Episode 1.02:  Lonely Heart, Creve Coeur

"As liaison between these seven people and their new employers, it was my duty to give them a tour of their new home."

The estate was called Cornerstone, and it was very well equipped. The mansion had it's own bio research lab, as well as a small clinic for treating the walking wounded. There was a state of the art computer lab, a small armory with a rather unique selection of weapons, and an impressive occult library. Each resident was given their own bedroom. The estate provided a luxurious place where they could live and work. Their employers had contracts with certain companies to maintain the outside grounds, but there was no household staff - no maids, butlers, or chefs. The residents were expected to cook and clean up after themselves.

"Oddly enough, one of the first things they inquired about was a serialized television show." Hornsby glanced at a note he held in his hand. "It was called Smallville. There was some confusion. Apparently many of them recalled this show lasting several seasons and starring a gentleman named," Hornsby looked at the note in his hand again. "Tom Welling?" He shrugged. "I wouldn't really know, I've never enjoyed American sitcoms myself. Something about the humor just does not translate. However, I'm told that here the show starred Ben Afleck and only ran for a season and a half before it was canceled."

Hornsby went on to explain that they were not in the same dimension they used to call home. It was very similar, but there would be some differences. One of the reasons these people were chosen for this particular post was because no versions of themselves had ever existed in this dimension. It was easier to avoid complications that way. They might run into people that they had known in their previous lives, but these weren't the same versions of those people. No one in this dimension had ever met any of them.

"I understand that Mr. Hope actually tried to look up his family and found his mother. Not only did she have no idea who he was, but she informed him she'd never had a son named John. Instead she had a daughter named Jean. This led Mr. Hope to proclaim to the group that apparently, in this dimension, he was a woman."

"It's possible that this group of seven were plucked from different dimensions, so they may not all come from the same reality. In fact, I believe that to be highly likely."

Hornsby informed them that they were chosen to be Guardians. "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… Well, I shudder to think of it.”





“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. Within the newspapers each member found stories of their deaths. As they finished reading, the ink on the newsprint seemed to shift, and the articles changed to list them each as missing, instead of dead.

“You see. Your “Handsome reward” is that you are alive.” 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.”

“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.”



“Why, Ms Taylor, the Lord Guardian Gatekeeper of course. You know him as Matt Gardiano.”

There was some initial resistance from a few members, but the group eventually began to settle into their new lives. After a shopping excursion for supplies and clothing, Alex and Iain ran into each other in the library...

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 know 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."

Some of the house members decided to relax by going out for drinks and dancing at a place called The Barge. It was a floating nightclub located on the Mississippi river. Dren and Iona chatted at the bar.

---

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.

While some of the house danced and drank their cares away, Raven opted to study some of the materials they'd brought with them from the Solrites dimension.

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.

The local news was buzzing about the return of the Creve Coeur Killer, and the team decided to look into it. Raven checked into the historic lore of the region.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:53, Wed 08 Apr 2009.

“It appears this area has quite a history of strange and odd legends. Most of them are based on Native American lore. There are several references to odd or mystical events and even creatures that are listed around the area. It is almost as if things are spewing up from the ground and landing nearby, like water drops spurted from a fountain.”

“The Creve Coeur area of St. Louis was founded by French trappers and explorers. Legend has it there was this young Indian maiden, possibly the daughter of the chief of the local tribe, who had fallen in love with a Frenchman. He was a trapper by trade, dashing, rugged, and very good at capturing the local foxes – as in animals, not maidens. He also trapped mink and beaver in the area. This trapper kept a log of his adventures and recorded his encounters with the natives. He befriended the local tribe near a lake where he was trapping beaver. He also captured the heart of this Indian maiden he named Erinoui. Despite the protests of her father and her tribe, she fell in love with the trapper. He was not of their tribe, not even their race, and their union was forbidden. It is unclear if the trapper did not love her back or was pressured to leave, but leave her he did.”

“Erinoui was heartbroken. She reportedly cursed both her tribe and the trapper. If she could not love the man of her choosing, then no one would know such love. In tears, she climbed to the top of the cliff overlooking the lake where they first met and threw herself into the water. The ground shook and the lake transformed into the shape of a heart with a crack in it, a broken heart. The lake and the nearby town that was eventually established there took the name of Creve Coeur, which means Broken Heart, in honor (or fear) of Erinoui.”

While others were in research mode, Dren and Iain used the time to do a little sparring in the gym, while Alex looked on.

---

Dren's kick landed square on Iain's side, supported by the full weight of the Irishman, accidentally breaking one of the vampire's ribs with a loud CRACK.

Standing up slowly, an arm on the wounded side, Iain commented: "There we go... Look, Dren, I usually prefer to keep all my bones in one piece, if you don't mind."

Dren looked apologetic, for about a quarter of a second then shrugged "Eh, you're a vampire... You'll live." one beat later he added "No, wait... You're already dead."

Hearing the unpleasant crack from Iain's ribs, Alex pulled an unhappy face.  That uncomfortable feeling which had been growing over the past couple of days was yet again reinforced.  Of all the people she was now stuck with, Dren was the only one she was rapidly growing to dislike.  At least the mansion was big enough that she could avoid him if it really became a problem.

Slowly she stood, glancing between them.  Deciding it was a bad idea to unleash the snarky comment on the tip of her tongue, she instead decided to bow out gracefully.  "I'm going to get a shower, I'll see you later."  Scooping up her water bottle, she walked out of the training area and back to rooms to clean up.

With a sigh, Iain commented: "See what you've done now? We really have to work on your manners, you keep scaring the pretty girls away! Let's call it a day, shall we?"

