~Thursday February 19th 1998~ NOTE: This story was the opening scene for the characters in the intended online campaign, Lords of the Night. Rather than spend time remodifying it to be used, I thought the original characters should be left, because the campaign was built around them. The Original Characters to be used can be found here. They are the characters the players constructed themselves. I will be writing this campaign sporadically. Feel free to mail your interest. ~Original Characters~ Regarding the characters possessions. The campaign is based upon Bruce and Stephen flying in to Mexico. This I arranged as a way for them to meet. Their characters may have possessions that naturally would not make it through customs, let alone fit on a plane. Also I have not included stats, as the characters were made without those in the forefront of each player's mind. Bruce Bowerly Stephen Argent Angelo de la Rocha This story is to introduce many things immediately into the game: the beginning of a restless time (concerning the earthquake - which increase over the months), allegria (joy - amaranth drug) sold by the Ciccatri bound prostitutes, the eye of Binah watching over the characters, and the involvement in a drug culture that quickly leads to death through the joy. Rather than immediately try by chance to organize the characters into some cohesive 'roleplaying unit' it has been taken upon to render them all within positions of support in one way or form. As they meet it is as follows, Bruce and Stephen catch the same flight to Mexico with no plans of accomodation. Stephen suggests a mutual saving of monies in the sharing of a university flat that Stephen has rented, the cost of which he found a little high but has more to do with the desire to know all from Bruce as he can. Stephen meets Angelo and after showing the proper documentation Angelo drives them straight to their flat. It is late afternoon when the earthquake strikes Mexico City. ~Introductions for each player~ ~Bruce Bowerly~ Upon reflection you are not sure if it was luck or misfortune that required you catch a US Airways 767 to Mexico City. And your mind is still revolving on why exactly your vehicle chose to be unco-operative that the radiator would crack its head, bereft of water, even though you are sure it was full. Perhaps it is the lack of you .45 which you knew you could not push through customs that keeps you agitated still. However, the problem of accommodation within Mexico City has been cleared by the man who sat beside the window on your journey down, a professor Stephen Argent from Texas who joined the flight on the stopover. It was he who offered you to share his comfortable apartment of which he had rented for a one year sabbatical in the city. Both of you sharing what seems to be a communal interest in things Aztec and religious to the Mexicans, you found no immediate reason to not stay with him. As the plane sharpens its descent you found time to impress the air-hostess before landing at the Aeropuerto Internacional Benito Juárez. The foul taint of the poison so locked in the unseen mountinous ridge surrounding the Valle de Mexico, claws at your throat, but nothing you are not used to, a reminder of things to come. Back in the city where people are more true and honest in their poverty you led Stephen through the terminal swarmed in despicable tourists mostly of American bent, buzzing about the shops and services like blowflies on a carcass. At the terminal entrance Stephen approached his 'ride and guide', Angelo de la Rocha, whom after Stephen explained your position led you to an ancient volvo stationwagon, replete with leather interior. Your drive to Polanco along the Viaducto Rio de la Piedad begins, only to be cut short by traffic which brings the momentum of the vehicle to halt. ~Stephen Argent~ Overcast, the short journey south accompanied with an interesting presence and now companion in residence, Bruce Bowerly. Your impressions of him; paranoid, morbid, radical, intelligent, worldly and possibly violent. He broke the silence between you immediately and his words lengthened the journey if anything. A fellow academic and professor hailing from a small college in Colorado, biologist by profession, but not by action or demeanor. What made you offer to him to share the burden of your Mexican-University owned apartment was less the money involved (although it played a small part), but his knowledge and interest in Mexican culture. His knowledge first-hand and exploratory and potentially helpful in your sabbatical. Your residence you arranged through the Ciudad Universitaria, liasing with Alvaro Oviedo, aide to the rector, Cesar Amado. They were more than happy to arrange residence for a visiting scholar. The house not cheap, but not poor in build or location, and quiet and withdrawn enough for careful study. On top of which they arranged a local guide, a university student, Angelo de la Rocha to deliver you to your home for the next year and to help with whatever other matters you would require. The flight brings you in to the metropolis that is, Mexico City. Screaming through a haze of yellow interspersed with grey striations the plane crosses the countless shanty towns late in the afternoon. While Bruce does his best to impress the flight attendant, confident even in his failing abilities to prove his measure as a man to her, you watch out