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The World of Darkness resembles the contemporary world, but it is darker, more devious and more conspiratorial. The dichotomy between rich and poor, influential and weak, powerful and powerless, is much more pronounced than in the real world. Decadence, cynicism and corruption are common. Humans are unwitting victims or pawns of vast secret organizations of supernatural creatures. Vampires, werewolves and wraith —among others— struggle with internal factionalism and against other species in secret wars of intrigue for control of reality. The battles in these wars may last centuries, beyond the realization or comprehension of ordinary humans. This status quo is recently threatened by the rise of a global Technocratic cabal (and/or an animistic spirit of stasis and control) intent on monopolizing the power of belief and destroying all traditional supernatural societies.

*This is not a 'by the book' World of Darkness game.  While a lot of themes and events may be recognized by players, anything and everything can and will be changed to best suit the need of the story.

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  2. Casey - "Hear I Am"

    "Well Mr... Mourne, was it? Do you mind showing me some ID?" He might be handsome, thought Casey, but this is very unusual. She glanced over at Petra who was watching them while the tall man pulled a slim leather wallet from his coat pocket and extracted what looked like an authentic Metropolitan Museum of Art Id card, complete with picture and employee numbers. Casey held the card and studied it, not that she would be able to tell if it were real or not, but if it was fake ... well that was just too much trouble to go through to fool her. Horatio Mourne, now that was not a name you saw every day, she glanced at him standing there patiently, what kind of parents name their kid Horatio in this day and age. She handed the card back to him and watched as he slipped back into the wallet and the wallet disappear back into the jacket. And how does someone named Horatio end up looking like him. "Alright Mr. Mourne, we can talk in the office. Right this way." Casey said motioning him past her toward the office. As she followed him she gave a nod at Petra sending the girl back to work. Hopefully.
  3. Maya - 'Literal Issues'

    Each title slid into it's spot on the shelf. Some appeared to have different titles than she remembered. Maybe she was just stressed, or didn't get a good of a look as she thought she did, they did fall quickly to the floor after all. Who knows, right? Inspecting the shelf, she paused to notice that the titles were not right. There was no reason they shouldn't have been, she'd just replaced several of the titles herself not but twenty minutes ago. The letters on the spines seemed to blur and her head felt like it was light. She lost focus for only a moment but the letters, or at least a few of them seemed to blur away while others remained solid and legible. B E H I N D Y O U were what they spelled out... she squinted, looking closer, wondering if what she was seeing was really what she was- "Miss Flynn!" She about jumped out of her shoes and garnered a few 'shhhh's' from patrons at a loud, but swiftly contained shock of fear, scream attempted to pass her lips. She spun about to see a young boy in a bright orange jacket with the hood pulled up. He held out a book at her in a green mittened hand. "Could you read to us?" She hadn't heard him approach, but that must have been because she was so engrossed in her work. Young Kenny tried to hold it up higher for her, like elevating it would make her immediately agree. "Miss Flynn? Please?"
  4. Casey - "Hear I Am"

    "No! No! You're not listening to me!" A gentleman customer shouted on his phone at some one, somewhere... "I told you my date of birth. It's April third, nineteen seventy one. Four, three, seven, one. Yes. No! That's not at all why I'm calling... Jesus, gimme someone who speaks English please. I don't believe for a second your name is 'Tom' with a Pakistani accent that damn thick. C'mon buddy, who are you trying to fool?" Casey couldn't help but smirk at the conversation she was over hearing outside the office. It was a brief moment of levity in the ocean of hopelessness she had in front of her when her sorrowful distracted stare was interrupted as Petra whipped around the doorway, catching and holding herself by one hand. She swayed too and from gripping the frame. "Hey, uh, Casey... there's a dude here to see you. Said he wanted to talk to the owners... but, uh, well, y'know. Looks kinda... bankerish." Great, she thought. Petra pointed him out, but it didn't seem necessary. The guy was like six-two and had shoulders like he played for the NFL. If this guy was a banker, he was the guy the bank sent to make sure you weren't late on payments. He was handsome and his long black hair was in a loose ponytail at his shoulders to keep it out of his eyes. Petra was right though, the guy looked like a business man of some sort. Casey could spot a five thousand dollar suit when she saw one. As she approached he noticed her and smiled, extending his hand. "Hello, I'm Horatio Mourne, with the Metropolitan Museum of Art. You must be, Casey. Casey Mason, yes?" She raised an eyebrow. "I'd like to believe that was a lucky guess." He chuckled, letting go of her hand. "No, no. One of your customers, a grizzled guy, black coffee, he provided me with a," he paused, searching for the proper phrase as she noticed him pass a casual glance across her chest. "Rather simplified description, but spot on, nonetheless. Is there someplace we can talk?"
  5. Mel - 'Deb By Dawn'