Dren lowered his fighting guard, and finally took his eyes off Iain to catch the last sight of Alex leaving, enjoyable but still irritating, returning his attention to Iain he shook his head "Me scarrin' th'girls off. I'm not th'one with fangs an' lack of a circulatory system." without even offering Iain a hand to get back to his feet, Dren pulled open one of his wrist wraps and headed toward his gym bag.

Iain retrieved his towel from the floor, then, turning to Dren, crossed his arms on his chest and commented with a half-smile: "Okay, so I am an undead monster... What's your excuse?"

Dren stood holding his gym bag and actually smiled at Iain, "Sorry, I dinna 'ave breasts so yer Jedi mind tricks don't work on me." rubbing his fingers together he added "Only money."
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:57, Fri 22 May 2009.

The group's research revealed a cyclic pattern occurring every thirty years, dating back to the early 1800's. The number killed during each spree would vary, but it was usually two or three couples. The murders would stop as suddenly as they started, only to happen again after another thirty years had passed. The most recent victims brought the current spree to four couples dead, making it the deadliest year yet for the "Creve Coeur Killer".

The victims were always interracial couples - specifically a Caucasian man with a non-Caucasian woman. The bodies were splayed open, as if hit with an axe. A visit to the latest crime scene provided evidence that there was more than one killer, and they weren't human. Further research identified the demons.

---

Raven opened a large book and placed it near the center of the table so everyone could see the picture of a large, ugly horned demon. “Fyarl demons,” Raven said. “Your basic big, bad, and dumb as a post variety of demon. They do speak their own language, though, and have their own society. Their culture is mostly centered on smashing, crushing, and destroying things, but it is a culture nonetheless. Don’t let their lack of intellect fool you. They are tough, very tough. Most attacks will cause them pain, but you’ll probably just succeed in making them very angry. To inflict real damage to them, you’ll need weapons made of silver. They’re usually too stupid to know they’ve been hurt, so don’t expect them to be slowed down by any injuries they may sustain. Think of them as demons on PCP.”

"It doesn't fit," Iona said. "If Fyarl demons are as dumb as you say, then why would they be hunting down and executing couples like this? And on a 30 year cycle? What would their motivation be? It's too exact and intentional -- just doesn't fit the profile."

"Fyarl are often used as muscles for hire." Said Iain. "Not only are they strong, but they are dumb enough to be hired quite cheaply, and prone to follow even sucidal orders, provided their employer dresses them appropriately... If you want someone dead, and you don't worry too much for collateral damage, a Fyarl is a good choice. Now the question is, who wanted these people dead?"

“I would assume, Erinoui, the lady that cursed the lake,” Raven said. “We might be able to take out this particular set of demons, but I’m not sure that will prevent this from reoccurring in thirty years. There’s something more to this than demons on a rampage. I think there’s something to this whole curse idea that’s going to have to be dealt with, as well.”

Johnny provided a map where he plotted the current set of murders.

“Does anybody else see this?” Raven asked, as she took a green marker and drew a line from the first murder to the second, then another line from the second to the third. Finally she drew a line from the third location to the fourth. She finished the star shape by drawing a line straight across from the fourth location, then down to the starting point.

"If they need five, then the number doesn't indicate a pattern. It's a progress report," Dren said.

Johnny had studied the patterns of the murders, and figured out that they only had a few hours until the next attack.



They would need silver weapons to attack the demons. While some of them rounded up the weapons, Iona worked in her lab.



The team decided on a divide and conquer kind of approach.



Alex and Pieran went with Raven to the lake.

The rest of the group headed to the Creve Coeur Municipal Airport to a popular little “make-out” Cul-de-sac off the end of the runway. The demons showed up as expected, and attacked a young couple parked in a car. Dren, Iain, Iona, and Johnny did their best to protect the young people.....

Oh no, Iain got muked! thought Iona. With a slightly disgusted look on her face, Iona stepped up to the Iain-shaped statue and pulled the trigger of the Super Soaker. Orange goo flew in a squishy arc, hopefully working it's science before the Fyarls finished their gruesome task.

The demon that was rooting through the car like a bear in a picnic basket, turned and looked at Iona. The weapon in its hand was now clearly visible. An authentic ceremonial war Tomahawk was adorned with eagle feathers and fresh blood dripping from the business end. “Beblanda friskt blod, Beblanda friskt blod!” he cried as he rapidly advanced toward Iona with the weapon raised to strike.

Iona was half-demon, and understood the creature's words. My blood? Uh-oh...! With a strangled cry, she tried to throw herself to the side, away from the blow descending on her. A thousand panicked thoughts rushed through her brain, but disturbingly, the clearest one was: How's that for irony: they get a 2-for-1 deal here, a real mix of races, human and Ciloth...

Dren and Johnny managed to take out the demon that was attacking Iona. As the demon died, the tomahawk fell, nicking Iona's leg. The only demon left standing cocked its head to the side, and then tromped northward as if he had received orders from someone.

Iain came very close to getting fried. It turns out the chemicals Iona used to counter the mucus were highly flammable, but Dren and Iona managed to keep him away from the flames.

Dren went to assist the young couple in the car. They were hurt, but would live, and the young man was trapped by the demon's mucus. Dren approached the car and paused to bury the tomahawk's blade into the ground next to him so he could then spay the car with the "demucasizer"

The tomahawk had the blood of a young black man on its blade, mixed with the blood of a half-demon white woman, and now it had been thrust into the earth. The ground shook as a beam of light leaped from the tomahawk in the direction the demons had come from, sucking the bodies of the dead demons with it. The beam streaked from one point on the star to the next, until the entire star had been lit up by the beam.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:18, Tue 21 Apr 2009.

