CoC/WoD Crossover Transcript

Introduction

This was a first post for me. I’ve preserved my Out of Character (or OoC) comments at the end because I feel they illustrate both what I was asking Corvys to do at the time, as well display my self-consciousness and nervousness at the start of the new game.

Comments

I knew I wanted to start with a splash, something that provided lots of story-telling hooks that Corvys could grab.

I’m a bit of a pedant when it comes to RP research, almost to the point of it being a bad thing. It’s been a while, but I recall checking Google Earth and finding the location (to ensure veracity), and tried to come up with a quasi-realistic name for the law firm.

Whenever I write for RPGs, I tend to use a Funetik Aksent. I feel it lends a bit of character and the reading is slowed and thought out, providing a resonance with people trying to parse and understand people with odd accents. The only problem is in consistency – I suck at accents (and don’t do them at a table unless I *really* have to), so I can’t promise I’ll stay on track with this. Please don’t hate me :)

I also tried, with the subtlety of a sledgehammer trying to crack an egg, to emphasize the OCD of the character. It’s quite fun to detail everything in tiny detail, knowing the character would be doing the same.

Transcript

Let us set the scene:
The year is 2006. Our location: Shriftwood, one of the outer boroughs of London. The firm of Wales, Grant, Hill and Proteor.

Naomi Proteor has been working in the firm since 2000, particularly in difficult cases of criminal law. With an excellent record of case work, and using her stunning looks to help, her career has been fast-paced and well-known. She has a reputation amongst her peers as a power-hungry workaholic with personality disorders, and she doesn't care.

What she does care about is the supernatural. Particularly, faeries.

Faeries killed her brother, she knows it. Her therapist, Lindsay, can say what she wants: Naomi knows the truth.

Her employer, James Wales, an aging almost-aristocrat with a life-time of regrets, doesn't care about faeries, and doesn't care if Naomi does. He cares that with her on-board as partner, they've successfully dealt with more 'trouble' clients in a month than they used to in a quarter.

The other partners, Richard Grant and Sean Hill, keep their feelings about Naomi to themselves. She doesn't trust them, and possibly with good reason - both share little about themselves, but they seem to settle 'political' lawsuits out-of-court with great success. Famous and infamous politicians have graced their three-story offices on many occasions (in fact, the back door of the offices, in the alleyway is somewhat famous for the celebrity lineup that they're rumoured to have), and Richard and Sean have yet to let one down (or so they say).

The date of our story is the 12th of May, and as Naomi gets in to work, she is greeted by her clerk/personal assistant/ sycophant/secretary, Lindsay. Lindsay is tree-hugging hippie, still clinging to her American accent despite Naomi's preferences to the contrary. She is fanatically devoted to Naomi, having been initially assigned to Sean (who, rumours say, may have made... suggestions... prior to her reassignment to Naomi), and has quickly learned the necessary tidiness and organisation
required to work for Naomi. Lindsay hands Naomi her tea: green, sugarless. She has taken her tea like this for years, and has never changed the winning formula. She mentally reviews her meetings for the day, walking into her office. Though most of the building prefers dark wooden paneling, Naomi's office is somewhat different: she has had the paneling of the walls removed, and plastered. Plain white walls, with glass-and-granite bookshelves (covered in case-law, alphabetically, with every book perfectly aligned), and a glass-topped steel desk. She had paid for most of the renovations personally, and it suited her mind perfectly.

As she sits down, placing her tea on her coaster (the coaster and a laptop, the only objects upon the desk's surface), she opens her laptop. A few clicks and taps later, she's looking at the files for her first meeting: a Jerome Foxworthy. Family knows Mr. Wales. He was found, muddy, hands covered in fresh human blood on the main drive into London on the 4th. He has been detained by the police until now. The police statement says that he was not in a fit mental state, assumed drunk. The
paperwork for the breathalyzer is missing, but she sees no reason to assume otherwise. Blood analysis shows that it is not his own blood that is on his hands - firstly, he's AB+ and the blood is A-. He'll be brought to their offices within half an hour. Jerome's father, an influential businessman in the borough, has asked that this be kept quiet, though he doesn't know the circumstances (Jerome having left home some years prior to this), and understands if it scales out of control - though he has hinted that a rather large sum of money would then be assigned to some other use.

Half an hour later, the tea-cup is empty, and removed by Lindsay, and the slightly uncomfortable chair in front of Naomi's desk is full. Jerome looks like the very opposite of the sort of person Naomi wants in her office: disheveled, dirty, slurring.

In stutters, slurs and over-acted hand-gestures, Jerome explains that "they're owt to get meh". He "sore wut they wuz up to", and "they don't wunt anywun tah heah".