River City Chronicles

[CainAndrews]

Using Original WoD 3rd Edition rules:





River City is a fictional metropolis located in New England. It rests upon the Connecticut River.

Established in 1724, River City was initially a transport harbor for caravans or ships travelling from New York to the more northern parts of the continent. As of 2009, River City has a population of nearly two million people (within the greater metro area).

Today, it is much less a river port city. River City now houses three noteworthy industrial parks. Within these complexes, plants and warehouses manufacture, package, and store various items from maple syrup, ammunition, wooden materials, and a mixture of chemicals.

The culture is a melting pot of various backgrounds. The population is predominantly Caucasian, making up nearly 70%, African-American making up 22%, with the remainder being a mixture of Asian, Hispanic, and Middle-eastern descent. The primary religion based on population is Christian / Catholic, although there is a vast Jewish community as well. Other than that, there are various churches and temples located around the city to accommodate the multitude of religious diversity.

River City is home to many independent and local art museums and fairs. Music venues are also a big part of the artistic culture. Banks, corporations, and law firms riddle the skyline in the downtown area.

The metro area is divided into many boroughs or municipalities. The Downtown area houses the corporate sector as well as the Justice center and Davidson Memorial Hospital, the largest medical facility within the city.

Rivertown was once its own city opposite the Connecticut River, but after the metro merge, it is now consider part of the River City Metro. Small business and a hint of an industrial sector have now made this district of River City a fine place to live.

Barton Row is an offshoot of Downtown. This district is the old town of River City, with many historical buildings and abandoned industrial complexes. It runs along the Connecticut River, surrounding Lafayette Bridge, which connects Downtown to Rivertown.

St. Andrews is the "wealthiest and safest place to live" in River City. It houses the highest population of affluent citizens of the metro area.

Midway, like Rivertown, was once its own city. Now, it houses most of the outlying western reaches of the metro area. Here, two large industrial complexes, and high property values, lead to a mixture of wealth and working class.

River City is one of the few metro areas of New England that doesn't incorporate a subway system. Instead, they rely on their ferry and bus transportation routes.


In 1917, the first Kindred Princedom was established in River City. Since that time, the Camarilla has controlled the city. Over the years, the Prince has changed only but three times. Elysium has been established in various locations, usually indicating a prestigious Kindred, Primogen, or Prince's territory or holdings. River City's Princedom is more of a figurehead. For years now, the Council of Primogen have been the ruling body of legislation for the Camarilla in River City.

Kindred population in River City is estimated to be between 100 and 200 Cainites, but no exact number has ever been tabulated.

The Current Ruling Bodies:

Prince - Marius Nix - Toreador

Council of Primogen:

Gretta Boswin - Malkavian
Nathaniel Lutz - Ventrue
Samson - Brujah
Isis DellaCruz - Nosferatu
Dr. Melvin Stewart - Tremere


Sabbat population is minimal at best. With their attention elsewhere, Sabbat forces are rarely seen in River City, although in recent years, incidents of stragglers coming up from New York or down from Canada have risen. The same can be said about Anarch numbers. Over the years, the Camarilla ruling body has kept a tight hold on their members, and strive to placate the needs of the Kindred society. Unrest is a disease the Camarilla has kept abated in River City.

In recent nights, rumors in passing have told of a handful of independent Cainites, typically from Sabbat-affiliated clans but not actual members of the Sabbat, showing up in River City. These vampires are said to be elders, sired before the formation of the Sabbat and Camarilla, and therefore refusing to acknowledge their allegiance to either. These stories can not be corroborated, even with investigations to their legitimacy.

Giovanni, Ravnos, and Setite are even more scarce than Sabbat in River City.

One of the major threats to Kindred these nights is the movement of Werewolves (Garou) from the northern border of Vermont. Vermont is lush with woodlands, covering nearly three-quarters of the state. With this vast spread of forests, the Garou have grown in numbers, and sometimes drift too close to the city limits for Kindred comfort.


Notable Kindred territories and holdings:

Geist Resort - this location once belonged to the Toreador Prince Marius Nix, but was lost in a bet to the Malkavian Gerard. It is a hotel and night club, catering to the Kindred crowd with VIP services.

