The night breeze is playful and cool here on the porch of the wolf's Head Tavern. Crickets can be heard in the distance, or is that just the wind.

     Outside on the porch, Quintus takes a seat on the railing, setting the pitcher nearby.[edit]The noise and commotion of the common room behind him was a warming and calming feeling. Now that he gave it the attention it deserved, Quintus was able to tell several differences from the forest he had entered, just about an hour ago. Had it been an hour ago, or several days. He  found that it did not matter.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:00, Sun 01 Feb 2009.

In reply to Quintus Maxximus (msg #2):

"So Laddy, what's the action in these parts?" says Porter.

     "If your like me, sir, you are looking to get away from the action for a bit. I would guess that you have seen your fair share and would be looking to step away for a bit." the roman soldier makes eye contact with the old man. The weight of ages in his eyes tells a story of hardship and little comforts.

In reply to Quintus Maxximus (msg #4):

"Well, Laddy, ta be honest, I did my fair share o' restin afore I should a been. Now I have a lotta catching up in the working to earn me the final rest. It's interesting work, takes me to out o the way places I would not otherwise visit."
Porter eyes the pitcher and cups his empty mug

Out of the woods walks a young man dressed in a casual business suit.  The suit has an odd cut somewhat sleeker with more sharp edges and rounded transitions that seen in most ages.

He moves forward with an appearent mixture of caution and curiosity.  Gazing carefully and skeptically at his surroundings he finally takes note of the other beings here and addresses them.

"Excuse me, sirs, could you tell me where I am and why I was brought here?"

     The pitcher sweats just a bit in the cool air, showing the wine has been chilled before being brought to the porch. With a hand to his own cup Quintus pours the wine for both Porter and himself. "I thank you for sharing a bit of my rest here on the porch with me. I walked in from the front lines only an hour ago."

In reply to Eric Swanson (msg #6):

"In my line o' work, it's the traveler who determines the destination, not the porter...strange how no one seems to know where they are going til they get there. Even after they get there sometimes..."
Porter lifts his mug to the soldier and takes a hearty drink.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:21, Sun 01 Feb 2009.

     "According to those inside, you are probably next to everywhere, and beside nowhere. That is what I have been able to understand. Also you are ahead of yesterday, about to see the present, and tired of the past. It makes no sense, but there is no way to force someone to give a straight answer. You are train-directional I think is what they called it." Quintus offered his arm in a soldier's greeting.

"So you mean I got here on my own." He pauses for a second a contemplative look on his face. "I suppose it possible, I have seen stranger things in my time."



Eric walks forward to the porch and grasps Quintus's arm just below the elbow evidently familiar with the custom.

"Eric Swanson, pleased to meet you.  As for all that gibberish it actually sounds like a rather reasonable explanation to my current perceptions, and a surprisingly accurate description of my mind prior to my arrival here.  I can see layer upon layer of realities stacked here.  If this place is really trans-dimensional that would explain how I could access it."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:38, Sun 01 Feb 2009.

In reply to Eric Swanson (msg #10):

"So you are a traveler too?"

Porter anxiously awaits a response...about thus time, his head slumps forward and his eyes close. With a jerk he pops back up to a voice.

"It would be more accurate to say Exile I am afraid.  I revealed some abilities humanity at large found rather disturbing while defending a friend, and was subsequently asked to leave.  I was looking for a new place to live when I noticed something strange... then I was here."

     Offering wine to Porter again, Quintus fills his cup and another for the newcomer. "I am Quintus Maxximus, I have been here but a short time. I am at your service. Though I shall remain my own man by rights."

Gallus looked at the figures gathered on the front of the building with curious eyes. He had been fighting Chaos Marines not long ago before getting separated from his squad. His chainsword hung loosely at his side, as well as his bolt pistol. His dark red armor accentuated the silver studs in his brow and his Chapter emblem on his hulking power armor. He approaches the porch and hails the men there. "Say you, be you friends of the Emperor of Man?"

