Welcome to CBF, a game set in the cyberpunk future of Charleston, SC, using the horror/urban fantasy world of Changeling: The Lost (and most of the rest of World of Darkness) as it's larger backdrop. You will be a Changeling, someone that was taken by the True Fae to an alien realm, Arcadia, across the hedge between reality and dreams. They left a Fetch behind in your place, a simulacrum that took your place among your friends and family, making your disappearance unnoticeable. While in captivity, you were traumatized, and forcibly transformed into a creature, or perhaps a decoration, or tool. You've since escaped, back to the real world, back to Charleston, SC, now, in the year 2198. You command certain supernatural abilities by making contracts and pacts with the forces of nature and reality, and can also make magically binding bargains with other Changelings and mortals. To non-fae creatures, you are by all appearances a human, maybe quite similar to your original self, but possibly older, younger, scarred, or with certain traits having since been altered - time passes in strange ways within Arcadia, and the marks left by the True Fae vary in their subtlety. Other Changelings, fae creatures, and certain other supernatural beings, however, can see past the Mask of concealing faerie magic, and view your true self - be that a musclebound troll, or an automaton cobbled together from wax and copper in your own former image. Megacorporations and stranger monsters than yourself pull the strings of society in these neon nights, and you will struggle with maintaining your humanity, and sanity, while navigating the maddening world of the fae, and the soul-crushing dystopia that's been produced by generations of greedy, sociopathic humans. You escaped from the creature that abducted you some ten years ago, and have survived in that time by honing your skills and picking your battles.
Let's make some basic decisions about who you are together, shall we? You are>A man>A woman>Something else And >One of the last survivors of the local Freehold, a community of Changelings bound together to protect each other from the True Fae that hunt them. The Freehold was destroyed by one of the Fae just a couple of years after you escaped Arcadia. Only a few of your are left, now. Until the Fae is dealt with, you have no hope of forming a strong community of survivors. >An agent of the True Fae that destroyed the local Freehold, called a Privateer. He caught you not long after your big escape, and convinced you to stay. In exchange for his patronage and the freedom to travel and live in the mortal world, you do his bidding, which often means catching other runaways, or killing his enemies. >Not a local, you've just blown into town for a while. After escaping Arcadia, you were recruited into Nightmare Nick's Neverending Big Top, a travelling circus overseen by a mysterious supernatural creature with unknown motived, which has toured uninterrupted for at least 300 years, maybe even longer. There are other supernatural creatures in the crew, and nearly all of you are locked into contracts that are mystically binding in one way or another. It beats the hell out of being owned by the True Fae, but it can be hard. You'll be in Charleston for the indefinite future, and maybe find a way out. And your job is basically >Security, maybe even 'wet-work', either to pay my own way as a licensed mercenary, or in service of my master, if I have one. I'm a reliable stick to swing around. >Administration and planning, I am a consultant figure for mortals and whatever supernatural beings employ my service. I keep track of the variables as best I can to stay ahead of the competition. >Medical care, tending to the wounds of my comrades or coworkers, or even offering treatment to mortals with cash to spend >Artist, producing beautiful works that inspire and reveal, the mortals are captivated, and if I am in the employ of a supernatural creature, it is for my creativity and vision. >Engineering and repairing, making sure all the hardware - and sometimes software - that everything runs on keeps humming along properly. Mortals rely on me as a mechanic or repairman, while supernatural creatures value my ability to operate and tame the gadgetry of mortals that they may not understand. >Cont'd
Your Seeming is essentially the type of Changeling you are, with your Kith being a refinement of that (and I will ultimately select as there are too many options to vote on, but will consider suggestions from voters that are familiar with the source material). This will imply much about what your purpose was in Arcadia. Were you an animal, meant to populate an exotic zoo, or a lush hunting ground? Beast. Were you a butler tasked with managing the kitchen or organizing the library? Wizened. This will affect the sorts of contracts you have made to develop your powers, and how you appear to those able to see through the Mask that makes you appear human. Your Seeming happens to be>Beast, I am a hybrid of man and animal, and have the instincts and gifts of the latter. >Fairest, I am beautiful, almost hypnotically so, made this way to be admired by my Keeper, or perhaps defiled. >Elemental, reshaped from stone, or wind, or even raging fire, I became part of my Keeper's landscape or home, and have kept that intensity in returning to the mortal world. >Darkling, I became a thing of shadows, unseen or unheard, and would be a fine spy, assassin, or simply keeper of secrets. >Wizened, I am a master of drudgery and all manner of tasks, depending on what I was made to do, I might be a finely regimented soldier, the penultimate maid, or maybe the scholarly curator of a vast collection. >Cont'd
>>6324794>A womanAs prettier and younger as possible >An agent of the True Fae that destroyed the local Freehold, called a Privateer. He caught you not long after your big escape, and convinced you to stay. In exchange for his patronage and the freedom to travel and live in the mortal world, you do his bidding, which often means catching other runaways, or killing his enemies. >Security, maybe even 'wet-work', either to pay my own way as a licensed mercenary, or in service of my master, if I have one. I'm a reliable stick to swing around. >Fairest, I am beautiful, almost hypnotically so, made this way to be admired by my Keeper, or perhaps defiled. She has not been defiled, that might change if she's stupid enough.
>Ogre, I am a goblin, or a troll, a fae creature with brutish strength and bulk to back me up as I go about hard labor or brutalizing my enemies When I fight I tend to use >My hands, which are plenty lethal on their own >Melee weapons like knives or a large club >Firearms, which I am plenty familiar with>Magic and contracts, fae powers are capable of much >A mix of these (XXXX/XXXX) When it comes to cybernetics >I have none, relying on my fae nature to give me an edge>I have some, tons of people do these days >I have a lot, to the exclusion of developing my fae nature, in fact, but who needs magic when you can be a cyborgI will let names just be write-ins, but reserve the right to just rename the character outright if I see fit. Otherwise, format your votes as: Name: XXXXGender: M/W/OtherBackground: Survivor/Privateer/Drifter Work: Security/Administration/Medical/Artist/Engineer Seeming: Beast/Elemental/Darkling/Wizened/OgreCombat: Unarmed/Melee/Firearms/Magic/Mix(like/this) Cybernetics: None/Some/Lots
>>6324794>A manFine with anything though.>One of the last survivors of the local Freehold, a community of Changelings bound together to protect each other from the True Fae that hunt them. The Freehold was destroyed by one of the Fae just a couple of years after you escaped Arcadia. Only a few of your are left, now. Until the Fae is dealt with, you have no hope of forming a strong community of survivors. >Administration and planning, I am a consultant figure for mortals and whatever supernatural beings employ my service. I keep track of the variables as best I can to stay ahead of the competition. Among the living by virtue of being the guy who stands behind the people who do the fighting, the repairing and the healing. It's up to us to pick up the pieces, but no one wants to follow someone who's leadership has already failed once.>>6324797>Darkling, I became a thing of shadows, unseen or unheard, and would be a fine spy, assassin, or simply keeper of secrets. Made fleeing easier, with the means of providing some sense of continuity of the freehold's institutions to the anarchic wastrels that pass as survivors.>>6324803>A mix of these (My hands/Magic and contracts) >I have none, relying on my fae nature to give me an edgeAlas, running a tight ship and focusing on self-development left little left for synthetic improvement. But that leaves the door open for future augments, and perhaps little initial dependence.Name: QM decidesGender: M/okay with w/e if anons like this, but want a different gender.Background: SurvivorWork: AdministrationSeeming: DarklingCombat: Mix(Unarmed/Magic)Cybernetics: NoneAnnnnndd then QM has a different formatting order at the end instead of just picking prompts. Good thing I refreshed. At least it makes plan voting easier with so many choices.
>>6324794>A man>Not a local, you've just blown into town for a while. After escaping Arcadia, you were recruited into Nightmare Nick's Neverending Big Top, a travelling circus overseen by a mysterious supernatural creature with unknown motived, which has toured uninterrupted for at least 300 years, maybe even longer. There are other supernatural creatures in the crew, and nearly all of you are locked into contracts that are mystically binding in one way or another. It beats the hell out of being owned by the True Fae, but it can be hard. You'll be in Charleston for the indefinite future, and maybe find a way out.>Artist, producing beautiful works that inspire and reveal, the mortals are captivated, and if I am in the employ of a supernatural creature, it is for my creativity and vision.>Elemental, reshaped from stone, or wind, or even raging fire, I became part of my Keeper's landscape or home, and have kept that intensity in returning to the mortal world.>Magic and contracts, fae powers are capable of much>I have some, tons of people do these days
>>6324794>A woman>An agent of the True Fae that destroyed the local Freehold, called a Privateer. He caught you not long after your big escape, and convinced you to stay. In exchange for his patronage and the freedom to travel and live in the mortal world, you do his bidding, which often means catching other runaways, or killing his enemies.>Artist, producing beautiful works that inspire and reveal, the mortals are captivated, and if I am in the employ of a supernatural creature, it is for my creativity and vision.>>6324797>Fairest, I am beautiful, almost hypnotically so, made this way to be admired by my Keeper, or perhaps defiled.
>>6324803>Firearms, which I am plenty familiar with>I have none, relying on my fae nature to give me an edge
>>6324800Sorry anon, can't count incomplete votes >>6324804Sorry anon, it is a lot of choices so a tight format will make it easier for me to tally and others to reference. I will count votes that just copy the prompts, but they're a bit wordy - I wanna make the game/choices legible to people unfamiliar with C:tL so am providing extra context.
>>6324804>>6324818>>6324845Right now we have Man 2 Woman 1Survivor 1/Drifter 1/Privateer 1Administration 1/Artist 2 Darkling 1/Elemental 1/Fairest 1 Unarmed+Magic 1/Magic 1/Firearms 1 None 2/Some 1Will keep my eyes out
>>6324794>A woman>An agent of the True Fae that destroyed the local Freehold, called a Privateer. He caught you not long after your big escape, and convinced you to stay. In exchange for his patronage and the freedom to travel and live in the mortal world, you do his bidding, which often means catching other runaways, or killing his enemies.>Administration and planning, I am a consultant figure for mortals and whatever supernatural beings employ my service. I keep track of the variables as best I can to stay ahead of the competition.>Fairest, I am beautiful, almost hypnotically so, made this way to be admired by my Keeper, or perhaps defiled.>Melee weapons like knives or a large club>I have none, relying on my fae nature to give me an edge
>>6324794>A woman>An agent of the True Fae that destroyed the local Freehold, called a Privateer. He caught you not long after your big escape, and convinced you to stay. In exchange for his patronage and the freedom to travel and live in the mortal world, you do his bidding, which often means catching other runaways, or killing his enemies.>Artist, producing beautiful works that inspire and reveal, the mortals are captivated, and if I am in the employ of a supernatural creature, it is for my creativity and vision.>Fairest, I am beautiful, almost hypnotically so, made this way to be admired by my Keeper, or perhaps defiled.>Melee weapons like knives or a large club>I have none, relying on my fae nature to give me an edge
>>6324794>Something else >Not a local, you've just blown into town for a while. After escaping Arcadia, you were recruited into Nightmare Nick's Neverending Big Top, a travelling circus overseen by a mysterious supernatural creature with unknown motived, which has toured uninterrupted for at least 300 years, maybe even longer. There are other supernatural creatures in the crew, and nearly all of you are locked into contracts that are mystically binding in one way or another. It beats the hell out of being owned by the True Fae, but it can be hard. You'll be in Charleston for the indefinite future, and maybe find a way out. And your job is basically>Medical care, tending to the wounds of my comrades or coworkers, or even offering treatment to mortals with cash to spend Seeming>Fairest
>>6324925continuedName: Bran Tipstein>A mix of these (unarmed/magic) When it comes to cybernetics>I have some, tons of people do these day
>>6324803Name: Erebus (greek for deep darkness... not his original name or anything, but suits his current circumstances/Seeming)Gender: MaleBackground: Survivor (explains how he survived Arcardia and the Freehold getting wiped out)Work: Administration (always one step ahead, which is why he wasn't caught in the local Freehold extermination)Seeming: Darkling (relates to how he is able to gather intel to stay ahead of threats)Combat: Magic (shadow/dark related)Cybernetics: Some (picked up only recently after escaping Arcardia. Maybe he's selective about finding ones that augment our abilities, or compensate for weaknesses)
>>6324873Give me a couple hours to vote, QM - I want to play but won’t have time to consider options until later tonight
>>6324879>>6324911>>6324925>>6324928>>6324938Man 3/Woman 3/Other 1 Survivor 2/Drifter 2/Privateer 3 Admin 3/Artist 3/Med 1 Darkling 2/Elemental 1/Fairest 4 Melee 2/Unarmed + Magic 2/Magic 2/Firearms 1None 4/Some 3>>6324949No problem anon, I wanna give it some time
>>6324794>A man>An agent of the True Fae that destroyed the local Freehold, called a Privateer. He caught you not long after your big escape, and convinced you to stay. In exchange for his patronage and the freedom to travel and live in the mortal world, you do his bidding, which often means catching other runaways, or killing his enemies.>Security, maybe even 'wet-work', either to pay my own way as a licensed mercenary, or in service of my master, if I have one. I'm a reliable stick to swing around.>Elemental, reshaped from stone, or wind, or even raging fire, I became part of my Keeper's landscape or home, and have kept that intensity in returning to the mortal world.I would vote for Levinquick or Metalflesh - we're a natural fit for a cyber-world...>My hands, which are plenty lethal on their own>I have none, relying on my fae nature to give me an edge
I am gonna call the first set of votes here. I am gonna break some ties, too, though it looks like most of you are leaning Fairest and eager to go the bastard route of being a Privateer! Interesting! Gimme a bit to get things rolling again.
Finally, Changeling is getting some love.
Who_are_you? [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR][ADMIN-OVERRIDE-665821]Access_Granted Of course, your name is Percival Troy Black*, but most people call you Mr. Black. You are a Privateer under the custody of Agnamothrax The Jabberwocky, aka Angus Herschel Murtagh. He is unusual, even among his kind, for being immensely powerful - he is an honest to God dragon, in his True Form he is large enough to fill a gymnasium, and he is capable of wiping out entire Freeholds with just a single fit of violence. He is also unusual for spending more time in the mortal world than Arcadia. In fact, under his mortal alias, Angus Murtagh, he is the acting CEO of Syron Corporation, a vast megacorporation with a major headquarters in Charleston, SC, a major modern business hub often called the 'Paris of the South'. His ultimate motives are unknown to you, but you are glad enough to do his bidding for the life it affords you. You primarily serve him as a majordomo and envoy, you help organize and coordinate his operations, and sometimes even advise on sensitive matters. Many of your master's other servants never speak to him at all, receiving their orders instead from you. You enjoy games of chance and strategy, books (which you consume voraciously), martial arts, and oat milk cortados. You also enjoy intruding into spaces you aren't welcome, taking things that aren't yours, and looking at your reflection. You are one of the Fairest, and of robust enough Wyrd, fae magic, to manifest two separate Kiths, which are a lower classification than your Seeming. They are Larcenist, and Antiquarian. In addition to your naturally striking good looks, you move with dextrous grace that not only charms others, but greatly enhances your ability to steal from others or avoid being struck in a fight. The latter kith greatly enhances your ability to conduct research, or investigate a scene, and occasionally grants an encyclopedic insight into a specific question. Your first Keeper tasked you with the collecting of trinkets, knowledge, and sometimes even gossip as a means of earning her favor, but never granting you the satisfaction. The exhaustive desire to please her, and endless failure to do so, crushed your soul. The punishments broke your mind. You're much happier serving The Jabberwocky, he appreciates the great skill with which you order his affairs, investigate his curiosities, and acquire what he needs to accomplish his shadowy goals. You are sure that you're his favorite. *Pic Related>Cont'd
>>6325088Fuck, enreddened oh well
You have no cybernetics installed, even though Syron is a major manufacturer. Your Mask appears as a tall, dark, devilishly handsome man. You are forty two years old, but potent, with a commanding presence and gentle grace, you exude the strength and precision of a panther on the prowl. Your True Form is more severe, with a paler, alabaster complexion and hair that deepens to an inky black. The yellow tone of your eyes is almost fluorescent, and your teeth seem just a touch sharper. When it comes to blows, you are a dangerous pugilist, often relying on the knife that extends from the front of your right loafer to dispatch enemies with a kick, but your mastery of fae Contracts is significant. You command the following: >Reflections 4 You are able to observe what has occurred in a reflective surface over the prior week, use one reflective surface to look out another that you've looked into within the week, reach into one reflective surface and through another you've touched, and even step through a reflective surface and out another you've touched >Darkness 4 You can render others more susceptible to fear or intimidation, double environmental penalties to perception, prevent a sleeper from being awakened by sounds, and even move effortlessly across walls or ceilings in defiance of gravity >Board 3 You can know when someone is cheating during formal competition, gain a significant advantage in luck against someone you've previously competed against for a single action, or play a game against yourself such as solitaire or chess to predict tactical developments in a conflict >Smoke 2 You can leave the markings of an animal like paw prints instead of yourself, or even leave no trace of your passing at all >Omen 2 You can perceive someone's very worst memory, and you can sometimes glimpse into the very near future Using contracts usually requires you expend Glamour, the emotional energy of humans. You can harvest it from them by inducing it. Sometimes you steel sentimental possessions to harvest their sorrow, or anger. Sometimes you seduce clueless humans just to reject them, or even break their hearts, even bedding them on rare occasions, though it hardly interests you anymore. Sometimes still you enjoy a game of poker or chess, especially with bets at stake, to stir up strong feelings in humans that interest you. You are able to store Twenty (20) points of Glamour at a time, and some of your powers require more than others. >Cont'd
Your master has many enemies, and it is your task to stay steps ahead of them, keeping his machinations unobstructed by their petty attempts to defy him. As the Director of Operations for Syron, you have authority over several battalions of paramilitary infantry and special security forces, and as majordomo for The Jabberwocky you oversee a number of hobgoblin operatives in the area, and a handful of other Privateers in your master's employ. All of you are bound to Pledges that ensure your perfect fealty, and breaking these vows of servitude is instantly lethal. You have only seen one servant break their Pledge, and her head immediately rolled off of her shoulders and onto the floor, dead. You are directly at odds with the following factions: >The Remnants Of The Broken Chain These are the half dozen Changelings that remain of the once powerful Freehold of Broken Chains. They are also known as The Chain Gang. These holdouts are not to be trifled with. They owe the length of their survival to tenacity, and their evasion to skill. Their singular goal is to destroy The Jabberwocky, and they will stop at nothing to see it through. >Karloff An ancient shapeshifting vampire, Karloff has styled himself the leader of the supernatural creatures in Charleston, the ones that pretend at civility, at least. Vampires, witches, ghosts, and a few stranger creatures between. They've outlawed werewolves in the city, and created bylaws to abide by. For now, this Shadow Society of his has a tenuous agreement to respect territorial borders with Syron, but there is a cold war at play, and this city isn't big enough for there to be a second king of the monsters. >Cheiron Global Not just your business rivals, Cheiron has a secret paramilitary R&D wing, the Field Projects Division, staffed by mad scientists and monster hunters. Agents of the FPD undergo surgical procedures where body parts harvested from the creatures they hunt - werewolves, vampires, Changelings, and everything else bumping in the night - are grafted onto them or implanted, giving them a deadly edge in combat. They have a bounty on you, and have succeeded in capturing employees of yours before. >Cont'd
Like all fae creatures, you are grievously wounded by Cold Iron, and none of your abilities can affect it even indirectly. Your Clarity is somewhat low. You are possessed of an alien intellect. You are more Them than you are you. Enslaving other Changelings, and managing the schemes of The Jabberwocky have taken a toll. As a result, you have taken on several Curses, or Frailties, the bans and banes of fairytale creatures. You suffer the following conditions: >If someone says Mr. Black while tossing coins or money to the ground, you are compelled to count all of it, and ifvyou resist the urge, you are (modestly) harmed each minute that passes until you relent >Light produced by a black candle burns your skin to the touch, and terrifies you to your core, forcing you to flee >You cannot pass through, or mystically affect in any way, a mirror with a kiss mark left on it in black lipstick>Part of your True Form can be seen through the Mask, your yellow eyes. Though they don't shine with magic, and have a naturalistic shade to them, it's still a hue not natural to humans. Thankfully, most assume that these are a cosmetic done with gene-tech or a basic cybernetic implant. We are not going to be going strictly by the book, many of you may not have played C:tL before, I think it'd be clunky to use all the stats from the sheet and mechanics and so forth. There will be handwavium and Rule of Cool. This quest will mainly use 1d100 and when a Vote is prompted, you may select One Option from those listed, and if you choose Write In for dialogue in particular, try not to cram in too many topics for me to cover, ask two questions max. I reserve the right to ignore votes that push the envelope. I sometimes will progress the story on a single vote, if I have an itch to write and a few hours have passed. >Cont'd
Now that all of this is established, I am going to get started writing the setup for our story!
