A Prelude to the Howl: Dean Thorton (Logan Turman)

This is a Prelude Scene for Dean Thorton (Logan Turman).

Dean drives up to the client's house in his old Lincoln Towncar. It was your typical elderly person house: old, dingy, and falling apart in some spots. He walked up to the front door and politely knocked on the door. The lady that opened the door looked like Paula Dean's anorexic twin, in a good way.

"Hello Mrs. Ruth. I am Dean Thorton, private investigator and paranormal detective. You requested that I come ASAP to investigate some trouble in your home. May I come in?"

"Oh of course Mr. Thorton. Please do come in and make yourself at home. Would you like some tea? I have a fresh pot in the kitchen."

"Thank you. That would be lovely. Now what is this I hear about your house being haunted? What signs or disturbances have you noticed?"

"Well, just some strange things really: things getting knocked off or tipped over for no apparent reason, noises like someone is walking in the hallways, cold chills in the air even though I have the heat on and a fire in the hearth, and other small unexplainable things. I know it sounds crazy and no one else believes me, but it's true I swear."

"Well I don't think your crazy Mrs. Ruth. Ghosts do in fact exist and sometimes they are just trying to get our attention for some reason. Now I can find them if there are in fact ghosts or other paranormal entities living in your home. Mhmmm...that tea was delicious. I suppose I should go ahead and get to work. No need to keep you waiting to finally be relaxed in your own home. Perhaps, you could show me around the house and I can see if I can locate anything." Dean slips on some lightly shaded aviators while he activates his Death Sight gift to look around for ghosts.

The sunglasses ate up all light in the room until Dean could see nothing but the vague outline of thin woman’s home. He blinked once and a gray pall fell across his vision. He blinked again and the strange misty substance began to cling here and there in telltale fashion.

The ghost was here, but it was hidden.

In the background, Mrs. Ruth’s voice droned on and on about the strange occurences over these past few days. Each night an item would fall and shatter, a light would flicker, the chill wind would slice through her night robe. Each night the ghost would come.

Dean blinked deliberately holding his eyes shut for a fraction of a second longer than was normal. Outside he felt the half-face of the moon on his back like a heat. The Mother gazed down with one eye open and one eye closed.

Dean smiled. So easy. He opened his left eye and kept the right shut tight.
There!

“Here.” Dean reached out a big old Budweiser stein. It had a hinged top that could be shut tight with a twist of a latch. It was crass and vulgar, the kind of thing only an old man could love. Dean reached out for it and heard the woman’s breath stop short.

“No! Don’t touch that!”

He was in there. The old man. Her husband. His ashes.

Dean saw something else in there as well. A separate thing, not quite a ghost, but close. He couldn’t exactly smell it, but he felt it like a smell up inside his nose. A spirit. It resonated with the stench of old death.
It seemed to be waiting for his move.

Dean stopped in mid-reach for the old stein. That was close. He slowly lowered his arm and clasped both of his hands behind his back in a relaxed position. The old lady knew more than she let on it would seem.

"Your husband's ashes and ghost are hidden inside this stein. There is also something else, something much older... but you already knew some of this didn't you Mrs. Ruth?" Dean slowly turned to face her and walked towards her. "If I am to solve this case and free your husband's ghost to travel onto the next life, you're going to have to be honest and open with me about every single detail involving your husband's death and why he might have chosen to stick around. Ghosts don't chose to stay behind in this world for the fun of it. I need to know: his cause of death, anyone he was close to including you, any final words he had before he died, and what is his interest in the stein that his ashes are in because normally anyone cremated has their ashes put in an urn."

He walked past her and put his hand on the front door knob. "I can help you, but you have to help me. If you cannot, then your money will be refunded back to you and I wish you good luck in the future. Thank you for the tea and your time."

