No Justice. No Peace. (Werewolf:The Forsaken)

Writer's note: This is a story that I am writing as background for the Werewolf: The Forsaken game I am playing on Wanton Wicked.  Feel free to ignore this if you want to. This may only be relevant to a small number of people.

It was good to be on the hunt again even if I was hunting poor white trash with only the dimmest understanding of reality.

Let me back up.

This weekend, three years ago. I lost everything that gave my life meaning. I lost everything would have kept me on the straight and narrow. As a result, I was sinking into the usual fourth of July weekend depression.  But my new family saw it and suggested something very therapeutic.

Which is why I was hunting Calvin Dorfman and I was probably going to have to bust up his friends too.

Rusty had, true to his word, gotten me an address for him from public records.  Calvin, sometime after his dishonorable discharge from the Army, had drifted into sovereign citizen groups and militia groups hungry for someone, anyone with actual military training.  He’d been along for the ride when he, The Bundy’s and about 2 dozen other ammo-sexuals had broken into the Malheur Wildlife preserve and trashed the place, then dared the federal government to stop them.  Most had ended up giving themselves up after the food ran out and one guy had gotten killed trying to make a run for it.  True to form, Oregonians, who tend to run strongly conservative away from Portland proper, had acquitted the group of almost all of the charges. Most had gone back to their ranches and farms and there had been little uproar about it except in Portland, of course.

In trying to find something to do with my skills, I am confronted by the fact that, unless it involves remembering things I’ve read, or working on engines, or extracting crap via beating. I am not exactly the most skilled individual. So, perforce, my contributions to a better society are usually found in the matter of throwing a beating to people who are deserving of one. Calvin, and probably his friends, fit that bill admirably.

I changed out my pipes on Lulu. I am a big believer in the concept of “Loud Pipes Save Lives” But for these matters, and patrolling the neighborhood, I prefer a much quieter cycle. I was in my old riding leathers, with the “Gallowsbait” insignia on the back. If anybody happened to see me at all, they’d connect me to a cycle gang that is defunct, by dint of the fact that there are no survivors.  Or rather...None anyone knows about.

And in truth, I like the idea of the Gallowsbait MC legend continuing like this. I think at least some of my brothers would approve.

I have brought along my only face-concealing helmet. Which I intensely dislike. But I don’t need too many people putting me in a lineup or pulling me out of a book of mug shots.  Additionally, I had shaved my head and my beard. If I change shape, It will all grow back so much faster.  That little trick got me out of a sticky situation in Nogales about a year ago...

The hardest bit of the operation was being sneaky. I am no-one's idea of an Irraka. I tend to stick out in nice neighborhoods. And frankly, I’m not exactly circumspect by nature.  But I find that if you park the bike in an out of the way spot, and then slip into Urhan form, you can move around in the burbs pretty good.

   Calvin’s neighborhood wasn’t exactly a cesspool or anything. There were at least a few folks who tended gardens and kept their lawns neat and clean and took care of their things.  Not everybody had the same attitude in the neighborhood. Calvin and/or his family certainly didn’t.

I did end up setting off one of the motion detecting back porch lights. Had some spots in my eyes, but my reflexes didn’t fail me as I made for the fence-line before anyone could see me. I was able to creep up to the side of house without being observed. I opened up my senses and pressed my ear flat up against a basement window.

The suburbs have a particular smell to them. A kind of sensory collage. Urban areas are different. There is a tendency towards a certain amount of sameness in an urban area. Especially downtown where the smell of carbon monoxide is pervasive.  The suburbs are different. There are more children. There are more pets. There is more pool chlorine.

I crouched at the casement of Calvin’s window and breathed in the scent of his home.

-Gun oil. A lot of it.

- Faint traces of the smell of children. Guess the wife got custody.

-Cooked fish from at least a week ago. I’m betting there’s a bass boat in the garage.

I hear whistling. Not like a kettle, more like some dude getting ready to go out. and...Oh god...Is that Aqua Velva? I didn’t even know they still made that shit!

It was Friday evening. I had been hoping that Calvin and his drinking buddies were going out. And it appears that was the case. But Aqua Velva put me in mind that maybe he and his friends might be off to a strip club.

That could be problematic for a number of reasons.

As he made his way out to his pick-up I made my way back to my bike. Then I picked up his trail and followed at a discrete distance.

Following people is easy. It’s hardwired into my DNA. But following people on a bike is not easy. Not because it’s not feasible. But because if you’re trying to be stealthy at all, you run into the problem of other motorists simply NOT FUCKING SEEING YOU.  So, it’s maybe a good idea to drive your scooter like you’re wearing hot pink and you’ve got a million dollar bounty on your head.

