Cynthia O'Dwyer, galliard Black Fury - RPG Crossing
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Old 04-29-2020, 02:01 PM
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CHARGEN
Cynthia O'Dwyr
Homid, Black Furies, Galliard
Rage: 4, Willpower: 4, Gnosis: 4
Character Sheet
  • Gifts
    Homid: City Running
    Galliard: Call of the Wyld
    Black Furies: Wyld Resurgence
  • Renown
    Glory 2
    Wisdom 1
  • Merits
    Metamorph

    Flaws
    Family members of the boys killed during Cynthia's first change.Enemy - 3
    Banned Transformation (Standing in a circle of salt) - 2
    Hatred (Misogynists) - 3
  • Fetish
    The Labrys may be effectively used with one hand by any being with Strength 6 or higher. Attacks made with the labrys are difficulty 7, and do Strength +
    4 aggravated damage. Activating the fetish grants access to the Gift: Spirit of the Fray for the rest of the scene. The fetish will not function for a male Garou of any tribe.
    Labrys of Isthmene


Last edited by kingmonkey; 05-09-2020 at 08:39 PM.
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Old 05-01-2020, 04:07 AM
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Cynthia O'DwyerCharacter Name: Cynthia O'Dwyer
Breed: Homid
Auspice: Philodox
Tribe: Black Furies

Application: Remastered
Lincoln, North Carolina, 1988
The dust which had gathered on the wooden trunk after decades of neglect was swept away as a hand trailed across to its handle and hauled it out, coughing up a storm when the dust exploded outwards and curses were uttered, a man wearing a Bon Jovi shirt whilst he beat the recently disturbed dust away from his face. The trunk was opened with relative ease as the lock had long since deteriorated beyond providing any real sense of security for the age-old secrets which it concealed, though the secret was simply a picture frame with a photograph of a young woman. A young woman who bore an uncanny resemblance to his daughter.
"Did you find the trunk, John?" inquired Mary who was climbing up the ladder into the attic, casting a glance across the attic before carefully stepping her way over to the end of the dust-riddled loft. "That's definitely not funeral clothes you're holding," Mary said, placing her hand on John's shoulder as she slowly glanced over his shoulder.

"Looks like she could be Vanessa's doppelganger." John thought aloud, offering the picture frame to Mary who took it and laughed softly at the picture frame now held in her hands.
"More like her twin."
"I'm pretty sure those are the same things, who is she anyway?"
"I have no idea but it's a bit late to ask Granny O'Dwyer."
"Maybe your mom knows?" John proposed whilst he started pulling out more trunks and suitcases to continue searching for the funeral clothes his mother-in-law Agnis had mentioned, he barely noticed Mary leave with the photograph amongst the storms of dust that assaulted him with each swipe and blow he struck against the embodiment of passing time.

The sun was shining through the foyer window as Mary stepped downstairs with the frame in her left hand as she reached out to gently place her hand on her mother's shoulder. "Hey Mom, we were just searching for the dress you mentioned when we found this..." the words were spoken softly and the frame tenderly handed to Agnis. There were a few moments of silence before the older woman spoke up "I believe this is your grandaunt."
"Grandaunt? Why didn't Grandma ever mention her?"
"To quote your Grandma O'Dwyer, 'Cynthia was nothing short of a crook and a hussy, dancing for rich drunkards and boozers.'"
"Grandma's sister was a stripper?"
"What? No, she danced in a speakeasy."


Port City, New Jersey, est. 1920
A haze of smoke drifted through the air of the Shebeen as the illicit bar was rife with conversations between patrons, the clinking of glasses, stirring of ice and the loud tapping of the dancer's shoes against the hardwood of the stage. The girls were all wearing the same relatively revealing outfit, several of them lined up and dancing on stage. The fourth to the left was a 5'1 brunette with short hair and piercing blue eyes, her entire routine in sync with the other dancers, a smile painted across her lips as she pranced and tapped with grace. Someone here has to know what happened to Kathleen McCarthy Cynthia speculated, her eyes working around the crowd, occasionally smiling and offering a wink to the 'lucky' patron.

Right foot, left foot, back-tap, high-kick, what are those two over there whispering about? Twirl, left-hand right hip, he was wearing a blue hat and black tie, right-hand, left hand, hold. high-kick, release and stop! Cynthia mentally instructed herself, taking a polite bow as the song came to an end and the dance finished. Cynthia turned with a smile and a little wave to the crowd as she left after the woman to her right turned and walked towards the changing rooms with the other girls all of whom Cynthia followed.

