Just a little background (yes, I know, more backround? bear with me, we’ll be starting the story in just a twinkle), I wanted to do preludes for all the characters. The purpose was twofold. First, get everyone acquainted with the new World of Darkness rules. Second, get everyone acquainted with their characters. I really didn’t feel like running a short story with one player while the rest of them sat bored (or watched TV, or stack dice, or add side comments, etc, etc). Also, in my continuing effort to make things a little different at the game table, I decided to get all the players involved by having them play the supporting cast in the prelude.

Disclaimer: I’m ad-libbing from memory on one-shot stories that happened almost two years ago. If there’s errors, let me know and I’ll ammend them.

Disclaimer 2: This chronicle is for mature audiences only.

And away we go…

“What did you want to tell me Shawn?” Robert questioned, wondering what his best friend was doing, dragging him out to the middle of nowhere. Hikers had gone missing a few days ago and he was feeling nervous about being there. They were so far from the nearest cell tower that there were no bars on his phone. On top of that, the recent rains had made the ground all muddy, ruining his brand new Timberlands. And if there were any nature stains on his brand new Levis, he’d forget all about Greco-Roman and go WWF on Shawn.

“I, um, I had something, uh, important to tell you,” his friend stammered. Shawn ran his fingers through his dirty blonde hair. He used to blame God, feeling cursed with feelings like this, and in West Virginia of all places. He came to grips with himself and with the emotions that he started to feel wrestling with Robert, watching him shower after gym. He had enough, though, he realized that he couldn’t go on without being honest to his friend. Shawn was nervous, unsure of how his friend of years would respond. It wasn’t helping, the green tinted light deepening the green of Robert’s irises, the shadows cutting across his strong jawline. And that looming darkness behind him, “What?” Shawn pointed.

The dark shape slammed Robert to the ground in a single, meaty blow. His friend, Shawn, didn’t even get a chance to call out before a second blow crushed him to the wet earth.

a few days later

“I’m telling you, Betty, the sheriff doesn’t believe me! He’s looking in the wrong place!” He slammed his fist down on the library table, bringing jolted stares and shushing hisses about the room. Ken glanced about, then hunched over, embarassed by his outburst.

Betty shook her head, she was more worried about tomorrow’s math test than wether or not the sheriff was listening to her friend. She was vaguely aware about the couple that got lost in the woods about a week ago. She was little more aware of the two jocks from the wrestling team that also disappeared after being seen entering the woods. Betty, however, was aware of her tenuous grip of a passing math grade. Painfully aware the consequences a failing grade would have on her cheerleading. Sure, Ken had time to worry about missing people, he always got good grades, even while spending half his days wandering those woods.

Ken went on, oblivious to the plight of Betty Freeman’s high school career, of her life. “I found Keith Harding’s wallet in Juniper Creek. You know, right where that tree arches over the water?” Betty half-nodded, confused both by why she needed to know sine and cosine, and why Ken thought she knew what he was talking about. “You know,” Ken continued, reaching that pitch she’d come to label as his Encyclopedia Brown voice, where he’d explain it all so she could understand, “it probably flowed down from the old Alder place. There used to be a stream there before the road was made a couple miles north of it. It comes back for a bit, sometimes, when rains real hard. The water guage I have out back said we got about ten inches.” The Brown voice was cute at times, and she liked the confident look it gave him, but right now it was frustrating. “I think I should go out myself, I know those woods better than anyone.”

the next day

Robert woke up to muttering and scraping. “It’s not human, can’t be, can’t be.” In the dim light, he could see that he was in some type of earthen fruit cellar. Shelves and old, broken mason jars lined the walls. He turned his throbbing head in the direction of the voice. He saw his good friend hanging unconscious, hair matted black with dried blood. The owner of the voice was a man , he seemed oddly familiar, and he was being dragged by his tied up arms across the dirt floor. The man was being pulled by a darkened shape, their captor, Robert realized in a surreal moment of clarity. He thought that his fellow captive, his mind still wouldn’t allow him to call himself victim, was crazy. As the thing turned to him, he realized how wrong he was. Their captor was something…other and it dragged the man up the steps.

“Shawn…Shawn!” Robert quietly called out to his friend, who was stirring awake. “Are you alright?” Robert said this even though his friend was also restrained with chains and a deep purple-black bruised kept one eye closed. “Listen, I think we’re in real trouble here. Those hikers that have been missing, I just saw the guy. He was tied up like us. And..and the, uh, guy, he’s got this wierd pig face. We got to get out of here. I don’t want to think about what he’s got planned for us.”

Above them, a man screamed, “No, no, noooooo-,” but was cut off by a heavy, wet thud.

Shawn looked dazed towards the ceiling, then over towards his chained up friend, “Bob, I’m gay and I love you.”

elsewhere the same day

Ken was not happy. He knew that he was right, the Harding couple was somewhere near the abandoned Alder place, but no one would listen to him. At least Betty agreed to join him. “It’s not much farther, Betty. We’ll be able to find them.” Still, he was starting to feel worried. Several times now he steered them around animal traps. Some of them were simple rope, others were dangerous metal jaws.

