Name: Father Isaac Carroway, Jr. Operational Code name: Paladin Virtue: Justice Vice: Pride Appearance:  Age: 24 Biography: Isaac was born on the outskirts of Boston to a mother and father who were prominent members of the Catholic community in Boston. As Isaac grew up they were quick to get him into church life and keep him there. As he grew it became expected of him that he join the priesthood as his parents and priest had groomed him to do just that. When he turned 18 his parents were all too happy to pay to ship him off to Rome to do his schooling there. Little did they know their prodigal son would return with more than an education and the vestments of a priest. During his time in Seminary school Isaac was out late one evening and found himself in the middle of a fight between individuals who appeared human but had incredible strength and speed and one of his instructors. When one of them attempted to feed on his his instructor invoked the archangel michael producing a sword of white flame and cut down his assailants who turned to piles of ash. Soon there after Isaac was inducted into the order known as the Malleus Malificarum or more commonly, The Hammer of the Witches. Isaac finished his Seminary quickly studying much of the churches history. However much of his time was spent studying the Benedictions and tactics of the Malleus Malificarum. After his graduation Malleus Malificarum sent Isaac home to Boston to take the fight to the Monsters in his own home. When he returned Isaac could see clearly and he realized he was out numbered, out matched, and under prepared for the fight. That was until the day Project: Tallow reached out to him. Offering him the support he needed, in exchange all he had to do was help them with their own crusade against the darkness. What could possibly go wrong? Skills: Sword Master: Isaac chose to focus on the skills related to swords above the other offered training of the order. Due to his focus Isaac quickly advanced to a point where he was one of the best Swordsman the order has to offer. Plain Clothes: Isaac is excellent at getting into places he shouldn’t be as other people to pick up on the fact that he is a genuinely good human being and tend to overlook him or give him the benefit of the doubt. Historian: Isaac is very familiar with the churches history and much of the rest of the worlds history as it was his focus in school. As a result Isaac does his best not to repeat mistakes that he has learned from Ordained Priest: Isaac is a trained Catholic priest and understands Latin as well as many of the churches ins and outs including rituals, rites and other ceremonies pertaining to the Catholic Church Equipment and Resources: Malleus Malificarum Liason- Isaac is Project Tallow’s official contact for the Malleus Malificarum although he has never been called upon in any official capacity as Project Tallow rarely has dealings with the Vatican monster Hunters Edges: Clear Sight- Isaac can see through many illusions and concealments many monsters use to disguise their true form, including Changelings Masks. Many of his instructors in the Hammer of the Witches claim it is a sign from God that he is destined for great things. Vampire Hunter- Isaac’s training was focused largely on Vampires and as a result he is intimately familiar with their hierarchies and inner workings Wolfsbane- Isaac has found he is naturally talented when it comes to anticipating the actions of werewolves in combat, claiming that he just seems to be able to read them well Ancient Combatant- Isaac is one of the only members of Project Tallow to have battle a Mummy. He rarely speaks of the encounter but not only did it almost cost him his life it seemed to have shaken his faith to the core as apparently his Benedictions did not work on the creature. However as a result he is now much more prepared to face one again Endowments: Benedictions- Isaac knows a variety and multitude of the Malleus Maleficarum's Benedictions Relic- Blade of The Cross- Isaac was gifted with a sword that Malleus Maleficarum claims was forged from one of the nails that were used to fix Jesus to the cross. Aegis Kai Doru claims the relic belongs to them however Malleus Maleficarum has had possession of the sword since its formation and Isaac is the newest bearer of the sword. The sword itself appears to be highly effective against the supernatural. Vampires fear its light and it appears to be the equivalent of silver to Werewolves. Additionally it appears to be effective against ghosts. Mortal tie: Lily Carroway, Isaac’s younger sister lives and works in Boston and is right in the line of fire in the battle against the darkness and Isaac often spends much of his time with her when he is not working with Project Tallow.

 **Name:** Jason Stonebow **Operational Code name:** None yet. **Virtue:** Vision/Hope **Vice:** Despair **Appearance:** I wish I’d had the chance to get some more rebellious clothes to fit my new image, like those fingerless gloves or the pagan hoody of the other kid at Eden had. At least that way I could have symbolically ended my old life as the sugarcube of the flock. Instead I’m stuck with the only dark clothes I could find in my closet – a plain v-neck T-shirt and a grey collared jacket, way too elegant for this. My formal shoes could almost make me laugh but I had nothing else. I wish I could at least have dyed my hair – it's still blonde and makes me look too young. Of course, I'm no longer as pristine as I used to be. Eden has left its harsh imprint on me and Alex both and I think you can tell we've been through a bit and not just by our tattered clothes and shabby shoes. **Age:** 19 **Biography:** I was born in Mirria, a small town in the deep Texan south-west. We