Codename: Sunforged

Summer - Mission Log #CS-001
Session 000, 3/22/2020


FIELD AGENT NAME: Celeste Aoibheann Summers
TEAM: Hotel; SFO



At approximately [time], I was alerted by Agent Dawne to a series of unexpected events during her and Agent Deirdre’s meeting at [address]. I proceeded to the location and notified Agent Jade as to our team’s status, and instructed him to convene with us in order to make a medical assessment.

En route, I was able to make two-way contact with both Agent Dawne and Agent Deirdre, who filled me in on the requisite details found in their own reports, as well as the efficient suppression by the Lucky 13 of a swarm of malignant vampires who had given chase during SFO’s tactical retreat. Following Agent Dawne’s report, I made contact with Agent Kazimier to request the assistance of a more specialized team of Van Helsing agents, as well as a team for containment and cleanup. All Agents convened at the scene in a timely manner, and no additional instructions on scene management were required from myself personally.

Upon my arrival on scene at [time], it was brought to my attention that the last of the hostile entities had been neutralized. Agent Deirdre was immediately placed under the care of Agent Jade, who field dressed a crush injury to her right hand. I accompanied Agent Vicki and Jun Okami into the property. I noted several deceased vampires who bore strange features — in particular elongated appendages and nails, and in the creatures whose eyes were open, the sclera appeared to have turned crimson. Jun Okami noted that these vampires made sounds akin to animals — specifically denoting the difference between a human mouth and vocal cords imitating an animal, and a feral growl.

Within the room the meeting had taken place were a number of overturned spotlights, boxes, and medical coolers. A variety of the coolers had split open to reveal vials of what appeared to be plasma, each labelled with a distinctive red handprint. An unknown number of vials had been broken during the struggle. Upon further investigation of the room, Agent Dawne uncovered a video camera and tape which seems to have been used to observe whatever vampire transformation experiment took place.

We completed our investigation and received notification that there was an unknown entity approaching the back door of the house. Said individual had moved too quickly for their identity to be observed. There was a polite knock several moments later, and I opened the door to discover the vampire known as Orion. He made efforts to enter the property, however; was reluctantly amenable when I insisted we move our negotiations outside.

Orion claimed the boxes inside the house were property of his House, and that they had been stolen by House Frost. I reminded him of the Agency protocol regarding allegedly stolen goods, particularly when said goods are in active possession of the Agency and within our own, legally obtained real estate holdings. While displeased, Orion did concede the point, and made negotiations with Agent Kazimir in order to arrange the exchange of his property, should the Agency deem his House the rightful owner.

I let some details slip to Orion to judge his reaction to events which had occurred. He did not express surprise at the transformation of what he called ‘poorly made vampires,’ nor at the clapping sound observed by both Agent Deirdre and Agent Dawne. 

As during previous interactions, Orion did heavily imply he would share more information both if I were more forthcoming and if I entertained his requests to spend more time together and/or go to dinner with him. These proclivities may be useful in the future if it is deemed necessary for research and diplomatic purposes.

After speaking with Agent Kazimir and others, it is my belief that this event has something to do with a figure known as ‘The Man With the Red Hand.’ There may also be other links to ancient Romanian mythologues, some of which may require translation with fresh eyes and new context. Further references refer to ‘those who have been buried’ and ‘shovelheads,’ which seem to directly point to myths of feral vampires used in inter-house warfare. We may wish to look more closely at even the most fantastic accounts of thousands of humans being slaughtered, changed, buried, and starved in order to decimate entire armies. Such stories will likely also reference vampiric cannibalism.

[End notes reference additional reports and forms, including RAD-F-7, Active Keyword Information Requests, and other relevant/required documentation. See Summer's character page / GM notes for list of flags and requested documents.]



Summer - RAD-F-7: #1
Session 000, 3/22/2020



NAME: Celeste Aoibheann Summers




At [time], Agent Dawne activated her own device and mine by saying my preprogrammed codename. This iteration of the system is thus far much improved from the last — there was no offputting burst of negative feedback, and the sound quality was remarkably clear. I was able to differentiate between layers of sounds and discerned growling, gunfire, and conversation with little difficulty.