Who_are_you? [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR][ADMIN-OVERRIDE-683471][ENGAGE_CHAPTER_ONE] Sequence_Initiated:Welcome_2_Wonderland It's become another long night at the office. The start of the month often comes with a swell of meetings, but you have only two left for the evening. You're never exactly 'off the clock', but you do ever so enjoy your leisure time - you're thinking of going out to play some cards, or have yourself a coffee at the waterfront. There was an apartment window you glanced at last week on Andrews Island you've been curious to break into. But you don't allow yourself to be too distracted by these goblinoid whims of yours. There is work to be done, always, and work at hand, now. "Tell me about the last phase of onboarding, Wyatt, is she acclimating well?" You ask, proceeding down the corridor of Syron HQ's fifteenth floor. You're dressed in a light grey linen two piece suit, with a black and silver paisley necktie, and black wingtip shoes. Your hands are clasped behind you, but as you pass the large windows overlooking the harbor, you stop for a moment to regard your reflection in the glass, running a hand through your hair, and smiling. The drone floating alongside you responds cheerily. "Very well, sir, very well. Fourth phase onboarding package was completed at 1500 EST today, and reflects promising fidelity with first phase aptitude tests, mental evaluation, and her Klein-Brinkley survey. With your final approval, Dr. Monroe will begin formal employment tomorrow, reporting to Halberd Labs at 0800 EST for on-site orientation." It says. The machine is roughly the size and shape of a basketball, with a glossy white plating, and floats at the height of your shoulder, keeping pace easily. On its front is one large, red optic lens, with two smaller circular lenses just below it - a ticking clock on the left, and a port with a closed aperture sealing it on the right. This helpful little robot is White Rabbit 01, your primary assistant in organizing the operations of Syron, but you call it Wyatt for short. It's loosely based on the Secretary-Class Herald Mk II that your company produces, but customized to your exacting specifications. The drone is capable of projecting holograms, interfacing with wireless electronics, variable spectrum scanning (thermal, UV, etc) and recording, with a single-issue AI manicured perfectly for the endless work of keeping your world on schedule. You nod, stopping in front of the door to conference room 15-J, and turn on your smile before entering. >Cont'd
Inside is a black, oval-shaped table surrounded by white leather desk chairs, with a holo-caster built into the middle of the ceiling, surrounded by a larger, circular florescent light that illuminates the room. The far wall is all window, overlooking the battery, and on the left and right, the walls are all LED screen, currently displaying the company logo, a crimson red hexagon with two diagonal lines inside that make it into an 'S'. Seated at the near end of the table is Dr. Morgan Monroe, with a clipboard, packet of documents, tablet, and manila envelope all stacked in front of her. You aren't often surprised, a quality you take great pride in, but momentarily you're stunned at finally meeting the doctor face to face. She's beautiful. You knew that, of course, you've reviewed the personnel file a dozen times at least, but it's different finally being in a room with her. Just an inch shorter than you at 6', with a pale complexion and short platinum hair. She deserves the twinkle of confidence behind her grin. You stay collected though, and extend a hand to her as the door closes behind you. "Dr. Monroe, so good to finally meet." You say. She rises to her feet to shake your hand. Hers are both synthetic, and her grip is correspondingly firm, but carefully so. "Yes, thank you, so glad to meet you too, Mr. Black. I'm really looking forward to my work here, this place is like nothing I've ever seen." She says, and returns to her seat. You circle around and take the adjacent seat to her on the other side of the table, and Wyatt stays put by the door, hovering silently and observing. "Firstly, I want to congratulate you on your new position. The competition was stiff, but you came highly recommended. Mr. Murtagh took a personal interest after an initial brief on your bonafides." You begin. You snap your fingers and Wyatt syncs with the holo-caster. The lights in the room dim and a translucent file on Monroe is displayed by hologram above the table. Doctorate of Biomechanical Engineering, Doctorate of Genetic Engineering, advanced degrees in pharmacology, software integration, and cyber-psychology cycle through, as if to back you up. It's all the more impressive at her 36 years of age. She manages to conceal a well-earned smirk, and nods respectfully. "That's flattering to know, thank you." She says at first, shifting in her seat. "It's no secret that Halberd Labs is the crown jewel here at Syron, I'd consider it an honor just to be in the facilities at all." She adds. >Cont'd
You smile and nod affirmatively. "Correct, it's our most valuable subsidiary. The R&D department has seven sectors, as you know, but the one you will be managing is six, which is also the most valuable of the lot. Six is responsible for the refinement of Android technology. You've already toured the research wing and testing floor, and received briefs on current projects." You start, and again, the hologram display keeps pace, now showing research documents, sales figures, and images from the labs. "Where do you see opportunities for improvement, and what resources do you need in addition to those currently allocated?" You ask, digging right into the matter at hand. Her head cants to the side slightly as she regards the display, contemplating an answer for a short moment. "Well, the current operation is very impressive, but there are points of friction. Androids have a bound AI, which cannot be separated from the hardware, the body, right? Unlike a drone that can be operated by whatever AI is installed or exchanged, Android technology relies on the territorial intelligence of existing in a fixed body to produce a lifelike intellect. The Asimov Matrix used to compel and constrain behavior is genius for its simplicity and modularity, but I suspect there is a margin for alteration, and with the proper adjustments, our facility could cut the binding procedure in less than half, from five weeks of meditative dormancy to roughly two." She explains, gesturing to formulae and scraps of code as they flit by. She glances to you, and goes on. "I'd only need three additional servers and a processing drone to begin, and then I could reassign technicians to a small special project team to begin troubleshooting. I could have preliminary findings for you in a month, I believe. Would that be adequate?" What do you say? >Impressive and ambitious, this could dramatically reduce costs and increase production scale, I want you to pursue it. Use design lab 4, I'll have it equipped accordingly. I appreciate your initiative, being Director of Operations keeps me very busy and I need more employees that can look after themselves without supervision. >Androids are our flagship proprietary technology, no one else has managed to create synthetic life of this kind. Wait a while before you start tinkering too much. I'll approve the supply order when you have a more thorough plan, which I expect in two weeks. >This could massively improve production scale while cutting costs, but I will select the technicians for your team. I hope you don't mind my taking a hands on approach, but I think working together will help you settle in. >Write in
Yes, the True Fae dragon is CEO of the one megacorp on Earth capable of producing synthetic humans, Androids. Yes, in addition to catching free/runaway Changelings, you are sometimes tasked with capturing defective, runaway Androids. You distribute them from Charleston, and the economic activity produced from doing so is a significant part of what has made Charleston such a large, advanced urban center.
Also, while I wait for votes, I am gonna check in here and say that my intention is for this story to be action, noir, and horror heavy, but I am open-minded to other themes and types of stories if that's what anons want. I noticed a lot of Fairest votes, for example, and if we want to get the most out of those good looks, I'm curious as to whether anyone WANTS a romance arc in this story? I am not gonna write smut here, or anything, but I feel like I should present some options for romantic pursuit and let you guys do what you will. So, I guess respond to this post, if you're inclined, to tell me what you want out of this story. Do you want lots of fighting? Do you want it to be scary? Percy is DOO of Syron, so we can get into granular asset management if anons prefer something more strategy oriented, akin to a civ quest. Romance is on the table, straight or otherwise (or both, IDC, Percy definitely seems the type to swing both ways, to me). Do you want to spend a lot of time in the hedge (the fae border realm between the mortal world and Arcadia), or like your master (and most changelings), do you refer the human world?
>>6325297>Impressive and ambitious, this could dramatically reduce costs and increase production scale, I want you to pursue it. Use design lab 4, I'll have it equipped accordingly. I appreciate your initiative, being Director of Operations keeps me very busy and I need more employees that can look after themselves without supervision.>but stipulations!“I also insist that you set a six-month timetable, with intermediate goals of 5 and 4 week dormancy, and rigorous longitudinal behavioral investigations of the modified androids. I will also handpick a second team to independent validate in a blinded fashion. Dr. Monroe, financial success is downstream of reputational success. The android product line is unimpeachable - do NOT puncture the market’s confidence in us.”
>>6325297>Impressive and ambitious>>6325526+1 I guess. Let her know that she is on probation, or something similarShe needs to produce results without wasting capital etc. and while there might not be supervision, there will be oversight and accountability.Regarding the story, I think it is important for you as the QM to enjoy what you're writing or you'll burn out.Lets go with the themes that you have. I think if you give options for things we can pursue then the player base can decide where they want to spend their time.Regarding the sim/asset management, you could have a board meeting once a month where we get updates on what our rivals are doing and we can make plans of our own (kind of a faction turn). Then we can do individual scenes for what we put our attention to, and then return again later to the board meeting to find out if our faction initiatives were successful or not. That way there is a bit of macro and micro narrative going on.Also even if the MC is staying in a single place, we could do a POV to an asset sent across the hedge if you wanted the variety (e.g. choose which faction plot to zoom in on during the month and the other things happen in the background). But basically write what you want and it'll be enjoyable.
>>6325297Support >>6325526>>6325365I'm fine with romance, if you can write a convincing one. Basically I'd need to be convinced that both partners are getting something out of the relationship. That someone of Percy's status would risk using his valuable time pursuing, when Fae punishments are on the line if he slips too much. That he would have a sense of interiority, an emotional need for a relationship, and how that could work what with him being who he is, Privateer, favoured servant of Agnamothrax, low Clarity guy. And vice versa for the partner.Personally I'd prefer a straight romance, but I won't throw a fit if there's some flirting with someone who isn't a woman. If anything, I only preferred a male MC to avoid the anti-yuri debates, and the arguments that seem to flare up to a much harsher degree regarding a FeMC's sexuality.For themes, I'm fine with your selection, though I'd think that we wouldn't get involved much in the action, even if we are capable. The scale you've outlined for the paramilitary forces and various factions likely to be involved in the story feels appropriate, but also means that I personally wouldn't be convinced that we'd ever need to get involved. Maybe as a tactician or to deal with supernatural elements that can't be matched otherwise, as a tracker, consultant, investigator, or infiltrator perhaps, but certainly not for firepower or for lack of numbers, at least not in the mortal world.Otherwise, it's a cyberpunk world, so I'd like to see how the supernatural interacts with the future, tech and society. How does Percy keep his humanity, if at all?Would prefer to stay in the mortal world, but a trip to the hedge wouldn't be out of place, to see your take on it and how it is in the current day. Or for goblin markets.Regarding how management-y or civ-like to be, I prefer to have a more interpersonal style, if that makes sense, e.g managing superior-subordinate relationships and managing your staff, outlining plans, dealing with events, or proactively making things happen, less formal civ-quest turn structure where you use action points to pick between "invest in farming" or "invest in magic".
>>6325585>>6325633Thanks for the feedback guys! I'm in a similar headspace on a lot of this - Percy is dangerous, but still a Fairest that fights with his hands, so combat is not his forte, and he has underlings for that. I feel similarly about him falling in love, too, and for now I'm not sure what kind of character would be able to have a relationship like that with him. I do have a really good idea for an ex of his, but will just have to see how he develops. I was already thinking of 'board meetings', and planned for that to be the next thing we do after getting our feet wet (and a little exposition) with Monroe. I'll plan on doing another temp check later in the story to see if folks want more strategy or less action etc. Should have a few chunks of time today to do some writing, too(: >>6325526>>6325585>>6325633And locking in on this vote
"I see you're appropriately ambitious, Doctor." You begin, leaning back in your seat and crossing your legs, as if put at ease by her initiative. "Use design lab 4, we're about to cycle programming so it should be available without you having to disturb the prior schedule, from there we'll render the sector six agenda to your discretion. I'm going to handpick a second team to validate your findings in a blinded fashion. Please, take no offense, you aren't exactly on proba-" You start to say, dishing out some of that disarming politeness you rely on so often in the office, but she cuts you off. "Probation? No, I'm not offended, I don't see it as probationary. From what I'm told, someone with your attention to detail and efficiency wouldn't spare a second team unless you felt confident I may actually make real progress on this, right?" She interjects, looking a bit smug to have your support. You nod, smirking. "You've been told rightly, then. If you succeed, it could drastically improve scale. But this is our flagship product, and our financial success is downstream of reputational success. So don't rush yourself. I think you'll find the software... unintuitive, but take that a sign of your own sanity, not a defect of the intellect. You're not in Kansas anymore. The sector six lab... Well, simply put, it can be challenging." A beat passes. "Of course, you've been hired because we believe you can meet those challenges." She straightens her posture a bit, and nods. "Yes, absolutely. I did hear, well... Well nevermind. I know this will likely defy many of my expectations." The doctor says, breaking eye contact to stare at the holo-display. "You heard what?" You pry. You're leveraging your position as the interviewer, and not allowing that slip of hers to slide. Your curiosity is, as ever, insatiable, especially where work is concerned. You have a suspicion what she is going to say, of course, and still you press. >Cont'd
>>6325695Doctor Monroe glances to you, and the floor, feeling awkward to be put on the spot. But she's now coward. "Well, of course, I'm aware that Dr. Kenton resigned last year, which comes as little surprise, she hadn't even been seen publicly for at least five years before that. I can't imagine the toll it would take on me to introduce this world-changing technology, and be so... Well." She sighs, and meets your eyes. "I suppose I shouldn't be coy. I heard recently that Dr. Kenton was put under a guardianship for mental infortitude. High science can be a small world, I know her family wanted to keep it quiet, but a colleague was lamenting that they no longer speak, and had done a touch of investigating." She's sad as she recounts it, but offers you a shy half-smile towards the end. "But who can blame her? The death threats, the stalking, even with all of your security, there will always be people that find this technology unacceptable, and three decades of that puritanical hatred could probably drive anyone... I don't know, sorry, again, I shouldn't have said anything. I know what I'm getting into. You can trust me to be ready for this." She concludes, reassuring herself maybe as much as she's attempting to reassure you. As she expounds on what she meant, your demeanor becomes cold, and yet you maintain your poise perfectly. You know quite a bit more about this than Monroe, and so aren't surprised, even if you are slightly displeased. Without a name given, you know the colleague she referred to is Professor Simsek from MIT, as you were aware that he had discovered the declaration of mental infortitude, and kept it quiet in order to not bring shame on his former friend. His gossiping isn't a concern. Still, it would have been ideal if Monroe wasn't aware of the difficulties with her predecessor. Thankfully, she doesn't know the true reason for Kenton's relocation, which extends well beyond hate mail over her decidedly blasphemous creations. You clear your throat. "We do, Dr. Monroe. Thank you for disclosing that, and yes... It is very sad. She's been through a lot since the discovery, and we try to honor her here by continuing to refine her greatest work." There's a pause that clings to the silence between you after that just a hair too long. "Well, thank you, Mr. Black, is there anything else you need from me before I begin work tomorrow?" She finally says. >Cont'd
>>6325696"No, no, thank you. When you arrive at the facility they'll scan your biometrics, when you leave tonight the security guard will issue you a temporary ID badge for the lab, by end of day tomorrow you'll have your permanent badge." You reply with a quick smile. "Set a six month timetable for your work on the Asimov Matrix, if you will. There will be heightened oversight for the first three quarters, but you have our confidence." You add, and then uncross your legs. When you snap your fingers, the lighting returns to normal and the holo-display fades. "Do you need anything else from me, Dr. Monroe? More than anything I was just hoping we should meet face to face briefly before you formally begin. I have a tendency to mother a few of the sectors at Herald, I'm sure you understand." She does, and it shows in the polite way she nods. "Well... One thing, Mr. Black. I can't help but ask. They say you're the backbone of this place, that you keep all the trains running on time, the I's dotted and T's crossed. In four years you've progressed from consultant to member of the board, and the rumor is that you more or less oversee the other four directors as well... Would you mind my asking for a touch of professional advice? What do you think is the most important quality for success here?" The doctor asks, starting to gather up her things and placing them in her lap. Before you go, what do you say? >It's about vision. Plenty of people imagine a world where human labor is replaced and artificial life sustains our society. Syron has imagined a way to make it possible. Think big. Then think bigger.>It's about tenacity. You have to be competitive, willing to take risks, and looking for ways to prove yourself to your peers. Herald Labs has acquired a lot of talent, it'll be easy to get drowned out, so do what you have to in order to stay ahead of the rest. >It's about precision. We are fast, adaptable, and thorough. We hit our numbers and make our marks every time. If you want to succeed here, you have to stick to the current, be cohesive, able to fulfill instructions with total reliability and obedience.
