MERCH!

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Lara "X"



Concept: Undercover Sex Blogger

Desc: Deep blue eyes and longish brunette hair with blonde highlights, tied back in a somewhat severe fashion during her day-job. She also wears glasses for reading. She keeps in shape with a varied combination of running, free-weights, and swimming. and she’s nicely lean. 
She’s not chesty and has been considering implants off and on for a few years now. She eschews any kind of piercing (Except for earrings) or tattoos. During her daylight hours she tends towards a certain conservative style of dress but in the night time hours, she goes in for leather, lace, rubber, and other sartorial excesses.

History: It’s a bit difficult to write about a woman with a healthy libido and a sex-positive attitude without making her sound like a whore or a nymphomaniac. Jolene Boddicker is such a woman. She works a regular job in the city government, managing retirement programs for city workers.  She keeps her night time activities strictly segregated from her daytime activities out of a sense of personal privacy, personal security, and her bosses’s boss happens to be a well-known prude. He’d likely have a case of the vapors if he ever got wind of things that Jolene got up to. Jolene doesn’t even have a Facebook page.
   It’s not like sex is Jolene’s obsessive hobby or anything, she just enjoys it and writing about it is her obsessive hobby. But you know, if you’re going to write about sex, you sort of have to get a bit experimental in order to keep having things to write about. And that’s kind of where things have gone for Jolene. She has adopted a certain willingness to TRY things, although she has, of course, found a few things that she just doesn’t care for.  She’s not shy about saying what she likes and what she doesn’t like. And although she never names names, She’s not shy about saying so on her blog.

The Lara “X” blog is very popular, not just because “Lara” is particularly mysterious, but because Jolene is a pretty good writer and does her damn homework (Like say Laci Green on Youtube) The Lara “X” blog is so popular that Jolene has to be particularly careful not to tip her hand about her identity.  Fortunately, there never seems to be a shortage of men or women who aren’t interested in even learning what her name is. C’est la vie.

Attitude: Life is a great big buffet. One should try as many things as you can. Sure, some things might not be to your liking, but who can live on the same old thing day in and day out. Taking chances while you’re young is important. who knows where it might lead?  (Although it should be said, that Jolene is hoping that it will lead to a bestselling book and a movie deal.)  
    Jolene also enjoys her “Double Life” as she puts it.  It makes her feel like a superhero. She was a bit of a comic book nerd growing up. Ordinarily, being some kind of sex columnist wouldn’t necessarily make her feel like a superhero, but for the pieces of E-mail that end up in her inbox telling her how this or that piece of information saved somebody’s life or their sanity. She keeps those emails. and when she’s feeling down, she pulls them out and reminds herself that for a LOT of people, sex is the undiscovered country.  Or at least, it’s fairly poorly mapped. 

Skills:  Jolene is probably the only person you’re going to meet with 4 dots of Composure and 4 dots of Socialize. The Barfly merit is a natural for her obviously. She developed a certain amount of streetwise and has had more than one occasion to use pepper spray and the pointy kubotan on her keychain. "Trained Memory" might be a good merit for her (From the Guardians of the Veil book)   "Striking looks", natch.

Gear: The aforementioned Pepper Spray, and pointy kubotan. A voice activated micro-tape recorder for taking notes on the fly. A selection of condoms, nail polish that detects date-rape drugs. Handcuff keys. Handcuffs. A smart phone loaded with music and books for when things are slow.


Home: Has a place in the Burbs which is properly "Home". It's small but pleasant and she does a bit of gardening there.  But she also has a small apartment in town which she refers to as her "Staging Area"  It's not as sleazy as you'd expect and she's actually made an effort to make the sound-proofing look good and tasteful. Occasionally she has a friend sub-let the place with the caveat that occasionally she needs the place overnight for "research" and that friend will get 24 hours notice before that's necessary.


Social: She is also likely to have a bewildering array of Allies and Contacts in various strata of society. But no dots of Fame. She NEVER uses the name “Lara “X” when she’s on the prowl. It causes people to clam up. She’s probably got the merit "Anonymity" from “Blood of the Wolf” She’s gone to some lengths to protect her privacy on-line. Nothing that the NSA couldn’t break through were they inclined, but enough to discourage most casual stalkers.

Story Uses:

“My girlfriend said what?”
Jolene could end up being some character’s S.O. Naturally, this is fraught with all sorts of problems, the fact that she’s likely to spill intimate details of your time together online. The fact that she’s GOING to conceal a number of her activities from you. and if the truth be known, she’s likely to get bored easily...And if that’s the case, you’re likely to be dead meat before you know it. 
But hey, who knows, if real emotions and feeling get involved...Well you might just end up being bad for business unless she can talk you into going with her on her sexual safari

“He bit me...I liked it.”
Jolene has had more than a couple of brushes with the supernatural. She hasn’t really put 2 and 2 together yet, but if she picks up another vampire or sees one more “Hallucination” She might get more curious than it’s safe for her to be. Frankly, that one episode with her missing time scared the crap out of her. She didn’t think she’d drunk that much at all.

“So. I went to a lovely party last night...”
There are at least two groups that want to claim Lara as their own.  The Vermillion House is looking for her, as they would like to add her to their stable of pretty people who will indulge in the most perverted of acts.  No one has found her yet, but they don’t seem to realize that she’s already been to one of their parties without knowing it. Bringing her in might be an enormous disaster for them.
   Also, there is a statistically significant number of Vampires who read her blog and want to make a ghoul of her.

Connections:

Teflon John Galloway Met him at a party once and they were off to the races, as you could imagine.  Cute. But not smart. At least he knew what he was doing.
 Lewis Flowers came very close to following her back to the staging area but got distracted by someone else. If he ever sees her again, he'll assume it's a sign.
Darla Grumman Met her at a Pride event and ended up dating for about 2 weeks. Enjoyed her company and had great fun in the sack, but she had issues with some of her more secretive behavior.
The Caboose  Went to high school with DJ Psychopirate. Tried stripping for about a week in order to gather fodder for a column. Still keeps in touch with a few of the girls she knows from there and DJ Big Willy.