The Elodoth really wanted to help her and solve this mystery, but he would not tolerate deception that could get him in some serious shit with a death spirit. He could come back at a later point after the old lady died. She looked like she already had one foot in the grave anyways. Or he could make his way back to here through the Shadow Realm. This way is obviously the easier choice, but he has options. He stared at the old lady awaiting her answer.

Mrs. Ruth’s face turned beet red and she waggled her finger with purpose.

“Now you listen here, sonny. I called you to do a job and you are doing to do it! Don’t you go accusing me of…what are you doing?” The old woman’s face screwed up into a wrinkled prune with beady eyes as Dean’s hand turned on the knob.

“Now, listen. Don’t you leave. I am going to PAY you!”

The door opened.

“GET BACK HERE THIS INSTANT YOUNG MAN!”

Dean began to step through.

“Oh why are you doing this to me? Ohhhh…” Dean heard a cushioned thud and looked back to see Mrs. Ruth slumped in the stiff-backed armchair in front of the stein. She blubbered incoherently for a time and he waited. She wanted a show. She wanted someone to see her misery and pain. She had to be the victim.

Dean turned his attention away from the woman half in, half out the threshold. She would come around, or she wouldn’t.

Instead, he focused on the stein. He could feel the strained spirit of death inside with the ghost of the old man. As he watched with his spirit eyes it billowed up out of the mug like every depiction of genie-in-the-lamp.

Gray smoke wrapped about the choking form of the old man. His arms wrapped about his own body, head pushed down uncomfortably. Tears leaked onto his chest as he sobbed bitterly. His shoulders hunched and his legs curled. It hurt Dean just to look at the ghost of the dead man. Hurt deep in his bones and sinew and made him feel like he was 110.

The Uratha forced his jaw to unclench from the phantom pain as he looked back at Mrs. Ruth. She was no longer crying, but that look of spite and hate rode rampant across her featuers.

“You want to know, then? You must know?” Her chin jutted out and her bottom lip swallowed the top whole in a pissy pout. Her features and the old man’s were similar in that way that an old couple grows alike.

“He loved that stein. I could not bear to part with it, or him.” Her snarling features turned toward the jar. She did not see the ghost wrapped in smoke twist forcibly in her direction. “I kept the Will he wanted to me to give to the lawyer. I gave them a fake.”

Mrs. Ruth and the spirit-choked-ghost turned to Dean at the same time.

“I have cried into that cup every night. My tears feed my husband and keep him in this world. But no more. He has to go!”

Dean saw the Death Spirit slither over the body of the ghost. It choked the essence from the old man, twisted away his sorrow and pain.

OOC:
Roll to perceive Mrs. Ruth’s emotional state. [Dice Pool Goes Here]

Let me know if you engage in any other rolls.

Her mask had finally fallen. The Elodoth could finally see her for what she really was, a selfish and needy old woman. His plan had worked. She was giving him the info he needed, but he still needed more to be fully prepared. It was time for him to get down to business and resolve the situation for the ghost's sake if nothing else.

Dean closed the door behind him as he walked back in. A wise man once said that one will catch more flies with honey than vinegar, so it was time for him to lay it on thick. He walked towards her with a look of great concern on his face.

"Mrs. Ruth are you okay? I didn't mean to cause someone so nice as you any undo stress. I merely wished to uncover the truth to help you," Dean said as her poured a cup of tea and handed it to her.
"Please accept my apologies. Perhaps we can continue this investigation. I certainly don't want you to fall victim to anything serious caused by the evil spirit. How about I go get my equipment out of the car and get the ritual to save your husband underway? I will still need to see what it says in the real will in regards to how he wished his body to be taken care of after he died. You can cover up the rest of the will because it is obviously none of my business. You go do that, I will get my stuff, and we will meet back up in here." Dean gave a comforting smile and helped the woman to her feet.

