In Service: A Science Fantasy Quest

Stepping out of Damien's cruiser, you behold the dog park on the corner of Anders and Deathdealer. Odd name for a street, but certainly not the weirdest you've ever seen.

Jefferson's Dog Park is a large, fenced in area with low grassy hills and concrete paths winding about the place. Dogs of all breeds and sizes trot happily besides their owners as they traverse the park. Trees dot the hills and line the pathways, black steel benches line the pathways—rest points for weary walkers.

Overall, the park is a rare splash of vibrant color in an otherwise drab jungle of stone, glass, and steel.

Hopefully you won't have to condemn it. Vampire infestations aren't pretty.

Approaching the front gate, you pass by a hotdog vendor and come across a kiosk and a gate barring your path. After denying an offer of a hotdog—eating on the job isn't the most professional of looks, you step up to the kiosk attendant.

The attendant, a teenaged wolfman—which is very different from a werewolf as wolfolk are bipedal anthropomorphic wolves and werewolves are people of other races that turn into wolves or wolf-ish things, lazily looks up as you come to a halt under the shade of the stand.

"Three bucks for a one-time hour pass, fifteen for a monthly pass, and hundred-fifty for a yearly." Larry, the nametag on his green uniform reads, announces as he leans on the counter and checks his nails—or are they claws?

"Not here for pleasure, I'm afraid." You say as you flip out your ID, showing off the badge inside. "We've got business inside, Service business."

His eyes bulge slightly as his jaw slackens. "Uh, I'm not sure I'm allowed to just let you in." Larry mutters, scratching at the fur on his neck. "Even for the S3."

You sigh, rolling your eyes as you slap down two bills on the counter, five dollars each. "There, happy now?"

"Uh, yeah." He replies as he plugs in the numbers on the ticket printer. "That'll be an hour for the both of you. Would you like your change?"

"No, keep it." You respond as you snatch the tickets and walk through the now-opened gate, handing one off to Damien as you pass under the wrought-iron.

"Good job handling that." Damien remarks as you come to a halt, taking a bite out of a hotdog piled high with ketchup and mustard. "A lot of agents would just demand access or make threats."

"I, uh, well, thanks." You mumble as you brush a strand of black hair from your eyes, a light breeze buffets against your hair. You frown, it's getting a little long, you should probably have it cut one of these days. "We should start our investigation, right?"

He nods, shoving the rest of the hotdog in his mouth and brushing his hands clean. Without much ceremony you head off in opposite directions, searching for any clues—obvious or obscure.

But where to start?

(Intuition Roll DC 40,60: 89+10=98, double success)

Well, finding the place where Bill caught that squirrel is probably a good starting point.

Now then, where exactly did she say it was?

After searching your memories, you don't think she specified. Well, she mentioned walking so it's likely that it's somewhat near the trails.

Eyeing the concrete pathways snaking around and over the low rolling hills, you hope that you find it quickly.

Sighing, you shove your hands in your pockets and start walking.

(Luck Roll: 39)

It takes you about thirty–thirty-five minutes to find the place, but you reckon that it's worth it.

Near the northern edge of the park, where the path draws closest to the fence, is where you find the spot where Bill caught the squirrel.

(Investigation Roll DC 30,50: 94+10=104, double success, oh boy
97+4=101, triple success, really?
84+1=85, quadruple success, alright then)

Well, ain't that interesting?

Brushing aside dirt, twigs, and fallen leaves you find something rather weird. A wooden stake, about a foot long and covered in dried blood.

Digging deeper causes your eyebrows to rise high on your head.

A hand, human by the looks of things, pokes out of the ground. It's pale, overly so, and looks like the blood's been drained from it.

Pulling the body out you come face to face with an open mouth absolutely filled with teeth and a very dead look. This is a vampire, a Vampire Lord by the looks of things. The look being that the monster before you appears to be rather human, instead of the twisted, bat-like monstrosities normal bloodsuckers turn into.

