The group arrived just as the sun was setting in a grassy area surrounded by a circular driveway. The seven-pointed star glowed beneath their feet, but the glow faded and all that was left was green grass in the lengthening shadows. The air is fresh and warm. A light breeze rustled the leaves on the nearby trees as the birds began to quiet down for the night. Close to you are seven tall pine trees, three on the left and four on the right side, to the covered walkway, standing as guards. The walkway crossed the drive and led to the double doors of a building. A large three-story mansion loomed before the group. It was constructed of brick and cut stone, old in design, circa late 1800’s, but in very good condition. Soft warm light glowed from the many windows. From the covered entryway, a tall male figure dressed in a well fitting suit stepped forward to greet you.


“Good evening and I bid you welcome to Cornerstone. Please all gather round and follow me. Come inside and I will quickly show you around and then leave you in peace, for I am sure you are tired.” He stopped partway across the drive and beckoned you to come forward. Then he turned and fully expecting you to all follow, strode smoothly toward the couple of steps up to the Terrace.

“Please wipe your feet and gather round me on the Terrace.” he said. The man had a British accent and a generally commanding tone that was at the same time subservient. Once all had done as he instructed, he continued.

“Are we all ready? Right then, I am Hornsby and I want to be the first to congratulate you on your stunning performance. Many had tried to solve that mystery and you are the only ones to have survived. I have been instructed to show you around your new post, see that you are settled and then leave you to your duties. I shan’t be long since warriors such as yourselves need no coddling, but I do feel that proper introductions to ones new home deserves the … um oh yes, the “Nickel Tour” as you Americans say. How quaint. Now, I do not tolerate interruptions, but I will take intelligent questions and comments as I complete the showing of each floor. Very well, follow me,” he directed. Hornsby turned and started to walk to the door, but as soon as he turned, the clamor from the group stopped him short. “Ladies, Gentlemen. Pssst!” he hissed. “I will NOT tolerate interruptions!” He strode to the big double doors and opened both doors with a practiced flair, ignoring any protests from the group. There was no swagger in his step as he walked with perfect posture. He went up the few steps into the Entry and turned to face his tour group.

“Straight ahead we have the Grand Hall. But first follow me to the right, into the Office.”

The office was elegant with a large wood desk, leather wingback swivel chair and seating for seven additional persons. A gas log fireplace dominated one wall. “In this room, you can meet with clients and discuss the particulars of their case. All business transactions usually can be completed here, so there is no need to have strangers traipsing around your abode. You may leave your packs and extra gear here. It will be safe and secure, I assure you. Follow me into the Grand Hall.” Hornsby opened the door in the back of the office and entered the Grand Hall.

As every one filed in, he spoke. “The rich wood paneling is oak and the former owner would always greet personal guests here. Behind you is the piano and at the end of the hall is the Main Fireplace. Originally, this was the primary source of heat for the first floor, since the Office and the Parlor were not always in use. This makes an excellent location for gatherings prior to formal dinner parties. Holidays are especially cheery. Over there is the large freshwater aquarium. And across the hall is the Parlor. A fine room for relaxing and enjoying a snifter of brandy before retiring for the evening. Also there is a hand crafted game table. Challenge each other to a round of chess, or flip it over for backgammon.” Hornsby then turned right and moved down the hall, passing the aquarium. Continuing to the hall’s end, he entered the formal dining room. “Dining room, of course. Seating for eight normally, but can be extended for twelve. And through that door is the kitchen.” He exited the dining room through the door on the right and into the kitchen.

“Here you can make your culinary creations in this exquisite combination of modern appliances and classic cabinetry.” The kitchen was indeed complete with the best of appliances, an island that was both for food preparation and also served as a breakfast bar. “We have even included a computer for meal planning and recipe file. This cooler will hold most of your needs, but we also have this smaller cooler over here in the pantry for your one member and his special… dietary requirements. We would not want to confuse that, would we? Walking briskly out the other side of the kitchen, he walked down a short hall and as he turned right, he waved with his left hand, “Screened patio, good for Barbeques. And here is the access to the basement. Downstairs is the Tahitian Room and the Grizzly Bar. Great for larger parties and gatherings.”

Entering the Great Hall again, he cross it and went through the double doors on the left side. “Here is the Media Room. Cornerstone is equipped with a sound system in each room, so you can always have your musical tastes, but this room is equipped with a state of the art surround sound. The fireplace is a fully working one, as are all of the fireplaces in the manor. The leather massage chairs are quite comfortable for playing your PlayStation II or X-Box on the wide-screen plasma TV or just some movie viewing. With several settings, you should be able to relax those muscle knots away. And that set of doors goes to the Jacuzzi on the side porch. A short walk beyond that is the pool.

Come now, to the second floor.” Hornsby exited the Media room and into the Great Hall again. Across from the aquarium was the Grand Staircase. At the foot of it, he waited for all to regroup. “Questions so far?”

Dren said nothing as he examined the remote control he had casually "secured" while in the Media Room.

“Yes Hornsby, I have a question. I hope you don’t think it impudent of me, but: Who are you? And while I’m at it, Where are we? Why are you showing us this place? I mean, there’s that whole ‘new post,’ ‘new home,’ and ‘your duties’ thing. Care to elucidate?”
This message was last edited by the player at 08:53, Fri 08 Oct 2004.

   Stunned with the beauty of the manison, Johnny exclaimed in amasement: "This place is...beautiful!" Granted, his parents had been rich, but not filthy, over their heads prosperous. He inspected the piano in silent awe, carefully examining everything but the keys. "This Steinway must he decades old - amazing craftsmanship."

   He eagerly followed the tour guide, commenting under his breath: "I almost expect to find Grotesques in the bathroom."

Alex followed their guide around the mansion at a dawdle, hanging at the back of the group.  While it was all very impressive, beautiful and well-equipped, almost every sentence Hornsby spoke raised at least two questions in her mind.  When they reached the kitchen, and the englishman pointed out the fridge designed for Iain's blood, she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise.  This place wasn't just well-equipped; parts, if not all, of it were designed specifically for them.  How much did their host know?  And how did he know that?

Feeling more than a little uncomfortable, she continued to trail behind, waiting to hear the questions and Hornsby's answers.

Raven had some of the same questions Pieran had just asked, but she found herself distracted by the furnishings in the house. Her eyes scanned the various antiques as she resisted the urge to examine some of them more closely.

Hornsby sighed. “I suggested that you query me with intelligent questions. I am Hornsby, you are in Cornerstone… Oh you mean … Right then. You are in St. Louis, Missouri… the United States. And I am showing you around because I was instructed to. You have an appointment to have a complete briefing tomorrow morning 10 o’clock sharp. I was informed that you would be bedraggled and in need of rest. I understand you had a rather intense and long day.”

Turning to Johnny he said, “I assure you that there are no grotesques in the loo.”

Hornsby looked from person to person. “Any other questions?”

"What day of th'week is it?" responding to a few reactive looks he explained by first waving the remote "I'd like t'know when Smallville comes on! I mean le's face it. Some of us were in Egypt an others were in England..." pausing he stole a glance at Pieran before continuing "Some of us might have even fallen of th'cover of a romance novel, an now we're all 'ere. I dinna think questionin' th'time zone is a dumb question. An while I'm at it, is this supposed t'be our reward?"
This message was last edited by the player at 16:06, Fri 08 Oct 2004.

Iain looked at Dren: "I'll see your day-of-the-week and raise you day, month and year. According to our subjective time, we may have been away for only about a day, but that merry-go-round with the sun made the time jump back fifty years or so..."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:20, Fri 08 Oct 2004.

For Pieran, the overwhelming surge of newness had begun to subside and his concerns returned to more important matters. The identity of Hornsby's boss, a scheduled debriefing in the morning, romance novels, calenders 'Roman or Mayan?' and the presence or non-presence of grotesques in the baños would have to wait. 'Gargoyles, not groestques.' ..."I have one more question. This is all very nice but, Where can we get medical attention for our wounded? Now, please."

He looked over at Dren, bewilderment veiling his eyes.  "Smallville?" He waved him off. "Nevermind," he said, looking back at Hornsby, waiting for a reply.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:44, Fri 08 Oct 2004.

Ah, yes, you have been out of touch for a bit and the confusion is understandable. It is Thursday, the 7th of October 2004. If you would be so kind to reset your timepieces to the current local time of 6:45 in the evening.” :ding dong Chirp!: :ding dong Chirp!: Hornsby reached into his suit and produced a PDA. Tapping the screen a couple of times, he then placed it back inside his pocket. A quick little smile briefly crossed his face and then it was gone.



“Quite right … Mr. Swift, let us see to your wounded. This way please.” Hornsby turned and proceeded up the stairs.

As Hornsby reached the first landing on the staircase, he turned toward the group and continued his tour with practiced ease. “The Grand Staircase, with hand carved banisters that circle up to the third floor. Suspended in the center of the stairway is a 1902 crystal chandelier. Each crystal is hand cut, no two are exactly alike, and placed into the fixture to give off the most brilliant light and shine. When the morning sunlight hits it, the floors are covered with rainbows. The high-beamed ceiling has lots of headroom for tall people and creatures.” The red carpet with golden trim on the stairwell and in the Grand Hall was lush; like walking on thick moss. “By the way, Mr. Short, the manor is equipped with window panes that are, shall we say, friendly to your particular sun allergy. As are the company cars. It would not be fitting to have you bursting into flame inside the home every time you pass a window.”

On the second floor there was some seating available in the hallway. He turned to his left and headed to a set of double doors and said, “Right, this floor will be where you can conduct most of your work. Through these doors is the Conference room and access to two of the rooms with the highest security levels. 

The Conference room was just that. With a large oak oval table, black leather swivel chairs, and fireplace, it looked very much like a corporate boardroom.  Sliding doors on the left and right were closed, but Hornsby continued the tour and went to the one on the left; sliding it open and stepped inside. It resembled the look of the Starship Enterprise.

   “Here we have the Computer lab and estate security and surveillance room. I know all the computers, monitors and the consol look intimidating, but I assure you it is user friendly. We have our own T-line connectivity and all the computing power you would need for any… ahem, electronic research shall we say.  Every room in Cornerstone can be viewed from here as well as most of the out buildings and some of the grounds, with the notable exceptions of the bathrooms and bedrooms, of course. Security monitoring is mostly automated and can page you if there is something it detects that will require your attention. Observe.” One of the monitors had a blinking red light on it and the screen was frozen, while others scanned their charges. Hornsby hit a couple of buttons and then operated a joystick/trackball panning the image and then zooming in. Clearly centered on the screen was a remote control. A hand moved in and snatched up the remote. Hornsby froze the image as it was being cupped in the hand and then panned the image back and reveled Dren claiming the remote control.

The demonstration complete, Hornsby tapped a series of buttons and the screen snapped to a live shot of the Media Room. Continuing his tour guide role, he said, “The main gate on the driveway is equipped with license plate scanner and face-recognition software. It compares DMV data with the driver and then also compares it to the appointment book to ensure no surprise visits. The F.B.I. and Homeland Security database is queried as well for nearly instant criminal background checks. Last one to leave, close the doors please.”

He went back into the conference room and rounded the table to the sliding doors on the other side. Sliding that door open he announced, “ The Library, for your more conventional research.” Stepping into a well-carpeted room with an impressive collection of occult books, scrolls, and tomes. A comfortable couch, fireplace and a desk with a flat screen computer completed the room. Several antiquities decorated the room giving it an old, but comfortable feel. “Here you should find most the manuals required for your trade. Legends, lore, demonology, poltergeist and other things that go bump in the night should be referenced here.

This room and the Computer room are protected by the highest level security the manor wards can provide. No one unauthorized will be able to simply wander in to these rooms.” Hornsby headed to the conference room again and then out into the hall. Crossing the hall, he entered the Science Lab.

“Here we have a rather nicely equipped scientific lab with some equipment others only dream they could have. Of course the standard centrifuge and autoclave, microscopes, elemental spectrograph, most of the tools a technical researcher would want to break down the elements of a soil or tissue sample. And since it closely relates, in the adjoining room we have the medical clinic. Adequate for treating most of what ails you. Both have their own entrance, just in case privacy is an issue. Follow me.”

Hornsby entered the clinic through a side door in the lab and then passed through to the hall again. Turning left he walked into a fitness room with free weights, a multi-gym for a wide array of exercises, and aerobic machines. “Those rooms were for the mind and this is for the body. Standard equipment to keep you in shape and over here,” he went through the door on the right, “we have a training room where you can practice hand to hand, martial arts and general weapons training. Say hello to Bob, your impact trainer.” Bob, Body Opponent Bag was a mannequin designed to practice hit placement.

“And what is combat training without weapons? In here you have access to your tools of the trade. Many of the previous residents would leave their weapon of choice here and we now have a nice collection.” Inside a weapons closet was battle-axe, swords, pole arm, clubs and mace. Several practice weapons were available so that training would not cause the need to go to the clinic. There were also guns and crossbows in the armory.

Crossing the training room, Hornsby stepped out onto a deck. As he crossed the deck, he looked to see that everyone was still following him and then went into the hall again from another door. Reaching the stairwell again he said, “Questions about your working accommodations?”

   Looking around himself, Johnny's initial eager was fading away: "The medical facilities are really superb and, well...I still can't really see why we are all here - what work we are going to do. Last thing before somebody tore me into his dimension, I was heading of for the University of California, and perfectly satisfied with that."
   Raising his hands to express the slightest bit of submission, he explained: "Not that I am turning anything down, I just want to know what we are going to do around here."

Dren quickly pounced on the appendageless BOB grabbing the foam ruber head and pulling it into a solid knee strike using his elbow for leverage since his hand still held the media center remote. Stepping back he smiled and pointed at BOB and looked to Raven as if going to say something... but his smile faded and he just waved her off without so much as an exchange of primal sounds as if it was suddenly unimportant, so he went about setting his watch asking "W'ere's m'room?" It was clear he was leaving the difficult questions to the more enlightened of the group.

Hornsby said, “Those details, Mr. Hope, will be discussed at the briefing.”

“Shall we see the living quarters?” he turned and started up the steps.

Once they were in the hallway of the top floor, he continued with his tour. “These are the living and sleeping quarters for the manor. Each one has a unique quality to the room and their arrangements. But due to limited space, some elements of the rooms required some… sharing.” He moved to the first door on the left, opened it and began a rapid showing of each room.

“Starting on the left is the Asian Room. Five antique Chinese carvings create a dramatic headboard for the queen size bed in this room while cobalt blue tiles frame the bed This is the only room that has a private bathroom, but this is also the only room that has just a shower instead of a tub/shower combination.” It is furnished with a chest of drawers, chair with ottoman, desk, and loveseat. “It has the smallest closet of all the bedrooms, but it also has a fireplace and access to a screened porch, furnished with a pair of chairs and a small end table, that it shares with the African Room.” Moving to the next room via the screened porch, Hornsby continued.

“The African Room. Decorated in a traditional safari motif, this room will let your beast roam. With the colors of the African plains as our guide, this blend of browns and tans is soothing for a good nights sleep. It has a fireplace and a closet.” It was furnished with a chest of drawers, a chaise lounge, a chair, and a desk.  “This room shares the loo with the Swan Room. ” He passed through the bathroom into the next bedroom.

“This room is the Swan Room  and is decorated in a theme to match the estate’s swan pond. White and cream colors match the lovely plumage of our own swans. It has a shorter but deeper closet, a fireplace, and a lovely window seat in the large bay window.” It is furnished with a chair and a chaise lounge, plus a desk and a smaller chest of drawers.

Stepping back out into the hallway, Hornsby point to the next three doors on the left. “Community screened porch and the laundry room. No lugging baskets up and down four flights of stairs for this group. And attic door, but there is nothing of interest up there.” He rounded the laundry room; the black marble topped credenza and kept on with the tour.

“This European Room  has a fireplace and the largest closet of all the bedrooms. It shares a loo with the River Room. It is furnished with a settee, chest of drawers, chair with ottoman and desk. Ornate carving and touches of brass accent the bedroom on a grand scale. Crafted of rich oak it is a solid bed frame done in the style of the Kings of Old. This has an elegant presence worthy of Beacon Hill. Subtle touches of class come from wrought-iron candelabras, the hand-tufted wool rug and vintage vases.” Hornsby again moved through this bathroom into the next.

“This room is the River Room. Taking the design of a Mississippi Steamboat suite back when paddle wheelers thumped up and down the watery highway. They were the queens of the Big Muddy. And this room will make you feel like royalty. Complete with authentic pottery decorated in blue with scenes of paddle steamboats and other such river scenes. Suitable for the Captain’s Quarters. This is the only room that does not have a fireplace, but it does have a lovely bay window and access to a private screened porch; furnished with a pair of chairs, a small end table, and a two-person glider. The closet is shorter but deeper than most of the others.” It was furnished with a desk, chaise lounge, small boudoir chair, and a chest of drawers.

Exiting the River Room into a narrow hall, he entered the next room.
“And finally, we have the Old World room. This is actually a two-person suite. When you first enter the room you see we are in a small sitting area with a fireplace and access to a private screen porch, furnished with a pair of chairs, a small end table, and a swing.” The sitting area is furnished with two desks, a small bookcase, a small boudoir chair, loveseat, coffee table, and chair with ottoman.

“The two bedrooms each have their own closet and are furnished with a small boudoir chair and a chest of drawers. The suite has a bathroom and small closet that are shared by both bedrooms.” In the suite, there are several artifacts that have been collected from all over the world. Mayan crystal, Egyptian cat carvings, Greek vase, Siberian furs, Australian boomerang, and a collection of daVinci’s notes.

Hornsby moved to the two bedrooms in the suite. “This one closer to the door, the Greek Room  is designed with the temples of ancient Greece in mind. The mural of the night sky as one would look out of the temple door inspires dreams of heroes, goddesses, and young maiden nymphs. All you need is the lust of a Satyr and the scene is complete.”
He made a flare of the hands as he presented the final room.

“And finally this one is reminiscent of the sights and collectables of an around the world tour. Several one-of-a-kind items are gathered in the World Tour room in such a way to complement each other into a one of a kind room. Egyptian sheets, hand woven Asian rug, Tibetan comforter, the bed frame is hand hammered and crafted from the armories of Scotland in much the same fashion they used to make their swords.”
He headed back out into the main hall and the marble-topped credenza. When everyone gathered near him, Hornsby cleared his throat.

“That completes the nickel tour of Cornerstone.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of keys with tags of the bedroom names on them.

“Here are a set of house keys each and the bedroom keys. I suggest you claim a room, wash up and get some rest. If you are hungry, the pantry and cooler is stocked. Please help yourself. I know this has been a bit rapid, but all of your questions will be answered at the briefing in the morning. 10 o’clock sharp in the conference room.” he reminded them.

With that, he bid them a good evening and departed down the stairs.

Dren leans over the keys, "There'r 6 rooms an 7 sets of keys 'ere." he looked up to Raven as if the remark were directed toward her, "Ladies first?" then stepped back.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:16, Sat 09 Oct 2004.

"I believe the suite has a separate key for each bedroom..." Iain commented. "Is that right, Mr. Hornsby?"

He loked at all the others in turn: "Anyway, I especially like the Swan and the European rooms... Not exceedingly sunny, maybe, but that's kinda part of their charm. What about you guys?"
This message was last edited by the player at 13:29, Sat 09 Oct 2004.

Hornsby called out from down the stairwell. "Yes, Mr. Short. Seven sets of keys, each with a full set for the mansion, grounds and the individual bedroom keys.   Pleasant dreams!" He continued quietly down the stairs.

“I’m partial to the River Room, myself. I have no interest in having a fireplace in my room.”

Dren leaned over and snatched a key as if taking a cue "Nothin' like a drink by a fire. S'I'll take th'European Room." looking to Alex and Iona he shrugged "Nothin' personaly ladies. But I'm sure y'two'd m'comfrotable knowin' I share a restroom with 'er, 'less I'm wrong." he finished with a devlish smile which he dropped before addressing the guys "An I aint sharin' a tub with any o'you."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:29, Sat 09 Oct 2004.

   Occasionally whistling and dropping his jaw in surprise as he was guided through the third floor, Johnny was obviously shocked with the comfort. However, Hornsby's last answer left him quite disgruntled, and whilst the others were already deciding on rooms, he said: "They are all stunning, but...let's wait until we hear the catch. There's always a catch."

Iain grinned: "'Course there is, Mr. Bee... Just don't eat anything, you should be safe. However, as far as I can see, we can choose between sleeping in one of those magnificent rooms, on the floor - which is really beautiful but looks kinda hard - or, for those of us who can afford suntan, in the garden. Me, I'll take the Swan room. Well, unless Alex or Iona want it, that is..."

Dren failed to not laugh when Iain went for the Swan Room, chocking back his outburst he looked aroud and tightened his jas saying "Sorry."

