Subplot: Gangsta Gangsta (Dean “The Worst” Thorton)

Storyteller Note:
This subplot is meant to primarily involve the PC detailed in the subject line. It will be more involved and contain more detail than some previous plot points and be treated as a sort of “mini-adventure” for the PC involved. These Subplot stories are meant to allow characters to flex a bit and “star” in their own little stories. Feel free to involve any other PCs as you go along as you wish. My preference as Storyteller would be that you not include too many for events that will require rolling dice as it will take up a LOT more time.

As an additional note, these Subplots are meant to introduce aspects of Arsenal and its citizens supernatural and mundane through organic story.

This story will introduce the Second Passage, the Whisperwood Hollow Cemetery, and a bad part of town called Switchtrack Alley.

This is a dream.

Dean stood before tremendous iron gates with sharp-tipped spikes. The gates stood closed and barred the way forward. There was a vast emptiness on the other side. A land of the dead.

Pacing back and forth on the other side of that gate, a rail thin black and grey striped jackal paced. Ivory white bones, picked clean of all flesh, gristle, and sinew, lay at its feet.

The jackal did not speak. It did not breathe. It merely paced, back and forth, back and forth, judging Dean with its eyes.

Dean blinked and felt his perspective shift. Where before he stood on two, now four legs gripped the ground. The quiet jackal paused in its pacing and for the first time, looked up.

Dean-wolf followed its gaze and a giant grinning maw opened wide atop the iron gates coming down to swallow him whole and devour his...

"...gah!" Dean slammed his knee onto the bottom of the desk and cursed loudly. He had fallen asleep at work again.

As he rubbed his stinging flesh and tried to shake away the weird dream, he looked down and saw that he had written a note. In his sleep.

Whisperwood Hollow Cemetery. The silent jackal beckons.

Elunim Detective Agency, 11:00am

Dean rubbed his sore knee until his unnatural regeneration eased the pain.

"Well that certainly is a way to get a message across. At least I can say that I've had worse dreams. That night of Rage..." Dean shook the bad memory away and stared at the note.

"Seems like their style to send a note this way. Obviously, I need to go there, but wisdom dictates that I shouldn't go alone. I guess the best person to call is the big man. Hopefully, he can get his sister to close for him." Dean lights a cigarette and takes a deep drag. He thinks back to the first time one of his "siblings" at the orphanage got bullied and he was still too small to fight back. The helpless he felt as he watched his brother cry. He let out the smoke in a big smoke ring. The sorrow infused essence he released into the air was quickly swallowed up by Writhes-in-Sorrow who had been gently coiled around the Uratha's neck the entire time.

"That should tie you over until I return. I would take you with me as extra precaution, but someone has to stay behind and watch over my territory."

<I will do so. If you should not live to come home, I will at least have the sorrow of you guardian to savor. Happy Hunting...> Writhes-in-Sorrow whispered as it slithered through the air to harmlessly lay wrapped around the neck of his secretary and childhood guardian, Jessica Soles, as she continues playing solitare on her computer.

Dean picked up the phone and called Bastian's cell. It went straight to voicemail. He was probably asleep to be rested for the night shift.

"Hey, this is Dean. Got something I need your help with. An associate of mine lost his dog in the Whisperwood Hollow Cemetary. The "Second Passage" in his pack of emails that he sent me. I know this is late notice, but it kinda came out of the blue. I figured a big alpha like you would have no problem contributing effort in this unknown territory. I can give you more details later, but for now let's say midnight at the cemetary. It will be easier to find the dog in the dark. If you can't just shoot me a text. VtV."

Dean hung up the phone and laid back in his chair to ponder the dream again. He shrugged his shoulders and sheathed his punching dagger that was in his top desk drawer in his right pocket. He popped his head outside his office door and smiled at Jessica Soles.

"Hey Jess, I'm gonna be taking a little stroll later on tonight. I don't know when I will be back, so if you could just postpone any meetings and write down any messages for me until I get back.I'll give you a call at some point before I get back home. Writhes-in-Sorrow will be staying behind to keep an eye on the place so don't worry."

Jessica Soles immediately changed her screen from solitare to an online article about suspicious hauntings in the surrounding area with a quick flurry of nails clicking on the mouse. "Sure thing. Going on a four legged stroll tonight? You better take care and don't get into any trouble with the other things that go bump in the night." Her tone was that of a mother chastising her child.

Dean rolled his eyes and waved the comment off. "Yes yes I'll watch out. You know that I'm a lot more durable now than I was growing up right?" He walked upstairs to his room to prepare for the night to come and meditate.

