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New York never sleeps. The people, the monsters, and the spirits. The New York City pack is in danger, and it's not just the rumrunning. Father Wolf has chosen you to face this thread. Will you stand up to it? It's midnight. Usually, that doesn't mean much in New York, but Hell's Kitchen has a way of avoiding attention. The run-down dive bar you were asked to rendezvous in by the pack is marked by a worn and weathered wooden sign reading "Patty's." When you enter it, you find the building about abandoned, with the exception of a portly man cleaning glasses at the bar's counter. You don't see a single bottle of alcohol in the place, which isn't surprising. He probably has it all in the back. You know well enough that this bar is a common meeting place for the pack, but none of you recognize the man. Tell me about how you came to this bar, what you'd been doing earlier today, and what you think this whole thing is about. "Top o' the morning," the bartender greets each of you who enter in an Irish brogue. You suppose at 12 AM, it is the top of the morning. Do you have any questions for the bartender?
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Sep 6, 2016 23:27
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| # ? Apr 25, 2024 07:25 |
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Is this open to anyone? Any character gen rules? I'm interested (I've played VtM and Changeling before, but never Werewolf), but this would be my first play-by-post game.
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Sep 8, 2016 00:43
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 Rowan 'Mad Red' Higgins Red walks in with a swagger to her stride, a woman with purpose. She's dressed as smartly as you might expect a young, rebellious woman to be after she's been out on the town with some of her friends; after leaving her hat and coat on the rack, her elegant, but not too gaudy dress that's a little too short for societal approval comes into view. The barkeep gets a lovely smile with a hint of teeth. "To you too, Patty. How's the wife holding up?" She's the first one there, but that doesn't surprise her. Fashionably late was not her style. "Pull your socks up love, get us a drink. I'm dying for it." She takes up a place at the bar, wheeling around on the stool so she can keep an eye out on the door. Just in case. The day had been fairly regular for her. The day was spent mostly checking some of the books with Donny, and sending out some of the boys to collect here and there. But Da never was one to lead from the back, and so neither was Rowan; she'd been by the dame of some wanker who thought he could run on his own and emphasized to her the meaning of teamwork with a smile of daggers and a promise of violence. Easy as pie. Nobody suspects a girl come to visit another. It's all the rage nowadays. The git gets the message from his bird, and either wises up and gives in his stock or doesn't, and runs. Either way, Kitchen Knives win. But all work and no play makes Red a dull girl; so once the day's activities had been done and she was given her own time, she'd gone by some friends with the intention of having some fun. Which, in turn, made it easier for her to slip out once they were done and head here instead of home. Why exactly she was here, she didn't know yet. Not entirely. But there had been strange whispers in the community lately, rumors of mysterious things that frightened the mundane. Something was coming. The beast in her knew it. The what of it, however, was still beyond her.
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Sep 9, 2016 20:45
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This is the IC thread for a game that already filled up. If you're looking for open recruits, they're often linked over here. Fr. Ryan Carmody Father Carmody wears heavy clothes for business: long coats, and when the weather allows, heavy scarves. In a pinch, they're easier to have cleaned. But more, people tend to turn heads when a man dressed like a pastor walks into a bar. (He knows a few jokes about that.) He's had a strange day. No church business and few people staying over, so he turned his attention in the day to tending to the Boundary Ward that guards his parish church from unwelcome spirits. Minding the Hisil has set him vaguely on edge today. He's smelled rain and smoke in the air, seen spirits passing in Twilight which should by rights lay dormant that early in the day, could have sworn he heard languages in the city that don't belong to the immigrant communities he knows, and he knows a good number. The only visitor to the church was a face he's not known, too well dressed to be the typical down-on-his-luck fellow seeking shelter, with a message to come to Patty's. He was vague on why. So the Father walks in several paces behind Red. He was there earlier, but it's easier to trust the strange summons when he knows a packmate is close by. He gives the bartender a reserved smile, which Carmody usually reserves for suspicious times. "Evening, Red. Is that Patty?" he asks. "Now that you mention it, I've never met Patty himself. There any coffee left back there? If not, just an ice water for me." It's late for coffee, but it's just polite to order something you can pay for. From there, he falls quiet, makes small talk where appropriate, and lets Red keep the man's attention. She's good at leading the conversation. The Father just soaks in the atmosphere, and the smells of the bar... the occult smells, under the surface, feeling for the touch of the unnatural, whether visible or invisible. Let's have the first roll of the game early: 1 Essence to Scent the Unnatural, and a Willpower to pump it with dice. Wits + Occult + Purity success: [20:34] <Iamjustabox> .roll 7d10 [20:34] <skybot> Iamjustabox: 38 (7d10=6, 8, 9, 3, 6, 5, 1)
