Soulriders 5.0: Legend of the Unending Games

It is now January 19th, January, and it's about 12:00 PM.

Everyone is currently in the house at Ripon, using the time to wind down, clean up, and practice their various skills.

Dracos packed up the car, making sure that excess weaponry and clothing (protective and otherwise) had first dibs on the trunk, then storing the preservable foods they'd gotten earlier.

"Anything else we need to get packed in before we go, guys?"

Dracos

"I'm carrying more than I brought, so I think I'm good.  Did you tank up?"

Ginrai replies that A: he filled the tank last night, and B: shotgun.

"Fine by me, I got short legs.  Are we ready to go, then?"

Dracos gets in the driver seat.  "looks like it."

Dracos

Rez makes sure the armour and uplink are stashed safely in the trunk.

"Looks fine to me.  How far's Drake's point from here, anyway?"

"We'll be there before dinner.  Four hours at most.  Buckle up folks.  This van rides on hatewaves."

Dracos

"It runs on gas, in fact.  Now turn it on and drive."

Rez gets in the damn car!

"Fun fun fun.  Now, who wants some oracle-dispensed information, boys and girls?  Not that there's much of it, but hey."

"Every bit helps.  Especially now that it's almost too late."

"You got the blather."

After everyone including the apparently unconscious Huitz, gets in the car, Dracos gets a driving, emphasis being on putting distance between them and the house and ending the distance between them and Drake's point while Rez talks.

Dracos

"Easy, easy, hands off, Dr. Touchy McFeelerton. I can get myself into a fucking car.

"You were saying something about an oracle?"

Rez tosses Unseen a mobile phone.

"Phone, secure as far as I know, if it starts beeping you're being tracked so turn it off.  Our numbers are programmed into it already . . .  and yeah, the Oracle of Delphi.  She's obnoxious.  And sorry, Bjorn, but cracking top secret databases isn't the most timely way to get answers.  First things first, she says this meeting should go fine, being that she's seen ahead and it's all 'groovy'.  Yes, she said that."

Rez hums.

"Apart from that, a few things, not that many of which are really relevant.  Ezmereth is, well, a Greek titan.  Not really trustworthy, not really untrustworthy, usually just doesn't give a damn.  If I had to take a wild guess he's unlikely to be working with the Seventh Cabal because they had him imprisoned in the workshop for a while.  Victor is apparently one of the big nasties that was held in the workshop, and has an aversion to sunlight . . . go figure.  He was also immune to Taylor's mind control, apparently.  Jessica Taylor was . . . born in Ohio, 'recruited' at around 17, and her main talent was mind control.  When someone called the 'Wanderer' broke into the workshop and took Ezmereth - incidentally, this event caused Ashnod and Megan to be listed as 'destabilized and hostile' and Bridgett as 'fugued' in workshop files - he also took the piece of her mind that let her control other people, and apparently because of it she's a little . . . unstable.  As it is, she's a telepath and can go into the dream world at will, apparently."

"I see."  Bjorn leans back, and closes his eyes to ponder.  "So a vampire is taking us to meet a Titan.  And the vampire knows the Titan.   What's more is, when the... Wandered freed Ezmereth, he tried to break Victor out, too.  Did the Oracle tell you that? I'm guessing it was Taylor who stopped him.

"Too many games goin' on here."

"So we got a Titan, a Vampire, and a mysterious Wanderer on top of the mix.  Fun."

Dracos

"Wait, a CELL PHONE? And it can tell when someone is trying to track you?

"...I really could have used one of these. Do you know if it's encrypted -- will people be able to hear what we're saying, even if they don't know where we're saying it from?"

"Yeah, there was a report where they mentioned that.  I think they indicated that he was after Ashnod as well.  Relm seems to think differently, and implied that she doesn't think Taylor was capable of stopping him, especially with him having apparently removed a chunk of her mind."

Rez paused.

"And yes, the  thing is encrypted.  No GPS, either."

"The aliens will still be able to read your mind without the aluminum foil cap Uns.  But I'd bet those phones as safe communication lines as we are capable of getting."

Dracos

"Awesome."

Paul considers asking about the vampire titan stuff, but figures that he wouldn't really have anything to add, and that the guys who actually interacted with the stuff instead of hearing about it secondhand would know better. He'll just play it by ear, as he is wont to do.

"AAaanyway.  In other topic, the IDs should stand up to nigh any scrutiny short of a full background check, and even that shouldn't be too bad.  The names are of people who vanished in the Silicon Valley incident, and have no living family.  Since they were never confirmed dead, we're basically just all people who didn't bother reporting that we were alive for several years.  Not that it'll hopefully become relevant, but that's not in itself illegal."

"Rock on McGrail.  And for our next trick, we will light the four crystals of legend and save the world!  Or keep driving..."

Dracos keeps driving.

Dracos

A long drive ... this trip is more bearable than the last for, the three who drove across the country, and insanely fast for the one who's only hitched for a fifty mile stretch once every other week for the last six months.

For the one who slept through his last major trip, it's mostly boring.

Ginrai seems to revel in his front-seat position, mumbling something about revenge for the original trip.  Rez and Unseen are admiring the well cared for Lord of the Rings cards placed carefully on the divider in the middle of the rear seat, and Bjorn has a good view from his spacious central seat.

You make good time, too.  Oakland seems as empty as San Francisco did, though judging by the lights as you pass the Bay Bridge, it wasn't hurt by the quakes.  After passing the Bay Bridge, you take the 580 across the bay, circumventing the city of San Francisco.

After crossing the nothern penninsula, you come out on highway 1, headed north.  This eventually leads you to the Point Reyes tourist center, with a helpful sign pointing into the national peserve reading, "Drake's Point."  It's interesting to note that the pavement is disrupted by a visible fault-line, clearly delineating the begining of the preserve.  The road is offset by a full eight meters, though judging by the wear in the dirt on either side of the divide, most people haven't let it bother them much.

Dracos pulls over and parks at the tourist center.  "Okay, bathroom, stretching, getting maps, and whatnot break."

Dracos

"Oooh, a whatnot break.  Just what we need!'

"That's the longest continuous amount of time I've been in a car for half a year, at least. I think I want to savor it as long as I can."

Paul reachesin his pocket and pulls out a wad of rumpled, filthy money, and hands a dollar bill to Rez (or whoever looks to be getting out). "When you go in, could you get me a bottle of lemonade or something?"

The maps outline the area pretty well, and the furthest tip of Point Reyes is called "Drake's Point", in honor of Sir Francis Drake.  Further tourist information is availible, should you wish to peruse.

Sir Francis Drake the Boulevard will eventually lead you to Sir Francis Drake the Point, and the tourgides mention that your families will likely love Sir Francis Drake the T-shirt.

"I'm going to wait in the van," Bjorn says, settling himself, Shinmyouken at his feet.  "Somebody should watch our stuff."

He grins.  "Besides, I still can't remember my name."

"It's in your wallet, Mr Jones."

Rez clambers out of the van and looks around to see if there's anywhere to buy lemonade.

There are drinks and multiple snack-type foods for sale at the counter, about half of which are marked, "Atkins freindly!"  The guy wants three dollars for the lemonade, though the weather would be better for hot chocolate.

"Yeah, but generally people don't have to consult their wallet to give their name."

Rez grumbles incoherently and heads back to the car.

"Bastard wants three dollars for the lemonade.  I say forget it and wait until this evening, really."

"This evening, we should be meeting with Victor," Bjorn reminds Rez.  "Which, frankly, is probably a great deal more important than lemonade.  What the hell is the hold-up?"

"We've been here for like two minutes, and some of us wanted to stretch out legs a bit.  We'll get going after we check maps and all."

"Gatorade.  In the back.  Just get it.  Anything else we need to do here or shall we get on the road again?"

Dracos nods to rez.  "Go right ahead then."

Dracos

"I wanted a drink, Officer Buzzkill," Paul says as he takes the grime-encrusted dollar bill back from Rez. "So, did you get any maps or guides or anything?"

"I thought you were . . . oh.  Doesn't matter, then."

Rez gets back in the car.

"Hi-ho, Silver!"

"You're not gonna get, like, a map, or a tourist guide, or a brochure or a pamphlet or something? I think it would be a good idea, if for nothing elsethan to give us something to read."

The road's pretty rough, but reasonably maintained, considering that a fault runs through it.  After skidding across some gravel over the fault, everything's on course, and seems to be working well.

The route meanders quite a bit, and eventually drops you off at a parking lot next to a diner and a lighthouse.

You can see the makings of a bonfire on the beach, as there's a good hour or so until sunset, and what looks like college kids taking down their volleyball net.

Huitzil:  The tour guide explains how Sir Francis Drake set foot here so long ago, back in ye olde days, before San Francisco became the sprawling megopolis that it is today.  Hmm.  May be a bit behind the times.

Bjorn leans forward to look at the studens through the van window.  "Well, piss.  What are we going to do about that?"

"So, just for reference.  Where exactly are we supposed to meet Ezmereth here?"

Dracos

"We don't meet Ezmereth.  We meet Victor, who takes us to Ezmereth.  And Drake's Point is all he said."

Frollicking young college kids with long shorts (but not pants) and short-sleeved shirts.  No bathing suits, as this is both winter, and colder than usual, but they don't seem to mind the cold.  Come to think of it, this area's quite a bit warmer than it was inland.  Maybe the warm air from the ocean....

Paul picks up the cards from the middle of the car seat (he was winning anyway), places them in their boxes and in his pockets, and then steps out of the car, walking over to the college students to mingle, as if he was just another one of the guys.

OOC: Can I make a Conversation roll to figure out or pick up what's going on, who is here, why, and when they plan to leave, while I keeplooking like just another guy who showed up at the party?

"True.  Well, any you guys want to eat dinner...save...Huitz, where the fuck you headed?"

Dracos

"Either he's decided to figure out who those guys are, how long they'll be here, sorta thing, or he's decided that a beach party is better than meeting up with Victor.  Either way, leave him alone..." Bjorn hesitates.  "But let's wait here and keep an eye on him.  C'mon, get out with me, and let's root through the stuff we have in the back.  That'll look innocuous, and make sure we're as ready as we can, just in case."

Dracos nods, popping the trunk and heading back there riffling through the stuff and pondering grabbing his new short sword just in case.  Though, with a supposed Titan around, a nuke would be more appreciated.

Dracos

<Huitzil> roll 3d6 for conversation skill:
<Chibi-Suu> Them bones was tossed for Huitzil ... : 3d6 --> {9}
The students treat you like one of their own, and it takes you very little time to get to the bottom of their plan:  Party hard.

They've got a largely untouched keg, the kind of shady guy you remember as most likely carrying a bunch of weed from your time at college, and various run-ins across the country, and about twenty other people, all told.  There's also a small pile of fuzy white beach towels, or blankets ... they look almost like fur, actually.

Their apparent leader is called David (he organized the event).  He's thin as a wire, about six cm taller than you, has straight blonde hair to his shoulders, and speaks in that breathy, almost stoned-sounding surfer way: "Hey, dude-man, you came to get in on our shindig?  Have a seat, the party's gonna really kick off tonight!"

"You're fucking-A I did, Dave!" Paul pours himself a plastic cup of booze from the keg and takes a swig, then gives Dave that smile that's Universal Party Code for "Fucking awesome!"

Assuming Dave walks off to talk with someone else,Paul is then going to work his way over to the white pile and see if they're beach towels or polar bear furs or a giant slime mold or whatever the fuck they are. If Dave hangs around, Paul is going to strike up a conversation with someone around him (the topic of discussion being how fucking awesome this party is, how fucking awesome "Matrix: Resurrection" was, how fucking awesome this beer is...) and talk until Dave walks somewhere else, then he will go investigate the pile as above.

After seeing that you're One Of Them, David quickly turns his attention to a co-ed, who seems eager to return it.  The students seem to think you've become invisible now that David said you were okay, and since that you're holding the plastic beer cup that serves as the universal party ID to put you firmly in the 'allowed' group.

There's a girl sitting on one of the blankets (they look like they are polar bear furs, actually), and when you approach, she asks you if you want one.  She's kind of cute, in a chick-who-wears-glasses way.

Paul flashes a winning smile, or at least as winning as he can make one. "Sure I would. What's your name, by the way?"

