The Wolf's Head Tavern is a two story building. The path across the bridge leads up to a set of six stairs that climb up to a spacious covered verandah that runs around the entire tavern. Above the stairs is an old wooden sign with a wolf's head painted on it. The paint appears new, but the wood doesn't, as though the sign has been repainted recently.

Inside, a fire burns directly in front of you as you enter the door, but the temperature in the room is far from being too hot to bear, in fact, it is just comfortable. To your left, is a long bar running the entire length of the common room, save for a small stairwell that runs up the stairs to the rooms.

The rest of the common room is filled with tables and chairs - plus three booths in the corner to your right for more private liaisons and meetings.

It had been a long time since he'd ventured to a place like this.

It had been a long time for a lot of things, actually.

He was dressed in well-worn jeans, a faded red tshirt and a leather jacket. Heavy leather army boots strode across the cobblestone floor of the tavern as he made his way to the bar.

"Scotch." He said, "On the rocks."

With his drink served, the dark haired man made his way to a table against a wall. His dark eyes scanned the empty tavern, as he sat down, back against the wall. He knew well enough that even that wasn't safe in a place like this, but it was the best that he was going to do.

Taking a sip of the drink in his hand, he waved his hand to the barman.

"Actually, send over the bottle." He said across the bar.

It felt like she had been on the road for weeks, when in fact it had been two days. Aalyssa finally felt certain she was far enough from home to relax and she grew tired of eating what she could kill. Her eyes lit up when she spotted the tavern and she hurried across the bridge so she could enter it.

The scent of ale and meat cooking greeted her as she found a table and tossed her cloak upon the seat. "An ale, please," she said to the barman before she sat down with her own back against the wall.

Sliver gulped down the scotch left in the glass in one mouthful, and poured himself another shot from the bottle that now rested on the table. His eyes gazed into the fire, lost in his own thoughts, when the door opened again. He looked up from his reverie for a moment as Aalyssa entered, and then let his gaze flick back to the flames dancing in the fireplace.

"Quiet night." He said.

His voice was audible enough to be heard throughout the bar. His eyes, though, remained fixed on the fire, leaving it unclear as to whether he was speaking to anyone in particular, or simply to himself. He took a sip from the glass in his hand once more, curling his lips around the sharp taste of the scotch.

Aalyssa quirked a smile. "Yes, it appears so. Still, to a weary traveller, quiet sounds good. No fighting, no having to hunt for food. I can just...relax." But even as she spoke, her sharp green eyes were taking in every part of the tavern. While she felt she was far enough from home, there was no telling who her parents may have sent after her.

He spun around slowly, leaving the back fo the chair primarily against the wall as he shifted his gaze to look across at where Aalyssa was seated.

"A weary traveller is usually going somewhere, or leaving somewhere else." He said, "Which is it for you?"

"Leaving somewhere," Aalyssa admitted before drinking some of her ale. "I decided it was time to see the world on my own," she added as she turned in her chair to face him. "I found myself not really fitting in back home. It was time for a change."

"I see." Sliver said. "Didn't really fit in? What's wrong with you then?"

Sliver knew well enough the situation, running away meant that you couldn't stay. Not being able to stay was usually because you were different. He knew that side of things well enough. He had been different right from birth, but it had only been after those first couple of years that he had discovered just how different.

It was one thing, though, to be accepted somewhere else. When they had all been decimated, though, it left him with nothing. Nowhere to be accepted, he was alone, and there was very little in the way of a solution.

Walking down the stairs from his room, Peter nods to the couple chatting at one of the tables and makes his way to the bar.

He takes a moment or two to select a bottle of red wine, and allows the barman to pour him a glass.  For a moment he swirls the glass and then sniffs at it before saying something quietly to the barman.


Then something on one of the walls catches his eye, and with another quiet comment to the barman, he leaves the bottle on the bar and walks across to examine one of the pictures.

In reply to Sliver (msg #8):

"I'd like to be able to say nothing was wrong with me," Aalyssa replied. "I grew up unwanted and when I tried to leave home and be an apprentice, since I was never courted, I discovered the entire village had been poisoned against me."

Meriwether arrived inside & allowed his eyes to adjust to the lighting. Seeing that besides the bartender, three others were also present. He tipped his bowler to all three in turn & made his way to the bar. As he reached it, the Englishman took out his pocket watch & glanced at it. The Bloody thing had stopped...

Meriwether looked up to the man behind the bar "I am quite famished my good fellow. Do you have anything to eat by chance? I could go with a spot of tea with it but while I wait, a shot of your best whiskey! Irish if you have it?"

He looked about him at the other guests . All looked strangely dressed to him & yet all felt quite right somehow. Without looking back the Englishman spoke to he man behind the bar "Where are we my good fellow?"

The stout man behind the bar sat the shot of whiskey upon the bar then went about getting the man before the bar his food...

Peter turned as the new guest arrived, and nodded a greeting in return when the man half removed his hat and then replaced it.

As he looked at the man he noticed the unusual devices in holders at his belt and a slight frown passed across his face.  Returning to the bar to collect his bottle of wine he greets the man.  "Travelled far?" he asks.

Meriwether glanced at the man beside him. He was quite different... his ears, his dress, & his manner. Different but in this place right somehow. The Englishman threw back his shot. A small smile came to his face unbidden. The whiskey was good... in fact the best he had ever tasted. Its warmth quickly spread throughout his body. Fortifying him in a way.

Meriwether then looked back at the man next to him & cleared his throat "Please forgive my rough manner!"

The Shootist snapped his pocket watch closed & gave the man a half bow.

" Traveled far? It is hard to say really. I appear to be lost but this place... well it seems right somehow. My name is Smythe, Meriwether Lewis Smythe & I am at your service."

"Peter Gasgano," The half elf offers, "traveller and sometime Herald to the Court of Galinia" he says with an inclination of the head, but then he continues with a slight frown  "But how, may I ask, are you 'at my service'?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:46, Sun 25 Jan 2009.

Court of what? the Englishman thought. Seeing the frown upon the other man's face, Meriwether knew they were use to two different customs & manners.

Meriwether gave the man a sly smile as he turned to receive his food & tea "Just a matter of speech my good fellow. I meant literally that I am pleased to meet you & would be of assistance in any way that I may. Now then... what was this court you mentioned? Gal... forgive me but I have not heard of it before now. Herald did you say?"

The barkeep brought over a cup of steaming tea & a bowl of hardy stew. Both smelled delicious.

Meriwether said to the bartender "I say! Do you have any sugar my good fellow?"

In reply to Aalyssa Penwern (msg #10):

As Peter came down the stairs, and then Meriwether entered the tavern as well, Sliver gave a light nod to each of them as they entered. His attention was still on the woman he spoke to, though.

"And you are yet, no different to any of them?" He pressed, "An unusual situation indeed."

She nodded to Meriwether then glanced at the other man. "Aside from all of the other girls wanting to hide and be protected rather than fight, as I do, no, no difference at all.

"Ahh." Peter responds as the man explains his strange terms,  "An interesting turn of phrase.  I will remember it." he says with a nod towards the man.  "Galinia?  It is a small country on the coast a long way from here. And for my services I was given the post of State Herald, responsible for drawing up the patents for those the Earl appointed to the 'Order of the Sword Reforged'.  Actually, I was his librarian, for a while, as well." he says,as an after thought.  The thought of the hours he had spent cataloging brings a small smile to his face as he continues.  "However, that was a many years ago and in a different place." and there is, perhaps, a trace of regret in his voice as he speaks.

"But what of you?  You speak in style I am not accustomed to, and nor is your style of clothing familiar to me.  I would be interested to know something of your country." The half elf asks before he takes a sip of his wine.

"That is most interesting indeed." Sliver said, his eyes also slipping once more to the other two men in the tavern, a curious mix always made it to these places, and he could not help but smile to himself as he noticed their mutual confusion attempting to be sorted out.

It was not the first time he had been in a place like this, a melting pot for people of all sorts and varieties. He could not help but smile - it had been in a tavern, just similar to this one, where he had first met Eshana.

"My name is..." He paused, "John, by the way." He said to Aalyssa, tipping the bottle and half filling the glass.

"Greetings, John. I am Aalyssa," she replied with a smile. "Yes, I suppose it is an interesting situation. Uncomfortable at times, of course. So now I wish to make my fortune and then settle down at some point."

Meriwether sipped his tea & smelled the stew. A slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He then stopped long enough to answer the man.

"Well, to be perfectly honest, my career has not been so illustrious as yours for sure. I am, of late, from a place called Bent Creek, in the United States. Though I was originally born & raised across the pond in merry ole England. I started out as a member of the local Gentry but was not satisfied. So I went exploring. I ended up as a hire gun in the Americas you see."


He then arched an eyebrow at the other man "A Herald you say. To an Earl no less! Jolly good! My father, the Major, once was invited to meet the Queen, though he did not serve at court. A war hero of sorts."

At this the man sipped his tea & chuckled under his breath...

Sliver arched an eyebrow, taking a moment to sip his drink thoughtfully. He stretched his legs out, arching his back a little before leaning over the table.

"Make your fortune, you say? Do you have a plan for this, or are you just hoping it will fall into your lap?"

"Oh, not necessarily fall in my lap, I know that won't happen. I'm keeping my ears open for word on anything that I might join in to make it. Or even something that I might do."

     The door relented as the former Roman soldier entered with the howling winds at his back. The heat from the fire felt good, he hoped that the germanic tribesmen would let him gather his warmth before killing him. With this thought he pushed across the room quickly. Trying not to meet any eyes, and knowing any minute now the flailing will begin Quintus rushes to the fire and stands close awaiting the blows that are sure to come.

A chuckle slipped past his lips, easily flowing across the space in the tavern. Sliver was about to answer, when the door opened again. Sliver arched a brow at the outfit being worn by the new entrant; it was certainly not that he expected everyone to be dressed in normal clothing, but this was something new altogether. He looked like an ancient soldier - greek, or roman, or something. Sliver watched Quintus rush through the room and stop by the fireplace.

He shrugged, and turned his attention back to Aalyssa.

"Well," He said. "Fame and fortune may not be found in a place such as this; but I can assure you, I've met people, and heard even more stories that a place like this could well be the place to start looking."

"That would be a definite plus.  For tonight, I just desire food. I want to be a little further from home unless I can find some sort of adventure that takes me further away," Aalyssa said.

     After a few minutes of warming near the fire, Quintus allows his attention to drift out and actually hear what was going on in the room. There were no shouts of anger, it was business as usual. A few looks over his shoulder told him that there were several strangely dressed people, all speaking roman though with the coldest and oddest accents he had ever heard. He recognized none of the guttural tones of the germanics, and  none of the fur dress he had cut through so many times. As the snow and frost worked it's way out of his breastplate and skirting, Quintus turned to the taproom. Feeling a bit braver, Quintus ordered Spanish wine as the barmaid makes her way through. Pulling his salt pouch from beneath his breastplate, he asks the rate for a pitcher of wine and two meals. looking around the room and trying to decide who would be his best options at a friend.

Sliver let his ankles cross underneath the table, leaning back once more in the chair and raising his glass to his lips again.

"Well, you're also at the right place for adventure." He said with a smile. "Speaking of food, you make a good point. Excuse me, it's been good to share your company."

Sliver stood up, and carried the third-empty bottle back over to the bar, with the glass now empty. He placed both of them on the bar, and in turn, dropped several gold coins next to them. The coins were quickly swept up into the meaty palm of the bartender, who nodded in acknowledgement to Sliver.

Sliver spun on his boots, a soft squeak sounded ever so faintly as the leather rubbed against the stone. Shrugging his jacket over his shoulders, Sliver made his way across the bar, to the door, and pulled it open, walking outside.

“Illustrious?” Peter half chuckles. “I was made librarian after I tagged along with a group that travelled the coast road, and then Librarian and Squire after worked through the inner lands. I was along as cook and nurse” Gasgano shrugs as he dismisses the achievements that won him those positions.  “However, that was all twenty years, or so, ago.”

“But your father met the Queen?  That is something.  I might have met half a dozen lords of one type or another, but we didn’t even have a Queen.  The highest rank the Raven King would sanction was Prince.  We had Kings and Queens in the past, of course, but nothing as large as a kingdom survived in our region.” He says softly.

“But tell me of this ‘pond’ you speak of.  Are there really two countries separated by a pond, or is that just a different town across a pond?” Peter asks not understanding the references, “And what are these guns that you hire?  It is not a term that I am familiar with.” The half elf asks, sounding like he is really interested in the answers.

Meriwether took a bite of the stew & savored the hearty taste of it. As he listened to the gentleman speak he sipped his tea & then nodded his approval to the barkeep.

The Englishman just smiled at the other's reference to the word Pond  "Just a figure of speech my good fellow. Tis the nick name of the Atlantic Ocean, which separates the States & my homeland England! Though there are broader stretches, its still some distance betwixt the countries."

As the man mentions guns, Meriwether's eyes widen.

His watch has stopped... the man's appearance is strange as is this very place... has not heard of guns... the Shootist thought.

He then slid back his frock coat to expose the butts of his twin pistols "These are guns... pistols really. Navy Colts to be exact."

He took one out & twirled it about his index finger deftly, both forward & back wards, before he reversed the spin & held out the pistol, butt first, toward his bar companion.

"Go a head my good man. If you wish to look it over I mean? Tis loaded though, so be so kind as to not touch the trigger."

The Englishman pointed out the small lever within the trigger guard...
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:53, Wed 28 Jan 2009.

Peter took the gun between his fore finger and thumb and held it up for inspection.  He turned it one way and the other, his eyes taking in the trigger, cylinder and hammer, his face a picture of concentration.  "And what does it do?" he asked as he finished his initial examination.

     Eeng-land, could he be talking of that nasty little isle with those barbaric Angles on it? His dress is of a cut I don't recognize. Too many layers, odd materials, except the belt. Those contraptions he handled, looked like candlesticks, but they are much more dangerous I am sure of it. Where is the blade? The warrior in Quintus told him not to dismiss the odd little pieces of metal as inconsequential. "May I join your table?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:33, Thu 29 Jan 2009.

Meriwether raised his eyebrows at the Herald's question. He indeed did not know anything about guns then...

"Well sir, they are weapons. Their main intent is that of protecting oneself & taking lives. As we must know the tool, which is the way I think of them, is only as good or as bad as the man who wields them."

He then drew the other pistol's twin, without the same flourish but with amazing speed & leveled to a wall across the room. He somehow knew it would not work but he would give it a go.

"Now then you aim it thus... then pull back the hammer... "

The Englishman then pulled it back the lever with an audible click!

"... then you pull the trigger!"

There was another click but it did not fire! Meriwether spun the cylinder & found it was completely loaded. Though the pistols could misfire, the Englishman doubted that this was the case. There was something indeed strange about this place.

He turned back to the half-elf "It would seem they do not work... at least within the confines of this building. Perchance I could arrange another demonstration outside at a later date?"

He holstered the colt & was waiting for a reply when another approached them. Dressed as a Roman no less!

"Well of course my good fellow! I have no objection if my companion here does not."
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:55, Wed 28 Jan 2009.

     After the demonstration Quintus thought he understood the contraptions. They resembled the spear throwers, though this was much smaller and he couldn't see the ropes or the propelling items.
     Seating himself at the offer, ready of course to leave if there is objection. "I see you have a good meal before you, though I have not. so since I am buying a meal, I hope to offer you one as well my friend." Aiming this last comment to Peter, Quintus calls over the barmaid. As she approaches she brings his pitcher of Spanish wine, and cups to go around. Offering the pitcher to the table Quintus fills his cup and drinks.

Peter nodded a greeting as the Roman joined them  "Of course." he agreed as the man sat at the table.

Carefully, Peter passed the six-shooter back to Meriweather, "A demonstration would certainly be interesting.  I see you  pull the trigger mechanism, but what does that do?  Dies it have something to do with the part you spun around?" the sage asked, frowning slightly as he considered the weapons.


"Not for me thanks" he responded as the Roman offered wine and a meal. "I have a bottle here." He said smiling and indicating the rich red wine on the table, "and I ate earlier." The half elf continued with a smile as he introduced himself.  "By the way, I am Peter Gasgano."

     "Ah, you miss out my friend. Wine from the coasts of Spain can not be beat anywhere in the world. But I rattle on, I am Quintus Maxximus, legionairre in Caesar's great army. That is, former legionairre." The soldier's hand strays to his scabbard, a great loss apparent on his face.

Aalyssa walked up to the bar and ordered some food. She stood there and waited for it then carried it back to her table.

"Perhaps you should try some of this, Quintus." Peter said as he poured a little of the deep red wine into one of the cups that Quintus ordered.  "Is is known as a burgundy,  deep, soft and full of flavour.  It is certainly my favourite amongst the red wines."

Peter's brows drew together into a slight frown, almost as if he was trying to remember something, then he shrugged slightly.  "When I was in The Isles, a great empire with soldiers dressed like you, had held sway in that land years before hand.  But I do not recall the name Caesar.  Did you lose your sword?" the sage asked as the hand movement drew his eyes towards the empty scabbard.

     "More like forced retirement my friend," Quintus accepts a bit of the burgundy as a show of geniality, though having his heart set on his poison of choice the flavor is imbittered a bit by the predisposition. "A good vintage my friend, you have a fine tongue for such tasting. No, I did not lose it, I was allowed to carry it as far as the camp edges, then I would have been shot down if i had attempted to continue with a command sword and no command. For I would have been judged traitor. So I left it behind as i ventured into this forest. A few too many free words in a not so free world my friend. I have been slave before, and earned my freedom, in doing so i have made enemies in the Senate. It was by their decree that i be relieved of command and issued forth to the germanic wolves."

"Slave?" Peter asked.  "Something I have managed to avoid, fortunately." he continued with a smile.  He paused for a moment to take a sip of his wine before he continued "And again, I have always been fortunate politically, although I have always been more of an observer than an active participant in court life.  As I was saying to Meriwether here," Peter paused to indicate the shootist, " one of my positions, in the past, was to record and archive some aspects of court life.  One then develops the persona of a chronicler rather than a participant.  But how did you come to fall out with your political masters?" the sage asked.

     A fierce grin crosses the soldier's face, "by having a backbone Peter, politicians hate being reminded of what they gave up for their positions of power. I was sold as a gladiator, by my "master" when the whip couldn't tame me. I survived 50 matches, hard and furious life, but that was the offer I was given by the man who bought me. Live through 50 matches, win for me, and I shall make you a free man. You get better fighters if you offer them something other than slavery you see. And you rarely have to follow through with the offer, unless the person is exceptionally lucky. If he is that lucky, then you have made more than enough off of your winnings to cover what he cost you. When I was offered my freedom I had thought to take up the gladiator business after I made some money in the legions."
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:59, Thu 29 Jan 2009.