>>6325697“I appreciate the question, Dr. Monroe - but you’ve framed it too simply. There is no single quality or secret to my success - but if there is one, it is adaptability and discernment. When there is a need for precision - I am precise. When there is a need for rapidity - I make myself so. Adaptability and discernment will carry you very far, even if the subtleties of the Asimov Matrix are a mystery. Oh - and never forget - all of this that exists here - it is the property of Murtagh and Murtagh alone, whatever the shareholders believe. Respect that ownership and the implications therein, and you will do well.”
>>6325697>It's about precision. We are fast, adaptable, and thorough. We hit our numbers and make our marks every time. If you want to succeed here, you have to stick to the current, be cohesive, able to fulfill instructions with total reliability and obedience.
>>6325697>>6325781+1
>>6325697Support >>6325705Though if it isn't appropriate advice for her - she's a scientist and we're a manger - then I'm fine with precision. Meeting the mark reliably is a great thing, others can set the vision, but that vision needs someone to fulfill it. Otherwise one gets too big for their britches, more ambition than capability. If I were advising her on how to get promoted, then I'd say be tenacious, but moulding her towards career success rather than being a good scientist isn't what I want. Advising adaptability and discernment bridges that gap, helping with both, I think.
You consider for a moment, almost charmed by the earnestness of the question. "At the risk of sounding cliche, I'd suggest that there is no single quality that is most essential, though perhaps different roles may favor one or the other more heavily. Upper management and executive personnel at Syron excel across the board. If we have anything most in common... It would be adaptability. Discernment and resourcefulness will carry you very far, here. Things move fast, you need to know what to be, and when, and how." You say, finally. With that, you rise up to your feet, and feeling permitted to do so, she stands as well. "That would be my professional advice. A touch of personal advice? Anything and everything produced at Halberd Labs is the property of Syron, meaning really it is the property of Mr. Murtagh. His personal property. Be mindful of that. Always." You add, and while your voice is soft, and the tone polite, the look in your eye imparts a chill that causes Monroe to stand up just a bit straighter, and she nods. Feeling understood, you extend a hand to her. She shakes it. "Yes, naturally, and thank you again for seeing me. I look forward to working together with you." Monroe says, tucking the clipboard and other materials under an arm. "Of course, doctor, welcome to Syron. We'll do great things, of that I'm sure. You'll pardon my brevity, but I'd feel terribly keeping you any later, and I still have one final appointment." You reply, and with a final nod from her, you exit the conference room. She's out behind you, but you're both walking in opposite directions along the corridor - her towards the elevators to reach the security installation, the lobby, and parking, while you're making your way to the executive elevator, which reaches the upper floors. >Cont'd
>>6325885You hang a left, and Wyatt pipes up. "Vincent tried to call while you were in your meeting, sir, I offered to take a message." He begins. This elicits a quirked brow from you. "And the message was?" You ask, maintaining your pace through the building. "His response was to tell me to tumble down a hole." The drone answers. Same old Vince. "He did, however, follow up with a couple of text messages for you, sir." Wyatt continues, using his holo-caster to display the chat log in front of you as you walk. [Lotti's 2nite????] [ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ] The third text is four cocktail glass emojis and a sunglasses face emoji at the end. Same old Vince alright, wanting to booze around a shithole bar and probably harvest some glamour. At least he sounds like himself, though you aren't sure how long that may last. On the one hand, he is your ex, and certifiably batshit. On the other hand, he is probably your only real 'friend' (maybe even your best friend, since breaking up 8 years ago). He's honestly the only Changeling you know, and can enjoy your time with, aside from the handful that are on Syron's payroll - and really, you can't even enjoy yourself around all of them. "Tell him I'll be there when I'm finished with the board meeting, but it can't be like last time." You say to Wyatt. Stirring up and harvesting some feelings sounds to you like the perfect way to end the work day, and kicking back a few drinks at one of your favorite bars seems equally as favorable. You just hope he doesn't have an episode. Or at least not a bad one. >Cont'd
>>6325886Eventually, you make it to the exec elevator, Wyatt in tow, and approach the security interface. "Good evening Mr. Black, please stand by for full biometric scanning. Place both hands on the pads in front of you, and face the optic lens directly." Says a neutral, feminine voice from the speaker, and you comply. As lasers begin caressing your figure and reading your iris, it goes on. "Please say aloud your designation for the vocal identification system. It says. "Looking Glass" You reply, tone even and voice clear. "Thank you, Mr. Black, access granted." The machine answers, and the doors slide open to permit your entry. The executive elevator has a sleek, barren interior, with no reflective surfaces on the inside. It's spacious as well, capable of moving at least a dozen people comfortably. It's also fast, and in no time at all you have risen another twenty six floors, to the forty first, where the conference room for the Board of Directors is located, and you make your way there in short order, passing two more security checkpoints to do so. The boardroom is really more of a war room, with companies of your size being more like governments in some respects. Of the more than two million people living in Charleston, Syron employs sixty thousand through its various subsidiaries, and indirectly employs another hundred thousand. Since establishing the regional HQ here seventy years ago, more of the company's focus has gradually shifted, and the distribution network - most of all the shipyards and harbor - have now made this the seat of Syron's power. Mr. Murtagh lives in the penthouse on the fifty second floor, and many employees reside in the residential wards that comprise some of the lower floors. There is a black, circular table in the middle of the chamber, with a holo-caster situated in the center, and five chairs surrounding it, four of them occupied. You're not last for a lack of timeliness on your part, in fact, you are exactly on time. The others preceded you because of how you have instilled promptness in all of them over the last five years you have served on the board as Director of Operations. Before that, as Monroe mentioned, you climbed from consultant to senior manager to department president and finally to the director's chair. All that after being 'aggressively recruited', to put it lightly, by Mr. Murtagh personally, who has maintained an interest in your particular talents for finding, learning, and acquiring what he needs.>Cont'd
>>6325886Eventually, you make it to the exec elevator, Wyatt in tow, and approach the security interface. "Good evening Mr. Black, please stand by for full biometric scanning. Place both hands on the pads in front of you, and face the optic lens directly." Says a neutral, feminine voice from the speaker, and you comply. As lasers begin caressing your figure and reading your iris, it goes on. "Please say aloud your designation for the vocal identification system. It says. "Looking Glass" You reply, tone even and voice clear. "Thank you, Mr. Black, access granted." The machine answers, and the doors slide open to permit your entry. The executive elevator has a sleek, barren interior, with no reflective surfaces on the inside. It's spacious as well, capable of moving at least a dozen people comfortably. It's also fast, and in no time at all you have risen another twenty six floors, to the forty first, where the conference room for the Board of Directors is located, and you make your way there in short order, passing two more security checkpoints to do so. The boardroom is really more of a war room, with companies of your size being more like governments in some respects. Of the more than two million people living in Charleston, Syron employs sixty thousand through its various subsidiaries, and indirectly employs another hundred thousand. Since establishing the regional HQ here seventy years ago, more of the company's focus has gradually shifted, and the distribution network - most of all the shipyards and harbor - have now made this the seat of Syron's power. Mr. Murtagh lives in the penthouse on the fifty second floor, and many employees reside in the residential wards that comprise some of the lower floors. There is a black, circular table in the middle of the chamber, with a holo-caster situated in the center, and five chairs surrounding it, four of them occupied. You're not last for a lack of timeliness on your part, in fact, you are exactly on time. The others preceded you because of how you have instilled promptness in all of them over the last five years you have served on the board as Director of Operations. Before that, as Monroe mentioned, you climbed from consultant to senior manager to department president and finally to the director's chair. All that after being 'aggressively recruited', to put it lightly, by Mr. Murtagh personally, who has maintained an interest in your particular talents for finding, learning, and acquiring what he needs. >Cont'd
Fug didn't mean to double, having connection problems>>6325888The other four members of the board are: Aster Dunnleath, director of marketing, Eugene Brighton, director of development, Jonah Teague, director of security, and Estelle Andrenada, director of public affairs. Ostensibly the five of you are on equal footing, but as it's your duty to oversee all of the daily operations and goings-on in the company, along with Murtagh's ear, you have a margin of authority over your peers on certain occasions, and you've proven the efficacy of abiding by your designs many times over. Aster and Jonah are both Changelings, like yourself, and Estelle is a witch. Eugene has no supernatural abilities, but he and Estelle are both Ensorcelled via pledge, and as such can see past the Mask, and recognize fae creatures for what they are. Everyone in the room knows what their chief executive actually is. They are all satisfied to serve him, as are you, despite only ever seeming to know parts of his plans, and rarely the full picture. Board meetings are, ultimately, about putting those parts into action and keeping the entire organization highly profitable, highly secure, and highly effective for whatever it is that Mr. Murtagh desires. You're the first to speak, greeting the others as you make your way to your seat. "Good evening, team, let's try to keep things brief, I'm sure everyone is tired." The first hour revolves around what it ought to - sales, advertising programs, recruitment, pensions, stocks for any subsidiaries that are publicly traded. It's largely routine. After that, you move on to material that is more narrow in scope. "Alright, let's get into the blood and guts for a minute." Jonah says, throwing up a holo-display that shows security personnel, maps of the city, and the like. Teague and you work closely, moreso than the others, as the deployment of security and paramilitary agents - or worse - often merits your personal oversight. "P.T., why don't you tell me where to start? We have intel regarding some disruptions in Karloff's community, possible lead on a member of the Chain Gang, and the usual status report on our troops." What do you want to discuss first? >What's going on in Karloff's Shadow Society? >What do you have on the Chain Gang? >Status report on the in-house PMC
>>6325890>Status report on the in-house PMCWhere we stand informs what we can do to our adversaries in the moment.
>>6325890>Status report on the in-house PMCThis seems most prudent
>>6325890>Status report on the in-house PMCjust going with the flow, since it seems like we'll get to all the points eventually.
"In that case, brief me on HOC first, then we'll work our way back to the more interesting stuff with an immediate idea of what we can throw at it." You reply, crossing your legs and leaning back. Megacorps that want to survive have muscle to flex. For Syron, that muscle is its subsidiary paramilitary corporation: House of Cards. Fully licensed for urban warfare, and suited to the task. The organization is divided into two main camps, Whites, and Reds. The former are your standard PMC soldiers, deployed for security, hostile engagement, infiltration, exfiltration, recon, and sabotage. Like the vast majority of Syron employees (and humanity as a whole), they have no idea that monsters are real, vampires stalk the night, or fairytale creatures hide in their attics and steal children from their cribs - and sometimes sign their paychecks. The latter, Reds, are a much, much smaller force, but they are aware of all that fucked up stuff. Some of them are former monster hunters, some of them have family members that are supernatural, or have just survived attacks. Syron uses an array of tactics to track down potential recruits, and vet them for candidacy. Within the two divisions, standard infantry units are referred to as Numbers, while those with leadership roles are designated Faces. Generally, there is a ratio of one Face to twenty Numbers, with a Squad being six units with no more than one Face, and a full Brigade is twenty one with one to three Faces. >Cont'd
>>6326094Jonah clears his throat and begins manipulating the holo-display to run through the figures. "You'll have exact figures uploaded to White Rabbit shortly, forgive me for rounding in the meantime, P.T., I know you love your granularity." He begins, and then starts pointing to some graphs. "Current total employment at HOC is hovering around four and a half thousand, but if we remove logistics, support, and maintenance we are left with roughly two thousand infantry units. That means about a hundred or so Faces, and nineteen hundred Numbers. We are sitting on an exact one hundred and thirteen Reds at the moment, which is high, and everything else is Whites." He says, and the graphs continue to follow his words to provide a visual. He crosses his arms, glancing between you and the display. "We've continued your plan of offering rebates and insurance subsidies for Halberd brand combat cybernetics, and now over sixty percent of the force has at least one cybernetic weapon or limb, and over seventy five percent have combat enhancing cyber implants of some kind, typically to a sensory organ, but this includes subdermal armor plating." You nod, pleased to hear there's been a three percent rise in the last month. "Excellent. How are we matching up then?" You pry further. "Well, the other regional powers are Yamamori Industries, Cheiron Global, and Waltex Limited. Our worst cards can squash Waltex goons on their best day, and are about evenly matched with most Yamamori infantry, though the elites can give us trouble. Cheiron still has us outclassed." Jonah admits, giving you half a glance as he explains. He gestures to the logo for Argo, their main PMC. "Even their standard infantry are a nightmare to deal with lately. Argo has a new proprietary combat drugs they call Nectar. Definitely cooked up by the FPD. On the occasion we secure a sample, testing is inconclusive. Could be derived from demon ichor or werewolf spunk for all we know." As he explains this, the display shows mercenaries recovering from bullet wounds in seconds, and tearing limbs off of heavily armored combat drones. He sighs. "Argo has a branch for FPD operatives, the Arrows. They take the same drugs, have many of the same cybernetics, plus they've got monster bits stitched onto them. Analogous to our Reds, but twice as nasty, and outnumber ours by about three to one as of this past month, a forty two percent increase in the region. It suggests they're preparing for defensive or offensive action." "I see. Anything else?" You're terse in your reply, it's definitely bad news. Jonah nods. "Yes, we have four hundred infantry drones, two hundred heavy combat drones, and one hundred aerial combat drones. Our drone force is larger than any two other PMC's combined, and that's a solid advantage. I've also noted that Dr. Monroe begins work tomorrow at sector six... I want to resubmit the proposal for developing combat capable Androids." >Cont'd
>>6326095This causes a couple of the others to glance between each other before all eyes land on you. The inventor of Androids, Dr. Kenton, refused to entertain the possibility, having developed them purely as laborers. Her mental decline had already begun years prior, but it seemed to become even more severe after vetoing the combat program. It hasn't been discussed as a possibility since. Decide whether or not to proceed with the Android project >Yes, it would give us a massive advantage in military force, and would make the product far more marketable>No, Kenton had her reasons, and Monroe is too new for such an undertaking And choose TWO of the following options for HOC and Halberd Labs to pursue >Recruit more Reds, it's slow and expensive but they're crucial for defending against supernatural enemies >Produce more combat drones, they are vulnerable to hacking but immune to many supernatural powers that influence mortal minds and bodies, and can be deployed against monsters without revealing the dark truth of the world>Sector two is Halberd's pharma division, focus efforts on providing them with a viable sample of Nectar, and their resources on discovering its makeup>Begin a pilot program to equip Reds with enchanted weaponry from Goblin Markets, using fae magic could eventually allow you to match Cheiron's Arrows >Deploy Red squads to infiltrate and investigate the purpose of Argo's troop movements to the area, it'll save you the time of looking into it personally, and you want to know what they're planning >Sector four is Halberd's weaponry division, allocate resources for them to produce more powerful infantry firearms and armor that can be issued to both White and Red mercenaries for higher effectiveness >Ready for possible incursions by Cheiron, double HOC security deployment at all Syron facilities and triple it for the HQ until further notice, it may somewhat limit the ability to perform offense, but protecting assets is worth it >Use a few White brigades to sabotage Yamamori and Waltex installations undetected, and leave evidence pointing to Cheiron, if Argo is going to move more muscle to the area you should instigate hostilities in order to spread their attention and force thinner
>>6326099>No, Kenton had her reasons, and Monroe is too new for such an undertakingMaybe once Monroe has her bearings, we could entertain this, but she’s too green for it now.>Produce more combat drones, they are vulnerable to hacking but immune to many supernatural powers that influence mortal minds and bodies, and can be deployed against monsters without revealing the dark truth of the world.>Deploy Red squads to infiltrate and investigate the purpose of Argo's troop movements to the area, it'll save you the time of looking into it personally, and you want to know what they're planning.Information is more valuable than defense-stacking at this point, and dronemaxxing seems synergistic given that we may have combatdroids relatively soon
I'm gonna leave this vote open for a while, these are possibly big decisions and bc of the variety it could take a bit for some consensus/plurality to occur. No write ins, and please going forward, unless you see Write In as an option, just choose from those provided. Let me know if it feels exposition heavy, but I def wanted to plunge right into the Administration & Planning aspect of things, and that means a good dose of context. Even for folks familiar w/ WoD, the cyberpunk future is going to diverge in some ways and need explaining.Happy Halloween /qst/ (:
>>6326094Hmm, so to be clear, divisions and brigades do indicate larger units but they aren't like real life sized military units? Maybe I misunderstood with the ratio talk and everything. One of our HOC brigades is like a demi-platoon or a small platoon? And a HOC squad is like a fireteam, or half a RL squad? Also, when we say 'leadership roles' is that including NCOs/Warrant Officer equivalents, or does it only mean officers?>>6326095Ah, yes, so not RL unit sizes. Still impressive though, we have more paramilitary dudes than there are police officers in most big greater metropolitan areas, just including the actual shooters.Cheiron is definitely the biggest threat, as I thought.>>6326099>No, Kenton had her reasons, and Monroe is too new for such an undertaking We haven't sounded her out yet, and she's more specialized in bio-psych AI stuff. Integrating androids with heavy metal and giving them more freedom, while trying to get the right psychology for a firefight is different from just being a grunt labourer. Save our resources, take time to cultivate our human capital.>Recruit more Reds, it's slow and expensive but they're crucial for defending against supernatural enemies >Sector two is Halberd's pharma division, focus efforts on providing them with a viable sample of Nectar, and their resources on discovering its makeupGain more elites, and even out the edge our opposition has over us. The drones will keep us from being decisively overwhelmed qualitatively, but over-relying on them will just see us catastrophically collapse the moment our opponents roll out some fancy hack or new EM weapon.We can handle Argo in our own time, though we'll have to watch out for their hunters, given our bounty.
