1.3.b Reverb

•April 14, 2009 • Leave a Comment
“The first card is your significator,” Ci started and flipped over the first card.  Even without using her Auspex fueled senses, she could smell the cryptic perfume that the cards carried.  They did not smell every time, and it seemed like the more she could smell the cards, the better the divination.  Ci wondered if Matt could smell the warm aroma of frankincense and flowers that was trying to block out the beer and the noise.  She was pretty sure his human nose could not pick up the afterbite of ash.
“The King of Wands.  He is where you start.  A decisive and passionate man.  You make decisions and stick to them.  This is your foundation.” 
(Does he get interested? 50/50. Exceptional yes.)
 Matt stopped drinking mid-sip, and stared at Ci.  She watched his aura for any shifts, and it went from muddy brown to a shock gold.  Ci knew he was going to believe whatever the cards said.
“The next card is the Light card,” Ci continued more softly so that he would have to concentrate. “It’s the effect that the universe has on you, which is Justice.  The world seems to give you a feeling of objectivity, maybe even responsibility.”
“You analyze what you see before,” and then she pointed back to the King of Wands, “and make decisions.”  Ci emphasized the last word in a way that made it sound good.  With mortals, the best bet was to flatter them in the beginning and then tell the truth.
“After that we get the Dark card, which is how you affect the universe.  In your case it’s the Queen of Coins, which means you share your wealth.  So, it seems like you take things in, reap the benefits because of your clear-thinking decisions, and then share what you have reaped.  Seems like you have no reason to be bitter here.”  Ci took the gamble, while placing the card down to start a pyramid.  The next card would start the third row. 
(NPC binary response: relationship – neutral, mood – sociable = very affirmative.)
 “It’s just that Richard…” Matt started to explain the exact reason he was not partying, but Ci stopped him.
“Let the cards have their turn,” she smoothed out the abrupt interruption, “then… with the Creator card we have The Devil, which I think means that you have a decision to make regarding some of your possessions.  Or, maybe a belief.  Something is stopping you from moving forward, and whatever is in the way is pretty ingrained in you.”
“The Sustainer Card is Temperance.  This is the best spot for Temperance because it means you are mostly in balance.  You shouldn’t change your core, which might help you decide whatever else is affecting you,”  Ci continued with the Tarot reading, while resting the side of her hand on the Devil card.  Matt took notice.
“The last card in this row is The Tower in the Destroyer spot.  The old decisions you should leave behind are ones of ruin or maybe even,” she stopped to look at him for effect, “epiphanies.  Either way, what’s done is done, and the Cards are telling you to stop trying to decide if you made the right decision because you already decided.”  Matt’s eyes returned to the King of Wands at the top of the three-tiered pyramid.
“The next row are the element cards: Fire, Air, Water, and Earth. They are the King of Cups, the Seven of Coins, the King of Swords, and the Three of Cups.  The King of Swords fortifies the King of Wands. Your decisive, passionate reasoning is based on objectivity and intellect.”
Ci was interrupted by a drunk man that slammed his empty beer mug on the table.
“Richard,” Matt announced the interruption before returning to his own beer, his eyes now safely away from the cards.
“What is this, Matt?” Richard said with the surety of alcohol behind is accusation, “You need magic cards to make you happy?  Here let me tell you what they say.”  Richard pretends to lean over the table and stroke a beard that doesn’t exist.
“This guy says you are a pussy for not coming with us.  This angel thing says you are stupid for not coming with us.  And, this tower thingy is where you hole up to hide because you aren’t on your ship.”
Matt looks at Ci, trying to figure out if he should do something.  Ci shrugs in response.  However, the lackey who was at Matt’s table before comes over and hauls Richard away before he does something stupid.  Like touch the cards.
“I think the cards speak truly,” Ci begins again pretending there was no pause in her reading, “It is interesting that you have three of the four Kings, but you have the Queen of Coins instead of the King.  The Queen of Coins shares her wealth, but the King of Coins gains power through that wealth.  I think the King of Coins, even though it was not drawn, might be the Card speaking the loudest.  You are powerless to change things with all that you own, or at least you think you are.”
Matt got up out of the booth right after her pronouncement.  He pretended that Ci and her cards no longer existed, and she knew that the moment between them had gone.  For many Moirai it was like this: food or movement.  In this case, she had this feeling that Matt would cause ripples in the Tapestry.  The Seers might even take notice.  He was out the door before she had her cards back in her pocket (and she was very swift).
She spent the rest of the night at the bar waiting for one of the joy-filled lackeys to wander outside for a fresh smoke, puke, or a piss.  It was all but inevitable.  
(Feeding: Manipulation+Empathy+2 (Rack) = Failure.)
 And, yet it seemed like there was no good chance to help one of the drunken guys get rid of some excess fluid without another being present.  Tomorrow night would be okay.  She was only starting to get hungry. 
(End Scene.  New NPCs: Richard, Matt.  Chaos 6, everything was mostly safe.)
 (Notes: Even with a cut scene, I will visit Richard and Matt’s story later on.  This is one of the great things about Mythic GME.  You can peer beyond.  Anyway, for the Tarot, I actually rolled up the cards in random order. 1-78 was a card, 79-00 was a reroll.  I used the wikipedia for help, and the scene turned out pretty well.  Apologies to those that know how to do Tarot.  I should mention that when Ci really wants to divine something, she uses Hauspicy, which I won’t explain right now.)

