Haunted Mansion

[Isolde]

OOC: I have always loved the plot in the movies where people are invited to investigate a supposedly haunted house by a mysterious unknown person. So here goes.

IC: I looked at the invitation once more. It seemed a bit fancy for it's purpose. The paper was thick and an off-white and the writing was done in calligraphy.

It read:

You, along with a select group of people, are hereby invited for a two week stay at the Hallingsworth Mansion. The purpose, to prove or disprove the existance of any and all spirits that may reside within this fine home.

Please RSVP at your earliest convienance.

There was a number written below that and the tickets were one way to New York which puzzled me. It brought two things to mind. One, they were pretty sure I would accept and two, they were expecting me to pay my own way back.

I had been sitting there staring at the letter for quite a long time now. I could figure why they would invite me. I was a writer of the paranormal. I wrote under the pen name of Irene Thorton and my works consisted both of fictional liturature and a series of books investigating supernatural phenomenon. Actually, in the last three years I had pretty much stopped writing the fictional and concentrated more on the 'real' stories that abounded around the world.

I had always dabbled in the supernatural-it had facinated me since childhood but I always leaned towards the urban legends and campfire type of stories until a car crash took my husband those three years ago. Since then I have investigated many 'hauntings' around the world and mostly walked away disapointed. Either the haunting was proved a fake or there were too many natural explanations for it. I couldnt really tell you why I spent my time investigating these 'mysteries' except that I had made quite a bit in royalties on the subject-the subject was a very good seller. My friends kept telling me it was me mourning for Jake and wanting proof that a life beyond this one existed.

Regardless, I was a sucessful writer and the invitation was a reflection that someone had read my works and wanted my opinion on the hauntings. I had not heard of the house before but that was not surprising. Alot of wealthier families would rather chew glass than admit that their house was 'haunted'. That also explained the 'select group' that the letter had mentioned.

Putting the letter on my desk next to my computer, I stared at the blank screen. It sounded interesting but I wasnt comfortable with the mystery surrounding the invitation. What eventually made my mind up was the fact that I had a I had a deadline for my next book and several empty pages to fill as well as no subject to put upon those pages.

Reaching for the phone, I dialed the number and it was picked up on the second ring. The voice on the other end was hollow and static filled the line. With today's technology you would think they could get a better connection.

"Hello," I said after the voice inquired why I called,"This is Lorna Barrington. I recieved an invitation to visit the Hallingsworth Manson in New York. I was calling with my RSVP. I will be able to come...."

The voice interrupted me. "Very well," It cackled over the line,"I shall prepare for your arrival. A car will pick you up from the air port." Then the line went dead.

I sat there for a moment and looked at the phone in my hand. Well, so much for the rich having any sense of curtesy...that was a most unusual call. Shrugging and putting it down to the fact that they probably didnt want to discuss the situation until the 'select group' was already there.

Sighing, I stood and turned off the computer. The plane was scheduled to leave in two days and I had some packing to do, my editor to notify and a house sitter to employ for my three cats.

OOC: My character: Lorna Barrington, age 27, 5'8", long brown hair and hazel eyes


[Edited by Isolde on 03-26-2001 at 11:26 AM]

 

[Kalann Rathwind]

OOC

Mind if I join???

 

[Isolde]

You are more than welcome. Just post your char stats and why he would be invited to join and play on.

 

[Kalann Rathwind]

Agent Garret Mitchell

" Hey Garret. " Someone in front of me said.

The sound of the voice jerked me out of my own little dream world. I looked up and saw my partner Mathew Tollen standing there with something in his hand. It looked like some kind of letter. He handed it twards me.

" This came for ya." he said.

" What is it ? " I asked but I knew clean as a whistle Matt wouldn't go nosing through someone else's mail.

He just shrugged his shoulders and dropped the letter on my desk in front of me. My name was scribbled across the front of the envelope along with the adress here at the beareu. Hey what else was knew strange things always happened in my life why not odd letters coming for me at the home office of the FBI in Washington D.C. I opened the letter and it turned out not to be a letter but an invitation.
I looked up at Matt and said,

" Is this a joke Tollen ? If it is it ain't very funny. "

Matt looked at me and shook his head no. Hmmmm...I thought to my self as I looked at the invitation to the Hallingsworth Manson. I had heard of the house but who with any knowledge of the supernatural hadn't. I had seen the house several times from a distance but not even with my FBI credentials was I allowed near the place.
If you hadn't guessed I am Special Agent Garret Mitchell of the FBI unsolved mysteries branch, lovingly referred to (because of the popular series) as the X-Files. I had aquired the nickname of Moulder due to that very same series( I hate Television). But this was a chance that I just couldn't resist. I picked up the phone and dialed the number on the invitation. Someone at the other end answered and as I prepared to talk they said,

" Ah Mr. Mitchell we have been expecting your call."

