Night Music

Monsters by degree


The Sabbat seem to be even worse than our good selves… capturing Israel’s man servant, and sending a message via a six year old child and a hand grenade… upon meeting the sabbat members, who were most likely more honest than madam Belle, I still feel we have chosen wisely.

I would rather fight Flannery and this Monstrous scum the Sabbatt- They may be closer to the beast, which in itself is not a crime… I understand… or so I thought… The beast within me has two sides- the raging torrent of violence and seeking of power, tempered by the need for a balance between the physical and the spirits…

My dreams have become strange, more feral than usual… I wonder where this is leading…

We must contact Madam Belle, and find out more about the Kindred in our city, there are too many here, judging by what the Sabbat said… if we are to be entering into this war, we need information… and fast…

Monsters (Augustine's account of the meeting of The Queen Mama Belle)

After setting the little girl’s spirit free at St. Augustine’s Chapel, we head back to Israel’s. We get out of the cab around the corner, next to the all night diner. I wonder at the night sky and start looking for those that may be watching us. Israel is dancing around puddles, Jed is making a slow, determined path towards the plantation ground.

I notice a crow is on phone wires above, entangled by a pair of sneakers thrown up… usually a sign of gang murder… but with a messenger from death attached? This is odd. Without a word, I slip into the shadows and climb a pole to get closer. muscle memory of climbing trees in the rainforest come easily, and I am twenty foot high in moments. The crow is still looking at me.This is not normal behaviour for crows. It is calm, or at least, not trying to get away.

I have still not decided whether to hunt it or let it free. I leap to catch it on my way down. I manage to have it in my clutches as I descend to the ground. The crow is in my hands, free from the wire. We travel towards the ground… we pass the soil. Down and down we go. A moment’s panic- I consider letting go, but for some reason, I do not. The crow turns into a baby girl, she thanks me for freeing her, the girl turns into a baby, and the body decomposes as we descend further into the earth. The bone crumble to dust as I land, a little gracelessly on a tremendous pile of bones, skidding down this macabre slope.

In the distance, I notice a strange mixture of streets from New Orleans. Some I recognise, some I don’t. It is clear that the rules here do not apply to those of above. About twentyfoot away a figure with commanding presence is before me. Alabaster for one side of the face, obsidian for the other. Baron Samedi.I am shocked to be in his presence. I shouldn’t be here.

The Baron turns his head, obviously Lord of his dominion. He looks at me for a moment and echoes my thought: “You shouldn’t be here”. A flick of his hand. I catch the card reflexively. Suddenly I am on the street, light rain on my face and clothes. I look at the card. Jack of Diamonds. Jed and Israel are nowhere to be seen. I have no idea how much time has passed, but I am thankful to be returned at night.

So. We are being watched by someone who can control or possess death’s messengers. And I am regaining my own connection to the Spirits and the Spirit World. My impulse to see Mama Belle, quickens. How will she respond to us, I wonder.

I climb the gate of Israel’s plantation ground with practised ease. I walk in through the front door, following Jed, who I manage to see a glimpse of from the grounds. I seems I have only been away for about ten or so minutes. They do not question my disappearance. I do not explain where I have been. Who I have seen.

Israel goes to feed his retainer, and I grab a random book from a shelf. I sit on a table, as Jed takes his gun apart and puts it back together. The smell of the oil, and the distance away from Israel’s room deaden the smell and noise of blood and sex. I find I am not interested in this David Copperfield.

I hear the excited footsteps of Israel jogging up to the attic. he often goes up to his lab after feeding his… Wife…

Jed and I talk about Mama Belle.Good. We have the same idea. Talk. find out what her position is with us. This is about survival. At the most cursory of looking at a business directory, we find a “Mama Belle’s” in the French quarter. Fortune telling. It’s worth a try.

After a time, Israel is dressed and clean again. His discussion with Jed disturbs me more than I let them realise… Israel mentions off-handedly that it is interesting that eyes can be regenerated with the application of our blood, but that eyes do not grow a new body. Jed pauses a moment and his outrage is clear, although his voice is quite soft: “You are a monster”. Another pause. Israel’s companionable response is simple: “Yes, and so are you”. Jed does not defend himself. He seems to agree based on the slight twitch of his head.

I see these companions with new eyes.

