CoD-X Player Submitted Scene 4

Spindle is displeased. Tag sees it in the set of his frown, the way his fists dig into his hips. He’s staring into his teacher’s bedroom and clearly finding fault.

“C-can I paint your walls?” he asks. “Please? S-something?”

Tag is situated on the far side of the extensive room that makes up his living space. The ceiling stands a full two stories tall, and the walls still retain their preserved concrete and exposed metal rafters. Every wall houses large, black-barred windows that overlook the industrial district of Seattle. The room is a monotone of greys and dark metals, and is lacking in furniture save a bedroll in the corner and several training apparatuses neatly pushed to another corner. It stands in stark contrast to the werewolf’s now decorated room.

Tag looks up at his apprentice. In front of him is a large wooden traveling chest. He has it unfolded to reveal its inner storage shelves. Lined in neat rows are several small metal capsules the size of large pills. He’s in the process of attaching two halves together when Spindle arrives. “Why?” Tag asks.

“This is your home, right?” Spindle shifts from foot to foot, eyeing the capsules. “It should feel like home. R-right now it doesn’t. You don’t need to have a lot of stuff, b-but it should be nice to look at.”

“I like the simplicity of it. I don’t need much, and not having much means it’s easy to be ready to go whenever I want,” Tag says placing the capsule carefully in its place.

“B-but you’re not leaving, right?”

“No, but I like to keep my load light.”

Spindle continues to fidget. “C-can I just paint the walls? You don’t have to take those anywhere. Y-you can just take pictures to remind you of home.”

“Why is that so important to you?”

Spindle scowls. “N-nothing. Just, can I? Y-you can help pick out the designs.”

Tag folds his legs and swivels to look at Spindle fully. He raises a dark eyebrow and leans forward, arms hanging off the front of his knees.

Spindle crosses his arms, pinning Tag with his best stubborn stare. Tag is content to wait for the answer to his question.

Spindle’s inhumanly stubborn, but Tag is worse, and the wizard wins the staring contest in the end. “I’m scared you’re not going to stay long, s-so I wanted to make it feel like home for you,” he admits, studying the exercise equipment. “To, um, m-make it feel more like home than your other homes.”

Having gotten his answer, the mage shifts his posture and settles back onto his elbows. “Is that it?” He reaches over and lifts one of the capsules and offers it to the werewolf.

Spindle eyes the little metal gadget with suspicion. “Wh-what is that?”

“Well come here and I’ll show you.” Tag wiggles the capsule in his hand for emphasis.

Spindle trots across the room until he’s within sniffing distance of Tag’s palm.

His nose picks his teacher’s usual smell, along with some Old Spice and a hint of wet moss that never seems to completely leave the man. The capsule is oval shaped with a brushed, shiny metal surface. Neatly carved into the top half of the pill are letters that read ‘Auckland, New Zealand’.

Spindle continues his skeptical sniffing. “Wh-what is that?”

Tag motions for Spindle to look at some of the others. The trunk is lined with hundreds of these same capsules. Each one has a neat name inscribed on it: ‘Salisbury, England’; ‘Motuo, Tibet’; ‘Easter Island’; and ‘Ittoqqortoormiit, Greenland’ are among the names he sees. “These are how I get from place to place. Or at least they make it a hell of a lot easier.”

“Are you sorting them like records?”

“In a manner of speaking. I take a small piece of something from the location. I can use it to hone in on the location after that.”

“Th-that makes sense. Um. What does that have to do with you leaving here?”

Tag places the capsule back in it’s spot. “It’s like this. Distance is less of a barrier to me. Like when we traveled from the east to west coast of this country to watch the 4th of July fireworks over and over again. I’m never far away from here.”

Spindle crosses his arms, his scowl back in force. “It’s not the same.”

“Why’s that? Are you worried I’m leaving the city undefended when I leave?”

“No, I just-” Spindle flails as he digs for the right words. “I just want y-you to care about this place.”

“I do. I took an oath to protect this cabal, this city.”

Spindle shivers. “H-how many other places did you swear to protect?”