"To my eyes, he looks like he's looking for a lay for the night."  Dracos mentions idly to Bjorn as he rummages in the back.  "Shall we just all get into the dinner and get some damn food.  maybe he'll be here when we get back."

Dracos

"I'm Julie," she says, handing you a fur.  It's got leather ties, if you wanted to use it as a cloak.  Sturdy stuff, it looks like.  "I think we have the same Cultural Anthropology class.  Proffesor MacIntire sure is boring, huh?"

"Diner, food, sounds like a plan.  Parties were never my thing."

"I wouldn't really know -- I'm asleep most of the time he's talking." Paul chuckles,though not loud enough to really be counted as "laughing at your own jokes".

He then sits down on the towel/fur/thingy and runs his hand over it. "These are nice. Where'd you get 'em?"

"Dinner it is."  Dracos leads the group into the restaurant, commendeers menu, table, foodage.

Dracos
Rawr

Bjorn shrugs uncomfortably.  "I'm going to wait out here in the van," he says.  "Under the circumstances, I don't like a restaurant's atmosphere."

Suiting action to words, he sits down on the rear bumper of the van and munches on some beef jerky.

"Why?  We can see the van from the diner, and, well, Ginrai's asleep in it, so I don't really imagine anyone's going to try and steal it."

Dracos scratches his head and shrugs, "Suit yourself."

Dracos leads those who want to go out to eat.

Dracos

"I want to be ready."  Bjorn flicks his eyes towards the various supplies meaningfully.  "And I don't like having to keep track of  too many people at once."

"Fair enough.  I have my gear on me.  Want us to bring you back something?"

Huitzil:  Julie turns to you.  "Oh, this guy ... he's some hippie or naturalist, or something.  He says he had them saved from way back when."  She shrugs, incidentally trying to show off her cleavage to you in the process (she's not very subtle).  "They're pretty sweet, but I think they're probably imitation."

"If you don't mind," Bjorn says, gratefully.  "Don't really care what."

"Mm-hmm." Paul nods, takes a sip of his drink, and gives an appreciative half-smile at the display of cleavage. He is going to talk to her for a few more minutes, about nothing in particular, then he is going to suddenly remember the bottle of Bacardi he left back in the van, and say that he's going to have to go get it. He takes his fur/blanket with him as he goes, and he makes a staggered path back to the parking lot and to the Command Van.

This is quite easy, actually.  You make it back to the Command Van (maroon team) easily enough.  The sun is beginning to set, though won't be completely down for a few more minutes.  Ginrai is sacked out in the front seat, snoring quietly, and Bjorn is sitting inside pensively.

Paul opens the passenger door, tosses in the fur, and leans inward with his arms on the top of the car. "Hey, Bjorn. Where are Nathan and Phil, and do you know if we have any liquor?"

"In the diner, and almost certainly not," Bjorn says, turning to face Paul a little more comfortably.  "Why?"

Dracos and Friends return with food for the others.  "Food is for the hungry."

Dracos retrieves his katana and his short sword, strapping them both on in preparedness and leaning back against the van.

Dracos

"Because all they have is beer, and I'm not the biggest fan of beer as either a drink or a means to drunkenness.

"Oh, yeah, this is a college party, got a keg and some shitty music and they don't plan to leave until they're passed out and dragged away. Run by a guy named Dave. Only wierd thing I found was a pile of these fur things, wanted to have Phil take a look at it.

"Anyway, either we still have some walking to do, or Victor had better like to party."

He turns at the sound of speech, and sees Drac. "Phil! I was looking for you." He grabs the fur from the van and tosses it at him. "Do your powers see anything on this blanket? And do you know where I might find some liquor?"

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Rez hisses as Drac starts belting swords on.

Dracos also tosses on his overcoat of concealing stuff beneath it.

Turning to Huitz, "Dunno."

Turning to Rez, "It's near dark.  I'm getting ready just in case.  No, I don't think we want to even chance fighting these guys, but better to be ready than not.  Somehow though, given what I saw of Victor, I think we don't have to worry about finding him."

Dracos

"Take them off, you stupid git," Bjorn agrees with Rez.  "What the hell do you think this is, an anime?  And if you think that jacket does anything to make you look inconspicious, or hide them at all, you're an idiot."

He pauses.  "And remind me to show you how to wear a damn katana properly."

To Huitzil, "Those furs are weird -- way too nice to be out here.  What the hell are a bunch of college kids doing with them."

"That's what I was wondering, Bjorn. About the furs, and about just what the fuck Phil was thinking. Put those back, jackass."

Dracos examines the fur while raising an eyebrow, "No, I don't.  But given the propensity for random folk trying to kill us I'd rather error on the keep a blade around side."  Dracos shrugs, considering.

Dracos

Dracos: The fur looks like (to your eyes) there's a layer of brown scales beneath it, like some thick hide.  It also emits a very faint, dull, orange glow.

"Then you stay in the fucking van until you feel like being a little less obvious or it gets dark, whichever comes first.  There are people around.  Jesus Christ."

"If you need to carry a knife, make it a switchblade or something, we're in PUBLIC for the sake of living fuck.

"Anyway, see anything unusual? Like, ghosts or demons or goblins hanging on to it, invisible Kool-Aid stains, anything?"

Dracos frowns but conceeds and puts them back away.  "Hmm, ... Where'd you say they got these Huitz?  It looks like it has brown scales beneath the fur and has a sort of light orange glow."

Dracos

"Any ideas what that means?   You said I had a brown aura, right?"

"Hum... Yeah, I'd bet this would be somewhat durable to energy or magic, myself.  But I really don't have enough data to make any real claims on that."

Dracos

"Well, I had a guess it might be magic. So out of place, where we're supposed to meet a vampire, with the way things have been going lately...

"The $64,000 question is: Is it the kind of magic cloak that saves our lives, or is it the kind of magic cloak that strangles you to death when you put it on?"

Dracos blinks an insight hitting him as he suddenly noticed something, "Or more specifically a magical cloak of armor that makes one comfortable in extreme environmental conditions.  And Huitz, can you go pick up a few of these?"

Dracos

"You're sure? They have a big stack of them at the party, you can probably go over and take one each if you want. Just make sure to get a beer before you go, and try to mingle a bit before you snag some;so they don't think you're stealing their shit. Which we kinda are.

"The girl I got them from -- Julie -- said that some environmentalist guy brought them. You guys met any other X-Men like that?"

"Geh, not much one for swiping stuff myself in public.  Get way too self-conscious.  Though I do wonder if they are...Hmm..."  Dracos does take a careful look at the party though from this distance and sees if he can see any magical auras in it.

Dracos

"It's not as weird as you might think, though, since we're also supposed to meet a Titan - one of the original sons of Gaia, I think.  I might head down and try that."

"They're a bit obvious," Bjorn says critically.   "I mean, great for protection, maybe, but you can't really wear 'em around people, and in fact, just owning them could maybe get you in trouble.  I don't know what conservation laws have to say about this, do you?"

Dracos:  The party looks normal.  Nothing stands out as 'magic' except for the pile of furs that's left almost entirely unguarded.

"Dude, they're giving them away for free, just go over there and get one! Hell, they'll all be gone one way or another by the time the party is over. If they doprotect us,they should be pretty useful, I think we each ought to get one. Shit, even if we don't want to wear 'em all the time, we could roll them up like towels, or stuff them in a bag, or leave them in the car or something."

"True..."

Dracos ponders.

Dracos

"Don't look at me," Bjorn says, crossing his arms over his chest.  "Those are a bunch of college kids, and I'm past thirty.  I'm too old to be at one of their parties unless I'm cradle robbing, and I've done enough of that in my life already, thankee verra much."

Rez gets up and wanders over to the party, wandering over towards the furs, then looks at the girl nearby.

"College students on holiday?"

"Just a weekend," she says, looking up at you.  "You want a beer?  Or did you come to pick up some furs for your friends?  I'll let you take a couple, but you gotta tell Mr. Lanky, Dark, and Mysterious that I'm still waiting for him."  She winks at you.

"Yeah, I was kinda hoping I could grab a couple of furs," Rez grins, "I'll give Paul a kick."

Rez . . . picks up three furs!

"Oooh!" she squeals.  "His name is Paul!  Thanks, Mr."  She winks at you again.  About right now, the sun is beginning to set, and Dave is smacking some flints together to spark up the bonfire.  Improbably, he succeeds, and by the time you get back to the van with your furs, a small blaze has started.

Rez drops the furs onto the middle seat in the van.

"So, guys, I'm supposed to tell Mr Lanky, Dark and Mysterious that the girl near the furs is waiting for him."

"Ladies man, Huitz?  Anyhow, nice grabs Rez."

Dracos

It's not until probably about thirty minutes later when another car wheels around the corner, pulling in next to the minivan.  It's some relatively servicably dark looking stationwagon.  Victor steps out of it, dressed in dark khaki pants and a tan polo shirt.

He still looks like a male model.

He glances between the minivan and the fire, waves at everyone, and starts making tracks towards the college kids.

"Showtime, I guess."

Rez pulls himself out of the van and heads off after Victor.

Dracos shakes his head, "No kidding."

He follows Rez and well, Victor.

Dracos

"Son of a..." Bjorn sighs.  "Ah, well."

Throwing one of the furs over his shoulders, Bjorn grabs Shinmyouken, trying to hold it as if the sheath were empty, and follows the others down to the party.

Deciding that Rez and the pipe will need to have a talk later on for forgetting to give him a weapon as well as a fur, Ginrai follows his friends.

Ginrai follows behind everyone else, looking like he wishes he got some furs, too. The bonfire is a central hive of activity, all the students clustered around it, and listening attentively to someone you didn't see before. You kind of wonder when he showed up.

A tiny man, he looks ancient ... but at the same time, he doesn't seem old. Just as though he were a relatively young man from an older age. Victor is standing to the side, hands in his pockets, as the man expounds, "...and then, Granfather Thunder shook his spears, and rattled them together, and drove winter away, but only for a time."

He looks up as you arrive, and smiles. "Ah, you are...." His smile fades, and he frowns, looking between the four of you that have just drawn near. "Where is the dreamer?"

Rez nods to the old man.  "I think I know who you're referring to, and, well . . ." Rez looks meaningfully at Victor.

He turns back to the unknown man.   "You're Ezmereth?"

The old man nods, while Victor coughs quietly.  The college kids look around, as though surprised at all these new people.

Dracos:<Dracos> Roll 3d6 for MAGICAL PERCEPTION!
<Chibi-Suu> Them bones was tossed for Drac-works ... :3d6 --> {14}
Ezmereth looks like he's about to explode from all the magical energy you see flowing through him, and down into the ground around him.

Paul sees that the gang is here and referring to that "Ezmereth" fellow, and surmises that things are happening and he oughta be there when they do. He leans over to Julie and whispers that he's sorry, but he has to go, and hopefully it won't take too long and he'll be right back as soon as he can.

Hopefully.

He stands up, throws the fur he was sitting on over his back, and ambles over to the group of four with his hands in his pockets, nodding acknowledgment at the new, tall guy.

Ezmereth eyes the lot of you consideringly, as though estimating your usefulness.  "I see," he says quietly, turning to Victor.  "And you?"

"Yeah, well," Victor says, shrugging.  "I got a bit carried away.  How you doing, old man?"

Dracos whistles softly under his breath.

Dracos

"Now, Children," Ezmereth says in a somewhat commanding voice, "you must be ever watchful."  The college kids nod in unison, all of them pulling on their furs, and quickly vanishing into the darkness outside of the bonfire's circle of light.

"Victor," Ezmereth says plainly.  "What happened to the dreamer?"

Victor coughs quietly.  "Well, I was a bit irritable, and he ... well, he was ... it ... I ... look, it was an accident, alright?"

"Victor," Ezmereth repeats.  "What happened to the dreamer?"

"I kind of snapped at him, and, well, I kind of killed him," Victor says, fidgeting slightly.  "But, uh, I still have his body, and his spirit's bound to it!  You can use that, right?"

Ezmereth just hangs his head and sighs.  "Victor, Victor, Victor," he chides.  "Bring his body here, then."

"While he's doing that," Bjorn asks, quietly, "do you mind if I ask why you want us here at all?"

Paul sees the college kids vanish into the darkness and starts to mutter something, but cuts himself off. Instead, he just edges a bit closer to Bjorn, since he's the one with the invisible sword.

