by Gavin Bennett (Changeling: The Dreaming | Resources)
That was the River...
At this time of year, the light lingers on well past sunset, well towards midnight; at the very pinnacle of June, it never truly gets dark. By the seashore, the Atlantic surges ever onwards, lapping the empty shores with its cold, cold waters.
Even at the time when the light does not die, the Atlantic is still dark, still silent in its depths. It never gives up its secrets.
If you take the old coastal road up past St. Johns, away from the towns and the suburbs, through the dark, hollow hills, and then maybe half a night�s drive later, you will come to an old shingle beach, half lit by starlight, the bight of the cove sheltering the place from the wrath of the waves; the hills shielding the lonely expanse from the might of the wind.
Smugglers used to come here, they said.
They were smugglers of things, and drink, and people.
There are stories, in the locality, never proven - never really investigated, of how the cove changed, over the years, how the old smugglers of contraband seemed to find other places. The stories tell of how small ships smuggled desperate immigrants ashore; running from the Irish Famine, from Europe�s wars and tyrants. They said the local magistrate knew all about that cove, but that he would not interfere. They say that sailors would smuggle freed slaves onto the harsh sandy shore.
They said it was haunted, that the ghosts of the Indian fisherman of some long ago time, still sailed to that cove. They said that the people who lives in the scattered hamlets and townships around that small brace of sand, were the people of that other coast, three thousand miles distant, people of Ullapool, of Donegal, of Kerry. They said that these people were the seal people.
Every fisherman knows a story about the seals. Some say they have even seen them, the people of the shore, cursed to forever wish for the sea, but afraid to lose their humanity, should they return to its inviting depths.
There was no name given, locally, for that cove. Old people told their grandchildren not to go there, for fear they would be taken away by the old Indian ghosts, or the smugglers, or some other horror. The old people never mentioned the seal people, the Selkies. They were a story for the fishermen only, and the fishermen were leaving.
Half a century ago, this was a rich place. The seas were rich in cod and mackerel and swordfish; a man could make a living for himself and his family.
No longer; the sea is empty. The bottom of the sea has been scraped clean of fish; not only fish, but the banks of kelp, and some say, the deep mountains and canyons of the ocean floor have been scraped clean by the deep, deep nets of the industrial fishing boats.
But if you were to find that cove, on a July night such as this... you would find it empty. The people who lived there are gone, as if they had never been there. A few houses stand empty. No one knows where they went, but emigration is prevalent, here by the blackness of the Atlantic. Whole families have picked up, and left, leaving nothing behind, not even memories. Who would know or care about a few more?
But some know, and other suspect.
But those others, they do not look upon the world with human eyes.
And they have seen this before, far too often. Little places like these are falling away, all across the north. Falling away, without trace of communication.
Until now.
Stained: A story for changeling.
Character Background:
It has been some weeks since the creation of the treaty with the werewolves. Very little has occurred in the meantime; the characters remain fairly isolated - they are ambassadors without embassies. They are generally distrusted by everyone. The political isolation - or perhaps even moves toward succession - of the Kingdom of Northern Ice gathers pace. Rumour has it that the announcement will come from Caer Frost "any day now."
There sometime friend, Chretienne has left, heading south for a few weeks.
Reports are also coming in of the loss of many Northern Freeholds and Grottoes. They are simply disappearing.
After some consideration, the Eiluned rulers of the area have invited the characters to a function. A new nightclub is being opened on St. Laurent, and the characters are to come, as guests of the duke.