The device remained on and functional for the next half hour without issue, including when driving through tunnels and areas with sparse cell phone service. As expected, it shut itself off when in range of Agent Dawne’s own device, and the feedback loop problem from the last version did not reappear.

This version of the earring design is ideal for my purposes in the field, and the small size does not appear to affect functionality as was originally suggested when we proposed the current reconfiguration.



Annals of a Wordsmith #2: Wednesday
Session 000, 3/22/2020


Celeste Summers writes in a leather-bound journal every day. Her penmanship is a delicate arrangement of swooping, elegant calligraphy pressed to each page using the rosewood fountain pen that was a gift from her uncle, and ink the color of spring.

The following is a selection of vignettes from various entries Summer has written — encompassing personal notes, thoughts, and poetry. While they largely appear in chronological order, those marked with the archive tag reference the out-of-session timeline and past events.


Morning tea is non-negotiable. My Mam insisted this was the way of things — how are you to face the day, mo stoirín, without a proper cup of tea to warm you? Daddy called the blend 'Irish Breakfast Tea' to annoy her; some of my earliest memories are of Mam glaring over the teapot at him, the corner of her mouth twitching with stifled laughter — because that, too, was part of the routine.

If one is in America and desperate, the blend is sold under the Irish Breakfast Tea label, however; the proportions are never what they should be. The ideal is a confluence of black teas, weighted heavily towards at least two varieties of Assam and mellowed only slightly by Ceylon. It’s then steeped and honeyed, and blended equally with milk heated just shy of scalding.

This morning I was presented with a reason to share my routine: Ingrid. Our first time falling asleep — and waking up — together. Bliss

I made the tea. And she, true to her nature, wanted to know every detail about the process, the memory, the feelings. We drank it together over breakfast, and made plans for the future.


There was an initial wave of disappointment when I opened my eyes this morning to find her place in my bed was empty.

It was chased away just as quickly by the sound of the kettle whistling in the kitchen. She remembered every detail.


Ginny got me a gift — an artifact steeped in magic, to use every day. The kettle sings. Happy Christmas.

I’ve been asked a not insignificant number of times how it is that Ginny and I continue to be so happy together. The key, I find, is routine. There are things which she and I always make time for, and those expectations allow us to be entirely confident in our role in each other’s lives.

Today was a typical day Wednesday. I awoke to a song coming from the kitchen, to an exhausted fox against my hip and trilling protest at the hour, to the scent of assam tea and fresh fruit. After brushing out my hair and attending to Finn, who by this point is inevitably worming his way into my lap for attention, I look at my phone and address anything which can not wait the hour and a half or so it will take me to get into the office. When I make my way to breakfast, all work ceases — mornings are ours. It is a rule we adopted early, and one we sorely needed. Two women with complicated careers and demanding schedules can easily become overworked and, even worse, distant from each other.

I don’t enjoy preparing meals — Ginny does, and so I leave her to it. Every time I walk towards the kitchen it is with the hope of a glance of her before she notices me, a glimpse of perfection peering intently at a selection of fruit or pouring tea. When she is clued into my presence there’s always a smile, one that radiates outward and fills the room, and I remember the exact moment I fell in love with her for the first time. This morning, like every one before it, I fell in love with her again.

We compare our calendars — Wednesday is the day for changes and updates. Ginny wants to go back to France, and we’re planning a trip for the summer. We shower, we debate with Finn about his attire for the day, we kiss goodbye. Ginny is poetry given physical form, and this morning I sent a simple thought via text message — I want to be with you until my last page

This morning I see Connor and Kit waiting for me in the parking garage. He is holding my second cup of tea for the day — good. They are standing together and not actively bickering — good. She has my schedule and to-do list in hand, and it appears to be written on paper rather than a glass screen — good. She is looking at his phone rather than preparing for the day — bad. He is distracted and not keeping an eye on their surroundings — worse.

Finn loves helping to train my new Foxes and Hounds. I set him to work before Connor and Kit see me, which is not a difficult task, as neither of them has any idea what is happening anywhere in this parking garage. With an enviable amount of finesse, Finn is able to sneak up behind them and announce his presence.

The result was quite the performance:

Connor screamed and threw my tea at Kit.

Kit yelped, caught the beverage, and then promptly dropped it and everything else she was holding before sitting down on the ground.

Connor was knocked over by Kit’s movements, rendering them both prone and sitting on a swath of tea-soaked concrete.