"That sheik at the bar was giving your gams a good look Cynthia, maybe you should see if he wants you to dip the bill with him."
"Aye? Well, maybe I should go and play him some chin music."
"Oh stop being such a bluenose and let the guy tip a few with you."
"If I go and bump gums with the guy, will you come to the get-together I spoke to you about last week?"
"Alright I'll attend your little covens meet-and-greet if you go speak with him."
Cynthia's exchange with the other dancer was brief as they all started getting changed into their usual clothes, Cynthia donning a black slip-dress with white trimming and checking her makeup before stepping out and looking around the shebeen when her fellow dancer came out and pointed the man out, Cynthia smiling at the sight of the man she caught whispering to another man during the performance. A sway of her hips and with a gentle curve of her lips she slipped through the crowd and around patrons so she could gently place her hand on the bar next to the gentleman.
"I hope I wasn't too distracting during the dance."


Lincoln, North Carolina, 1988

"Your grandaunt was quite the femme fatale supposedly, I never met her so I wouldn't know but according to your grandmother, there was always someone looking for the 'broad that attacked me' before Cynthia moved to Port City." Agnis explained with a soft laugh alongside Mary, who was just grateful to see her mother smiling again after losing Grandma O'Dwyer.
"Vanessa and Cynthia look alike."
"From the sounds of it they behave the same, too."
"Just remember to keep Vanessa on the right path, your Grandaunt might be family but that doesn't change the fact that she made some poor decisions in life." Agnes' closing statement on the subject matter came and the conversation ended when John came through to the lounge, holding a dark green dress.
"Is this the right one?"
"I don't think even Grandma O'Dwyer would know if it was the right one."

Port City, New Jersey, est. 1920

Rain poured down in the night sky, hammering the city streets below and loudly bombarding the metallic trashcans which were suddenly exploding into kinetic motion as a heavyweight was thrown against them, a battered and bruised man holding a hand up to cover his face as he cowered from his assailant.
"You said you saw Kathleen Mccarthy two weeks ago, you're going to tell me where or I'll start to tighten the screws."
"I was lying! I just thought it'd get you to open up a little, trust me, you know? Maybe go on a to- Hey, what are you doing? Get off me!" the man's cries of defiance were drowned in the storm of the night, rain picking up as Cynthia grabbed the man by the collar of his shirt and hoisted him up, pushing him to the wall and throwing another punch, a tooth being forcibly dislodged before his assailant grabbed him by the head and slammed it into the wall.
"I'll ask you one more time: Where you was it you saw Kathleen Mccarthy?"
"What are you, a P.I? Let go of me you damn tomato!" he shouted while struggling and working to unclench Cynthia's hands from his collar, only to be met with another hard punch to the face. The struggle for power in the situation continued until finally, the man had managed to push her back and reach into his suit to produce his piece, pointing it towards Cynthia.
"It didn't have to go down li-" the man was cut off when the hand that housed his trigger finger was grabbed and violently twisted into an unnatural angle, forcing a scream from him.
"Where is Kathleen Mccarthy?"



Cynthia O'Dwyr
Dancer, Ruffian and Amateur Detective
Cynthia O'Dwyr, eldest daughter to Margaret O'Dwyr and designated brat of the O'Dwyr clan had been born a bastard child without a man to call father and a mother who struggled to bring food to the table if her job wasn't laying on her back. The world of man had been nothing short of torment for Cynthia, raised on barely expired foods and in a household that borderlines as a brothel, she often found herself surrounded by strange and unruly men who were rarely anything less than rude to the youngster. These experiences left a lasting impact on Cynthia, who would come to form a distaste towards the masculine figures who attempted to court her mother with two more leaving her with two younger and equally bastard sisters. Then Margaret met an American sailor and fell thoroughly in love with him, Cynthia was bitter and doubtful of the sailor's attempts to become a fatherly figure to her, even doubting his intentions when he paid for dancing classes to help her burn off the excess energy she had once used to steal food from market stalls and bring home for her sisters.