Speed Art Museum - this location houses some of the finer art as well as a "gentlemen's" club, so to speak. Tasteful and affluent, the upstairs of the museum gives the more prolific Kindred somewhere to meet and brag about their holdings and endeavors, or to gossip about their rivals. Elysium is in effect here.

9th and Broadway Theatre - this historic landmark is home to the Prince and primary meeting location of the Council of Primogen. Elysium is in effect here. When there are showings, alternate locations for meetings are used.

Davidson Memorial Hospital - the largest medical facility in the city. Found on the River City University campus, it is one of the major locations for Tremere research and meetings. Connected through underground tunnels to the Harrison Building on campus.

Harrison Building - Located on River City University campus, home of the Tremere chantry. Only accessible by Tremere. Entry by other Kindred by invitation only. Known to the students as "that useless building" as no one, other than Kindred, know what purpose it serves.

28th and Prospect Sewer Access - Entrance to the Nosferatu "nest" beneath the city. Very few Kindred know where this entrance truly is, save for the Nosferatu and those who either stumbled upon it by accident or were given that information. Grants access to the Dade Industrial Complex, where the Nosferatu hold meetings with other Kindred when they prefer neutral ground.



This is the base statistics of River City. Feel free to add anything else of interest, introduce a character or NPC, or location. Start your own plot, give some backstory. This is free storyline for the most part. No character sheet is necessary, nor will we need to roll dice. Just tell your character's story.

 

[CainAndrews]

Midnight Madness

10:48 PM. I step out of the office for a pick-me-up. I find one in the alley. Nice guy, bit dirty, but I feel much better now. I take a bit of a walk around Grey Street. The sidewalk curves around 21st. I hate odd numbers, decide to go back to the office. I realize my office address is 3399 S Grey Street. Huh...did I never notice before? Damn odd numbers...

Back in the office, I've got a message on the phone. I push the button on the answering machine while taking off coat, inadvertently knocking over a glass of wine. I curse aloud, then stop to wonder when the hell I had wine? I don't drink wine. I try to think back, all the while ignoring the panicky voice spilling out of the answering machine. I rewind it, and begin to pick up pieces of broken glass from the floor. I look for a towel to mop up the wine, can't find one, and just let it be. Back to the message. A girl, her voice cracking as if she's holding back tears. Her daughter's gone missing, and she needs my help. Ha...my help. Dear god, don't they all...

I pick up the phone and dial the number she left. She answers quickly and I tell her my name. She doesn't waste time. Her daughter - Amber - went out two nights ago with some friends from the University. She's a student there, a sophomore. She had been studying chemistry. Wanted to be a chemical engineer. What the hell is a chemical engineer anyway? Do they make cough syrup? Meth? Fruit Stripe gum? Anyway, I tell her I'll take the case.

She gave me a lead. Geist - the downtown club. I know the place, been there before. Lovely crowd. Food's lousy. I put on my coat, grab my wallet, and step back out into the night.


11:22 PM
I exit the cab onto the street. The night is alive, it's pulse throbbing, lungs burning, and by the looks of those in line for the club, genitals itching. Young girls, may as well be clad in Seran wrap, waiting to get inside and rub hips with the first sweaty, drunk guy that comes along.

I step past the line to the doorman. He gives me a nod and lets me pass. We're old pals, you know. Through the short hall, past the coat room, I find myself in a psychadelic orgy. Indiscernible music plays in the background, drowning out the dull hum of complacency. It's no Sinatra, I can tell you that.

I find myself at the bar, speaking to another old mate of mine. Jerry. I give him a description of the girl, Amber. He shakes his head and shrugs, offering me an explanation I can't make out over the music. As he goes back to serving drink requests, a waitress saunters up to me and puts her hands on my lap. "Hey Mickey." She says. "Long time no see." I shrug her off and tell her I'm going to the back rooms. I tell her to meet me there later for a drink. She smiles and tells me she gets off in half an hour. I pretend not to hear her as I turn away. Mickey...I hate the name, but hell, that's me...Mickey Snakes.