Conceding defeat, Alex wearily walked over and picked up a set of keys.  It seemed that trapesing around the house had taken what little energy she'd had left; her skin was pale, her shoulders slumped, her arm still held over her midriff.  "Greek room."  She mumbled before trailing off in the direction of the two-person suite, hoping to god that there were towels and bathrobes in the bathroom.

Iain raised an eyebrow at Dren's outburst, then shrugged: "Well, I admit it's not exactly my style, but I always considered myself a pragmatic person, and that is the second best room for a vampire. Not that I don't trust our host when he says that the glasses would allow me to walk in full daylight without finding myself with the sudden ability to fit into an ashtray, but better safe than sorry..."



"Uhm, thinking about it, there is a thing I need to check out... Goodnight everyone, see you in the morning." With that, Iain took his keys and left to the second floor.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:42, Sat 09 Oct 2004.

Dren shrugged "S'th'only two questions left are, who want's to share a flat wit' Alex and who wants to share a tub wit' Iain." looking back at the remote he smiled and stuffed it in his pocket while leaning back saying "This is better than th' Gauntlet."

Raven picked up her keys and turning to Dren said, “I’m calling dibs on the shower. I’m still covered in the odor from that filthy vampire that I played piggy-back with.” She headed towards her room.

Alex closed and locked the bathroom door behind her, relieved beyond belief to see soft, fluffy towels warming on the radiator and an equally soft and fluffy bathrobe waiting on a hook.  She set about running herself a shower, stripping off her dirty clothes and leaving them in a heap to one side of the room.  Stepping into the shower, she sighed as the water thundered down on her head, slowly washing away the accumulated muck and blood from their trip.

The shower took a good half-an-hour and Alex most of it spent simply enjoying the feeling of the hot water drumming against her aching muscles.  Eventually she pulled herself out and walked over to the mirror, examining her stomach wound in the mirror.  After a long stare she shrugged, towelled herself off, then pulled on the dressing gown and exited the bathroom, clouds of steam following her out.

She paused for a few moments in the hallway as if deciding something.  Whatever it was that it was competing against, the desire to sleep won and Alex headed into her Greek-themed bedroom.  With the grace of a pet elephant, she collapsed onto the bed, fast asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

   Seeing the others head carelessly for bed, Johnny became resless himself. However, rather than claiming any room for himself, he occupied himself with examining a rather uninteresting picture on the wall, waiting for somebody else to take initiative.

Dren sighed "Fine, but this only in makin' sense." he slides the keys to the World Tour Room toward Iona, "That way th'ladies dinna have t'bother with an unconditiond man's bad habits." sliding the African Keys to Pieran he explained "Y'dinna seem th'type fer 15 minute showers and a quick shave. But yer sharin' th'bath with a dead guy." and the Asian keys to Johnny "Asian's all tha's left." standing back he spun his keys in his hand "Now, y'can disapprove o'yer room and swap with someone else, or just go t'bed. I figure I should've died in an Egyptian tomb. I'm livin' on borrowed time, and now I've got t'wait at least 47 minutes b'fore I can take a shower." recovering his remote he waved to the remaining house guest saying "Now, if I go down stairs, find a Guinness and WWE: SmackDown!, ya could kill me by mornin' and I'll have died a happy man!" turning he head back to the kitchen and left everyone to thier devices.

"Well," Pieran exclaimed, examining his keys. "Now we all know who the Den Mother is." He picked up his belongings and with an insoucient goodnite, retreated to the Serengeti Plains.

   "Sounds reasonable, Dren - Asian isn't bad, I like Asian food, writing, women, wouldn't mind trying the rooms. Don't get all to creative down there while all the rest of us are sleeping, though - might turn out ugly. 'Night guys." Johnny turned to walk towards the Asian room, critically observing his key. Apparently remembering something, he faced Iona:
   "Would you just check in on Alex and wish her good night? Would appreciate it." With that, he stiffled a yawn and strode towards his private quarters, planning to get some sleep as fast as possible.

True to form, Iona had remained silent through-out the entire tour. At first she had been a bit alarmed, expecting to be returned to the weird mansion with Matt Gardiano. But recognizing that they at least seemed to be back to their own world and even their own time, she relaxed a bit and paid close attention to Hornsby. She took both mental notes and physical ones in her notepad, sketching out maps of every floor and neatly labelling each room.  The labs and library almost had her salivating, quickly bringing up her PDA to check the wireless connectivity of the place.

She didn't really have any preferences as far as rooms go, and placidly accepted the World Tour Room. While Alex showered in their bathroom, Iona revised her notes and typed them into her PDA, while munching on the granola she'd once more found in the bottom of her purse. This task finished, she inspected the contents of her room and closet , then moving on to the outer room of the suite. The exloration ended abruptly when Iona found Leo da Vinci's notes, and she didn't look up until she heard Alex exit the bathroom and disappear into the other room. Only then did Iona put down the fascinating script and enter the steamy bathroom, longing for a long soak before hitting the sack. A second later, she came out, going straight to the small closet next to the bathroom, emerging with a fresh set of towels and then disapperaing into the bathroom once more.

The group settled down for the night and most of them retired to their rooms. Upon inspection of the drawers and closets they discovered a fluffy terry cloth robe, a small assortment of comfortable sleeping shirts, and sweats. The closets were mostly bare. But at least there was a clean change of clothes for those that needed it.

Dren spotted Iain rummaging around on the second floor apparently getting the lay of the land, so to speak. Dren continued down the stairs to the kitchen.

Dren located the fridge and found it full of mostly food, but in the back behind the orange juice there was one Guinness beer, to both his delight and dismay.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:35, Sun 10 Oct 2004.

Although not well cultured in African art or anthropology, had he not been handed the African Room, he probably would have chosen it. The motif spoke to a hunter, to someone connected to the land and sky; in short, someone connected to nature in an intimate way. His bow would hang well in a room like that. So what that he had to share the toilet with a corpse; those things happen. His only care was that Iain wipe down the mirror after flossing. Pieran didn’t want to walk in and find dental flak on the mirror and be forced to wonder, ‘Who might that have been?’

As soon as he stepped inside he dropped his pack to the floor with a heavy thump. His baldric followed. Getting that harness off his shoulders felt like the whole world took sudden flight. He’d been wearing it almost thirty-six hours and his sword was heavy.

Pieran sat on the bed, his head cradled wearily in his hands. His bones angrily protested their fatigue and he was glad to be alone where he could keep his confidences and his exhaustion to himself. The last time he’d had any REAL sleep was in a tree in a Louisiana bayou, waiting to ambush a party of cultists and catch a gate to…somewhere. That was more than thirty-six hours ago.

He was too tired to make any protests of his own. New job? Debriefing? Clients? What in the name of Baal was that all about? Just when he was contemplating the notion of retiring, and now, this. ‘Our wills and fates do so contrary run, that our devices are still overthrown.’ It was one of those inner voices again, prompting him with a lesson. They never tired. He did.

“I know,” he replied audibly, somnolently.

‘What fates impose, that men must needs abide,’ said another. ‘It boots not to resist both wind and tide.’

“Leave me be,” he answered.

…

The floor-length Spanish caftan drifted airily around his body and the feel of wood beneath his bare feet invigorated him. The shower also invigorated him; the shampoo, luxurious. For the first time in days he felt human.

Blue smoke curled around his features as he padded leopard-quiet around the porch. He wore his caftan belted round the middle and though assured of safety, he kept his short sword close to the small of his back. The place was too new, the night too fresh, the present too uncertain. Besides, he felt naked without it. ‘Men at some times are masters of their fates,’ he whispered, before they had time to chide his paranoia. He smiled, drew another puff off his pipe, and squinted to see into the dark, into the limits of the property. Iain could do that with impunity. Maybe, but he couldn’t feel the sun upon his face. Not comfortably. Such was the devil’s exchange.

Pieran pushed those thoughts from his head, and more thoughts, and more, until his mind was finally at peace and sleep’s clarion call could be answered with virtue. When his pipe cooled, he saluted the night and retreated to his room, and to the reviving arms of night’s mistress.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:46, Sun 04 Feb 2007.

Iona wiped the steam off the mirror and looked at her reflection. Wet dark tresses curled slightly around her shoulders, covering the terry cloth robe she was wearing. Her cheeks were rosy from the shower, and she looked healthy, albeit tired. There was just that one detail that separated her from any other normal young woman, right there in the middle of her forehead. She grimaced and stuck out her tongue at the face staring back at her, then bent down and skillfully wrapped a towel around her head like a turban. She popped back up, the fluffy white cloth now covering her forehead. There. She was humming under her breath again, the Bangles' "Walk Like an Egyptian", while she swept up the pile of dirty rags that Alex had left in the corner. She looked around, not sure what to do with them now. She didn't want to disturb Alex by coming into the other woman's room with her tattered clothes. They probably weren't of any use anymore, anyway. But she couldn't just leave them there - Iona knew she'd never be able to fall asleep if she knew that mess was lying on the bathroom floor. There was probably a laundry room, somewhere, but she wasn't about to go traipsing about, looking for it. Well then, case settled, the laundry basket it is.

The door to the bathroom opened, letting out another bout of steam. Iona padded out and crossed the hall into her room, her own clothes neatly folded in her arms. She locked the door and pulled the curtains before unravelling the towel turban and shaking out her hair. A moment later she had changed into a sleeping shirt, and fell into dreamless sleep the moment her head landed on the pillow, not even appreciating the softness of the sheets.

At 8:30 in the morning, everyone’s alarm clock went off. The group had a very restful night’s sleep. The daylight streamed in through the parted curtains. It was going to be a wonderful pre-fall day. The air was crisp, but not cold as everyone became conscious.

Raven had gotten up early, before the ringing of all the alarm clocks. The sweats she’d found in her room were a little baggy but comfortable. She was grateful for a change of clothes. She didn’t think any amount of washing would ever get the stench out of her other garments. After having made a strong pot of coffee in the kitchen, she poured herself a large cup and wandered into the library. She was surprised to find Iain sleeping on the couch in the library. Quiet so has not to wake him, Raven began browsing the books. When she found one that interested her, she sat in the chair and began to read.

The alarm screeched through the air, jolting Alex out of her sleep.  She flailed around for a while until she found the culprit clock, jabbing a button to silence it.  Stretching, she sat up, ignoring the mild twinge from her stomach.  With a bounce in her step she quickly pulled on some of the clean sweats and headed down towards the kitchen, bounding down the stairs with far too much energy for this time in the morning.

Pouring herself a glass of water and grabbing something to eat, she then went about poking her head into various rooms until she found someone.  With a bright smile Alex breezed into the library, about to announce a cheeful good morning to Raven when she spotted Iain asleep on the couch.  Quirking her head slightly, she looked to the archeologist and whispered.  "Do you think we should wake him?"

Dren looked over at his Alarm with a scowel, he didn't set it to go off at 8:30, heck until just a moment ago he didn't realize there was even an alarm clock in his room. With a frustrated sigh he set the 2 gallon keg he was holding down in the middle of the room and crossed to lift, examine and then turn off the alarm. In that order. Making sure it wouldn't come on again without his express permission he he took the burning clove from his mouth and exhaled a lung full of smoke.

He had yet to find a 'No Smoking' sign in the room, but felt the lack of an ashtray should have been a clue to anyone who didn't have a potted plan in his room. Putting the clove out in the fern he tossed the filter in a nearby waste basket and returned to the 2 gallon keg which he proceeded to take to his new closet and store with the rest, while there he checked his back pack to make sure his last pack of cloves was still there. It was.

Dren wasn't sure if he was still on Egyptian time, still on fire from this last adventure he and Raven lived through, or simply suffering from Johnny's paranioa, but he didn't sleep at all durring the night. After watching WWE followed by 2 hours of back to back Modern Marvels, and finishing off the last Guinness he moved everything from his table/sled to the far corner of his room for a pre-shower work out. Though he wasn't quite ready to unpack his gear he was more than willing to move all the un-essentials into "his closet". Now standing in the middle of the room that could feel like home if he gave it a try, he realized something was bothering him. It wasn't anything he could put his finger on, but he felt this nagging pit in his gut that told him, he had to talk to Raven... or he needed a bagel. But neither was going to be upstairs. Knowing Raven she probably went to bed right away and woke up early to look around the place undisturbed. If he guess was right, she'd be reading a book before he could have his post breakfast smoke.

Iain sniffed the air, still asleep. "Mh..."

Coffee. And a woman.

He opened one eye... And saw where he was. Mh?

Now completely awake, he stood up and looked around, massaging his neck: "Raven, Alex... Hi. So, I take it I wasn't dreaming after all?"

He looked at the table, and the few books still open where he left them, plus another that apparently had fallen off the couch. "Must have nodded off... What time is it?"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:03, Sun 10 Oct 2004.

Raven smiled at Alex and was about to whisper something about letting Iain sleep, when he began to stir.

“About a quarter ‘til 9,” she answered him.

Turning to Alex, she asked “How are you feeling?” There was a hint of concern in her voice. “You looked pretty wiped out by the time we were done with that grand tour last night.”

"Yep... It's good to see you up and about. In fact, you look great." Then he frowned slightly, cleared his throat and started piling the books orderly on the table.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:48, Mon 25 Oct 2004.

Alex grinned at Raven and Iain, flopping down onto the couch.  "Much better, actually.  Probably something to do with the fact that nasty wound has gone."  Lifting up the sweater to reveal her stomach, she patted the area in which she had taken the hit; it was now virtually unmarked.  "I'll have to get Johnny to take the stitches out though."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:16, Sun 10 Oct 2004.

Iain looked at her, quite surprised: "Really? Well, that's... Great! Not to mention, a bit odd: I thought Potentials didn't have accelerated healing."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:10, Sun 10 Oct 2004.

"I know, they don't.  But hey, gift horse, mouth, blah blah.  I'm not complaining."  She smiled brightly at Iain, dropping the sweater back down.

On her way down to the kitchen, Iona heard the voices coming from the second floor and detoured to the library. She too was dressed in the outfit she'd found in her room, though her hair was once more bound back by the same scarf around her head. Her purse was as always slung across her shoulder, and the contents of it had been put to use this morning, her hair brushed and face lightly made-up.

"Good morning all," she said, nodding towards the small group. "Any signs of breakfast?"

He chuckled: "Good point. "



"Good morning, Iona... Well, looks like everybody's ready to roll. If you ladies will excuse me, I think I'll go have a nice shower: I wasn't really supposed to spend the night here, you know." He smiled.

"See you all in the briefing room?"
This message was last edited by the player at 21:26, Sun 10 Oct 2004.

   Johnny was awoken by the much-to agressive clock, and for a moment he believed he was back home. But the cushions weren't right, and his mum was not trying to split his brain in two...and his head hurt like mad. Annoyed, he squelched the alarm clock, and promptly went to sleep again.

   However, he woke again not much later, uncomfortable with sleeping in such an alien enviroment. He quickly showered - there wasn't any tub available anyway, had he wanted to use it. Then he dressed, not particularly satisfied with the clothing provided. It didn't quite match his style. Done with that, he finally joined the others, admittedly after exploring the house that was his bedroom.

   "You're up early?" he said cheerfully, aware that he had spent much more time than he was supposed to. "Do we have our own personal cook, or should I start preparing some English breakfast?"

Raven looked at Alex’s healed wound. “That’s interesting,” she said. An unsettled look crossed her face but she quickly smiled and tried to cover it up. “Must be good beds. I'm glad you're well.” She turned as Iona and Johnny entered the room.



“I made coffee, there should still be some in the kitchen. I’ll warn you, though - I tend to make it pretty strong. I didn’t spend too much time foraging around in there but from what I did see, the kitchen seems well stocked. No cook, though,” Raven smiled. “I think it’s a do-it-yourself operation.”



“Yep, see you there.” Raven answered Iain as he left.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:45, Sun 10 Oct 2004.

   "No cook?" Johnny pouted in a dissappointed manner. "With the briefing coming up shortly, I guess we'll have to go for something more casual...just like my clothing." He indicated the conservative colors of his shirt, still pouting. "If anybody wants to join me, I'm just going to set the table and slice some bread."
   He went off into the kitchen and prepared a quick breakfast, keeping tabs on his watch.

Alex nodded to Iain as he left.  "See you in a bit.  Enjoy your shower."

Watching Johnny head out again, she stood and followed him down to the kitchen.  "Hey...  I need you take out those stitches for me.  It seems they're not needed anymore."

   Setting down the glass of jam, Johnny eyed Alex with a most incredelous glance. "Unless you are going to confess some supernatural powers of troll regeneration, there's no way on Earth I remove those stitches. Had I thought I would've gotten my way, I would've tried forcing you to stay in bed today." Placing the bread on the table, Johnny seated himself and started eating.

“I better go make sure Dren is semi-conscious,” Raven said as she set the book down and picked up her coffee. “See you all shortly.” She strode out of the room and headed for the stairs.

Alex shrugged and watched Johnny as he took a seat.  "They're not my supernatural powers of regeneration, and I'm fairly sure there was no troll involved..."    She trailed off, smiling slightly and lifted the sweater to show him her stomach.  "Now will you take them out?"

Pieran stepped into the kitchen with ghostly silence as Johnny was busying with the chores of morning breakfast. Wearing only his caftan and carrying the wastepaper basket from his room, he paused through bleary eyes to seek the larger kitchen trash can. Spying his prey he shuffled over and dumped the enigmatic contents of his basket into the larger vessel with noisome clatter.

His first order of business complete he moved wordlessly to the second, searching for and then pouring a cup of coffee. He sipped it loudly, rolling it around his mouth, and then swallowing with an audible gulp. His lips smacked a bit, keeping time to his eyelids.

Still wordless, he rummaged a few of the tins and canisters he found nearest the coffee maker. No first-class place would house “instant” coffee. There they were, at last: the coffee beans and he breathed deep their heady aroma.

Next, he rummaged through drawers and cupboards until he found some sandwich bags. Opening one he gently poured about a quarter cup of beans into the bag before carefully and methodically sealing it tight. He then returned everything into its ordered place. All except, for the sandwich bag of beans resting upon the counter.

Stepping up to the counter once more, Pieran stood above the bag of beans like the ominous raven that perched upon the pallid bust of Pallas, perched above the chamber door. Then, with a mighty and fiercely fast strike, he brought his solid fist down hard and decisively upon the helpless baggie, fairly pulverizing the beans inside with an explosive crack.

He opened the slaughtered baggie and deftly, daintily poured its shattered contents into his coffee cup, topping it with a second hit of the fresh, dark brew from the pot. He swilled his cup around like a miner panning for gold, and took another loud sip. His back straightened a bit from its morning slump and the first sign of intelligent life crept slowly across his face in the form of a satisfied smile.

He nodded approvingly and walked out of the room, pausing at the door briefly. He turned and looked Johnny up and down. He was wearing grey sweats. Everybody was wearing grey sweats.

Pieran shrugged and raised his cup in tribute. “Morning,” he said, vaguely cheery. And with that, he made his exit.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:29, Sun 10 Oct 2004.

   Despite close inspection, Johnny had to admit there was no reason to keep those stiches in place. No reason, except that it was standard procedure and people weren't supposed to recoved that quickly. However, facing defeat, he said: "Well...um...okay." Awkwardly clutching a kitchen knife, he recalled they had their very own medical bay. "If you'd just go on ahead to the clinic, I'll be there shortly. Oh, and you might want to get some iron suppliant, to make up for the bloodloss, but then again, my college medicine doesn't seem to apply to your body."

Alex watched Pieran leave with an amused look on her face.  He was not a morning person, it seemed.  She looked back to Johnny and nodded.  "I'll meet you up there."  With that, she left him to his breakfast and headed to the clinic, taking the stairs two at a time.

Dren turned sharply to head down from the second level when he spoted his partner in crime, "Figured you t'be readin' th'paper by now." he closed in on her and glanced around looking for anyone else behind her, "Y'know I've been thinkin', there's somethin' strage goin' on 'ere. Check this out." he turned his head not unlike one would when expecting a kiss on the cheek, but before Raven could make any comments he poked the side of his jaw, "Just yesterday a vampire punched me, right 'ere. T'day no bruise, an th'cut in m'mouth is gone too! Not only tha' but if t'day's the 8th and it was September 30th when we went inna tha' tomb, that means in what seems like 1 day we've lost a whole week! Dinna that seem strange t'ya? Wonder if anyone else is missin' 7 days o'thier life?"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:51, Mon 11 Oct 2004.

"I know I said I'm a pragmatic man..." Iain commented entering the kitchen. "But I really need to talk to Mr. Hornsby about... This."

He was wearing white pants and an azure shirt, and he didn't look too happy about it.

"I mean, really, the fancy room is one thing, but I do have my own style, and this surely isn't it." He sighed: "Good morning, everyone. Is there any coffee left?"
This message was last edited by the player at 11:06, Mon 11 Oct 2004.

Raven smiled at him. “With so many books in this place? It’s quite the collection. They’ve got a couple of volumes I’ve been trying to get my hands onto for years.” Catching the look in Dren’s eye she said, “With the surveillance in this place, plus the magical wards – I wouldn’t recommend trying that.”