were cut off from civilization and I don't think it was entirely by accident either. Our town was a highly religious patriarchal society where the word of the church is law. Beating up your children was a good thing – after all it teaches them to take a beating and they'll need to know that when they come face to face with all the monsters. That's what the True Faith is all about, at the core of it – discipline and ways to ward of the evil that lurks in the dark. A beautiful concept on the surface. I bought into it at first too – I advocated it and brought so many rebellious young people around. After all, I was young myself and the preacher's perfect son and that made it ever so easy to inspire trust in a small town like that. It took something drastic to open my eyes. It was a break-in – an assault you might say. Silly thing was, the thug didn't have a firearm. Those were rare in our town anyway – only a few had them and were very protective of them. So the guy broke through our porch window in the middle of the night, armed with nothing more than a knife and some sharp words. My father didn't have much trouble dealing with him, he had a gun after all. I was fifteen at the time and when they started talking, weapons pointed at each other, I still believed my father will bring the guy around and convince him he's being stupid, then forgive and bless him and send him on his way. It didn't turn out quite like that – the guy was rambling about the “outside world” and called our faith fake and I don't remember my father being angry but he did pull the trigger despite. The guy went silent in an instant – all that remained was the ringing of the shot and his voice in my ears. I'm sure now that my father had recognised him as Lucas, one of our flock. I'm sure he didn't give a shit when he shot him. Actually, maybe he did. He ordered mom to start cleaning up the mess and searched his body. He found a notebook there, full of pictures and scribbles of Lucas' blasphemous ideas. The fireplace was handy – it was on as well – but my father didn't toss the book there. He tossed it to me – said Lucas must have friends in our flock and that I need to identify them and straighten them up. Or he would. I had the Sunday school at my disposal to do that. And I did, in a way. I found our who they were but by that time I had read too much of the book myself. My father was blissfully unaware that I wasn't working to root the blasphemy out – I was preaching it now. I shouldn't have. People died because of me. Next thing we were in “Eden”, Alex and I. It's one of the madhouses built to control us blasphemers. As you can tell by the name, they don't see it that way. It's a holy place for them, somewhere where we find out beliefs again and get reintegrated into society. I can tell you what they do to reintegrate us. I can, but I won't. I'd rather forget. **What was their first encounter with monsters:** I think it was the initiation. I can't quite remember. **Skills:** I used to be good at inspiring people and giving them hope. Now look where that got them. **Equipment and Resources:** None. **Edges:** I've had some experience with the old revolver my father had so I know I have a good aim but I'm yet to perfect my skills in that regard. **Endowments:** I'm good at the Benedictions of the True Faith – although Issac claims they're originally from Malleus Malificarum, whatever that is. **Mortal tie:** Everyone at Mirria. Part of me still naively thinks I can save them. They are my flock, I owe them that. -------------  **Name:** Alex Qinn **Operational Code name:** Sieg [Zeeg] **Virtue:** Temperance **Vice:** Ruthlessness **General appearance:** I don’t care about my looks anymore. I put on whatever I have at hand and don’t even bother combing my hair. I used to look like a little doll but now I don’t. Now I probably look like the ghost of a doll that should have collapsed long ago. I feel drained most of the time due to the worries and lack of sleep and I’m sure if shows on my passive face and in the shadows under my eyes. **Age:** 17 **Biography: ** To talk about my history seems rather pointless as it was mostly the history of everyone else in this town. I was brought up believing in something foul, something that said it’s right to punish your own children for enjoying what life they were bestowed with. I was a good girl and my dad was proud of me so he only beat me up rarely. My mom must have also been proud as after each one she would smile brightly at me and braid my hair – she was proud I was realizing my mistakes and atoning for them, surely. And I was happy. Can you believe that, to be happy to get a beating after coming home late only because a storm caught you with no umbrella at hand? Well, now I can see it was crazy to believe that to be parental care and affection. The person who showed me actual kindness was Jason. I first met him in church, during one of the services when we both sensed something unusual about each other. He was the son of the preacher and I’ve always gotten a weird vibe off of him but I was unsure what it was until that day. It’s when he was handling out the leaflets with the new songs that he looked at me and his look lingered for a second too long before moving on. I knew there was a secret hidden behind those eyelids and I was right. It was night and I was alone in my room when I finally got the courage to open the leaflet and see what he had undoubtedly scribbled inside. It wasn’t much but it was enough. It was a simple “come”. It was right under the information about the Sunday school. The Sunday school his father had recently entrusted to him. But… it wasn’t a Sunday school. Or maybe it was, because it was so much holier than anything the True Faith had