Sunday, April 26, 2015

Homer Conway



Concept: Kitchen Table Gun Dealer

Desc: Homer is a pretty stringy piece of beef. Always relatively skinny and tall. Over the years he’s filled out some and he’s got some serious muscle. He has the kind of arms and hands that say to anyone who knows what to look for, that he’s worked with his hands...and fists all his life. Homer is on the other side of seventy and his white fringe of hair and his lined face show it. Homer is missing a front tooth. His eyes are clear and sharp for the most part unless he’s been drinking.  His right knee is turning to liquid shit and gives him some trouble. He tends towards stiffening up if he sits in one place long enough.  The knee is also pretty good about warning when the weather’s getting ready to change.  His back, chest, arms, and neck are a long connected canvas of ink that tell almost the entire story of bad decisions made and bad ideas embraced. All of the art on him is professional grade, even the prison ink.

History:
The torso tells the story pretty well.  A tattoo or two indicating some time in Vietnam as an infantryman, Some time in the stockade.  A return home, Joining a local motorcycle club, (A membership he retains to this day.) Scars from knife fights, and gun fights. Prison ink indicating various stretches in stir. An impressive number of white supremacist tats (He still retains some of those attitudes) He’s got the “14 words” across his shoulders just above his MC tattoo. 
  And then...Well...There’s the tattoo that says “Luanne Forever” and to Homer’s credit. Luanne’s the ONLY name on his body. Luanne gave him the family that has given him better purpose and more focus. She died some years ago and he took it pretty hard, The lung cancer took a long time eating her up. But she gave him sons that he could be proud of, and daughters that gentled his spirit some.  Now he’s got grandkids and he has a hard time explaining some of the more lurid aspects of his ink to them. Some would say that he’s gone soft...But probably not to his face.

While he ostensibly earns the bulk of his income as an auto mechanic, most days he simply sits in the office and shoots the shit with the other guys who do all the heavy lifting. But every so often he gets a call and he heads home. His home garage is an impressive array of ordinance to anyone with the right amount of money and the right skin color. He’s also more than capable of making a number of after-market alterations to firearms and vehicles if someone is looking for that kind of thing. So far, he’s been able to stay off the ATF’s radar.  He’s careful and has a pretty good sense about people. 


Attitude: No longer as much piss and vinegar as he used to be. He still has a mean streak. He’s still hella strong and while he hasn’t thrown a punch in anger in many years, (Luanne’s shit-head brother at her funeral) he hasn’t exactly forgotten how. He’s not as active with his MC or the Klan as he used to be, but they are the people who are his primary customers and referrers so he stays abreast of things that are going on.  He’s always a little nervous dealing guns to anybody who’s had recent law trouble AND has a family to think about.   Odds are good that ATF might be squeezing them some.  Homer is perfectly willing to deal weapons to people of color as long as their willing to put up with a 400% markup, and do so with a smile. Most aren’t.
Homer gets his weapons in bulk from a few different sources, at least one of which is an east german arms manufacturer that has found the bulk of their market is white supremacists. He’s also got some sources in Ireland and Canada. He’s got connections on the riverfront among career smugglers.

Skills: Crafts 4 at least with a goodly spread of specializations.  More than capable in a fight with a gun, knife, pool cue, two-by-four, tire iron, bike chain, or half dozen other found objects. Likely has dots in a simple fighting style. Strong Back, and brawling dodge and weaponry dodge.  

Gear: He'll always have a pocketknife and a multi-tool on his person. He'll usually have wd-40 in a small spray bottle and gorilla tape on him or near to hand. His personal sidearm is a 44 Magnum usually tucked into the back of his pants, and yeah, he's got a permit and a concealed carry license (where applicable.) He's still in the habit of using a motorcycle chain as a belt, so he's got that to work with as well.


Home: The home he shared with Luanne is a far cry from some of the shithole places that the kids grew up in. It's a bit schizophrenic these days.  The places in the house that were uniquely Luanne's  (Her reading nook. The kitchen, the upstairs bathroom) Homer doesn't want to change at all. He may have it in the back of his mind that Luanne isn't really gone, and could come back at any time, and he wouldn't want her to be upset.  The rest of the house is running to seed a bit. Too many nights falling asleep on the couch with a beer in hand. Nodding off to ESPN. On occasion, Homer finds himself with a weekend with nothing to do, and on those occasions, he either works on projects out in the shed or cleans the house from top to bottom.


Circle: On the social side, he’s likely to have all sort of criminal allies and a dot or two of contacts to stay on top of what ATF is trying to do these days.  He’s got a few dots of social stuff so he can sniff out cops and feds who come nosing around.  It’s hard to get it past him if you know what I mean.


Story Uses:
“Well as a matter of fact. I do have this lovely little rig. Looks custom. Dude lost it in a card game. He was real upset about it.”
Any character who finds themselves delving into a shadowy world is going to need someone who can get them some serious ordinance. And Homer may be a lot of things, but incompetent is not one of them.  As long as you are white, or can pass for white, He’ll sell to you...And if you’re not, he’ll still sell to you, but you are going to pay out through the nose. Grandkids gotta go to college, you know?

“Oh sure. I know those dudes. I think I still got their number in the kitchen.”
Maybe your character is looking to make some connections among bikers or the KKK, or some of those Neo-Nazi dudes. If so, Homer could be your in with them.  Most of the people he knows like and/or respect him and his eldest boy is the shot caller for one of the MC’s in town. 

