[CLOSED] Breakin - MidSeptember - Chicago Museaum - Vampires/Mages [12/10/25]
-
Museum Break-in
Date: [12/10/25] -- Mid September 2014
Location: Chicago Museum of Science and Industry
Player Characters Present: Any that want to hunt or investigate
Open Spots: 3NPCs Present: Police guard watching the area, but not particularly caring.
Current Scenario: A break in at the museum. There was a theft in the vaults that is undisclosed. Something is still there, lurking in the dark. There appears to be an attempt to cover up what was stolen and put the entire thing under lock and key, so that the public, and anyone else, doesn't find out.
Suggested Dice Pools: Investigation, Perception, Stealth (lay an ambush for whatever is there), Socialize (rumor monger), Computer to hack into systems to find inventory, Mage Sight to look for clues of what is there or what was stolen.
End Trigger: Determine what was stolen and/or deal with what remains
Opener: This was more than a smash and grab, but the museum curators are trying not to say anything, and are nervous when questioned. It was in the papers, but published as a break in, with nothing 'of value' taken, however rumor on the streets is that (those with Contacts related to supernatural objects, the museum, or the Universities in the area) something important that was being studied was stolen and done so in a very methodical way. Also, that people have started seeing 'something' following them since the incident in the vaults of the museum. No one has gone missing, and there are no reported injuries.
-
Ricky Dee (DOSBox) - AK
Dice Pool: Intelligence (4) + Computers (4) = 8d10
Action: Hacking the computer system to dig up current inventory and inventory before the theft; possibly security footage if possibleHealth: 7
Mana/Vitae: 10
Willpower: 7
Conditions: NoneDescription:
Ricky sits at his gaming chair wearing a Snuggie, sipping at a big gulp of Mountain Dew currently being held in a cupholder in the armrest. One hand is furiously typing at his keyboard in a manner that makes it obvious he never took typing classes, but his speed doesn't seem to be affected by it. His other hand holds a pair of chopsticks, which are currently in the process of procuring Cheetos from an open bag and eating them like one of those fancy sausages that usually come on toothpicks.
From the comfort of his own home, he connects to the Museum network and scrubs it for inventory logs, taking care to avoid leaving traces of his access. His big gulp makes a loud slurping sound. An ominous portent: he has run out of the Dew. He will have to refill.
-
Caleb "Chance Meridian" Sheridan - Dale Martin-Duchene
Dice Pool: Perception 6
Action: Use my fake ID to talk my way into the vault. Then use the spell Postcognition to see what happened.Health: 7 - No Damage
Mana/Vitae: 6
Willpower: 6
Conditions: Charmed, Inspired, SteadfastDESCRIPTION
Chance moved through the museum the way a man walks through his own living room: steady pace, badge already in hand, eyes occupied with looking professional rather than searching. The bored security guard at the service entrance barely straightened when Chance approached, just blinked, looked at the credentials, and shrugged himself into something approximating alertness.“Agent Morgan?” the guard read off the ID, which Chance passed over with the casual ease of someone used to flashing federal authority.
Chance nodded. “Got a call about the break-in. Director said someone from the Bureau should take a look before insurance gets loud.”
The guard waved him through with something between relief and apathy. Chance kept walking, and only once he’d rounded the corner into the staff hall did he allow his thoughts to slip sideways.
Gauge, you magnificent bastard. This ID is perfect.
The administrative floor smelled like dry paper and stress. A short woman in a gray blazer—Director Anika Holbrook, according to her nameplate—was already waiting for him outside the elevator to the archives. Nervous eyes, fluttery hands. She bowed her head in quick little nods as though agreeing with herself more than him.
“Agent Morgan, yes. The vault is… ah… downstairs. The police said they had no further questions, but you know how these things are.” She forced a smile that didn’t manage to hide anything.
Chance gave her the clipped, authoritative nod he’d practiced. “I just need to confirm the state of the room and the security logs. Won’t take long.”
She exhaled as though that answered a prayer and used her card to open the stairwell door. The descent was quiet, save for the hum of the climate systems…and from somewhere distant, the faintest scrape of something metal shifting. Holbrook didn’t seem to hear it.
The vault level was cleaner than most hospitals. Rows of cabinets, sterile light, the subtle thrum of refrigeration units. She led him past the monitoring desk and gestured toward a reinforced glass chamber.
