After doing some homework, you discover that the Wellington School for Gifted Children accepts only the brilliant or troubled, who are often both; the sorts of kids who get so bored that they cause trouble if sent to an average school. Nestled in a small town, the school had been recently bought out by a private company, EduTech. In the privatization, EduTech fired the entire staff and began hiring a whole new faculty and administration.  They called it "restructuring".  The fired teachers called it "union busting". The papers reported some of the old staff wouldn't give up their jobs.  They locked themselves in the building and refused to leave.  Most staff have been hired, but 3 jobs remain open.  You have applied for one, sending in your basic qualifications and any others you were able to scrounge up and you wait by the phone and by your email for word.  Finally it comes, in the form of an old fashioned letter with a wax seal, with your name printed on the front.  It is an invitation for an interview at the school itself with the words, "Arrive promptly at 3.30pm. Dress is neat casual."  The brochure was included as well; on it a picture of the school - picturesque English hedge gardens, fountains and an old neo-gothic style school in orange red brick, all surrounded by a wall and open only through a set of old iron gates with the words "Wellington" printed in iron at the top. The brochure talks about a focus on future careers as well as higher learning with a functioning auto shop and metal works, and higher learning guest instructors each semester with classes such as anthropology, world religions, paranormal studies and a variety of other esoteric subjects.


This message was last edited by the GM at 00:42, Wed 06 Aug 2014.

After a quick googling of "neat casual", and a decision to wear his normal suit anyway, augmented with a private school pin and some Loyola cufflinks, Right arrives at the Wellington School for Gifted Children. He arrives 15 minutes early and waits for ten across the street. Three minutes prior to the meeting, he strolls into the office to announce himself. He greets the receptionist and displays his invitation.

The school seems very much like a place for the God-Machine to do his work. High levels of order and discipline, a place of rapid development and constant churn. Perhaps the God-Machine is behind the human learning model. Or perhaps it's a case of parallel evolution; one right answer being arrived at independently by several sources.

He mentally curses himself as he waits for his interview. He should have called Lucella for backup. The very notion strikes him as entirely unnatural; a byproduct of spending every waking moment as a one man quick response team before he Fell. It's unimportant, he tells himself, no Angel will detect him unless they're looking for him, and he can take anything else. He misses the feel of his blade sinking into flesh.

The calm and polite receptionist smiles and leads you to a large office, exactly the type of office one would imagine a school like this having with imposing statues, bookcases and memorabilia litter the walls, a large oak desk and dark high backed leather chairs. An older gentleman sits in the chair behind the desk with a large red mustache and red frazzled hair wearing an old waistcoat and tweed jacket with leather patches. He smiles at you and nods at the receptionist who heads back out, closing the door behind her.

"Well hello there! Pleasure to meet you. So, you've come to apply for the job, eh?" A thick Canadian accent indicates his origins. He pulls a cigar from a brown wooden box and offers you one.
This message was last updated by the player at 01:26, Wed 06 Aug 2014.

"Why yes. Thank you very much." he says as he pulls a cigar from the wooden box, reimagining it as a spent fuel rod. "I have heard that you are looking for an English teacher, and you will find none more dedicated. This is exactly the kind of institution where I feel at home, the kind where I belong," he says, only half-lying, "The roots of education are bitter, but its fruits are sweet, yes?"

He takes a seat when motioned, and accepts a light when offered one. The Canadian accent is unexpected, but neither too ordinary nor too bizarre, well within the realm of probability. He begins to affect the slightest trace of a Canadian accent, just a slight alteration of the vowels. Nothing enough to notice, just enough to subconsciously influence a sympathetic listener.

"My name is Oscar Poole.  Principal Poole to the children, of course. It is definitely a pleasure. I see here that you are a translator, I suppose this would make you highly qualified to teach English if you can take foreign languages and make them perfectly reasonable English then." He puffs on his cigar and looks as though he is talking about quite a serious thing indeed. "And yes, the roots of education are quite bitter, a bitter pill that must be swallowed! And my my what a pill this one is, eh? This school is quite beautiful, is it not? Now then, what makes you qualified to teach English at this prestigious school do you think?"
This message was last updated by the player at 01:26, Wed 06 Aug 2014.

"Ben Right, and the pleasure is mine. I have indeed worked as a translator, but my passion has always been learning. As I value principles and beliefs above earthly matters, a trait I believe this school would commend, I have never taken the time to reduce my education to formal degrees, but rest assured, I can recite Paradise Lost, perform advanced calculus, play several musical instruments at a graduate level, and reassemble a stripped car, among many other things. To be frank, I can perform almost any task with the degree of competence that you would expect from an average professional. Out of the deepest respect for all that this world has taught me, I would like to give back an equal amount of teaching. That's why I am not merely qualified, but compelled to teach, and where else but at the finest school in the state?"

He takes a pause to blow a smoke ring, "I think that you share my belief that English is not the most important thing to teach these children, though that is what is listed in the job description. You can rely on me to instill the values in them that this school has prided itself on for generations. This is the kind of institution I came from, and this is where I belong."

He carefully watches the man for any reaction, any weak point he can capitalize on. Everyone's got one.

"Well done, my man, well done." Principal Poole smiles brightly. "We have done a thorough background check and we are well satisfied with it." He points to a manila folder on his desk with your name written on the front but doesn't move to open it. "Wait here a moment." He says, resting his cigar on an elaborate stone ashtray on his desk. He heads back out of the room for a moment and then you hear brief whispers outside.  Finally, he returns, "Janet is going to show you to your room. We look forward to working with you, Mr. Right. We will send the contract over in the morning for you to look over and sign.  You can familiarize yourself with the grounds in the meantime, and I will organize a tour of some of the classes for you to get to know our style. Do you have any questions?"

"No sir, I trust that anything I need to know will be in the folder, provided by Janet, or else I shall simply ask you when it occurs to me that it's something I need to know," He goes in to shake the principal's hand, "I cannot tell you how much I am looking forward to serving this community in whatever capacity I can"

Principal Poole hands you a few extra cigars with a wink and pats your shoulder. "Welcome to the family." And sits back down, pulling a small brown bag from his desk which seems to contain some kind of sweet pastry, his focus now firmly not on you.

Janet says quietly, "This way sir." And smiling leads you down the maze of corridors, straight to a wing of the regal building and into your room.  It appears there is a men and women's separate teacher's wing. Your room is well appointed, on the 3rd floor of the 5 floors. You have a beautiful view of the grounds below where young children are playing with a soccer ball.  The room itself is sparsely decorated but the bed looks exceptionally comfortable with a large cream duvet and down pillows, and an antique desk and leather chair against the window.

Janet explains, "This is your appointed room, you are of course permitted to live off campus although we encourage any of the single teachers to live on campus in a rotational period.  Regardless, every teachers is assigned a room for emergencies and breaks." She nods politely and starts to leave. Before disappearing out the door she timidly adds, "It's a pleasure, sir.  The kids need good teachers and you seem like a good sort. They are so very troubled at times."

"Thank you, Janet" he says as she sees herself out. The first thing Right does with his privacy is read through the contents of the room and any orientation materials, memorizing in great detail anything related to the map of the school, its history, any new intentions the current administration has, or anything else that seems interesting.

The next thing he does is seek out the teachers' lounge, or anywhere else that the faculty congregates, in order to ask them how they like working there, as an excuse to hear what they think about the school and anything unusual that might be going on.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:34, Wed 06 Aug 2014.

Out in the hallway you find a fire exit map set in framed glass above a hanging fire extinguisher.  You can see there are a few areas clearly labelled and a few that are not: Teacher's quarters, Student quarters, Administration Wing, Primary School Class Wing, High School Class Wing, Laboratories, Cafeteria, Teacher's Lounge, East Library, West Library and a few other names of specific classes here and there.

