The cafe is relatively quiet, a few Gibraltan teens playing Counterstrike rather poorly, but seeming to enjoy themselves regardless.
Standing in the entrance are the three newly arrived guests, the swarthy Parthipan, dagger sheathed on one hip, the wary Paul, hands tensed as though to ... something ..., and behind them, the self-assured (though a bit surprised looking) Phil.
Sitting at a desk in a corner, shuffling through uncooperative pages in Hotmail until the install of Windows 95 gives up the ghost and crashes (forcing a reboot and the loss of an incomplete e-mail) makes one Nathan Shuker swear.
This swearing (and accompanied running of hands through hair) has the effect of rousing the meditative (if bulky) Bjorn lounging in a chair nearby with an (untouched) glass of water sitting on the table next to him.
Dracos glances around. "Well, if this isn't an...interesting coincidence? Perhaps the fates are with us? Hey Bjorn, Rezzie. Seems you two are alive and well. Survive the trip to gibraltar well enough?"
Dracos
"Ah do thank," Bjorn drawls in the best Texan accent he can manage (which, no matter how good it is, is better than he is necessarily comfortable with.), "that you are mistaken. Mah name is Reverend Jacob Housner. Howevah, it is indeed a pleasah to make the acquaintance of a fellow American."
Touching the smudges of the entire group and bringing them into the link, Bjorn acidly adds, I know the whole secrecy and subtlety thing hasn't exactly been your preferred approach here, but do try.
Yes. We're fine. You, on the other hand, have not been. Care to give us more detail?
"Ah, apologies, I misspeak."
~Sorry, subtlety isn't exactly my strongest suite. Let's sit down somewhere private preferrably if you want the long version. If you want the short version, I can give it right now.~
Dracos
Check your email. You walked in here for a reason. In the meantime, you can give me the very short answer to: do you work for Pax Arcana now?
~I tend to make it a habit not to backstab friends. So, no, I don't.~
Dracos pays for a bit of time, sitting down near rez to check his email.
Dracos
Bjorn settles back into his seat, resuming his contemplation of a sunset over the Rock. All right. Why don't you give us the more detailed version of what happened, then? This is a nice public place, and anybody who can overhear us talking like this would probably overhear us no matter where we went.
Besides, he adds, glancing back over his shoulder, it looks like Nathan might be a while.
~Okay, we left you guys at the airport and traveled to Britain without a hitch. Switched planes and were on the way to Gibraltar when the plane we were on got taken over by terrorists looking for shade. Which...I think I told you already, but anyway. We managed through mostly luck to take over the plane and land it safely in France before the French airforce would've blown us out of the sky. Gin got himself nicely shot during this and had to rest up in the hospital. Additionally, the kid that'd been helping them was right next door to him. Anyhow, we rested a few days then Huitz had his dream, which you know about in pretty good detail and I assume you've told Rez. Huitz, you can answer questions on that as I don't care to. Anyhow, while we were at the hospital chatting we happened to have a nice little telepath decide he wanted in. We promptly changed discussion topics and started moving out of the place when some armed and armored terrorists charged in and the telepath decided he wanted more information then he'd been allowed to get and chose me as the target. I wasn't really paying any attention to the others at that point as I was trying to keep my mind intact and then chase the guy down, though he did manage to sever the connection in the end. While I was following it though I ran into these two huge guys in professional suits, near twins as far as I could tell, if not twins. They asked for me to come along with them peacefully so I tried to listen in on them mentally and figure out what they were about while verbally checking their credentials and the like and asking what they wanted. They were able to pretty easily halt my telepathic probes with answers of their own but they seemed on the level and I didn't see much gain to fighting with folks carrying official interpol identification. Anyhow, we went down and they patched up Huitz who seemed to have gotten the bad end of the deal and brought the lot of us and the kid to talk with... forget his name but he was dressed in a pink suit like that guy from Giant Robo. Anyhow, he told us he'd been ordered to capture us... but at the same time had personal reasons why he didn't think that was right, so he decided he'd let us go. We took him up on his deal, escaping by bus and then by train to Germany, where we found Caber waiting for us. This is when you reached us last, and when he was busy trying to convince us to join Pax Arcana. We all refused and he fled the joint rather than picking a fight. I don't think that Pax is going to move against us just yet. At least not until we've cleared Gibraltar. They seemed to be assuming we'd just end up being distracting irritants to Seventh Cabal and get crushed easily by them. Anyhow, after that we took the train down here, leaving a little bit of a false trail but not much...and here we are.~
Dracos
OOC: Yeah, the formatting is ugly as hell. Sorry
That's it? The metaphorical chalk of Bjorn's question oozes disbelief. Caber -- a guy who can probably generate his own army if he wants -- shows up, offers you a job, and then runs away when you say no? Pax Arcana is impressed enough with us to offer you a job, but not so impressed that they're going to stop us?
