*comment ñáéç…— *set year 1905 *hide_reuse *advertisement *temp man "man" *if male = false *set man "woman" *gosub_scene util combat_value *temp geronimo "Geronimo" *temp tlang 2 *temp trel 3 *temp tlow 2 *temp cleared_debt_from_aichinger false *temp blood_debt_from_aichinger false *if ethnicity = "choctaw" *set geronimo "Goyahkla" *set tlang 1 *set trel 1 *set tlow 1 *if rationalism > 50 *set trel +1 *if ethnicity = "african" *set tlow 1 *if stl_patricide_tribunal *comment Praetor Carlos interrogates PC for patricide *if memeskia_alive = false *bug Praetor Carlos summons you to the Planter's House Hotel. Once there, you stand while Memeskia and Carlos interrogate you over the murder of your maker. *if status <= 1 The fact that, after nearly one hundred years, you have done nothing to earn the respect of the Society forces them to conclude that you will never truly repent of your crimes. They pronounce a sentence of death. Memeskia drags you across the river, beyond East St. Louis, and stakes you out on top of a massive mound. He looks you in the eyes for a time before turning and walking back to the city. The sun burns. *goto_scene scoring *else You have earned *if status = 2 some degree of respect *elseif status = 3 a degree of respect *else quite a bit of esteem in the Society, yes. And, they consider that you were a young vampire when you killed West—one who likely did not fully understand the rules of the Society. *if status = 2 *set exiled_from_stlouis true They pass their judgement on you, letting it be known that you slew your maker. For this crime, your standing in the Society will be diminished. What's more, you are exiled from St. Louis. Memeskia informs you that you have until the dawn after this one to be out of the city. Execution would be worse, you suppose. *goto_scene timejump5 *else They pass their judgement on you, letting it be known that you slew your maker. Your station in the Society will be diminished, but at least you will not be executed or even exiled from St. Louis. *set status -1 *if memeskia_alive and ((memeskia_rapport > 50) or (ethnicity = "choctaw")) *comment January 1905? Before Roosevelt's Second Inauguration. "${given_name}." You're not sure where Memeskia came from. @{(anachronism > 75) You silently promise yourself that when you are over a thousand years old, you will not sneak up on younger vampires like this.|} "Quaestor…" Forest Park has mostly returned to its pre-Exposition state. A few buildings remain with special permission from the city. Mostly, though, it has returned to open fields where the denizens of the city can relax on Sundays. The stars glitter overhead. @{(intelligence > 2) You were just despairing over the city lights that have made many of the stars much more difficult to see. You remember, in your life, how the night sky used to be full of them.|} "I wish to start a rebellion." You look at Memeskia blankly. "What are you talking about?" "You saw what the colonists are doing. They brought everything here, to my city, to demonstrate not only their achievements, but their future. I have never despaired so much." "Despaired?" "The colonists seek to bind the whole world with their bonds of money and power. Those bonds must be shattered." "How do you plan to achieve that, Quaestor." "We need a hero." "That is neither you nor I, Quaestor." "I know. That is why I wish to free Goyahkla." *page_break You discuss Memeskia's plan further. He wants to travel there and free ${geronimo}. Once he has been freed, they will free the other Native warriors who are imprisoned there, and bring them back to St. Louis. From there, Memeskia's plan begins to lose detail. Apparently, he thinks that ${geronimo} and his warriors will be able to help him revive the City of Mounds. *choice #To Fort Sill we go. *temp mg false *temp has_uniform false *temp pressed_for_time false *temp flew_to_fort false *temp no_firestarter false *temp fire false *temp explosion false It's takes a few days to travel to Fort Sill, Oklahoma. *if shapeshifting >= 3 It would be easy enough to take the shape of a bat and fly there, but you would be without clothes or equipment. *if mg Though, Memeskia certainly advocates for this method. Finally, you consent. *if compassion < 35 You feel a strange sense of camraderie with Memeskia, as the two of you wing along the countryside throughout the night. Never did you imagine participating in such an activity, nor did you anticipate it making you feel—alive. *set memeskia_rapport %+20 *set flew_to_fort true *else You eventually decide against it, and search for other methods. *else *if income > 15 @{(shapeshifting >= 3) Instead, you|You} arrange for a stagecoach with blackened windows and heavy drapes to carry you there. You further insulate the stagecoach with heavy fabric. If you had to breathe, it would be suffocating. As it is, you find the journey deeply unpleasant. @{mg It is made all the moreso by Memeskia's displeasure. He doesn't travel by coach, much less by a sealed and re-sealed stagecoach.|} *else *set exposure +1 You decide that you can make the journey by wagon, with ${stlouis_valet} at the reins. It will draw some attention—but you have the good sense to not confine yourself to a literal coffin. Instead, you have a simple box built that is clearly not for commerce, but which also doesn't look like it transport the living dead. *if mg *set memeskia_rapport %-10 Unsurprisingly, Memeskia is displeased by these accommodations. *page_break The fort is worthy of its name. The palisade takes up four hundred acres, with towers every hundred yards, and a whole town's worth of supplies inside. In particular, it has a whole internal district devoted to housing the Native prisoners-of-war, still confined some nineteen years after their surrender. On the outside of the palisade a civilian town—made up mostly of tents—has sprung. There, traders, camp-followers, and con-men supply the wants the US Army neglects. You spend the last few hours before sunrise preparing a resting place for yourself for the day. @{mg Memeskia seems able to provide for himself.|} You spend the day considering how you will infiltrate the fort. When you rise the next evening, you've already made your decision. *label fort_choice *choice *if (shapeshifting >= 3) #I turn into a bat and fly into the Fort. *set discretion %-5 *if (charm >= 4) #I talk my way past the guards. They cannot resist my power. *set discretion %-5 *if (stealth >= 3) #I use my powers of misdirection to saunter through the gate, right under the guards' noses. *set discretion %-5 *if (agility >= 3) *if (stealth >= 3) #I can scramble up the palisade, and no one will be the wiser. *set discretion %-5 *else #I can scramble up the palisade, but I will have to confront any guards along the wall. *set discretion %+5 *set compassion %+5 Up the palisade you go. You kill the first guard, then a second. *if mg Memeskia joins you, nodding at the efficiency of your kills. "Time is now short," he observes. You nod, resisting the urge to drain every drop from the second guard. *if pressed_for_time = false *if (streetwise > 1) #When the soldiers come out of the Fort to visit the brothel, I will borrow a uniform, though it requires accosting someone. *set discretion %-5 *set compassion %+5 The enlisted soldiers don't really take their clothes off when they visit the brothels; they don't usually stay that long. Fortunately, you have the element of surprise, and it is easy enough to truss one up. *if mg Memeskia watches with something resembling amusement as you don the outfit. He has told you that he will meet you inside the Fort, once you have made it past the gates. *label gates *set has_uniform true *page_break Arriving outside the gates, you walk confidently forward. *if (stealth > 3) or (((male or (ethnicity = "german")) and (charm > 1)) or ((male = false) and (charm > 4))) The guards wave you by without so much as a second look. *elseif (speaks_english = false) Unfortunately, when the sergeant barks out a challenge, you are unable to understand him. From there, things go from bad to worse. The sergeant pulls his sidearm, and chaos breaks out. Thankfully, when two of the soldiers are dead, you have the good sense to depart before the gunfire can begin in earnest. *set exposure +1 *goto frenzied *elseif male or (ethnicity = "german") Unfortunatley, the gate-sergeant stops you. "Private, are you new here?" *choice #"Yes, sir!" I can play at this soldier game. *set discretion %+5 You snap to attention—or your best approximation thereof—and the sergeant looks you over. *if discretion < 60 *label report_immed "Report to the Field Clerk immediately." "Yes, sir!" You train your eyes forward and try not to look guilty as you pass the gates and enter the Fort. *page_break *else "Why are you reporting so late?" *if ((intelligence >= 3) and ((creation > 0) and (lore > 0))) or (ethnicity = "german") "The LT at Fort Smith was in his cups, sir. I got here as soon as I could." You even pull a scrap of paper out of your pocket and hold it out to him. You have no idea what's on that piece of paper, but that doesn't really matter at this point. The sergeant looks you over one more time, still somewhat suspicious, but finally waves you through. *goto report_immed *else "What does it matter? I'm here now, and I've had a long day." From there, things go from bad to worse. The sergeant pulls his sidearm, and chaos breaks out. Thankfully, when two of the soldiers are dead, you have the good sense to depart before the gunfire can begin in earnest. *set exposure +1 *goto frenzied #"I…must have made a wrong turn…" you whisper, before dashing away. *set discretion %-5 The soldiers shout and give chase, *if pressed_for_time but you are able to elude them. And, like that, your aspirations of infiltrating the Fort are dashed. *goto return_to_stlouis *else *if agility > 3 *set pressed_for_time true and you elude them without