Monster Hunter International

Where werewolf? Now dead werewolf.
January 31, 2012

The ruse for bringing our target to the park was sent. Our bait was Brandon. Shoe was to pulverize the target with a truck. Our marksman was to hit him first from a building across from the bridge in the park. The local defense was myself and William.

After setting up our situation, the bait was set with the sniper putting a round into Brandon which spewed copious blood, and he went down. Shortly thereafter, the target was seen and arrived in the park. Shoe had begun his approach with the vehicle, and the target was gloating over Brandon’s body. The target was then struck by the head shot and fell. William rushed over to pull Brandon from the pile of bodies, and I put a hail of bullets into the target. Shoe then promptly drove into the target’s body and finished the work, having missed Brandon and William.

Our distraction for the park police was in progress and we left the site taking a truck we set aside for the flight. I attempted to contact HQ only to find no answer. We then all received a text message indicating to go to ground thereby confirming that M.H.I. had been compromised and we needed a new safe house.

Charles suggested a free clinic that we went to, and established a perimeter to detect any trouble with gang members that were called to task by Charles. No success was made in attempting to reach our superior, and the TV news was broadcasting a large fire which was the M.H.I. headquarters. We decided to do a drive by of the fire to detect who the responsible party using a colorful van we borrowed from the clinic. The perpetrator was the vampire we had recently been attacked by in Bucharest. After we returned to the clinic we rested and waited for a new day.

The next morning, we had received another message from our superior to “obtain maximum information” about the attack on M.H.I. The deposit of money into our bank accounts as well as a large sum in a new Swiss bank account confirmed our worst fear that M.H.I. resources will not to be used for the present. I also decide police and even DEA sources will be monitored for my location and actions. We now intend to perform a close up look at the site and obtained equipment and unattended police van to do so. Harriet is currently unreachable.

A Wolf's Song
Midnight Howling

My name is Brendan Cadeyrn and I am the sole survivor of my pack, this is my story as told to the M.H.I. operatives who saved my life, then interrogated me, then welcomed me.

A month ago my pack had sanctified a new Caern. It was only a small one, just the beginning of a Caern really. There were eight of us in the pack, sent here to start the Caern and to scout out Gotham city. There had been hard rumors from good sources that the Wyrm was moving into Gotham. The rumors were dead on, more than the tribal elders suspected, much more. We encamped about five miles outside of Gotham set up in a small cave in the forest for about a month. The den mother sent me to represent our small pack at the moot and report our findings and progress so far. So it was my blessing and curse to be away when the Wyrm struck.

I returned from the moot to discovered blood, death and desecration. My pack had been betrayed to agents of the Wyrm. All dead, all but myself and the betrayer. As I approached the Caern the wind shifted and the stench of rotting flesh and evil drifted too me on the breeze. I was already in lupus form so the scent was clear and sharp telling it’s story light a sign post to human eyes. Four leeches waiting in the shadows, waiting to finish their unholy business, waiting to kill me. Foolish really, overconfidence in their night time abilities, forgetting they are not the only creatures who hunt and kill at night. A few moments later, 1 minute or 10 minutes, I really don’t know, the leeches lay torn asunder, embraced in their final death. I smelled the death of my brothers and sisters long before I had killed the leeches, but now I scouted slowly and carefully. The ground told me the story, the scents confirmed what the ground said, the dead leeches echoed the final judgment. The Caern had been attacked, overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Ghouls, Blood Dolls and Leeches and something else, something darker, but what I don’t know the scent is vague, combined to kill everyone. The pack fought hard, I scented the final death of many of the Wyrm’s agents, yet they were doomed from the start, ambushed in a hail of silver and claws. All my pack killed save one, one who watched, one who led the Wyrm to the Caern, one who betrayed his blood and kin.

