15 May 2008, Milford Trucking, Lebanon

Darkness had overtaken Peter Milford's countenance as he stared at the nearly complete terminal that had gone up within sight of his. His credit had dried up within the state, forcing him to deal with the shadier elements of the financial world while Petersen Trucking had no trouble securing funding. Yes, the slowly growing regional firm was still a bit player in the game, but there was a certain principle at work in Milford's mind. He glanced back at the portrait of his grandfather, somehow feeling that he had wronged the old man.

The phone rang on the desk. He snatched up the handset at the edge of impossibly fast and said, with the calm of a shrewd businessman "Milford here." A quick glance at the caller ID and he smiled a little "Donny...I need that list...No, don't bother....Yes... Find him...." He looked back out the window at the construction site, "There's still plenty of work around here."

16 May 2008, 5am, Storm Towers

Franz sat amid the piles of binders that surrounded the computer table and dragged on his cig with a long face. Jason had left him with that strange feeling again--the one he had the night they killed the Lasombra in Chicago. Not that it could be helped, but there was the gnawing feeling that the death of that woman had spelled the beginning of the end for the Camarilla in Chicago.

Another long drag and exhale came and went. The Gangrel's face soured. He remembered that fight in the basement of the elysium with a certain terror. It had been too close to death for all of them and it had taken all Franz had to keep his head as he sped Jason away from that nightmare.

His face twisted into a small snarl as he crushed out the cig and lit another. This wasn't Chicago, but New Hampshire had its own dangers. Franz knew that his contacts wouldn't be enough to getto the bottom of the mystery behind the buildings in Concord. He sure hoped Jason's were. If not, things might not be simple enough to not overwhelm them both.

Another drag was followed by a bitter exhale. War was coming, and he knew that he wasn't ready for it. "Too many years of peace makes us soft...ja..." he said to the air, taking occasion to glance at his feet before dragging again. Nonetheless, he served his great-grandsire, the Prince. He felt the bond in his blood, realizing that apart from his vampiric family, and the service of Giles, he really had no one, save maybe Jason.

/Even that could just be the demands of prestation talking./ he thought, crushing out the half smoked cig in frustration. Without another word, he rose from the seat and made his way to the rear bedroom. Another day of restless sleep awaited him.

17 May 2008, Just after Midnight, Somewhere in Manchester

The slowed movements of her hands and body took her through the form with the casual grace of a master. It was flawless to the eye of the casual observer, and well should be, with a century and a half of practice behind it. The intricate dance followed its own rhythm as her bared body followed it. Fursa walked lightly through the series, flowing each motion into the next, defocussing her gaze as her mind sought visions elsewhere.

One hundred and three repetitions later, her mind stilled as the euphoria swept over her. Her feet left the pattern of the form for something much more earthy as her body twisted into the form of the great shewolf. The monsterous animal chuffed once, looked around the glade and back toward the mansion before taking one powerful leap into the night and out of sight.

20 May 2008, Life Section, Manchester Examiner

Concord to Host Annual Music Festival

June promises to bring more than just the usual crop of black flies and heat. The 13th Annual New Hampshire Music Festival promises to bring together the very best of the bands of The Granite State in musical tributes, gatherings, and concerts. The festival will run Thursday through Sundays, with a performance by the Granite State Chorale Society on the steps of the Capital Building on the 1st. A Tribute to the 60's will happen on the June 7. Radio and musical personalities will be hosting special events, including the 13th Annual Midsummer Night's Dream Ball in White Park.

Corporate sponsors include WNHR Radio and others.

25 May 2008, Noon, WNHR general offices.

Phil Corrington looked over the 1000 details involved with sponsorship of a major event like the New Hampshire Music Festival. He sighed, realizing that this year, like so many others, would be the usual nightmare. Two bickering DJs had threatened to destroy the evening programming schedule--of course this had to happen *now*. He was tempted to get a gun.

Another shuffle of paper brought up the expense reports on the mobile broadcast booth. Sheesh! That thing was expensive to run--could be because it was a 20 foot RV that got 2 gallons to the mile.... He closed his eyes against the atrocity and shuffled the stack.

Crowning the pile were the ratings. Corrington smiled as he saw most of the station's programming hold its own against the other stations. WNHR was solidly 2nd or 3rd in all categories, save one. On the last page, was the thing that the station manager had been waiting to see, the first #1 rating they'd had since he'd started there, two years before. The show was "Midnight McKenna", hosted by the bumbling, absentminded, and frequently stoned Peregrine McKenna.

Phil was personally amazed that such a burnout could be so popular, but wasn't going to argue with success--though he would refuse all attempts for a pay increase. Probably not much of a problem, since the guy usually forgot when payday was. Either way, it was now time to get McKenna off his butt and ready for the WNHR promotions. He picked up the phone and dialed, leaving an answering machine message when the phone wasn't picked up. "McKenna? This is Phil. We need to get you up to Concord for some prep for the festival appearances you're making. Get back with me. This is important. 555-4634."