difficulty. *goto fort_choice *else but eluding them takes the rest of the already diminished night. *goto return_to_stlouis #If I kill them first, they can't share my description around. *set discretion %+10 *set compassion %+20 *set memeskia_rapport %-10 *if combat > 8 It seems your self-confidence is well-placed. The bodies of the soldiers at the gate slump to the ground. You walk away, licking your fingers, as shouts of horror begin to echo across the ramparts. *goto return_to_stlouis *else Unfortunately, your self-confidence is not well-placed. The deaths do not come quickly, and you are driven away before you can finish them all off. At least one will live to share word of your crimes. *set exposure +2 *goto frenzied *else "Ma'm, are you lost?" There are several snickers. "No…" "Ma'am, how did you end up wearing one of our uniforms?" "I…" "I suggest you find whatever private you borrowed those from and return them, before we have to report you for theft." *if pressed_for_time And like that, your aspirations of infiltrating the Fort are dashed. *goto return_to_stlouis *else *set pressed_for_time true Feigning good humor, you turn and head back the way you came. *goto fort_choice #I accost some soldiers and take a uniform. *set compassion %+5 *if (combat > 7) or ((combat > 6) and (stealth > 0)) *set memeskia_rapport %+10 It is no great matter to subdue the two guards. You strip one of them of their clothes, tie the two of them up, change into the disguise, and head for the gates. *goto gates *elseif mg *set memeskia_rapport %-10 The two soldiers are, in fact, more than you can handle without drawing attention to yourself. Fortunately, Memeskia is there; the two soldiers hit the ground with a grunt. You strip one of them of their clothes, tie the two of them up, change into the disguise, and head for the gates. *goto gates *else *set compassion %+15 *set pressed_for_time true Unfortunately, the two soldiers are somewhat more of a challenge that you had anticipated. You have to call forth the Beast to defeat them. When you have recovered your senses, you find the two soldiers dead. What's more, their uniforms are in no condition to be used as a disguise. You drag their bodies into a ditch, but it won't be long before they're discovered. *goto fort_choice #I hire someone to set a fire in the town, to draw the soldiers' attention. *if mg *set memeskia_rapport %-15 "Is that really necessary?" Memeskia inquires. You scowl back at him. It's not like he's offered any better ideas. *if (streetwise >= 2) and (wealth > 3000) *set fire true *set compassion %+25 *set wealth -2000 You find a young grifter willing to do your dirty work. He takes his payment and gives you ten minutes to position yourself. @{mg Memeskia, through slitted eyes, informs you that he will fly into the fort, and meet you in Geronimo's quarters.|} When the fire is lit, @{mg you and Memeskia|you} surmount the palisade and make your way into the camp. *else *set pressed_for_time true *set no_firestarter true Unfortunately, you can find no one willing to take the job. *goto fort_choice *if ((anachronism > 35) and (technology > 0)) #I acquire some dynamite, and use it to create a distraction away from the town. Dynamite is surprisingly easy to come by in a frontier town. Laying railroad tracks, stubborn boulders, and annoying rodents can all be solved with a stick or three of TNT. *if wealth > 2000 *set wealth -1000 You find a merchant willing to sell you a few sticks without too many questions asked. You don't exactly look like a prospector, but no matter. *elseif charm > 3 It's easy enough to encourage a merchant to sell you the TNT. *elseif (stealth > 1) or (streetwise > 2) It's easy enough to knick a few sticks of dynamite once you've figured out who sells them. *else *set pressed_for_time true Unfortunately, you don't have the money to buy any. *goto fort_choice Once you are a good distance from the fort and the town, you set about creating your distraction. *if technology > 1 *set explosion true *if mg *set memeskia_rapport %+10 Memeskia is duly impressed by your technological aptitude. He confesses that the idea of using dynamite would never have occured to him. Once it is prepared, you light the fuse, and dash to your position. *page_break The dynamite explodes much as you had intended. When the gates are opened and soldiers are heading out, you slip in unnoticed. *elseif technology > 0 *set explosion true *set pressed_for_time true Unfortunately, the explosion is triggered before you are quite ready. The soldiers sally forth to investigate, but you are unable to seize upon the opportunity. *goto fort_choice *else *set pressed_for_time true Unfortunately, you have no aptitude in the use of such modern inventions. Before you even realized what you've done, the dynamite is clearly ruined. *goto fort_choice *else #I can see no way in to the Fort; I return to St. Louis. *label return_to_stlouis *if flew_to_fort *set memeskia_rapport %-20 The flight back is much as the there. Memeskia, however, is despondent. *else The journey back is just as unpleasant as the one there. *if mg *set memeskia_rapport %-20 Memeskia is despondent. *gosub geronimo_aftermath #@{no_firestarter I'll just have to set the fire myself.|I set a fire myself.} *set fire true *set compassion %+30 It's easy enough to find an oil lamp that you can use to start the inferno. *if willpower > 2 *set discretion %+25 And though your beast growls within you, you manage to set the fire to spread slowly enough to give you time to approach the gates. Once the fire has caught, it spreads quickly. The gates of the fort are thrown open, and soldiers rush to join the men and women of the camp in their efforts to extinguish the fire. In the confusion, you are able to slip through the gates unmolested. Once inside, it is easy enough to locate the section where the prisoners-of-war are housed. *else Unfortunately, the fire catches too quickly, startling you. You stumble backwards, trip, and within moments, find yourself nearly surrounded by flames. The beast within you rears up, and though you strive to push it down and regain your composure, your intellect is unable to overcome your baser instincts. You dash to safety, but even then, you continue to flee into the night. Behind you, the fire spreads. Shouts spring up, and teams of men and women organize to try to extinguish it. You cower in the dark, chased by fears give breath by your own hand. *label frenzied *page_break *if mg *set memeskia_rapport %-40 Memeskia finds you some time later. He, unsurprisingly, disappointed in your performance. The return to St. Louis is one long, unbroken silence. *else Several hours later, you regain control of yourself. By this point, however, sunrise is approaching. Defeated, you seek shelter for the day; tomorrow evening, you return to St. Louis. *gosub geronimo_aftermath The camp itself is huge. @{fire From the stables, you can hear the whinnies of the horses at the smell of the conflagration.|} Barracks, officers' quarters, a large yard…it takes a few moments just to get your bearings. It doesn't take too long to locate the section of the Fort dedicated to the prisoners of war. The men are mostly too old to be actually imprisoned, so there are several small houses in one corner where they can live their lives within the confines of the Fort's palisade. *if intelligence >= 3 Their wives and children—the ones who are still alive, anyway—have their own community outside the palisade. They come inside every day to tend to the aging warriors, and depart again before nightfall. *if fire or explosion It helps that several of them are standing outside their prison-homes, trying to ascertain what is transpiring beyond the palisade. You settle on the smallest of the buildings, of a size befitting a leader, but too small to house more than one person. @{mg Memeskia appears at your side as you push open the door.|Steeling yourself, you push open the door and enter.} *page_break The room is small; coals still cast a red glow from the stove against the far wall. "Why have you come?" The voice surges out of the darkness. *if has_uniform "And you wear a skin that does not belong to you," the voice observes. You remove your borrowed cap to get a better look at him. Geronimo—Goyahkla of the Bedonkohe band of the Chiricahua Apache—sits calmly on the side of his bed, looking quite poised for a man receiving strangers in his bedclothes. "Shall I stoke the fire?" you offer. "We have much to discuss." "I have no fear of the dark, young ${man}." @{mg Perhaps it is the dark that should fear you, Goyahkla," Memeskia responds.|"Then perhaps it is the dark that should fear you, sir," you respond.} *page_break *temp you "you" *if mg *set you "you and Memeskia" $!{you} lay out your goal: to turn Goyahkla into a vampire, and rally the tribes to his banner. To raise Cahokia anew. To grind the machinery of the United States to a halt. When ${you} are finished, you wait. There is a sound, not unlike wood breaking under great stress, which you finally identify as a peculiar form of laughter. "A vampire? Leading a band of braves against the US Army—" that sound of breaking wood again, "—I am an old man. I spent my life making war. Now, I seek peace. President Roosevelt has asked me to come to his Second Inauguration. I believe that he is ready to hear my words and grant us our freedom." "You believe that? After everything he has done, that Roosevelt will just give the tribes back their land?" "Yes, why else would he want me there? It is time. Now, please, leave before the colonel discovers you here." @{mg You look at Memeskia, who is crestfallen.|You pause to consider.} *choice #I respect his wishes. I bid him farewell. You leave Goyahkla sitting on his cot. He wastes no words on goodbyes. @{mg Memeskia adopts a similarly stoic demeanor.