Something to spark some traffic, or at least spawn some other
postings.

     Arizona.  A deserted stretch of highway.  2:45 AM.  Patrolman
Billy Williams stretches in his patrol car.  His wife bitches about how he
always has to work nights, but doesn't complain when the overtime comes
in.  He yawns, and takes another sip of coffee.  Personally, he couldn't
care less about some idiot who wants to drive like a bat out of hell, but
then an image of a wrecked car, blood pooling on the tarmac pops into his
head.  He shudders.
     In the distance, he sees a lone headlight of a motorcycle popping
up over a hill in the distance.  Billy shrugs, and taps the radar gun
mounted on the dash.  He clicks on the videotape camera the department
just installed.  The knot of tension in his stomach he always gets before
an encounter twists.
     The headlight passes the OmniTV billboard the patrol car was
hiding behind.  The red digits flicker on the radar gun, and then resolve
into "102 MPH."  "Day-am," mutters Billy.  He flicks on the sirens and
lights, and pulls out onto the highway.
     The motorcycle doesn't slow down.  Billy wonders if it's one of
the Hell's Angels.  His superior had told him that they sometimes ran
drugs.  And Billy had seen _Easy_Rider_ five times.
     He guns the engine, and starts to catch up.  Billy loves driving
at high speeds, but the thought of an acutal high speed chase bothers him.
Eventually, he catches up and paces the motorcycle.  He fumbles for the
radio.  "This is car 42.  I am in pursuit of a... I can't make the kind, but
it's a motorcycle heading west on Highway 12 at," he looks at the dash,
"one hundred fifteen MPH.  He's wearing a black leather jacket, no
insignia, and has long black hair.  No helmet.  He-"
     Billy's heart leaps into his throat.  The form on the bike
changes.  Growing in size, gaining mass.  The leather jacket streteches
over the enlarged form, but does not tear.  The motorcyle itself changes
as well, growing larger and wider to accomodate the larger rider.  But it
doesn't slow down.  Billy's pulse races, and a little voice in the back
of his head is yammering for him to stop.
     The head turns, and Billy can see the rider's face.  A black
wolf's face, wearing a look between a snarl and a smirk.  The man-wolf
reaches back with his huge paw/hand and flips the officer the finger.
The rider guns the engine, and pops a wheelie.  The image of the cycle and
rider shimmers, then fades off, leaving behind only the sound of his passing.

     7:00 AM.  County Hospital.  Two policemen sit outside, smoking
cigarettes.
     "You think he saw it?" askes one nervously.
     "Saw what?" replies the other.
     "You know, the Thing on the Roads."
     "He saw a man on a cycle. He just lost control and hit his head."
     "A friend of mine back east has seen the Thing on the Roads."
     "That's just a damnfool myth."
     "Then why don't you ever take the speed trap at night?"	
     "Shaddap."


Bes

Breed: Homid
Auspice: Ragabash
Tribe: Silent Strider
Nature: Autist
Demeanor: Lone Wolf

Physical: Strength 2, Dexterity 4, Stamina 3
Social: Charisma 4, Manipulation 2, Appearance 2
Mental: Perception 3, Intelligence 2, Wits 3

Talents: Alertness 2, Brawl 3, Dodge 2, Primal Urge 2, Streetwise 3,
     Suberfuge 1
Skills: Animal Ken 1, Drive (cycles) 5, Firearms 1, Repair 3, Stealth 2,
     Survival 3
Knowledges: Enigmas 3, Linguistics 4, Occult 3, Rituals 2

Background: Contacts 2, Familiar Spirit 3 (Dean), Mentor 5, Past Life 1,
     Resources 2
Gifts: Blur of the Mily Eye, Open Seal, Persuasion, Speed of Thought, Sense
     of the Prey, Summon Talisman, The Great Leap
Rage 4, Gnosis 6, Willpower 7
Rank: 3
Renown: Glory 13,416, Honor 20,640, Wisdom 17,544
Rites: Rite of Talisman Dedication, Ritual of the Questing Stone, Rite of
     Binding, Rite of Becoming
Fetishes: Umbracycle, Baneskin, Klaive

Dean:
     (Traveller Spirit: Rage 4, Gnosis 5, Willpower 5. Power 20.
Powers: Airt Sense, Materialize, Reform)
     Dean is a spirit that Bes encountered in the Deep Umbra, and has
befriended.  It is fascinated by speed, and has come to associate with Bes,
seeking thrills of the open road.

Image:
     Bes is a slender young man in his late twenties.  He is dark
complexioned, and has long stright black hair, kept tied up in a ponytail
bound with a gold ring.  He normally dressed in jeans and motorcycle
leathers.  He never wears a helmet.  He is typically friendly, but still
distant, never letting people in farther than the surface.  Not because he
dislikes them, but because he is simply more comfortable alone, preferably
travelling at over 100 miles an hour, or traveling the forgotten paths of
the Umbra.

Roleplaying Notes:
     Take a leaf from the "young rebellion" movies of the 50's and 60's like
"Rebel without a Cause".

Background:
     Bes grew up in Arizona as Ben E. Stevens.  He loved motorcycles
more than anything else.  As a teenager, he spent more time on the open
roads than anything else.  His folks wrote if off as just a phase.  Then,
one night, sleeping under the stars, he was suprised by a gang of bikers.
They attacked him, demanding his money, which he easily parted with.  Then
they wanted his bike.  Ben, normally a peaceful young man, got angry.
Very angry.  He came to among the torn bodies of the bikers.  He got on
his bike, and drove off, shaken.  He passed a hitchhiker on the road.  He
didn't think about it untill he passed him again, a mile later.  And then
once again.  Ben pulled over and demanded an explanation.
     Bes never went home again.  The Silent Stiders were his family.
They offered him new roads to travel.  He fell in with the [LOOK UP], the
faction of Silent Striders who traveled the world (and the worlds beyond),
keeping the Tribes in contact.  After a particularly dangerous delivery,
Tinkerer, a Glass Walker Theurge, helped Bes create the Umbracycle, a vehcile
designed for both worlds.  With the Umbracycle, Bes' wanderings grew even
more.

From: Rick Jones (albert@bcm.tmc.edu)