“Do you really think they’ll be there?” Betty was also elated. Even though it was kind of creepy walking through the woods, it didn’t matter because she got a solid C on her math test. She had even waited after school for the teacher to grade it for her, so she could know as soon as possible.

“I just hope everything will be alright.” He brushed aside a leafy branch, revealing a deteriorated old building. The Alder place once was a small pig farm. Now, decades after the farm collapsed in response to larger mass farming, the woods had recovered much of the land. He quickly noted, that despite the partially caved roof and chipped walls, there were still lights flickering under the power of a generator. “Um, Betty, maybe you should wait here while I check it out?”

The screen door was kicked open, sending some of the few remaining flakes of white paint off. Out of it stepped a hulking brute carrying a dark stained bag. Ken squinted, looking deep into the shadows cast by the building, and recoiled in horror. In the darkness the man, seemed to have a pig’s head. He choked back a mouthful of vomit as he watched the man dump the bag’s contents into a small pen. “Do you see something?” Panic began to enter her voice as she saw Ken’s face drain of color, “Ken, tell me, what’s wrong?” Ken pushed Betty deeper into the woods, his hand clasped over her mouth.

“Quiet!” Ken hissed. His mind was racing. What to do? What to do? They should run, was his first thought. He should get Betty and himself as far away from here as possible and forget that they saw anything. The moment of cold panic passed as he thought about the Harding couple. He knew he was right, they should be there at the Alder place. What if they were in danger? A part of his mind screamed, ‘What do you mean, what if? If they’re in there, then they sure as hell are in danger.’ He couldn’t leave them there, could he? He looked at Betty, no he couldn’t leave. He took a deep breath, “Betty, stay here, stay quiet. I’ll be back.”

Ken quickly skirted across the short distance between the edge of the woods and the building and found the doors to the cellar. It smelled like dirt and vomit. Ken tried to mentally prepare himself. He had gutted fish and butchered deer. He tried to ready himself for the sight of blood and gore. Everything seemed amplified in his senses. The creak of the steps, the sound of the pigs outside, the rattling of chains, the sound of Bob Detweiler saying, “Dude, you, uh, you’re on your own there. I don’t think I’m like that.” Ken turned the corner and saw Shawn McCloskey and Bob Detweiler hanging from chains staring shocked at each other.

“What’re you,” was all Ken managed to get out before the two noticed him with sharp twists of surprise.

“Ken, Ken!” Bob almost shrieked with joy. “Jesus Christ, dude, get me the fuck out of here, please, please!”

Somewhat less enthusiastic was Shawn, “Ken, you’re here.” Ken guessed that Shawn was in some kind of shock, because it looked to him that Shawn really didn’t care what happened to him.

‘Worry about mental health later,’ Ken told himself. He walked over to Bob and boosted him off the hook that was holding the chains. He went to listen to see if that…man had come back inside.

“Why don’t you get him down?” Bob stated, almost distantly, while nodding at Shawn. Ken looked from Bob to Shawn, wondering what had driven a wedge between them and why did it matter in what was clearly a life and death manner. Only wanting to get out and get back to Betty, he quickly freed Shawn and motioned for them to get up the steps.

He carefully lifted the door to the cellar and glanced around. It looked clear. The three young men climbed up the cellar’s creaking stairs. Just as Ken and Shawn reached the surface, one of the stair planks snapped under Bob’s feet. Shawn acted instinctively, grabbing his friend’s outstretched hands and hauling him out of the cellar. Over the sound of the others’ labored breathing, Ken heard heavy bootfalls. He screamed, “Run! Run this way!,” and “Run, Betty! Run for your life!”

The woods blurred by them as Ken led them through the wilderness. Suddenly, branches snapped and he heard Betty’s voice cry out in pain as she tumbled to the ground. He looked back and saw his secret love on the ground, knees bleeding and clutching her ankle. Tears welled in her eyes. “Ken, I..I think it’s hurt bad.”

In the distance, he could almost see the pig-faced man crashing after them, a huge maul in his hands. Ken’s mind raced. He had brought Betty here. He had put her in danger. She was looking to him to help her. Shawn and Bob were looking to him to save them. They were terrified, he was terrified. “Bob, Shawn, pick her up and start heading that way.” Ken pointed in the direction of town. “Just keep following the sun, it’ll get you home. I’ll get it…him to follow me.” The two nodded and braced the hurt girl between them and headed off.

Ken watched them go for almost too long. He could see hot breath come out from under the pig face. This close, he could see that it was a mask. ‘Like that makes it better,’ Ken said as he connected with an improvised club. This wasn’t a thing, it was a crazy man and men could be beaten. Ken realized what he could do. He began moving through the woods, finding the path he took to the Alder house. He remembered what he had to avoid to get there. He dodged and feignted amongst the trees he spent so much time among.

A metal snap. A scream of pain. Ken looked back, almost breathless from the running. The pig man was on the ground, wailing in agony as the metal teeth of a trap dug into his leg. The mask had come off as the man had hit the ground. He was a normal looking guy, just like anyone back home. Ken didn’t wait around, he ran off to find Betty and the boys.

Later, the town’s paper and the local news would honor Ken as a hero. As to the fate of the pig man killer? The police only found the mask and a torn boot attached to a trap, with the foot still inside.