bitch!” The small one said. The big one turned around and looked down at me and laughed. “What are you? You a boy or a girl? I can’t tell.” He laughed some more. I felt the anger rise. The hairs on my neck stood on end and I let out a small growl and stepped up to the big guy our chests only about two inches apart and stared into his eyes. Suddenly I smelt fear. He backed away pushing the girl out of the way the small guy backed away too, “Hey I’m sorry didn’t mean anything”. The two men ran away, and the girl just stared her back against the wall. I looked down at my hands which were at my sides but held up kind of high about midway between my hips and shoulders, fingers spread looking like claws. Like I had been about to rip them apart. I dropped my hands to my side and backed away murmured something to the girl and ran. I didn’t stop running until I got home. What the fuck was happening with me. When I got home my dad was there and he laid into me about my argument with mom, and my acting up. I was already on edge and my temper flared. I was yelling, he was yelling, mom was crying. It was a bad scene. This time I left before my dad kicked me out and even as I was stuffing my things in my big bag, I knew it was for real and that I wasn’t coming back. Mom pleaded with me as I was heading out the door and down the driveway. Dad never got out of his easy chair just sat and drank his beer. I headed towards downtown where I could catch a bus to anywhere. Downtown isn’t where the good girls go, it’s not seedy but it isn’t classy either. The economy had hit the city pretty hard and a lot of shops were boarded up. But there were plenty of bars and topless joints and other not so wholesome establishments. One was a pool hall. I was walking up the sidewalk when I noticed it. I could see the bus station sign a couple of blocks on. There were four or five guys, probably in their twenties, outside the pool hall smoking. I could smell weed. The hairs on the back of my neck stiffened. I turned suddenly and cut across the street and found myself in front of a curio shop with a sign that said they told fortunes. I looked in through the window but couldn’t make anything out in the twilight. What was I thinking. I shook myself and started down the sidewalk toward the bus station again giving a glance toward the guys across the who were still there. Just then a voice called out from behind me. “Hey boy, Yes you I saw you looking in my window.” I turned. I was a plump woman probably in her mid fifties she had brown skin and black hair streaked with gray, she looked Latin. “I’m not a boy.’ I said with a bit of defiance in my voice. “That’s even worse for a girl. It isn’t safe here after dark and it is almost dark.” The woman gestured with her chin at the men across the street at the pool hall. I looked and three or four of them were looking hard at me. I don’t think the thought I was a boy, or maybe they didn’t care. I felt a chill run down my spine and my hand bunched into fists, then the lady spoke again. “Why don’t you come inside I’ll make you some tea. My son, Fernando, will be home from work soon. He will walk you to the station. They know him and won’t bother you if you are with him.” I looked at the lady, then at the punks across the street. They made me angry. I saw one of them put his fingers up to his lips in a V like a backwards peace sign and he stuck his tongue out through them and wiggled it at me in a lewd and disgusting manner. I wanted to go across the street and rip his throat out. “I make a nice cup and I have some cake too.” I looked back at the woman, “Okay, Thank you.” And followed her back into the curio shop. Once inside They woman introduced herself as Maria Mareno, I told her my name. She told me to look around while she fixed the tea. I did. The shop was small but roomy, it wasn’t cluttered at all like you would expect, and the goods ranged from hand made toys and Knick knacks to clothing and records. There were two doorways, aside from the one behind the counter, one on each side of the shop. Neither had a door but both were closed off by hanging bead curtains. I looked through the one on the west side of the shop and it opened on a landing with narrow stairs going up to the second floor. I made my way back across the shop to the other curtain and peeked. That one led to another small room with a table and chairs there were racks along the wall filled with boxes and jars and little statutes of Jesus and Mary and on the table which was covered by a purple velvet clothe, was a crystal ball and a worn deck of cards that were much bigger than normal playing cards. Several of the cards were out of the deck and spread on the table face up. I had never seen cards like this the faces were like little paintings I moved closer curiosity taking hold. Each card seemed to be displaying some sort of scene. “You can touch them if you want.” I jumped. The old lady was standing in another doorway on the south wall set between some shelves. “I’m sorry,” I stammered embarrassed. “No Little girl. Do not be I was about to ask you in anyways this is the only place we can sit and enjoy our tea.” I pointed at the cards “I’ve never seen cards like these what are they?” “Tarot cards, I use them to tell fortunes.” The woman pointed behind me at the curtain I had come through. I looked and saw a sign. Madam Maria FORTUNES TOLD Crystal Ball - $2 Tarot - $4 Palms - $6 “This is where I make most of my money.” She, Madam Maria I guess, ducked back through he curtains she was at and then came back with a tray full of cups, cakes and a porcelain teapot. She set them on the table then scooped up the cards and set them on a shelf behind her. “You’re a fortune teller.” I asked. She just nodded, “Mm Hmm. Now sit before the tea Fernando should be here in about thirty minutes. The next bus doesn’t leave for another hour.” I sat as she poured the tea, “People really pay that much to have their fortunes told.” “Yes,” Maria sat, “many pay and would pay a lot more. I give my customers a good value.” “But it isn’t real. Is it?” The look on my face made the older woman chuckle, then she shrugged. “It is real if the person believes it, and it gives them a sense of relief.’ We drank our tea and ate some cake. Madam Maria told me how she read fortunes in the cards. “I am not a witch if that worries you. The cards tell a story. The subject handles the cards all I do is shuffle then they pick, and I interpret.” “That sounds difficult.” I had all but forgotten that I was running away. “Why are the cards cheaper than palm reading?” Madam Maria chuckled, “The cards are easier they give clues. Palm reading is more difficult, intimate. It requires that the seeker and I touch. It is more…eh, like I said, Intimate.” She held out her hand, “Let me have your hand.” I didn’t have the money to pay for this and she seemed to sense that when she noticed my hesitation. “Do not worry I am closed for business, this is just a demonstration, a reebie.” Her smile looked genuine. I held out my right hand and she took it gently, held it a moment her eyes on mine. Then she turned my hand over palm up, “Relax your hand, let your fingers open.” I did as she said and she placed her left hand on mine, still looking in my eyes. Then she closed her eyes and tilted her head. “You have undergone big changes, you are tense, worried,” she paused and her head tilted and turned to the left even more, “angry, and scared.” She opened her eyes and lifted her left hand from mine, and she looked at my palm. Her brow crinkled in puzzlement, her lips pursing. She didn’t move her head, but her eyes lifted to mine, “Let me have your other hand.” Her left hand was held out for me. I placed my left hand in hers the same way, I had to cross my arms to do this, suddenly I felt trapped. Maria stiffened as she looked at my two palms, I smelled fear. I tried to pull my hands free but couldn’t Madam Maria’s grip was steel. “You have had a relative die recently, distant relative one you do not know.” Maria’s voice was just a whisper now. I was getting freaked out, “How did you know that?” “You need to know him, Peggy, to know yourself. Find him.” “But he’s dead! How am I supposed to find him? What does that even mean?” “Find where he died, how he died.” Her gripped tightend, “And beware the moon, when it