Agnar had always been something of a misfit, full of anger, ever ready to kill. Still this was not unknown in the Get of Fenris, always ready to solve a problem by bathing in blood. Yet Agnar’s anger went deeper, hotter, crueler. Agnar nursed a hatred of mother Gaia herself. A hatred soon sensed and used by the Wyrm. What I found in my investigation was that Agnar had joined with the Sabbat in his angry quest for power. I think the final straw for Agnar had come when he challenged me as war leader and lost the ritual combat to a Fianna, a bard, a poet and story teller. He could not comprehend, or did not want to understand more like, that Fianna are warrior poets, as the Celtic tribes of old. We hunt, we fight, we die hard, but all with a song in our hearts; sometimes a song of rage, sometimes a song of joy, sometimes a song of pain, but always with a song. So Agnar, called Snarl by his murdered pack mates, shamed by his defeat at the fangs of a poet, betrayed his Caern for the sweet promises whispered by the Wyrm; sweet promises cloaking the sickly sweet smell of corruption, sweet promises surrounding an ugly lie. Yet Snarl knew the value of the Wyrm’s promise, the true nature of the Wyrm’s being and still he bowed to the Wyrm, betrayed his pack, betrayed the Earth Mother. So I sang the howl of mourning, the requiem for the fallen, I shed tears for my brothers and sisters, my sacred Caern desecrated, my pack murdered. Then, once all was given unto the flames, my howl changed; the timber of my voice became dissonant and starting low in my gut it became a song of revenge. It was fitting my return was when the moon was full. My howl unanswered, by pack mates in this world, yet I know my pack still hears my song of revenge, my solemn oath to show our betrayer the justice of the pack. As the human poet Kipling said, “Now this is the law of the jungle, as old and as true as the sky; And the wolf that shall keep it shall prosper, but the wolf that shall break it must die!”

I followed Snarl’s scent to the city, a city reeking of the Wyrm, but lost it as Snarl’s sent faded like a mist in the growing light. I sought to find his scent in Homid form, using the human detective skills I had learned, not the same as tracking by scent, but sometimes more useful in a city. I found that Snarl had taken to hunting humans, killing for the joy of killing. My inquiries yielded no more information so my plan then was to ride the human’s train as it circled the city, hoping to catch the scent of my prey. At the point where the sky train and earth train meet I found Snarl’s scent. Swiftly I changed to Hispo form, the better to catch the scent, the better to run Snarl down, yet I was too eager, too filled with rage and found I, the hunter, was the hunted.

When I entered the human made cave I was ambushed, catching the scent of the Sabbat leeches too late in the oil and smoke filled cavern. There were ten of them, ready with claws of silver, puppets of some greater leech, a promise fulfilled to Snarl. I fought hard and killed four even as I took crippling wounds, the Children of Gaia do not die easily. Not being prepared they would have won the fight, yet fate intervened, tonight was not the moon of my death. A band of human hunters intervened, skilled they were and struck my attackers by surprise in turn killing all the leeches with fire and steel before the Sabbat killers knew what hit them. These humans were surprising indeed, unaffected by the usual fear of prey. I thought at first they might turn on me, there would not have been much in my crippled state I could do to stop them. I was wrong, they gave me succor, they healed my hurts, they fed and clothed me. Later, once i had been healed, they offered to help in my hunt, for they too sought the killer Snarl as he had victimized their kind as he did mine. They asked me to join them, to hunt with them in their pack they call M.H.I. (who can truely understand a human?). It was a debt of honor I could not refuse, it was a debt of honor I am happy to claim. So now again I have a pack, a strange pack, with odd scents, no Caern, and living in a steel cave. They reek of liquor, drugs, steel and other stranger things, yet I scent their inner souls, souls of warriors and they are my pack now, my brothers and sisters claimed in the blood of battle, fighting the Wyrm. I am satisfied, tonight I hunt again, tonight I hunt with a new pack. Soon the Wyrm will fear our scent, soon I will taste the sweet blood of the betrayer, soon I will howl at the night my song of victory, my song of honor for my new pack.