the window seat as the 767 sweeps in to the Valle de Mexico where the dense pollution crowds. Long shadows pass out across the city within the valley from the hills and mountains running east to west, stumps of extinct volcanoes thrusting choked mouths through the dense mass of architecture lacing the valley in steel and concrete. The air is foul. Inhuman. Almost unbreatheable, so large the pollution particles they prick your skin. Bruce strides ahead while you, cane in hand, trail him and watch the throngs massing like ants within the terminal at the Aeropuerto Internacional Benito Juárez. After claiming your baggage, Bruce and you both head through the swath of shops, bookstores, banks, and money interchanges clouded with people. You reach the gates to the city and espy what must be Angelo de la Rocha holding a flimsy and creased card 'Argent' badly scrawled on its surface, the youth himself scruffy, unshaven, dreadlocked and scarred. Your impression; distant, possibly stoned, disorganized, but something about him separates him from the normal, the forgettable - something you cannot quite place. After showing him proof of identification and explaining your intention to share the apartment with Bruce (something he blinks not an eye at - but perhaps not surprising as it seems he will be living there too, in a non-attached batch on the property, at your call) he lead you out to a university vehicle, a volvo stationwagon, old and worn, with leather interior nearly unbearable in this February heat and he drives you south along the Canal de San Juan beside Nezahualcóyotl and then west out to Polanco, a more respectable and historical side of Mexico City, a trip of some 14 miles depending on the adroitness of the young Angelo. Traffic along the Viaducto Rio de la Piedad grinds you to a halt though. The heat builds within the poorly air-conditioned vehicle. ~Angelo de la Rocha~ It was the money at first. Then the free vehicle so offered for the simple service. Your grades were nothing to be proud of and Alvaro Oviedo's offer of a pass for extra-curicular activity. The aide, Alvaro Oviedo, to the rector, Cesar Amado, knew exactly what strings to pull. The income would not only easily cover your mother's hospital bill, but provided extra monies on which to live at more than ten times what you were earning part-time. Then the new accommodation, which led Alvaro to explain the task required of you. An American scholar had arranged a sabbatical in Mexico City for the year and was to reside in one of the University apartments in the expensive Polanco, in a house with small batch (of which Alvaro asked you to take residence). You were to provide travel and knowledge of the city to the visitor whenever he asked. Your immediate thoughts went to your classes and studies, but Alvaro assured you of no problem there and all concessions being offered to you for such work. Almost too good to be true, but true it was. You moved into the batch under the hillside Ciudad Universitaria home and the keys of a volvo stationwagon securely in your hands, and it parked in the garage. A few days later you wondered why. Why were you asked? In fact, there are many students more suited to be aide to a foreign scholar, but perhaps that is precisely why. Whereas they have serious attention to studies, yours, though not absent, are oneiric at best. Your friends are envious and you had to ward off many suggestions of parties at the home before the professor's arrival. So there you found yourself, awaiting Professor Stephen Argent inside the entrance to the international terminal at the Aeropuerto Internacional Benito Juárez, a sheet of cardboard bearing his last name, waiting this unknowing benefactor. The screaming roar of noise ululates all about, the harsh amplified vox of flight calls, pages, and people screaming, talking, the buzz criss-crossing. And he came, on cane, hobbling towards you, short and stocky with an almost demonic grey beard. As he spoke to you exactly, you picked up on something unplaceable. Disturbing or interesting you couldn't discern. He explained the other elderly and intense looking gentleman with him would be staying in the university home with him. From there you lead them to the volvo and down along the Canal de San Juan beside Nezahualcóyotl and then west out to Polanco via the Viaducto Rio de la Piedad motorway, grinding to a halt in the late afternoon of this February month, stinking in heat and pollution. ~Opportunity for Roleplaying~ Allow time for the players to chat briefly, get in to character some should they wish, or merely move on to the upcoming action scene. ~The Earthquake~ This scenario begins the campaign proper and heralds the beginning of the end as the reality slowly crumbles. The Earthquake is the signal of motions by Golab, Sangreal, and Binah as the tension is pulled within Mexico City, the quake centered beneath the Catedral Metropolitana not far below the ground and reaches 6.8 on the richter scale, its effects devastating. This comes from Amine Maccio and other Death Magicians performing a ritual to uncover the Lords of the Night. Two are discovered among the ruins of Tenochtitlan and Sangreal feasts on their essence and grows stronger. Golab and Binah react, but the damage is done and the Illusion is rent and Inferno inches closer to Mexico. The following is to be read to the players: "The heat continues