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Step into my parlor…

Smack dab in the middle of the Anarch Free State of California, the Bay Area is a balkanized network of hotly-contested territories. Since the collapse of the Sabbat and the beckoning of the Elders off to war in the middle-east, the Anarchs have swept in to seize what territory they can… and it turns out they can seize a lot. Now a network of rough Barons and young Princes jockey for power, each seeking to be “the” central authority, with little success. The chaos has allowed kindred populations to skyrocket, and woe be the wanderer caught without friends in unfamiliar territory. The wildcards, Werewolves, fight with the newly independent Gangrel for every inch of wilderness the Bay Area is so rich with.

Out at the end of a lonely pier in the Fisherman’s Wharf district of San Francisco, an old curio shop sits. It has sat there almost as long as the city has existed surrounding it. The Elder who called it home kept the peace there for more than a century. He didn’t care for the swirling politics. His home was neutral ground. A “Casablanca” for the city some called “Bagdad by the Bay.” He collected stories. He provided respite.

And now he’s gone. Succumbed to the Beconing, Torpor, or the Final Death, who knows? But an alliance of calmer voices on both sides of the Kindred’s civil war have brokered an agreement – a handful of Fledglings from both sides will act as it’s caretakers until his eventual, potential return.

The Elder only had one rule, one ency-whincy little rule about his place. Never harm a spider. Never tear a web.

Ever.

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