No other orientation materials are available to you outside of the brochure, but there's a possibility Janet might drop something off in the morning with the contract.

You head towards the teacher's lounge and find yourself in a room with a few plush couches, some tables and a state of the art coffee machine.  A few teachers are milling about, reading books or quietly chatting.

As he appraises the teachers in the lounge, Right tries to pick out one who isn't engaged with anybody else but who doesn't look too busy; the kind of person who'd want to talk, but wouldn't be inhibited by the presence of others from saying what they really thought. He approaches his chosen target and strikes up a conversation, "Hi, I'm Ben Right, I was just hired. How do you like working here?"

You approach a young, 30-something fresh faced teacher who is eating some microwave leftovers on a table on his own. He talks to you in a deep Scottish accent. "Hullo! I'm Angus Nickelby, nice tae meet ya! I wouldna know much about it. I just started meself about a week ago. I teach metalworks an woodworking, y'kno. The kids seem to enjoy it an I cannae tell ye how much I enjoy seeming those littluns smilin'. Especially them troubled ones. What ye been hired for?"

Right adopts a jovial smile, "English. I'm going to teach these children Milton and Chaucer or die trying. Any idea what's going on with the restructuring? I keep looking over my shoulder wondering if some disgruntled P.E. teacher is going to jump from the shadows and knife me, haha!" As he tries to relate to the Scot and inquire as to the teaching situation, he gives him a finger gun. Working humans like that sort of thing.

"Och, I didnae know much about the restructuring.  Alls I know is that EduTech is famous for their "operational improvement" movements.  They swoop into bankrupt school districts, take federal money an get the school running again.  I cannae say how they do it, but they have been successful before or so I hear.  Part of the operational improvement is that many of the old teachers are fired, and they employ an Administer of Public trust.  The Principal is just a figure heid now, I didnae if you know. Take a seat, lad. Ye standing thare is making me nervous, ykno?"

"Yes, of course" Right says, noticing for the first time, as he takes a seat, "It's a good business model, at least as far as I can tell. Any idea if the teachers are allowed to reapply, or if the game is over for them? Because I can understand wanting to start from scratch, putting everyone on an equal field and choosing the best. Then again, I could also understand if they feared retaliation from fired teachers. It is a tricky business. What do you mean, an Administer of Public Trust?"

"Aye, the teachers... well, ay it is over for them, no more reapplying. They are starting fresh." He stops and stares at you for a moment, peering into your eyes like he is appraising you, "The Administer of Public Trust is the new Principal if ye will.  He works for EduTech, och, though we all do technically now, y'kno.  His office is next door to Principal Poole's and ye'll meet him soon enough.  We communicate any issues we have with the children to the APT, any trouble or strange behavior are reported so that EduTech can help or monitor if necessary. They also like ta hear the latest gossip of course, to stay abreast of everything. Ye'll get used to it soon enough, lad."

Right raises one eyebrow slightly, "If the APT is the one who deals with everything, why not make him the principal? Surely it's within their power to appoint him directly. Ah well. Anything else a new hire ought to know? Political landmines, loose cannons, things like that?"

He finds himself genuinely liking this Angus. He's useful, and doesn't cause problems. Why can't they all be like that?

"Richt ye are, lad. They shoulda maed him the principal, but the parents are key. And parents like Principals.  The APT is more of an overseer. We'll talk some more, lad, we'll talk some more. Just learn what ye can, abide by the rules, treat the children with respect and ye won't have a problem. We'll have a pint one of these days and catch up some more." Angus stands up, tidying the table and picking up his things.

The other teachers are also starting to look like they are ready to head out to class, each of them must have a class beginning at 4pm.

Right bids Angus goodbye for now, and mills about the campus, trying to get a sense of it. He tries to track down any juvenile delinquents especially. Nobody has their finger on the pulse of the system like those who define themselves by being outside of it. With one eye out for any infrastructure, he stalks the grounds ready to chase down anything even vaguely interesting.

You don't see anything that brings to mind infrastructure, but then you aren't sure what that looks like either, having seen only one true example.  You wish you could remember more about... before.  The hallways are quiet, all the children seen well behaved and inside their classrooms.  You peer into a few and you see sullen faces listening to their teachers.  Something feels off but you can't put your finger on it.  Perhaps it was the look that some of the students give you, a hollow but concerned look, peering at you as if they could see who you really are.  Your wandering takes you outside into the gardens, and sure enough, you see Reardon with his broad brimmed hat trimming the hedges at the edge of one of the gardens.

"Hi, I'm Ben Right, you must be the one keeping the grounds looking like something out of Victorian England," he says as he approaches, "You do fine work."

He leans in as if to inspect the hedge, "So what's the scoop here? I'm all set up."

"Hello Mr. Right. It is a pleasure to see you, as always.  I do quite like gardening, to be honest.  Weeding, in particular, is quite satisfying. It is good to see you." He allows himself to look genuinely pleased. "It is rare to find someone who follows their word so well. Here is what I know. I received a message through my informant, certain rumors have been spreading regarding the school, that strange things have been occurring.  We are to investigate the source and the strangeness.  The children seem to be more than just normally gifted and there seems to have been a mass cover up of the "restructuring" that occurred.  Those teacher's that locked themselves up in the school when they were fired? That's where the newspaper articles stop.  They disappeared. All of them. You need to watch your back, son. I may have put you in a wasp's nest inadvertently; I only found out about the teachers this morning after doing some of my own research. It isn't too late to back out now."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:53, Fri 03 July 2015.

"What strange things have been occurring?  What do you mean the children are more than normally gifted? Can you be more specific? And do you know where the teachers disappeared?" Right asks, rapid-fire, "I can take care of myself. Don't worry about me. You want to do me a favor, give me some contacts or something when this is all over."

Gordon continues gardening, looking up at the sky and the doorway occasionally. "I don't know much more than what I'm telling you.  And all I know is that some of the teachers were saying that these kids had powers... I'm honestly not sure what exactly myself.  Regarding the teachers, that's a mystery. Newspapers lead to the teachers fighting for their students, locking themselves up in the school and then... nothing. Though I haven't delved too far into that myself.  Also, the informant who sent me this information, well he's MIA. That in of itself makes me rather nervous."

Right nods, "Doing my own legwork it is. Who was your informant? Can't hurt him now that he's gone, yes? Thanks for the tips,- Keep up the good work, these gardens remind me of my misspent youth." He turns to leave, unless Gordon has anything else to say.

He spends the rest of the day trying to set up a meet with Lucella and convincing her to buy them a pair of new burner phones. When he's not doing that, he goes and digs up any information he can about Wellington: where the disappeared teachers had locked themselves in, any reports of supernatural children in the area, any other disappearances or mysterious circumstances regarding the school. He begins his search online, with plans to continue it in person the following day.

"I would normally have done more legwork myself, I like to search for the answers. This was time sensitive, however, given someone else could have applied for those jobs.  I'll see what I can dig up.  I garden every other day, so come looking for me if you need to, but careful with it, of course." He then switches to Jabuti, an obscure Brazilian language, "The god machine is always watching.  Don't get caught; run if you must, I will cover my tracks."

As you begin to head out, a flustered looking Janet comes running to greet you. "The contract is ready for you to sign now, if you like. They drew it up quickly but you'll need to meet with the APT and the lawyers. We... we are very excited to have you join us." She smiles prettily, absentmindedly patting her hair back into the tight bun she has it rolled into.

Right makes himself look slightly startled, "Ah, thank you Janet. I hadn't expected everything to move along so quickly. This is excellent news."

He reverses course and shows himself to the APT's office. If it is a trap, then so be it. It would be too early for them to spring it, and he has confidence in his abilities.

