Dyelli Beybi

Wild Beasts of the Earth (Gothic Horror)

Adam Temple

"Yes," Temple agreed, "Yes, it should be. Perhaps it is. There are more ghost stories from that war than I could recount in an afternoon. Soldiers returning to their units after death is common."

"However, that isn't your main question Sir. I'm a writer by trade," he said with a shrug, "I write stories, people enjoy them. Whether what we find here or any other day is true or not as interesting to me as the stories that come along with them. Stories speak to truths in the human heart that we find difficult to articulate otherwise. Dracula is a book about a vampire, but it is as much about lust, modernity and fear of the outsider."

Wild Beasts of the Earth (Gothic Horror)

Temple paused for a moment, to take a puff from a cigarillo, "It was many years ago, that a man named Thomas Vaughan was killed at the Battle of Banbury. 1469, to be precise, whilst supporting the Yorkist cause in the War of the Roses. Legend says that he was an incredibly evil man, although I suspect that tradition relates me to what happened later than before. He was named 'Black Vaughan' in any case, though I rather suspect that was for his hair."

Temple paused, taking another puff and he looked between the group to see who was paying attention, "Whatever his state before life, it is believed his restless spirit, sometimes appearing in the form of a large black bull would torment the town of Kington, where his body was buried. Sometimes, it is reported, his dog would appear as well."

"Eventually, many centuries later, 12 local clergymen along with a number of lay members of the Night Watch came together to put an end to the terror. There were difficulties. The spirit was violent. People were flung across the room causing injuries though thankfully no deaths. Eventually though the spirit was imprisoned in a silver snuff box. From there the procession left for Hergest Court, the ancestral hall of the man himself - it is a rather drab and dreary building I must say - and the box was cast into the pond out the back - Hergest pool."

"And for many years, people say the spirit was quiet. Though of late there has been a story of the bull reappearing. Perhaps the box was found by an unwary angler and opened -" he opened his own cigarillo case with a snap, "- Or perhaps it was the result of an overactive imagination and too much cider. Who is to say?"

"Keep an open mind always," he finished, "The world has many strange and frightening legends. Many are pure fancy.... but some are rooted in terrible truths that sit uneasily with polite and rational society. When you hear a noise in the dark, make sure you look carefully into the shadows, don't pull your bedclothes over your head and hope it is all in your mind."

Wild Beasts of the Earth (Gothic Horror)

@Tackytaff

Looks like a pretty excellent app! Feel free to assume Sonja is in the Nightwatch HQ and either join in with a cowrite or solo post, depending upon what you want to do!

Wild Beasts of the Earth (Gothic Horror)

Adam Temple

As a large portion of the group took off, Temple sat down at one of the tables, his glass of port before him, reaching into his jacket pocket for a silver cigarillo case, plucking one of the slender brown stems from the case and lighting it up. He took a puff, "Well, I hope our intrepid friends do not run into any difficulties at the graveyard. Regardless of who or what may be hunting people in the vicinity, the streets are not the safest at the moment."

He paused, taking another puff from his cigarillo before asking the assembled group, "Well since we are still here, who would care to hear a story?"

Wild Beasts of the Earth (Gothic Horror)

Name: Ernst Heller
Gender: Male
Age: 35
Nationality: German
Appearance:

Personal Effects:

1. Luger P08 Pistol: A standard-issue sidearm for German officers during WWI, retained by Ernst for personal defense. It's kept in a worn leather holster under his coat.

2. Pocket Watch: A brass heirloom from his father, engraved with the Heller family crest. It holds sentimental value and serves as a symbol of his family’s former status.

3. Leather Wallet: Contains a few Reichsmarks, identification papers, and a photograph of his parents and younger sister from before the war.

4. Cigarette Case: A silver-plated case with a few hand-rolled cigarettes, a habit Ernst picked up during trench life.

5. Small Flask: Filled with schnapps, carried more out of habit than necessity. It provides warmth and a sense of familiarity during moments of uncertainty.

6. German Army-Issue Folding Knife: A practical tool that Ernst keeps for utility, but which could double as a weapon in close combat if necessary.

7. Notebook and Pencil: Used to jot down notes, information, or names of potential allies and contacts.

8. Rosary Beads: A keepsake from his Catholic mother, carried not for religious devotion but as a quiet homage to his family's past.

