Role-Playing - "Sometimes there's worse things than dying."

Lon quietly said "I spoke to the girl, Ren, she seemed pretty shaken. I know she's an out-of-towner and everything, but according to her the ghost isn't one we've seen before. She described him to me," he paused. "But then, her mind wasn't plowed straight, if you know what I mean." As Lon helped Pop down a steep rock the latter commented with a chuckle "Well I guess we'll just have to wait and find out."

As they continued down to the river, they came to a small pool of water. Pop noticed Lon focused on something in water, so out of curiousity he looked too. Suddenly a semi-transparent face shot out of the water and at the two. Pop took a step back in shock with his hand on his chest, he laughed a bit when he relized who it was. Haha that little prankster Fiona, always looking for trouble. Unforntunatly, he didn't have time for jokes right now so he continued on the path. Then Pop felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Jimmy, the busboy at the tavern. He put his arm around the boy and kept walking while he explained how Maeve Talbot had gone missing. Then he added "Care to help? We could always use another pair of eyes."

"Get off my roof, you vagrant!" Fern jumped from where she had been curled up and stared wide eyed at the source of the shouting. The baker who owned the building was waving his rolling pin menacingly at Fern, an angry look on his face. "This isn't some place for freeloaders. Get yourself a room at the inn next time!" Fern scowled, but stood up and stretched.

"Sorry about that. I'll be sure to next time." She said, rolling her eyes. The baker took a step forward, still brandishing his rolling pin as if it were a sword.

"Get off my roof right now. Or I'll have you arrested for trespassing!" Fern took a step towards the edge of the roof and peered down. The drop wouldn't be too bad. With one last look at the angry baker, she stepped off the roof, fell until she grabbed the lip of the roof and after a deep breath, pushed off the wall.

She landed with an awkward roll, her shoulder hitting the ground first. Fern looked around. Just ahead, near the edge of town a decently sized group was assembled. Deciding that seeing what the group was up to was far more interesting than anything else she had planned for the day, Fern ran to join the group. She managed to mix in with the back of the group and listened, surprised to hear that the wealthy woman from the day before was missing and that this group had decided to go search for her. Fern thought about leaving but she remained. It was better than scrounging around all day, to say the least.

"I'm done with everything you asked me to do, Mr. Creson." Cyrus said and eyed the door.
"You seem rather excited to get out there. Take the rest of the day off." Mr. Creson's eyes sparkled.
Cyrus took in a quick breath and let it out through her speaking, "Thank you so much, sir. I will enjoy this, really."
"Go on now, I bet the search party has already left."
Cyrus thanked him again and left the general store ready to experience something interesting, or at least she hoped to.

Looking up and down the road, she did not see anything specifically exciting going on. Hmm, they really did leave. Let's see... Quickly she trotted down the road towards the countryside. Maybe I should check on Grammie. Before the town transformed into a scenic country landscape, a small cottage sat near the edge of the dirt road. It hid nestled among a few scraggly trees, and Cyrus always joked to herself that the trees were symbolic of her and her grandmother's lifestyle. Scraggly.

There was no light shining beyond the windows when Cyrus peeked her eyes through the dark glass. Her heart started to race. Where is she? She can't be asleep. Suddenly the door swung open and Beverly "Bev" "Grammie" Melton burst through the decaying wooden entrance. Startled, Bev pulled out a little wood carved dagger and poked it at Cyrus.

"What are you doing here so early, dear? Shouldn't you been making us some money?" She continued to poke the air enthusiastically.
Cyrus blushed with annoyance, "I got the day off, but that isn't the problem. You should be taking it easy. You're not built like you used to be, Grammie."
Bev laughed, "I'm more energetic than you have ever been. Now a search party just came by here and asked me if I've seen anyone being disappeared and of course I haven't, but I thought, why not join them?" She skipped forward down the little dirt path that ran to the front door of the cottage, leaving Cyrus in the dust.

I can't let her go alone. Cyrus ran after her grandma and into the countryside.

