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    SUPERNATURAL

    The Role-Playing Game.

    Set in New Orleans, the story depicts the drama of the spiritual underworld, invisible to the average

    person, but not to the hunters that protect them. Our story follows the exploits of Bienville LaChampe and Akira Fukiyama as they seek out the demonic and the ghostly, the undead and the unsavory.

    Bienville LaChampe is the curator of the New Orleans African Art Museum by day, a Voodoo Hougan

    witch doctor at all other times. His lifelong exposure to the world of fixes and curses, hexes andcounter-curses, along with his need to right the wrongs of his misunderstood religion, has propelled himto be a Hunter. He is knowledgeable in the lore of the preternatural, savvy in the world of ethnic art,

    capable of pulling off impressive stunts in his 64 Ford Mustang, and a bit over-doting with his 9MM.Oh, and he has an unusual ability to hear dead people.

    Akira Fukiyama killed his girlfriend back home in Tokyo. She was possessed by a demon that was trying

    very hard to kill him. He had no choice, but he has regretted it ever since. He fled to America, to hisfamily s disappointment, and has tried to rebuild his shattered life as an exchange student in theAnthropology department at Loyola University. This new life hasn t been any better. He hopes the

    weird turn his life has taken can be righted by seeking answers to many questions. He has his academicwit, studious knowledge of anthropological lore, and a kickass ability to kickass to back him up. Ohyeah, he also has his father s blessed katana and a bit of ESP added to the mix.

    Positive he is being stalked by his dead girlfriend, Akira recently met a new girl he liked. It took just a

    week before he was certain that she, too, was showing signs of either an acute onset of mental illness oranother demonic possession. Taking her to a recent guest speaker at school, the very same Bienville

    LaChampe, he sought the help of the voodoo hougan. LaChampe was glad to be of service. An ancientCatholic exorcism was conducted. The girl and Bienville almost died. It was one of those that nearlyended tragically and on the next day s evening news. Nonetheless, the demon was removed and the girlwas safe. They never banished the entity though. This would be bad.

    In the weeks that followed, Bienville and Akira agreed to meet and follow up on any lingering

    phenomena either thought relevant to the ritual. Apart from some very disturbing nightmares involvingimages of a red faced old man and the flooding of his museum during Katrina, Bienville was fine. Akirahad parted ways with the girl who appeared to have had enough of the entire horrifying ordeal.

    They met one night outside the museum after closing hours and walked to the Quarter, taking a short

    cut through Louis Armstrong Park. You know what they say about short cuts.

    The night was humid and cool. A thin mist covered the park, sure to thicken as the evening wore on.The two walked through the grassy trail, approaching one of the many arcing bridges that spanned thesmall canals lacing the trees and public areas. A third of the way through the grounds is where they

    encountered it.

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    A t hing scurried from the dark recesses of the trees ahead. It was low to the ground and fast. Its shapewas hard to discern in the darkness. The two hurried to the top of the next bridge.

    Entering the pools of light that spilled onto the walkway ahead, the creature could be seen at last in the

    clarity of the illumination. It was no creature but the crawling, scampering form of a person. Blood was

    evident all over his slovenly kept clothing, particularly near his throat. From him could be heard thewhimpering of a distraught, wounded man. It almost sounded like an animal. As he approached them

    with uncanny speed, Bienville heard words mixed with the sounds of pain. And they were calling out hisname, Poppa Bienville. It seemed he knew him.

    Bienville and Akira came down the steps of the small bridge to help the man. Bienville recognized thebloody mess it was Robert Grange, a homeless old black man he often helped on his walks through the

    park to and from the museum. He was pleading for his help now; begging for it. He was also foaming atthe mouth.

    After some troubled moments spent staunching the flow of blood from the wound located at his neck,Robert was stabilized and given a moment to speak. In a panic, with darting eyes, he told of being

    attacked. Of a creature that bit him. Of large teeth and smelly hair. These were the same visions thatAkira could sense when he concentrated his extra sensory perception on the vagabond s mind. Bienvillegave him a draught of holy water the man nearly gagged on. There was clearly something very wrong

    going on.