1.3.a Reverb

•April 13, 2009 • Leave a Comment

Chapter 1, Scene 3.a (Ci)

(Ci’s Stats 4/4 Willpower, 7/11 Vitae, full health)
(Scene Setup (Chaos 5): Ci goes to the Rack in order to get information for the Prince and/or Moirai and possibly blood.  Modifier 8.  No change.)
 Ci paid for the cab, with a decent tip, when the cabbie dropped her off at one of Brooklyn’s Racks, Smith Street.  Smith Street was usually full of nightlife and vampire meals, and the Prince’s protection well encompassed the surrounding neighborhoods of Park Slope, where Garaile resided.  Smith Street was practically the Rack next door.  Though, it was a distance away from Bath Beach, where Ci’s pisspoor Haven stood.
There was always room for her at the most crowded bars on Smith Street.  Unlike many of the girls entering the bars, Ci was not wearing the latest copycat fashions.  Her clothes were edgy.  She belonged more in a biker bar than a New York yuppie crawl, and Ci thought the bouncers appreciated that.  Or, maybe she was just someone the bouncers didn’t want to fuck with.  It rarely mattered. 
(Right now I don’t have enough context for information, etc. so I am just going to roll a random event and see what happens.  Release possessions.  And the lucky person is an untrained fortune-hunter who takes servitude, detects ghosts, and deters technology.  The first thing that popped to mind was a shipwreck searcher, and it is thus.  If I need to roll him up he will have the merit Unseen Sense with a bonus to drowned dead or ghost detection or something.  He refuses to use all the latest imaging tech that other searchers are using, and makes a point of it all the time.  Richard Stucco.)
 Ci, however, was not used to the scene before her when she entered one of the larger bars on Smith Street.  Instead of loosely flocked people standing and sitting around in clumps, the whole bar was focused on one man standing on top of the bar.  He was awkardly talking to the people below him, and his rough cut jeans and a blue-collar work jacket made him stand out more in the chic-dressed bar crowd. She focused her attention on him for a few seconds. 
(Aura Perception 7-3 (Richard’s composure) = no success.)
 The man’s colors were muddled with the crowd gathered around his feet giving off too much of their own energy.  Otherwise, he looked like he had just won the lottery.  A few of the more ruggedly dressed men in the crowd seemed to be toasting him.  Ci leaned against a column in the middle of the room, away from the bar, to watch the proceedings for awhile. 
(Are there other vampire’s in the bar? Unlikely. No.)
 After a couple minutes scanning the bar for Kindred (and others), Ci decided it was time to hunt.  Just then, a few men joined the other on top of the bar and started singing what sounded like a sea chanty.  The song ended, and cheers erupted.  The toasts seemed to focus on “Richard.”  The man, who was on the bar when Ci entered, threw a wad of cash at the bartender.  The crowd cheered, and more toasts were made as the bartender went in to free-drinks-for-all mode.