"Strange sums up this place...I feel closer to my own destinations here..." "but, as few need a porter in the darktime, I shall bid ye all ado. Merry Meet and I go in peace."...Porter gets to his feet and stumbles toward the tavern door, 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.

     "I have served my time under a master, and no longer a member of the Caesar's army. I have no emperor, nor liege at this time. You may find you have no enemies here though. Dismount that iron steed you are encased in and join us for a drink. The wine is chilled but stout." with this Quintus steps forward and regards the armor more closely.

[edited for spelling error]
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:58, Sun 01 Feb 2009.

Eric regards the sudden appearance of the hulking armored with an air nonchalance, and replies.

"I have never heard of this Emperor of Man, so I am afraid I cannot answer you question with any degree of certainty.  I am however no enemy of mankind and have gone to great lengths and made terrible personal sacrifices to help protect them before my unfortuante Exile."

Gallus arched his eyebrow, but complied. The armor hissed as it released and in short time he was out of it. He was still taller than all, standing well over six feet. He looked down at the others and noted their different garbs. He left his chainsword and bolt pistol under his armor, confidant that no man could lift it. "What is this place? Who are you to be ignorant to the Emperor and fail to pay fealty to one of his chosen Space Marines?" He is not demeaning, only confused.

     Not taking his eyes from the armor, Quintus starts talking obviously to Swanson. "You have referred to this exile you have been pressed on. Would you truly wish to return to a group that pushed you away that harshly?"

     Handing the last cup to Gallus, Quintus fills it with wine. "You may find there are no masters nor slaves here. Fealty is a think of desire here, I offer you respect for living and allowing me to. That is the extent of things around here. As to where we are? Who knows. Only Jupiter knows."

"Jupiter?" He takes the cup and gives a nod of thanks. "Why would they know better than Terra, or even Mars? The Machine Cult keeps all of those things monitored." He seems to become more curious. "Where are you from friend?"

     With a confused look the Roman soldier offers this explanation, "I am Spanish by birth though my lands were lost during drought and we were sold into slavery. I have lived in Rome for  three years, as a gladiator, before being granted my freeman's status. I have served in Caesar's army for 3 years attaining captain's rank. What would Mars god of war know that the mighty Jupiter would not." With definite confusion the attention is finally drawn away from the powersuit.

Attempting to answer both questions Eric responds.

"First off, from what little I have been able to glean thus far this place appears to be a verge or nexus of somekind.  It appears be an intersection of temporal and spatial planes with cross section about the size of this Tavern beyond which the pathways start to fray."

He then pauses to take breath before continuing.

"As to who I am, I am Eric Swanson.  I was born in the early 21st century as we reckon time on my world.  I am what was called a nova, mutant, exomorph, or an aberrant depending on whom you choose to listen to, I am a human capable of channeling the fundamental forces of the universe through thought and will alone, and I am one of many.  Pleasantly enough none of that seems to work here, which is really quite a nice change.  I do not believe there was any technology or technique as of yet discovered upon Earth which was capable of dampening my abilities, which of course was part of the problem."
This message was last edited by the player at 07:13, Sun 01 Feb 2009.

As soon as Eric gave is explanation Gallus's head turned quickly and the big man stared down the smaller. "You are a Witch! Psykers are the bane of my Chapter! But if you say this is neutral ground I will respect it. I am Brother-Sereant Gallus, of Novus Squad, 5th Company, Crimson Guard Chapter. I am a Space Marine for the Holy Emperor of Man!" With that he made the sign of the Aquila with his hands before continuing. "I became separated from my squad when we were scouting head for the Thunderhawks to land. I have served four hundred glorious years in the service to the Emperor, but never have I ever seen a place such as this." He takes a slug of wine and sets down the glass on a nearby table. "As for Jupiter, it is all but mined for gasses, so I have heard. I personally have never been anywhere near Sol or Terra, but I assure you that Jupiter is no more."