I shadowed Calvin to his closest titty bar.  A little place called “Cowgirls”. From all the brown glass strewn around the parking lot, I was able to infer a couple of things. 

1) There would be no actual booze in club.  Most places like that let you get a lot closer to the dancers and lap dances are much more common. Clubs with booze tend to have limits on how close you can be to the dancers at any given time.  Not all strip clubs do this...But the good one’s do. If there was booze inside, it would mean this was the kind of strip club where strippers go to die. 

2) Brown glass would mean that there would be a number of dudes out here in the parking lot periodically tanking up and then going back inside. I’m not as worried about that. But it could mean witnesses later. Eyes peeled. Head on a swivel.

I go inside. The smell of bathroom vending machine Drakkar Noir and baby powder forces me to take a second to force air out of my nose until I can adjust. I pay the cover, collect a soda in a plastic cup that glows under the ultraviolet lights and find a seat where I can keep an eye on Calvin and his boys.

The sad thing is, Calvin is something of an Alpha among his peers. He’s 450 if he’s an ounce, and I guess he’s been in a fight or two.  His friend who is slightly older, I have dubbed “Moe” because of his constant scowl. Moe looks like he can handle himself pretty well in a fight, but he’s not a talker. “Larry” keeps excusing himself to go off to the jakes and comes back rubbing his nose. He’s the one with the roving eye, but he’s got no money really because he spent most of his cash on blow. So even though he’s in the seat that is right on “Perverts Row” he’s not throwing down a dollar for the girl working the pole right in front of him.  I guess he thinks he’s going to get his swerve on from just charm and personality alone.

Yeah...

And then there’s “Shemp”, Muscley and dumb as a box of rocks. Probably has an Iron Cross and two lightning bolts tattooed on him somewhere. Trying his best to keep up with Larry’s constant motor mouthing and the Delphic oracular announcements of Calvin’s.   Over the throb of the music, which is already starting to give me a headache...I manage to hear a bit of Calvin holding forth. “See, if the flag in the courtroom has got that gold fringe on it, that means it’s an ADMIRALTY flag. And you can claim that you don’t recognize the authority of Maritime law on dry land and they have to throw the case out of court...”

These boys think that’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard. Even Moe almost smiles.

I am trying to figure out my next move when my view is occluded by a rather large black man in front of me.

“Can I help you cousin?”

I look up, and up. he’s at least half a head taller than me...and I ain’t small.

And he’s an Uratha.

I smile. Because I am charming and affable.

“Hi”

“Hi, yourself.” He looks me up and down. “You gonna cause me some trouble?”

“No sir.” I look him up and down. He and I got Ink in some of the same places. It shows on his large forearms. He’s got on a  pink polo shirt and khaki pants.  He has serious pythons.

“Why don’t I believe you cousin?”

“I must just have that kind of face. I MAY mean some trouble to someone in here. But I ain’t meaning no trouble to you and I don’t reckon it’s got to happen in here. Is there a problem with a fight in the parking lot?”

“There is if we’re talking bodies.”

“On what little honor I got, It is not my intent to murder anyone. I’m just here to punch a bitch ticket or two.”

“Well.” He smiles “That there is a horse of another color ain’t it?  Yeah. If someone fights in the parking lot, that ain’t really my business.”

“Cool.” I look over at Calvin and his table. His eyes follow mine.

“Oh, I see. You have fun. I’ve been waiting for an excuse for a long time, but this keeps my paws nice and clean.”

“I appreciate it.  You got a name cousin?”

“None you would have heard of. You?”

“Same.  If you get into Portland, ask around for Butch and your first round is on me.”

“Much obliged cousin.”

After about an hour, I get fed up. It appears that they’ve run through their money, but they’re still here and trying some grab-ass with the waitress, the only woman who still has to go over there. The dancers have already figured out that these mooks are used up and have moved on to greener pastures, it being Friday night, that isn’t hard to do. I take a moment to put my helmet on and flip up the visor. I walk over to their table and stand in front of it. and I say clearly enough for anyone in the club who WANTS to hear. “ If I see you pig-fuckers touch my sister one more time, I’m going to kick every one of your asses up into your throat.”

“Larry” who is literally the most hands-y of them has the nerve to look surprised. But Moe, Shemp, and Calvin all get grim-faced like I've just taken a dump on their table.”

“What’s it to you fuck-face?” Says Shemp as he stands up

“It’s exactly what I want to make of it.”

“HEY!” says my new friend from across the bar. “None of that in here!” And then he picks up a shotgun that he and I know he does not need.

“My cousin is right.” I let that sink in for a moment.  “You boys want to see me outside. I’ll be most enthusiastic.”