Connections:

Parker Mortuary and Black Creek Cemetery is where Luanne is buried. He sold that guy Trent a nice big pistol for home defense. Guy seemed nervous.
Officer Honus Brightwater is his nephew. A stand-up guy, for a fella in Law Enforcement. Seems to have a temper, though.
Once sold a 454 Linebaugh to Gilbert Savage of Holmes, Gillis, Baker, Savage, North and Dean. Which is odd considering that it is a HUGE handgun and has a crippling kick on it. That fellow couldn't be more than 130 soaking wet.
The Grimoire's Bear Houseman used to be a running buddy back in the day. Obviously, they've gone different directions in life, but you never know. Some of those bonds may still be in effect.

Saturday, April 25, 2015

Grofield Records Storage


(I wrote this up some years ago for a game, I suspect that this description will be useful for the current game I'm playing in. You can certainly use this for ANY abandoned warehouse you intend to use in a game of yours.

Desc: A largish concrete structure near the riverside area. The locks have been recently replaced and there are 3 loading bay doors on the backside of the building. The building has been tagged by the neighborhood grafitti artists, but even that has been haphazard and half-hearted. Some of the grafitti goes back to the 70's

Ownership: European Mafia types have a method for purchasing stocks in large diverse blocks called Omnibus accounts. This enables them opportunities to acquire controlling interests in various companies. Once a controlling interest has been acquired then usually dire things happen to the company in question. The current owner owns shares in a Omnibus shelf corporation.(based in switzerland) One of the 25 companies it owns has purchased a holding company of its own. ( in Des Moines, Iowa of all places.) That holding company owns Grofield Records storage and the paperwork necessary to trace it back to him/her/it/them, would take a crack team of forensic accountants 5 years and a case of pepto bismoll.

The first floor:
Entrance from the street is a pair of double doors with wired milk glass windows. The double doors open into a simple vestibule area with a pair of double doors on the other side. To the right is a simple reception area the size of a postage stamp. to the left is a narrow staircase that leads up to the actual office area on the second floor.

The second set of double doors opens into the warehouse proper. Long hanging fluorescent lights in various states of functionality provide the only illumination. The warehouse floor is a large open space once dominated by extremely large metal shelf units. All of those shelves are gone now. all the paper files they once housed dumped in the large dumpster out back. The back wall is dominated by 3 loading bay doors. (Only two currently work.) One has a drive ramp. Aside from the occasional mouse turd, The warehouse floor is clean. There is a large diesel forklift in the corner. It is currently not operational and the tires are flat anyway. 
The warehouse area itself is about 2 stories high as is the floor above this one.
to the left hand side there is a freight elevator. Right next to it is a bathroom and a water-cooler.

The Offices:
The Office area does not actually connect with the second floor of warehouse. It feature a small suite of small offices, a narrow open cubicle area, A middling sized office for the guy who runs the place. Most of the office furniture is old and decrepit. There is a small kitchen area with a single vending machine that hasn't been serviced in over 2 decades. Shockingly. The fridge still works just fine. The microwave and coffee maker however have gone home to jesus. The office area also has a small toilet area so that the office types don't have to go downstairs and share with the staff. 

The Basement:
The underground part of the building is only accessible via the freight elevator. It is not as extravagantly large as the rest of the place, it's ceiling is only about 8 feet high. But the central area of the warehouse is dominated by a series of iron cage cells that are set into the concrete floor and ceilings of the place. There are 6 cells in toto, used for security storage. each door has a shrouded combination lock. They aren't shim-able but you could conceivably open them if you had a stethoscope or heightened senses.(and a dot or two of Larceny)  
Needless to say, you could scream your lungs out down here and no one on the street would hear a thing.

Security:
There is a security system in place and working. All of the external door locks have been replaced and the front door have been re-enforced. The neighborhood has noticed that a new set of security lights have been installed with proximity sensors. The building still has an old school clangy bell security system that will go off if the doors are forced. and the sprinkler system still work pretty well. The building itself is manufactured almost entirely from re-bar and concrete slabs. As such, it is nearly fireproof. 

The Neighborhood:
Kind of unpleasant, since it's near riverside, a lot of the homes around are abandoned or just grimy and down at the heels. The neighborhood kids think the place is haunted. They don't even throw rocks at the windows. 

From the Diary of Emile Belasco (8)


I am finding that the information age is anything but.

Now this is not another screed about my hatred of the Internet. I've certainly trod that ground enough, but it does have something to do with informational culture. I am beginning to notice as the breadth of human understanding and experience broadens, doubles, triples, and generally expands as the ability to communicate increases; the ability to discern Truth begins to attenuate. You see, information must have provenance and validity to be true. In our world before the Internet, this was a natural state of affairs, but as the Internet and communicatory culture became widespread, an interesting thing happened. Information suddenly entered a seemingly quantum state, where there was so MUCH information, it began to seem as if each and every bit of information was equally valid, and since on the internet, provenance is hard to come by, all pieces of information seem equally true. One has to look only as far the nearest Internet forum to realize that no matter what is being discussed, no matter how heinous and obviously inimical to human life, there will be some pusillanimous pipsqueak who will stand up and loudly defend it as some sort of virtue. This alone has the unfortunate effect of making anyone without dogmatic zeal backing their own arguments seem weak and uncertain. Some even become weak and uncertain.

Take a look at it from another angle: We tend to believe things that are repeated to us. We encounter so much information in the course of our daily lives that if we hear something more than a few times unless we have solid countering evidence, we tend to believe. This even extends into the emotional realms. A good friend of mine and a protégé in the mystic arts recently underwent some rather distressing heartbreak. The cause? His lady-friend's friends took a dislike to him and as he told me that, while she isn't stupid or weak-minded, you can only hear "Girl! You need to kick that loser to the curb" before you start to believe it, true or not. 
      And truth dies a slow sickening death. One only has to look as far as the political landscape of this country to see that the basic understanding of things has completely eroded. People on all sides of the political and religious divide who distort and manipulate information for personal power and wealth do so by dint of standing up and loudly declaiming their "truth" to anyone too lazy or busy to form an opinion themselves. And, if you can do that with enough sheer bloody-mindedness and perseverance, you can, after a fashion, create your own reality.