" How did you kno.." I started before I was cut off by them saying.

" A car will meet you at the air port."

Then the line went dead and a dialtone filled my ear. Well that was sure weird I thought to my self but what else was new. Three hours when I arrived home I began packing my things from my batchelor's pad and prepared for my trip the plane did't leave for two days but I would be ready when it did. Like I said this was an oppertunity I just couldn't miss.

 

[Balthezar]

Robert entered the main office of Psychology department merely to grab his mail and head quickly upstairs. He was a tall, thin man in his early 30's, rather distinguished, despite his pale complexion. Too much time spent in labs. Nevertheless, he could easily be quailified as handsome, and often was by his female students. When he reached the laboratory, he dropped the small bundle of letters and they were quickly forgotten in his preparations for today's experiments.

"I want you to focus on the ball Mrs. Reed. Visualize it in your head, sitting on the table. Imagine yourself picking it up, slowly. I want you to remain calm, but concntration is vital. Ignore what's around the ball, I just want you imagine picking it up as you would anything else." Robert Hawkins voice was very low and soothing. He was speaking to a middle aged woman, who was sitting in a chair, facing a small table. On the table was a tennis ball, around which, had been placed a glass box. The box allowed sight of the ball, but barred effecting it through normal means.

"Now, start imagining picking up the ball. All you're doing is reaching out, and holding it in your hands. very simple. Do so now."

At first, there was nothing but Mrs. Reed's breathing, sweat beginning to bead on her brow. Then, ever so slightly the ball moved. Just a bit at first, then more, rocking back and forth. Even more amazingly, it began to slowly lift off the ground. Robert Hawkins beamed in pride. he was right! Years of study and testing, and he'd finally done it. He checked to ensure the cameras were all running and began talking the woman back to alertness. Today was a good day.

It was late afternoon when Robert finally checked his mail. he was surprised to find an invitation.

You, along with a select group of people, are hereby invited for a two week stay at the Hallingsworth Mansion. The purpose, to prove or disprove the existance of any and all spirits that may reside within this fine home.

Please RSVP at your earliest convienance.

He thought a bit. Could this be someone playing a joke on him? God knows his parapsychology theories were constantly ignored and laughed at, but Hawkins had yet to ever back down from a challenge. His curiousity winning out, the professor dialed the number. After all, he deserved a vacation.

 

[Dea Artia]

The room was cold, and Sadira shivered despite the sweater she was wearing. Everything looked okay to the normal human eye, but Sadira saw things most people didn't. At 23, she was one of the most well known Psychic Mediums in the USA and Canada, traveling to more than 50 countries trying to help those stuck between life and the afterlife.

It wasn't like Sadira wanted to see "dead people". They came to her, even at an early age, to seek retribution after they died. Some had been murdered and wanted their murderers brought to justice. Others needed a second chance to say goodbye. Most didn't even know they were dead.

When Sadira was 5, her parents thought she had imaginary friends and took her to see a phychologist at 10 when her friends didn't go away. Sadira tried to explain who she was seeing, but even she didn't fully understand her abilities. The phycologist had deemed her insane, and Sadira spent the next 5 years in a minimal security asylum. Sadira would have lost herself in there if it hadn't been for the constant companionship of visitors from the other side. She learned quickly not to reveal anything, and she soon found herself back at her parents home in unfamilar territory. From then on, she did the best she could at helping those who came to her, often disapearing for days, even weeks. By the time she turned 18 people started to take notice of who she was and what she could do and at 23 she was highly regarded as a Phychic Medium. It took a while, but Sadira had finally been accepted by society.

Sitting on the sofa, Sadira noticed the room gradually getting warmer. She had been able to convince a confused spirit that the best way to get to his departed wife was to follow the light he saw. He had been reluctant to go and the owners of the new house didn't want a ghost living with them.