Involuntarily, Bjorn grimaces, and takes a sip of the water to cover it, still staring intently at the Rock. Let's get our ass in gear. This whole thing stinks, and I want out. Nathan, what does the Oracle say?
Miss Oracle informs me that we now need to find Ezmereth, who is probably sitting on top of the rock. Me, I don't see much point waiting, except for the obvious fact that Bjorn promised to get cookies and is trying to welch on it.
Bjorn grunts, under his breath. Check CNN for me, will you?
Right, right . . .
Rez attempts to load it. On this -painfully- slow connection. And waves to the new entries.
"Hey, guys, was wondering when you'd join us . . . "
Expecting something?
Yeah. You just got your damn cookies. Now, stop whining.
Now, having thoroughly confused everyone in here whether we know each other or not, shall we head to the Rock?
See? Welching. See if I partner up with you again!
Rez pauses.
And it's better than you guys staring wordlessly at each other for five minutes. It'll be a moot point soon anyway. Let's go.
CNN.com still has relatively little information, though, there is a recently updated article that has someone who looks familiar (people in pink trenchcoats stand out) investigating a crime scene with a number of MiBs around him.
The captions say, "Detective Ashley is in charge of the Interpol section...."
Clicking on it to the article basically yeilds an analysis that says he is looking for the terrorists, and promises that if there's any connection between those terrorists still in custody, and the recently vanished heroes of flight 450 (who vanished, oddly, at the same time as a massive explosion cleared out an abandoned warehouse across the city -- this is also being investigated to see if it's related), such that the terrorists and the heroes were working in tandem, that he will bring them to justice.
He adds that he doubts that this is the case, as one of the heroes was very badly injured in the process, but allows that anything can be possible.
Further comments are under confidential authority until Interpol officers have decided how to handle the situation, and if you found this article interesting, you might also like to buy: American Warlord, by Tom Clancy (purchase is on amazon.com!).
Freaking spam.
That's about it, though.
~Well, that's what happened., Bjorn. I was surprised too, but I can think of enough reasons why not to bother. Anyhow, I'm all for getting moving. Love mountain hiking. We should probably get a bit of gear, water bottles and the like for the trip up though. And I have no idea where I'm going to store my comp. Got any extra room in the bag, Rezzie?~
Dracos idly typed up an email.
Dracos
Huitz:
Paul is dimly aware there are brain-phone voices passing through his mind, but doesn't really notice them; he's caught the massive, titanic sight of the rock at sunset through the window and is now staring at it rather vacantly.
Ginrai:
~One question, guys - did you bring all of our items with you and if so can I have my pipe? Other than that I'm all ready to get to the top of the mountain!~
Dracos:
~I am never tearing a pipe out of a wall for you again, Clingy Mc Clingster.~
Dracos
Bjorn:
We're not hiking to the top of the mountain, we're taking the cable car or a bus, whichever is faster. And you can't have your goddamn pipe, because we're in the middle of a fucking city, and inconspicuous people do not walk around waving plumbing.
Taking one last sip from his water, Bjorn stands and heads for the door. I'll be waiting just outside. Finish up whatever the hell you're doing, and let's get going.
Dracos:
~Awww, but that's the boring way.~
Dracos waited a few minutes and then followed.
Dracos
Rezantis:
Grunting, Nathan pushed away from the computer (after logging out), and frowned.
Over Bjorn.net, he says, We need copper coins to pay the boatman.