I gave my keys to the valet and approached, with Finn carefully onboarding himself into my shoulder bag, Kit rising to her feet, and Connor working very hard to hide his embarrassment. 

There were, as there have been every time I’ve caught the pair of them off-guard, a number of apologies and assurances they would work on their issues. I am confident I wasn’t wrong about their potential — still, I will never greenlight their applications if they can’t conduct themselves as Foxes and Hounds should. Each pair must be inseparable — entirely trusting of one another and keenly aware both of their own responsibilities and how their actions affect their partner.

Clearly drastic measures must be taken. Vicki will have some ideas.

Oh. Yes. Between the Lucky 13 and the device Vicki has in mind we will have something to cultivate the protective instinct in both Connor and Kit. I wonder how quickly Research and Development will have things ready?

Leading Team Hotel is an exercise in delegation. Largely, everyone manages themselves and their time expertly — each has their own team, just as I have the twisting branches of the Fox and Hound and all of its inner workings. As such, neither Deirdre nor Vicki nor Jade need to be told what I will do for them, or how they should proceed. On the contrary, what they need is to know I will support their endeavors and make suggestions when they require intervention — and more often than not, that insurance is enough to keep things working properly.

This is something I’ve noticed with the newer Agents. Given a modicum of responsibility, infantile team leaders strive for control. Why? Loyalty and resources take you much, much farther.


Deirdre is being forced to reopen negotiations with a young, petulant vampire. She has requested only my ear as her friend and coworker, and is confident — if annoyed — at the delay of completing the sale of an abandoned, and altogether uninteresting, house. The circumstances are suspicious, and the vampire rude, but the situation is in expert hands. Vicki and I have discussed, and the Lucky 13 will be supporting Deirdre in resolving things this evening. More likely than not, Deirdre will request the backup herself.

Jade is frustrated with a situation involving samples from deceased werewolves in Germany — the custody is in question, when all reasonable standards suggest they should be secured in his own lab. He is, I imagine, also annoyed that his own credentials haven’t been enough to grease the wheels of bureaucracy and get him what he wants. Marigold is going to send me a number of reports, which I will forward to the correct Agents in Germany, and this will be a simple enough matter to solve. It is, of course, quite a shame about the Agent from Team Alpha — to lose a teammate is one thing; to discover werewolf bites can transmit the condition and lose a teammate at the same time is something else entirely. Likely Vicki will follow up with Jun and his forward-thinking pack regarding this new information.

Vicki received word from Linda Beth that a black sarcophagus has been stolen, and has passed on the description and what few details there are available on to me. A good relationship with individuals manning ports of entry should never be underestimated.

I’ve been asked to consult on some ancient writings discovered within a cave. Their context points to a vampire origin, however; a Cunning Linguist can often only give so much information in these situations before requesting an expert — and this is where I come in. Memorization is useful, but it will not take you as far as etymology and an appreciation for the art of language.

I am not playing with him!

What is it about Holden? I have waited years to be able to be pursued by him. My feelings were instant, as they so often are, but of the decidedly long-lasting variety. Initial timing was unfortunate, but I am nothing if not patient. I waited for Ginny to be comfortable — she was still adjusting to Joy’s presence in my life, and we hadn’t been married very long yet.

And so, like the respectful and considerate creature I am, I waited. I’ve resisted giving him a nickname, and the only expression of love I’ve shared has been via flowers — and if he’s understood my messages, I can not say. It has been long enough that I can be sure, though, that I do not want to play with Holden. My feelings are sincere, and they clearly are not going anywhere.

Last week I talked over my frustrations with Ginny, and she suggested I ask him on a date. This is something I won’t do — but I did decide to let him know he could date me, if he so wished. I was going to tell him after work, perhaps over the phone or at his home. There was going to be a precise fluttering of my eyelashes, coy flirting, and a very gentle nudge towards expressing what I hope are mutually held feelings.

This is not what happened.

He makes me nervous. It’s something I hide quite well, I believe, under normal circumstances. I’m struck with the sensation of butterflies each time I hear his voice or catch a glimpse of him. 

And so, I came on too strong, and — in spite of neither of us having plans, he did not ask me to dinner.