|} *if fire The soldiers and the civilians are still occupied with extinguishing the flames, making your departure simple. Your return to St. Louis is otherwise uneventful. *gosub geronimo_aftermath *if (mg = false) #I respect his wishes. I bid him farewell…but not before drinking some of his blood. *set fed_from_geronimo true An old man, he can do little to resist you. You have to be careful to not drink more than a few sips, but it tastes of dust anyway. Wiping your mouth dry, you leave him in his bed to recover. *if fire The soldiers and the civilians are still occupied with extinguishing the flames, making your departure simple. Your return to St. Louis is otherwise uneventful. *gosub geronimo_aftermath #This man is a disgrace to his people. I kill him. *set compassion %+10 *if mg Before you can extend your fangs, Memeskia's hand has gripped your wrist. He says only one word. "No." *page_break You leave Goyahkla sitting on his cot; he seems unmoved by his brush with death. He certainly wastes no words on goodbyes. *if fire The soldiers and the civilians are still occupied with extinguishing the flames, making your departure simple. Your return to St. Louis is otherwise uneventful. *gosub geronimo_aftermath *else *gosub kill_geronimo *if (mg = false) #I turn him into a vampire. It is, of course, nearing dawn. And this is not the place to create a fledgling vampire. *if charm > 3 You command Goyahkla to rise, dress, and accompany you out of the fort. Your charms see the two of you out of the gate largely unchallenged. *elseif (compassion > 55) and ((charm > 2) and (fire or explosion)) After a moment's consideration, you decide to threaten him. "If you do not accompany me, I will hunt down your wife and children. They will be made to suffer for your refusal in ways only an immortal such as I can imagine." This strikes a nerve in Goyahkla. He quickly sheds his nightclothes for trousers, a shirt, and boots—as quickly as a seventy-five year old man can, anyway. Thankfully, the soldiers are still occupied with your distraction, and you are able to guide your prisoner outside the palisade and to safety with a minimum of trouble. *else And with an encampment of soldiers between you and safety, you see no way to take Goyahkla with you. Your eyes narrow. *if compassion > 50 Your fangs extend. *gosub kill_geronimo *else Defeated and unwilling to simply murder him, you turn and leave. Your return to St. Louis is otherwise uneventful. *gosub geronimo_aftermath *page_break *set memeskia_rapport %-25 You return to your resting-place from the night before. The dawn is fast approaching. You offer Goyahkla some food and water—what will likely be his last meal—and impel him to wait until nightfall for you. The next evening, you rise to find Goyahkla watching the final shades of the sunset. You sense that there are tears in the creases of his face. It is a long journey back to St. Louis, trying to keep a new vampire in control of his urges. *page_break You had not anticipated Memeskia's response. "A dead man cannot lead the living," he chastises you. "You sent me to fetch him. What did you intend for me to do?" you retort. "To free a warrior from the chains of bondage. To bring a hero to his new home. This is not a warrior. This is not a hero. This is a vampire." Goyahkla seems unmoved by the discussion of his condition. He stands straighter now that his bones do not ache. "Is this what you wanted, brother? To become one of the hungry dead?" "No." "Given the opportunity, where would you go? What would you do?" "I would convince Roosevelt to make peace with our people. And then I would say goodbye to my sons and daughters, my grandsons and granddaughters, before the great sleep." "You cannot see the President. A young vampire…it's too dangerous." "Then let me see my family one last time." "So be it. ${mr} ${surname}, please escort our friend home." "Yes, Quaestor," you say, trying to quash your fury. *page_break The return trip to Fort Sill is humiliating for you. Goyahkla, for his sake, does not lord it over you. If he even understands the shame of being forced to undo your act of creation. Fort Sill is in an uproar over the disappearance of Geronimo, and you have to go to some lengths to organize the reunion of Goyahkla with Zi-yeh and her daughter Eva; you learn that he has several other wives and children, but they are either dead or hundreds of miles away. When the women arrive, they embrace him in a deluge. He comforts them as best he can; you only have to remind him to put away his fangs once. By the time dawn comes, Goyahkla has said his goodbyes. With the assistance of ${stlouis_valet}, you see to it that he will greet the sun. A few hours later, while you sleep, ${stlouis_valet} informs the women where they can collect Goyahkla's remains. They take his bones to bury them as a Methodist, the faith to which he had recently converted. Your return to St. Louis is otherwise uneventful. *page_break A few months later, Theodore Roosevelt's second inauguration begins despite Geronimo's absence. Five elder Native Americans are forced to ride painted ponies in the parade on review by the President, at the head of a column of Native students. The crowd's imitation war-whoops are the least demeaning show of derision. *if (mg) #"We should turn him, Quaestor." *if investigate_memeskia < 3 Memeskia shakes his head no. "The dead cannot lead the living. That has been proven time and time again." You bow your head to your elder, though you wonder at the tale behind his admonition. Memeskia nods a farewell to Goyahkla. Neither wastes words on goodbyes. @{fire The soldiers and the civilians are still occupied with extinguishing the flames, making your departure simple.|} Your return to St. Louis is otherwise uneventful. *gosub geronimo_aftermath *else *set geronimo_vampire true "Forgive me, grandfather," Memeskia says. With that he pulls Goyahkla into his sharp embrace. *page_break *set exposure +1 The next two nights are a challenge. Goyahkla needs time to acclimate to his new form, while his body dies and his hunger awakens. In the meantime, the US Army—ever on the lookout for another Apache breakout—is roused to action. Of course, the US Army also thinks that it's hunting an septuagenarian, likely lost in his memories, not a newly-made vampire. When Goyahkla makes a mess of his first kill, Memeskia urges for the three of you to hurry. Your black-out carriage is not a subtle way to return to Oklahoma City. But once the three of you are placed in traveling coffins and loaded onto railcars, you allow yourself to relax. The Army may inspect the passenger cars or the train employees, but they are unlikely to open coffins. *page_break Back In St. Louis The nation is mystified. @{fire Someone clearly organized a distraction to break Geronimo free from the Fort, but other than rumors of a blacked-out carriage, the perpetrators are both at-large and unknown.|How did the elderly Apache escape his nighttime quarters?} None of the other Apache prisoners know where he is either, though the Army does its best to implicate them in the affair. Fearing some sort of impending insurrection, the US Army is put on high alert throughout the Great Plains, Indian Territory, and the Southwest. At least seven Osage are gunned down outside of Tulsa, Oklahoma when they are mistaken for a Geronimo-led raiding party. When days and weeks go by with no sign of the Apache Devil, the newspapers start to move on to other topics. The Army stays on alert—particularly in and around Indian Territory—but mostly the world is just curious as to where the old man went. #I try to convince Memeskia of the foolishness of this plan. *set discretion %-5 "Quaestor, ${geronimo} is an old man. His warriors are old men. You saw him yourself at the Exposition; did that look like a warrior ready to take the fight to the US Government?" Memeskia deflates. "This can't be the end." "I'm not saying it's the end. Not at all. But breaking ${geronimo} free and trying to resurrect Cahokia will not succeed. Not without tens of thousands of trained soldiers." "But we are vampires!" "Even if you turned ${geronimo}, he would be an infant among us. Even if you turned all of his warriors, how many soldiers do you think they could kill before they themselves met their final end? Ten? A hundred? You would still be overwhelmed." Suddenly, the old Memeskia is back. "Good evening, ${given_name}." "Good night, Quaestor." You are left musing on Memeskia's words. *choice #I'm sure it was but a passing fancy. Nothing to worried about. *set memeskia_rapport %+5 You wonder what sorts of thoughts will creep into your head when you have a few more centuries under your belt. #Memeskia has lost his grip on reality. He cannot continue as quaestor. *set independence %+10 *set memeskia_rapport %-10 Memeskia is a danger to himself, the city, and the Society. You must seek a resolution to this. #He is grieving. I will try to be sensitive to his loss. *set compassion %-10 *set memeskia_rapport %+10 This should be a time for triumph. St. Louis has just played host to the world—both mortal and immortal—and vanquished one of its greatest threats at the same time. You hope that he will raise his eyes to the glory of this period and not stay mired in the past. #I ask him to take me to the City of Mounds. *set memeskia_rapport %+5 *set investigate_memeskia +1 After a moment's consideration, he invites you to meet him in East St. Louis—across the river—tomorrow evening after sunset. You agree and part ways. The next evening, you head east in your ${coupe}. You pick up Memeskia at the rendez-vous and continue further east. Eventually, you see them. A series of…well…mounds. You pull aside and the two of you climb down. You give your horse some feed and turn to follow Memeskia. He takes you to the top of the tallest one. Were you mortal, you would likely be winded by the climb—it is over one hundred feet high. "This was the City of the Mounds," he says, gesturing. You