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[Ellerby]

The three watched in horror as The Butler, a seemingly neutral spirit, vanished into thin air. While his calm demeanor was a bit disturbing, it was a comfort to know not all the spirits were complete psycho paths. Miles took off his hat and brushed off some dust before placing it back on his head. He pushed his glasses to the top of his nose before speaking.

"Well, we best be moving on then. No telling what insanity will show its face next." he half joked. The two women nodded in agreement and continued to walk down the hallway at the top of the stairs. The blood of the author splattered the walls on the side of the stair case, and a broken railing ahead reminded them of Elyssa's devastating fall. They walked past in silence, paying their respect. On the first door on the right, Charlotte noticed something strange.

"Look here." she said, pointing to a slightly open door. Dirt littered the bottom of the door frame and a clump of withered flower petals sat nearby. Miles stepped forward and pushed the door open the rest of the way.

"That's strange." he said, looking in the room. "There's dirt everywhere. And the wood and wallpaper looks split in various places, like something grew out of it."

"Maybe this used to be a gardening room and nature has just taken over. Let's go." Jacqueline urged.

"That would make sense... if there were still roots here." Miles said, intrigued by the strange appearance of the room. "But it's as if they grew into the entire room and then just sucked themselves right back into the earth. And normally gardening tools are kept in the basement or outside separate from the house. Especially in a big mansion like this." Miles picked up one of the petals off the floor and it crumbled away in his hand. "I think this might've been the doing of another one of those spirits."

"Well standing here examining it doesn't get us anywhere. We need to find the Doctor." Jacqueline reminded Miles while he stared into the room with fascination.

"You two go on ahead, I'll catch up." Miles said, taking a step into the room. He got on one knee and began to closely examine all the individual indents in the wood, each one about as thin and as long as wire. Charlotte tapped her foot impatiently.

"We aren't leaving without you, that's how people keep ending up dead, remember?" she insisted with an irritated tone in her voice. Miles simply ignored her and continued to examine the floor.

Interesting... It seems there really were roots growing here at some point... But where did they go? There's no sign of a human yanking them out. How peculiar... roots that can grow larger and smaller at will. Suddenly Miles was hit with a burst of inspiration. He took off his hat and took a tiny piece of paper out from the under the fold, then placed it back on his head. He retrieved his favorite designer pen from his pocket -a heavy, golden ink pen with a point so sharp it could pierce steel (or so Miles liked to claim)- from his front pocket and began to furiously write down ideas for a new song. He began with a few lyrics to sing the tune to.

Who would've thought that in this hell-forsaken Mansion, in such a dire situation I would find the inspiration I've been searching years for.

Jacqueline and Charlotte watched in amazement as the man began writing a song right in front of them, no longer acknowledging their existence. Charlotte huffed and stomped away.

"Fine! We'll find her without you!" she growled, walking away.

"Charlotte wait!" Jacqueline yelled, following behind.

Miles filled up the front side of the paper with various lyrics and notes. He looked around the room with wonder, completely dumb founded by the way nature had affected the room. Finally content with what ideas he'd come up with, Miles placed the paper back in his hat and twirled the pen between his fingers as he concluded his thoughts.

I better catch up to those two, I wouldn't want anything to happen. I can't believe I zoned out like that. Miles placed a hand on the floor behind him for leverage and began to stand to his feet when a loud creak and a shift in the floor beneath halted him.

Oh no... What Miles had failed to consider about the roots growing into the whole floor and retreating back out was that he was actually on the second floor. There were no trees or stumps around to even grow into the room. They'd literally come from nowhere and now had weakened the wood all around him.

Which means... the wood beneath Miles suddenly began to split in the various cracks caused by the roots. Miles felt the floor dip towards the middle and began sliding towards it. He wanted to get up and leap for the door, but any sudden shift of movement would only make the floor collapse quicker. Slowly the wood began to crumble away starting at the center. It all happened so fast that when Miles yelled to the others for help, the wood beneath him had already taken all the pressure it could and gave way. Immediately Miles fell one whole floor, landing flat on his back in a dark and dusty room.

Barely able to move, Miles winced his eyes open. He was in a nearly pitch black room, the only light coming from the whole in the room above him that he'd fallen through. He tried to sit up but just fell back in pain completely unable to move. He'd definitely broken a rib, if not two, and his ankle was twisted.

At least I survived the fall... Miles thought too soon though, as on the floor above, the pen he'd been writing with rolled towards the hole in the middle and fell straight down. The heavy designer pen plummeted towards Miles and pierced him in the throat before he could even react. And as if that wasn't enough, the pressure of the pen puncturing his skin had caused it to leak ink straight into his neck. Miles gagged for nearly a minute before slowly fading away to the darkness.

[CaNz]

“That bird woman ate that girl, devoured her flesh!” Edward Neilson caught up with Daniel Mathis and Alicia Mills, who had remained well hidden while exploring the gardens.. “We have to do something about it, the beast is hunting us down!”

“Hold on… Diana is dead? We are falling like flies here, that bird lady killed her?” Mathis couldn’t believe how many people were dying, he wasn’t cut out for this kind of stress.

“Well...” he hesitated, but only for a moment, “yes, she has sharp claws and the speed of a devil. I tried to help but I was too late.” Mathis felt a little off put by the way Neilson answered the question, but he did not find any reason why he would lie, the harpy was preying upon them.

Alicia Mills was silent. The recent incident involving the Spirit of the Green Lady was bad enough, but the upon finding Mathis she realized just how many people had died. Death had not shaken her before… but being placed on the grim reapers doorstep changes things.

============================================================

The Bandit was being eyed cautiously by the gravedigger, as well as a few of the other spirits. There was much to do but it had seemed ass if the bandit had been doing nothing at all. A more careful observer would have seen the opposite, he was watching. The Spirit in particular was Gravedigger himself. He had brought the Harpy to the mansion using an amazing power. The Bandit greatly wanted that power.

His eyes had stolen many things in his time. Safe combination, secrets better left hidden, and even the names of others. This time they would steel a far greater power.

MIRROR CARD: Duplicate the effect of any card in play.

Name: Mimic
Age:1
Race: Doppelganger
Using the steps he had overseen, the Bandit spawned an abomination of the flesh, draped in cloth that hid skin of gray. The monster peeled of the fabric to reveal the face of the Bandit.

“Quite the trick… it seems I have given birth to a thief as talented as myself.“ The bandit marveled a bit at his own handiwork, then got back to business, "If you can steal the form of others, take the look of the recently departed Musician. Afterwords head east to the place most of the residents remain… cause as much trouble as you can without revealing yourself.” the creature Mimic ripped his face as if he was wearing the cloth that originally covered his body. The exact body shape and size of Miles Shaw (save for a pen in the throat) and headed for the others.

==================================================================

Charlotte Hamilton approached the group of three, holding a blood tainted chefs blade. “I found Diana Ross, or what is left of her. the harpy didn't go hungry ” her sullen eyes showed that she had more to tell, “I may only be a nurse, but I certain what killed her was this knife.”

Edward felt many eyes come upon him. “ I… She was gouged by the Harpy! I saw her ripped to shreds!”

Hamilton placed the knife in her bag, then took a seat next to Mathis. “I don’t know how or why she was stabbed, but people are being killed, and this place is madness.”

Alicia Spoke, “is there anyone else alive?”

“I am not sure about Evelynne Decoeur, but I have not heard of her” said Hamelton “But I was Just with Miles Shaw and Jacqueline Masey… I think she meant to follow me but I wanted to find you quickly Alicia, but instead I stumbled upon Diana Ross first.”