Jimmy ducked instictively as he heard the rush of wings over his head. At first he thought it was just a woodland bird, like an oriole, protecting its nest from the search party, but then he looked up, and gasped.
It was a huge creature, standing at least ten feet tall, but it was hard to tell. It swooped swiftly through the air on irridescent black wings, and its spear-length talons reached out for its target at the front of the party: Lon.
Jimmy and the others stood in shock for the first few moments, unable to believe that what they were seeing was true. Then Jimmy grabbed Pop's shoulders and pulled him to the ground.
"Stay down!" he shouted over the din that was suddenly filling the clearing. Jimmy looked up to see the cause of the noise, but he could only see shadowy figures. The clearing was suddenly much darker than before, and the darkness was spreading from the outside in. Jimmy was brought back to reality by a cry from Lon, and he began making his way towards him.
Suddenly, a hand grabbed him from behind. In a flash, Jimmy had unsheathed his dagger from his belt and plunged it towards the attacker.
It went right through.
Jimmy found himself looking into a swarthy face, surrounded by black hair and sideburns. The face was covered with beaded tattoos, and was grinning eerily at him with half-lit eyes.
Jimmy paled as he recognized the swirling patterns of the blue-black tattoo beads. Only a certain group of ghosts marked themselves this way: The Reapers.

Ruthie wrote:(the day of the search party)
Skye chuckled to herself as she plodded along with the rest of the group. No one had spotted her slipping in among the ranks of villagers armed with wooden staffs, pitchforks, swords, and cross bows. We look rather like we're going on an invasion, she smiled to herself. All at once, she found her thoughts wandering back to last night, when she had run off towards the tombs. She did see something at the end of the road, a dark figure that was limping off down the dusty way, painfully making its way back to the cemetery. Once Skye had arrived at the gate, so far not making a sound, the creature hobbled around the biggest tomb-mound and disappeared. Skye really had no desire to go in and see what that creature was, so, she left, running back to the village even faster than her previous pace.
She had been rudely awakened this morning; she had been lying across the bench outside the tavern when several loud thumpings stirred her. She woke up to see two or three men hurry into the tavern, with something like anxious excitement on their faces, as if they were unsure of how to look. Sky peeked through the window. The men were shouting that "Lady Maeve is missing! Gone, last night after the ghost sighting!!"
Several individuals jumped up, shouting themselves that a search party should be organized and that everyone should meet in the town square in roughly ten minutes. Everyone got excited. Sky jumped up and was about to go inside for a chance at snatching tidbits from the table when a horde of villagers pushed out the door, almost trampling her. The last that came out was a young man of about twenty, with stirring green eyes. Skye had seen him before. Lon, his name was, but she didn't trust his eyes; they always looked like he knew something about you. Skye slipped in after Lon moved from the doorway and helped herself to a bacon and eggs breakfast that had been left on one of the tables, untouched.
Skye's musings were broken by a shout ahead;they were in the forest bordering the village. Skye clutched her dagger closer to her and gulped loudly. With her head covered by her cloak hood, no one had stopped her and told her to go back to the village, that "Lady Maeve needed real help, not from vagabonds", but Skye didn't care. She liked Lady Maeve, who had once given her a blanket as Skye was lying out in the cold night air not even a week ago, and had also once bought her breakfast.
After an hour or so, the group stopped to rest. There was much joking and laughing as if they were all on holiday. Skye huddled down between two rocks and waited. She saw Lon nearby with an elderly man. She knew him too, 'Pop' everyone call him. The old man's long beard quivered when he laughed, and the way he swung his cane through the air as he told some dare-devil tale was quite amusing. Just thern, however, Skye's smile disappeared. She felt her scalp prickle, and she seemed to be the only one who felt that something bad was happened, or was about to happen. Slowly she turned her head. The sky had gone darker and all at once, and unearthly scream shook the air. Then the biggest bird Skye had ever seen streaked across the rock outcropping where the group was resting, heading straight for Lon. Several villagers were on their feet now, yelling and throwing sticks at the creature. Skye's face darkened, as it did when there was trouble. Next minute, she saw something she wished never to see. A tall figure leaning against a tree overlooking the search party. Blue tattoes decorated his pasty, transparent skin and yellow, cat-like eyes stared maliciously down below.