    Robert led them to where he claimed it all happened, near the center of the park. On the other side of the open air amphitheater where public concerts entertained many, very near where, during theprevious century, slaves danced their voodoo rituals and killed their cursed offerings, there stood the

    largest of the park s bridges. Robert led the two beneath it.

    As they crept down the side of the embankment, Bienville muttered a prayer and fished into hismedicine bag for some sage to burn. They had come across the remains of a ritual and, from Bienville s

    experience, it was one of the heavy ones.

    Images drawn with black chalk on the wall beneath the bridge depicted an altar framed by two uprightcoffins. Symbols associated with resurrection magic were prevalent, but an unusual series of glyphssurrounded the drawing. They seemed Asian to Akira. Above all was an image of a long nosed visage

    bracketed by wings. On the floor were the offerings Bienville was accustomed to seeing among thevestiges of rituals such as these: empty rum bottles, ashes of a burned offering, fruits arrayed before thealtar, and thirteen quarters surrounding the strange assortment. Strangely, though, there was one more

    element: a chain on a post with a dog collar attached to its end. There was blood on the ground.

    Suddenly, the old vagrant, Robert, came up from behind them. He had a desperate look and grabbed atBienville, pleading, begging, crying. Foam dribbled out of his mouth, falling to his chin. A horriblestench wafted from his mouth. He said his pain had returned, and as they watched, blood resumed

    oozing out the wound at his neck.

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    And then his eyes lost their humanity. And old Robert lunged at Bienville s throat with barred fangsdripping bloody foam.

    Bienville was not caught off guard and, with an uttered prayer, lunged at the old man with his walking-

    fighting stick. It was an heirloom that rarely left his side and had often been wielded in self defenseduring his dangerous endeavors. This time he shoved hard at Robert s belly, hoping to drive the windout of the wretch. With an animal grunt the old man grabbed its end and shoved the cane aside

    reaching for Bienville s shoulders with what, at a glance, seemed like fingers with abnormally hardtalons.

    Fiery pain seared into Bienville s shoulders as the two-handed, powerful grip punctured skin andsqueezed muscle to bone. It ended just as abruptly when Akira grabbed what was once Robert in astrong headlock, pinning his arms above his head.

    Bienville pulled out his silver dagger and looked at the beastly thing a moment before striking it. RobertGrange slavered blood and foam from his slack-jawed mouth. Long teeth protruded from his sickly blackgums. His limbs seemed bent at wrong angles at the elbow and, as he struggled, his knees gave an

    audible crack and bent in the opposite direction. His fingernails were talons.

    He would end this sick transformation. He plunged the knife at the creature s throat. In the struggle, hewould drive the blade straight into its mouth, stabbing it at the base of its brain. It died instantly.

    Panting hard and yanking the knife clear of the gory mess, Bienville could not help but bend down tostudy the limp body at his feet. Akira had dropped the creature when he felt it go limp. Both were

    shaken at the sight, and, without answers, could only consider looking for more clues from the ritualparaphernalia strewn about them.

    Bienville had enemies. He knew there were hoodoo doctors that were practitioners of the more vile,

    nefarious sects of Vodun. He countered their efforts time and again. This seemed like their work, butthere were elements in the ritual, the strange glyphs, the image of a face framed by wings, that did notmake sense. Then Akira added yet another anomalous detail among the offerings circled by coins, he

    picked up a small folded bit of paper. It was red and in the shape of a man s face with a long nose. Anorigami in a resurrection ritual Bienville was stumped. Finally, amid the burned ashes, they found twoslivered pieces of red painted wood, sculpted to curve vaguely like two crescents. They were the

    charred remains of a larger object that had been burned as part of the rite. None of it was typical of the

    voodoo practice.

    Akira fished in his backpack and pulled out his laptop, fired it up, and took some webcam still images of the entire scene. He hoped to cross reference the images later using some software that could help

    identify the glyphs. Bienville picked up some loose hair near the dog collar.

    They were set to get going when they heard a low growl behind them.

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    Looking back, they noticed a drainage pipe emerging from the wall further ahead. It was about four feetwide and looked to be th