“This is where the… item was being studied. The notes were confiscated by the university’s legal office, so I’m not sure what exactly they were doing.” She swallowed. “Agent, if you need anything, just press that call button. I’ll be upstairs.”
Which was to say: she wanted to leave now.
The moment she disappeared into the elevator, the tone of the air shifted. Colder. Still.
Chance waited, listening. Nothing except the building’s breath.
He stepped into the vault chamber and closed the glass door behind him. One deep inhale. He rolled his shoulders, felt the familiar pushback of the Lie around him, the little resistances that reminded him this place was steeped in time, in events still clinging to the walls like fingerprints.
“Alright,” he murmured. “Let’s see what actually happened here.”
He withdrew his dedicated tool; a tarnished brass surveyor’s compass, the inside etched with symbols only he and his Path needed to understand. The moment he opened it, the quivering cadence of the needle synced with his pulse. Chance pressed two fingers to the floor, whispering the incantation with a calm, steady rhythm. A thin shimmer pulsed outward from his hand, rippling over tile and steel, meeting the Temporal Withstand like a stubborn lock.
He pushed. The pressure relented.
A second whisper brushed the edges of his perception, Paradox waiting to pounce, but the tool drank most of the imbalance. What remained flickered in his senses like a coin toss in the dark. It passed, dissolving into nothing.
Then the room opened.
The world around him extruded into translucent layers, like panes of glass set in shifting orbit. Shadows rewound themselves. Footprints brightened and faded. Ghost-images of researchers moved at speed around him. He reached out with one hand, dragging a chronological thread backward like scrubbing through old surveillance footage. Moments slowed, angles rotated at his command, the last week unfolding in stuttering loops.
He narrowed his focus.
There.
A flicker. A figure. Movement that didn’t match the rest.
Chance leaned in, breath held.
“…Well,” he whispered, lips curling faintly. “That’s interesting.”
SPELLCASTING
Chance is casting the Time 1 spell Postcognition.
Practice: Unveiling
Primary Factor: Potency
The mage can see into the past of a subject, witnessing events as though she were physically present to view them. By default, the caster may only view Unchanged subjects, but with Time •• she may view the more distant past, in which case the spell is Withstood by temporal sympathy.
The mage views the subject in “real time” from a moment declared when casting until the Duration of Postcognition expires. While viewing the past, the mage loses all Defense and may not take any actions or cast further spells.
+1 Reach: The mage can “scrub” the vision like a video, speeding it up, slowing it down, rewinding it, pausing it, etc.
+1 Reach: The mage remains aware of her surroundings, and does not lose Defense.Yantras: High Speech (+2), Concentration (+2), Dedicated Tool (-2 Paradox)
Gnosis 3, Time 3
Reaches: 3 free- Instant Casting
- Advanced Duration
- Scrub the vision
- Remains Aware of surroundings
Potency 3
Temporal Withstand: 1
Dice Pool: 6 (3+3+2+2 = 10, -4 for 1 week)
-
Fiadh "Sable" Brogan - Aaron Kluck
Dice Pool: Wits (3) + Investigation (3) = 6
Action: Use Obfuscate to hide in plain sight while looking for signs of anything amiss, supernatural or otherwise. Take a look at the vault if possible.
(Fiadh would love to do some computer junk, but I don't want to do the same thing as Ricky. However, this scene might be a good opportunity for them to recognize each other from the l33t h4x0r underground or something.)Health: 7 - no damage
Vitae:65
Willpower: 4
Conditions: NoneDescription
Since this is open to vampires, I'm assuming the scene takes place in the evening? Sunset is around 7pm in mid-September in Chicago.
The museum is closed, but that doesn't stop Fiadh from slipping undetected.
Obfuscate: Face in the Crowd + Cloak of Night, 1 vitae/scene
Tracking requiresWits + Resolve - Obfuscate (3) + Blood Potency (Kindred senses)versus Faidh'sWits (3) + Stealth w/ Obfuscate specialty (3) + Obfuscate (3) = 9.Dressed in her all-black skulking gear, red hair piled up under a wool hat, gadgets and gizmos either strapped to her or tucked in her slim backpack, she looks ready for some good ol' fashioned B&E. Or she would, if anyone were actually able to notice her.
Faidh makes her way around planes, trains, and, of all things, a goddamn full-sized U-boat. She's not entirely sure what she's looking for, only that something weird has been spotted by members of the public. So she watches for signs of anything inhuman having passed through.