“Well, I have read about time moving differently in Hell dimensions… A day there could equal a week here. Imagine if we’d stayed longer.”

“I would have been tempted to offer that as an explanation for your healed injuries as well. To keep the space time continuum balanced our bodies may have caught up with this time during the transition between the two dimensions. We may have experienced those seven days and not be aware of it. However, you should see Alex’s stomach.” Raven sighed as she saw a wistful look cross Dren’s face. “I’m talking about her wound!” She rolled her eyes and then continued. “It’s gone, like it never happened. It would take more than 7 days to do that. There isn’t even a scar.”

Dren smiled mischeviously, "Speakin' of perfect skin, 'Ow'd y'sleep last night? I only ask 'cause my bed was great, an I thought y'may want to try it out later t'night. Y'might even like it!"
This message was last edited by the player at 18:42, Mon 11 Oct 2004.

Pieran finished his coffee in Africa. He’d already made his bed, a holdover from his early education. But something was wrong. They were wearing grey, most of them. Now, as he sat at the foot of his bed, staring at the dressers and closet, the problem started to coalesce, to move from his unconscious to his conscious.

He’d not even inspected the room since his arrival. He was still living in “independent” mode, taking what he needed from his bloody great sack.

There was a bathrobe in the closet and grey sweats in the dresser. He held the pants for a moment, keeping them neatly folded, and weighing them for truth until the solid meaning of their fabric spoke at last to his brain. ‘This is it,’ he thought. ‘This is really happening. Once you put these on you’ll be accepting the mantle of a new life, with new responsibilities and manners. You’ll be dressing into a new way of life. You’ll be making yourself at home, nomad.’ He could almost hear those voices of conscience say that they were trying to enlighten him about that last night. ‘But how do you realistically transition from years to solitude to a full householder life overnight?’ he interjected.

It wasn’t an altogether irrational question. After all, Cornerstone wasn’t exactly a hotel, therefore, he was expected to make a life there. A home! But he never expected to find himself living at home with a crew of six powerful personalities, either. He’d never done that before. For years he lived alone, worked alone, and as a result, he’d not fully matured in a social way. Diplomacy he understood. But only in the abstract. He could apply it, like a bandage to a wound. He just didn’t know how to do it. His old habits would have to change. And soon.

‘I don’t know how,’ he whispered, staring into the mirror inside the closet door. ‘Why won’t you answer?’

Like Joan of Arc’s, his voices fell silent when the going got tough.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:22, Mon 11 Oct 2004.

Raven considered Dren’s offer. “I will definitely put that on my list of 50 things to do before I die. Right after swimming with sharks and skiing naked down Mt. Everest. Now, how about we make our way to that meeting?”

Iona and Iain came up the stairs from breakfast and met Raven and Dren coming down the stairs. The four of them then headed into the meeting room.

No one seemed to notice when Hornsby arrived or set up the conference room, but by 10 o’clock, both he and the room were ready. At each place there was a pad of note paper, a leatherette folder, and a nice pen made of oak. Two pitchers of ice water were in the center of the table and a crystal water goblet was set at each chair. Two small crystal bowls held both chocolate mints and peppermint candies.  Hornsby took a chair by the fireplace. A large mirror was above the fireplace and reflected back the room before it. As everyone entered the room, all were visible in the mirror, except Iain.

Pieran was next. He entered where most of them had gathered, in time for the meeting, dressed in heather gray. It matched his complexion. “I apologize,” he said, taking a seat. It wasn’t clear what he meant. His eyes roamed the other faces and a tiny wave of surprise –almost invisible- rippled across his brow as his eyes landed on Iain, Raven, and Dren.

‘There are always answers if you know where to look.’

His eyes rolled up to the ceiling with irritation. ‘Impeccable timing,’ he replied.

Her stitches removed, Alex came bounding in followed by Johnny. They quickly took their seats.

“Mr. Telarwin, I have the T.V. guide for you here. I think this is what you requested. You asked when Smallville was on and you are in luck.” Hornsby handed the magazine to Dren. It was marked with a sticky note. As Dren opened to the marked page, there was a full-page ad of the Smallville Marathon coming up this weekend on the TBS station. A large photo of Ben Affleck dominated the page with smaller images of him leaping; fighting and clutching onto Kristin Kreuk. The ad proclaimed that all 28 episodes were going to be shown back to back on Saturday and Sunday.

“Your timing is indeed fortuitous since it was cancelled in its second season. Contract issues with the cast, lack of ratings and Ben Affleck wanted to get back into movies. Enjoy!”
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:23, Tue 12 Oct 2004.

Depositing herself into a chair, Alex took a moment to survey the room and its luxurious contents.  She had never been in a board meeting in her life, but she had the feeling that this is what the interior of one would look like.  Except the attendees should be in smart business suits and not baggy grey sweats.  A small smile crept over her face as she looked at Iain and his outfit.  Somehow she didn't think that was his style.  Thinking further on it, it seemed to her most vampires tended to favour black and variations thereof.  Maybe it was a whole creature of the night thing.

Smiling sweetly at him, Alex gestured at the ensemble.  "Love the outfit.  Really brings out your eyes."  If it wasn't for the impish sparkle in her eyes, you would have thought that butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.



She glanced over at Dren, a little confused.  "Ben Affleck was in Smallville?"

Iain grinned at her. "As in 'pop them out with a spoon', you mean? I considered it, to ease the pain... But I thought I'd try talking it out with our host, first."


Iain looked from Alex to Hornsby and then to Dren: "Right... And hadn't it been confirmed for a third season, by the way?"
This message was last edited by the player at 13:32, Tue 12 Oct 2004.

Dren turned the page, then turned it back, closed the cover then opened it up again. Looking around confused he shook his head, "This dosen't make sense," sliding the TV Guide to Raven he explained "Fer starters Smallville should be in it's 4th season! An' second of all, Ben Affleck isn't even on th'show! But..." pointing Kristin Kreuk he added "I do like th'new girl!"

   "Well...Smallville. I'm starting to think the reason we're here, has something to do with Smallville. Please convince me otherwise." Jonny smiled shamelessly, brushing a hand through his no-longer-dyed hair.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:41, Tue 12 Oct 2004.

Iona had been lining up her various pencils in a straight row to the right of her notepad. Now she lifted her head, slightly frowning. "What happened to Tom Welling?"

“Tom who?” Hornsby looked mildly confused, then slowly shook his head and forged forward.   “Well, I never did follow American sitcoms.”
Hornsby turned to look at all of them. “You all look much better. I dare say that you were somewhat of a fright last night. Although, understanding the ordeal you had been through, it was to be expected. Everyone slept well I gather?” It was a rhetorical question and Hornby continued with barely a pause.

“I am glad you all decided to accept the position. Honestly, it is a relief. We have been without a Guardian here for some time and the Dark Forces are beginning to make overtures. It is getting harder and harder to keep them at bay and keep the public at large unaware. If they were to know… the panic would be like … Well, I shudder to think of it.”

Iain shook his head: "Mr. Hornsby, I'm afraid there has been some kind of misunderstanding here... You see, we haven't accepted anything."

He raised a hand to prevent possible protest: "I'm not saying we wouldn't have, we've just never been asked. So, you may want to go into some more details about this... Assignment... We are supposed to have accepted."

Raven took the TV Guide and checked the date. It did seem to be the current one. She looked at Dren and shrugged.



“There’s a surprise,” she said dryly.



“Guardians? Like what Orean was? And, I agree with Iain. I don’t recall signing on any dotted lines or accepting anything.”
This message was last edited by the player at 20:52, Tue 12 Oct 2004.

Closing the TV Guide Dren slipped it under his note pad "Is this a package deal tha' comes with th'ouse? By acceptin' t'stay 'ere we've agreed t'be it's protector? Sounds like more work t'me. I was expectin' pay out fer th'work recently compleated, without strings attached." looking over to Raven he lowered his voice adding "Explains th'Tripple A security."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:01, Tue 12 Oct 2004.

Raven turned to Dren, “I was expecting us to get paid as well, and then we could all go our separate ways. Get back to our own lives. Or maybe we’re just supposed to get our shirts silk-screened to say, I saved the world and all I got was this lousy set of sweats.”

Looking down at his current shirt he asked "Y'don't like Squir'ls gone wild?"

“Did you not each accept a set of keys last night? Acceptance of the responsibility went along with accepting the keys.”



“Were you not promised a handsome reward? Well, as nice as Cornerstone is, this is not your reward. It is your obligation, your job if you will. You were selected to be the new Guardians for this region against the forces of darkness. It is an area that must not fall, for being central to the country, Evil would be able to pour in and choke off many vital points, causing a cascade effect throughout this hemisphere.

This is your reward, but read them quickly for they will change to the new, current state of affairs.”


Hornsby reached into a leather portfolio and produced several newspapers and passed them out. Each was tabbed or highlighted in some fashion.

---

Johnny’s article from the Pittsburgh Post-Gazzette read of an Amtrak derailment just outside of Greensburg, PA. The local fire chief was proclaiming it to be a lucky set of circumstances that there was only one death, a Mr. Johnny B. Hope whose injuries were too severe and he died at the emergency room. Then the ink on the paper swam before his eyes and the article now read,

::…the train derailment had several injured but no deaths were reported. The officials were remaining guarded since not everyone was accounted for. At the time of this printing, at least one passenger remained missing and the passenger list was being reviewed.::

---

Iain’s article was from the San Francisco Chronicle. Several homes on a hillside near Woodville, CA. had collapsed when a minor tremor hit the area.

:: An investigation was initiated since the tremor was not one that would normally have caused such damage to these homes. Housing Inspector Charlie Williamson reported that initial inspection revealed that substandard construction was most likely to blame. Instead of solid concrete support structures, there was an excessive amount of wood framing. Williamson speculated that most of the beams might have been actually wood covered in either concrete or hardened plaster. “They shattered like toothpicks and speared the rooms like a trap out of an Indiana Jones movie. We have had several injured and a couple of deaths as a result. A few are unaccounted for.”:: Iain's paper did not seem to change like the others did.

---

Dren and Raven’s paper was the same one. The Al-Ahram Weekly, English version, reported,

:: the deaths of noted archeologist, Dr. Raven Cantrell, and her associate Dren Talherwin, in a freak accident. Both were from the United States. The bodies were recovered yesterday. They were reportedly exploring a newly discovered section of a temple when the walls collapsed and the Nile ran in, flooding the area.::

The article went on to list Dr. Cantrell’s accomplishments when the ink swam together and now the paper read that the Nile had flooded a temple, but it was not known if anyone was in it at the time. Divers were going to search again today for possible survivors or victims.

---

Alex’s newspaper from London, the Guardian, reported that,

::The body of an unidentified young woman was discovered dead in an old warehouse. Possibly a victim of a medieval cult contest for a large collection of hand weapons were located in the area. Police reported the scene as “grisly” as her body suffered many cuts and slashes. Police spokesmen reported, “many of the wounds were consistent with the clawing of a large animal, but the scope of the size was too large. They were probably caused by some slashing weapon made to resemble claws, like the character of Wolverine of the X-Men comics. That is speculation since no such weapon was found as the scene.”::

The words then swum and Horsby told Alex to turn to the police blotter notes where it simply read that ::residents reported hearing a woman scream from the warehouse nearby. Police investigated the scene and found nothing.::

---

Pieran’s newspaper was the New Orleans Times-Picayune. It reported that,
::…the body of a man was discovered in the Louisiana bayou by a couple of hikers. Identified as Mr. Pieran Swift, born in Spain to American parents who reside in Florida. Mr. Swift was a handyman by trade and had recently moved into the New Orleans area. It was not known what business Mr. Swift had, but hunting was most likely the reason he was in the bayou. The lack of a hunting license lead officials to believe that he was poaching ‘gators when he happened upon a group of persons in the middle of a voodoo ritual. Local known voodoo cults were being questioned in connection with the death.::

The ink then shimmered and the article now read that,
::a local woman had contacted police in connection with the disappearance of her part time contractor. “He seemed like such a nice man and had a way with these old buildings unlike anyone else. He was fixing the banister on my upper balcony and then he did not show up for work the next day.” Officials report that a man resembling Swift was seen entering the wildlife reserve. He was reported to officials since he was carrying a hunting bow and hunting is not allowed inside park grounds.::

---

Iona had a college paper, the Daily Princetonian. Splashed across the headlines was the title ::Student Killed in Freak Explosion:: The article read that,

::Ms Iona McLean, graduate student, was apparently working in the school lab late at night. Officials could not explain what she was working on, but did state that is was not normal for students to be in that building at that hour. The cause of the accident was still under investigation, but preliminary reports indicated a strange mix of chemicals reacted violently. “Normally these elements are not explosive in nature and their combination should not have been the catalysis for this type of fiery reaction,” Dr. Brenda Dunne of the Engineering Anomalies Research department reported. “There must have been an unknown element that was combined with these benign chemicals. Most curious.”::

After a second, the letters reordered themselves and now the article read, ::Fire Destroys School Lab:: In a corner article, there was a paragraph that began ::Another student missing. Classmates suspect she just quit school:: It went on to discuss the stress of college life and the drop out rate was again on the climb.


When they finished reading the papers, Hornsby said, “You see. Your “Handsome reward” is that you are alive.”

"Great, I'm alive in a big house that doesn't stock Guinness... some slavation." tossing back the paper Dren folded his arms across his chest and sat back in his chair like a recently scolded child.

Silently Alex slid the paper towards the centre of the table, almost as though she couldn't stand to have it too close.  Retreating further back into the chair, she watched the reactions of the others to their own news columns before returning her attention to Hornsby.

Pieran glanced around the room. Judging from everyone’s faces, they’d received similar news. Your dead….oh but wait, not quite. Just a tiny tweak in history and, voila! Alive again. No biggie. Just a few niggling annoyances to explain in case anyone sees you.

In Pieran’s case he’d have issue with the Wildlife, Parks and Game Commission, maybe the ASPCA, maybe the Bureau of Land Management, and while they’re at it, the ATF people, which, thanks to the new homeland securities act, waves flags at the FBI, and from there, the local constabulary, the CIA, the NSA, and just maybe, even the Girlscouts of America! Not that he was paranoid or anything. But he was a foreign national after all and he was seen carrying a deadly weapon in public. Those are definitely weighty issues in the modern world.

Whatever the quality of this newborn self, this saved self, this self rescued from the brink of death, implied low profile as a good nostrum for any further dealings with the public at large. That’s kinda tough with security cameras popping up everywhere, bank ATMs, grocery lines, convenience stores, traffic lights, and even picture-snapping cell phones. Then again, who wouldn’t be paranoid in a world like that?

Pieran closed his newspaper and slid it to the center of the table, like a bad poker hand folded. “So,” he said, calmly. “Now I am ‘La Femme Nikita,’ avec torque. Perhaps it's, 'La Homme, Nikita,' n’est-ce pas? Sorry, that’s the little French I picked up hunting alligators in Louisiana." His voice shifted into a deep southern drawl. "Because in case anybody is worried, don’t be. I can handle alligators.”

He eyed Hornsby directly. “These articles," speaking his normal tone, "revealing contradictory outcomes, are not without some measure of nuisance. First, I was killed but then history changed and I was simply listed as 'last seen.' If I am seen again, possibly by authorities questioning me about hunting without a permit in a protected area -No! poaching in a protected area- I might have some difficulty explaining myself. I don’t know everyone else’s story, but I would expect to see that some of us have even more embarrassing issues to explain. People who mysteriously drop from sight and are seen turning up elsewhere without explanation, garner considerable suspicion these days. Are we going to need to assume some alternate identities? Or are we just expected to be real careful? That’s getting harder and harder in a world surrounded by security cameras and ‘America’s Most Wanted’ hosted by John Walsh. Do you see my point? Can you understand why I am asking this question? Oh, and by the way, that’s just one question out of about...mmmm, a billion others."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:34, Wed 13 Oct 2004.

Authorities were the least of Iona's concerns. "No. No way, not a chance, and nuh-huh." She started ticking off points on her fingers. "First of all, how do we know that these newspapers are legit? Clearly, you can work some kind of mojo to change their contents at will. Why should we trust this is the real deal?" She neatly folded her paper and placed it to the left of her pad.

"Secondly, there was no mention of any responsibility last night, nor any implication that 'responsibility went along with accepting the keys to the manor'." She imitated Hornsby's manner of speaking, though not in a mocking way. "Furthermore, even if there had been any such mention, it would still not be a binding contract. No terms have been discussed, no papers have been signed; there hasn't even been a spoken agreement to anything. As a matter of fact, the only thing you said last night, when you handed out the keys, was that all of our questions would be answered in the morning." She turned back a page in her notepad, her sketches of the floor maps briefly flashing by, and nodded to herself. "At 10 o'clock sharp."

Then Iona looked back up. "Thirdly." Her scowl deepened, her eyes shifting briefly in purple, both sights disappearing as soon as it showed. "You are blackmailing us." Her voice remained calm, but there were still strong undercurrents. "Or at least me. I don't know about you guys, but there is no way an explosion could have happened in my lab. Not as a consequence of my actions." Her gaze sweeped the rest of the group, then settled back on Hornsby. "Basically, you are saying that if we don't accept your... job offer here, you will have us killed."

   Johnny swallowed quietly as he read his article, his usually cheerful mood darkning. He didn't say much as he pushed the paper aside, glancing towards Hornsby. Seeing the others start to tear the poor man apart - admittedly in a verbal fashion, but nonetheless - Johnny spoke quietly:
   "Calm a little down, guys - I will agree that our dear friend went about things in a least elegant fashion, but really - saving people was what I was educated for anyway...."
   His voice was soft, much like that of a woman trying to break up men fighting. He was about to add something, but rediced in the last minute, mouth snapping back shut.

Pieran smiled at Iona’s logical excoriation. He looked at her and fairly beamed, not wanting it noticed by anyone but her. His eyes were filled with thought.

Just as quickly, his smile dropped to sick dread. He’d forgotten her telepathy for the moment. ‘She probably received that thought, dummy.’

Pieran choked his brain back into his ass and softly chattered a nervous giggle. “What she said?” he replied, looking at Hornsby. “That’s one of those billion questions I mentioned before. No offense.”
This message was last edited by the player at 10:30, Wed 13 Oct 2004.

“You mean Johnny was right about the catch, and we sold our souls for a shower and some clean sheets?” Raven’s mood was decidedly unamused as Hornsby passed out the papers. She took her copy in hand and examined it carefully as she read.

Turning to Dren she said, “Did you see the quote from Draghun - ‘As a colleague and a friend, she will be missed’. That bastard’s using my death to get his name in the paper, riding our coattails to the end. They’ve got my list of credentials screwed up as well.” Raven sighed as she set the paper aside. After listening to Iona’s expression of doubts, Raven reached over and picked up the scientist’s paper, examining it without really reading it. Then she set it down and did the same with the other papers that had been pushed to the center of the table. “They’re not fakes.” Raven looked at Iona. “I’m sorry.”

Hornsby raised his hands and moved them repeatedly downward trying to calm Iona and Pieran down. “Now now, you did not “sell your soul” for keys, they were merely a symbolic acceptance…” Hornsby sniffed the air and looked around quickly. Does anyone smell…”

The pad of paper in front of Alex, and Iona’s and Iain’s newspapers suddenly caught fire on the table.

“Bloody Hell!” Hornsby exclaimed and stepped back slightly.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:21, Wed 13 Oct 2004.

Dren leaned over and grabed a picture of water and a glass, filling the second from the first he flung the water from the glass to cover as much area as possible.

   "Now, there's a man who swears with style." Johnny considered whether there was need for any further firefighting.

Iona looked away from Pieran, whose smile had warmed her for moment, and met Raven's gaze, eyes wide. Despite everything, she had been certain she would soon be back home, in her own environment, where things were just the way SHE wanted them. Instead, she was forced to remain here. Iona inhaled deeply trying to remain calm. She never chose this! And what about her family, her life? These people were strangers, despite recent events. Her hands gripped the seat beneath her, knuckles whitening. What did they want from her? What?!



Iona yelped as the dry papers in front of her flared up, then jumped back from the table when some water splashed over on her pad of paper. Dren's quick actions had saved the table from becoming overcooked. Some tears splashed over from Iona's eyes too, but she quickly blinked them away, trying to maintain her outward calmness. Seeing the fire didn't spread, she busied her hands wiping away the excess water from the polished, now slightly blemished surface, and once more lining her pens. But just as quickly she retreated her hands and tucked them behind her back, pretending to wipe them on her sweats. She hoped noone had seen them shaking.

Not really expecting the pad in front of her to burst into flame, Alex visably jumped in her chair, darting slightly further back as Dren doused the burning paper.  A slight frown crossed her face while she assisted in dampening out any lingering hotspots, her thoughts a million miles away.  It disappeared with a brief shake of her head as she settled back into the chair, her gaze briefly alighting on Iona before moving on.

"Anyone have an explanation?"

   "Well, yes, I must admit, there's something I haven't told you." Johnny leant back, waiting until he had everyone's attention, he eyes serene as he swallowed before continuing, standing up uncertainly.