to offer. It was simply the Truth. The truth about human connections, about real relationships, real love, real friendship. About the world outside Mirria. Jason was very cautious who he shared his secret with – we were a small group of seven who were carefully selected by him after long observation and consideration. He didn’t force us to believe what he said but we had no doubt that he was indeed telling the truth. Our hearts knew it and our scars confirmed. We were… we were relieved from the True Faith. Saved, I dare say. I cried like a baby that time, I remember. Everyone thought I was cute and fragile after, though that’s not true. They just thought so because I was so relieved and they mistook it for something else. They were all so kind to me after that, like a real family should be. We became really close and what bond us together, more than anything, was Jason. Because he was our Faith, our Hope. He was the one who believed, more than any of us, that there was salvation, not just for us, but for everyone. He believed that Mirria could be saved. But he was broken. His faith and hope were broken that day, when he publicly announced in front of everyone in the Sunday service, that the True Faith was fake. That it should disappear. We… we tried to stop him. We knew his father would kill him, so we jumped on our feet and went to shield him. I can’t forget the looks on everyone’s faces as we did. The shock growing to burning hatred still haunts me at night. As do the screams that followed – the screams of the only people I ever truly cared about. We were quickly overpowered, captured, sent to different camps… Kevin wasn’t so lucky. His death… This event changed us. It broke our faith and our hope. It broke Jason. He’s not the same anymore, he keeps blaming himself and grew cold and distant, even to me. I’m sure he’s keeping me at a distance because he’s afraid he’s only going to get me in more trouble, but this distance is killing me. His empty stare is killing me. I’m sure it’s no coincidence that we’re the only ones from our little group who got set up in the same camp. I’m sure it’s his father’s doing because he knows me being here will be the worst punishment for Jason, because he knows I’m not going to give up on him, even if he already has given up on himself. Whether us being freed from there was a coincidence or not, I'm not so sure. One thing I do know, though, and that is that I'll get Jason through project Tallow, even if I have to push him forward with a dagger in hand. Sometimes you can only achieve your goal by hurting others and I’m ready to hurt my friend as much as I need to, but I will get him back. **When they first came in contact with monsters:** I couldn't tell you how young I was, but I was young, that much I remember. My mother made my hair and put makeup on my face and looked really proud – I thought it was something like a birthday. I suppose in some sense it was – it was an initiation (a word I didn't know back then). Apparently all the kids in town went through it at some point. It was supposed to be safe too – the pastor blessed me and drove me to the old dairy factory. It's been abandoned for years and we all know it's haunted but it's never been demolished as it was still useful to some. I was supposed to make it out and go back home safe., by myself. I think the spirits enjoyed this tradition too because they didn't manifest until the car drove off. And after... Well, they had to come get me the evening of the next day. I'd done all I could to get out but the factory just wouldn't let me. That's how I failed my initiation. My father beat me up that night (it hurt more than what the spirits managed to inflict) and I had to repeat the ceremony later that year. **Skills:** Pretending and playing the part. I can assume any role and play it well while never losing track of my goals or herself. That makes me a good spy and sometimes a pretty unnerving ally. **Equipment and Resources:** None. My wits are all I've ever had, and Jason's support, if that accounts to anything. **Edges:** I'm good at being Slasher-bait. Or any bait, really, as long as the target is sentient. **Endowments:** Toxins. I've been taught how to mix herbs and enhance my hearing or sight, as well as to heal wounds or infections. Talismans. Did you know certain gemstones and metals have properties you can utilise? I do – my mother taught me. I'm not the expert she is, of course, but maybe I've had some practice and with time I'm sure I can get better. **Mortal tie: ** My friends back in Eden. And Jason. I want to help them both but I don't know if it's possible. I'm also starting to think I'll burn myself out before either of them is saved. **Other:** I don’t sleep much. Not only because I have nightmares but also because I worry about Jason. I fear that if I let my eyes off him for too long he’ll do something horrible to himself.

