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The Shadows Grow/New Creatures: What now follows are a host of new terrors for your Nightmare Worlds campaign. As with other entries these are sug-gestions and can be modified with the contents of this and the core book.

Ethereal WeaverThe beast was not present, but Sue could see it’s handiwork all around her. It took her a bit to switch to the spirit sight, that wonderful trick between mental concentration and painful eye strain that normally kept the layman from seeing ghosts around them, and she saw it’s presence all around her. She had been lucky not to walk right into the abrasive web strands that were present around every side walk and archway in this city block, and for a panicked moment she had to ensure that the beast wasn’t right behind her. When it was clear that it wasn’t Sue went back to follow-ing the nasty gauze strands of etheric matter to where they all intersected. They were quite thick, almost the diameter of her waist, and they were pulsing with the life force of every poor fool that touched them. She watched as a string of passersby walked through strand after strand of the web. Where they made contact the web tore off a small piece of each person’s living essence, almost without their notice. One or two felt a shiver as they walked through them, and one person even panicked a bit despite being unable to see why. He finally acknowledged that he was imagining things, and then walked through another strand, pay-ing no head to the shivers doubtlessly crawling up his spine. An arachnophobia probably; Sue noticed they could pick up the presence better then most even with unseen fears.

She returned her gaze to the strands, watch-ing carefully as each piece of life essence was ripped free and drawn down it’s length. They were all flowing downward, down most likely to the beast itself, sitting bloated at the heart of the nest. Right now it was a minor threat, but this was a busy stretch and it would doubtlessly grow. Every one of these pedestrians were only losing a small piece with every passing, but the nest would grow with it’s creator, and in turn the strands would stretch across longer lengths. Before long it would encompass every section of this street, and simply walking down it’s length could prove to be a death sentence. Better to stop it now before it was too late…

If Sue was looking down she would’ve seen it coming, seen the many luminous eyes as they peered up even through the spectral shadow of the concrete.

Those passing by saw the poor woman in a manic attack, batting the air around her in a frenzy of move-ment. What they wouldn’t be able to ascertain was how she seemed to fling herself down the alleyway in such a way, or even the nature of what she thought she was seeing, though the look frozen on her dead face spoke volumes. A stroke surely, but then there were a few similar cases just on that same block. Again, probably a coincidence, but then maybe there is some-thing in air on that street.

Bio: The ethereal plane is a reflection of life on the material realm. The soul of every living thing actually has an impact upon the ethereal, though by and far it is the sentient thoughts of humanity that has the great-est influence. Nevertheless the natural order of life is well represented within the ethereal, taking familiar forms and visages. The Ethereal Weaver is such an example, a thankfully uncommon beast comparable to a spider in seemingly alien form and ingenious adaptation. The beast sits at the heart of a web of it’s own creation, waiting for food to stumble into it’s wake. But the beast is well and truly a beast, with a body roughly the size of a van (never mind the span of it’s great legs, reaching up to forty feet in diameter). While possessing a spider’s body in form, it’s thorax is actually mounted vertically above it’s abdomen much like a prey mantis, sitting upon three pairs of outstretched legs. Upon it’s upper thorax is a pair of appendages used for weaving and combat, each ending in an almost mammal like paw of three clawed dig-its. Besides these strange criteria the entity otherwise resembles a spider, with it’s abdomen mounted spin-nerets and it’s eight eyed and heavily fanged head. It’s body glows iridescently white though, and it’s eyes are a blinding hue of pale yellow that leave behind con-trails of itself as it moves rapidly through it’s webs.