We get a taxi from the diner, and go to the French quarter. It is busy, and has no sign of the devastation of the flood. People are spilling out of bars and clubs, drunk and careless. I notice how they are afraid of us, particularly Jed. The REALLY drunk ones confront Jed in extremely brave ways. I am NOT comfortable here, I look up on building tops for Garou. That Werewolf is probably hunting me right now.

The back streets. Mama Belle’s. Obviously a tourist trap, and Israel is buying the obvious tourist tarot reading scam. I decide not to talk about beautiful lies, as he seems to genuinely believe the rubbish he is being told. The reader suddenly realises that we may not be human, and I call Jed from outside, as we have an audience with Mama Belle.

We go up the confined staircase, and are asked to wait in a room with coaches and pinned dead butterflies in display cases around the walls. I peer through the bead curtain and although her face is obscured by the beads and the light from her glowing book, I can see that she is beautiful. But what strikes me is the affection and gentleness she has with her retainer. Such a small thing, a kiss on the cheek. But it says so much.

I turn away, uncomfortable, confused. She greets us and her full unobscured, beauty strikes me. I cannot sit on the seating offered- I awkwardly try to explain this- I do not want to cause offence. I kneel, as I am at a Council meeting, alert, ready for any action, but respectful of Domain.

Israel and the Queen talk politics. She is respectful of him, and his… ways…but what rings true is the phrase: “I want my city back”. Now that is honest. No diffused political verbal mist. She wants her city back. She is bringing in the Archons (I assume these are some sort of powerful group that can deal with broken Camarilla cities). We can leave before they get here, or we can join her and help with the rebuilding of her city.

I say “we”. Israel is the one being talked to here. I see that this council is for those with money. He is the elder here, and I see that Jed and I are intrinsically considered part of whatever deal they make.

The meeting is over. I do not know the etiquette, but I am compelled to say something to the Queen.

“I like you”

She tilts her head with an almost coy moment of thanks. I am not fooled, but it’s a graceful act on several levels.

I would rather make myself part of this tribe than the slippery snake Flannery. At least this Queen speaks plainly about her desire for power and how she intends to get it back. She has tolerated us because she had no means to police us. Soon she will have her police. Time to decide where we sit in his city.

I wonder what Israel and Jed think… I should tell them about the crow that was watching us… More importantly that such a method is possible…

Current Events By Israel Stoughton (cont. from Augustine chronicle)

Why doesn’t he (Flannery) see? Am I the only one that can put the puzzle pieces in to place? He is dead yet looks alive, he smokes yet cannot respire, he is a puppet of Satan that pleads his case on holy ground, ground that been re built upon time and again in different guises, and he talks lies to me like I wouldn’t see past his forked tongue! He is dangerous. I do not like him.

Jed is wisely standing outside on the other side of the street. Augustine, not the Saint, is kneeling at a grave. Maybe he has a relative here, he said something about a little girl. I thought maybe he was hunting, but little girls are really not his style.

The way the clouds move over the image of the glowing moon make it look like a reflection rippling in the night time sea. I look away. The three of us talk about something and then it hits me! Could my blood that keeps me free from ailments be refined to vaccinate humans against disease without bonding them to me? I must try this theory out at the next available opportunity. Jed seems to have a hard time understanding what I’m saying, that happens some times. It’s funny how people have difficulties keeping up with me when I’m explaining things to them, it’s like they just don’t or maybe can’t, hear what I’m trying to say. Oh well. We soldier on and eventually we are all on the same page. I used to have a Ghoul called Paige, it seemed that her mind was not strong enough to cope with here love for me and she went completely insane. Pity.

Then what happened…Ah, Jed flagged down a taxi, and finally we went back home. It was good that I went back home as something had been bugging me all night, and when I walked through the door and saw my beloved Amy I remembered. She needed to feed from me. Excellent, I so enjoy being able to let go. I have learnt my lesson and I waited for Jed to get to the house, he seemed to be taking his sweet time about it, but when he finally arrived I told him that though we had some important topics to discus I really had to feed Amy for she was growing very weak. Good ol’ Jed just nodded that nod that says yes I understand, and Amy and I went off to do..well…yes.

I wonder where Augustine got to?

Blankets, blood, sweat, decent, teeth, darkness, warmth, blood, sent, broken, excitement, plans, flesh, tears, joy, blood.

To work!
I don by lab coat and ascend the stairs to my lab. ‘Do Not Disturb’. I work for a time, fully invigorated by my time with Amy, she always gets my creative juices flowing.