    Mel ran to the half mile mark and could still hear the Fitness Coaches screaming 'on your six pack!'. He hit the ground and knocked out thirty push ups like they were nothing. He rolled and could hear 'two pack!' and had to bite back the urge to scream it out loud as he knocked out thirty crunches. The Army Ranger's had their individual PT times, of course, but two days each week they trained as a unit. They PTed as a unit. They succeeded or failed as a unit. Now here he was, on his own. Fifteen years in the military wasn't easy to shake loose from the mind and living a 'normal' life wasn't easy, especially without Cece around to help him adjust. He was slipping... and he knew it. He sprang up and took off. Just four and a half miles to go. His phone was on the local radio, bluetooth ear buds kept him from being worried about a cord as he ran and did his exercises. Local news, sports, sometimes some political gibber-jabber, it was all the same to him in New York: noise. A more pleasant noise than the city around him. At the moment it was news about Trump, doing something Trumpy... "...and we're back listeners, thanks once again for joining me, Deb, the only woman guaranteed to spend all her time with you and disappear by the time your wife gets home. Oh... sorry, too soon?" The sultry voice on the other side of his ear buds giggled seductively. This was a different station from the one he was listening to earlier. How could the same show be on it? "Look at him run, Manhattan. Sergeant First Class all alone in a world that doesn't make sense any more so he hides in the park, hoping everything will go away. Well, keep your head up, Soldier. There he is Manhattan, a guardian of freedom and the American way of life. An American Soldier. Taking you back to good ol' 1997. I tell ya, I loved that year, the second edition of White Wolf's Changeling: The Dreaming hit the shelves and it rounded out my collection of books for Saturday Night Angst in Mom's basement. It was also the same year this golden oldie hit the airwaves, enjoy. This one's for you, Ranger. Lead the way." Through his ear bud's The Offspring's 'Gone Away' began to play and the voice calling herself 'Deb' was silent.
  6. Casey - "Hear I Am"

    Finally the morning rush was over and Janny and Petra were watching the front while she did some office work. Barb, Barbara Cullen, had called and asked Casey to take care of things today. Henry, Barbs husband was sick and she wanted to stay home and tend to him. Casey told her to just take care of Henry that she had the shop under control. Which was about as far from the truth as could be and still not be a lie. Oh sure she had the shop under control at the moment but that was just the shiny front that world saw. In the office the rotten truth was all laid bare before her. The Full Pot was running on empty. Barb and Henry had bought the place back in the early nineteen seventies. They had been in their twenties just out of collage and madly in love. They had met at the coffee shop while at university and both of them had worked there, it was as much a part of their romance as anything else and when the owner passed suddenly they had stepped in and taken it over as an act of love in a dirty dark world. The shop had thrived for many years it was the quintessential coffee shop, right down to the lunch counter with the fresh pies in the glass case and a blue plate special to die for. Stepping inot the Full Pot Coffee Shop was like walking into a time-warp right back to the late fifties or early sixties. But as with all things, time caught up. By the nineties the Starbucks phenomena was in full swing and Barb and Henry were feeling the pinch. Serving breakfast and lunch and pot after pot of Folgers just wasn't cutting it so they renovated and modernized. And never recovered. They couldn't compete with Starbucks they just didn't have the money or the branding. The changes alienated a great many of their long time customers and new ones just didn't replace them. By the mid 2000s they were struggling just barely keeping things afloat. That's when Casey had started working here part time when she was in school. She fell in love with the Cullens they sort of became the grand parents she never had. And the stories of the shops heyday in the seventies were enchanting. When she had lost her legal firm job, the Cullen's had taken her back and in return she had made it her priority to make the Full Pot successful again. So here she was sitting in the office looking at the bills. She had deliveries coming today and payroll at the end of the week. And the books showed less than half what was going to be needed even if they did 100% business for the remainder of the week. "What the fuck am I going to do..." She muttered out loud. It wasn't her responsibility but she had to do something. She had to save The Full Pot. Somehow.
  7. Maya - 'Literal Issues'