The web of an Ethereal Weaver is also not comparable either to that of a common spider. It does function as a trap for prey that stumble into it, and yes and ethereal creature could easily become trapped in such a web. However, the strands are rarely woven in a traditional web, but typically take the form of thick gooey strands across major pathways. This is because the primary food source for an Ethereal Weaver is not the ethereal but rather the material beings that cross his path. The nature of the web is that it is both adher-ent to living essence and very abrasive to it, and can seemingly affect those on the material plane simply walking through it (even if they are not perceiving). The only defense against these webbings remains the fact the webs cannot hold a material body in place, but this is actually ideal for the Weaver, which is content to feed off of the scraps left behind from those un-wittingly walking through this spectral barbed wire. The strands always meet a nexus point like any other web, and it is to this point where all the torn essence

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is drawn, awaiting the hungry monster at the center. Some people do feel the strands pass through them as they walk, but lacking any insight into the ethereal plane they dismiss their instincts as being irrational wanderings than anything dangerous.

Once a Weaver establishes it’s nest it can be quite territorial, and will attack anything smaller than itself on the ethereal plane. It’s view of material be-ings is much tamer though, as it sees everyone lacking ethereal perception as live stock and little more. Once a Weaver is established in a busy area it becomes an increasing threat, from passive feeder to aggressive harvester. Eventually the size of it’s nest will grow with it’s creator, encompassing a wider stretch of area with every passing week, until eventually the strands are so thick in places that some weaker individuals will die simply by walking a city block. Eventually the odd feel of the area and the occasional deaths will prompt people to stop traversing through it, but than the Weaver simply has to move to a new location.

Special Rules:

Spectral Webs (+15 To Rating): The strands of webbing created by Weavers are extremely sticky when making contact with any being with EP, and can last for months even when not attended. Typically one batch of strands will cover a ten foot square area, and a Weaver can produce once such area a day. Any ethereal being or projecting human who makes con-tact with a strand of webbing must make a Will check, TN: 10, or become suck to it. Anyone who is stuck to the strands can break free after passing another Will check, but in doing so they now suffer 1 EP dam-age as they rip free. Material creatures, regardless of whether they can perceive or not, do not become stuck to the webbing as they walk through it but will automatically suffer 1 EP damage for every batch they walk through. The EP lost in this way can be healed normally but cannot be “regained” from the web at all, and actually after a few hours the torn fragments will flow together towards the center of the web to be consumed by the Weaver. A Weaver naturally is not hindered by it’s own web, and can sense the nature of anything stuck to it.

Besides the ability to spin webs, Weaver’s can form a globe of the webbing into an improvised weapon, whipping the material into a victim so that it can drag them to it. This counts as a primary attack, and is treated just like contact with normal webbing, but if the victim is successfully hit than they must beat the Weaver in an opposed Brawn test or be dragged to it and automatically placed in a hold.

Stats:

Ethereal Weaver Rating: 67

Type: Ethereal

Size: Giant

Presence: 4

Characteristics: Awareness: 3 Brawn: 8 Charm: -3

Guts: 7 Smarts: -2 Speed: 6 Will: 4

VP: 2-P/10 +4 VP Resilience: 1

EP: 2-P/10 +4 EP Resilience: 1

FB: 0

Armor: 3/3 Spiritual

Talents: Typically has 5 talents (Usually Combative Adaptation 2nd Degree, Devourer, Exceptional Hearing, Ignore Blow <3);

Mundane Skills: Search Area 6, Stealth 6;

Arcane Skills: Navigate (Ethereal) 6; Track (Higher Realms) 4

Combat & Power Skills:

Ranged Combat

Armed Combat

Unarmed Combat 5

Extraordinary Power Use:

Combat:

Primary Attacks: 1-P/6 plus Brawn VP Natural or Spec-• tral Web (see description)

Secondary Attacks: 1-P/6 plus Brawn VP Natural •

Hold Attacks: 1-P/6 EP *Bite •

*Tied to Devourer talent.