The first interesting thing to happen (Ben will have to let me know if her poking around upstairs yielded any results prior to this) is a man coming into the front lobby and flashing some kind of badge or ID. Is he here for the same reason she is? As he's led to the admin area and walks off with the director, Faidh follows. Just her luck, the pair move toward and off-limits-to-the-public access elevator. She keeps her distance, then tries to quickly slip into the elevator with them.
She's not quite fast enough, and the doors are just starting to close as she passes their proximity sensors, causing them to reverse and open back up. The director presses the "close door" button in impatience, and the doors begin shutting again.
I'm trying to hide from NPCs here, not necessarily other PCs. Giving an opening here for Caleb/Chance to notice that he and the director are not alone. Also not sure how my ability works vs Mage Sight.
Fiadh stays downstairs with the... agent? when the director heads up and glides into the vault with him. She pays him no mind as he begins his magical ritual (figuring him for a mundane) and starts her own careful study of the vault.
-
Dante - Moros Detective - Dylan
The Case of the Not so Empty Vault
Dice Pools: Perception Check = Wits (4) + Composure (3) = 7 d10 (8 again) [trained observer]. Looking for Clues to the break in. How did they enter? How did they leave? How many were there? What did they leave behind? (looking for answers to what they took by subtraction). Who was on duty? Feel free to roll it. I got 5 success when I rolled at home. I love trained observer.
Investigation Skill Check = Wits (4) + Investigation (4) = 8 d10. Ultimately, Dante is trying to figure out what got stolen and why? He'd love to interview a witness. This is a museum. Are their any exhibits that are also Anchors to a ghost? If so can Dante canvass the museum looking for anchors and then subsequently summoning and interviewing their ghosts? Gnosis (3) + Death (3) = 6 d10 plus yantras.
Health: 7 - / / X X X * *
Mana: 3
Willpower: 1
Conditions: ExhaustedNow for a little razzel dazzel.
“The museum of science and industry,” Dante started to himself, “this place has all the personality of a stiff in a freezer.”
I take it slow, my long coat hanging open just enough to sell the part, clad in my Sunday best, trying to look like the kind of man who doesn’t ask permission because he already knows the answers. The guard at the entrance barely looks up. That tells me more than a badge ever could. If this place were rattled, he’d be wired tight. Instead, he’s bored. Which means someone upstairs told him there was nothing to see.
That’s the first lie.
I start with the staff. Always do. Buildings don’t commit crimes. People do.
The curators and administrators wear nervousness like bad cologne — heavy, sweet, trying too hard to cover something rotten underneath. They talk fast, volunteer information nobody asked for, repeat the same phrases like they’re reading from a memo. Nothing of value was taken. It’s a simple Insurance matter. The Police already cleared us.
I’ve heard it all before. When an institution closes ranks, it’s either because one of their own opened the door… or because they were hiding something before anyone broke in.
Inside job or dirty little secret. Those are the only two plays I see on the board.
I drift past offices and storage rooms, eyes flicking to keypads, security cameras, badge readers. No smashed locks. No forced doors. The kind of entry that only happens when someone already knows the choreography. Someone with a badge. Or someone who borrowed one and brought it back clean.
I kneel near a service corridor and study the floor. No scuffing. No panic. Whoever came through here didn’t rush. They walked like they owned the place, like the night shift was just another appointment on the calendar. That rules out amateurs. This wasn’t some smash-and-grab with a crowbar and a prayer. This was clinical… This was a removal.
I make my way down toward the vault level, letting my senses do what they do best: notice what’s missing. The air gets colder, quieter. Even the lights seem to hum more carefully down here. The museum calls this preservation. I call it containment.
The vault itself is immaculate. Too immaculate. I’ve worked enough crime scenes to know when a room’s been cleaned for the wrong reasons. There are no signs of struggle, no overturned carts, no shattered glass — just a space where something used to be. An outline you can feel more than see.
Whatever was in this vault wasn’t supposed to exist, or wasn’t supposed to be studied, or wasn’t supposed to be connected to this place. And now it’s gone — not because someone wanted it, but because someone couldn’t afford to be responsible for it anymore.
I glance through the glass and catch sight of the man with the badge — Chance. He’s working the room in his own way, peeling time back like old wallpaper. Good. Let him see when it happened.
Across the way, I feel another presence moving where shadows ought to be empty. Sharp. Patient. Watching the watchers. That’ll be the newcomer. I’ll have to introduce myself. If my instincts are worth the whiskey I drown them in. She’ll tell us who passed through when no one was looking.