     Abashed at the vehemence in the Sergeant's voice and demeanor, Quintus stepped between the unarmored man and the soldier. "I am glad to hear you accept the neutral ground. Now, please, help me understand how you "mined" a god?"

Upon Brother-Sergeant Gallus's vituperative outburst, Swanson simply sighs appearently disappointed.  "I am pleased that you are at least willing to respect neutral ground, though I must say I hope you represent something beyond the future for which my continuum is destined.  Though it is enough to give one some perspective, I suppose this is the first time I have ever been comforted to think about the fact that Mal could torch a whole planet if he really wanted to.

As for Jupiter perhaps I can help translate.  The planet Jupiter was named an ancient God from early in Terra's history.  I believe Quintus here is from a different time well before mine just as you are after mine.  So to you Gallus I say he refers to an ancient god widely worshiped in his time if it does in fact resemble the historical records my people have of such a time.  And to you Quintus I say that in A future a distant location is named for Jupiter, and I suppose it could concievable be mined."

Her jacket was in her hand, and she slipped it over her shoulders once more as she stepped out onto the porch, looking across to where Quintus was talking to another man and a.. She had nothing.

"Okay, I've seen a lot of strange things in my time, but what the hell are you?" She asked, looking at Gallus.

Even as she asked she was reaching into a pocket on the inner lining of her jacket, out came a cigarette that she put to her mouth and lit.

     Hoping to disarm the current situation, Quintus greets Amanda. "Lady Raines, I hope you brought your cup, the wine is there on the table. Please help yourself. Gallus was it, perhaps i could top off your cup as well?"

"Gallus stepped back at the words of Eric. "Explain 'your time'? I too was alive in the 21st century, it was only two hundred years ago, yet I know know nothing of this man's people, nor of yours. You say you know of Terra's history, but that is impossible. Know man, save the Emperor, knows of a time before the Golden Age of Man. The Emperor has only been on the Golden Throne for over ten millennia now and even records only go back maybe five millennia before that." He looks at the woman with a relieved expression, more at her cigarette than anything else. "It is good to see something familiar. Would you happen to have an extra lho-stick? It has been a rough day. My name is Brother-Sergeant Gallus, a Crimson Guard Space Marine."

"Oh god it must be open day or something." She said, listening to what Gallus had to say.

She'd been here before, plenty of times, and had her share of explaining where, when and what this tavern was, but to find so many people coming across it on the same trip, well that was a new experience to her.

"Not for me thanks, Quintus." She replied to the Roman, "I'm a rum girl."

She turned her attention back to Gallus.

"One of these? Sure." She said, holding out the packet to Gallus.

     "Now I am confused, you speak of not knowing Jupiter, yet you worship he who sits on the Golden Throne, and name your places of abundance after him. This is very confusing. I need to rest for I fear a head quake. Can I have your word, that you both will ensure I can speak with you tomorrow? Jupiter willing? If I can I believe I will go to take my rest."

After taking a cigarette from the woman, he lights it and takes a long draw, killing it with one breath. Sitting with his back against the wall of the tavern, Gallus looks at the group and nods as the Roman leaves." I too must rest, so to speak. I will speak when my trance has ended."

Eric pauses for a time running through Gallus's words again and again.  Then speaks once hoping to catch Gallus before he enters his trance.

"Well I suspect it has to do with the nature of this place.  I suspect he is from something very much like the Roman Empire in my world’s history.  That does not mean that it is the same past which led to my world, it might have an entirely different future before it, just as my world may have a future that does not lead to an Empire of Mankind, and I may never existed in the past of your Universe.

Still there seem to be some similarities in history and geography between the different worlds.  Given the differences in time and location I am merely trying to act as a bridge so that you two soldiers can better understand one another.  As for my time, mankind has only just ventured to the moon within the last century and no human has yet set foot on mars, Terra is still composed of separate self governing nations.  The transition was recently made from the Internal Combustion engine to the Hyper Combustion Engine.  The emergence of what you would term Psykers has led to social upheaval and though many have tried to coexist, conflict seems inevitable.  If this is different from your 21st century then either dating conventions have changed (wouldn't be the first time such has happened) or our time lines are wildly divergent."