Experiment 1849-68 (The Body Grotesque) The excavation was going slowly, but already Coop’s team had discovered enough trace evidence to sug-gest the use of demolitions charges. It could’ve been corporate espionage, but in agent Francis G Cooper’s mind he knew Burtman Biomedical was somehow to blame. The company had already been far from cooperative in the investigation of all the staff disap-pearances, and already the bodies they discovered in this wreckage (even mangled as they were) seemed to indicate death prior to the explosion (possibly by even

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a week in one instance). Coop was sure that Burtman was performing a cover up and had a lot to answer for. He just wasn’t sure it be within the basement level of the wreckage that they’d spent the last six hours try-ing to reach. With diligence and a towering crane to help though they were on the verge of finally clearing the breach out. With the grinding of stone and ma-sonry the last piece was raised slowly to reveal a pitch black room below and…

He had the impression of movement, too fast to follow in any detail, and than of an immense shadow overtaking him. He made out part of a human form, the bald head and pale skin, the right arm and the wild look even with it’s mad contortions. His mind shut down when he saw the left arm, or rather the mass that shouldn’t have been there in the place of an arm. The mass of cancerous growths, the whipping mass of tendrils, the shark like maw that sat in the middle... –he didn’t feel the death blow that came, or the loss of blood as it flooded out of his body. He did hear the screams though in those final moments, of honest men confronting something terrible, and of a thing that shouldn’t be roaring in triumph.

Bio: Burtman Biomedical was the first to clone a hu-man being, though you’ll never hear about it in the pa-pers. When some individuals have more money than god and few scruples about keeping a living “donor” around for spare parts, one does not normally bring it up in polite conversation, let alone draw attention to it in the media. The law didn’t factor in to it really, as Burtman’s second and third projects were commis-sioned from people in power, in nations that cared at (least on paper) about cloning. No, money was, and is, the greatest motivator, having paved the way for a cure for cancer and replacement parts to boot. Of course what is actually accomplished and what can be made available to the wider public are two completely different things. An eccentric billionaire needing a new liver can contribute more to science by way of a generous donation than a few thousand demanding customers of lesser means, and so the secret remains just that. But the stockholders of Burtman are quite a greedy lot, and all of this preliminary work for the rich and richer is simply preparations for a wider release. Naturally Burtman’s knows the public would not look kindly on it’s past cloning work though, regardless of how well it helped to perfect the method, or of the need to raise and nurture an extra set of organs in the form of a growing child. No one has the stomach for that, not for long at least, and so the product had to be presented in a new way. The clone would have to grow quickly, and be incubated in an external environ-ment (not a womb, sexist or not women tend to get clingy and litigious around babies after all). What’s

more, the clone would have to be very resilient. Fi-nally the clone itself couldn’t be capable of sentience, or even waking up if it could be done. There would be legal battles of course, but Burtman would emphasis their belief in the value of human life (such as it had been up until this point).

In many ways Burtman has succeeded, though it’s still not time to market the product yet or begin production even in private. One failure has come to haunt the company time and time again, and until it’s dealt with they will not move forward. Experiment 1849-68 was one of the first successful embryonic cells that took on the aspects of amphibian and reptili-an DNA that were encoded into it, resulting in the first human egg cell that could develop outside a uterus. It was far from human in every respect, but neverthe-less began to take on the shape and likeness of a baby boy in time. Burtman’s scientists began to test out and perfect new methods on the budding child, such as ways to feed the embryonic Frankenstein within through nutrient baths and implanted tubes. Cocktails of exotic steroids and hormones were feed into the child, triggering a reaction with encoded genomes to foster rapid development and organ growth. Eventu-ally the child outgrew it’s egg, developing into a baby, though one that could be mistaken for still born upon first appearance. Burtman’s geneticists painstakingly tried to ensure that while the body grew the mind would not. A dozen defect genes linked to cerebral malformation and degeneration were encoded within 1849 to ensure that the brain would never gain aware-ness of it’s surroundings or act upon the body, and for all appearances they seemed to work on the poor comatose form of the boy. This was a project that met every expectation, a living container of spare organs that could be grown quickly and completely lack even the spark of independent life that the opponents would try to cling to. Overall it seemed to be a home run, a mounting success that was well worth the cost. The board was still celebrating when 1849 suddenly woke up and messily killed everyone on his floor.

