The Terrel & Squib sourcebook is a fan produced product not meant for sale or profit. The production of the Terrel & Squib sourcebook is not a challenge to White Wolf Publishing, Inc.’s trademark or any copyrights concerned. For more fan-produced resources based on the OrpheusTM game setting, please go to www.projectflatline.com This Is Not An Official White Wolf™ Product This Book Is Not For Sale or Profit By Rob Engen, Adam Wells Davis, Steven MacLauchlan, David Plank, Jason Wallace, Tuukka Hurmeranta, and Tome Wilson World of Darkness created by Mark Rein•Hagen. This is not an official White Wolf Product. The Terrel & Squib sourcebook is not for sale or profit. Credits Dedication Authors: Adam Wells Davis, Rob “Ravil” Engen, To the man whose golden heart and creative Tuukka Hurmeranta, Steven MacLauchlan, David genius brought the classic ghost story back to life Plank, Jason “Leach” Wallace again. Additional Writing: Tome Wilson You gave us new dreams & nightmares to share Storyteller Game System Design: Mark with our friends and for that we thank you, Lucien Rein•Hagen Soulban. T&S Developer: Rob “Ravil” Engen Editor: Adam Wells Davis & Jason - The T&S Sourcebook Staff & “Leach” Wallace Orpheus™ fans everywhere. Art Director: Tome Wilson Layout and Typesetting: Tome Wilson Interior Art: Tome Wilson and Rob “Ravil” Engen Front Cover Design: Tome Wilson Special Thanks: Allan "Lucas" Hansen, Tragick Arthouse (Tragick.net) and Donnovan “Van” Douglas Knight Orpheus and Terrel & Squib Created By: Lucien Soulban and White Wolf Game Publishing, Inc. © 1990-2004 White Wolf Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved. Terrel & Squib, Inc. Orpheus™, and NextWorld are trademarks of White Wolf Publishing, Inc. The Terrel & Squib e-book is a fan produced product not meant for sale or profit. The production of the Terrel & Squib e-book is not a challenge to White Wolf Publishing, Inc.’s trademark or any copyrights concerned. The mention of or reference to any company or product in these pages is not a challenge to the trademark or copyright concerned. This book uses the supernatural for settings, characters and themes. All mystical and supernatural elements are fiction and intended for entertainment purposes only. This book contains mature content. Reader discretion is advised. For a free White Wolf catalog call 1-800-454-WOLF. Check out White Wolf online at http://www.white-wolf.com; alt.games.whitewolf and rec.games.frp.storyteller For more Orpheus™ based fan productions, check out Project: Flatline at http://www.projectflatline.com TERREL & SQUIB Prologue: Ladies First 6 Introduction 18 Chapter One: History of Terrel & Squib, Inc. 21 Chapter Two: The Unearthed Player’s Guide 38 Chapter Three: Storytelling the Dead 61 Chapter Four: Agents of Note 103 Chapter Five: Terrel & Squib Operations 125 TABLE OF CONTENTS Prologue: Ladies First Alright ramblers, let’s get rambling. — Reservoir Dogs Operation: Plague-Sever a loose latch and power supply obviously overlooked by 2053h R&D after another budget meeting. Slap. Slap. Slap. Click. With an annoyed snap of This time, they were going to nail the fucker to the his head into the wall of the slick, the googles latched wall. That’s all there was to it. Nail it to the wall and into place and started to warm up. watch it bleed sin, watch it struggle like a knifed rat Jarrod snorted. “Yeah, keep smacking it. I hear that before they finally blew it back to hell. Best yet, they helps your wife put out, too.” were going to get paid for doing a job that any of them “Fuck you and die,” Deshaun muttered, finally would have given an arm for. getting the set of Kirlian-feed goggles down over his The lights inside the Mobile Command Unit (lovingly eyes properly. Miraculously, the indicator lights started referred to as “slicks” by the Terrel & Squib agents that blinking and backlight in the display finally powered up. rode inside of them) had been dimmed twenty minutes “Jesus. ‘Bout time.” ago, leaving Jarrod Dunlap and his five companions in Jarrod hated those Kirlian goggles. It was like near-darkness save for the light shed by nearby computer looking at the world through a set of cardboard tubes, monitors. There was plenty of breathing room inside the and when they started to break down, the first thing to go slick, despite the walls of surveillance gear and paratech, was always the real-time imaging. This left the goggles but the nagging claustrophobia refused to settle itself lagging behind what you were actually seeing by one inside of Jarrod’s gut. The unsightly contraption may or two seconds... he’d even seen three seond lag in the have been huge, but he couldn’t help but dwell on the earlier models. If you weren’t tripping over yourself, fact that the living were sharing it with