### Mordecai Kane **Operational Code name**: Fenrir **Virtue**: Justice **Vice**: Revenge **Seeming**: The Beast **Kith**: Hunterheart  **The Mask (Mundane Appearance)**: Eternally pale, Mordecai's skin is mottled with small splotches, freckles given to him by his mother. The red in his hair also comes from he, though it has become darker over the years. It is short, cut near to his scalp, exposing the clarity of his water dyed eyes. His bones are sharp, his cheeks high, casting shadows against the valleys of flesh lain over them. Mordecai is tall and built well, bred from good stock. When he is not being secretive, the brightly hued rain coat lays over top whatever else he is wearing; its irony makes the man laugh uncontrollably sometimes. Whatever clothing he wears otherwise changes on a daily basis except for shoes. He doesn't wear anything on his feet. **Changling Mien**: This is an altogether different representation of Mordecai's appearance, the true form, as created by his Keeper, Balbain. The thicket of hair is immense, rolling off of his head and down his shoulders, forming a thick mane so dark light is lost in its midst. A maw filled with sharp teeth protrudes from beneath the matted fur, a twitching nose sniffing the air, taking in the smell of the world. His arms, nearly bare of fur, extend into elongated digits whose tips are donned with claws. Muscles ripple beneath the flesh, hidden at his core by the continuation of fur. His waist gives way to powerful legs, bent in a way that is meant to lend to the assumed visage of a wolf. His feet, though it may be more reasonable to call them paws, end with formidible talons that clutch and rip apart the earth with each step. **Age**: 29 **Biography**: So many years. I can still feel him. Every night when I return to my Hollow, I can feel Balbain. He exists beyond the thorns and Goblin Fruit trees. And, one day, I will find him. This, I suppose, is not the place to start. Then again, it has been so long that I don't know if I remember when the beginning was. I was a child; this I know to be the truth. I believe I was happy before I was stolen from my mother; I do not remember a father; Balbain became my father and mother. I could guess at what I did as a child: I ran with the other children; I hid when mother called us in for dinner, wanting to survive the nagging call so I might feel the briskness of evening touch my youthful skin and watch the first stars fill my sight. I recall the heat of the summer breathing against the nape of my neck as sweat pooled at my brow, droplets raining down, salty against my tongue as I licked them from my lips. Tears. I remember those from scraping my knee, the searing burn cutting through my brain when I fell against the sidewalk from my bicycle. This is all I remember of my childhood. I do not know what age I was when I was taken by Balbain. I do not know how old I am today. If I am forced to guess, I would compare myself to a human in his late twenties or early thirties. Faint lines of stress stretch across my skin, daring to show themselves if I smile or squint. Crows' feet are starting to show at the edges of my eyes. These are the things that lead me to guess how old I am, though it does not bother me most days. I awoke as Balbain drug me through the Hedge, talking to himself and muttering about his 'catch'. I was the catch, as I learned later. It was days or weeks or months before he even acknowledged me other than to feed me. His previous catch was still alive at this time, a toy as the Faerie called it. Kept in isolation, I fell to the Madness and was no longer a mere child by time his last plaything expired. And then it was my turn to entertain the bastard demon. I refuse to speak of those things, except to say that he made me into this: a beast. The worst torture that any man undertakes in the mortal world does not compare to the foul acts Balbain forced upon me. Lost in the Madness, I survived only to exist, not to live. Trapped in a vast sea of mental despair, I never believed I would be able to swim back to the surface and regain what was left of my sanity, pieces I instinctively stowed away in the deepest regress of my mind. When the spark of life was leaving me, the pathway to salvation opened its eyes and spoke to me. It beckoned me forth from the Faerie's hovel and into the wilderness. I ran, condemned to all fours, as fast I could. I did not look back, I did not fear. Fear left me years ago, replaced by emptiness. When Balbain imbued my body, the fragments of my rotting soul, with Glamour, he breathed life into my lungs. He gave me the ability to exist through the torment and harvest strength enough to find my way back to the Hedge. I tore through it, the thorns ripping the fur and flesh free from my body. I bled into the earth, but did not stop. Without knowing, my body took me to a gateway to the world. It knew I needed out, that I must escape, and opened. It was a spectacle that I have since grown accustomed to. I plunged through, landing on my hands and knees, my face restored, hidden behind the mask. This was no longer the face of a child with eyes that looked to the sky with hope of seeing the first star twinkle into existence. These eyes were dead, pale and only looking to see what was before them. They did not weave fantasies from the mundane reality that approached from every direction. Instantly, they longed for The Hedge and its biting comfort. I did not return for quite some time. I tried to assimilate into the life that was taken from me; but, I was too young when Balbain came that night. This world was not something I had experienced long enough to grow exceedingly fond of. The life I knew and clung to was back through the Gate. I stepped paw into The Hedge in search of a home of my own this time. And I found it, miles from any Trod, in a particularly comfortable overgrowth of thorns. There, I dug a hole in the ground -- I know of other Changelings who have built homes from sticks and stone, betraying what they truly are in order to cling to the feeble warmth of humanity. Now, I spend night after night in The Hedge, deep in the cavern of my Hollow. I return to the world every morning, though I do not know why. Perhaps it is the dreams. Between nightmares, I dream of my childhood, of laughter and tears of joy. I dream of hatred and death, of destroying Balbain. Those are the images that keep me from wandering deep into The Hedge, away from the others and from my humanity. I am growing stronger and the image of the Faerie still burns behind my eyes. Balbain must die a true death. Will I