Before anyone could react to the carnage 1849 disappeared into the shadows of the building itself, leading to a still on going man hunt in the environs that lead to the death of several personal and security members. One of the earliest lessons learned by Burt-man’s security officers sent against 1849 was that the creature was indeed a creature. 1849 was once caught in a hallway and was shot a dozen times, only to stand back up after a few moments and retaliate. Though he had trouble communicating through his newly wired jaw, one guard at the scene related that the gun shot wounds suffered to the creature healed right before their eyes. Apparently 1849 was considerably

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more durable than intended, and could repair cellular damage at an astonishing rate. It also had the strength of a freight train, an unintended result of the steroids and other hormones finally working upon an active and mobile body. Of course the worst was yet to come; after having killed over fifty personal over the span of a month Burtman was fed up with their runaway project. As soon as they had confirma-tion of it’s presence in the building (i.e. screams from a new hire purposely tricked into being bait one night), Burtman set off enough C4 to annihilate the building and everything within. The investigation that followed was aggravating, but for a week everyone on the com-panies board of directors breathed a collective sigh of relief over the end of affair. Unfortunately1849 was far from dead, and during excavation of the blast site the monster arose from the ruins as something com-pletely new, a mass of raw muscle, rippling tendons, and flailing limbs that no longer resembled anything human. He killed all the investigators in the area before disappearing into the woodlands nearby.

Ever a lingering threat, 1849 has now become the death knell for Burtman, and the company is run-ning out of time. With the murder of federal inves-tigators came even more pressure from authorities, and now the press has started to chime in daily on the madness of events surrounding the biomedical firm. Of even greater concern is the fact that 1849 has be-gun attacking other nearby Burtman facilities, leading researchers to speculate that the entity is intelligent, that somehow it has overcome it’s defective genes to not only become aware but also sentient. Even more sobering is the fact that the only way this is feasi-bly possibly is if 1849 retained the ability to process genetic information on a biological level post birth, trading defective genes for superior ones from those it has consumed…

Special Rule:Evolution Through Violence (+65 To Rating): 1849’s a nasty miracle of mother nature and man, a nightmarish fusion of genes meant to ensure it’s continued survival and adaptation. First and foremost amongst it’s abilities is it’s regenerative power, a means of recovery so strong that it can even survive certain death and come back stron-ger. 1849 counts as having the Regeneration crea-ture talent, and naturally heals 2-P/VP a round. In addition, if the entity ever “dies” from negative VP damage than make a Guts characteristic test for it at TN: 9. This is raised to TN: 12 if it has lost two or more limbs or suffered from a P.O.D level amount of damage. If successful passed the entity has survived the attack, and will regenerate the VP as normal and can immediately act. If the

entity was dismembered though it takes it a number of hours equal to twice the amount of VP damage caused for it to recover. This means that it can survive a gun shot to the head and the lose of limbs, though if the creature is completely decapitated, dismembered, or immolated thoroughly than it will stay dead.

While 1849 can recover from immense dam-age to it’s body, necessity and it’s perverse biology requires it to change in accordance with the harm in-flicted. If, for example, it loses an arm, it will slowly grow another one to replace it (though it will look far from human). If it’s skin was burned off and it’s flesh and bones were pulped from concussive explosions, than the thing that would arise from the bleeding wreck would be covered in black scales and would’ve increased in size and resilience. What this boils down to for GM’s is that they need to keep track of the dam-age caused to 1849 that lowered it to negative VP levels. Every point of excessive VP damage caused in these instances will actually equal a new “adaptation” for 1849 from the list of mutations below. These mu-tations occur as it is healing, and typically take at least a day to manifest. Example: 1849 was hit by a truck, and suffered 20 VP in excess of what it had. This means that it will gain a new mutation as it’s healing of up to rating 20 from the list of mutations below. This new adaptation’s rating is added permanently to 1849’s rating, meaning that the entity will grow much stronger and change with every encounter. If 1849 loses a limb though it’s body will focus on replacing it before changing at all, so instead of gaining an extra appendage the original will just grow back (and the rating will remain unchanged).

Mutations: These mutations represent either addi-tions for your own creations, or new adaptations for 1849. Each one has a set amount added to the base rating.