"That shall be..." he trails off.  "No, no need to be vague, now.  Suffice to say that it was a lucky chance which brought you here indeed."  He nods, and cuts himself off as Victor emerges from the darkness, carrying Shade's body.

Surprinsgly enough, after all this time, the body looks like Shade was just mouthing off a moment ago -- save his pale cast, and the bite-sized chunk missing from his neck.  "Here," Victor mumbles.  "I brought it."

Though having a few questions of his own to ask, Ginrai decides to wait until the current situation is resolved before asking them.

Dracos: When you look at Shade's body, it's got black lines wrapped around it, like it's holding another Shade inside the Shade-corpse.  Maybe you're seeing his spirit, and it's trapped.

"Well," Ezmereth mumbles.  "This is unfortunate.  Well, actions speak louder than words...."  Sighing, Ezmereth picks up Shade, and places him in the center of the roaring bonfire.  There's a loud *CRACK* and his body vanishes, and your minds (all of them) are filled with the following memories:

   You are standing in the clouds over the Ryu-Kyu islands.  You constantly appear to be growing taller, until you're able to peer down at the polar ice-cap.  You can see something, buried in clouds, that you know is making the storms.

   Your vision becomes diminished, until you're merely standing on a cloud as it zooms eastward.  Your companion is a small monkey with a red staff and a golden crown -- Goku.  He motions you to be silent, as the cloud zooms over to Honshu.

   The scale is completely wrong, but you see Fuji rising in the distance.  Not the quaint (if large) mountain you've seen in your travels across Japan, but instead a titanic monolith that seems to fill the horizon.  Goku again makes a shushing motion, as your cloud zips upward, and you can see down into the mountain itself.

   Larger than life, more vivid than anything, with the clarity of dream, you see slumbering serpents nested in the cauldron, but from here you can also see the clouds that envelop the pole ... and they seem to be pushed back by the slumbering majesty of the mountain.

   Goku nods at you, and the cloud picks up speed, descending to skim the surface of the ocean, fleetingly dancing across a handful of islands before you reach what you know is San Francisco.

   You haven't seen it since the twin quakes devastated it, but from what you can remember, almost no one lives there nowadays.  In dream, though, the city is a living thing, long decayed, dying, and with sickly spider-webs of infection spreading across it.  The clouds from the north practically seem to be drawn to this mess, straining to reach the city as though called.

   Your cloud dips low enough to see ... something ... scurrying about behind the webs.  Goku doesn't seem to want to see more here, so the cloud shoots forward, and you can see America streaming below you into a single, quickly vanishing blur.  In almost no time you're skimming the surface of the Atlantic ocean, and then you see Spain.  You pass over it quickly, and spiral around the rock of Gibraltar, which seems (like Fuji) to be impossibly larger than life.

   Goku again motions you to silence, and you see the stone as a giant, curled up and asleep.  He, too, pushes back the clouds from the north, even in sleep.  Goku nods at that, and you quickly shoot across the Mediterranean.  In almost no time, you reach Italy, and then, Rome.

   The Vatican is below you, illuminated by the light of the moon.  You see two massive shadows struggling within it, as though to gain control.  A window opens, and Goku leaps from his cloud, striding through a hallway.  You're not certain how, but you follow him, and he walks quickly through a maze of doors and corridors.  When you reach the end of your journey, you're standing before a massive, and ancient stone room.

   There is an altar, also of stone, and a woman in white ancient Greek dress is chained to it, sleeping.  In a flash of light, a lanky youth appears, wearing a glove of shining silver.  He looks around warily, but does not see you, and breaks the woman's chains before bearing her away in a flash of light.

   Goku's staff holds the flash of light open long enough for him to motion you through, and you follow.  You emerge above the ground, falling quickly, but without fear.  Goku makes a gesture, and his cloud reappears, catching you both.

   Below you is a city, and Goku points out to what you guess to be the south, judging by the monstrous storm-clouds that are again occupying the horizon.  But when you look more closely, you can see that there is land beneath those clouds, and another something stirs beneath them.  Something dark and ominous....

   Your cloud swerves away from the clouds, and shoots away, across a moonlit desert.

   In the distance, you see, diminished from Gibraltar and Fuji, a stone monolith.  One which the Australian natives have asked not be shown on television or in photographs.  Far reduced from its former glory, is the ruined and shattered remnants of Ayer's Rock.  Within its depths, a feathered serpent lies, breathing slowly, and mortally wounded.  Its eye is half-open, and it gazes directly at you for a moment.

   Goku sweeps his staff across the southern sky, over your head, and tries to force the clouds back, but he cannot slow them down.  Beneath you, the feathered serpent stirs, blood pooling beneath it, and makes a sound of longing and desperation....

   ...and the dream ends.

   ***

   You see the woman who was trapped in the Vatican, and her rescuer in a room.  You cannot tell what kind of room it is, as it is too indistinct.  The rescuer looks panicked and frustrated, running his silver-and-golden gauntlet through his hair.

   The woman is awake, and appears both pleased and saddened.  She brushes a hand across his face, and he is instantly armored in silver chain.  He nods grimly, and turns, leaving the room.  The woman allows a tear to run down her face, and clasps her hands together, as though in prayer....

   ...and the dream ends.

   ***

   You see the clouds, ominous and overbearing as always, but now you are actually beneath them, and they hammer the Earth mercilessly, driving towards a single man who stands on the horizon, wreathed in flame.

   You are suddenly standing before this fiery man, dressed in the rags of a beggar ... but beneath those rags, you see glinting of something.  He yells, and speaks a tongue you can't recognize, and throws a lance of fire into the heart of the raging storm.

   The storm howls in anger and closes in, pressing at him ominously.  The storm doesn't touch you, and you see behind him, looking at you, a woman with forty arms, who mouths something at you that cannot be heard over the roar of the storm, and the man who's trying to fight it.

   The storm suddenly subsides, driven away, and you see another man.  Lanky, he walks with a certain skill that names him a warrior, bearing a shining hoop of silver, which sheds a blue light, driving the storm back.

   The lancer of fire reaches for the hoop, but is taken down by an arrow from the darkness of the storm.

   Kannon gestures, and you see a massive black bird bearing a dark-haired woman with dark eyes staring at you in astonishment.  Your vision wavers for a moment, and you see a young blonde woman in a helicopter.  You don't know how, but you know that both of these are the same woman, but the vision fades, as the warrior stares at the fallen lancer of fire, then turns and runs away....

   ...and the dream ends.

   ***

   You are standing in the streets of San Francisco, a tall warrior with a katana standing near you.  As Goku, he motions you to be silent, and points at one of the buildings.

   You can see ... something ... stir within the building.  You don't know what it is, but it's massive, and something tells you that you can't  let it see you, under any circumstances.  The warrior makes a gesture, and you're not sure HOW, but you know that you are invisible, as he is, too.

   From the depths of the decaying building, something emerges.  You cannot bear to look directly at it, because you think if you do, it might see you, as well.  It is large, and dark, and it calls to the clouds from the north ... but it also sends something ... you're not sure what, but it sends something to the northeast.

   You blink, dizzily, and realize that you're being hauled along as the warrior runs.  He's clearing the clouds currently, but these are normal clouds, not the ominous polar clouds.  He's headed northeast, and you see he's chasing whatever was sent from San Francisco to the northeast.

   You come down next to a sign that says 'Welcome to Albany'.  Your warrior friend tugs on your sleeve, and you find yourself on a carport roof, looking down at a house.  Something is stirring in the darkness, underneath the snow.

   There is a single person in the house, and you think that he knows of the danger, because he's headed towards the back door of his house.  Your view shifts, and you realize you're now standing on another roof.  The man opens the back door, and stumbles outside.  There's a circle in the snow, and in it, a large, silver-furred wolf is asleep.  The man cannot see the wolf, and struggles through the snow, accidentally breaking the circle, causing the wolf to vanish.  Shortly after that, the darkness emerges from the snow.

   Your friend shields your vision with his robe, and you find yourself standing before a temple on a cloud, Fuji visible in the distance beneath you.  He motions you into the temple.

   You aren't aware of actually walking, but suddenly find yourself in the temple, gazing up at Kannon.  The real Kannon, you think, as though the last you saw was merely her shadow.  "You must not let this thing happen," she says to you.  "You must tell him not to break that circle.  You must...."

   ...and the dream ends.

You don't know how you know this ... but you know that those memories were Shade's dreams.

"Well."

Rez gradually reorientates himself after that, er, deluge.

"That . . . some of that doesn't look like how it actually turned out.  I recognized . . . well, the Oracle, and I guess that was the Rainbow Serpent under Uluru . . . but . . . the scenes with the Oracle were pretty abstract, but I have to ask if you realize she died.  I mean, there's another incarnation of her now, but that incarnation in the dream - Ayame - she died."

"I'm no seer," Ezmereth says, shaking his head.  "I'm merely an old friend of Grandfather Thunder.  But these memories are older than you, perhaps, are able to realize.  They tell you what happens to Sister Earth.  That we are allowing her to die ... I know nothing of the people who imprisoned me, before I was freed.  They are merely men.  But they have the power to heal their mother, and they'd rather trap me here."  Ezmereth shakes his head sadly.  "It is an ill time when such happens."

"That... bastard knew..." Bjorn grates, under his breath.  Visibly, he shakes himself, and reestablishes his composure, though it's clear that there's an unhappy tension behind the calm.

"Okay.  Can you explain anything about those dreams, though?  Some of it is obvious, more to others than some," Bjorn nods at Rez, "but most of it is pretty unclear, I'd say.  For example... why did Ashnod want this?"  He hefts his bracelet, as if that wasn't clear.

"I can guess," Ezmereth says slowly.  "Ashnod, with that bracelet, would have had more power ... with the Warriors of Dream protecting him, he could have resolved the Contest."  There is no mistaking the capital 'C' in 'Contest'.

"Well, then.  This bracelet has something to do with these... Wizards of the Dream?  And what is the Contest?"

"Warriors," Ezmereth corrects you.  "They've long roamed the dreaming, shying away from the waking world, and protecting those who sleep from the hazzards of the deep.  I myself can dream, but not so well as they."  He looks thoughtful for a moment, while Victor coughs a bit.

"Um, if you don't mind," Victor hedges.  "It's been a while, so...."

Ezmereth starts, scowls at Victor, but at length nods, and hands the man a bone pipe and pouch of what looks like tobacco.  The vampire grins, and sets about having a smoke.

"The Contest is an inevitability that the world faces in times of crisis," Ezmereth says thoughtfully.  "Always, always, warriors have fought and striven, though of late, no one remembers why.  It was to become mighty, to live on in the world of dreams after death, and fight to protect Sister Earth, and Mother Sun, to see that your children flourished and you protected them.

"But no more.  So few join the hunt to protect her, and the Warriors of Dream, those above those in the Eternal Hunting Grounds, do not have the strength to protect us forever.

"When this happens, there is a Contest, to decide the fate of Sister Earth.  The winner will choose how those who have died fight for her.  They may choose to bear all away, and begin anew ... or they may choose to awaken that which has long lain sleeping, and remind everyone what they have allowed themselves to forget.

"Or perhaps, they will choose to simply cull the weak, and allow only the strong to survive.  The Enemy, that which lives beyond the bounds of knowing, they wouldn't bother with us, were there few enough of us."

He shrugs.  "This is the Contest.  It is a part of life when the circle breaks."

Dracos hums, his eyes calm as he considered, "Pardon me, Ezmereth, but I must ask, who are we to these events?  To this...Contest?  To my eyes of old, I'd see a scattered group of well...  not adventurers or really warriors by any call.  To my eyes new, I see powers great enough to quell even my arrogance.  Among us I see strange magic that to all science shouldn't even be there.  But it is.  Similar to myths of old.  I favor myself the belief I have somewhat of an open mind, but this is still quite well, strange to abuse the word.  Would you please enlighten us more?  Victor mentioned he knew us.  Or at least some of us from times that we do not remember.  And I agree, we don't.  So who are we that we forget and yet come back to things of import?  This contest is to protect...Gaea, I believe the greecian name for her was?  But what could have such power to sway in such a manner as you have described?  Some artifact?  A wave of magic and will comprised to some area?  A naturalized effect of will in the act of defending her to a given purpose?  My experiences here fail me, so please pardon my inquistiveness, Ezmereth."