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Sep 10, 2016 01:35
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 James Grady Jimmy doesn't exactly have the dress sense to vary it up much. He's got a number of cheap suits, and he likes them fine. Today is little different. His arrival is simple - Jimmy works a day, and then he usually finds somewhere to drink a bit. He knows most of the local speakeasies - at least the ones that his bosses supply, anyway. He's moved drinks for them and sometimes threatened them. Today's been a pretty average 'work' day - he stood around looking dangerous while a meeting happened, then had a quiet word with some suppliers to ensure shipments kept coming and knees remained unbroken, and then he broke up a fight in another bar. (He decided to drink somewhere else after that because he was getting itchy palms and wanted to get away from the fight.) Plus, well, this is a place to meet the others. "Father, I don't know about you, but I feel like we've all been Patty at some point. Comes with being Irish in this city. I've been Patty and Mick, at least if you ask just about any cop or Italian." The real question is what's going on. If it needs everyone, it'll be something big. But Jimmy's not a thinker. He eyes the man, fingers curling up for a moment. Maybe he's here to ask for help. Maybe it's a threat. Maybe it's family business. But whatever it is, Jimmy's sizing the man up, trying to guess at how tough he is and whether or not a fight would be bad. It's not so much fear or paranoia as just the natural thing to do when meeting someone new, for Jimmy - size up the threat and have a plan to fight if needed. His fingers uncurl. No trouble yet. Don't start trouble where you eat, just finish it.
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Sep 11, 2016 03:43
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 Isabella "Belle" Castellanos Isabelle walks in briskly, in unassuming dress and an absent-minded look on her face. She'd already had a long and busy day before suddenly receiving the summons to Paddy's a few hours earlier. Already wide awake in the early morning to help stock groceries, then walking eight blocks away to meet Professor Miller for a chat over lunch and then off to deliver unsellable(but still perfectly edible) fruit to the nearby Hooverville all afternoon. When Isabelle came in through the door of the unfamiliar bar it was with the energy of someone tired but overcompensating by keeping a jittery energy within, as if any stillness would rapidly lead to falling asleep standing up. When Isabelle arrived it took her a moment to really take notice of her surroundings, and more importantly the who of the surrounding. After taking a few broad steps into the bar she paused briefly to silently examine the others. The priest and the boxer were a concern enough but Red was here too? Whatever was going down was more serious than she expected and internally she thanked God that she didn't blow off whatever this was and going to bed like she had had half a mind to do. She quietly grabs a stool near Red and asks for coffee, drumming her fingers along the bar awaiting the much needed caffeine for whatever is about to come.
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Sep 12, 2016 23:32
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| # ? Apr 25, 2024 07:25 |
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 Adam Caulfield, Ithauer Bone Shadow He wished he could say this was his kind of place. His drink was in stock, in the glass of future patrons, and even a few knowing eyes tilted their hats his way. He wished he could say he felt welcome, and if he wasn't so concerned with the air of warning he felt as he stepped in, he might have. Wishes were nothing, of course, not his his world. Illusions. He had enough of that on a day to day basis. Pulling off his hat, he slunk into the establishment, eyes darting from one of his packmates to the next as he made his way to a seat in the corner. The spirits were restless tonight, waiting and hungry and whispering the way they did, but he tried to pay them no mind. His eyes glanced towards Isabella. Towards Red, to the priest and the boxer, and he knew that things would not stay so quiet for much longer. He pulled out his journal, as he began to record a few stray thoughts, verses to a poem that did not yet exist. No, perhaps just notes. Either way, something had him spooked tonight, enough to have his boy back at the still on alert to keep an eye on the locus.
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Sep 22, 2016 22:37
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