is full, be far away, be alone.” Her voice sent chils down my spine. Just then the little bell above the door rang and some one called from the main shop “Mom, I’m home!” Maria gasped and let go of me. “We are in here Fernando.” A tall boy , handsome, maybe my age maybe a bit younger or older even, came into the room. Maria stood up abruptly and looked at me and gave a little shake of her head. Don’t say anything. I clamped my mouth shut. Fernando stood looking quizzically at me and then his mom. “Fernando this is Peggy. I want you to walk her to the bus station and then come home for supper. ”I stood and she put a hand on my shoulder. Good luck Peggy, remember what I said.” We left and made small talk as we walked to the station. I watched as Fernando let and went home. AI bought my ticket. The teller told me the bus was running late, so I took a seat on the bench and settled in to wait. A few minutes later I looked up and three of the punks from outside the pool hall had come in. The tongue wiggler was one of them. Other than the teller there wasn’t anyone else. The punks sort of cirlcled around the bench they started saying things to me. I was scared and I was angry and excited all at the same time. I heard a noise behind me. The teller had closed the ticket window, she didn’t want to get involved. The punks kept talking and saying nasty things. I stood and pushed past them and ran outside into where the bus would be coming. It wasn’t there I spun around the punks came out after me I dropped my bag and ran across the lot into a field across the highway the punks chased me they were faster. I felt one of them push me from behind I sprawled onto the ground and one of the grabbed me and turned my over I felt hands allover me and I screamed and I looked up and saw the moon. It had been covered by thick clouds but there was a break and the moon was revealed , it was huge it filled the sky. It was a full moon. Suddenly I spasmed violently. That startled the punks who backed off a few feet. I didn’t notice all I saw was the moon which filled my mind. I spasmed again and then my back arched off the ground bones began to snap and reform. My body twisted and my skull felt like it exploded as my nose and jaws seemed to fuse together and grow long. i can’t describe the pain. It felt like it lasted minutes, but it mustn’t of or the punks would have run. They didn’t though and thing that I had become saw them and knew them as prey. The first one died quickly; a taloned hand/paw/claw ripped his throat out almost taking his head off his neck. The other two ran I lept onto the next one and snapped his spine then ripped his head off then I was after the third, the tongue wiggler. It was me but not me. I knew what was happening, but I had no control. I caught tongue wiggler, and my claws raked his back, tearing his flesh from his body he went down but was still alive. The wolf thing flipped him over and I put my wolf face right in his and opened my mouth. I bit his face off and then buried my teeth into his body rending with sharp fangs, snapping ribs with powerful jaws Until I got to his heart. Then I ate that. Power surged through me excitement joy I lifted my blood-soaked head and howled at the moon. I tensed. A sound. A movement I don’t know but I wasn’t alone. The wolf lept again and found another soft body to rip and rend. I looked over to the bloody and torn body sitting beside me on the log. “I had no Idea you had comeback to make sure I was safe” Fernando’s ghost looked at me with his one remaining eye. It didn’t say anything. It never did. Anyway you know the rest wolf thing wandered off and fell asleep I woke up naked dirty covered with blood. I snuck back to the edge of the field. Miraculously my bag was still there and the cops weren’t around, the bodies, what was left of them, hadn’t been found and were hidden by the long grass. I wanted to go to Maria but what could I have said. I ran in grabbed my bag and ran back into the field to a small group of trees where I dug out my extra jeans and a t-shirt. My shoes were gone. So I went on bare foot. I remember what Maria had told me. So I started hitchhiking west. I had to find where my great uncle had died. And how he had died. Playlist SHEET
  5. Maurice was born on January 2nd, 1954. His parents were relatively well off, his father being an office manager for a small real estate firm in San Diego, California, and his mother being a homemaker. As a young man growing up in the turbulent 60’s, Maurice kept his head down, and closed his mouth most of the time. At his home, his father built a shed where he(the father) did wood carving as a hobby. Maurice was lucky enough to learn some of the beginnings of wood carving and working from him. Once Maurice hit high school, he fell in with a crowd his parents disapproved of, the skateboarders. This clique involved about 8 young men ranging in ages from 14(the youngest, Maurice) to 19 years old (Tom Marshall). They spent most of their time cruising on the beach front, but occasionally they would hear word of crews doing pool work, using empty pools to do aerial tricks. Maurice was very intrigued by these rumors. He started looking around his neighborhood for vacant houses where he could practice these moves. He also, around this time, took up acting as a runner for a local pot dealer. Using his skills on his skateboard and his knowledge of the area he never got caught. Using the profits from this sideline work, Maurice saved up quite a bit of money. He bought an RV which his crew sometimes used to travel around SoCal to get in time in other areas. Soon after purchasing the RV, Maurice started repairing and then crafting new skateboards. He spread word of his mobile shop through his street contacts. One of his father’s friends in the wood carving world took Maurice under his wing once he learned he was designing and building skateboards. This man, Michael Healy, would become a good friend and even Mentor to Maurice. Around this time, the age of 19, Maurice began having odd dreams and “visions” for lack of a better word. He also received word of a great-uncle who he knew very little about passing away on his father’s side of the family. He was apparently a bit of a recluse and never had kids of his own. While Maurice was dealing with these odd dreams, he started spending a bit more time in nature specifically in nearby national and state parks that allowed RVs. He was alone when the wolf trance took hold for the first time, and he beheld a Grey wolf with a bit darker coloration than he had seen before. He was freaked out, and after he awoke, he drove back home at breakneck speed. His parents couldn’t tell him much about the vision he had, but his father said he heard rumors in the family about his Uncle Oscar McKenna who had passed away recently. He said Oscar had lived in northern California for his entire life, but there was no town mentioned. He said goodbye to his parents for a bit and got in his RV and travelled up the coast, looking for any trace of his mysterious Uncle. This trip took him a bit less than a week, travelling from RV park to park. He was in one of these parks when his full curse transformation took place. The transformation took Maurice by complete surprise. Luckily, he was in a relatively undeveloped area near a state park. His first 3 nights of transformation were the worst and most painful nights of his life so far. He became a monstrosity that stood 8.5 feet tall, full of corded muscle, his hands ending in sharp claws. His mouth extended into a muzzle and was full of extremely sharp teeth. His senses perked up and his neck thickened as well. Once the transformation was complete, Maurice shredded the tent he had set up to view the stars with and ran off into the forest. After a frantic nightmare of a night, Maurice woke up in shredded fragments of the outfit he had worn to sleep. His hands and mouth were covered with blood, and there were the remains of a large deer, on the other side of the glade he was in. Eventually he managed to make his way back to his RV, clean up and redress. This was about 3 months ago, and his search for his uncle has become almost frantic, looking for information on his new curse and also about his family history. His mysterious uncle and missing house are his focus right now.