A bright green grasshopper landed on Eva's shoulder. With an exasperated sigh, she flicked it off. When she had started out on this search, she had expected some excitement; so far, the most exciting thing to happen had been a beetle the size of half-dollar settling on her head. She swept her black hair off her shoulders and into a loose pony-tail, wincing as she felt how hot the top of her head was because of the relentless heat of the sun. Her eyes wandered over the knee-high grass which covered the rolling hills, except where there were trees of course. She didn't see how a woman could be hidden out here; nothing could be seen but tall weeds and bushes, grass, patches of flowers, and some random clumps of scraggly pine and deciduous tees. Now and then a farm house would appear in the distance, but she knew the majority of the residents were loners, not wanting to be bothered by strangers. Stepping over a large rock, Eva wished that they would just find the woman, so they could go home. On any other day, she probably would have enjoyed just meandering in the pretty countryside, but today was particularly warm, and personally, she was getting bored and tired. The others (except a surprisingly energetic older woman named Beverly) looked pretty tired too, but they still continued looking, fanned out around Eva, peering into the grass or scanning the hills. Just as she thought she would scream with boredom, she thought she heard a faint cry in the distance, maybe from an animal. No one else seemed to have noticed. Shrugging it off, she continued searching. But she frowned, concerned, as it seemed to suddenly get a little darker, and everyone looked at each other wonderingly and moved a little closer together.

Even as Lon sprang to his feet the other villagers were pelting the giant bird with anything that could be turned into a projectile. The bird was undisturbed, though, and lunged at Lon again. This time, with a clear notion of the shape of his attacker, he was ready. He drove his dagger up toward the underside of the bird's head as it came, but missed and only succeeded in cutting the side of it's neck. The bird shrieked and tumbled past him. Screams rose amid the villagers and Lon turned to find them surrounded by a crowd of Reapers. "Oh dram," he breathed.
It wasn't even the swarms of ghosts surrounding them that bothered him. Standing in the back, held by the neck and with a dagger raised threateningly in front of her face, was Ren. The petrified expression on her face was enough to stop Lon dead in his tracks. How had the ghosts captured her? Hadn't she been safe at home in town? Or were the Reapers far more bold than Lon had thought?
Lon opened his mouth to tell the other villagers to stop fighting, but the bird was on him again, and he was flailing against it. It landed on his chest, pecking with it's enormous beak at his face. Lon mentally timed the motions of the bird as he frantically shifted from side to side. Finally, he drove his dagger into the bird's neck as it came down. The creature screamed in pain and Lon shoved it to the side. "The worm has turned," he said aloud.

It was mayhem. Skye could barely see who was on her side and who wasn't. The reapers were swift; they had been waiting for us, Skye realized with a shudder. She quickly slipped into a crevice just big enough for her and watched. Lon had just killed that horrible bird and was now fighting a determined Reaper. Pop was nearby, swatting a ghost down with his cane. Several other villagers were thrown into the mix. For a few minutes, it was just shouting, screaming, and cackling. Until, almost as if they had never been there, the Reapers were gone. Skye stepped out of her hole, she looked at the wearied villagers. Lon was standing nearby, staring at the dead bird that was lying on the ground. The search party continued on, despite the setback, but Skye couldn't help feeling this was the last they'd see of those ghosts

Zier ducked as he heard a whoosh over his head What was that? he thought, then he saw Lon pinned under a gigantic bird.
Zier lunged at the bird and slashed with his sword, it cut the feathers he saw but it seemed not to affect it. When Lon knocked the bird to the ground Zier managed to slash the underside of the wing.
Zier stood back He can handle it he chuckled to himslef and then, after being knocked down again Lon finished the bird with a slice to the neck. It was then that Zier found the group had been surrounded by pale figures, obviously ghosts, but they had the equivalent of tatoos on thier arms, The Reapers he thought.
"What do you want?" He asked distainfully
"Prisoners." The largest one said
"Why?" Zier retorted
"You shall see...." 
"We aren't going to be your slaves." Zier said strongly, and firmed his stance.
"You will come." 

Ghostly hands grabbed Lon from behind and shoved him forward. He nearly stumbled on the uneven terrain but managed to catch himself.
"Worthless mortal," he heard one of the ghosts hiss.
Lon was brought before--as he was known in his living days--Louis. The leader of the Reapers. Of all the Reapers, he looked the least decayed, the least dead. His skin, though transparent, was full-looking, and his face was handsome. His beard was kept well-trimmed and anyone looking at him--disregarding the his obvious lack of physical form--would have seen a young man in his prime, rather than a man over a thousand years without rest.
"Well, aren't we looking vivified today," was all Lon could think to say. He looked at Ren. "Are you alright?" he asked, but the girl was too frightened to acknowledge him.
Louis sneered. "She's fine," he said. "For now, at least." He waved his arms theatrically. "In the meantime you're all invited to our castle," his eyes flashed wickedly. "For a little . . . party that we're having."
Just then, one of the Reapers, a young one, from the looks of him, shouted to Louis. "One of them is escaping, Kel!"
"Let him go," Louis said smugly over his shoulder. "We have all we need."