Storyteller Background:
Montreal Fey Politics:
The Battle of Mount Royal was one of the most vicious, the most brutal, and the most definitive of the Accordance War. Montreal and all its surrounding lands fell to the returned Knights of House Eiluned. As the chaos of the October Crisis gripped the streets, the Eiluned knights concluded their preparations of attack. They reinforced their numbers with magicians and warriors from France; they housed these troops in Quebec City and the Eastern Townships. Montreal was a haven of some ill-matched Kithain. There were Eshu, who ruled as nobles, of a sort; there were Sluagh, who were very common - after all, as befits one of the oldest cities in North America, there are plenty of shadows, secrets and ghosts; there were also Redcaps and Trolls, but both of these Kiths, and their families, went south to defend New York. But there were others; a group of Sleeper Hunters of House Scathach. An initial probing attack had been fended off late in 1969. The Eiluned were not going to take any chances. In a running street battle lasting less than 3 days, the Knights of House Eiluned over-ran all resistance. The non-combatant survivors were offered life under the Sidhe, and they accepted. Of those who fought, those who resisted, none were ever seen again.
It is thought, by commoner historians, that the death-toll amongst the Fae was numbered in the hundreds. Moreover, there are no records anywhere of any Eiluned Sidhe falling in that battle. Indeed, it seems likely that none sustained more than minor injuries.
The Eiluned rule the city to this day, and control it as a personal fief. The lords of Tara-Nar and . No one really wants to look too closely into the doings of the Eiluned here. As long as the Eiluned nobles pay their fair tribute, and support the well being of the Kingdom, no questions will be asked. Those that do ask questions are commoners and traitors, and who would listen to them?
The Cove: Giddens Cove was once one of the largest Selkie freeholds on the Atlantic coast. It�s gone quiet. Something awful has happened there. The characters are going to be sent to find out what happened.
Prelude: The Invitation.
The invitation arrives on a small white card.
Duke Mablung of House Eiluned requests the pleasure of the presence of [character�s names] and their guests at the opening of his new place of entertainment.
This is the first time that Montreal�s Fae society has directly approached the characters. That should be enough to interest anyone�s character. If the characters inquire further, it will be clear that the "place of entertainment" is actually a new nightclub. There is a nice feature in The Hour (a free "event" newspaper available just about everywhere in the city), about how cool the place is, and how the new owners of the building took the burnt out remains of an old cinema covered in pigeon droppings on St. Catherine Street, and turned it into what could become the cities hottest new venue for live music, and club nights.
Sounds like fun, eh?
Prelude Two: Transformations
"Is this the way, they say, the future�s meant to feel?
Or just 20,000 people standing in a field?
And I don�t quite understand, quite just what this feeling is,
But that�s ok, �cos were sorted out for Es and Whizz!
And tell me when the spaceship lands, cos all this has to start to mean something.
In the middle of the night, it feels alright....
And then tomorrow morning....oooh....then you come down..."
Pulp,
Sorted for Es and Whizz
A car is sent for the characters, driven by one of the Duke�s most trusted servants. The driver is an Eshu spy, in reality, one of the later arrivals into the city, but he comports himself like a servant. He will report each and every innuendo, phrase and mannerism of the characters to his boss.
The club is large, vibrant, and filled with the "bright young things." The auditorium of the cinema has been kept intact, with only the seats removed. The screen shows old movies, the Rocky Horror Picture show, or the faces of the dancers themselves.
There are also a lot of Kithain there, letting their hair down. There is a very positive, very relaxed, very "party" atmosphere. Let the characters relax.
The duke is sitting in an alcove, modeled on an old theatre "VIP box" - he is surrounded by a brace of very, very beautiful Sidhe and human people. He waves them over. He will exchange pleasantries over the noise for a little while.
As the characters stand there, someone screams, and out of the crowd, a young man with a wild look in his eyes rushes towards the duke, gun in hand. He fires off several shots. Everyone ducks, and then the young man turns to run. He is wrestled to the ground by a troll guard. He shoots the guard.
If the characters stop this Sidhe (consider him to have strength 3, dexterity 3, Stamina 4, Wits 4, Brawl 3, Dodge 2 and Melee), he will struggle violently. His gun is out of shells when the characters reach him. The duke will be pleased. He will have his would-be assassin taken away. He works a magic that removes all memory of the incident form the mortal onlookers.
The assassin is tackled before he reaches the door, either way.
Scene One: A cry for help.
It is the morning after the Duke�s party. The characters are hungover, tired, and probably hoping that no one speaks to them too loudly.