The doppelganger disguisedas Miles Shaw approached the group just as his the name of the dead pianist was called out. “Hello everyone… I assume we are all here?”

Alicia almost cried, “does it look like we are all here you idiot?”

Hamilton approached him,. “where did Jacqueline go!? She was with you when I left.”

“Yes, she was, but then she left, I lost track of her and came here.” The doppelganger didn’t draw attention of the others. Getting lost was easy out here.

While they discussed what their next move should be Daniel Mathis opened the bag Hamilton had with her. He took the bloody knife and closed the purse, not fully knowing what he was going to do with it. He approached the group, blade hidden in an accessible jacket pocket.

The Bandits smile could be seen, then it faded.

Edited by CaNz, 30 August 2010 - 05:27 AM.

[Nathan]

Angel took her time as she considered those who were still alive, for now. Bound by the rules of this particular ‘game’ she could only choose one and that meant she had to be careful with her choice. There was Charlotte Hamilton, the failed nurse. She liked to believe that she was innocent of any wrong doing, but the harsh reality was far from it. Always in a hurry to be done with her shift, she had a bad habit of not double checking a patient’s chart.

It was true that Daniel Mathis’ wife had an allergic reaction, but if Charlotte had followed up on her bad feeling and double checked the patient’s records, she would have seen it listed there. The doctor was the one who made the mistake, but Charlotte was the one who rushed in a hurry to be done. She knew it not, but her careless attitude had cost many patients their lives.

Then there was Daniel Mathis. On the surface he looked fine, but he couldn’t stand students who were smarter than he was. He had, by giving into his ego, deliberately flunked out students, costing them their scholarships. Only a few, but still the act of a man who didn’t care that he had screwed over someone’s life.

Jacqueline Masey had no trouble whatsoever using her body to get what she wanted. Her artist skills weren’t enough but being a well paid mistress along with a touch of blackmail had always seen her through. She had wrecked several marriages. Angel could see that she thought nothing of what she had done.

And what of the Doctor, Alicia Mills? She was too much of a coward in so many ways, just looking at her made Angel grimace in disgust. Every time she had a chance to do more, to advance and help others, Alicia had run instead, just like she had here. She was always hiding away from harm because she couldn’t face her fears.

Edward Nelson didn’t concern her. For the moment her power could not touch him and the harpy, Belle, was only following her nature, though she delighted in tormenting her prey. And the Mimic… Angel sighed. It was time to make her move. The Gravedigger had been patient so far, and she knew he wouldn’t wait on her much longer.

“We’re all going to die here.” Alicia’s voice was trembling. She had thought that leaving the safety of the room was a good idea, now she wished she had never left.

“Don’t say that.” Daniel tried to reassure her though he didn’t feel much hope of getting out alive either. “If we stick together we…”

“Will what?” Charlotte interrupted him harshly. “Somehow make it out alive?” She laughed, a touch of hysteria coloring her words. “My God you’re naïve. They’re toying with us! Those damn ghosts don’t intend to let any of us live.”

“You don’t know that! As much as I’d rather leave you here to rot,” he sneered slightly. “I’m not one to give up so easily.”

“Perhaps I’d rather die than allow someone like you to help me.” Charlotte shot back angrily. “Quite frankly I’m sick of you. You have no idea what it’s like to work your butt off trying to help others only for people to blame you for things you have no control over.”

Daniel started to retort and then stopped himself. “We don’t have time to fight. Whether we like each other or not doesn’t matter. Trying to work together is better than going alone.”

Alicia timidly stepped forward, resting her arm on Charlotte’s shoulder. “He’s right you know. Please, we have to stick together.”

“Shut up!” Charlotte shoved Alicia away angrily. “You’re a…” She gasped in horror as she realized just what she had shoved her towards.

“No!” Daniel shouted desperately as he reached to grab Alicia. But he was too far away and could only watch helplessly as the shove sent her over the edge of the huge hole in the floor they had fallen through earlier.

Alicia’s startled scream as she fell was cut short by a sickening crack.

Afraid to look yet unable to stop herself, Charlotte stepped over and looked down, a moment later Daniel joined her. Oh God… He was right! She did kill people. With a strangled sob she turned and fled, not looking back. She thought she heard Daniel calling after her to stop but she kept running anyway.

[Shy]

Chapter Four: The Gravedigger‘s Secret

---

50[/hr]
The game continued and two more of Rosengard’s spirits had lost their places within it. Gravedigger approached the Green Lady as she saw on a stone bench, nestled between a dangerous overgrowth of rose bushes. She stared down at the Moon, reflected onto a puddle of rainwater that had formed. The lady sighed softly.

“We had a deal,” The Gravedigger announced coldly. He had no interest in repeating the folly of Lin and Ren, “You must come with me now, as the others have before you.”

“I understand, sir, but I only hoped for a moment to collect myself. After all, I’ve spent lifetimes on these grounds…..”

She traced her finger along the benches various engravings of vines and roses. Her hand came across a pair of initials that had been carved into the side: M.R. She stared at them curiously as she struggled to remember what the letters stood for.

“You did that," The Gravedigger said, “Do you remember?”

The Green Lady folded her arms, “Did I? Am I 'M.R.?' I mean, was I?”

“It hardly matters now, but you were the ‘M.’ You came to this place for the first time on the night of your murder… you carved this for your lover, so that they would never forget.”

“You must be lying,” she said meekly, “If that's so, how can it be that I don’t remember anything?”

“A spirit‘s memories begin to fade over time. This cannot be helped."

The Green Lady folded her arms as if she felt a strong chill. She spoke softer than before, barely a whisper this time,

"Please, what happened to my beloved?"

"I'm afraid that is not my place to tell," The specter replied as he extended his hand towards her, “Now come with me, dear lady. Your part in this game is not yet finished.”

[Nathan]

“You’re up to something.” A voice from the darkness accused her. Angel smiled sweetly, not taking her attention off of the remaining ‘guests’. She recognized The Butler’s voice.

“Of course I am.” Her gaze settled on Edward Nelson. “I had to settle for a different target earlier, I won’t be denied this time.” Her voice was cold.

“That’s not very ladylike of you.” The Butler chided.

“You didn’t hesitate to deal with the child,” She shot back. “At least this one has lived a long life, unlike the others.”

She turned and bowed briefly towards the shadows before heading for Edward Nelson.

“Come on,” Edward tugged on Daniel’s sleeve. “Even I can see from here that the back of the poor woman’s head was smashed in. It’s not your fault the other girl got angry and shoved her.”

“How would you know?” Daniel pulled free.

“I saw the whole thing or did you forget I was in the next room?”

“I shouldn’t have been so hard on her.” Daniel looked in the direction Charlotte had run. He didn’t want to go after her, but somehow he knew his dear wife would never forgive him if he didn’t.

“We should go after her.”

“Now you’re talking.” Edward agreed. “No way am I letting these damn spirits take us out without a fight!”

“And just how do you intend to fight?” A female’s voice echoed through the room. “You can’t even leave this place let alone stop what is happening.”

“Holy Hell.” Edward swore, stepping back hastily when a young woman dressed in an old fashioned dress appeared between them and the direction Charlotte had run.

“Stand aside, specter!” Daniel tried to sound brave but he couldn’t stop shaking, there was something terribly cold about the ghost before them.

Angel smiled. “I think not.” She reached out before Edward could pull back and touched his cheek. “Your time here is long overdue, old man.”

Edward tried to pull away but found he couldn’t move. In a flash he aged before her eyes and then his body turned into dust. She ignored Daniel’s gasp of horror, only turning to him once Edward was dealt with.