Zier looked around him at the wan faces. 
Knowing the pricipal of the opacity and density of the Reapers he, as they came close to bind his hands, suddenly spun around punching the ghost behind him and stabbed him, he went for another blow, but suddenly, half way through, the ghost gave way and he stumbled past, a step, to be grabbed again by another Reaper.
"A good try" The injured Reaper said
"I know." Zier spat
"You see, we control the density of ourselves" Louis, the leader said.
"I see that." Said Zier
There was a short, silent war between the two and then,
"Now, move!" Louis barked
Zeir's mind was racing planning some escape, but it seemed impossible.
Zier, seeing no other option, walked behind Lon, while being pushed by the Reaper, taking his revenge for the injury.

Ruthie wrote:"The tables had turned rather quickly. All too quickly, Skye thought bitterly as she saw several transparent figures circling the search party. Several villagers still had their weapons out, among them, a fellow named Zier, of whom Skye had also seen around town. She didn't trust him, either. That makes three enemies, and they haven't even done anything to prove it, she reflected grimly. The reapers were now completely circled around the group, some smirking, others expressionless. Skye huddled in-between the villagers, trying to make herself as small as possible. She realized with a start that she was standing, or rather slumped beside Lon himself! Skye looked up at the young man, expecting him to look back, but he didn't. Skye saw then that he was talking to (or rather arguing with) the leader of the Reapers. Louis, as he had been known, to Skye and many of the other villagers, however, he was known as 'gast', simply meaning 'ghost'. The reapers laid hands on the villagers. One managed to grab Lon, and Pop, too was caught. Zier was also apprehended, but was giving his captors a hard time, so were most of the other villagers. Some went meekly, too frightened to fight back. A shout went up from the ghosts: One's escaped!
So am I! Skye broke from the crowd, as silent as a shadow and unnoticed as one as well, up the sloping hill that surrounded the clearing where the search party was. She waited behind a birch until the Reapers, with their captives, moved out. She decided to follow at a distance, perhaps plagued by cuiosity? Or maybe it was something else, but Skye highly doubted it had something to do with a foolhardy wish that she could save her comrades, because she knew she couldn't, but maybe she could help them, if not by force, then by perhaps going along to their destination, and helping them escape. Skye shook her head as she ducked down, following at a wary pace, at least thirty feet behind the ghastly Reapers"

The sun was melting Cyrus' face. "It is soo hot out here. If the lady did end up in this area, then she must have burnt to a crisp already, really."
Beverly, who broke her intense gaze over the countryside, gently knocked the back of Cyrus' head with her little wood dagger. "That is a terrible thing to say, dearie. The poor woman is probably lost and afraid or captured and afraid or lost and captured and afraid and all you can think about is the weather. How did your parents raise you?" With one swift movement, Bev moved to where Eva was standing, watching the movements of the landscape.
"You know," Bev murmured loud enough for Eva to hear, "I have lived in this town my entire life, and the sky does not get this dark within a few seconds."
Cyrus walked over to the two of them and looked over Eva. She seemed concerned about something.
"What's wrong, Eva?" She asked.
The rest of the search party gathered closer together. People were discussing the change in the sky.
"I thought I heard something in the distance." Eva said, still looking worried.
Suddenly someone was running towards the search party, and he was yelling something. "Quick! Come with me! We have to save them! The other search party! They were attacked!"
An eruption of voices sounded from the crowd. "Let's go save them then!" Beverly yelled over the crowd.
Cyrus stopped her grandma before she could run off. "But we don't know what we're up against yet. Let's listen to him!" She turned to the man and asked him his name.
"I am Kel. I was in the other search party and they were attacked by a bunch of ghosts with tattoos! If we all go quickly, we can help them escape!"
Before any decision could be made, a dark figure emerged from behind the closest farmhouse. Every eye in the group locked on to its blue tattoos, and chills were sent up every spine.

Corinne wrote: Angie-I haven't read or seen Howl's Moving Castle, but let me guess....there is an energetic old person in it. I'm basing my character on a mix of my own grandfather and grandmother.

