Circle 2Daniel Blackwell"Work for you and not get dismembered, or work for anyone else and have a painful existance. I'm with you"
Well it doesn't look like you're options are great, but... Well it's a pretty clear choice which one is the lesser of two evils. You follow the wraith called Mr. Rogers.
Frank MorrisFrank considered the situation carefully. This isn't quite what I was expecting. Nevertheless, I can't say that I am completely surprised. He looked around and rubbed his forehead. "So if we're enfants, what does that make you?" he asked Rogers, applying some thought of his own to the matter. Maybe he could remember from his studies when he was living.
Mr. Rogers nods,
"Technically you're a Lemure now, a young spirit still shackled to this realm. Still most will consider you an Enfant until you achieve enough knowledge to keep oblivion from consuming you. They call those like me gaunts, the names themselves mean little, they are a convention from before Charon's time. It means I'm old, and far less bound than you are." The words joggle something loose from your memories. [Occult+Intelligence Incredible success (7 successes out of 8 dice O.o)] A fragment of a journal your order had obtained, written by a Benandanti witch...
"For all that I have done I begin to fear, others watch as I work... The restless haunt constantly, hoping, pleading, asking, and demanding that I help them. They are not the worst. Mortals, the Arcanum, the Orphic circle, the Euthanatos magi, all hound me for what I know. The Worst are the Tertulians, misguided fools that they are, they know much and have bought all that I care to sell. They know of the caul from their long years of manipulating the shroud between the worlds. They know of those bound by it, the enfants, the young souls caught half in and half out, unable to see and feel until it's removed. The Tertulians do not know the secret of the caul, I fear that if they did I would be struck down without hesitation by their devoted. The Tertulians pressure me daily, wanting more and more on the locations of power in the shadowlands. Their only desire is to fight spirit with flame, such action can only lead to angering the dead. I have avoided the necropoli, too dangerous for us that can see. If I ever feel the need of a slow death I am sure to find it in those slums."
"The Arcanum, while far more gentlemanly than the Sons of Tertulian, has far worse means of coercion; a gentleman coming in with a soul-box and an agonized wraith tears at my heart. Perhaps if he could see it he would feel differently, but I doubt it. They ask me what I see and what I know, classifying and dividing the spirits they find and capture. The piteous lemures, desperately fettered to life the once loved scream at me to help them. In the face of that I cannot deny the Arcanum the few simple facts they request, such a reasonable exchange for the freedom of a soul. Most of the samples they bring me are thankfully drones, mindless husks that got burned out somewhere along the way. They have denied their reality and live in an eternal dream, I saw no harm in aiding the Arcanum there. Their greatest triumph was the capture of a Domen, a feat long since believed impossible as these spirits have lost all of their ties to the mortal realm and thus are unable to manifest here. It was old and it told much to me in exchange for its freedom, such pain had been caused it be their unusual means of capture that is was near to discorporation by the end of the hour. I parted with as little of the information as I could, the scholars might have been skeptical but they released the wraith at the end as per our agreement."
"It would seem however that I parted with too much, even as I gave them only a tenth of what it told me. A moon after the Arcanum artificer left I was visited by a woman, she appeared as a business woman, riding in car with blacked out windows, she wore sunglasses and one of her assistants carried an umbrella to shield from the harsh light. She introduced herself merely as Giovanni and asked me what I knew about Gaunts without asking who I was or what my rates were. I have been told a thing about dogs, never run, walk away or fight if you must, but run only as a last resort. The child of night sitting across from me reminded me of that lesson, she would have torn me apart had I refused her completely. I told her the simplest truth, Guants are old spirits who have managed to resolve their ties to the mortal world without destroying them, thus allowing them the rare gift of travel to the Mortal world, the Shadowlands, and the lands beyond. The woman was not satisfied, she paid my rates but kept questioning me for another six hours without reprieve. She has promised to come back tomorrow, tomorrow she says we shall talk of specters."
"I must be dead before then. These pages I entrust to the sixteen, guard them and let them never be brought together again. Read only in direst need, what is not known cannot be told or pulled from you. Caveat Anima!"
You shake your head to clear the memory and realize that there is something wriggling in your pocket.
Jhon HarleyWell, i guess that bastard realy did it, i need a pen, my book needs a new name in it! well not being chained does have a nice ring to it, but some explanations would be nice
You too walk with Mr. Rogers, though you do ask about what the hell is going on.
Raymond ConnorFollow, run away, stand still, drool on self, ask another question, etc are all viable options at this juncture.
Do all of these.
Simultaneously.
I don't care how.
You spazz wildly, leaping around while the rest of the group walks away from your insanity. [Perception+Awareness=Botch] You're still hopping around like a loony and drooling everywhere when a stygian iron choker clamps around your neck. This is probably a bad thing. You do what any crime squad member with your experience does in these situations, you shut your eyes and cry for
mommy. The choker drags backwards at your throat and pulls you along with whoever is holding your chain.
(You are now in a thrall collar, there are people around you, but your eyes are closed.)