    "Seriously?" the assistant librarian growled indignantly under her breath as she glared in the direction of Lorraine's exit, silently counting to ten and closing her eyes. She could feel the droplets of water trickling from her disheveled hair down the back of her neck, soaking her third-best blouse in a way that was likely to be uncomfortable for at least the next hour, her shins would be purple by tomorrow, and she hadn't even really gotten the day started yet. I need this job. I need this job. I need this job. I fucking hate this- "Excuse me." It wasn't phrased as a request. Her inner mantra interrupted by the brisk male voice, Maya's eyes flew open, and she forced a smile past the frustration lodged firmly in her clenched teeth. His suit was dated, wire frame glasses slightly bent, tie poorly knotted, and briefcase in dire need of some leather conditioner; she guessed he wasn't a businessman, or at least not a successful one, and judging by the looks of him, he'd been caught in the rain. Well, she thought with a hint of schadenfreude, at least I'm not the only one having a crappy day. "Welcome to Yorkville library, sir. How may I help you today?" she asked, hoping she sounded more chipper than she felt. "You can help me," he began, hefting his dripping briefcase up onto the counter and promptly sending rain dribbling indiscriminately onto the paperwork accumulated there as he opened it. "By finding these books. I tried doing a search for them online, but your website is completely useless." His bleary eyes scanned her, taking in her as-yet unkempt appearance, and he frowned with what she supposed was disapproval. "How long have you-" "Three years, sir. I've worked here for three years," she managed, trying not to scream. "If you have a list of titles, I would be happy to take it from you, but I'm going to have to ask that you remove your briefcase from the circulation desk, and keep it away from any books or periodicals." He started to protest, a red flush blooming under his collar and spreading slowly up into his face as he spluttered, but she cut him off with a curt wave of her hand. "Otherwise, the library will have no choice but to hold you responsible for any loss of NYPL property due to water damage while you're visiting. Those fines cannot be waived during library forgiveness week." She paused, glancing pointedly at the water pooling on the desk, then back up at him. "Would you like to give me that list now, sir?" By the time she had cleaned up the water, tracked down the half-dozen books on ancient Babylonian history and myth that he wanted, twisted her hair up with a rubber band from the desk, and gotten back to her chai latte, it no longer qualified as hot. Still, at least they had a microwave, and she hadn't seen the library manager since she'd practically thrown a stack of books with insulting titles at her. Maybe the rest of the day would be easier. A girl could hope, right?
  8. Mel - 'Deb By Dawn'

    Mel raised his head up, startled. Had the DJ just dropped his name? No, he must have misheard. But he pulled up to a sitting position as the song played. You can have a sound of the thousand voices calling your name You can have the light of the world blind you, bath you in grace But I don't see so easily what you hold in your hands 'Cause castles crumble, kingdoms fall and turn into sand It was a truism. Mel had grown up in a world where life - well, life wasn't exactly cheap - but it would be spent readily for the right thing of value. Be it in the tenements of Wicker Park, the sands of the Middle East, or as Cecilia had found, within the Big Apple, the red-head had always found himself haunting environments that soaked up blood with regularity. Peace seemed like a foreign concept. You can be an angel of mercy or give in to hate You can try to buy it just like it every other careless mistake How do you justify I'm mystified by the ways of your heart With a million lies the truth will rise to tear you apart Woah Except where his wife was concerned. Where his role models had been uniformly masculine, from his abusive father, the DIs, or senior non-coms and officers leading a fresh new Ranger, all steeped in conflict and violence, Cecilia had been something different altogether. A toughness that he could respect, yet mixed with a personality that could extract joy from the viewing of a successful new romantic sit-com, or cooking wonderful meals. She made peace and 'ordinary life' a reality when they were together. No one gets out alive, every day is do or die The one thing you leave behind Is how did you love, how did you love? It's not what you believe those prayers will make you bleed But while you're on your knees How did you love, how did you love, how did you love? Nothing ever feels the quite same when you are what you dreamed And you will never look at anything the same when you see what I see How we forget ourselves, lose our way from the cradle to the grave You can't replicate or duplicate, gotta find your own way Of course, she was gone now, and indeed, everything felt dull. He had always lived life in those sharper, finer senses, and truthfully, Mel had to admit, deep down, to live a quiet humdrum life, fitting within society as such had ill-suited him. The one person who might have changed that way dead. And the police's statement of 'still investigating' kept him from having the benefit of closure - or a target to direct his wrath upon. No one gets out alive, every day is do or die The one thing you leave behind Is how did you love, how did you love? It's not what you believe those prayers will make you bleed But while you're on your knees How did you love, how did you love, how did you love? This ain't no cross to bury We are the judge and jury, we are the judge and jury No one gets out alive, every day is do or die The one thing you leave behind Is how did you love, how did you love? It's not what you believe those prayers will make you bleed But while you're on your knees How did you love, how did you love? Every day had been do or die. Now, the loss of his position had taken that from which he might have been able to submerge his pain and apathy, given a little more time. Not soon enough for the high standards of the Rangers. Finally, Mel got up. Well, he couldn't spend all day on the couch. For now... he'd settle for a run. Through one of the parks. Closest thing to PT now.
  9. Earlier
  10. The Chosen