There’s a number of possibilities, of course. It’s clear he is attracted to me, but it’s possible this is where his interest ends — and that could be for a number of reasons. My lifestyle isn’t for everyone, I hold a position of authority at his workplace, he doesn’t enjoy my company.

Handsome, thoughtful, perceptive, capable Holden.

I’ve been in love with him for years, but it may be time to move on.

Ginny and I were only halfway through our first course — dessert, strawberry cheesecake — when I was notified about chaos at Deirdre’s meeting. Her lovely hand is once again broken, crushed by an overzealous vampire. The situation is curious, and I have a number of reports and information requests now to file — while assisting Deirdre with her own.

Orion is in Los Angeles. Once this matter is resolved, I can only hope he will leave.

We are destined for a late night at the office rather than a relaxing one at home. Still — my Ginny is going to come and keep me company, and later she says she’ll run us a bath.

Concupiscence: strong sexual desire; lust.

The word has Latin roots — cupere: to wish, to desire; concupiscere: to covet ardently. 

It can be traced backwards to and is often a translation of the the Ancient Greek ἐπῐθῡμῐ́ᾱ, or epithumia, which shares its definition. Concupiscence appears upward of thirty-five times in modern translations of the Bible; in this context, it is also an inclination towards sin.

Orion is a problem. A charming, handsome, flirtatious problem. An expert gift buying, impeccably dressed problem. And this needn’t be a problem at all, but Deirdre has rules: all of her exes are off limits to me. The fact that I don’t agree with said rule doesn’t change how important the decree is to her.

Once you have decided you no longer want to have a relationship with someone, I don’t understand why it would then matter who they choose to pursue.

Most of the time, I don’t even like him. He was irritating when they were married, and his personality certainly hasn’t shifted in the years since. It never made much sense to me, my Deirdre marrying a vampire. She loved him, and she is a beautiful creature at all times — only magnified when she is happy and in love. I can understand, better than anyone I think, how often she falls in love.

What doesn’t make sense to me is the falling out of love and somehow forgetting all the things you used to savor in the relationship, in your former partner.

There’s a spark of love in lust, at least the way I experience it, but it’s a different process altogether. Sparks are ephemeral.

…Still. The chill of his arm against mine did nothing to soothe the tension between us. I find myself wondering at the sharp sting of teeth grazing over my pulse, the dueling sensations of winter chill and summer heat traced in turn along my skin.

And the only one who would fault me for the indulgence would be Deirdre — which has been enough to stop me from taking him up on any of his offers of attention. It is not enough, though, to remove the images from my mind.

The number of people who I am not permitted to sleep with is, in the grand scheme of things, staggeringly insignificant. The urge must pass. How fortunate it is that I rarely have occasion to interact with him.

is a rose petal
a dream of smooth skin
a delirious whisper

Annals of a Wordsmith #1: A Chuisle Mo Chroí
A Selection From History


Celeste Summers writes in a leather-bound journal every day. Her penmanship is a delicate arrangement of swooping, elegant calligraphy pressed to each page using the rosewood fountain pen that was a gift from her uncle, and ink the color of spring.

The following is a selection of vignettes from various entries Summer has written — encompassing personal notes, thoughts, and poetry. While they largely appear in chronological order, those marked with the archive tag reference the out-of-session timeline and past events.


Every day I wake up secure in the knowledge that I have somehow managed to design for myself the perfect life.

I am not content — I want more. Always more, greater, the next highest peak, a destination where the oxygen is thin and a fleeting view is the reward for hours, days, years of work. Once that vista, then another. Onward and upward. Take the things, the people, that you love with you. Carry them when you can, let them guide you when you are limping and the path is treacherous. Contentment is stagnation, it is the beginning of decay, it is a trap that lulls you into complacency.

You can be happy without being content. I am, every day. Even in moments where I think yes, this right here, this is everything. And I can be happy in the face of grief, tragedy, loss. In spite of my guilt. In tandem with the sense of nostalgic longing I feel when considering my Uncle Derek, when remembering Bianca. When it’s quiet I can hear him calling me Little Kit, her laughing in surprise the first time I called her my Honeybee.


A new adventure! The Agency offers a route to understanding vampires — to finding my uncle. The information now available to me is priceless, and its potential is limitless.