Cynthia's younger sisters both clung to the sailor as a fatherly type, giving him affection and praise that Cynthia had rejected in favor of cynicism and a fiery lust for independence, which only blossomed once the O'Dwyr family moved out to the states with her mother's planned wedding to the sailor. Cynthia O'Dwyr resented this move and often expressed a desire to return to Ireland, to be back where the fields were open and the forests free rather than the pollution-filled city streets of a tortured land such as the United States. Cynthia's disdain for the American way of life only continued to grow as she moved on into her later teenage years, working as a waitress for some no-name dead-end restaurant in a neighboring city, where numerous men had tried to court her as they did her mother. Cynthia didn't take to the dating scene particularly well and often took physical romantic gestures as signs of aggression, resulting in her physically lashing out against her perceived aggressor.

Cynthia's first change came around the age of seventeen when during a date arranged by her mother's now-husband, Cynthia's date had planned to kidnap her with three of his friends and push her into human trafficking. Cynthia only learned about this plan because her date's friends had stood too close while going over the plan one final time and she overheard them. The moment of learning about this threw Cynthia into a scalding hot rage and she immediately set about unleashing the wild wrath that had been building inside her. The event had been nothing short of being both invigorating and traumatizing. Cynthia attempted to bury the traumatic experience beneath a reinvigorated pursuit to improve her dancing, participating in small shows and practicing as much as she physically could.

The attack against the three teens was investigated thoroughly and eventually, a woman turned up at Cynthia's door and expressed an interest in her involvement in the incident. Originally Cynthia had claimed she left her date before the incident in question but the woman wasn't buying that story, citing the deep claw wounds and abnormally large bite marks. Cynthia was eventually pushed into confessing the whole event to the satisfaction of her interviewer who began to explain... Things to her, things about the ancient Greeks, the importance of Sister and Motherhood, the importance of fighting to set things right for their fellow women. It all sounded so surreal but everything about it echoed true and there was something in her instincts that pushed Cynthia to agree to attend a 'support group' with the woman.

The group was meeting in a forested grove outside of town, quite the trek for a young Cynthia but with her burning desire for the truth, it was all worth it. There were women of all walks of life attending the group, some who were being abused by their husbands, others who had been victims of crime or women who knew girls who had gone missing with no investigation from the police. The injustice of it all burned deeply within Cynthia whose host had noticed and asked her to stay behind with a few of the older women. This group would become a routine for Cynthia in the years to come until eventually, the elders saw fit to invite her to become part of the Black Furies. Cynthia's now-mentor played a role in her move to Port City, helping her find work at a Shebeen and offering her help where she could, though there was a catch: Cynthia was to help her mentor discover what befell the missing Irish woman 'Kathleen Mccarthy', a kinfolk of interest to the Black Furies of Port City.
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Old 05-01-2020, 04:08 AM
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NPCs
Monica 'Seeks-With-Valor' Bowers
Monica 'Seeks-With-Valor' Bowers
Monica Bowers is both an Athro belonging to the Black Furies and the woman who inducted Cynthia O'Dwyer into the world of darkness; Originally Cynthia had no idea about Monica's status as an Athro and has since become quite unsure as to why the renown Fury took an interest in her. Cynthia has heard murmurs about her Crinos form having a 'purebred' coat, though whatever this meant was beyond her interest.

Monica is quite influential in the Port City Black Furies, though some of the elders are wary of her willingness to defend Kithain and help spirits, even involving the male ones, one of the lessons Cynthia's mentors has tried to pass on to her is that even though the Kithain are no longer fully human, they are still children of Gaia and members of the Sisterhood.


Ruth 'Races-At-The-Wyrm' Wright
Ruth 'Races-At-The-Wyrm' Wright

Ruth Wright is a Black Fury from the Amazons of Diana camp and sometimes butts heads with Monica, Ruth is a strong believer in the ideals of fighting the Wyrm being justice for women, but Cynthia is inclined to disagree. After all, it wasn't the Wyrm that made her or her sisters a bastard child, it wasn't the Wyrm that pushed her mother into a life of prostitution, it was the actions and decision of man and man alone.


Eleanor O'Sullivan
Eleanor O'Sullivan
Eleanor is one of Cynthia's fellow dancers at the Irish Shebeen, Cynthia suspects her husband is in some way abusive towards her on the assumption that she's regularly applying more-than-necessary makeup, irregularly misses performances and is very rarely without her Husband, John Bleeker. John is even present when Eleanor is performing, going on the toot at the bar.