At the lake, Alex and Raven made a discovery. On one of the park tables a large U or C had been carved.

“That looks like the mark that was carved on the altar at Ninti’s temple.” Raven pulled the glove off of her right hand and placed her bare hand directly on the symbol. “The hand that scrawled this appeared human, but large and extraordinarily strong. They used some kind of iron spike to carve it, and they did it with a sense of duty and loyalty. That’s about all I got. From the looks of it, the mark can’t be more than a couple of weeks old. Could whoever sent an army of vampires to wipeout the Solerites also be at work manipulating things here?” Raven found that to be a disquieting thought, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it now.

While Alex dealt with a couple of rowdy teens, Raven performed a ritual, and that's when things got interesting. A ghostly, winged figure of a woman emerged from the lake. Looking at Raven, she asked softly, “Why Sister? Why do you bar me from entering?” Raven responded by chanting in some odd language.

When Raven's cell phone began to ring, Alex answered it for the archaeologist. "What can I do for you this fine evening?"

Alex heard Dren's voice come over the phone line. "Good news is, at th'moment we've saved two lives t'night an' killed a couple o'demons... Bad news is, th'ritual dinna need killin' an' we might 'ave unleashed some unspeakable evil on y'two... but we're not sure so we're 'eaded there now. How's yer night been?"

"Oh, you know.  Muggers, winged spirits, ominous splashes in the water.  The usual." She returned her attention to the aforementioned winged spirit.

In a calm voice, the spirit said, “I am Erinyes. The ritual to allow me to cross has been performed. I have been called, and yet you bar my entrance to this world. Why Sister? Why do you attempt to prevent it?”

Raven listened as the spirit pronounced its name, ee RIHN ih eez. Of course! “Erinyes the mist walker. The punisher of the unfaithful. Who calls you?”

"Every tri-decade, the comet approaches, the planets align, and the ritual has begun to be performed as I direct. And every time it has been interrupted, until now. I have never been this close and you shall not prevent it. I am destined to cross over and I shall have my rightful vengeance."

Raven attempted to reason with the spirit. “The wrongs against you have been righted. The natural order of things has been restored. We are grateful for your swift justice and in thanks we come to bring you peace. It is time for you to move on, Eumenides.” Raven purposely called the spirit by the new name, meaning kind-hearted, to remind the creature of the transition she was supposed to make once her vengeful work was done.

Erinyes yelled into the night sky. “You said that I would succeed this time. You promised. Remember our bargain and fulfill your part! I beseech thee!!”

“As you wish!!” boomed a deep male voice. The words seemed to shake the very trees. An unseen force swept the peninsula. It struck swiftly and without notice. Raven and Alex were lifted into the air and cast aside some 10 feet, dropping them both into the lake. With the smudge stick extinguished, Erinyes became more solid, and colorful as the smoke dissipated. Her brown feathered wings with white tips flapped hard as she rose up into the air.

New Fyarl demons appeared and began to attack, luckily the rest of the group had arrived at the lake and jumped into the fray.

Facing Pieran, Erinyes intoned “Come to me, Males!” Pieran stood and began to walk the few steps between Erinyes and himself as he obeyed her command, his bow dropped from his hand into the grass. Erinyes withdrew a short, thin dagger from a sheath on her hip. The dagger was coated with something that dripped off the tip. Erinyes had a twisted smile upon her lips as Pieran approached willingly.

Johnny turned his attention away from the wounded Iona and exited the car, beginning to move toward Erinyes with a satisfied grin. Dren seemed frozen in place.

Pieran stepped up to Erinyes. Erinyes spread her wings and like a hawk guarding its kill, she cloaked Pieran from view with them. The unearthly sound of anguish pierced the night as Pieran fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Erinyes turned to accept Johnny in the same manner as she did Pieran. Her short dagger now dripped blood as well as its own, thickened fluid.

Pointing her fist at the winged woman, Raven once again shouted “Epausa!” Erinyes froze where she stood.

Iona wasted no time seeking out the tomahawk still in Dren's hand. Grabbing objects with her mind was always much harder for her, but Iona concentrated like never before. The Tomahawk was wrenched from Dren’s grasp, and found its mark in Erinyes body. A high-pitched scream escaped her clenched lips as she stood immobile, blood running down her side.

Iain turned and threw the dagger at Erinyes. As it stuck into her, she emitted another scream. “You promised I would succeed this time!”

“I promised you would be once again of this reality. I did not promise that you would remain a part of it.” the darkness replied. “Thrice I assisted you and thrice you have been thwarted by Cornerstone! You are not worthy and I assist you no more!” The male voice boomed with disdain. There was a sudden sense that something had left, as if a breath of fresh air just entered the park.

Screaming as the flames consumed her, Erinyes tried to climb higher in the sky. “NOOOOOoooooooo!” She flared brightly and like the phoenix, she was ablaze. Falling from the sky, she fell into the lake. With a splash, the flames were extinguished, but a strange bluish light illuminated the water. It faded out as it it descended into the depths.

“Damn it!” Raven exclaimed as she watched the remains of Erinyes disappear into the lake. “I was hoping to keep her alive long enough to ask who or what the voice from the sky was.” Raven glanced at the table with the scrawled mark. “There’s something else going on here. Somebody manipulating things and whoever it is, I’m willing to bet that they’re the same one responsible for transporting an army of vampires to Ninti’s realm. If they could do something like that to her world, they can certainly do the same, or worse, to ours.”

---

The group returned to the mansion to tend to their wounded. After cleaning up, Iain encountered Alex in the lounge. "I take it you couldn't sleep?"

