| Agnes County, Oregon is not just overlooked, but forgotten by the world beyond her borders. But something in the world that forgot still remembers, remembers the thin meandering State Route that snakes like a forgotten scar through that desolate forested landscape. Through tired towns like Davington, where a lonely stoplight hangs like a dead eye over Main Street. It remembers the lonely places, the forgotten places, the empty fields and deep woods, and what remembered bled through into the forgotten places staining it, twisting it into a cold dead mockery of Creation's intent. The Wyrm's corruption, a sickness of mind and matter, has been whispering madness into the quiet places and now that whispering has become screaming. A fragile truce holds this hollowed-out county together. A lone Garou, the last of a dying line, fights a desperate, losing war against an encroaching blight. His only allies are a Mage, exiled from his own kind for a dangerous compassion, who works with magic that warps the very laws of reality, and a threadbare Hunter's Conspiracy whose members—a beleaguered Sheriff, a Reverend clinging to a fraying True Faith, and a former Navy SEAL whose auto shop hides more than just tools—are aging, tired, and outmatched. Their fragile alliance is born not of trust, but of a shared, primal terror. They are all that stands between Agnes County and utter annihilation, a last, trembling candle against a gathering darkness. For years the three factions—an exiled Mage, a beleaguered Hunter's Conspiracy, and the last Garou of a broken bloodline—have maintained a fragile truce against the spreading corruption. They've held the line, but they are tired, and they are losing. And now, three friends, just passing through, have stumbled into this forgotten world and the desperate fight that keeps the World of Darkness at bay. Will they endure in the dark, or will their own friendship become as brittle as the Truce that holds Agnes County against the Wyrm's inexorable tide? |
I intend to make use of the FATE system with a few minor modifications to handle the unique issues of Rage, Paradox and Delirium.
Note: I am far from a Word of Darkness aficionado and I don't pretend to know anything about anything and even less about Mages.
I find it a compelling and story rich environment and I hope you will grant me the kindness of disbelief and join me in my own version of that setting.
Also this is as much practice for me as it is an itch relief.
The players would be tasked with selecting one of three pre-existing characters:
| Mike Granding - Leader (Garou, Theurge), 28 | Jake Long - Loyal Best Friend (Human). 26 | Sarah Collins - Childhood friend (Mage, TBD), 25 |
| Mike's father's family emigrated from Germany during the reign of Kaiser Wilhelm the Third. Granding is not his true name but a name taken during immigration at Elis Island. No living member of the small Granding line knows who they were in Germany nor do they know anything about Kinfolk or Garou. The Grandings have a history of atavism where one male in every generation is particularly strong blooded and Mike has the fortune of being "blessed" with the infamous Granding anger. Despite this he forged himself into a man of thought, contemplation and moral and philosophical study. While this helped with socializing it didn't help with keeping a job in a hard economy. Worse the coming First Change promised to rewrite his perspectives utterly. Mike begins the Story with a Pack-Bond with Jake, forged over a lifetime of shared hardships. This bond, unusual and rare, provides an anchor for Mike and a kind of protection for Jake from the worst of Delirium. The Pack-Bond has it's downside, if Jake is overtaken by Delirium Mike will do *anything* to protect Jake and will destroy anything, or anyone, that he perceives as a threat to him. Rage is the primary mechanic for Mike and is spent on changing into his various forms, but also cannot be allowed to overload into Frenzy. Use of the Change ability near Jake will increase Jake's Delirium counter as will prolonged exposure to high levels of Rage. |
Clever, loyal, free spirited, skeptical and jaded. Jake lost his parents at the age of six and was tossed around the foster system until 18. The only constant in his life has been Mike and Jake is fiercely loyal to Mike with a long history of running away from foster care to find Mike and his family. Jake has developed impressive sneaking, thieving and bluffing skills making him extremely difficult to catch. He is also supremely stubborn and questions everything he sees. Jake begins with a Pack-Bond with Mike which provides Jake with a measure of protection from the worst of Delirium. Frequent exposure or long periods of exposure to Delirium inducing events will wear down Jake's resistance. Delirium is the primary mechanic for Jake and must be managed carefully. High levels makes him less likely to be noticed by the supernatural but also makes him more likely to have a catastrophic overload. |
Compassionate, thoughtful, perfectionist. Sarah is a friend to Mike and Jake, however she longs for Jake to notice her as more than a friend but she dares not tell him. Sarah has covered for Jake's many indiscretions and hijinks over the years and she has been the one to gently pull him back from the bitterness that threatens his skeptical and jaded heart. Sarah values Mike's perspective on things and greatly values his moral compass and intuitive sense of people and situations. The stark change brought on by the First Change is particularly hard on her as the Mike she knew is a ghost within the Garou he has become. Sarah's Avatar is anchored by Jake and her relationship with him stabilizing her magic. This is an emotional bond and strain to that relationship will affect her abilities. Paradox is the primary mechanic for Sarah and high levels can create more problems than just inconvenient light displays with low Paradox allowing for a freer use of her magic and higher levels risking terrible problems and unwanted attention from things that should not be seen. |
The characters are not intended to be "ideal". Theurges are not great at leading, humans are terrible at facing the supernatural, and Mages are their own special brand of problem.