look around. It is nothing like any city you have ever seen. There are no walls. There is no stonework of any kind. Just dozens and dozens of earthen mounds of different heights. If Memeskia weren't telling you otherwise, you would have mistaken the landscape as some geographical quirk. "It was here that we danced and praised the divine. It was here that we received delegations from the Anasazi, the Salish and Chinook, the Cherokee and the Creek, the Lenape and the Powhatan. They came here to hear our stories and propitiate our gods." "That's…that's the entire continent!" "And it was here that I slew my brother," he continues. "You…killed your brother?" "We disagreed about a great many things. I hated him for all the wrong reasons. He sent me as far away as he could without embarrassing me: to the people you know as the Iroquois. It was there that I met West." "And that was when West turned you?" "Yes." He pauses, lost in time. "We traveled together for ten years as he taught me the ways of the vampire. And then we parted. I came home. So much had changed." He surveys the mounds, illumianted by the three-quarter moon. "My brother was…king…of this city. He had held a funeral for me, thinking that I was dead. When I returned, he did the worst thing possible: he welcomed me back with open arms. "It was not what I expected. I still hated him. For our rivalry, for our disagreements, for sending me away. And there he was, holding me in his arms and crying with joy. "The city was already too big when I had left. That was why we needed the trade with the Iroquois. Things had only deteriorated in my absence. He saw my return as an omen: someone he could trust to help him govern. Together, we would set right what had gone wrong." "And what happened?" "I am a vampire." A simple statement that answers both everything and nothing. "And what came of the city?" He pauses. "This was not my home. My home was there—" he gestures towards East St. Louis, "—but you remember when the colonists leveled those mounds." "I do." "That was where we lived. Or, rather, where I lived. Where my lodge was maintained, even in my absence." "Did you take up residence again when you returned?" "I did. And one night, they burnt the entire district down in an effort to kill me." *comment http://westerndigs.org/epic-fire-marked-beginning-of-the-end-for-ancient-culture-of-cahokia-new-digs-suggest/ In 1170, an intentional, ritual-esque fire was set to the East STL area. This marked the beginning of the end of Cahokia, as no more elite lodges were built after this date. "They burnt a whole district?" "Yes." "But you survived." "You could say that." He gestures to the mounds, now just empty hills in the moonlight. "Would you have done anything different?" "Perhaps I should have greeted the sunrise the very day that West created me. This condition is a curse. Every attempt to set things right is met with more misery." *choice #"Another day means another chance to make things right." *set compassion %-5 Memeskia shakes his head…whether in disagreement, disbelief, or dismay is unclear. "Enough. Do not placate me with platitudes." "But, Quaestor…" "Stop. I hate that word." His jaw set, he #"It is time to let go of the past. It is never coming back. You must adapt to @{(ethnicity = "choctaw") the colonists'|the new} world or die." *set anachronism %+5 *set memeskia_rapport %-5 Memeskia glares at you. The last thing he wants is to let the past go. Turning on his heel, he #"Make it's time to move on? After all, what purpose does your existence hold?" *set independence %-5 Memeskia holds your gaze for what seems like an eternity. Abruptly, he turns and heads back down the edifice towards your ${coupe}. *if coupe = "horseless carriage" *set memeskia_rapport %-5 Catching sight of it, however, he pulls up short in disdain; he is clearly not riding in that contraption. "You could walk…" you point out. And so he does. *else The ride home is quiet. Once you cross over the Merchant's Bridge, Memeskia signals you to stop. He dismounts and disappears into the night without further comment. *if (patricide = false) and (sire_name = "West") In the weeks after the defeat of your maker, you find yourself reflecting on your time with him. *if embrace_of_affection He loved you, once. Or felt something for you that he mistook for love. Whatever it was, it drove him to grant you the gift—or curse?—of immortality. *elseif (priest = false) and ((ethnicity != "french") and (ethnicity != "southern")) He saw that you had something to offer the world, and lifted you up from obscurity. He was able to blow on the embers of your ambitions and turn them into a conflagration. *elseif priest He saw your devotion and made to God and made it feel insignificant next to the world that he could offer you. You never imagined the price that was yours to pay. *else He saw that you were something more than the life that you were born into. He was able to blow on the embers of your ambitions and turn them into a conflagration. *if stl_fought_west You saw him crumble to ash before your unbelieving eyes. A creature as old and incomprehensible as he—the very thought seems as preposterous as killing a tornado. *else You did not see him die, but you know with certainty that he is gone. You feel his absence like a weight lifted from your shoulders. *choice #He may have become a monster, but once he was a man. I @{(rationalism > 60) say a prayer for his soul|shed a bloody tear in his honor}. *set compassion %-5 *set discretion %-3 Perhaps someday, someone will remember you fondly enough to @{(rationalism > 60) to say a prayer for you|shed a tear for you}. One can hope. #I mourn his passing—but the future stops for no one. *set compassion %+5 *set anachronism %+3 And some night soon, the future will not deign to stop for you, either. #He was out of control. The world—and the Society—is better off without him. *set discretion %+5 *set independence %+5 West was an unliving thread to all vampirekind. His death was a blessing to all of you. #May all of our kind follow in his wake. *set compassion %+5 *set discretion %+5 You hope to send many more of your kind after him. *if (met_aichinger_scion and histoire_recit) and ((((compassion > 40) and (discretion > 40)) and (independence > 50)) and (revolutionary_credentials > 50)) *page_break Tonight is Dieter Aichinger's debut as Romeo at Parson's Theater. Parson's is a smaller venue—not as large as the Odeon down the street—but it focuses on contemporary interpretations of Shakespeare and other classics. The producer has situated this performance of [i]Romeo and Juliet[/i] amid the American Revolution, with Romeo hailing from a Long Island Patriot family and Juliet from a Tory one. The two sides, locked in interminable conflict, are brought to their knees by the affair of these two star-crossed lovers. Lothar Aichinger has taken one of the boxes. He sits there, alone, watching the performance. *fake_choice #I see him as taking pride in his descendant's talents. #Surely this is just another night at the theater for him. #Does he have real affection for this boy? #He is observing, so that when he takes Dieter's place, the transition will go unremarked. During the intermission, you have a chance to speak with Aichinger. Now is the time. The pieces are in place. Are you prepared to bring Aichinger to his knees, whatever the cost? *choice #So be it. #No, there must be another way. Perhaps there is. The rest of the performance is unremarkable. When the show concludes, the actors bow to slightly-more-than-polite applause. Several flowers are thrown onto the stage; Dieter makes a show of picking one up and smelling it deeply. The newspapers contain some praise Dieter's impassioned soliloquies. The production will fill the house for several months and then fade into obscurity. None of the attendees will ever know how close they came to a miserable end that night. *goto green_corn_dance You give a nod to one of the attendants. That sets a chain of events into place: on the prop-desk, one vial is replaced for another, while separately all the doors of the theater are locked and chained, except for one. The lights flicker on and off, indicating that intermission is over. Returning to your seat, you tingle with anticipation. Finally, the grief-striken Romeo appears on stage. Dieter's make-up is streaked down his face. He holds the vial of poison aloft, praising the love that feels for his sweet Juliet; his performance leans into the absurdity of it all. @{(perception > 2) You can sense the actress's bemusement.|} Finally, he uncorks the vial and downs the contents. His face goes blue almost instantly. He clutches at his throat and struts and frets across the stage. He falls to one knee, reaching his hand out to the audience. There are gasps! It's so…real! Your attention is drawn to Aichinger's box; he standing, clutching the railing. Looking back, you see that Dieter has begun to foam at the mouth. The cries from the audience increase in their concern. Their concern is only magnified when Aichinger launches himself out of the box and lands on the stage with a crunch, his face streaming tears of blood. "No! No! No!" he cries. He bares his fangs and sinks them into the boy's throat, sucking the blood and spitting it out in great fountains of gore. @{(intelligence > 2) You've heard of a similar technique for extracting venom, but you don't see how that could work here. But desperate times call for desperate measures, you suppose.