“This is the only place I have now.” He gets up and places his hands on the teen’s shoulders with deliberate motion. “You think I don’t care about Seattle?”

“N-no, you just…you just travel a lot. You, um, m-make sure you can leave whenever you want. I just don’t want to be left behind.”

Tag’s eyes soften somewhat. “You’re my apprentice. I’d never leave you behind. I was always with my master. Same with us. He pauses to consider. “Except for school. You need to finish school.”

Tears bubble up at the edges of Spindle’s eyes. “S-so can I paint your room?”

Tag gives a small sigh and looks around his barren living space. “How about one wall?” he offers as a compromise.

Spindle claps his hands, perking up instantly. “Yeah! Um. I s-sort of have some stuff in mind already, but I’ll paint anything you want.”

“I’ll let you decide.” He taps the bright pink hair on the werewolf’s head. “But nothing too loud, yeah?”

August Masquerade Update

Seattle is a city of booms and busts. The timber industry, the gold rush, World War 1 and 2, the tech industry and all the spaces in between. Change comes in sudden surges and the supernatural realm is no different, though whether it is the source or subject of this phenomena is a matter of perspective and opinion.

From resting in the hands of the Anarchs to the Tower and back again, from the Ventrue to the Brujah and the rise of rival empires of human sorcerers and soul-stealing Fae clashing over old wounds and new crimes, change came fast and rarely without conflict.

After months of back and forth, the city now splits between the Tower and the Movement, separated by the namesake legacy of Yesler. The Fae Monarchs have risen and then fallen; destroyed or disappeared. Their courts scattering with them, leaving behind echoes of corporations existing solely on paper and stories melting away beneath the summer sun like a castle made of ice. The Mages, who dug so deeply and expended so much in pursuit of power were left with only hallow caverns in exchange, slinking away to study and regroup, puzzling and arguing over what was learned and who was to blame. The Garou have drawn back to the wild lands, seemingly content to let the Kindred oversee the city so long as their borders are respected, or at least so it would appear.

The world shakes as ancient titans clash through puppets and proxies and Seattle is not immune to the tremors. The Camarilla Praxis has slipped from the grasp of Clan Brujah into the hands of a most unlikely candidate, the Elder Carpathian Tsinna, now seeking to groom and cultivate the Tower as he might his beloved arboreal gardens. Meanwhile, the Anarch Movement strives to create a new form of governance over their sprawling southern territories, only to find themselves challenged as much from within as without, as differing viewpoints and visions for the future among their ranks clash together. Since December, they have surged in membership, yet still remain but a third of the Camarilla’s size. Outnumbered, yet holding onto their expanded territories stubbornly regardless.

It is August 17th, 2019.

The Camarilla has just held its Grand Conclave in Tombstone, Arizona. The Justicar of the Nosferatu, Warwick, faced censure before the Inner Circle. Rather than stand before their judgement, he fled, and now occupies a space on the Red List reserved for the Sect’s most vile and dangerous foes. The once unthinkable powers of Viscissitude and the long-condemned clan of the Salubri no longer bear the death sentence they once did, and while it is an overstatement to claim they are welcomed into the Tower with open arms, the door is now open for those willing to brandish such powers and affiliation in public.

The sub-sect of the Anarch Movement known as the UFS has now gotten what it wanted. Complete independence from the oversight of the Tower, but at what cost? Will the rest of the Movement still accept them as siblings in arms? The Phoenix Society seems to say no, having struck out and murdered former Justicar turned Anarch turned UFS supporter Theo Bell just before the evening’s vote could occur.

Complicating this further are the newly re-signed Blood Accords. Extended in the face of greater conflicts. The Sabbat and the Tower holding one another at arm’s length, uneasy allies against the extremist… even for the Sabbat… Unblinded Brotherhood, and now perhaps, the Independent Alliance, while the Anarchs share no such protection. At least, not in Seattle.

And what of Seattle? A great ritual between a group of varied supernaturals seems to have repelled doomsday for the city. A group of hunters willing to spawn droves of new Kindred and unleash them on the city, untrained and ravenous, in the name of exposing the undead menace to the world was put down at last, with dozens of newly spawned vampires and those they in turn created either fleeing the city, put down by the Camarilla forces or taken in and smuggled elsewhere by the Anarch Movement. Or perhaps meeting even darker fates when none were watching.