She stood up, stretched and bid farewell to the family. It had been a long day, and Sadira was looking forward to a meal and a relaxing bath. Her driver picked her up at the squeduled time and slowly made his way through the afternoon traffic.

"Have a good day Miss?" asked Lenny.

"The usual" she replied. "Any news from George?"

"Naw Miss, nothing from him. But this letter did come for you this morning. Arrived special post and I thought you'd want to read it right away. Looks mighty fancy." Lenny reached behind him and handed Sadira an envelope. Indeed it did look fancy, and after tearing open the seal, Sadira read the contents with interest.

"Looks like someone needs me to confirm a sighting. Funny, it doesn't say who its from." Sadira re-read the note carefully, taking special note of the plane ticket that was included with the letter. "Sounds serious if they're asking others to see their house, and they even sent me a plane ticket. Lenny, why don't we swing by a phone. I want to call and see what this is about."

Stopping at the corner, Sadira got out of the car and made her way to a phone booth. After dialing the number, the phone rang only a short time before someone picked up.

"Hello? My name is Sadira and...."

"Ah yes" said someone. "I assume you have decided to come. A car wil be waiting for you at the airport when you arrive."

Strange, thought Sadira, hanging up the phone. Getting back in the car, Lenny looked at her puzzingly.

"Guess I'm going ghost hunting" she said.

OOC: My Character = Sadira Bowen, age 23. 5'5'', black hair, brown eyes. Ethnic background is 1/2 caucasian, 1/2 asian.

 

[Morgana]

Dr. Mary Kate Devlynn

I curled up on my sofa to read the letter one more time. I had just gotten off the phone from having accepted the invitation but I was still extremely curious about the whole matter. I wondered who the "select few" would be and what this cryptic invitation would bring.

I was born and raised in Ireland and my childhood had been filled with tales of old castles, ghosts, and banshees. My great-grandmother used to tell me how the Little People saved her cottage from a flood during a particularly rainy spring, and how gossamer-winged faeries watched over her tulip garden through all of the unpredictability of the Irish weather. My father used to joke that I was half fey myself.

When I reached puberty I started having terrifying nightmares in which my father, a skillful fisherman, drowned on one of his trips. I told no one about the dreams and berated myself
for just being silly. Two months later we got a visit from the local sheriff who brought us the news that my father's boat hit some rocks and he and his two partners had been killed. That was my first experience with clairvoyance.

I was so traumatized by what happened and so full of self-blame that I didn't speak a word to anyone for nearly three years. I started realizing that I knew things about people.
Things that I shouldn't have known--that they didn't tell me. I could touch a person's toothbrush or clothing and get flashes about their lives. How I came to know these things is still a mystery to me today. I became friends with a local eccentric, a woman
known in the town for her peculiar psychic abilities. She helped me work through my guilt and showed me ways to control, understand, and develop my ability.

At 18 I was accepted to a prestigious university's Paranormal Studies program in California so I moved to the US. After my BA, I went on to receive my Ph.D. in Occult Studies. I lectured on clairvoyance and the supernatural at colleges and universities all over the country. Later, I settled in Virgina, where eventually I began working for the police as a consultant/ expert in a few DC districts as a psychic in special cases to help find missing persons or solve mystifying or unsolved crimes. I liked knowing that I could use my clairvoyance to do some good. I know my father would have been proud of me for that.

I turned the invitation over in my hands again and wondered what this venture would bring. This is new territory for me. My anticipation grows as I pack my suitcase.

Appearance and Characteristics: 31; 5’5 120 lbs. Long wavy red hair that nearly touches her waist. Blue-green eyes. High cheekbones. Transluscent complexion. Speaks with an Irish accent.



[Edited by Morgana on 03-26-2001 at 09:56 PM]

 

[Vivid]

Dimitri Greska

Greska watched this display of "telekinesis" carefully. He panned his handheld camera carefully, examining every pixel, zooming and widening the shot with precision. Then he saw it. A thin filament guide wire expertly manipulated brought the coffee mug within inches of a strong magnet. Dimitri bet his life that an examination of the mug would show that this "psychic" had slipped something on, in, or under the ceramic mug. That would explain the wierd field his equipment had detected earlier.

Dimitri closed his viewfinder and reported the fraud to the experimentors. That's why they called him. At 32 he was the best special effects man in the biz, an excellent camera man and had a knack for figuring out fakes. He headed the local chapter of The Skeptic's Society.