Ci thought that the hunt tonight would be really easy or really hard.  One of “Richard’s” lackeys would be good targets, but then she would have to find a way to peel the guy away from the crowd.  She gave the bar another once over to see if there were anybody on the fringes. 
(Is there a shipmate not joining in? 50/50.  No.  Is there a person not joining in? Somewhat likely. Yes.  Is this person alone?  Likely. No.)
 Ci turned to eye a booth where a nicely dressed man was glumly nursing a beer.  It seemed that one of the lackeys was trying to get him to join the others at the bar. 
(Create glum man.  Lethargic superior who depresses family, joins purity, and abduct knowledge.  Matt O’Connor.  Matt was the captain of the search and rescue vessel, Sharon, which was hired by Richard over a year ago.  They “stumbled” upon a sunken slave vessel, which back then was on its way back to Africa, off the southeast coast of the U.S., and finders-keepers, the whole crew became rich.  They went back out one more time, found another trading vessel, and became richer.  Then Matt found out about Richard’s power, and washed his hands of the whole thing…. except that by then Richard had contracted Matt’s boat for years ahead.  Matt put his first mate in charge, and stayed home.  At home he was about as delightful as a man on death row.  His ship was his life.)
 (Aura Perception 7-2 (Matt’s composure) = one success.)
 The lackey finally shrugged and headed back to the party.  Ci decided to make her move.  The man’s aura was stark brown, but Ci thought she could at least use his bitterness to get him away from the Herd.  A quick snack was all she wanted.  She sat down at the table across from him and glanced at the wedding ring he was flicking with his thumb on his left hand.  Ci just stared across the table at him, while he stared back solemnly.  He broke the silence by sipping his beer and breaking eye contact.
“I’m the wrong person to get a drink from,” he began, nodding towards the noisy crowd, “the booze is overflowing over there.”
“It’s not as noise over here,” Ci replied.  She hated this part, and wished like a Daeva or Ventrue she could just make blood call to blood.  Instead she had to flirt.  Danel said she flirted like she wanted to “fight and fuck.”  She was working on that.
“Suit yourself.”
“Mine name’s Ci,” she said extending her hand across the wooden threshold.
He looked at it like it might not be what it seemed before responding with a return handshake.  “Matt O’Connor.”
She thought about asking him why he was over here when Matt clearly knew about the party.  Ci did have one trick up her sleeve, and it might be a welcome distraction from the people he was bitter against.
“Want your fortune read?”  Ci broke the silence that had built up again by pulling a small stack of tarot cards out of nowhere.
“Neat trick,” was all that Matt replied.  He didn’t say “no,” so Ci started shuffling.  She asked him to cut the deck.
“How much?” Matt said staring at the deck like he did with her extended hand.
“Absolutely, nothing.”
“There’s always something,” he chuckled, meanly, while cutting the deck towards her.
She correctly picked up the shuffled tarot deck, and flipped over the first card towards Matt.

1.2 Tiny Vibrations

•April 8, 2009 • 1 Comment

Chapter 1, Scene 2 (Ci)