>>6326121When we say 'leadership roles', I am referring to officers trained to coordinate and command at the squad and brigade level (and yes, our definition of squad/brigade is different from current modern military, 6 and 21 respectively). Faces can be expected to be capable of leading in the field and under pressure, performing certain specialist tasks on their own like assassination or surveillance, etc, and typically have more cybernetics and higher body counts than Numbers.
>>6326100>>6326121Anons, if we don't get no more votes in the next few hours, would you rather I roll a 1d2 once to choose between these, or roll a 1d2 twice to decide on both of the two PMC actions? We could end up making more drones and investigating Nectar, for example. Or, alternatively, should I give it another day to see if anyone shows? Im not sure yet what days tend to be slower or busier for /qst/. Largely I'm just itching because I have a lot of enthusiasm for this story, I got stuff I wanna write...
>>6327005I prefer you roll a single 1d2, to keep the choice selection coherent.
>>6326121+1I'll choose this one to keep things movingWe need to increase our recruiting and take the edge away from our competition having their stims.
>>6327028Will go with this for future ties >>6327066Thanks anon, appreciate your service
You consider it for a moment, but shake your head. "No, at least not so soon. She's already moving quickly enough attempting to make adjustments to the bonding process. She doesn't yet realize the mental dangers of comprehending Kenton's work, which already stopped shy of permitting violence in the Androids." You say, dismissing the idea. For now. You sigh through your nose, analyzing the display. Many pieces moving on the board. You start to eliminate possibilities and imagine contingencies. A plan comes together. "Boost recruitment for the Red division. Coordinate whatever resources you must to identifying amenable candidates in order to vet. In the past we have had Red Cards infiltrate certain organizations like The Union and the Zero Syndicate to scalp talent, we can afford to spare at least two squads to do so right now." You begin, steepling your fingers together. "Then allocate both Red agents and combat drones for incursions and engagements across Cheiron territory, we need to prioritize securing a viable sample of that Nectar." You turn your attention towards Doctor Brighton, quirking a brow. "Allocate any available resources in sector two of Halberd to analyze the compound once a sample is delivered. We'll aim for synthesizing our own, but settle for developing a counter agent if there are difficulties." You instruct, and the doctor nods, jotting down notes on a small tablet he has in front of him."Sounds like a plan to me. I'll have everyone start on that within an hour of our meeting's conclusion." Teague says with a deferential nod. He is a talented tactician and planner in his own right, but prefers to let you take the lead and then follow through once a course has been determined. He scratches under his chin, and then begins manipulating the holo-display once more.What do you want to discuss next? >Karloff's Shadow Society >The Chain Gang member
>>6327078>Karloff's Shadow Society
>>6327078>Karloff's Shadow SocietyWe should find a way to de-escalate the Cold War if we can, and if not, set Karloff against the Cheiron people
>>6327084Would be within your ability, potentially, to form a real truce, and could be fun to RP all the diplomacy. Blessedly, they are already beefing with Cheiron, though you could always ratchet that up! Also locking in vote bc the order you discuss things isnt as important as HOW you handle them.
"Right, let's chat about creepy Karloff and his creepy crawlies." Jonah says.The holo-display shows a rotation of different clips, photos, and headlines from newscasts and cybershows, all of them about a series of deaths in and around Charleston harbor. Some very grainy, blurry footage of something sort of man-shaped thrashing in the water and disappearing under the waves. A recovered body with a missing hand and drained of blood. Alongside it, a satellite image of Charleston, and below that, a vertical diagram showing the city's makeup since the end of the Reconstruction War, when modern Charleston was built on top of the old city, burying it. Parts of the map and diagram both begin lighting up in different colors. "We think there's a messy eater out there. Could be an opportunity. So let's go over turf, and then I'll talk about the surf." Teague starts. "As you may recall, we have an agreement that Karloff's people stay off of Syron property, don't touch our personnel, and don't do any feeding or hunting in districts that we contract as municipal enforcement." He continues, pointing to the HQ and surrounding area, part of the shipyard, places where the company keeps warehouses, facilities like Halberd, subsidiary offices, and employee residential complexes. "On our end, we avoid causing trouble in the undercity, the Southern swamp-fields, and this-" he gestures to Charleston harbor, where everything below the shipyard and cargo ports is highlighted, "the hunting ground for him and the aristocrats of his little club. Basically all of the harbor that isn't used for industry or big business, the tourist trap. Extremely desirable and reliable place to feed, whether it be blood, emotions, breath, or whatever. But they have rules too. With digital and drone surveillance at its current level, a lot of their kind find it extremely difficult to avoid suspicion. That's why they tend to hide out in the ruins and the swamps. Whoever, or whatever, has been making the news this past month is not playing ball, and bringing heat down where Karloff and his best butt buddies prefer to chow." Jonah says, and the holo-display shifts to medicL records and more images of the victims. You notice some commonalities immediately. Drained of blood, usually missing a hand or foot, or suffering a compound fracture on a limb. All victims were in or near the water, but across the whole length of the harbor, and while some bodies washed up days after disappearance, where authorities do have an idea of when incidents occurred, every attack appears to be at night. >Cont'd
>>6327092"So there's a vampire in the harbor, and it's ill-behaved. That hunting ground is reserved for their elites, and they cover their tracks far more carefully. We can likely assume our killer isn't on good terms with Karloff's group. Either an outcast or a newcomer, possibly both. They'll be moving to eliminate him quickly, as it risks detection for them all and is embarrassing for leadership." You say, piecing things together. Opportunity indeed. Whether it's a disaffected rebel or just an impolite stranger, it's a welcome thorn in your enemy's side at the very least. "Waltex has the contract for municipal enforcement on that entire stretch of the harbor and all of the piers attached. They won't be able to handle this, or be an obstacle for our intervention. Still, we should move very quietly, and carefully." "Correct." Jonah says to your input. "Whoever, or whatever this is, they're certainly a political disturbance and a distraction from whatever other schemes Karloff has on the itinerary. Could be a useful piece on the board, or could be a useful source of information. However we proceed, we should be quick, though. The under-dwellers aren't chumps, and if they haven't found this guy yet, they likely will within the next few days. If they don't, Cheiron has the extra manpower to scoop the bastard up quick. After that, probably a long interrogation and stripping the poor shit for parts." He sighs, taking a moment to scratch the back of his head. "Normally I'd suggest we start by putting Bandersnatch on this, but he's already in the field, hot on King Sully's trail. Can't pull him off that just yet. I think we could be looking at a possible ally, maybe some actionable intel, potentially both. Could also be a waste of time. What do you think, P.T.?" How do you want to handle this? >We have about eight Red Face cards on payroll, the best of the best. We can send three of them to secure the asset while maintaining a low profile. >Moving quietly, acquiring information, and collecting things are practically rote habits of mine. If Cheiron and Karloff's inner circle are possibly in pursuit, I should attend to this personally and secure the asset myself. >We can afford to let this go. While the creature is in play, it's a nuisance to an enemy, and we shouldn't assume there will be any value in expending resources hunting it down ourselves. >Write in
>>6327094>Moving quietly, acquiring information, and collecting things are practically rote habits of mine. If Cheiron and Karloff's inner circle are possibly in pursuit, I should attend to this personally and secure the asset myself.Would make for a better PR move when we turn this idiot over to Karloff - “look it what I caught for you?”
>>6327094>Moving quietly, acquiring information, and collecting things are practically rote habits of mine. If Cheiron and Karloff's inner circle are possibly in pursuit, I should attend to this personally and secure the asset myself.Non-Zero chance this is being done to purposefully draw attention to the docks, which begs the question of what this draws eyes away from. Equal chance it's just some starving out of towner who's going HAM at the buffet because he can. Either way, we should ask personally.
>>6327094>Moving quietly, acquiring information, and collecting things are practically rote habits of mine. If Cheiron and Karloff's inner circle are possibly in pursuit, I should attend to this personally and secure the asset myself.Makes sense. More likely to turn it as an ally if we find it, instead of a strike team. (also the hands on approach gives us a chance to be exposed to world building)
"I think that this is a task suited to my personal attention. I have the availability for a few chores to be added to my agenda, at the moment. It's already late, so tomorrow at sundown I'll take the company yacht after making certain arrangements." You reply, crossing your arms. What you don't mention is that you already have plans to be in the undercity after this meeting concludes. If Vincent isn't in one of his... moods, he might even be helpful. If not, you have an idea of where to start asking questions. "When we leave, issue a temporary contact tablet to Red Jack four eight five, I was impressed with the transcript of his debriefing from two weeks ago, he made very short work of the ghost at the warehouse multiplex. He'll be a serviceable attendant if I need a second pair of hands." Jonah jots that down with a few nods. "I'll make sure he knows to be on his best behavior. That leaves our last bit of business... Sullivan Tidewinder, formerly one of the two alternating monarchs of the Freehold of Broken Chains, he was king of the Low Tide Court. When the big boss cleaned house, all the other officials from both the High and Low Tide courts were confirmed dead. Sully managed to slip through the cracks." He starts to explain, with the holo-display showing sea storms and choppy water, then some grainy surveillance footage of a homeless man in different parts of the city, wearing different outfits of filthy, thrifted clothes, always carrying a walking stick of gnarled driftwood. He has high cheekbones, vigilant eyes, and his ash black goatee fades to white on the end, his hair is short and sort of coifed. Though he appears to be in his fifties, your research has led you to believe his true age is between one hundred and seventy, and two hundred and thirty.Sullivan isn't the strongest member of the Chain Gang, but he is far from the frailest. He ruled over low tide for over a hundred and fifty years before Agnamothrax ever came to Charleston, and there are more than a few legends - now forgotten by almost everyone other than yourself - about his vast and mysterious powers. What you have determined is that he is a Waterborn Elemental, a potent oracle, and an exceptionally skilled Oneiromancer, a weaver and traveller of dreams. >Cont'd
>>6327173Jonah continues with his breakdown. "Notoriously hard to get a bead on, but we got lucky. He ambushed Bandersnatch in a dream a week ago, but our boy fought him off. The trail went cold, but he picked up a lead yesterday at the Riley Sea Wall." He says, and the holo-display shows the imposing structure in question. Built at the end of the Reconstruction War, the Sea Wall was a joint effort by the Charleston Municipal Authority and a few megacorps (Traepac, Yamamori, and Pomona), as a means of protecting the city from super storms and tidal waves. It's the better part of a mile high from sea level, and extends far to the North and South, wrapping around Charleston's coast to guard it. There are dozens of large, mechanized portals by which ships are able to enter and exit the bay and harbor areas that dot the structure. It's an imposing, dark grey bulwark that looms along the horizon as far as the eye can see from the shipyard, and still functions just fine after a century and some change."That's excellent news, but we've searched the structure dozens of times before. Some two hundred thousand squatters inside, huge portions of it honeycombed with power tools; it's a labyrinth full of urchins. What changed?" You inquire, gaze locked on the images of the huge, grey monument. Jonah smirks. "We found his blood." As he says this, images gathered by different surveillance cameras arrange themselves on the holo-display. She's just a child, with dark skin, big eyes, and her hair in bantu knots or dread locs in different photos, her clothes are baggy, dirty, and full of holes. "You're looking at Imani Marie Freeman, the great, great, great, great, great, great granddaughter of Sullivan Freeman, aka Sullivan Tidewinder. Her father, Ben Cooper, is deceased, and her mother, Assata Freeman, is an addict hooked on benzo-patches, or at least the bootleg patches manufactured by scumbags in the bowels of Riley. She used to be some kind of revolutionary, but things fell apart, now she's hiding at Riley, and the world's forgotten her." He goes on. "Bandersnatch hasn't made direct contact, but is maintaining a visual. Threw some coins to some junkies that Assata rolls with occasionally. According to them, Sully visits infrequently to look after his girls. We're reasonably sure they're the only family he's got left. May be our best chance to lure him out in the waking world." >Cont'd
>>6327177This is promising. The Bandersnatch is your hammer, one of your master's most reliable servants and a deadly weapon for Syron. Even you aren't sure of his exact origin, though he seems to be some kind of Hobgoblin or Arcadian creature, though there are rumors that he was a human infant raised in Faerie for centuries, becoming the monster you know today. His true form is that of a terrible fae beast. He may, however, shapeshift into the form of any human he has eaten within the year, or take on single aspects of his real monstrous self, such as claws or fangs. Chief among his wicked powers, though, is surely the Marionette Fugue. The Bandersnatch is capable of entering the dreams of anyone after eating a sentimental object they own, or a small piece of them such as a lock of hair, or thimble of blood. Many times have you used your larcenous gifts to pave the way for his subconscious intrusions. Upon entering a dream, he can hunt down and sting the dreamer with his tail, causing them to slumber inside their own mind. At this point, the sleeping body can be controlled by him to complete whatever dirty work he has been allotted. If the sleepwalker survives, their dream self will eventually awaken, causing them to awaken completely, in the real world, clueless as to where they've been and doomed to suffer all the consequences. All of that said, however, Sullivan can still make for very dangerous game. He's bludgeoned dozens of HOC agents to death, and drowned dozens more. You may not get another chance like this, so you can't afford to underestimate him.How do you want to handle this? >Have the Bandersnatch pull back, but maintain surveillance on the descendents. We should wait and prepare further before striking.>Send two Red squads to back up Bandersnatch in abducting one or both descendants as hostages when we know Sullivan won't be around, then we can set a trap>Send two Red brigades and a dozen combat drones to back up Bandersnatch in abducting one or both descendants as hostages, and/or securing Sullivan, we should hit fast and with overwhelming force>I will assist in this personally, as the Bandersnatch and I make a very effective team, and I'll bring along one Red squad for support, while maintaining a low profile >Write in
>>6327178>Have the Bandersnatch pull back, but maintain surveillance on the descendents. We should wait and prepare further before striking.More data is needed. Does Sullivan have a death wish? Is he bent on vengeance? It seems very unlikely that he would be able to overthrow the big boss at this point in time, perhaps we can simply put him and his family in the fae witness protection program somewhere internationally?
>>6327295Sullivan and the other five remnants of the Freehold HAVE sworn to destroy The Jabberwocky even at the expense of their lives. You are correct that there is no reason to believe they're capable of doing so at this time, but it's safe to assume they are spending the better part of every day attempting to develop the means necessary.
>>6327328Helpful context thanks. I never played Changeling so not very familiar with the political structures, etc.
>>6327371No problem, there's a lot of lore, and even just in this thread I know I've thrown a lot at you. To expand, briefly: some Changelings (the ones with humanity/morality) hate the True Fae for the evil things done to them, and hate the harm they do to others, and refuse to be kept as servants. They form little monarchies called 'Freeholds', combining their resources and strength in order to protect one another from their former Keepers. They are usually like 20-50 Changelings deep, and the one in Charleston was, but now there are only six left and they all want revenge on your master for slaughtering their community. Loyalists are Changelings that still serve their Keepers with devotion, and are typically insane by human standards. Privateers, like Percy, serve the True Fae more generally, usually by abducting and selling them their escaped Changelings, or unwitting humans, sometimes in other ways. They are generally granted more personal autonomy, and maintain more of their mental faculties, doing what they do less out of devotion and madness, and more out of self-interest or greed, with no insignificant amount of disregard for others, general callousness.
>>6327295>Send two Red squads to back up Bandersnatch in abducting one or both descendants as hostages when we know Sullivan won't be around, then we can set a trapI'll go with thisI think since we're personally involved in another task, might not be the best to get personally involved in this. Happy to delegate.Also I think they've been doing enough surveillance...?