9. Brown Leather Gloves: Worn during cooler months or when he expects to get his hands dirty, either literally or figuratively.

10. Matchbox: For lighting cigarettes or providing quick illumination in dark or cramped spaces.

Background: Ernst Heller served as a junior officer in the German Army during the Great War, where he gained extensive combat experience on both fronts. Currently, he works as a notary in Munich, using his legal skills to navigate post-war bureaucracy while maintaining ties to his nationalist organization.

Backstory: Born into a prominent Munich family of industrialists, Ernst Heller enjoyed a privileged upbringing with a strong sense of national duty. When the Great War broke out, he enlisted with zeal, eventually serving as a junior officer. Ernst’s combat experience was marked by brutal trench warfare on the Western Front and grueling campaigns on the Eastern Front. His military career was distinguished by tactical skill, but he also witnessed the devastating costs of war, leaving him hardened and deeply cynical.

After the war, Ernst returned to a Germany on the brink of collapse. His family’s business suffered as the economy spiraled, and the Hartmann wealth dwindled rapidly due to reparations and inflation. Ernst, embittered by the outcome of the war and the subsequent chaos, joined the Freikorps—paramilitary units that fought communist uprisings in German cities. He played a direct role in suppressing the Bavarian Soviet Republic, engaging in brutal street battles that shaped his perception of communism as a mortal enemy of Germany.

Now part of a clandestine far-right organization seeking to restore Germany's strength, Ernst’s political activities have grown more intense. While the group speaks of taking decisive action soon, Ernst’s exact role in these plans have been ambiguous to him as he awaits for them to be set in motion, though he sees himself as an instrumental figure in Germany’s resurgence.

Ernst is strategic and methodical, with a sense of honor born from military discipline. While he is slow to trust, he is fiercely loyal to those he sees as kindred spirits. His bitterness towards Germany’s political landscape drives him, but beneath the hard exterior is a man seeking meaning beyond mere vengeance. Ernst is both drawn to and wary of the darker forces that seem to be rising around him, unsure whether they are tools to be used or threats to be confronted.

Late one evening, Ernst received a letter delivered to his modest flat. The handwriting is unfamiliar, but the contents mention a meeting of the “Nachtwache,” supposedly recommended by an unnamed acquaintance. Intrigued and believing it might be connected to his political movement — perhaps a covert recruitment meeting or an opportunity to network — Ernst decides to attend. The venue, a notorious cabaret, struck him as an odd choice, but he assumes it’s a necessary cover. With his Luger hidden under his coat and a mix of curiosity and cautious optimism, Ernst makes his way to the meeting, unaware of the true nature of the group he’s about to join.

@InfamousGuy101

Looks good to me

Wild Beasts of the Earth (Gothic Horror)

Rudy Rudeanu, Adam Temple, Nicola Hoffman & Masako Yamamoto

Cowritten by @Tesserach, Dyelli Beybi & @enmuni

---

"Ungoldly things in Munich you say?" the man, Rudeanu replied as he set his glass aside to the gentle clanking of ice. His tone suggested faux scandal at the prospect. "I wager I can solve this mystery right now." Rudeanu stood up, addressing those assembled, gesturing dramatically. It was evident this man was something of a showman. "Let us examine the facts of the situation. First, we have a sudden escalation in attacks by dogs. The frequency is beyond normal experience, so, it serves to reason there must be an extraordinary explanation. On this I think there can be no disagreement. Certainly, some supernatural explanation could be considered. But are there other, more natural - if less extraordinary - changes that would suggest why feral dog attacks have suddenly begun?

"Let us consider the present economic situation. An ungodly situation indeed! How many people here, most I notice seem a more genteel disposition than the average worker, find food even remotely affordable? How many people, do you suppose, are being forced to do without? Perhaps even abandoning family pets to the charity of the streets? Indeed, given the extraordinary circumstances, I would go so far as to say it would be extraordinarily unlikely that we not witness a rise in both ravenous strays, and attacks on people and pets. And who could these animals most easily approach? Why the very sort of victims here described. Indeed, with recent issues distracting Münchener Polizei, I'd be surprised if animal control hadn't been somewhat lax recently.

