<table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><div style="text-align: right;"><strong>Location:</strong></div></td><td></td><td>Downtown, Los Angeles</td></tr><tr><td><div style="text-align: right;"><strong>Time:</strong></div></td><td></td><td>Day 001; Late Morning</td></tr><tr><td><div style="text-align: right;"><strong>Tagging:</strong></div></td><td></td><td>Selena</td></tr></tbody></table><br/>The Smiths were clearly quite taken with the beautiful scion of Baron Samedi -- but they were hardly the only ones. As Selena was enjoying her early morning jog, she could feel the stares, glances and looks that many, many more were giving her. That young college student-looking woman, pretty but nowhere near the demigodess's league, who was just walking her dog almost walked right into a tree because instead of looking at the path ahead of her, she was following Selena's ever move with her deep blue eyes. Or that gentleman in a suit who stopped talking to his friends once his eyes met Baron Samedi's daughter's and he stood there fixed and unable to process any thoughts due to her mesmerizing appearance. LA was, after all, a very busy city and so... wherever she went, there were people on whom she would have this kind of effect.<br/><br/>Just a part of a demigoddess' life, right? Too bad Papa didn't warn her about it.<br/><br/>Miss Jeansonne got back to the hotel where she was served with excellent -- and possibly very expensive -- breakfast and coffee. Although 'breakfast' doesn't do it justice. It could be compared to a feast and still... there would be some who would argue that was not grand enough. They did know how to take care of their guests here. Or was it the black card's magic? Was it because of its prestige... or could it have some more... supernatural effect on these people? Another thing she would have to ask Papa if she wanted to know. (Not that she could be sure he would answer  any of these questions directly. He was always quite cryptic in her dealings with her.)<br/><br/>After the breakfast/feast, Selena drove to the modeling agency where Laura was supposed to be working. She had managed to find the place quite quickly, having previously looked at the map of Los Angeles, it was all now ingrained in her brain and she had no trouble looking at it with her mind's eye. Even so, quickly was probably not a good word for it. Relatively quickly, more like it. LA traffic was quite legendary after all. Even a god's daughter had to admit defeat when traffic was concerned...<br/><br/>Selena got off her car and realised that this part of the town was not quire exactly the place where one would find a prestigious modeling agency. In fact, any modeling agency would look out of place here. Run-down houses, dirty streets and supposedly empty warehouses -- yes, but no self-respecting businessman would ever willingly step in this area. For a second, she wondered if maybe she did choose a wrong turn at some crossing... but she quickly went over all the turns in her mind, comparing them to the map in her head. No, that was not it. Maybe she was given a wrong address? Or... it was the right address but the modeling agency was not exactly what it seemed.<br/><br/><br/><div class="floatright">(https://yoy50.files.wordpress.com/2009/11/sexy-black-man-in-pool.jpg)</div><br/>Deciding to go and do some snooping, especially that now the case was becoming more complex, Selena crossed the street and found herself near a storage house which, according to the address, was where the company was supposed to be. Before she could check out any entrances, she was spotted by a man leaning against the wall of a building on the other side of the street.<br/><br/><br/>The man was... huge. Well over six feet. Seven maybe. Or even more. His skin was dark and glistening with sweat. He was shirtless, displaying his incredible muscles and a whole variety of tattoos on his skin. He was wearing a pair of dirty jeans. "Yo, girl. What'cha doin' here? Ya a ho'? Nah, too early for that. Too well-dressed too." He noticed, his accent somewhere between ebonics and.... African? South African? No, that's not it. Somewhere else. English was not his first language maybe. Or it was but he assumed this kind of speech pattern for some reason. "Tell me, what the fuck are ya doin' in the Warriors' alley? Got any business? Ya better do, 'cause if you ain't... not gonna turn out well for ya." He gave her a cocky smile as he moved his hand to his belt.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Mechanics</div><div class="spoiler_body"><br/><em>[Please make Perception + Empathy and Perception + Awareness rolls.]