As a further surprise in a week full of intriguing revelations, Deirdre is here— coincidentally recruited in a similar timeframe. We’d made efforts to add each other as dependents, of course. Isn’t that lovely?

Together we will figure out the system and make it work for us. I do know one thing for sure: if there is a way out of Georgia and onto more freedom and leadership, we will find the fast track.

I wonder how one arranges a meeting with Sir? The Fox and Hound could be an asset, and he will see the potential if he’s even a third as clever as I think he is.


I miss my uncle. He taught me so much in such a short amount of time — does he remember, wherever he is? Does he blame me, as I do, for his no longer being human?

You may not mesh with something’s nature, Little Kit, but neither can you fault them for it.

The nature of the world is to be cruel. Family is what makes it livable.

Life is a puzzle, and you must work to find the pieces. 

Focus, Little Kit. Calm your mind. A picture half-formed may not be an answer, but it is a trail to follow.


Today is a difficult one to process.

I knew it was unlikely I’d be able to rekindle things with Bee any time soon. My Honeybee. Once someone is mine, they are always mine, no matter the miles or circumstances that separate us.

There’s a lot of emotions wrapped up in my memory of Bee. It starts with the kind of love only experienced by teenagers, and ends with my effectively being banished from her family. She had to choose. It was either me and us, or them. I don’t blame her for choosing family, for clutching to what was familiar and safe. I was only 16, she was barely an adult, and while I knew within my every cell that I would love her for the rest of my days, her heart was shadowed by a measure of doubt.

Her mother, her church, her friends — they were ready with lectures and bible verses and consequences, all whispered in her ear on the caustic intonations of brimstone and daughterly duty.

I told her I would wait as long as I could, and I have. 

And now she is engaged. Social media — such a boon, and yet…

I’ll close this door, for her sake and my sanity, although I refuse to lock it. Just in case.


I am in love.

Today I met the most beautiful creature. A fairy. Met isn’t the correct word — today I was in the presence of the most beautiful creature. It’s as though I’ve known her all my life.

My urge is to find out everything I can about her. A name would be an excellent start. I think, though, that this is one of those experiences to savor — how many more times in my life will I hear a sound and feel suddenly, inexplicably awake?

Negotiations proceeded as expected with the Court of Spring regarding their contributions to the infrastructure of the Fox and Hound. We discussed their acquiring land, possible artifacts which might reinforce the safety of the structures, and manpower in the form of guards. I genuinely enjoy working with them — if I were to be a fairy, this is the court where I would belong, no question.

As I’m wrapping things up with Ryeesha, I hear the voice of Marie, Her Majesty of Spring. Pen gliding over paper, note taking well under way, I froze in place as a laugh reached my ears. Not Marie’s laugh — one I hadn’t heard before, one whose cadence rang out like a song I’d been waiting multiple lifetimes to hear. One I instantly knew I would give anything, anything at all, to be the focus of.

I looked up to see a hand, its graceful movements the epitome of delicate strength, reaching out to lay itself upon Marie’s arm. My eyes traced a path from her carefully manicured nails towards elegant fingers, along her outstretched arm and upwards to, at long last, capture the perfect symmetry of her face and the gold-blonde framework of her hair. This glimpse wasn’t enough — I want to know by rote every sunlit shade of sky in her eyes, whether her skin registers as silk by touch as well as sight.

I am enraptured with her, and I find myself thinking — what is Summer but a love song to spring?


A name: Ingrid Rev — Beautiful Fox. She is everything, and I will dedicate my life to ensuring she knows it.


I knew I was in trouble
When I first heard your laugh
And my heart danced to the sound.


Our first date. It was — the word, I think, doesn’t exist yet in English or any other tongue I’m familiar with. It promised more; it is an enticing chapter in an epic, co-authored and infinite and alive.

Does Ingrid know, I wonder, the plans I’ve already made for us?

Deirdre thinks I’m getting ahead of myself. She knows how freely I love — but it isn’t the same as being in love, the way I am with her, or Ingrid, or Bee. Still, even if Deirdre is correct and we won’t need to solve this puzzle for years, I want to know the formula.

What is the correct combination of form, clearance, and loophole that will allow an Agent to marry a non-Agency supernatural?


A chuisle mo chroí. The pulse of my heart.