Janet leads you towards the Administration wing and straight to a small office next to the Principal's office, making small talk and smiling shyly at you.  The office is sparse, a simple wooden desk with 2 simple wooden chairs, one behind and one in front, a small bookshelf with only 3 books, and chair and a old metallic filing cabinet.

Sitting at the desk is a blonde haired woman, hair pulled back tight into a pony tail to utter perfection.  She is wearing a black suit with a white blouse, and is seated at the desk, the only comfort she seems to have allowed herself is what looks like an old cushion beneath her on the wooden chair.  She looks up at Janet's knocking and beckons you in, Janet nods and whispers, "Good luck!" and then to the woman she says, "I'l get the Mr. Drake's."

"Come in, Mr. Right." The woman motions to the chair. "I am Ms. Canning.  I hear you have accepted the position at Wellington, we are thrilled to have you here," She says sounding neutral about the whole affair. "We had expected the position to be filled quickly as our salary is quite competitive and so we had a draft of the contract drawn up. Our lawyers will be here shortly to go over any of the finer details with you.  In the meantime, do you have any questions I can answer for you?" She is half focused on you, half still writing something down on her notepad which is tucked into a leather business case.

Right nods, "I have no questions presently, and I trust the contract shall be nothing unusual. If there's anything I need to know, you will probably tell me, and if not, I will discover my lack of knowledge in due time so that I can remedy that."

"Good, Mr. Right. You and I are alike, nothing above the absolutely necessary. I will tell you our biggest rule here at Wellington, Mr. Right.  These children are troubled, and they need your support.  Your job is not just to teach, but to assure them that everything is fine, nothing has changed, they are safe.  They have always been a little on edge, but now moreso with the changeover.  It is imperative that any trouble be reported to myself, any strange behavior or the like.  We can then work together to resolve it.  We do not want any trouble at the school." She smiles broadly and then returns to her notepad, the soft sound of her scribbling filling the room seeming louder than it truly is in the silence between you.

Finally when the sound seems to have grown and filled up the entire room, it suddenly draws to a step as two identical men enter, each wearing a plain navy suit with matching gold ties.  They stand just behind you and introduce themselves without moving to shake your hand, "I am Samuel Drake and this is my brother Simon Drake.  We're the legal team hired by EduTech to facilitate the Wellington transition.  We've brought your contract." With this, Simon flourishes a contract and places it in front of you. "It's all the basics, we are here if you have any questions." They then turn to Ms. Canning, "Patricia, it's a pleasure to see you." She looks up at them and nods tersely, returning to her notepad.

(Roll: Wits + Subterfuge (Not telling), Int + Academics (Reading the contract if you do), Wits + Composure (Perception))
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 00:44, Sun 10 Aug 2014.

He nods to Canning as she goes back to her writing. Not a wasted word here.

"Ben Right, pleased to meet you," Right says with no apparent enthusiasm. Instead, he picks up the contract and starts to thumb through it.


20:54, Today: Mr. Right rolled 1 success using 5d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s. Int + Academics Contract reading.
20:53, Today: Mr. Right rolled 2 successes using 8d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s. Wits + Computers, downloading academic knowledge.
20:53, Today: Mr. Right rolled 39 using 7d10, rerolling max. Wits + Computers, downloading computer knowledge.

20:55, Today: Mr. Right rolled 2 successes using 7d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s. Wits + Comp Perception.

20:55, Today: Mr. Right rolled 3 successes using 7d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s. Wits + Subterfuge just because.


He has a pretty good idea of what he's reading, though he doesn't have the time to make a thorough study of it. He's suddenly very glad for his perfect memory. It means that if he has to, he'll be able to reproduce an exact copy for a lawyer if he needs to. At the same time, he gets the feeling that there is something else going on, and remains alert to any potential subterfuge or ambush.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:59, Sun 10 Aug 2014.

As you read the contract, and listen to the lawyers exchange a few other words with Ms. Canning, you get the sense that something is off about their relationship.  You thought at first that perhaps she had called for them, but now it seems as though they might have been in charge.  She appears slightly intimidated by them, which is difficult as she seems like such an intimidating woman. The contract itself appears quite simple, the usual basics regarding employment and salary with only one clause which is that they can terminate the contract without clause within the 1 year of probation.  It seems as though they have put you on a trial period here.  As the Drake's lean forward to glance at the contract, you catch a whiff of something that smells like smoke, although not quite quite as opaque as smoke, it seems to have a pleasantly woody, burnt odor.  This seems odd to you, and your further inspection of the Drake's shows the faintest hint of what appears to be a smoky breath coming from their mouths.  It is clearly well hidden but you caught it on a side glance as you continue reading.

"Looks good, fellas," Right concludes as he scrawls a signature, "Ink is fine, right, doesn't need to be blood?". He laughs a forced laugh.  Then he waits for the men to dismiss him, unless they have additional business to conclude.

If he is able to catch a moment alone with Canning, he comments that they seem off somehow and fishes for a reaction. If not, he is perfectly happy to wordlessly depart.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 01:14, Sun 10 Aug 2014.

"Whatever you prefer, Mr. Right.  What the words are made out of, doesn't matter, just the words themselves." Simon smiles toothily at you.  He takes the contract and adds, "If you need anything," Samuel responds, "Just call us." They hand you their business card, "Drake, Double Trouble, Lawyers & Co." With a quick word of goodbye to Ms. Canning, they leave.

Ms. Canning does not react to your question, saying, "They are a bit eccentric but on the whole they are quite effective. Thanks again for your service, Mr. Right. I'll be in touch. Please remember what I said earlier." She is then full focused on her notepad once more.

"Don't you worry, their wellbeing is my number one priority," Right assures her as he heads out the door, "Any signs of trouble will be sent up the chain faster so fast your head will spin."

With that, Right returns to his original plan to contact Lucella and see if she knows anything, or can dig anything up. Any remaining time goes to online research.

You notice Janet standing with a figure outside the Principal's office.  Long black hair, a neat blue suit, and bright blue eyes that look in your direction but give nothing away. Lucella.  You hear Janet saying, "He's ready for your interview now. Good luck!" And Lucella heads into the Principal's office without any further glances in your direction.

Right continues to explore the school and fiddle with his phone and a dozen other innocuous activities to kill time. He waits to see where Lucella goes after her interview and, if she goes somewhere relatively private, he makes contact.

You follow Lucella back to the Teacher's wing; realizing she must be assigned her new bedroom.  The female teacher's have their own section but it is still relatively close to yours.  Before long, Janet has said goodbye and Lucella has drifted back towards you, "You didn't think Reardon wouldn't send backup did you? Besides, I'm good at having your back." She smiles at you, her bright, most genuine smile and you wonder if she only lets the brokenness of her filter through or if it has finally leaked through her demon facade.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:46, Mon 11 Aug 2014.

Right is glad to see a familiar face in hostile territory. "I figured he would. I was hoping you'd do or, in this case, have already done, some legwork about the place. All I have to work on is that some kids have inexplicable abilities, and the old teachers disappeared.  And his contact disappeared too. I'm not the best at talking, as you have surely noticed, and while I might be able to turn up some coverage of the missing teachers, I doubt they will be so detailed as to indicate what building they disappeared in. So, I will likely have to conduct my surveillance on foot."

"Good to see you again," he appends, "I thought after our last meeting, you might not want to give it another shot. Or might be too embarrassed to."

"I'm afraid I didn't have much time for research.  It was a grab and go job of coming here, Reardon called me last minute.  One of his funny feelings again. And after our last meeting, who wouldn't want to see those fireworks again? So what are you teaching? Anthropology for me... Ironic.  "
This message was last edited by the player at 01:29, Tue 12 Aug 2014.

