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1129 Words
Rosemary Street has at least two ghost kitchens staffed by immigrants working at a blinding pace, but there's also an actual restaurant. Where this bad stretch of road intersects with Route 5 there's the Turfside Diner. Though the parking lot is full of weeds, it appears to be open; its Art Deco sign is illuminated and pale blue lights shine from inside. Unlike the brick buildings nearby, the Turfside Diner appears built of solid local stone—an unusual choice that draws your attention.
It's empty inside except a cook scraping at the grill and a waitress who's ordering a drunk to leave. But there's something here, something strong. For a moment, you see this diner as it could be, a thriving community hub: good food, great coffee, a place to recover after a brutal shift, or psych yourself up before one. A place where you belong.
You can dimly perceive the spirit here, a goddess of hearth and home from halfway around the world and a millennium back, transferred to this confusing and dismal environment, forced to adapt, struggling to make her desires known—her need to spread joy and happiness, to bring people together.
But though you closely examine the spirit of this place, you can't figure out what kind of Gift it might offer. Maybe this spirit only has contracts with other kinds of shapeshifters, not werewolves.
Chiminage Possible:
Wisdom: 2 nights
I examine the Rat idol.
I turn on the old computer and fire up the Spider disks.
I kneel down to examine the mouse spirits.
Is that really a gremlin? I check it out.
I return to Raccoon.
What are the beetle spirits up to?
Is this antique store open?
I return to the shadow spirit.
I leave the urban blight.
Next
The raccoon spirits go about their business, and Azeban does not appear.
Using Raccoon's Gift: Raccoon unlocks doors, enhancing your intrusion skills. Raccoon's Gift works automatically as long as you haven't lost the Wolf, and relies on your Composure.
Earning Raccoon's Gift: Azeban, and by extension, Raccoon, has sworn oaths of alliance only to Selardi in her guise as the new moon, and to Unicorn. Even if you became a Child of Gaia and maintained your focus on humanity, you'd need to earn more Honor before Raccoon granted you his Gift.
Azeban requires five nights of Honorable chiminage before he'll permit Raccoon to teach a Garou.
Chiminage Possible:
Wisdom: 2 nights
I examine the Rat idol.
I turn on the old computer and fire up the Spider disks.
I kneel down to examine the mouse spirits.
Is that really a gremlin? I check it out.
I return to Raccoon.
What are the beetle spirits up to?
Is this antique store open?
I return to the shadow spirit.
I leave the urban blight.
Next
No work today, so it's a long day of patrolling in lupus form, honing your knowledge of your new territory, where the Map ends and the quiet, forgotten, spirit-haunted places begin. Podge decides to remain on Rosemary Street, looking for a Scrag he's convinced is trying to latch onto a rent-a-cop, so you return home, warm up some oatmeal for dinner, and open Elton's copy of The Order of the Invisible World by Casimir Lubasik. Adventurer, scholar, defrocked priest, and alleged necromancer, Casimir Lubasik helped establish the Three Families in the New World, and his book is supposed to be an invaluable guide to the local spirits, even centuries later. You can't make heads or tails of it, but Elton wants you to read it anyway. Werewolf homework, great. You're just settling into the useful stuff (spirit names) when you hear a thump outside your cabin door.
"Fuck."
Thump.
"f*****g watch out."
I listen in and try to hear what's going on.
Is someone trying to steal my stuff? I don't really have anything, but I'd prefer if they didn't. I get up and look around.
No reason to take chances. I grab my hatchet.
Might be squatters. I can't really open a shelter, but if someone needs a place to spend the night, I can help.
Next
The sound is coming from the back of the house. You pad into the kitchen and peer outside, staying low because you don't have curtains. There are at least two people out there, moving awkwardly as if trying to shift a heavy weight. One of them stumbles, disappears out of view. Then they fall into your back door. The door isn't well made, and it splinters, then lands with a terrific slap, hard enough to crack the linoleum.
Todd Goultier, the younger of the two brothers, stares at you with stupefied horror for a second, then gets up and runs out the door. He just keeps on running, heading for the airfield.
"Oh shit." That's Drax, his older brother, staring from you to the ruined door. Drax wears a Thin Gold Line Bitcoin shirt and track pants. His gloved hands are filthy with black dirt, and his box-fresh sneakers are ruined. Next to him you can see a blue plastic tub that's broken open, spilling what appears to be a mix of fake gold watches, silver coins and medals, and baggies labeled only with numbers across the dirt.
"Drax, what exactly are you doing with…pirate treasure and drugs?"
"Do you think your brother is okay?"
"It's still cold at night, you know. You can either fix that or pay me to replace it."
"I'm not mad. But the door situation is disappointing."
Next
"Shut the f**k up and get this stuff inside!" Drax hisses. He looks around, as if the cops are gonna scream up your dirt road at any moment, then hauls the broken tub up over the threshold and into your kitchen, pushing it across the cracked linoleum until it bangs against the splintered door.
"Drax, what are you—?"
"I told you to shut the f**k up," Drax snaps, peering out the kitchen window. "Where's that f*****g twink you keep upstairs?"
You feel your Rage threatening to spike, but then the tub breaks open completely, spilling tacky fake Rolexes across your socks like you just won the jackpot at a carnival. It's a little funny.
"Okay, look, this'll have to stay here," Drax says, wrestling the door back up and into position. "Someone'll pick it up in a few days. Might be a while, especially now that Terry ain't no good." He fumbles in his pocket, pulls out a vape pen, takes a long shuddering drag.
"Who's Terry?"
"I don't want stolen goods in my house."
"Okay, enough. Get out—take your s**t—or I'm throwing you out."
"This doesn't look like a professional operation." But maybe I could turn it into one.
Next
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