"And now?" the sage prompted.

     Returning to the present, Quintus makes eye contact with Peter. "<yellow>Now, I just don't know. I don't dare return to Rome, and there is little to be made at any of the arena's that I would not be hunted at. I don't know. I just wanted to get warm, and out of the snow. Then i would have another choice. Though I thought this place was run by the german tribes. I expected to be dead by now. I am not sure what is to happen in the near future. Though I travelled only a few miles in the forest. I don't feel the impending presence of the legions. Where is here?<yellow>"

“Where is anywhere?” Peter mused rhetorically.  He spent a moment or two to gather his thoughts before replying to the legionnaire.  “This may come as a bit of a shock to you Quintus, but there are many different worlds, and these woods seem to be a gate that pens into a number of different worlds.  Here you are between worlds, you are no longer in the world that your Senate runs, no longer in the world of your enemies.  Instead you are at a crossroads, a place where different worlds meet.” Peter broke off and watched carefully to see the effect his words had on Quintus and Merriweather.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:43, Thu 29 Jan 2009.

     With a bit of trepidation, "Have I started on that last walk? Is this a waystation between home and Pluto?" The man didn't seem overly surprised or forlorn, just disappointed.

"Pluto?" Peter thought for a moment and then asked "Pluto is the land of the dead?"

     "Pluto is the ruler of the land of the dead. He decides your fate, and whether you shall diminish in the River Styx, or thrive on the plains of Elyssium. He is the brother of Jupiter, ruler of all the gods." with pride, care, and love the soldier offers his explanation.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:40, Thu 29 Jan 2009.

Peter nodded as he listened to the man’s explanation.  "No, this isn’t the way to the land of the dead and its ruler.  It is a crossroads between different worlds of the living.  See Meriwether here.  You saw his guns" and Peter stumbles slightly over the strange word, "Is there any like that in your world?  I certainly haven’t seen anything like that in those worlds that I have travelled to."
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:28, Thu 29 Jan 2009.

     "That is a good thing to know, then if I am not in my world, and you are not in yours, then can we get home, and what if we don't want to? This raises too many questions to ponder till after i have eaten." The last remark spoken as his hearty and thick stew is brought out. There are figs and dates on the side plate, with a two hand portion loaf of a dark crusted bread.

Meriwether was content to listen to the two men talk. Sometimes a wise man spoke little & listened much. Unfortunately Meriwether was never that wise but for tonight at least...

He sipped his tea & nodded his approval of the stew "The stew is spot on sir! As is the tea. Roman eh? The Romans settled much of my England. It would appear that men may come not only from different worlds but indeed different times from the same world! Tis a mouthful!"

With that the Englishman stuffed his mouth with another bite of his own stew...

"Now that is an interesting thought, and not something I have ever considered." Peter responded to Meriweather's observation.  The sage thought for a moment or two, before continuing.   "I don't think I have ever travelled in time." he added before moving onto the question Quintus asked.  "I don't know about this place, although I did once visit a portal world that had residents of its own.  Some had escaped there, running from something, other had just sort of drifted by and stayed.  It was a strange place, all underground but completely self sufficient with its own agriculture and craftsmen."  The sage concluded with a nod towards Quintus.

"Excuse me Miss", Peter suddenly called across to Aalyssa.  "I couldn't help but notice your companion has left.  Please join us if you would like to.  After all an evening in a strange inn alone, is rarely enjoyable."

carefully Peter poured a little more of the wine into his glass and held it up to the light to appreciate the colour.  Suddenly he swirled the glass, making the deep red liquid climb up the side of the glass, before lowering it to his nose and breathing in the aroma.  A smile crossed his lips briefly as he inhaled, before eventually taking a sip of the liquid.

     Continuing the stew that he had tucked himself into, Quintus offers one of the cups and the pitcher of wine to the young lady. His attention only slightly diverted from dinner, he does notice she has already procured some dinner for herself as well.

Meriwether ate & sipped his tea. All along he listened intently & observed the woman in detail for the first time. There was something familiar & yet altogether different about her. The Englishman was curious now...

"Yes! Please do! We have plenty of room it would seem. Just talking & guessing you see. Your thoughts would be most welcome. You seem familiar to me. Have we perchance met?"

The door opened.

Standing in the doorway was a woman, blonde hair hanging down to her shoulders under a black akubra. Her eyes were blue, piercing into the tavern as she let them scan over each of the patrons inside, warily assessing the risk associated with each person before moving on to the next.

She wore a red and black checked flannellette shirt, and a jacket that looked like it had been constructed out of a variety of animal skins rested over it. She shrugged the jacket off, and hung it on the coat rack just inside the door.

Around her waist was a black leather belt, but more importantly, holstered on either hip were two pistols. Black jeans covered her legs, and black boots completed the look.

She closed the door behind her, stepping across the floor to the bar.

"The usual mate." She said to the barkeep.

The barkeep nodded, filling a glass with ice, and then pouring it to the top with rum. The woman nodded her appreciation, leaning with one elbow on the bar as she let her eyes once more scan the tavern and its occupants.

"If you will excuse me for a moment?"  The sage rises and heads off towards the bathroom

Meriwether sipped the last of his tea & gave the sage a friendly nod "But of course sir!"

He then stood himself & strode to the bar. Finding himself there with both women, Meriwether gave them both a half bow.

"The name is Smythe, Meriwether Lewis Smythe. Pleased to meet you both. We have a table... "

With this, the Englishman hitched a thumb back where Quintus remained sitting & eating "... & we would be delighted if you cared to join us?"

Then he turned to the bartender "I say my good fellow, might you top off my tea then? Jolly good by the way. I have not had that blend in a month of Sundays!"

Joe blinked as he entered the tavern. There was the Englishman, dressed as uselessly as ever. Joe, as usual, looked like the cowpuncher he wasn't. He let out an exasperated snort and strode over.

"Meriwether, didn't you get my telegram?" he said as he pulled up a chair. "I had 'em spell it out proper and everything..."

Joe stopped and looked around. This sure as heck didn't look like Cheyenne.

"Meriwether," he began again, "This ain't Wyoming anymore, ain't it?"

Amanda raised an eyebrow at the Englishman who greeted her, and for a brief moment her eyes then slipped to the other woman sitting at her own table alone, eating her meal. She had a soft smirk on her face, although that was actually a cover, she was in fact doing everything that she could to keep from laughing.

It certainly wasn't that she was surprised to find Meriwether here, or Quintus for that matter. She knew her way around the dimensional planes well enough to know that she could come across anyone here, but there were times when the patronage could certainly be amusing.

"Amanda." She said, her Australian accent slipping strongly through her name, "I'll be glad to join you for a drink."

She picked up her glass, waiting for Smythe to have his tea topped up, to walk back to the table together.

Meriwether looked between the two woman as a slow smile played along his lips "Why by the taste of the whiskey & tea I quite thought it heaven. Now that you have arrived Joseph, I must completely rethink things."

However the Englishman's warm smile took the sting out of his words. He strode over to his long lost friend "No Joseph! Not Wyoming nor is it Kansas anymore! However, welcome just the same!'

Meriwether extended a slender gloved hand in welcome.

He then turned slightly "This is Amanda. Amanda this is Spanish Joe Vesper! I prefer Joseph though he does not! Please do join us!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:02, Sun 01 Feb 2009.

Joe shook the Englishman's hand gingerly, as if he wasn't too sure it was real. It seemed real enough...

When Amanda spoke, he mistook her Australian accent for an English one. "Aww, hell, Meriwether," he said. "We're in England, ain't we? I don't wanna be in England. Everyone's got funny saddles and funny ways of speaking and they dress like they go to church everyday."

Joe had never been east of Ohio, of course.

Forcing down the impulse to tell Meriwether where he would find heaven, she turned as his attention was also distracted by the newcomer to the tavern.

Amanda was an interesting combination of feminine beauty that seemed slightly hidden behind an air of strength and independence, she was definitely not the type who was going to be won over by flattery and buying drinks, though.

She did, though, laugh at Joe's description of the English.

"Sounds like a pom to me." She said with a grin, extending a hand to Joe. "I'm Amanda, and no, you're not in England either."

Meriwether tsked his tongue "Now, now Joseph we have two of the politer sex here. We should watch our language, shall we? Oh! In all the excitement it would appear I left my tea. What would you have to drink Joseph? I highly recommend the stew you see. Just ask Quintus... the Roman there. If you will excuse me & Amanda... do have a seat. The last woman Joseph chose to bite was a Comanche I'm thinking. Your accent & appearance assures your safety what?"

The Englishman strolled to the bar...
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:12, Sun 01 Feb 2009.

"Hello, Miss Amanda," said Joe hesitantly. He looked about. It sure as heck didn't look like any saloon he had ever been in.

He decided he'd ask what "pom" meant later. "You gotta explain this to me, Meriwether," he called out after the Englishman. "Since you're the one who's done all the book reading and you're good at expositioning things. They got whiskey in this place?"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:18, Sun 01 Feb 2009.

Amanda smiled, taking her glass and moving across to the table that Smythe had come from, looking across at the roman, he appeared a little more timid and quiet than what the Englishman was.

"G'day." She said, extending a hand as she sat down, "Amanda's the name, apparently your mate Smythe suggested I join you all for a drink."

Meriwether thanked the man behind the bar "Thank you my good fellow! May I call you Duncan?"

He then took his tea back to the table "Not sure myself Joseph. Let's just say its not anything I have ever encountered. People from different times & worlds would be my guess. Somewhere out in the Ether, mayhaps Mars itself. Does have a river right outside. Could double as a canal I suppose... "

He heard Joe's question as he passed "Of course! Just ask Duncan for the Irish. It was mighty tasty. Oh by the way, our guns do not work within the tavern it would seem."
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:22, Sun 01 Feb 2009.

Aalyssa finished her food and took her plates over to the bar, then went back to the table. She gathered up her cloak and her bow and headed for the door.

Meriwether waved a hand at Aalyssa "Hey there! I say! Will you not come by & join us? We are just knocking about ideas, you know thinking about where we are what?"

Meriwether smiled & he winked "Five heads are better than one they say, whomever they are?"

Joe nodded as if he was understanding this. Which of course he wasn't. "Ether" and "Mars" didn't sound promising. But when the Englishman spoke of a river he felt better. He didn't like the sound of his guns not working in the tavern, either.

"Well, that's nice," he said. "How do we get back to Wyoming? Think we double back south?" He took a sip of the whiskey. "'Course with this kind of whiskey, maybe we should stay a while."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:26, Sun 01 Feb 2009.

"Certainly," Aalyssa agreed. As she approached the group, she felt the tips of her ears stick out through her hair, and she quickly adjusted her hair so they were covered.

"Joseph Vesper," said Joe, touching his hat to this other lady. He thought for a moment that he has seen she had pointy ears. But he put that down to the strange, good-tasting whiskey.

"You an Injun?" She looked far too pale for that, and her bow was funny, but it was all Joe could think of.

Meriwether thought about what Joe had said "Well I am not at all sure which way is south. You know that all too well Joseph. Never have been a woodsman. However, I think we should just sit back enjoy the moment. Who knows, we will probably wake up & this will all be over soon enough!"

He then said to the woman with the bow once more "Joseph recommends the whiskey."

"My name is Smythe, Meriwether Lewis Smythe. At your service. I think not Indian Joseph."
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:35, Sun 01 Feb 2009.

"Aalyssa Penwern," she said in introduction. "No, I'm not an indian," she added. Then she said, her eyes round, "Who or what is an indian?"

     Standing as the ladies approached, Quintus took the profferred arm just below the elbow in a warrior's grasp. "I am Quintus Maxximus. Strength and Honor."
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:38, Sun 01 Feb 2009.

Meriwether arched an eyebrow in Joe's direction "Would like to answer that question Joseph?"

He then sipped his tea & sighed as he faced the new woman & smiled...
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:40, Sun 01 Feb 2009.

Joe nearly said, "Them people we mostly been fightin' these past many years." But he had this gut feeling she may not be part of "we". It was all very strange.

"My mistake, ma'am," he said, lifting his hat by way of apology. Meriwether was often right about things. Maybe they should just sit back and enjoy themselves.

Amanda had introduced herself to Quintus, returning his introduction politely. However with the continued questioning going on around her, she couldn't help but laugh. She stood back, placing her glass on the table and looking around at each of them.

"Okay, let's just put a hold on all of this here." She said.

"We're not on Earth anymore, or...well, technically yes we are still on Earth, but we're also on any other world that you might want to imagine. This place, and the forest around it is a sort of junction between dimensions."

She paused a moment, realizing that they probably had no idea what she was talking about. She actually let her eyes flick over each of the people. It was enough potential information to actually cause someone to freak out.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:42, Sun 01 Feb 2009.

Aalyssa cared little where she was as long as she was far from home. "Yes, it's sort of a point where all times and lands converge. Yes. That's it." She had no idea where that knowledge had come from though.

Meriwether sipped & smiled once more "See Joseph... Bedlam!"

He threw back his head & laughed "Better than Hades or... the other place at any rate."

"Better than Hades or England?" Amanda said, smirking across at Smythe. "I'll drink to that."

In reply to Quintus Maxximus (msg #52):

A worn out old warhorse stumbles into the bar, looking as if this would not be the first, or the last, drink of the day.

Meriwether looked at Amanda with an expression of feigned hurt "I say! Tis called Merry ole England for a reason! Comments like that is what caused chaps like me to have a stiff upper lip what!"

He had to laugh at that as well.

"I dare say... but someone else has staggered in?"

Joseph blinked and then closed his eyes and tried to absorb all that. He decided it might help if he had another shot of whiskey, so he did.

"Long as I'm back in Cheyenne on the 18th," he said, finally. He should be able to find a way back, he always did. Joe looked around. "Miss Amanda, they got any law or bounty work needs doin' in these parts? I only got fifteen dollars on me, and I'm saving for a new Winchester."

In reply to Meriwether Lewis Smythe (msg #81):

Fella's, what's the poison o' the day eay?

"Yes, it does appear so." She battled the urge to go help the poor man, he more than likely wouldn't appreciate it.

Amanda shrugged, looking at Joe as he asked the question, letting Aalyssa and Smythe deal with the old man who had managed to stagger in.

"I might be able to find something. I'll tell you now, though, you might not be hunting cowboys or indians, though."

Meriwether gave the man a wink & a smile "Joseph here recommends the whiskey. Irish & neat eh Joseph? However, in dreams one can usually have whatever they like. Of course Joseph, the 18th will be just fine!"

In reply to Aalyssa Penwern (msg #84):

Porter stumbles in to a barstool, with a clumpy gait, that would almost befit a ships deck in a rough sea. Avoiding actually touching anyone as he tilts through the crowd. "Make ma a double keep" Says porter, slapping down a couple of coins. Porter then sits with his back to the bar and surveys the room again. It's hard to say, but the edges of his mustach and beard seem to be hiding a smile on the old man's face

"Well, Miss Amanda, them wanted men aren't always cowboys," said Joe. "Sometimes they're townsfolk or miners or what have you. Don't like gettin' paid to bring in scalps, though. I mean, I'll hunt renegades, but I ain't scalpin' women or kids for money."

He nodded happily at Meriwether. "The whiskey's pretty good," he affirmed. "You know, Miss Amanda, Meriwether here's better with a pistol than I am, and I'm pretty good. Might want to find him some work, too."

     "The air is getting a bit thick in here ladies and senators, I shall head to t>he porch to calm it a bit." With that the Roman soldier takes his pitcher from the table and moves outside to the porch. {edit} "Any who wish may join me in this pitcher of fine Spanish wine, I just feel the need for some fresh air."
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:03, Sun 01 Feb 2009.

In reply to Spanish Joe Vesper (msg #88):

T€he old man tilts back the first, then the second drink in time, then sets the empties back on the counter.

Meriwether gave Joseph a half bow "Why thank you Joseph. Yes Miss Amanda, just what would we be... hunting? And please do not underestimate Joseph. He is as good as they come."

Giving the old man at the bar a smile he turned to Aalyssa "I know this is strange... to say at least yet you seem so familiar to me. Have we met by chance?"

In reply to Quintus Maxximus (msg #89):

"I'll join you laddy, fresh airs are good for the ol' rummitoid" says Porter, and he shuffles off toward the door as well, swiping a mostly emptied, abandon mug off the bar.

Amanda chuckled, giving a nod to Joe.

"I'm not talking kids or women either, mate." She said, "I don't hunt people. Not usually, anyway."

She gave a nod to Quintus as he was on his way out the door. "Probably see you out there in a few."

In reply to Meriwether Lewis Smythe (msg #91):

Aalyssa tilted her head to one side. "Why...I don't know. I've never been to this England you speak of. Perchance you've been to Tielle?"

Joe blinked. "Well, I guess I could hunt game to earn my keep," he said. "Seems kind of a waste, though. What do you hunt, Miss Amanda?"

Meriwether shook his head "No! I think I would remember someone so charming or a place so beautiful... I mean it would have to be."

He then sipped his tea quickly as he tried to cover an awkward moment "Mayhaps you remind me of another. We are talking adventures here. Are you good with that bow then? I nearly took an arrow outside Silverload once."

He then turned to Amanda "Have you frequented this establishment before then?"

"The things of nightmares." Amanda said, looking at Joe with a rather ominous look, and then gestured to the chairs around the table, looking from Joe, to Smythe and Aalyssa. "Perhaps you all might want to have a seat while I explain."

The woman, she had to admit, seemed a little more out of place. Although she wasn't about to deny that she had seen archers take down beasts before just as easily as she could with her twin colts.

Aalyssa studied the man named Meriwether. She was quite certain she would remember one so charming as well. "I am very good with the bow. That is how I escaped the tyranny of my home. I mean...erm...That's how I saved myself on other ladies during a battle." Aalyssa pulled up a seat to hear what Amanda had to say.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:21, Sun 01 Feb 2009.

Joe nodded. He decided it best not to have any more whiskey. Might have to shoot something soon. So he sat, and listened to what Amanda had to say.

Meriwether gave her a nod of agreement that told the elf he believed her. He then took his seat.

"Very well Miss Amanda. We three are listening. What will you tell us of this place?"

Porter comes stumbling back in mumbleing something under his breath about not loosing HIS spot by the fire, and being too old for this sleeping on hearthstones stuff. And something about if he had it to do over again, things would be very different, makes his way toward the hearth fire. He them falls to his knees, whips out his bed roll. Before it is completely unrolled, Porter falls asleep.

Amanda leaned in on the table, her hands clasped around her glass as she looked from each of their faces to the next.