Rolled 1 (1d2)>>6327295>>6327464
You find yourself staring at an image of Imani Freeman. "Yes. I can't recall us ever having a chance to lure him to the waking world." You say calmly. "So let's not take any chances. Have Bandersnatch remain on site. Have him lay low, and out of any dreams on the Wall. This is still fresh. Let's watch them, gather more intel on both, routine, known associates, anything. When we make a move it should be with a stacked deck. Have daily briefings relayed directly to White Rabbit." Jonah nods. "I agree, once we have a clearer picture I'll draw up a few plans for exfiltration for us to run scenarios with. That's everything I have for tonight, guys. Thanks for your attention." He offers to the group as a whole, as he closes out his material on the holo-display. You thank him, and the meeting closes out with Estelle talking a bit about regional and global press coverage of Syron and it's more notable companies, and reminds you all of the upcoming Blue Pearl Gala. It's a major press event for Hilton-Chihara, Syron's resort and travel firm, attended by company executives, representatives from other firms, elites with HC-VIP subscriptions, celebrities, and cybershow influencers. Usually you manage to find a date for the Blue Pearl, and consider adding that to your agenda. Probably won't be any nice girls at Lotti Dah's, later, and you'll be fucked sideways with a flaming rake before you invite Vincent, at least not in his current state. Your mind wanders, though. To the mess down at the harbor, at first, and then you're thinking about the Wall. You're thinking about Tidewinder. You're thinking about Dr. Monroe, and the nightmares she's in for, how she'll likely have her first one this week and think little of it. You think about Dr. Kenton. You might try to go see her before the Blue Pearl, if you can find the time. You only regain your focus when the meeting concludes, and when you do, the first thing you focus on is getting free of the office building. You send White Rabbit to your office, having him dock the drone there before transferring the AI to your mobile. Then, you head to a lower floor bathroom, and sidle up to the sinks, and look at your reflection, staring into your eyes a moment. You can't help but smile. You sigh, content, and step up onto the sink, and then directly through the mirror as if it were no more than a bead curtain, leaving not a trace of you behind. Time for a drink. >Cont'd
While you travel (instantly) to the bar, let's have some rolls for asset management. Different tasks will need different rolls, and have slightly different rules. When you make a roll, make sure you declare it in the post with the dice for it to count. If 12 hours have passed and not all tasks have been rolled, you may make a second roll for a different task, or the same if it's a Best of Three, again making sure to declare it in the post. Some of these tasks will require additional rolls at a later time as they are conducted, and some won't. Roll to begin recruiting more Red Cards. >1d100 Roll to secure a sample amount of Nectar >1d100+15Roll for preliminary surveillance of Imani and Assata Freeman >1d100+30
Rolled 13 (1d100)>>6327608Are the cards stacked against us?
Rolled 90 + 15 (1d100 + 15)>>6327608Nectar roll
>>6327654If I was gonna flub one of these rolls, this is the one I'd pick >>6327680Nice dice anon I am still waiting for a third roll, but since it's just asset stuff and will shake out off screen, I am gonna write the rest of this set and scoot you along to the next scene.
Rolled 84 + 30 (1d100 + 30)>>6327964Heres the last roll
You emerge from another mirror in a perfectly dark room, one that stinks of mildew, must, dust, and decay. Withdrawing a lighter from your breast pocket, you illuminate the space with a small flame. You're in the stall of an office bathroom, where you placed the full length mirror you just emerged from. But the tile is cracked, the toilet is shattered, and everything is covered in graffiti and mold in equal measure. This place used to be an office a couple hundred years ago, you're up on the fourth floor. But it, and everything else around, was abandoned when rising sea levels sunk parts of Charleston and flooded the rest in the years between 2030 and 2060. The redevelopment projects here and across North America kick-started the Reconstruction War - one part corporate feeding frenzy, one part terrorist militia panic, and one part death rattle from the old Republic government. The latter of these didn't make it to the other side. Some of the militia members and radicals survived, but their organizations were mostly broken, or at least pushed underground. Literally, in the case of Charleston, where corporations like Traepac and Yamamori built massive pylons, walls, and columns, creating the foundation for an entirely new city above the water-logged ruins of the old. Plenty of the old buildings are still standing, from colonial housing blocks to highrises and hotels flung up in the 1990's, though so many others have collapsed from water damage and decay. This is the sunless wreckage many now call Old Charlie, or more derisively, the undercity. Degenerates, deviants, and the destitute swarm down here like vermin, living on scraps and scavenge, catching pollution-riddle crustaceans, or maybe hunting raccoons and foxes nesting in the ruins. Plenty of them tele-commute to surface jobs, or traffick in drugs and other dirty work. This is also, infamously, the main bulk of the territory claimed by Karloff and his followers. There are vampires, witches, and even spirits living up in Charleston proper. But it's not easy being a modern monster. Corporate enforcement all over the world heavily relies on drone surveillance, facial recognition, thermal and ultraviolet scanners, digital seismographs, audio databasing, and even gait analysis depending on the exact locale. So if you're, let's say, an animate corpse, for example, (un)life becomes complicated very quickly. So the supernatural population has been gradually trimmed down to size. The safest place for them to dwell, to feed, and to congregate is this enormous, metropolis sized grave. To your mind, a fitting home for the rejects. They're the past. You're the present, and the future. You smile to yourself in the mirror as you think that thought. >Cont'd
You exit the bathroom, down the stairs, and out of a broken window on the first floor of the office complex. There are a half dozen tents and hammocks arranged in different cubicle dens of the first floor, readily visible through drywall that's been skeletonized from rot and scavenging, illuminated by mining lamps and candle lanterns. There is a scaffolding stairway of rebar and pallet planks leading down from the ledge outside the window, down to what could only be described as a shore of trash. Billions of wrappers and bottles and toys and scraps of clothing, all compacted together by decades of their own weight and mass, along with the lapping tide, and petrified with heavily polluted saltwater. There are fires in oil drums, strings of mine lamps arcing back and forth through the streets, and neon signs in the distance and even on some of the ruins, giving the smog looming just overheard a pale, incandescent glow in violets, greens, and blues. Old Charlie is, yes, home to the most desperate and doomed of mortal society, and many of the inferior supernatural beings in the city. It's also home to some of the best restaurants, and especially bars. Lotti Dah's Super Cyber Sing-a-Long is one such bar. At least in your book. It's an actual hole in the wall - the front door is buried under rubble and trash, so a new one was made by breaking down a new entrance in the alley and installing a revolving door taken from a nearby derelict hotel. The interior is lit by the same florescent gloom as that of the streets, with signs and holo-ads glowing through wisps of cigarette smoke, or clouds of synthetic fog. The main room is just a shabby bar with some tables, and off to the right is a short corridor leading to a cyber-cafe. On the left, however, is the main event, Lotti's karaoke parlor, with a second smaller bar on the far end and tables for a few dozen patrons (though even on a good night it rarely fills them), and a stage that was clearly originally made for a stripper. There's a holo-caster set up with the jukebox console and built right into the ceiling, and when someone performs a song, a hologram of the original artist is projected onto their form and synchronized with their movement. It can't make you sound any better than you do naturally, but the visual effect is impressive and sometimes funny. As you enter, you see that a glowing Linda Ronstadt, in the full blush of youth and perfect attire, is singing Different Drum from atop a rusty bar stool. Her voice betrays the illusion, however, being that of a rather tone-deaf Vietnamese woman in her late seventies. >Cont'd
There are eight others in the karaoke lounge, and you aren't sure how many people are behind the plastic bead curtain that leads to the cyber-cafe. There are ten loiterers in the main bar room, and a four armed drone attached to a rail on the ceiling handling drinks behind the counter. You recognize the loner on the far end. It looks like he's having a lucid night, too, what luck. Your nutjob buddy Vincent Villard.A loud yellow Hawaiian shirt, scruffy goatee, messy, greasy brown hair, big sunglasses. That's his Mask, and about what he looked like before his captivity in Arcadia, allegedly. That's what everyone else sees when they catch a glimpse of him, and they do, under the mess he's a looker, like you. One of the Fairest. He even shares one of your two Kiths, that of the Larcenist. Back in your days of misbehaving together, it seemed there was nothing in any world the two of you couldn't simply take. Also like yourself, he is powerful enough to have a second, and it's there where the two of you begin to diverge. His is Hunterheart, a predatory big cat, a panther. When you first met, he merely has a dark frame, a muscular figure, but as his connection to the Wyrd of fae magic grew, he became more... Feline. He's practically anthropomorphic, now (decidedly not your thing, maybe if you lose as much of your mind as he has that would change, but you're no furry). But he's changed further. His mental decline over the past five or six years has spiraled out of control, and his fur has tinged pink. And now he's taken to white suits. Some kind of fae joke, you figure. Vince has become a fairytale Pink Panther. He is staring into his glass, a blue Hawaiian it looks like, he was always obsessed with archaic craft cocktails from the olden days. His eyes are hypnotized by the little yellow umbrella he's spinning. What do you feel like doing? >Order a drink >Go to the karaoke lounge and sign up for a song>Go to the cyber-cafe to arrange for an informant you have in the undercity meet you near here >Approach Vincent and order a pair of shots>Ignore Vincent for now, harvest some glamour by pickpocketing patrons and drinking in their fear and frustration when their wallets are missing >Ignore Vincent for now, harvest some glamour by flirting with the two women at the nearer end of the bar >Write in
>>6328047>>Ignore Vincent for now, harvest some glamour by flirting with the two women at the nearer end of the bar
>>6328047>Approach Vincent and order a pair of shots
>>6328047>Ignore Vincent for now, harvest some glamour by flirting with the two women at the nearer end of the bar
>>6328047>>Ignore Vincent for now, harvest some glamour by flirting with the two women at the nearer end of the barCool quest btw. I'm loving what we've seen of the wrong so far and the merging cyberpunk/urban fantasy. Horror themes coming out of the android lab look promising too. I've never played a game of Changeling (or any WoD desu) but those are some interesting powers you've given us and Bandersnatch.
You feel like topping yourself off a bit before wading into conversation with Vince, who seems perfectly occupied gazing into the bottom of his glass, and so you start scanning the crowd for a hot meal. Loser. Alcoholic. A few tweakers. Not really your style. The two young ladies on the closer end of the bar, however, could be a spot of fun. The one on the left is light skinned with freckles and hooded, almond eyes. She's sort of pretty, wearing tattered, secondhand streetwear, black denim, studs, and mud-caked sneakers. She's brushing some braids out of her face to sip on something purple in a chipped martini glass. The other is a pale ginger, and has a more plain looking face that she's accessorized with half a dozen piercings, with her red hair arranged into a mohawk. Her outfit is far more revealing, composed of fishnets, miniskirt, fingerless gloves, and tube top. Both have a handful of visible tattoos, and the one with the piercings has a cybernetic left arm. They look to be in their early thirties, which down here means they are probably in their late twenties. You sidle up to the pair, on the other side of the mohawk, whom you notice doesn't have a drink, and swipe your wrist over the pay scanner. "I'll pay for whatever she has next, it's too nice a night for her friend to be drinking alone." You inform the drone behind the counter. You lean on the bar, and when the girls notice and look to you, their eyes betray their surprise at being noticed by someone as attractive as yourself. They sort of grin to each other quickly, but play it cool. Freckles puts her drink down and leans around her friend to give you an up and down appraisal before she speaks. "Hey thanks. We never been here before. Heard it was a good time. Guess they was right." She says with a sly look. Her friend rolls her eyes just a touch, but crosses her arms. "Yeah thanks." She faces the drone, then, and orders. "Gin fizz, extra ice." With that, her attention returns to you. "I'm Rags. This is Tasha. You look like you ain't been here before neither, you know that? What's your name?" "I'm Troy, good to meet you both. Whoever sent you here was right, Lotti's is a great time, I've been coming for years, at least when I find the time." You introduce yourself, purposefully avoiding your first or last name. "The stiffs up top don't know how to party like Old Charlie." You add, giving Tasha a conspiratorial wink. You are emphatically not a 'stiff', all of your movements are so smooth, effortless, and almost mesmerizing on their own. The suit (which likely costs more than all of the liquor in this place), and your preternaturally good looks seal the deal, you can tell you just about have these two on the hook. "Oh schway? And you do? I'd like to see that some time. You gonna stick around for a bit?" Rags' replies, daringly, causing Tasha to giggle behind her. >Roll a 1d100+25
>>6328125Also thank you much anon(:
Rolled 71 + 25 (1d100 + 25)>>6328176Shooting fish in a barrel
Rolled 76 + 25 (1d100 + 25)>>6328176
Rolled 57 + 25 (1d100 + 25)>>6328176>1d100+25
"You've managed to keep my attention so far, so I'd say the odds are good." You say with a wolfish grin. "Tell me a bit more about you. Rags is cute, short for something? Ragamuffin? Ragdoll, maybe?" You tease, shifting your weight a little. "Rags To Riches, actually." She says back cooly, taking another opportunity to size you up. Her eyes linger on your wingtip shoes, and stroll their way up your slacks. When she finally meets your eyes, she grins back. "But I could be Ragdoll for a night." She's got game. There's a certain kind of authentic charm to the people that live under Charleston, you think. You run a hand through your hair, glancing between them. "I think I like the sound of that. Why don't you be a doll right now and tell me what you'd like me to be tonight?" You shoot back, bending forward a little, turning your head a little and tapping below your ear, you invite her to confide in you. She obliged gladly, and whispers something very tempting and a little debased. Tasha bites her lip watching, clearly eager for a turn. Both of them are easily hooked on the attention from someone like you. Attractive is a rare quality in Old Charlie, and when it's present, it's buried under trash and grime like everything else. Obvious wealth is a rarer quality, and in the rough, dog-eat-dog (and sometimes man-eat-dog) environment down here, someone that exudes confident sexual charisma is rarer than either of the above. As you continue to banter with the girls, enticing their appetites and stoking lurid fantasies, you begin to replenish yourself. You've enticed Rags to kiss your neck in a public display of her devotion, and Tasha continues to observe, having been promised more of a show later. The lust, fascination, and playful pleasure rolls off of them in waves, almost like being around a couple of heat lamps, the sensation is ecstatic and you feel your store of Glamour restored in short order. You transfer a small offering of company credit to Tasha, and tell the two girls to book a room at the motel down the block. You instruct them to spend the next hour or two entertaining themselves with drinks, and taking photos of each other for you to enjoy when you join them. They're both all too eager to comply. They've never considered touching each other in that way, and while they've maybe hooked up with a stranger from the bar before, never so quickly. And never so unashamedly. >Cont'd
Part of you considers how the two could hardly help being drawn in by a creature like you, they're just mortals, and rather unimpressive specimens at that, what chance did they have? Part of you also feels they're just... Pathetic. So easily manipulated into voyeurism and depravity with just a bit of encouragement by one of their betters. You aren't sure if you really will join them in a few hours. Maybe a roll in the hay for some more Glamour will be to your liking. Maybe you'll punish them for their lack of inhibitions, killing one and abducting the other through the bathroom mirror as a gift to your master. He's been burning through new supplicants at a heightened pace lately. Maybe you'll just flake, leaving them wondering who pays for two girls to book a room and booze but never shows, and maybe they'll wonder about how far they allowed themselves to be pushed. While the girls were draping themselves over you and demonstrating their interest, Vincent never looked up from his drink. You aren't sure he is even aware you've arrived, as you've seen him space out completely for far longer than the twenty minutes you just spent working those poor women. As uncouth as the display was, it certainly wasn't about making him jealous. Your friendship isn't like that, and frankly, neither of you are really tethered to your remaining humanity enough for that kind of thing to be an issue. Vince certainly isn't as callous about it all as you, nor is he half as selfish, but even at his most lucid, he struggles like you to avoid treating humans as objects. A few other patrons stole the occasional glance, snickering amongst themselves, and one couldn't help but briefly stare when Rags licked your neck and Tasha sucked on your thumb. Still, they're used to irreverence, and mind their business. With that taken care of, what will you do next? >Greet Vincent, snap him out of his daydream with a pair of shots >Order a drink>Go to the karaoke lounge and sign up for a song>Go to the cyber-cafe to arrange for an informant you have in the undercity meet you near here
>>6328291>Greet Vincent, snap him out of his daydream with a pair of shots
>>6328291>Greet Vincent, snap him out of his daydream with a pair of shotsSeems a bit of sad character, what with his sanity being fractured. I suppose there’s not much hope in restoring his mental wellbeing, is there?
>>6328627He is kind of sad, kind of funny, too, hopefully. Changelings that are too traumatized to adjust to Lost society are pretty tragic and interesting to me (I have PTSD irl and so thematically a lot of Changeling feels relevant or familiar). Vince has a lot of different possibilities attached, currently being in a sort of neutral position as a free agent that isn't wholly evil or good, friendly to Percy personally but not allied with Syron or anyone else. Healing his mind would take deliberate effort on Percy's part, and he has thought about how it could be done in the past. You could find a specialist to treat him, possibly even a witch or sorcerer of some kind with healing magic, or possibly convince The Jabberwocky or another True Fae to restore his faculties (tricky business, of course), and finally you could find some kind of fae artifact or token capable of healing his trauma. Without revealing too much, I am interested to see how Vince and Percy influence each other as foils. Vince could easily lose the rest of his mind, or with some serious effort be indoctrinated into Syron. He could also be a possible off-ramp for Percy to leave privateering behind, and become a free agent himself. He is the first obvious candidate for a possible motley (a group of changelings united by a single magical pledge, like a werewolf pack or a witches coven) member, but I'm not sure if players will want to develop that kind of found family versus maintaining their current position as an individual and company man.