There's a hole in the Lord's chest, you notice as you dig the body out of the shallow grave that had been dug for it. It's heart is missing, which causes your eyebrows to rise even further.

(Intuition Roll DC 45: 76+10=86, success)

Eyeing the wooden, blood stained stake, you squint as you start piecing things together. Puzzle pieces slot into place in your mind as you compare the hole with the stake. Yep, around the same size.

(Perception Roll DC 50: 68+10=78, success)

Your eyes narrow as you touch the edges of the wound in the dead man's chest. It looks like… it was nibbled on some—nibbled on a lot, actually. The bite marks look to be the size of a small animal, a rodent possibly.

You reckon that you can probably piece together what went down and how Bill became a Vampire Lord with what you have here now. Though, it might be a better idea to wait for more information before you make a claim. However, there also might not be any more information to find.

Would you like to make a claim now or later?
[ ] Yes
-[ ] Write in
[ ] No, wait for more information

~~~~~~~

GM's Note: Not my best work, but it is what it is. Voting will be called tomorrow at 6 PM CST, as I am posting this rather late.


An explanation on what the vote is for and what a claim is:

So, basically, you're piecing together clues and hints that have been placed in the story in order to figure out what happened.

Whenever a vote like this shows up, you have enough clues to figure out what happened (as far as I can tell, at least)

Making the correct claim will net you a reward, the closer to the truth it is the better the reward. If you nail it dead on we'll talk about what reward you get and what seems fair.

If you don't want to make a claim or just have no idea you can choose the 'wait for more information' option, which means that the truth gets revealed next update. Of course, you don't get a reward for picking this option.

At the moment, I am testing this out tentatively so if it doesn't work out we'll try something different.

A thin, reedy-looking and spindly Gnome sits in an overstuffed leather office chair that almost swallows him whole. He has to sit on the edge of the seat in order to avoid said fate. You're pretty sure that the Gnome brought the chair in himself, given how out of place it looks next to the rest of the seats—plastic and metal all.

Handler Jonah Bristle, Laura's grand-nephew, brushes a greasy strand of straw-yellow hair from his face as you slap your report down on Briefing Room C's oval table. He's a rather young-looking Gnome, which doesn't mean all that much as Gnomes, and Halflings for that matter, don't age the same way as Humans do. The short race ages quite similarly to how Humans grow—in leaps and bounds and then all at once.

(Intuition Roll DC 35: 49+10=59, success)

Although, something about this Gnome tells you that he is about as young as he appears—somewhere in his early 20s, perhaps even 19-years-old.

Regardless of his age, he's the Handler assigned to your debriefing and so you'll treat him with due respect.

"So, uh, you had an interesting assignment, I hear." Handler Bristle speaks up as you pull out a seat—Damien taking his customary seat across from you.His voice is as high-pitched and reedy as expected. It's not painful at the moment, but if you had to listen to it for hours on end you reckon that you'd get sick of it quickly. "Keep this up and you'll be, uh, leading your own cases in no time at all!"

(Resolve Roll DC 50: 86+30=116, success
9+16=25, failure)

While you stifle a snort, Damien makes no attempt at all to hide his chuckle. You mean, it is kinda funny, you're basically running these investigations already! Damien, much like the Service back when he went through his mentorship, has a very 'hands off' approach to training and teaching. He makes sure you don't screw things up monumentally while letting you do your own thing and learn at your own pace.