Everyone but RaymondThe gaunt leads you away from where the odd one is babbling, of course by the time you would've started to worry about him the Gaunt is already talking, and you're busy listening.
"An explanation? Where to begin..." The gaunt draws in a long breath before speaking, and despite what he said about their being others around he makes no effort to keep his voice low.
"You're dead, unlike most of those who die you haven't moved on. Many souls still head straight to their next step on death's journey rather than get stuck here, but the number of restless grows with each passing decade. Maybe a tithe of the men and women that die come here, a tenth of those are too weak to sustain themselves here and are cast straight into oblivion." Mr. Rodgers takes a left at the next street, heading into where you know a seedier portion of the city lies.
"The things that kept you from passing on also bind you here. You have to stop wanting to live the past, for me it was giving up the revolution I gave my life to. It varies, for some it's personal redemption, others are bound by the love of their family, I once knew a man who couldn't move on because he'd never gotten his breed of dog registered." Another turn brings you closer to worst section of the city, old factories and squatter homes.
"This is death, but is only another part of life. What you do with it is your choice."You're starting to notice other people, generally in small groups, but they're the first sign of life you've seen. [Perception+Alertness: Fair success] Detective Harley notices something strange, this was in the outer section where he'd spent quite a bit of time and there were very definitely buildings that had not been here when you last came through. A simple fence of what seems to be wrought iron runs comes out of an alley and runs straight through the road, sectioning off a part of the city. Mr. Rodgers seems to be leading towards a gate manned by a small force of men in blindfolds and body armor, they carry pistols and, strangely enough, swords. A fifth with an assault rifle and no blindfold stops Mr. Rodgers at a dozen paces from the gate.
"Taking on molemen again Rod?" The guard drawls
"Honestly, I wish you and the rest of the oh so honorable guild of reapers would just put them in chains, fewer accidents and they know their place from the beginning. You got their two coin?Mr. Rodgers nods and tosses a small sack to the gateman who counts it, grunts, and touches a hand to the gate. The iron shivers like snakes and bends out of the way instead of swinging, forming an arch. [Frank Notoriety: Meager Success] As you walk through the gateman stops Frank. "
You, I know you... You're that fool the barfly Heretic keeps running on about, half an obolus to you if you shut her up about that stupid cult of hers." He gives a grin that reveals too many sharp teeth and pushes you along. Franks pocket squirms again.
Inside the gate you take another turn through a narrow alley, the mouth of which brings you to a city within a city. Twisting lights of every color imaginable are worked into the shapes of lightpoles from seemingly random selection of time, the buildings adjacent to the main streets have been burned so badly as to resemble skeletons of themselves, revealing their innards. Shops and little dwellings have been made in the tiered skeletons, stairs leading from burned out floor to burned out floor. Most striking however are the people, if people they can be called. Some walk in lines bound by chains, thralls to those holding the end of their leash. Those bound in chains seem to be the most human of the lot, the rest... Shapes are twisted and glowing, wings, claws, tails, extra arms and legs, apparel and style from decades smeared together into a mixture that twists the eye and baffles the mind. Here in this twisted wonderland Rodgers stops you again, giving each of you a small purse.
"In these are three coins, this puts you five oboli in debt to me counting the gate cost, plus whatever I care to add for not making you a thrall. Let's set the debt at fifteen oboli each, pay me back as you are able but I will be discomfited if you can pay and don't." The purses clink into your hands, making a strange sound as they do so.
"You are freewraiths, your debt to me is not unbearable. Walk awhile, beware everyone, see everything." With that he walks away, twisting back briefly
"I make my home at 52nd and Ritt, I'll have work if you need it to solve your debt."You feel as though someone just pushed you off an ocean cliff and yelled swim.
Quest Added, Frank.
Heretical Thinking: Investigate the heretic
Quest added, Everyone but Raymond
The High cost of dying: Pay off your debt to Mr. Rodgers (-/15 Oboli)
Items added, Everyone but Raymond
Purse with three Oboli
Corpus 10/10
Pathos 7/10
Will 8/10
Inventory,
Stygian iron choker (Worn)
Taurus Raging Bull 5/5
Corpus 10/10
Pathos 9/10
Will 9/10
Inventory,
Purse with 3 Oboli
Page from the book of Tel'ars
Squirmy Pocket
Corpus 10/10
Pathos 10/10
Will 5/10
Inventory,
Suicide Pistol, Five-seveN 19/20
Laptop
Purse with 3 Oboli
Corpus 10/10
Pathos 5/10
Will 5/10
Inventory,
Truncheon
White Book
Black Book
Purse with 3 oboli
Investigate The Necropolis. (All)
In my time of dying: Find out what's happening to you. (All)
The High cost of dying: Pay off your debt to Mr. Rodgers (-/15 Oboli Each) (Frank, Daniel, Jhon)
Heretical Thinking: Investigate the heretic (Frank)
Author
Topic: Wraith: RTD from beyond the veil. That's why you should avoid skinfreak clubs. (Read 41138 times)