Cynthia has tried to persuade Eleanor to attend a Kuklokhoros with hopes that the women-friendly and empowering atmosphere would help bring her the courage and/or comfort to speak up about what's really going on behind the scenes, but so far Cynthia has had little success.


Jack Walsh
Jack Walsh

Jack is a thug for the Irish Mob, always involved in shakedowns, robberies, heists, shootings, and the like. Cynthia and Jack have a very neutral tolerance of one another, with Jack regularly coming into the changing rooms before the first performance of the night to try and mingle with the dancers. Jack has on numerous accounts openly stated that Cynthia is too 'prudish' and 'boyish' to be of interest to him.

The visits Jack makes to the changing rooms are a bit of an enigma to Cynthia, who can't decide whether this is some twisted voyeur he gets off on or if it's genuine care for the dancing girls.



Genevieve Knight
Genevieve Knight
Hollow II & Hollow Amenities IChangeling Runnerswift, Tongues of Birds & Words of Wolves (Cervidae only)Beast of the Gift of Warm Breath & Gift of New Lover's KissSpring Court
During one of the many times, that Cynthia visited The Wild with her mentor Monica Bowers the two ventured into the woods of this particular caern as a way to introduce Cynthia to the other planes and the art of side-stepping. It was particularly difficult for Cynthia to being grasping even the basics of Side-stepping though she eventually managed it and found herself deeper in the woods than she initially anticipated and unbeknownst to her she had just interrupted a hedge beast in pursuit of a changeling woman.

Genevieve Knight was her name, with a mane of shaggy and unkempt hair filled with leaves and dirt, her legs ending in the hooves of a deer and her head topped with the horns to match, a thin patch of fur covering her forearms and knuckles, her fingers ending in sharp claws. Cynthia had never encountered a Changeling before and was thusly quite confused. There was no delay in Monica following up on Cynthia's relocation, stopping when she sighted the Changeling woman.

Twenty minutes of persuading and calming down later, Genevieve had gradually started to trust Cynthia and Monica, eventually coming clean about where and when she had come from; it turned out that Genevieve was originally from the early 1800s, having been kidnapped by the fae when she was 22; this reveal put the Garou and her mentor in an uneasy position, given that this woman had returned to Gaia after at-least one hundred years in the Fae.

The news of this and the realization of what this meant for her family and friends led to the changeling woman breaking down, with only two Garou to help her accept this burden. There was a lot that needed to happen in order for Genevieve to adjust to the modern era and this would require further assistance from other Furies to help a lost sister find her place in a new and daunting world. Monica took Genevieve to one of her personal places of residence, a small cabin outside of Port City in order to help limit her exposure to 100 years of technological advances all at once. Genevieve was taken to the next private moot for the Black Furies (with permission from the elders having been saught) and discussions took place to help explain the new world to Genevieve, who was quite overwhelmed by all the news but given a temporary home among the Black Furies.

Monica and Cynthia were to help introduce Genevieve to the other Changelings of Port City at their Freehold; though relationships between Changelings and the Garou are often rocky, Cynthia and her mentor found themselves taking a liking to Genevieve. The two Garou's presence at the freehold caused some unrest among its Kithain subjects, but they were able to secure Genevieve a place among the changelings there.

Since Monica and Cynthia helped Genevieve find a place to belong, Genevieve has become a regular at Kuklokhoros, often even helping women the Black Furies cannot or do not have the resources to and in-kind, Cynthia and Monica do what they can to help Genevieve and her kin when additional hands are required, though this outreach is rare.

 


 


 


Last edited by Marshmallow; 05-03-2020 at 03:33 PM.
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Old 05-01-2020, 07:14 AM
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Place of Sentimental Importance:
The Old ShowhouseAn old theatre house with multiple stages that is almost entirely overgrown and abandoned. The theatre house was becoming too expensive to keep in service and fell to the wayside once the prohibition had gone in full effect, the bar is the only thing truly keeping the theatre house open before the ban occurred. Though publicly this run-down building is no longer in use, it is in fact now being used by changelings as a Freehold. Cynthia finds this particular site to be of importance because it opened her eyes to the wider menagerie of Sisterhood when Cynthia and Monica first brought Genevieve here. Cynthia didn't fully understand just quite what the Kithain were or what they were hiding from but Monica made sure to lecture her plenty on keeping their location a secret to all but the highest-ranking Furies.