"More a case of avoiding sleep," Alex answered. " The nightmares, you know?"

Iain half-turned to look at her: "Oh. Slayer nightmares?"

She shook her head.  "I'm not the Slayer, much to my ex-watcher's chagrin.  There's a lot of power in being the chosen one's watcher; I think he wanted that more than he should have.  All he got was fourteen wasted years with nothing to show for it.  Which is probably more information than you wanted..."  Alex was acutely aware she was rambling, barely paying attention to what she was saying.  Taking a moment, she started again, this time trying to concentrate on the words coming out of her mouth.

"To answer your question, no.  The nightmares aren't related to the Slayer.  Being the Slayer is an on off thing, you either are, or you're not.  There's no bleed-over between the two.  You know, contrary to what some people think, I'm not unhappy about not being chosen.  Granted, some of the abilities are useful, but being the Slayer is like wandering around with a giant supernatural target on your back.  I get into enough trouble on my own without that helping me out."  So much for not rambling...

---

Johnny sought out Raven for a chat the next morning.

"Most of us seem to have settled down with the fact that Iain's a...you know...using that very word outside of a D&D context still feels strange. Dren seems to have another take on the whole matter, though?"

Raven hesitated as if considering her words before she spoke. “The family of a friend of Dren’s was murdered by a vampire while his friend was forced to watch. His friend asked Dren to help him get the creature responsible, but in the end Dren’s friend was also killed and the vampire got away. I don’t know exactly what happened. He’s never shared the details with me. I just know that he was never the same after that.” Raven looked almost solemn as her mind appeared to drift for a moment.

She seemed to snap out of it as she returned to the conversation. “I’m afraid Dren’s feelings about vampires are deeply personal, and the fact that Iain has a soul may do little to change them. I like Iain and I believe we can trust him, but we would probably do well to remember that it is a very thin line that separates the Iain we know from the monster within. If Iain ever looses control of his demon, we would all be in very serious danger.” And Dren might be the only person who is both willing and able to put a stake through Iain’s heart, if that need should ever arise, Raven thought to herself. She believed it was a good thing that at least one of them would be able to do it, just in case the magic that held Iain’s soul in place was ever dispelled.

Episode 1.03:  American Pie

The dagger Erinyes used when she stabbed Pieran had been coated with an unknown substance. Pieran remained weak with a lingering illness, and spent most of his time bedridden in his room. Johnny worked closely with Raven and Iona to find a cure, but it was proving difficult. The house-mates took turns visiting the fallen warrior in hopes of keeping his spirits up.

Hornsby called a meeting, where he introduced the team to Smithers, a company accountant. Smithers was unhappy about how much money they'd all been spending on the corporation's tab. When Smithers had finished, Raven asked Hornsby for information regarding their predecessor.

“I stated that your predecessor abandoned the post some time ago. It has been nearly a year. At first we just thought him on assignment or delving into something incognito.  But there was no word for too long. We initiated a search, of course and went to pick up the trail by seeing what it was he was working on with the records and archives. That is when we discovered that there were none. The entire history of this outpost was gone, scrubbed from existence. All electronic and hard copy records – missing. Lord Guardian Gatekeeper, Matt Gardiano, was highly concerned and though his influence is extensive, it is not limitless.

Once it became clear that this outpost had suffered a devastating attack, it was paramount to locate a replacement. As to what has happened to him, no one knows. Of course, he could have perished. But, there is speculation that the former Guardian did not meet with an untimely demise. Since all of the records have been lost, evidence that he may have done something with them is strong. We do not know if it was due to some coercion, or trickery, or if he went over to the dark side, if you will. And, since he worked alone, there was no one else we could query on the matter.

Finding a suitable replacement was proving to be impossible. Heroes of that caliber are hard to find these days. And it was the employment of a single individual that allowed this to be so devastating. It was decided that a team might do better then what had been utilized in the past. Separately you are slightly formidable. But unified, you have the potential to be much greater then the sum of your parts. You are truly Synergy, if you can learn to work and live together.”

Hornsby finally got to the reason he had called the meeting. He had a job for them.

“The Rivermen’s Association has run into a bit of a snag. You may have heard of some of the barge groundings on the Mississippi downstream of St Louis. Even though the river charts are showing them to be in deep water channels, the tug and pushers are reporting that they are not just simply aground, but that they are actually high and dry! Then, after several hours, they refloat as if the water returns and they are able to continue on their journey. It is as if the levee becomes a dry bed for periods of time. Since there have not been any incidents up stream of St. Louis, the cause must be located here.”

"I could hit the local demon hangouts, see what I can come up with," said Iain. "Do we have any official contacts, people who've worked with Cornerstone before?"

“Your predecessor was very protective of his informational sources. However, I may have a lead on an establishment or two where one may find and create new contacts,” Hornsby answered. “You may find some luck at Six Feet Under, a rather seedy little establishment near the industrial district on the south side. They cater to the Goth crowd and certain unexplained incidents have occurred there. 1313 Mockingbird Lane, in the Brentwood region.

Although we try to maintain a low profile, our name is not completely unknown. In certain circles, it could garner you some respect or insight, depending on who you speak it to. One does not engage in the business of thwarting evil without evil taking note. However, the name Cornerstone is not a VIP pass. Dress accordingly or you may not even get in.”

Hornsby looked around the room and could sense the creative and investigative juices flowing. “Right then. We have an initial plan. Alex and Iain will investigate the club looking for the Remoras on the underbelly of society, I will see to details as to times and locales of the groundings and the rest of you can take the Chevy to the levee and see if the levee is dry.”