Dracos

"That's up to you entirely, of course," Ezmereth replies, shrugging.

"Well, the Contest is of import to the Seventh Cabal, and the Pax Arcana," Victor adds, lounging near the fire and puffing on his pipe.  "That's what everything is about, to them.  Me, I don't really care.  I'm already dead, so what happens to the dreams of the living doesn't matter too much."

Ezmereth eyes Victor, and the vampire falls silent, puffing smoke rings towards the bonfire.

"I merely wish to make you aware of the Contest," he clarifies.  "You may yet be drawn into it, even if you do not wish such to happen.  I am the first key to anyone who wishes to undertake the approval of the Guardian Spirits, to pass the trials for this contest ... but I am one of several.  Your friend," he points at Nathan, "calls us Titans.  Some merely call us the Old Ones.  But we exist, and we are the keys ... possibly to the world's survival.  But who are we to say?  There are three ways the contest can end, and only two forces to try and fight ... to make one come about.

"There are those that wish to cull the weak, and there are those that wish to run away and find a new Sister Earth to despoil."  He grimaces at that.  "No one remains who would awaken the people of this world to what it was."

"They were called the Order of Harmony, the Order of Symetry, and other names," Victor adds.  "Wiped out long ago.  Tragic, really."  He nods, puffing at his pipe.

"As far as what you are ... you should all know.  You should all remember.  You do not remember all your names yet," he says, pointing at Phil.  "But you will awaken to your past and realize that you are a part of the old world.  If humanity flees, you will be left behind.  All of you bear within you something older than yourself ... something that cannot abide being parted with the land.  You are changing, because the world may leave you behind.

"And yet, you are not alone, either.  There are many like you, who are in the same position, who must decide which cause to champion ... and then, there are those who fight for a cause that is their own unmaking, not knowing who leads them."  He sighs.  "Such is the way of things.  

"However, I do not wish to bring you into the Contest, I merely wish you to understand that it exists, and what it may mean to you."

Victor merely grunts, his eyes distant.  "Oh, we've met before," he adds after a pause.  "Or shadows of yourselves.  Past lives, perhaps.  And now ... we meet again."

Dracos nods, his face thoughtful as he brushed his beard considering.

Dracos

"I hate to sound impatient, because I know it's a really long and complicated story . . . but we really don't know anything.  I've got a million more things I'd like to know, but no idea where to start asking, so I guess I'll simply start with the place of obvious bias: what was the world?  What exactly the the Order of Symmetry champion?"

"You should ask your friend, the Oracle, that," Ezmereth says.  "She wishes to bring about harmony between the people and the land once more.  To unite the memories of what was, with what will be, and to defeat the Enemy on her own ground."

Bjorn nods, grimly.  "The ones who were behind the Workshop... they are the ones that want to cull the weak?"

"About the third option, to awaken all to what they have forgoten about the Earth, why is that no one fights for that cause nowadays?"

Ezmereth rubs his bare chin thoughtfully.  "The ones behind that place of darkness ... no, they wish to abandon this Earth, and flee.

"As far as why no one has picked up their cause," he says, turning to Ginrai, "many do.  But without a leader of the spirit ... your friend, the Oracle ... to guide them, they can never find the path.  We cannot be seen, except by those who have contacted one such as her ... or people like yourselves, who are a part of the older world."

Bjorn's face hardens.  "I see."

Well.  I swore to stop the Workshop, and everything behind it; and it turns out the only alternative on the field is even worse.  But there's still another option...

"Without a leader of the spirit, they can't find their path?  Do Ceran and Manos serve the same fuction for the Seventh Cabal and Pax Arcana?"

"That's right.  And ... if those are who I believe they are, then yes."

"Nebuchadnezzar and Rasputin, respectively - or so I'm told.  Rasputin was killed by a Brother of Morpheus while we were wrecking the Workshop."

"The Warriors of Dream favor a side so openly?" Ezmereth muses.  "How ... odd.  There must have been some change to them, then."

"Mm.  There was a wolf in the dream world, the few times I saw, it seemed to be allied to Ayame . . . the oracle . . . although I don't really know who or what it was.  I don't suppose . . . ?"

"I have ever been a friend to wolves," Ezmereth says, nodding.  "And they, in turn, have always been friends to the Warriors of Dream.  Brother Wolf ran with us in the youngest days ... though few remember such."  He points at Ginrai suddenly.  "You, for example.  Though your memory is probably gone, you would have been one of such."

"'One of such'?  You mean a friend of the wolves?  I guess that would make sense, since a wolf helped me out in Albany when some dark, unknown entity was trying to capture me."

"The wolves do not take orders to protect, not even from the Warriors of Dream," Ezmereth notes, pointing a hand towards Victor.  The vampire lazilly pulls a large stone dagger from his shirt, and hands it to Ezmereth.

The old man takes the dagger from the vampire, and presents it towards Ginrai, hilt first.  "Wolves protect their own," he explains.  "Take this, if you wish to truly awaken your heritage."

"I'm certain that was the same one, despite what Shade said . . ."  Rez mutters irritably (and quietly).

"Bound to happen sooner or later.  I wonder if this will turn out to be something like in 'Wolf's Rain'," Ginrai says as he takes the dagger from Ezmereth.

Ginrai:  You feel a bit funny, and unbalance yourself.  You have no idea where that knife went, but catch yourself on all four limbs pretty easily.  Other than that ... and the fact that for some reason, you feel like you want to stay in the position you are, everything is good.  In fact, you can see, hear, and ... hmm ... smell better than ever before.

Everyone else:  Ginrai has just vanished, to be replaced with a pretty goodly-sized wolf.  It's gray, big, got shaggy fur, big, and seems pretty content about where it is, in addition to being big.

Rez manages to pick his jaw up off the floor.

"Well.  That was surprising.  You in there, Gin?"

"Gin, Bark once if you are patronized.  Bark twice if you have a clue how to change yourself back."

Dracos

Opening his mouth and checking if he can talk in this form, Ginrai says, "So much for normalacy.  And Drac, remember that wolves have very sharp teeth."

Turning to Ezmereth, he asks, "So, how will I be able to change myself back?"

Everything you said felt like speech to you, but to judge by everyone else's blank expressions, you just barked a whole lot.  "Just drop the knife," Ezmereth advises.  "You'll get the hang of it after a while."

Realizing that he was still, somehow, holding onto the knife, Ginrai lets go of it.

Ginrai: Concentrating, it's like you've got an extra hand just to hang onto the knife ... when you open that hand to drop the knife, it falls to the ground, and you collapse face-first into the sand.  This shape-shifting may take time to get used to.

"From now," Ezmereth explains, "just concentrate on the image of the wolf while holding the knife.  You'll find you can make yourself much smaller, if you need to, and eventually, you  may not even need the knife to change."

"Hmm.  So, who did we all used to be?  Or whatnot.  I'm sorta curious."

"Pieces of the land ... the ancestor spirits, and the stuff that was left from before the land was made," Ezmereth explains.  "When it was time for Man to be born, some pieces of this were mixed in with the firstborn.  When one dies ... ones fragments are like water cast into a river.  When it is drawn to make a new spirit, sometimes parts of older selves join the mix."  He shrugs.  "Not all move on to the Eternal Hunting Ground.  Some are cast back, to try again."

Victor nods slowly, setting his pipe down and considering this.

"Hmmm...Gawain or the Green Man.  One of those most likely for me.  Either that or a tale older still that I recall not at all.  Which is in many ways likely.  Rezantis, a... knight of old for Apollo or the Oracle?  Ginrai is a wolf.  The others I know not, but there is the obvious curiousity of how each of us would know Victor from the past.  Unless it's several lives or something completely untold.  The latter seems likely though as I take it this Contest is not something heard in mortal ears or relayed in story, no matter it's importance or grandeur."

Dracos ponders, "Ezmereth, what can you tell us of Gibraltar?  Every other point in there I am well aware of being tied with myths of old, but Gibraltar does not ring any bells.  What lies or lied there in the past to give it such significance in Shade's dreams?"

Dracos

"Oh, it has," Ezmereth says quietly.  "And this will be the fourth time the Contest has come about in the memory of Man.  "Who you were is not as important as who you choose to become, however."

"If you're thinking we've met before, specifically, as we are now, we haven't," Victor clarifies.  "Consider it that in addition to the people you are today, you are also ... archetypes.  Templates.  There have been those like you in the past ... and there will be again.  And so, we've met, even if you don't remember it."

"And for the last, you name the spot where the Guardian Spirit of Earth lies dreaming," Ezmereth adds, his eyes closing as he nods to himself.

Victor shifts a bit, and says, "Why don't you sit down, relax?  I get the idea we may be here for a while."

Dracos takes the invitation, sitting down and pondering, "Could you perhaps then share with us a tale of one of the previous Contests?  Sometimes understanding or pondering what has gone before helps with perceiving what will come."

Dracos

Ezmereth nods, taking a seat himself.  "The first victors were those who fled.  Who ran away from their old world, and came here.  Your own legends will remind you of it, I think.

"Those who would cull the weak were the second victors.  From a time when the memories of Man had become smaller, and their view of the world was the same.  A great many people died in what they called the Black Death.  Not as many as would have to die in this age, but a great many, regardless.

"The third victors were those who fled, again.  And they did, coming to the new world to despoil it."  Ezmereth shrug.  "The boundries between these worlds have since fallen apart ... and now the worlds are merged.  But where can they flee, now, I wonder?  Into the dream itself?"

He frowns moodily, considering this.

"That is a tale of the effects, not the contest itself but...hmmm, That does set a timeline.  Those who flee lead an ever selfdestructing circle.  As do those who cull.  Hum..."

Dracos goes silent, watching Ezmereth and Victor curiously.

Dracos

"Okay, wait, hold up."

Paul looks at Ezmereth. "See, I'm kinda the new guy here, and I'm not used to this mystic prophecy stuff. So, sorry, but could you hold up and get this straight for me?

"Okay, so all of us are reincarnated warriors who met you in a past life. And right now, or soon, there is going to be a contest to decide the fate of the world. These Cabal and Arcana guys are on different sides in the contest, and both of them are bad guys. We're going to fight in this contest, along with other guys with... with super-powers... but we haven't picked a side yet. Is that right?"

"You are shadows, or reflections, or their roles forged anew," Ezmereth says, as if this clarifies things.  "The Contest may not be for some time ... and it may be soon.  The Enemy approaches, however, and makes it a neccessity.

"And no, you're not going to be in this challenge unless you choose to be there.  As before, I merely wish you to be aware of it.  Regardless of what will come, you are all part of the old world.  You will survive the culling, if such is chosen.  You will be left behind, if a way is found to abandon our dying Sister Earth.

"Would you rather not have known this?"

Victor takes a deep pull of his pipe, then offers it to Philip.

"We're going to be in the contest. I know we will, like how I knew the furs were magic, and how I knew I was experiencing the dreams of a dead man. Because that's how it is, now. The hand of fate is reaching down. I would rather know that not, if I'm to be thrown into it either way.

"I don't suppose this contest has a physical location and rules, does it?"

Dracos ponders, instinctively resistant even if outwardly courteous as he receives the pipe from Victor, briefly lifting and looking over it.  "Nay, better to know than to be ignorant.  It appears we owe you thanks Ezmereth, even though I think all of us curse any necessity of being out here."

Dracos

"And who wouldn't?" Ezmereth asks mildly.

Turning to Paul, he adds, "It has many locations, and few rules.  More that it is a contest of power, than a contest of rules."  He frowns at this.

Dracos:  The pipe is carved from a bone, though you can't tell which.  Probably a land-based predator, if you had to guess.  It's got intricate tribal looking markings around the bowl, and the stem has three large eagle feathers tied to it, along with a few shiny glass beads on hide cords.  To your eyes, it also posseses a faint glow.  You can tell it's made to burn whatever's in the bowl when someone takes a pull on it, and other than that, whatever magic is there is red, yellow, white, black, and very subtle.

Dracos frowns slightly, closing his eyes a little bit as he pondered before taking a slight pull of the pipe.

Dracos

"I figured it would be one of those kinds of contests. Why, oh why, can't they ever hold these ancient prophecized contests in a ring, with a referee?