Extra Appendage/Replacement Limb (Add •

About Using The Body Grotesque While the back story presented is suitable for most cam-paigns, this entry is just an excuse to provide the means of creating your own genetic nightmares and mutants. Any of the additions from the Mutations section below can simply be added to the entities base rating to create varying kinds of mutants, but 1849’s special rule (Evolu-tion Through violence) rating should be subtracted from the total rating for such lesser creatures (or easier still, simply add the mutations rating to a normal NPC profile of your creation). It should also be noted that the entry as listed is for 1849 prior to any changes, so as listed he is a clean slate (the idea being that the PCs will make it worse in time simply by trying to kill it).

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As Secondary Attack , Creature Creation Section): 1849 has grown another arm or leg, though it looks far from normal, and it’s function is far from seamless. The entity counts as hav-ing another secondary attack, and it’s penalized as normal for it’s use. This mutation may be taken multiple times.

Increased Size (Add As Increased Size Per •Creature Creation Section): Because of the ex-tensive damage suffered to it’s frame 1849’s body mass has increased in it’s attempt to heal, becom-ing so swollen that in places it’s skin is splitting. 1849 is increased by one size category and gains an additional pull of VP permanently. This muta-tion may be taken twice.

Beastly Adaptation • (+0 to rating): No longer caring for appearances sake, 1849’s mouth elon-gates into a fanged rimmed abyss, and his nails elongate into gore caked talons. 1849’s unarmed attack is now natural and can cause lethal damage.

Flesh To Hide (+4 to rating):• 1849’s skin has be-come leathery and thick, providing natural armor of 2 with 2. This may be taken multiple times, but will max out at 12/12.

The Id & The Will (+4 to rating): • 1849 was engi-neered to be a vegetable, but nature doesn’t favor laxity in anything and it wasn’t long before the en-tity overcome the safe guards and defects encoded within his very genes. He started out as an animal, but he is slowly becoming something more… This mutation can be taken multiple times and every time this mutation is taken 1849’s Smarts go up by one point. In addition to his growing awareness, 1849’s own biology acts as a sponge in regards to the human genome after this is mutation is taken, and his body can adapt to new strands of DNA it comes in contact with (just like when it was in the lab during it’s “childhood”). If 1849’s Smart’s ever reach 4 or higher it starts to process RNA and trace memories of those it consumes. By passing a Smarts check, TN: 10, it will find something of rel-evance to most situations, including locations and identifiers. This is more of a game mechanic for GM’s, but it does work with anyone fed upon.

Grotesque Reach (+5 to rating):• Some of 1849’s limbs become elongated (almost boneless) and like tendrils, or it grows tentacle or snake like tongue. Regardless, 1849’s reach is now doubled with it’s primary attack, and this mutation may be taken multiple times for secondary limbs.

Poisonous Spittle (• +5 to rating): 1849 has developed venom glands in it’s mouth that allow it to spit out a gout of caustic fluids. This takes the

form of a new primary attack that may be made in the place of 1849’s usual one, with a range of eight feet plus an additional eight feet for every size category above medium 1849 gains.

Spit Attack: 1-P/6 +1 VP Obviously this mutation can only be taken once, and the attack can only be used every three rounds (it takes time to “reload”). A critical hit or any surprise attack made with this ability can blind the target if they fail a Speed check, TN: 11 for 1-P/3 rounds.

Damnable Dexterity • (+5 to rating): The mutant’s legs and tendons change, elongating and strength-ening to give it even greater agility. 1849’s Speed is increased by +2, and in addition it can now leap up to twenty feet vertically. This mutation may only be taken once, except as follows: If 1849’s size cat-egory ever increase it loses any bonuses associated with this mutation, but this mutation may be taken again once per increase in size later on.

Prey Sight • (+4 to rating): 1849 gains the ability to see the outline of heat sources, allowing it to see victims in the dark as normal.