Overall, you think that it works well enough for you so you're not complaining.

"Did I say something wrong?" Handler Jonah cringes back, the cushions threatening to swallow him up once more.

"No, nothing." You wave him off and he settles down into a quiet silence. You cough into your hand, drawing the Handler from his inaction. "I had a report to give."

"Oh, sorry." He apologizes and just sort of sits there, staring at you as Damien giggles. Yes, he giggles, like a school child.

Well, might as well get started. "We arrived at Miss Claudia Berwitz's apartment building and climbed the stairs to her apartment." You tap the papers you'd prepared against the wooden table, straightening them out. "Damien took some time to purchase raw and bloody meat from a local butcher's for Bill the dog. While he was doing that I interviewed Miss Claudia Berwitz and gained some information." You lay out the sheets containing the relevant information. "After I completed the interview, I proceeded to examine Bill the dog with Damien, who had returned and handed off the sack of meat to Miss Claudia Berwitz. I gave her my supply of De-Fang Potion as a preventative measure." More papers join the pile on the table. "Miss Claudia Berwitz agreed to let our scientists closely examine Bill in an ethical and safe manner, which I'm certain a good portion of the R&D staff aren't going to be very happy about. The examination will take place next week over the weekend. After completing the preliminary examination of Bill, Damien and I traveled to Jefferson's Dog Park, where we discovered a buried, and dead, Vampire Lord."

You breathe in deep before exhaling. It's time for you to give your hypothesis on what happened. "What I suspect to have happened is as follows: at an unknown but presumably relatively recent date, a Vampire Lord was staked and left on the ground in Jefferson's Dog Park. At a later date or time, again unknown, a squirrel (almost certainly a vampire squirrel, if such a thing is possible, and if such, likely recently turned as well, possibly by the vampire lord itself) stumbled upon or located the deceased Vampire Lord and instinctively drank its blood. This is followed by the events of three days ago, in which Bill sees and chases after said vampire squirrel. The squirrel bit Bill and began the process of turning him into a vampire. But, similarly to the squirrel, he instinctually drank its blood as a proto-vampire. As it turns out, it may be that by drinking the blood of a Vampire Lord, a nascent vampire will eventually turn into a Lord themselves. This presumably also applies in turn to the blood of those who have begun the process of doing so. This is how Bill the dog became a Vampire Lord."

You shrug as Handler Jonah nods along. "Though, I'm not certain if the Vampire Lord was dead in the ground before or after the squirrel got to it. I'm also not certain about who, or what, put that leech in the ground in the first place—without informing us no less. I believe that it calls for further investigation."

"Thank you for the report, Itzabella." The way he says your name… it's too casual for you. It's different when somebody asks you to call them by name,

"Please call me Special Agent Williams."

"Oh uh, right, sorry."

~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~

GM's Note: Short, but it is what it is. Voting will be called tomorrow at 5 PM CST, thanks for voting!

@Mindris got very close to the answer. As such, @Mindris shall receive a reward to use at their discretion: a +15 to a roll of their choice (one use, of course).

I'm a bit skiffy on the reward, so if you all aren't satisfied with it we can work on it some

I'll take that as I 'no' and just post now as I am getting tired and I'd like to update before sleeping