    Name: Casey Mason Nature: Defender Demeanor: Stoic Concept: Over Qualified Barista Age: 26 Physical: Strength ●●, Dexterity ●●●, Stamina ●●● Social: Charisma ●●●, Manipulation ●●, Appearance ●●● Mental: Perception ●●●, Intelligence ●●●, Wits ●●●● Talents: Alertness●●, Athletics●●, Awareness●●, Brawl●, Empathy●, Expression●●, Intimidation, Leadership●●, Streetwise●, Subterfuge Skills: Animal Ken, Crafts●●●, Drive, Etiquette●●, Firearms, Larceny, Melee, Performance, Stealth, Survival Knowledges: Academics●●●, Computer●, Finanance●, Investigation●●, Law●●, Medicine, Occult, Politics, Science, Technology Backgrounds: Allies, Contacts●●, Influence, Resources ●, Certification (Notery Public) ●● MERITS: Gall (2) (K:UH): You got moxy, kid. Add an extra die to any Social roll requiring backbone. FLAWS: Allergic (1) (vpg2, bos): you suffer from an allergy to some substance; a 1 pt. version inconveniences you and may increase difficulties in certain situations, the 3 pt. version means you have an incapacitating or even a potentially fatal reaction to the substance. Taking this as a 1 Point flaw to reflect that she is not allergic to a specific thing but rather has common sinus and food allergies which are controlled by prescription, missing her daily medicines can result in debilitating illness. Soft-hearted (1) (most): You can't stand to witness suffering, and if you do, difficulties are at +2 for the next hour. Virtues: Conscience ●●●, Self-Control ●●●, Courage ●●●●● Humanity: 7 Willpower: 7 Background: Casey was girl who had it made. A law degree from Columbia, passed the bar on her first attempt, an internship at one of the most prestigious law firms in the city, all by the age of 25. She was a girl incredible prospects, then her mother was diagnosed with a virulent form a cancer and within three months she was gone. This had a terrible effect on Casey. She and her mother had been very close best friends close. Depression and acting out followed and in a night of somewhat drunken partying after hours at the law firm. One of the partners tried to take advantage of her state. When she realized what was going on she said No and a pretty intense scene unfolded. The next morning Casey found herself without a job, and basically blacklisted in the city. No other firms would hire her so she ended up back where she had worked while at collage. A small family owned Coffee house called The Full Pot. For the last year Casey has worked full time at the Full Pot the old couple who own it are falling on hard times and Casey is pretty much the only reason the place still turns enough of a profit to keep the lights on. Casey doesn't make a lot of money even though she works more than her fair share of the shifts always taking up the slack of the younger less caring kids who also work there. She loves to old couple like they were her own grand parents and recognizes that they are well beyond the time of retirement. That is one of the reasons why she stays there. She doesn't want her surrogate grandparents to lose their lively hood and she densest want to see this place that she loves close down. Trying to make a living in the legal field would require her to leave New York and she just can't bring herself to do that. So she stays, runs the coffee house and does notary on the side. Image:
  11. WoD: Chosen OOC Thread

    So, I stole Deb, from the old Bloodlines game. Why? Because I loved those little skits. To be clear: Yes, she is talking you. Whenever you hear a reference to your character, only your character hears it. So Maya doesn't hear any references made by Deb to Mel, even if the two of them are in the same room listening at the same time. Maya hears what's meant for her, Mel hears what's meant for him, Casey... you guys get the idea. If you have questions, ask.
  12. The Chosen