The Withered Facadé is a freehold whose business changes depending on which court is in power.
  • Spring
    When the Spring Court is in power throughout the course of the year, the Changelings focus on peddling desirable products for the mortals of Port City, giving and receiving alcohol distilled by the Freehold. Their specialty is the 'Adam Cider' and 'Eve Wine', often selling them to middlemen who then sell these drinks to the various Mobs and Speakeasy/Shebeens across Port City.
  • Summer
    The Summer Court's period of power is one of warfare and attrition, using the money the Freehold earned from Spring to fund assaults against those loyal to the insane Kings and Queens of the Fae, sometimes even launching incursions into the Hedge to trade with Hobgoblin markets. Once these incursions are over they bring back their spoils of war from the Fae and sell-on the weapons they used to fund the Autumn rule, though this means during the summer there is an increase in illegal weapons being sold to the gangs and mobs of Port City.
  • Autumn
    The Autumnal rule is used for researching any stolen artifacts or magicks from the Fae during the Summer's rule, this time of rule being used to grow fruits and tend to relicts from the Fae, though some of these may be sold off to interested supernatural parties, the most powerful artifacts, fruits, and magicks are often kept to themselves.
  • Winter
    The Winter ruling time is used as a way to completely remove evidence of their Freeholds presence in Port City, ensuring to their absolute best that no loyalists or beasts from the Fae come knocking at their door... Though these measures are mostly preventative and this they keep a secret. The Winter mostly goes about doing maintenance on their security procedures and spies in the Fae, so that if any trouble does come looking, the Freehold can prepare and if necessary call for assistance from any potential allies.

    Areas of particular note:
  • The Provider Tree
    The Provider Tree is a tree grown in the center of the largest stage room of The Withered Facadé, which was now a glave of grass and bushes, a large twisted tree standing in the center of the room, each branch curling and twisting in a different direction producing a full set of leaves and a variety of different fruits. The Provider Tree grows more than a singular fruit, each branch producing a different kind, though the selection on offer changes every year. Anybody who visits The Withered Facadé is prohibited from eating the fruit picked from the tree unless they are a Changeling.

    The Provider Tree is the source of the flavours used in the Adam Cider & Eve Wine, often touted as giving the consumer an 'increased sense of vigor'. The Provider Tree is guarded with fanaticism, nobody unaccompanied by a Kithain with permission to access the Tree is allowed in the same hall, let alone near the entrance to the Provider Tree.
  • Facadé's Grove
    Facadé's Grove is another room that was turned into a small forest-like area, filled with chairs and even a rough make-shift fountain, this is the place where any none-Kithain visitors must wait for their person of interest to meet them. If the business isn't important enough some visitors may never see the deeper parts of The Withered Facadé.
  • The Witches' Tit
    The brewery for Adam Cider & Eve Wine, this boiler-room was repurposed to fit the necessary equipment for producing the Spring Court's alcoholic goods. Bottles of the Cider and Wine are also stored here in fridges, using what power could be sapped from local power supplies.


Freehold Courts

Spring Court
Member of Note
Bartholomew "Brewer" Chambers
Shooters Bargain & Fair EntranceChangeling, Brewer, Glamour of Brief RepairWizened of the Son of the HearthSummer Court
 


Court Opinions
Court Opinions
Each court in the Withered Facadé has an opinion of one another, while some may seem aggressive or even hostile towards one another, there is an acknowledgment between them that each one is necessary for the continued existence of the Withered Facadé. Each court also holds its own opinion on the Garou.

Summer Court
While we will continue to help fund their little excursions into Faeria, they like to think they're taking the fight to the True Fae, to the Keepers; In all reality, all they're doing is stealing from the cookie jar and freeing the occasional Faeria slave.

Autumn Court
They like to play with their artifacts and toy with the magic the Summer court stole, but they don't have a clue about what they're doing. These fools could bring about the end of the Freehold and not even realize it, how long until they open a gateway for a Hedgebeast? How long until they set off some kind of flare for the Keepers? Or worse, formally welcome a true fae into the world? The only things we should be keeping are the seeds and tokens. The rest should be left where it was found.