And somewhere offsite, fingers flying over keys, Ricky’s tearing into the museum’s digital guts. Inventory before and after. Paper trails they thought they buried under legal language and locked servers.
Good.
That leaves me with the why.
I study the staff logs again. Research notes pulled. Files sealed. University lawyers circling like vultures the moment the theft happened. You don’t lawyer up over a broken door. You lawyer up when something dangerous...
That’s when it clicks.
They didn’t steal money. They didn’t steal art. They stole a problem.
I run my thumb along the edge of a display case and feel the faintest chill crawl up my arm. Not a ghost. Not yet. Just the echo of something that doesn’t like being moved.
They took something that didn’t want to go.
And the museum’s covering it up because admitting the truth would mean admitting they were playing with things they weren't supposed to — or worse, something they didn’t understand.
I straighten, eyes narrowing.
Inside job or forbidden artifact. Either way, this place is dirty, and dirt always leaves tracks.
I pull out my phone, tapping out a few short messages — nothing fancy, just nudges in the right direction.
Check the logs. Watch the exits. Tell me what doesn’t add up.Because this isn’t just a burglary.
It’s a crime scene without a corpse…yet.
And I intend to find out what’s still breathing in the dark.
-
Chance peels back the layers, looking backwards, watching it unwind with people here, there, busy.
The night stuck out. It was all wrong, but was desperately trying to look right.
The figures came in. There were many of them. They had badges, they were wearing faces, but the faces didn't belong to them anymore than the badges. They knew the route, they knew the right words, they danced the dance, but it was impersonation, unnatural.
They came down here. Two of them had something with them. The vision of it flickered, blurred, as if seeing it through water. Something was distorting the magic, keeping it from seeing clean. Chance could still make out some kind of case the two brought in. It looked heavy and well protected. The two with case vanished deeper into the vaults, while the others spread out to look. They found what they were looking for, some kind of fancy looking crates with very fancy boxes inside. They waved their hands and used some kind of dust on the objects, and the case changed. They became fancier, and their patterns became strong enough for Chance to see. A thread, like a wispy line of spider silk, stuck the cases and waved as if blown in some wind. The connection of fate.
There was uncertainty. Then they took one and met with the two carrying the heavy case, returned from the deep vault. It still looked heavy. Then they were gone. But, despite them leaving, something remained. Something moved, its body the shadows reaching, touching one another and then letting go, as if it climbed in them like a spider moving in a web.
Fiadh could smell the place. It rank of old things. Stunk like her sire's haven had. Exactly like her sire's haven had...and they had been a proprietor of antiquities. Not the expensive ones, no. The ones that could not be priced for their value was too great. The bones of ancient magics, the flesh of dead gods, the things that shouldn't exist.
This place stank of it.
There was an area clearly squared off. It wasn't lined with tape, or anything like that, but it had a...tangible pressure to it. As if walking near it made you stumble away from it.
They were crates, as everything in the vault was. Some of these though had loose lids, loose enough for Fiadh to lift up. Inside were very expensive cases, ones clearly used to hold something valuable, something fragile.
The boxes had a pressure to them, like putting your hand near something with too much static electricity. It made your fingers thrum.
The part that caught her eye though was a single symbol on a single one of the cases. It was not commonly used, and it would not be known to outsiders. It was definitely a symbol of the Ordo Dracul. these were a private collection belonging to a member of the Ordo Dracul. Whether they were here for safe keeping, or had never been sent out because of the Blackout, Fiadh didn't know. What she did know is that the things vampires like the elders of her order hid in dark holes were not things you wanted out in the world.
The text message echoed in Dante's head. DOSBOX had sent only 'NOT GOOD MAN'.
What did that mean?
the staff were more than loath to even admit the collection existed. It was private, oh it wasn't here anymore, oh that, yes that is from one of our most gracious donors, or yes, we have many small collections, private and public, that rotate through display, can you be more specific?It was a maze, a web, a set of lies. There was magic protecting these objects. These were valuable.
It was clear that these had belonged to a major donor, and that donor was the pawn of something else.
What was also apparent, that the collection stolen from wasn't the only one here. There were others, and they were even better hidden behind layers than this one. The name on the collection stolen from was an old one; Pendragon.
The three worked in their own lots, each searching their own track.
