The labs under the Embassy had always run smoothly; subjects were brought in, treated, and rehabilitated. They're "rogue" when they're brought in. Feral werewolves, soulless vampires, aggressive goblins, and such. They were brought to the labs, often against their initial will, by family and friends. It was the shady side of life in Lemuwa. Most politicians stayed clear of the controversial topic-- sure it was a dark business, compared to locking away the insane and tinkering with their brains-- but it was for the better of Lemuwa. These experiments, rituals actually, have turned the foullest of creatures into the kindest of people. The "subjects" have never complained of their stay, once they've been released. In fact, those who were released, have thanked the employees many a time.

In the labs-- vampires had their souls returned. It was a simple setup for the skilled wizards employed at the Embassy. For the werewolves, constant meditation was needed to calm their inner beast. These beings were not prisoners, per se. They ate good meals that fit their diets, got to celebrate holidays, could socialize with others, and speak to their family. But they were not allowed to leave-- not until they finished their training, rehabilitation, or whatever it is they were supposed to be doing. For some of the lab's occupants, that didn't sit well with them. They didn't want to be "changed for the better," locked up like a lab rat. Some thought these experiments were all a part of a big governmental conspiracy, one that would be used to take control of all the realms.

Of course, all technicians and scientists and wizards involved deny those silly accusations. Bella Nathron is a firm supporter of the lab's efforts in restoring the demon-posessed peoples. To her, it is important the streets be ridded of menacing demons.

Yet on this late afternoon, that is exactly the opposite of what everyone got. Sirens wailed throughout the labs as a few occupants broke free of their hotel-like cells. Doors were busted open, knobs kicked out, and locks broken. Cameras were bashed in, strategically knocked out in a consecutive order. The escapees unlocked all doors they passed, allowing others to make a break for it. Some were smart, and stayed put. They were safe in their rooms, treated rather well, got fed regularly-- and for free. Cooperation was all that was asked of them. Still, there were those who fled. Lab technicians were tossed aside, security guards were knocked out-- only one was killed. The rampage didn't end there, though. Sirens continued to wail and the lab went into lockdown. Magic barriers formed, and electronic doors clamped shurt.

The escapees were too quick, though. Stronger, too. Had they been mutated? Changed into better, tougher, creatures? No, no... That would be the wrong direction for the lab's mission. Then how did these few people escaped? The questions stewed in the employees' minds.

"How many are out?" asked a scientist, grabbing a clipboard off the nearby counter. The sirens and flashing lights still went off.

A younger man, probably some intern, answered, "About five." He sifted through the paperwork on the ground, snatching at papers that were most important. "Two werewolves, three vampires."

"Well, they couldn't have gotten far," said the scientist, "We'll send out the Goblin Guard, alert the surrounding areas, anything... And can someone please shut up that racket?!" He clamped his hands over his ears, the noise barely muffled now.

So, where do you fit into this picture? Are you an escapee? A possible victim, doomed to be harmed at the hands of rogues? Or a vigilante, ready for a good hunt?

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