(Ci’s Stats 4/4 Willpower, 7/11 Vitae, full health) 
(Scene setup (Chaos 6): Ci goes to the Rack in order to get information and possibly blood.  Modifier 2. Interrupt Scene. Inform Pleasures.)
 As she was on her way out through the brownstone’s kitchen she heard a grunt come from the pantry.  It was Danel.  The man communicated in grunts about half the time.  Very non-committal grunts.  She turned around to face him and let the screen door close behind her.
“I saw your handiwork from last night,” Danel told Ci while taking the lid off a can of Chock Full o’Nuts coffee.  He sniffed it once and gave the slightest grunt of approval.  “Garaile, he give him a new shirt.  Not that it do much good, eh Ci.”
After a second a smile streaked across Ci’s face.  His Basque accent, somewhere between romantic Frenchie and farmboy Spaniard, forced her to mentally deconstructs sentences to understand him in basic English.  He was now sniffing the empty coffee pot, but Ci thought with the coffee can still open in the crook of his arm, there wouldn’t be much else to smell.
 (Create Danel.  Known facts: Basque gangster.  Securty for Prince of Brooklyn.  Looks like Jean Reno and a bear.  Friendly towards Ci.  Hopeless judge who reviews harmony, achieves deprivation, and promotes the downtrodden.)
 “Is between you and me, but I think Simonson’s not so guilty.  And, word on the street is that the Lancea over there,” Danel stopped scooping coffee for a nod out the dark window, “are not so happy with the situation.  I guess he was supposed to meet one of the holy last night.”
“Why would Garaile not tell me?”  Ci asked, and got an immediate grunt in reply.  They listened to the coffee percolate for a minute, then Danel finally broke the comfortable silence.
“That is not a question for mere mortals like me, Ci.  But, I would not go making my way into Queens for a time.  You are known enough in New York, I think.  Simonson’s disappearance caused quite a stir.”
When Danel finished the talk, he looked at the spoon he was holding and gave another grunt.  Ci thought amusement.
 (Is Danel in the Moirai? Very unlikely. Yes.)
 The Basque sipped black coffee, and spoke into the cup in a mere whisper.  Ci focused her hearing, and the words were as clear as if whispered straight into her ear.
“They are pleased.”
 (End scene. Update NPC: Danel.  Chaos 5, Danel being in the Moirai was pretty huge.)
 (Notes:  One of the central themes of Ci’s story is going to be her actions on fate.  My goal is to have the story be very Moirai based (a shadow cult that outside vampires are not even aware of), and her actions are nearly those of the Watchmaker.  In this case she was informed that she caused something.  Enough of a something that the Moirai working the Tapestry (intertwined fates) would notice, and in this case want.  She and Danel are really low on the totem pole for Moirai, but I am thinking that with the New York shakeup a lot of Moirai movers were “sacrificed.”  We will see where this goes.)

1.1 Fresh

•April 6, 2009 • Leave a Comment

Chapter 1, Scene 1 (Ci)

(Ci’s Stats 4/4 willpower, 7/11 vitae, full health)
(Scene  Setup (Chaos 6): Ci goes to Simonson’s hearing before the Prince the next night.  Modifier = 1, altered scene. Is the Prince making Simonson stay in holding awhile? Likely.  Yes.)

Ci knew that the Prince was expecting her tonight at his haven.  It was an odd thing, the difference in havens.  Hers was a rudimentarily secured storage locker in the boiler room of an apartment building.  His was a heavily secured brownstone in the Park Slope neighborhood.  A French family took care of the property and security.  Her favorite was Danel, a man that looked like the combination of Jean Reno and a bear.

Ci went in back from the alleyway and saw two of the security smoking on the back porch with hands relaxed on their automatic weapons.  They knew her, and she knew them.  That was enough.  The caretaker of the property made her wait though as he went to announce Ci’s arrival to the Prince.  It was a few minutes before she was called upstairs.

(Create the Prince of Brooklyn.  Known facts: Prince of Brooklyn, Carthian, Basque, male.  Kind traveler who shepherds harmony, composes science, and spoils success.)

Ci thought about the calm of Brooklyn compared to the whole of the five boroughs only a year ago.  Garaile, an up and coming Carthian Primogen to the Prince of New York, had used his power to bring about the fall of the old powers with the help of the Carthian crusade and the Dragons.  She was one of only a few Witches to join in the conflict on either side, and her actions were notable enough to get her a place in Brooklyn.  The New York vampires divvied up the boroughs, and Garaile surprisingly chose Brooklyn over Manhattan.  Invictus kept Manhattan as appeasement for their loss and rule over New York City.  The Ordo Dracul got the Bronx.  Queens became Lancea territory, and the Circle kept Staten Island, which nobody else seemed to care about anyway.