The thing waited. Its gullet rumbled, but it was quiet. It had been born from shadow, and it was unable to be louder than the dark, not because it was quiet, but because it was incapable of being loud.
It waited until the 3 had spread out, then it felt the moment, the thread came taught, so it struck.
Chance felt it before it happened. The fate spells he had cast to watch the strands came taught, pulled hard, yanking him out of the time revelry.
The thing flowed out of a shadow and lunged at him, its body made of liquid darkness shaping and reforming as it moved, and coalescing into a horrific maw large enough for a man to climb into.
Attack
No surprise (fate spell) - mage armor = defense 8
Attack pool 15= in darkness so 9 again --- 7 dice, 5 successes (2 10's and a 9)Chance is mauled as the thing snaps its mouth shut, Chance ducking the worst of it and attempting to roll out of the way but it was too fast, so fast, flashingly quick and its mouth closed around his leg like a bear trap, snapping down. Chance didn't just feel, he could hear the bone snap as its jaws snapped together. Kicking it hard with his other foot, it let go of him and flashed past into the darkness again, vanishing. the faint glow of its presence though could not elude Chance's sight.
[chance takes 5 lethal damage from the attack - you can respond in kind ]
- call for help
- attack it with something - you know its rough location, but it may be in Twilight
- use a spell
- heal
- do your thing?
If you make a noise, the others will hear. They both have VERY high perception and are not very far away. Probably 20 yards with the twists and turns around the piled up crates in the large vaulted storage room.
-
Action: Burn my Charmed condition. Cast Time 3 Acceleration to give me some defense to buy time (or escape if I have to). Full Defense on Next Turn
Caleb "Chance Meridian" Sheridan - Dale Martin-Duchene
Dice Pool: Perception 6
Action: Use my fake ID to talk my way into the vault. Then use the spell Postcognition to see what happened.Health: 6/7 - X (1 Lethal)
Mana/Vitae:65
Willpower: 6
Conditions: Inspired, Steadfast,CharmedSPELLCASTING
Time 3 - Acceleration (Pg 188)
Chance is casting the Time 1 spell Postcognition.
Practice: Perfecting
Primary Factor: Potency
Cost: 1 Mana
Multiply the subject’s Speed by Potency. While under the spell’s effect, the subject always goes first in a turn unless he chooses to delay his action, in which case he may interrupt any other character’s turn with his own as a reflexive action, then return to the front of the Initiative queue the next turn. Other characters using pre-empting powers provoke a Clash of Wills. Acting in such accelerated time makes the subject very hard to
hit, but only as long as he is able to concentrate; his Defense does not change, but add Potency to Defense before doubling it for Dodge actions (p. 217). He may employ Defense (and Dodges) against firearms.Mana -1
Yantras: Dedicated Tool (-2 Paradox)
Gnosis 3, Time 3
Reaches: 1 free- Instant Casting
- Advanced Duration
Potency 4 (3 Prime Factor + 1)
Dice Pool: 4 (3+3, -2 for +1 Potency)
Paradox: Chance Die (+2 from 1 Overreach, -2 from Dedicated Tool)
Description:
Pain should have dropped him.It didn’t—because it never quite got the chance.
For a split second, the world tried to follow the script: jaws like a bear trap, pressure, the wet certainty of catastrophic injury. Chance felt Fate flinch. Threads snapped taut around him, not yanking him free, not undoing the strike, but misaligning it. The shadow’s bite landed a fraction wrong. Bone didn’t shatter so much as crack; flesh tore, but not deep enough to end things.
A charmed life, right up until you spend the charm.
The weaves recoiled, spent, and Chance knew it. Whatever had just looked out for him would not do it again.
“FUCK—!”
The word tore out of him, loud and raw, echoing through the vault stacks. He didn’t bother trying to swallow it. Let them hear. Let everyone hear. Blood slicked his pant leg as he twisted, dragging himself upright against a crate, breath coming sharp and fast.
Time, he thought. I just need time.
His hand plunged into his coat and came back with the brass surveyor’s compass, its surface already warm, already humming as if eager. He snapped it open and whispered the rote through clenched teeth, will slamming into the spell harder than he liked—overreaching, shoving more through the conduit than was comfortable. Paradox hissed at the edges of reality, but the compass drank most of it down, grounding the backlash into brass and geometry.
The world stalled.