---

Johnny and Iona spent the day traveling to the sites of all the barge groundings, taking water samples and pictures. They ran into an old man who told them, "Sure is some kind of strangeness happening round here. Hard to tell though. But I suspect it is also what is affecting my singing. Can only sing about death or dieing. Nothing happy. I suspect it is affecting them boats too. Only happens at night though". They returned to the mansion so Iona could study the water and mud they had collected.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:40, Wed 13 May 2009.

Raven dropped by the lab while Iona was testing the samples. After chatting about the case and other work related matters, their conversation drifted to topics that were more personal.

Raven’s brow furrowed as she looked at Iona. “You’re a very intelligent woman, I shouldn’t have to tell you that most men don’t like women who are smarter than them. The men who do want me for my mind, pretty much don’t want me for anything else. They’re usually old, boring, tweed-wearing, stuffed-shirts anyway.

Not all of them, Iona thought. This was her cue: "What about Dren? Not much tweed on that one. Although he does fill out a cotton T-shirt quite nicely."

Dren had started to enter the lab holding the movie section of a newspaper when Iona's mention of his name triggered him, not unlike a dog. One part curiosity and two parts mischievousness caused him to slip his right foot back and flatten against a nearby nook, vanishing masterfully into the shadows. It was a technique that was perfected against trained security guards who were looking for intruders and it was certainly going to work against two gabbing girls who probably reminded teachers of the pop quizzes back in high school.

“Dren?!?” Raven mimicked the pffft sound Iona had made earlier, and then she saw Iona’s face. “Wait, you’re serious?”

"Like Smithers on April 15," Iona said gravelly. She then flashed a dimpled smile, and carried on. "But yes, seriously: Why not?"

Dren risked leaning forward, thinking Yeah, Why Not?

“For starters, the last long term relationship Dren had, ended before lunch the next day.” Raven laughed out loud at the very idea of the two of them as a couple.

“Besides, I’m definitely not his type. He’s a bright lights big city kind of guy. He needs somebody who can party all night with him. I’m more the curl-up-with-a-good-book kind of woman.”

"Oh come on, don't tell me you've never thought about a romance with Dren?" Iona's voice expressed her deep skepticism.

“No! Of course not,” Raven exclaimed. “That would be like mixing oil and water. Some things are just against the laws of nature. Try all you want, they'll keep driving each other apart.”

Dren almost fell against the wall in defeat. He had always known there were differences between him and Raven, but until this point there was at least a small part of him, that one chamber of his heart, that he reserved for Raven - even if he didn't have a good reason to do so. However, as Raven confirmed his only reservation, he felt a void open in his gut and threaten to devour him from within. She was after all the smart one, if she could not see any successful chance of dating then the game had come to its end. Looking back at the movie listing in his hand Dren left the room as ghostly as he'd entered and tossed the paper in the nearest waste bin he found.

Alex and Iain did re-con at a local nightclub called Six Feet Under.

"The results of our own little expedition should become clear tonight.  We met a contact in that club Hornsby recommended, who should have something for us when we meet up with him later," said Alex.

"He has a crush on Alex, too..." Iain grinned: "Well, that was before she made him cry like a baby, but he seems to have a passion for bondage and stuff, so probably she looks even hotter to him right now." He chuckled.

"He also said something about his friends which I was able to verify: he periodically meets with guys with an affection for long coats, which means they either have a keen fashion sense, or they are trying to hide something."

The man's name was Enrique Gonzolez, also known as Gonzo, and he was a were-rat. He had an arrangement with the club where he was allowed to keep a private room in the back for his personal needs, both business and pleasure.

---

Johnny and Raven did their own re-con at a piano bar. It was one of those places where anyone was free to sit down and play the piano if they were so inclined, and Johnny took the opportunity to do just that. He played a song he had written himself, and dedicated it to Raven.

After the song ended and the diners returned to their normal socializing, Raven approached Johnny as he sat at the piano. “Uh, thanks. That was a nice gesture. I didn’t even know you knew how to play. But, I thought the point was to test your theory by playing happy music.”

Johnny quieted his voice to a near whisper, so as not to call more attention to them. "Oh, thanks God, I thought you would be outraged to have me embarrass you with that Oddysé in death, mighty sorry about that."

"Those were not the original lyrics at all. If nothing else, it leaves us with a theory confirmed. Any cheerful song sung herein will be twisted to fit the tastes of a seventeen year old Dimmu Borgir fan with spiked bracelets and a liking for black leather."

Raven was relieved the creepiness of the song wasn’t intentional and wasn’t inspired by her. “So, you’re saying that you tried to sing a happy song and different words came out of your mouth?” Now she was intrigued, and the researcher in her started coming out. “I wonder how widespread this is. How would you feel about doing our own version of a musical bar crawl? I’d like to see what happens if we find a jukebox and play a pre-recorded happy song, as well as find out where the line is. Obviously this didn’t seem to be a problem back at the mansion, but it is here. If we could find the epicenter of this phenomenon, maybe we could find the cause.”

While Raven and Johnny conducted their version of a scientific musical “bar crawl”, Alex and Iain met with Gonzo for a second time. Gonzo told them that the states of Texas, Nevada, and New Mexico felt cheated that the state of Michigan had so much water, since it was surrounded by four of the Great Lakes. The other states had tried legal means to have a pipeline built and force Michigan to share its abundant supply, but that had failed. Apparently someone had found another way to get the water and share it with the drought stricken states. They were fulfilling a long standing contract, and collecting a healthy paycheck for themselves.