Microscopes, Petri dishes, darkness, samples, virus’, humour, bile, cells, broken, scalpel, testing, plans, failure, notes.

I shower and make myself presentable after my work. It did not go well but nothing is an utter failure, I just need to know more.

I join everyone else in the kitchen. Jed is cleaning a gun and I think I should do some more target shooting, it has been a while and it is thoroughly enjoyable. Augustine is reading another of the books from the collection and is perched on a counter like bird of prey. Whilst I was working they found a place called Mama Bell’s Palmistry or something along those lines, and they have decided we should go there. Now I am always up for a good Witch Hunt but I don’t think now is the time. It seems they have their heart set on the idea however, so we head out. It was raining. Little shards of reality are reflected in the droplets. We get another taxi to the French Quarter and leave my perfectly good vehicles behind.
The French Quarter is horrid. People mill about like worker ants swarming through a nest. Lurid colours insult the architecture of the buildings. Black music screeches from doorways and windows and inebriated fools bump into us as they stumble along killing themselves slowly with liver failure.
Humm, the more I think about it, the more I like this place. It’s like a sickly soup of fake feelings and hidden sorrow. Drown your pain in drink, hide the cracks with bright flags and lights and paint, dance and flirt and fuck your emptiness away. I love the French Quarter.

We find the witches store advertising Tarot, Palm reading, and other dark arts. Inside a young couple are having their heads filled with drivel, it’s entertaining to watch. On the veranda sits a large old woman knitting. I begin by inquisition.
Do you practice? I ask.
Yes, she replies. Openly admitting it, oh how times have changed.
Do my cards? I ask.
Yes, she replies.
We walk into the building and Augustine follows, Jed remains ever vigilante outside. He is a nervous one.
I sit down and the woman shuffles her cards. I check the flashes of skin for marks and blemishes, she seems clean yet she is mostly covered. Then she begins her reading. I am blown over with her accuracy, she obviously has a gift, maybe she is like me, well, not exactly like me but maybe she see more than most. I get lost in her words. A talent like this should not be wasted, but she is a whore of Satan, then again, so am I. I answer her questions and then she stops, a moment of revelation travels across her face. She’s knows I am more than human, she invites us to see her mistress and then I realised that she is a Ghoul. Ah, I see, I’ve been a bit slow on the uptake, my mind was on more important things obviously.

All three of us are invited upstairs to meet the mistress, the Camarilla Queen of New Orleans. How exciting. I must remember to feed Michael before the night is through. I sit, as does Jed, or maybe he stood with Augustine, or did he sit? They both did something, it matters not. Ah, Augustine did peep through a beaded curtain and then sharply turned and knelt somewhere. A young, painfully stunning woman enters the room. She can’t have been much older than 17/18 when she became a vestal of Satan. He is indiscriminate I guess. Her skin looks like you could make the comfiest shirt out of it. Her hair looks so soft if you were to touch it you would feel nothing. She has a face that would make my heart skip several beats if that was still possible. She is a bomb concealed in a FabergĂ© egg, and she knows it, and she knows I know it.

She and I have a great discussion about the state of affairs in New Orleans. With all she says the purist words she utters are ‘I want my city back’. I felt the truth of that sentence to my very core, it stood out like a shining light past her beauty and silver tongue. As we talk Jed seems uncomfortable but I know not why. Something about Archons or something. The Queen makes me an offer and I think about it. It all seems perfectly reasonable to me. It’s very refreshing to meet a person in a court that gives me the time of day let alone talks to me with a level of respect and decorum. I like this Queen, I can see her and she doesn’t try to hide, well not from me anyway.

The talk is over and we leave the building. I will write my reply to the Queen at my next convenience, but now I am hungry.

Consequences (Augstine's account continues)

As I sit in the car, I realise I am covered in blood. Also, there must be a slow dripping of blood from the carcass in the hood. What have I done, and how am I going to sort this mess out? At the moment, Jed is the one dealing with this. He’s clearing up MY mess.

We head to a junkyard, in the hope of using the crusher to hide the bodies. Yes, we will have to kill the pimp. He knows too much, and well, he uses children as prostitutes. Jed’s presence still soothes the pimp, although it is very clear to all of us that he HAS to die. Jed’s soothing voice and statements of assurance fill the air like a lead weight.