Wherewolves and Vampire bait
Adventure post for January 27, 2012

Well we were all in for it this time. Having tarot cards choose our actions seems a bit worrisome, but was a bit faster than hitting the street blind. Even the informant confirmed an indirect approach to apprehending the new target for our activities.

With a tiny hope of progress we traveled on subway and “L” train venue to pick up the trail of our adversary. The visit for steak sandwiches and coffee warmed me up, and I was ready for some heavy action but was informed by the informant that we would not engage the victim of our hunt until we made contact with those already in pursuit of this beast.

After a nap, we returned to subway and train travel at night. Seems sleep is going to be normal daytime activity during current pursuit of work for the present. The bunch of us were just leaving the subway when I overheard a scuffle of combatants down a tunnel usually reserved for maintenance. We approached stealthily and got the drop on 4 vampires and a beast in the thick of combat. The beast was not far from losing the fight. Shoe took out the closest vampire and I blasted the second, terminating his life span. Charles ended the life of the third vampire with a deadly head shot. The final vampire had been wounded by fire and was taken out by the beast with a massive stroke.

After we tried to photograph the vampire remains and nothing was visible on the screens of our phones normally able to capture photos, we realized which type of vampires they must be.

The beast identified himself and we then took him to a safe haven where he was healed and clothed, provided by William and guarded by friends of Charles. The werewolf who was now in human form discussed much about his situation and how he came to be alone in pursuit of our prey. He also gave me a name to run through police files and gather what little information I could about our common enemy target. The report of our combat was reported to our superior without turning our guest over at the present, and much discussion was made about various structures of living units made of vampires and werewolves. Seems this beast and family were selected to be eliminated and only he had survived so far. Even his brother beast our common enemy, had gone rogue and informed on his own group.

We are settled in for additional talk and consultation while our sharp shooter and munitions expert work on a project at headquarters.

Something Wicked This Way Comes, Part 1

(William’s Report & Account of Events)

This job with the agency has always been just that to me: a job, and a damn convenient one for me to pursue more important endeavors in my agenda. I use them, they use me, all toward a mutual goal. But I let this last mission cloud my thinking… no, I let M.H.I. do the thinking for me, made some fair but banal assumptions, and ultimately forgot to think for myself. That was almost a fatal mistake.

Once we collected the “package,” we headed to the address we were given for the M.H.I. safe house. It was a literal house, a nice rich place with at least a couple’a acres of property. Neighbors are nearly half a mile away. We get in and lock it down quickly. Place has a moderate web of wards around it, nothin’ to sneeze at. More than my three-room apartment.

Coldfairy was out cold. We put him on the floor naked and duct-taped in the middle of the room as we sit around with a few MREs, blowing smoke and preparing to interrogate our captive ourselves before we hand him over to the agency’s inquisitors. Figured we’d board the private jet a few hours later.

While we’re waiting for Coldfury to come to, the subject of leadership is broached, and our team’s complete lack of it. That was the only thing we all agreed on—we needed one. But as for who, each man’s vote was probably reserved for himself. During the drive over, I’d already told Shoe my solution. We have two leaders instead: a combat leader to make snap tactical decisions and coordinate our abilities under fire; and the loudest schmuck who cannot only delegate orders, but actually convince the rest of the group that whatever he says is somehow a good idea.

It seems that schmuck turned out to be me. Once we got settled, Shoe touted the same suggestion as his own idea, which earned him my resounding praise for sheer originality. Still, the idea was welcomed, and Joseph Cougar promptly entered with his first jewel of the night: “I think I should be the slow leader.” Cougar, you have earned the title.

All this talk of leadership, of course, was conveniently discussed while Igor was having a losing battle with the shits. I took the floor next and nominated Harriet for combat leader. Yeah, she’s a kid, but a damn powerful blast-slinger with some unnervingly clever cogs in her conk. She won’t freeze when the shit hits the fan, and the range on her spells means she can command from the rear. Harriet wasn’t exactly expecting to get volunteered, but Shoe seconded my motion once we pointed out he’d be too caught up in melee to grasp the big picture. That, and when Frenchy pointed out how leadership would hamper his ability to blow up werewolves, Bruce Lee relented.