Winter Court
The Winter Court is nothing if not conspiratorial, but unlike those imbeciles of the autumnal court, they know exactly what kind of magic they're playing with and they know the precise ins-and-outs of the necessary wards and protections... Exactly why they're in the perfect position to betray us, should they ever get a good enough deal to do so.

The Garou
One does not unleash a rabid dog into a public daycare for the carnage and pain it would bring about to all those involved, so why should we allow a ravenous wolf into our flock of sheep? These beasts can barely keep themselves in check, there are wildcards and then there are werewolves.



Summer Court
Little Sparrow
Changeling, Manikin, Blessing of PerfectionElemental of the Sundown EyesSummer Court
 


Court Opinions
Court Opinions
Each court in the Withered Facadé has an opinion of one another, while some may seem aggressive or even hostile towards one another, there is an acknowledgment between them that each one is necessary for the continued existence of the Withered Facadé. Each court also holds its own opinion on the Garou.

Spring Court
They do good work when it comes to producing the Adam & Eve drinks, they even taste pretty good too. The problem with them though is that they're real chumps. They can't tighten the screw on a situation when it's necessary, hell, our pal's in the Springers will barely even get into a situation where they could even consider tightening the screws.

Good money makers, bad allies.


Autumn Court
If I had a dollar for every time they said: "This could revolutionize how the Freehold functions!", I'd be the richest person in Port City. They've done some good work with Tokens, but there's only so many times a new Kithain can use the Cracked Mirror to spook their Fetch. If they were able to replicate the effects of a bang-ribbon, that'd be another story.

Winter Court
They're secretive and keeping secrets makes it hard for us to protect the Freehold from physical threats. It's not like we're uneducated about all these Wards and sigils, it's just... Well, how do we know a bullet we fire through the window isn't going to fly right back at us?

The Garou
These guys have the right idea, if something's causing problems, get mad and get at it. Fix whoever needs fixin' and tear the bud of the problem out of the ground. I like them, even if we can't really tell where their allegiance lies.



Autumn Court
Member of Note
Angel Velez
Changeling, Gargantuan, Might of the Terrible BruteOgre of the Withering GlareAutumn Court
 


Court Opinions
Court Opinions
Each court in the Withered Facadé has an opinion of one another, while some may seem aggressive or even hostile towards one another, there is an acknowledgment between them that each one is necessary for the continued existence of the Withered Facadé. Each court also holds its own opinion on the Garou.

Spring Court
They make the goods and we make sure the people buying them pay up or end up en el cementerio. If they keep producing the Adam & Eve booze, we'll be financially safe. Por un momento.

Summer Court
Pendejos Locos, these crazy chumps think they're good enough to fight the Fae on their turf. I think they're estúpido, but they clearly believe they're the only ones protecting the Freehold. I don't see them out on the street, getting shot at for trying to broker deals or sitting on the stairs and in the windows with guns for hours at a time. They don't protect us as we do, they endanger us.

The things they bring back? Vital assets. The effects of their tokens do wonders for our security teams. If only we could figure out how to create our own though.


Winter Court
Creepy bastards, it's like they never left Faeria; Magic and doodles everywhere, they often ask for access to the Tokens we're using and researching, but we know if they get their hands on them then we'll never get them back.

The Garou
Werewolves? Protecting us? That's gracioso, they can barely protect themselves. The Autumn court doesn't need an alliance with flea-ridden perras, the Freehold needs a strong baluarte and that's us.




Winter Court
Member of Note
Warden
Hollow I & Hollow Amenities IVChangeling, Mirror Skin, Boon of the Scuttling SpiderDarkling of the Winter Court

 



Court Opinions
Court Opinions
Each court in the Withered Facadé has an opinion of one another, while some may seem aggressive or even hostile towards one another, there is an acknowledgment between them that each one is necessary for the continued existence of the Withered Facadé. Each court also holds its own opinion on the Garou.

Spring Court
I can't deny the efforts of the Spring Court to produce their Hooch and the amount of money it brings in has been an indefinite help to our cause, it's entirely thanks to their product that we legally own the property of the Withered Facadé, but their cowardice will be the undoing of their own work.

Summer Court
The Summer Court jumps to violence far too quickly, they're hot-headed and rarely spend more than three seconds thinking about a problem, they spend even less time thinking about the solution to it - nine out of ten times it's simply capping someone or something.

The tokens and trinkets they bring back are interesting for certain, but the Autumnal court spends too much time playing security to produce any real outcomes.