"English. Anthropology would have been more subtle, but riskier. Should we conduct some research, or just go investigating?" Right inquires, "I'm not sure what your timetable is."

"Classes don't start for another 2 days. Tomorrow I sign the contract, then I start the day after. I love exploring, you know that.  Have you seen this building? Absolutely beautiful, the gardens are exquisite. Gordon does a great job; who thought we could ever have such a green thumb. The marvels of being." She sighs wistfully.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:24, Tue 12 Aug 2014.

"Keep an eye out for the lawyers. They breathe smoke, and I think they might be pawns. I'm inclined to sift through the news and see what I can find out about this place, but I'm worried about tipping our hand," Right says.

"I'm afraid I know very little about what would or wouldn't tip our hand.  My contracts are of a more... mundane nature, typically.  Port Angeles was my first elevated one.  I have to defer to you on this one."

"Well then, I guess I'll see you when class starts," he says, "and watch out for the lawyers. Let me know what you find out."

Right sets up a dead drop to arrange for a new pair of burner phones for the two of them, and then goes to work. He tries to get old copies of the newspaper and sees if any of the local news stations offer caches of old content. Searching for "Wellington School Psychic Kids" might be suspicious, but surely watching a rerun of the Nine O'Clock News has to be legit. He can't be the only one watching old clips. Or can he? The paranoia starts to set in, but he continues to navigate the news site.

Throughout the remainder of the day, Lucella arranges for a burner phone for you, something small and prepaid.

Your research turns up only a little more detail.  The teachers loved their students and were very passionate about them, making pleas to EduTech to keep their jobs so they could continue to look after them.  When all the teachers were fired, they locked the gates of the school, and the school itself, and carried on teaching the children.  One reporter mentions an interview with one of the teachers saying, "They are special kids, they need stability and they need comfort in knowing they are safe and loved.  We have been working with these children for years, they need us." The last article talks about EduTech searching for a peaceful resolution to the situation and then... nothing.  No mention of a resolution, no mention of any of the teachers at all.

History of the school is also not abundant.  It seems as though a rich benefactor built the school so that his child could attend and began to select similar troubled and special children to also attend.  The school had been running since 1850.  The name of the benefactor does not appear, nor does the name of the child.

The relative lack of leads encourages Right to work on his English teacher persona. He steals a syllabus off of the internet, briefly skims the book he plans on teaching, and calls it a night after he makes a cursory attempt to find out the name of the founder of Wellington.

The next day he awaits his class. After everyone has taken their seat, he introduces himself and launches straight into a lecture on Catcher in the Rye. He concludes the end of the hour with an invitation, "As your teacher it is my job and my calling to support you all in any reasonable way I can, not just academically. If any of you has a problem, if you bring it to me, I will handle it personally as best I can. If that isn't what you want, I'll do my best to connect you with someone more suitable to the situation." He looks around the room, hoping that his plea doesn't go unfelt. A young, impressionable, reckless mind is just the sort of tool he's hoping to acquire.

You are given a folder with work plans for the class for you to follow, everything clearly laid out and specific.  Each student in your class has a bio in the folder as well and you can see that their backgrounds are complex and varied.  Jimmy Clifton, mute and hasn't spoken since the age of 6, Sarah Andrews, High Functioning Autistic, Kyle Porter, Severe PTSD, Alex Landon, repeatedly in detention at previous school and consistently always in trouble, Dana Young, attention deficit disorder, Peter Walker, oppositional defiant disorder. The list goes on.

That morning, you head to class.  It's a beautiful classroom and clearly no expense was spared for the children's comfort and enjoyment from the prior owners.  Beautiful colored maps on the walls have been pinned with stickers for literature from all over the world; it seems the children had been traveling across the world via books with their previous teacher.  Potted plants and ferns decorate the edges to bring the outside world into the classroom.  At the back of the room behind the usual classroom desks, a plush reading area is setup with decorative, yet comfortable, couches and big bookshelves filled with books of all kinds.

Your 7th grade class is waiting for you, seated quietly at their desks.  Many of them have concerned looks on their faces, furrowed brows or frowning lips.  They do not at all look like a group of troubled kids and instead look like a group of scared ones. You introduce yourself and try to start the teaching plan, each of the children listening carefully and taking notes.  Halfway through one of the lessons, Kyle suddenly bolts out. A shy looking Dana puts up her hand and says, "That's his thing. He gets scared sometimes - he's got ptsd. He'll be back."  Soon enough, within a few seconds, Kyle sheepishly returns with a muted, "Sorry." and sits back down. Another girl, Sarah, leans over from her desk and pats his arm and looks gratefully at her for another moment.  The lesson continues and occasionally you see the children passing notes, but outside of this, no other trouble occurs.

Finally, as the class draws to an end and you make your plea for them to come to you, some of the kids look as though they want to but aren't sure that they should. (Roll wits + empathy to see if they trust you after your day spent with them.)

The folder makes Right wonder about the philosophy of educating these larval humans. Could one normal or even above average human teacher, with his limited intellect, fallible memory, and self-centered human nature really keep up with the greatly increased needs of this many varied and uniquely crippled children, even if he were somehow an expert on each aberration they possess. The school must not really be a place of learning, but a way to sell parents false hope, even before the corporate takeover. This informs his understanding of the school greatly. Such a place would not be hard at all to subvert for the God-Machine, nor would many be able to tell the difference between the new and old states.

The class does not go badly, except for Kyle bolting out. That bothers him for some reason. At least the kids don't seem actively hostile.

11:19, Today: Mr. Right rolled 2 successes using 6d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s with rolls of 9,5,6,2,6,10(+4). Wits + Empathy (abducting kids).

The children seem interested, maybe even comforted by your offer.  All of them leave, except two; Kyle and Sarah.  Kyle is a small kid, blonde hair and two blue eyes, the dark green Wellington school outfit looks wrinkled and stained, and his voice quivers softly when he talks and breaks occasionally. Sarah, on the other hand, has a neatly pressed Wellington blouse and skirt.  She's tall for her age with thick auburn hair and small brown freckles all over her pale face. She has a small squeaky voice, completely mismatching her exterior.

Both sit whispering at their desks, occasionally looking up at you.  Kyle starts towards you but Sarah holds his arm and shakes her head just briefly but it is enough for you to notice.  Kyle shrugs and whispers something else and then Sarah frowns and shrugs back.  Finally, she gets up and leaves without another word.

Kyle starts to pack up his things and says simply as if you'll understand, "Our other teacher's left us..."

Right puts on a face of concern, "I won't leave, and I don't think the others did either. I think that something happened. Don't worry about me though, things can't happen to me. I am special. Do you have any idea what could have happened?"

"We know you are." He shrugs and shivers for a moment, "There's rumors... We don't like the Company, they took away our teachers.  Our parents think its better for us, but its not.  They wanted to stay, and they locked the school and told us to keep going like normal and so we did.  We trusted them.  The reports were outside and helicopters and they were trying to get into the school and the teachers would talk to them and tell them that they just wanted what was best for us," He slumps back in his chair, staring at his hands, "Then one night we went to sleep and the next morning they were gone, and some new teachers were here, and a new principal, and the Administer.  We had an assembly and they told us it was for the best, that our school would be better now and that if there were any problems, we should talk to the APT or the Counselor.  My favorite teacher.... Mr. Carr... he was our History teacher... he.. he said he'd send me a postcard if anything happened and he had to listen to them and quit... he said he'd send it from Rome. But I haven't heard back.  Some of the new teachers are nice, some of them are boring... It isn't like their bad... It's just... I dunno. We think someone's watching us, I guess. And things have been happening. Ahh... I can't really explain this. Just... just forget it, okay?" He starts to get up and puts the backpack over one shoulder and looks nervous and concerned, pulling at his shirt and looking out the windows and over his shoulder occasionally.