Now, of course, this doesn't affect practical truth. One cannot simply shout down gravity nor blog-post thermodynamics into submission. But since almost all of my work pertains to abstract truth, I am justifiably concerned. There used to be an adage that the opposite of a great truth is not a great lie, but another great truth. I find that these days it's a great deal more complicated than that.

My mentor used to have a saying as well. He used to say; "There is no one great truth in the world. There are many little truths, spread across the depth and breadth of creation. A wise man collects truth as best as he can. But just as there is no one great truth, there is no one great lie. There are many little lies. A wise man does not collect lies. That's what we have governments for."

Ah well. Perhaps some day, Truth will return to its essential binary state. But you'll note the lack of me holding my breath.

Friday, April 24, 2015

The Borland Farm


This place is out in the sticks, you know, out where the busses don’t run.  It’s a little farmhouse, decent sized barn. Near the river. 

Patrick Borland inherited the place from his father, and over the course of years has turned the place into a real working farm with a decent amount of livestock and a decent amount of smart investing.  Which is good because all of his kids( 2 girls,2 boys) fucking hate working for their father on the pig farm. He hated it too, but never got the education he wanted. He wants them to have that opportunity, and to hate the farm so badly that they never come back.

Pat’s a fairly perceptive guy.

His wife Darlene keeps the kids from murdering their father, or murdering themselves, or murdering each other. Darlene has virtually no sense of smell, sleeps like a rock, and makes the best pork sausage in 3 states.  Sure, being married to a pig farmer isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be. But Patrick is a good man, and Darlene was always raised to believe that a woman is meant to submit to a man’s leadership. So Darlene feels like she did luck out to a degree, because Patrick's not a jerk..  She’s very active in her church, but not in your face about it or anything. Tends not to talk about sex or politics with any of the other mothers. Leans conservative on most issues, except gay marriage. Pat’s brother russell, is gay and in a loving committed relationship, so she’s decided that maybe Pastor Mike might not know every damn thing there is to know.  It happens like that sometimes.

So. By this point you might be thinking, “Dude. Why am I reading this at all?”

Well. As it happens, there is more going on than meets the eye. The Borland Farm is home to a size-able collection of sows and boars, and some years ago Pat managed to get some European stock at auction that has really done a number on the bloodlines of his stock. His European stock is made up Corsican razorbacks and while they’re a little aggressive at times, they seem to have added to the genetic diversity of the farm.

But what is not generally known, is that a couple of different entities have managed to talk those Corsicans, and a few of the other pigs into disposing bodies. Some breeds of pigs have the sort of jaw strength that can break up the long bones of a corpse.  A few of the Corsicans can consume an entire body in a couple of hours time.

Pigs are also pretty smart. Vampires with Animalism, Werewolves, and Magi who have talked with the pigs have discovered that the pigs are willing to do the eating as long as the disposer has stripped the corpse and divested it of metal or silicone. (Although the pigs would communicate this as “Not-Body” or “Not Meat”.)  In fact, some enterprising person/creature have placed an old metal drum with a top that has holes in it, so that clothing and other things can be burned.  This metal drum is in a tiny clear spot just past the tree-line, near the edge of the river, which causes the smoke to clear off quick.  There may still be all manner of un-destroyed evidence in that barrel. There is at least 1 pin from a bit of knee surgery which still has a legible serial number on it.

There are a couple of options here.
Option 1: Pat doesn’t know.
And you know, frankly that’s not a huge jump. The place is way out in the boonies, and most everybody is in bed by 11. The pigs are aloud to roam unless the weather is threatening, and all this unpleasantness is taking place at the very far edge of the property. One could say that a person has come to an arrangement with the piggies without Pat or any of his family being any the wiser. Sure. it’s a bit risky. Pat does own a shotgun and would not necessarily take kindly to these goings on.

But this IS the world of Darkness...
Option 2:  Pat is turning a blind eye.
Pat’s a decent guy, and it’s not like he’d ever be comfortable with body disposal especially if he had to be around when it was happening. But if someone made an approach, and was willing to make it worth Pat’s while, to the tune of some serious money for the college fund(s)...Well. Pat might be the enterprising soul who put that metal drum out there. And hey, as long as he doesn’t see it,  No one would be able to prove necessarily that he had a hand in it.  The things we do for our kids right?  And the pigs would be able to figure out that they were being let out on purpose for disposal duty. As I said, pigs are intelligent. More intelligent than most people give them credit for.

Story Uses:

“Well. This is awkward.”
It’s quite possible that more than one person has hit on this idea. It’s also quite possible that more than one person or group is paying off Pat Borland, but he’s not going to volunteer the information that others might be doing the same thing. (It’s too...Squickly)  And so it’s quite possible that someone might pull up only to discover someone else disposing a body. Common interests aside, this is not how you want to meet new people.

“They love me you know...”
It’s a well know fact that pigs blood is very very close genetically to human blood. In fact, many research institutions that study Serology use pigs blood for their drug trials. Which means that pigs blood is fairly close in taste for the peckish vampire. One might feed on a couple, and maybe even give them a little taste back. It ensures that the pigs know which side they’re on. Of course, it may make them a bit more aggressive...and that could be bad news if it involves a veterinarian, especially one who knows what to look for...

“I am Legion. For we are MANY.”
I can’t imagine that these activities aren’t going to get spirits involved at some point or other. Werewolves who come around might have to kill the whole herd, and might not care that the family knows nothing about what’s really going on.  But say that the werewolves DON’T show up. One might hear about a family of farmers devoured by their own livestock on live TV some night.  And now the herd is scattered to the wind... 

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Holmes, Gillis, Baker, Savage, North, and Dean


If you roll towards downtown, you know, down where the government buildings are kept… You'll notice that nearly every nook and cranny that isn't downtown shopping or a depressing courthouse or bank building, is some sort of law firm. Some are very cheap and hole-in-the-wall, others take up floors in the enormous office towers. One might have a difficult time swinging a dead cat without hitting, and subsequently being sued by, a downtown lawyer.