to swell within the steaming inside of the volvo, the leather seats searing hot and oozing sweat. The air conditioner sporadically churns out a cold air, the windows rolled up to prevent the pollution from choking you don't help either. The traffic shows little signs of breaking, and the horns blare and the cars are crammed bumper to bumper, rage slowly building within many drivers, many screaming at each other, shaking fists. Now and then a few metres are gained, but little headway is made. On all sides through the sewage currents in the air, architecture of both new and old, churches peeking from behind mock-bauhaus and other post-industrialist office complexes show signs of a Mexico that was, decadent in baroque design. Heat waves shimmer from the glassy motorway, and the heat is lethargic. Then a break in traffic and Angelo guides the volvo quickly and deftly off the motorway into the heart of the city among its towering and flat structures. Immediately the heat breaks, but not to the point of cool, but minor relief as you wind among the shadows and narrow streets. There you wind in a maze of apertures and those within and without. Even in the heart of Mexico City the sick and desperate crawl beside the strong and wealthy and there is no guilt. The road is crawling upwards, buildings pressed on each side, leering over, and slums begin to dot the side, built upon each other with no regard for safety. Streams of washing trailing across between lees, and powerlines cluttered and bunched crossing the road overhead like a spider's netting. Angelo: Flashes of screaming people rushing blindly around a shattered street assail you, ruins and blood, bones and fallen stone. You break from the shadows into an area of old houses, villas, converted into smaller and smaller apartments for those who can barely afford to eat, let along rent. You watch as an elderly mexican woman pushes a rusted trolley with wheels askew up the hill beside you… and then in one moment, a great slab of rock tumbles from the building above her folding about her… the road leaps to the left and the volvo lurches uncontrollably to the left slamming in to the gutter." Let the characters act. Run the process of the Earthquake as it shatters the land around them. Driving is difficult as the road buckles under the waves that life the tarmac, while buildings crumble on all sides, slamming into the sidewalk and road. Powerlines collapse and madly twist. Obviously the best would be to stop the car, but it is up to them. Aftermath is of silence. The city is suffocated in the mist of dust kicked up by demolished complexes and homes. Nowhere can they see another living being. On the crest of a small rise in the city, they can see little of the devastation as now the haze is a wall. Whether or not their car survived is dependent on their actions, but now the roads are totally unusable, at least in their immediate area. Huge rents in the earth gape across the road, the tarmac torn. The sides of buildings stare naked at them, revealing disturbed insides, but no people anywhere. The heat is omniscient and the air strangled in the silence. And then down a side street, they hear the wailing of a woman, a woman screaming in utter agony. Her cries bounce between the clustered rubble. Should they investigate they will come across a disturbing scene and one that has ramifications beyond what they realize. As they close the distance, the screaming becomes more consternated. To the left an open courtyard, littered with minor rubbled scattered across a cobbled area and shattered well, oozing a dark liquid as a creek that runs near them. Before them the fallen face of a building reveals a grisly interior. In a sweatbath a woman reclining, her legs spread, blood splattered across her splayed legs and on the hands and forearms of the midwife helping the birth. As they watch, the mother gives a hellish cry and groan and the midwife pulls from between her legs a body. The midwife shakes her head at the mother, and wraps the baby in a towel and hurries away… the mother begins to scream in panic and hysterics. Whatever the characters do, the first aftershock rocks through the city, and it is by far stronger than the initial quake. Buildings fully topple consuming roads, and dust kicked up occludes vision. The ground bounces, throwing them madly. The characters may suffer injury. When the aftershock abates the woman is gone, and the building still standing, but only bloody smears the sign of what was there. The midwife, as many in the city, delivers the children to Sangre Negra, many midwives being cultists, the bodies of stillborn children highly valued in the temple. Not that they will know this, but it shows relativity. From here the characters may do as they wish, but the city will become increasingly chaotic and dangerous, the illusion shorn in many areas. Minor aftershocks only damage the fractured city more. Looters run riot, claiming whatever they can from all people. Further in, bodies mangled and torn among large collapsed and broken walls, blood smeared and drying the blowflies already converging and birds scavenging. Sound resumes with sirens wailing in the distance, and circling planes depart the ravaged city. Frantic survivors walk about shell-shocked, while others try to dig out the muted sounds of those trapped under rubble. Tension builds in the street, so much it is