"Well like I said, this tavern isn't just in one place, it's in many. There are more worlds out there than even the ones that each of us have come from, as seems to be the case with Miss Aalyssa here."

She gestured to the woman at the table with them, her mention of a place called Tielle was enough to spell to Amanda that she wasn't from Earth.

"In fact, you two and I might not even be from the same Earth. I've seen my share of different dimensions in my time.

"The point being, that where there are different worlds, there are also different creatures. Things you might call demons, monsters, or whatever else all can and do exist. That's what I hunt, I've hunted vampires, demons, werewolves, and who knows what else in my time."

Joe had vaguely heard of some of these creatures in dime novels. And one time in a book he had managed to get halfway through. He didn't quite believe Amanda, but then not much around here made much sense. He figured he would go along, then. But he had an important question.

"Miss Amanda," he said, "you sayin' you get paid bounties to hunt demons and werewolves and such?"

"Vampires and werewolves and demons? Oh my!" She glanced at her bow, wondering if it would be any good against any of those.

"Among other things." Amanda replied to both Joe and Aalyssa's statements with the one sentence.

She caught Aalyssa's glance, watching the woman's eyes flicker to the bow.

"I'm sure you don't have to be told how much damage that thing can do." She said, "Of course, you never know what you might find yourself enjoying if you were to come along also.

"I'll let you three think about it, I'm going outside for a smoke."

With that, Amanda stood once more, adjusting her hat a little as she walked towards the door and stepped outside.

Meriwether sat back & enjoyed his tea. This was a Bloody awful lot to take in. At least he had a friend. Joseph & he had been in a lot of scrapes before & had always come out on top. If this was not Purgatory, then there may indeed be a different sort of adventure to be had. The Sage had strange features. This Aalyssa was quite the exotic. Mayhaps there was some truth after all to all of this.


"Well, it would seem this place is real enough. I suppose there is something to what she said, no matter how unbelievable it sounded. I am game if you are Joseph? Miss Penwern? Would you be interested as well? After all Vampyres & such are... well quite the rogues I hear."

"Well," said Joe, "it sounds like the kind of thing we do, Meriwether. Get ourselves into a passel of trouble and shoot our way out." No one better than Meriwether to do gun work with, and he and the Englishman and a couple of other friends had survived quite a few fights.

"I think me and Meriwether are in," he said, glancing at Aalyssa. "What about you, ma'am?"

You hear a smacking sound, a loud tongue clicking, lip smacking sound coming from the hearth area. Porter lifts his bed-head and looks around the room with half crusted over eyes. He pulls out a hipflask from somewhere beneath his moth eaten bedroll, unscrews the top with some difficulty as he is still using his left elbow to prop himself, and takes a swig, swishing it around his mouth and through his teeth before swallowing. Then he made short work of rerolling his bed roll, folding in the sides and rolling up the lumpy lot. Reaching back in to get his recently procured mug. "Ah, breakfast!"

Aalyssa thought for a second. "I'm in. I was looking for adventure and this certainly sounds like adventure," she grinned.

Having ashed out her cigarette, and letting the other two drift off to sleep, Amanda made her way back into the tavern. She once more hung her jacket near the door, and this time, hung her hat there with it. Her blonde hair was a lot thicker than it had seemed to be underneath the akubra.

"Well I see none of you have gone running in terror." She said as she sat back down at the table, lifting up the glass of rum she had left sitting there and drawing back on what was left of it.

"I reckon not," Joe said in reply to Amanda. "Guess we'll go hunting with you, then."

     Having had plenty of rest, Quintus returned to the ground floor, this was odd, the group he had left the night before was still at the table, They aren't still there from last night are they?
     Moving over to speak quietly to the barkeep, "Who do I talk to about a bit of work?" when the barkeep tries to direct him to the table of adventurers, Quintus gently objects. "No my friend, I gave up my sword when I wandered into these woods, now I just look to honest work, for fair wage." this last bit was probably said a bit louder than he meant.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:29, Mon 02 Feb 2009.

     "I could use a boy to clear tables, and help keep the commons clear. May need to remind someone not to be too fresh with the barmaids. Nothing major, if drastic actions are needed the Inn itself seems to take care of it. I could offer two meals and a cot, you may be able to catch a few tips. Sound fair?" the barkeep continues to wash down his bartop.

     "Two meals and a room nothing major, attic woulld be fine, but i would prefer to get up off the hearthstones. I don't mind sharing space though. In exchange house gets a third of any tips." the soldier turned bouncer with responsibilities, offers his hand to seal the venture.

     "A third of the tips, and you get the room under the stairs, it's big enough for two cots, and close enough to the hearth to not get too cold. You need to move some of the broken table bits and chairs to the attic though. you will also need to repair the two cots down there." The barkeep extended his hand at this time to allow Quintus to accept or change the deal now.

     With a bit of laughter, Quintus clasped hands with the big man behind the counter, "Agreed, I will take care of that as I get the chance. Mind if I get started now?"
     With that Quintus moved through the room gathering a few abandoned cups, and  offering to remove the tea set and the empty rum and whiskey bottles. "May I take any of your empties away?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:23, Tue 03 Feb 2009.

Meriwether nodded to the Roman "Yes, my good fellow, it would seem a shot of whiskey would be more appropriate! We've just formed a company of sorts!"

Then is a lower tone "I say! Are you among the staff of this establishment now?"

When peter returns to the common room he sees two of his new acquaintances together with a number of other people.  Walking across to them he offers a greeting.  "Meriweather, Quintus.  It is certainly getting busier in  here.  Did I hear you say you had formed a company Meriweather?  What will you be trading in?"

At the mention of whiskey, Amanda momentarily looked a little hesitant, before shrugging.

"What the hell. Yes, a bottle of whiskey, thank you waiter." She said with a wink at Quintus, "And a bottle of rum as well, I'm going to need something to wash it down with."

Her attention was drawn away when Peter moved over. She looked at him, intrigued, he seemed exotic, otherworldly. She was curious.

"Trading in bodies, so to speak." She said, looking up at Peter. "I'm Amanda Raines, Nightstalker. I've just been talking to these fine people about joining a hunt that I'm on at the moment for a very weaselly daemon."

Okay, so she hadn't specifically told them that she was already on a case, but they had to be bright enough to figure that she wasn't going to just invite them to go hunting at random and hope someone would pay for a head, right?

"Peter Gasgano,  traveller and archivist." The Sage introduces himself with a  slight bow towards the woman.  He catches sight of the hand guns strapped to her thighs and asks  "You are a shootist like Meriweather here?  That is interesting. I had not seen devices like that before this evening, and now there are three of you wearing them." He says including Spanish Joe with a nod of the head.

"But Daemon hunting you say?  That surely is a dangerous business, I have heard they are immune to all sorts on mundane weapons," he pauses for a moment or two and then shrugs "but I have never come across one in person, although I believe they are common in the planes of Gehenna, Tartaus and Hades."  The sage offers with a slight smile.

     In reply to Meriwether, "It would appear so, I have decided to take a rest with some respectable and much more relaxed occupations. After slave, gladiator, and soldier, I feel I need a break." With a wink to the adventuring party he lifts the tea set and adds, "Besides, from what I see, me and the barmaids are the only ones in skirts." With a chuckle, Quintus turns to Amanda, "I shall have you your Whistey in mere moments, and your rum after wash."

Gallus did not remove his armor as he ducked to enter the tavern proper, he saw many people inside and stood to the side of the door, placing his helmet on a nearby table, and taking a seat shortly afterwards. He seemed caught in his own thoughts.

     Dropping the bowls and plates by the kitchen, the tea set with the bartender,  and the mugs and bottles at the end of the bar. He quickly picked up the whiskey for Meriwether's table, and Amanda's rum wash. Before he stepped away , Quintus looked across the room. Seeing the big man named Gallus it reminded Quintus of what he had said the night before. "Hey barkeep, have we any
"Iho sticks" I think our newest client would find it refreshing."
     It was good to see the barkeep reach under the counter and come up with a tin, and sliding it down the counter. With a nod he went back to wiping down the counter. Quintus slid past Meriwether's table, delivering the whiskey bottles, and taking special care to pass Amanda her rum. Checking the room to see if there  are any necessary table runs. Not yet, good.
     Taking the tin from his belt, and picking up a pitcher of wine with two mugs, Quintus approached the Space Marine. "This should help that deep stare of yours," laying the tin on the counter and opening it up. Inside several long thin sticks wrapped in brown paper, to the side of the tin are several red tipped sticks. "Someone who thinks that deeply must be worth his weight, even with that suit. Share a drink with me?"

Gallus laughed as Quintus brought him a drink and some lho-sticks. "Thank you, friend." He motioned for Quintus to sit. "I have been thinking much since last night and what kind of fate has been presented to me. Thank you again for the lho-sticks, but they do little to help. My body filters the tobacco before it gets to my blood stream. Smoking them is a habit I had when I was a normal man." He poured some wine and took a slug. "Tell me about yourself and I shall return the favor. Good company makes the time pass."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:43, Tue 03 Feb 2009.

     Taking another look around, Quintus has a seat, and fills the cup. "I was born Vinito Scarpello, in Spain. The Roman magistrate changed our names when we lost our lands due to drought. I was sold as the fifth of our family. Since I had chosen my place in line I adopted Quintus as the name. As a slave I earned many a day lashed at the hitching post. I was soon sold as incorrigible property to a Maestro of the Arena. As a gladiator I was trained in combat after my first fight. The Maestro had a going proposition to all of his combatants. Freedom to any who survive 50 fights. So at that point I was seeking survival. Normally one on one, but some of the later fights were harder, and some were against beasts I had not seen or even dreamed. In the Arena I earned the name Quintus Maxximus. Once I had survived my 50th fight, I was given my freedom.  The problem with freedom is that noone is there to take care of you haha. I was good  for two things, farming, and fighting. None of the farms near there needed helpers that weren't slaves, so I went into the military. I have served for three years under Caesar. I achieved the rank of captain before my first owner realized I hadn't died in the arena. He sought me out, and finding I had prospered decided that I had caused him too much trouble, and cost. He arranged for me to be turned out from the ranks on the frontline." leaning back Quintus gestures to his empty scabbard. "Yesterday I walked away from the fighting, at least for a while. I am content to work here for now. How about you, i bet you have a story or two in you."

"Indeed, brother, I do." He paused and took another sip of wine.

"I was born to another name, another life, another family. They are gone now, cut ties from a past life. I was born on Legion, a world in the Kilme system. My life was that of a farmer till I turned sixteen. It was then a monstrous plague befell the planet. It was not native, a disease brought on by evil, by Chaos. The vile servents of Nurgle, god of death and decay had taken liking to our planet. We were all but dead and broken. It was then the skygods came. I now know them as Space Marines. They drove back the incursion and looked for those among the people worthy to be taken back with them. Over one hundred were selected. I was one. They put us through the Initiation. A four year exile in the bleak, deadly jungle on Saren Prime. I was one of five left. It was then I was given the blessings that would make me what I am today. I was given a second heart, another set of lungs, glands that let me run for days and filter toxins from my body. But then they gave me the true gift of the Space Marine, the progenitor gland. I was given the trust that I would serve until death. They gave me my power armor and my first bolter." He pointed to the studs in his skull. "I have serve a century for each stud, I am twenty from my golden fifth. I have seen aliens and mutants, heretics and saints. My brothers have fought beside me for centuries, never flinching from duty. We serve our Emperor because we are the last line for the galaxy. If the Space Marines fall, so too does Man. We are few, but we are strong. I was fighting Orks, a nasty race of green pig-men that have no other purpose but to fight. They are a fungus, a blight on the galaxy, yet they had driven us back. I was separated from my squad on a scouting mission. I found this place and some new friends." He lifted his glass to Quintus.

In reply to Peter Gasgano (msg #120):

"It's very dangerous, Peter." Amanda said, chuckling and resting her hands on the weapons at her hips. "These boys have gotten me out of more trouble than most people would have cared to get themselves into. Of course, I'm not most people."

She winked at him upon the closing sentence, and stood up from her chair once more. Taking the bottle of rum, she moved towards the door once more.

"I'm going to head out for another smoke on the porch, I guess we can head off from there." She said to the table, b efore turning her attention back to Peter. "You're more than welcome to join us if you like, never had someone take note of my adventures before. Perhaps you can write a book about me."

With that, Amanda stepped through the tavern again and out to the porch.

"Sounds good to me," said Joe, standing and heading on after Amanda. His horse was tied up near the porch, where he took out his Winchester from its scabbard.

"So bullets work on these things," he said to Amanda, nodding at her own weapons.

"That is what I was wondering. Rather, I'm wondering if my bow will work against these beings," Aalyssa said thoughtfully.

"I shall give that some thought." The bard responds to Amanda ignoring her wink, it's amusing how everyone thinks they are special the bard thinks to himself just the same as everyone else.  Smiling wryly he continues "I don't write books about people, I write diaries." The bard tells the girl.

     Lifting his mug to the space marine Quintus nods his acceptance of the association of friendship. lifting his mug again he says simply, "Strength and Honor."

Mason walks in, slowly taking in each person in the room.  Catching sight of the Roman Gladiator, the Space Marine, the cowgirl and everyone else in the room, his first thought is that he has to be on a movie set of some sort.  His second, that the painted ancient dumped him somewhere fragged up.

He walks slowly and carefully up to the bar, every step seems thought out and measured.  There is something very unnatural about the way he moves.  His left hand moves slowly and deliberately into his jacket pocket, pulling out a certified cred stick and holding it between the ring and middle finger.

"Do you by any chance take Certified Nuyen?"

[From Forest]

Vanessa had entered the building cautiously, not at all sure what she was going to find.  She'd entered blindly into enough situations that thrill of such was gone, but a curiosity was always present.

She paused in the doorway and scanned the room. Wow. She said softly taking in the various characters.  Maybe she was finally dead?

She appreciated John’s comment now, however, as she stood momentarily transfixed.  It was Mason’s question that brought her back.  Her eyes scanned him, there was just something…wrong, but she couldn’t quiet get a fix on it.

Where ARE you from? She asked, deciding that given the circumstances, tact was never going to work.

     The bartender looks up with a grizzled chin and appearance, "Your currency is good here," the bartender reaches under the counter and pulls up a cherrywood credstick swiper, "Just swipe the stick."

"Give me a bottle of your best Cognac."

Mason looks at the young woman.

"Seattle.  But I think the more important question is 'When am I from?' 2056.  How about you?"

Vanessa opened her mouth to speak, and shut it. She had experienced a whole lotta weird in her day, and time warps were certainly not out of the question, but Mason's answer still brought her up short for a second.

On the other hand... it made sense.  She glanced around the room. Cowboy. Gladiator.  Other.  Oh yes it made a lot of sense... though the last time she'd ended up in a different time, she'd walked thru a door way and was suddenly else where.  Her clothes had changed, the surrounding had changed... this was... new.

2002.  I was last in Upstate New York.  She turned to the bartender and asked for a vodka, last she knew she had money on her... if not, well...she'd cross that bridge when she got to it.

Is Microsoft still in business? She asked Mason with a grin, though she wasn't sure he had a sense of humor.

[From The Dark Forest]

"Bottle of Scotch if you have it, anything Fey if you don't." He handed over a several ounce gold coin in exchange.  "And I'll cover the rest of the crew coming in as well."  He waits to see if the bartender accept the gold or indicates anything insufficient.

While waiting for the barkeeper he turns to Mason, "What's Earth like nowadays?  Last time I was there it was late 20th century."

Looking at the young lady, and gives the smallest hint of a smile.

"No, there were a few issues with computer companies.  A black ice that destroyed the internet and fried millions of computers the world over.  I was originally from New York myself, Nyack."

To the gladiator he turns and the smile disappears.

"Things changed a lot since the 20th century, even from 2002.  The fourth age has come to an end.  The fifth age has started.  Goblinization, the return of magic, the immortal elves, bioware, cyberware, data-jack interfaces, the Nan, countries all but gone, the world economy controlled by corporations, life is cheap."

He slots the cred stick and picks up the bottle, pouring a full glass of the Cognac and then taking a long drink.  Everything is done with his left hand, his right hand is always kept free.  As he drinks he makes a toast to the air.

"Toto, I don't think we are in Kansas anymore."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:36, Thu 05 Feb 2009.

     The barkeep looks at the group and grins with an evil smile, "Wait till you see this," Pulling a bottle out of a small cabinet behind the bar he places it before Mason. "1878, a good year for cognac, "the smile widens as he turns again to the small cabinet, a different bottle is inside this time, "Vodka, fresh from Irkutsk, good stuff Tovarisch." Turning one last time to the cabinet, the smile threatens to take in the old man's ears. "Seven year old Scotch, straight off the highlands, and steeped on the top shelf. A vintage rare and pure. You should enjoy."

To the barkeep with a smile he isn't quite able to hide behind his stoic fascade, "I assure you I shall."

As Mason relays his tale he poors his own drink and finds a seat at a table nearby.  Tossing his gear under the table he pulls out his side arm and clears it before stashing it away in his pack followed by loosening and binding his sword with an elaborate knot.

When Mason finishes and after he drains his first glass.  "Ah, that sounds like an all together more familiar reality.  Although the land I call home wasn't blessed by having the Selie it was otherwise similar.  I have few memories of the place though, I can't even recall how much time I've spent there over the last century.  I guess in truth my home is the cosmos since that is where I wander now."
This message was last edited by the player at 07:14, Thu 05 Feb 2009.

"Yes, strength and honor. Glory for the Emperor." He sounds a little removed from the conversation and the world in general, thoughts crossing his face plain as day. He perks up as the other conversation continues, his keen, superhuman hearing picking up the most remote detail. "It seems I am not the only one to have strange tales. Yet you are all from within a millennium of each other, I am truly the out cast."

Mason watches as the man unloads his weapon and peace binds his sword.

"You must have been here a while and feel pretty comfortable to put away your weapons."

He has drained a tall glass of the cognac and has poured another.  He watches as the cowgirl heads out to the porch and listens to what the man in powered armor has to say.  Emperor huh...

     "You haven't been listening well my large friend," Quintus looks around the bar, "Peter there is not human by birth, Mason speaks of coming from a "time" where the dwarves, orks, and elves live in the same world. I come from a time where man enslaves man for personal gain. Tell me which of us
does not feel they are the aliens here."

Nyack? She knew it and it seemed a million miles away.  It probably WAS a million miles away.  Vanessa gratefuly took the drink, thinking John had been correct.

She listened as the conversation went back an forth, with a frown. Though she couldn't help a snort at Quintus's last comment.  Too true. She smiled at the man.  Half of the beings in the room, she'd never seen before.