    Name: Mel Grimson Nature: Survivor Demeanor: Soldier Concept: Bereaved Veteran Age: Early to mid 30s Background: Mel Grimson was born to poor white parents, Matthew Grimson and Melicia Grimson in the Wicker Park neighborhood of Chicago. Matthew Grimson was a local mob enforcer, anti-Semitic, a rabid Daley and Democratic supporter. He is quick and harsh with his hand and words; his maxim of fortitude and ruthlessness that Mel carries for the rest of his life is: "It's a damn hard world. Do whatever you gotta do to survive and smash the bastards." Under his father's influence, Mel found himself smashing doors and shaking up the stingy while still a teen. In 1998, at 18, he was finally arrested as part of of a major Organized Crime Unit raid. Already suspected on a number of charges, Mel would have found himself in prison, but for a dedicated lawyer who pointed to his abusive upbringing and persuaded the District Attorney's office and judge to a plea deal that would send him into the Army. Surprisingly, Mel measured up to the tough regimen and was quickly scouted for the Rangers. He qualified and completed Ranger School in time for Kosovo, and over the next decade would lead the way as Rangers did in the War on Terror in Afghanistan and Iraq. In 2008, Mel met a woman 10 years older than him, widowed TV executive Cecila Janet, at the wedding of one of his platoon-mates. She was brunette, tall, and told a snooty woman who mistook her for the staff: " You got two arms that aren't broken. Get your own damn food." And broke a egg on her head, saying "You wanted real eggs? You got em!" Love at first sight. They got married within a year. And Mel was happy. Seriously, in-laws trying to stay over? "Please, if I can't drive that bitch out of here in less than a week, then I don't deserve to be your wife." The only thing they weren't ready for, was children - at least partly out of Mel's fear he was unsuited to be a good father. Until years later, when Mel returned from another deployment to learn Cecilia had been killed in a home robbery. Wrecked by her loss, his determination slipped, and eventually the Rangers declared him RFS'ed. It was the end of his career in the Army. Now, Mel is dealing with veteran's affairs madness and trying to find something to get his focus back and his life on track. Physical: Strength ●●●, Dexterity ●●●● (Lightning Reflexes), Stamina ●●● Social: Charisma ●●, Manipulation ●●, Appearance ●● Mental: Perception ●●●, Intelligence ●●, Wits ●●● Talents: Alertness ●●●, Athletics ●●●, Awareness, Brawl ●●●, Empathy ●, Expression, Intimidation ●●, Leadership, Streetwise, Subterfuge ● Skills: Animal Ken, Crafts ●, Drive ●, Etiquette, Firearms ●●●, Larceny, Melee ●●●, Performance, Stealth ●●●, Survival ● Knowledges: Academics ●, Computer, Expert Knowledge [Military Science] ●●, Finance, Investigation ●, Law, Medicine ●, Occult, Politics, Science, Technology Backgrounds: Allies (Army Buddies) ●●, Contacts (Military) ●●, Influence, Resources ●●● Virtues: Conscience ●●, Self-Control ●●●, Courage ●●●●● Merits: Fighting Style: Firefight ●●, Iron Stamina ●●, Professional Training: US Army Ranger [Brawl, Firearms, Stealth] ●●● Flaws: Insensitive (1 point, HtR PG): You have problems understanding how to gauge others' emotional reactions. You can be rather blunt in handling delicate matters, and you often find yourself apologizing without really understanding what you've done to offend someone. Add two to the difficulty of any Empathy rolls you attempt. Humanity: 5 Willpower: 7 FREEBIE POINTS Willpower +2 – 2 Abilities +3 – 6 Merits +7 – 7 Flaws +1 (-1)
  13. Maya - 'Literal Issues'