We find a junkyard, and we stop outside it,as it is sensibly locked by a chain and lock at the gates. We step out of the car, to discuss the details of the pimp’s fate. Israel wanders off to look at the nearby graffiti… avoiding the deadly pools in his path.

Jed needs to feed, but won’t kill the pimp. The undertone is clear- this is MY mess, and my responsibility. I wanted to kill him anyway. I let him feed, and at the right moment, step in and break his neck. We place the body in the car. Jed takes both guns in the hood and decides on keeping one.

Something’s wrong. I feel like we are being watched. I look up and in the shadows, hanging from one arm by its claws, under a nearby bridge. Lupine. QUE CAGAZO!!

The junkyard is HIS territory. No way we can go in there now. We’ll have to blow the car up and run. This is what we do. We collect Israel and set the car alight. The Lupine watches on. We run, Israel helpfully warning me about the puddles as we run. I suddenly realise that the Lupine has my scent. He can track me now. I run faster. I see the little girl too late, I run straight through her.

There is no time to help the spirits, now is the time to run in order to not join them. I shout “SORRY!” as I pass through her. She disappears as I pass through her icy shadow. Israel thinks I’m sorry about something else…

Minutes later, we hear the car explode. And also have no idea where we are. I am still caked in blood and need to change clothes. we walk until we can find our bearings. I jump over a fence at the back of a house to get some clothes hanging on a line… to encounter a dog barking at me, and charging. it bites my arm and I fling it over to the front of the house. It isn’t hurt too much, and the owners are now distracted enough for me to get a shirt… I take note of the street name, so I can make amends another time.

I hop over the fence, grab a plastic bag floating around in the street, and change my shirt.
I have my bearings now, and we go to a church hall, where there should be a phone- this neighbourhood doesn’t have working pay phones. Jed looks mean enough to keep the local street kids away… enough for Israel, whose Armani suit makes him a target, to be discounted.

I have found my bearings due to a Samba gig with my group, fronted by Pappa D, my Ghoul. I go to the Church hall’s door and hear women chatting. I knock on the door, and discover a knitting group. I am polite, offer five dollars for use of the phone, and get Pappa D to send his nephew to pick us up- he doesn’t know of our nature…

We walk in a wide circle so as not to attract undue attention before the car arrives. We are taken to a Samba party, and I feel better in the 3/4 length combats and thongs on my feet, that Pappa D has provided (I dumped the bloody clothes in the bin at the church hall). At the party I notice candle lit on wires outside. wonder who died, and why I can’t see them… I can feel my Spiritual connection is very weak. I need to find some sort of peace. Feel myself again.

I move towards the music, nod a greeting to Pappa D, but am in no state to be in the limelight, by talking to him- he is the focus of the music, and therefore the soul of the party. I nod to people in greeting- They know my ways- I am offered a drum, and join the pulse of the music. I am home. I am part of the driving force of the dancing and celebration. I find my equilibrium.

I see Jed is uncomfortable with his surroundings and finds refuge with an old man I recognise, who is at the party’s edge, enjoying the young people dancing and singing. They are sat down and talking. Israel, bless him, is dancing. He’s not making a fool of himself- he seems to get the spirit of the celebrations. Finding my peace, I pass the drum to someone and head over to Jed and the old man, confirming that St. Augustine’s Church used to be known as St. Augustine’s chapel long ago. It is the same place then. I enquire as to who we are remembering. It’s a young boy shot recently. 15 years old. a street artist. Son of a local guitarist, “little Ghost”. It happened two weeks ago. I look around for his spirit, but I cannot see him. Obviously,I am not quite connected to the spiritworld as I normally am. Israel makes pleasant goodbye’s to the old man, but ends by saying that he talked of a beautiful lie, and walks away. I turn to the old man and srhug. I have no idea what he was talking about. I should listen more carefully.

We get a cab to the chapel. Jed obviously does not want to go inside. He WATCHES churches, he doesn’t go inside. His Demons keep him outside. He doesn’t talk about it, but I can see that the Christian God is linked to his past- judging by the way Israel and Jed never talk about the subject. It’s like a verbal black hole that pushes out, rather than sucks in. A lot of pain there, bubbling under the surface.