Unfortunately, someone does.
The phone rings.
The Phone Conversation:
The voice on the other end of the phone is panicked, female and sounds like she is calling from very far away.
"Hello...?" she begins.
When the character on the other end of the line responds, she will start sobbing:
"Oh my god, how are you, I mean, I got your number, and...."
She doesn�t really answer any questions.
"They said you could help! I am running out of change. Look, I�m in St. Johns, in Newfoundland. I am in a bar. I got away. They are after me. I need you to..."
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
The phone is cut off.
Scene Two: Holding Court
The phone rings again, it comes from the Duke himself.
"Having problems, I think?" he says, rather condescendingly.
He asks them to come down to his new "temporary" court, at the nightclub. They are ushered inside by a troll guard. He acts like, and is, a heavy. He is a tall, and very powerful, Haitian. His fists look as if they could crush rocks. They can.
"Follow me," is all he says to them.
Inside, it is dark, while they walk through the lobby of the old cinema. Inside, the "theatre" section, all is light, a new skylight has been installed. The duke stands in the middle of the stage, in the centre of the light, looking around. Various flunkies scuttle around. As they approach, a flunky runs up to him, delivers him a note, whispers into his ear, and then runs away. The duke beams at this information, and then looks away.
As the characters get nearer, he seems very occupied with his thoughts. Then, suddenly, he turns to them and beams at them, a huge smile etched across his face.
"So good to see you all again," he says.
He will exchange pleasantries for some minutes, and then says:
"You had a rather disturbing phone call this morning, did you not?"
He will press them for details of the call, and he will try to find out just how interested the characters are in this situation. He himself is VERY interested. The possibility of finding a living witness to whatever is going on up north is very intriguing to him.
If the characters are not interested, he will try other stratagems.
This last is a final, more desperate excuse. He will thread these requests through conversation on the matter. He does not simply make the statements. He will make a request, then ask for more details on the phone call, on the events of last night, or the events in Concordia.
If the characters are interested, he will attempt an opposite ploy: he will feign indifference. He may even sound vaguely hostile to the characters intent to investigate - "you would run off on this fools� errand?"
His aim is to really convince the characters that something is up. His motives in wanting them to investigate are less clear. Although he is concerned with the realm, he is also looking to the future; as the lord who found out what this new threat was, he would be standing in line for a serious promotion. He also knows that forewarned is forearmed, and should the worst happen, he will stand a better chance of successfully defending his lands and holdings in Montreal.
After some negotiations, he will offer the use of his magicians, to trace the phone calls. He will send them away, and promise to call them when they are ready.
He calls some hours later with the following information:
The phone call came from a bar in Halifax, Nova Scotia, on Granville St. It�s called the White Otter. He will call them tomorrow to make arrangements for their travel. They owe him, he remarks, offhandedly, and closes the connection.
Vignette: Consequences
As the characters leave, they see some "heavies" coming out of a small room near the back of the club. Their arms and clothes are covered with blood. The trolls walk off, leaving the door closed, but not locked. It becomes obvious why. Inside, chained to a pool table, his hands and feet cut off, the would-be assassin of last night, lies. He is alive, but he is badly beaten. The guards are leaving him to bleed to death. He dies soon after.
When he dies, some characters with magical sight will see the assassin�s ghost walk away from his body, then scream, and be sucked away, as if into some terrible void.
The guards return soon after. If the characters are there when they arrive, they will be forcibly evicted.
Scene Three: Getting there.
The Duke will offer them the use of one of his private planes - at a price. The price depends on how well he has manipulated them into going off on the errand. If they were eager, he will mention that they can repay them at some later date. If they were not, he will not mention the cost. But it will cost them. The Duke is something of an accountant, and his currencies are favours and obligations.
The Duke owns several planes, all based at Dorval airport; a Cessna, a Piper, and a Gulfstream. He will lay on the Gulfstream for larger parties.