Dean went outside to get the essentials from his car. He started singing the theme song for the movie "Ghostbusters" quietly to himself as he popped the trunk. The only thing in it was an empty duffle bag until he pulled a secret lever that made the top of the door open to reveal it's contents. It looked like something out of a Van Helsing movie: stakes, bottles labeled "holy water", crosses, etc. He placed several items into the duffle including: a small drum that you could hold in one hand, a Chinese to-go box that had a bunch of small holes punched into it with some live crickets, another Chinese to-go box with some leftover chicken infested with maggots, and a jar of old grave dirt.
He then takes off his gloves and pricks his index fingers with a sharpened claw. Dean starts to speak a prayer to Father Wolf as he paints a small glyph in his blood on the back of each hand and on his forehead near the hair line. After that, he puts clear tape over the glyph to keep it from smearing as he puts his gloves back on and a small bandaid to cover the one in his head. He brushed his hair down over the bandaid so it would not be easily noticed.

He packed everything up and headed inside. Mrs.Ruth was already sitting on the armchair waiting for him.

Investigation + Wits roll to detect her intentions/deception. 3 successes http://orokos.com/roll/379002

Gift: Scent Beneath the Surface to tell me the presence or absence of deceptive behavior and her general emotional state. It is contested by her composure.http://orokos.com/roll/379004

Used the rite Blessing of the Spirit Hunt. It allows me to attack ephemeral spirits with my hands and teeth as if they were physical. They are currently covered but remain intact because of the tape and bandaid. It is a precaution just in case shit hits the fan.

Forgot to also put that he activated the gift: Right Words to give me +2 on all social rolls to calm anger or encourage someone.

Rolled manipulation + Persuasion (cutting a deal) to influence her to cooperate with me.
http://orokos.com/roll/379007

OOC Notes:
Blessing of the Spirit Hunt is an inspired choice, sir. I applaud you.

Investigation/Wits and the Scent Beneath the Surface combine to reveal to you that Mrs. Ruth is basically a psychopath. She is not at all remorseful about her husband’s state. She wants you to keep him from screwing with her, but she seems to LIKE the fact that he is in apparent misery. Furthermore, you can already tell that she has absolutely no intention of paying you when you finish.

Back to the Prelude:

Dean eyed the old woman in a new light. He could smell the deception. Her lies tasted like a film of dish soap still clinging to a glass as he drank. He would have to deal with that, but for now, the spirit writhed and seemed to respond to his presence.

The smoke coalesced tighter around the ghost. Dean watched as it poured down the old man’s throat and Mrs. Ruth’s dead husband’s eyes lit up.

The spirit of death possessed the dead man and used him as its voice.

“Half-breed,” it hissed through an unfamiliar mouthpiece. “Part mortal, part spirit. Completely nothing.”

Dean took a deep breath. He could really smell it now. Her home was rife with the essence and resonance of bitterness, loss, despair, and anger. It flowed outward from the stein and the spirit.

“You have come to remove me, wolf-blood. I who am Writhes-in-Sorrow do not wish to be removed.”

It was a strange thing talking to a spirit through a ghost. The sound grated on his nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

“The woman does not matter. Kill her. Make her home strong in the presence of death. Make this pact with me and we shall make this place a locus from which to feed.”

Dean glanced at Mrs. Ruth who cried crocodile tears and seemed to be watching his every move.

“Or…” the voice hissed and Dean shivered involuntarily. It was empty and hollow like an unfilled grave. “Cause her pain. Increase her misery. Let me feed from her, ride in her body, claim her. Give me this and I owe you a boon.”

Dean frowned and looked down at his equipment.

He had options, now.

Dean stared cooly back at the spirit/ghost. "Mrs. Ruth...you should leave now. The spirit wishes you ill will, and you are not equipped as I to handle the situation. If you have any friends or relatives nearby, you should ask if you can stay the night. I should be done by morning. Before you go, I will need the real will that states how your husband wished for his ashes to be handled otherwise he may haunt you after the evil spirit has been removed because his final wishes were not respected."