And then I turn my back on them and stride out.

I’m pretty sure I’ve made their night. They aren’t getting any pussy, so a good fight is probably the best they can hope for, obviously, this drunk fuck doesn’t realize he’s outnumbered...

I go outside, look around to make sure I have enough cover around the corner of the building and I shift into Dalu form. Since my face is covered, the lunacy is less likely to affect them. 

While the seconds tick away as they’re shifting their fat-asses to come after me, I activate some of my gifts. My strength flows into my veins. My instinctual understanding of how to give pain sharpens like a Ginsu knife. Inside the helmet. I smile.

Shemp comes out first. Fast. Pissed. Hard enough to slam open the door and nearly get caught by it coming back into his face. “Awright ya fucker. C’mon! Let’s fucking dance.”

Larry comes out right behind him, Larry has a switchblade. pearl handled job. real pretty. Real sharp. Good. 

The lights of the club have drawn nearly every moth in the tri-state area, or so it seems. It makes everything seem to flicker. not like a strobe effect or anything, but I’m in among them before they see me and that’s really all I want. 

Larry has a weapon, so I step into his left side and without much thought about it, shatter his jaw. He goes down onto the gravel with a sound like a gurgling scream through a wet straw.

    Shemp wheels on me and starts throwing punches at my chest and bread-basket. If he’s noticed that I’ve grown about a head taller since last he saw me, it hasn’t registered on his dumb face. He grabs the front of my helmet and slams it hard enough into the wall of the club hard enough to ring someone’s chimes pretty good. As it is. I am only mildly inconvenienced. I realize, the someone, probably Moe is going to work on my side with what feels like brass knuckles.

That actually hurts. Moe also knows what he’s doing and I can feel my ribs breaking under his work. It’s not fun.  It’s also not the only time I’ve had broken ribs.  I expect my heart rate is still much lower than my assailants.

So. Since Shemp is largely preventing me from moving around freely, I aim a kick at the low side of his knee. What is known in the martial arts as a “Trap kick” Nothing fancy, just a hard kick to the side of the knee, the least armored bit.  The center line of the human body is usually the most armored except at the throat and genitals. The best policy is to strike at an oblique.

I am rewarded for my efforts as Shemp immediately falls down. holding his busted knee in both hands.  From this day forward, he will know when inclement weather is coming. He will not thank me for this gift.

Moe does not have brass knuckles. He has a long hunting knife which he is holding up between us like an experienced knife fighter. it has blood on it. It has my blood on it.

I realize that I have been stabbed. Multiple times. Adrenaline will get you killed sometimes.  My body is already trying to compensate, but I see spots and I can’t seem to get air into my lungs.  And I have no idea where Calvin is.

Something in me raises up. I know that I can end this fight right now if I take Gauru form, but it will be very public and likely caught on camera.  Not only that, but frankly, I’d be embarrassed if these jabronis managed to put me on the deck.

So I pour cold water on that part of me, that part that wants to let the Divine Wind loose.

I take the warm embrace of Essence and my vision clears, Moe comes in fast, but with more room to maneuver I am much harder to hit. He slashes at me, missing. I punch him in the face.  He slashes again, missing. I punch him in the xiphisternum, stealing his breath. He slashed wildly at me, his piggy eyes betraying his panic. I move inside the arc of his swing and headbutt him with the front of my motorcycle helmet, breaking his nose and sending him to the gravel.

As soon as he falls. I am shot.

Calvin, who is maybe not as stupid as I took him for, sent his boys to the front, while he himself, exited the club via fire door. Whether he was concealed carrying in the club,(Not likely) or went to his truck (95% chance of the later.) makes no difference. He’s shot me with what looks like a desert eagle. My shoulder feels like someone ripped it off and makes my lack of air, which is still something of a problem, seem like a trivial and pesky thing.

I run through the last of my essence closing the holes in my side. I stay standing through sheer mulish orneriness. I turn to look at him. He’s in the proper stance. Two handed grip. “Who the fuck are you before I fucking kill you?”

“I am El Zurdo di Justicia.”

He smirks at me. “You know what fucker? I don’t fucking care who you are. You don’t know who you’re...”

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence. It turns out that he doesn’t know something that I do know, and that is, it’s actually really goddamn hard to hit a moving target that is rushing right at you. Adrenaline does a number on your reflexes and as I said, I can be very hard to hit when I have room to move or I can actually see the damn gun.

I am on top of him in very little time. I am kicking him quite hard. In fact, it is very unlikely, based on some of the noises that I have heard, that he will ever have another child. Indeed his pelvis may no longer be a load- bearing structure.