HASTE CARD: (Play this card ONLY before any Death Cards have been played this round.) Kill one character.

“Oh my God…” Daniel choked as he backed away frantically in an attempt to escape.

“You can stop running,” she snapped. “I don’t intend to kill you, at least not yet.”

Daniel froze in place. “I don’t understand.” He finally stammered.

“It’s simple really.” Angel moved forward until they were only a few feet apart. “You’ve destroyed promising young minds for daring to be smarter than you are. Do you know what it’s like to have your intellect crushed by the very one who is supposed to help it grow?” She glared at him.

“Do you know how that kills someone’s spirit? Makes them despair?”

“I…”

“I’m going to show you.” Angel reached out before Daniel could pull away and touched his cheek. She ignored his cry of fright as he stumbled backwards and fell. She glared down at him scornfully.

“Now only Life will set you free. You have become just as undead as the rest of us.” She mocked him. “I also grant you my power to freely move through things as if you were a ghost, so that you won’t miss one little detail of what’s happening to the lives you can't protect.”

UNDEAD CARD: This character is immune to Death Cards for the remainder of the game, but is still subject to the effects of all other cards.
A Life Card may be used to kill this character.

GHOST: This card grants the bearer the ability to move through solid objects. How long it lasts or how often they can do so depends on their current level of alertness.

“You disgust me,” Angel said coldly before turning and leaving Daniel sitting there on the floor. It was one of the few memories that were still her own since she’d been trapped in this place.

How she had been held back by a cruel teacher who couldn’t accept that a mere woman could be smarter than he was. As much as Angel wanted to kill him, she would have to settle for making him suffer. There were others who needed to die more than he did. She didn’t waste any time. The pathetic humans might be fooled by the Mimic but she was not. A moment later she found the creature cozying up to the other remaining humans.

Angel ignored the frightened and shocked looks from Charlotte, Jacqueline and Evelynne when she appeared before them suddenly and went straight for the Mimic, reaching into his chest. With a swift twist she ripped it's heart right out of it's chest before it could react. As it fell to the floor, blood gushing from the ghastly wound she dropped the heart on the floor and crushed it with her foot.

She smiled as the thing shimmered back into the odd featureless form it had been upon birth. "Let that be a lesson to you ladies. Things are never what they appear to be." Her work finally done, Angel left to return to the library. She needed a good book to calm her nerves.

[Gavin]

The Butler glowered darkly as Angel departed, allowing his right hand to clench and unclench. The boy had been a thief, a guttersnipe and a thoroughly mongrel-bred piece of trash, killing him no more amounted to murder than the elimination of rodents when they managed to scurry their way into the Manor. Long, thin fingers like claws, those tiny beady eyes more appropriately found on an animal and that terribly stench of poverty and greed.

He shuddered even thinking about it, no, that child could hardly have been considered human, and such filth could not and should not have been allowed to even enter through the doors, let alone to ply his trade among the other guests. Where the Butler had lacked a boot to crush this rat he had found the chandelier most sufficient. He was not a cruel or malevolent man, certainly not to the extent of some of the others who still roamed the halls but his Mistress had tasked him with the protection of the Manor and he would not shirk that duty, he had not in life and he would not in death.

Quietly he moved to follow Angel down into the room where she and the three women were standing silently around the body of the recently deceased chameleon creature who had taken the appearance of the fallen musician. Without word he bent down and ran his gloved fingers into the moulding carpet, withdrew them and stared at the fresh blood marking his pristine white glove before holding it towards Angel and awaited her response. His fellow spectre said nothing, offering neither apology nor explanation for her actions, but merely holding the Butler’s gaze steadily until he withdrew his hand unsatisfied.

As if snapped out of hypnosis by the presence of the two poltergeists, Jacqueline Masey was the first to break the silence, as she levelled her eyes carefully on the newest arrival.

“Mr Butler, I hope you’re not here to reveal another one of us as a monster and perform a disembowelling ?”

Her tone was hard, the same kind of voice she used to deal with difficult customers but underneath he could sense the twang of fright lurking within the thought, for a moment he allowed a small smile to play upon his lips before answering.

“My dear girl” he said evenly “surely you meant to say that I would not reveal one of you for the monsters that you are, because of course you are all in one fashion or another monsters. I know your secrets little girls, we all do, you simply would not be here otherwise.”

“How dare you!” She strode the distance between the two and swung forward with an open palm. Gingerly he caught her wrist with blood-soaked fingers and with the merest of twists, snapped the offending limb as though it were a dried winter twig. She fell to her knees screeching in pain as the nurse moved quickly to intervene and treat the injury.

“I’m afraid not.”

Paling the nurse brought her hands to her ears, unable and unwilling to move lest the unbearable din in her mind grow any louder.

Hoisting the fallen artist to her feet the middle-aged spirit’s face cracked into a terribly unfriendly smirk.

“Little whore, you think I can’t see into your black heart, to see all the horrible things you’ve done to others for the slightest perceived insult or merely to alleviate your boredom ? How you play artist for the world, for fear they would see the serpent you are when light touches you who spends all her time in the dark ? As I told you before, if you conduct yourself with proper dignity in my presence you have nothing to fear, and that includes the dignity of the spirit my dear which I find in you sorely lacking.”

She kicked and screamed, begging the other spirit to intervene to no avail as the Butler dragged her roughly towards the French doors leading out to the garden. Gently twisting the handle he allowed them to open out onto what had once been picturesque, rolling lawns filled offset with winter shrubs and delicate scented flowers. Instead it was now an overgrown mess of foliage, home to all manner of vermin.

Masey continued to struggle against the ghost’s iron grip but to no avail, she felt dirt and stones roughly jab against her back as she was hauled further and further away from the Manor in the dead of night. Hot tears rushed down her face as her throat became hoarse, begging anyone to save her from her fate. At last they reached a large oak tree, and beyond the silence she could hear only the terrible ripping of flesh and crunching of bone.

Releasing his quarry the Butler cast his eyes to the highest unimpeded branch and the ugly mass of feathers and claws that called it home.

“Here beast!” He swept his hand to Masey who recoiled in horror at the sight before her eyes “Another meal to keep you satisfied, at least until you too offend a greater power than yourself.”

The harpy cocked her head, as if unsure what to make of what she saw. Belle’s powerful sense of scent gleamed only death from the speaking one, which puzzled her, but the other was ripe and very much alive. Saliva dripped freely from her blood-covered mouth as she dropped the well gnawed femur of her last victim, her pride still stinging at having been robbed of live prey to toy with before finally killing. A joyous screech erupted from her throat as she dove from the branch, pitch coloured wings carrying her towards her prey.

Adrenaline finally allowed Jacqueline to draw herself up from the ground, the shadow of the demonic half-human hawk drawing closer and closer to her. She ran, faster than her legs had ever carried her before back towards the Manor, to light and life, stones and jagged rocks cut her feet which had been deprived of shoes during the journey to the harpy’s tree but even that pain was nothing before the absolute terror she felt. Closer and closer, she could make out the vague shadows of her compatriots against the windows, willing her to bridge the distance between them before it was too late.

The force of the talons which pierced her back forced her to the ground and drove all the air from her lungs, the agony of her ruined flesh rippled through her evoking an ear-splitting shriek. She felt them dig further and further into her, blood spraying from the entry wounds until finally her world went dark and with a ragged gasp Jacqueline Masey offered her mortal coil to her maker.

Edited by Gavin, 30 August 2010 - 02:58 PM.

[Nathan]

“That’s one way to deal with them.” Angel observed calmly as The Butler returned to The Mansion. “It’s certainly easier on what’s left of the carpets.”

