From: Jeff Huo Subject: IC: Wolves Glen Pub Date: 24 Dec 2000 00:00:00 GMT Message-ID: X-Trace: news.itd.umich.edu 977679543 207.75.179.206 (Sun, 24 Dec 2000 12:39:03 EST) Organization: Denizens of the Wolverine White Coat Ghetto NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 24 Dec 2000 12:39:03 EST Newsgroups: rec.games.frp.storyteller [OOC: Christmas Break! Whee! :-) I haven't been on Usenet in weeks, I have no idea what's going on in the Pub, and I'm guessing it's probably hopeless for me to try to catch up, and while I do have two other characters in Pub, they're off in another plotline --cleaning a bathtub, IIRC; thus, I figure easiest way to get back into the Pub for a short bit is another entrance, not to mention it neatly covers my lack of knowledge about what's up under the handy excuse that a new character shouldn't have any idea anyway. Whew! :-) Happy holidays to all! ] The Pub door swings open, and a gentle wave of excited sound pours in. The sounds of crowds, and of bands; of calliopes and excitement, and the soft glow of colored electric lights...the sharp, clear smell of the Ocean. The scene through the open door is a view from on a hill; spreading out below are the lights of a beautiful, exotic city of palaces and pavilions and lagoons, laid out in the twilight. Beyond, tall-ships and ocean-going paddle-wheelers fill a harbor, and beyond lies a sheltered bay. In the near foreground is a great and massive building, resembling a Roman ruin, but with great crowds coming through, crowds dressed in top-hat and waist- coat finery, scattered automobiles and horses. The building...and the bay...look faintly familiar, perhaps, to the well traveled among the Pub's patrons... And the newcomer? Four-foot-eleven (five-seven with the top-hat), dressed in black formal gentleman's attire; black tailed-tuxedo, black vest over a white formal shirt and a natty black bow-tie, black pants and shoes polished till they gleam. A black-trench coat without a spot of dust or lint over the ensamble, and spotless white gloves and a white scarf about the neck. A gold- pocketwatch chain loops into a vest pocket; a ivory-handled six- shooter in a right-shoulder holster and a katana in ornate laquered scabbard at the belt, a traveling bag slung over one shoulder and of course the top hat mentioned before, she is every inch dapper and dressed to the nines. She? Yes, she --long black hair braided into a single ponytail that goes down to the small of her back, playful brown eyes, an excited and friendly expression on her face, as if the act of opening the Pub door was a wonderous gateway to delightful surprises. Save for a faint scar rides under the left eye, she appears to be an attractive, tho not stunningly so, Asian female in her late twenties, perhaps. [Appearance 3] A blue satin sash rides across her vest, with a sigil upon it up by her breast: an white open circle with a design within: three filled circles the size of dimes arranged at the points of an equilateral triangle, base of the triangle on the bottom; one hand rests upon her shoulder bag, and the other holds a book, in which is tucked a broadsheet, a printed guide of some kind, a map, with written in bold black letters on top ----- PANAMA-PACIFIC INTERNATIONAL EXPOSITION SAN FRANCISCO 1915 ----- and now some Pub patrons realize where they've seen that bay and the building behind the newcomer before --in later days, that building houses San Francisco's Exploratorium; but in this day and age it is known as the Palace of Fine Arts, the heart and crown Jewel of the great World's Fair held in the Bay City, arisen from the disaster of 1906 to amaze the world. The newcomer takes in the Pub scene; the patrons in all their forms, the various pieces of technology that lie decades into the future from the Exposition...and her face lights up with delight. "Will wonders never cease?" she whispers to herself. [OOC: From a Supernatural perspective, what does she look like? Well...within her is that bright font of mystical energy familiar, but not quite so...like a Mage, but not quite...like a Changeling, but not quite...she doesn't smell of the Wyrm --very much opposite, bursting with life and energy, not a Kindred, not a Wraith...the unofficial supplement I'm working from doesn't really give a better description than that, I'm afraid...e-mail me if you've got other arts you'd like to call in.] She looks up at the sign --"No fighting," "First Drink's a Story", all the hallowed rules of the establishment, and nods to herself, smiles. The door closes behind her as she walks up to an open space at the bar. She has a friendly air, not arrogant or haughty; she may be dressed like a Proper Gentleman but she's got the attitude of a friendly bard or a wanderer, somebody you'd be naturally inclined to strike up a conversation with in a tavern or on a train. She sets her book down on the bar, not wanting to interuppt any of the conversations going on around her, and takes it all in. The book appears to be a sketchbook of somekind, tho hardbound: at the center, printed on the cover in faux gold on ivory-grey, is a crest, reading "Die Luft der Freiheit weht" below, a tall redwood in the middle, and "Stanford University" on top. Stamped in the corner is the square red block of her chop, the seals used by the Chinese and Japanese in lieu of a signature, and written below in an elegant cursive is what is presumably her name: Chikako Inazuma Miyamoto. She flips open the book to the page marked by the broadsheet, pulls a pen out from within her coat, and starts sketching --the pages are filled with other sketches...of people, of machines, notes and the like; her book looks faintly like perhaps the sketchbooks of Leonardo. If someone speaks to her, she'll happily stop and engage in conversation, but until then she'll be drawing at the bar. It looks like she's sketching the jukebox, or perhaps the Nutrimatic. If one does look closely over her shoulder (she doesn't mind) at the sketches in her book, they include pictures not just of the regular things one might expect of her time --the people and the like of the early part of the 20th century...but also of things that only one awakened to the World of Darkness could see: satyrs and Boggans in court finery, a gargoyle going for a walk next to the port, a Troll in workclothes hammering away at a forge, a be- goggled Etherite next to his Space-going vessel, a Fianna lady in Crinos singing a ballad, a couple laughing together on a park bench, one dressed in gentleman's touring clothes, the other in a elegant full-formal dress, typical of the beginning of the century. The gentleman with golden retriver's ears. The lady with tiger stripes and tail. Turnberry and Christina, circa 1915. -Chikako Inazuma Miyamoto Yet another wonderous place filled with exotic people and advanced devices and things I've never seen before --ah, nothing is more amazing than the splendors of the world brought to one place! It is for such surprises that I came to the Exposition -- and I'm not disappointed. -- Jeff Huo | jeff@spundreams.net.nospam (remove nospam) U. Michigan Med | http://www.spundreams.net/~jeff New to the group? Welcome! Please visit http://www.pepin.demon.co.uk/wolves/ IC Character sheets at http://www.spundreams.net/~jeff/wgpatum.html