  6. Name- Keith Cranston Race- Werewolf Age-26 Concept- Soldier, Hereditary Bloodline Nobody asks for this life. I wasn't my parents' favorite, I was the accident, the unwanted child. Mom did her best to hide it but dad didn't. Mom hid it better, but even so. My older brother Dale was ten years older than me, he was the favorite, he was brilliant at everything. He was the perfect scholar, and thanks to some legal cases that got great press, Dale had his own practice by the time he was thirty. My sister Lisa she was only five years older than me, and out four other members of the family she didn't treat me like a pest. She was happy to have a little brother, and abit of a tomboy. Even after she got married at twenty two, she still came home for my graduation, she and Mom were the only ones. I shipped out for the Army, three days later. In the Army, I found my calling. The Vietnam War was in full swing, and I was going to serve my country, since I wasn't a genius like my brother, and I didn't have other prospects. Besides, it pissed Dad off to no end. I served a total of six years, the last two as an Army Ranger. My Sister had a daughter, Katie, and I was her godfather. I made a point to send money for her to buy a present for her, for each of her birthdays and for Christmas, even though I couldn't go home. When I first met her was when I got my week's leave after Ranger School. When they pinned that tab that marked me as a Ranger, and then when they took me to an off base parlor and got me my one and only tattoo, I admit, I was proud. No matter what else happened to me, I had accomplished something. I had their respect. When Lisa and Katie welcomed me home, along with mom, I was happy. Even Dale came home, and while we weren't close, he told me he was proud of how I had made something of myself. My Dad, well he never said anything about that. He shook my hand and placed a hand on my shoulder, then let me go and walked away. After a year as a ranger, i was between ops, and the letter came. Both Lisa and her husband Michael had been killed in a hit and run. There weren't any details, but since Dale's practice was across the country in New York City, Mom and Dad were now raising Katie. I served another year before an op went bad. Out of twelve of us, four of us made it back. None of us were unharmed, and in the end we were all honorably discharged, and awarded the Purple Heart. When I came home, the therapy wasn't easy, but I did it. I got my own place, and got set up with a friend of my paternal Grandfather. I don't have alot of memories of my grandfather, but when I came home, he came to see me. He looked me in the eye, and then he smiled. "My boy, the warrior, the Ranger. Take this letter to Ethan Pike. He owns that large Hunting and fishing camp North of here. You have him read that letter, and he'll put you to work as a hunting and fishing guide. The rich clients can be a pain, but so long as you produce results, the pay is damn good." I listened to him, and soon I had my first real job. I didn't read the letter, but when Mr. Pike did, his eyes glossed over, and it looked like he was remembering something amazing. At any rate, he put me to work and I used my skills to make a profit, and soon enough, I had my own place and ride, I could make up for lost time with my Goddaughter, who looked so much like her mother. She was a little tomboy, just like her, and even at only six years old, she was a firecracker. A year later, we got word, Grandpa had died. His cabin was burned down, along with everything inside. When his will was read, it shocked everyone. Everything he owned passed not to my dad, or my uncle Jensen, but to me, on the proviso that I didn't sell his land. My grandpa had fought in World War I, in the US Army. Dad and uncle Jensen hadn't fought in World War II or Korea, and Grandpa hadn't forgiven them for it. It seemed that our family had a long tradition of serving in the military, even back before the United States existed. That I'd kept it alive meant alot to my grandfather, even if i hadn't known about it. The greatest shock was mine, when once the rest of the family was gone, I was shown just how wealthy my grandfather was. He was diversified, with many properties, and shares in several companies that paid great returns on his investments. He was rich, like "never have to work again" rich, but lived so modestly, you'd really not have known it. All of that, his gun collection, his money and property, it was all mine now. Later that day, I met Edgar Hayes. Edgar was the son of Ian Hayes, a comrade of my grandfather's, and about twenty years older than me. He ran a successful legal and accounting firm. Our families had a long history, going back to the days of the country's founding, and It turned out he was the one who managed grandpa's finances, and any legal issues that arose. "I know your brother is a lawyer, and you may want to use him.." He'd lead, but I held up my hand. "Mr. Hayes, you and your father knew my granddad, and he trusted you enough that he let you handle his affairs. That tells me more about your character than most anything else. I'd like you to keep doing as you have, to maintain the relationship our families have." "Very good, Mr. Cranston." "Just Keith, please. I'm not big on formality so much anymore, especially with those I trust." He smiled and shook my offered hand. "You can call me Edgar then, Keith. Don't worry you're in good hands." After that, we collected the policy on Granddad's cabin, and began work almost immediately to rebuild it largely as it was, though we updated some things to account for how technology had changed since it was first built. We were surprised to find his basement intact after the fire, but it seemed its roof and even the door were made of stronger materials. I'd guessed he was more concerned about the threat of nukes and such and had made strong fallout shelter. Within were enough weapons and supplies to survive for at least a year or two comfortably. I was actually impressed with that. There was also a small collection of books. They mostly looked old, so I didn't do anything with them, leaving them there for later. I wasn't the biggest reader. I'd check them out one day once it was all rebuilt. I stayed in my apartment until it was ready, carefully following Edgar's advice about spending money unwisely, and about a month before the cabin was ready, I began to dream strange things. I'd always liked dogs, and of course wolves, though I wasn't really good with them. I certainly couldn't train one. The dreams I had were of wolves, running, howling, and hunting. One wolf would always stand out, it strong, and its fur was Black and Silver, and when the moon shone, it almost seemed to shimmer in the moonlight. Its yellow eyes were the eyes of a superior predator, and the dream would end with that wolf, all alone, looking at me. Soon enough the other wolves weren't even present, it was just The Wolf, and I, alone. By the end of that first month, I found that I WAS the Wolf. I was concerned, but at the very least, they weren't dreams of Vietnam. The next night, I dreamed, but then awoke with a start. I couldn't move, and there at the foot of my bed was the Wolf, only instead of Yellow eyes, they were Blue, like mine. Then my view switched, and I was looking at myself laying in the bed, from the wolf's vantage point. For the next month, this continued, and I tested things. I found I could do things no wolf should be able to do, even as a wolf. I didn't lose my reason, and while it was strange, I said nothing to no one. I didn't want them thinking I was insane, so I kept quiet. After a month, the dreams of the wolf, like noticeably dreams, they returned, and they were far from normal. They were violet and bloody affairs, with the torn remains of animals. This went on for a week, and I actually went out camping on the land I owned, just wanting to get away. The dreams had gotten worse, even more violent, more even than some of the fighting in Vietnam. It was the night of the full