Through the VIP mirrored doors, I find myself in another foreboding hallway. There's no coat room here, instead there's two rather large men with holstered guns. They check me, make sure I ain't packin'. Satisfied, they let me through. On each side of the hall there's a door. Behind each door, I can hear the faint cries of ecstasy and horror, sugar coated with moans of bliss and fright. We all know what's going on behind there. Finally, I come to a door marked PRIVATE. Without hesitation, I open it, and interrupt a rather dubious moment. Terry Sloan, Circuit Court Judge for our fair city, in throes of passion with the lady of the house, and another face I don't know. Our hostess glares at me, shouts something I ignore, and pushes the poor, confused man off of her. Once she realizes I'm not leaving, she pardons the Judge, grabs her fur-lined jacket, and steps out into the hall with me.

We move to an empty room, closing the door behind us. I tell her why I'm here...about the girl. She tells me to go home, or back out into the club, or into one of the other rooms. Have some fun, let loose. I tell her "Look, Selena. I gotta eat just like everyone else. I don't find this girl, I don't get paid." She gives me a blank look and takes a rather strained breath, as if it were the first time. "Now listen to me, Mickey Snakes. I know you got some wires crossed..." she says. "But you don't need to get paid. You don't need a job. You're dead." I didn't know if this was a threat or if she was as really as drunk as she smelled. "And you're not even a real private investigator...you just pretend to be one." I wasn't sure where she was going with this, but I entertained her just the same.

She told me she had a job. A real job. She gave me a card. On the front of it was a smear of her own lipstick. On the back was an address and phone number. "Call this guy, he'll tell you what he needs. It's going to be some real grunt work, just so you know. But, let's face it Mickey, you owe me."

It was true, I did owe her. I was in a rough place a while back. The wife and kids were gone, moved to Denver or some such. I was alone, never sober, quite lost. She picked me up and got me back on my feet. I took the card, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and fell back on one of the lush couches in the private room. She patted my leg, stood, and moved to resume her activites in the opposite room. As she left, I said "Send in Mary...the waitress...she should be out there waiting for me." And with that, I let the night take me where it would.






OOC Note: Mickey Snakes is a deranged Malkavian. His brain translates his life into a narrated internal monologue, which is how all my posts about him will be posted. Also, a while back, he accidentally shot and killed a private investigator, and has now assumed his life - only the career aspect of it, not the name, family, etc. His subconscious knows he's a vampire, but his waking mind won't acknowledge it. I thought it would be pretty fun to play a character like this.

 

[CainAndrews]

Midnight Madness

12:22 AM
It's cold out. So cold you almost can't feel it. I step out of the back exit of Geist, into the grimy alley. I thin out the edges to my fedora while my attention should have been in front of me. I collapse against the backside of a rather large man who I didn't notice before. He turns abruptly, his voice echoing as if from a loudspeaker, close enough to spray spittle onto my face. "Get outta here, nutbag. You may be Selena's pet, but out here you're the bottom of the food chain." I narrow my eyes, not out of anger, but habit when someone offers me a confusing statement. Seems like everyone has been talking in riddles lately. 'You're dead...bottom of the food chain...pretending to be a private investigator" Has everyone lost their mind?

Making my way through the back alley, I step out onto Plano Drive. I trudge on, fumbling in my pocket for the card Selena had given me in the club. At a pay phone, I drop in some silver and dial the number. Two rings...three...finally, the voice, raspy and asthmatic, came on the line.

"Who is this?" it asks. I tell him my name, and that Selena had given me the number. The voice giggles then coughs, followed by some incomprehensible sounds and mumblings. Then, it spoke again. "Where are you now?" I give the location. "Meet us at the corner of 28th street, two blocks south, half an hour." The line went dead. I hung up the phone, and started walking. I had half an hour to get two blocks, man, seems like a lot of my time is just waiting. Waiting for someone or something, anything really...

28th and Plano was quite dead this evening. I felt a little out in the open just standing here, on this broken sidewalk. There were no benches, not bus stops. There were no passersby. After a couple minutes, I started wondering about exactly what I was waiting for this time. Would Selena have put in danger? Did she sell me out? Was I about to get kidnapped and have my organs harvested for sell on the black...I shook my head, my ears perking up. I thought I had heard something...and I had.