   "Fooled ya. Wasn't me," he said quickly, resuming his position with a smile. Comic relief seemed in place. "To think I would..." he never finished the sentence, shaking his head as he waited for a sound explanation.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:05, Wed 13 Oct 2004.

"Okay, that was... Most interesting. I guess someone, or something, just sent some kind of message to the three of us. Some people say it with flowers, other with fire: I guess it's a matter of personal taste." He shrugged, then added with a half smile: "Me, I'm definitely for flowers."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:04, Wed 13 Oct 2004.

“I would appreciate it if you would not burn down the manor within 24 hours of moving in!”   Hornsby shook off some papers and brushed the water off his suit. “Thank you for your quick action Mr. Telarwin. Now, if you are all quite through fooling around, may I continue?”

“Right, down to business then. Open the paquet of paper before you. Inside you will find your Missouri driver’s license, with this address as your home of course, your birth certificate we saw no need to alter the original information on those. Social Security cards and citizenship papers are provided for those that need them, and other such important papers. Mr. Swift, you need not worry about your ‘gator poaching charge. You did not commit that event here, so all you need is to appear like you just moved here. Which you did, in a way. You are all listed as employees of the Cornerstone Corporation.

You will also find your personal credit card. We understand that you did not plan to take a trip, most of you anyway, and this is so you can get clothing and other items you may need. The company vehicles will be available for you to do some shopping. There are several fine stores and malls in the area, and if you head out to Frontenac, you could even find Saks Fifth Avenue.”

“Now for the business account, I have two cards. Such things as food, repairs, medical supplies, other business expenses… you know the like. You will need to decide who will be in charge of these.”

To Johnny, Hornby slid a PDA over toward him. “Mr. Hope, being the most skilled with computers and the most medically trained, you will be in charge of both the medical clinic and security. This interface will allow you to receive alerts like the one I received last night when Mr. Telarwin picked up the telly remote. Certain adjustments have been made to recognize the lot of you as the new residents and the permissions have been reset. Ms McLean, you should be able to connect to the network as well with your device.” He indicated Iona’s PDA as he spoke to her.

   Gratiously accepting the PDA, though a bit discomforted with the responsibility and his inability to handle it - he could probably make some sense of it, eventually, after a few false alarms - Johnny said: "This is both all good and all well, Mr. Hornsby, but I'm afraid we need to adress another problem first: Namely how we haven't actually accepted this assignment yet."

Raven took the driver’s license and turned it in her hand, then looked at Dren with a wicked grin.

Turning to Hornsby she said, “Wait a minute. The med student is in charge of our health and well-being? Glad to see you spared no expense in that department.” Looking at Johnny she said, “No offense. It’s just that when I see somebody for medical treatments, I’d hope I’m not the only one in the room called Doctor.”

Alex scooped up the driver's license and examined it with a critical eye.  "I learnt to drive?  No-one told me."

Dren got a worried look on his face watching Raven play with her ID. He had barely looked at his own, and was now focused on his partner's... that was until Alex hinted toward her skipping driver's ed.

"Uh... I'll need t'hit town, y'know I'd be willin' t'drive ya 'round if y'need." he told Alex in a suprisingly un-lewd way, and adding to the out of character comments he told Raven, "An' y'should probably come'long an make sure I don't try an' seducer 'er once we're out of sight!" Dren added in a strangly sarcastic tone, though he seemed serious enough.

Raven fished her wallet out of her pocket and slipped the driver’s license into it. She was still grinning as she said to Dren, “If you want, but we’ll see how it goes. You might get preoccupied with the big screen TV, or that bar in the basement.”

"That would appear to be a chronic problem around here, Alexis," Pieran added.

"Hornsby," he said. "I want to thank you for all this fantastically rich appointment. The home is lovely beyond anything I have ever seen and the bed I slept in was dreamy, no pun intended. I also want to thank you for seeing to it that my DMV picture turned out so darned gorgeous. Anyway, at least it looks like me.

"But I must echo Mr. Hope's objections as to our business here. As for myself, I have lived alone and on the move for a long time. I know nothing about living in community or even working with community. So I hope you don't confuse my discomfort at being here with ingratitude or rejection. If it is my fate to live and work here, well, that will become known in time.

“But you must allow us to come to terms with what is happening here. I think it is no inaccuracy to say that some –if not all- of us are still unsure what is happening here. It is beginning to look that our fates are being defined for us and while that may be the nature of fate, it is also the human nature to seek beyond the limits of fate. We seek to be free, for instance. So please understand if any of us show hesitance or even blatant anger” (he eyed Iona) “when confronted with the news of our deaths and then the sudden retraction vis-à-vis our arrival here.”

His voice stayed level and calm. “I was taught not to take candy from strangers,” he said. “There is a lot of candy in Cornerstone. So if I am to accept the sweets, I need to know the strangers. I asked you who you were. You told me your name. That is not who you are. John Bosley was to Townsend Associates as Hornsby is to…..(blank). Who ARE you, Hornsby? Who do you work for? Who is your boss? Why did those three papers spontaneously ignite? And last but not finally, Who selected us ‘to be the new Guardians for this region against the forces of darkness?’”

“Oh, well, hmmm.” Hornsby pondered Alex’s comment a second or two then, with a dismissive wave of the hand, he said, “Well, just use the license for proper identification then.”



 Looking into the eyes of everyone at the table, Hornsby stated, “Anyone not willing to take this responsibility will have to be sent back to their original situations, just as we found them. No harm, no foul, but we can only adjust the continuum so much. I am afraid that the fate that these papers first reported would again be real. You were removed from those timelines so that you could be imported to here. We could not alter things to save you in any other way.”



Hornsby looked up and sighed. “Why do I seem to get the unstable, the ungrateful and the insolent.” He starting by looked at the scorched papers, panned around the room and stopped by looking coolly at Pieran. “Sod’s Law, I suppose.”

“Mr. Swift, I am not accustomed to being interrogated! If you want to converse or have a discussion, you do not rapid fire questions without waiting for a reply!” Hornsby stated, visibly angered, but remaining controlled.  “If I must pen you a portrait, I am your liaison.”

To the group, Hornsby said, “The fabric of life is a fragile weave. Here and there, a minor adjustment in the thread of life can be made, no one may even notice. But mess with the pattern too much and imperfections and holes will occur. Here you have been given a second chance at life. You have been selected and proven to be worthy of becoming Guardians. But that comes with a price. This mansion is part of the package deal. It will be your home and base of operations. On occasion, you will be informed of the insurgence of the Dark Forces. It will be up to you to keep them at bay. To guard the Heartland from evil’s influence. And it is not such a bad job. Your time is your own if nothing is currently brewing. Study at the university, write a book, practice your skills or just watch the telly and eat crisps all day.”

Turning his gaze back toward Pieran, he said “There are many ways the souls within you can be released. You have already discovered the easiest, Mr. Swift. If it is your wish, I could pass on your request and you can be removed from this task immediately.” It was not a threat, but a statement, as if he had just completed giving a quarterly report at a business meeting.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:11, Thu 14 Oct 2004.

Dren raised his hand and waited for permsion to speak, then asked what he felt was again, a very valid and serious question "So, what's our credit limit and who's pickin' up th'monthly statement?"

Hornsby smiled briefly and replied to Dren, “You keep your expenses reasonable Mr. Telarwin, and I am sure they will be covered by the Corporation. I would not run out and try to purchase a vehicle, besides, most of your needs are provided on the estate. This is to cover your personal expenses, clothes, movies out, tickets to Busch Stadium for a game… that sort of thing. There should be plenty of allowance for that. If Accounting has a problem, I am sure they will notify you. I would not worry.”

Hornsby continued, “On the subject of vehicles, on your key rings you have the keys to Cornerstone, both of the vehicles, and your rooms. Some of the out buildings; gun range, stables, maintenance shed, guest quarters. Those keys are kept in the security room next door.”
This message was last updated by the GM at 17:01, Thu 14 Oct 2004.

There was still a question left unanswered that was bothering Alex and she couldn't decide if Hornsby was deliberately avoiding answering it, or if he was simply drowning under the barrage from Pieran.  She waited quietly until the englishman had responded to Pieran, Johnny and Dren, then spoke up herself.

"Alright.  I don't have a problem with being here.  Pretty much what I was trying to do anyway, only with nicer surroundings and better company.  But you said you were our liaison, Mr Hornsby.  Whom do you liaise with?"

Raven looked at Hornsby. “If you find a way to make Dren keep his expenses reasonable, could you let me in on it? I’ve been trying to accomplish that for years.”

“Why, Ms Taylor, the Lord Guardian Gatekeeper of course. You know him as Matt Gardiano.” To Raven's comment, he gave her a soft smile. "Lets hope he is ... trainable."
This message was last updated by the GM at 19:18, Thu 14 Oct 2004.

   "I can't speak for anybody else, but I'm in," Johnny said in his non-comittal voice. "Not that I really have a choice, and I can admire a briskly polite bluntness." He leant back and waited for the others to make up their minds about the current situtation.

"Ah, yes, our dear friend Matt Gardiano. And here I thought he only hired werebirds... Lucky us, eh?" Iain grinned.



"Well, I gotta tell you, folks: I like the place, I like the company... And I must admit, seeing the sun without bursting into flames? Quite nice. So, Mr. Hornsby... Your boss wants me to kick the bad guys' asses? I'm in." Iain relaxed on the chair as well, waiting for the others' replies.

Dren replaced his wallet after putting the ID and Credit Card away. Stopping he looked around after hearing Johnny and Iain formaly accept then looked over at Raven, before look over to thier host. "Oh, well Raven an' I were in when y'gave us th'IDs an' line o'credit."

"Fair enough.  Like I said, I'm in."  Her gaze fell briefly on the credit card in front of her and she smiled.  "Can I borrow someone's pad?  I need to make a shopping list."

Hornsby’s offer was more an ultimatum. Join or accept the consequences. Confrontational posturing and passive aggressive manipulation. Pieran had half a mind to accept the latter portion of the offer. After all, Hornsby’s was exactly the kind of thing Pieran had been fighting all his life. ‘We wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.’

Enron came to mind. So did extortionists.

But the key word was WE. Pieran’s heart and mind were not his own personal property. It was more like a shared condominium where the neighbors had some definite ideas for Pieran’s life, and they were not prepared to see it surrendered so soon.

Cornerstone resembled a physical analog to his inner life and would enable him to make the transition from living an exclusively inner life to a more functional whole life. And if he could do that, he would become an even more effective warrior, and that would settle his restless spirits, at least in some measure, like Pepto-Bismol.

‘There is a tide in the affairs of men which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune; omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat, and we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures. The poor, lame, blind, halt, creep, cry out for thee, but they ne’er meet with opportunity.’

Pieran’s eyes closed tightly and he sighed wearily. “Can’t you speak English?” he asked to no one in particular.

‘Blessed are the flexible,’ answered the inner dialogue, ‘for they shall not be bent out of shape.’

Pieran opened his eyes and the glare shining within them spoke audibly, “Oh brother!” He turned to Hornsby. “Did you say there were stables?”
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 23:21, Thu 14 Oct 2004.

Dren's was sliding across the table to Alexis before she'd even said what she needed it for.

With a quick grin of thanks to Dren, Alex picked up the pad and the expensive-looking pen from the table.  Bringing her legs up so that her small feet were resting on the edge of the chair, she laid the pad on her thighs and proceeded to write speedily on the paper.

“Right, if we are all in agreement then, I shall depart. Carry on!” Hornsby gathered up his portfolio.

“Oh, by the way, you stated last night that you had wounded amongst you. I trust our facilities were adequate to your needs. No one seriously injured I hope.”

"No, wait!" Iona had been busy fighting back the tears with some moderate amount of success, not wanting to attract even more attention to herself. But now she couldn't keep quiet anymore. "What about your families? What are they going to think?" She looked around at the others, feeling slightly betrayed at their ready acceptance. Nice as they were, she wasn't looking for a brand new cosy life; she already had a cosy life of her own, doing exactly what she wanted, where she, when she wanted.

On the other hand, Iona didn't want to die. She sighed, fiddling with her PDA, automatically taking note of the connectivity status. In the back of her brain, a thought floated by: I'll have to hack into the PEAR servers to get the rest of my research data... No! What am I'm thinking? I'm not staying here... am I? She looked at Alexis, happily writing her shopping list.

SAKS... I don't care that much about clothes. Not really.

CompUSA... Oh, come on, am I that easy to buy off? With toys? Really cool and expensive toys that I've been lusting after for ages? No. Be firm.

Unlimited amount of sushi-dinners... Hey, that's cheating! But her internal battle was already lost at that point.

She squared her shoulders. "I suppose I could handle the accounts payable department here," she offered with a resigned look on her face.

Iain smiled simpathetically at Iona, and waited an instant to see if Hornsby wanted to reply.

Then, before he could leave, he commented: "Actually, Mr. Hornsby, one of us did have a serious injury: Alex here got a deep slashing wound back when we freed Orean. And yet, this morning she was good as new - she doesn't even have a scar. And Dren, who had this a nice bruise near his jaw, courtesy of an unfriendly vampire, today had his usual face back - ugly as it may be. So, when you say 'our facilities'... Would you care to elaborate?"

"Yer jus' jealouse 'cause y'lost yer sufer's tan." Dren interjected rhetorically.

The pen paused for a moment in Alex's hand and she frowned, eyes fixed on the paper.  By the time Iona's gaze had fallen on her she had returned to the business of drawing up her shopping list.



This time Alex looked up, glancing between Iain and Hornsby.  "It was gone when I showered last night, but I was too knackered to do anything about it."

   "It's all in the doctor..." Johnny commented, rolling his eyes, before he started examining his new pocket-computer, trying to make some sense of the local security-system.

“Interesting. That is peculiar. I meant I hope you found the clinic suitable to your needs. Well, at least you seem to be better. Maybe something happened prior to you getting here. Lets hope you do not have many opportunities to use the clinic.” He pushed the business credit cards toward Iona. Hornsby gave a final nod of his head as he stepped out of the door.

“Tootles!” and with that, he departed.

Dren grabbed his keys and rose from the table "S'who needed a ride... t'th'mall." as if a thought hit him, he quickly checked his packet and found a map of the area with key interest points marked and color coded, "Ne'er mind, then." he told no one in particular.

Iain collected his stuff and stood up: "Well, if it wasn't clear already, I kinda need new clothes... I'm not sure the cars' glasses are anything like the house's, but a blanket should do Fine."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:53, Fri 15 Oct 2004.

"Oh, you're definately my favourite medicine man.  Apart from that really cute male nurse from the ICU in..."  Alex grinned, cleared her throat and pulled the top sheet from the pad.  "So...  Someone mentioned shopping?"

   "Shopping? You make it sound so...vulgar. But, yes, I would like to join you and make purchases - Iain isn't the only one with an acute need for some proper clothing, and I would like to find out which nowhere we've wound up in the middle of." Critically eyeing Dren, imagining he could smell the alcohol, he added: "Would someone whose alcoholic values wouldn't be measures in percent drive?"

"If the cars have the same glasses as the house, I can drive... It may have been a while, but I think I can still tell the brake from the accelerator." He grinned.

Raven looked at Iain as she gathered up the rest of her things. “We should see if we can find a mall that has a covered parking garage connected to it. Either that or you wait until sunset to go shopping. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’d like to make this quick and painless. Pick up the basics and be done with it. And if Iain feels rusty, my offer to drive still stands,” Raven smiled.

"Quick?  After nearly fifteen years of being dressed by my Watcher, the novelty of choosing my own clothes has yet to wear off.  I intend to shop 'til I drop.  Or something."  Alex grinned and rose from her chair, obviously delighted with the idea of spending an entire day shopping.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:19, Fri 15 Oct 2004.

Iain smiled to Alex, clearly liking her attitude: "Fine by me... It's not like we have an appointment somewhere. I agree with the 'painless' part though: I think we've already had enough fun for the week, haven't we?"

Then he turned to Iona: "You coming? You'll have plenty of time to get acquainted with your new toys, you know." He grinned.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:20, Fri 15 Oct 2004.

The short walk past the pool and a maintenance shed to the garage was enjoyable to almost everyone. Iain made a duck and cover dash from tree to tree, past the shed and then sprinted across the drive to the side door of the garage.

The garage was a large separate building with three bay doors for vehicles. Luckily, the side door was not locked and Iain entered the shelter smoking slightly, but not hurt.

The side door opened into a rather complete woodshop. Inside was a lathe, band saw, router table, table saw, a long workbench and plenty of hand tools. Everything a handy person would want so that he or she could be a Mr. Fixit.

From there, you could enter the main portion of the garage where the vehicles were kept. One of the bays was stocked with roll around toolboxes, additional hand tools, and there was a full size car jack so you could work underneath a car easily. In the other two bays the company cars sat waiting for their new drivers.

One vehicle was a Chevy Uplander, kind of a mini van/SUV, new and fully loaded. OnStar system, CD player, DVD Player in the back. Seats 7, silver colored.

The other car was a Classic 1968 Ford Mustang GT fastback. Seats 4, blue with silver stripes. Original everything. This was the V8, big block engine, built for speed and the same type of car from Steve McQueen's movie, "Bullitt". It was a sweet looking machine and in mint condition.

Pieran examined the tools, woods, and metals in the garage. He looked like a man in love. "I will remain behind," he said, in case someone was listening. "I need to so some selected shopping and it will be neither quick nor painless. I will attend to that another time. Meanwhile, I will look about the grounds. Have a safe journey."

"Not a bad idea, however I can't help but think you'll still look strange running through th'parking lot with a blanket over y'head an smokin' when we pass a patch o'sun through a sky light."



Dren foled his arms and rolled his eyes at Raven, but then address Johnny as if disputing his abilities behind the wheel "Look, unless anyone 'ere can honestly say they've also driven a stolen Jag through the streets of Spain while beeing chased by a BMW an' 9mm automatic gun fire an' not spill yer beer... I think I should drive!" the turned as if challenging Raven to add to that.

Iona smiled, Pieran's delight easing her own discomfort. "Yes, I'll be right with you," she said to Iain before turning towards Raven.

"If you like, I could pick up some basic stuff for you; just tell me your sizes and preferences." Struck by a thought, she checked her PDA phone - and there it was, the Cornerstone intranet. She did a quick search and found the phone number to the mansion.

"Oh, and I might call to get some inventory data from you on what we have and don't have here." With that, she scurried after the Shopaholics, placing her PDA back in its place in her purse and the purse, in turn, slung over her shoulder.

   "I'm not questioning your ability to drive, even under influence," Johnny explained in a calm manner. "It's more a matter of what's legal, and we really don't need to get into any more trouble yet."

Oh goodie, a ‘girlie’ shopping trip. Raven thought to herself. It’s not that she wasn’t capable of dressing up - complete with hair, makeup, and everything else. It was even required at some functions that she attended, and she honestly didn’t mind wearing those things on occasion. She just didn’t find shopping to be the transcendent experience that most women did.



Raven gave a slight shrug as she conceded the point to Dren.



“It’s not a question of what’s legal, it’s a matter of whether you get caught or not.” Raven smiled at Johnny. “Don’t worry, Dren can keep a low profile when necessary. Maybe we should split into two groups and take both cars. Alex may need the extra space in the van for her purchases.” Raven looked at Dren, “What do you think?”

"Take both cars and get out of here, all of you!" Pieran said sharply. "I've always wanted to do that Tom Cruise scene from 'Risky Business' and I don't think I can wait another minute!"

Shaking his head is utter frustration he turned around and started to go back inside.

"Y'know..." Dren started as he backed away from the group, "Raven does 'ave a point, if we all pile inna-"



"Well, that seals if fer me. I'm drivin' th'Mustang." finding the Mustang's keys he waved his map "Raven, care t'navigate?" he walked over to the car and paused just long enough to fully savor this moment in his life, then popped open door and slid in to check guage placement, transmission style, start adjusting the seat and mirrors all the while looking very serious about what seemed to be a ritual of sorts.

Dren and Raven settled into the Mustang while Iain, Johnny, Alex and Iona hopped into the SUV. With a touch of a button, the doors rolled up and Dren moved out first since he had the map. He pulled slowly out of the garage and headed down the drive. Dren suddenly floored the car and sped down the tree-lined driveway at break-neck speed. Just before he reached the gate, he slammed on the brakes and put the car into a controlled fishtail skid. Stopping just before the gate, he smiled at Raven. Test of the car’s reflexes complete, he pulled smoothly onto High Street and led the way to the mall. Pulling into the underground parking garage, both vehicles parked on the same level, but Dren parked the Mustang away from all other cars. The happy shoppers then headed into the mall, new credit cards in hand.

Just inside the mall, the group split up. The girls when one way and the guys scattered. The score from “The Flight of the Bumblebee” played endlessly over the mall sound system.

First to emerge was Raven. A bag containing 4 pairs of jeans, all the same style, cut and fit. Raven followed Katherine Hepburn’s style of clothes shopping. When she found something she liked, she would just buy several of the same thing.