|} The audience has begun screaming in terror, unable to comprehend what they are witnessing. When some of their number discover that the doors of the theater are locked, their wails reach an ever-higher pitch. Amid this chaos, you have carefully made your way to the stage. "Herr Aichinger." "No! No! No!" he's still intoning, rocking the very dead Dieter back and forth. (Juliet, having discarded any pretence of sleep, is sitting stock-still, observing all this with eyes as wide as saucers.) "Herr Aichinger. Please, we must leave." "Leave?" "Do you wish to live?" He looks at you, anger flashing in his eyes. "Allow me to clarify: do you wish to live and not be ruined in the Society?" "What are you talking about." "Say the word. I will spirit you out of here and bury this…rather egregious breach of the Rule of Reserve." "But…Dieter…" "Dieter is dead. Come with me if you want to survive the night," you say, offering your hand. *achieve terminator *set atrocities +2 *set compassion %+30 *set discretion %+15 He slowly lowers Dieter's body to the ground. Tears of blood stain both his white shirt and the actor's costume. "I accept," he says, taking your hand. You kick over one of the foot-lamps, and then another. In moments, the curtains have caught fire. *if debt_to_aichinger *set cleared_debt_from_aichinger true *set debt_to_aichinger false *else *set blood_debt_from_aichinger true "Quickly now," you say. Though you had prepared for this, the fire stirs the beast within you to action. Up two flights of stairs and out a side door you go. You chain this one behind you too. Smoke is pouring out of the windows. The screams and cries of the trapped patrons ricochet through the night. The neighborhood has realized what is transpiring; shouts of "Fire!" are spreading up and down the street. "Vat have you done, ${given_name}?" "Down the stairs, quickly, Herr Aichinger." You reach the ground. Flames are dancing into the night sky. "You…you killed my Dieter." "I did. He was a mortal. And then you revealed yourself to a theater-full of mortals." "But…" "Shall we go inform @{memeskia_alive Memeskia|Gudhrun} of our crimes." "No. Leave." "Very well. Goodnight, [i]Herr[/i] Aichinger." *page_break You saunter home. Behind you, the skyline is illuminated by the inferno. The fire department eventually gets it under control, but not before everyone inside dies from smoke inhalation. @{cleared_debt_from_aichinger It feels good to be free of your debt to [i]Herr[/i] Aichinger.|} The newspapers carry the tragedy of Parson's Theater from one end of the country to the other. Amid the carnage, no one looks too closely at what it was that killed the star of the show; Dieter is buried and mourned like all the others. The families of the deceased, outraged by the dangers posed by the design of the theater, advocate and enact a new generation of fire-safety laws in several cities of the Midwest. They're collectively referred to as the "Parson Laws." And you…you have Lothar Aichinger in your debt. *page_break *if (tuberculosis_vaccine > 5) *page_break *set stlouis_business_climate %+20 It is with some surprise that you receive an invitation to the science department of Washington University. Once there, you are informed by Dr. Cousins that a potential vaccine has been found for tuberculosis. It will take some time, but a less-virulent strain of the bacterium has been produced in the laboratory. Through subsequent generations, a further-attentuated descendant of this bacterium should—in theory—produce a version of virus that is benign enough to serve as a prophylactic. *achieve m_tuberculosis You commend them on their discover and urge them to continue in their work with all due haste. *if (stlouis_affair = 11) or (stlouis_affair = 13) The return to your haven is not exactly joyous. Annie is not here to share in the news of the discovery that could have saved her. *if compassion < 50 You console yourself with the idea that others will not have to suffer the same fate as she. *label green_corn_dance *if memeskia_alive and (investigate_memeskia > 0) *comment April 1905 *page_break In the east, you can see a light on the horizon. It's a bonfire atop the great mound. It is time for the Green Corn Dance. You ensconce yourself in your @{(coupe = "coupé") ${coupe} and urge the horse to a trot|and release the throttle, jolting forward}. The journey across the Merchant's Bridge is not a short one. *page_break The entire way there, you are trying out different arguments in your head to use on Memeskia. What is he doing? What does he think he will accomplish? Has he gone mad? When you arive, you are startled to spy Memeskia. You have never seen him dressed in anything other than his black vest, white shirt, brown pants, and red headwrap. Tonight, he is dressed in full regalia: a beaten copper mask covers his face, with a beaded apron and vest covering his body. In one hand he holds some sort of scepter surmounted by a human skull. Several people—men and women—are huddled in the darkness. A single wooden post orients them, each of them attached to it in different ways. They take turns holding it on their shoulders or otherwise supporting its weight. You can tell that they are both exhausted and terrified. A glance tells you that there is no more than a score of them. @{stl_met_pbusch To your dismay, you recognize Peter Busch, the scion of the Busch family, among their number.|} *if geronimo_vampire Goyahkla is here. He watches Memeskia with both curiosity and suspicion, while similarly keeping an eye on the prisoners. "They used to make sacrifices here. My family oversaw it. When my great-grandfather became the @{tlang headman-of-headmen|king-of-kings}, he sacrificed three hundred women to @{tlang Hushtalhi|the Great Spirit} and the Corn Mother. They also sacrificed the entirety of the @{tlang esteemed neighbors|ruling caste}." *comment http://westerndigs.org/victims-of-human-sacrifice-at-cahokia-were-locals-not-captives-study-finds/ my argument being that the 39 "other" sacrifices were the ruling caste that had become genetically distinct from the rest of the population, likely growing corrupt. The caste--perhaps descended from the founders of the city--were overthrown and murdered en masse. "And you wish to recreate that?" "There was a great flood. The gods were angry. If I could wash away the stink of the colonists from the land, I would." "Was your grandfather seeking to wipe the stink of his own people from the land?" "No, but the reasons do not matter to me. What matters to me is the result. One hundred and fifty years later, the flood nearly destroyed my people. One hundred and fifty years from now, the waters will rise and wipe away all the colonists." *if stl_met_pbusch = 3 Before you can say anything further, Peter either finally recognizes you or works up the courage to speak out. "Please, ${given_name}, help me!" he cries. Memeskia does not react; to him, Peter was never even born. *choice #Try to talk him down. "Do you think @{tlang the|your} gods will answer your call? @{trel Our gods no longer hear us, if they ever did.|Hushtahli will not honor this sacrifice.|There are no gods or divine beings. What you're doing is folly.|There is only one true God and he will not heed your call.}" "What else can I do? I have sat quietly by and watched the @{tlang high places|mounds} on both sides of the river be dismantled, the graves of my people desecrated and the underworld provisions sold for pennies on street corners." "And exterminating @{tlang the colonists|the people of St. Louis} is that something? They have done you no wrong…" "Their existence is a wrong to me. The food they eat is stolen from my descendants. They pollute the air they breathe. They destroy everything that is sacred." "They might say the same thing about you," you retort. Memeskia pauses. "I can't continue." "Let the prisoners go. @{geronimo_vampire Let Goyahkla follow his own path.|} Together, we can figure out a solution." *if investigate_memeskia > 3 *label broken Broken, Memeskia getures to you@{geronimo_vampire and ${geronimo}|} to untie the prisoners. He takes off his mask and lays it on the ground, along with his skull-scepter and club. He sits down at the edge of the terrace, looking east. Behind him, the now-freed prisoners begin running down the hill towards St. Louis. You'll have to deal with them later. "What do you want, Memeskia?" "Other than the death of the colonists and the restoration of my people?" "Who killed your people Memeskia? Was it the colonists? Or was it you?" "I didn't do this…" "Are you going to blame West for turning you into a vampire? You didn't do this, your Beast did." "Yes!" "Then what are you doing? If the problem is your Beast, then you should put an end to it." He stops. A breeze caresses your face. You feel more than see the faintest hint of light brightening the horizon. "I will." You wait. Will he elaborate? "Are you sure?" "Yes." "Do you want to return home and think about this?" "No." "How are you going to do it?" "I'm going to stand here and watch the sun come up. It was here that we made the sacrifices to the gods. It was here that I profaned this city by murdering my brother. It is here that I should meet my end." "You've been alive for over three-quarters of a millenium. You not going to just end it all on a whim." "I have existed for over three-quarters of a millenium, yes. And this is not a whim." You can feel the sun singing in your veins. You spot hints of rose on the horizon. *set memeskia_alive false You have no further time to debate. You usher the prisoners away@{geronimo_vampire with the help of ${geronimo}|}. Once the prisoners are far enough away from the mound, you abandon them and make your way to safety. *if geronimo_vampire *page_break The next evening, ${geronimo} tells you that he wishes to see his family one last time. Unlife is not for him. You arrange a stagecoach to carry him back to Fort Sill in a coffin; he grumbles at the thought, but can think of no better way to accomplish his final wish. Once there, he kisses Zi-yeh and his children goodbye and then he too greets the sun. *else "No, there is no [i]solution,[/i]" he says, and spits on the ground. @{(ethnicity = "choctaw") "They have you speaking like one of them, you know," he continues.