Right nods along as he listens. The boy tells him a lot of what he suspects, but little he didn't already know. He presses Kyle for details in a whisper, checking the windows and doors himself, "What kind of things have been happening? Trust me, I'll understand"

"Someone is watching us in our sleep."  He gulps. "And some of us have seen shadows trying to get into the school grounds. They look like shadows but like smoke because of the way the shadows move.  One time, I thought I saw one in the bathroom stall, and when I opened it, the toilet seat was singed.  Then I was really worried someone would get in trouble for having burnt the seat and the next day, the seat was fine.  We don't know what's happening.  We have always had people see strange things, always. But this is like way different."
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:37, Tue 02 Sept 2014.

"I see. Thank you. I will do my best to get to the bottom of this. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me," Right assures the boy, ""Is there anything else you can tell me about the shadows? Do you see them at day or night? Alone, or with others? How long ago did it happen? Is anyone else saying anything about it?"

"Other kids talk sometimes, but we have gotten more quiet lately.  They want us to report anything strange and none of us want to go to counseling. Some people say that some of them don't come back, but I dunno if that's true. About the shadows... well, I dunno either.  It seems to be different every time." He starts looking nervous and watching the door and quickly says, "Anyways, I gotta go. You asked... so... so I thought I should tell you."

Right nods the boy goodbye. He pulls a notebook out of his briefcase and runs his eyes back and forth over it, pretending to read it. In fact, he is planning his next move. He was hoping to get more information from the students, but all he has is disparate pieces. He hastily throws together a new plan, a three-pronged approach to plumbing the depths of the mysteries of Wellington:

Step one. He makes it an absolutely priority to remain alert and vigilant for incorporeal ghosts or angels or smoke monsters. If the God-Machine had a plan to enact at the school, it would have to make another move, and all he had to do was catch it. Sooner or later he'd be in the right place at the right time, hopefully before the plan is finished. Based on what it targeted, and what it was targeted with, he might be able to deduce the greater design. He makes sure to warn Lucella and Gordon to watch out for shadow smoke ghosts too.

Step two. He looks up the lawyers using the business card. He keeps the inquiries either benign (checking their reviews and references, casually browsing their website if they have one) or offline (conducting a background check by going to city hall and checking the records in paper form).

Step three. He physically investigates the school, walking the halls and looking for any sign of the God-Machine's influence. He checks the locker rooms, and the workshop, behind the buildings, in the boiler room, anywhere that seems out of the way or hidden. If caught by anyone suspicious, he simply claims that he was trying to find a nondescript, dark haired vandal who ran off when he had confronted him.

Lucella manages to pass you in the hallway often enough that day that passing a message to her is easy.  She shares that she too has heard a little about these smoke beings and she heard a rumor that some of the children have found smoke beings hovering over their beds in the night, only to find the tips of their toes and fingers singed with black soot.  She seems concerned but overall, she’s leaving the planning to you.  You aren’t sure why she is deferring to you so quickly, but you get the sense that more is going on with her than you understand.

You walk the halls as best you can, peeking into rooms and hallways with your excuse at the ready should anyone ask questions.  You begin to notice a pattern, corners of the school are subtly decorated with diagrams etched into the stone; diagrams with broken gears, clocks and gadgetry.  At one point, near the main meeting hall, a clockwork dragon is being defeated by a handful of young children wielding feathers. At another, a giant praying mantis built of wires and metal plates and wheels is holding a giant eye.  Similar designs peter the halls.  You find a set of stone doors at the foot of a stairwell in a portion of the building, with no clear way forward.

You continued your search, and as you near the administration building to begin the search there, a young man is walking the hallway.  He looks like a young hispanic man, in his mid 20's, black hair and a pleasant smile greets as he carries a large cardboard box into one portion of the building. "Heylo, would you mind?" He says in a slight Spanish accent, smiling broadly and nodding his head towards a box. "Are you new here? The Principal's assistant, she usually help me, but I don't know where she's gotten to. Thank you so much."

Right wishes that Lucella were a bit more straightforward, but she was like him. It was unavoidable.

He procures some paper and crayons or other suitable writing implement from the school's supplies and stealthily makes etchings of the diagrams in the school's architecture. The patterns themselves suggest occult influence, but try as he might, he cannot interpret children defeating a clockwork dragon as a hostile sign. He puzzles over them, trying to draw forth meaning from the cryptic diagrams.


11:26, Today: Mr. Right rolled 1 success using 4d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s. Int+Occult to decipher the etchings.
11:25, Today: Mr. Right rolled 1 success using 7d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s. Downloading Occult.

When approached by the staff member, Right puts on smile ninety two (subdued, obviously fake, polite nonetheless) and goes to pick up the box, "You got it, amigo. Yes, I'm new here. I'm one of the teachers. What are we delivering?" he inquires. As they carry the boxes, he tries to steer the conversation towards towards rumors of strange things happening at the school, anything the man may have heard. The help tends to see things and talk about things, yet don't have the same stake in keeping quiet that the administration does. This man could be a good source of leads.

"Thank you much." He smiles shyly at you, "These, they are school supplies, from Edu Tech. To teach the childrens. How you like it here? How things go for you? What you teaching? How are the children?" The two of you walk together, moving the boxes into the administration building, at the foot of the assistants office.

As you speak to him, you continue thinking about the diagrams throughout the building.  It seems reminiscent of some kind of religion, the basic symmetry of the drawings, the collection in general with its themes of good and evil, the progression of images and some of the symbolism. It isn't something you recognize specifically but it resonates as something familiar. You feel as though it's something you might need to research some more, perhaps some obscure cult or religion, or perhaps the artist was interested in those themes.  More questions than answers again.

"No problem, chief," Right remarks, "I teach English. The children are very unique, a little difficult at times, but very rewarding. It's exactly the kind of job I was looking for, you know?"

Right makes it a point to use his next scheduled downtime to investigate the school library. Maybe it would have something about the themes of the building structure and geometry, or failing that, he goes to the nearest public library. He doesn't trust the internet, for good reason, and a little difficult to trace someone from looking at books in a building. Then again, just for safety, he doesn't check anything out and he doesn't make photocopies.

"Ahh yes, very strange and unique children indeed. I hear things... Have you seen any of the children behaving strangely? And yes, English is good. I must learn Englishes better as well, maybe you teach me sometime." He smiles.

(I will take you to the libraries after this conversation; just giving you a chance to talk some more.)

Right laughs, "Of course I've seen them behaving strangely. If they weren't, they'd go to normal school, wouldn't they? It's all part of the job. You'll have to be more specific than that, I'm afraid."
This message was lightly edited by the player at 19:23, Fri 14 Nov 2014.

"You know... You hear stories... Children with special abilities. They say sometimes the children can see things that we cannot. But you know, it is what you hear. Maybe the more difficult children are not so difficult at all but just special. I would love to know if this is the case... I wonder sometimes... is there a God? It would help confirm it... So I love searching for answers. I wonder if these Children have some of these answers."

Right nods to the man, "Who knows? I'll keep my eyes open, that's for sure. So far though, they seem just like your normal, run of the mill kids from troubled homes or who were just plain unlucky being born."

Unless the box mover has more to say about the children, or anything else, Right makes his way to a library at the first available opportunity.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:11, Mon 29 June 2015.

He smiles at you, "Yes, yes. If you ever hear any different, you tell me. I have an idea of how to help, and I have a suspicion, you kno?" He hands you a business card - School Supplies Co. - and promptly heads off with a quiet "Adios."

You head off to the library to begin your research.