Stats:

Experiment 1849-68Rating: 84

Type: Material /Humanoid

Size: Medium

Presence: 1

Characteristics: Awareness: 3 Brawn: 7 Charm: -2

Guts: 6 Smarts: -2 Speed: 5 Will: 4

VP: 14 VP Resilience: 0

EP: 8 EP Resilience: 0

FB: 0

Armor: 3/3 Material

Talents: Jaw Breaker 1st Degree, Pain’s Path 2nd Degree

Mundane Skills: Climbing 7, Hide 6, Intimidation 4, Navigate

(Basic) 2, Search Area 4, Stealth 7, and Track 4;

Arcane Skills: None

Combat & Power Skills:

Ranged Combat

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Armed Combat

Unarmed Combat 8

Extraordinary Power Use:

Combat:

Primary Attacks: 1-P/4 plus Brawn Unarmed •

Secondary Attacks: 1-P/4 plus Brawn VP Unarmed •

Hold Attacks:•

Ferry MenThey all giggled together in sick unison, each of the twisted faces that were little more than masks covering decayed meat, stolen faces from stolen lives. Marcus wasn’t sure what terrified him most, that when they laughed they sounded like babies, or the fact that the rotting buggers were as fast and coordinated as a bunch of gymnasts. With perfect clarity he watched one leap over a seven foot crate, spin a 360 through the air like a lumpen potato, and slash at his throat just as it landed in front of him. He was faster of course, and he brought up his shot gun just as the straight razor flicked out towards his Adam’s apple. His kick landed on its chin and tore off a piece of the face it was wearing, and then he finished the job with both barrels. He didn’t wait to see if the thing was dead, at the very least that had to have distracted it. He bolted for the door, back towards the other half of the warehouse.

“I know it seems unusual, but I can pay whatever you need. They may not matter to many people, but I just can’t let them go.”

Marcus looked thoughtfully at the group photo at the circled faces, but her figure was foremost in his mind. She looked just as sweet sitting across from him in his office as she did in the shelter’s xmas newsletter, and the sweater puppies hadn’t changed either. Sa-mantha Price, age 24, college student. Didn’t bother to catch her major, but he recalled it being in the cat-egory his dad would dub “yuppie sciences.” His dad was of the old school of men who didn’t see the need for the sharing of emotions or feelings, and scoffed at those who’d make a living out of it. You had them just long enough to get a girl to marry you, and then you’d keep them just until the first born arrived. He would’ve torn a girl like Ms. Price to pieces, a yuppie with yuppie feelings, trying to find people that most likely didn’t want to be found just to put her mind at ease.

He slid back into focus for a moment and looked at the circled faces on the photo. They weren’t like her; they were tired, they were sad. They could smile for the camera but their eyes showed the truth. He sighed softly and laid the picture down on the desk as solemnly as he could.

“Miss. Price this is very noble, but transients are hard to track, and they rarely give out their real names…”

“They weren’t just passing through Mr. Mid-den. Sara and Joseph treated 18th street like it was their living room for Christ’s sake, and Harry didn’t have anywhere else to go. Only Frank had living family, but there wasn’t some happy reconciliation in the offing for him either. They just vanished, and there was no reason behind it.”

He looked into her eyes and could see she was on the verge of crying. Her eyes were puffy when she came into the office, and the girl really didn’t need much of his time all things considered. “Miss Price, I tell you what I’m going to do: I’m going to start searching for your friends as requested, but consider-ing what I know of these situations I’m not going to use your retainer or charge you unless I find them.”

“But that’s…”

“Stop, I promise you that I’ll be as thorough with this as any case I’ve every taken. I’d be lying if I said that I thought we had a good chance of finding them, and any other detective who tells you otherwise will be just taking advantage of you. Still, if I’m lucky your still going to pay me in the end and you’ll get your friends back. I’d say that’s more than fair, don’t you?”

She still seemed a bit unsure of Marcus, but her voice wasn’t terse now. “Where will you begin?”