|} "Then what?" "They must die. They must all die." He turns, and raises the club. *page_break *set stl_cahokia_sacrifice true Your return to your haven. Memeskia has refused to listen. @{(rationalism > 50) Does this mean that St. Louis will be wiped away from the earth in one-hundred, fifty years?|He is a superstitious fool, thinking ritual murder will bring about a flood in one-hundred, fifty years.} But there's nothing to be done about it now. *selectable_if (compassion > 40) #Human sacrifice on a massive scale? What could go wrong? *set compassion %+25 *set shepherd_credentials %-10 *set memeskia_rapport %+10 *set stl_cahokia_sacrifice true You watch dispassionately as Memeskia slaughters the captives one-by-one, and pushes their bodies into a trench. He recites a prayer with each death, calling on the heavens to once again rain fury down on the land. By the time the moon has set and the first hints of dawn are showing, the men and women are cooling in the earth, and the @{geronimo_vampire three|two} of you return to your respective havens. #I ask if there is anything I can do to help with the ceremony. *set memeskia_rapport %+15 *set compassion %+15 *set discretion %+5 *set stl_cahokia_sacrifice true He looks at you, surprised. He gives you instructions and you follow them. @{(ethnicity = "choctaw") What's amazing is that you see the echo—or is it the origin—of patterns of movement, cycles of sounds, and series of gestures that you grew up watching on ceremonial days.|} @{geronimo_vampire The three of you|The two of you} slaughter the captives one-by-one, pushing their bodies into a trench. Memeskia recites a prayer with each death, calling on the heavens to once again rain fury down upon the land. By the time the moon has set and the first hints of dawn are showing, the men and women are cooling in the earth, and the @{geronimo_vampire three|two} of you return to your respective havens. *if (intelligence > 2) #Dismantle his argument. "The City of Mounds was not perfect." "I never said that it was." "But you seek to wipe away @{tlow the colonists|us "colonists"}, as though your people were living a better life." "But they were!" "Human sacrifice? Burning down a district without regard for those who lived there? The elimination of a whole caste of people because they were related to one another? Even the construction of your mounds is only different in degree, not in quality, to that—" you say, pointing behind you to St. Louis. "But…it was better!" "That's a judgement that you're making. You think that it's better, because that's what you are used to…what you value. But your people were just as venal as @{tlow the colonists|us "colonists"}. Can you tell me, honestly, if the City of Mounds had discovered out how to sail across the ocean, they would not have conquered and plundered Europe?" *achieve nuclear_ghandi Memeskia's jaw is clenched. "I'm sure you tell yourself that they would have come in peace, bringing your wisdom and beneficence to the rest of the world. Or, rather, if you would have had the power, would you have used it to vanquish them?" *if geronimo_vampire "To me, it does not matter what we would have done. What matters is what has been done. Memeskia, if this will wash away the colonists, let us do it." "Even if your own people are washed away as well?" you demand. "The people of the City of Mounds are long gone. But what of your tribe? Zil-nah is still at Fort Sill. Your other wives are in Arizona. Would you see your great-grandchildren washed away in this flood too?" "They killed my mother, my children, and my first wife. Just a few months ago, I wrote to @{tlang king-of-kings|President} Roosevelt. I pled with him to free my people, to let there be peace. He answered with empty words. "If Memeskia thinks he can wipe the earth clean of these colonists, let him." *if (investigate_memeskia < 2) or geronimo_vampire *set stl_cahokia_sacrifice true "Perhaps you are right. Perhaps I only want things to go back to the way they were, because that's how I want them to be. @{geronimo_vampire As Goyahkla says, it is not a matter of what might have been, but is.|So be it.} Let the rains fall. Let the colonists be washed away." With that, he raises his skull-scepter up high, shaking it ever so slightly; something inside rattles with the depth of a thunderstorm. When his left hand stills, his right hand lashes out with his club, smashing into the first prisoner's temple. The prisoner groans and keels over. Memeskia is on the prisoner in a flash, slitting his throat and holding up his head to let the blood drain out. *choice #I leave this madness behind. St. Louis is clearly not the city for me. Behind you, the fire burns. You do not look back. *page_break *label springfield You stop in Sprinfield, Illinois for a few nights. Long enough to write to @{stlouis_valet_alive ${stlouis_valet}|a lawyer} about the disposition of your affects. Considering your options, you conclude that Chicago is your destination. Your direct your things to be transported there. *finish Next *if (geronimo_vampire) #I leave Cahokia and return to St. Louis. Once there, I inform the US Army of where Geronimo can be found. *set memeskia_rapport %-40 *set independence %-20 The major in charge of the National Guard battalion is surprised to hear your words. He is even more surprised when you forcibly excuse yourself in the moments before sunrise. When you awake the next evening, the city is in an uproar. A troop of cavalry rode out to Cahokia during the middle of the day, hoping to pick up Goyahkla's trail. When night fell, they encountered the Devil of Arizona. A "gunbattle" ensued, during which over a dozen cavalrymen died and another three dozen were maimed, crippled, or otherwise wounded, but by the time the sun rose, Geronimo was dead. *comment find a real epithet for Geronimo President Roosevelt, angered by Geronimo's decision to break out from Fort Sill instead of coming to his Second Inauguration, orders the body burned and the ashes dumped in the Mississippi. The Apache—as well of the other tribes—have a hard time accepting his death. After his escape from Fort Sill, he did not contact any tribes. There was no word of him until the final gunbattle—in Cahokia of all places. And with no Native witnesses and no body, Goyahkla moves effortlessly from man to myth. You surmise, however, that Goyahkla did not kill all those cavalrymen himself; Memeskia must have been there. Yet Memeskia appears showing no indication of what transpired. *goto depart_stl #Though it surely means my death, I will not stand by and let this mortals be sacrificed. *label noble_sacrifice *set compassion %-40 Your fangs extend. Memeskia welcomes your attack—the slight chance that you might kill him. You do not. *set killed_by_vampire true *goto_scene scoring *else *goto broken #Though it surely means my death, I will not stand by and let these mortals be sacrificed. *goto noble_sacrifice *elseif memeskia_alive *set stl_cahokia_sacrifice true *if shepherd_credentials > 75 *page_break The following April, the city is struck by a rash of disasppearances. At least twenty white men and women, mostly from the bourgeois and elite of the city, vanish without a trace. The families of the missing demand an investigation; the police raid countless homes and businesses, seeking information. At least six people die in the raids. There is no trace of the missing people. *label election *if memeskia_alive = false *page_break *comment replace Memeskia, either because he committed suicide or because he died facing West. *temp aichinger_for_becard false *temp gudhrun_against_aichinger false *temp support_aichinger false With Memeskia dead, St. Louis needs a new quaestor. The vampires of the city could leave it to Governor Gudhrun to appoint one, but if they choose one and stand united behind that individual, it is likely that the Governor would accept that decision. Bailey is unlikely to stand for the position; he seems happy with his role as Senator. That leaves Bécard and Aichinger; and Aichinger, of course, is a supporter of Adonis. *if (lore > 2) and (independence > 60) *set gudhrun_against_aichinger true You cannot imagine that Gudhrun will accept Aichinger as Quaestor. If part of her purpose is to oust O'Donnell from Chicago, she cannot allow the counter-revolution to gain power in another city. @{met_harding Elinor Harding in Louisville is enough of a weathervane; three cities in close proximity would be a disaster.