With that quick and painless decision out of the way, the little sorceress nominates this old wheeler-dealer, and I had to laugh. What next, they gonna start calling me Father? I gave up setting example the day my family was taken. But before the others can do more than sputter protest… I feel it. Harriet too—something evil was coming this way, and fast, like a freak storm from the Old Testament.

I wasn’t about to become Gomorrah. We shot up and bolstered the windows, warning the others of the approaching dark force. I couldn’t tell what it was at first… it felt like a demon, but not. It was some kind of magical evil. Everyone else jumps from their chairs and we put our backs together as, in the next few seconds, wizard eyes see nothing but dark skies surrounding us. One peek out tells her the temperature’s dropped like a stone and the air’s dead like we’re in the eye of a goddamn tornado. A moment later and our surveillance cuts out. As magical energies are gathering, we prepare for the worst while Frenchy keeps in the center like a good combat medic should. Nothing to do but wait.

Next thing we know, it’s here. In the fucking house.

Can’t see it, but there’s a presence, and the hairs on the back of my neck tell me something’s going to die tonight. I’ve got the chalk in my cigarette hand like it belongs there, but just as I’m starting to draw a protective circle, Cougar makes a fast break to what he’d identified as a trapdoor in the floor to another room below. Together we pry it open while the others ready their weapons.

Meanwhile, whatever it was had already been prodding and picking at the ward snare, but once it appears in the house… the whole web frays like a net that’s caught fire. Two seconds later and the wards are broken. It’s materialized somewhere in the building, now. Harriet says it’s a gateway to Faerieland that just opened up. I had to pause half a moment at that—yeah, everyone knows about the Grimm fairytales, but even the Unseelie shouldn’t have any business with us. It had to just be an easy route, a loophole around our defenses somehow.

But I was too busy jumping down into the basement to think about any of that. We didn’t know what was coming, but the more obstacles between us and that gate, the better. It’s dark down there, but it’s safe, and the others come after me with Coldfury in tow while Cougar and Shoe hang onto the two ladders with their eyes and weapons trained down the dark hallway toward the bedrooms.

That’s when we hear a voice… can’t tell what it says, or even if it’s a man, but it’s uttering words of power. Cougar catches it, though: “Kill them all, take the warlock alive, then get the fuck out.” Gentlemen, I think a challenge has just been issued.

I feel a mad grin then, ‘cause I know it’s them or us, and no way around it now.

Harriet mutters something about smelling a graveyard and ghouls. Now those I know: ghouls are twisted creatures, split from humanity long ago, which now only resemble us like dark shadows. They come out at night and feed upon corpses like packs of starving jackals. They aren’t even undead, so there’s no way to turn ‘em. All I can do is make a safe point, but I don’t have more than 10 seconds to make the pentagram, if even that. This was going to work, or we were going to be in trouble.

I know the pentagram won’t do shit against the ghouls, but those things are obviously being controlled by whatever opened the portal. Harriet knows exactly what it is: “Vampires!” Kid’s got a plan now, and it’s a sensible one—draw in the ghouls, then fireball in the hole. It was perfectly coinciding with mine, which was to pentagram the shit out of the basement before whatever broke through the safe house wards tries to slip in around us. If they got too close, we’d use the trapdoor as a bottleneck and pick ’em off like ticks from a hobo.

If I’d stayed up above, I could’ve tried to dispel the gate, but no telling if I would succeed, given how whatever it was folded our preset defenses like a house ’a cards. But then, I can do much, much better than cards.

(To Be Continued…!)