Autumn Court
The self-proclaimed 'stalwart defenders' of the Withered Facadé, I find their sense of duty to protect the Freehold admirable but their research skills are laughably pathetic. I'd rather see those magical artifacts in the possession of the Winter Court, at-least then we'd be using them to help alongside the gats they love so dearly.

The Garou
The Garou can be troublesome this is true, but they have a stalwart sense of loyalty to their tribes, loyalty we Kithain should learn from. Loyalists are problematic and what better way to deter them than to have an ally they fear? An alliance or pact of some degree could benefit us both greatly.


Last edited by Marshmallow; 05-04-2020 at 05:36 PM.
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Old 05-06-2020, 05:06 PM
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Not too long ago...Cynthia had to shake her head, rub her eyes. Sure enough, eyes open once more, the rather stodgy woman's dog was a small dog again. Pomeranian, maybe? Some kind of mixed breed with the Wyld almost completely groomed out of it. It sat, staring dumbly at Cynthia now, growling occasionally at strangers who wandered too close to her human, who in turn was busy demanding something of a news vendor on the side of Harrison Avenue in Maynard. The dog's tongue lolled now. But a moment ago, she was sure it was a coyote, and that it had winked at her.

The woman had finished her exchange with the vendor, apparently satisfied her point had been made, whatever it was about. The vendor muttered under his breath, some flowery language that the Black Fury didn't particularly appreciate, even if she could understand the man's disdain. He glanced up as Cynthia approached, and his demeanor softened once more. A broad smile and a tip of his flat cap.

"How c'n I help ye, my dear?"

His Scottish accent was rusted and fading, Americanized. Cynthia knew his name, and that he was apparently Fianna kinfolk, but she had never met him. Another Fury had suggested Cynthia talk to Mickey Smudge-- a nickname earned from a lifetime of hawking broadsheets. His fingers left a grey smear on his forehead from tipping his cap. Mickey not only knew everything in the broadsheets, but he heard a little from everybody. Crooks and cops, politicians and priests- Smudge talked to them all, and he had the gift of gab, as surely as if he had a garou Gift of Persuasion.

Cynthia asked him surreptitiously if he had heard anything about a missing lass named Kathleen McCarthy. She described the girl: frail, lanky, curly black hair, a very cute face, and pale blue eyes. The girl was no one of consequence to most folk, just the third daughter of a poor Irish immigrant. Just a girl that no one of importance would miss, and no one would look for. Just a girl who would slip through the cracks and never be seen again. Just a girl whose disappearance would leave a ragged hole in her mother's broken heart. The Black Furies help out when they can, and this was one girl they just happened to hear about.

Smudge scratched his chin. He was not just kinfolk; he was the kind who was in the know about some garou business. The idea of a strange woman investigating a missing girl clearly sparked something, for he gave Cynthia a knowing grin.

"Now, I dinnae know much 'bout young girls-- it's not my game, y'understand? But it happens I have heard of some kids as went missing down in Brickville o'er the pas' few months. Mightn't hae thought much of it, except they mostly match the description of yuir missing girl."

Smudge's accent seemed to rekindle as Cynthia asked him questions. Her Irish brogue thickened as well. Something about celts meeting one another abroad always seemed to undo the new habits and quirks of speech. Cynthia asked the names and locations of the missing kids, and Smudge was able to provide clippings of broadsheets. Studying addresses and dates yielded only a rough area of Brickville to look into. The neighbourhood, Cynthia instantly recalled, had a speakeasy she had visited a number of times. It was a dive frequented by a Glass Walker she had crossed paths with at her own shebeen.

Cynthia recalled that Vitoro seemed well-connected in the underworld. Perhaps he would know...

Cynthia's attention drifted once more. A shrill, yipping bark and whine coming closer. The Black Fury looked down to see that damned Pomeranian at her feet again, it's leash dangling impotently behind her. It sat quite contentedly at Cynthia's feet. Within a minute, the ritzy lady who owned the dog arrived, disheveled and hobbling on one broken high heel.

"Oh, my," she panted, "thank you, darling. I don't know why she bolted like that, my sweet Adeline. Odd, she normally doesn't like strangers."

The woman scooped up her tiny dog in her arms and began hobbling away. Over her shoulder, the dog peered at Cynthia. Except-- for a moment, it once more looked like a coyote.
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