|} *if blood_debt_from_aichinger *set aichinger_for_becard true *set debt_from_becard true You arrange a meeting with Bécard. Bécard is the only choice. You explain to her that she must be ready to accept the position at the next court meeting; you inform her that Aichinger will support her. She is surprised at that news, but she accepts it. "I will be ready." *elseif debt_from_aichinger You have a debt over Lothar Aichinger. You could exchange that debt in order to encourage Aichinger to support Bécard, and then extract a debt from Bécard over your collective support. *if gudhrun_against_aichinger = false Alternately, you could support Aichinger. If he becomes quaestor, you would hold a debt over him. *if (aichinger_rapport > 50) or (perception > 1) You are certain that Aichinger would leap at the chance. @{gudhrun_against_aichinger Alternately,|Finally,} you could let the cards fall where they may; most likely, Gudhrun would appoint someone from outside the city. *choice #I will force Aichinger to support Bécard. *set debt_from_aichinger false *set aichinger_for_becard true *set debt_from_becard true *set independence %+15 Bécard agrees to the debt to you should she become Quaestor. #I will hold the debt and support Aichinger@{gudhrun_against_aichinger , even though the Governor will surely intervene|}. *set discretion %-5 *set independence %+5 *set revolutionary_credentials %-30 *set support_aichinger true #I will let the cards fall where they may. *set independence %-5 *set discretion %-5 #Not only will I let the cards fall where they may, I wish to flee St. Louis before any bloodshed. *set discretion %-15 *set independence %-10 *goto springfield *page_break The vampires of the St. Louis court gather. Absent Memeskia and Hiram Eliot, it is a much-diminished sight. *if becard_scarred Bécard's face is still an angry red; it is mending, but you @{(compassion < 50) fear|suspect} that some of the damage will be permanent. *if perception > 1 You note that Bailey seems to avoid her as much as possible; you intuit that the angry flesh reminds him that his immortality is not as assured as he would like. "We have a decision to make, here," Bailey begins. "[i]Ja,[/i] we must decide on a quaestor," Aichinger interrupts. *if aichinger_for_becard *gosub becard_quaestor "Sabine Bécard, you are clearly the best candidate." Sabine nods. "Thank you, Lothar." She smiles and thanks the three of you. "This is what Memeskia would have wanted." Those words ring more hollow than even Sabine realizes. *elseif support_aichinger *gosub aichinger_temp_quaestor "It should be me!" he says. The room goes silent. "I agree," you add. Bailey opens his mouth, stops, smiles, and nods. "[i]Herr[/i] Aichinger, if you believe that you should be quaestor…by all means, let us put forth your name to Governor Björnsdotter." Aichinger chuffs. "[i]Ja, gut,[/i]" he says, eminently pleased. *elseif status > 3 "What do you think, @{male [i]Herr[/i]|[i]Fräulein[/i]} ${surname}?" *choice #"I propose Mlle. Bécard." *gosub becard_quaestor Bécard looks at you, surprised. "I…" "Say yes," "Yes." And so it is done. #"I propose [i]Herr[/i] Aichinger. *gosub aichinger_temp_quaestor Aichinger chuffs. "[i]Ja, gut,[/i]" he says, eminently pleased. #"I will be quaestor." *temp pq_pt 1 *if bailey_rapport > 65 *set pq_pt +1 Bailey nods at the wisdom of this. *else Bailey frowns at the idea. *if becard_rapport > 55 *set pq_pt +1 Bécard seems amenable to the idea. *else Bécard rolls her eyes. *if debt_from_aichinger or (aichinger_rapport > 70) *set pq_pt +1 Aichinger's mustache bunches, but he does not object. *else "[i]Ach wo![/i]" Aichinger thunders. *if pq_pt = 4 *set stlouis_quaestor_num 4 You smile. You have won…if the Governor accepts you. *else Unable to reach consensus—and with no one in particular willing to die for the position—the court of St. Louis leaves the matter to the governor to decide. *else The vampires of St. Louis can come to no agreement. Bailey and Bécard will not hear of Aichinger becoming the quaestor, and Bécard herself is not terribly interested in the position. *if (shepherd_credentials > 65) or ((stlouis_enterprise = 1) or (intelligence > 2)) *page_break *comment 1904-05-28 At the end of May, a Japanese fleet surprise-attacks a top-of-the-line Russian fleet that had just made the journey from the Baltic, around the Cape of Good Hope, and into the Pacific. The Russian fleet is annihilated, losing eight battleships amid scores of other boats as well as over five thousand sailors; the Japanese fleet, on the other hand, loses three torpedo boats and about a hundred lives. The epic defeat forces Russia to sue for peace; both sides come together in New Hampshire under the auspices of President Roosevelt to negotiate a treaty. The world is stunned. One hundred years ago, Russia withstood Napoleon—considered the greatest modern leader and general, the inventor of modern logistics and tactics. Fifty years ago, Japan didn't even have a navy; their soldiers still wore iron-and-leather armor and swung swords at each other. But with this victory, they have come roaring onto the world stage. *if (becardeliot_romance and stl_fought_west) and (becard_rapport > 60) *page_break *temp west_prob (m_sib and patricide) "Tommy has left for school." Bécard peers at you carefully. It's early. The Planter's House Hotel bar is roaring in the next room. Aichinger has not yet arrived and Bailey is speaking with the maître d'. "Oh?" you reply. "A boarding school, in Massachusetts. He wants to go to Harvard." "You're seeing to his needs?" "Other than making sure Quaestor de Zaruela does not accost him? No. Hiram saw to that already." *set heard_of_zaruela true @{(compassion < 50) "I'm glad to hear it," you reply.|You nod, unsure as to why she has shared this confidence.} "But…Zaruela?" "The Quaestor of Boston. And granddominus of our very own Senator Bailey." "I see." You pause. "We're not in danger…" "No. @{west_prob The imposter|West} is only a bad dream for him." "Good." *if egans_rats_plot = 6 *page_break Though state politics is not something you spend too much time focused on, where ${stl_kinney} is concerned, you keep your ears perked. You observe that the newly elected state senator pays a surprising amount of attention to the welfare of Kansas City—far from his home district of the Kerry Patch. Which is not to say that the Kerry Patch suffers—if anything an alliance between the Irish of St. Louis and the Italians of Kansas City is to both groups' benefit—but the way in which that alliance manifests immediately and forcefully catches the rest of the political elite off-guard. Presumably, Fragalà is making the most of the connection you made. *if temperance_movement *gosub sort_campaign *else *gosub passage_without_push *if (memeskia_alive = false) *if (stlouis_quaestor_num = 1) *page_break Governor Björnsdotter does not accept the recommendation of the court of St. Louis to appoint Aichinger as quaestor. *label new_quaestor Instead, she sends James Draper to take up the role. *if met_draper You met Draper before, when he came to New Orleans. Somehow, it does not surprise you that he is a @{(revolutionary_credentials > 60) supporter|lackey} of Isaiah Stone. *elseif heard_of_draper = false You are unfamiliar with the individual. *set heard_of_draper true *if stlouis_quaestor_num = 4 *comment TODO add discretion test for insta-death. With the rest of the court unwilling to die for you, you accept the decision with grace. You will live to fight another night. *else With neither Bailey nor Bécard willing to support him, Aichinger accepts the decision with grace. He will live to fight another night. *set stlouis_quaestor_num 3 *set stlouis_quaestor "Draper" *elseif (stlouis_quaestor_num = 2) *page_break Governor Björnsdotter accepts the decision of the court of St. Louis, and acknowledges the status of Sabine Bécard as quaestor of St. Louis. Like her dominus, Bécard spends as little time as possible in the city. *elseif (stlouis_quaestor_num = 4) and ((revolutionary_credentials > 55) and (bjornsdotter_rapport > 55)) *set quaestor true *achieve quaestor_of_stlouis *set stlouis_quaestor "PC" The Governor accepts your ascension to the position of Quaestor of St. Louis. She pays a visit to St. Louis long enough for you to proverbially kiss the ring, and then returns to St. Paul to continue her plans to unseat Quaestor O'Donnell. *elseif (stlouis_quaestor_num = 4) The Governor does not accept your ascension to the position of quaestor. You suspect it has something to do with insufficient fidelity to Isaiah Stone. *goto new_quaestor *label depart_stl *if quaestor *page_break You have become quaestor of St. Louis. Bailey, Aichinger, Bécard all acknowledge your authority…for the time being. You even receive a letter of congratulations from Isaiah Stone, applauding you for your dedication to his cause. Bécard returns to Jefferson and spends more and more time there. You suspect that the absence of Memeskia@{becardeliot_romance and Hiram|} are too much for her. Soon, new challenges arise. St. Louis continues to grow and more vampires arrive to try and take whatever they can from it. You do your best to maintain order amid the influx. Within a few decades, Governor Björnsdotter finally manages to depose Quaestor Seamus O'Donnell; with O'Donnell destroyed, Elinor Harding submits to Stone's authority, and the Revolution—as far as the United States and Canada are concerned—is complete. Of course, by that time, the vampires of the New World have almost forgotten the Society of Adonis. New threats arise, as the Pinkertons evolve into the security apparatus of the US Government. Soon, the vampires are no longer the apex predators that they had been for millennia. [Here ends this storyline.] *goto_scene scoring *else The time has come to leave St. Louis. While it has its charms, the throbbing metropolis of Chicago calls to you. *finish Next *label sort_campaign *temp stat_in_question *temp short_val *if missouri_suffrage >= missouri_prohibition *set stat_in_question "missouri_suffrage" *set short_val "suffrage" *else *set stat_in_question "missouri_prohibition" *set short_val "prohibition" *page_break *if stat_in_question = "missouri_suffrage" Four states have now granted suffrage to women: Wyoming, Utah, Colorado, and Idaho. Thanks to efforts throughout the state—but particularly at the Exhibition—NAWSA now feels that suffrage in Missouri is within reach. Both NAWSA and the WCTU organize massive demonstrations in St. Louis, Kansas City, and Jefferson City, demanding that the suffrage bill be passed. The women and their supporters put pressure on community leaders at all levels, urging vocal support for the cause. *else Currently, Kansas and Iowa are dry states. Missouri has long been seen as a reasonable next step in the temperance playbook. Both the WCTU and the Anti-Saloon League have marshalled their forces in an attempt to pressure the state legislature into passing statewide prohibition. *choice #What's begun is already underway. The best thing I can do is not let my presence obstruct progress. *set local_fame %-5 *set exposure -1 *set discretion %-10 *set shepherd_credentials %-5 Sometimes, it is wisest to sit back and let others do the work. @{(exposure > 10) Especially when you have already made a significant name for yourself in the city.