die then? I have never heard of a slave killing its master. Will the Glamour that binds my soul to the Faerie's turn to dust and dance into the sky on a gust of wind? These are the questions that I do concern myself with. I have adopted a wolf. I was wandering in Central Park, of all places, when he approached. From where, I do not know. Before that encounter, I had only seen deer and vermin littering the lawns of the park, a refuge from the lights that I often found myself aimlessly traversing. Was I always looking for him? I do not know. But on that night, I found him, golden eyes staring at me curiously as if he already knew the truth to my lie. He is the only one that listens when I speak. He asked me for a name to be called by and I thought for days before approaching him with one. I think he likes it. Faust. Night after night he follows me into The Hedge, aware of the dangers that lurk in the undergrowth. He sleeps beside me in our den and pads along side me, unafraid as we move through the thorns. We hunt together: he sees me as I truly am, not as the humans see me. I value him greatly for that. If I should die in the Hedge with Faust beside me, I fear he may be trapped there to be preyed upon by the Goblins and True Fae. That cannot happen; I will not let that happen to my only friend, my only family. I have seen my human family. After my abduction, my mother and sister moved from our old apartment into a new one. I was somewhere in the downtown area when my shoulder brushed against a woman walking the opposite direction. As if I was stung by a thousand bees, the pain of recognition flowed through me like a current of electricity. I stopped and turned, staring from beneath the hood of my rain jacket, slack jawed. It was my mother. She aged terribly after my loss. I later found that she had turned to drugs and alcohol after I was taken, indulging herself until she would pass out in the street or on the stoop of her building. There are times, on the especially cold nights, that I go searching for her with a blanket in hand. I found my sister through my mother. They were arguing viciously about her drug use. My sister blurted curses from between her lips, curses she laid at my mother's feet in hopes of cutting verbal wounds into her sagging soul. My sister blamed my mother for my absence, though no blame could be had. They have both me, though neither knows it. My sister was at work the night she met me, in the back alley of the restaurant she waitresses at. She took out the garbage to throw it in the dumpster but never made it that far. Men came for her, to rape her. Because I spend every night in the darkness of my den, the shadows favor me. I moved, obfuscating each step, in for the kill. Their throats slashed by an attacker my sister never saw, the men fell dead at her feet. There are nights that I dream of their blood and how it clung to my hands, how their skin hung from my claws (through my eyes there is no Mask: I always see myself for the animal I am). I have never gone in search of my father. I wouldn't know where to look even if I wanted to. **Skills**: Keeping calm. Stealth. Losing control. **Equipment and Resources**: Mordecai returns to The Hedge nightly and has explored deeper than many other Changelings. He does not have the innate knowledge of the terrain like the Fae do, but he has found his way to places that have not seen footsteps in many, many centuries. He owns one weapon, a 1911 Colt .45 handgun. He keeps a piece of mirror on his person at all times. Tokens are lasting items while Trifles are removed from play once they are used. - _Hoarfrost Spine_: **A token.** Broken off from a frozen thorn in The Hedge, once activated, Mordecai becomes very hard to get ones hands on, as if his skin was encased in ice. Appears as a dry, cracked piece of thorn about the size of a small knife. - _Biting Grotesquerie_: **A token.** Mordecai stumbled across this one, quite literally. It is the decayed corpse of a three eyed salamander. Once activated, the token forces a Hobgoblin from The Hedge, sicking it on a foe. Stricken by a bite, the target begins to hallucinate uncontrollably. Appears as a dried carcass of a three eyed salamander hanging around his neck. - _Red Ribbon of the Lost Girl_: **A token.** Taken from the corpse of a girl found in The Hedge, the token increases accuracy when attached to a firearm. - _Goblin Fruit_: These are various fruits, not all beneficial. He does carry a supply for treating wounds as well as others for inflicting sickness upon others, if they are so stupid as to eat it. - _Bile Fruit_: **Trifle.** Once eaten, it completely conceals Mordecai's mien, including his shadow. - _Tumbleglass_: **Trifle.** Kept as trinkets by the Fae, Tumbleglasses are incredibly useful to thieves pinned between a ledge and a long way down. Once broken beneath the foot of the Changeling, any fall of up to 100 yards is survivable with little to no injury. - _Sting Seed_: **Trifle.