Since these three are cross-over factions and World of Darkness makes the three factions exist in their own unique universe power differences are stark. I believe FATE will allow for a narrative focus without a lot of hang-ups.
| You wouldn't notice Agnes County on any map worth folding, just a smear of green bleeding into Idaho where the asphalt surrenders to gravel sighs. The borrowed hatchback rattled like loose teeth over a pothole as Jake Long squinted through the bug-splattered windshield. "Christ, Mike, this place makes purgatory look like Times Square. Next gas station we see, we stop. Sarah's water bottle's been empty since that last dustbowl you called a 'scenic route'." Beside him, Mike Granding gripped the steering wheel, knuckles pale, the familiar knot of anger tightening in his chest like a rusted spring. "Just pull in," Sarah Collins murmured softly from the backseat, her gaze fixed on the skeletal frame of an abandoned Texaco sign looming ahead, its red star faded to the color of dried blood against the oppressive Oregon twilight. The pumps stood like forgotten sentinels beside a sagging station building, the only light a single buzzing bulb attracting a frantic halo of moths. Beyond it, an empty stretch of road vanished into the gathering dark. The air tasted of gasoline and damp pine needles as Mike killed the engine. Jake was out first, stretching theatrically with a groan that echoed in the stillness. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the middle of goddamn nowhere!" His sharp eyes, honed by years of evasion and distrust, immediately scanned the perimeter: the peeling station door, the lone rusted dumpster, the flickering neon 'OPEN' sign promising little comfort. Sarah stepped out more cautiously, her brow furrowed as she watched Mike. He hadn't moved, staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle jumped beneath the skin. Across the desolate road, perhaps three hundred yards away, a flicker of movement caught Jake's attention – a solitary bus stop bench under a dying streetlamp. A woman in a pale coat sat hunched there, nervously checking her watch. And behind the bleached skeleton of a tumbleweed, half-hidden by the shadow of a leaning billboard advertising a long-defunct lumber mill, stood a man. He wasn't looking at the bus stop. He was looking *through* it, his stillness unnatural, radiating a palpable sense of wrongness that prickled Jake's neck hairs even at this distance. "Hey, Mike..." Jake started, his voice low and urgent. The knot in Mike’s chest exploded. White-hot fury surged through him, drowning Jake’s warning in a roar of primal rage. He slammed out of the car, the door crashing against its hinges. His vision tunneled onto the lurking figure. Every instinct screamed *Threat! Prey! Protect!* He didn’t hear Sarah’s gasp, didn’t see Jake’s hand instinctively reaching for the worn pocketknife he always carried. Mike was moving already, long strides eating up the cracked asphalt toward the bus stop, a low growl escaping his throat. The lurking man’s head snapped up. His eyes, flat and cold as river stones, locked onto Mike’s approach. A cruel smirk twisted his lips – not fear, but anticipation. The woman at the bench whimpered, shrinking back against the peeling plexiglass shelter. The air crackled, thick with ozone and impending violence. Jake cursed violently, already sprinting after Mike. "Sarah, stay *here*!" he barked, but Sarah was frozen, her eyes wide, not with fear, but with a sudden, terrifying clarity. The world seemed to shimmer around her, patterns emerging in the peeling paint of the station wall, whispers brushing against her mind. "Hey! Back off!" Jake yelled, closing the distance fast, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. The Highway Slasher didn’t flinch. He slid a hand into his greasy jacket, pulling out a long, wicked hunting knife. The blade gleamed dully under the flickering streetlight. Mike was ten yards away, five – his muscles coiled, tendons standing out like cables on his neck. He saw the knife, saw the predator’s stance, saw the woman’s terror. The knot inside him snapped. Reality tore. Bones cracked and reshaped with sickening rapidity, fur erupted like dark smoke across erupting flesh, clothes shredded like wet paper. A guttural, earth-shaking roar ripped from Mike’s throat – no longer human, but the furious bellow of a Crinos Garou erupting into his First Change. The Slasher’s smirk vanished, replaced by stark, gibbering terror as over seven feet of primal fury towered before him. The woman screamed, a sound swallowed by the beast’s roar. Sarah Collins stood transfixed. The world didn’t just shimmer; it fractured. The peeling Texaco sign dissolved into swirling strands of potential energy, the buzzing bulb became a pulsing node of raw light. She saw the Slasher’s malignant aura – a sickly, grasping tendril reaching for the woman – and Mike’s blazing, chaotic spirit detonating into monstrous form. Pain lanced through her skull, a white-hot spike driving home the Awakening. Reality screamed. Instinct screamed louder. "**No!