Elunim Detective Agency, 11:00pm later that day

Dean was all suited and geared up for whatever lay ahead. He decided not to wake up Jessica before leaving. As he was walking to the door, he bumped into something that wasn't there. He immediately knew who it was. One eye turned milky white while the other turned pitch black as his Death Sight was activated. There standing in front of the door was his beautiful spectral roommate, Laura Burns. She had her arms crossed and pursed her lips together in a pout. Dean just smirked and shrugged his shoulders.

"How could've I possibly forgotten to say goodbye to you? I guess I was just in a hurry to not be late. Don't be mad at me."

He wrapped his arms around her spectral form in a hug and gave her a peck on the cheek. Well, as a mime would do it since he couldn't actually touch her. She replaced the pout with a big smile and returned the hug. She then kissed the tip of her index finger and pressed it on his lips. He could feel the pressure on his lips as her power allowed her to slightly manipulate the physical world. He then departed for the cemetary in his old Lincoln Towncar. Hopefully his alpha would arrive as well or he would have to be extra careful tonight. He felt fairly confident that Bastian could decipher his voicemail and be ready for the unknown.

Storyteller Note: I will move forward on this once you're sure who will be involved.

<< ... find the dog in the dark. If you can't just shoot me a text. VtV. >>

"What are we, in the fucking CIA? Just say the shit that needs to be said, man. No wonder they called him the Worst," he rambled to himself, though part of him liked how Worst had spoken in a bit of a code. His words had a hollow sound, echoing off his half-furnished apartment. He had lived there near a year, but there were still plenty of boxes to be unpacked. The words had no audience, for his latest guest had left the apartment a few hours earlier and Atlas had been trying to get some sleep. Kristen? Kirsten? Krysta? Fuck, does it matter?

The big man rolled to his left and sat up in one fluid motion, absentmindedly scratching his head. Suppose I should put on my wolfing clothes. He hopped up and got himself ready for a night of skulking about, as he often did these days.

A few minutes later, Atlas was out the door and down the stairs. He could hear the noise from the Dutchman, but was grateful to have the day off. He walked briskly away from the building into the patch of woods which abutted the property. A few esoteric mental commands later and he was a coyote prowling through the trees.

Atlas had grown up in Arsenal, so finding his way to the cemetery wasn't too difficult. He could have just driven, but figured creeping around in Urhan might work better for whatever Worst had planned. Without knowing exactly where to meet, he decided to return to his normal human form. Odds were good that Worst wouldn't miss a seven foot tall wall of muscle hanging around a cemetery in the middle of the night.

Kaylee! That's it.

Whisperwood Hollow Cemetary, Midnight

Dean parked his car infront of the massive gate. He got out and grabbed his lucky backpack. The Uratha sat on the hood of his car waiting for the big man to show up or the coyote appeared on the other side of the fence whichever happened first. The only light out was the moonlight of the half moon. There was a sense of calm and reassurance in it. As far as the graveyard went, it was the manifestation of every zombie/slasher flick ever imagined. It was old, very old. The trees were twisted and grew at unnatural angles. The most imposing presence was the gate itself. It was just like his vision. He kept the gate constantly in his periphery, wondering if would attack him. His thoughts were interrupted by his alpha walking up through a patch of trees. He couldn't quite see his features but there is no mistaking that mountain of a man.

"Ah, it's good to see you had the night off. I guess your wondering why I dragged you out to a creepy cemetary late at night on short notice. Well let me explain..."

Dean would go on to relate to him his vision/dream and the note that he write during it.

"I know it sounds a little crazy and foolish, but that it kinda how the Bone Shadows operate. Never normal, kinda like how my tribal Elder first contacted each of us for the call of pack."

Dean motioned towards the entrance of the cemetary.

"Time to ring the door bell..."

Dean lets out a low sustained howl, just loud enough to be heard in the surrounding area but not enough to alert the whole neighborhood so to speak. It was a howl out of respect to alert the Second Passage that they were there and wished for permission to see them/ enter their territory.

"Now we wait to see if the coyote answers."

The howl rang out through the iron bars. It echoed across Whisperwood, the sound an unmistakable request for entry. Two wolves saw the wind whip through the trees. Dancing leaves kissed stolid tombstones, the brush of life on death, but no one answered.

The pack was not home. The Second Passage was gone.

But something was here.

Atlas felt it as a tension, a knot of muscle at the small of his back. Dean "The Worst" Thorton, felt it deep within his soul. A gnawing hunger that ate and ate and ate but was never satisfied. Both heard the snarling laughter of a beast, a spirit, chomping at the iron bars.