Fiona felt a familiar cold chill and the swirling blue shademarks second before the attack even started. The sudden chill of it knocked the wind out of her, and she shivered as she fell to the ground. A shriek filled the air as a large black winged beast streaked toward the head of the party.
Jimmy was there.
Fiona began pushing her way past people and even through them, something she rarely did, as it was considered rude. But before she had even gone twenty paces, she felt a cold shademark on her back and someone grabbed her from behind and lifted her to face them.
It was Racket, the Reaper rumored to be high in the group, even second or third in command. Fiona had seen him a few times in the Warren, but only in the dark alleys that not many people, even ghosts, went into. His trademark yellow and green eyes glared at her, and he lifted a lip in disgust.
"You wannabe lifers," he spat, "You sicken me. They don't care about you. They see right through you. You're like the scenery to them, a pretty paintin' or a fence post. This is our city, and pretty soon it will be again, so if I were you, I'd join us, or you'll be wishin' you 'ad."
Fiona was too frightened to move. She'd heard what the Reapers could do to other ghosts, even to ones like her, the Old Gosciters who were from the same time. None of the stories were ones even ghosts liked to repeat.
Racket looked at her, his look of disgust changing to a threatening and smug grin.
"Ho, yes, you'll be wishin' it, or you'll be seein' what we do to those who don't comply. Get me?!"
Then, with with inhuman strength, he threw her into the woods , sending her through trees and bushes until she slid to a stop, fifty feet from where the attack was just wrapping up. She shivered uncontrollably as she watched distantly the new Gosciters, the lifers, being rounded up and marched off. She could see Jimmy near the front, with Lon and Pop, and all the others she knew from Goscite.
Fiona knew where they would be going. Any ghost would, but it was the sort of thing nobody would tell a lifer. Well, she was going to do something about it. And she also knew they'd be in deep trouble, if no one helped them. Whatever the Reapers' plan, it wouldn't be good, but Fiona had a feeling that it had been going on for a while.
Hugging her arms to her chest, Fiona rose, and took a few steps after Jimmy, Lon, and the others. Then she stopped. At the castle, there wouldn't be much she could do. Only Reapers went there, and without the telltale blue beaded tattoo, she would be recognized in a second. If only there was a way....
The idea hit Fiona like a bolt of lightning, and she whirled around and began running back towards the town, letting the wind speed her on her way. She would need all the speed and luck she could get.

Corinne wrote:Angie-I haven't read or seen Howl's Moving Castle, but let me guess....there is an energetic old person in it. I'm basing my character on a mix of my own grandfather and grandmother.

Eva had thought before that she could probably pass off the cry and the darkening of the sky as her imagination, but that went out the window when she heard Beverly say exactly what she was thinking. Cyrus had asked her what was wrong, and she had told her of the cry in the distance. A few moments later, a younger man came sprinting up and told them of the Reapers, begging them to go save the others. The crowd had burst into murmurs of excitement and fear, and she could hear Beverly say "Let's go save them!". Eva had turned to follow the surge of the group, but in an instant, they came to a dead halt and perfect silence. A Reaper.
He approached from a tumble down farm house, his face a mixture of a gruesome leer, evil, and lack of emotion. The searchers huddled together, surprised and frightened. Eva heard the man Kel whisper. "That's one of them!". The tattooed ghost came within a yard from the terrified people, his horrible yellowish eyes seeming to reach for the very life in their souls. They moved backwards, trying to get away from his gaze. Eva merely stared back at him, all her bad memories from the time she spent living alone flooded back like a dam had been broken. She remembered seeing the unspeakable things the Reapers did, their malicious and bloodthirsty efforts to break the curse which they deserved. His eyes settled on Eva for a second, and she swallowed a painful lump in her throat, wishing she could curl up and die. The twisted face broke into a wicked grin, as if he knew every last detail of her hidden past.
Then the ghost spoke to the crowd, his voice hollow. "If you think you can help your friends, you are sadly mistaken." He was still grinning evilly. "It is hopeless for them. They will help us, or die; but before their end, death will seem like paradise." A few with relations in the group of prisoners sniffed and whimpered. This seemed to encourage him. "First, they will be starved. Many end up..." Eva could tell where this was going; she already knew what the Reapers did to uncooperative prisoners.
Stepping boldly out of the crowd, she stood face to face with him and said in a low voice, trying to keep it from shaking. "They might die, but at least they won't be cursed like you!" His yellow eyes flashed, the arrogance replaced by hate, and for a minute Eva thought he might kill her, but instead he raised his hand. In an instant Eva was forced on her knees from a hard, stinging blow to her sunburned face. The Reaper glared down at her and the rest of the people, then stalked into the shadows. She held her hands to her face, fighting back tears. The searchers surrounded her, helping her up, clucking with sympathy.
Beverly patted her on the arm, smiling supportively. "Don't worry, dear... we're going after those cowards that would stoop to hitting a poor girl!" Eva managed a wan smile, and the crowd murmured in agreement. What had started out as a search party had turned into a rescue mission, and Eva had had all the excitement she could handle.