"You have my word Quintus."  He turns to face Gallus unsure of rather his mind is still active or not.  "I hope to speak with you further as well, it seem we all draw near a time when rest must come."

With that he spots a comfortable chair on the porch, takes a seat, leans back, and begins to doze himself.

     "It is good to see the peacebonds again,"  Quintus relaxes visibly, moving towards the door.
     "My apologies Lady Raines, it would appear as though I have tired myself beyond polite company. The years in the arena, and the military would likely offend after a time in any case. I do hope that you are still speaking Roman when I see you next." With that the Roman begins unbuckling his breastplate as he heads for the counter and to secure a room.

Gallus eyes the man. "I understand what you are trying to say, yet one question will make it apparent. What millennium are you from? Mine is the 41st. Let me tell you, if we share the same time space, know this. In the dark future, there is only war. Man spans the galaxy, yet not as much as he once did. He is assailed on all sides by enemies. The mutant, the alien, the heretic, all must perish if Man is to survive. I am the Emperor's will, his force to complete that task so that Man is once again the dominant force in the galaxy. Countless men on billions of planets swear fealty to the Corpse-God of Man, I among them. So hear me, and be warned." He keeps his eyes open just a moment longer to see if the man had anymore questions.

Amanda drew back on her cigarette again, taking a step down the porch to be a little closer to Gallus, a little further from Eric.

"I'll see you later, Quintus." She said, nodding to the soldier as he withdrew back into the tavern.

"As for you," She said, looking at Gallus. "Myself, and by the sounds of it, this gentleman here, we're from the second millenium. Well, the second millennium by the Gregorian calendar. It's complicated. Point is, we could be from anywhere."

With these two heading off to sleep for the evening, she shrugged, stamping out her cigarette and making her way back inside as well.

Gallus rose out of his healing trance with a smooth motion. He was dissapointed to see that his surroundings have not changed. Seeing that he was alone on the porch, he donned his armor once again and headed to the forest to see if there was a way back.


To---Forest

Once outside, Amanda lit herself up another cigarette, leaning against the wall of the tavern. With the bottle on the table, the glass next to it half full, she pulled one of the Colt revolvers from the holsters at her hip and began to give it a quick once-over. She knew well enough the dangers of having the guns not function properly, especially at critical moments.

One leg was bent, her boot resting flat against the wall behind her as she closed her eyes taking a deep drag of the cigarette, flicking the ash into an ashtray on the table and looking out over the clearing that surrounded the tavern, and then the depths of the forest behind.

She gave a nod of acknowledgement to those who were coming up, particularly to the dark haired man. She'd only met him once, and couldn't remember his name, but she did definitely remember his face. There were always people coming and going from this place, most of them only showed up once and then either avoided the way in again, or were unable to find it.

Standing there, though, she waited for anyone else to come and join her.

A few minutes later Peter joins Amanda on the porch, however he has changed into clothes more suitable for a battle zone.  He wears a thick leather jerkin, carries a small axe at his belt and bears a green shield with a white saltire.  A number of belt pouches complete his costume.

He seems surprised to only see Amanda on the porch.  "I would have thought the others would be here already"  however he shrugs that to one side and continues, "But tell me of these daemons."

Meriwether walked out & his eyes went wide in surprise as he looked upon Peter "I say sir! You look much different in that dress. I am glad though, that you chose to join us."

Then turning to Amanda "Yes Miss Raines, do explain what we all may expect. Joseph handles surprise with agitation you see."

He cocked an eyebrow at the ole cowpuncher "Just a jest ole chap but knowing you, I would think you would want to know & all what?"

Aalyssa stood next to the others as they waited for Amanda to answer.

Joe smirked at Meriwether. Just like the Englishman to use them fancy words. It didn't really bother him but he reacted to it just the same.

"I don't neither react to surprise with agi..agi...," he said. "... I handle surprise okay. Be nice to know numbers and strength is all, though. So as we can plan tactics and such."