>>6328291>>Greet Vincent, snap him out of his daydream with a pair of shots
With a spring in your step, you swipe your wrist again and address the machine behind the counter. "Two shots of tequila and a halved lime, for over there." You say, pointing over to Vince at the other end of the bar. As different robotic arms go about the business of pouring shots into two glasses and slicing citrus simultaneously, you round the counter and saunter down to the other end, approaching Vincent from behind his shoulder. The shot glasses are deposited in front of him, and you clap a hand on his back. "Looking lonesome tonight, V." You say, and he turns to look up at you with a dazzling smile. "Let's not overcorrect on that tonight, promise? Why don't you and I grab a booth?" You say, grabbing your shot with one hand, and gesturing for the door to the karaoke parlor with the other. He maintains his broad, toothy grin at seeing you, but those feline eyes of his shimmer with recognition at what you're trying to do. "Le salaud. Don't be such a tool, Percy." He shoots back, and it seems to you his native French accent has again thickened somewhat. "As ever, I make no promises, least of all to the likes of you." He adds, picking up the shot and kicking it back easily. Caught red-handed. It would've only been for the evening, but that was indeed one of your least subtle attempts at trapping him in a temporary Pledge to manage his condition. No fae creature offers promises or swears easily, as such agreements can be easily bound with the Wyrd by another of their kind and made into a pact they must abide by, lest they suffer sanctions that might range from poor financial fortune, to disfigurement, even to death, though you'd never apply anything overly harsh to poor Vincent. Still, tricking others into bargains is a favorite play of yours, sometimes even manipulating nuisances into Pledges that they cannot possibly fulfill, effectively cursing them as soon as they inevitably step out of line. You smile back, maybe even a little sheepishly at being called out, and nod apologetically, downing your shot as well, and squeezing one of the lime halves into you mouth after. Then you jerk your head in the direction of the karaoke parlor, and the two of you head that way, finding a booth in the darker corner of the room. A middle aged man is performing a decent rendition of 'Wichita Lineman' by Glen Campbell, though his beer gut and recycled cybernetic legs warp the hologram costume of Glen Campbell somewhat unflatteringly. >Cont'd
"Still living down here, I presume? I hope the neighborhood is treating you well." You ask as the two of you settle in. He has the umbrella from his drink balanced on his index finger, just the toothpick tip and the umbrella itself is open, and with the subtlest moving of his hand he manages to keep the little accessory even and upright. You almost get as distracted as he is, but then you blow it away with one huff of your breath.He giggles with a wry half smile as it falls into the seat of the booth just next to him. "Le salaud!" He exclaims, then sighs, and takes a big gulp of the watered down Hawaiian, taking a moment to crunch on a few of the ice cubes with feline satisfaction. "Sometimes, I stay here sometimes. I have a place on Riley now, too, far South side. Well, same place, you know, but a different door." He answers you, and while it sounds a bit nonsensical, you understand him - Vincent's home is situated inside of the Hedge between worlds, and he maintains small dwellings here and there across Charleston, all of which have entrances to his true abode. "Yourself? Still in the ivory tower?" He asks. Where is it you're hanging your hat these days? >Yes, I'm still in the penthouse by the battery, I like the view of the water and the wall, if not for some luxury why bother with all this monkey business? (Bonus to social checks)>Actually, I moved into the executive suite at Syron HQ, I stopped bringing work home with me and tried the other way around, besides, hard to get anywhere safer than at the devil's right hand. (Higher penalties to attempted attacks on the property)>We used Foundation money to open an archeological museum on the Northside this past year. Having curated and acquired much of the collection and what's in the library, I decided to have living quarters constructed within. (Bonus to research checks) >Mr. Murtagh had a manor constructed for me in the Hedge as part of my bonus package last quarter, if you'd believe it. I guess all those late nights paid off. The door is a magic hand mirror. (Mobile access to a home located in the Hedge and surrounded by a labyrinth of brambles) >Write in Feel free to pitch and vote on your own ideas, using the above as an example. Bonuses derived from your dwelling should only benefit you while you are inside, and be generally narrow in scope, covering one kind of check or activity. We can negotiate out details together, I will make the final call and veto advantages that may be game breaking. The Undercity is a possible location for your home as well - residing down here doesn't necessarily violate your arrangement with Karloff. Some of his peers, however, may take exception if they become aware, and antagonize you. If relations deteriorate, you could end up 'behind enemy lines'. As such, if you choose Old Charlie as the locale for your home you may enjoy a second bonus.
Also, bear in mind that while you begin play with one residence - whether it's a dilapidated fun house full of mirrors in a fossilized circus at the edge of the undercity, or a Welsh castle reconstructed atop a luxury high rise overlooking the waterfront a la Xanatos from Gargoyles - you may acquire others during play, including any listed here if they are particularly interesting. I will let this vote go for a bit to let you all deliberate.
>>6328794>Actually, I moved into the executive suite at Syron HQ, I stopped bringing work home with me and tried the other way around, besides, hard to get anywhere safer than at the devil's right hand. (Higher penalties to attempted attacks on the property)Seems clear that we’ve sold out hard and regret nothing
>>6328807
>>6328794>Actually, I moved into the executive suite at Syron HQyeah I don't mind this. Sets up for a character arc if we want to move away per the future options mentioned here;>>6328651
>>6328794>>Mr. Murtagh had a manor constructed for me in the Hedge as part of my bonus package last quarter, if you'd believe it. I guess all those late nights paid off. The door is a magic hand mirror. (Mobile access to a home located in the Hedge and surrounded by a labyrinth of brambles)
>>6328807>>6328948Syron HQ it is
"A different one, I actually moved into the executive suite at Syron HQ a few months ago. Trying out taking home to work with me instead of the other way around." You reply with a smirk. The suite is half of a floor of the building far in the air, essentially a mansion with a number of amenities and features, including a security system that might even make Vincent shiver, to say nothing of the deterring presence of a True Fae just a few floors above. To this, Vincent wrinkles his nose. "Does the lizard pay you in scrib now, too, mon poto?" He asks before drinking down another couple of ice cubes to smugly crunch on. His gaze drifts across the room, past you. "This must be why you never have no fun anymore, eh? Always in the dragon's den. I should not be complaining so, pardonne-moi." He says, and then turns his attention back to you. "I'm glad you joined me tonight, I've been working long hours myself, the whole crew has. I am overdue for a few Hawaiians, and who better to have them with?" He says. You stop yourself from cringing at the mention of the 'whole crew', but nod, and this does at least remind you to order a drink to the table. You press a button along the side, swipe your wrist on the scanner, and then a small holo-caster on the wall of the booth projects an interface where you quickly select a bourbon neat. "Anyone better wouldn't be caught dead in this dump." You quip back. A beat. "What's the score this time?" You follow up. Much can be said if Vince, but he has excellent taste, and your curiosity about the things he chooses to steal is easily engaged. Both of you, really, are deeply curious in general, and it has always been one of the many commonalities that keeps your bond strong across the years. "Wouldn't you like to know?" Vincent replies, finishing his drink. He orders another on the interface, having to type it in as a custom order because not many bars still serve them. "It's been at least a year since you worked a job with me, no? Well, buy my next drink, I will tell you. There is a magician living down here, near the East shore. He owns a pair of shoes that will fetch a particular price with my fence. Nike Decades, supposedly worn by some coven of warlocks centuries ago during a ritual.">Cont'd
>>6329660Your drink arrives, placed on the table by a vaguely feminine drone with a couple of recycled appendages and a holo-caster instead of a neck that projects the image of a woman's head where it ought to be on the body. She doesn't speak, but she's all smiles. Your ears perk a bit at the object of the heist. "Are you referring to the Heaven's Gate cult? Wasn't aware they possessed any real mystical knowledge. The shoes, though, were part of the uniform they wore during their mass suicide, and discontinued by Nike afterwards because of the morbid association. A museum or collector would probably pay a million. They likely carry a potent resonance of death, I'd imagine that's why Rupert wants them." You reply. As per usual, your encyclopedic insight into artifacts, antiques, and strange organizations of all kinds far outstrips whatever homework Vincent has done for the theft in front of him. You already know he's selling to Rupert at the nearby Goblin Market because hardly any other vendors are content to purchase merchandise from his crazy ass. Vince grins, and nods while you sip your drink. "Perhaps they should call you Magnifying Glass instead of Looking Glass, mon poto, those are the exact shoes I am going to steal. I think we will be ready by end of week, you ought to take what we French used to call Paid Vacation, eh, and come live a little. Just like the old days, oui?" He replies. Before you can decline or accept his invitation, you both hear his main alias from the main holo-caster. "Fabian Stripe, please approach the stage, it is your turn in the queue, thank you. The machine invites, using an even, calm feminine voice with a British accent. Your companion's grin broadens as he starts to get up from his seat. "Speaking of the old days, come sing with me, Percy, let's do our old duet! I feel like celebrating! Come, come, let's have a good time tonight, oui?" He says. How do you respond? >You DO love to be the center of attention, and while you're full on glamour, it never hurts to harvest more - in fact, it's a better high than you'll get on any of the drinks here (or anywhere), and you came to have fun after all. >While you're far from shy about karaoke, you'd rather just have your drink for now, and while Vincent does his number you can enjoy your drink or schmooze with bar patrons until he rejoins you. >You don't want to get on stage because you can use Vincent being distracted to check out the cyber-cafe and arrange to meet an informant down here. >Write in
>>6329662>>You don't want to get on stage because you can use Vincent being distracted to check out the cyber-cafe and arrange to meet an informant down here.
>>6329662>>You DO love to be the center of attention, and while you're full on glamour, it never hurts to harvest more - in fact, it's a better high than you'll get on any of the drinks here (or anywhere), and you came to have fun after all.I want to get that meet with our informant sorted too but right now our old friend takes priority. Let's give the crowd something to remember, and prove that becoming a company man hasn't changed us completely.
>>6329662>You don't want to get on stage because you can use Vincent being distracted to check out the cyber-cafe and arrange to meet an informant down here.Business first
It's very tempting to go with him for a few reasons, not the least of which is that you loathe the idea of everyone in the bar fawning over Vincent instead of you. There's also the high you get when harvesting emotions, which handily dwarfs the mundane pleasures of sex, drugs, or rock and roll. Still, it's like he said - you don't have no fun anymore. "No, no, I wouldn't want to overshadow you, after all, would I? Besides, my drink only just got here, let me loosen up with a couple before there's any singing." You counter. His nose wrinkles again, and behind the Mask you can see he is having a feline Flehmen response - a stink face, that is. "Loosen up? Nonsense, monsieur Black, there are not enough drinks in the world to do that to you. But say I ask again when you have had another, would you say yes then?" He replies, glancing from the microphone to you. "I make no promises, least of all to the likes of you." You shoot back, looking terribly smug to have caught him attempting to tangle you in a little Pledge of his own, and returning his own words.Vincent doesn't frown, but the way he smiles is somehow sad. He nods, and then strolls over to the stage, stepping up onto it with one long leg, looking as graceful as a cat when he does. He clears his throat, and taps a button on the microphone stand, which causes the main holo-caster to project an interface near him. He deftly types away, pressing enter, and the search bar dematerializes. The holo-caster projects a new display, this one perfectly overlapping Vincent's figure - it is Michel Legrand. Strings begin to stir and rise in the background, and Vincent begins to sing a favorite of his, in French of course: The Windmills of My Mind. https://youtu.be/3NdKgni2kFg?si=4G1si2YB5uxygkQM>Cont'd
>>6330246You sigh, and raise your drink as he begins, then have a long sip. But you don't linger to hear him perform, instead, you kill the drink with a followup gulp, and make your way back to the main bar, hoping Vince will think you just went for another drink and got distracted. Instead, you set the glass down at the bar and tread past it, parting the bead curtain and entering the cyber-cafe. The thin, rectangular room has one long table running down its center, with two dozen little cubicles, twelve on each side. They all have a holo-caster, a terminal, and a cyber-visor for those looking to access The Deep, a vast digital commons that occupies well over half of the current internet, hosting all manner of virtual environments for those willing to explore. It's a world inhabited mainly by AIs, the majority of which no longer serve any purpose in the real world, having been connected to drones or systems that have been offline for decades, even over a century in some cases. Among these artificial ghosts there are billions of human users - some conducting business, others wandering pleasure seekers. Plenty of them are addicted to this realm, and it isn't uncommon to meet a poor lunatic that's lost their grip on which world is real. Personally, you don't care for Deep-Diving, the accessing and traveling of that artificial universe, and really don't even much care for the very notion of the Deep. It's been said that humans are capable of creating whatever they are capable of imagining, and it's been said also that they readily imagine Hell. To you, one versed in the supernatural more than most, there are certain disturbing similarities between this world that mortals have sculpted, and some of those that exist beyond their reckoning. Namely, the world of dreams, and the Hedge, of course, but also the mythic Underworld where untethered ghosts and gods of death reside (though you can't say you've ever visited the last of these three, despite having spoken to some that have). Fortunately, to contact one of your informants merely requires the use of a terminal and holo-display.There are only five patrons here at the moment, all isolated from each other by at least a few cubicles, and all of them Deep-Diving but for one, an old Vietnamese woman in the corner, probably the same one you heard singing when you arrived. >Cont'd
>>6330247You move to a cubicle as far from the others as you can, and reach out to one of your spies in order to set up a meeting tonight - you want to know what the undercity is saying about the killings down at the harbor. You currently have three spies lurking in Old Charlie. You can't risk multiple meetings tonight, and don't want to distract more than one from their beat on short notice. All exist on the fringes of the supernatural community down below, penetrating further into Karloff's organization has thus far been fruitless and costly. Still, they are not without talent, and reliably assist your efforts in the undercity. Which will you choose to ask about the attacks, and how the Shadow Society is handling them? >One of your agents is a witch of limited arcane ability, but very eager to serve. Her powers of divination and prophecy led her to a dream, which The Jabberwocky built into a nightmare, offering her insight into fae magic and the mysteries of fate in return for her fealty. She is not part of a coven, but is vassal to one of the Lords that reign over Old Charlie, and attends Society functions.>There is a vampire living on South shore, a loner and weakling at the bottom of the neo-feudal hierarchy, but with a certain talent for navigating the undercity, and creeping through the dark unseen. He is of the Nosferatu clan, and a craven little beast, trading the results of his eavesdropping for blood, particularly that of mortals that have been drugged with opioids or psychedelics. >The Jabberwocky rarely allows the Changelings he takes to be loosed upon the world, preferring to employ Privateers like yourself for tasks among the humans. One of the rare exceptions is your third spy, a Darkling of the Whisperwisp Kith that impressed him in Arcadia with her gifts for evasion and the ferrying of information between his courtiers. Unlike the others, she is not a member of the Shadow Society or known to it, a deficit she compensates for with her great talent for gathering secrets and gossip. And where is it you intend to rendezvous with your agent? >Have them come to Lotti's directly, it is an unclaimed territory and sparsely trafficked. >Have them book a room at the motel where you sent Rags and Tasha, it will be suitably private for your discussion. >Have them wait for you in the office bathroom from whence you came, you can ferry them back to Syron HQ or elsewhere for their debriefing. >Write in
>>6330248>There is a vampire living on South shore>Have them book a room at the motel where you sent Rags and Tasha, it will be suitably private for your discussion.Could probably let him have Rags and Tasha if he merits the reward. Or not. At least an option
>>6330248>>One of your agents is a witch of limited arcane ability, but very eager to serve. Her powers of divination and prophecy led her to a dream, which The Jabberwocky built into a nightmare, offering her insight into fae magic and the mysteries of fate in return for her fealty. She is not part of a coven, but is vassal to one of the Lords that reign over Old Charlie, and attends Society functions.>Have them book a room at the motel where you sent Rags and Tasha, it will be suitably private for your discussion.
>>6330248>>There is a vampire living on South shore>>Have them book a room at the motel where you sent Rags and Tasha, it will be suitably private for your discussion.>>6330247I'm enjoying the world you're painting through this quest. Is this the standard setting for Changeling or your own creation?Much more compelling so far than, say, Shadowrun, the only other fantasyXcyberpunk setting I know of.
>>6330553Thank you very much anon!!! Aspects of the setting are canon - the Hedge, Arcadia, etc. There is one very short sourcebook for cyberpunk in 1st Ed WoD (Mirrors: Bleeding Edge) which doesn't really provide a setting or lore so much as it asks a lot of questions, like, 'in this future have supernatural creatures been forced farther to the margins by ubiquitous surveillance?' (which is the route I took) or, 'have the supernaturals been discovered and integrated into society as second class citizens?' (also very cyberpunk and more like Shadowrun, but not how I wanted to go). All of their books tend to lean in that direction, supplying lots of hooks and questions, but rarely telling the GM or players 'this is how it is and this is the truth about it and that's The Lore(tm)', and I like the invitations to fill the gaps a lot more than just facts to memorize. Charleston itself is a city I happen to know a lot about, and find very interesting. At one point like 60% of all slaves coming into America were brought through there, and in WoD there are tangible consequences for that much harm in one place, plus all the civil war and natural disaster history is really interesting as well. I cooked up a lot of how everything else looks and works over time, even wrote mechanics for AI and drones using ghosts and spirits as a template. Freeholds typically alternate the crown between four seasonal courts, but I came up with the idea for two courts of high/low tide that switch the crown between monarchs when it shifts - partially inspired by catching crabs with my dad as a kid, and partially just imagining how a Freehold would be influenced by being in a city with massive slavery, how they would probably be drawn to a government model that is 'smaller', so having to swap control daily would keep either monarch from becoming a tyrant/encourage the courts to collaborate aggressively. There was a spell when I thought I would make this a MUSH, so I have a lot of the worldbuilding pre-prepared, but that community is unbearable.