It is our three month anniversary, and Ginny wanted to celebrate as much as I did, of course. She was quite pleased with herself — enjoying, as ever, my enjoyment of the romance of the thing. Flowers, honeyed words, champagne, and then an insistence I close my eyes.

A fox kit — some combination of wild and dapper, an infinitely clever boy. I’ve named him Finnegan, and he seems to quite like it. Ginny has requested I bring him with me everywhere, and I will of course do my best to oblige her. Finn bore an impeccably chosen collar, and as I moved to inspect it I found the real surprise attached to a ribbon.

A ring. Rose gold, the metal intricately fashioned into a perfect replica of a spring garden: a large center rose cradling a diamond and surrounded by leaves, delicately curled vines, and rosebuds in various stages of development. The wedding band, I am assured, only magnifies the effect. It is perfect. And so is she.

How could I say anything but yes?

The puzzle of how to get Agency approval for the marriage has yet to be solved, but Deirdre and I will approach it with renewed vigor. I must find the forms, too, to register Finn as both a pet and service animal so that he is welcome everywhere I am.

A Question for Alex
session 001, inter-game email


Agent Congressman Alexander Ocasio-Cortez,

What can you tell me about a ghoul named Celestina that you encountered in Ohio? 

-Agent Victoria Dawne, L.A. Field Office

Vicki - Mission Log 000
Session 000 [3/22/2020]



FIELD AGENT NAME: Victoria Dawne
TEAM: Lucky 13; SFO
NUMBER: 1000



text text text 


Average Wednesday
Session 000 [3/22/2020]




Eight new Agent candidates for LA field office
Two unlikely to pass. Possess physical capability, but balk at pulling the trigger. If they can’t get over that hurdle, then I am not letting them stay here – too likely to get someone else hurt. Preference is one thing, inability is another. Instructed Holden and Steph to review their history for potential triggers to break through the block – times they’ve been pushed to defending themselves or others, even minor. One is a tech-based designation, male, smart but never had to be strong, looks down on physicality. Advised to pair him with Derek – he’ll think Derek’s a jock and be startled when Derek is smarter than he is. Might help him realize physical skills don’t undermine keyboard ability. Other (Logan) has a hero streak. Recruited in Germany, camping with friends and got attacked. Pull him into missions with the 13 for now – likely needs to rebuild confidence in others, get over “helpless complex” from friends needing saving, confidence that other Agents are capable.

Black sarcophagus
Linda Beth and Samuel called to alert. (Also possibly found a cursed thing, did not elaborate yet.) Another black sarcophagus was found but has been stolen.Contents unknown – has been moved several times, but no reports of it having been opened and no info on who/what is inside. Egyptian origins.  Part of a large number of funeral and death related things, stolen by the group which is obsessed with the ancient dead. Witnesses report things are strong, fast, “they can’t remember”. Stolen item expected to pass through L.A., most likely via the docks. Gave information to Summer, will have dock contacts monitor.  

Summer reported that Connor is not being alert all the time. He is still hanging out with Katrina a lot. Coordinated to have some of the 13 mess with her in small ways, to motivate him to pay more attention. Move things on her desk, etc. 

Katrina still yelping when startled. Suggested Summer get something from Qs to electrocute Connor when she does – will motivate her, reinforce that her lack of control affects other people. 

Contagious werewolf bites
Jade shared that a human was bitten and turned into a werewolf. Not known to be possible before. Need to confirm, see how to cure it. He was asking for Summer’s help in getting needed samples from Germany Agency. Don’t really know why he didn’t ask me to talk to Jun about this. I told Jun to tell me more. He said he’ll see what he can do. Was expecting “no”, so this is hopeful. 

Shovelhead Incident
Deirdre had me come along to a real estate meeting. Unusual incident. Filled out mission report,  further speculations remain. Tests being run on what we have. Jade displeased that Deirdre was injured. Tried to say that the entire team should always be there. Informed him that I do not have a crystal ball to predict when a meeting will go south. It’s ridiculous to suggest that every team member attend every meeting. Deirdre is an Agent, he needs to remember that. He dropped it quickly, at least. Orion showed back up, still an ass. Too bad I shouldn't hit him. For now. 


I'm sorry, but we no longer support this web browser. Please upgrade your browser or install Chrome or Firefox to enjoy the full functionality of this site.