Her tears of woe suddenly turned into a shout of anger,"Wait a minute! You expect me to leave you alone in my house at this time of night? How do I know you won't try to rob me blind by the time morning comes?"

He looked at her in a very serious but concered manner. "You have my name, the address of my business, and knowledge of my appearance. If I were to rob you, it wouldn't be too difficult for the police to find and arrest me now would it? Alright, I will need to start a fire in your hearth, so I can burn an offering to the spirit." Dean started to pile logs and tender onto the fire and light it. He arranged his equipment in the bag next to him to be ready for retrieval when the time comes.

"You're serious about this...well my next door neighbor is a long time friend of mine and might be ok with me staying the night." She then called her friend up on the home phone and had a quick and frantic phone call. The crap and whining coming out of her mouth about being the victim of a vile haunting were no different than when she "passed out" on the chair when Dean tried to leave."She is a dear and is going to help an old lady out tonight. I do expect for all these spirits and ghosts to be out of my house by the morning as agreed otherwise you will not be paid. Am I clear? Good."

As the calm Uratha built the fire to a slow burn, Mrs. Ruth had packed a bag and slapped a piece of paper on the coffee table next to him. "No funny business or I will call the police to arrest you." She choked up and shed a tear with an overdramatic swoon."I will not be made a victim again." She looked suspiciously at his preparations and turned with a flair towards the door.

"Goodnight Mrs. Ruth." Dean said as he stared into the fire. The old hag merely huffed at him as she walked out the door to her friends house. "Finally..." He made sure the door was locked and all the curtains were drawn tight. He would be very upset if someone were to interrupt him. The Elodoth could feel the spirit staring him down through the ghost's eyes. He takes a brief look at the will that she had put on the table to see what it stated about his final wishes.

"You have decided to let the woman go and try to force me out. You will fail miserably half-breed. Writhes-in-Sorrow does not take commands from the likes of you."

Dean glances at it momentarily before sitting before the fire in a sitting lotus pose for meditation. He poured out some of the graveyard dirt from the jar in his bag in between his legs making a small pile. The small drum is then placed in his lap. He plays the drum in a slow, steady rhythm as he begins to meditate. Everything fades away as he focuses on the beat of the drum. Even the spirit is being somewhat placated by the gentle vibrations of the drum.

Spirit Drum fetish: placates and numbs spirits while being played and grants a +2 bonus on all friendly social rolls against spirits.

The spirit-wrapped-ghost swayed in time to the beat of the drum. Dean could sense it calm, could see its tendrils relax around the corpus of the dead old man.

<Chains weighing down the arms and neck and legs, pulling the body bent forward in sorrow.>

The image flashed into Dean’s mind like a scent. An image of “self” from the spirit. Slaves writhing in the sorrow of their bondage.

<A broken body from a fall, twisted and groaning in the moments before death.>

Though the spirit was not speaking, it communicated its nature with surprising clarity.

Dean understood that it was a spirit of the choir of death. It further specialized into the reactionary descant that contained grief, and sorrow, and pain.

<A wolf, head back, howling at the moon as it stood over the bodies of its dead pack.>

That last image was as much threat as speech. The spirit was calm, now, but it was not yet cowed.

“Destroy me at your peril, half-breed. I am but envoy in this world full of death and delicious sorrow.”

An hour passed...

The werewolf had finally reached perfect harmony for the ritual. He added more wood to the fire to build up the intensity while still keeping the beat of the drum. Elodoth flexed his muscles as he called upon his more primal nature. His claws extended, teeth sharper and longer, size increased, hair grew more prominent on his face, and his eyes fixed to that of the hunter. The moon's power swelled in his Dalu form.

"Your destruction is not my intent. I have an interesting offer for you more beneficial than anything that could have been gained from the old woman's death or misery. I shall give you a taste of what I can offer you in exchange for your cooperation."