Quiet returns to the city. The Fae have seemingly dispersed with the death or departure of their leadership, once again vanishing within the population of the city. The Mages, seeking to harness the power of an ancient nexus and willing to risk apocalypse to grasp it, found themselves coming up empty handed and with little else worth contesting for, have departed to turn their interests and attention elsewhere. Leaving the Kindred, for better or worse, in control of what remains.

It’s an uneasy quiet though. Seattle has been through a lot in just a few years, with escalating rates of crime and death and violence within the city. While just about anyone you spoke to would laugh off the possibility of the supernatural existing, especially vampires, they might do so with a strained tone to their voice and a shifting of the eyes to warily watch the shadows around them. What is said in public in bright, crowded places may not be the same thing said while alone on a dark night, or while rechecking the locks on an apartment door.

The Masquerade still holds, but the strain is showing. The Occult industry is having a bit of a boom of its own, with sales of protective talismans and charms popping up more noticeably in farmer’s markets and struggling independent bookstores. Religious attendance is up, as are gun sales and firearm licenses.

Areas particularly in disarray are:

(ANARCH TERRITORIES) Chinatown (20%), Renton, Sodo, Tukwilla, Burien

(CAMARILLA TERRITORIES) Chinatown (80%), Ballard, Capitol Hill, Downtime Commercial, First Hill, Fremont, Lakecity, Northgate, Queen Anne, Roosevelt/Ravanna, South Lake Union and the U District.

To greater or lesser degree, an exceptional amount of violence and supernatural activity, mortal crime, institutional corruption and/or a high population of resident Kindred have all taken their toll on these neighborhoods. The mortal residents are warier, the police forces more strained and underfunded, or content to allow themselves to be bought off by any one of the dozens of hands tugging their strings, and local government has limited resources or political will to attempt to repair the social damage.

Mechanical Impact: Feeding in these neighborhoods is more challenging. The kine are not as oblivious and careless as they ideally should be; Two downtimes rather than one must be spent to feed undetected if doing so in these neighborhoods. Feeding from Herd is unimpacted.

Cover Up actions and Influence actions regarding the Police in these neighborhoods have an inherent Level 1 Block to overcome. This is not from any one singular source, but just a level of increased difficulty in affecting these troubled areas.

Other portions of the city are far more secure. Whether because of lower population density, lower Kindred and other supernatural activity, more affluent residents or other factors, the following neighborhoods are considered highly stable and comfortable for Kindred habitation. These include the following:

(ANARCH TERRITORIES) Alki, Claremont/Rainier Vista, Columbia City, Harbor Island, Genesee, High Point, Hillman City, Beacon Hill, New Holly, Delridge

(CAMARILLA TERRITORIES) Eastlake, Kirkland, Madison Park, Mercer Island (Ventrue), Miller Park, Montlake/Portage Bay, Phinney Ridge (Brujah).

Mechanical Impact:

Kindred havening in these areas gain the ‘Location’ merit on their Havens without cost, if not already present.

Kindred without Herd can feed from these areas without needing to expend a downtime action. They must still note that they are doing so in their downtimes however, and doing so will eventually degrade the status of the area.

All other neighborhoods in King County are considered ‘neutral’, with no particular benefit or negative impact at this time.

These effects will be in place between August’s game and September’s. These ‘stability ratings’ can be affected positively or negatively by influence actions, downtime actions, and in game events. For example, Ballard and Issaquah are both improving, as is Renton. Shoreline, Central Seattle and the U-District are decreasing in stability. Other areas are only seeing marginal positive or negative change, not overtly noticeable to casual observation. If a character is interested in a particular neighborhood, put in a Patrol action and they will receive its general status.

City News and Rumors:

The violent wave of attacks, believed to have been sparked by noxious batches of designer drugs spread through the city, has finally begun to wane. Nightmarish attacks by berserk individuals driven to attack even armed police officers with little more than their bare hands and teeth, but to a level of ferocity that cost several officers their lives or put them into critical condition, along with other unfortunates caught alone and vulnerable over the last few months. The Narcotics unit of the Seattle PD believes they have stemmed the flow of the responsible compound, but remain on high alert for any remaining amounts.