Iain had several shirts, T-shirts and long-sleeves, black, dark blue and dark red, mostly cotton.

Iona hit the cosmetic department. Lancôme for make-up and creams, Dior for perfumes. Dune won this fragrant battle.

Johnny replaced his purple shirt with a white one, similar style and cut.

Alex exited with several bags and headed into the very next store.

Dren, standing at the counter of a tobacco shop, watched the clerk place a pack of clove cigarettes in front of him. He looked at the pack then to the clerk with a deadly serious face. The clerk, now intimidated turned and grabbed another pack and placed it next to the first, but Dren doesn't so much as flinch. The clerk nervously grabbed the rest of the carton but Dren was still expressionless. Finally the clerk gestured to the back room where rest of his stock is kept and Dren finally smiled. Taking a hint the clerk vanished to the back room.

Iain had a new cell phone. He took a few steps from the counter and then called the store clerk. “Can you hear me now?” he asked into the phone.

Raven found khakis, t-shirts, (4 of each) and a denim jacket. She also picked up a pair of sunglasses to replace the pair she had given Priestess Ninti. A sad, distant look crossed her face as she paid for the glasses.

Johnny had pickup a brown cord jacket, and Calvin Klein scented deodorant.

Alex exited the store, crossed the mall and entered the next in line. Her bag count was growing.

Iain tried on a long black leather trench coat. He liked the look.

Dren was jumping up and down in the middle of a jewelry store.

Iona had a batch of colorful scarves and some jeans. As she passed a music store, she snatched up the latest Hoobastank CD.

After picking up a black leather skirt, black shoes and some blouses to match, for a special occasion, Raven spotted a shop selling antique pottery and ducked in to take a look around. A lady was looking over a 9 inch green pitcher that the sign proclaimed was a Weller pitcher. The salesman was holding the pitcher and spoke about its history. Raven looked over their shoulder and then said “It’s a fake.”

Dren was jumping up and down in the middle of a jewelry store.

Johnny was seen departing a candy store. He had picked up a box of expensive chocolates and had it gift-wrapped. Just in case, it might come in handy.

Alex did not have any new bags, but a couple of bangles and bobbles were hanging from her wrists, neck and ears.

Raven could be heard “…but the "W" is wrong. If you observe closely, there is almost a slight ‘slant’,…”

The concerned sales man was frozen and wide eyed as he watched this crazed Irishman pause long enough to execute three more heel stomps on his opponent and then check for movement.

Johnny was seen on his cell while being fitted for new shoes. “Hi Mom, its me. I'm just fine, though there seems to be a few problems with my application."

Iain passed the newspaper stand where the headline read :: Couple Found Slain:: He entered an art supply store looking for drawing items; sketchbook, pencils, but also thicker ink-drawing paper, and of course the other mandatory elements for ink drawing - the ink.

“Mom, quit fooling around, of course you know me, Johnny. Your son. It has not been that long since I called.”

“The glaze covers all surfaces, including the base interior and rim. Weller always had at least a clay rim on the base edge. And, if you look where a small chip broke off of the pitcher you will see…”

Iona passed the electronics department and had to take a peek. “… police reported the bodies of yet another couple found dead in their car. Sources refused to speculate…” Nothing new on the market, which meant she was still cutting edge. Departing, she headed down the mall further.

Leaning down, Dren picked up the watch he had attacked for more than a few minutes and examined the face, band and shook it to see if anything had come loose.

Raven took one of her old business cards out of her wallet and scrawled a number on the back of it. “Call this museum, they’ll be able to verify it for you.”

Alex had now rented a cart and was packing it.

“Okay, I am sorry to have bothered you. … Yes, I must have dialed the number wrong. … Goodbye.” Johnny hung up the phone. He looked concerned and confused.

Placing the high tech titanium plated watch on the counter Dren nodded approvingly and requests two watches of the same make and model, one in black and one in grey. As he departed the store, Dren overheard two women talking. “I hear the police are not connecting the deaths, but the press is saying this is the work of the Creve Coeur Killer.”

Alex, Raven and Iona met in the food court. Alex ate a quick salad, while Iona and Raven tried the special from the Wok and Roll. It wasn’t sushi, but it was quasi oriental. Meal consumed, the girls headed off for Victoria’s Secret for essentials.

Johnny, shopping completed, wandered about window shopping.

Iain picked up an electric razor. No cutting himself shaving in the mirror with this device.

Raven stopped in at the liquor store and picked up a case of Guinness. The local tabloid in the stand read, ::Legend of Creve Coeur Lake Killing our Youth::  A final stop at a coffee shop for large bag of Yemen Mocha coffee beans completed her day.

Eventually everyone met back up at the mall’s garage exit loaded down with bags and packages. Everyone except Alex. After waiting a bit, a search party was sent out. Alex was found pushing the cart with one hand while dragging a couple of large bags with the other. It took some convincing that the guys would not help her carry her bags while she went into “Just one more store”. Everyone headed back to the cars and proceeded to pack them full. There was talk of strapping people to the roof, but eventually everything was packed in.

The cars parked in the garage, the group headed into Cornerstone. Some had to make a couple of trips.

   Johnny kept rather quiet on the way home, seemingly busy with his own thoughts. Back home, he spent a short minute discarding of his shopping bags in his room before he promptly went to search out Hornsby, planning to demand an explanation for his most recent phonecall.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:41, Wed 20 Oct 2004.

   Whomever paid visit to the kitchen area, found Johnny grumpily eating various vegetable and fruit, ranging from carrots to grapes. He moodily tapped his fingers while he waited for somebody - anybody - he could vent his current confusion on. He felt positive noone would come - after all, this manison was large enough for three complete families with butlers and pets, the prohability of bumping into eachother was rather rock bottom.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:31, Wed 20 Oct 2004.

Dren wandered into the kitchen with a huge case of Ginnuess and an even bigger smile. Setting it on the counter he seemed to be humming a tune as he opened the fridge telling Johnny for no reason in particular "Raven got me a whole case. Dinna know what I did, but I doubt I'll end up doin' it again... actualy I doubt I'll find room for it in 'ere!"

   "Good for you," Johnny answered curtly, his eyebrows joining hands above the bridge of his nose. After the slightest, most awkward pause, he explained himself: "I think Hornsby might be packing rotten apples. Earlier today, I made a call home, and well...it sounded like my mother, but she claimed to only have a single daughter and worked as a vet." Johnny wanted to go on, to explain the nature of this vilely foul deceit, but was clueless. "Something's amiss."

Dren was lost, he wasn't even sure if he was being asked a question of if feed back was expected. Any comment made now might sound like anything from words of comfort to words of wisdom and the random off the marks in between. Finally he shrugged and offered what he thought Johnny needed to hear the most right now "Y'might be right."

D'oh.

   Johnny threw Dren a mischevious glance, taking a bite of his carrot. "Of course I'm rig-" he stopped abruptly, choking violently as doubled over the table. Coughing multiple times, like an old-as-the-trees habitual smoker, he turned red in the face, before he at last managed to get the vegetable out of his airpipe. Clearing his throat, he resumed: "-right. Question being, what's going on...well, the question for you would be more along the lines of, where is Raven?"

Dren had already returned his attention mostly to his case of Happniness-Noir, "Why does everyone assume I know where Raven is all th'time? It's not like we were seperated at birth or anythin'." placing one bottle on the fast freeze shelf he started finding a place for two more in a shelf that also held salad dressings "But she'd be th'person t'talk t'bout all this, an if I know Raven, I'd say she went up stairs an started unpackin everythin." turning to grab two more bottles from the case he paused to explain to Johnny "She has t'remove all th'lables, often stackin them on th'nightstand, an hang everythin in her closet before throwin th'tags away." turning back to the fridge he found space for one next to some cocktail sauce while off handedly adding "She's like obsessed sometimes... drives me nuts..." shifting the milk, orange juice and a bottle of soda like a Tetris master he found room for two more bottles, turning to collect them form the case he asked Johnny "I've never known anyone so focused about th'most mundane things." placing the two in the fridge he shrugged "Guess it's kinda cute, in a way." turning back around he started grouping the remaining bottles as if taking inventory "I give her 10 minutes before she's makin' coffee an' takin' it to th'library."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:58, Fri 22 Oct 2004.

   Guessing the drunk Irishman would probably be right, Johnny ventured out to find Raven and settle his confusion.

Meanwhile, Alex had entered the Old World suite, bags hanging from her hands and piled up in her arms, semi-obstructing the view. Having safely navigated the stairs up to the third floor, it seemed she had run out of luck. A bag got tangled in her legs, causing her to stumble and crash against the small bookcase. A sincere British exclamation singed the air, right before the bags all sailed down onto the love seat, half of them sliding down to the floor. Alex rolled her eyes and started to collect her numerous items.

The commotion had alarmed Iona, who'd already dropped off her purchases in her bedroom, filling up the drawers and closet. "Need a hand with that?" she said, picking up a stray bag from behind the ottoman.

While they fluffed, folded and tucked away Alex's impressive wardrobe, Iona addressed some matters that had been on her mind:

"I've been thinking... we're going to be living in kind of tight quarters. Maybe we should establish some common ground rules? Like a shower schedule, for instance. I've set aside a couple of shelves in the bath room for your toileteries. Oh, and a cleaning schedule - there doesn't seem to be a domestic staff here." She dug out a folded paper from her back pocket. "Here. I sketched on two bathroom schedules, depending on whether you're an early riser or rather sleep in a bit. I'm not saying you have to follow it or anything, but I'd just like to establish some kind of routine." Iona's eyes pleaded with Alex. "I'd feel safer if we had some routines."

With a slightly bemused expression on her face, Alex took the neatly-printed note from Iona and looked at it. "I don't tend to sleep in so much, so I suppose this one will do." She pointed at one of the shower schedules that Iona had created.  Studying the note more closely, Alex looked back at the scientist, her eyebrows raised. "Iona...  That's a lot of cleaning.  Couldn't we spread it out a little more?"

Iona smiled. "Well... that kind of depends on how much of a slob you are!" She grinned, relieved now that she had some basic structure established, at least for her own living quarters. The girls continued chatting, getting to know each other while they finished putting away clothes, and miraculously finding space for it all in Alex's drawers.

Raven barely missed colliding into Johnny when she entered the kitchen just as he was leaving. “Sorry, didn’t see you there,” Raven said as she side-stepped around him. She had changed out of the gray sweats and was comfortably wearing blue jeans and a teal colored t-shirt. The bag of Yemen Mocha coffee beans in her hand, she made her way to the counter and the coffee grinder. Looking over at Dren as he sorted his beer she said, “Before you start getting rid of things like the milk and juice to make room for all of those, you might try checking that bar in the basement. I’m sure there’s some sort of cooler down there to store your overflow in.”

   "Perfect!" Johnny beamed. "At least lady Fortuna is still in business." Seeing Raven's most quizzical look, he followed her into the kitchen. "I was just looking for you," he explained, indicating his cell-phone. "Point of the matter is, I was calling back home to my mum earlier today and...either she was completely, positively raving mad, or something has gone seriously awry. She claimed to only have a single daughter and...well, something's amiss, I say."

As if the light were no turned on in Dren's mind, he nodded "Tha's right, we 'ave a bar now!" a quick smile to Raven he added "I knew there was a reason I was keepin you around!"



"Such as?" Dren glaced to Raven first knowing the joke was out there for anyone else willing to catch it before taking two Guinness from the fridge and placing them back in the case.

“Yep, monitoring your various vices gives my life such purpose,” Raven said with a smile.





Raven looked at Dren with an expression like that of a mother scolding an incorrigible teenager. Turning to Johnny she said, “Is there anyone you can call and ask them to check in on your mom? There are several possible explanations as to why your mother might not know you.” None of them good, Raven though to herself. Alzheimer’s, a fall with a blow to the head, improper use of certain medications… “You’re mom might be ill and in need of some assistance.” Raven’s tone was calm but serious. She didn’t want to alarm Johnny but she didn’t want him to ignore the situation, either.

   "So, we save the world, our deaths are somehow removed from history, and in that precise span of time, my mother goes from being the slightest bit paranoid to a complete lunatic? Coincidence? I think not." Tapping his cell against a table in a somewhat annoyed fashion, he browsed a random number - turning out to be the one of a friend and next-door neighbour named Raymond. He introduced himself as John Fairwright, and asked if he could speak with Jeanine Hope.

Putting two more bottles into the case and checking the last one on the 'fast freeze' shelf Dren offered an idea blindly "Maybe our death's have been erased at th'cost of havin' ever been born?" he looked over at Raven asking "Don't some magics require a balance, so as not t'be sendin' th'universe inna tail spin?" It was clear Dren wasn't confident with his theory, but at least he seemed to be trying to form one.

   "Uh huh? Yes? Well, thanks," Johnny spoke into the phone before he hung up. "My neighbour confirmed the story. I have been wiped out of history, and replaced by this strange girl, aptly named Jeanine. So, something's most definitely amiss, but I'm in the woods as to what."

Dren thinks for a moment, then nods with a worried expression on his face "Y'know, this could all b'linked t'why Tom Welling an Natalie Portman aren't on Smallville anymore!" he actually seemed quite serious and disturbed as he pulled his cold Guinness from the freezer and popped it open using his belt buckle.

“I’m not suggesting she’s crazy. If she’s ill… Mom’s can be very good had hiding that for as long as possible. What seems sudden to us may not be.”



“But we’re still here. Why erase our births if they’re just going to bring us back here anyway. Wouldn’t it be easier to keep that history intact?”



“So your mother didn’t used to have a daughter named Jeanine, but now she does and your existence seems to have been wiped out.” Raven pondered the information as she looked at Johnny trying to imagine him as a woman.   “That’s just too weird for words,” Raven said as she shook her head clearing it of the image.



“To maintain cosmic balance in the universe they mucked with your TV shows?” Raven’s tone was a bit mocking. “That’s the trade off for us being alive? They save us but tank an actor’s career?” Raven paused for a moment. “Actually, that might explain the awful Reality TV phenomenon. To balance changing something bad to good – like saving the world, they have to turn something good to bad, so they ruin television.” Raven was smiling, clearly amused at the thought. “Who knows, the next time we ‘save the world’ the trade off could very well be your precious Guiness”
This message was last edited by the player at 20:47, Tue 26 Oct 2004.

Taking a sip from the bottle, Dren didn't quite choke as some might have expected when the crack about a world without real beer was made. Instead he stopped drinking and grabbed the case casually saying "If such a world existed, then don't expect me t'live it!" lifting the case off the counter he informed everyone "I'm going t'put these away an find me a glass." and with that he head from the kitchen.

   "Well, so nobody's got any real ideas?" Johnny asked, sighing. "All this thinking...college's made my brain lazy. Guess we'll have to ask Mr. Hornsby when he decides to make his next, mysterious appearance. I wouldn't be surprised to find this strangeness encompasses much more than just my family."

Dren's head pops back into the kitchen "Is no one listenin'? Ben Affleck's playin' Clark Kent! Y'want strange! That's pretty twisted!" looking at Raven then Johnny, then Raven again he nods "Right, shuttin' up now." then vanishes from view again.

Meanwhile, upstairs in another part of Cornerstone…

With her purchases packed and schedules agreed, Alex gently shooed Iona out of her room and proceeded to change into something a little closer to her style.  A short while later, she strode out of the room wearing a pair of black hipsters and a sleeveless powder-blue t-shirt that clung to her torso.  Clearly pleased with this change of outfit, she strode down the stairs and into the library.

It didn't take her long to locate something of interest, a hefty leather-bound tome that looked as though it hadn't seen the light of day for some time.  She carried it over to the sofa and curled up to study it, gingerly turning the pages as she read.

Iain went straight back to his room, dropped his things and changed into something more akin to his tastes. Then, visibly more relaxed, he took out pencil and sketch book, sat down, and started drawing. Half an hour later, he was giving the finishing touches to the picture of a flying Orean - not really a masterpiece, but pretty faithful.

He smiled, stood up and stretched, then looked around at the various bags he had brought in: with a sigh, he started putting all of his new acquisitions in the proper places.

Once done, he left his room and proceeded to the library.

Iain entered the library, walking straight to the table where he'd piled the books, finding them all like he'd left them. Then he turned around and smiled at Alex: "Hi... Didn't expect to find you here."

Peering over the top of the ancient tome, Alex smiled at Iain.  "Oh?  Now why's that then?"

"Well, for one, I thought you were still dealing with all the... Fun you had at the mall." He grinned. "You know, finding enough room to store everything...."

He looked at the tome she was holding: "Bit of light reading?"

"Mmm...  Well, Iona helped me with that.  I'll never pack things the same way again."  Alex said with a grin.



The smile slowly faded as she looked down at the book.  "Not really, no.  Research, I suppose you could call it."

"I see... The bad kind, eh?" He smiled sympathetically.

"There's a good kind?"  Alex asked with a half-hearted smile.  She shifted position on the sofa, using one of the corners to support her back and crossed her legs underneath her.  Her gaze wandered over to the pile of books Iain had left from earlier.  "Ah.  Of course."

Iain approached the other side of the sofa: "You know, a prequisite for qualifying as good is that I can drop it to help with the bad one... Really, I'd like to."

Alex bit her lip and looked at Iain for a few moments, her thoughts whirring inside her head.  She really could use some help with her research, but that would involve telling him exactly what she was looking into and why.  She was conflicted; on the one side he was a vampire, although granted, he had a soul; but on the other, she felt she could trust him.  Eventually the latter won out and Alex turned the book towards Iain.  There was a full page picture of a vicious-looking demon snarling out of the page.

"That's a Drac'Nienn demon.  They're...  Nasty.  They can eat anything they want, but to fuel their psychic abilities they need to consume brain matter."  Alex paused to turn the book towards herself, frowning at the memories the picture was conjuring up.  "That's what killed my friends.  I told you before that it nearly killed me as well.  I..."  She hesitated, taking a moment to compose her thoughts.

Brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face, Alex took a breath and continued on, her voice softer than before.  "I don't remember much after I woke up.  I saw Sarah..."  Her voice cracked and she looked down, squeezing her eyes shut.  This was harder than she had expected.  "The demon was dead as well.  It had bled out while I was unconscious.  I don't know how long I had been lying in its blood, but I was covered in it.  Since then..."

She looked up at Iain.  "Things have been happening to me.  I keep manifesting these weird abilities.  I need to how far it will go."  Despite all the walls she built up and her attempts to hide it away, the fear was apparant in her eyes.  "I need to know if it will ever stop."

Iain sat down near Alex and looked at her: "Well, as you know I have some kind of... Expertise, in the area of unwanted powers." He replied with a half-smile. "Now, basically, infection from a demon's blood is what turns a human into a vampire... Which means most of the research I did back then should still apply."

He gently put his hand on her forearm, his smile now warmer and more confident: "I think we could find a way to bring you back to your old self - or, at least, control your powers."

Iain's matter-of-fact reaction to her explanation reassured Alex somewhat.  While she hadn't been expecting hysteria, the fact that it didn't even knock him off his stride was a great comfort.  Maybe the old cliche that a problem shared was a problem halved was, in fact true.  A small smile crept back onto her face, finding it funny that sharing her problems with a vampire put them into perspective.

"Thanks.  That would be...  Nice."  Resisting the urge to look at his hand, Alex marvelled at just how cool it was.  While she had touched vampires before, it had generally been a case of her knuckles connecting with their jaw and there hadn't been the time to appreciate their surface temperature.

Lost in her reverie, a thought suddenly crossed her mind and she pulled herself back to the present.  "Do you mind if we keep this little revelation between us for now?  I'm not sure I want to air my dirty laundry in front of everyone at the moment."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:38, Thu 28 Oct 2004.

Iain nodded seriously: "Of course. It will stay between you and me."

He patted her arm: "Don't worry, we'll take care of everything."

Then he smiled to her reassuringly and stood up, going back to the table to put the books back to their shelves.

Once she couldn't see him any more, though, his expression betrayed his real feelings: he had heard very bad stories about demon blood contaminations, and he was really worried about what could happen to Alex.

Good thing vampires are immune to mind reading...
This message was last edited by the player at 11:46, Thu 28 Oct 2004.

In yet another room of the manor:

Finished with her roommating duties, Iona went down to the second floor. She could hear voices coming from the Library, but that wasn't her goal at the moment. She made a beeline straight for the Computer Lab and quickly got acquainted with the equipment. Once done with that, Iona got online. If she was going to live in St Louis, she damned sure going to find out as much about the city as possible.

Soon, the aroma of marinated steaks on the grill drifted throughout the manor. It seeped into every room of the house. It had the effect of a dinner gong on the group and reminded everyone that it was indeed time to eat.

Pieran had discovered some steaks in the fridge earlier. After everyone departed, he had made up a simple but tasty marinade using herbs and ingredients he found in the well-stocked kitchen. Placing the steaks in the marinade, he then wandered about the estate while everyone else went shopping.