When I am certain that he will require hospitalization, I stand over him. “Calvin Dorfman. This country is better than you imagine, and it is FAR better than you deserve.  Tell the others... Tell them I come for them. I am the left hand of justice and I am coming for them all.”

And then I spat my blood on him and walked away.

It’s difficult to shift gears on your cycle when your shoulder is all but useless. Although after a bit of time, I had an easier time of it. I drove back to Calvin’s house. Located his copious gun collection and selected a few nice pistols. I could certainly file off the serials on these and put them into useful hands. I didn’t have enough space on the bike for the assault weapons or the long arms though. Shame.

While I was moving around in his house, it occurred to me to see if he had stashed anything like gold certificates or bearer bonds.  He didn’t, but he had some commemorative coins. Maybe a couple hundred bucks worth in actual gold.  I left the silver alone. Naturally.   

When I was done, I fetched some brake fluid out of his own garage, some crystal Drano out from under his own sink. dumped the crystal Drano into a rubber dishwashing glove and tied it shut.  I poured the brake fluid into the bucket. then set the glove in on top of it. then set the bucket on top of the stack of guns and ammo.

I had about 30 seconds. I walked out of the door. Got onto my cycle and drove away.

After about 20 minutes of driving. I wasn’t feeling any pain anymore...and I found myself smiling.

Volunteer Plot (Chronicle of Darkness 2.0)

Sometimes, as a player, it can be difficult to get some traction in play. This is especially true in Larps and Chat Games where you may not know any of the other players and you may not know the ST’s. Even an experienced player can find themselves in the occasional lull in the action and find themselves bored. 

    The advent of new systems in Chronicle of Darkness 2.0 Has given us a way to fix that problem.  You can approach a Storyteller and ask for a condition that you hope to work out in play. The ST will offer you some options, and if you and they can agree on what the condition will be, You receive a Beat on the spot. You will also receive a Beat when you resolve the condition. Also, At any time during the duration of the condition, the Storyteller may offer you an additional Beat in exchange for an Escalation of the problem.

There are some Guidelines:

1) Unless otherwise indicated by the ST, You may not take more than one Volunteer Plot at a time.

2) The total number of Beats you can garner from a volunteer plot can never exceed 3.

3) The volunteer plot must remain in effect for at least a Chapter of your story. if you manage to resolve it before the end of the chapter, the second beat is lost. (Although if the Condition is escalated, you still get two beats. Not too shabby actually.)

Example:

Rowen is noticing that the city is fairly well policed by the vampires that live there and while her character is all for that, Rowen feels that things need to be shaken up a bit. So she approaches an ST and requests a Volunteer Plot. Of the options that are presented to her, she decides to go with “Fed Sloppy”

The Condition “Fed Sloppy” is added to her sheet.  

Fed Sloppy

Whether you got too frisky with someone in the back of your car, or you went on some kind of goon binge frenzy during a home invasion, you managed to get a full belly of blood at the cost of at least one life.   The Catch is, that you were observed while this took place and you may not know by whom.

Escalation: The observer may be mortal hunters, law enforcement professionals, someone looking to blackmail you (Which may make the condition persistent) or a member of an enemy covenant with an ax to grind.

Resolution: Either you manage to tamp down the secret and/or silence the witness permanently, or you are exposed. Either way works.

Example 2

Robert is a very rich character, and he’s started to notice that maybe he’s willing to trade some of his security for some sweet sweet Beat Action, so he elects to take condition “Money Troubles”

Money Troubles

Maybe your parents have cut you off. Maybe your company isn’t performing very well in an economic downturn. Whatever the reason, Your effective Resources dots are at -2

and for the duration of the condition, any social maneuvering you have to do involving your finances adds 2 doors.

Escalation: Events may be set in motion like a hostile takeover or a proxy battle that may force you to cash in those resource dots unless you resolve them

Resolution: You manage to get back into the chips, or conversely, you elect to ditch the business. (Or maybe even burn it down)

Example 3

Lyra is an occult-based character, There may not be much in the way of Occult plot going on, but that may be eminently fixable.

The Chosen One

So, there may be a prophecy, or there may be some mystical tchotchke that is floating around that you are connected to, or might be the only one who could steal the stupid thing. Or maybe the university has some Mesopotamian archaeological exhibit and there is a striking resemblance to you in one of the unearthed cave paintings.

Whatever the reason, This brings all MANNER of attention to your character in order to figure out how best to exploit you. In politics, this is bad enough. In the occult world, it can be downright deadly.  Some occult factions may approach you and they may not be interested in taking no for an answer

Escalation: This could be as simple as trying to arm wrestle destiny or as complex as trying to stay out of some full-on feud between magical factions.