**" Sarah gasped, the word ripped from her throat, charged with a sudden, desperate authority. She didn’t know what she was doing, only that Jake was running *towards* the impossible horror, and the Slasher’s knife was rising. Her hand shot out, palm facing the unfolding nightmare. The air between Jake and the unfolding carnage thickened, shimmering like heat haze off asphalt, bending light and sound wildly. Jake slammed into the sudden barrier, rebounding as if hitting solid rubber. Jake Long hit the invisible wall hard, the breath knocked out of him. Disbelief warred with ingrained reflexes honed in a hundred escapes. He saw the Crinos beast – Mike, somehow Mike – swipe a clawed hand the size of a dinner plate. The Highway Slasher scrambled backwards, his knife glancing off thick fur with a screech of metal, his face a mask of primal fear. But Jake’s eyes locked onto the terrified woman cowering against the plexiglass, her pale coat stark against the shadows. Then, Sarah. Her face was bloodless, eyes wide with terror and impossible focus, hand trembling violently as she maintained the shimmering barrier. *Mike’s a monster. Sarah’s… magic? And that psycho’s still breathing.* Survival instincts kicked in. Forget understanding. Protect Sarah. Stall the killer. He rolled to his feet, voice cracking but loud. "Hey, Ugly! Eyes on me!" He snatched a chunk of broken asphalt and hurled it. It bounced harmlessly off the Slasher’s shoulder, but the distraction worked. The killer flinched, turning his panicked gaze from the raging Garou towards Jake for a split second. The momentary distraction was all Mike needed. The Garou’s massive head snapped towards Jake, nostrils flaring, catching the scent of pack-bond loyalty cutting through the Rage-fog. Then its burning eyes snapped back to the true threat. A clawed hand, bigger than a dinner plate, lashed out with terrifying speed. Bone crunched like dry kindling under the impact. The Highway Slasher was lifted clean off his feet, his body arcing through the air like discarded trash before crashing into the leaning billboard with a sickening thud. He slid down, leaving a dark smear on the faded lumber advertisement, motionless. The woman screamed again, a raw, ragged sound echoing in the sudden silence broken only by Mike’s heavy, panting breaths and Sarah’s whimper as the barrier flickered and vanished. Jake scrambled towards her, ignoring the monstrous form looming nearby. "Sarah! Talk to me!" Her eyes were unfocused, pupils dilated, blood trickling thinly from her nose. She swayed, clutching her head. "It… screamed… Jake… it all screamed…" she gasped, her voice thin and distant. The sound of sirens tore through the night, distant but closing fast. Red and blue lights strobed against the trees far down the road. Jake’s head whipped around. *Cops. Containment. Cleanup.* His thief’s instincts screamed *run*. He looked back at Mike. The Crinos form was shuddering, muscles rippling violently under dark fur. The beast let out a low, pained groan, its eyes flickering with a flicker of bewildered humanity before the primal fury surged again. It took a staggering step towards Jake and Sarah, a low growl rumbling deep in its chest. Sarah flinched back, her Awakened senses recoiling from the raw Wyld energy radiating off Mike. "Mike…?" Jake whispered, stepping protectively in front of her, hands raised palms out. "Buddy… it’s Jake. Snap out of it!" The Garou paused, nostrils flaring again. The scent of Pack… Jake… Sarah… safe… The monstrous head tilted, confused agony replacing pure rage. The transformation started – fur receding, bones cracking and shortening, the terrifying silhouette shrinking rapidly back towards human form. Naked, bleeding from shallow cuts where clothes had torn, and unconscious, Mike collapsed onto the asphalt just as Sheriff Jack Brawnson’s cruiser screeched to a halt