eLIZabeth wrote:@Everyone - I had said before that Dot wasn't my character, I kinda had her disappear and fizzle out with the other search party as I wasn't sure she would make a good character. But now that she's in the group of prisoners and may be useful, should I resurrect her? *sigh* How I love Necromancy...

By the time they started the actual ascent, Lon was shivering. Ice cold hands pushing, shoving, tugging and prodding you will do that. But also the air was getting colder just as sure as it had gotten darker only a short time before. Where ever they were going, it was blanketed in ghostly energy-- no, Reaper energy. It felt like the Warren had once when Lon had gotten lost there and wandered around until some friendly ghost had helped him escape.
Lon looked up the steep incline they were climbing. He could just make out an outline of castle walls against the dark sky. "Keep moving!" a Reaper behind Lon snarled and shoved him in the back. Lon's face slammed into the mossy rocks in front of him before he began to slide down. Icy hands grabbed the back of his shirt and hauled him back to his feet.
The drawbridge and the castle gate had long since crumbled away, and as Lon approached he could see dim shapes crowded around the main archway. More Reapers than he had ever seen before. Of all ages--if they had been human--and sizes. All of them with black swirling tattoos. The ghosts were staring icily at them and some were even muttering curses as the pitiful band of humans were hustled inside. Lon could see close to nothing now, but he was half dragged, half carried down a winding flight of stairs and through a maze of hallways. He was flung onto the floor finally and there was a metallic clang which Lon knew to be a door. For a moment he did not move, he could hear at least one more person in the cell with him, and he didn't want to give away his presence until his eyes became adjusted to the very dim light.

"Cyn! Come over here," Rita beckoned to her transparent grandmotherly friend. Cyn came swiftly and lightly hovered beside her "grand-daughter" and peered over the bushes. They saw a band of Goscitens being pushed into the eerie castle not far away. "There's the cursed man I was telling to you about," and her hand shot over to the first in line. "Oh yes, now I remember," Cyn stated hesitantly with a morose shake of her head and a click clack of her tongue. "Lon's his name? Oh the poor deary. Wasn't he the one that had started the search party and the one that you were trying to...Oooo," Her voice died down as it dawned on her what would likely concurr. "Rita you know that there's nothing we can do, not a persuasive word we might say to Louis or what's-his-ugly-face..." " But he must die by MY hands!" Rita concluded maliciously. "Oh deary, now is that necessary?Now how about that girl Fern hmmm? You could take her on as an apprentice" Cyn replied hoping she would bait. The weather beaten girl slumped against a tree. "Louis told me that if I bring him Lon's head-not literally- but that if he were killed, I would be free and my parents will be able to rest peacefully never more to be disturbed." Rita paused as if in a trance; then shook her mass of red hair, but not out of defiance. "No, your right. What a cruel inhuman intention. It would be a double-effect and I could never go through with it." "There's a good girl," Cyn crooned back. "Come let's follow them," and at that, Rita slung her longbow over her shoulders and checked to see if her quiver was full.

Cyn was the type that would bend her ear any day to catch some juicy gossip, or tell some herself. That's what pumped her interest in this search for the Madame, for she was a celebrity in the town herself. If Cyn found the Madame and rescued her, maybe she could get a spotlight in the Lifers magazine. Yes, that's what she would do. Now the tables had turned and it was with a reluctant soul did she decide to drop the case. The Reapers were involved and she knew better than to get mixed up in that. "Sticky business is my life, but when the Reapers are involved, I'd rather run and hide" was her favorite trademark. (Rita also thought it was pretty catchy) Cyn gasped. "Wait Rita!" But it was too late. One of the Reapers had spotted her, slithered behind the tree, and knocked her out with a club when she had passed it. Although she was one of their workers, Rita was not allowed to be in the vicinity perchance she should find any valuable information. That's why she sought safe haven in nearby bushes which deflected any glow that might be seen by a Reaper. Now she was in DEEP trouble.