They will leave at noon, on the following day. The day is fine, and bright, visibility is unlimited, and there is a gentle breeze. Air Traffic Control reports no strong weather warnings along their flight path. A good day for flying, the Captain tells them.
The Captain is a Sidhe knight of House Liam, but he owes a great deal to Duke Mablung. It is not such a terrible debt, however. He loves to fly, and he repays his boon to his lord through his skills.
The flight is reasonably uneventful - unless, the Storyteller decides otherwise.
Scene Four: The Bar.
They arrive at the White Otter in late evening.
The bar is a fairly pleasant, reasonably quiet, reasonably upmarket bar. No one knows anything. No one saw anyone or anything strange. The phone used was a Bell payphone. It is used almost constantly.
It looks like the characters have hit a dead end.
Scene Five: Frustration
Let the characters stew for a while, or perhaps try other potential leads. The local police do have extensive records of missing persons, but the characters have no real way of cross-referencing this data. Using magic will reveal little - although this may in itself be a clue - perhaps who they are looking for had ways of hiding from magical searches. She did, in fact.
Finally, they will get a call on one of their cellphones from the pilot of the Gulfstream.
"Uh, guys, I think you should come back here."
Scene Six: Meeting.
Inside the plane, they have a visitor. He is a small, dark skinned man, with a broad, white smile. He is of Haitian origin. He wears a very expensive business suit. He has quick, intelligent eyes. He watches the characters, to see what their intentions are.
"Good evening," he will begin. "And how are we on this fine evening. Having problems, I think?"
Allow this conversation to develop. Do the characters want to reveal their mission? How will he react if and when they lie to him?
"If I may be of some assistance," he will continue.
Allow them to agree, or disagree. Roleplay it out, especially if any of the players are getting tetchy about being dragged halfway across Canada for no reason.
"There is a cove, a few hours drive to the North of here. It has a...history. I had some friends there. They would appear to have become incommunicado. Recently, I have gotten the impression that some friends of these friends were in town, and that they were in some degree of distress. How strange. And then, some fine Americans come to visit this fine city. Some fine Americans whose Auras glimmer like summer stars, and summer lightning. How strange, I thought. Perhaps these are friends of friends of friends. I think you are, now that I look at you closely."
Their visitor is a Mage, a fallen member of the half-forgotten Craft, the Bata�a. He did not wish to see his Craft join the Traditions. He simply went north, and disappeared, into the country he knew well. His father and grandfather were migrant fishermen along the Atlantic coast. They were Mages too. He knows this Cove well. He does not volunteer a name, and refuses to give one. He gives them directions, and then disappears, as if he had never been there.
How...odd.
Scene Seven: The Cove.
The characters arrive in the small township of Giddens Cove well after midnight, travel tired and sore. Their rental car threatened to die several times along the way. Then, a few miles outside Casno, they find, at last, the strange, twisting road, which leads them over the small hills, and down again to the coast. There, in the shelter of a small headland, the cove waits. A small township lies scattered around the road, and the headland - it�s a "one pub, two shops" sort of place. It�s very quiet. The town seems empty.
Actually, the town is empty.
Everyone is dead. There are about 40 households in the immediate area. The houses are typically small - cottages and newer bungalows. It is a place seemingly untouched by the 21st century. The people who ruled the area liked to keep it that way.
The town is a fey grotto, a freehold, and a large and powerful one at that. At least, until about a week ago, it was. Now it is utterly empty.
As the characters investigate, play up the eeriness of the empty streets, the empty houses. In some houses, the radio, or the TV, or even the computer is still on. In one house, the computer is on, and connected to the Internet. Cold craft dinners sit in the Microwave ovens around the townland. The residents look like they all upped and left.
Scene Eight: The Cove�s secret.
Once the players have gotten bored wandering around the town, a weird howling kicks up. It seems to come down the wind, echoing from everywhere. As time passes, the noise grows closer and closer. Worse still, their car has broken down.
What do they do?