Huitzil:
<Huh what? Where are we going, now? I thought we shouldn't go to the Rock until tomorrow, after we've rested and had a good meal.>
Dracos:
~Hum. Dunno, might be safer to just go. Wait, Boatman? I know of only one 'boatman' that takes coins, and I thought it was gold personally. What did you hear Rez? Spill.~
Dracos
Ginrai:
~That's true. Rez, I'll ask for the pipe later on.~ Ginrai follows the others outside.
Bjorn:
We're going to Hell, Bjorn supplies, flatly. Metaphorically or not, it probably won't make a difference when we get there.
As for waiting... everyone and their Illuminati grandmaster knows that we're coming to Gibraltar. Let's not give them any more chance to stop us. Besides, I tend to suspect that food and sleep are going to be irrelevant where we're going.
Dracos:
~Fair enough. Let's see though if we can find an old coin shop around to pick up some copper coins. Be safer that way if thats what the oracle passes on. And I sincerely hope this Hades then doesn't keep the 'eat and stay here forever' premise.~
Dracos
Bjorn:
If I wasn't in favour of stopping for lunch first, I'm sure as hell not in favour of going antique shopping. A penny is a copper coin, especially anything before 1990.
Dracos:
~I know, eeh...what the hell. Let's get moving. For better or worse we can always try and improvise.~
Dracos looked around for a bus/cablecar/whatever to get to the top of gibraltar.
Dracos
Brian:
The cable-car becomes one-way after sunset, only returning tourists from the peak of the mountain.
But, they advertize two bus routes that go out after sunset -- one to Europa point (and the lighthouse) and one to the summit.
It should come by in about fifteen minutes, if you choose to take it.
Bjorn:
Top of the rock, right? Okay. Let's wait for the summit bus.
Dracos:
~Fine with me, but...um, do we really need to keep talking like this?~ Dracos checks if they need to buy tickets ahead of time and, if not, heads over to the waiting area for the summit bus and takes a seat. If it is needed, he buys tickets.
Dracos
Bjorn:
Bjorn hesitates. Probably not. Almost hurriedly, he pulls back the mindboard back from the others.
"What's the story about tickets?" he asks aloud, and wonders at how... odd it feels to be talking.
Rez:
"Well, Relm has chimed in that we should get some copper coins. Preferably as pure as possible, so I imagine copper-nickel isn't going to be good enough . . . antique dealers or some such?"
Rez checks the time, then (if it's before five), tries to find a phone book.
Huitzil:
Wait, hold on. Paul stops, and realizes that Bjorn has probably hung up.
"Wait, hold on. We're not going out before dinner. The last thing I ate was a pack of stale Sun Chips from a vending machine, and if this thing is dangerous -- which it is -- I want to die having had a beter last meal. If they already know about all of us, then two hours for dinner won't make a difference. If they plan on stopping us there, they've already got their men waiting for us wherever we're going, and they've probably been there since before any of us entered the country."
Ginrai:
"And I agree with Rez. It's a far better idea to get those copper coins instead of taking a needless risk. As for eating... well, I wouldn't mind having a nice meal before going away for what could be a long time."
Late-night antique aquisition and food-run in one. There's a damn-fine Spanish resturaunt within walking distance, though it takes a bit of hunting to find a coin-collector's shop which is still open.
After finding it, you have the option of paying about one-hundred and twenty euros per authentic ancient roman copper coin, or about two euros for a handful of various other copper coins which are only a few decades old.
Rezantis:
Rez buys several of the newer coins coins (a couple each), and the group heads back outside.
"So, food, then bus?"
This seems agreeable (though Bjorn and Phil would plainly rather see this completed as quickly as possible instead) and you compromise with getting something quality in a to-go form, then return to the bus.
Not much longer after that, you're headed towards the summit of the Rock of Gibraltar, dining on your burritos (they're not bad, actually. A palatable last meal, at least, if it comes to that), and cruising along.
It takes about twenty minutes for the bus to reach the top.
"Last bus out is at 12:30 AM," the driver warns, as you step off of the bus.