There were a remarkable amount of reports of nightmares, seizures and other psychological trauma and psychic phenomenon occurring over the course of the last month. While this declined dramatically after the mid-point of July, it was a topic of disturbed conversation throughout the city. The populace feels distinctly unsettled, especially coupled with the recent violent outbreaks and random killings and both church attendance and concealed-carry license applications have spiked noticeably.

The homeless population has shifted and flowed through the city. A portion is navigating to the Renton area, where word is that generous donations are available, much more significantly than other areas of the city. Rumor has it that several of the homeless and disenfranchised have received counseling and guidance that have led to miraculous turnarounds in their life in short order, though this is but a drop in a large bucket.

Other homeless populations have been flowing upwards into Central Seattle, above the Yesler line, drawn by new changes in library operating hours, bolstered shelters and more lenient patrols and officers tolerating their presence. This will make feeding in the Central Seattle area more precarious due to the higher populations, along with increasing potential crime rates and violence surrounding the already densely packed heart of the city.

The City Council primaries were last week, with many shocking upsets or turnovers of expected fortunes. Some scandalous, last minute revelations regarding a few of the candidates and dramatic shifts in the donor bases led to some very surprising results as dark horse candidates picked up wins and those previously considered guaranteed victors suddenly left struggling either due to scandal or an evaporation of their campaign funds. Now begins the election season heading into November.

Rosalynd Smith, the only child of Mark and Sarah Smith, has recently gone missing. This has made local news headlines as Mark and Sarah are quite wealthy and high placed executives at Microsoft, attached to many local charities and events, serving on various Board of Directors in the area, and are highly connected to the ‘political and social elite’ within the county. Rosalynd was taken from the Smith’s home while they were away at a fund-raising banquet for one of the City Council nominees.

Some strange graffiti has been popping up throughout the city, primarily in southern Seattle, with a rash of ‘third eyes’ being featured prominently on street art, or affixed to public sculptures, posters and advertisements. Police are not terribly concerned and chalk it up to being, quote -Stupid millennials- endquotes.

Rumor is in the Kindred communities that notorious Prince-Turned-Anarch Blackburne will be holding quite the event off the docks of Harbor Island on their extravagant and unmistakable restored antique Frigate, an exact replica of the Queen Anne’s revenge. Guests are advised to be on their best behavior. The cannons work, after all.

As a logistical note, this will be my first formal game as VST. I will be modifying my approach as the months go along based on feedback and response, so please let me know anything you significantly do or do not enjoy.

Downtimes and Influence Actions will refresh at the start of each month’s game, rather than on the first of the month. I prefer this as it encourages players to use up all their assets rather than having to sit on some for use during or immediately after a live game. Note that Allies and Contacts refresh on a Per Game/Session basis, rather than being tied to a monthly refresh cycle.

CoD-X Player Submitted Scene 3

Tucked away in the leftmost corner of Spindle’s new room, past his cotton candy pink shag carpet and overstocked workshop, the werewolf has erected what appears to be an altar. Beneath a cat’s cradle web of thread that forms a dome over the whole production sit jumbles of esoteric objects carved from wood and bone; surreal cross-stitched landscapes where landmarks sit at odd angles, their proportions bloated; old cell phones soldered into a rat’s nest of wires; and a mixed media statue of a sitting wolf made from natural and electronic elements, and spray painted with vivid slashes of red. Before the shrine the student has laid a woven rug with five wolves joined teeth to tail in a circle, each a different color: ice blue; black; russet; grey; and scarlet. On more than one occasion while walking by the room Tag has spotted his apprentice kneeling on the mat with his head bowed, his fingers busy with some unseen art.

Tag can’t really help but notice. Spindle never did make any efforts to hide his shrine or his devotions. He’d resolved to let his apprentice keep his spiritual practices private, but really, is it really intruding on something that’s held openly? He pauses silently by the door to the werewolf’s room as he grapples with the decision.