Dean pulled out a cigarette and lit it with the fire. He took a deep drag as he pulled out the chinese to-go box with the live crickets and tossed it on the fire. His enhanced hearing could make out the quick scuttling of the crickets as they tried to escape to no avail. Then, there was the subtle cracking and popping as they burned alive. There suffering and misery would bait the hook. Now, it was time to reel it in from the ghost. He closed his eyes and released a wave of sorrow and misery essence as he relived in his mind the aftermath of his First Change. The carnage of his slaughtered little brothers and sisters at his own hands caused him much pain, but it was necessary. The smoke from his cigarette swirled about him as his essence seeped into it.

"Interesting..." Writhes-In-Sorrow uncoiled itself from the ghost and slithered through the air like an ephemeral snake. It engulfed the essence produced by the burning crickets.

<A snake in the middle of devouring its prey whole>

It was pleased and mildly intrigued by the chiminage that was given. The spirit slithered towards the Elodoth, consuming the essence of the werewolf's sorrow as it joined the smoke that wrapped around him. It seemed to swell as it gorged itself on the sweet essence. Its coils now secured themselves around Dean in a gentle but firm embrace.

Dean felt rather than heard the spirit whisper to him," You have my attention half-breed. What is this offer?"

He analyzed the spirit's inital reactions, gauging how honorable the spirit may be to judge how best to conduct himself during the negotiation. His rhythm with the drum didn't skip a beat during the whole process. Now it was time to show the full power of the Half Moon.

"I propose a partnership of sorts. A mutually beneficial relationship where we protect and empower each other. I can already see that you can fetter yourself to an object or person. I have a jar of old graveyard dirt that you can fetter yourself to. I can take you with me and place you inside my own home. You would be there to protect me, my friends, allies, and my home. In return, you will have the protection of a Uratha, and I will make efforts to provide you with sufficient essence on a regular basis. I know how to provide you with essence and have shown that I can do it very well. I must warn you that if you directly or indirectly cause harm to any of my friends or allies, including a ghost that resides in my home, I will be obligated to put forth the full fury of the Uratha upon you and the deal will be null and void. You can be content with the pitiful amount of essence provided by that ghost, but you know that you will not be able to grow in power and the old lady will not know how to actively provide you with additional essence or protect you from other spirits or Uratha that may wish to bind you. Just consider what I can offer you, or you can deny me if you think you can do better on your own. Your choice..."

The ball was in the spirit's court, but he had a back up plan with a stick if the carrot of chiminage and negotiation didn't work.

Powers and abilities used:
Instant Measure gift
Chiminage rite (spend 1 Essence to provide spirit with essence equal to wisdom renown (2) and gains +2 on gifts, rites, and social rolls against spirit)
Spirit Drum fetish used
Spririt Envoy half moon special ability used
Right Words gift
Skill roll: Manipulation + Persuasion (Cutting a deal specialty) + bonuses

rolls to come once I gain info from Chris from stuff relating to certain gifts and rites used.

Chiminage Rite: 8 Successes http://orokos.com/roll/382997
Instant Measure Gift: 1 Success http://orokos.com/roll/383001
Manipuation + Persuasion (Cutting a deal specialty)+ bonuses (spirit drum, spirit envoy, right words, chiminage rite, willpower point) roll 9-again ability from Instant Measure: 10 Successes
http://orokos.com/roll/383003

<<A young man standing at the altar looking into the eyes of his wife, hand upon her cheek. A baby born, the man standing proud and protective. The aftermath of lovemaking. A sweet kiss. Parting words. All gone, all soon forgotten. The happiest moments of a life that will create no more.>>

The spirit floated freely in the Hisil, no longer fettered to the ghost. Dean could see the old man back away, first one step, then another, and then the spirit fled into the Twilight between Shadow Realm and that of mortals.