A voice, but not from where you'd expect a voice to come from. Down, past my feet, through the exhaust grate in the sidewalk. I could smell the sewer below, or maybe it was the person below. Craggy, skeleton fingers ascended through the grate, tapping at my shoes. I took a step back, mildly surprised, and knelt down. I cursed at the thing, trying to ward off the vagrant in the sewers. "You Mickey Snakes?" it said. I gave a stout, affirming answer. The fingers disappeared below the grate, then came up with a few pieces of paper bound with a paper clip.

I took them, still a bit confused, and quickly took another step back. "Tell Selena we thank her. And please...don't screw it up..."

I squinted my eyes as the bony tendrils withdrew once again into the the sewers below. With my shards of paper in hand, I turned south. I knew a diner on this street, good place to catch a late night snack, although the waitress had satisfied my appetite. The door opened, the little bell jingled above me. I took a booth, spreading the three sheets out on the table before me. A server came to take my order. I waved her off, saying I wouldn't be long.

The first page was a photograph. The black and white image showed a scene. A man in an army uniform shaking hands with one dressed as a civilian. There was a red circle surrounding something, drawn with a magic marker. A briefcase. The next page showed the picture of the man in uniform, with brief descriptions of his known whereabouts, places he is slated to be, and a list of aliases and known affiliations. The last page was a list of instructions:

"Leaving Country by Friday
Please retrieve this briefcase for us
Don't fail
Not a one man job"

I sighed...what had I gotten myself into?

And who the hell would want to help -me- with something like -this-?

Damn odd numbers, indeed.

 

[Rhysis]

A man sitting in another booth in the diner had been enjoying his meal when the entrance of the Malkavian caught his attention. He didn't know why, but the Malkavians were always the easiest to distinguish. One would think it would be the Nosferatu or Gangrel, but no, to him, it was the Malkavians who were the easiest to identify, and usually the most entertaining to be around. He supposed that was because you never knew what you were going to get when you were around one. They could seem as normal as anyone until you triggered their dementia, or they could be as loopy as they come from the very first moment. Thus far, this one didn't seem too abnormal, but then again, there had been no interaction just yet.

The man waved the waitress over, paid his bill, and whispered something to the woman as he stood up and moved over to the bar where he would sit at watch as she delivered the cup of coffee and crumb cake to the blood sucker. One thing he enjoyed was testing vampires in their ability to act human. Some weren't even very good at acting like they were breathing, others were so talented at the deception that they'd perfected the necessary skills to be able to walk around in broad daylight puffing on a cigarette and eating themost complex meals in the most public of places. It was a nice gauge to how much he got to mess with the unwitting leeches.

 

[CainAndrews]

1:13 AM

So, Selena had left me out to dry. Dealing with some underground city-dweller throwing ultimatums out with espionage jobs. Fantastic. I could just let this one pass by, but something nagged at me that if I didn't pull this off, or at least die trying, that there would be hell to pay. I sighed as I collected all the papers together, shoving them into my inner coat pocket. I'd have to make a few calls, recruit some help, call in some favors. This was going to be a long week...

I sat there, thinking about the roster of "pals" I could get in contact with over this, the waitress delivered my food. Wait, did I order any food? Was I here with someone else, who was just occupying the restroom while I waited? I tried to think back, to grasp onto some hidden memory that wouldn't seem to surface. Who the hell ordered the food, and if it was me, why the hell did my stomach churn just thinking about eating it. A bead of sweat bubbled to the surface of my scalp as panic set in. Not a fearful panic, but one of out worry and confusion. The moisture gathering upon my forehead streamed down my face, and the waitress, tidying up the table before she left, looked on with eyes wide and reached out to my forehead. "Aww, honey, you're bleeding. You need me to call an ambulance for that?" In her outstretched hand she meant to touch the towel to my face, to wipe some non-existent blood from my scalp. Before cloth touched my skin, I reached up with a swift grip and thrust her away. More sweat, more panic...had she meant to drug me with whatever was on that towel? Chloroform? I slunk back into the booth as I caught the eyes of the patrons of the bar. The waitress - shock, those enjoying a late-night coffee or some pie - shock.