moon, and as I sat there, under a tree, my tent and gear nearby, the fire thankfully extinguished for the night, I felt something stir within me. My whole body felt like it was on fire. My skin felt tight, and the pain was unimaginable. I could feel it as my flesh and bones changed, I could even feel my hair grow longer, and it was as if my rational mind was trapped within the flesh of a primordial hunter. I hunted for the first time that night. The deer never had a chance, I was faster, stronger, and my claws and fangs made short work of it. I still remember the taste of it, the smell of hot fresh blood, and the crunch of bone as I devoured it. I happened to see my reflection and even with the blood, I knew I was a sight. I knew what I'd become. I was a werewolf, and nothing in my life would ever be the same. I awoke the next morning, naked at my campsite, and thankfully human. The next night, I changed again, and hunted again. As time went on, I learned that I only forcefully changed 3 nights a month, but that the Wolf within could be provoked. The change was impossible to stop once provoked, though I could reasonably delay the Change until I was away from whatever provoked it by asserting my own will. Still I never succeeded in halting it, The Wolf always won in the end. Soon enough, the cabin was ready, and I slowly began making purchases after moving in. New locks, some new guns, and more. I splurged abit to be sure, but if anyone had asked, I'd just say it was the leftovers from the Insurance and what he'd left me. From then on, I lived as I wanted, continuing to work as a guide, though I didn't have to, I took off a certain three days a month, just to be safe, and spoiled my Niece. Life was as close to normal as I could expect it to get, but for me, something didn't feel right, I could feel the other foot, ready to drop. Important People (non family) Edgar Hayes- Lawyer and head of his own Firm, he handles the affairs of the Cranston family. This is something his family has done for many years. His father served alongside Keith's grandfather when they were in the first World War. He's probably the only person Keith trusts fully outside the few friends he has from his days in Vietnam. Carlos Alvarez- He was the squad's heavy weapons master, and a solid mechanic. He has a Garage in Seattle. He and Keith saved each other a number of times, though he lost his left leg below the knee on their final mission Antonio Canelli- The Scrounger. Currently working with the Quartermaster Corps. He was someone who got saved by Keith's quick thinking. It's through him that Keith was able to get his hands on some military grade kit Ethan Pike- a friend of Keith's granddad, and his current employer. He works with Keith regarding his schedule, and has been happy to do so.
  7. Post characters here. Fluff as main text. Crunch in a spoiler.
  8. Shadows of the Wolf will be taking place in the year 1975, for historical purposes, just after the Fall of Saigon. There are no cell phones, no internet, Music comes either over the radio, on vinyl records or 8-track Tapes. There are three channels on TV to choose from. Play will begin in Northern California, but characters can be from anywhere as long as there is a reason for them to be at the location. Characters will be cursed and at least have gone through one or more Full Moons since being cursed. We will determine individually what your character knows about werewolves and the curse taking into account your backstory and a small prelude I will run for each of you after I receive you initial submission. The myth of the Werewolf has been a part of mans fear of the night and of wild things since before history began. But, as we all know, all myths contain a kernel of truth. The werewolves of Shadows of the Wolf are typical and not typical of modern werewolves we are so familiar with. While this game uses the Mechanical rules found in Werewolf the Apocalypse 20th Anniversary Edition we do not use any portion of the setting. There are no Tribes, No Auspices, and no Breeds. There is only the curse. The origin of the curse is unknown, but it is told by the oldest living werewolves as handed down orally from ancient days, that sometime in the distant past a man committed a heinous crime against the laws of man and of God. The tale says this nameless man from a nameless time was powerful, a ruler who was cruel and ruthless, a sadistic deviant. He enslaved others and abused them and tortured them before murdering them. Some versions say he feasted on the flesh of his victims. One day a captured maiden, beautiful and innocent in appearance, was brought before hi, just the type the evil ruler craved. The girl was savagely abused and tortured and to the hilarity of the ruler and his court of pretend nobles, in the end she was thrown into a pit of ravenous wolve to be torn apart for their enjoyment. But an ominous miracle occurred the wolves did not attack the broken girl. They circled her and bowed to her showing their throats. The girl rose her wounds and physical signs of torture fell from her and she was revealed as an Angel of God, a vengeful angel at that. She pronounced their evil deeds and laid Gods curse upon them, that they and their blood that followed should know the fear and the hunger of the wolf and that on the nights upon which the moon would be full they would become like unto the beasts of the pit in which she stood and be hunted forevermore. At least that is the legend. In this game the werewolf is not a shapeshifter like in the normal WoD games. A Werewolf in Shadows of the Wolf only has one werewolf form and it is like the classic movie werewolf, for which we will be using the Crinos form from WW20 to represent. The basic form a werewolf character has and is most often in, is her Human form, the one she was born with. A person cursed with Lycanthrope has no control over when she becomes a werewolf at least not initially. But how does one become a werewolf you ask? There are two means by which a person becomes cursed with Lycanthrope, the first is one is born cursed. The character is the latest in line to inherit the curse from a blood relative. In the case of an inherited curse only one member of a direct bloodline can have an active curse at a time. The curse of course passes upon the werewolf’s death. But the passage may not be direct to the next in line, the curse will only pass to the closest relative in the bloodline who is between the age of 16-24. Thus it may skip over children to grandchildren, or to younger siblings or even to cousins if no one else meets the criteria. The second way to become a werewolf is to survive an attack by a transformed werewolf under a full moon. Regardless of how a character is cursed, what follows is the usual process, and this is where things get a bit nontraditional. After the curse has been activated the character will begin having dreams of wolves. At first these dreams are just what they seem dreams about wolves…then after several weeks of having these dreams they take a decidedly odd turn. The dreams will seem to focus on one single, particular wolf and over the next several dreams all other wolves will fade away until only this one wolf occupies the characters dreams. Then after about a month, maybe a bit more than a month the character will have a very vivid dream about this wolf and then for the first time she will suddenly find herself as the wolf in her dream. At that point in the dream the character wakes up. By now the character should be feeling very worried and puzzled. If not, the next dream clenches the deal. The next time the character sleeps she will dream normally then suddenly awaken but be unable to move. There in her bedroom is the wolf she has been dreaming of, standing still at the end of her bed staring at the character with eyes that look just like hers. As soon as the character recognizes her eyes her point of view shifts to where she is the wolf looking at herself in bed. The character has entered the wolf trance. This condition is the first