</em><br/><br/></div></div><br/><br/><br/><div align="center">***</div><br/><br/><br/><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><div style="text-align: right;"><strong>Location:</strong></div></td><td></td><td>Downtown, Los Angeles</td></tr><tr><td><div style="text-align: right;"><strong>Time:</strong></div></td><td></td><td>Day 001; Late Morning</td></tr><tr><td><div style="text-align: right;"><strong>Tagging:</strong></div></td><td></td><td>Sean</td></tr></tbody></table><br/>The mighty son of the Morrigan, now refreshed and for once smelling less like blood and death, more like... jasmine, could feel that something was up in the air. Something was off -- and he didn't mean the smell of jasmine. Something big was going to happen soon. He knew it -- he had this feeling like his bones were tingling inside as if transformed by some ephemeral force; as if his soul or self or whatever it was, was being somehow violated, twisted and unnaturally influenced -- not by any supernatural powers, but by the Fate itself. He knew that whatever it was it was going to be big... but that was why he was here. He arrived in Los Angeles because it seemed that his destiny lay here. Not that he didn't stop to enjoy the local... environment. The girl at whose house he now was was certainly a nice piece of the local scenery.<br/><br/>Just as Sean was walking out, the girl woke up. She made a sleepy confused face, looked around and not seeing her last night's partner around, decided to go back to sleep. She seemed sad but there was no time to console her. Perhaps he'll meet her again. Or not. Fate only knew.<br/><br/>As the Irishman went out of the apartment, took the elevator down and stepped out of the building, he realised he had been quite lucky -- he was in one of the nicer areas of Los Angeles. Maybe not rich -- definitely not Hollywood-rich, but not bad nonetheless. Everywhere he looked, people were in rush. Traffic was terrible -- good thing Sean didn't have to care about it. Yet.<br/><br/>Casper... or Uathach as she was called in reality, returned once Sean was outside. Her translucent shadowy form materialised itself right in front of the man -- if he hadn't known better, he could assume she meant to scare him. She did not seem happy -- her frown was making that perfectly clear. "Good, you're outside. Have you consulted the sticks yet today?" She asked and sighed loudly, "Oddly enough, this place is filled with supernatural -- I can sense dozens of legends yet to be written or small ones who are writing themselves now. But then, I'm sure that the mighty son of the Morrigan has figured that out for himself and help of a long-dead warrior-sorceress is not needed." So much venom.<br/><br/>This was going to be fun.<br/><br/>Sean's eyes were attuned to death however. He could see beyond what mere mortals saw. That was how he was even communing with Ca... Uathach. She was a ghost, invisible to mortal eyes unless she were to manifest in all her ephemeral beauty and terror. The Irishman could easily tell that she was right -- there were many legendary beings in this very area, even now. He looked around, realizing that there were at least two different ghosts or spectres or other undead still lingering nearby.<br/><br/>The one closest to him was a young man, perhaps twenty-something, whose head was severed and all he could do was to hold onto it so that it didn't fall off. His shadowy silhouette was stationary as he focused on the task at hand. Every time he took a step, his head moved, threatening to sever itself completely, scaring the man even further. He didn't seem like he fully understood what was happening to him...<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://www.dailyfailcenter.com/sites/default/files/styles/fail/public/wp-content/uploads/2012/07/get-off-my-lawn-1.jpg?itok=HMrEmKIT)</div><br/>The second ghost was an elderly lady who was trying to climb a tree in a nearby park, but her old and deformed bones couldn't hold her. She didn't seem aware of her ghost status either as it would be quite easy for her to simply will herself up the tree and on the branch -- as ghosts left their mortal coils behind, solid matter or gravity were no longer of any concern to them.<br/><br/>"Do you think it's somehow connected to them?" Casper asked.<br/><br/>"Excuse, sir..." A melodic, kind voice reached Sean's ears. "Do you need any help? You seem lost. You seem... purpose-less. You seem like you're looking for something but you don't know what it is." A redhaired woman, young, curvaceous and quite beautiful, approached the man. She was wearing a black blouse and a pair of worn jeans. She couldn't be older than early twenties -- a college girl maybe. She smiled at the confusion her words might have caused. "Is that it? Am I right? She asked.<br/><br/>"This should be interesting." Whispered the sidhe. The redhead moved her eyes to the space where the spirit was levitating in.<br/><br/>Now that was... an odd coincidence?<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Mechanics</div><div class="spoiler_body"><br/><em>[Please make a (Perception + the number of Prophecy Boons) roll adding 4 extra dice thanks to your Guide's assistance. This is to represent some random insight that might or might not happen to help a Scion with access to a Prophecy Purview. This does not count as an actual use of Prophecy Purview so you are free to do that as well, if you want to.<br/><br/>Please also make (Perception + Empathy) and (Perception + Awareness) rolls.]