Spindle doesn’t speak as he prays, but Tag does see his arms moving, the elbows turning in and out in a knitting pattern. His toes wiggle in time to some internally held beat. The show goes on for another few minutes before he climbs to his feet, setting down whatever he’d been working on at the foot of the altar. When he looks over his shoulder and catches sight of Tag he grins and waves. “H-hi! What’s up? Did you, um, n-need something?”

Tag remains at the door a little awkward for having been spotted. “Nothing. No. Sorry,” he says turning to leave.

Spindle stands up, his hands in the pockets of his jean jacket. “H-hey, you don’t have to go. Um. Or apologize. What’s wrong?”

“Everything is fine,” he says. “Just passing by. Didn’t mean to interrupt your reverie.”

“Oh. Um. You didn’t. Um.” Spindle looks over his shoulder at the wolf-god. “Um. S-sorry, it’s not private or anything. Um. I do my rites out in the open most of the time, and I sort of wanted to let you wizards watch if you wanted. Um. I figured Grimnir would want to since he thinks everything spirity is cool. I was just making Sagrim-Ur a scarf anyway.”

Tag looks in at the idol, his curiosity having gotten the better of him. “It’s your tribal totem right? The one you’re tied closest to?”

“Y-yeah. Um. I guess that’s one way to put it?” Spindle scratches behind his neck. “I sort of just try to stay in contact. Um. They don’t answer back very much, but that’s okay. They’ve, um, g-got a lot of other stuff to do. But it helps me focus, and inspires me. I’ve been pretty lost since Des Moines. Um. Is this sort of how you do it? I stole some ideas from human stuff I saw in books.”

Tag gives a knowing nod. “You haven’t spoken a lot about your time in Des Moines.” He silently motions his request to come in.

Spindle quivers at his own rudeness. He steps far inside, making more space than Tag needs. “Um. It was pretty rough. R-really rough. A lot of bad things happened to a lot of good people, and it’s been sort of hard to, um, f-feel…” He looks at his bookshelves for inspiration. “Um. Faith, I guess.”

Tag does a short tour around the perimeter in the room. His eyes scan over the handmade furniture and original artwork. He stops at the shrine. “I never should have let you stay there. I knew it was trouble as soon as that ‘CEO’ of theirs made their presence known on the boards.”

There’s a partially-finished scarf at the base of the statue. It has a simple green and silver pattern, and the yarn looks like real wool. Tag’s seen those colors somewhere before.

“Y-you think you could have stopped me going?” Spindle asks, surprised into stillness. “It wasn’t really your decision.”

Tag’s answer is hesitant, as though he’d had to consider his answer. “No. I suppose it wasn’t. But I should have made the option to come back more forcefully.”

Spindle eyes his teacher, his expression slowly settling into a frown. He takes a seat on his shag carpet. “I can’t just teleport away from school. Um. It’s really, really important for me to stay p-pretty human in a human life. I’m a student. I, um, n-need to study, and mingle, and be just as human as I am spirit. It’s really not good to magic all my problems away.”

“You can’t magic your problems all away. But you shouldn’t have been alone either.”

“I think if you’d gone there y-you would have tried to kill them, and they would have tried to kill you, and it would have made everything even worse. They sort of have to just live with their mistakes because I don’t think we could take them all.”

“I wouldn’t have killed them.” Tag says with a small roll of his eyes. “But I’ve seen more than one brood of Begotten effectively take control of an area and not for the better.”

“W-well, what would you have done?”

“I’d have listened to you for one thing,” Tag says kneeling in front of the statue to look at the scarf.

The scarf has a simple zig-zag pattern, the kind Spindle can likely zone out while knitting. It has tassels on its completed end. The way it’s coiled jogs Tag’s memory: He’s seen those colors on a snake.

“I don’t really know if I could have given you advice. I d-didn’t really know what to do, either. But, um, that still means a lot.”

“You knew that the Beasts clustering up together was making the Shadow worse. You knew that granting sanctuary to a spirit Ridden was a horrible idea. They were too busy identifying with it to see any danger or care.” He picks up the unfinished scarf. “Was this for snakes? Did you like snakes?”