This firm is upscale, but in a low-key way. They have their own building and it's just slightly off that beaten track. One of those old 3 story affairs, painted white with vaguely victorian accents. Decent parking lot though and the cars parked in it are very nice indeed.

Lots of law firms spend a great deal of time and energy trying to get noticed, so that they get work. Holmes, Gillis, Baker, Savage, North, and Dean does not. In fact, getting noticed is almost antithetical to every thing they do. Work comes to them precisely because they make every effort to protect the anonymity of their clientel to the utmost.

The practice is largely corporate law with a nice dash of tax law mixed in for good measure. Entertainment law is far too public for this firm and there is a robust rolodex of competent, high dollar defense litigators that work can be farmed out to, should the need arise. 

Some years ago, a vampire, No, I won't say who, You'd know the name of course…A vampire sunk their hooks into the firm.  In doing so, they introduced the partners to a twilight world of vampires and even less savory creatures who occasionally needed legal advice and proxies for their never-ending, and…It should be mentioned, INCREDIBLY LUCRATIVE influence wars.

The vampire in question; No. I still won't say the name. Eventually went the way of all flesh.   And you'd have thought that the partners of the firm would have taken the money and run for cover, Or killed themselves, as ghouls often do.

But the fact is. A taste of vitae, and a taste of real power, had merely whet the edge of their hunger.  No longer impeded by their domitor's likes and dislikes, they threw their doors open wide to creatures needing legal help and willing to pay in money or…Other currency.

Every supernatural faction has things they need to do in regular real world. Buying and selling companies, Buying and selling properties, moving money around in large amounts, Paying taxes on that money so that the government doesn't poke their nose in, seeing to it that the transition of money and power is orderly if someone should happen to die. Suing the living shit out of people.  Heck, sometimes its even down to cutting and mailing checks to cover the rent on a dozen bolt-holes all over the city.  

Meet the partners:

Roderick Holmes
Roderick Holmes is one of those men who looks like his tie has soup-stains on it, even when he is spotlessly clean.  He's balding, flabby, fish-belly pale, suffering from occasional outbreaks of tension-related eczema, and his dress sense is appalling. You'd think he was a vacuum cleaner salesman.
    He also possesses a 185 IQ. He is one of the most terrifyingly intelligent lawyers in corporate law practice today.  His firm makes money hand over fist. and he has a gorgeous wife, who loves him.
Oh sure, Marguerite does play around a bit on the side, But Roderick knows all about it and doesn't mind terribly. He's pragmatic that way.
    Roderick Holmes is a brilliant man. He knows that often the practice of law with creatures that stand outside the law or above it, can be much like having a tiger by the tail.  But frankly, there's nothing that provides the necessary mental stimulation like building and maintaining this firm.  While each of the various partners have some vice that they've entangled themselves in, Roderick kids himself that he's above all of that.
   He's not. Roderick is a power and influence junkie. His collection of materials for leveraging things, and his resources to make things happen is becoming quite formidable.  More than one vampire has attempted to bring the firm fully back under the sway of a single domitor, only to find themselves stymied by Holmes and his influence, Influence that reaches into the realms of Hunters.  Holmes has, on more than one occasion, put mil-spec weaponry and gobs of cash into the hands of hunter groups, for the purposes of jacking up a vampire or two who've become obstreperous. 
    Roderick lives for the deal. As long as the deal benefits the firm, and him personally.  Roderick has been to more than a few parties at The Vermillion House.

Cullen Gillis
Cullen and Roderick were room-mates in law school. Cullen's not nearly as dizzyingly smart as Roderick, but he's certainly no fool. Never as dedicated a student as Roderick, Cullen was used to coasting on his eidetic memory. But Roderick understood just how valuable a tool that could be, and one evening proposed the idea of starting a firm together.
   It was Cullen who was originally dragged into the clutches of THAT vampire.  That event changed something in the way he thought about the world and indeed it lead to big changes in his life. Never the most dedicated student, Cullen dove headlong into learning everything he could about the occult world. His office is a treasure trove of grimoires and tomes. Most of which he's committed to memory.
    While Cullen has largely foregone the practice of human law, (He's still licensed). He has made himself into an expert on supernatural jurisprudence and has earned himself a reputation as an arbitrator for various supernatural factions.
   Additionally,  He's turned some effort to warding and creating protective talismans for his fellow counselors. He's been under the thumb of a creature of the night. He also knows exactly how easy it is for them to get their hooks into the people around you. He remembers very very well what vitae tastes like.
   Personally, he'd like to forget all about this stuff. Disappear somewhere and never think about the twilight world again.   But the money's too good and some of the vampire clients are…grateful.
Cullen is a stocky black man in his mid forties with sharp eyes and a serious mien.
When he and Roderick get to drinking they revert to their old habit of telling one another racist jokes, a fact that is a bit off-putting to the other partners. Cullen is seeing a female hedge wizard he met online. They're actually pretty great together.

Illyana Baker
Yana Baker is 6'7". She's solidly built and will absolutely destroy you at squash any day of the week and twice on sunday. She's type "A" all the way, and makes no bones about it. She was the youngest person to ever make partner in the firm and she never misses an opportunity to mention this to the interns and associates. She has a kind of frosty remote glamour that one can find readily on the pages of magazines, but rarely in real life. She is, to put it mildly, a juridical shark and a heavyweight litigator. She is often the go-to choice for closing arguments unless Holmes is planning some twist. The slight tinge of Russian accent crossed with a rolling classical oratorical style is a potent combination. She's good at what she does.  Her own pride would accept nothing less. Cops fucking loathe her and get scarce when she comes to bail out a client on retainer. 
With Yana, it's all about the money. She likes her nice things. She enjoys the doors that her firm and her expertise open for her. She even enjoys the attentions of a few supernatural lovers of various types.(and sexes). But at the end of the day, there is a running ledger in her beautiful head. The second her firm stops being profitable, she'll be gone so fast it will make your ears pop.
   Occasionally, Illyana wonders if that's all there is to her. Is she really that cold blooded?  Is this really how she is? Deep down?
    Most of the people who know Illyana Baker, don't think she has a "Deep down".