He returned from his walk and greeted Johnny and Raven in the kitchen. Pieran took the meat, some potatoes wrapped in foil, headed out onto the patio and fired up the grill. One by one, the other members of the house drifted downstairs as the aroma reached each of them, and beckoned they come down for a bite. Conversation was lively, a salad was being tossed together. Everyone was getting a drink, setting a table and enjoying the picnic as Pieran tended to the steaks.

“In case anyone’s interested,” Pieran said, “I explored the grounds during your spree. I didn’t cover the entire 30-plus acres, but I did happen into the….er…storage shed. We have several. One in particular caught my eye. Inside I found some rock salt, asphalt sealant, and so on. But there was also a concealed oubliette.” He grimaced sharply, angrily at himself. “Sorry. A trap door. I explored it. In short, we have a dungeon…and a troll living within the dungeon.”

He paused, lifted the lid on the grill and flipped a steak over, then closed it.

“Okay, the part about the troll isn’t true, but the dungeon part is. Actually, it’s an underground jail with four cells. Correction: three cells. The fourth is demolished and unusable. Something once incarcerated broke out, quite violently. The bars, strong enough to house your basic supernatural or preternatural critter, were fully broken and twisted away. From the absence of evidence I’d say it happened long ago and theoretically is of no concern to us other than that we have a dungeon suitable to house three hostiles.

“In addition, the upper ‘storage room’ is built to suppress not only physical force, but sound. So, speak loudly if you go inside. I surmise that the sound proofing is intended to suppress the sounds of prison inmates –a howling werewolf, a singing nun, whatever.

“There is a large van parked beside the…let’s call it, ‘detention facility.’ The truck is old and evidently was used as a kind of paddy wagon for the aforementioned detainees. It has a full tank of gasoline and keys in the ignition. It runs well.

“Before I forget, there are four horses in the stables and although the coincidence of four horses and four prison cells is alarming, it is most likely just coincidence. I doubt the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse once resided here. There is also a hay wagon and a romantic carriage for two,” he finished, his eyes lingering accidentally on Iona at the end.

He sipped his drink as he tended to the meat again.

“Finally, there is a chapel complete with a basin of fresh Holy Water –please take careful note all ye who harbor issue with said precious liquid.”

He stretched in fatigue. It had been a long day with interrupted sleep. “As for the dungeon,” he continued, “there are security cameras stationed inside. I haven’t thoroughly examined our security office but there could be taped records of the history of Cornerstone going back to the time of their installation. If so, an examination of those records may give us a glimpse at what had the might to wrest itself free of its prison…though I concede it is a long shot. Of course, the easiest method would be to ask Hornsby upon next seeing him.

“Speaking of which, I did not see any groundskeepers or caretakers while I was about the property. I find that…unusual. Other than that, from what I can tell, the Cornerstone grounds are in nominal order. Oh, did I mention the troll?”
This message was last edited by the player at 23:37, Thu 28 Oct 2004.

“Is there a cemetery on the estate?” Raven asked Pieran. “It’s not uncommon to have family plots at places like this. You’d be surprised the information you can get from really old tombstones about the people who came before you.”

Raven was suddenly struck by a thought and turned to Johnny. “That copy of your birth certificate that Hornsby gave you – who does it list as your mother and father?”

"I did not see one and judging from what I did see I must conclude that we will not find one anywhere on the grounds. I might be wrong about that....but.....it doesn't feel like there will be.

"By the way, nice threads, everyone."
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:31, Fri 29 Oct 2004.

Alex found herself a comfortable place to sit and picked at her relatively small portion of dinner, listening to Pieran chat about the grounds.  Taking a sip of the fruit juice she had poured, she asked the question that had been bothering her since the shopping trip.

"Did anyone see the news while we were out?"

Dren approached the grill and grab the first steak that fit two requirements... 1, it was rare and 2 it was the largest rare available. He skipped the salad clearly saving room for... yep, another but smaller, yet still rare steak. Pausing his brushed it off saying "I'm takin' Iain's... he's on a liquid diet." and joined his beer at Raven's table.

"Which means, I'm taking your beer in return, right?" Iain grinned.

"Didn't think so... Hey, it feels like I lost something here: what's with all the talk about birth and death?"

   Johnny gratiously served himself off the food, enthusiastically complimenting Le Chéf, Pieran. After enjoying the food and idle conversation for a while, however, he aired what had been clouding his mind for the last hours.

   "No, no news," he admitted, trying to gather the attention of the others as he quickly resumed to avoid any sidetracking. "However, I made a call back home earlier today, and made quite a discovery - of course, nothing compared to Pieran's cavetroll, but nonetheless, I am ranting badly."

   He proceeded to explain the details of his mother not being who she was three days ago, how she had a daughter named Jeanine who was peculiarly aptly named, not to mention close to his own age. "I am guessing that more things have been skewed that just my family - Dren mentioned something about discrepancies in the cast of Smallville, but I cannot confirm that story. Any ideas on what's going on here?"

Pieran spoke while finishing a chew of his steak. “Ideas? Lots. Guesses? Plenty. Facts? Hardly a one. It’s not my area. But I do know this: physical reality is consistent with universal laws. Where the laws do not apply, there is no reality. So, either you’ve been disowned, or the laws governing our provincial realism have changed and therefore the reality you once knew has been …altered. It’s why your mother disavows any knowledge of you, and why Mr. Telarwin’s television shows are not as he remembers them.”

He rested his knife and fork upon his plate and sat back. The chair creaked with fine age as he sipped wine from the goblet before him. “There are theories purporting to explain such phenomenon,” he continued, “most notably M-theory. I am not a physicist and therefore ill equipped to explain it, but what little I’ve read in grocery lines and magazine stands says to me that there exist an infinite number of realities, and therefore, an infinite number of laws describing them. M-theory does not claim it could be possible for an observer to ‘jump’ from one reality to the next. If anything, it claims just the opposite, much to its creator’s disappointment.

“Of course, M-theory does not account for another kind of M-theory which we might call, ‘Mmmagical intervention,’ which by definition, evokes an alteration of the laws governing provincial reality. Therefore, there are several possibilities: (1) that we have ‘tunneled’ via magical gate and now reside in one of the infinite dimensions defined by superscience; (2) that our inexplicable departures from former homes, destinations, and lives, into Ninti’s world, created a paradox shock wave back in our native world, whose ripple effect we are only now beginning to see; (3) that something fantastic happened to our world while we were away, something sufficiently profound to affect spacetime -the introduction of an arch-demon or demigod, perhaps. According to Hornsby, our ‘business’ here could correspond to such a view.

“There are other possibilities but they only grow more bizarre as I try to solve this conundrum.

“In any event, we could expect to find many anomalies while in St. Louis. For example, I assume, Johnny, that if your mother validly acknowledges no kinship with you, that her depiction of reality is correct, then a genetic profile of your DNA would not correspond to hers and therefore, you are not her son…according to local space-time. Despite your knowledge of a particular timeline, on a cellular level, you are a different organism from your mother, with a different biological morphology. This raises the question then -while we exist within local spacetime, whose son are you? Whose children are we?”

He paused, gazing at the color of his wine. “That question is not casual. An altered heritage has profound implications,” Pieran went on. “It entails an erasure of individual history to some magnitude. For instance, Alexis was not the Slayer in our homeworld and I do not say that she is the Slayer now. But even a tiny alteration in the laws governing our reality could alter the sum of her individual reality with relative ease,” he said, nodding shyly to the swanish beauty. “I suggest we be prepared for anything.

“I’m very glad you liked your steak, Mr. Hope. This represents the first time I never ruined one.” He raised his wine in toast to Johnny and then, to the table, draining the goblet past his lips.

“Now then, fair grace us, Alexis. What were you saying about news?”

Dren had frozen, mid cut, and listened to Pieran without so much as removing the knife from his steak. When Pieran was done he leaned over to Raven asking, "What th'hell did he just say?"

Alex's eyes glazed over when Pieran started to talk about M-theories, alternate universes and skewed heritages.  For whatever reason, she didn't seem overly bothered about where here actually was and who her parents were.

She did look up and pay attention when her name was mentioned, shortly followed by talk of the Slayer line.  She wondered if she was a Potential here and who the current Slayer was.  It was an academic question anyway, she was far too old to ever be called for that particular duty.



"I just wondered if anyone knew what was happening in the world outside of Cornerstone."  She replied with a casual shrug, taking a sip of her fruit juice.

Raven pondered the best way to turn Pieran’s hyperbole into something Dren could relate to. “Pieran thinks we’re all stuck in a bad episode of Sliders. I’m inclined to believe that Pieran comes from a dimension different from ours because I’ve never seen a supermarket rag that discusses physics and M-theory.”



“Haven’t had much of an opportunity to do that just yet but, I am curious now what other discrepancies we might uncover.”

Pieran blushed in fair shame. "Well, the 'supermarket rag' was Discover magazine. Scientific American is in the Adult Section; I don't go anywhere near there. The cover said, 'Do Scientists Really Believe Our Universe is a Glazed Doughnut? You Bet Your Sprinkles They Do!' Something like that. The lady in front of me had about a billion Food Stamps so I had a couple hours to kill. But like I say, it isn't my thing. When the article got to membranes, tensors, and.....wait, let me get it....ah yes, quantum foam, I'd had enough and switched over to a magazine specializing in Elvis sightings. And when even that became too much for me, I settled finally on Martha Stewart Living. I never knew you could do so much with a doilie. Now she's in prison. Imagine my disillusionment.

"As for Sliders, well, I've never seen it. Was that a show about magical gates or maple-glazed dimensions? I thought it was about greasy hamburgers. Anyway, don't answer. I didn't watch the show for a reason and I'll shut up now."

Raven cut her steak in half and turned her plate towards Dren. “Your supermarket actually stocks Discover Magazine near the checkout? The only thing you find near the register at my grocery store is celebrity gossip magazines and tabloids. Headlines that read I Gave Birth To An Alien Baby That Looks Just Like Elvis! I saw a local version of one earlier today. What was that headline… something about the Legendary Lake Killer of Creve Coeur preying on the local youth, or something like that. Sounded like a plot for a teen slasher film. Every now and then there is some truth at the core of those stories, but you really have to sift through a lot of bull to find it. We actually found a lead to one of our trinkets in a tabloid once.” Raven looked at Dren, “You remember the Heart of Aphrodite necklace that some amateur hikers found and the story of the supposed orgy it caused in their camp that night?” Raven looked at the group. “The necklace actually has no supernatural powers and in no way was responsible for the escapades that took place that night. It’s just an excuse for people to act out, but it’s still a fine piece of jewelry and fetched us a nice price.”

"I saw that too. According to the St. Louis Post-Dispatch Online, the police have no witnesses, no leads, and no suspects, only the quote 'most bizarre crime scene they'd ever seen' end quote." Iona sounded distracted. She was still chugging along the train of thought that Pieran had put in motion earlier. He was probably on to something there.

"You know, I actually am a physicist, and I think Pieran is right. Not in the details, but at least about string theory and that it might be the key to all this." She cast a compassionate look towards Alex, silently apologetic for the boredom that was sure to follow.

"The basis of string theory is that the world we know of consists of teenie tiny little vibrating strings, way way smaller than atoms and quarks and any other elements we've ever conceived. There's more to the theory, of course, but what's intriguing here is this: if the theory is correct, then our reality contains not 3 or 4 - three spacial and one in time - but 11 dimensions, and there are countless of parallel universes - some completely different from ours, others only slightly different." She was getting carried away, she knew it, but the thoughts were actually forming as she spoke, and now she couldn't stop. "Can you imagine it? This theory is something that scientists from Einstein and forward have considered to be the Holy Grail of physics, but it's been imposisble to prove it. And we have probably been DOING it, jumping between parallel universes! As for the magic angle, Pieran: I think you're wrong. I mean, what if this thing we call magic is nothing more than a practical way of harnessing the power of string theory? This totally explains in a scientific way everything that has been classified as magic. Just think of the implications and the consequences!" Her mind was suddenly filled of images: the Swedish king Carl XVI Gustav handing her the Nobel Prize in physics for proving the string theory; years later, the Swedish queen Victoria handing over a second Nobel Prize, this time for successfully applying the string theory, thus resolving the world's energy crisis and also ending world hunger... Iona looked up, suddenly seeing the gaping faces all around her. She shrunk in her seat, fervently wishing for a hole in the ground to open up beneath her.

"... or you could just ask Hornsby about your mom, Johnny" she mumbled into her glass of water, avoiding their glances.

"I like that," Pieran said. "Really. THAT'S a magic I can live with. I've seen some wild magic and I've seen some awesome physics; I don't pretend to fully understand either. But if I had to choose, I'd go for a worldview like yours. Maybe you can prove it one day." Her smiled and saluted Iona with his cup, stupidly taking a last sip of wine for his toast. There wasn't any.

"Well, maybe I've had enough wine for tonight. I'll hold a proper salute until tomorrow. Meanwhile, what was that about those killings?"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:33, Sun 31 Oct 2004.

“Those killings? Oh, not much more to tell really. The Press seems to be trying to make it more then it is. The police report that they are not connected.” Iona still had that distant look in her eyes.

“Three sets of couples killed in different locations on different nights. For a big city, the news is making a big deal out of it. In New York, three couples killed in Central Park would be considered a slow weekend.” She shrugged as Iona mentally retreated. What would she wear for her acceptance for the Noble prize?

   "That was precisely my plan, Iona," Johnny said. "The rascal is gone off the face of the Earth however...I couldn't find him, anyway." Following the conversations, seeing that they most likely weren't leading anywhere, he added: "Are we supposed to sit around and wait for Hornsby to lead our noses, or is a bit of initiative in its place?"

"Remember what Frederick the Great said, Mr. Hope. 'L'audace, l'audace, toujours l'audace.' My vote leans toward initiative. Strike first, strike fast, strike hard, strike sure, strike again. For the past years I have begun my investigations -my hunts- with rumor and innuendo. The paper is a good place to begin. Each time I start that way, I inevitably find something.

"Johnny, where do you say we start first? Shall we pay your family a visit? I would like to see how your genes compare to your mother's; have Iona provide the DNA typing. There are two possibilities and I want Iona to correct me if I'm wrong. Either perception has been altered, or what is real has been altered. If you show little genetic variance to you mother, then we know that your mom's perceptions have changed. Much like hypnosis. However, if there is high variance, we know that what is real has been altered. Knowing the nature of the world we're in, that is, an understanding of the laws govering our experience, will give us a tactical advantage.

"Or would you prefer we skip that and go straight into investigating what the police find so disinteresting?

"Given what Hornsby has described as our job here, given the twisted remains of a dungeon cell on our property, given the staggering contradictions Johnny observed concerning his lineage, and Dren's observation of his fuddled television programs, I'd say we're off the map here, people. Here there be monsters! And whether we like that tale or not, Johnny's case tells me, we are already lost in it. We have maybe more to do than merely bust ghosts; we may need to set things right."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:44, Tue 02 Nov 2004.

Alex did her best to pay attention to Iona, but after the first sentance she was already lost.  From the expression on her face, it seemed that what she did understand, she didn't agree with.  She remained silent, not really having anything to add to conversation.  At least, not at the level Iona was operating on.  Taking a few bites from her salad, she listened to the back and forth.

After Pieran's last few words, she felt compelled to speak up, her tone that of someone utterly unconvinced by the soundness of the idea.  "I'm no forensic scientist, but I've seen a few episodes of CSI.  How exactly do you propose we get a sample of Mrs Hope's DNA?  Break in and steal some hairs from her comb?  Swipe her toothbrush?"  Alex shrugged and leant back in her chair.  "There are monsters everywhere.  I'm not convinced that there is anything that needs to be set right with regards to our circumstances.  Just because it isn't what we know as home, doesn't mean its wrong."

"I agreew with Alex," Dren stated as he began cutting into the portion of meat Raven provided "We should b'gratefull for our lives, not concerned with th'detials... for now. I'm more interested t'know if our missin prisoner an these killin's are connected. Y'don't see me writtin to th'WB t'tell them that Ben Affleck should never, ever, be allowed t'play Clark Kent... an If I called home an found out I was never born - we'll then I guess m'dad's nose aint broke either!" going back to his steak he added "Or, at least it wasn't m'fault."

“Set things right? So now we’ve gone from Sliders to Quantum Leap.” Raven shrugged. “I suppose Hornsby could be a stuffier, tweedier version of Al.” Looking at Johnny she smiled and said, “Maybe that’s why you don’t see or hear him leave. Maybe he’s a hologram and that PDA he’s always carrying communicates with Ziggy.”

“At any rate, if we’re really to mess with the ‘scheme’ of reality and not just be ghostbusters, I think we should wait for a little input. We can’t ‘set things right’ if we don’t know what right is. We could just end up screwing things up even more.”

“I agree with Alex, if you go off trying to collect a DNA sample from a woman who claims to have no knowledge of Johnny, then I see a restraining order in your future and possibly the need for bail money.” Raven looked at Johnny and Iona. “I’m sorry, you obviously had connections to people that you may now be separated from. At least you know you’re loved ones are alive, even if you can’t be with them.”

Raven stood, collecting her empty dishes as she spoke to Dren. “I’ve got some work I’d like to do tonight. If you want, we can check out that busted out cell first thing in the morning and see if we can turn up anything about what broke out of there. For now, you know where to find me if you need me.” Raven smiled at Dren before turning from the table to carry her dishes into the kitchen.

Alex watched Raven clean up her dishes, finishing her own food shortly afterwards.  The evening was young, there was nothing on the television and she had energy to spare.  "Anyone fancy a night on the tiles?"  She asked, fully intending to hit the town on her own if needs be.

Pieran rose from the table, an inner flame burning in his eye. "Not me, thank you," he said, his voice reclaiming it's softness and courtesy. "Perhaps another time. Ladies, please excuse me," he added, nodding with special attention to Alexis. It was clear he enjoyed the open invitation but just as clear that 'a night on the tiles' was something he just couldn't do. "My apologies for mis-speaking."

Plates in hand, he turned toward the kitchen, making way his exit.

Iain pondered for an instant: "Well, I'm kind of a night guy... Regardless of the obvious, that is. I think I'll join you. Besides, I would feel bad leaving you go alone - bad for the city, I mean: who knows what mischiefs you Potentials are capable of?" He grinned.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:56, Mon 01 Nov 2004.

Dren finished off his steaks just shortly after Raven had left, downing the rest of his drink he brought the mug to the table as if to herald his two cents worth "Well it's Friday night, an normaly I'd be all about havin' a good time... but unless Iona's willin t'go with me!" he looked to her for a reaction before turning his attention to Iain and Alex "I refuse to be considered the vampire's wingman!" standing to collect his dishes, in a methodical manner that was obviously uncharacteristic of him, he paused to wait for any information that would be his deciding factor.

Standing and gathering her plates, Alex looked around those still remaining.  "Anyone else?  Johnny?  Iona?"

As he made his way to the kitchen he paused and turned toward the others. "Listen guys, if you don't mind, I'll get the mess or you can drop your stuff off in the kitchen. Either way but I'd kind of like to do the dishes myself, if that's all right. I enjoy the work. Then you can get an earlier start on your evening. Whaddya say?"

   "I would have declined, insisting that we do someting more productive, but...what the heck. I'm in." Failing to appear much along the lines of enthused, he headed for the door, intending to get into something slightly less comfortable, considerably more stylish.

Iona snapped away from her internal train of thought as Raven mentioned her loved ones. She looked down slightly and just a bit sad.





With all that has happened in such a short time, it seemed like a good idea. Just to cut loose and live a little. This could be a welcomed distraction. If these were going to be her new housemates, at least for the present, well, then it would be better to get to know them.

“Why not,” Iona said. “Just give a girl a couple of minutes to get ready?” Besides, if she was going to have a roommate as well as, this seemed like a good way to get to know Alex a little.

Dren nodded his compliance to Iona before entering the kitchen and taking Pieran up on his offer. Catching Iona before heading to change he told her, "Meet me in the Game Room when yer ready." he said with a smile before turning and taking off into the house.

As he passed by the Library he paused to check in on Raven and inform her of the decision and invitation Alex made to go out for the night, "Sounds like Pieran is stayin' behind. S'far I think he's th'only one. Y'sure you want to stay held up in here?"

Raven was surveying the books and making a mental inventory of what was there. Occasionally she’d pull a volume down and flip through a few pages before returning it to the shelves. She looked up when Dren entered.



“Let’s see, I could go out to a place with obnoxiously loud music, annoying flashing lights, and crowded with rude drunks – or I could stay here curled up with a good book and some hot coffee listening to Nickel Creek and Alison Krauss.” Raven smiled at Dren. “It’s a tough choice, but I think I’ll stay. I want to familiarize myself with the collection of books we have here. You go ahead. I’ll be fine.”

Pieran happily accepted the post-meal bric-a-brak and wishing everyone a good night, went straight to work.

Dren smiled, "Don't worry, we'll be back before sunrise... vampire 5th Wheel and all." with a nod he left Raven to her own devices and went to get ready for the night.