Alex's meeting with Gonzo was interrupted by the arrival of a group of five men, dressed in long leather coats, dark pants and boots. Four of them formed a wedge around the fifth man as they forcibly parted the crowd. They made their way to Gonzo's door.

“Chorro, how nice it is to see you.” Gonzo said. “ and I see you brought the boys today. Do come in. What brings you around?”

Chorro turned to Gonzo and in a quiet, but sinister tone said. “Gonzo, you’ve been sticking your pointy nose where it doesn’t belong. I thought we had an understanding.”

Gonzo’s eyes got just a little wider as his mind connected the dots. “I was just doin’ a little fact-finding for a few bucks. I swear if I had known your boss was involved, there’s no way I would’ve done it.”

“Fact-finding for whom?” Chorro took a sudden interest in the fingernails of his left hand. He extracted a switchblade from his coat pocket and with a dramatic *Click* he opened the blade. As he started to clean under his nails with the knife, he continued, “And, exactly how much did you tell them?”

Gonzo hesitated for just a moment. “I didn’t tell them anything at all. They stiffed me, refused to pay. I don’t know who they were. Just somebody who came into the club one night and figured I was the go-to guy for what’s goin’ on in the city.”

Chorro nodded approvingly as he listened. Casually he asked “Can you describe them?”

“Typical goth wannabe. Long, black coat and so much make-up their mom wouldn’t recognize them. They spoke in whispers. Honestly, I’m not even sure if it was a man or a woman that I was dealin’ with. I wish I could be of more help. You know me, I’d tell ya if I knew. And I swear if they ever show their face around here again, you’ll be the first person I call, now that I know it is your business.” Gonzo spoke fast, but casually. It all sounded like the gospel truth.

Chorro stepped close to Gonzo and spoke in a low voice. “You better be telling me the truth, Rodent. If I find out otherwise, I promise you that your little threesome tonight will be the last pleasurable experience of your life.” Chorro gave Gonzo an icy stare for several seconds as if he was trying to see the truth or fear in Gonzo’s eyes. Gonzo met his gaze unflinching, apparently passing the test of wills. Chorro turned and headed for the door.

As soon as Chorro and his goons had left, Gonzo wheeled to face Alex and Iain. “Alright! Who the Hell are you guys? What have you gotten me involved with? Do you know whose business you are messing in?”

Iain vamped out and glared at Gonzo. The snitch was impressively hard to intimidate... "Mr. Gonzales." He started in a low voice. "You'd think we'd be grateful for not selling us out... Right now, I just want to kill someone, and do it creatively. So, please, state your price and tell me what you know, and I'll be out of your hair. But know this: if the price is not right, I'll have to look for the information otherwise."

Gonzo looked at Iain’s display, “I can do that too,” he said as he transformed partly into a man-sized rodent. “Then we would fight and I would bite your girlfriend, then she could get all hairy once a month and crave cheese.”

Gonzo shifted back to his human form. “You have not answered my questions first. Who are you guys really? Who do you work for? If this is some form of a takeover, you can count me out. You guys can have your little turf war and I will find a hole to wait in till it blows over, then my work can continue as before. The players will change, but my game will be the same.” Gonzo crossed his arms and looked back and forth between Alex and Iain, and waited for a satisfactory reply.

"We're working for the Riverman's Association.  We're asking about rivers and barges, what exactly did you expect?  Now you have beans, spill them already.  He's not the only one feeling murderous right now."  She finished, with a thumb pointed in Iain's direction.

“The Riverman’s Association? The guys with the yachts, expensive houses, fancy cars, and more money then they could spend in two lifetimes? And here you’ve been trying to muscle poor ol’ Gonzo into working for free. I not only gave you reliable information, but I covered your butts, at great personal risk to myself. What do I get for all my trouble? My door is broken and I get roughed up and pinned against a wall. Which I did enjoy, by the way,” he said as he looked at Alex with a twinkle in his eye. “I’m a reasonable businessman. All I ask for is $200 a day, plus expenses. But all I get is threats.” He placed his hand over his heart as if he’d been deeply wounded. “We’re done here. If you come here looking for me again, I will make that phone call to Chorro, just as I promised. Goodnight boys and girls.”

Gonzo made a quick gesture with his hand as he said “Ul Eribu Daltu!”

Alex and Iain felt a prickling sensation on their skin. The room seemed to twist around them and they felt as if they were being tugged backward. It felt a little like when they’d been sucked into one of the vortexes, only this was much quicker. When the sensation of motion stopped, they found themselves standing in the hallway of the club, just outside of where Gonzo’s door should’ve been. The wall before them was solid and there was no indication that a door had ever been there.

Iona, Iain, and Alex went into research mode. They discovered there had been a fierce competition between the river barge operators and the railroads back at the turn of the century. An agreement between the two industries was reached after the creation of a large movement in blues music, which culminated with W.C. Handy composing the song St. Louis Blues in 1904. It was suggested that the agreement may have been the result of some kind of spell.

"I too found some references to Blues in connection to political events of note," Iain said.

"Well, apparantly there's a big Blues history around here - St. Louis' just not famous for the music like New Orleans, you have to go looking to find it.  Plus the hockey team is called the Blues and their logo is based on a blue note. Some think the Blues in particular could be used to hide an event from the masses, even obscuring what they can see, if the influence is strong enough." Considering this for a moment, Alex frowned, then shrugged.  "So...  What?  Someone's making everyone sing miserable songs so they can hide their illegal pipelines or something?"

---

Later that afternoon, Alex was attacked while jogging around the estate...

As Alex scrambled to her feet, the foul creature flung out its arm. A barbed spine the size of a small crossbow bolt flew at her and stuck her in the thigh. “Not that fast, Alexis.” it hissed. Spittle issued from the maw as it spoke.

