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Welcome to Gladewater

A sleepy midwestern town full of older sensibilities, a haven for new business opportunities, families with children, retirees who wish for a gentle life in the countryside. Most who live there, especially the youth, find that Gladewater is a place where not a lot happens. This lack of activity suits some just fine. When the only interesting thing that happens is that someone’s lawn is unevenly cut or the flower arrangements in the church that day, it leaves plenty of time for relaxation.

But like all idyllic settings, it covers an undercurrent of the supernatural. The special thing about Gladewater, however, is that its cup runneth over with paranormal happenings. People speak much of its origins, how it was made on the seventh month of the seventh day by a seventh son, how it was made on an “ancient Indian [sic] burial ground”, how the moon is full more often than any other place on earth, how this spiritual factor affects that one and that they converge on this quiet little village to create the perfect place where the ground fairly hums with energies of the paranatural type. But the true origins of its energies are lost to time. It could be one, it could be all of these reasons, and yet the truth remains buried. Perhaps the town keeps it that way.

The normals don’t know, but those few privileged to know flock to the town for a variety of reasons, many of which are exploitation of the energies, studying of the paranormal, Avatars of the True King in particular are drawn to the site for its powerful atmosphere. From this ragtag group of people, there is always a group who stands as the barrier between the average person and this hub of thriving magic. They exist to protect the paranaturals from the Tiger, trying to keep it asleep while all around it the bangs and battles of conflict rage. But most of all, they exist to protect the normals from themselves.

You are this group.

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