Marked on the map in the car was “Nightclub” and an arrow pointing to a location along the Mississippi river. Half an hour’s drive later, through the center of St. Louis, the group reached the river. Passing through the opening in the floodwall, the huge metal doors had been retracted until the next spring’s flood season. The car pulled from the smooth streets of downtown St. Louis and onto the rough cobblestones that lined the river levee. After bumping down along the riverfront for a short while, the group piled out of the car in front of The Barge, a local hotspot. The large old barge, riding low in the river, was moored to the shore with thick manila line and steel cable. A gangway stretched from the shore to the barge. The area was dark, but not lifeless. People, all dressed to impress, were heading up the gangway, through the steel hatch and into the former hold. The muffled sound of a base beat was thumping throughout the hull as the waters of the Mississippi gently lapped at the cobblestones.

Stepping through the hatch doorway and down a short ladder, the group entered the club. The bouncer checked ID’s and collected a small fee from the men. It was early, but the place was already hopping. A live band was getting set up as the sound system was pumping club music. Flashing blue and black lights illuminated the main dance floor where some couples were already dancing. A long bar and some tall tables, with bar stool seats was positioned along the stern of the barge. Along the riverside wall, large portholes were illuminated with underwater spotlights. The murky silt filled river flowed past the windows. The constantly changing view gave the impression that you were moving and told you that this dance club had sunk to a new low in dance clubs.

Past the main dance floor and the small stage, there was another room where the music was not quite as loud. Comfortable lounging couches with low tables were scattered about for small groups and cozy couples to drink, chat and flirt with abandon.

Club waitresses drifted about balancing trays of drinks while wearing a sexy version of an 1800’s river rat. Black and white striped tops, torn and tied to revealed cleavage, bare shoulder and tight tummies with a pair of tattered jeans cut just above the knees.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:09, Fri 05 Nov 2004.

Dren smiled as the entered the club and looked around like a kid at an amusment park just trying to decide which ride he wanted to jump on first, "Dinna y'jus' love th'club life! Get's th'eart racin' th'blood pumpin' an' th'energy surgin' through ya." stopping he cast a sad, yet sarcastic look toward Iain adding "Oh... oops. I forgot, y'dinna 'ave a pulse." with a smile he shrugged in a playfully smug manner before attempting to return his attention to Iona whom he felt somewhat obligated to entertain... after all he did invite her, even if she would have come along there was still etiquettes to uphold. "Can I buy ya, a drink?" trying to put her mind at easy he smiled "Dinna worry, I'm not gonna try an' get y'drunk an' seduce ya... I'd perfer y'sober for that." finishing with a sly wink, his tone indicated he might be kidding... might be kidding. As always it was hard to get a solid read on Dren.

Before Iona could answer, a buxom blonde in a leather skirt and spike heel boots drifted into Dren’s face.

“Ooo, Love that accent! You can buy me a drink. Just keep talking. I am Brandy, like the drink.” *giggle* said Brandy. Her friends grabbed her arm and laughingly pulled her away. She shook them off but then followed. Looking back at Dren, she mouthed, “Come! Dance with me!” as her friends dragged her onto the floor. She looked back again, locking her eyes with Dren’s and then looked him up and down with a quick, but seductive smile. She then started dancing, with a loose hip style.

"Well, apparently Dren found himself a girl for the night." Iain grinned.

Then he turned to Alex: "So... This was your idea: wanna dance?"

   Well, this place wasn't the least bit cheap... Johnny couldn't help thinking, drawing back to the wall to observe the others and see if he could find anything - or one - of particular interest, while his thoughts drifted. God, why does this music have to be that loud?

Dren looked over at Iona, then back to the dance floor, then to Johnny and finally Alex, Iain seemed to be left out of his flow of evaluation. Shurgging he told Iona "Irishmen, don't dance... we drink..." with that head headed straight for the bar and catching Brandy's eye to point where he was headed. Let the game begin. he thought as he broke eye contact with the blond.

Alex noted the sour look on Johnny's face as he sidled away from the group, watched Dren lay down the basics for an evening's fun and then turned to Iain, grinning.  She raised her voice so that she could be heard over the thumping bass line and nodded.  "Dancing is good!"

Threading her way through the bodies on the dance floor, she found a spot that she liked, turning out to be quite competent at the whole dancing thing.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:58, Sun 07 Nov 2004.

Although not as adept as Alex, Iain could surely hold his own. Plus, he had the preternatural agility and stamina to make up for the relatively limited skill.

A couple of minutes later, he got close enough to put his head near hers and commented: "You know, I already counted four guys who are definitely checking you out!"

"Well, there may be another one, but I'm not quite sure: he might be trying to figure out how he'd look in your clothes." He added with a grin, stepping back again.

Iona looked around the dark noisy room with the flashing lights. And she smiled.

In any other circumstance, she would have felt uneasy in such an environment, where chaos clearly reigned. But the chaos was superficial. Underneath the surface, everything followed the same age-old rites of mating ritual that humans had followed since the dawn of time. Not that Iona cared much for that game. The important thing for her was the music. Now that was order -  music was nothing more than mathematics. Well, math and a good beat. Her smile grew wider as the group walked further into the club. Excellent!





Iona's smiled turned into an amused grin when the blonde tried to snatch up Dren. She was surprised that her wiles didn't work on him though.

"Oh sure... What about Lord of the Dance?" she teased him as she trailed him to the bar. "I'll have a Red Bull," she said to the bartender. "No, no vodka, just the Red Bull. And ice. And a maraschino cherry too while you're at it." Turning towards Dren, she shrugged. "What can I say? Maraschino cherries are my Achilles heel."

Dren nodded in agreement "Exactly what I said, Irish Men don't dance!"



"See, we're startin' off on th'right foot already... y'tell me yer weaknesses. In no time we'll b'playin' darts an' makin' Fabio back 'ome, jelous." Dren ordered the vodka from Iona's drink to go with his Black and Tan.

A high-pitched scream was heard over the music. Well, it was more like a squeal. A very nicely dressed young dark skinned woman waved her arms toward the door and weaved rapidly through the crowd. A commotion at the door mirrored the dance floor action as a sleek looking young blonde haired man, who looked like he could really use a tan, rushed to meet her.

They made a bit of a scene as they met at the edge of the dance floor. “Tom! You said you could not make it! I am Sooo glad to see you”, she shouted as they met in a crushing embrace, complete with a spin and a lot of kissing.

“Towanda,”   he shouted back, “I just can’t stay away from you, you know that. I bailed after my parents went out.” He kissed her again and then stated defiantly, “Screw them! They do not run my life. Lets dance!” With that, they blended into the sea of bouncing people on the floor.

   Johnny stepped over to Iain's side , pointing a thumb towards the couple in question. "There seems to be a guy who shares your condition of skin over there," he noted. "Can't be entirely sure, though."

Iain stopped dancing with Alex as Johnny approached him, and got closer to listen.

Then looking at the couple, he shook his head and commented: "No rest for the wicked! Thanks!"

He patted Johnny on his shoulder and, following the music, he went back to Alex, smiling; then, before she could ask what they were talking about, he pulled her close, so that only she would hear him: "Looks like we have a minor problem, and I kinda forgot my stake..."

A short while later, Johnny felt a strong hand on his shoulder. The hand spun him around and Johnny found himself face to face with a guy sporting a scraggly goatee, a multicolored shirt, unbuttoned to the top of his stomach, untucked on one side and with bar breath.

Exhaling in Johnny’s face, “Phil! I knew it was you! I was just sitting at the bar and I looks o’vr and I sees you and I says to myself “That’s my old buddy Phil!” Hey buddy, how are you? You look good, man! C’mon and buy us a drink just like old times.”

"Shame on you."  Alex grinned back, before glancing over to where the over-excitable Towanda and Tom had been.  She inwardly sighed.  Not tonight.  Please, not tonight.  Can't a girl just have fun for one evening?  "Did you want to check it out?"  She asked, looking back to Iain.

Johnny spun quickly, smiling without missing a beat. "Hey..ehm...you!" he said, desperately trying to make out who the man was, wondering if this might have something to do with interdimensional travel.

“Ah Phil! Don’t play me like ‘dat Man! You’s and me were buds, in highschule man. Remember Jefferson High school?” he said as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, and steadied himself by grabing onto Johnny’s shoulders. “We were in that one class, remember? Buy us a drink so’s we can catchup on old times.” His eyes were bloodshot and glassy. He started to look around for more “buddies” to meet.

   "To be quite honest, I have no idea who you are," Johnny said, shrugging as he tried to keep a more comfortable distance to the man. "However, I'll let you refreshen my memory and tell me what's new in town - ey, barkeep, give this man a drink!" Johnny attempted to keep half an eye on Iain and the mysterious, pale one, whilst he let his drunk companion babble away.

As the music changed to something that could actually be used to dance - as opposed to moving frenetically around without rhyme or reason, Iain replied: "Actually, no, but we may have to."

He shot another look at the couple, thinking: "I'll tell you what: they seem to be having fun, I don't think they are going anywhere soon. Why don't we just keep an eye on them for now?"

He offered his hand to Alex and smiled, inviting her to some actual dance - the kind involving two people doing something together: "What do you think?".
This message was last edited by the player at 20:01, Tue 09 Nov 2004.

Accepting the invitation with a gracious smile, Alex leant forward so that Iain could hear her.  "I think that's a good idea."  All she wanted was to have a fun evening and wipe away some of the stress from the past couple of days.  While she wasn't surprised that Iain seemed capable of enjoying himself, she was mildly surprised that Johnny seemed to be lurking instead of dancing or even drinking with Dren and Iona.

Alex shrugged lightly, letting the thoughts go as she danced with Iain.  What they did wasn't her problem and she wasn't going to worry about it any more.

The music rotated between classic rock, club dance music, and some current tunes. The Barge was hopping and full of people. The occasional checks on Tom and Towanda, revealed two things. First and most obvious was that Tom danced like a “White Boy” with no rhythm. Towanda did not seem to care and hung all over him with kisses now and then.

The second thing noticed by the observers was that Tom also became flushed and sweaty with the exertion from dancing. They were really enjoying each other’s company and danced like no one was looking.

Johnny was trying to keep up with his new buddy’s constantly changing trains of thought. Willie (the “snappy dresser’s” name) kept his comments about their “past” rather general and lacking a lot of names. Things like “Remember when that one girl slapped that dude in the cafeteria? Boy she was mad,” and “That math class was a drag.” He sucked his drink down fast and wanted the bartender to “Shet up ‘nother round, thish is my old buddy Phil!”

  "Yeah, yeah, sure," Johnny said impatiently, buying another round. "Is there anything special happening in town?" he asked, articulating very clearly.

“Special?” Willie replied. “I don’t know if it is special or not, but It is not going to get me. Nope. No sir-ry. Not gonna get Willie. And you know why? Well I will tell you. “Cuz I am not a “couple”. he said while hooking his fingers in the air to make the quotation marks. “That is what It wants. So if you are not with a girl, you won’t be It’s … you are such a good friend. Have I told you that, Phil?” Willie swung his arm up and gave Johnny a friendly clap on the shoulder.

   Amazed to have gotten something semi-coherent out of the man - that was, if he wasn't just ranting - Johnny bought him another shot of whisky, trying to avoid phyiscal contact.
   Capitalizing on the man's focus on the drink, he muttered something about having to do this another time, then blended in with the others. "Yeah, right," he muttered under his breath, trying to make some sense of the man's ramblings as he casually watched Iain and his fellow alergic.

Iona blushed. Of course he would bring up Pieran. Not that there was anything to bring up. No no. Just because she'd caught some of Pieran's looks in her direction... Nope, nothing at all. She shook it off, remembering a certain look Dren had sent Raven's way the day before. Iona was pretty sure her telepathic abilities wouldn't be required to uncover Dren's weak spot. She wouldn't have used them in any case, heavens no. Prying into people's minds was more unsettling than one would imagine. Like some of the stuff she'd glimpsed within that she-vamp... Iona took a hasty gulp of her drink to wash down the sour after-taste the mere memory brought her.

Her thoughts returned to the matter at hand. So, Dren wanted to play games, huh? She smiled, almost wickedly, dimples playing. "Ah, but you see, this is also one of my strengths as well," Iona said as she snatched up the cherry and did away with it in a few bites. She really did love maraschino cherries. She also felt certain enough in her assessment of the Irishman's feelings towards the archaeologist to engage in some harmless bantering. The cherry stem was twirling between her fingers. "Watch."

The stem disappeared into her mouth, only to re-appear a few moments later with a tidy little knot in the middle. Apparently, Iona had picked up all sorts of knowledge while in college.

"Tada!" She presented her feat with a tiny flourish.

Dren watched as Iona seemed to lighten up a bit. It was a side to her he'd neither expected nor was disappointed seeing. In fact it was quite nice to see she did know how to have fun... and more fun. "My, w'at a talent'd tounge y'ave. But if y'think that's impressive, y'should see w'at I can do wit'Lifesavers." Leaning back to pick up his drink he smiled devilishly, as if it didn't matter if she got it or not.

Iona grinned. "Actually, it's not the tongue that does the work; it's the teeth. See--" Thankfully, the squeal from Towonda and Tom interrupted her. She broke off and turned around to see what the big fuss was about, and was about to dismiss the couple as harmless... when she had the misfortune of witnessing Tom's dancing: a typical case of White Man's Over-Bite, as Billy Crystal once said in that movie. Iona cringed and looked away before sight caused permanent damage to her sense of rhythm.

Dren studied the two people for a moment, then disregarded them when they blended in with the crowd. Glancing across the room at Iain attempting to dance and Alex grinding enough to take the focus off of him, he couldn't help but lean back and ask his drinking buddy "Let's get personal!" He spun to face Iona and began holding up bar and taking a sip of his beer before saying "I'll answer any question you ask... with total Honesty. If I get to ask you anything I want." The look in Dren's eye may have almost been intimdating, it was like he had a big question already lined up but was ready to throw himself on the altar of humility first. The ball was certainly in Iona's court.

She looked skeptical. "Really. Aren't you worried I'll just dig up the 411 on you without your help?" But her curiosity was peaked. What the heck. Let's see how honest he really is. "OK. You're on." She leaned over and placed her fingers on his wrist, almost as if she were checking his pulse. The physical contact allowed her more control over her delving, thus avoiding digging too deep into Dren's psyche (perish the thought); just enough to sense if he was being truthful or not. Looking straight into his eyes, she considered briefly if she should ask about his most embarrassing moment in life. But no, that would be cruel. Although this question might not be any kinder: "Why haven't you told Raven you're in love with her?"

Dren broke eye contact and actually laughed as he took another drink; liquid courage perhaps? Finally he looked back at Iona but his mood had changed. "First of all, a guy like me doesn't know what Love is. I think Raven's attractive, she's smart, she's classy, she's confident an gifted in ways tha' I can only 'ope t'be. She's got great legs an a killer smile but she went to college an I dinna even graduate High School. She was learning about Egyptian History th'same time I was breaking out of a Mexican Prison. She's unlike any woman I've ever met, an she never stopped surprisin' me. She's th'brains o'our team, I'm just the guy who carries all the heavy stuff. Truth is I can't do this work wit'out her, but she could find another mercenary in a heartbeat. Would I do anything for her? Yes. Does that mean I love her?" he shrugged and took another drink "But 'ell, even if I did love her, a guy like me dinna 'ave much of a chance anyway. Not like we 'ave much in common, y'know? She comes from a world of ball room dancing and I come from... this." He gestured to the loud room filled with pulsating light before taking another drink and seeing if his answer was to Iona's satifaction.

It was, although technically he hadn't answered her question. At least he was being honest, if only to her. It didn't take a telepath to see he was lying to himself. Poor guy. Of course he was in love with Raven. And they had tons of stuff in common; as far as Iona could see, they made a perfect couple, and actually already acted as such. Dren was just letting his own insecurities get in his way. But he would have to resolve that on his own. Iona shook her head.

Men, she thought. Take equal measures of stupid pride and animal stubbornness, package it into some muscles and brawn, and slap on some bad aftershave.

Out loud, she said: "Way to be confident there, Dren. Ever heard of self-fulfilling prophecies? Remind me to tell you the Pygmalion effect sometime."

Dren coughed "N'thanks. I 'ate Pygmies! Little bastards tried to kill me an'Raven fer stealin' 3 leaves off a 'uge freakin' plant! It was like gettin' shot wit' 4 dozen little tooth picks?!"

She clearly had to change the subject. "So, what's your big question then?"

"Ah, well, I was originally gonna go with 'What don't y'wear t'bed?' but now that seems rather pale... but since y'started this." Dren took a sip from his drink before continuing "'ave you ever been In Love?"

Iona felt relieved, and somewhat surprised - she wasn't aware she'd been tense in anticipation of his question. Furtunately, she had an easy answer to that. "Nope," she said, almost cheerfully. "Never had neither time nor interest. Oh, and to answer your other question: I don't wear Chanel No. 5."

"Wow, got m'first freebie!" he smiled as he waved the bartender over for another RedBull, "I 'ave t'admit, yer funnier than I pegged y'for, an' I envy you. Y'say y've never 'ad time nor interest in love as if y'know of it, an' simply don't care. They say It's better t'have loved an'lost then ne'er t'ave loved at all... s'where does that leave me?!" Taking a sip again Dren was starting to seem like a cartoon character with an adiction to spinach, each sip was just followed by something else uncharacteristically profound, "Ah, yes, it would mean I'm in ignorant bliss."

Iona just shook her head once more. "Boy, do you need to get out of this  funk, and right now. Come on!" She downed her second Red Bull and barely let Dren finish his drink before dragging him onto the dance floor, despite his enthusiastic objections. Sometimes, dance-happy scientists on a Red Bull high just won't be denied.

Iona was lighter than most weights Dren was accustomed to lifting, and dispite his intial attempts to slip from her graps it wasn't in his nature to turn her down given the circumstances. Besides there was part of him that longed for the New York clubs of his younger days, days when his life wasn't complicated with issue like vampires and demons, or tombs and treasures, or even if finishing high school mattered to the world. it was all about what you could feel and how it could move you... finding a rythim that suited him he gave into the idea that he was soon dancing with Iona, even if he was enjoying it.

The dance floor was covered with very sexy people. Most of them were trying to attract the attention of another. Alex and Iain, Dren and Iona were dancing their cares away and working up a healthy glow and sweat. Well, Iain wasn’t, but no one seemed to take notice. The DJ had been replaced with a live band and they were rocking the boat!

Iona’s view of her dance partner was suddenly obscured by lots of blonde locks as Brandy and her friend slipped between her and Dren.

“You need to settle a bet.” Brandy’s friend leaned in close and spoke in Dren’s ear. “You are from Scotland, right?”

Brandy pushed in on Dren’s other ear, and breathed into it, “No no, that is an English accent, isn’t it? I haven’t slept with an Englishmen, … yet.” She brushed up against him and bit her lower lip ever so slightly, in a sexy manner.

Behind the Blonde Bores (that's with a 'b'), Iona snickered.

Brandy took note of Iona’s snicker, but obviously ignored her while Brandy’s friend cooed, “English? Ooooo! Like James Bond!”

Meanwhile, Iain and Alex were dancing their night away. Every now and then, he would glance at Romeo and Juliet, but then his attention would go back to his dance partner.

While Dren was dodging Brandy's attentions, Iain pulled Alex close, gently wrapping his arm around her waist and asking with a smile: "You having fun? I surely am."

Then his smile was replaced by a thoughtful expression: "Wait a minute..."

   Johnny grabbed his mini-computer and produced a number, with which he called back home to the manison, having the tiniest inkling that somewhere, something just went wrong. Either Pieran's in some dire trouble, or he's gotten himself lost in the infinite rooms... he thought as he waited for an answer.

"Yer mother, mus' b'proud." Dren looked to Iona and shrugged, turning back to Brandy's friend while still keeping up with the music he said "I can answer both yer questions, with a question: 'ow much d'ya know about th'band U2?"

The short answer to that question was a definate yes.  In recent months she had barely let herself have a life outside of hunting the bad guys, keeping away from people as much as she could.  Eat, sleep and slay had been her daily routine.  She had forgotton just how nice it was to spend time with other people.  A smile crept over her face as she realised that one of the lessons Sarah had tried her hardest to drum in had finally hit home.

Alex was about to respond to the question when she caught the pensive expression on Iain's face.  "What is it?"

"Good news, I suppose: have a look at Romeo." Iain replied, shifting position to let her have a better view.

"You see that, right? Dead people don't sweat. Well, I guess we won't be needing any stakes, after all..." He smiled. "Looks like we have the rest of the night for us."

He listened to the music's rhythm for a few seconds, then asked: "Do you think we should try something more acrobatic?"

Cupping her ear, due to the music, Brandy looked perplexed and said, “What bands us two? Well we are sorority sisters and friends. How does that tell me what country you are from?”

Brandy’s friend was starting to look bored.

Alex looked over Iain's shoulder at Tom, who was still flailing about wildly in an attempt to dance.  Following her dancing partner's directions, she spotted the light sheen of sweat across his forehead and the the rosy flush of his cheeks.  Just the sight of it brought a wide smile to her face, tension she hadn't realised had built up flowing out of her.