~~~~~~~

(Contacts Roll DC 65,85: 2+10(Contacts (Underworld))=12, failure, ouch)

Either the Winchesters have some idiotic apprehension to using tools, really good opsec, or they've lost the Chainsaw. Honestly, you're not sure which outcome is the one you're hoping it is.

Regardless, your probes turned up nothing.

"If it would please you, Mistress, you could have your ever loyal minion attempt to look?" STEVE offers as you pace around your room—currently in the throes of moving.

What little possessions you have are packed away in brown cardboard boxes stacked in the corner of your room. The vast majority are filled with miscellaneous parts and half-sketched plans for a myriad of different ideas. There's a box of clothes, including your spare uniforms, the clothes you joined the S3 in, some work-out clothes, and about 6 shirts and sweatpants. Only about 3/5ths of the box is actually filled, most of which is your spare greatcoats.

You packed away your creations, the ones that are more delicate are wrapped in bubble wrap and encased in foam. It would really, really suck to find out that your Infragoggles got crushed or damaged by a careless driver and so you might have taken some overcautious precautions.

"They're bound to have some form of e-defense, perhaps even an AI—though I doubt they'd have a high-level one like Walter." You mention as you cap the marker you'd been writing names on boxes with. "You think you can crack it? And do it without them noticing? They might be mad if you get caught."

"Of course, Mistress! By your will I can do anything!" STEVE declares fervently as always.

"Well…"

What do you decide?
[ ] Give him the go-ahead (STEVE will try to hack the Winchesters' database, runs the risk of being damaged by e-defenses or pissing off the Winchesters)
[ ] Hold back on that (STEVE won't try to hack them)

"In the meantime, has there been any updates on the, uh, procurement of goods?" You query STEVE while leaning back in your temporary bed, laying your head on the backboard while using a pillow as a backrest. The Service is going to be kicking you out soon—though they're wording it much politer, even in a building as big as the Chicago Division's HQ they need all the space they can get.

While STEVE compiles his report, you reach to the nightstand next to you and pick up the steaming cup of tea you'd made earlier.

(Contacts (Underworld) Roll DC 40,50,60: 48+10=58, double success)

"Your timing is most astute, Mistress!" STEVE announces as you sip the too-hot tea—just the temperature you like: blistering. The tea itself is a concoction you mixed up when you were younger, sort of a pick-me-up for long days. It's not even really tea at all, no leaves utilized, but it's served in containers similar to tea-bags and has a flavor similar to a good green tea—you're not too sure where that taste comes from. "I just received word that somebody is willing to do business with you."

"Oh?" You arch a brow as you swallow a mouthful of Pick-Tea-Up, the name you came up for the concoction. "Any identification or additional information?"

"A name, which I highly doubt to be his real one, Pen." STEVE begins before listing the instructions. "You're to meet him at a bar, Bastard's Father, on 1128 Grail Street. Once there, you are to tell the barkeep that 'Pen sent you'. That is all the information that was given, I'm sorry if it wasn't sufficient, Mistress."

"That's fine, STEVE, you did good." You reply as you scribble down the address on the notepad you keep on your nightstand, just in case you come up with an idea in your dreams. Huh, it's actually rather close to Jefferson's Dog Park, funny how these things play out.

Finishing off your tea, you set the cup on the nightstand and haul yourself to your feet. You sigh, turning to the stack of cardboard boxes in the corner. Well, it's probably a good idea to go looking for apartments now rather than wait for the Service to kick you out.

You swipe your phone from the nightstand and begin scrolling for apartment listings.

The most important thing you're looking for is super-science friendliness—practically a necessity for you. Though… you could rent out a warehouse or something to build an external lab in. Perfect for conducting some, uh, less 'ethical' experiments in.

(Investigation Roll DC 30,50,70: 78+10=88, triple success, nice)

After a couple hours of swiping, you've come up with three options that work for you.

The first is the basement in a big, centuries-old, wooden boardinghouse. It looks to be in a quiet neighborhood too, so that's a plus. There's a sub-basement level that you reckon could be a good spot for a lab, judging by the pictures. Of course, like all things, there are some downsides. One is that it's a bit of a trek from the HQ, but there's a bus-stop nearby so you'll be fine—if you don't build or purchase a vehicle of course. The other is that it does get a bit cold during winter, but it does have a large fireplace.

The second is, coincidently, an apartment in the same building as Claudia Berwitz—same floor even! The landlord has no problems with the supernatural, as long as they don't damage anything or make too much noise, same with pets and other entities. It's remarkably close to Jefferson's Dog Park, and Bastard's Father with it, so if you end up getting a dog or something that needs regular walks, that's a plus. Downsides are that it's an old building so some things might not work all the time as well as a lot of neighbors.

The third is in a recently refurbished building which, just so happens, was recently bought by a fellow super-scientist. She's a food super-scientist, not too common of a sight, so you can probably expect some interesting foodstuffs in your coming days, should you decide on this place. Landlady seems to be totally cool with just about every sort of thing—as long as they're not actively malicious or damage the property. Downsides is that it is in, what's called in the business, a 'bad neighborhood'—a supervillain fight went down nearby a few days ago.