Spindle blinks. “Um. No? Th-that’s for Sagrim-Ur. It’s a Slytherin scarf. I’m s-sort of trying to make clothes for the statue so I can dress them up in all kinds of weather. I thought it would be cute. And, um, yeah. It seemed like they were trying to convince me they were Ridden.”

“My point exactly. They’re too much like the ones we’re supposed to be fighting. They should be held at arm’s length.” He puts the scarf down. “I don’t recall that tribe.”

The blink is slow this time. “Th-that’s not a tribe. Um. Remember when I freaked out that I wasn’t a Hufflepuff anymore? Um. A-and I said I was scared I was evil because I was in Slytherin?”

Tag closes his eyes slowly as if reliving an irksome memory. “Yes, and I told you I thought you were taking an internet personality test a bit to strongly.”

“I am not! I’m honoring Sagrim-Ur’s cunning!” Spindle huffs. “Symbols are really important.”

“They are, I suppose sometimes in spite of their source material,” Tag says with a sigh.

The little werewolf huffs again. “I think I would have freaked out about your magic a lot more if Harry Potter wasn’t around.”

“You can’t be serious. It isn’t like werewolves don’t have magic of their own.”

“N-no, I am serious. It helped me accept a lot of stuff. You said you even make potions.”

“I don’t. Some of us do…look, that’s not the point!”

Spindle sets his chin. “Werewolves aren’t exactly accurate in Harry Potter either, b-but Lupin’s still a pretty good guy, and I like that.”

“Who? A werewolf colleague of yours I haven’t met yet?” Tag’s question is as genuine as his ignorance.

“N-no, he’s a fictional character.” Spindle grins. “He’s a really nice werewolf who tries his best.”

Tag just shakes his head. “So you say you had a crisis of faith over in Des Moines?”

“Y-yeah, I guess. Um. The other werewolves there weren’t very helpful, and most of the others were either awful or n-not all that helpful either. I tried everything to make them help me, b-but I think everyone hated me by the end. It sort of killed my confidence.”

“Then what were they all concerned about?”

Spindle blushes. “They said I was bossy.”

Tag snickers a little bit. “Well, what of it? Were they doing anything more important? Sounds to me like a mass apathy. That’s not your fault.”

“N-no, but it-” Spindle chews on the tip of his tongue. “Um. It’s not that it’s my fault, b-because it’s not. I just feel bad because I d-don’t know how useful my way of doing things is.”

“Isn’t maintenance of the Shadow pretty important?”

“V-very! I just mean…I tried to be nice. Maybe it would have worked better if I wasn’t nice.”

Tag pats the floor next to him. “I’ve got a reputation. Some of it engineered, some of it wild speculation and fanciful recollection. I’ve learned to make use of it. But. If you can get people to follow your example out of respect then you’ll be the most effective at what you do. I think you can be that example.”

Spindle shuffles his butt next to Tag. “I kind of hope the Arrow teaches me how.”

“Since the Ten Second War we’ve been diminished to a shadow of ourselves.”  Tag lets out a sigh. His forehead wrinkles at some distant memories. “Most of our leaders are dead. Even here in Seattle the only other Arrow is Skald, and she’s been…well, she seems to be fighting her own demons. I suspect a lot of your lessons are going to be forged in the thick of things.”

“Th-that’s okay. At least I’m not doing it alone, right?” Spindle nudges him with his shoulder.

Tag ruffles the pink hair. “No. No you’re not. You have your brothers and sisters in arms and your faith.” He points to the shrine.

“Y-yeah.” Spindle reclines with a grin, resting his head on his hands. “Y-you might like Sagrim-Ur if you met them. They’re curious, and smart, and they don’t let themselves get tied down. Maybe I could introduce you one day.”

“Heh. Wouldn’t that make Grimnir jealous. Though given his chosen name he might not feel too keenly on meeting giant wolves that could eat him.”

“F-Fenrir is a different wolf. Um. I’m not a Blood Talon. Sagrim-Ur chose me.”

“Thank the heavens for that,” Tag says grinning widely.