Resolution: Severing your connection to the thing or managing to find a way to get off everyone’s radar.

Il Resto (Vampire: The Requiem)

Il Resto (The Remainder)
Level One Cruac Ritual

At times, it is necessary to provide proof of the death of someone or to take a trophy for one's mantel. This Ritual provides the means to do so.

While a slain vampire tends to fall apart at a high rate of speed, This ritual may be enacted in the mere minutes before the vampire turns completely to dust. Some vampires, of course, ash instantly, but for those who do not this ritual will work.  The ritual may also be cast on a staked vampire prior to his destruction in order to ensure freshness.

   The Crone must choose a part of the body to preserve. (Heads and hands are most common, although in at least one case a club foot and a Penis have been subjected to this ritual.)  The caster must tie a bow around the body part with an unspoiled white silk ribbon and bind a sprig of rosemary in the bow. He must offer some kind of blessing to the deceased.

(In many cases, this blessing is seldom elaborate as it is often used on the body parts of enemies, but casters have found that the spell will accept a benediction as simple as "You fought well" or "You were a worthy Adversary." )

 Once the blessing has been offered, the caster spends a point of blood and the annihilation of the body part is arrested utterly (The rest of the body will molder as normal) This state of affairs will exist as long the ribbon remains tied around it. If the target of the spell is staked, then the body part can be removed without a loss of freshness. 

 The "Remainder" is rendered useless for the purpose of almost all necromancy involving animation.  Any damage sustained by the Remainder will undo the magic preserving it.

   This ritual can only affect the body parts of Vampires. It has no effect on the bodies of living creatures or the freshly killed.

It has been noted, that one can effectively preserve the chopped off part of a kindred, and then not actually slay the kindred in question. Wily elders have seen this dodge before and will mostly ask for parts that a vampire can’t really survive without, Heads being the most common.

The Invictus (Vampire: The Requiem) (OCC)

The War saw the Unconquered at their level best and at their absolute worst. In many ways, The First Estate lived up to its name by holding kindred communities together through main strength and using their best minds to keep the fighting in the war at a bare minimum.  But, on the other side of the coin, the loss of the masquerade was a major loss of power for the Invictus and it incited utter panic in many of the eldest members of that covenant.

To say that the Invictus doesn't adapt well to change is not completely accurate, they CAN. It's just that most choose not to. And this has been the case with many of the elders in the first estate. Most went forth with grand plans to correct the whole problem. They found that the loss of a goodly portion of the kindred community was fairly crippling to their plans.  Often, The Invictus had gotten into the habit of having others fight their fights FOR them.   Additionally, Human knowledge of the Masquerade made many time-tested strategies obsolete overnight.  Finally, as the war continued, there was a lot of throwing things up against the wall just to see if they would stick.  And all during this maddening sickening spectacle, news of this elder or that elder fleeing into torpor. "Eclipse" became something of a dirty word in Invictus circles.  It was cowardice and many of the younger vampires saw it as such.

In many cases, during the war, Invictus paralysis caused much more damage than the humans attacking the kindred communities. In some cases, dithering from the inner circle or the prince cause such trouble that assassinations were attempted, The successful attempts often backfired spectacularly as the city ended up burning from the Prince's or Inner Circles "Omega Plan"

The main problem for the Invictus though was not from the humans and the loss of the Masquerade.  It was the internal rift that the war caused. Many kindred come to the Invictus with the idea that if they serve long enough, eventually, they'll be the one's being served. But for anyone embraced in the last 30 years or so, this involved a much smaller time scale.  These are people from 2 generations that are used to a much higher pace of life. Where they might expect to serve for a year, their elders are thinking more like 50.  It's the same problem that afflicted the Mob in their first years in America. Old school mustache Pete mobsters carrying out age-old vendettas and holding the reins of power, with much younger Mafiosi who knew this new country and had pretty good ideas about how to do business.

Eventually, the young turks get sick of letting the old guys wet their beak from the businesses they built. It will ever be the way of things that large numbers of Alpha wolves will have troubles with one another. The only thing that was holding things together in the old Invictus was the power of elders, the oaths, and the web of favors and obligations.  Now that structure was crumbling.

Tonight, there are few elder Invictus still walking the night. Many of them have strong ties to their houses and childer and refused to go into the earth and leave them in the lurch. Such elders have taken steps to try to adapt to the modern nights, and while for some it is slow going, others find it easier.  Many of those elders were former carthians who got fed up with the seemingly rudderless covenant that they belonged to and jumped ship long ago.  So things have come oddly full circle.   More common are Invictus Ancillae who are finally being invited to the big chair after a long, long wait.  The rank and file of the covenant now are people embraced within the last 30 years. Young by most reckonings.  Most of them are battle-hardened, seasoned intriguers, and there is a statistically significant number of them that possess the merit Torpor Connection…Not all of them by choice.