at least ten other that shit could get you killed, even on a good day. people, unseen, unfelt, but there nonetheless. About that time, Jarrod decided he wouldn’t rely He always laughed when saw himself in the mirror on the Kirlians anymore, not for any amount of money. before launching an operation. Jarrod had been to his He reached into one of share of student protests the several pockets in back in the day. He his bulletproof vest and had been clubbed in produced a fistful of Washington, gassed in lumpy fabric cuts that Seattle, and shot in Philly, looked like oversized all by the riot police that Jarrod took a deep band-aids. Slap-patches he now resembled. Jarrod were his modus operandi. and his fellow operatives breath and closed his The patches themselves wore nigh-identical black contained a good shot of riot gear, complete with “ the Eidolon drug, enough bulletproof vests, knee- eyes. By the time to get the blood pumping high combat boots, and and his dead-eyes warmed teal helmets with the T&S that door opens, I’ll up. He peeled off the logo emblazoned onto sticky tape on the back the sides. Some days, be rolling and we’ll and gingerly applied the he felt like this was all a slap-patch to a section of bad joke. Right now, he his neck just beneath his wished it was. be in business...” armor, where the strong The small subma- adhesive immediately chine gun he clutched and clung to his flesh. the steeled look in his eye Jarrod took a deep told the truth. Beneath breath and closed his the bells and trinkets, this was a vicious job. eyes. “By the time that door opens, I’ll be rolling and “Prep yourselves, people,” the speaker next to we’ll be in business,” he thought. The thumping in his Jarrod’s ear blared, “We’ve got five minutes.” chest slowed to a lull, followed by his muscles growing “Is this thing working? Why isn’t this goddamn thing slack under the heavy shell of his armor. Almost in working?” said Deshaun, a skinny black man in identical rhythm, the world beyond his flesh started pulsing with riot gear. The expensive looking goggles strapped to his his heart; the waves of air around him growing thick and head flopped up and down with each bump in the road, fluid-like. When, just as suddenly as it began, the fluid TERREL & SQUIB 7 air was pulled from Jarrod’s thoughts. The oily caul crackled in his ear, this time with the headset in his forming around his face slothed off into the nothingness, helmet playing backup against his right eardrum. and everything was clear again. The Eidolon patch was He turned to the rest of his five-man unit, and working. beckoned wildly. “All right, Ghostbusters! Let’s nail “Don’t know how you keep doing that shit to this fucker and go home!” He led them on out the back yourself, man.” The deep voice almost echoed for of the slick, and they followed him into Hell. a second in Jarrod’s head. It belonged to his friend Matthias sitting beside him, a big Greek fellow with a * * * * * thin moustache and an omnipresent glean of sweat on his brow. He already had his goggles in place like Deshaun “Heaven” Interrogation Facility, and was double-checking the extra magazines pocketed Terrel & Squib Re-Education Center #3 in his vest. 2100h Jarrod waved one of his spare slap-patches at Matthias. “All the action, none of the technical bullshit. “Advent.” Give’em a chance, Matt. You’ll never look back.” The concrete room was at least fifty feet below Matthias just shook his head resolutely. The way he ground, perhaps part of an old Cold War bunker, perhaps always did when it was offered to him. “Been down that not. The floors and walls were a mess of wires and road.” open circuitry crudely slapped together, and listening to “Whatever,” Jarrod said, slipping the extra patch the hum of electricity coursing through them was like back into his pocket and checking the clip on his faithful listening to a choir of dead monks. The air was cold SAF 9mm. “Whatever floats your boat, my friend. This and moist despite the portable heater that had been set is our night. It’s gonna be a feast for the fuckin’ crows... up, though the overwhelming chill had less to do with bring whatever fork you want.” the underground room than it did with the room’s current He looked up. Not surprising, the patch was kicking guests. in fairly quick today. The Eidolon cooked your system “Welcome back to Heaven, Advent.” faster when your blood pressure was high, and Jarrod’s A young man named Robert stood in the center of heart was starting to pound the concrete room, his hands with anticipation right now thrust deep into the pockets — and already he could see of his jeans, a sports jacket blurred, indistinct human draped loosely around his shapes moving among them large frame concealing a gray like strands of silk in the wind.