Are you here ...by choice? She asked generically.  She was still trying to puzzle out how she had arrived.  Not that it mattered to her.  She was where she was... and as she was somewhere interesting, she felt no need to go else where.  But curiosity gnawed at her.

"I was already thinking that we are not all from the same time line.  As far as being here by choice... No.  I know who sent me here, but not why.  That damn painted keeb only gives what information he wants you to know."

He drains another glass of the Cognac, and pours himself a third before finally starting to sip at it.

"And Quintius... I never mentioned dwarves or orks.  When were you at my 'when?'"

     "My apologies, the comment about goblinization, I believe was what did it. I have heard many of what colors the fables and folklore of those Rome has conquered." Quintus points out, "Where I am from, the dwarves and orks, elves, satyr, goblin, all manner of fantastic being and beast are prevalent, but only in our tales. The Athenian who does not speak of the satyr, or centaur is a rarity. The german, who looks not to gremlins and dwarves when things go bad, or the Angle with their barbaric ways looking to banshees, elves, and leprechauns to rule their dark places. The only real threat I have ever crossed is man, though there were plenty of places and creatures that I was raised in fear of as well. Now I see a large elf, a man who wears the contraptions of gnomes, brownie and fairie gifts of all kinds. I am beginning to wonder if I just didn't have my eyes open far enough."

One out of two. She raised her glass in salute to Mason and downed her drink, pouring another.

That's quite possible. Vanessa glanced at Quintus.  In my time, people didn't see a lot of things.  Some of it was hidden from them intentionally...but frankly, they don't see because they don't want to.  If you deny something long enough you can usually convince yourself. She downed her second glass, and poured a third. She had missed good vodka, but this third she would make last.

Gallus turned in his seat to face the rest of the group. "Honestly, I think it matters not what you call them, but by the fact that they are familiar terms to both people proves that they are universal, whether real or imagined. In my term of service I have seen the crafty elfin Eldar race, the brutish orks, a smattering of the bestial Tyranids, and even some of my Traitor brethren. You see, though we are different, we all have humanity in common, and thus we all share some of the same beliefs and universals." He took a slug of wine and scratched a fly away from his drink.

Mason looks at Quintus and nods though he is not convinced.

"They are not universal though.  In my where and when, most Orks and Trolls are good and honest citizens.  They were normal humans before the goblinization.  What are these Tyranids that you speak of?'"

Gallus nods at the man in understanding.

"I am not saying that they are all subject to the same preconception, but merely that they exist in some shape in all of our realities. What I am suggesting is that humanity in general has base views, and these views span time and space, permeating all. It is in these views that we share the commonality. I was not suggesting that the primal force that is the ork race to would be the same to you."

He leans forward a little bit, like a bard about to spin a tale.

"It is better for me to tell one of my experiences about the Tyranids than just to speak of them. I first encountered them on Hestia, a agro-world rich with harvest. This made it a prime target. We were called in due to our local presence in the system, fighting back a force of renegade Guardsmen. It at first seemed easy, just wipe out a few heretics and be on our way to more important matters. You see, it was not a normal cult, but a Genestealer cult. A Genestealer is a special form of 'Nid. The aliens took humans and warped and twisted their DNA, using it to fuel the growth of these things. When a Genestealer gets hold of a humanoid, they give them the Kiss. They send a corrupted mutating fluid inside the host, changing their reproduction. With each successive generation, the offspring slowly develop feature like the purebreds. It is then they send a telepathic message to the Hivemind, the singular consciousness that guides all 'nids. When we found the cult leader in a raid, he had already sent the message and a hivefleet was on its way to the planet.

The 'nids arrived and rained down spores upon the planet, corrupting a growing off of all the bio-mass it could find. I was part of a Devastator squad then, a team of men with heavy weaponry. By the time we arrived at the primary nest, there were thousands of tiny rippers, small versions of their larger cousins. They then started to evolve into larger beasts, some with bio-weapons that fired worms to eat through flesh and ceramite alike. I personally took down a Carnifax, a living tank, the perfect engine of destruction derived from a living thing.I had to rip through it with my lascannon three times before it finally died. We faced dozens of these creatures and others. The leaders hold the power to channel the will of the hivemind, so shooting and killing the big ones is priority. When all was said and done, they had covered almost all of the planet with spores, eliminating any possibility saving the planet. My commander ordered the Exterminatus upon the planet, sending it into a man-made nuclear winter and preventing the 'nids from growing. We managed to save about half of the population, but even then I thought that we should have left them all down there, just in case one of them were infected."

He turns back and pours the last of the wine into his glass, turning back to the group when he is done.

He nods to Mason as he finishes his second glass, "If I need it is still but seconds away and for the sake of civility it seems only right to show this courtesy to our host."


"As to being here by choice, I am.  In truth it is a bit more complicated though since I can navigate the paths but not open the way, if that makes any sense."  He shrugs and smiles.


Garett nodded during the description of the 'Nid and siege of Hestia.  After the end of the story he turns to Sliver, "But what of this place, I know it to be a Nexus but nothing more.  Let us learn some of the story of 'The Wolf's Head Tavern'."

Mason stares and the space marine, it is impossible to tell what is in his eyes, for the dark sunglasses hide any hint.

"Well... good thing you weren't in command then.  You say that we have humanity in common then say that you would have exterminated half the population of a planet because one of them might have been infected.  Believe me, I know about infection, there are hives in my where and when as well.  I don't think you could understand my idea of humanity."

Mason turns from the marine and shakes his head.  He drinks the third glass of Cognac and pours himself a fourth.  There is no apparent affect from drinking almost half a bottle.

"Sometimes I miss my old liver."

Looking at Garrett, Mason gives a half smile.

"I think we can be courteous enough to the host by not pulling a weapon in anger.  It doesn't look like they get many sheep in here, just wolves."

Still with his left hand, Mason gestures around the room.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:35, Fri 06 Feb 2009.

In reply to Amanda Raines (msg #127):

Meriwether nodded & said to his companions "Very well then... shall we?"

The bar was beginning to get crowded with a strange assortment of characters both like & unlike the English adventurer. As he rose he spoke to Peter "Care to join us ole chap?"

Then turning to the Roman "I say Quintus! Keep up the good work & save me a spot about the fire will you?"

Aalyssa got to her feet. "I am ready when everyone else is," she announced. As she spoke, she pulled a strip of leather from her pocket and braided her long blond hair into a single braid, tying it off at the end with said leather. Her pointy ears then showed in earnest.

Vanessa had listened to all but Gallus.  In honesty, he'd lost her in his comments and she felt too overwhelmed to bother to keep her focus. Though she did realize her focus had become small over time.  Kill the bad, protect the good and recogonize that it was all subjective.  The bad you killed Monday could be the good you protect Tuesday.

When push came to shove, she knew she had more shades of grey and more agnst that this, but this was a part of her she often tried to ignore.  She looked at Mason, of all here, he was the one she almost understood.  Perhaps because they came from almost the same place.  Kind of, though his when sounded worse than hers.

She did a quick math calculation....she could be his great grandmother?  Great great grandmother?  That was amusing.

Her attention was drawn to others as they arose and readied to leave. Her mind skipping around the things she'd been hearing.

You say that we have humanity in common then say that you would have exterminated half the population of a planet because one of them might have been infected.

What would she do? Had she lost her humanity?  How ironic to have that thought here.

Some times sheep hide in wolves colthing. She chuckled.

"More often the opposite is true though."

He looks into his drink for a moment.  He isn't sure why he is finding it easier to talk.  He hadn't talked about Bug City since the debrief.  It must be something about these people being from all different where's and when's.  No one from his where and when to use the information against him.

"Humanity is a big issue where I am from.   With all of the bioware and cyberware enhancements, so many people are less and less human.  The percentage of original bio matter doesn't make you human, it is your ideals, your beliefs, and the path that you follow."

      "It appears that my drink is over, I need to get back to work, it appears you have less to brood about now so I'll be off." With that Quintus rises from his chair catching the tea set and heading to the kitchen. With a whistle upon his lips Quintus can be heard through the kitchen doors.

Garrett pondered Alyssa's back as she walked out.  Feinting disinterest he stared over his newly emptied glass.

His thoughs wandered...Poetry in motion were the Elves.  I couldn't muster that sort of grace at my finest.  Faster, stronger, more ruthless, even more skilled and experienced but never more graceful, never more beautiful, never as human as they.  It's funny how everything changes but nothing is ever resolved.  More memories begin the slip into the forefront of his mind.

With a start he returned his gaze to his companions erasing the melancholy that had crossed his visage and smiled appreciatively setting the glass down and grabbing his gear.

"I think it is time to retire, I have traveled long and expect action soon or else I wouldn't have been brought here...  So, good evening."

She watched the others seem to move on.  She had no idea what time it was, it felt like morning to her.

Turning to Mason, she shrugged. Something we said?  She took a sip. Thinking about how earlier he had said he knew how he'd arrived here, just not why.  She had lots of questions, but was hesitant to ask any of them.

"I don't think so... looking at him I would think it is as he says, fatigue."

Mason sits looking at his drink for a long time,  he has had enough of the cognac to sedate an bear, but he seems unaffected.  He continues to stare for an uncomfortable length of time before lifting his head up and using his right hand for the first time to take his glasses off.  His eyes are the palest blue and the smile he gives barely touches them.  He looks at Vanessa and asks:

"So are you a sheep in wolf's clothing?  From what I have seen of the people here, most are heavily armed in one way or another.  How do you fit in?"

"I am interested to see how she goes about daemon hunting, although I suspect her daemons are different to mine, if she can take them with mundane weapons." the sage says with a slight smile towards Meriweather  "I will join you on the porch in but a moment or two." the sage continues as he heads upstairs to his room.


>>> Upstairs ...
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:48, Sat 07 Feb 2009.

She hadn't really thought the others had left them because of them, and her mouth twitched into a brief smile at Mason's initial words.

He reminded her of Blakely, a future verson, perhaps?  Or maybe it was simply because before she came here the two had accepted a job and therefore the other was the last person she'd seen...before.  Vanessa sighed, still wondering what happened.  She felt safe enough sitting and sipping her drink and trying to work out how she'd gotten here, why she was there and what she would do next, and therefore comfortable with the other man's silence.

In fact, when he moved it surprised her, though not as much as the beautiful color of his eyes.  This was not a feature she generally noticed, unless looking for something, but his were striking.

Her own smile twitched as she answered, I've been called a lot of things, but a sheep has never been one of them. The thought of it even made her chuckle.  He was right though, compared to the others here, she probably looked pretty ... tame. Would you feel better to know I have a gun at the base of my spine, a knife straped to my ankle, and am a black belt? She told him seriously, glancing at him for a second.

Usually she wouldn't reveal such, but some how, in this weird circumstance, her intuition told her it would be fine. She didn't wait for a reaction she knew wouldn't come and went back to studing the room.

And if it wasn't fine to tell him? What was the worst case? She died. The thought made her snort.

I don't have a bloody clue how I fit in...how or why I'm here. She added, the annoyance and frustration of that truth clear, as she took another sip, then glanced back to him again.

He continues his slight smile.

"I noticed the gun, missed the knife and could tell by the way you move that you have had formal martial arts training.  The heat signature of the gun is visible, it is cooler and the outline is unmistakable.  I am Samurai, it is my job to notice such things."

Vanessa's attention now focused on the man more intently.  Samurai?Humph, I was thinking Clark Kent of the future... She shifted to lean back in her chair, So... the future has genetically engineered Samurai who are what my time might call wet wired, interesting. I bet you lead an interesting life Mason.

She sighed and took a sip. Okay. So you know how you got here. I have a vague idea about how I got here, and neither of us has a clue why we're here...  What are you planning to do? She asked.

"Street Samurai... it is a term for those of us who do what is needed but stick to a personal code of honor.  And as far as being wired goes... there are draw backs.  Every time a part of me gets replaced I feel like they are taking a little bit more of my soul.  I have a chummer, a dwarven owl shaman named Dream Walker, who has told me how little of my essence is left.  Dwarven owl shamen... I bet that sounds pretty odd to you.  He is a magician of sorts who follows the spirit guide of the owl.  I can move so fast that some times the brain doesn't have time to register what is happening.  I once almost shot a kid who opened a door behind me."

Mason turns his head slightly and all of the sudden his sees to slump just a little.  Every movement seem much more natural now.

"Some of it can be turned off.  As far as what I intend to do, sit and have a drink with an interesting woman.  What kind of gun are you carrying by the way." 

Vanessa leaned forward, her arms resting on the table as Mason started to talk. She nodded with an appologetic, 'yeah, well' look, agreeing much of it DID sound odd compared to her world.  But she had gotten used to odd a long time ago.

All of what he said was not clear to her, though.  She clearly was concentrating, working things out and piecing together things between what she knew, an understanding of the language and what she could deduce.

Interesting. She said sincerely when he paused. You come from an interesting world. It was hard to remember that his world was hers... in a way.

She smiled slightly as he went on, and began to answer his question.  It's a Lercker...She thought about pulling it out to show him, but decided given all things at that moment, it wasn't a good idea. Ancient history to you. She chuckled.  Historical for herself. I doubt you've even heard of it, unless... She paused, You've got some kind of ... internal data base access?  She went on, It was new to me too, until two days ago... I...A friend... lent it to me.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:56, Sat 07 Feb 2009.

"No... no internal computer.  At least nothing plug in for gun knowledge... that is all organic.  But I am familiar with the Lerker.  Small production run of fully automatic machine pistol.  Done in Italy, post World War II.  I don't recall the caliber though.  I have never seen one.  Guns are my specialty, last count I own some three hundred or so.  I have done a good deal of work for the largest arms producer in the world."

Talking guns... this is a comfort zone for him.  He is uncomfortable talking about himself and how little of him is still original stock.

Very impressive. She raised her glass to him, before taking another sip. Guns were not her specialty, she knew enough and how to use them, but she cared for outcomes more than much else.

You might know more than I do. She chuckled at the irony of that.  It takes a 6.35mm cartridge.  4 inch barrel.  It's pretty light too.  I'm not sure why they didn't make more of them.... Or how it is that it was the piece given to me, given all things. She shrugged.   I'd be happy to show you, but, She glanced around. Time and a place for everything and I'm not sure that THIS is it. She chuckled. Some gambles are worth it, this one seems silly.

Producer, though huh?  Singular. So in the future we're down to one. She sighed.  I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad. She shook her head ruefully. So, Capitalism is still alive and well in your world? She was trying to picture a room with three hundred guns.

"Oh no... there are hundreds of weapon producers.  Many are names that you would probably recognize.  Ruger, Ingram, Colt, numerous.  But one man bought out every small weapon producer and a couple of the larger ones along with a hundred or so other smaller corporations.  He did it in one milisecond.  No one knows where he came from or where he got the money for the buy out.  But he formed one of the mega-corps.  The only one I never minded working for.  Plus I use one of their facilities for my custom work."

He was almost done with the bottle of Cognac and he was finally starting to feel the effect.  Another problem with all of the bioware modifications, he burned calories like it was no one's business.

"I don't know about you, but I need to get something to eat.  Do you want anything?  My treat?"

Vanessa began to frown, thinking about her future world.  Of course, if she proceeded with the rest of her life, even to an old age, she wouldn't exist in Mason's world.  If she went back.  If she could go back. If things didn't change... if, if, if...

With a shudder, she dragged her mind back to the present. Sorry, just thinking. She smiled, Um...yeah. Sure. She smiled realizing she was hungry. That'd be nice... but you don't have to treat. I get the impression that all forms of monitary exchange work here and I am from the 20th century, one never leaves home without plastic at least. She smirked, she had come to realize that everything she had on her during her last cognizant moment was with her.  That was good.

Do you want to go back, to your time?  She asked, thinking that if she were honest, she probably didn't want to go back to hers, and further, that might be a real option.

He holds up a hand to get the attention of the waitstaff.  While waiting for her, his eyes drop.

"I don't know if I will go back.  It may seem like a wonderful new world to you, but it is dark.  There are entire towns that are lost to urban blight.  No law except what you can make yourself.  Chicago was lost to an invasion of insect spirits.  Millions died.  I have worked hard to make a few enemies as possible but I have been a runner for a long time.  I have made plenty.  I lost track of the number of times I have been shot, well over a hundred.  This is the first time I have turned off my wired reflexes while out of my apartment in 6 months.  But..."

He trails off when the waitress comes over, and doesn't bother asking for a menu.  Any place that can have any type of drink from any time period, should be able to make a decent steak.

"Give me a ribeye, medium rare, 20oz if you have it, baked potato with butter and sour cream and whatever your freshest veggie is, preferably steamed or grilled.  And give me a coke."

Vanessa had been listening to him intently, so when the waitperson arrived, she was a little surprised.  She'd glanced up to offer a friendly smile.  As Mason ordered, she felt her mouth water and her stomach growled audibly.

The same for me, please, but not the coke... just tea, thank you. She ordered, and waited for the waitperson to move on.

I have to say... She began, It doesn't sound wonderful...it sounds...worse than my time. She said sadly. And I never thought my time was so great. She snorted. Worse, I guess, is you speak and I can see the seeds.  The little sprouts of the future, germinating... She shuddered. It's disturbing. She said quietly, pondering. She didn't think she cared about anyone, let alone humanity or her world...

After the waitress leaves Mason looks back at Vanessa, putting his sunglasses into his jacket pocket.

"It isn't all doom and gloom.  Much of the United States has gone back to it's natural state.  The Native American Nations are a beautiful place.  Most people are much more open minded on things.  Racism is still there, but it is no longer based on skin color.  What does skin color matter when the guy sitting next you on the Tram is an eight foot troll.  Oh... a dragon was elected as President of the UCS.  Enough about me and my when, you said that you don't know why you are here, but what is that you do in your when?"

Vanessa was trying to wrap her mind around what Mason was saying.  A dragon elected... okay, that was something even for her, and she was sure her astonishment was written all over her face, regardless of the fact that she hated being transparent.

Ah,uh,um...I... She stammered in reply. Her usualy stock answers that she told to strangers, wealthy heiress, seemed hardly appropriate.  But the truth?  The truth was not exactly flatering. Normally, she didn't care... Normally, she didn't tell the truth, her mind's voice reminded.

All was dull in comparrison to the future.

She took a sip of her drink stalling for time, as she decided how to answer. In my world... She began slowly, watching her drink and not her companion, At this point, I guess you would say ... I'm a mercenary.

She glanced up at Mason. She believed he'd been forthright with her, and that, she felt, deserved the same. But...For my time...I have what some think...is...a unique ability.  I... I'm attuned to things, I guess you'd say.  There's not many of us.  And the more you're open to seeing, the more you see. She shrugged. So, I'm usually hired by those who want something other than the normal political power... Usually, I'm hired by people who have found they've bitten off more than they can chew.