Many of the Invictus houses went to great lengths to pull together in the war. In the face of human incursion, long vendettas and internecine strife got settled in a fortnight.  The Invictus is now a byzantine and labyrinthine edifice of houses with treaties, webs of oaths, shared blood, smaller houses subsumed into larger ones and guilds taking refuge within certain family structures. This has been a good thing because it has kept the Invictus largely whole in the face of a massive generational split.

Also: The general strife between the Invictus and the Carthian Movement has given way to a far more equitable arrangement. When the Movement approached some of the younger members and talked about getting things done, most of the younger members listened.  While the Movement and the First Estate are never going to exactly be friends, The Invictus is now more willing to fix things that are broken…provided you can convince them that it IS broken. But if you can, they fix it with dizzying speed.  The Movement still wants to experiment, and that's not something that the Invictus are really ever going to be comfortable with. Status Quo is in their DNA.

Still, The Invictus is slowly but surely returning to power. Many through cunning business practices. Some through political strategy. Others through cagey use of existing resources.  Many in the covenant realize that they may never have the iron control they once enjoyed over a world entirely ignorant of their machinations. But that doesn't stop them from dreaming and working towards a fat powerbase. The one difference now is that the Invictus had, in the nights before the Revelation, grown soft and complacent.  That will probably not happen again.

The Ordo Dracul (Vampire: The Requiem) (OCC)

For a very secretive conspiracy of vampires, the Ordo Dracul became very out and very open very quickly, and as a direct result has adjusted to life in these modern nights better than nearly any other covenant.  But why?

   For perhaps the only time in the history of the covenant, a decision rested solely in the hands of the Onyx Sworn and it was fairly obvious that an answer was needed right damn now. A hastily assembled meeting of onyx sworn sat down and in the span of 2 nights decided to throw open their vast stores of knowledge to the general public. The main thing they asked for in exchange was access to scientific equipment and a general pressing of the flesh with the scientific community.

The Ordo Dracul have known for a long time, a basic truth about the world. Science works and Magic works. The two paradigms are not mutually exclusive to one another. As such, they've wanted to participate in high-level scientific exploration but have been barred from it by dint of its security. Now you've got Vampires teaching at major universities and attending TED. Unprecedented opportunities have sprung up for vampires in the Ordo in all manner of walks of life.   The Onyx sworn have opportunities to pursue diplomacy and public relations and in many cases, are on the forefront of such initiatives.  The Azure Sworn have whole FIELDS of new data and new directions for study, and the judiciary end of the Azure sworn find themselves being courted by many cities vampires as arbiters for the swelling vampire population.  Many of the Crimson sworn have opted to join vampire police initiative as they certain advantages over others of their kind. They don't rattle easily and control their hunger better, and in many cases, have extensive experience in vampire on vampire violence. Most vampire police you meet and nearly all vampire SWAT are Ordo Dracul Crimson Sworn.

Things might not have gone so well for the Ordo Dracul if it had become known that they had advanced warning of the shit-storm to come. The Carthian Inner Circle prepared a document for it's most important member to put into the hands of ranking Ordo Dracul Members as they were to ask them for sanctuary from other kindred.  It has long been known that the Carthian Movement and the Ordo Dracul have enjoyed a similar attitude towards the idea of change. While the Ordo tend to want that change to be careful and purposeful, and are therefore a bit more conservative than their carthian fellows, There is still a certain amount of understanding between the two covenants that the Invictus and Sanctified stand in the way of a number of new possibilities.

It was this basic understanding that the Carthians traded on and they were largely successful in doing so.  Granted there were a number of local situations that went south, ending in betrayals, mistakes, and in some extreme cases, the extermination of both Covenants. But for a number of years, the Ordo hid the Carthians from their enraged kindred communities.

The Lancea Sanctum (Vampire: The Requiem) (OCC)

The Lancea Sanctum finds itself in a very different world and in desperate need of serious changes.

I'm just going to let that one sink in for you for a bit.

See. You can imagine what the reaction would be to the Spear to wake up one night to a world where things had turned completely upside down and all the traditions that they had lived by needed effectively to be thrown out and re-written.   You can imagine how well that was going to go down.

And of course, It was worse than that.

No group lost more in the Revelation and the incipient war than the Spear.  Where many Invictus elders went into Eclipse, many Sanctified Elders stayed awake, convinced that the end of the world was at hand and that the "Revelation" as they coined it, was indeed "Gods LAST test."    Their Elders stayed awake, many of them joining the fight against the humans with a renewed and refreshed zeal.  Hardliners went on a major recruiting drive of the other covenants, and when this failed, they began to embrace directly into the covenant.