So, it's time to make a decision. Which apartment do you want to rent?
[ ] The First
[ ] The Second
[ ] The Third

~~~~~~~

"Ah, Special Agent Williams, it is good to see you again!" Doctor Simule grins at you as you enter the observation booth. Bill the dog is currently being x-rayed in the room next to you.

You return the older, balding man's greeting and turn to watch the examinations.

"It's a shame that we have to do this 'ethically' and 'safely'." Doctor Simule mutters as he too watches the screens. "Damn those emotional people, can't understand that the advancement of science must come before any silly moral quandaries about such idiotic things like 'survival rates' and 'hazard pay'!" He swears before putting on a mocking, higher-pitched voice. "'Oh no, please don't cut off my legs and replace them with infinitely more superior insect legs! I would be so sad if I could leap dozens of times my height in a single bound!'"

(Passing Idea Roll DC 50,70,100: 100, triple success, what, really?
99+0=99, quadruple success, I guess it is lmao!)

As Bill is being scanned, something prods against your mind as an idea reveals itself. You can feel it start to slip through your mind as you frantically search the room for pen and paper—or at least paper, your blood can serve as a writing medium.

"Pen, paper, now!" You demand from Doctor Simule as you nearly upend a chair, a manic look in your eyes as they dart around the room.

"What for?" He asks as he calmly hands you both pen and paper—both retrieved from his lab coat.

"Idea! Can't talk!" You shout back as you start scribbling at an impossible rate. You toss aside an empty pen—it was full when you started, and Doctor Simule immediately replaces it with another. He's completely entranced with your movements, even going so far as to abandon Bill's examination in favor of your work.

After who knows how long, you lean back from the pile of paper you'd scrawled this idea down on, as well as the design for it. You breathe heavily as Doctor Simule leans over your shoulder to read it.

"Remarkable…" The gray-haired super-scientist mutters disbelievingly while shaking his head. "I can tell that it's a suppressor for something, but what exactly is it?"

"I'm a chemical super-scientist," you reply as you haul yourself to your feet, "and I had an idea." He nods, urging you on with a gesture. "The idea being," you crack a grin, "what if you could suppress the hunger of vampires? And this," you tap the stack of paper, "is the design for a pill that should do the trick."

His eyebrows arch wildly as he looks you up and down, as if seeing you in a new light. "Remarkable indeed…"

Your eyes drift to the forgotten screen. Oh hey, would you look at that! Bill's been cleared and is good to go back to his home, that's good.

(Gain a new Design: Bloodthirst Pill)

~~~~~~~

You stroll into the Archives and accept a cup of coffee from Helen, who smiles knowingly. "Renting your first home is a big deal." She says as she thinks back. "Oh it just throws me back to when I was young."

"Thanks, Helen." You reply, thanking her for the cup.
"Think nothing of it." Yeah, yeah you're gonna think of it. Precogs be wildin', you know?

(Learning Roll DC 30,50,70,90: 63+10=73, triple success)

With a yawn, you step away from the pile of books. Your brows shoot to the top of your forehead as, during a stretch, you happen to glance at the clock on the wall: 11:26 PM.

You should've been in bed an hour ago!