“I’m sure you know of the homeless community over near Cliffton? I’ll begin searching there. A friend of mine in the force says that’s as close as they have to a town hall next to your center. You never know, some good may come out of this yet”

He almost slide on the crimson slicked con-crete beneath his feet, and he repressed a shudder at the feel of it underneath his shoes. The sight within this side of the building paralyzed him when he first came in, but five minutes of fighting those things had suddenly changed his outlook of it. He didn’t even notice the gore that had congealed over the handle of the gate as he slammed it shut and ran a castoff piece of rebar through it. It wouldn’t hold them for long at all, maybe just long enough to find an escape.

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The threat of death was the only thing that carried him past that silent row, slung upside by their ankles in a perfect line. The victims had their throats slashed while in this position, as evidenced by their life flow that had covered the surfaces and thickened. As though that death weren’t quick enough their were a dozen more ragged stabs along the neck and shoulders. The stench was terrible, as only human meat and bone could be, and a colony of flies buzzed from carcass to carcass. Some of the bodies were pretty well gone, but one or two were identifiable. As he walked past the last one Samantha’s voice crept back in his ear. “Only Frank had living family…”

No time to mourn the dead, least he joined them. Marcus fled past the cadavers and back out into the street. From the windows above a dozen dead eyes followed him into the darkness, and a child like giggle raced to his ears. The night was far from over.

Bio: We still honor the dead today, though the univer-sal reverence may be fading a bit with the progression of time. We lay them in hallowed ground, in sacred crypts, or scatter them upon the wind, and in doing so we honor them as well as they could’ve expected. The death customs across the world used to be wildly more intense though, but over all the beliefs that fu-eled them have fallen by the wayside. Tales of the vengeful, hungry, or jealous dead returning from the grave to torment the living are as universal as death and taxes, and the means of appeasing them range from the sentimental to the insane. The reason behind some of the customs are well documented, but others are lost for all time. This is the real loss, the destruc-tion of old legends and beliefs that had great value. For instance, the truth behind the Ferry Men should’ve have remained, should’ve been remembered above our family legacies and butchered holiday traditions we practice today, and yet it’s faded from memory.

The Ferry Men are emissaries of some greater force, not death itself but rather something that lends itself well to the death of humanity and that which is left behind. Ferry Men are undead cadavers, rotten corpses that wear sodden black robes and the shorn faces of human victims they come across. Their not zombies, or vampires, or anything discernibly known well to humanity, but they’ve been with us almost since our beginnings. They speak of a promise made long ago beyond our memory, and of our failure to uphold it. They exist in ruined dynasties, dilapidated town’s, destroyed cities, and other places with the stench of desperation and the rot of once good dreams. They dance idiotically in the ashes of our civilization, growing ever deeper.

The reasons arcanes have come up with for the Ferry Men’s existence are wide and varied, covering everything from pandemics to the rise of heart disease and overeating. Oddly enough the reason is actually very simple and almost well known, leading it to be dismissed rather easily. We’ve adopted the moniker of “You can’t take it with you” with apparent sensibil-ity, assuming that the primitive pharaohs, kings, and chieftains with their riches laden resting places were being foolish. The truth is that they knew something we didn’t, or at least something we forgot; there is an after life of sorts that one must go through, where the concept of wealth bears enough weight to grant the departed passage into the great beyond. The spirit naturally isn’t physically taking it with them (and the reality is that not everyone who passes on even be-comes a ghost of any variety). However the memory of that person, the thing that passes on, carries with it the perceptions and considerations of those that knew them into this realm in the astral, including tokens of wealth and respect given freely at their final rites. The true nature of the toll is no longer well known, and for all we know all the rites of the dead world wide may be correct, but the idea of giving a cherished loved one even a coin under the tongue or two over the eyes have fallen out of practice. The dead continue to pass on, and they are truly reaching some end, but too many are skipping the bill. Whatever sent the Ferry Men seems to view repayment as being a pound of flesh and a bucket of fresh blood.

For their part the Ferry Men are terribly incon-sistent in terms of who they collect from, and target anyone within easy reach (not just those who can’t spare a quarter for a dead relative). It could be that the “bill” as it were is being held against the humanity as a whole, but sadly the first victims are usually those who can’t defend themselves and are undeserving of the Ferry Men’s attention. The Ferry Men are intelligent though, and will only sparingly hunt in an area where they can easily conceal themselves and take lives with little repercussion. If they are discovered by anyone who seems even a little organized the Ferry Men will attempt to kill them off, but if there is too much atten-tion in an area they will move on to other pickings. After all, somewhere there is always a debt to collect.