The library greets you with a tight smile and leads you to the section of books about the school. There are exactly 3 books, including one on the history of the school.

With a quick read though, you discover the following:

- The school was founded in 1913 by a Martin Timshore; a neo-luddite expounding on the dangers of modern technology and consumerism.

- He was famously quoted for saying that technology would strip away our innocence and that the children of the future must be protected.

- He wrote a treatise entitled, "Patriotism through Tradition".

- He was married to a Silvia Timshore, and had a daughter called Abigail.

Right's brain buzzed alit with new leads. He used the library, and if necessary, town hall's public records, to dig deeper into the following:

-The contents of "Patriotism through Tradition"
-The fate of Abigail Timshore.
-The intersection of neo-luddism and the occult.

You find that one of the books is in fact Patriotism through Tradition.  It's a tattered copy, with pages missing and sections muddied up by greedy hands.  The book is bland and wordy, dry passages describing that nature is Chaos and that in order to harness chaos for good, humanity should be consistent, reliable and stick to tradition.  It hides all the basics of Luddite teachings in the guise of doing the right thing by society and country.  The book is occasionally illustrated with unrelated pictures similar to those that are spread throughout the architecture; once again filled with children fighting creatures, demons, mythological beings all made of gears and strange machinery.

Regarding Abigail Timshore, you find little details except that she died at the age of 10; believed to have fallen asleep reading by candlelight and burned to a crisp in her bed in 1912.

You know very little about Neo-Luddism except the obvious; and Martin's version seems to differ from what you have previously read.  It focuses more on technology being evil and sinful. You gather this from the little you've read but not much else.

You recognize one of the children from your classroom, Tom, a short boy with close cut black hair.  He approaches you and quietly asks, "What are you reading? Do you have homework too?" You swear you saw the light in the library flicker briefly as well.

Right soaks up the information contained in the books like a vast desert a spilled waterskin.

"I'm just reading a little bit of local history, Tom," Right responds to the boy. As the lights flicker, he stops reading entirely, and watches the library for any signs of movement. He waits until either something happens, or the boy responds.

Tom's young eyes look wide eyed for a moment and he whispers, "They're coming... Maybe they heard my dream last night..." He pivots around and then starts to back towards you, his hand outstretched as if to ask for yours. His breathing is ragged.

In the same instant, the shadows curl together like a coalescing fog of darkness, creating a smoky figure nearby with a curling shadowy tail.  It hisses quietly, the sound tinged with slight crackling as you might imagine a burning fire might make.  It hovers; watching perhaps? Or waiting for the perfect time to strike? The smoke seems to be getting thicker and stronger, and you notice singe marks appearing on the carpet floor beneath it.

Right's old Guardian instincts kick in even before conscious thought. He interposes himself between the smoke man and Tom, a battered old knife with a gleaming blade appearing in his hand before anyone could even notice the blur of motion.

He watches the figure, keeping himself between the two, but otherwise watching and waiting, preparing to counterattack if necessary. He also tries to recollect the nearest location of any weird architecture or geometry.

Tom hides behind you, gripping your arm tightly in fear. "He's connected to something... Do you see it? There's a cord leading into the smoke." He yells pointing.  You look at the creature but you don't see anything at all, just a pocket of smoke.  The creature advances ever so slightly, pockets of light appear within what you might imagine to be a head, claws begin to take shape in the air, 2? maybe 5? maybe more. The corner of the library that you were in is silent, but you hear muffled laughter; kids trying to be quiet and mostly failing.

Right grabs Tommy with his free hand and motions for him to stay behind him, but says, "Follow it for me, I can't see it". The laughter gives him pause. What if this were some kind of practical joke? Or what if the children were the ones summoning the smoke monster? It was not the ideal time to be forced into a knife fight.

Though he has perfect control over the tip of the knife in front of him, his mind is already perceiving his true body: countless heavy shields positioned in between him and the danger, an enormous blade, and perfect articulate control over the entire situation through endless biomechanical tentacles.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:45, Thu 12 Feb 2015.

The creature flickers as if trying to decide whether or not to come toward you. A hand reaches out towards Tom tentatively but suddenly the creature pulls back, the smoke string at its back seeming to pull it tight. It growls and a rumbling appears in your head and the taste of ash on your tongue. It hisses, "Children..." It's hand reaching out towards a row of books, burning each that it touches. Then it smiles, it's teeth are pin pricks of fire, and disappears. Tom collapses on the floor crying at your feet.

"This isn't over, Tommy. Follow it for me. I'll protect you. We need to make sure it won't bother anyone ever again." Right directs the child, trying to sound simultaneously comforting and authoritative. He dashes over to the row of books, where he had last seen the creature, hoping to find some sign of its passage beyond those he's already aware of.

Tom is reluctant to follow you at first but then calms himself down, focusing on the adventure you have proposed.  He stays firmly behind you.

As you move down the aisle, you note that six books were charred in all, each one unrecognizable except one titled "The Mark on the Door" - a Hardy boys mystery book. The floor there also is slightly singed but no other sign of the creature can be seen here.

[b]"Did you see where it went? Where did it go?" Right presses, as he continues to search the spot for clues. He gathers up the books, all six of them, and tries to determine the creature's vector based on the singe marks. He looks to Tom for any insight the child may possess.

For all his perfect mask of fear and courage, the only thing he felt was happy. He saw the creature. He knew its guise. It ran from him. It feared him. Whatever he sees, he can stab. Whatever runs from him can be killed by him.

Tom shakes his head, "No... No, I don't know. I don't know anything." He begins backing away from you, suddenly fearfully. His eyes glaze over, small specks of white light flickering across his pupils, suddenly a voice speaks, "Initiate the receipt. The quota.  Protocol liberty called." He falls to the ground in fits, white froth flowing from his lips, convulsing on the ground.

A short, kind looking librarian suddenly runs over, fussing over the boy, "What are you doing? Get him straight! Hold his arms and legs down... I need to check his tongue."

20:45, Today: Mr. Right failed (no successes) using 4d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s. Occult.
20:45, Today: Mr. Right rolled 1 success using 7d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s. Downloading Occult.

Right replays the child's words in his head over and over, but cannot seem to place them. He complies with the librarian, trying to fit in. He keeps hold of the boy and restrains him so that the short person can perform the first aid on him. He hopes he won't be asked to depart the library with him. He's got more research to do.

After a few minutes, the thrashing stops; the librarian seemed fairly unconcerned and knowledgeable about the whole thing. After a few more minutes of making sure Tom was alright, the librarian decides to escort him to his room early with orders to check in with the nurse and thanks you for your help.

Tom flashes you a look, you aren't quite sure what it means, and leaves with the librarian with his head down.

Right feels bad. Everything in his original nature screams at him to go with the boy, but he's spent months suppressing those feelings. This is just the most dramatic in a long series of temptations to return to his original purpose.

Battling with himself, he stays in the library and performs research. He's desperate to know what "the receipt", "the quota", and "protocol liberty" are.

Quick searches give you the basics; A receipt? A quota? These are words with definitions. But what quota? And what was received? Protocol liberty gives you more clues, protocol for a machine, protocol for a party or perhaps a task, or perhaps it's simply protocol as in a called program command in a script. Liberty? Freedom? Freeing? Lack of restraint? Or constraint? Taking liberty is perhaps to dare or taking initiative, but protocol liberty? Was this setting something free?

You process the information, nothing seems linked that you can tell, and nothing seems to point to better information for you around these items.

Right tries again, this time focusing his efforts on the smoke monster itself. He focuses his searches both on occult literature as well as on local newspaper articles.

You are amazed at how much on the occult is out there related to your search, you jot a few notes on some of the items:

- Television - A strange little show that had very strong supporters and opposition - where the smoke monster represented evil; or people's past; no on seems to agree on what it meant.