    Coffee in hand she was on her way. The drizzle of rain didn't get her too wet, but by the time she arrived at work her clothes were dry (thanks to her coat) but her hair was an absolute mess. She could have worn a hair wrap, but her sister borrowed it the last time she dropped of the kids. Scarf? Couldn't find it. Hat? Also AWOL, and she was pretty sure her cat was conspiring against her. Her morning was absolute crap and didn't seem like it was getting any batter. At least her chai tea latte was perfect, just the right amount of honey. As she collected her thoughts, but before she even had the opportunity to set down her coat, Lorraine, the surliest, meanest, and most clueless old hag on the planet, slammed down a stack of books. They toppled over, slamming their heavy spines down upon Maya's shins as they toppled to the floor. “Get these sorted and put away.” she wheezed, walking away without another word. The books were strewn all at her feet. The titles read: A Degree in Anthropology: How's That Working Out For You?, Life Sucks: How Everything is Your Fault!, How to Not Accomplish Your Goals in Three Easy Steps! Surely... someone was messing was with her. The radio the librarians kept on the desk played softly behind her as she winced through pursed lips and rubbed her shins. "Hey folks. Deb here, and you're listening to Dawn of the Deb, the only radio show that's got your back, all day, every day. Looks like Maya is having a rough one out there this morning. This one's for you sweetie. Life and How to Live It, by one of my favs, R.E.M.. Chin up, honey."
  14. Mel - 'Deb By Dawn'

    He'd stretched his legs. Sure, he didn't have much to do today but he made it a point to head to the little coffee shop down the block and get him something to take the edge off the day. Besides, the 34DD the cute little barista had certainly encouraged him to keep coming back. With the loss of his wife and being AdSepped from the military his life had taken a harsh downward spiral. Suicide, drinking, drugs... he'd thought of it all. Anything had to be better than the life he was living now. There was no color. Sounds had become noise. Scents had grown rank and everything he saw reminded him of all he'd fought for, almost died for, and then lost. The world had cast him aside and he no longer had a use for it. He'd traded the nicer apartment he and his wife had lived in for several years for a more affordable, run down apartment that looked like it should have been condemned years ago. It was home though, for whatever that was worth. The radio was the only thing he ever listened to these days. He kept it turned on almost everyday, soaking up the news, sports, current events. He plopped down on the his coach, an old thing held together with duct tape and some unknown force. It should had fallen apart years ago. "Hey folks. Deb here, and you're listening to Dawn of the Deb, the only radio show that's got your back, all day, every day. Looks like you're brooding again, Mel. Sleepingon the couch and drinking coffee, huh? Tell y'what, this one's for you sweetie. How Did You Love, by Shinedown. Get out more sweetie..."
  15. Casey - "Hear I Am"

    The shop had been open for only an hour or so and Casey had been up to her eyeballs in customers. The line was practically out into the street, which sucked because it was cold and wet outside. A few she recognized. The cute intern picking up the order for the morning at the law firm she used to work at (every morning that kinda stung a bit), the librarian girl who came through every morning like clockwork, and the grizzled, brooding guy who came in and got his black, every morning. He was always a charmer. “$43.71,” Casey asked the intern. She was blonde and perky. Stacked in all the right places and it was pretty obvious why she was hired. After small talk, it was even more obvious why she was getting the coffee and not studying law. She paid and took her couple of coffee totes with her and headed out. No sooner did the cute blonde sway her way to the door a cup slammed on onto the counter. “How hard is it to make a chai tea latte?” This bitch again. Every damn day... every damn day. Casey was as nice as a person could be, but if there was on evil thought she entertained it was this woman... this fucking woman right here. Mrs. Guthrie. The surliest, meanest, and most clueless old hag on the planet. She was pretty sure the woman drank the brew to make herself feel better for the twenty thousand Twinkies she was going to shovel into her poorly glossed grinder she a mouth, later. “I asked for honey. Honey. You know what honey is? It's the golden little liquid behind you dear, that says HONEY! I'm not paying for this.” The radio played softly behind her as she chewed back a witty retort. "Hey folks. Deb here, and you're listening to Dawn of the Deb, the only radio show that's got your back, all day, every day. Looks like Casey is having a rough one out there this morning. This one's for you sweetie. Coffee Time, by Natalie Cole. Chin up, honey." Her day was just starting... and it looked like it was going to be a long one.
  16. WoD: Chosen OOC Thread

    Blah, blah, OOC thread. Okay, as things kick off you may find that I post in a more ST fashion instead of fictional fashion. It may seem like I'm talk at you instead of writing a fiction about your character(s). The first thread or two will be separate so I can gradually mess with your PCs as they enter something that is obviously different form the normal (albeit drab) lives they're used to. There will be no plot as this kicks off. If you're sitting around waiting for me to throw one at you, you'll be waiting a bit. Go with flow and if you need help just ask. I know sometimes without a plot, it's hard to figure out what's going on... but that's okay. Things will pick up once things get weird.
  17. The Chosen

    This is the thread for The Chosen, the player characters of the game. You know what to do.
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