Jed waits in the shadows opposite the main chapel as Israel and I go inside. I smell our kind inside, and the tobacco smoke of one smoking in this sacred place. Funny how stone buildings can hold some essence of the spiritworld… I notice a girl spirit at the doorway, but keep my attention on this realm. For now.

I notice two females and one male in the chapel of our kind, along with the smoker. He introduces himself as Flannery. an Irishman who babbles in political talk, alluding and hinting, poisonous verbal shadowtalk. I stare at him, waiting for him to get to the point: to admit that he wants to overthrow the Queen. Please shut up with your talk of “freedom” and “oppression”… your use of the word “power” holds more truth than anything else you say. Anda a la puta madre que te pario!

Apparently, Flannery reacts to Israel’s connection to the spirits like most people. Discounts his validity, underestimates his words, because he is not listening to his own spirits- it is only by being who you are that you can be connected to others, and it is only by being connected to others that you can be connected to the spirits… YOUR spirit.

I wonder why I gave him my name. I think it’s only fair as he gave his… Anyway, I tire of his wind and announce that I’m going to talk to the girl by the door. his look tells me he thinks I’m as valueless as Israel.


Edina lost her mother. by her clothes, she looks to have been alive in the 1800’s something evil happened to her, but she doesn’t want to remember. She was brought here to die, and she is waiting for her mother. Her mother hasn’t come, and she is crying.

A spark of inspiration comes to me as to how I can help this spirit travel to her spiritworld. I walk up to the altar and light a candle, breathing my own well wishing for her safe passage home. She fades away from my awareness, and I get a sense that she is released from this world. I sigh in relief.

At least I did something right this evening. I wait for Israel, who has concluded his conversation, and they have all left out some back way. Israel picks up Flannery’s stub and mutters something about another “Beautiful lie”.

We walk towards Jed. we need to talk about what we should do next. Getting a portable phone and a detailed map of the city would be a good start. As well as keeping an eye on the police activity of the exploded car… I should talk to my contact, the Lieutenant, and see what he can tell me…

A mad half hour, or playing with your food? Augustine's account of events

Now remember something VERY important: this is my perspective of the events that happened. Memories play tricks on you and sometimes, even you senses.

New Orleans, with its overbearing humidity and wandering spirits remind me of the Motherland, Argentina. It has become home. I emerged from the garden of Israel’s house with absolutely no idea of the events that followed- or the consequences… Que cagazo…

I knock on the old cook’s door and soon after I am let in by Israel’s companion…
I thank her, and let her get back to the office to continue her duties. I take the book in the small room, which I finished late last night. I like this room. The cook was fairly content with her life here…for the most part.

“The wind in the willows” mildly perturbs me by the naive portrayal animals of the sleepy English countryside… surely they have sanitized the wildlife to allow the humans to sleep at night. I return he book to the shelf I borrowed it from, before I look for the others to let them know I’m off to feed… it may even be her book, now I think about it. Israel’s literary tastes sit more on a scientific vein.

He misses so much by ignoring the stories. He thinks too much. If he wasn’t blessed with the spirits speaking through him, he’d be unbearable. He may not have the ability to be completely cohesive with his spirits, but at least he’s not interested in politics. Politicians. Chupamelo!

I shake my head as I head for the attic, Israel’s laboratory. It turns out we all need to fed, and for once, we head out together. Jed seems about to take one of Israel’s cars, to chauffeur him no doubt. We notice that there is a white BMW parked in front of the main gate. The three individuals stink of gang member… closer inspection reveals that they are The Doodie Boys.

The sudden silence from the music and noting the half concealed semi-automatic weapons adds to the oppressive air of the night as we approach… Israel is slightly behind, as he does his usual dance of dodging puddles. The stern presence of Jed is close behind me as I call out to them “hey Hermanos! what’s up?” Their obvious tension is shown in their skittish movements, as one of them asks if Israel is present. A paper envelope is produced and they hand it over, get in the car and leave… the music, engine and swaying of heads all seem to start at the same time and there presence echoes off into the distance. I have taken note of the number plate.

The invitation is formal, and gets a nod of approval from Israel. A meeting at St. Augustine’s Chapel. Tonight. I momementarily smile at myself at the name. St. Augustine’s Church is a Catholic church in the Treme district. I wonder if it is the same one.