The Butler merely returned her gaze, saying nothing.

“You know, you don’t have to look at me like that.” She said softly. “I won’t apologize for killing that monstrosity, but I am sorry for the damage I caused to the floor.” She looked away, not waiting to see if he forgave her actions or not.

Angel continued, “I acted hastily and did not think to drag that thing outside.” She looked back and fixed him with a sharp gaze. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are you?” He finally replied to her.

“Don’t you ever wonder about our past? Beyond what few memories we seem to have?” She gestured to the house and the surrounding grounds.

“What’s your point?” The Butler looked skeptical.

Angel sighed inwardly at his lack of emotion in his response. She wasn’t certain if he would forgive her for damaging The Mansion, though that wasn’t what really concerned her. The building would fall apart without her help and in time that too would be forgotten. No she was more concerned by how it seemed harder and harder to even remember who she really was.

“What I mean is do you ever wonder if we’re really from this place.” Angel folded her arms. “For all we know, we could have been just like them at one point.” She indicated the remaining humans.

“I think I would know if that were the case.”

“Do you really think so?” Angel shook her head. “I can’t even remember my real name anymore.”

She turned to leave and paused briefly, turning back to face The Butler, “Anyway, I’m more concerned about what our dear host is up to, and I think you should be too. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re all being used by him.”

Angel waited for a moment to let that sink in and then turned to leave.

[CaNz]

The Bandit felt the end nearing, it had been a long struggle so far and he was sure their was little left for him to do. One thing he was sure of was that the killing wouldn’t stop now, and he was unsure if it ever would. Before the killing began there was one thing he wanted to do. The man-ghost David Mathis had an ability that could benefit the remaining guests.

============================================================================

He found Mathis looking through a wall at the remaining guests. “They are all prey you know. “

“You, you're not the one who did this to me are you?” Mathis was not afraid of The Bandit, but every time one of the spirits showed up, someone died, “what do you want then.”

The Bandit shot him a smiled, ”I have given you all you need to help your fellow man. That Bird has plagued this game for too long, and in your current state you have the ability to defeat her. I will lead you to her, but on one condition. Your loyalty, rid yourself of the bond you share with Angle. Denounce that spirit and I will allow you to save the lives of the others.”

“If I do, does this mean I am under your control? Who’s twisted plan will I now be part of, yours?”

“Don’t bother worrying about that, I will take care of the details, just do as I say and you’ll have a chance at saving them.”

SWITCH CARD: Switch the owners of ANY two characters still in play.

“Fine, I accept.” The Bandit let loose an appalling laugh before grasping the back of Daniel Mathis’ neck and flying out the room.

==========================================================================

Belle was enjoying her most recent meal, the corpse of Jacqueline Masey when Mathis emerged from the ground behind her, holding the bloody knife he had previously stolen.

“Too many have died because of monsters like you," the harpy turned to produce a deafening scream, but became puzzled as to why her efforts produced no sound. She then became very aware of the knife protruding from her throat. Rage filled her now glazing eyes, she reached out to slash the Man who silenced her, but her claws tore no flesh and her muscles broke no bones. The great beast fell to the ground, never to reach the skies again. However the former master of the Harpy pleased with the outcome, as the game would continue on.

==========================================================================

The Bandit appeared before the host. “Everything has to end sometime Gravedigger, when will you let the dead have peace?”

“Leaving the dead alone has never crossed my mind. I am The Gravedigger after all.” With his mind put n place, the Bandit faded off, he couldn’t help but think that this game would never truly end, but for now he was satisfied with what he had achieved.

Edited by CaNz, 07 September 2010 - 08:54 PM.

[Heaven's Cloud]

Byron materialized in the courtyard. Other spirits gathered there. The one called the Bandit was in a heated conversation with the emotionless Gravedigger. Byron ignored them and walked towards Jacqueline Masey.

He supposed that the corpse would smell quite fowl if he still had a sense of smell. The harpy had fed from the artist’s intestines and stomach, exposing her insides to the elements. As he stared at the young woman’s face he wondered why he had called her to the mansion. Her only sin was sex and as any self-respecting spirit would tell you, sex itself wasn’t really a sin, not unless it was in the context of rape or adultery. No, he had brought her here for another reason

Do want to remember?

The Gravedigger was behind him, and his voice slid over Byron like cold mud.

I can make you remember if you’d like.

Byron took a second and then whispered his response.

Yes…

***

Johnathan Byron stepped out of the carriage and into the cool fall afternoon. Before him stood the Rosengard Estate, a beautiful colonial mansion that was nestled in hundreds of acres of perfectly manicured gardens. It was truly breathtaking.

Byron’s benefactor stood behind him. Jason Hamilton was one of the wealthiest merchants in the west. Shipping lanes, spices, rare minerals, tobacco, Hamilton had his hands in all of them.

Hamilton had recently brought Johnathan on as his personal investor and broker. At first Johnathan wondered if Hamilton hadn’t made a mistake, he had never been responsible for investments of this magnitude before and had no hands on experience in dealing with large trades. However, Jonathan caught on quick and soon became Hamilton’s star employee.

Things were wonderful for Jonathan, he had a beautiful wife, a daughter that was about to marry an upstanding young man and a new job that was making his family very wealthy. On top of all that Hamilton had brought him to the Rosengard Estate to vacation (and discuss a little business) with Wyatt Rosengard.

Jonathan and Hamilton entered the manor escorted by bellhops and butlers. At the foot of the stairs Wyatt Rosengard greeted them. He was a young man, Jonathan pegged his age at thirty, with a pleasant demeanor and a firm handshake. There was something about Rosengard’s eyes, something truly unnerving that bothered him.

The group spent the next several hours wandering the mansion. They visited the gallery, where painting gorgeous enough to make you weep mingled with horrifying sculptures from far away continents, and the atrium, where a terrible harpy was confined in a large habitat. They had dinner in a dining room the size of a hotel, and feasted on fantastic foods with spices unfamiliar to Johnathan. Finally they retired to the library.

Hamilton and Johnathan were seated in club chairs facing a roaring fire. Rosengard poured snifters of brandy and passed them to the gentlemen before he himself sat in a large wing-backed chair.

“Have you discussed my proposal with your associate?” asked Rosengard as he swirled his brandy.

“No, I wanted you to go over the whole process from the beginning. Jonathan here is very detailed oriented, perhaps he’ll find yet another opportunity to capitalize on our new endeavor,” said Hamilton.

Jonathan turned to Rosengard who had begun to speak about a recent trip of his to some far away continent, a place rich with precious stones and minerals. He spoke of the natives there and their bloody customs of rape and sacrifice. He told of how they are able to control and protect their land due to the topography of the area and the thick jungle. And finally he talked about how he would get the natives to allow him to mine their land.

“You see, their customs are quite unique. They believe that their gods require a special sacrifice; the spark of life, youth, and death all must be present at the same time,” explained Rosengard.

“I don’t understand,” replied Jonathan.

“Neither did I, until I saw it myself. The leader of the tribe brings a child onto the alter, rapes the child, and, at the moment of climax, beheads him or her.”

“My God,” Jonathan said, horrified. “How are you going to eradicate these monsters and take there land? Didn’t you say that it is impossible to move troops into the region?”

“Eradicate them? No, no, we have discovered what to trade them. Don’t you see? They need children.”

“I…I…no you can’t be serious. I won’t be a part of this.”

Hamilton pleaded with Jonathan, but he was having none of it. Jonathan was about to storm from the manor when Rosengard hit him in the head with the fireplace poker.