Writhes-in-Sorrow rolled in mid-air. It savored the taste of the old man’s memories and the woman’s grief. It drank deeply of the essence of the wolf, a spice to flavor grief.

“You speak of deals, Half-Moon. You make offerings. In you is potential for unfathomable grief and you have given a taste.” The serpent’s voice fell flat and hollow as if it was drawing in the sound instead of expelling it.

Dean could sense the creature pondering his words. He knew it to be an honorable creature, in its way. Not deceptive, but not exactly on his side. Like all of its kind, it was bound to a higher power, a greater spirit. Dean could tell that its loyalty was unwavering to this being and as long as he did not force it to choose between it and his pack, Writhes-in-Sorrow could be trusted.

“Your deal is acceptable. Grant us chiminage, give us offering, and allow no tales of happiness to brighten your home. Do this and your domain will be watched over. Bring more power, increase the standing of Writhes-in-Sorrow, and you shall have more.”

The spirit slithered to the ashes and the urn and coiled its smoky length about the object. Dean could feel its semi-permanence as it attached. He remembered an old aunt who gave him candy as a child. The scent of an ex-lover flitted by. His eyes welled up with hot and sticky as he pondered this newfound alliance.



NPC Spirit
Writhes-in-Sorrow
(Harvester, Amdulim)
Quote: <<Drink deep from the wellspring of your grief.>>
Description: Writhes-in-Sorrow appears as a smoky cloud with a vaguely serpentine appearance. Its voice is sad and hollow, an empty well ever seeking to be filled. It latches itself to objects of importance to deceased individuals in order to drink of the grief and sorrow loved ones pour into it. Family photos, heirlooms, and even ghosts themselves are targets whenever possible.

Rank: 2
Attributes: Power 4, Finesse 3, Resistance 7
Willpower: 11
Essence: 15
Initiative: 10
Defense: 4
Speed: 10
Size: 3
Corpus: 10
Influences: Sorrow **
Numina: Drain, Emotional Aura, Fetter, Material Vision, Reaching, Revelation
Ban: Unknown to PC at this time.

Dean made a sound as if clearing his throat and tapped the jar of graveyard dirt that he offered the spirit to fetter to. "Deal. But I can't take the urn with me. It is of no use to you anyways since the ghost fled. This dirt comes from the ashes of the orphanage that burned down. It is tied to my sorrow and thus more appropriate for your fetter."

Writhes-in-Sorrow considered the thought and attached itself to the jar. The urn was of no importance now that his source of essence had fled.

"It is good that we came to an agreement. You would have certainly done much damage to me, but I came prepared for such a complication." Dean removed the bandaid on his forehead to reveal the blood glyph, and then he wiped it away.

The spirit hissed in surprise but made no move to attack once the glyph was removed. It knew that the Uratha was honorable and wouldn't attack unless it attacked him first.

Dean packed up all of his equipment and put out the fire. He knew that the woman wasn't going to pay him, so there had to be some leverage against her. The lady had falsified legal documents when she provided a fake will. One picture of the real document will be enough to get her fined. The fine would be more than what his payment will be. He will keep his word about not reading the rest of the will, but there is nothing against taking a picture of the whole thing. He is a licensed private investigator after all.

He waited until the morning when Mrs. Ruth returned home. She looked tired and not in the best of moods.

"Is the spirit gone? Is my husband's ghost exorcised or whatever the hell it is you do to get rid of such things? If they are still here after you leave, I won't pay you."

Dean bowed politely to her. "The evil spirit won't bother you anymore. As for your husband, we will need to fulfill his final wishes and spread his ashes over his twin brothers grave as it is stated in the real will. Only then will his soul be put to rest and your house will no longer be haunted. All we need to do is take his ashes with us on a quick ride to the graveyard and you will be able to rest in peace. No pun intended."

Storyteller Note:

Unless there is more you wish to accomplish here, I think this prelude scene is done.

Definitely warrants the Bonus XP as noted:

Prelude XP