[WOD] The Hedge Tales, Week 2- The Turning

[Welcome to the 2nd week of the Hedge Tales. This is personally my favorite of the five stories. I wrote it first, and came back to it throughout the series as a touchstone whenever I was stuck. Enjoy!]

I woke up different. I’m long and lean, covered in soft brown fur, with whiskers and ears that telescope on the top my head. My mouth is elongated, and full of big teeth. My eyes are sharper, with clearer vision, but in a much lower spectrum. Colors are washed out, and bright things look a touch grainy. My nose is aflame with a million scents and textures in the air. It’s like a factory of information and my brain is on overload at the moment. I can’t help but notice that I have four legs, with bends going the wrong way at the joints, and weirdest of all, a tail. I shake myself in a strangely dismissive gesture, and I make a slight chuffing noise. I try to get back to business.

I look myself over in depth, and the closest I can come to understanding it is to think of myself as lupine, maybe a coyote. I hear a weird “meep-meep” in my head, strangely familiar, but terribly disconnected. I don’t know where it’s from. I circle around, getting used to the pads on my feet. I’m more than a little wobbly, confusion hazing my every thought. I rest my head on my paws, smelling the loam and the world around me on their fur. I doze off, a strange cloud of unease and bizarre thoughts running through my head.

I wake, and the world is different. It’s a vast forest, full of life. I spend the longest time drinking in the leaves, the trees, the bushes, the pollen, the flowers, the birds, the rabbits and the many other creatures that dwell here. I catch a whiff of a vole, and I straighten, trying to determine how many strides it will take to catch it. I know it’s not what I really want to hunt, but it’s near, and it’s small; so it will do.

I make a leap, pouncing after the terrified little rodent. I feel the air rushing under my chest, my legs rippling as I tear after my target, my muscles bunching and loosening under my pelt as the earth glides beneath me. My teeth catch the skin behind its little head, my snout all fangs and fury.

I clamp my mouth, and the world is different. It’s an arid desert, dry and empty in the hot sun. The rocks and sand are blazing in the mid day, and all around me is bleached out under the torture of the solar blast. I take a moment to smell the immediate area, and I can sense water, but it’s hidden. I know I won’t last long with my tongue hanging out, panting away my hydration. I head to a large section of boulders, and find an outcropping. I begin to dig a small hole, and wiggle myself into it, using the slight umbrella of shade from the overhang. I rest my head for the slightest moment.

The world is different again. I can’t remember how many times the world was changed. Weeks, months and maybe years of perpetual change passed me by as I struggled to accept this form. This existence is alien and difficult, but a part of myself recognizes its usefulness. I know that I learned to live in each new place, adapting and using the little resources I had every time something is made again. Every time I came close to any kind of solace, or indulge in my primal desires, the world was different.

I encounter others in the lupus families as I make my way through these strange lands. I learn their languages, their ways of communicating. I make some mistakes, to be sure. I quickly learn the many ways to show that I'm not after territory- to keep my tail low, to avert my head, to dig a makeshift latrine, not to howl, and to stay out of the way of alphas marking their areas. I don't want territory, but even if I wanted it, I couldn't keep it. I learned that lesson very quickly here.

As much as things change here, there are some constants. I can easily predict that as soon as I pursue prey, or show interest in an area, or find myself settled, I'll be shaken into a strange new place where I have to learn to adapt again.

Something jangles in my head- a fitting little ditty that seems so close but so far away. "How do we sleep when our world is turning?"

I keep it in my head every time the world is different.

[WOD] The Hedge Tales, Week 1- The Induction

When I was working on my Changeling character for the World Of Darkness game I play in, my ST had me roll randomly to determine if my character remembered her life before Arcadi as well as if she had any memories from inside the Hedge.

Eiel has no memories at all of her life before the Hedge. She does, however, remember her time in captivity very vividly.

My ST asked me to come up with some ideas of what my vision of her Durance and captivity was like. Here is the first of five stories I wrote with that intention. Hope you enjoy!
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I entered the oversize ballroom, clearly examining my surroundings. The cathedral ceilings are gilt in gold, the walls blanketed with soft frescoes and endless tapestry. Chandeliers and sconces emit strange flickering light over the cavernous room, playing tricks on my eyes. The mere beauty of my surroundings is hard to fathom, and the mood of the hall strikes an odd chord in my heart. Shadows dance a jig in the corner, yet a strange melancholy rests in my head.


The music is played by what I see as moving anthropomorphic instruments. I have a stray thought of a dancing candlestick, teapot and armoire. I vaguely remember these images, but I can't recall why. As I move closer, I notice the musicians in more detail. I'm strangely moved by the cello, a curious cross of flesh and strings. I see her face in the scrollwork of the head, her ears poked with ivory pegs, like nightmare jewelry. Her slender neck is the fretboard, and her dark brown hair has been worked into strings. Her broad back and shoulders are softly rounded, with her wide chest bearing the bridge and crosspiece. Her arms act as the bow, moving across the strings with the music. Her wide lines come in sharply around her abdomen, with her torso flayed open for the “F” holes. Her hips and pelvis form the base of the instrument, coming to a gentle rounded stop, with her legs crossed and nearly fused together as the endpin.


There's a table stretching from one end of the room to the other, exquisitely appointed with chargers, monogrammed linens, crystal, silver, gold and breathtaking china. The table is laden with sumptuous foodstuffs; every dish more delectable looking than the next. Other appetites are addressed as well, with narcotics, pornography, libations, and more laid out for the taking. The air is thick with aromas and the scent of wax from the candles lighting the table.


A cool scrutiny presses heavily on the room, it's presence active and intense among the occupants. Like frosty breath puffing from a warm mouth, the air moves with chilly vapors. The varied beings here all react in some way, aware of each touch, each sensation and each action as the hall settles into an icy pall, thick with investigation and examination.