Dust motes froze mid-fall, glittering like stars caught in amber. The echo of his shout stretched into a thick, syrupy smear of sound. Shadows crawled instead of flowed. The thing’s movement—once impossibly fast—became readable. Teeth forming. Darkness knitting itself into a mouth.
Chance pushed himself fully upright, favoring his ruined leg but steady now, eyes locked on the creature’s silhouette.
“Not running,” he muttered, more promise than bravado. “Not letting you loose.”
He adjusted his stance, compass ticking like a patient heartbeat in his hand, every second now his to spend.
Somewhere beyond the slowed echoes of the vault, footsteps would be coming.
He just had to last long enough.
-
Dice Pool: Wits (3) + Investigation (3) = 6
Action: Look for more clues re: the Ordo's crateHealth: 7 - no damage
Vitae: 5
Willpower: 4
Conditions: NoneDescription
Fiadh lifts a few lids, careful to do so when the "agent" in the room with her has his attention turned another direction. Hiding in plain sight doesn't mean a box mysteriously opening on its own won't attract attention.
Her breath would have caught in her throat, had she still possessed the need to breathe, when she sees the Ordo Dracul symbol. Her handlers had been cagey, but clearly this is why she was sent here. She's certain, now, of two things: whatever was stolen was important, and whatever museum-goers where catching sight of is real.
Reflexively, she reaches out with her senses ash she glances wildly around the room.
Auspex: Beast's Hackles, first per scene is free
Wits (3) + Empathy (1) + Auspex (1) = 5
Question: "What here is most likely to hurt me?"
(The answer is pretty obvious, but she would do this before the creature attacked. If I get any extra info for it, great, but I'm not expecting it.)When the thing made of darkness and shadow attacks the man across the room, Fiadh's first instinct is to stay hidden and get the fuck out. But then she sees him perform what she can only assume, from past descriptions, is a spell. Nothing overt changes, but the man's movements suddenly seem more precise and intentional.
She's never met a mage before, so she's wary, but this changes the calculus. If she flees, she risks the creature being able to pierce her veil of Obfuscation - she still knows next to nothing about it - and catching up with her in isolation. Making a stand here might increase the odds for both herself and the mage. Plus, you know. The chance for an interesting conversation later... if they survive.
Fiadh takes cover behind a large crate, then draws a weapon and leans up over the top of it, aiming at the patch of darkness that the creature had fled to. If it shows itself again, she fires.
I don't know what I'm doing here. Is "readying an action" a thing in WoD? I also don't know what weapons she has. Going to post about that in my character sheet thread. Either way, the roll will likely be 6 dice.
-
Fiadh loaded one of the bolts her sire had gifted her, the dark bolts. They had been carefully wreathed in a shadow chosen specially for its aura. It had been kept careful, strong light would burn it, and it couldn't be handled must, or the shadows will threaden loose. She had done all these things, keeping it safe, keeping it hidden. Now it was slid into the seat on the small crossbow and it was ready.
The thing came back together, pulling the shadows as if they were silken webs scattered about, coiling the strands into a tubular shape, a body, with a horrid maw on one side, and spread out with a net of tendrils on the other, each tendril reaching and grabbing at a crate, the wall, the ceiling. The whole thing must have been 20 feet long, stretching its back tendrils from the 40 foot tall ceiling, down to the ground, and across from one wall to the other. It seemed to swallow what little light there was, and where the light touched, it roiled like it was made of a thick oil.
You fire the bolt at the center of the massive coiled worm of shadow, taking careful aim to hit it where it matters
Dex + Firearms/Athletics (crossbows are actually firearms usually) + Aiming (3 turns) = 9 dice plus willpower point (temporary spend, you get your permanent rating in points, gain them back from Obsessions and vice/virture and 1 from a good nights sleep.) Spending a point of willpower on a roll gives +3, and on a defensive resist +2.
Something you feel in your arms, like you're pointing it the wrong way. An odd sensation. You adjust the weapon, aiming towards the rear of the beast and the feeling changes, becomes warm. You know you're aiming true. (Fate spell, +5 dice, Fate spell, 9 again - Chance is a good friend to have)
17 dice, it is not aware of you so cannot reach or use abilities.
You can take 7 successes (i rolled with 9 again)
Normally, you would take a penalty for range, but you can maneuver unseen until you are close enough not to, the thing is too large and out in the open so no cover, and you can't normally use Defense against ranged attacks, and it isn't aware so would lose its Defense.
You can spend turns aiming, each turn adds +1 until you reach a max of +3, and can hold it while you continue aiming.