She played with her glass.

Gallus looked up from his thoughts at the conversation being dragged on nearby. A slight chuckle escapes his lips. "I sometimes envy the people like you, those that have a easy way of life, who are not burdened by the deaths and battles of countless planets. Who have not to worry if you will be found wanting and be given the Emperor's Grace. I do sometimes envy."

In response to Vanessa, Mason gives a slight chuckle.

"I don't find anything odd about that.  In my where and when, you would fit in nicely.  Another runner.  One of my best friends is a voodoo priest who calls loa to inhabit not only his own body, but to possess others as well.  I know another guy who can cause everyone around him to just disregard him.  Not invisible just not noticed.  Magic and other special abilities really came to light after the 'awakening' but there is strong evidence of such things before.  MIT is now known as MITT, Massachusetts Institute of Technology and Thaumaturge."

Mason looks over at the human tank, and shakes his head slightly.

"Easy is a matter of prospective.  No one thinks their life is easy.  And everyone is right.  Of everyone here, I think you are the most out of place.  You are a soldier of the future.  You are exactly what they made you to be, a perfect soldier.  You may have your own opinions but I doubt you would ever question an order.  What does a soldier do when there are no orders?"

Vanessa raised her eyebrows and gave a slight nod at Mason, then chuckled at MITT.  Indeed, she could probably do very well in his world... She could be teaching at MITT, the thought caused her to chuckle.  She had that in her world, and walked away.

She had wanted to disappear... and it would seem as though she just might have.

She glanced to Gallus.  She had plenty that she wanted to say to this strange being, but she wasn't stupid.  It would be to start the fight with something she had no chance going up against.  Choosing a different strategy, she offered a slightly bored, patronizing nod of her head, and went back to her drink.

Or perhaps not a perfect solider.  No good solider I know is burdened by their tasks of death and destruction. She spoke quietly, as if thinking aloud. The concept of the good solider intentionally ambiguous.

Gallus smiled as Vanessa made the comment about good soldiers. "It is there you are wrong. A good soldier cares about and measures every action that he carries out. It is the ones that kill without reason, that show no mercy. Granted I will show no mercy to my Traitor brethren nor to the alien that threatens my kinsman and humans that I defend. I am not the engine of destruction you think me to be. I have had centuries to wiegh my decisions and judge them. There are times that test my faith in my superiors and of my own judgment. I look to the betterment of humanity, for that is what I truly defend. So think before you name a brainless warrior. I was chosen to be a Space Marine for more than my looks."

Vanessa turned to Gallus, she knew with ever fiber of her being she should not speak. But holding her tongue, was never something she could do.  I say you're wrong.  A good solider should follow orders, do what he's told, and not think about his actions.  This is only problematic when the solider does not work for good leadership.  But frankly, good leadership depends only on one's political position.  Glass half full? Glass half empty?

She shook her head.  You show no mercy to that which threatens you, and pine for those you feel kindred too.  Just what do you think your enemies are doing if not the same thing?  Just because other's reasons are not your's does not make your's better. Or perhaps you pine because you are wise enough to know what you defend does not exist?

"True that the blind soldier does get the reward, but he is just that, blind. His ignorance to action and though blinds his judgment so that if corruption exists within his command he is unable to see it and becomes a pawn to darker players. This is what happened to my Traitor brothers of Chaos. They blindly followed their leaders and brought on a schism that nearly extinguished humanity, cost the Emperor his body, and set Man back into an age of strife."

He rubbed his hand over his face and then the bridge of his nose. This next comment would see where she truly stood.

"I would not expect some slip of a girl to understand the problems that face my time. Where life is insignificant and traded like money. Where bureaucrats sit and send billions of soldiers to their deaths for the sake of bloodshed itself. I have not gone two years without a campaign. I long to be granted the Emperor's Grace on the battlefield and die honorably. You say that my enemies are the same as me? That I would kill my brother just to please some dark god? That I am blind with out my leaders, meant to be no more than a piece of a game? That I am some hedonistic monster that would callously throw away lives for the sake of a salted piece of earth?"

He rose to his full height, his head grazing some of the beams. He pointed a finger at the girl.

"Know this. You may have petty squabbles for power in your time, to selfishly look after yourself to better your life. Do you know what it is to sacrifice for the good of all humanity, not just an employer or some weak willed government. If we indeed share the same timeline, let me enlighten you to something. In the grim distant future, there is only war."

Vanessa watched Gallus posture up like a giant peacock without affect. She listened and when he was done, she laughed, shaking her head.  And the more things change, the more they stay the same. It seems the future or the past, it doesn't matter.  And in that, lies the true tragedy. She sighed heavily, turning her back to the warrior, and going back to her drink.

She drained her glass, and caught the bartender's eye for a refill. It was annoying that the effects of alcohol never seemed to do there work when you wanted them to, only when you didn't.

Mason moves with an unnatural grace.  He steps in front of the armored giant, his hands held empty out away from his body.  He is a big man, although he is dwarfed by the Marine, he is unhindered.  He has stood toe to toe with fully armed and armored trolls.

"There are hardships in every time.  I have stood against horrors that sought the destruction of man.  I have bled more times than I can count.  Know this, if you are from our where, then it by our successes that you and your emperor will have a chance of being.  If we fail to hold back the night, then you will never be.  This is neutral ground, no fighting allowed.  Why don't you sit down and have some dinner with us."

Gallus sat back down and took another sip of wine. "Know that you were never in any danger. I have better control of myself that some of my other brethren."

Garrett came walking down the stairs shaking his head.  "In all actuality it is unlikely that we are from the same timelines.  Time travel is very difficult in comparison to trans-dimensional movement."

He approaches the trio with a degree of condescension surprising in someone clearly physically outclassed, "As to the discourse of soldiers, A soldier that follows orders blindly is useless.  I know I've had them in my service and they caused many more worthy warriors their lives.  A soldier that can think is far and away the better weapon.  A soldier that shows due compassion, is moral, disciplined and intelligent is unbeatable.  This is the essense of the Art of War.  I've dedicated my lives to these questions, to think the answer lies in glib comments and misconceptions about one anothers realities is folly.  Leave judgement to the dead, serve the living."  With that he picks up his bottle.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:41, Tue 10 Feb 2009.

Vanessa turned back to the gentlemen, meeting their eyes, I would say a leader who shows due compassion, is moral, disciplined and intelligent is unbeatable.  A solider is something else, at least in my world.  But self aggrandizing arrogance is the worst characteristic in those that lead and those that follow.  Because while they are busy making assumptions and believing that they are using their intellect, they are in fact dismissing things that can cost lives, alienating allies, and destroying loyalties based on their own small perspective.

She thanked the waitstaff who refilled her drink. I, personally, would rather be in command of an intelligent, considerate, sociopathic person who listens, than a compassionate genuis who doesn't. She shrugged, clearly she had experience being in command, and giving the directions.

But frankly, all of this is moot.  I would tend to agree, we are not all from the same timeline... the question is can we contol where and in what timeline we might return to?
This message was last edited by the player at 16:38, Tue 10 Feb 2009.

Even mentioning the horrors has Mason on edge.  Floods of memories that he has been trying hard to forget come back.  He sits back down and takes a drink of the coke.  Without thinking about it, he puts the sunglasses back on.

"I am not a soldier, but I was a cop.  NYPD Incorporated."

The smile he gives is forced and without mirth or pleasure.

"I went against the grain and had to leave.  I apologize for making assumptions, I never had much use for blind company men.  Unfortunately in my where and when, most of the corporations and many of the governments are only interested in their own self interest."

In response to the womans tirade, "Your experiences are probably valid from your own limited experience but clearly are not reflected in the experiences of those of us that have lead or been involved in large scale warfare.  Many of the battles I have personally lead and came out victorious from have been against foes truly malignant, grossly powerful and comprised of forces human, non-human and beyond."

He softens his tone and expression before continuing, "In response to your query though as I stated its not a timeline issue but a parallel issue.  Therefore, with the proper sorcerous resources I could direct you to your home.  Even time travel would be possible I suppose with the right vehicle.  Then again my experience with paradoxes leaves me hesitant to even try."

He passes his gaze across the group and comments, "Clearly though that is not really an option at this time.  For some reason the Nexus has called all of you.  Why?  What skills do you bring?  What foes follow you?"

With a more concerned look he comments soberly, "Fortunately for all of us none those I name as foes have yet managed to find me here."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:57, Wed 11 Feb 2009.

Vanessa listened to Drake’s response to her, his patronizing tone was clear, like he was talking to some ranting child.  Though used to the insult, it still disappointed her.  Sometimes they got better, but at this juncture he strongly seemed of the sort that no matter what she said, or how she said it, she would always be the ‘little girl’, the ‘emotional woman’ ...  Such a pity.  But she gave a polite smile and nod in what she hoped was a demur and deferring enough manner.  She had learned paternalism could have its uses, but there was little point in wasting time with such beings.

Turning her attention to the man in the room that had earned her respect, NYPD? She said to Mason, a small smile twitched.  That explained a lot.  Across the universe and there was still something about cops.  I was DCPD, then the Bureau before I... left.

Looking at the old soldier, Mason gives a half smile at the condescension of the man.  Like he said, he chaffed under authority and spent as much time checking out the client as he did the job.  He had been double crossed by too times many employers.

"No Vanessa, not the NYPD.  The NYPD Incorporated.  Most of law enforcement went private a while back.  Only a few small towns keep public police departments any more.  It was deemed more efficient."

Call me Nessa, She answered, before musing, Privatization... She let out a sigh.  In her times those attempts had seemed ideal to some, and while working on some level always danced with danger.  Her education and training always told her it was not likily to be the panacea business claimed.

 Did it work? She asked, expecting the answer to be no.

The smell of the food coming to the table caused Mason to close his eyes for a second and smile.

"Very well then, Nessa.  In some respects it works.  More efficient, lower street crime and higher solve rates, where there is money.  In other respects, no... not so much.  Everything was about efficiency and the bottom line.  Protecting the innocent is not so high a priority any more."

The look on his face darkens quite a bit, his jaw clenches for a second, his voice goes cold and all emotion fades.

"Also, the NYPD Inc. and many of the other private security firms are rife with the Humanis Policlub.  They are like the KKK in the mid part of the 20th century, except not any where near as nice.  Instead of going after people of other color, they go after meta-humans."

Gallus just chuckled in the corner, amused at something not obvious.

The arrival of dinner, made her stomach growl loudly reminding her of its need, but she listened intently, as she began to eat.  Frowning as Mason spoke.  She couldn’t imagine the KKK as ‘nice’.   Meta-humans?  Those who have been. . . She had no idea what the socially correct word was, enhanced? She asked.  And . . .  the justice system? She almost dared not ask.

So be it he thought, I'd offered my assistance.  He knew that he was seen as arrogant...even chauvanistic.  But it still chaffed that he didn't receive the recognition he expected from such people.  Civilians often thought that a couple of fire fights meant they knew something about leading an army.  Although he genuinely liked people he never could relate well to mortals.  Not for the first time he pondered that perhaps the lack of a past had that affect...

He walked over to the mechanized warrior and sat down "I assume the seat is open?  It seems the civilians are more experienced at warfare than we are eh..."  The last with a degree of puzzlement.

There is something about this subject that hits home.

"Sorry, when I mentioned Goblinization, I didn't explain.  It doesn't need an explanation where I am from.  It started in 2011.  Babies were born that had features of dwarves and elves, right out of the old story books.  In 2021, approximately 10% of the worlds population started to... change.  The most predominant in the United States were Elves, Dwarves, Orcs and Trolls.  There was no common ground that ever connected the people who changed.  Meta Humans are the other races of people.  It took over two years for them to be recognized as human and to receive 'inalienable human rights.'  It took an additional two years for the Catholic Church to recognize them as sentient beings with souls.  Needless to say, they scared a lot of people.  Some 'pure strain humans' got together and formed the Humanis Poli Club.  For the betterment of real humans.  There were... incidents all over the country."

Mason turns his head and closes his eyes for a second before looking back at Vanessa.

"Goblinization took place in a relatively short period if time, but it continued to happen sporadically over the next 30 years.  It tore families apart."

He looks down at his steak and smiles.

"A good steak needs to rest before being cut into, but it is still best eaten while it's hot."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:26, Thu 12 Feb 2009.

Gallus offered his giant, gauntleted hand to the man. "It seems that there is no place left for warriors, and I am from the future." He chuckles a little more and cracks his neck. "What battles do you carry? I have told mine many times, yet have heard little from others, especially those that criticize me."

She listened shaking her head. It's hard to imagine, all of that so...She chuckled at herself, mainstream? She ate, hungrily.

You're right about steak, but... I'd eat a cow. She sighed, suddenly wondering if this really WAS cow, and deciding it was cooked, and good, so she didn't care.

Though the ... reactions you talk about... I can see it. She sighed.  It was perfectly believable to her. It's ironic, for all my pessimistic nature, I realize listening to you that I always thought The Future would be better, or, non existent.  I never anticipated a future that, at least for me, made my own world look...better.

She paused, putting down her fork for a moment and giving a mirthless laugh. It's been a long time since I looked favorably upon my world. I guess I'm having a little ... cognitive disonance. She shook her head and resumed eating.

I suppose, you and I might not be on the same time line...but if not, I suspect its close.

It seems real enough. . .

His slender hand reached for the door handle to the wooden building.

I don't know how I got here, or why I'm here. This doesn't seem like a trance sight

Aramendel's eyes swept past the landscape of the bar room.  It looked normal, almost too normal, until he saw the odd assortment of patrons.  Such a strange assortment, some of them seem a little intimidating . . . I've never seen attire anywhere. Then he realized, he felt the door. It was real.

With a quick glance, a quick reach under his cloak and twist of his foot, Aramen knew he was still equipped with everything he had before but felt no need to reach any further. Something told him that no matter how odd, no one was a threat, <yellow>at least not yet<yellow> he responded to the voice in his head.

With a fix of his shirt and a deep breath, Aramen passed through the threshold and went towards the bar. It seemed clean enough and a meal certainly would be nice.

"A plate of your best meat, good sir", Aremendel requested while placing a few gold coins on the counter "My coin is good here, correct?"

     "Aye lad, your coin be good here," the barkeep had made another change it seemed as he eyed the elf across the counter. the young dwarf reached across the counter sweeping the coin into large voluminous hands. With a wave of his hand one of the barmaids vanished through the door to the kitchen.
     Turning back to the elf the barkeep advises, she will be out momentarily with your meal.

Mason is precise, well mannered and careful about eating, almost as if he were at a business meeting at a five star restaurant.

"There is great beauty everywhere.  Much of the United States has gone back to it's natural state, much quicker than you would ever imagine.  The animals that have turned up over the past 50 years are simply amazing.  Most people are much more spiritual then they ever were before.  Not just Christians, Muslims and other organized religions, but true spirituality.  For every evil, there is a good that goes against it.  There are a lot of good people.  Even that damn painted keeb that sent me here works to protect the world."

Mason gives a small smile...

"Sorry, another reference that you wouldn't know.  Keeb refers to a Keebler Elf.  A derogatory term that I use only for one man."

Mason's world was puzzling to her.  On the one hand, very comprehensible, on the other...very foreign.   She wondered why he didn't like Keeb, the name rather amusing.  She got the impression it was not something she should ask.

In your world...do people live out in the ...rural areas? She asked trying to sound like it was simply a question.  It was a loaded question of course.  Would that be a place for her? Could she actually survive with out urban life?  Would that rid her of her ghosts, or would they simply be free to haunt her more completely?  No point in putting a cart before the horse, she silenced herself. Could she even get to that world?

And of course, why was she here?  Perhaps her theory was wrong.  She glanced at Mason.  Do you have any idea why your here?

"Superb, I can smell it already."  , responded Aramen to the barkeep. He then closed his eyes and leaned onto the bar, hoping to hear something familiar in this unfamiliar place.  Above the normal hum of conversation the gruff voice of a man nearby seemed to carry through the room. What he was talking about was completely foreign but strangely interesting.

United States? That is no plane that I've ever heard of.
Intrigued, he got up and started to walk over to the man, and took a seat at a small table nearby to listen to more.  He knew it was in poor manners to listen in but it was too fascinating not to hear more.

Christian? Mooslim? I wonder if they worship Pelor, or Cuthbert. Keebler Elf?

At the word elf, Aramen decided to speak up, at least on that issue.
"Good Master," he said addressing the strange man, "I've never heard of keebler elves. Moon, Sun, Wood, Drow. . . but never keebler, are they a kin of mine from your plane?"

Seeing the questioning look on her face, Mason explains further.

"Yes, people live out in the NAN.  It is a separate nation so there are all of the legal difficulties involved.  But if you wanted to go there, I know a few tribal chiefs, who owe me big time."

"As far as why I am here, I don't know.  Harlequin, the 'painted keeb' I was referring to, is thousands of years old and is one of the most powerful mages in the world.  I have done a few jobs for him, not always fully voluntarily.  He has a tendency not to fully explain himself.  I know he sent me here, I was exiting a... well a job and instead of Cabal driving, my usual rigger, Harlequin was at the wheel.  He said he needed a favor, and when I got out of the van, I was on a wooden path."

She nodded, offering a soft word of thanks, still thinking, before turning to Aramen, as he asked his question.  She couldn't help but smile.  She had a feeling he would not be amused if he understood the Keebler Elf reference.

My understanding was that all Elves ultimately are believed to be related in the same manner as Humans. She offered, and glanced to Mason, presuming he would know more.

She still wasn't sure she would like Mason's world.  But it might be a reasonable place to... to what? Hide.  But she had been hiding, and how's that working out for you? Her mind's voice asked.  She dismissed it, going back to ponder why she was there.

Do you know why you're here? She asked Aramen with a glance.

Turning to Aramendel.

"Welcome to the trans dimensional Tavern.  My name is Mason.  The people here are from all sorts of wheres and whens.  I do not know if the elves from my world are in any relation to you, but I doubt it.  We were just comparing some notes on our own worlds.  If you wish, sit and join us for a meal."

He looked over to Vanesssa, a little caught off guard by the question. He realized he didn't think of why he was here, only that he was here.

Umm, No, I don't know.  All I remember was after my watch I settled in my tent and started to trance and now I'm here." The thought put him on edge a little more than before and instinctively started to scan the room again. Satisfied that there was nothing threatening he reestablished eyecontact with Vanessa, and with an obvious air of false confidence and discomfort stated, "I don't have much of an understanding of how humans and elfen folk are related, but I do know that as a race, we changed over time. There may be other elves I don't know about, especial on other planes."

As much as he tried to change the subject, though, he couldn't get off the thought of "why?" and couldn't help but ask the lady, "Why are you here?"