(Gain a +5 bonus to Knowledge (Aliens) rolls)
(+3 to Mental Health Maximum)

~~~~~~~

(Magic Roll DC 40,60,80 (DC Increase countered by Old Baba): 21+10=31, failure
Second roll: 58+10=68, double success)

Huh, so that's what they meant by 'Atmospheric Distorpheorics'.

"Your hair is getting so nice and long!" Old Baba comments as you look up from your book. "All the boys are going to love it!"

"Ah, well, thanks, Baba." You mutter, rubbing the back of your neck while avoiding her gaze. You've been meaning to get it cut, but moving has you distracted. "Though I prefer it to be shorter."

"Well," she throws her arms out, gesturing to the interior of her shop which happens to look like… a salon, "you've come to the right place, tygrysek. Old Baba's got some tricks!"

You think of mentioning whatever it is she called you, but decide instead to consider her offer.

Have your hair cut by Old Baba? Something interesting is sure to come of having your hair done by a witch.
[ ] Yes
[ ] No

~~~~~~~

(Combat (Dagger) Training Roll DC 30,60,90: 95+10=105, triple success, nice
76+5=81, quadruple success, nice!
Second roll: 93+10=103, triple success again!
97+3=100, quadruple success, no fucking way
74+0=74, quintuple success, nice work)

"You're showing strong improvements, good work." Damien remarks as he holds out a hand.

"Thanks, I've got a good teacher." You grin back at him as you take his hand and he helps you to your feet.

(11 more successes needed, good job!)

~~~~~~~

As you're going about your day, brewing another cup of Pick-Tea-Up for yourself, your phone rings.

Slipping it out of your pocket, you almost instinctively ignore it when you see the caller ID—your 'mother' has decided she wants to chat.

You have a choice to make here, there's no way this isn't important if she's deigned to call you of all people, but do you really want to talk to her?

What's your decision? (If you choose to answer her that will start a mission, so you won't have a case or an assignment. If you ignore then you'll just pick a case or assignment)
[ ] Answer her
[ ] Ignore her
-[ ] A Case (More long form things, often over a long period of time, where you can do downtime activities while investigating)
--[ ] A Senator has received a threatening letter for daring to suggest legislation that limits the ability for super scientists to perform unethical human experimentation, your objective is to bring the letter writer to justice
--[ ] The Lady of the Lake's daughter has shown up on the Chicago shorefront, find out how she got there
--[ ] The exhibits in the Field Museum of Natural History have been coming to life, find out why
--[ ] Griffon eggs have been showing up on the black market and the only sources are in sanctuaries, put a stop to these poachers

Or

-[ ] An Assignment (Shorter things, typically only a day or so in length)
--[ ] A man claims to have been abducted by aliens, find out if he's telling the truth

~~~~~~~

GM's Note: I'm not doing something wrong, am I? Not a whole lot of voting recently and I want to make sure that it's not because of me.

Voting will be called tomorrow at 5 PM CST, thanks for reading.

You'd been in the middle of packing your boxed-up things in a truck when you got the call. After a moment's hesitation, which you spent debating whether you should or shouldn't pick it up, you let your shoulders fall with a sigh. She wouldn't be calling you if it wasn't important and, even if they care little for your family's heritage, maybe you can get some information on the Boomstick from them.

With bated breath you steel your spine and thumb the 'accept call' button on the third ring.

"Finally." The voice of Bella Williams is an acidic, viperous thing that drills through your ears. It's full of poisonous promise, of cold cruelty. "Took you long enough."

"Good afternoon, Mrs Williams." Your words are full of false politeness. "How can the Service of Supernatural Solutions help you today? I do hope that you aren't calling about the prophylactics again, you are aware that that isn't in our jurisdiction, correct?"

"Cute." You can hear her sneer from across the phone. "While I'd wish nothing more than to engage your sub-sufficient intellect in a battle of words and wits, no matter how lack-luster such a thing would be, that's not why I'm here."

"Oh yeah? Tell me, why are you here then, hmm?" And speaking of which, how the hell did she get your phone number? You changed it after you left! The phone and the number.

"The Williams Family Mausoleum was recently broken into." Ah son of a flea-bitten, misbegotten… "The thieves made off with two items of import, one of which has your father in a tizzy."

Your eyes narrow. For all the skills your ancestors show in life, they had a bad habit of dying in ways that made their bodies unrecoverable. So, if somethings were stolen… there's a small pool of items that it could be. "And they are…?"