Gilbert Savage
You could almost say that Gilbert was born for this kind of work. He's part Demon.  He seems to have a natural talent for contract law and drafting the sort of contracts that even experienced supernatural creatures have to look at twice, maybe even three times. There's nothing really supernatural about it. Gilbert just knows that there are rules. And if you follow the rules, then everything will be okay. 
   Sure, the money is nice. Sure, this particular business allows you all manner of opportunities for exotic drugs, upscale parties, depraved sex, and all manner of debauchery. And Gilbert tucks into all of that with a certain amount of gusto, but when you get right down to it, Gilbert really truly gets his best buzz from doing his work and doing it well. Contracts and contract law is the water he swims in.
 You wouldn't look twice at Gilbert Savage if you met him on the street. He's fairly slight. wears glasses. grows a hipster beard in november.(graying now.) and isn't anyone's idea of sexy or dangerous.  However, once he's got his clothes off, you can see his musculature is fairly wiry and corded and his tattoos…Anything that clothing normally covers is seemingly covered in Enochian script and alchemical symbols. Out of mild curiosity, Illyana had sex with him once and asked him about them. he simply smiled and said, "There are rules…It pays to follow them."

Victoria North
But for the occasional bit of plastic surgery and the occasional infusion of kindred blood, You'd never guess that Vicky is pushing 65. She does yoga and works at a stand up desk and is in fine shape. Vicky bought into the partnership during the point where the firm had been "Acquired" by that vampire person. But after that VP had gotten ashed. she decided to stay on, and the firm was happy to have her.  She may not be the best tax lawyer that money can buy, but she IS one of the most connected, and well respected.  Her advice has saved the supernatural community MILLIONS and she's a bit of a rainmaker in the spring months during tax season.
   If there is anything that is pressing to her at the moment, it is, that she's staring down the barrel of incipient old age. She's kept it together for a while now, but she's starting to worry that she's getting forgetful.  She's been pestering Cullen for any kind of material he can find on immortality and she finds herself looking very intently at the vampire customers and the occasional Magi.  Cullen gave her a book with a ritual in it that involves bathing in the blood of a human being to wipe away the encroaching years.  She wonders on long nights whether she could do it.  Could she get Cullen to help her?  This has gone from idle speculation to buying supplies in cash in far away towns.

Alejandro Dean
Alejandro is never going to be anyone's idea of "The Best Lawyer" He was a "C" student at best, didn't go to a prestigious school, likely, will never be a judge. Took three tries to pass the bar. But for all that, the firm would be utterly lost without Alejandro Dean and each of the partners know it.  Most of the lawyers in the firm know the law. Alejandro knows people. and he keeps the office running like a well oiled machine.  He's the one who interviews the associates and the interns.  He's the one makes sure accounting cuts the checks in a timely manner. He's the one who manages the bribes and baksheesh necessary to run this sort of business. He's the one that starts cursing in Spanish when meetings bog down. He's the guy with the robust rolodex and the small herd of C.P.A's and private detectives that think he's Jesus-Christo-almighty-i-shit-you-not.   Alejandro gets it done.  

All he ever wanted was a little respect from his colleagues. But it never really seemed to materialize.
    Which is why it's going to be such a shock to everyone's system when they realize he's been embezzling for years. One night, he's just going to disappear. The only question will be whether he'll have a head start with a fat load of bearer bonds, or whether he'll be in an oil drum at the bottom of a lake.
     Alejandro is a mixed race caucasian/latino male with relatively thin frame. He's greying at the temples and looks pretty decent for his early 40's.  He can salsa dance and has taken a run at Vicky North. They had a good time in bed but it got weird for some reason and now there is just a lot of hallway awkwardness. 



Monday, April 20, 2015

From the correspondence of Dr. Piotr Korolev


Dear Stephen: 
No.
Not only no, but damn you for even asking. 
I know the way that governments work and I know my protestations will fall on deaf ears, but if you or your friends at the DIA have any sense at all you will leave all that madness behind you. I don't know what the theory-du-jour is. I am sure I don't care. Whether magic is some form weak electromagnetic force, or it's some kind of natural nano-tech or whatever the engineers say...I will have no part in the work, and if you value your health and sanity you will abandon it yourself.

Thirty years ago, I was part of a similar experiment for the KGB. Both Sanderson and Rupesh know about it. We've talked about it. But, what they don't know is how it all ended. 

It ended in fire. 

There is a whole lobe whose functions we only poorly understand, and with the limited technology we had available, we were well on our way to finding drugs that could enhance neural connectivity. We tested sensitives and a few charlatans as a control group and we found the drug trials well on the way to helping a number of the test subjects. Some gained conscious control over their powers for the first time in their lives.

But, as I stressed time and time again in the official reports, most of the people we tested would not have been subjects for any kind of military applications. Most of them were frail individuals when we brought them on, and if there was magic in them, it tended to express itself peacefully and creatively. These were not the weapons the Politburo was hoping for. Someone at the Politburo felt differently, and the entire experiment was turned over to the military. In a way, I was lucky. I was on holiday on the weekend that the trucks rolled up to the facility. I'm sure my strident voice made me the sort of person who they wanted out of the way when this occurred.

What they didn't understand, what they NEVER understood, was that the mind is like a house, an attic for long term memories and senses, a yard with millions of tiny blades of living grass, a living room where all the thinking and feeling is done, and so on and so forth. But they failed to remember that the house is built on the foundation of the more primitive brain we evolved up from. The basement of the house was that R-Complex. That lizard brain that gives us the fight or flight response, the MOST powerful emotional response in the mind. Utter rage or utter terror...and what those fools found out is that the R-complex, being pre-rational will use ANY resource it has. It is the home of superhuman feats of strength on the part of mothers saving their children from being crushed. It is also the home of the fiendish strength of madmen.