Hungerin for Hungary

Our intrepid heros, after finishing their last assignment, are reunited with Joseph Cougar the former D.E.A. agent. After quickly assertaining that most of the party cared less about why Joe was gone they got to wondering just who their actual bosses are, what they might be up to and how much does anyone know about them. Most of the crew saw that several of the office workers at M.H.I. had bite marks on their necks and that the security goons blocking off the upper floors seemed enhanced somehow. The speculations eventually came to nothing except the assumption that since the proxi bosses are vampires there’s no telling what they are thinking. The nature of good and evil regarding vampires came into discussion and again it was found that the nature of good and evil is subjective. One might note however, that Frenchy brought up many of a vampire’s herd are willing blood doners and often receive compensation in return. However, the bible might have a few hints for those who style themselves the children of Cain.

After the deep discussion the team found that the warlock known as Coldfury had escaped the wardens of the White Council. No one is quite sure how Coldfury escaped, only that it was unassisted and after taking a shortcut through Fairy Land to Bucharest. The team was assigned to capture Coldfury and return him to M.H.I. in Gothem City for questioning. M.H.I. would really like this to be under the wire so to speak and definately doesn’t want the White Council to know.

Eventually our team arrives in Bucharest and discovers through the Pleaser’s divination that Coldfury is in fact in Bucharest still. After hours of argument, whining, and general bitching because everyone has their own plan and no one wants to listen to anyone elses ideas the party finally decides upon a course of action no one really likes. Harriet uses ritual magic and gets an exact location whilst Igor then electronically infiltrates the targets room and finds him sleeping in bed. The rooms magical wards are defeated, the mechanical and electrical traps and alarms are bypassed and the crew gasses Coldfury again. The warlock is then zapped with a sleep spell and hauled off to the crews safehouse. Given that they flashed interpol I.D.s to everyone in the hotel they have probably gotten away with it.

What will our inrepid anti-heros do next? Will they interrogate the Warlock themselves? Will they be good little drones and turn him over to M.H.I. immediately for a fat bonus check? Will they turn him over to the White Council for a possibly fatter check? Will they accidently kill Coldfury with too much tranquilizer? Stay tuned for our next issue of Monster Hunter International; Things that go bump in the night (even if it is sometimes our heros bumping into each other).

All in a days work
Warlocks and Demons and Drugs, oh my!
Our intrepid adventurers are relaxing in the lounge/briefing room at M.H.I. Gothem H.Q.. William and Sun are generally provoking each other with sophomoric name calling whilst Harriet chimes in with sarcastic jokes adding fuel to the fire. Igor watches in silent amusement as usual whilst Jeeves serves drinks. Their old companion Charles “Doc French Fry” joins them for a few moments explaining that he has been moved from active operations to the REMF team as befits a skilled surgeon. Charles is then paged for a medical emergency and leaves, explaining that, “Someone probably got a splinter in their ass”. At this point the boss lady, Ms. Cassandra, enters and gives them their assignment; to find out why occult crime has suddenly stopped in Gothem City. Normally this would be considered a good thing, but everyone suspects it is a prelude to something very, very bad.

At Harriet’s suggestion and after long and pointless bickering, mostly by William, the team convenes at Mac’s pub. There they feast on the world’s best steak sammiches (I know it’s spelled wrong Aly), and the world’s second best home brewed beer. Igor engages one of the locals in a game of chess and soon deduces this ain’t yer average bear. The chess player is Ernest Eyes, a seer and visionary who directs them to the warehouse district on the docks. Eyes also refuses to trust M.H.I., telling the party there is great danger to them at M.H.I. upstairs, but as seers are wont to be he ain’t exactly clear and forthcoming about his vision. Eyes also, out of the blue, tells William he will see Lucinda again. Then he exits stage left in a hurry.

William has the equivalent of a grand mal seizure in that he actually drops his cigarette and goes outside to sulk. Sun remains mostly silent but checks out the rest of the pub and it’s denizens knowing in his black little heart that there are dangerous cultists here who support the creatures in the World of Darkness. Harriet begins to pick at William, she having no social skills to speak of, but Igor explains that some people should just be left alone, especially when said people carry shotguns and blow things up in the name of the Lord.