palpable. In the distance the sounds of gunfire brap, now and then edging closer. Play up the danger, and play up encounters; dazed man raving about the end of the world, others begging help to take a dead relative or lover to the hospital, blow-fly clouds of media swooping in to view the carcasses, et al. Walking to the home where they will be residing will take several hours and the sun will be lowering by then. They will notice that not all of the city is destroyed, some parts in great disarray, but others seemingly untouched. Mostly it is centered on the city centre and on the outlying shantytowns which never stood a chance against even the most minor of earthquakes. Their home is untouched. "On a small hill overlooking the city, the house is an older style villa, converted for these modern times. A pillared balcony overlooks the city, the house stepped in two levels beyond. Rich in a sandy colour, streaked with wash over the years, the walls cradling iron-wrought brackets for outside lights. The fauna is sparse, but enough to obscure the building from the other closely packed homes surrounding it. Under its shadow, a small wooden batch sits in the lower corner of the section, enshrouded by large leafed fauna." The house is well furnished. Not lavish, but has many old fittings, still working, but with modern accoutrements and furnishings. There are three bedrooms, large kitchen, dining area, study (replete with small library), computer access (with internet connection), one bathroom and one ensuite. As they recover from the day's experience, they can learn from radio or television the extent of the damage to the city. ~A Typical News Report~ "A powerful earthquake rocked central and southern Mexico Thursday afternoon, killing at least 200 people officially, ripping the facades from buildings, uprooting roads and spreading panic, looting, and through Mexico City. Accounts of more death still coming in hourly. The earthquake had a magnitude of 7.6, according to the National Seismology Institute in Mexico city. The U.S. Geological Survey had earlier rated the preliminary magnitude at 7.8. The earthquake lasted five minutes; it registered its maximum intensity for 55 seconds. Authorities in Mexico City, said damage was heavy and centered on the city center itself. Many churches and homes were completely destroyed. President Ernesto Zedillo said, "I am very worried about our city... we are activating the whole civil defense apparatus as always," Though damage was heavy it was sporadic as television news helicopters surveyed the city, pointing out untouched areas and totally obliterated parts. The state news agency, Notimex, reported electrical power was shut off completely, and water and sewage treatment plants were damaged in 95 percent of the city. Thousands of workers quickly fled their offices and gathered along Reforma Avenue and other major thoroughfares in the capital, staring at swaying skyscrapers. Shattered glass was fell from some buildings and four people were killed. The quake was felt as far south as Chiapas state, 500 miles (800 kilometers) southeast of Mexico City, and in northern Guatemala. It bounced many cars onto sidewalks along Mexico City roads and uplifted thoroughfares." ~That Night~ Power returns late that evening, gun shots in sync with the sirens and helicopters, that continue on through the night. Small fires burn in areas, but do not grow and are kept under control. Give the characters time to discuss, if they feel like it, and to settle in to their new home. The only over even that evening is a dream that Angelo experiences, less under his control than usual. Use the following html link to begin his sequence: Dream Sequence ~Friday February 20th 1998~ That morning 9am, the Ciudad Universitaria aide, Alvaro Oviedo, to the rector, Cesar Amado arrives and speaks with Argent. Direct the players to look at Alvaro Oviedo for a picture and short description of him. Alvaro feigns a little concern over Stephen's safety and is surprised at Bruce Bowerly being there and asks for a reason why. Alvaro explains to Stephen that the rector, Cesar Amado wishes to meet with him in person to discuss a few minor matters and to officially welcome him to their city. He has a car waiting outside. Alvaro will not be dissuaded and will do his best to get Stephen to go to the University to meet with his employer. Bruce and Angelo are not welcome. However, there is something to possibly occupy both of them. ~Meeting Cesar Amado~ Cesar should be played as a man with much intellect and knowledge, and like Stephen, reluctant to part with any of it. A silent battle of wills. Cesar has been instructed to keep Stephen under minor observance, and to bring him closer wants to try to get Professor Argent to give a lecture at the university to a philosophy class. Cesar tells Stephen he is very impressed with his work and has followed what he could. His thesis, 'The Influence of Medieval Occultism on Modern Psychological and Metaphysical Thought' he found very illuminating and he is sure Professor Cancino, the Dean of Philosophy would be honoured to have him give a lecture. Cesar politely enquires about his residence, if all is well. The talk is short and Cesar has other appointments and has Alvaro drive him home returning some 10:30am. Cesar Amado "Cesar's office is more like a room for several families. A large hulking leather chair