>>6330557
You connect your mobile to the terminal, and a little white clock face appears on the monitor, hands revolving quickly as White Rabbit boots up on this humble system. "Hello sir, how may I be of help?" He inquires. You begin typing away, having already resolved just which of your operatives to tap for possible information on the harbor killings.Sawtooth Syd is a vampire, albeit a particularly degenerate and filthy one, and so may have a unique perspective. He is very young into his unlife, having been Embraced by his Sire merely a year ago, and lacking any influence - but he's at least able-minded enough to realize his irrelevancy is subject to change if he makes the right friends. You have him book a room at the same motel you sent Rags and Tasha to linger just nearby. He agreed to make his way there now, and wait. You make a note to acquire some benzo-patches, as Sawtooth has something of an addiction to human blood spiked with the stuff. Lacking hunting privileges, he is only permitted one human 'meal' per month, otherwise subsisting on animals and vermin. Rats brimming with microplastics, usually, maybe the occasional raccoon or jaundiced stray dog. You consider how it would benefit a vampire to live in an entire city that's been encased with concrete and steel, a sunless urban jungle, and yet, this lightless necropolis has so little life of its own, there is even less for the parasites to scratch and squabble over. You disengage White Rabbit from the terminal, and sit there for a few moments, staring at the blank, glowing screen. You take a few deep breaths, and then look around the room. Most of the people Deep-Diving are probably in their twenties. You recognize one of them, a dark skinned, emaciated man with matted hair in a tank top and jeans that hang loose on his boney frame, as though he shrank inside of them. A dark gradient of sweat and dirt stains begins around the neckline and lightens as it extends outwards, resembling a shadow. No belt, plastic slides on his feet, and his eyes hidden beneath a visor that wraps around his gaunt skull. You've seen him in here countless times over the years. You gradually did watch him shrink inside his outfit. He's just rocking gently back and forth in his chair, trembling, mouth agape, jaw slack. You find yourself staring at him. An entire minute passes and you don't feel a second of it. >Cont'd
>>6330753Exhaling a long breath from your nose, you rise to your feet and break your gaze, heading back to the bead curtain. Emerging back into the main bar, you hear the mic has passed on to some young woman singing a very faithful rendition of Let The Sunshine In by Jennifer Warnes. You scan the bar, and see that it's thinned out to only a handful of patrons now, atomized in different places across the room. You order a drink to your table before moving on.When you head back into the karaoke parlor, you notice that Vincent isn't seated at your booth, and he wasn't in the bar. You pause at the top of the steps, but head in anyways, and sit back where you were. After a minute or so, your drink arrives, but still no sign of Vince. "Wyatt, call V for me." You instruct. You hear the line ring in your earpiece, but no one picks up, his voice message folder is maxed out on storage so you aren't prompted to leave one. >Order another Hawaiian to the table as Vince asked, and wait for him to return; he probably just went to the bathroom or stepped out for a call.>Maybe he ditched you because you left during his song, he can certainly be a bit of a diva sometimes. Just as well, you can move on to finding some patches to help pay Sawtooth.>Search for Vincent, you'd at least like to say goodbye, but were hoping to hear more about this shoe heist of his. >Write-in
>>6330755>Search for Vincent, you'd at least like to say goodbye, but were hoping to hear more about this shoe heist of his.>>6330557yeah I like the high/low tide courts, and the red/white soldier squads (with face cards etc). you're doing a great job QM
>>6330755>>Search for Vincent, you'd at least like to say goodbye, but were hoping to hear more about this shoe heist of his.>>6330557>>6330558Interesting. It seems like all the pre-prepared worldbuilding has paid off so far. Thanks for running.
>>6330991>>6330997Thanks guys (':
You kill about half of your bourbon and rise from the booth again, bringing the glass with you. He still isn't in the bar, and so you make your way to the bathroom in the back. When you enter, it's in its typical state of disrepair, with one stall zip-tied shut, crack tiles, and sharpie graffiti on walls and mirrors. One of those mirrors is being stared into intently by someone you don't recognize. Yet, at the same time, very unfortunately, you do. On the surface, he's a young man, maybe in his mid twenties, a few inches shorter than yourself, with a pale complexion and some light cyberware - some dermal implants on the face, optic enhancements that give his irises a purple hue. His hair is shaved on the sides and styled into a messy kind of mullet, dyed pink on top. There are tattoos on his neck, and on the hands with which he is white-knuckle gripping the edge of the sink he is leaning over. The kid is wearing an orange and black hoodie with biker pants. He doesn't react immediately to your presence. But this is just a Mask.To the mortals outside, it is totally convincing. But to your fae eyes, the illusion is only partial, and you are able to see the pink panther beneath it. Vincent suffers from several compulsive and delusional behaviors, one of which is a severe case of Multiple Personality Disorder. It began some years ago with just a couple of alters, but eventually another manifested. You were aware that a couple more had surfaced even more recently, and you haven't met them all. Each one has its own separate Mask. Vincent is fully convinced that they are all real, separate people, outside of himself, and what's more, that they are all accomplices in his criminal enterprise. He has become a one man heist crew running on delusions and hallucination. Curiously, they do seem to sometimes know things, or possess certain skills, which to your (not insignificant) knowledge, Vincent does not himself. >Cont'd
>>6331182You let the door close behind you, and stand there for just a moment. You calculate what you might say. How you might say it. You've no clue what this personality is like. The entire thing... It's very conflicting for you. You pity your once lover, and now best friend, and you respect him enough to not want to mistreat him when he doesn't know what he's doing. But this shit frustrates you, as well, it's all made up, it's just fantasy delusions that Vince refuses to confront for what it is. Or maybe he isn't capable. It scares you, too. You'd never say that, you've only barely admitted it to yourself. But it frightens you to watch him unravel. The things you've seen... The things that you've done. Far worse than what Vincent might entertain even in his worst moods - things that take a dire toll. Yet here you are, seemingly more intact than he is. Unsure how much longer that can last. "You gonna take a pic or somethin', cubicle-rat?" He sneers, and while his face remains even with the mirror, you see him looking at you from the corner of his eye. Cubicle-rat, very nice, this personality has personality. Your brow furrows. "No, just looking for a friend." You say, remaining steady. The kid exhales and let's go of the sink, turning to face you. He pockets his hands and measures you with his eyes. Behind the veil, Vincent looks just like Vincent, but his eyes are shining distinctly more brightly, like a cat on the edge of the darkness. "I'm just messin', you're Mr. Black, right? Vince and Sheila was talkin' bout you yesterday. He told me to find you here, he had to jet off for somethin', kept mumbling shit about thorns? Said if you wanted in on the ruby slippers you could meet him in a couple days at Caliente's near the old power station, should be round there about seven or eight." He replies, his demeanor warming up a bit. It's eerie hearing someone else's voice coming from Vincent, but the kid doesn't have a trace of your friend's French to him. "I'm Twitch, glad to meet ya. Vince said you two really used to swing back in the day. I can't say I see it, but then again, hardly see any other corpos coppin' drinks at a skuzz-hole like this." He says. You keep yourself from grimacing. "Right. I'll call him later. Thanks. Good to meet you as well." You reply. He gives you an upnod. You decide to leave the bathroom, but as you open the door he speaks up again. "Hey hold up just a beat. Can I, uh, do you mind if I ask you somethin'?" You pause, and turn your head to look at him again. You let the bathroom door close. "Maybe. Depends on what you're asking." You reply, terse and matter of factly. >Cont'd
>>6331183The kid gives you a slow few nods. A beat passes. He clears his throat a little. "Right, well, look man, I'm just gonna say it, I'm worried bout Vince. You guys used to run together, right? Sheila said you was the Rusty to Vince's Danny Ocean, yaknow? So you know him real deep, maybe you got an idea what the glitch is. He keeps drawing... Like, bones, on scraps of paper and shit. Keeps muttering under his breath about an 'old man', and thorns, shit about like, sentencing and guards. Just randomly, I catch him doing it when he's alone or when he spaces out." He pauses, and sighs, shifting his weight a little. "I've been driving for him on the last three jobs we ran. Ever since the one before last he's just... Off. The thing he says the most, keeps writing the most, it don't make any sense to me. Maybe you'll know? 'Roman Ribcage'? That set off an alarm for you, or just gibberish?" That does sound familiar, but can't recall why. "I'll look into it. Thanks again." Is all you have for him. You exit the bathroom and leave the rest of your drink at the bar, unfinished, exiting out the front door. You don't feel like drinking anymore. Still, that could have ended worse. Hugo could have decided to take the wheel instead of that little greenhorn - he did the last time you both went out for drinks, and by the end of the night you were enlisting several squads of white cards to clean up the bodies of the bikers he picked a fight with, and then proceeded to win. C'est la vie, as the French say. No rest for the wicked.What do you do next? >Head straight to the motel, you can unwind with those two girls and then meet up with Sawtooth. >Head straight to the motel, you can get the information you need out of Sawtooth and then be done with Old Charlie for the night. >Head to a nearby flophouse where you know addicts linger and drugs circulate, you can buy or steal something that will possibly help you get more intel out of Sawtooth. >Write-in
>>6331187>Head straight to the motel, you can get the information you need out of Sawtooth and then be done with Old Charlie for the night.
>>6331187>>Head to a nearby flophouse where you know addicts linger and drugs circulate, you can buy or steal something that will possibly help you get more intel out of Sawtooth.
>>6331187And also, man, I feel for Vince. We need to keep a close eye on him. I'm definitely in favour of joining him of that job.
>>6331187>>Head straight to the motel, you can get the information you need out of Sawtooth and then be done with Old Charlie for the night.
>>6331307>>6331887Will go ahead and call this and maybe have an update tonight
The encounter in the bathroom was a real wet blanket on your mood, not that you were doing a great job of cutting loose anyways, but such is the world of megacorporate espionage and True Fae tyranny. You're salaried, after all, so it's not like you really have off hours anyways. You put your hands in your pockets and stroll down the block. It's a two level motel, would've been a Super 8 back in the day, but the sign has fallen over and been picked over for scrap. Now there's a big banner over the small lobby and check in counter, which says, 'Eight Ball Bed & Breakfast'. You strongly suspect that the 'breakfast' in question is a waffle maker and a coffee machine. You check at the counter for where your two 'appointments' have put themselves. The drone, which is really not much more than a big cylinder with an optic lens and three spindly mechanical arms situated on a rotating ring at it's middle, obliges. Syd is on the bottom floor at the very end, the girls are upstairs in the middle. You head for the vampire first. He doesn't know that a snack is tee'd up for him just above, and the girls don't know they've already crossed paths with one monster, and may end up encountering another. "Room service." You say, knocking on the door, taking the opportunity to be at least a little funny. You hear some movement from within, and the door unlocking. You open it and step inside. >Cont'd
>>6332022Impressively, the smell of mildew is stronger than the stench of cigarette smoke, which clings to all of the fabric and the walls like a thick mucus lining the inside of an organ. The furniture is cheap, plastic, scuffed, and stained. The wallpaper is a dark, dense pattern of lines that you find unattractive. Syd is laid up on one of the beds, the farther of the two. He isn't using it at the moment, but he has a little mind trick he can use to make himself appear to someone as whoever they're expecting to see, or just a random nobody. But it's only an illusion - it doesn't change his face, only hides it by letting people's eyes see what they want to see. What they definitely wouldn't want to see, is the true face of Sawtooth Syd. Corpselike, clammy, pale skin. Stringy unwashed hair. Jaundiced, sick eyes. Big, gnarled fangs that protrude out from his mouth and over thin lips. Syd is a textbook example of the Nosferatu clan. Despite his monstrous features, he's dressed like a stoner collecting unemployment, with dirty plaid pajama pants on, a T shirt that says, 'Orgasm Donor', and a saggy beanie. His feet are bare, mud-caked, and clawed. You speak first. "Good evening, Sydney. I appreciate your attending to me on such short notice." You pause, putting your hands back into your pockets, and lean against the wall near the entrance. "Keeping well I hope?" He sneers, which registers more like a snarl. "Same as ever, Black. Still a rat-licker bent over the bottom of the totem pole. Still crawling around in the mud." Something akin to a smile plays at the corners of his mouth. "That's why I like our little playdates. You pack a lunch?" How do you want to deal with this? >Information first, snacks later. Be firm with him. Syd knows the score - plenty of vampires might be able to take you in a fight, but he isn't one of them, and a scant few would survive the hell that would come down after, he definitely isn't one of them. You don't want the freaks thinking they can call the shots.>Sure, give me a moment, I already have one in the wings. Grab one of the girls from the other room and bring her here. With a snot like Syd, it's best to play to his ego and appetite, let him loosen his lips with fresh blood. >You're in luck, I scored two, and I expect an equitable compensation. Bring both of them down here and let Syd have them both. >Write-in
>>6332023>Information first, snacks laterRewards are given after, not before. We'll make this visit worth his while, but only if he makes it worth ours (depending on how much info he has, it could be one or both girls or whatever)
>>6332023>>Information first, snacks later. Be firm with him. Syd knows the score - plenty of vampires might be able to take you in a fight, but he isn't one of them, and a scant few would survive the hell that would come down after, he definitely isn't one of them. You don't want the freaks thinking they can call the shots.
>>6332023>>Information first, snacks later.
"I did." You reply, not appearing very amused by the suggestion. You let a pause hang. "But you're going to have to eat your veggies first. I've made arrangements for you to be well compensated this evening, and that's because I am expecting very satisfactory answers to the questions I have for you." You add with a raising of your eyebrow. Don't want Syd, or anyone, getting the idea that you're a light touch.His demeanor cools a bit, brows furrowing over the jaundiced eyes of a hungry corpse. But he nods. "Alright. What's the rub?" He replies. His peculiar arrangement of fangs gives him a sort of lisp, but doesn't really render him unintelligible. You move over to a plastic chair next to a stained desk that's had a leg replaced with a length of PVC pipe, and seat yourself. "It appears there's a vampire loose in the bay, running amok along the piers and shopping districts... The hunting grounds for Karloff's most privileged courtiers. Not just feeding, but attacking, moving loud, messy, without discipline. What do you know about it?" He takes a moment to pick between a couple of those teeth with a pinky claw, before responding. "I know enough. His name is Silas Newton, he's fresher than I am to the night life. His Sire was a six piece chicken McNobody, Howie Burns. He's stirring shit because he doesn't like the club rules, just on some tantrum shit, tearing up the backyard like a dog off the leash." "His Sire was? What is he now?" You probe, becoming more curious as the information starts to flow. Syd snorts. "Now he's a chandelier. See, he hadn't earned the rights to Embrace anyone, didn't get it cleared by his Lord, or Karloff, you know, they have their little system and shit. But he Sired Silas and thus girl, Dawn something, can't recall." He says, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head. "Punishment for Embracing without permission is fifty years in the Hangman's Cathedral, plus your spawn get torched. So, they stuck a stake in his chest, and have his torpid body dangling with the other rabble rousers. Dawn got stuffed in a kiln, she's done for. Silas vanished, that was maybe a week before the attacks started. I don't think he even knows that part of the harbor is off limits to the peasantry, yaknow? He's just doin' his own thing." >Cont'd
>>6332406You're familiar with the cathedral, not that you've ever been. Back when this was a city, it was actually a synagogue, Kahal Kadosh Beth Elohim, a beautiful Greek revivalist structure and the oldest temple of its kind still in use. Now that it's a giant tomb, the sanctuary has been claimed by Samuel Collins, Karloff's 'executioner', and maintained as a prison or killing floor for 'criminals' within their Shadow Society. "So Howie is in mandatory catatonia for a few decades and Silas is on the run. But if he's still just a fledgling, how is he evading Karloff, Sam, Horus and the others?" You reply. It occurs to you that a young vampire lacking personal power or allies would struggle to avoid capture for long, especially being so messy. Syd nods to this, he's picking up on what you're getting at. "Shouldn't stand a chance, right? I mean some of those douchebags have been hunting for hundreds of years, some of them have like, cursed amulets and candles and shit for talking to demons, they got witches that can do, like, ESP remote viewing shit, they got the Toad Ministry, so how's he not turned up? I mean, he's definitely sleeping at the bottom of the bay, and even with enhanced senses and shit it's impossible to see through the silt and plastic and trash, to smell or taste anything but muck, yaknow? Still, how?" He says. You quirk a brow. "That's what I'm asking you. How? Did he have any friends other than Burns? Did Burns have some favor in his back pocket? I suspect some of the nobles are reticent to wade into this and look for him themselves, would make them look rather weak to have to climb down from their pedestals to fish in the mud for some freshly turned punk, splashing around in their meat locker. That's helpful, but there has to be something else." You offer back, crossing your legs. >Cont'd
>>6332408"Gotta be magic, right? Don't really know, it's all above my pay grade, for now, no one else has even asked if I've seen or heard anything. This is mostly basic gossip, yaknow?" Syd replies with a hefty shrug. "But, I have seen and heard, yaknow, that's kinda my whole shit. I saw him, once, and he didn't see me, by the plastic beach on the Southwest side. I can send a picture to rabbit later, if you want. He had this thing, it looked like a chicken foot or something, and he burned it and a face came up in the smoke, couldn't make it out." His nose wrinkles a bit at the memory, but he ends up just shrugging again. "It told him to come to the boat for a meeting, didn't say what boat. So if he didn't already have a friend before, he's got one now, maybe a few. I would put my money on the Circle of The Crone, they're freaks, they do all that freaky ass blood magic. Dunno why they'd help him out, they're tight with Karloff, got themselves a nice little slice of territory and a good herd. Guess it could be one of the human covens, too. Or maybe somebody on the outside." You take a deep breath, and sigh, nodding. "So if I can find the benefactor, I can find Silas. Or, if I find Silas..." "You could find his fairy godmother." What will you do now? >Bring one of the girls from upstairs to Syd as a reward, this is an acceptable start. >Bring both of the girls to Syd, he's given you several leads, and should feel his work has been valued. >Don't bring him either of the girls yet, you have more questions for him about Silas or the Shadow Society (if you have more questions for Syd, about anything, even unrelated to the poaching matter, pick this option and specify what those questions are - NO MORE THAN FOUR) >Write-inIf you only bring one of the women to Syd, what are your plans for the other? >Leave her be, she can't go to municipal enforcement and you'd be at no risk if she could. Let her remember the night she invited the wrong person to bed. Maybe she'll be more careful in the future. >Leave her be, for now, but send a white face card to eliminate her after you make your exit to the surface. >Abduct her, and turn her over to your True Fae employer, he may even reward your good work. >Murder her, unwise to leave a witness, but you don't want to overly reward Syd for some basic intel. >Write-in
>>6332410>Don't bring him either of the girls yetDoes he know anything about the chain gang or Cheiron Global? Or is his knowledge just limited to the Shadow Society? Does he know anything else that would be of interest to us? Not just common gossip but something really interesting?In character it'd be a chance for him to prove his worth for us (and earn the second woman), but out of character it is a chance for QM to throw out more lore/plot hooks.Assuming he actually knows something then he could get his double reward.