** Seeds taken from The Hedge. Once loaded into the hollow of a bullet, the seeds can be fired at a target. If they inflict damage, the seeds sprout plantlife from the wound. Edges: Every power has a catch that allows the power to be used without expending Glamour. There are exceptions, though, that require the use of Glamour to make the contract. Since I am getting seriously tired, I'm taking the powers from the White Wolf unofficial Wikia. They are posted below in simplified nature. **Seeming Contract -- Fang and Talon** - _Tongues of Birds and Words of Wolves (Wolf)_: A changeling gives an animal a new name, allowing them to communicate with it and other animals in their contract-type. - _Beast's Keen Senses (Wolf)_: the changeling touches an animal-type of their contract, they acquire the senses of that animal. - _Pipes of the Beastcaller (Wolf)_: If the changeling has asked an animal to guard their dwelling, they may call on that animal at any time or place. - _Tread of the Swift Hooves (Wolf)_: After touching an animal of the right kind, they may emulate that animals form of movement. - _Cloak of the Bear's Massive Form (Wolf)_: If they are in the correct habitat and touching an animal, they may take that animal's form; otherwise, Glamour must be paid in order to take the form. **Universal Contract -- Smoke** - _The Wrong Foot_: After licking their thumb and rubbing it on a mirror, a changeling can alter traces of its passage. - _Nevertread_: After spending an hour or more barefoot, a changeling can erase all traces of their passage. - _Shadowpatch_: If the changeling has spent enough time away from the light, they may obscure themselves in shadows. - _Murkblur_: After swallowing the eye of an animal or insect, the changeling causes an obscuring fog to form over a target's eyes. - _Light-Shy_: If the Changeling has told a lie with significance, they can turn themselves completely invisible. **Universal Contract -- Thorns and Brambles** - _Bite of the Wooden Fang_: If the changeling uses a whip made of plant materials, the wood gains several sharp thorns when it touches an enemy. - _Leechwood_: When the changeling confronts his keep or a minion of him, he can accelerate the growth of nearby hedge and other plants to attack him. Damage done by the thorns drains Glamour from the target. - _Briarpath_: When the changeling litters a handful of Hedge thorns behind him, he can force enchanted brambles to block the way after him. - _Shield of Thorns_: By shedding his own blood on an area, the changeling can summon forth a Hedge, creating an almost impenetrable defensive barrier that lashes back at enemies that come near. - _Hed_: The changeling can call forth a series of massive fortifications or hedges and brambles if he transplants a small hedge bush from a rural locale to the location where the Contract is to be used immediately prior to using the Contract. **Arts of the Hedge -- Goblin Contract** - _Shooter's Bargain_: Two of the next three shots fired from a weapon will be incredibly accurate, though the third will probably miss horribly. - _Fair Entrance_: A changeling can open any locked door. However, in the future, at a most untimely moment, a foe can easily enter into the changeling's home. - _Burden of Life_: A changeling can heal another but any subsequent attacks on the being are inflicted upon the changeling. **Mortal tie**: Mordecai is slipping deeper into his passion for revenge against his Keeper. The only mortal creature he calls friend is Faust, the wolf he has named.

**Lauren Ponnegrass ### **Biography:** She sat in front of the computer screen, one hand on her chin, the other idly clicking links, scrolling slowly as she read. The forum was slow, just the usual shitposts and half-interesting repeat threads. Some decent creepypasta. No sign of the expedition thread she'd been looking for. **“Burning Sage & Vade Retro Satana Reading—Livestreamed Cleansing! Starts@8PST”** Great. Another stoned spirit-hunter who'll burn plants they've mistaken for sage, probably set off the smoke alarm, and never actually do anything worth watching. **“Guys how do I summon a succubus?!”** Trolling or not? Doesn't matter, shit thread anyway. **“Art dump: Bosch, Geiger, Kago. Requests welcome.”** Open in new tab; she likes this poster's art dumps. **“REAL VAMPIRES caught IN PICS. HOW IS THIS NOT ON THE NEWS YET”** How indeed. Looks like bad CGI, or maybe just a couple of meth addicts in a poorly-lit alley. She sighed and tried to find something else to do, but couldn't convince herself to get off the chair. Must be worries, must be tired, must be must be. She poured another glass of wine and continued to neglect her studies. He'd promised to post a follow-up today. She's been pretending to study, watching Netflix, trying to do anything but obsessively checking for this guy to post. She's been following the threads since he started posting a couple years ago, a wandering sort of surreal travelogue of caving expeditions across the Americas, North and South. Haunted caves specifically, the ones that were the focuses of local legends. She watched the first one, ready for all kinds of amateur awkwardness at first, and was pleasantly charmed by the way he sat in front of each cave and read a printout of the urban legends that cave supposedly housed before grinning bravely at the camera and strapping it to his helmet. She knew it was all just ghost stories, semi-urban legends and teenage spook rumors. There was too often the overly-salacious dark twist—a smuggling tunnel was the site of a police-led massacre of bootleggers, a cave where horny high-school students made out was also a serial killer's body-dumping ground, or a particularly deep natural chasm had a terrifyingly large collection of child-size skeletons at the bottom, a collection that had grown over the past few decades as disappearances in the area caused town panic. Sensational bullshit, mostly, but entertainingly sensational bullshit, and he was charming in a slightly gloomy sort of way. So she watched the whole thing. Then another, and another. It was an excellent way to waste time. The first video had led her to his main site, where everything was neatly categorized. Even more thorough in its documentation of local legends than the videos, too. She'd read the whole site library, a couple times, and watched all the videos, but a new addition had caught her eye a couple months ago. He was announcing the next leg of his cave-tour, and there was a list of planned stops. She scrolled