example and gift of the curse. When in the Wolf Trance the character falls into a deep, deep sleep and her conscience manifests itself as the wolf from her dream. It is not a transformation, but the wolf is physically there. The character retains her intelligence and is even able to do simple things no wolf should be able to do such as open doors with her paws, manipulate a pen or pencil to write, even use a computer if necessary. The character can stay in the Wolf trance until she wakes up or is awoken. More details will be available in the rules section. When in the Wolf Trance use the Lupus Stats for your wolf manifestation. So far things don’t seem so bad but soon the true nature of the curse makes itself known. After about a month passes from the time the character first enters the Wolf Trance, just about the time she is getting used to the Trance and the other gifts she has developed, the wolf dreams will return but this time its different… the dreams are violent, bloody, full of torn and eaten animals. The dreams will last about a week, each night getting worse and worse. And then the full moon is upon you and the curse for the first time visits its nightmare onto the character. You have seen it a thousand times on the big screen and on television, seen the artwork in comics and magazines, read about it in books and games, the twisting and snapping of bones the reshaping of skeletons and the claws ripping out of fingers, teeth growing into fangs the person becoming the beast. It is painful and, it is traumatic. The transformation from person to a hybrid of man and wolf a beast that is the epitome of the classic man-wolf. You are now the werewolf. The pain of transformation fuels the rage and the hollow emptiness in your gut drives your hunger. But you are not a mindless monster, you retain a vestige of self, buried deep inside, you are aware of what you are now but only those with the strongest wills can master the beast. The werewolf is a savage killing machine it really is indiscriminate. It has no favored prey and will go after a human as soon as it will an animal. And hunt it will, killing and gorging itself on its kills until sated and only then will it stop and sleep the rest of the night to awaken having transformed back to her human form. There are no natural predators to hunt the werewolf but werewolves are territorial and will hunt other werewolves that trespass that are not of their pack assuming a given werewolf has a pack. This horrific transformation will occur three times a month… on the night of the full moon and on the days immediately preceding and following. Nothing short of death or special magic can prevent these transformations. Every full moon for the rest of the character’s life she will transform. That’s bad enough but there is also the chance that the werewolf character can be provoked into changing either through intense anger or fear or trauma. None of these things can be controlled and a werewolf character at most can attempt to exert her will over the beast during the transformation. As stated the Transformed Werewolf use the game mechanics of the Crinos form from WW20, however the werewolf’s appearance is unique to the character as long as the wolf man is bipedal it can appear as similar to any movie, comic book or art work of a werewolf you wish. The use of Gifts is limited when in Werewolf form. Those with the Curse are Human and spend 90% of their lives after becoming cursed as humans. The cursed can be of any race, gender, sexual orientation, political ideology… you get the picture. Literally anyone can be cursed with lycanthrope. Cursed humans are usually loners. They know they are cursed and they know what they will do to anyone they encounter while under a full moon. Many but not all will abandon their normal lives and, if they value human life, find some remote place in the wilderness where hums are few. But there are some who don’t value life and these wander so their savage murders don’t lead to their own demise. Then there are some who cling to their normal lives, who lock themselves away from the full moon, who live a life of lies. Some seek out mystics who claim to be able to quell the beast or talismans. Oh yes magic is real, subtle, and drenched in darkness but real. So how does a cursed human survive when it looks as though the whole world is against them? They develop supernatural powers or gifts. These gifts resemble the superpowers and magic you find in comics and fantasy novels. No one knows why a werewolf develops these abilities and not all werewolves develop all of them. They are not taught the just become something a werewolf can do. Gifts can be used in Human form and to a limited extent in the Transformed state. Strangely gifts can be used freely when in The Wolf Trance. Character Creation 1. Concept: this is two parts, first, your concept should be for who you were before your curse became activated. And second whether your curse is inherited or from surviving an attack. 2. Attributes: unlike normal WoD we do not prioritize your attributes. You start with one dot in each attribute and then add 15 additional dots divided as you wish between the nine attributes with no attribute going over 5 dots. 3. Abilities: again we do not prioritize, instead place 27 dots into abilities you wish with non being higher than 3 at this stage 4. Backgrounds: you get 5 dots for backgounds the following backgrounds are allowed (some of these are actually from different game books you will have to get with me if you need the details) Allies - Close companions who could be called on for most anything. Contacts - Those willing to help for a favor in return. Fame - How well-known the character is in society; its counterpart Notoriety generally carries negative connotation. Mentor - An experienced guide through the supernatural or everyday world. Resources - How much a character has to live on. Archive Arsenal Backers Equipment Favors Health Insurance Home Base Library (a.k.a. Occult Library or Personal Library) - A collection of books or other sources that contain accurate occult and magical knowledge. Patron - A powerful party who is (perhaps secretly) aiding the character for their own reasons. 5. Gifts: you may acquire 5 points of Gifts. At creation a level one gift costs one point, level two two points and so on. Level One Gifts City Running P. 152 Desperate Strength P. 174 Eye of the Hunter P. 185 Hare’s Leap P. 158 Heightened Senses p. 158 Man’s Skin P. 173 Master of Fire P. 152 Mothers Touch P. 164 Open Seal P.161 Pact Tactics P.171 Perfect Recall P.169 Persuasion P.153 Predator’s Arsenal P. 159 Razor Claws P.171 Resist Pain P.166 Smell of Man P153 Level Two Gifts Eye of the Eagle P. 159 Grand Mothers Touch P.177 Howl of the Banshee P.179 Mark of the Wolf P.154 Scent of Sight P. 159 Sense Silver P. 156 Stare Down P. 154 Troll Skin P. 181 True Fear P. 171 Level Three Gifts Cat Feet P. 159 Combat Healing P. 171 Disquiet P. 154 Eyes of the Cat P. 157 Eye of the Cobra P.169 Mental Speech P. 157 Heart Claw P. 173 Pathfinder P.162 Might of Thor P.181 Sense the Unnatural P. 159 Visceral Agony P.174 Wind Claws P. 172 Level Four Gifts Balor’s Gaze P. 179 Beast Life P.160 Body Shift P.154 Body Wrack P.174 Bury the Wolf P. 154 Clenched Jaw P. 172 Gnaw P.160 Heart of the Mountain P. 181 Howl of Death P. 187 Rattler’s Bite P. 157 Roll Over P.167 Scent of Beyond P. 167 Strike the Air P.178 Uncaught Since the Primal Morn P. 178 Wasp Talons P. 174 Level Five Gifts Assimilation P. 155 Beyond Human P. 155 Endurance of Heimdall P. 182 Fenris Bite P. 183 Strength of Will P. 172 6. Everyone Starts with 3 Rage, 3 Gnosis, and 4 Willpower. Shadows does not use Ranks or Renown. You have 15 Freebie Points to spend Freebie Point Trait Cost Attributes 5 per dot Abilities 2 per dot Backgrounds 1 per dot Gifts 7 per Gift Level Rage 1 per dot Gnosis 2 per dot Willpower 1 per dot You may earn 5 additional Freebie points before play by submitting a detailed character Backstory. Don’t forget to add specialties where appropriate.