Vanessa frowned.  She hadn't really expected to him to know why, but she had hoped. When he asked, she shook her head, I've no idea.  I've been trying to figure it out...  I ... I had assumed that I was here because the last thing I remember...I believed that the person I was with must have brought me. But now, I'm not so sure.

The question of why plagued her.  Perhaps it was because if there was some kind of reason, she wasn't sure she could or should just leave before... before what?  She had never been too keen on not having explanations.  That didn't help either.  And there was something about Mason's discussion of the future, or his present that made her think she wasn't there simply by happenstance.  Though what, why... she had no idea.

In reply to Mason (msg #205):


"Trans-dimensional? I think I sort of understand," he responded. He then went to grab his plate from the bar and then proceeded to pull up a chair to the table.

Aramen?

"huh? Yana?"
With that scoff at the voice his hand passed right through the back of the chair. Confused and startled, he picked up his hand ant looked at it. Nothing seemed out of the norm anymore, so he shook it off and sat down.

"Oh, My name is Aramendel, and you two are?" offering his  hand for a handshake.

Mason looks for a second then takes the offered hand.  The grip is firm but not too forceful.

"Like I said, people call me Mason.  You seem to be having a few issues your self.  Are you a dual natured being?  In both the physical and astral realm at the same time?"

"No, I've only been on the astral plane as a private for training, the besides that I stay on the Material plane"

He looks at his hand again cautiously, fearing disbelief my force him to shift again.

Why did I hear Yana, and why did my hand change? Wait, that must be it! The Astral Plane! It links all the other planes if i remember right, this must be there. . . now if only i knew how I got here. Or why.

Fearing to dwell on it, Aramen shook the thoughts off and cut into the steak before him. After biting into the roast the taste assured this was real. he then sat up a bit and adjusted this cloak and belt, then continued to eat.

"This really is a confusing place, Mason . . . why do you think so many others are here?

     Sweeping the doors to the kitchen aside, Quintus backs into the taproom with a large tray of hot steaming rolls smothered in butter. "Cookie is in a mood it seems, hot buttered rolls sent to the floor without an order. Cookie just said to table them." With this several smaller trays of buttered rolls quickly found their way to occupied tables and one at the bar. Sweeping back across the counter and tables Quintus gathers another swath of empty containers and plates. Ending at the end of the bar Quintus waves the barkeep over. "</yellow>What is your name?</yellow>"

     Chuckling as the new kitchen boy went about his duties, Barkeep just went about his business polishing the glasses. Various sizes and patterns, all needed to stay clean. Then Quintus called him to the end of the bar.
     "I am Barkeep, sometimes called Inny, sometimes Keepguard, and sometimes just Keep. As such I am a part of The Wolf's Head Tavern, as much as Cookie, and the barmaids. You and Porter have jobs here, but truly you are not bound and will not be bound to the the Inn as we are. I don't like Inny, any of the other names is fine though. Now take a tray out front and have a drink, the group meeting and briefing out there would appreciate them I believe. If we are giving them away we ought to try to keep all of the guests happy."

I'm Vanessa. The woman answered Aramen, and added, I'd say you have a gift for understatement. She smirked a bit, taking a drink.   She could imagine a lot of reasons why the others were there, but none for herself.  Which only reinforced her notion that there had to be some reason why.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:43, Fri 13 Feb 2009.

"There probably is a reason, need our skills, or otheres needed the hideout. . . " He remarked cutting another piece of what seemed to be venison, and after tasting it, smiled.

. . . or someone wanted to try out their new delicious recipes on us. So may I pry," turning to Vanessa "Miss Vanessa, what is it like on your plane?"

     "If I might pry, when was the last time you had a bit o a rest?" the soldier turned kitchenboy turned to the young woman, the warmth of the room and relaxed atmosphere having done wonders for his countenance. "A friend of mine used to speak of a place he would go to  in his daydreams, it gave him a chance to rest when the current world would not. He would stare off into the distance for but a few minutes, but it would refresh him as furlough did the rest of the men. He swore one day to teach me the place he found, but unfortunately, he took an axe against the first encounter with germanic hordesmen."
     "Could this not be such a place?" With that Quintus lifted a tray of steaming rolls, and a pitcher of wine with cups and headed for the door.


***********to Out on the Porch****************

Vanessa paused for a moment.  She thought her world would seem very dull, compared to this place, and what she'd been hearing.

My...plane is very human. She said slowly, thinking about what to say.  Magic is all but dead, most humans behave badly... Spirituality is limited, prejudice is high... She gazed at Armamen.  I would describe it as a sad place. She sighed.

"Alas there must be something happy. I know from my travels that when people lose magic they tend to make more ingenious contraptions to fill the void"
The elf then reached back and grabbed a roll off of the passing porter's tray.
No magic. . . I guess I could try. . . He thought as he bit into the fresh bread.  Aremn then reached into his boot and pulled a dagger with a unicorn adorning the pommel. "I am still only learning, " he started as he began carving a mark into the the table. "and the Lady of the Wood hasn't blessed me with complete control yet. But everyone needs a least a little magic."
He then took his hand and covered the marking and closed his eyes. A vine began to creep through his fingers, sprouting leaves, a few thorns and the bud of a flower.  The flower started to bloom as Aremn removed his hand from the table. He then offered the half bloomed rose to young lady.
"So here is a little bit of magic to take with you, if and when you return.

Vanessa paused in her meal.  She glanced from the flower to Aramen, to Mason and back. She wasn't sure that magic was a good thing to bring 'home'.  Or if she were going back, but she thought the gesture very sweet.  Thank you. I'll take care of your gift. She said to Aramen, taking the flower and placing it safely into the lapel of her shirt.

Again she glanced to Mason, then wondered if she did return.  If she brought the flower, would this flower create his world?  Did that mean she needed to return? That she shouldn't return?  It meant she thought to much, she told her self.

I suppose many people believe they are happy.  Though many people want. And we do have quite a bit of distractions, contraptions that fill the void as you say. Vanessa smiled, We think Mason's world might be my world in a great distant future. Though the technology on my world isn't as far advanced as his. She glanced again to the other man.

"Our worlds are close.  Things that have passed in hers, passed in mine.  I hope her world does not... evolve into mine, but it is possible.  In my where and when, magic and tech are both highly evolved.  Magic was recently reintroduced to my world and since it's return, technology has spiked at an exponential rate.  But I do believe the magic is of a different sort.  Magical theory, is not my area of expertise.  But I have a question, does magic in your world have a cost.  "

The steak is good, and while the culture shock of some of these people is amazing, it is at least interesting.

(In editing to address previous comment)
"Cost? In a way.  There are two magics in my plane, Divine, as what I used, and Arcane. Both occasionally call for something material to focus the power on. Most divine magic comes from a connection to your god or goddess, or to nature itself, and they in turn grant power. Arcane manipulates an energy in the world, or pulls aspects of other planes to the one you are on. Extensive and powerful spells drain the caster, but that is beyond any level that I will reach. I could tell you more, if you would like. I see quite a bit of arcane magic but for me it is just a matter of faith, focus and nature. "

With those last words Aramendel picked up his knife and inspected the blade, then the pommel. It wasn't much of a weapon, could be useful in desperation, but it was more than that to him.  He gazed at the reflection of himself in the blade, then the unicorn, the symbol of his patron goddess, Ehlonna. His mind started to wander and drift. With a quick jolt he pulled himself out of it and dropped the dagger.  It bounced on its point and then fell off the table with a sharp ring.  Before he could bend down and pick it up he noticed something in Vanessa's eyes.

"You are distraught about something, and judging by what you are glancing at, its the rose. Does it bother you?
This message was last edited by the player at 01:47, Sat 14 Feb 2009.

Faster than humanly possible, Mason reaches out and catches the falling dagger in mid air.

...does magic in your world have a cost?  Her attention turned to Mason, Doesn't everything have a cost? She asked with a smile, indicating she was not meaning to be rude or challenging. It was perhaps only her normal, cynical self.

Jumpy fellow, Nessa thought, watching Aramen. No...well...I guess you'd say everything bothers me, its how I manage to stay alive. She smiled, But, not to worry, She answered reassuringly, the rose is beautiful.  Magical things, even evil things were almost always beautiful.  It was a truthful answer, if albiet one that skirted perhaps the true nature of his question and certainly the true nature of her thoughts.

For some reason the Elf seemed young to her, almost like an idealistic youth. What was the life span of an Elf?  She didn't know.

Mason expertly flips the knife over once so that he holds it by the blade before offering it to the elf.  Looking at Nessa, he smiles to show no offense taken.

"Yes... everything has a cost.  Magic, and cyberware.  In my where and when, the cost of magic, in addition to the time and energy spent to learn it, is 'drain.'  Use too much and you could pass out.  Really push your self, and you could burn yourself out.  The cost of tech, well that might be higher.  They cut out a piece of you every time." 

Aramen nodded and bent down to pick up the blade and was taken aback by seeing it in the the hands of Mason already.
"The unicorn represents The lady of the Woods, Ehlonna." pointing to the hilt "She binds those that connect nature, its power, and its good. Do you have a patron diety to call your own?"

"No... no patron for me. Just the Bushido code.  Spirituality means something different in my where and when, you need to find what is right for you.  For me it is the Way of the Gun and the Blade."

Aramen was a little perplexed by what he meant by way of the gun, but way of the sword he knew quite well.
"I don't know what you mean by way of the gun, but if you speak of valor I may have something for you. "

The elf then reached into his waist pack, which seemed impossibly deep. From the depths he pulled a small brooch depicting a hand holding a bolt of lightning.
"This was given to me by a traveller I crossed who's mount was injured. I helped  it back and he overed me this silver brooch as a token of thanks. . He motioned to Mason to take it.
This represents Heironeous. He stands for honor, strength and hope.  I think you might have followed him all your life.

The smile Mason gives shows some regret, he takes the pin and leaves in on the table in front of him.

"The gun is a the main weapon of my time.  It can kill quickly and from a distance.  The main disadvantage of it is, anyone can use it to kill."

Slowly, Mason reaches into his jacket and pulls out a massive hand gun, setting it on the table.  Thunderbolt IIc is written on the side.

"As far as your Heironeous goes, he sounds like a God of justice.  I have not always been a righteous man."

Loking confused and astonished, Aremen picked up the weapon and began to examine
the Thunderbolt.

"Rightous is never black and white, unlike how many hope it is. says the elf while turning the weapon at all angles, trying to not be too harsh with it to respect its power. "Laws made by man don't always say what is right, only what is allowed. If your mind focuses on the greater good while staying in your code of conduct,
<DarkGreen>"My mentors would say 'You follow your god with yout life and your choices, I but offer you a name and a face for him'"
His slender fingers moved over the weapon, looking carefully at the the inner workings, not understanding but wishing he did.
"And the fact that you wield a thunderbolt in battle must show some connection," he remarked with a smile.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:06, Sat 14 Feb 2009.

Mason looks on as the elf examines the gun.  He thinks of the dangers of a child holding a gun for the first time and is gives a small smile of relief.  The gun is just a hunk of metal without the proper access from a keyed smart link.

"Normally I wouldn't let someone touch that, but really, I try not to use it anymore.  I had an epiphany a few years back, and I prefer non lethal methods now.  Fortunately that is a trend that many people in my line of work have started to follow."

The ranger handed the weapon to Mason and took his dagger back. With a flick of the wrist he tossed it into the air and caught it on its descent.
"A noble virtue," he quipped as he slid the knife into the sheath in his boot.
"I try to follow it too, but my prey usually leaves me little choice."

Vanessa watched, pausing a second in her chewing as Mason handed Aramen his gun.  Her fist thought being he was out of his mind, but her eyes on the man, not the Elf, she told herself that in the future there must be some kind of complex saftey, some phsyical recognition between the weapon and shooter or something.

She couldn't believe Mason would simply hand over a gun.  Then again, she didn't really know the man... She pondered this for a moment and decided, no, her instincts were never THAT wrong.  The thought traveled through her mind, before the internal laughter started. Oh yeah?

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and her memory, trying to focus only on the present.  Weapons in my world are similiar...but less...advanced. She glanced at Aramen, still struggling to stay present and trust in herself.

She had to admit she felt better with all weapons back safely in the hands of their owners, and she was not going to volunteer her own.  She held firmly to the rule that if you took out the weapon, you needed to be prepared to use it.  Period.

The nagging little voice in her mind was still chuckling, which was perhaps why the association hit her.  The image of a rose scarf. Lightening. The rose at her lapel... Thunderbolt.  Her eyes traveled to the flower, to the men...  There could be no possible connection between her past and this present.  Ridiculous.   Coincidences.  It still set her on edge.

So... this is probably a rude question, you don't have to answer if it, if it is...how old are you... relatively speaking? She asked Aramen, deciding her old fashioned tactless self was the only way she ever got answers.

She wanted to know if this atypical feeling she had to be protective of the elf was driven by a cultural habit to protect youth or something other.

Mason gives a smile, he knew that letting the elf examine the weapon could be seen at the mark of a novice.  But truth be told, he only used that weapon for hardened targets where there was no other option.  He was much more likely to pull one of the other two guns that he carried, or the whip for close encounters.

Interesting question.  While elves in his world claimed solidarity and claimed to be their own race, Mason knew there were the ones that had changed from human and that they had an extended, but limited life span and then there were the true elves.  Ones like Aaron and Harlequin.  Elves that had lived since before the age of man.  Ones that were thousands of years old.

"I am but Eleven tenyears old," he said with a smile.
Then he realized that if she doesn't know elves that may seem out of the norm.
"Oh,  I should explain.  That is about 20 to a human, my kind ages much slower than most goodly races.  I am actually pretty young for my rank, but to you I must seem ancient."

She feared the exasperation showed on her face initially.  Eleventen...what was that?  10 and a half? 110? She was grateful Aramen clarified, but still felt badly that her confusion was probably transparent.  No. Well, yes. But… She sighed returning to coherency.  I’m not familiar with the …What was the word? Realities of other races. Thank you for answering. She smiled.  Sadly the other beings she saw were usually trying to kill her, and she was, being there, thus far the victor of the arrangement.

I figured you must be older, but…  Actually, you do seem …She didn’t want to be insulting. Very youthful. She smiled, pleased with herself that she thought she’d found a tactful way of putting it.  She was also relieved, to some extent at least, that her reaction to feel like he was an innocent needing protection was probably cultural on her part, rather than supernatural.  Of course, that instantly made her feel considerably older and never being one for any kind of maternal instinct, made her stomach lurch,  but it was better to be having odd cultural throwbacks that could be attributed to being in a strange place, then to think other things.

She glanced to Mason.  She had a feeling he was probably finding this all rather amusing, she had presumed he was about her age or older… but maybe not.  She returned to eating, thinking at this rate, she was going to talk herself into being 110 before she finished the meal, which was all but gone as it was.

"Why thank you, Miss Vanessa, although that caused a few issues before. At my age, most elven men are either just joining the warrior squads, finishing apprenticeships, or still in studying arcane arts.
He solemnly turned his head and looked out the window. "My father was a private when I was was born, and by the time I was in basic studies he worked his way to luitenant of the scout team. Instead of the normal tenyear of wizarding apprenticeship that most youths practice, he trained me in the woods as a scout and hunter." He smiled at the thought of his father's training, again getting that lost feeling, yet continued to talk "He also called a few favors to get me into the warrior college sooner than normal. Thanks to his training I rose the class ranks fast. When I graduated I was drafted as a scout and interceptor, after my goblin brained Sargent got himself killed on a sortie I took control of the squad."
His hand slipped under his cloak to reveal a badge that looked like a leaf with 2 arrows crossing from the right.
"Most of them men I used to command accepted my role, and trusted my judgment. Others voiced disgust for following orders of someone younger then them. One hundred and ten isn't that old when only among my kin. . . " His voice started to trail off with those last few words. Realizing he lost focus again he snapped back to attention. "I'm sorry miss, I started to ramble and didn't realize."

Mason looks at the elf with no real surprise, he had read Tolkien, he knew about the long lifespans of elves in those books.  He imagined that Tolkien might have visited a place like this to get his ideas.

"I don't think you are related to the elves in my world.  At least not closely related.  They grow to maturity almost as quickly as humans, but then have an extended lifespan.  There are some that are a lot older.  Of course the average human lifespan, at least if you have money, has gone well over 100."

Giving Nessa a small smile:

"If you have money, you can get replacement organs with guaranteed compatibility.  It only takes a few weeks to grow one in a vat.  If you are poor, just like always, you die young.  Universal Health Care is still not a reality in most of the world."

As she always tried to do, Vanessa pushed her troubling thoughts to the back of her mind.  They never truly left, they just smoldered, until either something caught and a full fledge fire presented it self or it stayed warm and waiting.

Smiling at Aramen as he spoke, she couldn't help but wonder how such a being would fit in her world. He wouldn't.  She didn't have the heart to tell him any elf like creatures she had met in her past had not been nature creatures, but dark evil beasts.  Creatures to be destroyed.  Maybe they weren't related?  Now she wondered if there were good elves and bad... Are you a good witch?...

She was not going to ask, since she didn't want to hear particular answers.

A few weeks in a vat? She made a face that a cat would make before expelling a hairball, Ew. She shuddered. I suppose no worse than my world, where people will just kidnap you, kill you and steal what they want... But, I'd rather die, thanks.

Though...if your organs can be grown and harvested,  Just saying it made her insides wrench unpleasently, Did you.. science...discover any kind of genetic memory? A personal theory. We have not reached that point to know, yet...Though I suppose, we, in fact, might not be genetically the same... She wrinkled her nose at Mason.  Granted they both looked human enough, and came from a place identified as Earth, but if they were not on the same time line, then whose to say?  Perhaps, pointless to speculate. She thanked the waitstaff who had appeared and was quickly sweeping away her very empty plate.

Aremn knew to keep his mouth shut and dig into his food. Health care to him is Anemone giving a cure spell to patch up some cuts, bruises and a broken bone or five. Disease too was just some alchemy or potions except the really ill.  For him too, money can keep you alive longer. With some expensive ingredients you can raise a willing soul from unnatural death . . . not unlike Mason's world. Of course Vanessa was distraught enough about magic that he felt it shouldn't be brought up.
Genetic memory?
He decided that it was just a aspect of their world and decided not to push the issue. His mind was still focused on living passed your natural bonds. Without thinking he just blurted out "Don't want to live too long or the inevitables will come for you." Realizing he said something that probably wasn't relative to them, the elf lowered his head and continued with his meal.

He gives a look at the elf... his outburst odd.