"Anyway. It's obvious, we're going to have to join this contest. There's just no other possibility. But... do we have to choose? Are abandonment or culling, Arcana or Cabal, our only options?"

Phil:  You suspect that this is not what it's like for a normal smoker.  The smoke that enters your lung doesn't feel that much different from the air around you you, save that it's warmer.  It makes you feel warmer, too, and your senses widen a notch, as though you've just become a bit more spiritually awakened.  You're aware, in some sense, as though there were another you in the back of your head monitoring your intoxication level with a handy kill-switch, ready to shut it off if you need it to happen.

Ezmereth shakes his head, looking at those still standing, and says, "The future, of course, is what you make of it ... as, perhaps, is this world."

"You keep speaking of the Enemy," Bjorn says, quietly, as he sinks to squat by the fire. "What do you mean by that?"

Bjorn: As you lower yourself, Dracos offers you the pipe.

"The Enemy, is that which is not," Ezmereth says slowly.  "They come to destroy that which does not fit within the universe.  It is ... a thing beyond the reaches of knowing, further than deepest dream.  Grandfather Thunder speaks of the old days, when there were two dreams.

"We followed the dream of light and earth, and the Enemy is that which followed the dream of darkness and stars."

Bjorn touches the pipe to his lips in a gesture of politeness, but does not inhale.  After passing the pipe onto Paul, he continues, "If I wanted to enter into the Contest, what would I need to do?"

"I think we already have entered into the Contest. I think I entered six months ago while I was singing 'Honky Tonk Women' in my head, and that you entered when you got a bracelet in the mail. What we need to know is, now that we're entered, what do we do? We have this Arcana and Cabal fighting each other, evacuation versus culling. And outside of that there is a formless, hateful Other, a being of non-existence. It is our Enemy with a capital E.

"And we are standing in the middle. Great. You didn't answer my question -- are these sides our only choices?"

Bjorn:  Ezmereth looks at you oddly.  "If you wished that ... you would need to seek guidance from the Oracle who once governed those who walked the path before you.  Then, of course, you would need to find the keys, and learn the dreams of the Guardian Spirits."

Turning to Paul, Ezmereth frowns, looking up, and says, "Again, the future is what you make of it."

"And I'm going to try my damndest to make a future worth living. But I need a straight answer. Is there anything left of the Order of Symmetry, something we could awaken, some artifact we could find, some sleeping army of the dead to hold to an oath?

"We're going to forge the future, we're going to be in this contest. We're going to fight both of them. All of them. The way it's going to end up, we probably would fight if it were us five against the entire world. Because... that's how it is, isn't it? We're going to do it, because that is what has to be done.

"What I want to know is, how can we make it so it isn't five against the world?"

"None left, except the oracle ... but many who would follow, perhaps," Ezmereth admits.  "And if that's the path you choose, then that's the path you choose."

"Those who would follow... you mean, people like us? People with, with powers?

"How could we find them? And how could we have them join us?"

"Some might say they already have," Victor says lazilly, leaning forward and plucking the pipe from Paul's hand.  "You don't think all those workshop Escapees are really out-and-out gung-ho for Pax Arcana or the Seventh Cabal, do you?"

Bjorn nods thoughtfully at Victor's remark, and then addresses Ezmereth.  "You said I'm the... incarnation of some template -- well, that we all are.  Could you tell me more about that?  I've been racking my mind, and I can't think of anything that fits me."

Dracos, in his slightly dreamlike state of awareness, glanced around, absorbing his environment.

Dracos

"Your powers are still sealed," Ezmereth says, shrugging.  That totem on your wrist ... it is a gift from the Warriors of Dream.  It will protect you, but hide your true power, at the same time.  At a guess, it was not meant for merely you, but you, and the four who join you in the Contest."

He turns back to Paul for this.  "As far as 'rules' figure, there must be five in the begining.  Some may fall along the way, but there must always be five to start.  Your supporters may be innumerable ... but to begin with there are five.  Always five."  He pulls a small collored hoop out of a pouch on his belt.  It's a traditional naitive american cross-in-hoop, one quadrant a different color.  Red, black, yellow, and white.  "And so," he adds, shrugging.

"That wasn't really an answer," Bjorn points out.  "You don't have any idea on what I'd be if I was unsealed?"

Frowning at the hoop, he adds, "That's only got four sections.   If it's relevant to entering the contest..."

Ezmereth shakes his head.  "You don't see yet.  What you are is hidden to me.  The spirit of a warrior, I recognize that much ... more, I cannot say, until you share that totem's gift with your companions," he indicates, pointing at the bracelet.

Bjorn nods.  "And how do I go about doing that?"

Dracos focused, turning off the buzz and blinking focusing.  "There are five colors.  The fifth isn't visible in the standard array of color.  It's pure magic.  What do you call this hoop, Ezmereth?"

"When you are ready, then you ... and those you wish to journey with you ... join left hands.  The totem will do the rest," he says to Bjorn.  Turning to Phil, he adds,  "A hoop is as good a name as any.  It serves as a reminder of the spirits that guide us, more than Grandfather Thunder, or Brother Wolf."

"I don't suppose I'll ever be ready. Then again, I don't suppose that matters."

Paul puts out his left hand.

"What the hell.  In for the round, in for the game."  Dracos shrugged, glancing at Bjorn.  "Somehow, I think the act of attempting to step back out of this would be rather entirely ludicrious at the moment."

Dracos

"Then we all agree?"  Bjorn says, looking around, but not yet putting out his hand.  "To stand in for the Order of Symmetry?  To fight against Pax Arcana and the Seventh Cabal, and to restore magic and balance to the world?"

"Absolutely."

Ginrai puts out his left hand.

"Balance, at the least. We have to.

"If half the things about these... these people, the Cabal and Pax Arcana, are true, then we have to destroy them. Game aside, Enemy aside. They have to be destroyed. Brick by brick, molecule by molecue if we have to. They have to be obliterated.

"And if they win this, this contest, I don't think it would make a world any of us would want to live in. Even if it's predetermined, if it's my destiny to do this... I want to do it."

""G'damn ye guys are fuckin' into this crap.  Anyhow, as I said, in for the round, in for the game.  It's not like I can walk out on this easily.  I don't like Cabal and I don't like Pax either.  Rez ain't walking out of this.  He's too far in and I don't particularly care for playing bets on letting friends take fire for my own gain.  I don't give a fuck about the world at large and likely never will.  But hey, might as well see where this path leads at the end, for better or worse."

Dracos shrugs, stretching out his left hand.

Dracos

Rez shrugs.

"I follow the Oracle, which sort of makes this a moot point.  And thanks, Drac, I appreciate that."

Rez reaches out his left hand.

Bjorn eyes the four with oustretched hands.  "I don't really think most of you understand what you're getting yourselves into."   Suddenly, he grins.  "Of course, I don't, either, so who am I to say anything?  So."  The smile fades from his face, and he reaches forward with his left hand.

As your hands touch, you feel something tingling through them, almost like your hands were asleep, and are just now waking up.  There's a flash of light, and then, like little tiny silver-link (or iron, to Dracos's eyes) serpents , four more bracelets crawl out of Bjorn's, and wrap themselves around your wrists, one at a time, until you're each wearing a Bjorn-bracelet.

Bjorn: Your defense now feels much weaker, but it's like taking off a face-mask and being able to breathe fresh air again, only, you'd forgotten what fresh air was like.

"And so it begins," Ezmereth intones.  Victor merely nods impassively.

The sudden freedom is both exhilirating and frightening.  The analytical part of his mind begins to speculate how much of what he's done so far was him, how much was the bracelet, and what, exactly, he has left -- and it's a scary sort of thought.  I didn't get into this expecting to be safe, though.

Looking over at Ezmereth, Bjorn says, "Well.  I'm unsealed, apparently, and now it's begun.  So what's the next step?"

"For that, consult the Oracle.  She will guide you."  Ezmereth nods to himself, then adds, "And Victor should be able to help you find your friends."

"An idle query, Ezmereth.  Why do I see these bracelets as Iron, where the others see silver?  Rez's arm as silver, when before it was obviously gold.  Is  there something to the magic around them?"

Dracos

"Silver is the color of the old magic, and iron is the power of those that destroyed the men of stone," Ezmereth replies.  "Both are old.  One is a guardian, and one is an armor."

"I don't want to be pushy," says Bjorn, with nary a hint of irony in his voice (I hope), "but you said you'd be better able to figure out what I am -- or was, or whatever -- once I'd shared the bracelet.  Could you explain?"

Ezmereth shrugs, and squints at Bjorn, giving the impression he's trying to see through Bjorn to whatever it is he really wants to see.

After a nod, he says, "You were a part of many people.  The one in a battle who knows the places of the others.  The one who calls quarter or none ... in a cold, wet land.  One of your deaths came by poison.  You were once a servant of the conquerer who rode East until the land ended, and his armies wept to be lead home.  These, and others ... what you are is the warrior who excels not at war, but at battle."  He nods to himself.

"I have another question . . . who was it who freed you from the workshop?  The Seventh Cabal refers to him as the Wanderer, but . . ."

Victor sets his pipe down at this, and looks at Ezmereth expectantly.  The ancient man takes the pipe from Victor, and takes a puff from it before offering it to Nathan.  "You ask of the Wanderer," he muses.  "I know ... very little of him.  He is like the Enemy, but he was originally of this world.  He went outside of the dream, beyond the borders of what we were meant to know ... like the Warriors of Dream, but he ranged further, deeper than they would dare, past the nest of the Thunderbird, beyond ... even the reach of Mother Sun.  He journeyed out that far, and unlike the Warriors of Dream ... found a way back.  I do not know why he freed me.  And he was mighty ... mighty enough to throw spears, perhaps, with Grandfather Thunder."

"One more question.  Shade's dream showed a wounded serpent under Uluru, which I imagine is the Rainbow Serpent out of aboriginal legend . . . what exactly is it and why did the Seventh Cabal drop a nuke on it?"

"The ... Rainbow Serpent," Ezmereth says slowly.  "It has many names ... as do all of the Guardian Spirits.  If a Guardian Spirit should fall, and die ... then a new one must be born to replace it.  But while weakened, it is mad ... and any who are within its challenge may be lost to the Guardian Spirit's mind.  For that is where your journey will take you.

"Into the dreams of the Guardian Spirits of this world."

So . . . if we're looking to awaken the Guardian Spirit and learn their dreams, I assume that Pax Arcana and the SEventh Cabal have different objectives?  Having dropped a nuke on the Rainbow Serpent, for instance . . . actually," Rez's eyes narrow, "do you know why they dropped a nuke on Silicon Valley, three years ago?

"I would guess," Victor says dryly, "that they've already completed that stage of the Contest and are just engaging in a scorched earth policy.  As far as the Silicon Valley incident, Ezmereth doesn't follow the local politics as closely as I do.

"If you're familiar with Moffet Field, which you likely aren't, it was a big place.  It was originally built as a hangar and airfield for derigibles, long ago.  The military base adjacent to it would have served a similar function ... but there was a specific peculiarity to Moffet's design.  The hangar was high enough that it, when closed, would actually cause rain-clouds to form inside.

"An educated guess, if you'll take one from me, is that the explosion served both as a convenient distraction, and escalation of their manipulations of people via their terrorist organizations ... and destroying a possible new location for the Guardian Spirit of ... well, the one that sleeps beneath Ayer's rock to be reborn.  It would probably have been young as a myth ... but that's the only explanation I can think of."

He turns to Ezmereth, and the ancient man only says, "I cannot easily understand the minds of new Men."  Seeing as Nathan doesn't accept the pipe, Ezmereth takes a tug on it before handing it back to Victor.

"Sorry, but . . . my throat tends to make me pay for it if I do things like that," Rez indicates the pipe, "So, what comes after that stage of the contest?  And are the Seventh Cabal beyond the stage where they need Rasputin?"

"It's a race, really," Ezmereth says.  "But they must find us -- the keys.  And after they find us, they must find the hearts of the land.  They know where some of them are ... but the last remains hidden to them.  Their oracle couldn't guide them to it.  None remember where it is, save the Warriors of Dream.  Perhaps that is your greatest chance, then.  For the Warriors of Dream seem to favor you.