  9. this game will be undergoing a major overhaul. i will post new rules and character creation details soon sorry for the inconvenience
  10. Dan shrugged as they left Aunt Margaret and walked through the venue. "Be nice, smile, and get along, but don't let anyone just walk over you." He chuckled. "Not that anyone is stupid enough to try that. I think the worst you're going to have to deal with is probably questions about what our relationship is. Tongues are definitely already wagging on that." He bowed his head slightly. "Sorry bout that. I didn't really think about how it might look, so that's on me." "Once the Alpha calls us, we all go to strip and change. Those who are kin, but not in touch with the Wolf, they remain, and tend our clothes and belongings until we return in the morning. As Wolves, we'll hunt, mostly for deer or wild hogs, both are plentiful here. Maeve and I tend to course whatever we find, and bring them to the pack. The Alpha will make the first kill, and then the pack joins in. Anything that breaks from the herd is ours to deal with." "Some eat their fill now, but all are expected to eat at least something from the Hunt. In the Hunt, we wolves are one."
  11. "Thank you for the heads up, Ma'am. So I've been learning," Karen offered with a smile and an aside glance at said character reference, "It's been a few months since my first aller... I suppose it's silly to call them 'allergies' for once, isn't it? My first change, I mean. And this is the first time I've encountered another werewolf far as I know, let alone a pack of them. Been working out the rules from books and movies and eliminating what's obviously untrue one reveal at a time." She chuckled and looked away. Taking in the scene, her thoughts whirled. When she entered a con, she preferred to have her goal and her exit laid out in clear steps before she took a first move, but here and now? She had no idea how deep this particular rabbit hole went. And part of her thrilled at that. Her father, however, he had managed the trick, had managed to handle an entire city full of werewolves and vampires for a time and escape to not die in the doing. In her profession? That was as good as a victory. No reason she couldn't replicate the feat if she was smart and swift and careful. "So, what's rules for tonight? Don't want to make a bad first impression. We only get one of those."
  12. Maeve jumped out with the rope to tie the boat off as Dan drove the bow into the bank of the bayou gently, with a practiced ease. Once secured, They quickly worked out a chain, getting the food and drink ashore without any issue. Dan led the way to the gathering of kin and pack. With his Cousin Cade as the Alpha, things ran fairly smoothely. He was a powerful shifter in his own right, but he had support of the oldest families, not to mention Dan himself. By association, Maeve was a member of Cade's faction, though she was more there as a protege of sorts of Dan. Some looked openly at Karen, not recognizing her. It was unheard of for Dan to bring anyone here, aside family, so someone who was a complete unknown got tongues wagging quickly. Dan quickly made for where the tables had been set up for food and drink, depositing the ice chest full of drinks for those who wanted them, knowing that the alcohol would be watched over keenly by some of the older women, to keep the youngsters present honest. The snacks and such he had them bring over to a table where an older woman, easily in her seventies, was effectively directing the other three women there. "Aunt Margaret, I brought some snacks for those who want something abit lighter." The white-haired woman looked up at him, a twinkle in her hazel eyes. "I guess you didn't have time to cook before coming this time did you, Daniel?" She was clearly teasing him. "I was looking forward to some Fresh Alligator." Dan shrugged his shoulders. "Pack matters kept me abit too busy for that one. Next time, or maybe one Sunday I can fix it for the family." Dan was a decent cook, but by no means equal to the woman he spoke to. She had helped teach him alot about cooking when they were younger, and for her to praise his cooking at all made him happy, and a little regretful that he hadn't been able to bring the dish she wanted. "That'd be nice." She smiled at him, and then looked at Maeve and Karen. "Now Maeve I recognize, but who's this that you brought with you?" He nodded. "This is Karen Gaunt. She's new here, and got wrapped up in everything going on by chance. It isn't safe for her by herself in the city, so I brought her with us here, where I know she'll be safe." Aunt Margaret's eyes narrowed at Karen's name, but she said nothing untoward, or to indicate that the name held meaning, Instead she opted for a little light teasing. "It's nice to meet you Karen, You're going to be popular tonight, just so you know. Daniel Never brings anyone with him, aside Maeve." She leaned in a little closer. "You couldn't ask for a better character reference than that in this pack."
  13. Lilith heard the cold threat in Cara's low voice, and weighed her words carefully. Her eyes darted toward The Speculator and saw that he was still busy with the crowd. "I am trying to free you," Lilith said her own voice lowered so only Cara's ear could hear. "Your brother is under the spell of a very powerful witch one whose curse can force his actions against his will, one who may be able to hear what he hears, see what he sees. He. Is. A. Liability. He has also been lying to you for your entire existence. Kill me and you will never know the truth, never be free." She let go of the daggers handle and moved her hand away as much as Cara's grip allowed. ************************************ Dan drove the boat slowly through the bayou looking for the spot his cousin and pack leader had specified for the full moon, his two passengers , Maeve and Karen watched along silently. All three were lost in their own thoughts. The swamp was alive with insects and birds, snakes and gators, and other swamp life. The passages between spots of land was overhung with the branches of Cyprus and Tupelo trees and hanging moss that made it a dark twilight even though there was at least three hours left of good sunlight. By the time they arrived there were a few other boats already there and member's of the pack had already unload and were setting up for the festivities. Dan noticed that his cousin Cade's airboat was here already as well.
  14. Tim stepped over to the bar very quickly, almost seeming to teleport. He called out to the bartender, "A round for everyone, and once it's poured, a toast." A cheer went up among the patrons, with various versions of thank you being uttered. Tim pulled out small stack of bills to pay for the drinks, and when the drinks were poured, he cleared his throat, gathering the attention of the bar patrons. "And now, the toast. To the things that go bump in the night... may they never go bump for us." With his final words, he poured his supernatural charisma into his words, forming an image in his head of their memories being clouded, and any unusual sounds or images fading from their knowledge. All of the mortals, even the bartender, froze for a few seconds at the power passed through their minds. Most finished their drinks on reflex and blinked their eyes as if waking from a dream. The bartender rubbed at his eyes, and looked down at the stack of cash on the bar. Tim spoke up, "You'll find that should be enough to cover everyone's tab for tonight with a decent tip, but don't let anyone know until the end of the night. Just remember me fondly, if you think of me at all." He winked at the bartender, and made his way back to the table with Cara and Lilith. "Done and done. Now would you care to explain this?" he said, pointing to the dagger. --------- Tim finally noticed the attention he seemed to have drawn, and looked over at Cara, a small smile on his face. He circuitously made his way over to the pair talking about him, and bowed his head as he approached. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting your companion for the evening, Lady Kristen." He turned towards Cara, "I'm Tim Powell. A pleasure to meet you, ma'am."