Sometime later the team converges on the docks where they investigate the warehouse finally deciding to use some of their potent magical abilities they totally forgot they had. Eventually the rituals, bickering, contacting cop friends and reaching out on the phone for some sane advice from Charles, leads the party to discover the warlock under the bed..err warehouse. The party astutely deduces, from the pentagram and sacrificial altar, that the warlock is controlling at least one major demon. Igor hacks into the T.V. of the warlock and the team uses their new source of information to make their plans, reject their plans, make their plans, reject their plans, argue about making and rejecting plans, sulk about making and rejecting plans, rinse and repeat. Then Harriet gets sneaky-brilliant and calls in her mentors on the White Council, two of the most powerful mages on the planet. After which the party resorts to their original plan of gassing the warlock which works brilliantly as both Sun and Igor and accomplished chemists. The Wardens of the White Council insult Harriet then whisk away the Warlock to kill later at their leisure. The standard method being to strip the warlocks mana then chop his head off. It’s been effective for a few thousand years, why change a good thing. Meanwhile William gets upset over the whole sword of Damocles thing over Harriet’s head, which doesn’t seem to bother anyone else. The party also learns about mages and their death curse which they assume to be true, thus assuring nobody kills Harriet. (Very smooth Ellen).

The team investigates the underground cavern beneath the warehouse and with a combination of occult knowledge, forensic skills, logical thinking, old fashioned detective work and a bit (actually a lot) of luck, discover they have foiled a plot to push magical drugs on the underworld which would feed energy to the warlock making him immensely powerful. William is concerned as to why the Warlock is gathering the power and what is behind his plans and what made him evil and just what is defined as evil. The rest of the team doesn’t care and points out that Warlocks and some people are just fuckin’ bad and need to be ganked. The warlock is ganked, “Lets go home and have a well deserved beer”.

But wait there’s more! The team then remembers that they have an even greater danger, if not immediate, back at M.H.I.. Discovered with William’s divination talent and some common sense from the conversation with Ernest Eyes and that little bit of luck that keeps cropping up. Finally after much bickering, hypothesizing, divining, rinse and repeat cycle ad nauseum, the team, finds that M.H.I. is actually owned by four silent partners, all of whom are 8th generation vampire lords. The team knows the vampires in question are part of the Anarch movement, but are not sure just how much that means to them. Are they (the team) pawns, are they entertainment, are they destined to become a light snack? There’s just no telling what goes on in the mind of a Vampire. In the end the team decides not to worry about it as they enjoy getting paid lots of money and don’t have too many moral issues with who actually pays them.

A blog for your campaign

Welcome to M.H.I. campaign. The setting is Gothem city (Because it’s a fantasy city I can construct to my own needs and desires), Maryland, U.S.A..
You are new hires in the operations division of Monster Hunters International. You were hired because you have rare and unique abilities and have pierced the Masquerade hiding the World of Darkness from normal human awarness. M.H.I. while directly opposed to many of the monsters inhabiting the W.O.D. and living under the masquerade actually supports the masquerade and requires its employees to do so. This is a secret war and will remain so by orders of the government and more importantly by the people who pay you.
You will be working with an action team (your fellow RPGers) and are required to be employess of M.H.I. You have all been through M.H.I. training and orientation. You are all under an iron clad contract. This is non-negotiable, if you don’t like it, don’t play.
M.H.I. is compartmentalized, much like an underground guerilla movement, for safety. There are monsters out there more than capable of extracting information against someones will. Hence the compartmentalization, if you don’t know it they can’t get it out of you.
The cover for M.H.I. is a security organization specializing in detective, bounty hunting, body guard, and physical security; and in fact such services are provided. The real money comes from hunting down and collecting the bounties on monsters. These bounties are paid by various governments and corporations the details of which are confidential and need to know only.
All this should be in your character backgrounds, ie how you came to find your powers (all characters have the hunters sight{able to pierce the masqurade}, patron, hazardous duty and reputation as dangerous {to all within the W.O.D.} free of charge, how you were discovered by M.H.I. and how you were recruited. This is all required to be vetted by the Game Master.


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