through, checked for her state. There. Her town—also there. Well now. Wasn't that something? He was going to a site just a few miles outside her town. A ten minute drive from the dorms. She typed up a message, then deleted it, re-typed it, then reworded a what might be seen as a too-suggestive invitation that they “go caving together and see what we can find,” and sent it. No response. She waited until that night. Still nothing. The next morning, two days before he went into the cave, and he had responded. He went alone, safety reasons, an inexperienced partner was a danger all in itself, maybe sometime in the future, he hoped she wouldn't mind and maybe they could get a drink or something while he was in town if she was interested in hearing about the trip. She'd smiled, replied, and willed the weekend to come faster. ~~~ Now it was Sunday, and nothing. His post was due Saturday, and he hadn't given her his number—he had hers, but not the other way around—so email was the only thing she could focus on, will into being, make bargains with. She daydreamed through classes, trying not to imagine him with a broken leg at the bottom of a shaft. When she was free she scuttled into her dorm room, checked his site, sighed in frustration and went to burn off anxiety at the gym. After her workout, before dinner, she checked her email. One message. From: spelunkadunk@gmail.com No subject. Five words: Help me get me out She froze, the workout high vanishing as her brain ground into gear. She charged back to the dorm room, ignoring tired legs, mentally listing all the things she should bring. Boots, sweater, water bottles, energy bars, a first aid kit. Two flashlights. No rope, why didn't she have any rope?! Dammit. She took twine—maybe she could tie herself a long line back to the mouth of the cave if she had to go in. Like Theseus. Ten minutes after she began throwing supplies into her duffel bag she was on the road to the cave mouth, the sun plunging behind the ridge and setting tiny, passionate wildfires through the crowns of trees, shining against the crimson-purple bruise of a sky above. She flipped on the headlights and pushed her little sedan's gas pedal deeper. ~~~ By the time she was there the sun had set. She flipped on one of the flashlights, facing the entrance of the cave. Something felt wrong about it. It felt the same way her grandmother's cellar had felt when she was a child, as if some half-there face would thrust itself up from the darkness, looming above her before unleashing some nameless horror upon her. She swallowed hard, knuckles white around the flashlight. What was she even doing here? She had no practical experience with caves. Geology major aside, it wasn't like she actually knew anything more than watching his videos would show her. But he needed her. She toyed with the idea of calling the police, maybe. But what if he was just a bit lost? Best to investigate briefly, then respond. She stretched, more to relieve stress and tension than to loosen up her muscles, and put one foot in front of the other, following the bobbing distorted pool of the flashlight's beam into the dark mouth of the earth. ---- “Um... Hi, everyone. I'm Lauren, usually I post on here as Luciferin. I'm sorry I'm such a mess, I haven't had a chance to clean up since... Fuck. Sorry. I, um. I don't know where to start, really. “You all know CaveCrawler, Ted Crownish, he's been a regular contributor on this board for way longer than I have. I'm not even sure if this video is posting right. Anyway. He's, um, he's like a legend around here, you know, and everyone knows him so I thought I should... Well... I don't know. “He... He's dead now, I think. I... “Okay. I'm back. I'm done crying now. Um. So. I found out that he was going to be doing a cave a few miles away from my school, and I figured I'd say hi, you know, do the whole awkward real-life meetup thing and, you know, actually know in real life another person interested in, um. I don't know. Creepy stuff like we talk about here, I guess. “So I talked with him a bit and he said he'd update me when he got out of this cave, right, but I never got the update. Instead I just got this email, here, see, I've got it on my phone and—there you go. It just says 'Help me get me out.' So I, you know, I panicked a bit, and then I got some stuff together and headed to the cave and... “He's dead, he's really dead. I found his hand sticking out of this pile of huge fucking rocks, before the cave started coming down on me. I don't know how to explain any of it, it was just... it was like the ground was ANGRY, you know? Like it wanted to kill me. Like, I know that's hella stupid, I'm a geology student and I just spent a whole semester learning about that kind of stuff, but it was like this—this voice in the earth, or something. “I, um, I remember falling, and the earth sort of growling around me and then my light broke, and then just this huge weight slamming into my chest and my neck and my face and pinning my arms... I thought I was dead. I remember thinking, oh shit, you know, I'm never going to see anyone again. I left my room a total mess and my parents are gonna see my dirty clothes everywhere in my dorm room and I'm never going to tell them I love them again, and, you know, then I couldn't breathe anymore and I guess I passed out. I'm pretty sure I died, though. “I don't want to talk about how I got out. I... I think I might regret it. There's a lot of people that post on here about making deals with... things, you know, not-human things with powers and bargains, and usually it turns out pretty bad, right? Well, I really hope mine doesn't turn out that way. “I don't know if anyone will believe this, or just think it's some stupid ARG or