I suggest we walk to feed… which involves more puddle-dodging as we go past the rows of similar manicured gardens. We get to the streets where we can hunt. not our normal grounds, or habit… especially me…

Street corner. Liquor store. A couple of teenage prostitutes touting in the spill of the lamplight. The pimp in a gaudy car next to them. His bodyguard leaning on the next lamplight. Another gang member, this time 3NG. Israel simply takes one of the prostitutes to somewhere private. Money takes the hunt away. I don’t get it. Jed goes into the store and comes out again a few minutes later… I can smell the liquor on his clothes from across the street. He disappears down a dark alley.

At this point my reasoning escapes me. As does my patience. Subtlety. Awareness of my surroundings. My perspective. Have I lost these things due to the pimp using children for his vile trade? was it just frustration for things not going smoothly? Pride? Did the Spirit Beast within demand a blood sacrifice right there and then?

I decide to go straight to the car and start swinging. He dodges reflexively, and calls out to the bodyguard, who pulls out a pistol and hurls abuse. Some left hook. I back off, head for an alley, and climb a building and jump a few roofs, taking a wide circle until I am four stories above them, as they still tell their stories about how they fended me off.

Why I didn’t just note down the plate of the car and wait until he got home, I will never know.

I jump off the roof, onto the bodyguard… my boots impact at his shoulders and carry on until they reach his hips. My ankle hurts. The pimp is still in the car and I swing at him again, through the open window. I miss. He shoots. I get impatient. I grow my claws and rake his face. He’s still alive, and I have a bleeding body at my feet.

People from this side of the street are running. People from the other side of the street are scattering and making noise. I pick up the broken body and it takes considerable will to pick it up and place it in the hood of the car. I manage it, just before someone from the store comes out. I mumble something about gang members and calling the police. He goes back inside.

I remember the other prostitute. I catch her scent and run for her. She almost makes it to a porn shop in some back alley. I notice the security camera in the neon light, and tempt her back into the darkness with some Heroin I have on me… Off some parasite of the community a week or so back… She comes back into the shadows, Heroin for a kiss’I remember to lick the wound, and trust that the mortal will forget what has recently happened- the poor health,the heroin addiction, the effect on mortals when we feed does confuse their memories…

I take her inside the porn shop and pay the teenager to call an ambulance, and head back outside.
I now pay attention to Jed, who appears from the shadows, he looks better. I assume he has fed. he and Israel had followed me, when they heard the shots. Israel looks better too. He is slightly behind, due to the perilous puddles lurking in the alleys… What spirits lurk in them I wonder?

At this point, I confess to them my messy eating episode. Jed takes control and says that from now on, if anything like this happens again, we should tell the others immediately. We quickly realise that the car has a body that CSI forensics will find a little too interesting… And this is where I see Jed use his nature to gain the trust of the police, to take the car and pimp away from the scene. We drive away and I sit behind the pimp. I am VERY quiet…

Scene 1
Feeding problems.

10pm. Street Pimp, wounded (claw to face) + drained in front passenger seat of his lowrider. Although wounded he is under the influence of Jed’s Presence.

Dead Gangster in trunk, a literal bag of smashed bones and is now draining blood.

Augustine, Israel Stoughton and Jed riding away to dump the body and deal with the problem pimp.

Note: Hand-delivered ‘invitation’ to St. Augustine’s Church, tonight” from an unknown source.

A murder of crows.

The city of New Orleans has an approximate population of 1,300,980, effectively the city can sustain 13 kindred. Far more than this exist within the city limits.

The Big Easy is being choked. It’s rulers cannot govern it effectively and yet more Cainites have slipped into the area to feast unfettered by Elder rule. The pot boils. Soon the night will ring to the cries of battle.

Welcome to your Adventure Log!
A blog for your campaign

Every campaign gets an Adventure Log, a blog for your adventures!

While the wiki is great for organizing your campaign world, it’s not the best way to chronicle your adventures. For that purpose, you need a blog!

The Adventure Log will allow you to chronologically order the happenings of your campaign. It serves as the record of what has passed. After each gaming session, come to the Adventure Log and write up what happened. In time, it will grow into a great story!

Best of all, each Adventure Log post is also a wiki page! You can link back and forth with your wiki, characters, and so forth as you wish.

One final tip: Before you jump in and try to write up the entire history for your campaign, take a deep breath. Rather than spending days writing and getting exhausted, I would suggest writing a quick “Story So Far” with only a summary. Then, get back to gaming! Grow your Adventure Log over time, rather than all at once.


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