- Enenra - a japanese monster comprised of smoke. From your research: "It resides in bonfires and, when it emerges, it takes the form of a human. It is said that an enenra can only be seen by the pure of heart."

- Malta sighting of a Smoke Monster - "In the city of Valletta, capital of the island country of Malta in the Mediterranean Seas, a rather unusual anomaly took place on 29th October 1757, at around 1 a.m., when a massive black cloud closed in on the city. With deathly roars and a changing complexion, the cloud crossed the port, engulfing a ship and several boats, soon shattering them into pieces. The smoke monster covered a large area from the south-west to the north-east point of the city, leaving a trail of destruction as it over toppled houses and wrecked the light house. It finally crossed over the sea to Sicily. There were about 200 casualties and considerable damage to property. It was, in the opinion of the locals, a legion of demons sent to punish them for their sins."

- China & UK sightings - "As Lieutenant Ernest Bentley and Sergeant Utz were passing through the mountains near the Wha Chee village in China, they were confused to see a single pack of thick forestry amidst a huge shaven wasteland. Then they saw a group of children screaming at them not to enter the woods. An elderly woman, they saw, rushed in to collect some wood from the edges of the jungle, but soon returned screaming in horror, as a misty, dark, tubular smoke emerged from behind her and soon engulfed the terrorized lady. A similar incident was recorded in Edinburgh on November 23, 1904, when Mr. Godfrey Anderson was met with a black, smoky figure rising from the sewage, while he was enjoying an evening walk. The figure, four feet long and ten feet high, soon engulfed a horse standing nearby, and ripping off its throat, disappeared."

- Yet another sighting - In 1953, a farmhouse owned by Harold Crowther was attacked by a tall, black shadow person, which killed 53 of the farm pigs. Just 2 days afterwards, Mr. Crowther found, in the backyard of his house, a shapeless black cloud with two “prongs” projecting from its back. The entity, about 7 feet in height, approached him, stopped a few feet away, turned towards his outhouse and vanished.

- El Petizo - Similar legends are found in Argentinean folklore, where a dark, sinister creature called El Petizo is said to attack unsuspecting victims. It is said that the El Petizo is immune to firearms and knife stabs. It is known as a smoke or shadow creature that that attacks lone walkers in a northern area of Argentina. Several people have even been medically treated for wounds received during their El Petizo encounters. The attacks appear to persist until a rescuer comes to the victims aid, at which time the mysterious creature simply disappears. In one of these instances two people saw the creature - the victim and the rescuer. One quote - "The most recent victim of an attack by "El Petizo" was a boy heading to a mountain area on a bicycle to visit friends and do some hunting, bringing with him a shotgun and a knife. According to his story, after asking for reservations to be made in his name, he was toppled from his bicycle and found that a black shadow was facing him. The young man managed to unholster his shotgun and fire two shots, but when he saw that this had no effect, promptly drew his knife and stabbed it without causing any apparent harm. Frightened, the youth tried to escape, only to find that "El Petizo" knocked him down again without saying a word, dragging him by the hair to the side of the road. The young man stated that at that point he began screaming at the top of his voice and that this is what saved him: his cries were heard by a local man who rushed to provide assistance, only to find a black shadow dragging the boy by the hair. The fearful shape disappeared without a trace when it became aware of the other man's presence."

Eureka he thinks as he comes across the description of El Petizo. As he hungrily devours the knowledge, his eagerness turns to disappointment when it seems the creature's only weakness is other people, and all it seems to do is scare it off. He continues to research the topic, now that he's got a name to put to the idea. Hopefully he could find a way to kill it, or at least harm it.

You don't find records of any details on how to defeat El Petizo, or how he was previously defeated. A lot of stories talking about people and creatures coming to the defense of those attacked; making it run away.  A few small stories talk about El Petizo wondering what he does with the people it's taken and what he is searching for.  A few stories offer a few more hints; mention of the creature only appears in spanish stories and most often in latin american countries. A few odd stories here and there are mentioned in English, but often are translations. There was speculation in a few places that El Petizo was working for the "Diabolo" or Devil because typically the most innocent, kindest people were affected.  One story told of a boy who got away, some say he was never the same, always speaking in tongues and unknown languages and others say that the boy had that ability long before he was taken. One final story talks about one girl that was found after having been kidnapped, branded with scorch marks across her eyes in strange symbols and she was left blind for life.  Her mother, when asked, said she was special, that she could see things others couldn't... until she was taken.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:10, Mon 29 June 2015.

With something of an affected sigh, Right puts the books away and makes his way towards the nurse's office, hoping to catch some glimpse of Tommy, or determine where he went. If necessary, he pokes his head into the nurse's office and says, "Hello? Tommy had a problem and he left with the librarian, I'm just checking to make sure he made it here okay."

If it seems Tommy has gone home for the day, Right follows suit, hoping to catch up on local newspapers and people watching. For the first time in a very long day he feels like he has a purpose.

Nurse Wagner smiles at you briefly, "Tommy's resting in his dorm room. He'll be alright, we see him in here at least once a week with something similar, nothing to worry about. Epilepsy looks worse than it truly is, and he's well medicated." She nods at you curtly. "I'm headed home for the evening, have a good night, Mr. Right."

You head back to your dorm, through the rest of the school and other children clearly headed back to their dorms. Some of them are talking about movie night and speculating on what movie will be shown. Upon reaching your school dorm room, you see a small envelope sitting on your bed. Upon closer inspection, it appears to be a piece of paper from a notebook, folded in such a way as to look like an envelope.

"Good evening, Nurse Wagner," he returns as he heads out. "Hopefully I won't be seeing you again too soon." Polite response. Lame joke. Forced laughter. People love that, it seems in his experience.

As he returns to his room, he is alarmed to see the piece of paper. In theory he knows that anyone has access to his unsecured living quarters, but in practice, he was hoping that he was flying under the radar enough that nobody would interfere. Perhaps it wasn't interference. Perhaps it was an ally. He gingerly takes the paper, holds it at arm's length and gives it a little shake. Assuming no mysterious powder falls out, he opens it and reads it. He bristles preemptively. It it's from Lucella, he hopes that it's properly encrypted.

You unfold the envelope and realize it is made of one piece of note paper, written on it with ink. The letter is written in pink ink, hearts dotting the i's and all.

"By the name of Agbar, I call upon you, holy word is written, the letters are answered, the portrait is hidden not on paper, but in your heart. Agbar who understood the workings of miracles and was cured of his ills, asks YOU now, what is it that YOUR heart desires? For your wish to be granted, take a piece of paper and write upon them the answers to the questions below, then you must take a pinch of salt, and throw it in a fire, along with the paper and 2 hairs from your head. Your wish shall be granted within one year, if and only if you copy this exact letter, word for word, and pass it on to 6 others that you know are in need.

The Questions
What is it that your heart desires?
What is it that you see that no one else does?
What is it that you know that no one else does?
What is the name of your dearest love?

Signed, on behalf of Thaddeus, the Seventieth"

Right turns the words of the letter over and over in his head. Lucella was a bit strange, but he doubted she'd write a fake chain letter just for the sake of alerting him she wanted a meet.

The name Agbar doesn't immediately ring any bells. The writing style, obviously feminine, clashes with the undersigned name, Thaddeus. The Seventieth seems to imply that this is a very, very old chain letter. His mind races as he considers all the possibilities. With a crisp turn of his heel, he immediately heads back to the library to research this new mystery, leaving Tommy a matter best left until morning.

22:14, Today: Chad rolled 1 success using 4d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s. Research.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:14, Wed 01 July 2015.