He checked his watch, a relic really, inherited from his grandfather, same as his Rumanian name and features. That was about all that this BigMac-loving Californian inherited except maybe for his Gypsy blood.

His thoughts drifted to earlier this morning when he replied to an archaic request for his specific assistance in debunking a "haunted house". He was familiar enough with that and replied readily. Besides, he always wanted to see New York.

Bio: Dimitri Greska, age 32, special effects man and psychic debunker, arsenal of camera equipment, detectors, etc. Even Krillian (sp?) Photography. Skeptic. Full Rumanian features [dark eyes, piercing yet smiling, black wavy hair kept long and in a ponytail, tanned skin, a moustache and goatee, and a diamond earring in his left ear], any accent is purely accidental.

[Edited by Vivid on 03-26-2001 at 05:31 PM]

 

[Neale]

Samantha and Peter ("The Amazing Yappi") Yarow

OOC: Imoen asked me to include her character in this post. We are a husband and wife team. Peter, known to his millions of fans as "The Amazing Yappi" a reknowned celebrity psychic. He had, at an early age, possessed a genuine, if weak, psychic talent. However, his chase for fame and fortune had rendered him unable to use what talent he actually had. He knows full well that the supernatural exists, from first hand experience, and is always on the lookout for some way to rekindle that true power within him. These days, he is an utter fraud, but a very charming one, and highly photogenic, with Hollywood good-looks, blonde hair, blue eyes, and a deep tan.

His wife, Samantha, (more info in Imoen's first post, later) is a complete skeptic. She never knew him when he had the true gift, so has no reason to believe in the supernatural.

IC: Peter looked at the invitation carefully. It seemed genuine enough, not like that trap set last year by that busybody asshole Greska.

"Hey, hon?" he called to his wife. "I'm not booked anywhere next week, am I?" A very feminine voice called back "Not that I know of, why?" "Come here and read this, please."

"I really want to go to this. I know I promised you a trip to Hawaii on our next vacation, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime offer!" His wife fondly shook her head, "I guess we can indulge your little ghostbuster adventure... But I want TWO weeks in Hawaii!"

 

[Vivid]

OOC: Thanks for the character mentioning Neale ... and for the accurate reading of Greska!
I'll be out of town til this weekend, checking when I can - like any junkie who jonses for a fix of the good stuff.

J

 

[BadForm]

Tat "Tatunka" Wallace

I marched into the office and slung down my briefcase, loosening my necktie and collar. I sighed deeply at the sour taste the day had left in my mouth.

"What's wrong?"

That was my assistance, Debbie Smith. She looked across the room at me in concern, knowing I was generally a lot calmer than this. It took a lot to rattle me, but when something did, I was truly enraged.

"I'm gonna sue that bastard, Cowling!" I yelled.

Mark Cowling used to be the third member of my company, until recently when he had decided to sign for a larger rival. He was a clever man, witty and very glib. He'd helped my advertising company gain a lot of good business in the last few years - always knowing the best phrase to use for any product. But there was no way I could match Rothwell and Son's offer to him in either money, benefits or a seat on the board of a major company. And when he left, he'd obviously decided to do everything he could to cost me business.

"Look at this!"

I threw a crumpled poster to Debbie, who caught it and unrolled it. Her eyes took in the image and slogan: The Right Reverend Thomas O'Halley was pictured with reddened skin, horns and a forked tail. The slogan read "Come to God, have a DEVIL of a good time!" She knew how serious this was - the reverend was famous televangelist and one of our biggest clients, but the humor of the poster made it hard for her to stifle a giggle. Eventually she looked up at me and asked if I had managed to smooth things over.

"More or less," I said, snarling at how I had been betrayed. "I told him I'd already fired the guy who did this, and offered him two months free advertising work to make up for the insult."

"Well, the main thing is you kept the account. Don't let it get to you."

She was right. In the end, the loss of revenue and face would be more than made up in future business from the reverand, but I hated such humiliation.

"Hey, this came for you today." She said, tossing me an envelope.

I opened it and took out the letter and plane ticked inside. It read:
You, along with a select group of people, are hereby invited for a two week stay at the Hallingsworth Mansion. The purpose, to prove or disprove the existance of any and all spirits that may reside within this fine home.

Please RSVP at your earliest convienance.