Jonathan awoke when he hit the water. He was disoriented. His arms were chained and his feet, his feet seemed to be covered in something. He knew he had to swim had to get out of the water, his breath was running short and the pressure in his ears was unbearable. His struggles were fruitless however. Jonatahan Byron thought of his wife and his daughter right before he gasped in a mouthful of pond water.

***

Byron stared at Jacqueline Masey, a face that looked so much like his long lost daughter. It wasn’t his daughter though, the girl wasn’t even his granddaughter. Still, his bloodline ran through her, even generations couldn’t was that away.

Byron kissed the girls forehead and a faint glow surrounded her. Jacqueline breathed and then coughed as she violently reentered the world.

Edited by Heaven's Cloud, 15 September 2010 - 09:41 AM.

[OMNOMNOMALY]

Diana watched as the spirits talked in hushed tones amongst themselves, then as Jacqueline Masey was brought back to life. She would never be the same. No one ever was. Always like something had been lost in the shocking transition between life and death and then back to life again. Masey sat still for a moment on the hard stone ground, staring up at the Baron and surrounding ghosts as she caught her breath. She look scared, then confusion washed over her face as she reached down to feel her stomach. The organs were shredded but were back in their right place. They were not perfect, and the wounds had closed to leave long and brutal scars down her torso, but it was workable. It took her many minutes before she could begin to form words.

"...Why..?" she stared up at the Baron, tears pooling in her lashline. She was shaking now.

"Hush now." He tried to comfort her but she cut him off, this time screaming.

"WHY?" She bellowed at him. Jacqueline Masey was alive again and she didn't seem pleased about it.

"Miss Jacqueline I have saved you, you are free to continue on in the gam-"

"Why would you bring me back to this awful place? So I could die in painful terror and agony all over again? Is that it, spirit? Because beyond that I cannot see a single reason why you should want to bring me back into this circus of horror and suffering." The Baron drew back, clearly in shock.

"But you have been given another chance, a chance to-" she cut him off yet again, enraged now.

"A chance to fight amongst other humans brought here for your game, a chance to either watch the rest of them die or to die again? You say we are all bad people, so mayhap it comes as a shock to you that I do not enjoy watching the torture of other people. Other people with families and people they love whom they will never see again..." tears spilled from her eyes, running down her cheeks steadily.

"You have it all wrong. I have given you a second chance because I think you deserve it; not just here but in life itself."

Jacqueline only continued to sob in response. Diana shook her head sadly as she watched the exchange. It seemed that no matter what the Baron told her, the sweet release of death had lured her away from her desire to live. It was clear that she wanted to go back to the painless, empty nothingness. In this case, the girl who had valiantly tried to fight on to survive had left behind this great struggle and in her place was a scared girl who had experienced the same things and simply wanted out, even if it meant death.

Jacqueline Masey finally tried to stand up several minutes later after her sobs had subsided, her mind was racing and she simply wanted to get away from these mad spirits and find somewhere safe to sit and think of her next move. She cringed suddenly, collapsing in pain as her hand shot to her stomach. She was alive but she certainly wasn't fully healed. Diana's heart went out to the girl and she ghosted behind Jacqueline to help her up without being seen. Once she had gotten on her feet, Masey made her way, stumbling, out of the circle of spirits and back into the house.

****

She limped on, making her way past the kitchen, down the main hallway and into foyer. Charlotte was nowhere to be seen.

"I hope she's alright..." Masey thought to herself as she picked her way around the body of the opera singer and the fallen chandelier until she could get to the steps.

Ten agonizing minutes later, Jacqueline had reached the second floor of the Mansion. She sighed with relief before pressing on down the hallway. She had no clear plan in mind but felt a clear voice in her head telling her to keep going. The same voice suddenly called out as she passed a door that looked no different from the many others on either side of the hall.

Curiously but cautiously, Masey turned the handle of the door slowly and pushed it open to reveal what had once been a large and elegant bathroom. Double sinks and marble counters, dirty and small chandeliers with cobwebs hung from above, a large full length mirror lay tipped over and smashed at the far end of the bathroom. She stepped in, still compelled by the voice in her head. The mirrors at face level were all slightly raised from the wall and with a quick tug she found out they were actually cabinets. The first one was empty, same with the second. But the third -

"What do we have here?" a bottle on the middle shelf, the label was worn but legible.

'SLEEP AID' was scrawled across it. Her fingers closed around the bottle tightly, it's weight reassured her it was nearly full. There was still a chance to escape for Jacqueline Masey, before it could all begin again. Diana ghosted out of the girls body, her purpose fulfilled. Diana was not needlessly cruel and if Masey truly desired death, Diana saw no reason why she couldn't seek it in a peaceful, dignifying and pain-free way.

Soon after, Masey was found lying in the bed in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Diana found her with a peaceful expression on her face, and lovingly brushed her fingers over the dead girl's eyes, closing her eye-lids. The real, intact soul Jacqueline Masey had left hours before at the talons of the harpy. Her soul could rest now, complete.

*****

Elsewhere in the Mansion, life flooded back to Wyatt Bishop.

ooc is this good? I don't know, I'm half asleep. But I was very eager to get it done, I apologize profusely for the delay, I will make changes if need be.

[Heaven's Cloud]

Charlotte couldn’t move.  She had watched the harpy feast on Jacqueline.  She watched as Daniel Mathis killed the harpy, rising from the ground like one of the spirits.  She watched Jacqueline rise from the dead only to flee, pursued by the spirits.

Now she was alone.  Tears streamed down her face and pooled in her eyes.  She tried to blink them away to no avail.  She was completely helpless.

***

Evelynne ran.  She ran until her lungs burned and her calves caught fire.  She ran through the Mansion checking every exit, every window, every door.  There seemed to be no escape.

She ran to the staircase and froze as Wyatt Bishop rose from the dead.

His chest heaved and a gurgle emerged from his lips.  His eyes came to life and Evelynne knew that Wyatt Bishop could feel his body mending.  His neck, which bent at an unusual angle, snapped back in place and Wyatt screamed.  He continued to scream as his body healed, his bones mended and his lacerations closed.  

Evelynne watched all of this, transfixed by the magic.  When it finished Wyatt looked at her.  It was a dangerous look, and Evelynne knew in that moment she should have fled when she had the chance.

“YOU! You did this to me!”

“No I…”

“YOU DID THIS!!”  Wyatt lunged at Evelynne and grabbed her by the throat.  Evelynne tried to struggle, she tried to break free.  She scratched his eyes and face but the wounds she inflicted healed instantly.  She tried to scream but her windpipe was crushed.  Evelynne died without as much as a whimper.

***

Wyatt couldn’t control his rage.  It was odd, he was horrified and satisfied that he killed Evelynne.  He knew she wasn’t responsible for his death but blaming her seemed so right.  She needed to pay.  They all need to pay.  Wyatt wondered through the mansion and found himself face to face with Charlotte.  She was so still, he would have sworn that she was a statue if tears hadn’t been streaming down her face.  

He hit her and she didn’t make a sound.  She didn’t move.  She didn’t do anything.  The rage inside him built and he hit her again and again.  He hit Charlotte until her face was a bloody mess. Until she was nothing more that a pile of meat and broken bones.

[Nathan]

Angel had lost control of her pawn, but to be honest she didn't really care. He could keep the curse but as for her power, she would give it to someone else. At least this time it would be someone she didn't want to rip in two herself. She knelt next to Belle and with a touch used something she had in reserve, bringing her back to life.

With a startled gasp, the harpies eyes opened and she looked up at Angel, clearly confused. As if sensing she could not affect the specter she got to her feet and backed away, watching her carefully. Angel smiled.