  15. Dan nodded. "Yeah, it'll be deer or boar. I usually go with deer, because we won't be the ones making the kills most likely, unless some of the deer are smart." He shrugged. "we stay away from the farms and such, and anything less than boar or deer isn't worth hunting with the full pack."
  16. "...I haven't woken up hungry if that's what you mean. So sure," Karen replied after a pause and a shrug, adding after a pause, "...Long as we're taking steps to make sure what we're hunting walks on four legs, not two. We are, right?" Her tone was slightly apologetic at any implied insult, but today had been a Long Day, and she wasn't quite sure if they'd gone into the details of this part of all it yet. There was just so much conflicting information out there and she had no real idea what, if any of it, was real aside from the scraps she'd picked up here since meeting Dan and his pack. A con made without information was a con that got you shot or arrest after all.
  17. "Tim," she said through gritted teeth, "Please Compel the room! Cara, don't do anything you will regret later We need to talk without any undue influences. Your brother will be fine and you need to hear me out!" There was sound like a whisper, a rush of wind, and Cara was next to Lilith, her hand on the other vampire's wrist where it held the dagger in her brother's chest. The touch of her hand on Lilith was light, and her face was almost without expression. But someone who knew better would see that dilation of her pupils, the tension in the cords of her neck, the angle she held her other arm at, and know that she was hair away from doing something she might regret later. "Then speak," she said in a tone that could frost a running river, "quickly, and clearly. What exactly are you doing, beyond what is plain to my eyes?" Halloween 1858 "The Speculator? How gauche. A curious thing to exchange one's own self, one's name, in pursuit of something as...transitory as money. But I suppose I can understand how there's a kind of fascination in that. For novelty at least." Not to mention, she thought, Kirsten did sometimes have the strangest fancies. Cara sometimes wondered if she herself, and Marko, were yet more examples of that.
  18. Once Melody told him where to go, he made good time going to bring her home. They were met by her family, who were quite happy to see her home, and Thanked Dan for bringing her back to them safely. He left his number, should the Crescent Alpha need to get in touch with him, or if her family needed to get in contact with him. Back in the truck, he hit a grocery store, and came back with an armload of drinks and snacks, stuff for before the real festivities of the night. He shrugged when the others looked at him. "The younger members of the pack, they're still not used to what it all entails, and they'll be almost starving before the night's done, on account of them not partaking." "They'll get the hang of it, or not, eventually. If things hold true, Maeve and I will have the job of locating and bringing game to the others. Karen, would you be willing to help with that? Are you comfortable enough with your other half that you can hunt?" It wasn't the most polite way of asking, certainly, but Dan was always fairly blunt in matters like this, between other wolves.
  19. Marko glared menacingly, Cara glanced at him, but it was Lilith who spoke. "We have a situation Tim. Some idiot witch kidnapped a werewolf last night and tried to do a spell on her or with her or whatever, another werewolf killed him. And then old... friends showed up at the same time. I don't believe in coincidences.' Lilith glanced at Cara, then looked pointedly at Marko, "Why are you in New Orleans Marko?" Marko's fierce glare faltered and for a moment his innocent mortal face rose to the surface, the face from before his embrace. "Because this is where i was told I could find a way to remove the curse. No other reason. I just want my life back." Lilith lowered her eyes, "Well we are going to do everything we can to see about lifting that curse." She smiled and looked at Cara. Marko smiled too and looked at his sister. Lilith moved faster than anyone thought possible. Cara, Marko and even Powel were taken by surprise. Lilith was not known to be a person who got her hands dirty by taking direct action there fore what she did was completely unexpected. In one lightning motion she had pulled a silver dagger from with in her dress lunged up onto the table and drove the magicked blade into Marko's heart! Marko gasped and clutched her wrist holding the dagger his strength already flowing away, She leaned in holding it in place while the magic did its work. "Tim," she said through gritted teeth, "Please Compel the room! Cara, don't do anything you will regret later We need to talk without any undue influences. Your brother will be fine and you need to hear me out!" Halloween 1858 Kristen follows Cara's gaze and frowns in disgust. "Oh that. His name is Powel but everyone refers to him as the Speculator. He is one of us but his concern is money of all things. For some unfathomable reason Kirsten is fascinated by him. While Kristen nd Cara conversed Marko had silently moved across the room toward the servant he had spied earlier. ---------- Dan glanced across at Karen, shook his head, "No, not really. The vampires rule in the city. Even the witches toe the line usually. I don't know bout this I got a bad feeling. Where you want me to take you melody?" The younger girl had been looking out the window and seemed oblivious Maeve had to elbow her. "Oh Just take me home, my folks are probably worried." Dan glanced at her through the rearview mirror. "Ok then we go pick up some supplies and head to the Bayou for it gets dark."
  20. After Lilith nodded to the seat next to her, Tim sat down. "I've been here a while. Mostly work, but some pleasure as well. After all, All work and No play makes Tim a dull man." Tim flashed a charming grin that had won over many a human or vampire to his side. "And what brings you back to this side of the Bayou? Work, Pleasure, vacation, or other?"
  21. Cara glanced up at 'The Speculator' quizzically, then at Lilith. So the girl had brought in some muscle, it seemed. There were not a lot of vampires running around in the modern day that would be a match for Cara, let alone her brother, but Powell...he might qualify. Enough to give them pause at least. She wondered how exactly Lilith had gained his loyalty...or if she, in fact, had. Was the deference he was showing an act perhaps? Or was it because Lilith had the blessings of the Originals? She looked back at Tim, a gracious smile lighting her face. "Mr Powell," Cara greeted, with all the warmth she usually reserved for a major donor, "It has been a long time. Too long. What brings you to New Orleans?" Halloween 1858 "Think of it as a game," Cara told her brother lightly. "Of skill. Of finesse. Any animal can gorge themselves on a kill...but to take what you need and leave them alive, even unaware...that requires a deft and expert touch." "Kirsten...that man your sister is talking to...I can't say I've had the pleasure of meeting him before. Who is he?"
  22. Jesus Christ. What had she gotten herself and her daughter into? That meeting had descended into chaos almost immediately, the kind that set every single one of her get out of dodge instincts flaring, the sickly-sweet rot of a risk-vs-reward con going wrong that tempted you further and further in until the ground gave way under your feet and you were in for a bad time. Add in 'bad news' Walker, and if there wasn't so much to learn about her Dad here... She'd already be making calls. Texas was a nice place to work her craft this time of year. But that was another world. She'd just need to learn the rules in play here, how many other societies like this were hiding just out of sight as if the world was a bad YA book series, how to insure if her daughter inherited the problems and powers of Karen's... lycanthropy that she'd land on her feet surrounded by friends not foes. If there was even a chance of that last one, she'd need to stop running, put down roots, and actually do the whole parenting thing before it was too late. Sending a bank deposit every month was worse than not trying at all, she knew in her heart of hearts. She'd worked more difficult problems than connecting with a kid she saw at holidays and birthdays, right? Right? Right. Short term problems first. She pulled out her phone pulled up her phone and confirmed that while, yes, they didn't have a lot of time to work with, it wasn't critical yet. The brunette conwoman frowned, looking out the window at the city, "Do things usually go that well when we meet up, Dan?"