"With that key ... you may yet succeed.  Because their means may be brought about despite the contest, should we delay too long.  Machines ... these things bind old spirits that had been long put to sleep, and bring them back.  They missuse Grandfather Thunder's spears.  They may herald a new heart of the land ... a poisoned heart that serves the corrupted, instead of the pure.  And then, their own aims aside, they turn us all to the Enemy."

"The keys," Bjorn says slowly.  "Right.  Rez, can you go set up the satellite uplink?"  At Rez' sudden start, he explains, "Because, as I recall, step one was to consult the Oracle, and step two was to find the keys.  And, if I'm not much mistaken, we have a key sitting in front of us right now.  So why waste time?"

Bjorn blinks.  "I assume, by the way, that your being a key is why you were captured by the Workshop?"

"Because I'll get sand in my laptop, and in the uplink, and because I know she's going to ruin the solemnity of the occasion?"

"And you bitching and moaning doesn't?  Get your ass in gear."

"Not ... entirely," Ezmereth says, shaking his head.  "They captured me to keep any others from accessing the Guardian Spirit of the land I protect.  They captured me because they sought to learn my powers and make them their own.

"This is what I believe.  As always, I do not truly understand the minds of modern men."

"Well, then, I'll ask one someone who does."  Bjorn cocks an eyebrow at Victor.

"Scorched earth policy," he says lazily.  "It's been their way for some time ... when the leader of the Sixth Cabal declared himself to be the Seventh, and then slaughtered the other of the five who journeyed with him on the last Contest."

"Fine, fine," Rez heads off towards the car, "but this is your fault!"

With intent to get uplink, bring back, dump bag on ground, unpack bag, and set up laptop . . . assuming he doesn't see anything -too- untoward.

Rez returns and has shortly set up the satellite uplink and his laptop.  Still no commotion from your protective guard of college kids with polar-bear furs.

Dracos ended his silence, pondering, "What is the Guardian Spirit of the land you protect?  And what land is it that you protect, Ezmereth?"

Dracos

"Sister Earth is my ward.  Which of her hearts you must see is to be decided by your guide, however," he says, inclining his head dubiously towards the laptop.

"I see, and what is your name of legend then?  If you are the protector of Sister Earth?"

Dracos

Ezmereth stares at Dracos blankly, then smiles, and shakes his head.  "I am Man, Green One.  As you are of the forest, I am of the land.  The first, and if we do not change, perhaps the last."

Rez winces from where he's typing.

"Er, one minute, guys, I just need to smack some sense into somebody."

"Such is the way of things.  Hum..."  Dracos turned to Victor, "You mentioned the last member of the last contest survived and killed his allies...but if he's alive he'd be quite old if human, thus...he must either be a spirit or something else.  Could you perhaps tell us more about him, since he's clearly a danger we should be well aware of."

Dracos

"I've never met him in person, though I did kill one of his friends," Victor says casually, buffing his nails on his shirt.  "From what I know, he killed his companions because each phase of the Contest leaves you with some ward of the spirit you've bonded with.  Each carried one ward, though as I understand it, they can be shared.  He wanted all of them, and his friends were too selfish to share, either, so he backstabbed all of them, declared himself the winner of the Contest, and brought about (in a sense) the discovery of the New World to be exploited.  Such a small thing, historically.  But you can see what it is, now.

"As far as what I know of him, he fiercely opposes the leader of Pax Arcana, who is a surviver from even earlier.  I don't know their names ... but they live.  A gift of the wards, I can only imagine.

"Either way, both of them corrupted their gifts.  The Watchtowers -- what Ezmereth calls the 'Guardian Spirits' -- cannot revoke this true gift, which is binding to the spirit.  But they can refuse to allow either of them to take part directly in the Contest again.  And they do.

"So now they sit behind the scenes like puppet-masters.  This is part of why they try and control so much more than just the simple means to the Contest.  They want to control all life, so they can control everyone who would want to be IN the contest.

"Their goals in the Contest, before there was any path other than the Order of Harmony (long before my time I assure you), were created because they envisioned themselves as superior to ... well, everyone else.  Hence either culling the weak, or 'mercifully' leaving them behind while finding a new world for themselves."

"I see...  So we have two old, powerhungry, and assumedly insane individual  with immortality and quite a bit of resources.  Good to know though the snakes do actually have heads."  

Dracos pondered.  "So Rez, what does the Oracle say?"

Dracos

"I don't know about insane," Victor says, shaking his head.  "They've shaped reality with their victories.  They caused what may have been an insane delusion to become a reality.  'Another world, beyond the horizon?  Preposterous!'

"Think about it.  You accept it as common sense that the world is round.  And I'd believed it myself, even before the discoveries were made.

"But in that time, we did not have the assurances we have today.  And ... as Ezmereth asks ... where else can humanity run from here?"

"They're not going to," Paul says as he stares at his intricate new bracelet. "Because they won't have to. Because now, we're in the contest."

"I realize that.  What I mean now is their methods are... lacking in the rational and understanding that would be expected of some with those experiences.  In my opinion, the action chains currently going across are insane, regardless of whether it could be reality or not."

Dracos

"All that means," grunts Bjorn, "is that you don't have access to all the information they do.  Which we already knew."

"If I may interrupt for a second . . . the Oracle says we need to go to Gibraltar.  Where you," Rez nods to Ezmereth, "are apparently going to send us into the dreams of Ouroboros."

"So it will be," Ezmereth says, nodding.  "We shall meet again there at some point.  But the night is young yet, and there is no pressing need for us to part."

"I imagine you'd know," Bjorn grins.  He looks over at Victor.  "Victor, do you know where the refugees from the Workshop went?"

"Oh, yes," he says softly.  He frowns a bit, concentrating.  "They'd be near Cheaha mountain, in Alabama, if everything went according to their plan.  An area that's out of the way....  One hopes."

Bjorn hums thoughtfully to himself.  "No way to reach them, I suppose, without actually going there...."

"They didn't exactly have addresses and phone numbers on hand," Victor says wryly.  "It was merely a location where Lazarus discerned none of them had been before, and therefore ... none of them could be suspected of going 'back' there."

"Well...  we have two current paths to follow?  One leading to gathering allies here and one leading to Gibraltar.  We also have the path to Australia, but I don't know if we can make use of that yet.  Anyhow, am I missing any?"

Dracos

"I say we gather our allies. The longer we wait to do so, the less chance we have of finding them, the more they will spread out, and the higher the chance that they will be found by someone else. Someone not amenable to our cause."

"Fair enough," Bjorn concedes to Victor.  "It's good logic, I just wish we had some way to reach them.  As it is," he looks at Dracos, "I'm guessing that we should get in touch with them before Ouroboros, like Paul says.  I don't think they're going to be moving around much, but if they can lend us any help at all, it'd be great.  I'd hate to fall flat on the first trial."

He grimaces.   "Did the Oracle say anything other than, 'Go to Gibraltar,' Rez?  That's a bit terse in the advice department."

"Yep, that's . . ." Rez trails off, "No, wait, I'm a liar."

He taps his keyboard for a second.

"Apparently the Seventh Cabal knows we need to go to Gibraltar . . . and she doesn't think that Pax Arcana has made it through yet.  And in the way of potential allies, which are my guesses and not from the Oracle, we might want to see if we can contact two groups - a group called 'Big Fire', who are opposed to Pax and Seventh Cabal . . . and I'd be curious to talk to the Brothers of Morpheus.  Hey," he looks at Ezmereth suddenly, "Can people learn to walk dreams, or is it an inborn talent?"

"You can learn to walk if someone brings you," Ezmereth says, shrugging.  "Others, like him," he indicates Paul, "are better at it than others, even if they don't realize it.  The dreamer who did not survive would have been superior, truly, but without him, you will need to rely on the great statesman."  He shrugs.  "If he learns well enough, and brings you into his dreams, then you can indeed learn."

"Hmm.  Hey," Rez perks up, "Who was I, anyway?  I mean, it's weird, but I'm really curious.  Did my curiousity get me killed, or something?  That'd figure."

"As with the others, you were many people, and parts of many other people are a part of you, too," Ezmereth says patiently.  "When a spirit merges and comes apart again, many people may have been a single entity in the past.  Your friend isn't the only Green Man to walk the earth, his spirit lives in ... if not truly many, others.

"But in you was the artist, the architect, and a man who set ships afire with a mirror, and the power of the sun."

"Oooh, I'm the Twilight caste Solar . . ." Rez mutters something about not getting the cool butterflies and goes back to his laptop.

Dracos nods slightly to Bjorn in agreement, obviously pondering some other stuff though, "Ezmereth, do all five of us have to be there to do what needs to be done or is it just for the invocation of starting the task?"

Dracos

"Wait. I'm better at walking in dreams? Why would I be better than someone else-- and how do you know?"

"Yes, all of you must take the challenges together," Ezmereth says to Phil.  Turning to Paul, he adds, "When you have been here as long as I have, then you'll know, too."

Dracos frowns, "Would they already know that this order of Harmony is back with what we just did or would they likely be currently...unaware of the new players on the field?"

Dracos

"They know that they are opposed ... but I do not believe that they would expect newcomers to take up the old position, that which was left vacant for so long."

Dracos nods, "That then is useful.  While they would be looking out for their enemies we may have time to slip through unnoticed on at least the first quest.  Ezmereth, do you know of perhaps old or mystic paths between Europe and America?  Going on any of the standard routes will be a pain with their ability to control the modern governments and more specifically the absolute paranoia they've created with regards to terrorists."

Dracos

"Mystic paths?" he says skeptically.  "Not as such, no."

Victor clears his throat, taking the pipe from Ezmereth and tapping the ashes out into the firepit.  "There's three major ways you can get there, from what I remember.

"Gibraltar has an airfield, so that's one.

"Another would be by sea.

"The last would be by land, if you just wanted to walk through from Spain.

"Beyond that, how you manage it is going to be tricky at best.  I've been out of touch with my own contacts for some years, though.  Imprisonment tends to do that, I suppose."

"The first obstacle is getting to Europe," Bjorn says thoughtfully.  "Depending on how we manage, the route to Gibraltar will probably settle itself."  He squints in thought.  "Tactically speaking, we've got a huge advantage here in terms of surprise.  That means that we should move as fast as possible to Ouroboros, and draw as little attention as possible.  I'd like to say going by air is the way to go.  We'd have to lose some of the weapons, sure, but we can do that.  The bigger problem is Rez' hand, and the fact we're not who we say we are."  He grimaces.  "The alternative to airplanes is the sea, and I don't know how much less problematic that is, and it's a lot slower.  I don't want to lose a month."

He thinks a little longer, and then nods decisively.  "I say we fly, and as soon as possible.  With only a bit of work, the only thing we run any risk on is Rez' hand, and as far as I know, nobody else should know about that, right?  So maybe we get hassled by airport security, but we can pull through that."

<@Dracos> The dangerous route where we leave behind equipment for the most part?
<@Dracos> We'll drop it in the safe house for later retrieval.  Hum.
<@Dracos> I wonder if we can get a flight right to gibraltar.
<@Bjorn> Probably not, but we can probably do a single connection in London or something.
<@Dracos> *nods*
<@Bjorn> What we'll have for equipment is, essentially, whatever Rez can carry in the bag.
<@Dracos> *Nods*
<@Bjorn> That means one sword for you, probably.
* @Dracos will negociate two as some things can be hidden elsewhere.
<@Dracos> For obvious note if we're going by plane we shouldn't have a problem having a bag carrying the uplink.
<@Bjorn> Uh, yeah, we might.
<@Bjorn> Hell, you get hassled just for a laptop.
<@Bjorn> And we really don't want to lose the uplink.
* @Dracos blinks.  Carries laptop and networking equipment on every
flight he goes on.
* @Dracos and goes on five or so flights a year.
<@Bjorn> Yeah, but how many international?
<@Dracos> Admittingly not many, but I can't see them suddenly having a "Laptop EVIL" policy o_O;
<@Bjorn> I didn't say they thought they were evil.
<@Bjorn> I just meant that when you go through security, you need to take 'em out, turn 'em on, etc, etc.
<@Bjorn> And this is with known technology.
<@Bjorn> Because we really don't want to check it.
<@Dracos> Hmmm
<@Bjorn> The uplink is arguably the single most important piece of equipment we have.
<@Bjorn> If we don't have it, we don't have access to the Oracle.
<@Bjorn> No Oracle, we're not in the game.
* @Dracos frowns
<@Dracos> You make a solid point.
<@Bjorn> Weapons?
* @Bjorn shrugs.
<@Bjorn> I'm willing to bet where we're going, we won't need them.
<@Dracos> I do suggest we don't carry a lot of guns as while swords and knives will leave a mess, guns will be a whole different story.  Yeah, you are right.
* @Bjorn is all for leaving the guns behind.
<@Dracos> Well, at least we agree on that.
<@Bjorn> I'll even go so far as to say: swords are a much lower priority than batons.
<@Dracos> I wonder: Bokkens, should we try and slip some in a bag as 'training equipment'
<@Bjorn> No.
<@Bjorn> Not worth it.
* @Dracos was thinking they'd be well, more useful to you or me if we had to knock someone out.
<@Bjorn> Unless you managed to get your hands on something other than the standard kendo bokkens I've seen you using, they'll break far too fast in a real fight.