"I bet you'd like to make all the humans pay for what they've done to your kind. Turning you into pets to show of whenever they please."

Belle's eyes narrowed as if she was considering what Angel was saying.

"Just focus on letting nothing stop you and my power will let you even fly through the very walls of the Mansion."

Belle turned a hate filled look towards the building and then back to Angel, but the ghost was already gone. She reached up for the thing that had hurt her neck but the skin was smooth as if she had never been injured at all. With a shriek of rage she turned and headed for the building.

[Gavin]

Listlessly the old ghost had drifted through the walls, rooms and corridors of Rosengard Manor. Initially he'd brushed off Angel's inquiry as to the nature of their collective pasts as pointless musings, but the gnawing doubt had set root in the back of his mind and granted him scarcely a moment’s peace. He had been a loyal servant in life, and continued to be such in death, such an identity had sustained him for decades but now the slightest reflection of that nature caused it to slip through his fingers like sand.

The Butler cast a longing glance in the great ivory and gold trimmed wall-mirror of the dining hall, hoping to divine some greater knowledge from the reflection. Dark eyes framed by small glasses gazed back at him wordlessly, his suit, aged by current trends, still the picture of military order and impeccably clean. “The Butler”, he tried to recall when he had started referring to himself as such, surely he’d used his own name, and had it used in turn by those around him. The words felt hollow in his mouth as he ran them over his tongue.

Turning he found himself attracted to the body of the fallen policeman, a broken section of timber impaled through his chest. His features still bore the terror of an unexpected and violent death, dark eyes staring lifelessly, and yet longing at anyone who took them in. Transfixed, the Butler removed the offending debris and began to study the man’s features with greater scrutiny. The eyes, the brow, the shape of the mouth were all startlingly similar. Had it been so long since he’d looked upon his own reflection that he hadn’t noticed it originally?

Not his own, no, not fully. A child? No, the span of time would’ve been greater than that, and the man hadn’t demonstrated a familiarity with the manor such a position would yield. Grandchild perhaps? He needed to know. For the first time in he didn’t even know how long the Butler was consumed need for his own wants instead of those he'd served utterly.

Flesh was simple to mend, at a gesture it began to reshape itself, erasing any trace of the previously mortal wound. The spirit was more difficult, it required concentration to draw the soul of a deceased individual back to the scene of their death, and those who had died violently were even less inclined to return and would fight any such compulsion that attempted to force them. Fortunately the inspector had been dead only a short time, his spirit would be closer to the material world, not yet fully integrated into the ethereal.

Slowly the silvery white stream materialised above the corpse and filtered back into its former shell. The Butler watched with rapt attention as the heart began to beat once more and with a gasp Leonard Howard gulped the air of a living man once again. Now, the Butler resolved, he would have his answers.

[Shy]

The Gravedigger watched Rosengard from afar. Although many souls had yet to perish, the estate taken succumb to an eerie silence. It was futile to prolong the inevitable, he thought to himself, Soon all but one of their souls will be mine.

Still, he could not ignore the pleasure he took in seeing the mansion alive with fresh faces once again. He was reminded of a time when Rosengard played home to socialites from far and wide, and when he had enjoyed a quiet life of servitude. ‘M.R.’ he muttered to himself, ‘Marion and Raymond.’

Even in his youth Raymond was never a handsome man. No matter how he tried, his long face, thinning red hair and sunken gray eyes which only seemed to turn people away. There were few who held Raymond’s interest romantically, and any advances he made to women, usually his fellow servants at Rosengard, were always unwanted. Over time he had grown cold to the fairer sex entirely, choosing instead to bury himself in his work.

To the Rosengard family he was indispensable, but to the fellow staff he was strict and unwavering. This callousness had caught the attention of Marion Rosengard, the family’s matriach, and had earned him the privilege to live within the mansion alongside the family. It was a grand opportunity for any servant to live in such decadence, but it had the cost of fueling a growing resentment from his peers.

On rare occasions he would travel with the family, or just Madame Rosengard herself, tending to their needs as they visited the places Raymond had only read about before. Marion’s own children were rotten brats, and she relished the opportunity to share her world to a pair of unspoiled eyes who might truly appreciate them. She was much older than Raymond, her hair gray and worn but she was still the most beautiful woman his eyes had ever seen. For one such as Marion to give Raymond even the slightest attention… it meant the world.

Marion was ill, and everyone knew it. Hers was not a sickness of the body, however, but a creeping madness that seemed to consume her whenever she was home. She had grown paranoid, and was convinced that her family was trying to murder her after a psychic had told her as much. As a result she was always on the move, seeking one mystic after another in an attempt to rid herself of alleged curses and evil spirits. Still, her fondness for Raymond had never wavered and when he was not able to travel with her the two would exchange letters. At first they were filled with pleasantries and her growing fears about the family, but the longer Madame Rosengard was away the more affectionate the notes had become. It was during this time that Raymond fell in love with Marion.

In one letter she had told of beautiful azaleas she had encountered during her travels, and Raymond made certain that were freshly planted azaleas when she returned. This delighted Marion, and piece-by-piece Raymond had transformed the barren grounds of Rosengard into a lush palatial garden. It was a testament to a secret love, one which Raymond had never dared express to Marion for fear of her jealous husband.

It was to be the night of a grand celebration: 100 years of the Rosengard Estate, and Madame Rosengard was finally returning home after a long absence. For this evening Raymond wore his finest suit, slicked back his hair and made the final preparations for his gift to Marion. It would be tonight, he decided, that he would finally tell her of his love. Marion was wearing an emerald gown, and standing alone beneath one of the garden’s stone archways when Raymond found her.

“Hello, Madame Rosengard. It is a pleasure to see you once more,” he said with a humble bow.

“Raymond, darling!” Marion cheered, “You are a sight if ever there were one. I trust you’re coming to the festivities tonight?”

He nodded, “Yes, but first I’d like to present you with a gift. Would you follow me into the garden?”

Madame Rosengard agreed, and she extended her gloved hand towards the servant as he escorted her deeper into the garden. It was a clear night, and the moonlight seemed to radiate off of her soft, white skin. Raymond could feel his heart nearly ready to burst from his chest.

He took her to a secluded corner of the garden, surrounded by rose bushes that she had never seen before. A simple stone bench rest before them, and Raymond gestured towards it.

“I hope you like it. Roses were one of your favorites, were they not?”

“It’s lovely, Raymond. Perhaps we should carve our names onto the bench, so that those who enter Rosengard will know this moment we shared.”

Raymond smiled, and quickly retrieved a chisel from a nearby tool shed. The two laughed as Marion struggled to carve her name onto the bench, instead settling with on two simple letters: M.R.

It was the happiest he had ever been, and the happiest he ever would be.


Chapter Five: Remember

---

50[/hr]

Wyatt Bishop roamed the halls of Rosengard, a trail of blood dripping from his hands and onto the pristine tile floor. He could hardly believe what he had done, but still it felt so right. He had come to realize that this nightmare would never end until he himself ended it. But where were the others, and were they ready to take the same action? No matter what the outcome, Wyatt knew he would go down fighting.

[OMNOMNOMALY]

Diana watched as Wyatt Bishop walked through the mansion, half dazed yet half with purpose. The once clean-shaven and well groomed man was replaced by a disheveled looking doppelganger. It was no wonder, in any rate – he had been dead, after all. Bishop ended up at the bathroom on the first floor, the same one the child Harriet had killed herself in. He masked his pain as he gently lifted her small malnourished body and put her in the giant claw foot bathtub, before drawing the shower curtain around to hide her corpse.