(NPC Discussion – bearing: friendly comfort; focus: power)

“Ci!” Garaile exclaimed as she entered the study.  “I wanted you to come by so I could give you thanks for the bloodless capture of Simonson.”  He was always smartly dressed in a three-piece suit, which blended in to the wood-filled room.  Her “soldier” clothes were a direct contrast to the tone he was setting.  She made mental note of this, again.

“How is he doing?” Ci replied, avoiding receptance of the thanks.

(NPC binary response: friendly, helpful => negative response.  Is Simonson still under Garaile’s control? Likely. Exceptional yes.)

“We have turned him back to the Sanctum,” Garaile smiled sadly as he placed his hand on Ci’s shoulder. “Doubtless he will receive some penance.”

(Does Ci realize he is lying? Unlikely. Yes.  Rather than filling up the Prince’s stats now and doing a contested subterfuge roll, I decided it was quicker and easier to do it this way.  His stats can come later, if necessary.)

Ci forced herself to chuckle at both his joke and lie.  He dropped his hand and gave her a cautious look, but she didn’t know whether it was because of her forced laugh at the joke or unease at being lied to for the seemingly small matter.

“Enough of matters passed us,” Garaile waved his arm to make a clear cut in the conversation. “I want you to know that because of your efforts… and others, Brooklyn is very solidly controlled.  Moreso than the Queens anyway.  I do not have anything else for you tonight.  So, go have fun with the Herd.  I will be calling on you soon enough.”

“Thank you, Garaile.  You know you can give me a call rather than make me take a cab to your place each time.”  It was costing Ci quite a bit of money to cross Brooklyn.

Garaile took the hint, responding with a few French nothing words, and pulled a stack of 20’s out of a bureau drawer.

“It is a luxury,” he smiled, “that I wish to afford.  I hope it is not a problem?”

“Not at all.  It is nice to be in an actual house for a while.”

Garaile tried to keep his smile up.  Ci saw that he was trying really hard to show that he understood, but she knew he didn’t.  Nor did he care.  Things were going in to awkward phase, which is not good for vampires of extremely different stature.

“See you tomorrow night, Garaile.” 

(End scene. New NPCs: Garaile, Danel.  Update threads: Simonson’s Fate. Maintain Chaos 6.)

Prologue – Ted

•March 27, 2009 • Leave a Comment

Ted woke up in his small apartment, as big as a police officer’s pension would pay for, just as the sun hit the apartment building across the street.  His apartment would be out of the direct sun until afternoon.  Ted put on his robe and slippers to get his morning newspapers.  He opened his door to the apartment hallway and found the five newspapers haphhazardly sprawled across his welcome mat.  The morning ritual was about to begin.

(For prologue purposes Ted’s morning ritual will succeed.  I am creating a kind of system for consequences of Ci’s actions via the newspapers and Ted’s ability to get a hit on them for later.)

He unrolled each paper and placed it on his large dining room table.  Ted sat down at the only chair left and closed his eyes.  Rarely he would get a ping from all the newspapers when he placed his hand on it.  Most of the time he would get nothing.  This morning he got a doorbell-like feeling from his winning pony: The Brooklyn Paper.  Now comes the hard part, finding why the newspaper grabbed him.  But, his sister’s actions were beginning to create a pattern.  At least that’s what he thought it was.  Some stories involved a woman, always seen at night, and these feelings started when he saw her after a night at Joe’s, a cop hangout.  It was a flash, but the image scored deep in to his memory.

Luckily the Brooklyn Paper was one of the smaller ones than the Times and the Post, and it would only take a small portion of his morning.