beside the pumps, bathing the scene in harsh light. "Jesus wept," Brawnson growled, stepping out cautiously, hand resting on his holstered sidearm. His deputies scrambled from the other cruiser, moving with grim efficiency towards the crumpled figure by the billboard. The Sheriff’s eyes, sharp and pragmatic, scanned the scene: the unconscious woman at the bus stop, the naked young man on the asphalt, the terrified girl clutching her head beside the hatchback, and Jake Long standing protectively between them all. "Kid," Brawnson barked at Jake, his voice low and hard. "What the hell happened here?" Jake swallowed hard, his mind racing faster than the Sheriff’s patrol car. *Bear attack. That’s the story. Stick to it.* He gestured wildly towards the slumped Highway Slasher. "Bear! Huge bastard! Came outta nowhere! Attacked that creep stalking the lady! Mike tried to fight it off…" He pointed at Mike’s prone form. "...got swiped bad. Then it… vanished." Brawnson’s eyes narrowed, flicking to the unnatural stillness of the killer’s body, the sheer violence written in the impact smear on the billboard. "Vanished," he repeated flatly. One deputy knelt by the Slasher, pressing fingers to his neck. He looked up, shaking his head grimly. "Dead, Sheriff. Neck’s… pulp." Brawnson’s jaw tightened as he glanced at the trembling woman Reverend Thedson was now calming near the station. "Bear," he muttered, the word tasting like ash. |
| Doctor Archibald Revious - Mage - 70 (?) | Gunnar "Max" Iverson - Garou, Philodox, Get of Fenris - 50 | Sheriff Jack Brawnson - Hunter - 50 |
| Old fashioned country doctor, warm and affable with a winsome formality of yester-year, Life Mage, hates what Pharmatech has done to the practice of Medicine and genuinely cares for humans, pariah to his own order. Publicly he is an eccentric and affable country doctor who still makes house calls, he disguises his magic as old fashioned medicine and his arcane tools as old-school medical instruments. Agnes County serves as his 'grand experiment' and he has been in the county for over 130 years. He meticulously changes his appearance and persona however, his favorite so far has been the current one. He provides discreet medical and healing care for all members of the Truce and even Max seeks him out when he is severely injured and his natural healing isn't enough. | Hermit, terse and bitter yet fair and level headed, a healthy 50, Garou, Get of Fenris, Philodox, last of the Garou in Agnes County, his sister is Allison Tomwick. Publicly Max is a little known "mountain man" who occasionally frequents Reeding Lodge for supplies. Although he is Garou the county is too big for him to handle by himself and his kinfolk network is suffering due to political entanglements with the Ku Klux Klan some sixty years back that has stained the reputation of several of the kinfolk families greatly reducing their effectiveness in the modern day despite vigorous repudiation over the years. Sadly Agnes County doesn't forget easily. | County Sheriff, pragmatic and hardboiled, former Corporate Hunter, Leader of the Hunter Faction. Jack quit his work as a Pentech Hunter after being exposed to the Wyrm and seeing it's hold over the company, he is a rare human who looked at the Wyrm and walked away uncorrupted. His hatred for the Wyrm outweighs his hatred for other supernatural creatures, but not by much. Sheriff Brawnson has no tolerance for unpredictable 'assets' or uncontrolled 'variables'. His war with the Wyrm is personal. |
| Reverend Ivan Thedson - Hunter, True Faith - 46 | Arturo Gomez - Hunter - 42 | Ranger Allison Tomwick - Kinfolk - 45 |
| Protestant Pastor, calm and intensely perceptive and wise. Unlike the common religious Hunter, Reverend Thedson's deep unshakable conviction is expressed in gentle words and confident commands that terrify the supernatural world. His very presence makes Rage retreat and by a firm and gentle command he can knock a raging Ahroun Crinos back into Homid. Vampires suffer when he prays and burn when he presents a cross or bible. His church and parsonage are holy ground. He defends himself with faith and his trusty revolver. | Clever and creative with a sense of humor that hasn't yet been crushed by the darkness, Arturo is Davington's only mechanic, former Navy SEAL. Muscular and enduring, Gomez is the tactics and weapons guru of the Hunters and his garage provides the perfect cover for his late night machine shop activities. He saw too much during his deployment