Clean white bones clattered down out of the shadow preceding every footstep of the Silent Jackal. One padded paw touched down upon the old bones, then another. Its snout pressed across the Gauntlet, lips peeled back, a bone with old meat stuck between its mouth.

Black and brown and grey stripes and empty eyes, the Silent Jackal formed. Its head tilted as it listened for a sound. Its eyes were soulless, bereft of emotion. When it spoke its voice grated like a wire drug across the inner ear.

<<You come. You respect the dead. You speak me and I you. Truce, young wolf. Truce and no powers. Words alone.>>

The stilted First Tongue spilled out through the teeth and the two Uratha could smell the old, dead flesh the Jackal chewed upon. It was then they realized that the words were not audible, but had danced straight into their skulls.

<<Diplomacy. You Half-Moon, the spirits say. I see it with my own two eyes. You Hirfathra Hissu, Bone Shadow, I see. Me servant of your Master. Me servant of Kamduis-Ur.>>

Dean felt the truth of the beast's words. He saw it in the lines of death, the gaunt, skeletal figure. The empty eyes promising the truth of the next world. This was a servant of the Death Wolf. And it had beckoned him specifically.

<<Second Passage wars with Silent Howlers. Same border. Shared. Each claim human place - Switchtrack Alley. War will begin. You must stop.>>

The jackal gnawed at the bone until it was picked clean. The nauseating smell caused the two wolves' stomachs to roll.

<<Second Passage important. Lodge of Harbingers, servants of White Hare. Hunting for Boot Hill. Hunting for Dar-Us. Hunting for their death. The other, Kelly, he stands for the Lodge of the Boundary. He. Serves. Me. Silent Jackal, Envoy of the Dead.>>

The clean white bone clattered to the ground and Silent Jackal sat atop its bed of death.

<<Second Passage come to the Unforgiven's City. They seek Boot Hill. They seek their death. They must find it or all will die. Kelly, child of the Boundary, stands with them and deals for them with the spirits of the dead. Kelly speak to you. Kelly teach you. Both in danger.>>

Silent Jackal licked at a wound in its side. An open, pus-filled pucker of a scar that revealed its own bleach-white bones beneath.

<<They do not know I speak you. They should not know. Favor, you. Favor, me. Favor, all. Dar-Us comes and will kill all.>>

Atlas and The Worst heard the sound of screaming, then. The sound of breaking bones. But not a snap. Not the quick breaking of a fall or a crash. The sound was slow. The sound was agony. The sound was deliberate pain inflicted upon the People. The sound was Dar-Us, the Slow Killer.

The Silent Jackal rose and grew. The Shadow of death surrounded it, filled it, swelled it in size and power. It gazed down at them through the eyes of a God of Death.

An image filled their minds then:

Dean, standing, listening, as two packs argue back and forth and make their case. The Elodoth, the Half-Moon, stands in judgment and decides.

<<They need judgment, but too proud to ask. You offer. You do not speak my name. You give judgment and Second Passage goes back to their hunt. Do this and you have favor.>>

A single bone rolled out from under the spirit's paw, words in the First Tongue bound etched into its form. Dean saw instantly that it was a detailed Rite.

He looked up and the Jackal was gone. In the distance, a howl was heard. An answer to his call. The Second Passage would be here soon.

Storyteller Note:
Silent Jackal, Envoy of the Dead, patron of the Lodge of the Boundary, has requested that you mediate dispute between the Second Passage and the Silent Howlers. However, it does not want anyone to know it is involved, even Kelly - a servant of the Lodge.

The Second Passage's territory is the Whisperwood Hollow Cemetery and surrounding region.

The Silent Howlers reside in Soma.

They share a boundary, an old, shitty part of town called Switchtrack Alley. This region is the worst human inhabitation in the city. High crime, high gang violence, poor neighborhoods and not getting better anytime soon.

Each claims Switchtrack Alley as its own.

The bone details the process known Boundary Rite (Signs of the Moon p105). You can take the Rite for -1xp if you choose to do so.


In an effort to move us ahead at your pace and not mine, let's skip forward in the story. The following has occurred:

• The Second Passage came to the gate. They greeted you and seem very distracted, exhausted, and concerned about something happening in their territory that they will not discuss.
  
• Through the course of conversation, you come to learn that the Second Passage is in conflict with the Silent Howlers. A member of the Silent Howlers (White Shadow) claims that a member of the Second Passage (Marcus) attacked him with silver.
  
• This happened in the disputed territory, Switchtrack Alley.
  
• The Second Passage do not ask you to mediate, but its obvious they would like a neutral party to resolve this for them. It is just as obvious that they want you to come down in their favor. However, your Honor and reputation as an Elodoth could be put in jeopardy if you fail to rule with honor.