At first I though this was just someone looking for publicity for their haunted house attraction. I could do that, and the money would be useful in light of my offer to the reverand. Yet it was a strange way of putting it. Why not just invite me to a lunch meeting to discuss the proposal? What was this about proving or disproving the existance of spirits? And who was this 'select group'? Probably other advertising execs. However, there was always a chance Cowling had further betrayed me by telling people about my little secret. I had mixed parentage - white and Sioux, and from my Sioux father I had learned the faith and skills of shamanism. I had long since learned to keep that private, with only a few knowing of it. For one thing, neither the reverand nor some of the local government agencies who were my clients would appreciate having a member of a 'fringe religion' advertising their services. For another, given I had some Christian clients, most people would see a religious conflict and so I would seem dishonest. Part of my faith, like others, was accepting differences - but most people seemed to preach that without practicing it. Well, I had to know.

I picked up the phone and began dialling. A crackly voice answered - so bad that I did not know whether it was a man or a woman.

"Good afternoon," I said, letting my mind reach out across the distance to ease communication. "I am Tat Wallace of the Wallace Advertising Agency. I'm calling about the invitation you..."

I was cut dead. "Do not try that with me, Mr. Wallace. I can feel what you are doing."

"What?" I asked, confused and surprised.

"I shall presume you are coming to the house. Travel well, Mr. Wallace."

And the phone went dead.

Character: Tat "Tatunka" Wallace, 5'8", 38, green eyes, long dark hair, slightly ruddy complexion. Most of rest contained in this post.

 

[Mistress]

OOC: I love the way this thread is,but if there are too many people here already let me know. I'd love to play a 18 year old gal, loves supernaturl just never had any experiences. Maybe she is a photographer, and asistant of someone in the story. Maybe someone's little sis, or daughter. Let me know something!

 

[BadForm]

Character open to Mistress

Mistress: If you don't want to set up your own character, and don't have any other options, I'm happy to have my assistant Debbie come along with me - as you'll see from the post I did, I've spec'd very little about her so far. She's an assistant at my firm (basically it's now me and her) - this could involve photography/graphic design/ad ideas. She has a sense of humor, and knows how to calm me down when pissed, but is also able to see the serious side of things. She knows I am a shaman, but is not a student of mine or anything (have no intention of taking on a shammie-jr) and recognizes why I keep this knowledge to a select few. She is relatively attractive (good pr person for company) - but whether this is blonde bombshell, powerful amazon, bap, girl-next-door, or large girl who wears it well doesn't matter to me.

Anyhoo - if interested just follow on from my rp with questions about whats going on (I'm relatively open with Debbie), and we'll take it from there.

 

[Isolde]

Mistress...of course you are welcome to join. I will be posting again tonight to move the story along but feel free to join.

 

[Mistress]

OOC: I would use the blonde Debbie, but..I'm not a Blonde nor do I like the name Debbie, sorry personal reasons hehe Howbout a strange twist in the select few..I'm a model, who for some odd reason has been asked to pose in the mansion. She brings her photographer friend and manages to get thrown into a group of paranormal researchers?! Things can be changed to suit the needs of the story.

 

[Isolde]

OOC: Sounds fine to me, Mistress. It could turn out that she bears a striking resembalance to one of the early occupants of the house. One who died under mysterious circumstances.

 

[Isolde]

Lorna

OOC: I am going to move this along. Mistress, come in when you can.

IC: The long black car pulled into the long driveway. The idle rich sure didnt believe in doing anything halfway did they? The ride up the drive seemed to go on almost as long as the plane ride but finally a huge house could be seen through the trees. The car had taken me from the airport to a very rural part of New York. The mansion was set apart from everthing and everyone else...these people liked their privacy.

The mansion was magnificent and had an old world charm about it. Absolutly nothing to suggest that there was anything unusual going on in it at all. It was three stories high and two wings were visible as we pulled up. I took in the sight of the house as I waited for the driver to get out and hold the door for me. Sliding out of the back seat, I walked up to the huge front door as he retrieved my bags from the trunk.

Almost as if someone were waiting for me, the door opened to show a tall, thin man with graying hair and mustache. He looked me up and down and said in a whispery voice,"Ah, Mrs. Barrington, you are the first to arrive. Come in and I shall show you to the library while Charles fetches your bags."

With not another word he turned and lead the way through a huge foyer, past a magnificent stairwell and into a room filled with shelves and shelves of books. The shelves were so high that there was a ladder to reach the top ones. The shelves extended on two walls of the room, the door that we entered into and a huge picture window took up the other two walls.