crouches behind his elegantly carved post-spanish conquest writing desk, neatly arranged and Spartan in documents and writing instruments. Behind him in a massive gilt frame, an original Waldeck oil painting, elegantly and classically illuminating a fallen Aztex city. Red velvet curtains drape over the stained glass mosaic windows of Catholic heritage, which filter in most of the light into the room, while Mexican art deco lamplights guide ambient light into the shadowy recesses where books fill the many glass-encassed shelves. A small leather lounge of sorts before a marble chess table sits to the right, while to the left, a wooden door is closed. Two awkward wooden chairs with sewn cushions face the chair resting upon a intricate and brightly decorated carpet." ~The Party and Joy~ While Stephen departs (note: it is possible that Stephen returns for this encounter and may or may not accompany them) and Bruce and Angelo collect themselves individually, Lorenzo Jarimillo; Lorenzo Jarimillo an on and off friend of Angelo swings by Angelo's new 'squat' to tell him of a post-apocalypse party that is happening down in a private house. This may pique Bruce's curiosity since, Lorenzo in his casual way knocks on the main door to the house and not the batch, but alerts Angelo nonetheless who crawls out from a disturbing dream. The party is being held at Jose Sanchez' apartment. Lorenzo tells Angelo this excitedly, and hints at the women that will be there, not to mention the drugs and alcohol. It is a midday start. Lorenzo has a car and is more than happy to take them. He is nosey and asks many questions about what his new job requires, the perks, the foreigners. Lorenzo has no problem with Bruce and will chat with him animatedly if given the chance. Lorenzo will explain who Jose is, if required, one of Mexico's leading young post-modern whose themes are the decay and death of man with Aztec themes drawn into a modern context, alongside of sexual coupling of all types. Jose Sanchez' home is beautiful three-storied white marble manor of sweeping stairs and architecture and art. His pool opens out onto a wild jungle garden, the water flush with the black glass sides and overlooks the city on the slopes in Polanco. Many young people are here, mingling, drinking the free alcohol and sharing in the copious amounts of drugs being shared by the beautiful or clique youths. Many encounters can be had here. Talking with Jose who sweeps through the crowd, distant and ambiguous, or with those who live with him. Jose Sanchez Alley Trevi Susana Espitia Here at the party, some youths are partaking of the new Allegria (Jose knows nothing of this drug at the moment, since drugs are the least of his interests). The human shaped cookies, tinged ochre in colour are devoured. One of the youths may even offer one of the characters to share in the drug, "a special kind of joy, a trip he'll never forget". Roach (Angelo) has brief glimpses of one of the youths taking the drug, screaming in an alley while others crowd around her, the sounds of gurgling. Let them linger as they will, but the longer it goes on the more drunk the youths get, the more uncultured and base it becomes. Jose disappears later. Before they leave, Lorenzo tells Angelo he saw Carolina the other day near the Zócalo. He tells him that she asked about him, and he told her where he was staying now and that she might pay him a visit soon. Allow the characters to return, probably via taxi, since Lorenzo has no interest in driving them back since he is having too much fun. ~Downtime~ Naturally the characters will have their own agenda's to think about and interests to begin exploring. Use this time to allow them to begin to develop their plans. ~Carolina~ In the days following, when the characters are together, Carolina arrives to the house, stumbling to the main door and knocking. She is looking for Angelo, and her state of mind is obvious. Carolina She is barely comprehending of anything around her, and lucidity is not a function doped as she is. Carolina has been given the Allegria (Joy) drug by one of the prostitutes serving the Ciccatri. They have followed her here, ready to take her when she either kills herself or opportunity presents itself for them to slaughter her, while the Vision Serpent lures her to the Chimera. She carries with her another portion of the drug, which she intends to give to Angelo. She has no idea what the drug is other than it is one of the best there is. She is beginning to pass out when she talks to him, telling him she has allegria for him, then she says she is tired, doesn't feel so good, and falls into unconsciousness. Wherever the characters put her, once she is asleep the Vision Serpent makes its move descending upon her and prompting her to place her 9mm pistol into her mouth, where she pulls the trigger, exploding the back of her head. The gunshot they will hear. What they do is up to them, but the moment she is left alone once more, the Ciccatri enter the house take her body and drag it out and race to their awaiting vehicle. The characters may possibly hear this, or actually see a swift flash of figures moving rapidly to the road where a waiting old bmw sans plates sits idling. They bundle the body inside the car and speed off. Make it an interesting minor chase. The Ciccatri are dressed in heavy baggy clothing, replete with hoods pulled over their faces.