>>6333581He does, potentially, know more about a variety of topics, living in the undercity and sneaking around eavesdropping on the other weirdos night by night. If you ask about >Cheiron >The Chain Gang You could potentially add two more questions. Phrase them however you want, too. You could ask, "What do you know about Cheiron Global bringing more muscle into the area?" or more broadly "Have you heard anything interesting about Cheiron Global lately?", you could ask specifically about Sullivan Tidewinder, or more broadly about the Freehold remnants around Charleston.
ok1. We know that Cheiron have increased their recruiting. Does he know what they're for?2. Does he have any intel on any of remnants of the Broken Chains (generally)3. Does he have any intel on Sullivan Tidewinder (specifically)4. Have you heard any sensitive information leaks from our organisation (e.g. is anyone selling our internal secrets to our enemies? If our informant knows anything that shouldn't be public knowledge then we can go look for a mole)
>>6333679All good questions, and in the absence of democratic participation, I will go ahead with this for our next move.
You nod, pleased to have some angles to work with here. There's a pause, and you half consider simply paying Syd and taking your leave; his presence is fundamentally off-putting, after all, but you suppose that's part of the cost of doing business. "Alright, a few more things, less urgent. Cheiron Global has allocated significantly more of their paramilitary resources to the regional HQ located upstairs. They're up to something. Any indication down here what that might be?" You ask, clasping your hands together in your lap. "Right, heard about that. We noticed, anyways. But no, no clue yet. The Toads are on that. I can reach out if I learn something though." Syd replies. The Toad Ministry he is referring to is a particularly clandestine group represented by one of Karloff's closest allies, Horus Akinyemi. Even you know little about them, just that they are sorcerers with the ability to become toads, somehow, an ability they use to spy on enemies of the Shadow Society across all of Charleston. You move directly to your next questions. "I see, and have you learned anything recently regarding the remnants of the Freehold of Broken Chains? I may have a lead on King Sully, as a matter of fact, do you know anything about him in particular?" Syd's brow furrows a little, but he nods. "Maybe, I think so. First of all, as you know, while they're on good terms with Karloff's operation, they aren't exactly integrated either. Too tough for him to just clear them out without a mess, but they're all just kinda busted, yaknow, kinda brain-broke and paranoid from all the, well, uh, from you, yaknow? Never met any of them personally." He begins, and takes a moment to pick at another couple of teeth with his pinky claw again, flicking some detritus at the wall after. "Haven't seen any of them, far as I know, or heard much, except recently there was a meeting between Karloff and Lysander, and apparently it got heated. Dunno where they linked up or what about, but the word is that Lysander was red hot pissed about something. Don't have anything else on that, though, and I can keep my ears up, but might not be smart for me to seem too interested in that guy's beeswax, yaknow?" He says. Lysander Thorne, the Briar-knight, is a member of the Chain Gang you've long had a particular interest in. He is a ferocious warrior, formerly the champion of the High Tide Queen, and in the wake of the Freehold's sundering has styled himself as a modern dragon slayer. If there's any single member of the remnants that may be capable of harming The Jabberwocky unassisted, it is probably Lysander. You nod to Syd, and make a gesture with your hand for him to go on. "And Sullivan?">Cont'd
"Right, yeah, guy keeps a real low profile, but I actually heard some normies talking about him last week, thought that was odd." Syd begins, sort of shrugging as he does. "I mean, I don't know much about him, just that he used to be royalty, and he's kind of a schizo loner type, yaknow, none of us are supposed to mess with him or get in his business. But these guys in the alley by the Gator Pub, they were talking about some kind of round table they were at and he came up. Humans just know him as Sully Sanders, right, just a persona. If I was following right, he made some kind of arrangement with them and a whole bunch of money just... Showed up in their bank accounts. He said it would, and it did, but it wasn't like, from him, yaknow? They were confused because it was exactly the amount he offered, but it came from like three totally random places, like a payment from a class action they didn't remember, and part of an estate from some philanthropist that just died?" You quirk a brow. "Did they mention what they were being paid for?" Syd shakes his head and twists his mouth a little. "Not exactly. Just that it'd be a godsend for 'the cause', and save a lot of 'comrades', dunno what that shit means." He elaborates. You file that away for later as well, cross referencing it with Teague's earlier remark about Sullivan's daughter having revolutionary politics - you can visualize the threads beginning to converge around another fruitful inroad. "That's very good. One final question, Sydney, I'm curious to know if you've heard anything about Syron corporation that you think I wouldn't want discussed out of turn. Is there any evidence that company secrets are being leaked or traded within the Shadow Society, or the other dregs down here?" You ask. He shakes his head again. "If they are, it's behind closed doors, probably just out of my atmosphere. Ain't ashamed to admit I'm nobodies first pick for conspiracies or schemes around here. Sorry, Mr. Black." Syd says rather matter of factly. You appreciate his humility, at least. "Alright, that's all. Thank you, you've been of real service this evening." You say, genuine gratitude in your voice. "I am going to bring a girl into the room. She'll enter first, and I will close the door behind her, and keep it held shut long enough for you to place a hand on her. There is another upstairs, in room B5, a bonus for services capably rendered. I will tell her to leave the door unlocked and await our return. Use that ability of yours to appear as the one she expects to see, and she'll perceive you as either being her friend, or myself, making it a small matter to draw near and feed. Both are inebriated, which I suppose will provide some additional amusement." You explain, rising from your chair. "Thanks again, I'll be in touch soon." You let yourself out, not looking long at the sickening smile that creeps across Syd's face.
You proceed calmly to the stairs, and stroll right over to the door. You knock three times. "Room service." You repeat your joke from earlier, which now is certainly a more apt way to announce yourself, and smirk at the sound of giggling from behind the door. What follows is brief and rather unpleasant. When you lead Tasha down to the lower room, she's all smiles and laughs, goosebumps raised on her arms in anticipation of the delicious time she expects to have with you, completely titillated at having dispensed with her inhibitions for the evening. You can even smell the scent of some love-making she must have already done with Rags coming off of her. You think for a moment that it's nice you could induce these two friends to enjoy some intimacy with each other, before the end. Syd will, unfortunately, have to dispose of them after feeding, and will receive some assistance from a squad of red cards you'll deploy an hour hence - he can't risk his many superiors learning that he is taking more human blood than his station (or rather, lack thereof) affords him. When you shove Tasha into the dark room and slam the door, you feel a measure of repulsion at the way she bangs on the door twice. She doesn't manage to let out a scream, and her protesting is quickly silenced by the hungry vampire. You sigh. Another night, another mortal deceived and trafficked to a monster beyond their comprehension.... You enjoy your life, and your freedom. You enjoy your work at Syron, largely, it utilizes your talents and stimulates your mind. You enjoy tricking and manipulating mortals. But abducting others and turning them over to be consumed or destroyed by the greater horrors of this world is an aspect of your world that will likely always be a source of discomfort. It is, however, a discomfort you are all too willing to continuously endure. You walk away from the motel, now, seeing that it's now gotten quite late. You don't have any appointments tomorrow until just after noon, when you plan to check on Halberd Labs to review arrangements for testing Cheiron's so-called 'Nectar', whenever it is that your agents manage to acquire some. As such, you could afford to sleep in and consider staying in Old Charlie just a little longer... What will you do next? >Return to your quarters at HQ, and rest. It has been a very busy day and you'd like to be up early to make some moves ahead of your check-in with the lab. >Visit the pub that Syd mentioned, The Sewer Gator, and see if you can turn up any 'revolutionary partisans' that may know more about Sullivan or his daughter.>Visit the plastic beach that Syd mentioned, look for traces of the ritual that Silas performed, or perhaps signs of his presence. >Go to the Hangman's Cathedral, it may be difficult to do, but perhaps you could extricate Howie's body in order to awaken him later and extract clues as to the whereabouts of Silas Newton >Write-in
>>6333931>Visit the plastic beach that Syd mentioned, look for traces of the ritual that Silas performed, or perhaps signs of his presence.We did say we would take this one personally. Maybe task another subtle agent with pursuing the Sewer Gator lead on Sullivan?
>>6333931>>6334059+1yeah makes sense to continue on with the task we took on personally, while continuing to delegate regarding Sullivan.
>>6333931>>Visit the plastic beach that Syd mentioned, look for traces of the ritual that Silas performed, or perhaps signs of his presence.
A lot of the other corporate types go years without setting foot in the undercity, some never do even once. When they're moved to pay a visit, most of them try to be in and out as hastily as possible. They don't like the smell. They don't like the locals. They don't like the dark. They don't like the relatively low level of ambient stimulation. You aren't like that. While you don't venture down below as often as you used to, it's unusual for you to not make the most of a trip. You appreciate the clarity of darkness. You enjoy the liberty of discretion. You don't mind getting your hands dirty, or your loafers. Of the two areas Syd mentioned, you've been to one before - the plastic beach on the Southwest waterfront. It used to be a popular place for young people to get high and break things, and then for a time it was avoided by the locals after a couple of those delinquents were found half-eaten in the shallows. Folks blamed alligators, there was even an urban legend about a bloodthirsty shark. That was a couple of decades ago, though, and in recent nights it's gone back to being a secluded place for hoodlums to spray paint broken appliances or put needles in their arms.You start in that direction, moving by an old office building that's collapsed on one side, with a winding trail up to the exposed fourth floor carved out of the rubble and built-in with planks of rusty corrugated steel on old wood and gravel. There are lights inside and people moving around between tents, another vertical shanty town full of lost souls. You smell cooking rodent and oily fried rice wafting across the stale air, it's oddly nostalgic. You keep strolling, and start to approach the trail that winds down to the plastic beach - one of many places where plastics dissolved by pollutants and salt water, along with sturdier trash, have washed together and calcified into stiff, fetid shorelines. You think about how it used to be here back in the day, and some of your other memories of the undercity... Say, what exactly is your history with Old Charlie, anyways? >I was born and raised here until my Keeper took me. When I got back, my parents were dead and so was the Fetch left to replace me, so I left it all behind and moved up in the world, literally. >I'm from the surface originally, modest middle class family, but when I was taken to Arcadia, the Fetch that was left to replace me got addicted to drugs and disappeared down here. Took a couple of years to track him down, a couple more to get him off drugs. I still check on him from time to time. >I was born here, but grew up in an orphanage for a few years before being adopted by a wealthy couple of top-siders. When I got back from Arcadia, I needed to find pieces of who I was, and tracked down my biological father, the only remaining member of my family. He still lives here, and his mind is starting to go, but I still check in on him and make sure he is taken care of. >Write-in
>>6336501>I was born here, but grew up in an orphanage for a few years before being adopted by a wealthy couple of top-siders. When I got back from Arcadia, I needed to find pieces of who I was, and tracked down my biological father, the only remaining member of my family. He still lives here, and his mind is starting to go, but I still check in on him and make sure he is taken care of.This leaves Mr. Black with exploitable weaknesses/sympathies for later.
>>6336501>I was born here, but grew up in an orphanage
>>6336501>>I'm from the surface originally, modest middle class family, but when I was taken to Arcadia, the Fetch that was left to replace me got addicted to drugs and disappeared down here. Took a couple of years to track him down, a couple more to get him off drugs. I still check on him from time to time.
Apologies to those reading/voting in this quest for me suddenly really slowing up. My other quest, which I thought would be the slow one for me, has unexpectedly caught on fire and has taken up more attention from me. Even though, of the three I'm running, this story is secretly my favorite and the one I'm most interested in telling... I will have an update for this out in the next couple of days, and after that I think I will cut the pace down to updating once or twice a week, definitely on Mondays (a generally free day for me) and sporadically on Fridays. If we keep up our pace from before I slowed up, I'd like to get this thread to 750+ before I archive it, and depending on interest I may launch into a second thread or just sit on this story for a while. If I had to pick between continuing this or Ratpocalypse alongside the Zelda quest, I'd pick this one, and I think going forward I am gonna try to just manage two threads at a time. Thanks for reading (^: While I am sorting things out and working on the next update, please drop whatever feedback you have about the story so far or what you think I could do to improve this quest as it progresses.
>>6339677>While I am sorting things out and working on the next update, please drop whatever feedback you have about the story so far or what you think I could do to improve this quest as it progresses.All I've got to say is that I'm enjoying this quest and I hope you continue it, even if it's not getting the same engagement as your other quest. I don't have any actually useful feedback to give, just wanted you to know this quest is the business.
>>6339677I'm loving the Zelda quest, and have been really surprised at the frequency of your posts (when a lot of quests on this board lately are one-per-day). I'll take a look at Ratpocalypse.I think the writing quality is amazing and will keep playing even with a slower update frequency, if you want to keep this one going along. Or you can archive it and pick it up again when you have more time.I must say I'm surprised that there aren't many players, when WOD quests generally do get a lot of participation. My suggestion is that for the next thread you change the title to make it more obvious that it is a Changeling game, maybe "Cyberpunk Changeling: The Lost" or something.
It isn't long before you're emerging out of the cramped, rubble-laden streets of what was surely once a vibrant shopping district and into a wide, flat area, which gradually declines away to form a shore. Grey-green water sluggishly undulates against fossilized garbage and half-dissolved, dessicated plastic. Saint Dismas Youth Shelter, the orphanage where you spent the first few years of your life, actually happens to just be eight city blocks from here. The 'beach' was about half this length back then, but all the refuse has never stopped compounding where the weak currents of the undercity collide. You don't remember much from those early days, but you remember the same stagnant air you're breathing now, and you remember the stale stink of decaying trash neutralized by the brine of oily saltwater. You didn't really get to know this area, or the other parts of Old Charlie for that matter, until you came back ten years ago to find your real father, Reginald Black - one of the last things you did before being approached by The Jabberwocky for work as a 'consultant'. You knew your mother had died in a riot just four months after your birth, you'd been told that when you were still young. Later, you would use your unique abilities to learn a everything anyone could possibly know about the incident... But you recall even now had not a single one of those details mattered. None of them made you feel any better. It didn't make you feel more in control. So you forgot. You let go of all those details, dates, names, faces, and facts. You just let yourself forget, because it truly didn't matter. To forget is something you rarely permit yourself. Perhaps therein lies the karmic irony of your father's condition when you finally tracked him down. Early onset dementia. It's been really, really slow. You haven't decided if that's a blessing or not, yet. He's still lucid the majority of the time, still funny. Full of stories about being a forger and smuggler for the Stone Sump Prowlers, a gang on the North side of town that's long since disbanded. Criminal predisposition appears to be a heritable trait in your case. But he is losing pieces. He has early onset dementia, and it's been a decade. He's already lost some big ones. As you tread towards the water's edge, scanning the garbage for signs of Silas' magical invocation, you can't help but think that all of this trash is to blame for your dad's decline. Tons of poor losers down here in Old Charlie start to sunset around sixty or seventy, and it's usually the same drawn out affair. Most people know it's because of... Well, everything around you, basically. The chemicals. The strange and adaptive molds. Most of all, the microplastics. They're practically foaming out of the gills of the fish and crab that people catch down here. Other stuff too, you're sure. Aluminum, mercury, probably way more exotic stuff too.>Cont'd
You can get a little lost thinking about it all. But just like with your mom, you suppose, it doesn't change anything. You keep him down here, hidden from your enemies and friends alike, furtively supplying the finest medical care your substantial income can provide. But he refuses gene therapy - he's Catholic, and won't entertain the idea. So there's only so much you can do to delay it. Your adoptive family, the Troy's, were good to you, but rather old when they took you in. They passed away while you were in Arcadia, and your Fetch moved to the Chicago Protectorate and disappeared completely - even you couldn't find him, and you assume he died in one of that regions frequent, bloody caste wars. So Reggie is all you've got, and you've got less of him left every day... Unless you decide to do something drastic to intervene. That's something else you haven't decided on. And you won't tonight. You're more distracted than usual, and so forgive yourself for almost missing what you came here for - some soot and ash, a blackened and shriveled turkey's foot, by the exact look of it, with beads and a couple of human teeth cast in pewter attached. You don't recognize it precisely, but you are able to infer immediately that it isn't of fae origin. You feel a mystic resonance of some sort, but it has no relation to the elusive power of the Wyrd. You collect it into a piece of newspaper you grabbed along the way, and tuck it into your inner breast pocket. You'll need to consult the library in your private study, where much of your best work is done, but you're sure you can determine the true nature of this magic. >Cont'd
Looking around you see... Not much. There's a pier made of oil drums and moldy pallets off to the left side of you, with an especially grizzled looking fisherman standing on the end with a spear in hand. You've seen him before at extremely unusual hours, so you think he must live on the beach, or nearby. Far off on the right but more inland there's a bar, and it has a couple of security cameras. They aren't close enough to have caught Silas using this magic turkey foot, but they do probably have a decent representation of some of the regular faces around here. Which do you think is a more fruitful lead? >The fisherman. He only survives down here by being vigilant. Most of the under-dwellers believe in or have seen unbelievable things. He could be the perfect eyewitness. >The bar, you don't even need to talk to the plastic-brained schmucks over there, you just need the surveillance footage and White Rabbit can give you the relevant details in seconds. >Write-in
>>6341010>>6341035Thanks guys, means a lot. I will keep this one rolling, but will just be slower. LoZ has so much momentum and sometimes kinda writes itself, plus those updates are generally just shorter because it's more of a dungeon crawl. This story is one I feel really attached to and so I plan to just out more effort in when I write for it, and I have bigger ideas and more complicated narratives in mind. With that combined, this one is gonna just run a lot slower. Thanks for sticking it out!