(Depending on how resonant Ci’s actions are picked up the difficulty increases for Ted.  Assuming police were called, the minor scuffle on a rainy night might get a note in the police blotter.  Ted cannot “fail” this roll because the information is there, but for the difference between successes and failures Ted finds a red herring.  In this case the difficulty is 5, and he got 1 success.  So four red herrings gotten from Mythic: transform death, persecute power, recruit enemies, create trials. He cannot retry this roll to get better results without doing extra work, like talking to a police officer or calling the paper.)

Ted sighed after finishing his third cup of black coffee.  It was a treat to feel that sound of success in knowing that her actions were in there, but even with narrowing it down to five stories and blotters, this morning was a failure.  He was no closer.  Ted stared across the apartment at the huge tack board filled with stories, blurry images of her, and old pictures of Tabithia.  A few mornings he wasted his power on the wall, and the sound in his brain was so strong he passed out.  When he woke up later that day off the floor his bones were still vibrating.

Now he had a stolen body in the morgue, a kidnapping or some kind of arrest in an alley, councilman bribes, gang parties, and a DA’s new focus on the various ethnic mafia dotted throughout Brooklyn.  None seemed to be really eminate her feeling, but all seemed like possibilities.  He through the clippings into the pile.  That pile was already big enough.  He decided he would save going through it another day.  Looks like it was going to be a day well spent at Joe’s.

Prologue – Ci

•March 26, 2009 • 1 Comment

She was chasing him through the rain.  Like a Hound for the Prince should.  Like a dog at his heels.  A vicious dog, possibly rabid.  The Prince of Brooklyn had enough of her prey’s political maneuverings with the other vampires of Brooklyn and the other borroughs.  It had upset the delicate, fragile balance of the Kindred in the emerging Brooklyn, she had been told.

(Create NPC: Established Preacher that fulfills the elite, abducts laziness, and overthrows hardship)

Simonson was running hard, but she was slowly gaining on him.  His newfound powers would be no match for her well-known skills with knives.  So, when she showed up outside his  shithole Haven a little after nightfall, he ran.  After what felt like an hour running through the midnight rain of the city, Ci put in that extra boost to tackle her quarry.

(Grapple: 1)(Initiative: Ci 9 vs. Simonson 6)(Ci Ceramic Knives: 3L)

Ci grabs Simonson’s coat with her left hand, and a knife seemingly pulled itself out of the shadows in to her right as she stabs him.  Her ceramic blade shears down his shoulder blade exposing bone.  Nearly a flesh wound for a vampire.

(Does Simonson yield?  Somewhat likely.  Exceptional success.)

“I yield,” the wounded neophyte screams as he drops to the ground after being spun around by Ci and her blade.  The rain keeps falling for a second, while she makes her decision.  There is no blood running from the huge gash in Simonson’s wound because vampires don’t really bleed.

“Put these on,” she replies deciding that more stabbings were not required.  She tosses the prone vampire a set of zipcord handcuffs.  Simonson puts them on while watching her clean the blade in the rain before it disappears into her clothing.

(NPC bearing: partiality)

“I did not mean to upset the order of things at Elysium,” Simonson says carefully.  “I just feel that the Carthians are pushing too far with Brooklyn’s independence.  Don’t you think?”

Ci pulls Simonson’s by his outraised hands to his feet.  “I think that you should close up that wound when you see the Prince,” she replies.

“Why aren’t you at Staten Island with the other Acolytes?” Simonson says trying to keep things friendly.

“Why didn’t you stay in Manhattan with your zealot friends?” Ci replies, this time more openly irritated.  She thinks about the Lancea Sanctum’s coup against the Invictus, now based in Queens.  Brooklyn was a much better place to be with the Carthian ideas.  The future was shakier.  There were more nodes to affect.

Simonson begins to reply, and Ci senses that he is about to go into a programmed speech much like the that happened in Elysium.  “Shutup.  Save your words for someone who cares… or save them for your life.”

(End Scene.  New NPC: Simonson; New Thread: Simonson’s Fate; New Chaos: 6)

Brooklyn Graffiti

•March 25, 2009 • Leave a Comment

a day and a night
some pass in dreams, some in time
but never stopping