The fools, they tried to scare twenty-one sensitives into compliance, sensitives we had enhanced and trained beyond any capability they had ever seen, and that we...rightfully...were scared to report.

They all died, Stephen. Every single one of them. The children. The hospital workers. My entire staff. Every single one of the soldiers. The entire facility burned to the ground. A friend wrote me three weeks ago and he tells me that grass and trees still won't grow on the hill. Most people nowadays think the place was a secret nuclear facility, or that it was haunted...Or both.

I beg of you, do not proceed.
Yours, Piotr

From the Diary of Emile Belasco (7)


When you begin your journey on the path, you must start to trust your intuition. To many people, this is an unusual state of affairs. We are taught to trust our sense but only in a certain way. And, when you ignore the other information your mind gathers you end up suffering.

You see, you gather more information than you think. Your mind can only sift so much of it at a time so much of it sticks in your subconscious mind. As a result, you often know things without "knowing" them. You might conceive of an instant hatred for someone without realizing that the reason why is that he slightly resembles your Uncle Morris, who was something of an asshole. Maybe a smell sets in motion an uncomfortable set of associations. The sense of smell is often the one most associated with memory.

But when it comes to power, you need to pay attention to these slight urges and nudges your mind is giving you. You must learn to pay attention to your gut.
I can, however, give you a tip that will help you. Go to a church, or a theater or some other communal gathering place, especially one where the architecture tends towards the artistic. Smell the air, feel the charge in such a place when it is empty. Feel it on your skin. Feel it in the hairs in your nose. Feel it in the soles of your feet pulling the energy up out of the earth. The building resonates with it. Often churches and some other places follow certain principles of sacred geometry, whether by design or by accident. They are designed to shape the energy. Learn that feeling, know it, feel it in your bones, like bad weather on the way. Once you've known it, you can sense it anywhere. Pay attention to where that sense seems to come from, and when it tells you that something isn't good or right. Pay ATTENTION to it. Pay attention to that feeling in the pit of your stomach. It may save your life or your soul.

Path Notes from the edge of Forever (6)


Something is happening to me. I don't know what it is. It's like there is a low level hum in the back of my head. I wake from sleep more tired than when I went to rest and I sweat copiously in my sleep. I wake sodden.

I get up. I eat something, I relieve myself of testicular weight, an act I take no joy in any longer. I check my mail, I log onto my forums. I argue but without real passion or desire. I might watch the news. It's like I'm waiting for a message.
They found the rest of the secretary. Idiot police. I outscore them on IQ tests by at least two (2) digits. The crimes are incidental to my real work...

My real work is progressing nicely. My entire left arm and a portion of my torso now have proper markings... I can feel the power moving under my flesh. I sleep...once every six (6) hours, and I maybe sleep for a total of an hour or so. I feel clear in a way that I have never done before.

I haven't been to work in fourteen (14) days. The landlord came around to read me the riot act but he saw my markings and they struck fear into his pasty callow heart. I haven't left the apartment except to get my snail mail and take out the trash...and I haven't done that in... Some days.

Nancy called...I was shocked, I admit. But even though her silky voice on the phone beckoned me, I couldn't stop now. I shouted at her! I couldn't stop. It was as if I wasn't even driving.

I walked around in the living room trying to ground the power that rose up in me. I touched a bookcase and it broke into pieces.

Someone called the police. They came to the door and spoke to me. I let them see a little of my inner light through my half lidded stare and they went away shaken.
When last I took my rest, I saw a pair of silver eyes regarding me. I felt a rush...A connection being thrown.

It's only a matter of time now. Only a matter of time.

Monday, April 6, 2015

The Vermillion House


There is a 50 acre patch out past the fringes of town. Clean, well manicured and surrounded by a forbidding stone fence.  Sitting square at the center of a fairly tortuous forrest is a very large white manor house. Parking is around the back on the other side of the enormous pool.

The House is owned “on paper” by the Wellsley-Barrington Investment group. But everyone who knows anything knows that the real owners of the House is the Van Doren family.  

The House, which sits on their ancestral land, is a temple and a retreat from the ravages of modern life. Great Grandfather dedicated this place to his love of the epicurean philosophy. And each month, a fete is held for the richest and most powerful old money families. Where one can sample the finest cuisine, partake of potent potables, have access to exotic chemical entertainments, and in certain parts of the house, indulge in the most depraved acts of sexual theater known to man.

And if that were all that was going on. Who would care really?  So what. Big deal. you’ve got yourself an “Eyes Wide Shut” cult of your very own.

But that’s NOT all that is going on.

Most of the members don’t actually even know. Many are vetted over a long period of time to see what their attitudes are. Some are tested, but a lot of that has gone by the way-side in the face of a fairly robust predictive model that can psychologically profile the membership based on several indices and a writing sample or two.

But once, one is “Raised to the Purple” (I.E. Allowed to wear a purple robe and the Vermillion Mask) one becomes a member of the House’s inner circle and the power that goes along with that accolade is staggering.

The Vermillion House was originally a cult that grew into a potent occult group in it’s own right. But if spells and rituals were all that was going on...Yeah. Again. Big deal. So you’re sex fiends and you dig satanism. So what?

Well it’s like this. Once a quarter, The Vermillion House hosts a meeting of the Inner Circle, where business is talked, and votes are taken.  And then, at a ceremonial dinner, they eat the flesh of a human being.