Wyatt stood for a long time after with his hands resting on either side of the sink on the dusty marble countertops. His eyes were bloodshot with dark circles around them. He examined his face intently. He was gaunt and scruffy and a great heaviness was now seen in his expression. Wyatt shook his head finally with great force, and turned on the taps. They sputtered for a moment, before water began to pour forth from them, brown at first and then clear.

The water was good and cold, and Wyatt removed his heavy, restricting overcoat and tossed it on the floor. He rolled up the sleeves of his buttoned up oxford shirt as well as unbuttoned the top few buttons. He cupped his hands under the faucet and let the cool, clean water run over them for a moment, before splashing the water onto his face. He repeated this near ritualistic cleansing for a few minutes, scrubbing as best as he could with his hands, his face and his neck. When he was done, he turned the taps off and un-tucked his shirt, using the bottom to pat himself dry. He looked at himself in the mirror again, and satisfied with what he saw, he turned to leave the bathroom, though not before thoroughly checking around the door for any signs of humans and specters alike.

Diana watched him go, the lost and sorrowful expression he wore reminded her a lot of her own, that fateful night she drew her last breath in this very mansion.

****

100 years of the Rosengard Estate. A grand cause for celebration if ever there was one, and yet young Diana, nanny to the children of the manor first and maid second, was not in any mood to participate in the merry-making.

She had lost the children. Again.

Or rather, the children had gone out of their way to lose her. They knew that a panic it threw her into when she was unable to find them, and they relished in it. Diana was a quiet and gentle girl, soft spoken with a wispy frame to match. She was alright looking, though often it seemed as though people simply forgot she was there because of her quiet demeanor. This is why the children pushed her around. They knew that she was simply too timid and thus there would be no repercussions and they could come and go as they pleased.

They also knew how much trouble Diana would get in with the matriarch of the household, Marion Rosengard and her equally as unforgiving favourite servant, Raymond. Diana was so pleased when they offered her the job, but the excitement she felt soon gave way to dread after she started. It seemed that from her first day, nay her first minute on the job she had done nothing right.

The tea was too hot, the milk was too cold, there was too much light in the parlour but not enough light in the foyer, the children were overdressed, underdressed… ‘where did the children go? They were here just a minute ago…’ it was enough to make Diana mad! The only thing that stopped her from quitting was the thought of the little income she made every month being opened up by her mother and father back home in the village, and how proud it made them that she was out in the world, working and helping to support the family.

“Come out, this instant! The guests shall be arriving any minute now and I was given strict orders to have you downstairs and ready in 5 minutes from now.” Diana commanded to the empty play room. She was greeted by only silence. Fear rose in her throat but she pushed it away, instead checking under beds, in closets and toy chests - all in vain.

“Come out, please…” Diana pleaded now but still there was only quiet.

“Diana!” a shrill cry from down the hall pierced the hush of the room. “The children, please! The guests have begun to arrive!” it was the unmistakable commanding tone of Marion. Diana’s eyes began to fill with tears at the thought of the vicious scolding she would inevitably receive if she came to the stair alone and she frantically rechecked every spot in the room she could think of that could viably be used as a hiding place.

“I’m going to kill those little brats!” she murmured to herself as she straightened up. She wiped the tears from her eyes and smoothed down her hair with one hand, her apron and dress with the other. She took a deep breath, stood up straight and tried to steel herself against the inevitable wrath of the matriarch when she had to explain that she was actually about to search the rest of the house for the children since they had gotten away from her. Again.

‘This night could not possibly get any worse.’

****

Diana laughed to herself as she floated through the halls, thinking about how wrong she’d been about that.

****

Elsewhere, Daniel Mathis strode down the steps of the mansion comfortably. He was actually quite happy that the spirit had given him the ability to be a bystander in the game. Having observed just how terribly cruel his fellow humans could be, sometimes more cruel than the spirits who kept them there, he felt much safer on the sidelines, ghosting through and watching, never interacting.

“Hey! You! Hold on a minute!” a voice rang out from behind him. He stopped and turned around, confused as to why anyone would be addressing him.

“…Me?” his voice called out timidly.

“Yes you, who else do you see in this hallway?” the man replied, obviously irritated. As he came closer, he recognized this fellow as the police officer. Leonard something or other.

“You can see me?” Mathis still wasn’t quite sure he understood what was going on.

“Of course I can, why wouldn’t I be able to? If you would be so kind, could you tell me how many of us are left?” Mathis snapped out of his daze quickly and re-calculated how many he’d seen die over the short period he’d been – past tense – in a ghost-like state.

“Three of us, I believe.” He stated.

“Hmm…” Leonard Howard replied. “So this game is almost over, then.” He added.

“Looks that way, doesn’t it?” Mathis responded. “Shall we find lucky contestant number three, then?”

Inspector Howard smirked and inclined his head in agreement. The two men began walking, not quite sure of who they were looking for or what to expect.

“Mind if I smoke?” Howard asked Mathis.

“No, not at all. I don’t blame you, I used to always reach for the cigarettes in times of stress.” He laughed. The Inspector gestured towards him with the pack, offering him one.

“No thanks, I quit a few years ago.” He answered.

“Suit yourself.” Howard shrugged and lit up.

Out of nowhere, an earsplitting screech pierced the room.

“What the hell was that…?” Howard wondered aloud. But Mathis’ eyes lit up in terror and recognition. He knew that sound well. He also knew that he no longer had protection from the creature it came from.

Suddenly a great, ugly beast burst into the room, straight through the wall without displacing a molecule of old plaster. The stench of death filled the area as the harpy descended upon them. Belle’s cry rang out and she swooped down at the two men, talons bared.

“Stop right there!” a minute voice, yet one with some authority seemed to fill the room. “Hush, you vile creature.”

The Harpy’s mouth opened again, but no sound came out. The small female ghost clad in a simple dress and button up blouse, appeared between Belle and her prey. “You will interfere no more. These mortals will have my protection from you and your kind, until the end."

In her surprise, Belle had let her use of the ghost power given to her by Angel, go down. In that moment, Diana reached in to the harpy’s newly reformed chest, and pulled out her heart.

Diana looked at the two men, solemnly and let the heart fall to the ground. It hit the floor with a dull thud. The Harpy's disgusting figure fell with much more of a clatter.

"Go in safety, I'll do what I can..."

ooc:
1. any changes you need me to make, no probs, just tell me.
2. this was not supposed to be this long but with the 'needs moar backstory' clause, this is just how it turned out :<

Edited by Anomaly, 20 October 2010 - 03:33 PM.

[Gavin]

With rapt attention the Butler had watched his descendant gasp and splutter as life flooded back into his previously deceased form. Pallid, blood-spattered skin slowly regained the pink tint of living and dull eyes shone again with inner fire and spirit. The coughing and retching had echoed throughout the great hall for at least a minute before Leonard Howard has regained enough composure and wits to apparently ascertain two highly important facts: firstly that he was no longer dead despite having been impaled by a large section of wood and secondly that one of the Manor's spirits was hovering over him with a distinct interest. To his credit the man reacted with a well concealed apprehension as the elder ghost hovered wordlessly over him, content to allow the spirit to complete his scrutinies lest he be stripped of his so recently reacquired mortality.

"Tell me about yourself Howard, where you come from and who your parents were."

The policeman reacted with expected surprise at the Butler's line of inquiry, slowly drawing together a cohesive response in his head to satisfy the questions.

"...I was born in the lower west side of the city, in an averaged sized apartment. My parents were two ordinary people, my father was a policeman, a sergeant in the city police force, and my mother was a school teacher. I was the eldest of three children, a boy and two girls. I performed satisfactorily in school and when I finished I served briefly in the army at my father's request before joining the police force. When I was twenty my father was killed during urban riots over taxation along with several others. I strove to become a capable and respected officer to honour his memory..."