"Hum...  I want to know where we go afterwards."

Dracos

"Bjorn, two misconceptions there.  Firstly, I'd trust those passports for travel, especially with the Oracle looking over our shoulder.  We won't have problems there - considering Ayame got me out of Australia with big red flags on my regular one.  As far as anyone knows without a complete background check - which'll be tricky without any living family members - they're valid.  Second, we don't have quite as much surprise as you might think, given that if Pax Arcana hasn't cleared it yet that place will be locked down tight.  They might not be looking for us specifically, but I can guarantee you they'll be checking out anyone they don't know, and they know all our faces."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, I trust the passports.  But there's more to a fake ID than just the paperwork.  I mean, I've never been to Texas.  What if I run into some security guard that used to live in Dallas, and is feeling chatty?

"As for surprise... remember, you need to be in the Contest in order to be able to do anything at Gibraltar.  A general watch would be a waste of time and resources.  There might be something there, but it'll mainly be aimed at Pax Arcana."

Bjorn shrugs.  "I don't think we'll get a free run at it, by any means.  But for now, they won't be expecting us to show up there, and that gives us an edge.   The longer we take, the more likely it is that they'll figure out that we're part of the Contest, too.  And once that happens, they'll be gunning for us by name and face, and we'll lose any edge we had.  That's why we've gotta move as fast as we can."

"Oh, I agree with what you're suggesting, I just warn you against thinking we'll be find 'cause they're looking for Pax Arcana.  We're not exactly the most inconspicuous group, and what if they don't know who Pax Arcana is going to send?"

Bjorn looks around, and shrugs.  "We're pretty inconspicious, actually.  Clean up a little, grab some cameras, we'll look just like tourists.

"And, actually, they do know who Pax Arcana has to send.  It has to be a ring of five, just like us.  Even if they don't know exactly who that is, the Cabal knows we can't be them."

He shrugs again.  "Like I said, I know it's not going to be easy.  They'll be guarding Ouroboros, just like you said, and we'll have to deal with that.  But right now, they don't know that we're in the Contest.  That may not give us much advantage, but given the odds, we'd better take all we can get."

"Well... so we are agreed on our plan then?  By air to England and then to Gibraltar as fast as can be.  We should have Rez hide as much as possible and get some touristy getup to help back our story.  I want to know though what is 'next'.  If we can know that at all."

Dracos looks pointedly at Rez.

Dracos

"If we're going for suprise... how fast do you think we can get to Gibraltar?

"Maybe, if we could get some clues as to the second site and leave for Ouruboros as soon as we can, we might be able to hit site 2 fast enough that the Cabal still won't recognize us. Catch them with their pants down, then catch them again as they're pulling them up."

"Hm.  Guys?  It doesn't matter where we go after Gibraltar, although she suggests we leave Uluru for a while due to remaining radioactivity.  And . . . she says that once we step into the dream, it could take seconds before we come back out, or it could take years.  Ahm.  She also wants people to work while we're gone, so  . . ."

"So at least some of us need to go to Alabama, first," Bjorn finishes.  He frowns.  "Now, then, do we all go, or should we split up?"

"Wait. YEARS? How can that work? If we go into a dream and don't come out for a few years, how do we know that the Cabal won't have locked down every other site, won the Contest, and taken over the goddamn world by then?"

"Huitzil, it's obvious.  They have the same restrictions on time when doing it."

Dracos pondered, stroking his beard, "I'd say we split up here.  One group heads to alabama and catches a plane to london and then Gibraltar.  The other group meets them there, having scouted out the place first.  Alternate plan is we all go to Alabama and hope for the best when arriving in London.  Either way, we head back to the safe house from here, arrange tickets there, leave excess junk there, etc."

Dracos

"I don't think we should split up. Too many things could go wrong. People are after us, and if they catch us 2 or 3 at a time, we're going to get fucked. Whatever we do, rush to Ouruboros, or wait and go to Alabama, I think we ought to do it together."

"Actually, two groups is best, I think.  Strength isn't our, uh, strength here to begin with.  Given what we're up against, picking off a group of five probably wouldn't be much harder for them.  Smaller groups are less noticeable, and, frankly, stealth is our best option."

Bjorn considers, and then says, "Okay, if we're going to split up, I think the obvious candidates for going to Alabama are Archimedes here and myself.  Me because they know me, and Rez for the same, plus the whole point now is to put them in contact  with the Oracle.  Drac and Paul are out because the refugees won't know 'em, which will be nervous-making.  The wolf here..." Bjorn shrugs.  "It'll work either way.  I think it'd be best if he went to Gibraltar, since scouting will probably take more manpower, though."

"I suppose you might be right. But I just met some people who can watch my back for the first time in a while, and I don't want to just leave half of them behind."

"Two groups is best, but I dislike the groups.  While you raise a valid point about myself and Uns being unknowns, Gin isn't.  More specifically, if we go, I can't hide shit if necessary and it's putting two of our "We know how to fight and are carrying all the equipment" in the same group going the safer route.  We hope no shit happens, but at the same time, I'm not going to be able to sneak crap through customs, Gin is Gin, and Huitz is out like a light with just a few tries.  That's not a lot of accident insurence.  I suggest myself and Rez and huitz.  Bjorn, you and Gin should be fine.  Gin was known by them anyway as he was there with you the whole damn time.  This way if something happens we at least have a little accident insurence for both squads to help them escape."

Dracos

"Hey now, nobody ever said that just because I have a superpower, it's the only thing I can use."

"Huitz, unless you have a magic pocket or know kungfu, don't whine about being classified like that.  You are coming with me either way."

Dracos

Ginrai shrugs.  "I'm okay with going to either place, though I do think that my wolf form can be useful in checking out the place in Gibraltar."

"Gin, a wolf is going to attract attention in Britain.  It might be useful, but I think having Rez along would be more useful."

Dracos

"Well, the way I see it . . . three people should be going to Gibraltar, two to Alabama.  Nobody goes alone, for obvious reasons.  Gin and Uns should go to Gibraltar, for the reasons Bjorn and Uns just listed, and obviously Bjorn goes to Alabama . . ." Rez trails off, "And I suppose my ability to smuggle stuff puts me as a key element in our planning here."

"Be that as it may," Bjorn says patiently, "the whole point of this exercise is to put the Oracle in contact with the Workshop refugees, and l'il ol' Archimedes is our Oracular go-to.  Unless, somehow, you give me a way to reach the Oracle, do introductions, etc, etc, then hehas to come with me.

"I think his ability to smuggle things is secondary, at least as far as scouting goes.  If you guys get in a position where you need weapons, well, you're up shit creek already.  Stealth, remember? You shouldn't need to be armed until we actually try to move in."

<Rez> "Well, I really need to give you her new email anyway."
<Bjorn> "What about the uplink?"  
<Rez> "Dialup.  Someone has to go with you, though, so either me or Drac."
<Bjorn> "I've already said why I think you're a better option than Drac in that regard, so...."

More IRC discussion that I can't be bothered to novelize properly.  Deal.

<Bjorn> Okay.  So we're pretty much agreed that I go to Alabama.
<Ginrai> yeah, since you know them
<Bjorn> I think we've also agreed that Huitzil and Drac should go to Gibraltar.
<Ginrai> not sure about Drac
<Bjorn> Okay, fair enough.
<Rez> Huitzil should go to Gibraltar, Bjorn should go to Alabama.
<Bjorn> But we do all think that it should be two to Alabama, and three to Gibraltar?
<Rez> I think Ginrai would be more use going to Gibraltar.
<Rez> Yes, definitely.
<Bjorn> Okay, I agree about Ginrai.
<Rez> I also think Drac would be more use in Gibraltar than I would.
<Rez> Being like, ya know, I have nfi what I'm doing. ;)
<Bjorn> Ditto.  Also, the Workshop refugees don't know him, so I think he's a liability for Alabama.
<Rez> Well, not necessarily.
<Bjorn> Hm?
<Rez> They'll probably recognize him as the voice-that-was-yelling-down-about-the-gas-tap.
<Bjorn> Ehh.  I wouldn't bet on that.  I'm not sure I'd recognize his voice.
<Bjorn> Besides, I'd rather not have Bridgett around with the guy who's carrying her mother's eyes around.  ^^;;
<Rez> You raise -quite- a valid point.  ^^;;
<Bjorn> But there's no question they'd know you better than him.
<Ginrai> heh
<Bjorn> But, I can see why Drac would want you to go to Gibraltar.
* Bjorn shrugs.
<Ginrai> though this would mean that are weapons would be limited
<Rez> Yeah.
<Bjorn> But, frankly, if Rez is going to Gibraltar, it might just be best if I went alone to Alabama.
<Rez> See, they can't really take the uplink without me going.
<Rez> OTOH, we're not sending you alone anywhere.
* Ginrai nods
<Ginrai> what's the reason for having Uns going to Gibraltar?
<Rez> Ginrai: Workshop inmates don't know him.
<Rez> They know me, and they know you, so if anyone goes with Bjorn it should be you or me.
<Rez> The thing is.
<Rez> If we -fly- to Alabama.
<Rez> We'll only be like a day behind anyway.
<Bjorn> Well, yeah.  But that's a day short on scouting, and it means hauling a big group to the refugee town.  That's more likely to a) panic them, and b) draw attention.
<Rez> Hm?
<Rez> No.
<Rez> I mean you and I fly to Alabama.
<Bjorn> Ohhhhh.
<Bjorn> Yes, I agree with that.
<Bjorn> It might be two days, but yeah, we won't be far behind.
<Rez> Like, we fly out of Sacramento, and send the other guys to fly out from another airport.
<Bjorn> Ah.
<Bjorn> Yes.
<Bjorn> Very workable.
<Rez> BTW, if they go through London, I'd rather not.
<Bjorn> Oh?
* Rez must say: I am -leery- about flying straight to Gibraltar.
<Bjorn> I mean, Heathrow sucks ass, and is very tight on security, but...
<Bjorn> Ah.
<Rez> Pure paranoia, fly through Paris.  You speak french.  :P
<Bjorn> Hrm.  Or we could go to Madrid.
<Bjorn> Either works, though.
<Rez> Madrid might actually be better there.
<Bjorn> Madrid gives us the option of land, air, or sea.
<Rez> Exactly.
<Rez> Hm.
* Rez might see if I can set Relm to finding good routes to Gibraltar for us, too.
<Bjorn> Good plan.
<Rez> She's better at it than we.  <_<
<Bjorn> Maybe she can buy some airmiles with Everquest 2. ;)
<Rez> Heh.  Heh.  Heh.
<Bjorn> If we're really lucky, she can hack the reservations so that it looks like we made them a couple months in advance.
<Bjorn> That will help a lot with the tourist disguise.
<Rez> I didn't think of that.  A Good Plan.
<Bjorn> Okay.  So our current plan is: Unseen, Ginrai, and Dracos fly to Gibraltar via London from, say, Los Angeles.
<Bjorn> Rez and I split off earlier, fly to Alabama via Sacramento, and contact the Workshop refugees.
<Bjorn> From there, we'll fly to Madrid, get to Gibraltar somehow, and meet up with them.
<Bjorn> Is that right?
<Rez> Sounds like a plan.

Dracos sighs, "Oh well, not the first time I played tourist.  Huitz, Gin, we are tourists.  College goons.  We're going to see the rock of Gibraltar because it's spiffy.  Understand?" Dracos glances specifically at Ginrai.

Dracos

"I suppose I could be down with that, but I'd still prefer sticking together. Anything else we need to decide?"