Successes, every d10 that comes up an 8 or higher (total number of d10's is your dice pool, this system only uses d10s). You can reroll 10's for a chance for additional successes. 9-again is a power that lets you reroll 9s as well as 10s. In combat, you add your weapon's damage to the number of successes and that is how many health levels of damage you do to the target. Whatever the thing is, it has become solid and would normally take lethal from the weapon, but it has been upgraded to Aggravated by the unique item, which is consumed by the shot.
The Bolt hits the monster in the base, and cracks of red snake across its entire body. The great maw had been open, snapping at the smaller man beneath it. As the cracks cover its body, it turns to look at the creature from where the bolt had come. It has no eyes, but Fiadh could feel it staring. It broke up into pieces, and its pieces unraveled as if they were made of yarn until nothing remained but the emptiness before.
-
Dante - Moros Detective - Dylan
Monsters that die loud have a habit of coming back quiet. [Dante makes sure the thing is ready dead]
I step around the crates and let my gaze go unfocused, slipping into the cold, the only way of seeing the dead as they really are. Eyes of the Dead peels the room back layer by layer—shadows pretending to be bodies, Twilight shapes holding their breath, echoes crouched in the corners waiting for someone to turn their back.
I make sure there are no corpses clinging to half-existence, or afterimages pacing in the dark, just the dark absence where something hungry use to be.
I straighten, rolling the stiffness out of my shoulders, and finally let myself look at the room like a crime scene again instead of a battlefield.
“I don't think this was a robbery,” I say, pitching my voice low but steady, meant for the people who know how to listen. “Someone with money and pull decided to reclaim their property they'd been storing here quietly. This isn't a vault. It’s a dead drop. The museum was just a holding pattern. Which means whatever they took isn’t the only secret this building’s sitting on.”
Actions: 1) Mage Sight [Death] looking for things hiding in Twilight. 2) Look for clues. Specifically sand. Dante thinks he knows what they took. Just need to find proof.
-
Chance - Acanthus Investigator - Dale
Chance felt the pattern settle, the way a table stops wobbling once someone finally slides a matchbook under the bad leg. The absence where the thing had been still rang, but it was a clean ring now — no immediate backlash, no hungry echo clawing to be acknowledged. Fate, for once, seemed content to let the night breathe.
He took that as permission.
His eyes went first to the woman with the crossbow. Not because she was loud — she wasn’t — but because the world behaved differently around her. The light didn’t quite touch her the same way, and there was a practiced stillness to her posture that spoke of centuries-old habits wearing modern clothes. He didn’t need to peer too deeply to know what she was. The signs were subtle, but together they painted a very specific picture.
All right, he thought. Be polite. Be brief. Don’t bleed.
Chance stepped out from behind the crate slowly, palms open, movements measured — not submissive, not challenging. Just visible. Just human enough to put people at ease. He inclined his head toward her first, deliberate. Respect mattered. “You just saved my life,” he said plainly, voice steady. No bravado. No cleverness. “I wanted to say thank you… before the universe remembers it still has opinions.”
That earned her his full attention, not as a threat, but as a node. Someone competent. Someone dangerous. Someone who had just made a choice — and choices were the currency Chance traded in.
Only then did he glance toward Dante, who was already peeling the room apart with that distant, forensic focus Chance had come to associate with Death-touched types. Useful. Reliable. Not sentimental.
Chance exhaled and let his awareness widen, not pressing, just listening. The threads here weren’t done moving. They never were. Whatever had been taken hadn’t simply left — it had been allowed to leave, at the right moment, along a path that had been prepared in advance.
“This wasn’t a robbery,” Chance said, echoing Dante’s conclusion without stepping on it. “It was a retrieval. And that thing?” He nodded toward the empty space. “It wasn’t the plan. It was the lock.”
He looked back to Fiadh, something like a half-smile touching his mouth. “If you’re still here, I’m guessing you’re curious too. And if we’re all asking the same questions…”He let the sentence trail off, Fate tugging gently at the edges.
“Maybe we should compare notes. Somewhere with fewer teeth.”
-
Museum After-Hours Incident Raises Questions About Security and Oversight
By Caleb Sheridan
Chicago LedgerAn after-hours incident at the Adler Museum late Tuesday night has left staff shaken, one security guard hospitalized, and city officials facing renewed questions about how cultural institutions protect both their collections and their people.