From where you are, there is a lighted bus-stop. There are a few tourists on a concrete platform (with dim lighting build into the low concrete railing) "ooooh!"ing and "aaaah!ing" at the sky above.
Once you step away from the bus stop, you can see why, though. In the darkness, or even the reduced light of the observation platform, Gibraltar lies below like a sea of sparkling jewels, and the heavens above are brightly lit, the moon not yet risen. You can see the river of the Milky Way overhead, winding across the sky.
Dracos takes a moment to appreciate the view, look around, observe the people, and generally absorb the atmosphere. Specifically he's hoping to see anything odd, magical, dangerous, Ezmereth, or that just catches his eyes.
Dracos
The area looks a bit foggy to you. And the tourists on the platform all start yawning. A lot.
A few sit down, and look like they're about to nod off.
You feel fine, though.
For some reason, your bracelets are all catching and reflecting a lot of starlight.
Dracos quickly glances back at Bjorn. ~Magic. Be prepared.~
Dracos
Bjorn grunts, softly, and then focusses on the bracelet, meditating on it.
Dracos glances up, examining the stars curiously a bit.
Dracos
It's like a bracelet, and the stars, respectively. However, the people on the observation platform do seem to be dozing off and falling asleep, one by one.
Bjorn looks around, eyes narrowing, and checks to make sure that his shield is up as strong as he can make it. Pushing the mindboard out towards the others, he says, Nathan, do you think you can get your bag out without being noticed? Just in case, I'd like to have weapons handy.
Nathan nods dubiously, producing the bag. No one seems to notice, given that they're all studying the backs of their eyelids pretty studiously.
Bjorn quickly takes Shinmyouken out of the bag, and then sets it down to his left, edge turned outwards.
And then he sits and waits.
Dracos stretches out a bit, curiously continuing to watch around them.
Dracos
From the darkness shrouding the western face of the Rock, Ezmereth emerges, walking slowly, and looking around cautiously.
Paul look around at the other tourists to see if they're all asleep by now. Of course, he already knows that they're going to be, but better to make sure.
Not a tourist stirs. Ezmereth nods in satisfaction, then turns to look at you curiously. "You've come for the trial, then?"
"Seems to be the case," Dracos answered flippantly. "As we said back then, we're in."
Dracos
"Then, follow me," he says, turning about, and walking towards the western face of the Rock.
Bjorn does not say a word, but picks up his sword and follows Ezmereth.
You're led down the western face of the rock, into the thickly wooded slopes. It's difficult to see at first, but Ezmereth pauses and fumbles for a moment in the dark, coming up with a hand-held torch after a moment. It sheds a soft green light that seems ... sourceless, somehow. You know it's coming from the torch, but no shadows are shed by anything the light touches, unless it's beyond the five meter radius of light.
There's a path through the woods, which you take carefully to avoid slipping, as it's steep. After a few dozen meters down the slope, Ezmereth's path turns sharply. When you look back, the path that's beyond the direct illumination of the torch-light doesn't look like a path at all ... unless it's a trick of the light, because of the dark? Regardless, you can't see the path where you came down, only what lies ahead.
And what's ahead is a cave in the side of the rock. The brochure that Paul pocketed on the bus indicates that the rock is riddled with caves, though....
"This is where our path takes us," Ezmereth says, nodding to himself. "Are you ready?"
Dracos is frankly smiling as some instinctual nature of his loves traveling in caves, the weirder the better.
"Let's keep moving." Dracos nodded.
Dracos
"Speak nothing once we enter, until we reach the heart of the stone," Ezmereth warns.
Inside the cave opening, it's dark. The walls are covered with aged stalactites and stalagmites. A path weaves between them, with the roof perhaps two meters high. As you go in (and down) the roof grows higher, and the walls further out.
You're only walking for perhaps ten minutes, deeper into the heart of the Rock of Gibraltar, or Hades, depending on your interpretation, when you lose sight of the walls and ceiling. The spikes here have merged, long ago, into vast columns that support what you imagine is a great roof overhead.