“Sarah would not approve of you running away.” It quickly closed the gap between them and reached for her with dirty talon-like claws.

But that event turned out to be just another of Alex's nightmares, and didn't really happen.

At dinner, the group continued to exchange information related to the case.

”Johnny ‘n I went by th’arch,” Dren said. ”Looks like someone’s been doin’ a spell in th’area. Looked like wax, but w’dinna ‘ave time t’run much analysis.”

"Second Dren on tha' one," Johhny said. "If we're not mistaken, there were multiple witches or wiccans or warlocks or whatever at the location, with candles, arranged in a pattern which might or might not've been a pentagram."

"So...  What do we think?" Alex asked. "Witches cast the spell that made the music blue, and the blue music hides whatever's sucking away the water?"

After throwing little digs back and forth at each other during dinner, the tension between Dren and Iain finally spilled over.

Dren threw his spoon into his still empty bowl and rose from his chair facing Iain "Y'got somethin' on yer mind? B'cause I'd really like t' find out how a 'alf-demon can think itself so superior... c'mon, normally a dead man tells n' tales..." placing both hands on the table Dren leaned over his place setting "Tell me a tale... please." there was nothing but hatred radiating off Dren, it was as if all he wanted was the simplest of reasons or a single, justifiable, excuse.

Iain opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again. Looking Dren straight in the eye, he replied with a very serious, but not threatening, tone: "Dren, I think you should think carefully about your prejudices... Judge people for who they are, not what they are."

Dren glared back at Iain and quickly grabbed at his neck, he yanked the the silver chain from it, breaking it, and pulling it from under his shirt to reveal the Celtic cross that was hanging from it long before he'd even met the undead man. He tossed the whole thing at Iain not unlike sending someone a set of keys for a car they were intended to drive.

Iain snatched the cross from the air with a sharp move. Dren's satisfaction was not going to last, though: the vampire had managed to catch the pendent by its chain, completely avoiding the cross - and the related burn. "It is a nice cross." He commented calmly, lifting the chain - still looking at Dren - then gently putting it on the table.

Dren's smile indicated a strange level of morbid satisfaction in Iain’s reaction as he explained with controlled rage ”S’ya do understand th’ concept… God hates you Iain. The creator of ‘eaven an’ Earth wants ya t’burn… I canna contradict th’opinion o’th’almighty Lord an’ Father, now can I?” kicking his chair back Dren started to move around the table ”Th’day ya can prove God wrong… is th’day I’ll break bread wit’ya.” turning back to Iona and Raven he excused himself ”Sorry, I won’t b’joinin’ th’dinner.” turning back to the vampire he added ”I’ve suddenly lost m’appetite.”

Since Alex and Iain had rubbed the local snitch, Gonzo, the wrong way, Dren decided to try his hand at negotiating with the were-rat. Dren spoke Gonzo's language of cold, hard cash. Gonzo confirmed that the depressing music was the result of a cloaking spell, to discourage people from hanging out in an area where some "business" was being conducted. "I believe that if one went looking, they would actually see past the cloak," Gonzo said, but the mood altering spell made it so people didn't care.

“There is some big money involved here and big muscle to protect their interests. An associate of mine, a rather unusually nasty vampire by the name of Chorro is heading the protection. He is doing a grand job of it because I could not find out who is actually running the show or pulling the job. You can expect him and his crew to be on hand. The crew is made up of loyal vampires that are more muscle then brains. But Chorro, he is something special.”

”Where can I find Chorro?” Dren asked.

“Find Chorro? You don’t find him, he finds you, if he wants to.” Gonzo said firmly.

“I honestly don’t know where he holes up during the day. At night he just seems to be involved in most of the bigger deals. He could be moving around a lot. Anyway, he will most likely be there when they do their thing. They seem to be siphoning off the waters of the Mississippi in some kind of water selling deal. The word on the street is that they will be doing their thing down at the Arch tomorrow night.”
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:32, Fri 22 May 2009.

Raven let the rest of the group work on the case of the stolen water, while she remained focused on finding a cure for what ailed Pieran. She was waiting for a particular book to arrive at the bookstore, that she hoped would have the answer. Everyday she went to the store to check on its status. Like most of the other house-mates, she would take time to visit Pieran to try to keep his spirits up. On one such visit she and Pieran discussed poetry and love.

“I have no issue with romantics. How others choose to live their lives is their business. I guess I’m just a little too practical to get caught up in all that.” Raven pointed at the book in Pieran’s hand. “I agree that there’s a beauty in the language of his poems, but the things he talks about are based more on illusion than reality. I choose to live in the real world.”

Pieran's eyes fell upon her like a hail of arrows. “Argue for your limitations, and sure enough, they’re yours.”

Raven frowned at him.

“My dear lady, you are the one clinging to an illusion by thinking you have created a life devoid of any shades of romance and telling yourself that is the way to live.”

“You’re not the first person today to suggest that I should have more romance in my life.”

Pieran smiled a knowing smile. “The universe is speaking to you, trying to tell you something. It is up to you to decide if you are ready to hear the message.”

---

Later on, while Raven worked with Iona in the lab, the subject of romance came up again.

"I've been thinking about what you said before - that the right guy could be standing in front of me, and I'm just too closed off to let myself see that." Raven stared out the window. "Maybe I should take the chance, let him know how I feel. And soon, before I loose my nerve - or my opportunity."

"Invite him to a neutral place where you both feel comfortable - like out on the grounds, for instance. Bring a picnic-basket with a bottle of vino and something yummy to eat."