"Of course, I could be wrong but asks yourselves this: 'which explanation is more likely to be the truth? That the presence of strays went unnoticed, or unreported? Or that something supernatural, which - as it were - looks like a dog, barks like a dog and hunts like a dog.' There are two things I am certain of though. First: there is only one way to prove our hypothesis. Second, in this economy, I for one cannot afford to turn down Swiss francs."

"Well, I'm glad you don't want to turn down the francs," Temple remarked affably, from where he was standing by the port, "If you can find a feral dog in the area, you will have more than earned your pay. That is why the Night Watch were called after all. Tomorrow, however, I am going to see what kind of bite marks there are on the victims," he took a sip from his port, "I hope it is dogs. A pistol will put a dog down permanently... most of the time. It might also be worth finding out a bit more about the cemetery. I am sure there are records somewhere in the city."

"All attacks in, or around, the same cemetery?" Rudeanu ventured to Temple, as though he suspected the answer and were considering the implications of an affirmative response.

"All attacks in or around the cemetery," Temple confirmed.

Finally Rudeanu turned to Nicola. "The evening is yet young, Nicola, you ready for an easy job?"

Nicola gave Rudeanu a slight smile, "Oh, I'm definitely happy for an easy job that pays in Swiss Francs," she gave a small laugh, "I'm not exactly qualified for this, but I'll help as best I can. The people being taken... well... that could very easily have been me after I was deported from Mulhouse. I am just lucky."

“Excuse me,” Masako interjected, approaching the group of men quickly, “I am a trained nurse, and I have seen many animal bites from my time in the…the…the Siberian Intervention! May I offer to help in looking at these bites? If it is an animal, I can surely tell you.”

"That would be most helpful," Temple replied to Masako, "I prefer it when our own people can find clues rather than needing to pry them from suspicious individuals."

Masako turned her attention to Rudeanu and the older man, and smiled brightly at the scene. She delivered a small golf clap, and commented to Temple, “Ah, a sceptic-magician! So we do have a diverse group here, then? Do you have any idea why we are gathered here, Sir?”

"Why we, specifically we, I assume you mean," Nicola chipped in, "Because the purpose is to destroy whatever or whoever it is that is taking these poor souls."

Masako froze for a second. Her eyes darted around, as if to indicate that she was thinking of what the other woman could have meant.

“Yes, yes, that is right. That is what I mean, anoooo, why…it is…us rather than some other people. After all, there are surely other nurses who will be less noticeable for such a secretive organization than myself, for example? This is why I wonder, because surely a local “chapter” should have more locals in it—who are more knowledgeable of their home?”

"It's a good point, even I'm not quite a local, nor are you, Mister Temple," Nicola put in.

"Locals aren't necessary," Temple gave a small shrug, "I do not send the invitations, my duty is just receive those who have been sent one. Ours is not to reason why."

Wild Beasts of the Earth (Gothic Horror)

Cool :) Not strictly necessary, just thought having an unusual personal effect deserved a story to go with it...

Feel free to move your character sheet across BTW! And post ICly.

Wild Beasts of the Earth (Gothic Horror)

That's cool... or you could run with something like he got involved in the Allied Intervention in the Russian Civil War and potentially picked it up off a dead Chekist as a trophy...

Just an idea as he'd have been using a Webley Mk VI for most of the war which was is a darned good revolver.

Wild Beasts of the Earth (Gothic Horror)

“I looked, and there before me was a pale horse! Its rider was named Death, and Hades was following close behind him. They were given power over a fourth of the earth to kill by sword, famine and plague, and by the wild beasts of the earth.”

Theme Music

---

Munich, Friday 2 November 1923:

(Co-written by most of the cast)

As the show came to an end and the performers disappeared from the stage it seemed a good time to head towards the room to the left of the stage that the letter had indicated was where the 'Night Watch' was meeting. Smoke from the many patrons watching the show still hung over the dimly lit room, even after they had mostly filed out or made their way to the bar for a nightcap hoping, perhaps, to forget many of the problems facing the country at this time. A lone bouncer stood guard by the door. He was broad shouldered, heavyset with a scar on his left cheek which was almost certainly the result of shrapnel during the great war. He did not look like the type to be trifled with.