Now there was a loaded question.  Alex arched an eyebrow and grinned.  "I'm good, thanks.  But don't let me stop you."

Dren rolled his eyes obviously frustrated, "Woman! Y'talkin' t'an Irishman! I'm from Ireland." that explained he pointed Johnny at the bar out to both girls "Me an' m'man o're there are new in town... we could use a few birds t'show us some o'th'finer parts 'round here, some time." he looked past the girls and winked at Iona as if to tell her he hadn't forgotten about her. As an after thought he placed to fingers to his left temple then shot glances at the two girls.

Iain was a little disappointed when Alex declined his invitation, but he couldn't really blame her: he kept forgetting that, without superhuman dexterity or healing, acrobatic dancing with an unknown partner could be somewhat dangerous.

"Nah, the fun part is making the girl fly. Catching her as she comes back down, that's trickier, but I am pretty good... I drop my partners less than once out of ten times." He grinned.

Brandy followed Dren’s finger as he pointed to Johnny and the bar. With a noncommittal tilt of her head, she turned back toward Dren. “That sounds like fun.” she said.

Brandy’s friend tugged on her arm, “C’mon Brandy, we are gonna be late”

Reaching into her cleavage, Brandy pulled out a small pen. Brandy grabbed Dren’s hand and quickly jotted a phone number on it with her name. “Call me sometime, soon.” She turned to leave. Her friend said as they walked away, “Irish? But didn’t you already do Irish?”

“That doesn’t count,” Brandy said. “Even President Clinton said that doesn’t count.” their voices faded as they weaved their way through the crowd off the dance floor.

Dren nodded to confirm he'd call the girls, then watched them leave... for lack of a better series of words, then looked at the number on his hand then to Iona "Grrreat... she jus' wrote on m'drinkin' 'and." with a shrug he returned to dancing with Iona once again.

Alex chuckled.  "You'll be sad to hear that this girl likes to keep her feet squarely on the ground.  Besides, my exhibitionist days are over."

Raven finished her mental inventory of the library just as Pieran stuck his head inside the door. “My apologies. I do not mean to disturb you. Since it seems that you and I are the only ones holding down the fort right now, I just wanted you to know that I will be at the chapel meditating if you should need me.”

“Thanks,” Raven said. “That’s very considerate of you.”

“May you enjoy your studies.” Pieran looked like he was going to bow, but caught himself and gave Raven a nod of his head instead.

“And may you enjoy your meditating,” Raven smiled at Pieran and watched him as he left. She still didn’t know quite what to make of him. He was an interesting character. That much was certain.

Raven left the library shortly after Pieran did and went to her room for a few minutes. When she returned she was wearing soft fleece pants with a low-rise drawstring waist. The pants were white with pastel vertical stripes of green, blue and pink. Her light blue crop-top was loose-fitting and left her abdomen bare. On her feet were a pair of moccasin-style slippers and her contacts had been replaced by a pair of eyeglasses. She was wearing her comfortable clothes in preparation for a long night of study.

She took her coffee and walked past the collection of books without a moment’s pause, heading for the small and mostly empty room that was behind the library. She began sorting through some of the things that they had brought with them, making a small pile on the desk that included her notebook and the journals of the Solerites. Then she set about unpacking Ninti’s books. She picked two volumes in particular, placing them on the desk with the other things, plus a brand new journal she had purchased that day. Lastly, she took the Staff of Sol and laid it across the top of the desk.

Raven sat at the desk and began to study the materials before her as she pondered the events that had brought them here. It had appeared that Orean had found a way to reverse time for the Solrites. One could assume the Guardian intended to correct her earlier mistake. If that was the case, then Ninti and the others could still be alive. Perhaps they had managed to help save the Priestess after all. Raven hoped so.

So, “The Guardians” can alter the past. They did this for the Solrites and, if Hornsby is to be believed, they did it for Raven and her new companions. That’s impressive power, but the stuffy Englishman also implied there was a limit to how much they could muck with the scheme of things. Turning back time and saving an entire population seemed like pretty serious mucking. Saving the lives of seven fairly inconsequential people really paled in comparison to that. So why had Hornsby hinted that there was only so much that could be done regarding their situations when Orean appeared to be able to do so much more for the Solrites, once she was freed to do so. Less of a ripple effect, Raven thought to herself. The Solerites were a pretty self-contained society that didn’t seem to impact things outside of their community. Altering the fates of a few people in Raven’s dimension could have unforeseen consequences as each life effects those around it, and those effected lives would impact the ones around them, and so on and so on.

It would take some incredible magic to accomplish what Orean did. Perhaps “The Guardians” only employ such power as a last resort. It’s possible that it was Orean’s interference in the lives of the Solerite’s that caused things to go so askew in the first place. Raven felt Orean had implied just that in some of the things she had said. The Guardians may have allowed the use of such power to put things back the way they would’ve been if Orean hadn’t muddled things up. Such power wouldn’t be justified in the case of Raven and the others. Their fates had been the results of their own doing – not the interference of a supreme being. The use of magic often came at a cost, and powerful magic would impose a powerful cost. Raven wondered what price Orean might’ve paid to do what she did for the Solerites.

Raven sighed. She would probably never get answers to some of these questions. She decided instead to focus her attention on something else that had been bothering her – what was preventing the Staff of Sol’s magic from working here. If Orean had reversed time, how was it that the Staff and the books were even in their possession? Time paradox, Raven thought. Definitely not her field of study. The dome that had shielded her group obviously protected them from the effects of the spell. Time didn’t reverse for them. Somehow, that protection extended to allowing these items to exist in two incompatible timelines, without causing the universe to implode. The true versions of these items are with the Solerites, thought Raven. What I have, for all intents and purposes, are copies that are out of sync with time. That could be why the Staff no longer works, but she still wanted to see what she could learn about its properties. She flipped through the pages of one of Ninti’s books, finally stopping at a particular passage. After reading for a few minutes, she picked up the staff and used a magnifying glass to examine some of its markings. She opened the new journal and began making notes on the crisp, clean pages. A phone could be heard ringing in a distant room, but Raven didn’t seem to notice as she concentrated on her work.

Johnny called the manor. After about 5 rings there was a click and Hornsby’s British accented voice was heard on the line. “Hallo. You have reached Cornerstone Enterprises Inc. We are unable to take your call personally, but if you would be so kind as to leave your name and a way to reach you, we will contact you at our earliest convenience.
... BEEP!”

"Oh, that's okay: I'm not too fond of nude beaches, anyway."

The song ended with a powerful drum solo, and the crowd applauded briefly at the band: "Care for a drink?"

   Definitely dire straits... Johnny thought, discontent. "Just checking in," he told the reciever, "we're good, whilst you might or might not have been eaten by a three-headed troll. Click." He ended the monologue and tried to convince himself nothing much was going on.

   Trying to check out an Asian girl, he completely failed to enjoy himself, and curtly thanked for the dance. Grabbing whomever seemed less engrossed in the dance - deciding it had to be Iain - Johnny explained the situation in a somewhat more favourable lighting, not particularly wanting to come off as a raving lunatic.

   "I just called the mothership - apparently, Captain's not aboard, despite Captain explaining he was going to guard the bridge. I'm not feeling quite five by five myself, so I was thinking of beaming myself up...could do a taxi if you guys feel like doing...something."

Iona picked up on Dren’s gesture to verify the girls’ story. They were not looking at her, and she did not think there was anything that she could do to make that happen. Not with a real live Irishman in front of them. Touch would do, for this level of a probe. Not too deep to intrude, but just to tell friend from foe.

With all the dancing around them, Iona had been bumping into them anyway. “Wait for the next time and just let your hand linger. … There!” Iona pushed her mind forward into Brandy’s, just a little.

“Wow! Dren would have really had his work cut out for him tonight if Brandy had her way.” Iona pushed just a bit further, just to get past the surface clutter of Brandy’s mind. “Cold, void of space, vacuous. Empty except for some gathering she was becoming late for with the rest of her sorority.” Iona broke contact and the room suddenly filled in around her again.



As the blondes departed, Iona smiled slightly and then leaned in on to Dren’s ear.

“Nothing to fear from those two,” she said. Iona put a little extra energy into her dancing. She needed to shake that empty image from her mind.

"Y'mean y'dinna get a busy signal?" Dren smiled then scanned the room, to find Johnny talking to Iain and Alex, the pointed them out to Iona but made no extra effort to join them but explained "If y'want t'stay out a bit an' shake off more energy, I'd b'appy to 'elp." he told her, indicating this team of misfits may be reducing in numbers shortly.

Iona laughed and said, "I didn't get much of a signal at all!" She noted the rest of the group as Dren pointed them out.

For the first time since she had been pulled into the vortex, Iona had let her hair down - figuratively and literally. The scarf she normally used to tie back her dark hair had been replaced by a delicate gold chain that circled the top of her head. A brilliant blue gem, that matched the color of her eyes, hung from the chain in the middle of her forehead. In her stretch jeans, party top, and high heels she was dressed for a night on the town, and it was way too early to quit now.

"You know what? If I get another Red Bull in me, I will close this place!" She said with a twinkle in her eye. She threw caution to the wind and threw herself into the dance.

Alex nodded a yes to his question, after all, all this dancing was thirsty work.  Glancing at the vampire, she smiled faintly.  Well, maybe not for everyone.

Johnny's attempt to grab Iain caught her attention as well.  She really wasn't ready to go home quite yet; it looked like the band still had some more tunes in them and she still had energy to burn.  Still, Johnny did seem worried about something...  She looked to Iain, waiting to see what his reply would be.

Iain looked first at Alex, then at Johnny. "Actually..." He started.

Iain? You are not leaving a friend alone in a moment of need, are you?

No... No, of course not. Iain sighed.

He patted Johnny on a shoulder and continued with a smile: "If you are not feeling well, I don't think you should drive. I will accompany you." He turned to Alex: "I'm sorry I have to cut our evening short..."

Yep, that had been the response she was expecting.  Alex decided that she may as well head home with the pair and besides, if there really was something up at the mansion they could probably do with an extra pair of hands.

With a smile, she shrugged.  "Iain, the day I get an undisturbed evening out is probably the day hell has frozen over."  Not entirely true, but close enough for government work.  "I think I'll join you."

Looking over to Dren and Iona, she waited until she caught the eyes of one of them.  Gesturing to herself, Johnny and Iona, she then lifted her hand in a goodbye gesture, hoping that would get the message across.

Dren excused himself from Iona, then broke free of the dance floor. Approaching the three he instantly took the keys to the van from his pocket, "When th'needs of th'many, outweigh th'needs of th'one... or th'few." he quoted handing the keys to Johnny, "Figure me an' Iona can call a cab jus' as well. Night's still t'young an' I've come t'far to let 1 RedBull stand b'tween becomming an' being."

As the music stopped between songs, Willie could be heard shouting, “Phil! Is that you man? I was just saying to myself “That’s my buddy Phil from High school!” Willie had grabbed the hand of a young Oriental man with a confused look on his face. Willie started to drag him toward the bar.

After a bit of this and that, Johnny went home with the Beauty and the Beast, feeling the slightest bit guilty about having drawn them away from their night of fun. Briefly informing Dren, he took the keys and they drove back home, Johnny felt awfully like a third wheel. Desperately trying to escape the awkward silence, he made yet another call back to the mansion, failed to establish any contact yet again.

His bad feeling grew gradually worse as they got home and searched through the rooms for any signs of either Raven, Pieran, that awfully annoying butler, or even the two-headed troll. Upon finding Raven peacefully nestled in the library, Johnny asked in a worried tone: "Is everything okay?"

It took Raven a moment to register that someone was speaking. She looked up from her work and saw Johnny, followed closely by Alex and Iain, at the door. A puzzled look crossed her face. “I’m fine,” she said. “Everything’s fine.” she glanced at her wrist to see what time it was, then realized she’d removed her watch when she had changed clothes. “You guys are back early.” At least, it felt that way to her, but Raven did have a tendency to loose track of time when she was working. Perhaps it was later than she thought.

"Oh...oh...so, where's Pieran at?"

“He said he was going to the chapel to meditate.”

"Great..." Johnny said, for a slight moment at loss for words. "So, what happened to picking up the phone? I was getting a bit worried about you." With an ironic smile, he retrieved his Palm Pilot and played the recorded message:

*Just checking in, we're good, whilst you might or might not have been eaten by a three-headed troll. Click.*

“I’m sorry, I guess I didn’t hear it,” Raven shrugged.

After a rollicking good time at the Barge, Iona and Dren came home in good spirits. Although it was late, they chatted and joked around briefly and then headed off to bed. Saturday morning and there were no appointments. After a fun night out, sleeping in would be the order of the day.

The members of the south side of the house, namely Johnny, Pieran and Iain, slumbered peacefully and undisturbed as the sun crept up over the horizon.

The members on the north side of the house, Alex, Dren, Raven, and Iona were sleeping peacefully when suddenly, they were startled as their peace was shattered with the loud clanging hollow sounds of several aluminum pipes banging, bouncing, and rolling around. It seemed to come from outside their windows.

Sleep was a subtle word for Dren... the truth was that after a night of fun and Black Stuff Dren was sleeping like the dead when a sound yanked in from a state even void of dreams and down onto the wool rug between the foot of his bed and the fire place, "W'at bloody git's actin' th'maggot!!" he mumlbed as he sat up from the floor realizing he was still wearing his black jeans, "An' when did I start wearin' clothes t'bed?" he asked no on in particular.

Alex was out of her bed like a shot, bolting towards the balcony situated close to their rooms.  Leaning against the railings in her blue jersey pajama bottoms and white strappy top, she tried to locate the source of the godawful racket.

Raven was both a night person and an early riser. She was one of those people that only needed four to six hours of sleep at night. She was already awake, showered, and sipping coffee in her room when the noise outside caught her attention. Dressed in her slippers and soft terry cloth robe, she walked out onto her porch, coffee in hand. She brushed some wet strands of hair out of her eyes as she looked to see what was making such a ruckus.

"Allright already, I'm up," Iona moaned as she padded out onto the balcony to join Alex. Unlike Dren, she'd managed to slip into her sleepwear a few hours earlier (not Chanel No 5), revealing a penchant for satin nighties. Now she was wrapping an equally satiny kimono-style robe around her, pulling grumpily at the belt.

"What's going on? And why is it going on, at this hour?" She staggered towards the railing, finding support from it and thankfully accepting it. "What time is it, anyway?" she yawned as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. Peering down and out, her hands were automatically straightening out her unruly strands of hair to their normal ordered state, the sun glinting off the blue gem on her forehead and the golden chain she'd neglected to remove last night.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:49, Tue 16 Nov 2004.

The air was clean and fresh with the morning dew reflecting off the grass. Standing on the deck of the pool was a young man, dressed only in navy blue swim trunks; currently hunching his shoulders. Rolling around on the deck was the cause of the clatter. Apparently, he had dropped several aluminum poles required for the skimmer; bottom brush and pool vacuum and was embarrassed for the din he had caused. The poles were in a pile with one rolling away from him.

He stood to his full height of about 6 foot tall and ran his hand through his thick, but short-cropped dark hair. He must have enjoyed a quick dip in the pool for water ran down his back in small rivulets as he brushed back his hair. The sunshine glistened off his broad, muscular shoulders as he bent over to pick up the scattered poles. The muscles rippled on his back as he worked his arms to gather and balance the poles. As he assembling the gear to clean the pool, it was apparent that he was also a swimmer, for his chest sported the typical triangular definition of that of a swimmer; broad shoulders, well defined chest, angling down to a ripped set of abs and a narrow waist. The sunlight shone off the water droplets that clung to his chest hair and gave his natural tan a very healthy glow.

After he had assembled his gear, he first took the skimmer and proceeded to clean the pool, skimming the surface and working his way all around the surface.

Slowly, Iona closed her mouth and resumed breathing actions. "Never mind," she mumbled. "Still dreaming..."

The poor girl wasn't even aware that she was licking her lips. But hey, it was way too early and she wasn't really awake yet; no one could hold her responsible for her absent-minded reactions. Really.

Dren stumbled out to join the girls for a split second, he wore sunglasses to avoid the brightness of the sun, after glancing over Raven's balcony he looked at her and shrugged "Thought it might b'somethin' interestin'." with that he headed back to his room for a breakfast clove-cigarette.

Raven smiled, “The place has a nice view, don’t you think?” she called to Dren as he headed back towards his room. She took another sip of her coffee as she lingered on the balcony.

Alex took one look at the clumsy pool boy then turned on her heel and wandered back inside grumbling under her breath about being woken early.  There was a part of her that was incredibly amused by the fact that not only did they have a pool boy, but he qualified for eye candy status.  A pool boy!  How terribly American.  Stretching arms arms out as she walked, she ambled down towards the kitchen and made herself some breakfast.

Dren leaned back into and against Raven's balcony doorway with a clove hanging from his mouth and an unlit blackened Zippo in his right hand "I'll let y'know w'en this place's got somethin' worth viewin'. Speaking of which, w'y don't you an' th'girls 'ead down there, givin' us guys somethin' t'gawk at. I'm sure Perian 'asn't ogled someone in hours." flicking open the lighter he totally shielded all flame as he brought life to his cigarette and lungs in one action.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:34, Tue 16 Nov 2004.

Raven finally steered her attention away from the poolside view and noticed that Dren was still dressed in the clothes he’d been wearing the night before. As he lit his cigarette, she thought she noticed something. Raven walked over and took Dren’s hand, turning it for a better look. Upon seeing the slightly smudged number and name, she looked up at him with an amused grin. “Have a good time last night?”

Dren didn't resist or recoil his hand as he simply shrugged and slipped his lighter back into his pocket "Fer yer information, I spent th'night with Iona." he paused to inhale and consider rephrasing that but deciding it sound good so he continued "This is jus' some bird that couldn't keep her hands off me. Told her Johnny an' I were new in town. She might prove usefull." he blew smoke over the rail of the balcony then clarified "Fer local information... figured a girl like 'er gets around. She might know a thing thing or two." after a quick drag he clarified again "About th'city..."

Raven released Dren’s hand but her amused expression remained. “So, your interest is purely professional?”

Dren shrugged, "I'm just evaluatin' 'er as a potential an' local asset." he smiled.

Somehow, Dren's words managed to push through the fog that had temporarily settled over Iona's mind. There he goes with the Pieran-baiting again. Oh, she knew he was just teasing. Nevertheless, the suggestion did have its merits...

A short while later, Iona breezed into the kitchen. She'd quickly gone through her morning ritual and was now wearing a bright blue sarong and a white bikini top. On the top of her head rested a pair of sun glasses, and she'd brought a bottle of tanning lotion and a large fluffy towel.

"So Alex, how about breakfast by the pool today?" She grinned impishly at the other woman as she put her stuff down and set about preparing a simple Saturday brekkie: OJ, tea and bagels with cream cheese.

She worked in a very precise order, each task neatly executed and perfectly timed - not rushed, not at all, just very smoothly. First the water kettle, then the bagel in the toaster, then setting the tray and putting a tea bag in the cup (not actual tea leaves - she wasn't British, for heaven's sake, a tea bag was good enough for her). Lining up the cream cheese and knives on the counter, Iona turned around just in time to catch the bagel on the plate as it popped up. She spread the cream cheese, put the plate back on the tray and the knives into the dishwasher. The water in kettle came to a rolling boil just then, so she poured it into the cup. Letting the tea brew for a moment, she set the different containers back to their places, and wiped off the counter. Then she reached into the fridge, took out OJ and milk, poured the first into the glass set onto the tray and splashed the latter into the tea cup, then set everything back into the fridge.

And done. Not a single second or motion wasted, everything was in its right place. Iona smiled. This looked like it was going to be a good Saturday morning.

“Of course you are,” Raven smiled. “Well, I need to get dressed and you definitely need a shower. There aren’t enough cloves in the world that can mask that stale club smell of liquor and cigarettes.”

Alex pulled her head out from the depths of a kitchen cupboard.  "You'd think with a Jeeves-clone as a butler there'd be some crumpets about the place!"  She complained, a slight smile on her face.


She continued rifling through the cupboards, pulling out a jar that proclaimed it was America's finest jelly.  Eying it suspiciously, she set it aside and then looked at Iona.  "Thinking about it, I could do with a swim.  I'll meet you out there."

Alex promptly exited the kitchen, wandering outside to the pool a few minutes later dressed in a navy blue swimming costume, a towel tucked underneath one arm.  She deposited her towel somewhere safe and dry, pulled her hair back into a loose bun and stepped up onto the diving board.  After a couple of test bounces, Alex executed a near-flawless dive into the depths of their freshly-cleaned pool.

He watched Iona and Alex move around the pool and Alex dive in. “I’m sorry ladies,” the young man said as Alex broke the surface. He had a rich deep voice that resonated as he spoke. “I intended to have this done sooner, but… If you would rather I come back later to finish…”