|} Discretion can be the better part of valor. *if (local_fame > 40) #I use my local reputation to personally lobby some state legislators. *if local_fame > 65 *set {stat_in_question} +1 Your meetings with the state legislators go about as well as they can. They make no promises, but you sense that they are receptive to your words. All you can do now is wait. *elseif (charm > 3) and (discretion > 50) *set {stat_in_question} +1 *set exposure +2 At first you receive a brush-off from the staff of the legislators. You, however, are not one to take "no" for an answer. Using your powers of charm, you force your way into meetings and convince the legislators to vote your way. It is unclear if your actions are enough to sway the vote, but you have done as much as you are able. For now, you must wait. *else Unfortunately, you receive the brush-off from the staff of the legislators. You will have to simply wait and see the results of the vote. *selectable_if (charm > 3) #I force my way into a meeting with some legislators using my powers of charm. *set exposure +1 *set {stat_in_question} +1 You convince a small handful of legislators to vote your way. It is unclear if they will be enough to turn the tide, however. For now, all you can do is wait for the vote. *selectable_if (wealth > 1500000) #I will do my best to buy the vote. *set exposure +1 *set {stat_in_question} +1 *set wealth -400000 *set local_fame %+10 Cold, hard cash opens many doors. Especially the doors of politicians. They are happy to take your money and make vague promises about working for your interests and the interests of the citizens of Missouri. For now, all you can do is wait for the vote. *if (stlouis_enterprise = 1) #I make sure newspapers throughout the state are extolling virtues of ${short_val} ahead of the vote. *set {stat_in_question} +1 *set exposure +1 The ${post_dispatch} and other newspapers frame the conversation as a conflict between progressives and the future and those regressive brutes who wish to oppose the virtues of America that were so clearly on display at the Exposition. "Will our politicians hide from the future in their smoke-filled rooms? Or will they embrace the future, here and now?" It is unclear if it is enough. All you can do now is wait. *goto {stat_in_question} *label missouri_suffrage *page_break *if missouri_suffrage > 5 *label suffrage_passes *achieve missouri_suffrage *set missouri_suffrage_passed true *set anachronism %+5 *set missouri_prohibition +1 To the surprise of many throughout the country, Missouri approves a bill granting women's suffrage, effective January 1st of 1906. In the wake of the vote, there are celebrations in temperance halls throughout the state. The NAWSA leadership is ecstatic; if Missouri can be convinced, why not Illinois or New York? The range of possibilities has increased greatly with this victory. The WCTU and the Anti-Saloon League also celebrate the victory, pointing out that soon women's temperate voices will be heard at the ballot box. Susan B. Anthony, despite being 85 years old, makes the journey to Jefferson City to address the Missouri legislature, delivering a stirring speech on the new dawn for women's rights in the United States. She has to deliver the speech from her wheelchair, but that does not diminish the fire of her passion. One of her closing remarks honors the other women who have devoted themselves to the cause: "There have been others also just as true and devoted to the cause—I wish I could name every one—but with such women consecrating their lives, failure is impossible!" When she is finished, the legislators honors her with a standing ovation. Transcripts of her speech are disseminated by NAWSA throughout the country, and soon "Failure is Impossible!" becomes a rallying cry for the suffragettes. The following spring, Anthony dies of pneumonia and heart failure at her home in Rochester, New York. Though she did not see nation-wide women's suffrage achieved, her trip to Missouri was a welcome opportunity for her to take a victory lap. *return *else Unfortunately, the demonstrations and the pressure are simply not enough. The bill fails on a vote in the Senate. NAWSA vows to regroup and try again during the next session, but the the words ring hollow. In March, Susan B. Anthony finally expires at her home in Rochester, New York. At the age of 86, hers was a long and storied career in support of the cause of women's liberation. The month before her death, she traveled to Washington, D.C. for a birthday celebration honoring her long service to the country. While there, she gives a speech in which she thanks all those who have fought alongside her. "There have been others also just as true and devoted to the cause — I wish I could name every one — but with such women consecrating their lives, failure is impossible!" Inspired by her words, "Failure is Impossible!" becomes a rallying cry across the country for the suffragettes. *return *label missouri_prohibition *if missouri_prohibition > 5 *label prohibition_passes *set missouri_suffrage +1 *set stlouis_business_climate %-20 *achieve missouri_prohibition *set missouri_prohibition_passed 3 To the astonishment of nearly everyone, the state-level prohibition is narrowly approved by the legislature. Governor Folk is unable to deny the will of the people—he had already campaigned on the enforcement of the Sunday-closure laws—and Prohibition goes into effect January 1st, 1906. The Germans, Poles, Italians, and Irish are all outraged at the law, seeing it as an attack on their culture and—in many cases—their livelihoods. The @{(budweiser = "Budweiser") Anheuser-Busch|Falstaff} brewery is forced to downsize its operations in Missouri—focusing on ancillary business lines—while relocating its brewing and distribution operations across the river to East St. Louis. The sudden dislocation of the industrial and residential tax base across the river will have long-lasting consequences on the city. *comment further destruction of Cahokia, as ESL needs more land to develop? The WCTU and the Anti-Saloon League are jubilant at their success. They turn their attentions immediately to their next objectives. NAWSA celebrates the victory as well, pointing to the moral leadership that women can offer to men…if only they could express that leadership at the ballot box. *return *elseif missouri_prohibition > 3 *label county_level_prohibition *set stlouis_business_climate %+5 *set missouri_prohibition_passed 2 While a bill for total prohibition fails, an alternative bill in the style of Vermont's 1902 law is adopted: individual counties will now have the right to self-determination on the issue of prohibition. Within months, counties up and down the state—including St. Louis County—adopt various degrees of prohibition. Of course, that mostly means that the larger counties, such as the County of the City of St. Louis and Jackson County, find themselves flush with newly-opened saloons. The Germans, Poles, Italians, and Irish are angered by the passage of the law, but focus on its benefits: saloons in the cities multiply, as wet-tourists come through to get their fix. The WCTU and the Anti-Saloon League celebrate their successes and commit themselves to continuing the fight. NAWSA celebrates the vicotry as well, pointing to the moral leadership that women can offer to men…if only they could express that leadership at the ballot box. *return *else Unfortunately, the prohibition bill is defeated in the Senate. The WCTU and the Anti-Saloon League continue on undaunted. Their success may be delayed, but it will not be defeated. *return *label passage_without_push *if missouri_prohibition > 5 *goto prohibition_passes *elseif missouri_prohibition > 3 *goto county_level_prohibition *elseif missouri_suffrage > 5 *goto suffrage_passes *else *comment no point in mentioning the plot if the player isn't actively pursuing it and it's not going to pass. *return *label fragala_kinney *comment if egans_rats = 3 In the wake of Kinney's election to the state Senate, everyone wants to be his friend. That includes Calogero Fragalà. *return *label becard_quaestor *set stlouis_quaestor "Bécard" *set stlouis_quaestor_num 2 *set revolutionary_credentials %+15 *set becard_rapport %+10 *set bailey_rapport %+10 *set bjornsdotter_rapport %+10 *return *label aichinger_temp_quaestor *set revolutionary_credentials %-30 *set aichinger_rapport %+30 *set becard_rapport %-5 *set bailey_rapport %-10 *set bjornsdotter_rapport %-20 *set harding_rapport %+10 *return *label kill_geronimo *set fed_from_geronimo true *set geronimo_murdered true The old man doesn't flinch as you bear down on him. His blood splatters the walls, but his eyes somehow gaze at you with contempt as the blood drains from his body. The blood itself tastes of dust. You're half-tempted to spit it out, but resist the urge; the journey back to St. Louis is not short. But it is otherwise uneventful. *page_break The US Army is at a loss to explain the death of Geronimo. President Roosevelt, in particular, is disappointed to not have the Apache Devil at his inauguration. The death is ultimately blamed on one of other other Apache prisoners, and any inquest into the matter is dropped. *return *label geronimo_aftermath *page_break A short time later, Geronimo departs Fort Sill to attend Theodore Roosevelt's second inauguration. He and five other Native Americans are forced to ride painted ponies in the parade on review by the President, at the head of a column of Native students. The crowd's imitation war-whoops are the least demeaning show of derision. Afterwards, in a private audience, Geronimo makes an impassioned plea to Roosevelt to release his fellow prisoners-of-war in the interests of futhering peace between the two peoples, and so that the prisoners-of-war will not have to live out the rest of their lives in captivity. Roosevelt rejects the request, and Geronimo is returned to Fort Sill to live out his days as a side-show curiosity. *return