Sofas, chairs and a large table took up the middle of the room with small tables by the chairs and desks. Everything anyone needed to read in comfort.

The man that had led me here interrupted my thoughts. "My name is Garret," He said,"And I will be in charge of your..comfort. Can I get you anything to drink while we await the arrival of the others?"

I looked at him and nodded,"I could use some lemonade if you dont mind. I am quite thirsty after the trip." He nodded and left the room. I could hear the click clack of his shoes on the wooden floor as he left to fill my request and I went to peruse some of the books. My eyes widened at some of the titles. There were many old books here and many of them dealt with the occult, magics and supernatural. Only here for a short while and it was already starting to get interesting.





[Edited by Isolde on 03-28-2001 at 05:54 PM]

 

[Mistress]

BIO: Mercy Sage, model, actress.
Age: 22
Eyes: Bright blue
Hair: Dark Brown
Skin: Very pale, sort of alabaster
Height: 6 foot
Weight: 130
Beautiful (I hope anyways) Fiery with temper, witty, and a smart ass.
Invited to do photo shoot at Mansion, with her photographer/assist


Mercy raised an eyebrow and stared at the mansion, she glanced to her left at Dino and mouthed a silent, “wow.”

He grinned and winked, then returned his eyes to the road as they drove up the driveway. Parking, he grabbed his camera out of the back seat, “This is going to be great!”

Mercy slowly stepped out of the car, her peach colored high heels, clicking on the stone. She smoothed the wrinkles out of her short peach colored slip dress and frowned at a run in her stockings. “Damn.” Bending she rolled the stockings down her thighs and pulled them off, stuffing them into her purse.

Dino leaned against the car and watched her, a smile playing across his face, “I think we should start on the photos right away. We can always come back and knock on the door, the garden should be in the back.”

She shrugged and leaned through the window of the car to get her cell phone, the skirt of her dress rising up to show off the curve of her ass cheeks under her lacy peach panties. Dino coughed and snap a picture, Mercy flicked him off and continued to walk around the side of the gigantic estate. “Wow! This place is huge!!” She breathed trying to take in all the scenery.

Dino nodded, snapping pictures, then he quickly changed rolls of film and grabbed her hand. “Come on, it’s the garden and the statues we need for the shoot.” He rushed her around the side and into the garden.

Flowers and trees bloomed in brilliance, taking away both of their breathes, she twirled in circle a small laugh escaping her lips. “I can not get over all this, all those damn years of cruddy hotel room shoots! The beaches with sand up the crack of your ass among other things! This place is gorgeous!!!”

“Whoa.” Dino ran a hand through his long blonde hair and pointed to the first statue. “Look at that one!”

Mercy raced over to it, she smiled brightly, “He’s beautiful!” Her eyes skimmed over the humanoid statue. The Arc Angel towered over their heads on a platform, his wings spread, and arms out at his sides, fists clinched. A longing look carved onto his life-like features, he wore a simple loincloth. Well-chiseled muscles, giving his body a look of strength and power.

Dino glanced over the statue, “Get up on the platform, I want to get some shots of you with him.”

Mercy laughed, “He’s a Angel! I can’t model with a Angel.”

“Sure you can.” He prepared his camera, glancing around. “Come on, let’s get a few shots then we’ll head inside.”

Mercy bit her lip then sighed, she slowly climbed up, using the Angel’s arms as support to pull her up onto of the platform. Then, once face to face with him she shivered, “Wow, he’s really life like.”

“Lean against him, your back against his chest!” Dino squatted and begin to take the pictures.

Mercy rolled her eyes and did as he instructed, leaning back against the cold smooth marble. She began to pose, eyes closed, and arms around the Angel’s neck. Turning this way and that, she turned and pressed her chest against the Angel’s. The coldness of the stone, causing her nipples to harden through her thin dress at the touch. She laughed, realizing she wore no bra and was posing with an Angel statue.

A shoulder strap fell and she started to reach for it when Dino yelled at her not to, “Come on Mercy, you act like you’re new at this, give me some skin baby!”

Laughing she flicked the camera off as he was taking another shot, “I’m not going nipple to nipple with a fucking statue Dino!”

He grinned,” Aww come on, you know you want to, besides Boss man would love it!”