"Well, actually, you guys could go to Madrid and drive south, and we could go via London."

"Yeah I understand.  Don't think I can do a good job of it?"

"No point to it Rez.  More expensive and it really doesn't help the tourist facade any.  And, not that I recall after this much back and forth bitching,' Dracos says with a smile.

"No, not after your last showing, Gin.  But no worries, You've improved after all, haven't you?" said with the knowing smile that he won't dare disagree.

Dracos

"Ha ha ha.  In other news, the Oracle put $5000 on everyone's credit cards, but they've all been sent to the addresses on your fake IDs.  Her address, for those who want to email her, is 'tyrean underscore at sam i am dot org: tyrean t-y-r-e-a-n, samiam s-a-m-i-a-m, and her name is Relm.  Also, don't believe anything she says about me.  That is all."

"Like hell I'm gonna use a credit card. Credit cards can be tracked no matter whose name they're in."

"Right, and got the numbers for those cards?  Or any way for us to pick them up?"

Dracos

"So can passports.  Since you don't actually have it right now, it's rather a moot point, and it's mainly meant for emergencies anyway," Rez turns to Drac, "Nope, not as right now.  Might be able to swing past some of those addresses, though, depending."

"If we can pick them up, cool.  If not, oh well.  Victor, I know you mentioned you don't care about the contest, but whatever help you can give is much appreciated."

Dracos

"Of course," he says lazilly.  "I don't forgive easily, and I didn't like being locked up.  I imagine we have a common cause, then.  I doubt I'll be travelling with you to Alabama ... daylight is rather inconvenient for me.  But we can arrange to meet in Montgomery.  I know the way from there."

Dracos nods, "Thanks.  Rez, plane tickets status?  Got Relm working on it yet?"

Dracos

"I sorta figured we should finish hammering out the itinerary before we started booking plane tickets."

"Here's the itinerary then.  We head back to safehouse, drop off what cannot be carried easily and get me and the recon crew setup like a bunch of wacky and crazy tourists.  We get dropped off at the nearest airport with travel to london and such, and you guys keep going.  When you can you meet us at Gibraltar.  I assume if we can fly in there they have hotels there.  We'll be setup.  Contact by phone and email."

Dracos

"Hm, Victor, how long would it take you to get to Montgomery?"

"I imagine I could accomplish it quickly enough," he says.  "If you will be traveling by car, at least, I will be there before you."

"Hm, we were thinking of flying . . . how were you planning on getting there, anyway?

"By freight," he answers with a shrug.  "Sending a package to the right people tends to work.  I have ... friends of my own."

"Oh."

Rez blinks.

"Well, meet you in Montgomery on the night of the 22nd?  Any preferences as to where?"

"There's a bar near the airport.  It's called 'Coreena's'.  We'll meet there," Victor replies.

"Alright.  10pm, Coreena's bar in Montgomery?"

"Correct.  From there I can guide you to Lazarus's retreat.  I'm sure that he's gotten there by now."

"Sounds like a plan.  Hm.  So, Ezmereth . . ." Rez turns back to the titan, "the ORacle said that if we go into the dreams of these guardian spirits, we could be in there for years - or seconds.  Any hints as to what it entails . . . and what happens to our bodies while we're in there?"

"The dreams of the Guardian Spirits are vast," Ezmereth replies slowly.  "But when you are there, you will see what is wrong, and you must make it right.  Your own bodies will vanish into the earth itself ... until you complete your challenge.  If you fail, you will vanish for quite some time...."

"So," Bjorn inquires slowly, "do we physically enter the dream?  Or are our bodies left behind?  And, perhaps specifically, what about the things that we carry?"

"You take nothing with you -- as you are born into this world shall you enter the dream.  You cannot force a thing not of the dream to be there.  You lack that power, yet.  And you cannot enter the dream, unless you are already there.  There is already another you, in the dream.  And you must take that other self into the you that is here to pass the trial."

"So, don't fail, you won't like it.  Hm.  Can you tell us precisely where on Gibraltar we need to meet you, and, well, how long it'll take to put us into the dream?  It kinda makes a difference in that if all we need to do is get there, it's easier, whereas if we're going to need time . . . we need to deal with whatever Seventh Cabal operatives are in the area, first."

"  'Take the other self that is... ' Wait, do you mean that doing that is part of what we have to do to get intoOuruboros,or do we have to do that now?

"Because, and forgive me, but there's a lot of just contest, and trial, and linking, and I'm getting a mite confused."

"I cannot -- that's the oracle's task.  But the location she gave should be as specific as you need.  And ... it should take only a moment for it to begin," Ezmereth says to Nathan.  Turning to Paul he adds, "All will become clear in time."

"After a faction has gone into the dreams of all three spirits . . . not that I understand precisely what we're meant to do in there . . . they need to see the fourth heart, which the Brothers of Morpheus guard the location to.  Does that mean the Brothers of Morpheus are pretty much adjudicating the contest, or are Pax Arcana and Seventh Cabal capable of smashing through them?"

"I'd prefer it if that time happened in a few seconds from now, because you explain it to me.

"Don't get me wrong. I'm on board for this. I want to get rid of these Arcana and Cabal guys, I want to do whatever there can be to get my life back, and if we save the dreams of the planet in doing it, so much the better. But I'd really like to have all the information going in, and you're not, you're just not giving me anything here."

Ezmereth stares at Paul blankly for a long moment.  Then, he calmly packs the bowl of his pipe, and offers it to Paul.  "Perhaps this will help," he says.

Paul takes a good, long look at the pipe, and then puts out his hand in denial. "Nah, the world is tripping enough as it is."

"Hey, Victor," Bjorn says quietly to the side of the Ezmereth Q&NotReallyA session.  "If you don't mind me asking... how did the Workshop grab you, anyways?"

Ezmereth shrugs.  "It is difficult for me to find words that you will understand.  Modern man and I are coming further and further apart.  But know that I mean it, when I say I hope you will understand."

Victor frowns, and takes the pipe from Ezmereth, puffing lightly before answering.  "That's an embarrasment, really.  But, if you must know, I was living in Mexico City.  I found it prudent not to stay in a single place too long, but Mexico City is large ... and for someone like me, the night life was not terribly dangerous.

"Unfortunately, I became enchanted with the idea that I could manage things well enough that there would be no need to move on.  I was wrong.

"A hunter came after me.  A man with a cross, and a wooden stake.  He believed they would help him, and they did not.  I thought I would be merciful.  I left him -- weakened, to be sure.  And delirious, so none would believe his stories as anything other than a fable.

"I thought I was strong enough to make myself a lair and protect it ... but he sent word to people who knew better than he did, that hunter I spared.  The Workshop sent its minions after me shortly.  Walls of air I couldn't penetrate.  I had no need to breathe, but the wind held me in place, while I bore the misguided assumption I could have fought off anything in that place.

"But that was then, and this is now.  I've seldom associated with others who were anything other than completely human, before.  Perhaps, it was unwise of me to do so."  He shrugs, and offers the pipe to anyone who will have it.

"Don't worry too much, Uns.  It's genre.  The explainers never tell us half of what we want to know at the start, because we later find out they're really ill-tempered mutated sea bass in disguise trying to take over the world.  I've seen this plotline before, it was an episode of Excel Saga."

"Nate... stop calling me that. That's not my name. That's not even my Internet name, if I can even be said to have one."

"Paul, then.  It's just, like, hard to connect that with you.  And Unseen was so much cooler - and pronouncable - than Huitzil.  Although I guess years of 'Seen Unseen?' jokes would get to someone . . ."

"It probably was," Bjorn agrees, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.  "Hell, I already feel the same way myself.

He stretches, and vaguely contemplates telling Rez and Paul that he'll settle the matter for them, and dub them Archimedes and Winston, respectively, but decides against it.  It's late, too much shit has gone down, I don't feel like dealing with an argument, for fun or for real.  Putting Shinmyouken down by his side, he spreads out the fur cape and lays back, staring at the stars.

"Anybody got any good campfire stories?"  he asks, whimsically.  "Well, actually, that's pretty much a given.  Anyone feel like telling one?"

"I know stories," Victor says quietly.  "But Ezmereth knows better.  I take it that our questions are finished for the night?"

"Well, I don't know about everyone else, but I'm out of questions.   I'll probably think of more tomorrow, but that's it for me, for now."

"I have plenty of questions, but none of them are going to get answered. If you don't mind, I'd like to go find Julie and fall asleep next to her on a bear-skin, looking up at the stars."

"It was a dark and stormy night....  Naw, I don't really have anything more in mind.  Even if I've forgotten something, that's how it goes.  If we had perfect knowledge we'd be gods instead of men after all."

Dracos

Victor snorts, and puffs on the pipe a bit more, before handing it to Ezmereth.

"I can tell a story," Ezmereth says, nodding.  "When I was young, and Grandfather Thunder walked the land...."

Ezmereth tells three stories; the ancient man's first tale is how the moon captured the stars in its nets, the second is how Brother Eagle and Grandfather River stole the rain from the north, and the third is of the strongest warrior, which ran all the way from his home to a mountain and back in a single day.

Victor tells a story that he says was common when he was young, about the soldier who tricked the devil into filling his grave with gold before the sun rose.  He smiles sardonically before he excuses himself.  After that about half of the college kids come back, and sack out around the fire.

When you wake up in the morning a bit after sunrise, (comfortably warm, if sandy) on your polar bear skins, Ezmereth and the college kids are gone....

Dracos gets up, shuffles the blokes into the car, and gets driving back to the safehouse.


Dracos

The drive back to Ripon is uninmpeded.  You find the day is clear, for once, and even without the polar bear skins that everyone (except for Ginrai, who really doesn't need one anymore) it's a good bit warmer.

Upon their safe arrival he heads in, doing a few things in series:
Shaving his beard off and trimming the sides of his hair.
Getting maps, contact info, and various other important tourist information from the AAA website using his access info and saving them to his hard drive.
Getting Rez to keep his longsword and short sword.
Making breakfest for everyone.

Providing no one else stops him, he heads out to the nearest general store and buys cameras.  Then he goes to a luggage place and gets some baggage for the trip.

He then returns to the safehouse...

Dracos

After getting back to the safehouse, Bjorn exercises, showers, and then eats Drac's breakfast

Following that, he tags along on Dracos's shopping trip, buying (with the help of a loan from Drac) some proper-fitting clothes (a bunch of plain, solid colour t-shirts, a couple pair of loose-fitting cargo pants, socks, underwear, but no shoes, because the purloined Workshop boots are surprisingly comfortable), and a messenger satchel.

As Bjorn walks out the door to shop, Paul calls out to him. "Hey, if you're going clothes shopping, could you get me some clothes from Goodwill nor something? Jeans, flannel shirts, underwear, socks, stuff like that. I've been wearing these clothes for like, six weeks, and they feel goddamn nasty. I'm about Nate's size, I think."

"Sure thing," Bjorn says as he ducks out the door.

Mental note: buy bowler for Winston.

Paul knows that he told himself he should practice using his "power" every day, but he's already kinda tired and he really doesn't feel like it, so he just gets a bunch of pennies (for tokens, you know) and challeneges Nathan to a few games of LOTR.

Hey, if I have to go to the rock of Gibraltar and enter into the dreams of an eternaly autocannibalistic serpent, after which I may not emerge for years, I won't have much time to screw around, so I'd better get all the time-wasting in that I can.

Rez pulls out his laptop and starts digging around online.  Armed with CREDIT CARD!  Wooo!

With, you know, aim to get tickets for Drac and co, preferably out of . . . the nearest airport to the east of here, or Sacramento if there isn't one sufficiently close.

Rez:  Perhaps ironically, Sacramento is the closest major airport.  Unless you'd like to go back to San Jose, at any rate.

Three tickets are purchased, and are now on 'will call' at the counter.  Once you've gotten them ordered (using the 'assumed' IDs and passports).  Your tickets say you'll be leaving at 7:20 PM that evening for Heathrow airport, with a two hour layover at JFK in New York.

Ginrai's rented car (minivan) is supposed to be returned to the car lot in Stockton, but it's registered under his old ID anyway.

At around 4:00 PM, you reach the airport.  Early, but given the delays of customs....

Regardless, Rez and Bjorn drive off in the maroon mini-van, and quickly vanish around the corner.