There are others here, aside from the quartet of living instruments; about eight in total. A few sit carefully, heads held high, chatting amiably yet discussing nothing of importance. Their eyes are riveted straight ahead, and their bodies kept remarkably still as they convey no emotion nor show any indication of the table or the surroundings.


There are some who have managed to control the outward expressions of desire, interest, or hunger. Their latent desires are betrayed however; through a quick flicker of their eyes, a nod of their head or the slightest twitch of their fingers. The electric heat of their pique rests in my nose, on my tongue, on the hair on my neck.


A fierce and primal part of me responds, eager to pounce on the morsels of arousal. My ears perk forward, my nostrils flare, my haunches tighten and I gather myself in anticipation of a quick strike.

The room goes cold, the air nearly frozen in time. I hear a crisp, cool voice murmuring to me. The question is simple enough, but loaded with malice.


“Whose desire is the strongest? Who would you find as your prey, if I were to let you hunt?”


It's the briefest of signals; the slightest of hints. The cold presence thickens and falls upon the target suddenly. The crystalline form of her body shimmers with ripples of color as she devours the emotion, and I'm crushed under her weight. I should know by now, but I can't help myself. I'm still too greedy.

[WOD] Eile- Snapshots

Freeze Frame- J. Geils Band 

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These little vignettes are best imagined as a black and white photos or short movies; just a quick glimpse into Eile's current life in Austin.

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Picture 1-

The camera has captured Eile from a side-long and front ways angle, with the background in soft focus She could be anywhere- a bus or train station, restaurant or kitchenette of a small apartment. There's both a sense of mystery and familiarity to the shot. It's a rarely candid and intimate moment.

Eile is casually clumped low in a high back chair, her legs crossed and thrown over a table or bench in front of her. Her feet are shockingly bare, with her toenails delicately painted. Her head is thrown back and resting against the back of the chair, exposing her long and vulnerable neck.

In the hand nearest the camera, aggressively held in a fashion reminiscent of men and cons, is a lit cigarette, seemingly moving towards her mouth. Eile's eyes are closed in a tranquil and pensive fashion. Her lips are slightly open, and a cloud of hazy, dream-like smoke is caught drifting like motes in the air around her face. 

Picture 2-

The shot sees Eile as she's sunbathing atop the roof of a building. Despite the monchrome of the photo, Eile's supple nude back gleams in the sunlight. She's in the midst of turning from her back to her stomach; and her weight primarily rests on the set of her hips nearest the viewer.The dark bottoms of her bathing suit stretch across the skin of her rear in wonderful ways. The leg further from the camera is slightly bent at the knee, pushing her weight over.

One arm is under her, resting up to the elbow on the roof, and the other arm is gently bent out, with her finger crooked, beckoning to someone off camera. 

There's something sensual and hauntingly akin to an animal about to pounce on an unseen victim to the scene. 

Picture 3-

This is a long shot, taken from behind Eile's back. A sofa, sitting on the edge of a curb, sits beyond Eile in the foreground. Eile holds up a tailor's tape longways, and it's unclear if she's measuring the couch or the distant horizon seen at the outside edge of the picture.

The last picture in the series is in color. It's a source of inspiration and consideration I use often. The spirit and essence of Eile's joie de vivre just jumps off the page to me here, and the clothes and styling are spot on for how I imagine my Changeling girl. 

Thanks, Mondo!

Hope you enjoy. Look for more Eile related goodies next Friday!

Idea Generation

I have discovered that many  RPG players that I know read or belong to an online message board dealing with the topic most near & dear to them.

It seems natural- like minded people sharing ideas and thoughts on a topic that is of interest to them. Most of the time, this communal sharing is a fun and exciting experience. There's usually a good spread of ability levels- total newbies post just as often as the guys discussing the esoteric offshoot ideas. Even when things go south, it's possible to learn something new and gain a new perspective on an idea or theme you've not seen previously.

I'm a huge World of Darkness fan, and have been since Mark and the gang first introduced Vampire. I loved the rich and detailed way they showed an idea that was both new and old at the same time. The group of friends I was hanging around with at the time already told stories and made them into games, but I know my group wasn't the norm.

A lot of old school guys did the same, but there was a group of folks out there that never ran anything but pre-writen adventures. This new concept was a huge leap in how games were thought about, and was the foundations for some great games to come.

So it should come as no surprise that I read the WOD boards very often. I check them out for new ideas, different scenarios, character concepts, etc. It just so happens that no one else in my WOD group  checks out the boards there. None of them had seen the pages of contracts based on Shakespeare, or the discussion of freeing slaves having a consequence of being charged for theft.

I steal ideas from the boards all the time. I might not use them the same way, and I may not even put the ideas into the game- but I steal things whole cloth from the WOD boards. I have a pretty good sense of how to make the ideas "mine"; but I sure didn't come up with them myself.

I know my husband takes ideas from outside sources very frequently also. He once based an entire run of a game off of lyrics of a song. He's not the only one. My son made a TV character into a villain in his game. I played in a "Miami Vice" RPG.  One of my favorite movies is pure Shadowrun inspiration.

Every now and then I get asked; "Where did you get that idea?". I'm always honest- "I was inspired by" or "I saw this and adapted it" are pretty standard answers. But I love that I have a resource that is pretty untapped and ready to be perused any time I have a moment.

Theme Songs

I have found that having a theme song for my characters helps me get the right mood, tone, personality and even generates some quotes.

I also have books, movies and TV shows that give me food for thought (as mentioned in my last post). I lived & died by "Without Remorse" while playing Jak. Mr. Kelly/Mr. Clark were invaluable resources for the deep well that was Jak's mind.