She made a face at him letting the strap fall lower, her left nipple close to peeking out as she pressed against the statue. She embraced the Angel pressing her lips to his, rising a bare leg up around his waist. Then arching her back, she closed her eyes and licked her lips, all the while Dino’s camera snapping away…

 

[Balthezar]

Robert Hawkins took his bag from the trunk of the car as it pulled up to the mansion. This was quite the remarkable set-up, obviously built with decadent in mind. "Yes," he thought, "This will be most amusing." he was still firmly convinced this was yet another gag, played at his expense, but he could take the criticism now. After all, he was vindicated. He held the greatest scientific breakthrough of the new millenium in his head, and the proof could never be taken away from him. Smiling, he realized the car had driven away. Frowning, he looked up towards the house, and noticed for the first time, a young woman being photographed. Perhaps this place served as a bed and breakfast as well as a "haunted house". Shrugging, he moved to introduce himself regardless, but was caught by an older man coming from the front doors. Seeing the man making a beeline for him, Robert Hawkins shouldered his bag and waited.

"Ah, Professor Hawkins if I am not mistaken. You've been expected. Please come with me." He turned and walked back towards the mansion, and sparing one last glance for the posing girl, Robert followed.

The inside of the house screamed baroque as loudly as the outside. Robert was led by the man, who introduced himself as Garret, into a large library. There was another woman seated there, and as his guide left the room, Hawkins nodded, recieving a polite smile in return. He walked over to her and began introductions.

B

 

[Morgana]

Mary Kate Devlynn

I was almost dozing as the limosine approached the gates to the mansion, but the grandeur of the scenery and the realization that I was arriving made me suddenly alert. The house was absolutely immense with its lush grounds and
looming entryways. It was beautiful. Beautiful and overwhelming. Perhaps a bit overdone, too, I chuckled to myself as the limo parked right in front.

I brushed the wrinkles out of my simple gray pantsuit as I emerged from the car. My long red hair was pulled away from my face in a French braid and my black high heels echoed on the pavement as I walked a few steps to retrieve my suitcase from the driver.

A tall, thin man with a gravelly voice rushed out of the house, it seemed, to greet me, impatiently waving the driver away.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Devlynn, and welcome. I'm Garrett and I will see that your stay here is comfortable."

I thanked him and smiled, bending down to pick up my suitcase.

"Oh, leave that...I will have Charles bring it to your room.
Please follow me so you can meet the others and get settled."

I notice that he eyed the tiny silver cross around my neck. Old habits die hard, and although I am not a practicing Catholic, I grew up in the most Catholic country in the world, where our superstitions mingle with our religion. I always wore this piece of jewelry. If anything that I owned carried my energy, it was this little cross, given to me by my father when I was 10 years old.

Garrett led me to the library where a man and a woman were seated. I recognized the man as Dr. Robert Hawkins. I had attended one of his conferences--on telekenisis, I think it was. The ability to move objects with your mind. I had never seen the woman before.

"Would Ms. Devlynn like something to drink?" queried Garrett.

"Iced tea," I replied, "Thank you."

I smiled pleasantly at the other two guests and introduced myself as Mary Kate Devlynn.

 

[BadForm]

Tatunka: Bad Ground

So that was settled. Somehow, whoever was calling had heard about Tat's shamanic abilities, and either they were mystics themselves, or extremely good at guessing when he was using his powers. He had no option but to go to the mansion and find out what exactly was going on. He could not, of course, rule out the possibility of the person wanting his advertising services, mystics were found in all professions after all, but that seemed much less likely now. He gave his assistant a brief explanation and double-checked she had the number for his cellphone and pager, in case an emergency came up while he was gone. Then he left for the airport.

Throughout the flight, and following drive, to the mansion, Tat sat flicking through his portfolio, trying to take his mind off the situation. There was, he knew, little point in worrying about things beyond his control. But the fact that this was beyond his control made him nervous and on-edge. Eventually he packed up his work and just sat back, waiting until they pulled into the long drive in front of the exquisite, baroque-styled building.

He felt it as soon as he arrived; the pain and fear in the land. Something horrible had happened here, something which left it scarred in its soul. His father had taught him the Sioux description of this. It translated to english as 'bad ground', a phrase now used only in the tackiest of Hollywood fantasies. However there was nothing tacky or fantastic about this place. It was dangerous.

The car was in front of the house before Tat had delved any deeper into what was wrong with the landscape. He got out and approached the door. An older man, tall and thin, opened the door to greet him.