Charlotte Treich approached the bouncer, and the small woman made an almost comical contrast compared to the larger man. With a confidence slightly plied by drink, she produced her letter with a slight flourish. "The Night's Watch meets through there, correct, sir?"
The bouncer put his hand out for the letter, took a cursory look at it then handed it back, "It does," he confirmed with a slight nod of the head as he pushed the door open to a dark corridor beyond, "Keep your letter on you."

As she did another man approached as well, taking a sip from a hip flask as he did. He produced a similar letter, "I believe I am here for the same reason she is." The accent was British of some description. What he was doing in Germany at this time was anyone’s guess. These were not happy times.

He was followed moments later by a man dressed in distinct clerical garb. He coughed genteelly, blinking against the smoky haze of the club. The man stood out like a sore thumb, “Blessings of the Lord to you all this evening, it appears that we all have been contacted by the same individual.”

"Your Grace," the bouncer greeted the bishop respectfully, tugging at his forelock in lieu of a hat before glancing between the three of them, making sure they knew what he said was for them all, "Take the corridor to the end. You will find the door."

‘Your Grace’… so a Bishop… no… an Archbishop. Presumably that made the man Viktor Ulrich, Charlotte guessed.

Followed by the two men, Charlotte steeped into the corridor the bouncer had pointed them to. It was a wood panelled affair, dimly lit that ran under the stairs and seemed to lead to a dead end, though as the group approached the end, they came to a point, perhaps four feet from the far wall, where the side of the corridor to their left was marked with a prominent hexafoil, carefully drawn in white paint. A burn mark on the floor seemed to denote some kind of threshold. As they drew closer to the burn, the suggestion of strange whispers seemed to linger in the air, just on the cusp of Charlotte’s hearing.

"Well, gentlemen, this is certainly a little queer even for me,” Charlotte commented. "Clandestine meetings in the backroom of a club are generally havens for gambling. I can't say I have run into any Orders operating like this."

"I have to agree but perhaps this one is different. If they are worth our time is the better question." The British man replied to her, studying the hexafoil symbol for a few moments. Could he hear the sound as well? Something had caused him to stop, "Well, It is time to see what this order is all about and I am Aleyn by the way."

Before they had decided whether the step across the threshold or not, there was the sound of footsteps from behind them. Charlotte turned to meet the eye of a tall, haggard, blonde man, “Good evening father. How do you do?” he greeted Viktor, though his eyes lingered on Charlotte.

Aleyn gave a nod by way of greeting then stepped across the threshold and, seeing that no hard had come to him, Charlotte followed as did Viktor and the haggard man, one-by-one stepping over the scorch mark. As Charlotte stepped across, a door appeared within the far wall, jumping into existence as if it has been there all along, unseen in the dim light.

Aleyn, apparently the bold one of their little group, pulled the door open to reveal a room that appeared to be barrel vaulted cellar though someone had taken the time to add a few decorations. Electric lights, for a start, along with elegant wooden tables and chairs, enough to seat a good two dozen people. On a sideboard, a decanter of port had been left out for people to enjoy, and it looked like at least a couple of the other people in the room had poured themselves a glass.

In one of the chairs away from the table sat a man of seemingly short stature that, while apparently idly toying with his cane, was keenly watching every person that came into the room.

There were a couple at another one of the tables. A young woman and a man in a white button up shirt was seated opposite a young woman whom he seemed to be in conversation with. Dark suspenders strung over his shoulders supporting a pair of clean pressed black dress pants, and black shoes shined to a fine polish. On the table next to him a dark homburg hat rested. He seemed to be talking low, if animatedly to the woman across from him. "... easily done. A hidden phonograph above the threshold, back in Vienna I attended a seance where..." The man went on, largely oblivious to the new arrivals filtering in.

The young woman, however, was not oblivious of the new arrivals. She shot up to her feet, looking slightly flustered, apparently having spotted one particular newcomer, "Your Grace," she said, looking a bit like a small animal caught in the headlights of a motor vehicle.
She was fairly tall and clearly one of the Catholic faithful, dressed in a pair of jodhpurs and a vest that, while increasingly fashionably, probably wouldn't be worn to church.

Viktor, however, gave a chuckle, making an effort to put the young woman at ease, “Non curarum my child, we are all of equal status here. You needn’t stand on ceremony here.”

She looked relieved at the response, if a little surprised.