It was of course always done in secret, usually by a single vampire embracing numerous candidates at a time, and then driven into torpor as penance.  But it could mean as many as 6 new shock troops for the sanctified. Many of the "Volunteers" for these mass embraces were people who spoke against the war effort or were suspected of Heresy of some sort. So it the additional effect of depleting the ranks of those who were against the war, and doubling the number of new vampires indoctrinated into the covenant.

As the war worked itself into a fever pitch, Those who hewed more closely to Unifier ideals learned to keep their mouths shut. But the war took a toll on the Sanctified. Whole congregations of Sanctified were wiped out in the war with the humans. Many of the Sanctified Elders ended up destroyed along with the rest of their parishes.   The spear had risen, almost as one, to take up the mantle of protection of the kindred, and while they received hefty support from the Invictus, they fought the war, largely by themselves.

They fought. They fought with a god-fired madness.  The sheep had risen up and struck at gods wolves. How dare they! And it seemed that all of the rest of the kindred had shown their true colors. Brood and VII had come out of the woodwork in heretofore unseen numbers.  The Invictus had shown their cowardice and their godless megalomania. The Crones and the Ordo were like coiling snakes hiding in the dark. and the Carthians… 

The hate that the Sanctified bear the Carthians is nothing compared to the hate they once bore the Crones.

But hate can only sustain things for so long. And even a divine fire needs air and fuel to keep burning. The Sanctified suffered greater casualties than any other covenant in the war…and at the point where it seemed bleakest for the kindred side, the Invictus and the thrice-damned Carthian movement betrayed them all by suing for peace.

Recent nights haven't been kind to the Sanctified. What few hardliners remain have scattered to the four winds, hiding in pockets waging secret wars against any and all comers. Most of the martially inclined among those who remain a part of kindred society have taken 2 or more drinks in order to ensure their loyalty.  Most of the rest have sworn binding oaths to follow and obey the laws of men. In addition, many of the Sanctified have been pressed into service as a kind of secret police for the Kindred.  As you can imagine, some have taken to this role and others have not done as well.

Of those that remain, unifiers and neo-reformists are the largest factions still extant.  And of the religion, it may be these vampires that might have a chance of re-wiring the religion from the ground up. New ideas are possible in a way that wasn't before. So are heresies. The inquisitors have circled the wagons and are trying to figure out what to do.

Those that still hew to the idea that Vampires are meant to be God's scourge on mankind have had to alter their course a bit.  Some have found that they are still able to act as a tool of God's justice but need to do so in a much more subtle way. Gone are the nights of indiscriminate feeding and terrorizing, with the Invictus cleaning up the mess so the unsuspecting humans don't freak. Now, when the Spear reaches out to scourge mankind it does so through proxies and cunning uses of the softer disciplines.Certainly, you can't make a man kill himself with dominate or Majesty. But you can drive him right up to the edge of the cliff and give him lots of reasons to either jump or amend his life.  Other Faithful have found that maybe the language of the old ways was perhaps less specific than was needed.  Many Sanctified speak of how judgement of the flock ought to be indiscriminate, but Reformer Sanctified have put forth the idea that this may make faithful and innocent humans into collateral damage. However, targeting serial rapists, pedophiles, and other "Serious" sinners is seen as a compromise and often there might be certain understandings with mortal law enforcement.  To say that Special Victim Units compile "Skate Lists" which are then turned over to the Spear...Why such scurrilous slanders cannot be countenanced!

This is the guy, you're more likely to run into than any other:

"Hey. I know. You've torn your girlfriend apart in a frenzy and now you don't know what to do.  Hey man…We've all been THERE.  Don't worry about corpses and cops right now…We'll take care of all of that.  Just let me ask you if you know what this means in the larger scheme of things…See. I believe that things like this happen for a reason. That there is plan…"

The Church is in flux and no one really knows what its new shape will be. Anyone who says they know is selling something.

Circle of the Crone (Vampire: The Requiem) (OCC)

When the world is in upheaval, it's one of those rare occurrences when belonging to a covenant that believes in the value of suffering is actively useful.

The Crone weren't exactly caught flat-footed by Operation Prom Dress. Not that the Carthians talked or anything. The Crone have different avenues of information and spiritual contacts.  Naturally, signs, portents and fever dreams are maddeningly unhelpful and many times, not entirely useful until the problem is right on top of you.