"The first is the body of an ancestor of yours, somebody named Ashley." That sends your eyebrows skyrocketing, there's only one person in your family named Ashley. "And the second, the thing that has your father worried, is a book." You can feel your pupils contract and your pulse quicken as soon as she says 'book'.

"The book's title." Something in your tone must have resonated with Bella as she doesn't have that mocking, sneering sound in her voice when she next speaks.

"The Necronomicon Ex-Mortis." Your jaw clenches and your teeth grind against each other so hard there's a part of you that's afraid that they'll break.

"Son of a fucking-"

~~~~~~~

"-Bitch." You finish as you stand in your family's private cemetery.

The Williams Cemetery is a large, fenced-off square surrounding an impressive structure looking down on the rest of the cemetery from atop a hill. The Greek-inspired structure, the Mausoleum, is made out of pristine black marble.

Formerly pristine, as the gate to the Mausoleum has been blown off, revealing the staircase that descends into the hill. You've been inside the tomb of your family only one time, to give respect to your uncle as he was entombed within.

Uncle Mike was, as far as you're concerned, the only good Williams to come out of your 'father's' batch. Your aunt was, and still should be, serving a life sentence in an ultramax-security prison for trying to sell the city of Chicago to an interdimensional warlord. Too high profile to simply execute her, but too serious of a crime to let her walk, so they stuck her in a prison and threw away the key.

Uncle Mike, unlike your 'father' and aunt, actually gave a shit about your family's legacy and shouldered the demon slaying responsibility of two other people in the process. He was also the person who introduced you to chemistry, fostering a fascination that you carried with you to this day.

Strong, intelligent, humble, everything you wish your parents were and everything they weren't. The day he died was the last time you actually broke down and cried—not at his death but at the sheer disrespect he was shown by your parents.

It was also the moment that you made up your mind about leaving.

"How the hell did they get past the defenses?" You mutter to yourself as you trudge up the stone steps leading up the hill. A forest of gravestones trail past you, the final resting point of many companions of the Williams. Tall, untrimmed grass brushes against your legs as you pass through unkempt sections.

It seems the Groundskeepers haven't been keeping the place tidy. In fact, you haven't seen a single one of their ghostly forms floating about the place since you got here. That's not a good sign, that's not a good sign at all.

Stepping over a pile of fallen stones, you stare into the inky darkness within the Mausoleum. The wrought-iron gate was blown inwards, the left door laying on the stairs, halfway in the darkness. The right door is hanging by its joints, rocking back and forth in the wind.

"No but seriously, the Cemetery's defenses are incredible, not to mention the Mausoleum's. As well they should be, with the sacrifice we pay to fuel them." You shake your head disbelievingly as you run a hand over the rough stone of the broken doorway. A chunk breaks off and bounces down the stairs, reminding you why you even came here in the first place.

The Book is gone, stolen by hostile forces.

And so is the body of your family's founder.

"God fucking dammit!" You can't help but swear as you slam a fist against the black marble, your eyes screwing shut in pain half-cut with frustration.

How do you proceed? (You may add minor actions, like calling someone, specific questions you want asked, and etcetera)
[ ] Examine the defenses, why didn't they activate?
[ ] Find and question the Groundskeepers, where were they?
[ ] Investigate Ashley J. Williams' tomb, where he and the Book were kept, perhaps there's a clue left behind?
[ ] Talk to your parents, who are not here right now, why?

~~~~~~~

GM's Note: Alrighty, something rather evil is afoot and it's up to you to get to the bottom of it! Voting will be called tomorrow at 5 PM CST, thanks for responding!


In other news, I was playing around with Artbreeder earlier today and made a face that's pretty close to how I envision Itza to look. Though she is missing her glasses as Artbreeder can't do glasses to save its life. And the hair is a little off, should be straighter and a bit longer. But it's a good enough approximation.