Raven looked up suddenly, as if struck by a thought. "There was this dessert that Dren and I had when we were in Spain, a Chocolate Truffle. Dren thought was perfect with the wine we had, and he's not normally a wine drinker. I think I still recall how to make it, and we just happen to have a bottle of the wine in Cornerstone's cellar. It's like the house is trying to give me a hint, or something."

"Perfect, a home-made meal. Wine him, dine him. He should get where this is going by then, so you're not gonna catch him by surprise. And that's the perfect time to just go out and say it - to tell him you're into him. And he'll be thrilled, trust me."

Raven nodded. "I'll do it tonight, before I have a chance to over-think it and back out."

---

Raven made the Truffle and placed it in the fridge. While rummaging for a beer later in the day, Dren spotted the familiar dessert. There was no doubt in his mind that Raven had made this and in the mouse cluttered, steel trap of his mind, pieces were falling into place. The perfect end to a perfect evening. He had spent so many years guarding his feelings from Raven but, this could in fact be the dawn of time in which he should make his feelings known.

With the exceptions of Raven and Pieran, the rest of the group headed to the St. Louis arch, where they discovered some vampires trying to perform some kind of spell. A fight broke out as the members of Cornerstone tried to stop the vamps.....

Dren dashed for the southern most candle, plugging rounds as he went. He dropped the empty guns and went to smother the flame with his hand. Dren had pieced together the clues that were before them. Taking the classic song, American Pie, and applying dark magic had proved to be a powerful and useful tool for the thieves of the Mississippi. They formed it into a way to divert attention from their task. But not all of the effects could be countered. The lyrics found their way into the speech of the populace. It even affected the way people could feel and express themselves.

The candles needed to be snuffed out. And normal means were not going to be of use. Iona had already proved that. The words of the song and Gonzo’s warning were the clues to success.

These flames needed to be snuffed out with flesh pressed against them. Dren pressed his hand onto the candle flame. The small fire resisted, holding onto its wick and fought back. Seared flesh and blackened smoke rose. The pain was more then one would expect under normal circumstances. Several seconds passed, but the determined Irishmen endured. The flame succumbed and went out, but not without making its mark on Dren’s right hand. As the flame died, the magic cloak beneath the Arch faltered. Directly beneath the Arch, other figures seemed to be moving about, but they were not easy to see. The cloak spell was still somewhat effective to hide their numbers as well as their features. Two candles remained lit.

While the others continued to fight the vampires, Johnny smothered another candle with his elbow. As the cloaking effect was further weakened, more was revealed. A table was set up directly below the center point of the Arch and on it dinner seemed to be served. What was for dinner was not clear. Three hags were tending to a cauldron near the table. At the head of the table, a large demon-shaped creature was seated, apparently consuming a meal. Behind the demon, a large vortex was swirling. It looked like a sideways tornado that stretched to the center of the river. Water was being sucked from the Mighty Mississippi and transported into the vortex. The water level of the river was notably lower downstream of the Arch.

The demon sensed something familiar about Alex. Her past exposure to a particular demon's blood had left Alex tainted with some aspect of that demon. The demon beneath the arch recognized it and "spoke" telepathically. {Kaphious, your presence is not complete… you are Ale Xis Ta Lor now. And you must be cleansed.} He stood and brushed the body off the table with a quick sweep of his hand. The demon was ashen grey, quite muscular with bony plates about its face. It reached upward toward the sky with its clawed hand outstretched and howled.

The Demon pointed at the body on the ground that was his meal. The corpse rolled over and stood. Its head has been cut open; the top of it was sitting on the table like a bowl. The remains of his brain were still in the skull cap, although most of them were gone. As the corpse turned, it appeared to shape-shift with a sudden shimmer. A young woman appeared to stand beside the demon where the dead man should have been. She was pretty in her own way, not a model beauty, but in a rugged, girl next door kind of way.

“Alex, it is me, Sarah. Stop. Don’t hurt him.”  With that, the demon almost smiled.

For a second, Alex stopped in her tracks, staring at the image of her best friend before her, breath catching in her throat as she desperately wanted to believe what she was seeing was real.  But it wasn't, and no amount of wishing upon a star was going to make it true.  Tearing her eyes away, she looked instead at the demon who seemed to be smirking at the effects of his latest parlour trick and her anger  flared again, furious that he had dared to desecrate Sarah's memory.

Blinded by rage, she threw caution to the wind, along with any semblance of a practical defence and charged toward the demon, intent on burying her sword inside him as deeply as she could.

Alex leaped onto the table and with her hands clenched together on the hilt, she bore the blade downward, deep into the Drac'Nienn demon’s ashen grey colored chest. The glamour on the corpse faded back to its original male form and collapsed like a puppet whose strings were cut. The Drac'Nienn stepped forward and backhanded Alex, knocking her bodily back a couple of feet.

Iona finally managed to topple the cauldron, spilling its contents. The water that was suspended splashed to the ground violently and the vortex that was sucking the river dry collapsed. “Nooo! My escape!!” The demon cried. Looking at Alex, “Kaphious, Assist me.” he commanded.

Alex felt an unpleasant tug in her head, as though someone had lodged a hook there and was trying to pull her where they wanted.  Stubborn as she was however, Alex performed the mental equivalent of digging her heels in the ground and refused to budge, clenching her jaw as she moved around the demon, waiting for a chance to strike.

“Kaphious? You abandon me? You let this inferior creature control you now?” the demon spat at Alex.

Alex jumped up forward and drove her blade down into the space between the demon’s neck and shoulder. Forcing the blade to the hilt, she severed the blackened heart. It fell slowly off her steel, dead at her feet.