It meant different things in many different cases.  It meant that not all of the Crones were caught off guard.  They didn't exactly know what was happening, but the warning to take precautions was fairly clear. And if there's anything the Crones know how to do, it's batten down the hatches.

When it went south, The Crones gathered the chorus to them and in nearly every single case, sat them down, and told them the truth. It made all the difference for them. The Crones have almost always had the best relationship with the kine they are connected to.  It meant far more ports to haven in when the storm finally broke.

Kindred politics was trickier of course.  The Carthians had gone off the reservation. The Ordo had all but pulled up their drawbridge.  The Spear had all gone seemingly crazier than usual and the Invictus had gone into crisis management mode. That, by itself, wasn't unusual, but they tried to pillory the Ordo and the Crones into guilt for not stepping up and fighting for the kindred community. (I.e. the Invictus.)

The mark of true desperation is when the Invictus demands something and no one is keen on doing it.  It's not as if the Invictus has the numbers to fight a war with the Crones and all the humans too.

So, While the political turmoil continued, the Crone began to notice something unusual. The Spear had stopped bothering them and had focused almost the entirety of their efforts on the Human problem. This was, to put it mildly, unprecedented.  It enabled the crones an opportunity to meet in secret and discuss what was going on, on a much larger scale than was previously possible.  The Crones are normally a fractious group at best and the deleterious effects of knowing a lot of Cruac weren't spectacularly helpful for inter-covenant unity.

But an interesting thing happened. faced with a serious crisis in the mortal world and a distinct lack of a common enemy in the Kindred world. The Circle became rather more whole than it had been in a long while.

First, it was debated what all this meant and where it would all lead.  The idea that seemed to win some traction was that maybe this new tribulation would mean new wisdom and was perhaps a gift from the old gods.  

And this new wisdom came from the mouth of a fool.  His name was Julian Mason. A gathering of Crones in Atlanta met for a discussion and it ended up being bogged down in sectarian factionalism. When finally it became too much for Julian.  He stood and began ranting about "Crone this and thunder god that! My sweet goddess we might save a lot of time and thrice-damned effort if we just referred to short-hand!  Sweet Lord and Lady, We bang on about the gods and goddesses to such a degree that the symbols have become damned near meaningless…Why don't we treat it that way and have done!"

This probably wouldn't have gone much farther than a sharp reprimand from the Hierophant and being run out of town…but for two things.  1) The Hierophant agreed with him.  and 2) He had a blog.

"The Mason Plan"  was fairly simple.  A shorthand code of symbols to enable Crones to talk about religious topics without getting into specifics of practices.  You can, of course, talk to your Chorus about specific religious ideas and mythology and symbology,  but when talking with other Acolytes, you can simply refer to the symbols instead of the names, and no one gets their feathers ruffled.

Shockingly enough, it seems to work well. Crone leaders began to notice a syncretic drift in worship and less arguing over the names of things, and gods, and goddesses, and spirits, and so on.  In truth, some of the more modern-minded Crones saw the whole mess as a barrage of Jungian archetypes anyway. This was simple for them.

While the Invictus and the Sanctified fought on every front they could find. The Crone went out and stretched their hands wide into the human communities. They had always had a foot in the door with human counter-culture movements and they saw that this might save them to a degree. They were covert, they took their time, and carefully vetted their targets before making approaches.  In many cases, it went well, netting them human converts and in some cases, new fledglings.  Nothing ever goes to plan completely, and if there was a problem, it was likely that the Crone saw a potential target that was worth cultivating, only to realize that Belial's Brood had gotten there first.

As the war wound down, The Circle found itself in a unique position.  A covenant that had ALWAYS believed that Man and Vampire were part of the same natural cycle, and didn't seem to discriminate against its human followers.  The Crones found themselves in the public eye more than they expected.   Naturally, they drew criticism.   Not so much from the Spear, they had their own problems.  Human Christian groups found a level of outrage for vampire religions of all stripes. And Human Wicca groups found a level of distaste for the old religion that wasn't fluffy, cute, or bloodless as they had been led to believe. Atheists and skeptics didn't have much to say, Cruac tended to shut them right the fuck up.

Tonight, The Crone is in a better position politically than it has been in years in the kindred world. The Spear is few in number and mostly chastened.  The Crone have certain powers and connections that cause others to seek them out and their connection to the mortal world is such that they have some real honest political power for the first time in a long time.

If there is anything that concerns them, it is the growing number of Kindred. Man and Vampire were meant to live in harmony with one another, but both Man and Vampire seem to have little understanding of the damage a rising vampire population can do.  Worse, a number of those vampires embraced during the war were Acolytes or joined the Acolytes….Many of the Acolytes have heard the word from on high about limiting embraces, but do all of them heed?