some, like, performance piece or some shit like that. Um. I don't really care, I guess. I just... I needed to tell someone, and the Creep Network seemed like the only place that would care, I guess. So... Talk to me if you want. “I'm listening. Please, just say anything. I don't want to be alone with *it* right now.” ---- ### Character Sheet **Name:** Lauren Ponnegrass **Operational Code name:** Luciferin. From a primary component of bioluminescence. **Virtue:** Fortitude. I can take anything. I've lived through a lot, and I'm still living hard. Life is mine, I've taken it. **Vice:** Pride. I can do it all myself. It might be hard but I can handle it. It's better and easier than asking for help. **Appearance:** I guess I wear a lot of jeans and sweaters. When I get dressed up it's usually black (so goth, I know). I've never been too into makeup, especially on the road, but it's fun when I want to go out for a nice night with friends or something. Tall, brunette, brown eyes. My first boyfriend called my nose 'pointy' and I've never really gotten over it. I've been into body mods lately, lots of piercings and a couple new tattoos, all cool occult stuff from different places I've been. It distracts from the bruises that haven't gone away in the six months or so since the... what happened in the cave. Usually I've got a backpack or something.  **Age:** 23. **Skills:** I read a lot. Like a lot, a lot. The librarians at my college asked me if I was making copies of books because I returned so many of them so quickly. It's really useful when I was studying for something, so I guess I'm kind of a know-it-all about a lot of things. What else? I guess I'm sort of athletic, but not like rugby status or anything, just in shape. I took a couple judo classes and it was great, so I started going to a dojo a few times a week. Nobody expects the skinny girl to be able to throw them eight different ways, right? When I talk about something I'm passionate about I get really into it; I love explaining things. My geology professor told me I have an eye for details, and not just with rocks. Also I make really fantastic pancakes! Also I'm really good at talking to people about their problems. I can tell when someone has some heavy stuff weighing on their mind. **Equipment and Resources:** I know more than a few people who are 'experts' on the supernatural through the forums I'm always on. Someone invited me to be a part of some kind of crowd-based documentation project, something he called Network Zero. Sounded like it might actually be a legit group. One of the guys there says he can photograph ghosts, which would be awesome. Stuff-wise, I don't carry much. Makeup kit, pocketknife, small flashlight, bottle opener. Probably a bus pass or a train ticket or something, too. **Edges:** *Sin-Eater.* I guess that's what I am, now. Nice way of saying I've got a monster-ghost riding shotgun in my head. There are some neat tricks that come with it, though. It turns out I'm really, really, really hard to kill now. Also I can see ghosts, which is really fascinating. And also I can sort of 'eat' ghost-essence, which is really disgusting if I think about it too much, but it satisfies a kind of hunger. I guess it's sort of part of the whole sin-eater thing, but I've also always been... a bit weird, I guess. I've always been able to tell how people will die. Ever since I was a little kid. Not everyone, but most people, it's like seeing it written on their faces. Like, "Oh, wow, you're totally going to die of old age, happy and ready to leave." I wish it was always that pleasant, but you know. Anyway. I'm what the other sin-eaters call a Pilgrim. I've been to hell and back, literally, and I guess studying seemed really pointless when I came back. So these days I wander around, sometimes with a destination, but mostly just kind of backpacking wherever my passenger thinks will be interesting. He's been underground, literally, for a long time, so it's kind of fun, in a weird creepy way. I like to pretend I'm sort of an amateur Ghostbuster. **Geist:** He calls himself Rocky, which I think is supposed to be a joke. He won't tell me any other name. He's sort of... I don't know. Not really solid, like you'd imagine a person would be, more like if a ghost took a bunch of rocks and made them into some weird knobbly body for itself. Mostly I'm glad nobody else can see him, because it's really unsettling watching him move sometimes. He's quiet, but hard to argue with. He's quiet but he likes to ask about things. So if I'm just talking to the air about what Morse code is or how airplanes work or something, that's probably why. Oh, also, I always carry a climbing rope these days, too. It's the... the one I pulled off his body, in the cave, trying to get him out. I don't think it was Ted's, it looks much older. My 'passenger' says it's his, something he calls his Keystone, which means it's sort of like the object my 'passenger' latched on to when he died, or something. When I hold onto it to, you know, use it for climbing or hike around with it or something, it's almost like it's helping. Any kind of exercise just feels easier, like it's some kind of conduit that passes energy to me. *(Keystone skill: Athletics, in other words.)* **Threshold:** The Prey. **Keys:** Grave-Dirt, Passion, and Stillness. **Manifestations:** The Shroud and The Curse. **Endowments:** None. **Mortal tie:** My family, naturally. They don't see me too often, though. Mostly there's this girl I've been dating lately—Jade—and I guess she'd be the closest thing I have to a romantic interest these days. I move around a lot, though, all across the country, and sometimes she comes along with me but sometimes my, um, 'passenger' thinks it'll be too dangerous.