Flashes of memory stirred within the Butler's mind, the sounds of shouting and explosions, earnest cries for help and terrible wailing sobs for mother's far away. For the briefest moment the Butler closed his eyes and found himself gazing at an entirely different landscape with vivid clarity. He was kneeling in a roughly hewn trench, a bolt-action service rifle gripped tightly in his hands, the solid feeling of wood and steel comforting over the horrible din surrounding him. The Butler turned, his attention drawn to another figure several yards to his left further along the trench, his form jammed against the sandbags and dirt as his shook with uncontrollable terror, his rifle abandoned to the muck and water below his boots. The Butler found words forming themselves in his mouth as he clambered through the narrow trench attempting to reach the unknown man.

"Sir we have to withdraw from here! The enemy is advancing on our position and our defensive line has been shattered by the latest artillery assault!"

He could barely hear his own voice despite shouting, the man whom he now recognised as the major in charge of their regiment continued to hug against his cover with his eyes screwed shut. His once impeccable crimson and white uniform was smeared with filth, as were the blonde locks of his hair that lay matted to his head with sweat. Familiarity continued to dawn, an image of a frightened young man, barely twenty years old despite his rank along with a name blossomed in the Butler's mind.

"Garma! Get up for God's sake! If you don't give the order to retreat and reform our lines not only will we all die but we'll open up an entire flank for the enemy to take advantage of."

Dark hazel eyes met his own for a moment, abject terror replete within.

"I...I can't...I can't move Gabriel, oh God I'm so scared...Father said this would be an easy assignment...We'd just sit on the western front...He they'd never be able to mobilise troops here...Oh God this wasn't supposed to happen! I want to go home, I want to go home."

...Gabriel...

It was his name...How had he forgotten it ? How could he remember so much and have forgotten his name ?

Gabriel said nothing for a moment, merely watching the man he'd grown up with cower now that playing soldier to please his father had become a terrible reality. He balled his right hand into a fist and slammed it hard into Garma Rosengard's jaw, then hoisting his friend's unconscious form up onto his shoulders as he trekked back down the trenches towards their temporary headquarters where he'd find a radio and hopefully salvage something of the debacle Garma's cowardice and incompetence had created. It was true the enemy shouldn't have been able to push their front as early as they had, but Garma's assertion that his men needed to assert themselves as soldiers and lead "daring raids" into adjoining civilian settlements in order to "capture supplies and information" had likely galvanised enemy forces to prevent further...incidents.

Though it made him sick to the pit of his stomach to watch the results, Gabriel had been powerless to prevent them. Merely a lieutenant and Garma's adjutant his position in the regiment, much as his position in Rosengard Manor, was to serve, just as Gabriel's father served the Master and Mistress in the capacity as their head butler, a position Gabriel himself would likely go on to inherit provided he survived the coming battle.

In an instant Gabriel felt every inch of air pushed from his lung as pain exploded from his shoulder, and hot life’s blood poured down his back. The sensation was enough to jar the spirit from his memory and leave him once again staring down at the wary figure of Leonard Howard.

[Nathan]

It was so peaceful and quiet in the room she loved best. It was all too easy to spend hours and hours sitting in the old rocking chair. If not lost in reading a book, she was often lost in her own thoughts of the things she had wanted so much in life and never got due to death. At least, she thought that was why, she couldn’t really remember.

Angel knew she was delaying the inevitable and yet, she found that she simply couldn’t help herself. There was something soothing about the old room up above the Mansion’s library. Even in death she spent most of her time in that room. At some point it had been closed off and the door leading to it covered by tapestries. She couldn’t recall when… wait, even in death?

Puzzled, she looked about the small dusty room with its handful of furniture and smallish bookcase loaded with all the books she liked to read... That was right, the books she liked, books that she herself had stored in the bookcase, but why had she forgotten something so important?

She stood up and walked over to pick up one of the books. Her hands trembled as she opened up the front cover and read the little handwritten note inside. For my little Angelic… the sound of the book hitting the floor was shockingly loud in her mind.

---------------

The sound of footsteps on the stairs pulled Angelic out of the book she had been so engrossed in. With a guilty start she hastily got up and stowed it away. Mother would be so angry with her for losing track of the time. Tonight was the big celebration and she would be expected to be present.

If only she was a bit older, then she could work full time as a nurse and these tedious parties would be a thing of the past. Mother liked to pretend everything was okay but she had heard enough to know better. The glory days of Rosengard would soon be a thing of the past, unless things changed, and soon.

The sound of the steps came closer and at that moment she realized who had come up into the room. She frowned slightly at the sight of the twins. That they were here could only mean one thing.

“You two really need to stop doing that.” She admonished them.

“Stop what?” They replied innocently.

“You know what I mean,” She replied crossly. “Why do you torment the poor maid like this? You know Mother will take it out on her.”

“Oh, that.” The pair giggled. “You’re so boring sis. You should have played more while you had the chance.”

“What?”

One of them looked back towards the stairs. “Oh! She’s coming, time to run!” She looked back at Angelic with a smirk. “Playtime for you is over.”

And with that the pair dashed off. Angelic stared in that direction for a moment; confused. Play time for her was over? What in the world did they mean? The sound of someone else entering the library cut the thought short. Who… She froze at the sound of Mother’s voice coming up the stairs.

“What do you want Harry?” Marion said crossly. “The guests will be arriving soon.”

“I would have thought what my master wants is quite clear, my lady.”

Marion laughed. “Is that all you wanted? I told him that he would get his answer tonight.”

“Of course,” he replied deferentially. “I am mainly here to inform you that not only are your terms acceptable, but that he will raise it by ten percent.”

“You should have said that from the beginning.” Marion chided him. “I was already planning on giving him my blessings for joining our two houses together, though.”

“I see, my master will be most pleased to hear this news, but what of Angelic?”

“What of her? She’s a child, Harry. I don’t need her permission to sign the papers.”

“Of course, my lady, I was merely referring to her disposition towards my master.”

Marion laughed again. “Like I said, she’s a child, Harry. Marriage and a few kids will settle her down and put that silly nursing business out of her mind.” She gave a slight sigh. “Anyway, if that was all you wanted, I need to go and see to the twins.”

The sound of footsteps leaving the library echoed up the stairs to where Angelic was standing, a shocked expression on her face.

---------------

How… how could she have forgotten that night and all that had followed? Angel shuddered and then stalked out of the room, furious. What did it matter? She couldn’t change it, much like she couldn’t change what was happening now. By the time she had found out she was going to be used it had been to late then, and though she didn’t know how this time… she was sure that once again it was too late. All she could do was play out her last few cards and hope for the best.

It didn't take her long to find the Harpy. With a sigh she picked up the heart and gently placed it on her chest. A warm glow briefly surrounded both as the two were united once more. Being brought back again could drive the creature mad, but what choice did she have? Unlike the other, she at least had the strength to do what needed to be done.

She didn't bother to look at Belle when the Harpy warily got to her feet. "I think you understand why I brought you back again." She gestured in the direction of Wyatt Bishop.

"You and I both know what it's like to have others decide our fates. Since that one took it upon himself to kill those who had done him no wrong, I think it's fitting that you teach him the error of his ways."

Angel turned and left. She knew that Belle would understand and the shriek that filled the air as the Harpy launched herself towards the man told her everything she needed to know. Angel continued on her way without looking back, not even when the horrible sounds of terrified shrieks filled the air.