"The awakening has given much new evidence to genetic memory.  Some of the people who went through goblinization gained knowledge that there was no way for them to know.  Unfortunately, it is not in my area of expertise.  Vat grown organs are expensive and are limited to the wealthy.  Magical healing is good, but not common.  Most people go to a body bank for their replacement needs."

Mason knows that the explanation is incomplete and with a look to the elf, he continues.

"A body bank is a place that specializes in removing, storing and reselling organic and mechanical body parts.  As a general rule, the incoming clients are not voluntary."

That's the way I feel about it, Vanessa muttered in response to Aramen's comment.  Though she knew fully well that whatever it was he meant, it was surely not the same as her own thought.

She winced some more as Mason spoke, her arms coming to fold across her chest as she tightened up more.  I have to hand it to you, Mason.  I really didn't think I could ever think more kindly toward my world or time, but you paint a picture that almost makes me homesick. She chuckled.

She watched Aramen eat, he seemed as hungry as she had.  Maybe the process of getting here made one hungry? Did Elfs eat diffent food?  Was the food the same in the future?  Her mind pictured some trans-plane cultural exchange program... before coming back into focus.

Do you have ghosts in your worlds? She asked suddenly.

"Ghosts... yes. We do.  But it is a bit hard to explain.  There is irrefutable proof about the astral realm.  It is a spirit realm that is parallel to our own.  Ghosts, spirits, most mages and shamans, as well some creatures can access it.  All of them in different ways."

Mason enjoys the last of his steak.  Savoring each bite.  The potato and bread are good, but it is the steak that absorbs his attention.

"And I don't mean to make my world sound like it is all doom and gloom.  It is just my perspective of it.  I live on the dark side of things.  Most people never have to deal with anything like what I am saying.  Most people live in their comfortable suburbans homes and do a regular job, the only cyberware they ever see is their datajack."

Mason sits back and decides not to tell Nessa about VITAS, but a bit of the color does fade from his face.

"Nessa, what year is it in your world?" 

"Ghosts, why, yes. Tragic as it is, replied the elf with a grimace. As Mason said, with magic the Astral plane becomes open and spirits can be brought to the the material plane for limited time, if the soul is willing.

With a sigh he continued, other ghosts cross the plane by extreme emotion such a s child that died a frightening death, or a murder victim that can not accept their fate. But most of these spirits are if their body was violated by magic after they died, raised to serve means and ideals completely against what they believed in life. As he said the last line his words began to clench, his fists tightened and with the last word he took his steak knife and slammed it into the table, leaving it standing by its point.

"I'm sorry. . . I hold a strong grudge against the undead and those who raise them. They are my bane, as some would say." He took a deep breath and grasped the knife and with 2 strong tugs was able to release it from the wood.

"I am most sorry if I startled you."

She doubted she would be one of those 'normal' people of Mason's world.  She hadn't managed to pull it off in her own.  But her companion's words of ghosts were interesting.  Most of the time, she wouldn't raise the issue.  Most 'normal' people did not respond well, but she figured this was different.

They seem to be a bane for me too, at least one. Vanessa muttered, and speaking more loudly answered Mason.

It's 1998 where I came from.  Many think the world will come to an end at 2000. She smirked. There are some saying that all our computerized equipment can't handle the date change and that automated systems, for which there are many, will... go tilt.  She wondered if that was a phrase that had any meaning for these too.  Funny she'd never thought of that before. Will stop working or freeze up.  She clarified.

Mason seems relieved when Vanessa tells him the date of her when and where.

"Ghosts have never been a big issue for me.  I have helped a couple with their 'unresolved issues,' usually involving who killed them, and helped them to move on.  It's insect spirits that I have issues with.  That was a damn fine meal.  I hate to be the one to tell you this, but the future has a lot of soy in store for you Nessa.  Good food like this is still available, but less common.  Most people live on soy."

How could he have forgotten about VITAS.  Other than the awakening, it was the biggest event of the 21st century.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:17, Tue 17 Feb 2009.

Gallus looked up from his thoughts at the conversation. He had been able to keep track of it through the way of his keen hearing and the talk of ghosts was intriguing. He didn't look at the others as he spoke.

"Have respect for the dead, for it is through the ghosts and memories of your brothers that you still live. Remember well the lessons of those before you for it is upon these teaching that the Chapter will survive."

He stopped for a moment to lift his glass in salute to the fallen.

"It is one of the first things we are taught as battle-brothers. To know that your brother watches over you with the Emperor and will give you courage in the most dire of circumstances. It is through the memory of them that they shall live forever with the Emperor, to guide us to more prosperous times."

He turned his head to regard the group.

"Soy? Those waxy beans from the Mendel Country? Ughh, I hate those. First because of how they taste,  2 for the amount of pirates the shipments draw. Its one of the few things I refuse to escort. "
He sticks his tongue out, feeling like he just tasted a bean. "I can't imagine having to . . ."


Aramen. . . goblins. . . you

"Yana?" exclaims Aramendel, looking around. "What is happening? Huh?" His body started to fade in and out. The knife in his hand fell to the floor, passing through his hand. With a quick shine and minor flash he was gone

Mason bends over and picks up the dagger.

"Huh... that is a new one on me.  Magic that physically moves someone, a transporter or teleporter spell has been determined to be impossible.  At least in my where and when."

Mason shrugs...

"Of course magic was used to send me here so, I guess the laws of magic mean as little to that painted keeb as do the laws of man."

Soy... Vanessa gave a resigned sigh.  She didn't mind it, but it didn't take the place of 'real food.'

She watched, Aramen flicker and fade.  She had seen this before and while she thought one never became completely used to it, it was no longer strange and disconcerting as it once was.

Magic has a mind of its own, so to speak. She chuckled.  I think he'll be back. She turned back to Mason.  Magic can move things ... like that, in my when, but human invention cannot.  They still think it's possible though.  At least some do. She shrugged.

She paused for a moment, not sure if she should speak her mind, so broaching it tentatively.  My problem is a ghost that doesn't want to leave me be. She said, pausing to see what kind of a reaction that was going to illicit.  A part of her, surprised she had raised this issue.

"I understand... if you are one of the only ones who can see and communicate with them.  Must be a real pain.  Vanessa, are you planning on staying here for a while?  A day or so?"

The small amount of warmth that was in his voice is gone.  For a reader, someone perceptive enough, there is something that is really bothering him.

Mason turns to the armored future soldier.  He pours himself another glass of Cognac before standing up.

"Here is to the fallen.  The two I will mention are Lark and Wildcard.  Here is to them."

He waits to see if any others join in before downing the drink.

She did not have any dead she wanted to drink to, and left her glass where it sat.  Though she didn't think the large warrior would understand that and she certainly knew there was no point in trying to explain it.

She waited until there was a moment of quiet again, allowing those with favorable memories to embrace them.

It's not a them... She answered Mason.  It's only a one, who is determined to make my life miserable. She said with an edge. I can't exactly say I have plans...  I'm not even sure I can get home... if I want to get home. She shook her head, trying to let things rattle into place.  Why do you ask?

Mason sits back down, looking at Vanessa.  His brow is furrowed and he thinks about the possibilities.

"There is just something I will want to look up.  If your when and where is following along the same lines as mine... well, there is just some history that I want to look up.  As far as ghosts go, they aren't really a big problem for my where and when.  Because a mage can enter into astral space, they can confront a ghost on equal footing."

     Crossing through the room Quintus quickly gathers the plate and bowl that had been Aramandel's, lifting the elf's glass he toasted, "Strength and Honor!" he shared the toast of the man in the  dark glasses, pausing to give respect to the thought.

Vanessa sat back, studying Mason for a moment.

You... want to come home with me and do research? Vanessa smirked, an eyebrow raised.  It sounded ridiculous to voice it, but then... Having verbalized this, she started thinking about it.  Could they possible help each other. She leaned forward, Can your...mage's kill a ghost? Or...  Or what?

She sighed and rolled her eyes exasperated at herself.  What this conversation must sound like!  I just want this ghost to leave me alone. It's... a long story.

"No... not go with you.  I was thinking of trying to go back to my where and when.  Look a few things up.  And yes, of the three mages I work with on a regular basis, I would have to call on Dream Walker.  He got the nickname Dream Smasher after an encounter with a major insect spirit queen."

The little smile he gives at the nick name is genuinely mirthful.

"It was a bad situation and he we had thrown everything we had at it to no effect.  As the team leader, it was my job to cover the retreat, hold her in place until the team could get out and we were able to bring down the house.  It was in an underground tunnel and spirits can't travel through dirt, the whole spirit of the earth thing.  Dream Walker stayed.  He threw everything he had into a single magical blow.  He put all of himself into that blow, he saved nothing back to resist the backlash of the magic.  Then, he did it again.  It took him magical healing and a week to recover.  For a problem with a pesky spirit, Dream Walker is the man."

She snorted, and leaned her elbow on the table, her chin in hand, Humph.  Maybe I should go home with you.  She replied glibly, she wasn't really considering it.  She was fully aware that there was no guarantee that in a different world, 'her ghost' would follow or that anything such thing would work.

I guess I was hoping for a more...portable solution. She gave a half smile.

Letting the two get back to there conversation, Gallus looked at the bar and rose, grabbing his helmet as he did. He looked at the barkeep.

"I have no coin to offer, nor thrones or credits for a room, but I do have muscle and labor to offer. I was bred for battle, yet my armor won't be much good in here, I will do more harm than good. Can we reach an agreement?"

His hand reached for the familiar door. Pushing it open he saw the same sight as the first time he entered the tavern. Familiar faces still littered the room, along with the man and woman where he was sitting before. Lifting his other hand he looked to see a harsh cut still on his arm.

He approached the table but noticed that his plate and cup were gone.  Not wanting to scare anyone in case the memory of him was purged with his leaving, he carefully strolled back to the seat he occupied before.

"Hello? Miss Vanessa? Master Mason?"

"NO.  Definitely not.  I am sorry, I can not allow you to come to my where and when.  I have a good reason.  Let me look at something first, let me see if Dream Walker can come up with something.  He is also a damn good enchanter."

There is no way that Mason could allow any of these people to come to his world.  When Vanessa had asked about seeing the wild, he had thought to offer to show her the NAN, but that would be folly.  You could never forget about VITAS.

Mason turned as he heard what the Marine was saying.  It was hard to miss.

"Barkeep, here put it on this."

He tosses the cred stick to the bartender, it is a just a bit of pocket cash for him anyway.  As Aramandel walks in, Mason looks at him and offers him his dropped dagger.

"Welcome back, you look slightly worse for wear."

Again he turns to the Barkeep:

"Put a bottle of elven wine of one kind or another on that too."

"Heh, glad to see memory doesn't fade, " replied Aramen reaching to take the knife. "And I think I may know how I found myself here. Along with what comes along with that."

"When I trance, I believe a my body projects cross dimensions, or something. My hand faded when a friend of mine moved my arm, pulling it back to the material plane.  Weird though, my possessions are linked to this too. . . I didn't have have the brooch I gave to you, Mason, on the material plane, nor my knife. " The elf lowered his head and let out a long sigh. He then lifted his head and looked over at Miss Venessa. "I still don't know why my body puts me here. . . " As he rests his arm on the table he winces. He grabs his arm and wipes off a little bit of fresh blood.

"Damn goblins. It seems wounds and pain carry over too."

Gallus looked at Mason and held his hand up. "A Space Marine will not live off of the pity and donations of others. I will earn my keep."

"I do not believe Master Mason intended to assist out of pity," turning to the soldier. If you refuse his credits, then take a coin of mine out of respect and assistance. You show honor, good sir, by refusing charity. So if I may assume, you have fought on behalf of those who can't, for your greater good. If I am correct, then you are a brother of arms, no matter what plane you reside in."
Aramen reaches into his money pouch on his belt and pulls out a gold piece. with a swift flick he tosses it to the man clad in armor.
"And Brothers assist brothers, am I correct?"

Looking over at the marine, Mason shrugs.

"Take it or not, the choice is yours.  It's not pity, it's called pay it forward.  I had a stranger do me a solid once.  He told me to pay it forward.  Someday, when you get a chance, do something kind for someone else."

Mason looks at the elf.  He is used to mages going astral and being around him.  It was a regular part of a run, astral support.  But to manifest in this way was something new.  He looks from the elf to Vanessa.

"I am going to try and make it to my world and back here.  My only real concern is if the flow of time is the same here as it is there."

Vanessa had not been serious about accompanying Masson, had not even given it real thought until his vehemenant refusal.  This made her curious.   But she didn't want to get stuck in his world.

The conversation with the Space Marine and Aramen's return, took her attention.  She wondered if the hulking warrior would listen to Mason more than he listened to anyone else.  Certainly, he would listen to the man before listening to her, that had been established.

Wecome back, She said to Aramen warmly.

When Mason stated, his intentions, she leaned forward, her chin resting in her hand, elbow on the table.  How?  If one could travel from here, maybe they need not go back to where they came or with another.... maybe she could do to a third option?  But the basic mechanics still needed to be determined.

He was getting nowhere fast. Mason had giving him charity, then expected Gallus to be fine with it. The woman was too ignorant about the ways of a warrior to understand why he refused help.

"Trust me, I understand what you are trying to do. It does not offend me, merely annoys me that you would think that I need help. You are not my battle-brothers, not raised in the fires of battle and subjected to horrors that would break a normal person like a melon on rocks. Understand that I will never fully trust you, nor even accept you as equals, because you are not. If my litany offends you because it rings true, then you can go frag yourself. If it offends you because you think I am wrong, then we shall step outside to see if you can prove it. Do not assume because of the neutrality of this place that I hold that same demeanor."

Mason looks over at the Marine, a humorless half smile on his face.

"In my where and when, it is only the novice who is willing to risk everything in a fight just to prove that he can fight.  Mostly though, they just pull out a ruler to compare their output."

He shrugs and turns away, leaving the marine to his own fate.  He turns back to Vanessa and Aramandel.  The small display screen on the glasses show him what the marine does behind him.  Now his smile does show some humor.

"I am going to talk to the bar tender and the old soldier.  They seem to have been here a while and would probably have a better idea than most about how to come and go."

"You are not my better," replied the wood elf with a sharp glare, all of the warmness leaving his face.
"Born in battle, I was not, but I have lived it. Time and time again I have clashed steel, split shields, and bathe in blood of friend and foe alike. You speak of horrors. I have seen demons and devils alike break from the binds of arrogant wizards and the destruction they have tolled on their rampage. I have seen a man eaten, from the inside out.  I watched as humans, elves and dwarves, Men, women, children . . . all slaughtered, and raised from the dead to be used as no more than tools."
Standing and clenching his fists, Aramen continued, "I struck down my own brother, after his body was taken and used as a puppet." Taking a breath to calm himself," he paused momentarily, "I have trained men to defend what they hold dear. I have lead men into battle against armies of those bred to do nothing but destroy. I have watched men die, just to protect those they cherish."

"Your weapons and armor may be more sophisticated than mine, but you are not my better."

"You may have earned rank in your army, but you are not my better."

"As Ehlonna as my witness, I have fought with, been taught by, and traveled with better men. But you are not my better."


He took another breath and let his hands relax as he took to his seat once again. "I do not wish a fight. Some may feel that a besting in combat may determine worth, but I do not. It is not why I fight. I will not spar, Marine. 'For 'tis but a fool who engages a dragon for honor or greed'. If it is but a fight you want, you may leave, because you will not find one here."

"Aramendel, it is not worth getting upset about.  In his where and when, he is the ultimate soldier.  Arrogance is a part of that.  Everyone has had their share of horrors.  I more than most.  Sit and share the wine.  You, like I, have nothing to prove.  A tin suit does not a man make."

Mason takes the neck of the bottle of elven wine in his left hand.  One finger moves around the top of the bottle and the top simply falls off.  He pours a glass for Aramandel, himself and Vanessa.

"Unless you are offended by my buying you a drink?"

Vanessa's hand, holding up her chin, slid over her mouth, keeping it clamped shut and trying desperately to keep absolutely nothing in her eyes.


Vanessa reached for the glass, Mason poured, taking it without comment.

Once the surprise wore off, she reached out, placing a gentle hand on the Elf's arm.  She had little doubt that the warrior was not going to undertand or pay any better attention to an elf than a human woman.  Not worth it. She said softly, Tell me about your world, while our friend Mason here does his research. She smiled encouragingly.

(edit for cross post)
This message was last edited by the player at 19:10, Wed 18 Feb 2009.

Gallus rose up to his full hieght to meet the accusations.
"If what you have said is true, then you can only begin to understand my time. Do not think that I hide behind my armor and bolter, for they are but an extention of me. You talk of me not being better than you? How can you say that if you are dead? Do not take it as a threat, but a thought. Dead me cannot be better than the living. I respect the dead and the memories they hold, but my living body allows me to better them. I too have served with better men than myself, but they were Space Marines as well. They were gods among men, even Space Marines. Chaos has done all of those things to my brothers, some even worse. I regret to inform you that niether myself or you are unique when it comes to pain. You cannot, however, understand what I do for the betterment of Man."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:07, Wed 18 Feb 2009.

Mason finishes his drink before going up to Quintus.

"Quintuss, right?  I had a question for you.  What do you know about getting to and from this place?"

Vanessa watched Mason go, and turned toward Aramen, a little afraid he was going to try to reason with the Space Marine.  Keeping her hand on his arm, she spoke again, Tell me about your world.  Are there humans? Like us? Me? She tried to coming up with questions to hold in reserve to keep his focus.

Heeding Mason's words, Aramendel lowered his head and said but one final sentence to the Marine. "No man is truly dead as long as his legacy lives on." He then raised his glass as if a salute to someone unseen and took a drink.

Aramen turned his head to Vanessa, ignoring the words of the marine. He then looked down at her hand and smiled, the warmth returning to his face.
"My plane is. . . chaotic. In my travels I have lived in woods that seem endless,I've crossed cities that stretch past the horizon, discovered villages that are invisible among their surroundings. Wars from the ages have left ruins and caves scattered everywhere, while current wars between the goodly and the feral continue to rage. Yes, there are humans like you. Humans are actually most of the population. In perspective, elves, dwarves, halflings, and all the other goodly are minority.  There are vile creatures that make up the feral, orcs, goblins, . . .  to name a few. Of course there are always many exceptions . . . Humans who desire power or destruction, not caring about causing pain, goblins and kobolds who want to live in peace. Nothing is ever black and white."


"There are Monstrous creatures, good and evil, roam the world, more so lately then ever from what I have been told. "
He gave another smile, sort of in a reassuring way to say that it is not as bad as he made it seem.
"But I'm sure these things are paltry to to the artifice and societies of your plane, Miss Vanessa"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:52, Wed 18 Feb 2009.