The operation that allows this to happen is a very well oiled and compartmentalized machine.  The people who snatch the target, don’t necessarily know that the target is going to be killed. They are handsomely paid.  The people who torture and murder the target for the cameras. Aren’t told how the body is disposed of. They are handsomely paid. The crew that butchers the body are only told that it must be butchered in a certain way in order to prevent it’s identification. They are handsomely paid. And when the meat is delivered to the Vermiliion house. It is not delivered to the upstairs kitchen. It is delivered to the downstairs kitchen, where some member of the Inner Circle sees to it’s proper disposition. For many years now, Lennox Van Doren has worked his culinary genius for this ceremonial ritual. and it has paid him in many many ways.

What do they get out of it?  That is largely up to you. One could posit the idea of a very high-lineage family of CoC Mythos ghouls, stealing thoughts and experiences from the flesh of the people they eat.  One could posit rejuvenative qualities from the ritual meal itself. Certainly, no one has succumbed to Prion sickness.

But for the most part, the real reason that the Inner Circle does what they do, is because they are so rich and powerful...

They can. And no one can stop them really.

Story Uses:
*Following the thread of a missing loved one might lead to the front foyer of hell on earth. Perhaps you’r character lost someone and has finally managed to trace them back to this accursed place, only to discover that the House has judges, legislators, and some of the most powerful people in your chronicle city playing along.  Most of them don’t know anything about the cannibalism and will simply move heaven and earth in order to protect their good time. Good luck crawling out from the million ton shit-hammer that is about to come down on you.

*Every few years or so, some lackwit on the Inner Council gets the bright idea to suggest that they hunt humans for sport on House grounds. Cooler heads almost always prevail. “I mean, what if they got away or harmed someone of quality? Think of the scandal!”   But you know, it’s just possible that a party crasher might find out that exceptions can be made.

* While it’s certainly a tempting fruit for some enterprising supernatural creature to pick, The Vermillion House has always made it clear that it will run it’s own affairs thank you very much.  It often invites supernatural creatures to come round to one of the big parties and treats them like visiting royalty.  But at some point, it’s usually made VERY clear to them, that the Inner Circle calls the shots here. The Inner Circle is mystically potent enough to defend the House against anything short of an Exarch invasion. and the raw amount of influence that it can throw at a target is enough to make most vampires curl up in a fetal ball and make high pitched keening noises.  And you know, there are some horrors in the World of Darkness that ought to stay uniquely human.

* Okay. So maybe, you find out what’s going on. And maybe you disapprove.  And maybe, you actually have the balls to try to do something about it.  I don’t know what sort of iron-clad proof you’d have to provide in order to get the newspapers to listen to you, and I don’t know what sort of documents you’d have to wave in open court.  But lets say for a moment you fought this fight, uphill battle the whole way, and somehow, against all odds or hope, managed to shut all this down...
    The aftermath of this undertaking would be a serious stain on the fabric of your hometown for decades. Never mind the dozens of captains of industry who would go to jail behind this or commit suicide in the face of this, but the whole business would economically depress the whole place in a manner you cannot possibly fathom right now.
   Yeah, it’s like ripping a poisoned heart out of a person who needs that heart to pump their blood.  

Directorate Archives


(Decrypted and translated from Russian)
The newest batch of test subjects arrived today. Illya saw them to their rooms in the dorm and got them squared away and we'll start with them after lunch. First, they'll receive a complete physical and then, over the next few days, an extensive set of mental tests and psychological profiling. Some will have problems. Each time a new set is brought in, there are at least a few who are so unhealthy that the regimented meals and daily exercise are the first time in their lives where they have an opportunity to get healthy. Some make it through the program, like Sergei the year before. But most don't. Dr. Korolev has a theory that since the talented tap into sections of the brain that aren't normally used, they may deplete their bodies of certain types of vitamins and minerals in ways that other people do not. It would explain why they historically have always had a tendency towards poor health.
Talented people often break the rules in many ways. A statistically significant number of them are left-handed. I too am left-handed and Sascha ribs me about it mercilessly. But Sascha tested me personally and found that I was about as psychic as a rock.
The profiling work is going to keep me busy for a number of days. The children are always harder to draw out. They are almost always terrified. And since they are often smart as well, their imaginations are working overtime. The elders are less scared but are almost always cagier. In the bargain, they oftentimes have ingrained pathologies that can't be removed. There is at least one man from the Ukraine in this batch who seems to have phobic reactions to being touched. Granted the file says that he has psychometric powers that may be unscalable, but the screaming and convulsions may prevent him from finishing the program, or even starting it. Which is a shame. I like Pavel. For a man with that much pain in his life, he has a dry, dry sense of humor. He and I shared a foul tasting cigarette and talked about how the local police had press-ganged him into service once they'd found what he could do. Originally he'd volunteered, but as the crimes he was asked to look into got fouler and fouler, he was unable to extricate himself from the service. The police weren't about to let him go until they saw our papers, and then got on the phone to yell at the bastards in Kiev who were about to throw them back onto traditional police work. I think if they'd had the chance they would have pissed in our coffee as we waited.
Dr. Korolev thinks that the method by which the talented tap into their internal resources is one that all people can learn. He think that there may be some form of subtle body energy that the mind can manipulate, and his work is directed towards locating and understanding this energy source. I remain skeptical as to whether it can be a learned skill. When speaking with most of our test subjects, most of them are ignorant of how or why they seem to be able to do what they can do. Most of the real subjects just do it, and have been able to in some way or other since birth. This can be especially bad for pyrokinetics.
Naturally, Kolya will be watching them in the intermediate trials. Kolya and the Doctor have a running bet over how many of the test subjects will be fakers. Some people hear about the project or have friends in the government... They want to make a little money and do as little work as possible, and they are smart enough or sly enough to realize that they'll never be comfortable working in the boot factory outside of Smolensk. Kolya handles the cameras and the test equipment and plays the role of being dumb, but Kolya was a stage magician for a number of years. It's why we brought him in.

The fakers are lucky. We bounce them without prejudice. There's no question as to whether they will have to be liquidated.
Tomorrow there will be fresh fruit with breakfast and, while I am dreading the next few months to come, I am at least looking forward to that.