in Afghanistan and lends his weapons and training to the Hunters with great gusto. He is the most likely of the Hunters to get along with Garou and Mages but he doesn't trust easily. | Allison Tomwick (Iverson) - Chief Forest Ranger, sharp minded and organized, Gunnar Iverson's sister, wife of David Tomwick, mother of Bree Tomwick. Ranger Allison heads the Forest Rangers and works with her brother, Gunnar "Max" Iverson, to maintain the wilderness of Agnes County. While some of her Rangers are kinfolk most are just normal humans and Gunnar must be mindful of his interactions with them. Allison may be Kinfolk but even the old Philodox knows better than to get on his sister's bad-side. |
| Officer David Tomwick - Kinfolk - 46 | Bree Tomwick - Kinfolk - 24 | |
| David Tomwick - Chief officer for the Fish and Wildlife, friendly and knowledgeable, Husband of Allison Tomwick (Iverson), brother-in-law to Gunnar Iverson, father of Bree Tomick. Officer Tomwick works with Gunnar in all areas that Allison cannot. His staff help keep human companies from harming the county. Recent budget cuts have hampered his ability to monitor the county as thoroughly as he would like. | Veterinarian Assistant, charming and intelligent with a fierce independence and more grit that necessary, daughter to David and Allison Tomwick, niece to Gunnar Iverson. Bree has a natural beauty and humility, she works with Doctor Revious at his clinic and helps maintain the Veterinarian side of business. She loves her Uncle Max and still calls Agnes County home, but the slow death of her people's presence in Agnes County is a pain she wishes to escape and her Uncle refuses to grant. |
| Good Health Clinic and Veterinarian | Gomez Auto Repair and Wrecking | Reeding Lodge |
| Located in Davington, it serves as the only notable medical services in Agnes County. It also serves as a morgue when necessary. The clinic is an oddly designed building with a country charm and people swear the inside is bigger than the outside. The Clinic is secretly the sanctum of Doctor Archibald Revious. The clinic hosts a secret basement operating theater with secret passages and exits that allow for discreet service. | Located a few streets north of Main Street in Davington, this tired old building is half cinderblock walls and half Quonset hut. Behind the shop lay a large junkyard filled with old cars and moldering appliances. The shop is the public facing side of the business that hides a secret passage to an underground bunker that serves as the headquarters, machine shop and armory for the Hunter Faction in Agnes County. Due to the poverty of the region and isolation, the Hunters are forced to build their own traps and weapons from scavenged parts and carefully acquired resources. | Located thirty miles northwest of Davington, Reeding Lodge is a nearly two hundred year old three story timber lodge with beautiful scenery and rustic appeal. It boasts natural landscaping and several outbuildings that serve as offices and storage. Reeding Lodge is currently the Forest Rangers Headquarters and hosts an office for Fish and Wildlife. Reeding Lodge itself is the the home of the Garou faction which has a secret ancestral Cairn under Reeding Lodge. The Lodge was built by Get of Fenris Kinfolk to hide the Cairn as human settlements began to draw closer. The position of Chief Ranger has been held by Kinfolk since the inception of the Forestry Service in Agnes County and promotions are carefully managed to ensure it remains that way. |
| Davington (Town) | Areas of Interest | |
| Agnes County's largest town, it has only a few streets and proudly boasts a single stoplight on Main Street. Centrally located in Agnes County, Davington serves as the county seat and hosts the sheriff's office, county courthouse, library and elementary school. Gomez Auto Shop and Good Health Clinic and Veterinarian are located here as well. | Clearwater Creek Dam Clearwater Lake Resevoir NewTech Geothermal Plant Eagle Ridge Convalescent and Asylum (Abandoned) Fort Larson (Historic pioneer army fort, haunted?) Amory Falls Singing Stones of Agnes County (natural site) And many more! |
I am open to suggestions for Main Characters as well as information that might be considered useful or fun for the setting of World of Darkness.
Note: I do use AI tools as I have better things to do with my limited time than stare at a word document figuring out how to write a scene with enough descriptors. I can easily spend hours doing that.