Special Rules:

Charon’s Favored: Ferry Men are disturbing not in that they are imbued undead monsters but rather that they are empowered by something unknowable linked to the cycle of life and death. No where is this more present than if they are “killed” by someone. As with other Imbued the Ferry Men are not easy to kill, but

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in addition to the normal resilience by being Imbued a Ferry Man who has been destroyed via EP damage will regain it after 1-P/10 plus a number of rounds equal the negative amount of EP damage it suffered. They don’t regain it really, the essence just flows into them from whatever created these monsters to begin with. This means that there is no real way to kill these entities for long through essence based attacks, only through intense VP damage.

A Disturbing Toll (+16 To Rating): By simply holding a coin a Ferry Man can use some of the skills and talents of the last person who likewise held it. If that person is still alive than the Ferry Men can only use the skills they possessed up to rank three, and only talents up to the first degree. However, if the person is dead than the Ferry Man can use all their abilities to their limit. If this wasn’t creepy enough a Ferry Men can access all of the former owner’s memories through the coin by passing a Smarts check, TN: 9, and will start to speak in the exact same voice of the owner ! This is the only way a Ferry Man will talk, and with-out a coin they simply resort to an almost infant timbre and giggle and laugh incessantly.

Weakness: Oddly Ferry Men are fascinated with coins of all kinds, and will try to possess any they find. Should any coins be dropped in the presence of a Ferry Man than it must pass it Will check, TN: 10, to resist the urge not to stop and pick them up. They may retake this test every round they receive combat dam-age of any kind, but will otherwise focus on the coins till their all picked up.

Stats:

Ferry Men Rating: 54

Type: Imbued/Humanoid

Size: Medium

Presence: 3

Characteristics: Awareness: 5 Brawn: 4 Charm: -2

Guts: 5 Smarts: 4 Speed: 5 Will: 6

VP: 1-P/10 +2 VP VP Resilience: 0

EP: 1-P/10+3 EP EP Resilience: 0

FB: 0

Armor: 1/1 Material and Spiritual

Talents: Typically have four talents (usually Favored Weapon 3rd Degree, and On Guard 1st Degree0;

Mundane Skills: Climbing 5, Hide 6, Intimidation 6, Investigation 3, Navigate (Basic) 6, Philosophy 4, Search Area 4, Slight of Hand 5, Stealth 6, Track 4, Use Device 3

Arcane Skills: Navigate (Astral) 4;

Combat & Power Skills:

Ranged Combat

Armed Combat 6

Unarmed Combat 4

Extraordinary Power Use:

Combat:

Primary Attacks: 1-P/6 plus Brawn VP Knife or 1-P/4 • plus Brawn VP Natural

Secondary Attacks: •

Hold Attacks: •

“Old Haven Horror”“I’m not here to hassle you John, I just wanted to get your statement.” Nick immediately sealed his lips as tight as he could without looking odd and wished to hell that he could close his nostrils just as easily without pinching his nose in apparent disgust. Johnny “Walker” Wright had the nick name for a reason, and thankfully the old farmer hadn’t driven anything faster than a tractor in years or else he and Nick would’ve had an in depth discussion about his ignitable breath.

“I just told you who it was, just listen..”

“No John, when you say the trespassers are devil wor-shipers I’m afraid I need some more details. Details, like how you know they-“

“-their still in the woods back there, jumpen round a bonfire. Der wearin robes, lords truth.” John started nodding excitedly and crossed his arms over his chest. It was taking all of Nick’s professional restraint not to break out in laughter.

The symbol of police authority (such as it was out in the village spread that was Old Haven), Nick forced a serious tone. “That’s not really illegal out here last I checked. Pretty damn weird I have to admit, -you said it was on Helm’s side of the property?”

Sam

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