"Mr. Wallace," he nodded his head in a bow. "We knew you would come. I am Garrett. I will be taking care of your... needs. Come, let me introduce you to the others who have arrived."

With that, he led Mr. Wallace through the doorway, sparing a brief glance to smile at the woman having her picture taken making out with a statue of an angel. He led the way to the a large, elegantly furnished room - probably a library, given the number of heavily laden book shelves around the walls. There were two women and one man in the room already, and as Tat was introduced to them he rapidly realized this had nothing to do with advertising.

 

[Balthezar]

Robert Hawkins

Mary Kate Devlynn. He vaguely remembered meeting her once, at one of his conference speakings. Her presence here puzzled him, she was hardly the type go about debunking research when she herself had a "questionable" field of study. Something to do with clarivoyance, which is certainly not the most mainstream research topic. He nodded and stood politely as she sat, and just behind her, he watched another man enter.

"So," he began "Perhaps it's just me, but I had been under the impression that this 'Haunted House' angle was just a method of drawing us in. However, from the presence of more then one valid researcher, I take it it's going to be more then that. Does anybody actually know what's going on here?"

 

[BadForm]

Tatunka

OOC: Balthazar, it would help (me at least) if you would put your char's name as the subject for your posts - it just gives an immediate identifier and saves having to back reference if you didn't use the name within the post anywhere.


One of the women in the room looked familiar, though it took Tat some time to work out where from. Then he remembered, Dr. Devlin, paranormal researcher and analyst. Several years ago she had done a lecturing tour of various colleges, including Brigham Young in Utah. Tat had managed to get the promotion gig for that, and what a task that had been; selling a paranormal investigator to a bunch of strict mormons. Even back then he had realized she was different from many of the college professors in her field. She had awoken much of the power of her mind. She was a sensitive. The other people, he did not know.

Then the man asked the question that had been on Tat's mind throughout. "Does anyone know what's going on?"

That shook his head. "No, but I know something is going on. There is something about this ground which is harmed. More than that, I cannot tell as yet."

He turned to the professor. "Have you felt anything here, Dr. Devlin?"

 

[Mistress]

Mercy

Mercy caught her shoulder strap just as her left breast was about to pop out, pulling it back up onto her shoulder, “There are people coming in.hmm I wonder whats going on."

Dino shrugged, “Come on, just a couple more shots while the lightening is good!" He gestured towards her shoulder straps, “Let them slip down."

"Hell no!” She bent and tried to get down,"Dino, we need to get inside, help me down!"

Sighing the young man walked over, gripping her hips he lifted her off the platform and set her down on the ground. A slow smile came to his face as he stood eye to eye with her. "So, nude shots later then?"

Frowning she smacked him in the back of his head and turned to hurry to the door. She started to knock but Dino opened it and stepped in front of her. She giggled nervously as they looked around," Damn, this place is phat!" He whispered pulling her into the hall.

They could hear voices coming from near by so he pulled her towards the room. A small group of people were gathered, talking among their selves, Dino grabbed her and pushed her out in front of him. "Shit," she breathed, trying to keep from stumbling over her own feet. Everyone turned to look at them and she smiled brightly, "Umm..Hi?"

Shooting Dino a cold look she composed herself and made her way over to a chair and sat down crossing her legs, “Sorry we are late, I was, shooting some pictures in the garden. My name is Mercy Sage, and Dino Landon my photographer."

Her eyes trailed over the pantsuits and well dressed women in the group then she glanced down at her short dress and slightly flushed. "Sorry, about being late."

 

[Morgana]

Mary Kate Devlynn

I remembered Tatunka Wallace from my tour a few years ago.
He had handled a fair amount of my publicity. He'd done a good job, too, as I remember. There was an intensity about him that made him difficult to forget--even though we had only spoken a few times.

I turned to him to respond to his question, "Just call me Mary Kate." I smiled. I hated the politics of titles and all that they implied. Academic elitism.

"I honestly haven't felt anything yet, Mr. Wallace. Either positive or negative. I need to spend some time in the house first...walk around....touch things...."

I was interrupted by the arrival of a very beautiful young woman and a photographer. She introduced herself as Mercy Sage and the photographer was called Dino.

I smiled at the two of them as they introduced themselves.

"Hello, Mercy and Dino. I'm Mary Kate." I shrugged and laughed softly. "Still trying to figure out just what this place is about."