But there was one gaze, a man at the bar, shocked, but not quite. As if it were rehearsed, or just a glaze over top of his real demeanor...

The walls of the booth began to close in around me. The man, the coffee cake, the bony hands from the sewer grate, Selena, the missing girl, all standing around me...and an echoing laughter, deafening in the background. Right before I blacked out, I realize the voice behind the laughter was my own.

 

[Rhysis]

Oh this was too good. It hadn't been this easy in years. Not only did the little psychopath not eat the food, but its arrival triggered a panic attack. The man watched in amusement as the cainite's eyes darted back and forth as he tried to fit the pieces of some unknown puzzle into a frame that simply would not hold them.

Then, in the midst of his panic, the classic cacklying laughter of a malkavian sounded just before he passed out, which meant the true malkavian in the leech didn't come out until he'd lost all control over his conscious mind. A personality disorder. As the man stood and walked over to the booth the vampire was now facedown in, he thought back to the last malkavian with a personality issue he'd encountered.

The nutjob actually thought he was Kwai Chang Caine. To make matters worse, he could have been David Carradine's twin brother. Even more amusing, was the fact that he felt Carradine was an imposter who should be executed on sight. Further still, he knew he was a vampire, went around calling himself simply "Caine" and had the entire Book of Nod memorized. Add to that his remarkable speed and friends who'd managed to rig some very impressive tricks to his clothing, and he was actually fairly convincing...until that one time he ticked off the wrong fourth generation Tzimisce.

The man chuckled to himself as he waved off the people who were now standing around the booth simply staring. "He's a bit jumpy, but he's fine. Watch..." The man took out a cigarette lighter and struck it in front of the vampire's face. Someone this much in denial obviously hadn't been a leech too terribly long, which meant the chances of him having the skills necessary to resist jumping away from the flame even in mid sleep were very low.

 

[CainAndrews]

It was a moment of clarity surrounded by years of broken psychosis. Mickey Snakes, born Michael Beauphaunt, Concord, New Hampshire, 1838. Former Militiaman, took part in the Civil War. Killed on the field of battle. At least that's what his family was told.

In truth, he had developed a fit of deep paranoia, and fled from the aftermath of a battle. Captured by Rebel forces, imprisoned, and left for dead. He was found by a field medic who came to him at night, to study his psychotic state. He had chewed his fingertips nearly to the bone.

Sent to a hospital - no more than a shack with wooden cells - to be tested and treated, not to mention inspected by the resident doctor on staff. Dr. Elliot Petrokov - Malkavian, sadist, fortune-teller, psychic...and psychotic. After nearly two years under close inspection, Petrokov pulled Michael into the fold of Kindred society.

And now, nearly two centuries later, here he was. Fragmented, mentally feeble, at the behest of blood-born psychosis there was no cure for. But here, in the darkness of his own mind, was a moment of clarity. He took a step back, surveying the events that had transpired over the recent nights. Here, he knew he was a childe of Malkav, that he was undead, that his hunger was not for coffee cake but for the blood of the living. Here, he was aware.

Even now, there was a spark in the distance. Of hope, of providence, that he was on the right path. And that path required that Michael must become Mickey Snakes, for a while longer...the spark nagged at him, slapped his senses, brought him out of clarity, and back into the fog.

He jumped back in the seat, scratching at the upholstery, attempting to flee from what he knew was a small, pitiful flame, but to his mind it was the light of the sun. He kicked at the outstretched hand holding his demise. His mind would not let his body resign to his fate, that in a few seconds, his body would be nothing more than a pile of ash...

Great, just great. Mickey Snakes, prepare to meet your maker...

 

[Rhysis]

The man chuckled and closed the lighter before returning it to his pocket. He waved away the other people who were now more bewildered than ever. The few who thought to stay around and investigate were immediately turned away by nothing more than a glare from the man.

When they were gone, he turned back to Mr. Snakes and began to speak. "You, my friend, are obviously in some bit of trouble. Luckily for you, I am rather capable of dealing with many kinds of trouble. Are you comfortable discussing this matter here or would you prefer going to a more secluded location for such an undertaking? Either way is fine with me. I leave the choice to you."