  23. Damn bloodsuckers. They'll never not make me uneasy. His thoughts were honest. He understood these feelings weren't wholly rooted in rational reasons, but that didn't matter. The less he had to do with them, the better, as far as he was concerned. He gave Karren and Maeve a slight nod, he knew they didn't have that long. He drove, mostly towards Crescent Territory. "Melody, I need to know where I'm to drop you off. You're a minor, so it's gotta be at a family member's home. Especially tonight." His tone was serious, and he knew they were on a timer. "Not to belabor a point, but we do have somewhere we need to be, and not too long to get there. Bringing you with us isn't really an option without opening a whole different can of worms, and I'm sure after everything you're ready to just go home and not be surrounded by strangers." His tone was a bit friendlier, and he smiled. "So where'm I takin you?"
  24. Tim Powell stood at the entrance of The Chart Room, a bar of slightly ill repute, as his eyes adjusted quickly to the darker atmosphere inside. Once that was done, Tim stepped more fully inside, looking around. He spotted Lilith, and nodded his greetings. He moved swiftly to the booth, his gait smooth and casual, his dress shoes clacking on the floor as he approached. After he approached close enough he noticed her two companions. He braced himself for the worst case scenario in his mind. When he noticed who she was with his eyes narrowed fractionally, which was as close to a shock reaction as Tim would allow to cross his face. When he stood at the edge of the booth, he slightly bowed at the waist, "Queen Lilith, you summoned me?" He turned to Marko and Cara, a genuine smile on his face as he greeted Cara, which became insincere as he regarded Marko. "Cara, Marko. A pleasure to see you again. It's been years." Tim then turned back to Lilith, indicating a seat opposite Marko and Cara, "May I sit?"
  25. Oct 9th It was the night of the full moon, a Hunter’s Moon, they call it. And it was a night for hunting, but whom was the prey. Two of the three factions present at the cabaret, filtered out after sharing one uncomfortable drink. Lilith stopped outside and motioned for Marko and Cara to wait. Marko rolled his eyes and made to leave but Cara stopped him with a hand on his arm. Lilith turned to Dan, “You want to go pick up your puppies or you want me to send them to you? I have things to discuss with the Angelo’s.” "I'll go and pick them up. " Dan said quietly. "For what it's worth, thank you, for cooperating. This could have certainly gone much worse." He would probably never like Vampires, but at least today he'd met one who kept her word, for what that was worth. Lilith watched as Dan and the girl wolf walked off heading the his truck. Something about that girl…, she took out her phone and quickly sent a text to Trini telling her to expect the werewolf coming to pickup their guests and some other things, then she turned to Marko and Cara. “let go get a drink at someplace a little more friendly” She led them deeper into the quarter which was already filling up with tourists. Halloween was coming and while not as big a tourist attraction as Mardi Gras, it was still an eventful time in New Orleans. She led them past most of the obvious places and just as Marko’s patience was getting to the boiling point she turned into a dingy bar called the Chart Room. It was just what it advertised a dingy bar probably built in the late 1960s and never remodeled and from the looks of the floor rarely cleaned. The bar was busy however, about three quarters full and both Marko and Cara noticed that most everyone inside was sitting and drinking alone. It was probably the quietest bar in the city. Lilith went straight to a booth in the back and slid in on the side that would let her watch the door. Cara noticed that she was very cool, and her earlier nervousness was gone. That made Cara wonder. She and her brother were older than Lilith and thus stronger the younger ‘queen’ should have been showing some sort of trepidation especially around her brother. ____________________________________________________________________________________ Halloween 1858 The ball was a success as they always were, everyone loved the parties thrown by the royalty of New Orleans, The twins and their coterie. And this masquerade ball was smashing fully 200 hundred of the regions wealthiest and most powerful humans were present and the vampires were expecting a feast. The twins had selected about two dozen of their guests by giving them black roses to wear. At midnight the vampires would be allowed to feed on those selected, a rarified treat. They just couldn’t kill anyone. Marko was picking his targets when he felt the presence of one of the twins behind him. It was Kristen. The original smiled at his creation, “Feed but don’t kill, that is the rule for this little game Marko, and Kirsten is very serious about this as you well know, you had best behave.” Marko looked at Kristen then around the room until he found the other Original, Kirsten Magnuson, She was talking to the Speculator. Not allowed to kill. That was aimed directly at him, and Marko knew it. His excess had angered the sister who was in his opinion the more dangerous of the two, not that Kristen wasn’t dangerous, he just had a better sense of humor. As he watched he noticed one of the servants carrying a tray of drinks stopping by Kirsten and the Speculator. “What about the servants?” Kristen followed Marko’s gaze and saw the girl that had caught his eye, he suppressed a laugh, “What about them?” ____________________________________________________________________________________ “I hope you don’t mind but I thought an old friend could join us,” said Lilith looking toward the entrance. Cara and Mark glanced that way and saw an older gentleman, dressed in elegant business attire, Timothy Powell. Marko tensed, the Speculator. ************* The door to Lilith’s compound opened as Dan pulled up and the two girls came out both turned back toward the door and waved at the figure in the shadows, the dark-skinned vampire called Trini. The two younger girls jumped into the back of the truck and Dan put it in gear and drove off. He could feel the vampire watching him until he turned off the street.
  26. Name - Timothy Powell Height - 6'1" Weight - 160 Lbs. Apparent age - Mid to late 50's True age - OLD!!! Eyes - Blueish Hair - White Tim was a turn of the century child born before the Civil War. Although he was embraced later in life, his early life was very dull for the time. He was stricken with disease as a youngster, but his body never full regained it's previous strength. He was a very shrewd dealer and raised through the ranks of a major local financial institution that worked in Insurance and land deals. Eventually he became head of this company and started expanding into other fields, diversifying his companies portfolio to include banking after the civil war. By that time, Tim was embraced. He spoke very little about the vampire who sired him, aside from the fact that it was a very shrewd and tough investor in his early business. As his days lengthened, He began to fade back, more content to not be recognized as a threat to those in power. He supported the ones in charge, by serving as a confessor, and advisor. His true power lay behind the scenes, with the information and influence he has gained over the years. Recently he has been less focused on his company and gaining influence. He has focused on more charitable and moral pursuits. He has donated a sizeable amount to the museums in the area, as well as assisting the New Orleans Historical Society with information about New Orleans in it's earlier days. However, just because he LOOKS the part of elder statesman, doesn't mean he's a pushover.

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