Vanessa shrugged. I don't know.... She shook her head.  My world, at least what I know of it, is far simplier.  We are plagued by the evil that men do.  Greed, desire, power corrupts and mankind is deteriorating.  Of the magical world, the bad outpower the good, but all of it is in hiding.  She sighed.

Though... I never thought I'd say this, but in some ways... it seems tamer than the worlds I've heard of here. She gazed into space for a moment.  I used to wonder if there was a better place, but I'm starting to think that was foolish.

"My friend the spell chucker used to talk of other planes of pure good, pure law, pure chaos. . . " looking up while speaking to see what Vanessa was looking at. "But there are also planes of pure evil, like the 9 hells where destruction and war are constant for those that revel in it. Honestly, my knowledge in the matter is quite limited. But from what he told me, there seems to be a balance in multiverse.  Our planes seem to embody that balance."

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out another coin. "Greed and desire corrupt. That is true, but it is all like this coin. I have seen where ambition and power lead to problems, but without any greed there would be no motivation for doing the extraordinary. Good, evil. . . hope, dispair. . . the 2 sides of the one coin." He sets the coin on the table and makes it spin.  He lets it spin for a while then slams it down flat, leaving his hand to cover the coin. "I think all one can do is push and try to make the coin land how we want it. "

Mason is decisive.  Once talking with some of the staff, he has a good idea how to get back to his own where and when.  He moves back to the table, but doesn't sit down.

"I am going to be trying to make it back to my where and when.  If I can, I will be back within a couple of hours.  I hope to see the two of you when I get back."

Without waiting for a reply, he starts to walk out, he stops by the Space Marine.  He looks at him and shakes his head.  Out of everyone here, the marine is the most out of place.

OOC To the front porch.

Before Vanessas could answer, Mason returned, and had left again.  She'd nodded, waiting a few hours was not going to hurt anything.  She watched the man go, wishing him well, then turned back to Aramen.

An interesting perspective... She smiled, considering it.  There are many things that have that dualism.

Aramen's eyes stared off again as he started to smile again, as if he was in a lost admiration.  His mind wandered to his father, who always taught him things that books just wouldn't teach. To him, the world was a better classroom than a library.

"Even when there seem to be none," Aramendel started to say as he was staring off. But there was something odd. His voice was deeper than normal and was slightly colder, not much but noticeably. "for my child, silence can betray as much as clamor, absence as presence, health as to pain.  There is balance everywhere, and there are messages everywhere. A good scout will notice everything that is around him, the best scout notices what isn't."

Then he was silent, and his face was unchanged from when he started speaking. The smile began to fade though his happy demeanor remained.

Very good advice. Vanessa commented as she watched the semi transformation.  In my world, I was very good at that sort of thing... She said dreamily.  Too good. She said quietly.

I'm thinking... She began, trying on the ideas as she voiced them. I'm thinking of not going back...Not to my world or any world I know about. She wanted to clarify, she wasn't thinking of his world or Mason's. I'm thinking of maybe going exploring. She mused.

"If I knew a safe way to get you there, I would take you to my plane," he commented with his voice back to its original tone. "It would be the drastic change you might be looking for." With a sigh he got a little more discouraged. "I have my suspicions about how, but I don't know if I would be safe if it would even work."

"All we know of this plane, though, is this tavern.  If you want to stay here on this plane for a while, I'd be overjoyed to explore the rest of it while I can."

Vanessa's smile widened.  She liked the elf and that was surprising, she hadn't remembered liking too many people...or sentient beings in a long time.  I'd love your company. I want to wait for Mason's return, though, before we try anything.

Truth be told, she was a little worried about the other.  Falling out of time in to some place in her experience was always a dicey game.

"That's quite fair enough," except judging by the fresh footprints in the sand" looking out the front window, "He'll have quite a head start on finding new things." He focused more on the trail, from where he was it looked like Mason was in a hurry.

"He must have gotten good information, judging from his pace, if he was exploring something blind he wouldn't be run like that. Still," he said with a sigh, "He doesn't know what is in those woods. The faster you move, the louder you are, and the less attention you pay to everything else. Hopefully he doesn't get into any trouble."

Realizing what he was saying, he turned to Vanessa and put back on his smile. "Master Mason has the heart of soldier, he'll be fine," Aramendel stated with an air of confidence, hoping he didn't worry the woman.

I would agree. She nodded.

So... I'm thinking, Of heading due South.  Just to... see what we find. She shrugged.  What do you think?

She finished the last of her drink and debated if she should request another.

"I think that south is as good a direction as any."

"Miss Vanessa," trying not to offend, "would you be able to defend yourself incase something unexpected befell upon us?" he asked out of concern.

She was trying hard not to grin. Aramen seemed such a sincere young man...elf.  Not to worry, Aramen.  Not to worry.

She paused, then added more quietly, Would you feel better to know, that I am as armed as Master Mason?  I just don't display such things.  She sighed, And I'm afraid, my hands as stained with blood as any here.

"If you are mounting an expedition into the unknown then allow me to come. I can be very helpful in a fight." Gallus stands tall and proud, yet not in a arrogant way.

Vanessa, turned slowly and took her time in looking Gallus up and down.  I've no doubt you can be very helpful in a lot of things... She began, speaking calmly and matter of factly. What I'm not sure about is whether you can maintan respect for others... I have no interest in spending time with one who is going to be condesending, insulting or self important. I don't respect one who behaves that way and I sure don't take orders from them.

Vanessa stood, hands coming to rest on her hips. IF, and right now, I'm only saying IF, we agree to let you join us, <orange> She glanced at Aramen, then back to Gallus. <orange>Are you willing and able to accept you do not dictate this trip?  And to treat any one who is joining us respectfully? She questioned.

"I had an inclination that that was the case, Miss Vanessa"

With a slightly turned head, Aramendel sized up the marine.
"Of that I'm sure." Trying not to offend the man because of the awkward disposition they currently held, the ranger continued with a smile. "I'm sure you can give some of the lesser dragons a hassle. Before becoming a crunchy meal, that is," he said with a chuckle and hoping that the marine would understand that a compliment.

He then gave a nod to Vanessa.
"We are not looking for a fight, though, and all we know is that there is woodland. I hope you are experienced in woodland exploration and understand that we will try to move as one with the forest and for that I will most likely be taking point and lead. If you show respect for Miss Vanessa, Master Mason, myself, and any other explorer you will be treated with the same respect. With that said, I will not object to your company, good soldier."

With a wave of his hand he then beckoned to Vanessa to sit and relax. With a lean over, in a barely audible voice he whispered to the lady.

He then leaned back over to sit straight and gave Gallus a nod.

In an elven dialect with clear diction and almost formulaic formality, "Kind elf, I would volunteer to and gladly assist in whatever mission you have once I discern the particulars a bit more clearly.  I am not an adept woodsman but nothing can elude me.  All I need to know is what it is I seek.  He considers for a moment whether the intentions make a different in the translation of languages by the Tavern since each member present couldn't possibly be speaking any of the languages he was fluent in.

Returning to the relatively universal tongue of the Tavern, "It seems to me that you haven't related the particulars of this mission.  Who or what it is you seek, to what ends and for what reasons.  Furthermore, Where and what are the native languages of this place since when we move beyond this place our tongues will not be translated for us by this Nexus.  I'm not attempting to council against action just that my experience has taught me to be wary of such situations as this and complications of moving beyond the bounds of this Nexus.

Aramendel laughed. It has been over a year since he heard the elven tongue from a mouth not his. Hearing it from the mouth of a human, and here of all places, made it a such a strange situation that he could not hold in his laughter. Hearing it almost compelled him to speak in kind What we seek? For that is simple, and pure as a goal can be. We seek knowledge. We are curious. Realizing that he was being rude he switched back to the common tongue, for him what seemed to be the universal language in this tavern.

"We are curious and want to know what there is beyond the tavern walls. It is a simple desire, and we want to fulfill it. Our objective is simple, learn as much as we can, our end would be if the danger becomes too great. I will not have those under my watch come under serious harm."

The thought of languages has crossed his mind before, but he admittedly did not as of yet consider it.  "Hmm... if our language bridge fails we can be in trouble. Master Mason and Miss Vanessa should be fine while communicating, while oh. . . We haven't formally met." The elf stood and offered a hand to the newest member of the group.
 "Sargent Aramendel Elkiir," he presented with slight bow, deciding to state his rank to give confidence in case the man was concerned.

Garrett smiled in response to the laughter clearly at ease in his surroundings and enjoying the conversation.  "I have been titled General as well as Duke but at this present time and place I am between titles as we are between worlds.  As to my name, Garrett Drake is the name I operate under at this time but I have been known by several on many worlds."

With a shallow bow and flourish he continued, "I consider exploration to by my current occupation, until I find a war to champion that is."  The last spoken in the clear matter-of-fact manner with neither bravado or hesitation.

He considered the language situation only briefly having already evaluated the situation.  "I have reason to know a derivative language to English and several Elven languages as well as a smattering of Orkish.  I suspect that should enable a degree of communicaions if there are troubles considering what I have been able to gather of the companions gathered here.  But perhaps I can arrange for a permanent sorcerous solution as well if we take a detour."

"Detour?"  the elf questioned hesitantly. "If it is planar travel to obtain such magic, I am not sure if the risk is permitted. We do not all have definitive bind to this plane. I would not risk planar travel for such a benefit. I'm sure you understand, General. "

"I believe that the residual magic of the tavern may carry over, for such a permanent, powerful magic must have some lasting effect on its patrons. It is hard to contain such in a small space as this."

Vanessa had leaned over to listen to Aramen, then straightened to hear the others.  She'd listened as it went on, but now spoke, interupting in a louder more commanding voice. Excuse me. She began sharply to get their attention.

It is nice of you Sir Drake, as well as you, Gallus, to offer your company and service... but your early behavior is not forgotten. She began again in a calm, matter of fact voice.

She was not going to give the old man any reason to be further rude or dissmisive to her.

She turned to Aramen. Before you arrived, these gentelmen were quiet rude and condescending.  So much so, in fact, that had we not been in this... She gestured around her not sure what to call it. THIS.  They, or I, would not be here with you.  Because if we were home... I'd have hurt them for their innsolence.

She sighed, turning her back to Aramen and facing Drake and Gallus.  No misson goes without some kind of leadership.  My idea.  I lead.  I lead with consult, but I lead.  One doesn't like it, they go off on their own.  And I've not heard from either of you that you can be civil to me, let alone respectful.  Until then... I won't step onto the porch with you. She crossed her arms, turning to Aramen.  If that means you all go South, and I go North alone, so be it. She turned back to the other two, One is always safer alone then among the contemptuous.  So, what's it going to be?

She waited for the men's reaction.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:25, Sun 22 Feb 2009.

Garrett paused a moment and in a stern tone of someone who has delivered this speach more than once, "And you call me arrogant?  The earlier conversation was an attempt to correct your misconceptions about soldiers and warfare not demean your capabilities.  How many battles have you been in?  How many wars have you won?  How many armies served you?  Furthermore, How many times have you faced dimensional phenomena?  How many worlds have you trod?  How many times have you lead such a band?  Your beleive that you are somehow capable or even qualified when you don't even have the rudementary understanding of where you are and what your getting into.  This alone should frighten you or at least bring you concern and yet you insist that your ignorance is somehow my fault.  I won't be cowed by the likes of you, especially when your arrogance is likely to kill this elf and anyone who goes along.

Vanessa shook her head.  Why had she even bothered?  You know nothing about me, nothing yet you are so certain and so quick to belittle?  I don't need to give you a resume. In fact, I've taken your expertise on faith, though I've started to wonder... Since it is you sir, with all your self righteousness, presumption, lack of communication that are so quick to be defensive and dismiss rather than investigate.  That scares me more than any world or level of hell I've travel.  Her voice was calm and weary with this peeing contest the man so badly wanted to engage in.

She turned to Aramen, going back to ignoring Drake, Gallus would certainly make his opinions known if he held them. He could follow which ever leader he wanted.

I'm sorry to place you in this position Aramen.  But I will not travel with that man and he's not worth my time to fight. It's true, he has skill and knowledge that would certainly be helpful, but they are not not worth the other responses that would be dangerous to me and not worth the risks. She sighed sadly.  It had taken her a long time to get to the point she could pity people like Drake, rather than feel the need to fight with them.

I shall explore in the opposite direction as he.  For my perspective, you are welcome to go with either of us.  She smiled reassuringly at the Elf.  She hated that Drake forced her to put Aramen in this position, but so be it.  Everyone had to live or die by their choices.  The choice to make someone who seemed decent make a decision that might make them uncomfortable was by far less maleficent than going into the unkown with someone who did not respect you and you could not trust.

She placed a gentle hand on Araman's shoulder with a smile, then took her drink, crossing the room to a table away from the foolish old soldier.  She'd give Mason a little while longer and mentally plan.  Aramen or anyone else could join her or not, based on their own eye and ears and judgement.

"Settle down, General," he said with a  raised palm.
"From a lieutenant, I would expect such a response, but a decorated General? A general respects all that show courage, willing to assume power. If you have a criticism express it politely. We would be a squad, not an army. Any Sargent worth his rank knows that arrogance and disrespect leads to distension in the ranks."  With that he stood and followed Vanessa to the other table. Turning back to comment.
"I'm sorry General, but you heard Miss Vanessa."

When he reached the woman he placed a hand upon her shoulder and with an assuring tone said, "Miss Vanessa, your direction shall be mine. My eyes, ears, hands and blade will help you arrive where you intend to go."

Garrett turns to Gallus, "Ever seen real sorcery?  Want to?"

"Oh, and point of reference I don't have any desire to lead.  A rotating command structure based on mission dictates is probably best.  Within the brotherhood I am aligned with there are dozens of experts.  Calron, a close personal friend and one of the best thieves I ever heard of would lead our raids when urban stealth was required...  Lomark when Black or Grey magic was involved, Brett when mentats were on the agenda.  You see, I have no problem deferring to an actual mission experts."  Dozens of companions too numerous to name crossed his mind, friendships and difficult associations both but all willing servants to the League when the need arose.  A smile crossed his face at each name even those he wasn't particularly fond of.

Once out of mortal and faerie earshot of the pair, "I am very concerned about that woman.  She seems to have an agenda and an ever-changing story.  She also made every attempt to alienate us; presumably due to the firepower we represent which also implies she can sense sorcery as I radiate it like a bonfire.  I would bet she is much more dangerous than she attempts to appear and not in a good way."

Vanessa glanced up at Aramen's touch, a bit surprised.  She was used to people in her world choosing to follow the male, simply because of his anatomy and having found such strong sexism here in this place, assumed it to be the same.

Thank you Aramen. She smiled a genuine smile, one that had not graced her lips for a long time.  Ignoring the rantings of Drake, who apparently still felt the need to justify himself and insult her. I do feel sorry for him.  I've no idea why he is so insecure. She sighed clearly refering to Drake.  But shook her head dismissing it.  So long as he did not endanger her or her new friends, it was no concern.

I don't have an intentional location though.  Well... I'm not so thrilled with the idea of arriving back into my own home time and place. She smiled, Nor do I think Mason's any better. She added with a chortle, in the back of her mind she was still concerned that he had arrived in safety.

When I arrived, I was on what I was calling the Northeast side of this location.  Calling that North. She gestured in the direction.  And Mason just left in that direction. She nodded her head indicating the same general direction. All who have arrived since I have, have all come from that same direction. So, logic would suggest that in that direction is a portal to elsewheres.

So I wonder, then, what lies in the other direction? She tilted her head in the opposite way.  She paused waiting for Aramen's thoughts and input.

Aramendel felt a little out of place. Others came by portal, or a gate from a similar place. "Save for me. . . I just appeared at the door." Maybe there was a reason, maybe it just happened, it was hard to judge with such a place.
He thought about her logic, and had a feeling he felt was shared.
The reason this might be there.

With not a word, but a smile and purposeful bow of the head, he tried to convey what he was thinking.

He then checked his pack and weapons. His mace was locked, scimitar and short sword were sheathed, and the unicorn dagger was stashed. As armed as he was, he still felt incomplete. There wasn't much he could do about it now though. He then thought of his new traveling companion. "Miss Vanessa, you said that you were as armed as Master Mason. So I assume that you have a gun like his." With that he reached under his cloak, and undid a clasp on a belt across his tunic. He then presented a short sword with a slightly curved blade, still sheathed to the sash. "Would like to hold on to this, just for extra safety?"

I don't know any of this for certain, it's theory. Vanessa looked at the Elf.  I arrived here by waking up in the woods.  Last thing I remember back home was a large explosion.

She nodded as Aramen mentioned the gun. Watching him pull out the sward, she had to laugh. I do appreciate you are concerned for my safety.  But it's okay. She tried to reassure him, and gently pushed the blade back towards him.  Honest.

"Fair enough, just had to make sure."
He took the blade back, swung the strap over his shoulder and tightened it. With a quick pull he released the blade and slid it back in to check the security.
"I'll be right back."

Aramen walked over to the bar and tried to get the attention of the barkeep.
"Excuse me, good sir, but would you happen to have a bow and arrows I could purchase, as well as a few trail rations?"

Gallus listened to the engagements and arguments that went back and forth. He was a Sergeant in the Skyhawks Chapter of Space Marines. He had fought with many men, some for centuries. His chainsword, Primus, had tasted the blood of thousands of enemies. His bolt pistol has fired uncountable times upon foes, but never had he ever faced people more stubborn and ignorant than these. He grabbed his helmet from where he had sat it and put it on, the hiss of pressurization becoming audible. His HUD appeared, taking in all information about the room. On the outside, the eye lenses lit up a bright teal color. He looked down at the engaged parties.

"I hold not favorites over leader and out of respect from your previous request I will hold my tongue for now, but know that I travel with you, not follow you."

His vox caster made his voice sound mechanical and robotic, but with some hints of his deeper and smoother voice underneath.

A floating metal eye enters the Tavern, looking around, the solid metal seems to bend and distort as it blinks. It is followed by a hooded man, walking slowly through the door.

His head turns as twists, looking at the tavern, the occupants, the surroundings.

Hmm.. Intresting.

The eye's pupil starts to glow blue, as it flies closer than normal, looking at people and objects.

Garret solemnly nods in response at Gallus comment, "I would guess that is as it appears.  Perhaps I have slightly over-reacted to the sociopathic soldiers comments but it so raises my ire.  Oh, and as I said mister is the only title I currently aspire to."

Garrett headed for the door nodding to the newly arrived mage.  He ran his fingers across the hilt of his sword and his own eyes flashed red for a moment as he took in the apparent magus and confirmed his mystic aura as he left.

"Good eve, magus."  The formulaic greeting passed as he stepped through the door.

[To Out on the Porch]