At the next table across, clearly separate from the conversation the man and woman were having, sat a form hunched forward over a pair of matching matchboxes and her own open envelope. It was hard to tell their gender underneath the grime that clung to them, but it was either a young boy, or a scrawny woman. His (she decided) gaze was piercing, flitting between them, noting the envelopes in each of their hands. His eyes eventually went still on Charlotte, narrowing. Her gaze was unsettlingly analytical, akin to being put under a microscope.
Charlotte met the stare of the individual scanning her from the moment she stepped into the room. The young boy glaring at her certainly wasn't familiar to her, and her brow rose in befuddlement at such a young boy being present, "Pardon, young man," she offered them quick, momentary smile, "I don't believe I know you. Do you know me, by chance?

The dirty stranger was quiet for a good few seconds after Charlotte's greeting, chewing at the inside of their cheek. They stack their matchboxes one atop the other, before dropping them into the hat perched on their lap, "You dance," they replied bluntly, offering little else in the way of greeting. Their accent was foreign, though it was hard to pin down with those two words alone. "Seen ya."

"Yes... many have seen me on stage, at least in Berlin," Charlotte replied. It was not the context she’d have expected it, but it was nice to know her reputation was travelling South.

"And I get cut in half with a saw," the tall woman chipped in, "It's not quite as exciting as it looks," she paused before introducing herself, "Nicola Hoffman, pleasure to make your acquaintance."

The scruffy boy’s eyes drifted to Nicloa’s midsection as she spoke as if trying to puzzle that one out before concluding with a nod, “Magic Act,” he concluded under his breath.

"Ah, but the spectacle doesn't care. Ms. Hoffmann. The acts are very fascinating to watch," Charlotte replied warmly, "Oh," she laughed, "I am Charlotte Treich, for those unaware."

"I have already said it to a few but I am Aleyn Deyne," the Englishman said, adding his introduction to Nicola.

"Nelly," the person Charlotte had assumed to be a scruffy boy, put in by way of introduction.

“Helmut Kurten,” the tall blonde man supplied quietly. He glanced around the room, seemingly checking for others he might know. His eyes lingered a little on Nicola as well, which also wasn’t surprising. Magicians tended to choose their assistants for their looks and Nicola was no exception in that regard.

Charlotte finally took in the whole room. It was frankly impressive to her that this Night's Watch had assembled the group around her, “Well, this is an odd bunch our mysterious hosts have assembled. Soldiers and performers. Bishops and beggars. Germans and foreigners." She paused, as a confused look briefly crossed her face. She banished it with another laugh before continuing, "Though I don't know what we all might have in common for them to do so, and Lord only knows what they could want from us."

The man who'd been chatting with Nicola, who'd sat back watching affairs seemed to choose that moment to pick up his hat, folding it under his arm and approach the group then assembled around Charlotte. "Now it's possible, a diversity of skillsets is precisely what was intended." His was the confident, annunciate voice of a performer. "Rudy Rudeanu. Illusionist." He made a gesture like he was about to perform a trick but then just blatantly palmed a glass of spirits from his left hand and took a sip. "I think you've met my partner in crime, Fraulen Hoffman. A pleasure meeting you all," he gave genteel nods all around the gathering to those present from over the rim of his glass.

"It would seem likely," Nicola agreed, "Though what exactly they think we all bring to this endeavour... well, who's to say at this stage? I believe they said there was an Englishman who was coming to speak to us."

---

Running a bit late...

After this first group passed the bouncer, another young woman—one who had seemingly either waited or taken some time to get up and go over—approached the bouncer. This woman—Masako Yamamoto—fumbled with her purse for a moment, before producing a letter much like the others before her.

“Got it!” she exclaimed in German as she pulled the folded letter out, in a shockingly Bavarian accent.

“Here it is—this is for the entrance for the Night’s Watch, right?” she asked, before handing the letter over to the bouncer.

Masako was just in time, in happened, to hear the Englishman explain their reason for being here. He was a middle aged man, not especially tall, nor particularly short, with a smattering of grey in his well combed black hair. He nodded politely to her as she entered, "Miss Yamamoto, welcome, please have a seat. I am very glad to see so many of you here. My name is Adam Temple and, I suppose, I am now the Night Watch Captain for this fair city."