You stumble across two particular pieces of information that may or may not be useful:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Abgar_V

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thaddeus_of_Edessa

The meaning of the seventy becomes much clearer. The text purports to be signed by the original author, not the person writing the chain letter. This continues to beg the question, why would a student be writing a chain letter semi-convincingly started by an early Christian mythological figure?

As long as it wasn't setting off his God-Machine senses, it didn't matter. He vaguely recalls his time as an angel, and is something. Wistful, perhaps. It wasn't that back in his Guardian days there were no unknowns, nothing that could overcome him, it's just that they were way less confusing and obvious.

He retires for the night, thinking and thinking about all the mysteries of the school. In the morning, he teaches his classes and waits for the period where Tommy would show up, if he was going to show up.

Your day begins with breakfast in the cafeteria with the other children, you see Tom but he's surrounded by friends, you wonder if purposefully but you can't really say.  He looks at you then quickly looks away, focusing on other things in a very obvious way.  Lucella meets you at the cafeteria line with a brilliant smile; she's toned her usual metallic and flashy look down for the school but you notice a golden and ruby cross necklace even then. She whispers in Gaelic, "Burners yet?" You realize you should probably visit the dead drop; Gordon's contacts have likely arranged those phones you asked for by now. "We should talk, let's meet at the fountain, 3pm free period?" She nods at you and walks away from the line, her plate brimming full with bacon and waffles and chocolate sauce.  She can't help herself.

Your first class goes as planned, the children listen carefully - they may have troubles per your files on them; but they are smart, gifted and seem fairly kind. The only thing of note is that Kyle did not appear for class. Tom is there but seems distracted, scribbling in his book and mostly ignoring anything that happens around him.  At the end of the period, the children begin to leave and you try to get Tom's attention.  However, before much else can happen Sarah steps close to your desk and says, "Mr. Right? Hold up a second." She watches for all the children to leave, including Tom.  Then she looks at you again, and say simply, "What are you?"

(Roll wits + empathy to see how well your day went with the kids.)
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:18, Fri 03 July 2015.

19:55, Today: Mr. Right rolled 1 success using 4d10 with the World of Darkness nWoD system with a target of 8, rerolling 10s. Empathy.


"I am me, just like you are you. What are you?" Right asks, trying to play off the entire situation as some kind of nonsense children's game.

"Yeah, exactly what I figured. Probably can't trust you. Whatever." She looks disappointed and huffs.  As she begins to move away, you notice blue ink has been used to draw strange symbols on her arms, they are hiding just under her school uniform.  She flashes a look at you just daring you to ask about them, hikes her backpack on her shoulder as if to leave.

"Wait," he calls her back as she's about to leave, "Come here". He squats down to bring his tall frame down to her level. "I'll tell you what I am if you tell me what you are, and what you know. How does that sound, do we have a deal?"

The words were out of his mouth before he even thought about what he was going to say. A thousand explanations were bubble sorted somewhere in his consciousness, his real one, not the random electrical sparks inside his skull. The most relevant thought he had is that humans tended to panic when they heard the word "demon".

She squints at you, pausing momentarily with one hand on her shoulder holding her backpack, the other hand on her hip, leveling her gaze appraising your answer. This kid had sass, and she'd clearly seen a thing or two. "Fine. Deal. Go."
This message was last updated by the player at 20:44, Tue 07 July 2015.

"There is a great machine that more or less controls the world. I used to work for it. Now I do not. If I told you exactly what I am, it would hurt me, but I am not the same as you. Does this satisfy you?" he asks the girl, hoping things will go smoothly.

"Eh, I suppose I'll take it.  It was more than I expected. So, "great machine", that's interesting. Have to think about that one. Well, I'm Sarah, I'm not really anything. I can see things, like a pattern to everything, or sometimes the lack of a pattern which can be very telling.  It's complicated, but think of it as seeing beneath the skin. I don't just see a person, I see their veins, and where they run, and how they are connected.  I don't quite know what the beating heart is, or even the point of veins, but I know they are there, and I sometimes know that one vein is sending blood to the finger, or the toe, but never why, really.  I could tell you were different, I just didn't know if it was good, bad, or neutral.  But you're strange, you're not like the others. You're more like... like there's a pattern missing, instead of a proper pattern. Ugh, I don't know. This is all stupid and confusing and I barely know what to think anymore. How do I know I can trust you? And what did you make about my letter?"

Right smiles, amused, "You wrote the letter? It seems like a chain letter, but a very, very old one. Is there more that you can tell me about it?"

"I figured you would know; but I guess not? I wrote one copy out for you but I changed a few minor words to make it slightly different so it wouldn't be part of the pattern. The original one is, it's got... I don't know. It's dumb. But, uh, power I guess? It was catching on like wildfire and some of the kids could see it and some couldn't. I've been trying to stop it because it doesn't feel good, it feels like it's searching for something." She looks nervously at you, biting one nail and suddenly very focused again. "And it might be me..." She sighs.

Right nods along, "How do you think it will find you? When someone else sends you one? I've seen things kind of like this before. I know the power that they can hold. Do you think it compels people to forward it along? If it doesn't, here's what I suggest: take the copy that you made me, and make a hundred copies, or more. Send one to everyone you know, everyone who's in your classes. Your teachers, your classmates, your bunkmates, everyone. Then when they get the one that's looking for you, they assume it's exactly the same as the one that they already got and throw it in the trash. It's a sort of memetic vaccination. Do you think that these are somehow connected to the smoke monster, and do you know anything about that?"

"That's a great idea, Mr. Right... Maybe I can trust you afterall. I was also thinking of asking Tom to look at the original for me. But, I don't know if I should pull him into it."

"The smoke monster came for Tom. I think he's already in it," Right says with what could be genuine regret. He struggles with the concept of sincerity, given that if he doesn't calculate what he's going to say or do, nothing comes out at all. "Why Tom?
This message was last edited by the player at 21:35, Thu 24 Sept 2015.

"I dunno, he's one of the ones that can just see the truth in some things.  He saw it in you, I think? We thought you might be like them, but you're not, I guess." She looks confused, uncertain, and more than a little bit troubled. "You're right though, we're all in it. But this school feels... protected.  Is that weird? I mean, like, we're getting attacked, kind of, but it still seems... protected."

After a pause, Right comes up with an idea, "Do you know where Tom would be now?"

"Yeah, I think so. He's probably in his hideout, he's between classes. So, are you going to tell me more about you?"

Moments later a shuffle at the door reveals the young hispanic man you had met before, he smiles looking up seeming surprised to see you both there, he is pulling a small cart with boxes on it, "Oh! Heylo, sorry to interrupted you." His spanish accent coming through, "Hello Missy." He smiles. "I having more boxes for this one, I won be long in your time. Nice to see you again Professor, how goes new classes?"

He begins moving the boxes towards the cupboards at the back of the room.

Right makes no particular gesture to the girl, either to stay or to go. Her questions were getting dangerous, but she could hardly compel an answer to them. He just didn't particularly feel like lying again. The Mexican deliveryman was both an awkward intrusion and an unexpected savior.

"You too," he replies, "Classes are going well, I think, but I think you'd probably have to ask the kids on that one." He chuckles a perfectly insincere chuckle. He waits to see if the strange man has more to say, and whether or not Sarah excuses herself. He needed to find Tom, but he doubted that she would tell him in front of his present company.

"Ah yes, Mister Right, it is good that it is going well. I bring more supplies for you in having better classes. You let mi kno if der anything I can do for you. In my country, teachers are very worthy of help, we praise teachers, not like this country, but this school better than most." He nods to himself and stacks the boxes in the cupboards up the back, all the while humming to himself a little bit.

Sarah looks confused for a second, "Right, prof, see you later." She slips out of the classroom, leaving you and the man behind.