<br/><br/></em></div></div><br/><br/><br/><br/><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><div style="text-align: right;"><strong>Location:</strong></div></td><td></td><td>Balthazar Carmichael’s Vintage Books, Los Angeles</td></tr><tr><td><div style="text-align: right;"><strong>Time:</strong></div></td><td></td><td>Day 001; Late Morning</td></tr><tr><td><div style="text-align: right;"><strong>Tagging:</strong></div></td><td></td><td>Peter</td></tr></tbody></table><br/>Arriving at the brink of dawn at Balthazar Carmichael's Vintage Books, Peter was lucky enough to escape the heavy Los Angeles traffic -- or at least the majority of it. The inside of the building was indeed very cozy and the rooms made Peter think more of a small library than a bookstore. It smelled of old dusty tomes and... was it lavender? As the time went by, the young Scion of the Devas absorbed the words of the ancient Ramavilda. His divine-inspired mind worked fast, allowing him to read much faster than any mortal, and commit the information to memory in a moment -- even one as complex as what he was reading now. Written in a much older version of the language than what he was used to, he was quite impressed by the quality of writing -- and especially the comments on the margins probably made by one of the readers. They included a number of different references that he could probably make use of later on if he wanted to research the topics it touched more thoroughly. For now, however, he was focused on one thing -- rakshasa.<br/><br/>The monsters.<br/><br/>The demonic beings that, not long ago, were just some made-up creatures from Hindu mythology; but now he knew they were real.<br/><br/>And dangerous as hell whence they came.<br/><br/>Ugly, fierce-looking and enormous creatures with two fangs protruding down from the top of the mouth as well as sharp, claw-like fingernails. Mean, growling beasts; insatiable cannibals who could smell the scent of mortal flesh. Some had flaming red eyes and hair or fur -- that is, if they were not shapeshifted into some other form as the race was naturally capable of shapeshifting, changing size and assuming forms of any other creature at will, often preferring tiger-like ones.<br/><br/>According to most sources, they never forgot an insult being epitomes of vengefulness and hatred. And now one of them could possibly be after Peter.<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://www.filmytollywood.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/2307-AmalaPaul-Ag-L.jpg)</div><br/>"Excuse me miss, but this room's off limits. How can I serve you anyway?" Roland heard a bit of commotion from the shop.<br/><br/>"Off-limits you say? Well, I've got exactly the need of that room now, old man, and I intend to get in there unless you stop me." A sharp but not entirely unpleasant woman's voice drew Peter's attention away from the book he was reading. Was that... a British-Indian accent he was hearing?<br/><br/>"My dear... this is a place of knowledge and contemplation. I don't have any patience or desire for such brashness... but I ask you not to disturb anyone. If you do not have business..."<br/><br/>"You're not listening, aren't ya? I told you. I want to get in that room. And please don't you try to stop me."<br/><br/>"You must not disturb the peace and..."<br/><br/>"Oh, get lost, old man." With those words, a woman entered the room with the table where Peter was seated with his copy of the Ramavilda.<br/><br/>She was a true Indian beauty -- with dark skin, dark eyes and even darker hair. Dressed casually but provocatively, she was emanating a certain aura of confidence, rebellion even. There was a chaotic sparkle in her eyes as she looked at the Deva scion.<br/><br/>"You there. Yeah, you. Yes, I'm talking to you. There's no one else here, you know? So, basically, to cut the story short, because I don't have time or want to describe it in any detail -- not my thing really -- you're kind of bad news for this city, you know that, right? You fought a beast and you brought it here, so now it's out here, hunting, out for blood and seeking revenge. Yeah, yeah, don't look so surprised. News travel fast in such a close-knit community like ours. See, my mother sent me to find you and help you clean up this mess. Or do it on my own. I would probably have preferred doing it on my own... but she was persistant I try to enlist your help -- after all, it is your mess, so you at least deserve a chance to set things right. Karma, right?"<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body"><br/><em>[I had to kind of change what you wrote for the good of the plot -- so assume that Peter took a flight last night and got to the bookstore in the early morning, and the woman arrived just before afternoon. I'm only making these changes so Peter's storyline is compatible with my later plans and everyone else's timelines.<br/><br/>Please make an Intelligence + Academics roll to represent Peter's research -- as well as a Perception + Empathy roll.]</em><br/><br/></div></div>