There are a pack of Black Spiral Dancers in the hills and woods near the town, and they are calling out to their spirits. They are performing a ritual. After some hours of the howling, they will take a walk through the town, to ensure that nothing untoward has happened.
They could hide and wait, and then attempt to ambush the Dancers. This depends on the combat abilities of the characters. Most likely, they would be shredded.
They could run away, by the use of Wayfare, or similar, but that won�t get them very far, nor will it solve the mystery for them.
They could investigate, but again, they are walking into danger. Do not attempt to solve this problem for them. Just remember, the wolves keep howling.
Then the wolves stop howling, and the northern lights start shimmering across the sky, a spectacular display, and the brightest anyone has ever seen.
That�s when the Banes come. Flocks of them seem to rise from the shadows, and flutter into the sky.
Scene Nine: Darkness visible.
Somewhere near the town, somewhere near where the characters are, there is a small grove of blasted ash, surrounded by dead trees. From the dead trees, from those dozens of trees, the dead of the town are hung, like meat - indeed, as meat for the Dancers.
And in the confusion, the characters stumble upon it.
The smell alerts them first, but by then its too late. They stumble into the clearing, into a smell of roast pork - burned human flesh. In the centre of the clearing, a group of children are bound. They mewl and whimper. There is no one else around. If the characters go help the children, the children�s eyes turn black, and they start speaking with a strange, otherworldly voice.
They are now fomori. They were children from the surrounding towns and from Casno itself. Over the last week, the Black Spiral Dancers have been abducting the children from their homes. They have been making Fomori. This is the latest batch. The "children" attack, and fight to the death. But when a character is about to deal a killing blow, the child�s eyes change back to normal, and the child will cry out -"NO! Please, no, the bad spirit is gone..." If the character hesitates, the Bane takes control again, and attacks. If not, the Bane leaves the body, and the character is left wondering if they have just killed an innocent child. There are between 4 and 10 children, a number determined by the size and strength of the group.
If the characters examine the clearing, they realise that many of the people - the Kinain and Kithain, for that is what they are - died in the same manner as the Hunters in the last chapter - impaled a thousand times, and torn into the trees themselves. Roses bloom on the corpses.
Scene Ten: The Escape.
As the characters stumble away, the howling starts again. It is getting lighter out though, as the brief summer night ends. When they get back to their car, the car is able to drive away. They are not pursued.
The rental car finally gives up as soon as they hit the next town. Calling the Duke will reveal rather half-hearted congratulations. He is sending a driver up to collect them.
In a roadside caf�, they meet the Mage again. He is very tired, and noticeably drained. He is waiting for them at a corner table when they come in.
"Hello, my friends," he begins. "Having difficulties?"
He will smile and nod, and be sympathetic if they tell him their story, of play, awkwardly with his cutlery if they do not. If the group remains silent, or uncommunicative, he will eventually break the silence.
"The place is dead, is it not? I have just come from St. Johns, in Newfoundland. There was a place like that, and there too, death seems to have arrived early. Forgive my melodramatics. Dead. All dead."
He falls silent.
"It would seem to me that you people are the most obvious target. You do not have the power or the strength of the wolfmen, and you do not have the magics of my people. I believe this thing may kill you all. I am sorry, but I must be blunt. Anyway, it is time for me to leave. Farewell."
And then he is gone, again. However, on a paper napkin, he has written.
Friends...
Forgive me for not staying, but it is not safe. The enemy, I think, considers you below his notice, but not I.
Tell your Duke, Mablung, that the ghosts of the Indian fishermen told me of his little dirty secret. Tell him how I know why Montreal fell. Tell him my silence is for sale.
A friend.
Eventually, a car comes, and takes them to the airport.
Afterword - What Really Happened?
Well, the Black Spiral Dancers were not responsible for the deaths of the Kithain and Kinain. They simply used the situation to their advantage. They were drawn there by the taint of darkness. However, they are now bound to the will of the forces behind the atrocity.
See the story, "Portents" for more clues as to what�s going on!
And yes, Mablung and the Montreal Eiluned have a dirty secret of their own...