According to museum representatives, the incident occurred shortly after midnight during what was described as a “routine overnight review” of a secured storage area not open to the public. The review was interrupted when an unidentified intruder—or intruders—triggered internal alarms and caused what witnesses described as “significant disruption” inside one of the archival storage bays.
A private security contractor, who requested anonymity because they were not authorized to speak publicly, confirmed that a guard was injured during the incident and transported to Mercy Hospital with non-life-threatening injuries. Hospital staff declined to comment, citing privacy laws.
“It was chaos for a few minutes,” said a museum employee who was present in another wing of the building at the time. “You could hear shouting over the radios, alarms going off, and then everything went quiet again. Too quiet.”
Chicago Police Department spokesperson Angela Ruiz confirmed that officers responded to the scene but did not make any arrests. “There was evidence of forced access to a restricted area,” Ruiz said, “but no signs of vandalism to public exhibits. At this time, the incident is being treated as a targeted theft or attempted retrieval rather than random criminal damage.”
What exactly was targeted remains unclear. Museum officials have declined to specify whether any items are missing, stating only that “an internal audit is ongoing.” Several sources familiar with museum operations noted that the Adler, like many institutions, stores artifacts on behalf of private donors and partner organizations, some of which are not listed in public catalogs.
“This isn’t uncommon,” said Dr. Elaine Porter, a professor of museum studies at the University of Illinois Chicago. “Museums often act as custodians for objects that rotate in and out of display, or that are being conserved. That doesn’t mean wrongdoing, but it does complicate transparency when something goes wrong.”
Security experts point out that cultural institutions have increasingly become targets for sophisticated thefts that rely on insider knowledge rather than smash-and-grab tactics.
“This doesn’t sound like amateurs,” said Marcus Hill, a former museum security consultant. “Minimal damage, quick entry, and a clean exit usually mean someone knew exactly what they were looking for—and when to look for it.”
Museum administrators emphasized that there is no ongoing threat to the public and that daytime operations will continue as scheduled. Additional security measures are being implemented while the investigation proceeds.
Still, for staff members, the incident has left lingering unease.
“Museums are supposed to be safe places,” said another employee. “Not just for visitors, but for the people who work here late at night, out of sight. I think a lot of us are wondering how close this came to being worse.”
As investigators piece together timelines and inventories, one question remains unanswered: if this was a retrieval rather than a robbery, who—or what—decided it was time to take something back?
-
Dice Pool: Wits (3) + Investigation (3) = 6
Action: Look for more clues re: the Ordo's crateHealth: 7 - no damage
Vitae: 5
Willpower: 4
Conditions: NoneDescription
The bolt strikes the creature with surprising force, breaking it into whatever constituent pieces of mystic bullshit it was made up of. Fiadh cocks an eyebrow at Chance. Interesting. She gives him a brief nod of acknowledgement at his thanks.
Fiadh eyes the two mages and makes a judgment call. "There’s a crate with a Dragon’s fingerprint on it. Maybe it's related to..." she says, gesturing at where the creature had been, "or maybe it's not. I'll be reclaiming it, but I wouldn’t mind a look, if you’re careful about it." She shows them where the crate is with the Ordo symbol.
-
Closing this down --- I won't lock it for 1 week so you can provide any final notes to each other - Fiadh and the mages, to create your connection.
the spirit has been manifested, and its physical manifestation was destroyed, but it fled into the spirit wilds to escape.
From an investigation of the area the following can be determined:
The spirit was released from an old object that had been broken. Some kind of spirit artifact.
It was most likely done as a distraction from what the thieves were actually after.
The object they had targeted is an obsidian pillar approximately 3 feet long, and wider at the bottom at about 18 inches. The fake was completely void of resonance, while everything else in the collection had layers of resonance, making it easy to find with mage sight.
The collections the two objects were from had different owners. The spirit artifact was from a collection owned by a vampire, through a middle company. The mysterium is aware of this collector and can quickly identify them.
The obsidian pillar was from a collection owned by an investment group and had been stored for later restoration with a number of other artifacts from Egypt and Mesopotamia - mostly associated with new dig sites in Saudi Arabia and the Arab crest dating back 3000+ years.
Fiadh was able to make contact with Chance, a mage working to protect their society and the city at large from monsters, and dangerous magic. Both of you can later call on each other. You decide what kind of contact you left - location, phone number, dead drop, etc.
-
K Kaimuund locked this topic on