You proceed through this, until eventually Ezmereth leads you to a small crack in a far wall, only a meter high. This leads through myriad galleries just like the first one you passed through. Occasionally, he pauses, as though consulting some internal map and compass, and then makes a turn. You quickly lose sense of time (your watches, if you check them, no longer run, and your cell-phones are flashing 12:00 at you repeatedly), and direction. You could be led in circles for all you know ... except for the fact that you're certain you're being led down ... down ... and ever deeper.
Occasionally, in the distance, you hear running water ... or perhaps the sound of moving feet ... or a child's giggle ... or a whisper. You're not certain where it is ... maybe in the dark beyond the light of Ezmereth's torch ... or maybe in a neighboring gallery ... but the longer you hear it, the longer you're certain something is out there.
Eventually, of course, your path reaches an end. You don't know what time it is ... how long you've been walking. But this final gallery has pillars shot through with multi-faceted crystals, reflecting the green of Ezmereth's torch like a host of tiny eyes, peering at you from the darkness.... Through this room, you enter a chamber that you feel is larger -- there's a wind in this area. It's a constant updraft, and your journey ends here.
An outcropping of stone twelve meters wide, and nine long projects into darkness. You can see no walls, no floor beneath your outcropping, and no roof. This room FEELS more boundless, as when Ezmereth scuffs his foot against the stone, and kneels, knocking his knuckles on the stone, there is no echo. It's as though the area was so vast, it just consumed the sound whole.
At the sound, though, something in the depths of this cave comes to light. A pattern ... and indistinct formation of rocks. The scale is difficult to determine. You know there's water in this cavern, deep enough. It reflects the light back up, so you know it's moving, too. You know there's wind, soft as it is, breezing up from below.
But that wind suddenly fades to nothing, and then halts. A slow, rumbling noise, low and quiet sounds, vast enough to echo in this chamber, and is quickly repeated a second time. The echoes fade, and the wind returns, this time being drawn down, beneath you. The massive rock formation remains indistinct even with the lighting. It looks like a jumble of rocks ... or, perhaps, with some imagination, huge sections of rough stone piping coiled in the center of this massive underground cathedral.
"This is where the Earth sleeps," Ezmereth whispers. "This is where you step beyond our world, and into the dream."
There is a long moment of silence, lasting ... you don't know how long. But the wind dies, once more.
Again, two echoing rumblings sound.
And again, the wind resumes, reversing direction.
"This is your final chance to flee," Ezmereth adds, very quietly. "If you are willing, then we shall proceed."
Note: To Phil's eyes, the entire room is blurred with some low-level magic power that completely saturates the room into an indistinct fuzzy wall of color and noise.
Bjorn doesn't say anything in response to Ezmereth's warning -- but netiher does he make any sign to retreat. Instead, he simply stands there, holding his sword, watching Ezmereth expectantly.
Dracos shakes his head dizzily, keeping focused on Ezmereth. Dracos whispers back, "We will proceed."
"Very well," Ezmereth whispers. "Stand in this circle."
He bows his head. Lines begin to glow in the ground beneath you, forming a circle, and then shapes ... sigils ... runes ... symbols, undoubtedly. To your eyes, they glow. The color is white, and you see that they rise above the ground, but cast a shadow. If Ezmereth's color wheel is accurate, then the truly important part is not the light, but the shadow. The black of Earth.
The color brightens a bit, and then ... you all die.
Your feel as though an integral part of yourself -- perhaps your soul? -- was torn from your body, and cast out of reality.
You don't know where you are.
You don't know what's happening.
You don't even know what you look like in this strange jumble of sensation.
Everything blurs together in a chaotic sensory overload, colors, tastes, touches, smells, sounds -- all of these things mixing into a solid background of sensation that blinds you, deafens you, overwhelms you in every possible way you can imagine, and soon finds new ones to assault your minds ... except for one constant.
You know you are not alone.
You can feel, in this roiling miasma of chaos, each other. You can sense a bond, somehow, in all senses, cutting through the noise, binding you together, and dragging you through this sea of madness.
And then all sensation fades, and it becomes dark.
...and you sleep.
Here ends the prologue of the Day After Tomorrow.
We now continue on to Chapter One: The Book of Earth (http://pishoque.net/phpBB2/viewtopic.php?t=879).