Were it not for the obviously English name it would be hard to tell Temple was a foreigner, his German was perfectly fluent. He looked across the group, giving the uncanny impression he knew exactly who each of them was, "How many of you have read the news today? A 100-trillion mark note from the Reichsbank. That would have bought you quite a bit two years ago. Well the good news is that I have the pleasure of offering you a job. It will pay well and it will pay in Swiss Francs."

"Now as for what the job is," he added, "You may not have noticed the news about the death of a gravedigger at the Old South Cemetery two weeks ago? Apparently eaten by stray dogs. You may not have realised that there have been another five people disappear since then, potentially more since most of the ones who have disappeared have been people who have reasons to be out well outside of normal hours, which is to say people with no homes and ladies of the night. One, a prostitute named Liane Schlosser was found a week ago inside the graveyard. Also apparently eaten by dogs. And that was when the Night Watch was contacted due to our... unique skill set in solving some of the more complicated cases. Since arriving in Munich this morning, I have discovered there were another two bodies found yesterday. No identification yet. Also, officially speaking, eaten by dogs, though no stray dogs have been sighted in the area."

"As for why you have been selected, I can tell you there is no Watch Chapter in this city, but as for why it was you specifically?" he gave a small, apologetic shrug, "I cannot say. The workings of this organisation are mysterious, even to me. But I can tell you why we are looking into this case specifically and that may give you an inkling of your purpose within this society - it is believed that there is the potentially something unnatural," he turned to look at Victor before adding, "Ungodly, at work in Munich. This may be true, or it may not be. Some of you will be inclined to believe this. Some of you will be inclined to be skeptical," he held his hands out, miming scales, "You will provide balance for one another and we will do our best to get to the bottom of what is happening around the Old South Cemetery. We may find nothing untoward, or you might find yourself pulling at the strings of something truly terrible."

"You are of course free to leave now," he added, "Help yourself to glass of port, enjoy the evening with a few colourful people, then leave this place and never look back. That is your choice. I am going to have a glass of port and do exactly that. But if you are interested in finding out more, talk to me and come back here tomorrow at eight in the morning. That is when the real work will begin."

He smiled, then made his way over to the table to pour himself a glass of port, letting the others talk amongst themselves... or approach Temple if they wanted to do that.

Wild Beasts of the Earth (Gothic Horror)

Character Description

Name: Adam Temple
Gender: Male
Age: 49
Nationality: British
Appearance: 5'10'' tall with dark hair, now showing a few hints of grey, a well-trimmed moustache and dark eyes

appearance

Personal Effects: A silver cigarillo case an a monogrammed Ronson Wonderlite

---

Background:

What is your job Novelist

Backstory: Adam Temple is a relatively accomplished fantasy novelist whose name might be recognisable, if not his appearance.

Born into an affluent, gentrified family in London in 1874, Adam was an intelligent young man, albeit one with no particular interest in his fathers' businesses. He studied literature at University College, Oxford, and began writing short stories, followed by novels from the early 1900s. This did not make Adam and especially wealthy man (at least not independently), though most people who knew him in the period would have said he was definitely an interesting one, finding his way into many of London's most fashionable parties.

During this period, Adam married a poet ten years his junior, Edna with whom he has two children.

Adam's financial situation changed in early 1914, shortly before the outbreak of the war, when Adam's father passed away, leaving him a number of family businesses which he, rather wisely, chose to allow a manager to look after for him.

Adam was seen as too old to be conscripted during the war and, as such, did not serve in the trenches, though several of his businesses contributed to the war effort.

It was in 1917, with the war in full swing, that Adam was contacted by a branch of the Night Watch in the UK. With no previous experience of the supernatural, he was thrust into the exorcism of a demonic hound in the vicinity of the Croydon Aerodrome. The hunt was both terrifying and exhilarating and served as an inspiration for his next novel 'The Hounds of Sorrow', which was much more successful than his earlier works.

Adam continued his work with the Night Watch, wrapping up a number of cases in the UK where, within the secretive circles of the organisation, he has acquired a reputation for being able to solve some of the more complicated cases the Night Watch has been called in to look at. All of which, naturally, serve as further fodder for Adam's novels.

Recently, Adam was asked to come to Munich to look into the gruesome murder of a grave digger...