"I learned along time ago that it is often best to dress for the occasion" Peter says with a slight twinkle in his eye, in response to Meriwether's statement, "Although I am still not sure whether I will be accompanying yet.  I was waiting for a fuller description from Amanda here, before I make a decision.".

Meriwether gave the sage a slight smile "Prudent! Prudent indeed Mr. Gasgano. Spoken as a wise man should. I suppose it leaves some doubt of Joseph & I's wisdom then. Never the less, a gentleman would not allow two of the fairer sex to transverse the wilds alone. So regardless of the outcome... I am Miss Raines' man so to speak."

He then caught sight of Aalyssa's ears. The were strangely different yes! However, delicate & beautiful just the same.

He said some what under his breath "It would seem... it would seem I am already out of my element Mr. Gasgano. Quite!"

"A man learns from his own experience and what is right for one, is not necessarily correct for another" the sage responds to Meriwether's comments about prudence.  "Personally, I am not strong in battle, therefore it seems appropriate to take whatever protection  one can muster. And daemons are not one of my specialities, undead now, that is a different matter." he continues as they wait for Amanda's description of their destination.

"However, please call me Peter.  If we are to be thrown into an adventure together it is better to be on socially good terms, is it not?" the halfelf offers with a smile, "And as for being out of your element, I suspect we all are.  It is easier for me, perhaps, as I have spent a number of years traveling through different worlds and environments.  One learns to have an open mind when meeting new and different people." he concludes with a soft chuckle.

Amanda nodded as each of them made their way out of the tavern and onto the porch, drawing breaths on her cigarette slowly. When Peter asked her about the daemons, she was midway through drawing in, and as the others had arrived and interjected, she'd let their conversation move forward without her input.

"I'm on the trail of a trio of them at the moment. Call themselves the family - I don't know why, they're not even Italian."

She paused for a moment, before realizing that the joke was probably going to be lost on everyone. Peter and Aalyssa were clearly not even from her world, and she doubted that Meriwether and Joe were from a time in her world where the mafia really existed powerfully outside of Italy.

"Anyway, they possessed these two guys and a girl. That's how it works on my world," She continued, now beginning to explain the situation. "The daemons possess humans, and run their little evil tasks that way. It's been millenia since a pure daemon actually walked the world.

"Which is why the first thing I need every one of you who are with me to remembe is this: what we're hunting doesn't just look human, they are human - they're living breathing people, with daemon spirits inside them. First choice is always to capture - killing is only an option if necessary. Got it?"

"So we are talking about a possession then, rather than true daemons from Gehenna and the other nether planes?" the Sage asks with a slight frown  "Are they, then, possessed by spirits from the outerplanes of spirits from the lands of the dead?  While the former is not unheard of in the realms that i come from, the latter is just as likely." he adds partly explaining the reasons for his question.

Meriwether's forehead furrowed in confusion trying to follow the beautiful woman before him. This was getting most complicated indeed. Demons & possessions, such things were most alien to the Englishman. Of course the Native Americans to which he had spoken thought that many of the living things had a spirit. A Buddhist he once meet certainly believed in demons as well as in many gods. As Christian he knew of Lucifer of course. Yet the talk of demons...

"I say! So we are to capture these unfortunates & bring them in alive for the person they are, is still contained within the bodies the demons now posses?"


He turned to Joseph "Did you hear that Joseph... just wing them ole chap. If you must of course."
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:14, Sun 08 Feb 2009.

Joe nodded. Taking prisoners was never a problem for him. He didn't think much about demons in human form, he figured someone else would handle that. Then Meriwether mentioned something about winging these things... That could get sloppy.

"So Miss Raines, these demons," he said, "they going to surrender when we train guns on 'em?"

"And arrows? I mean, if they do not have a healthy fear of our weapons, it might be just a small problem," Aalyssa added.

"Whoa, whoa, one at a time guys." Amanda said, grinning at her new companions to show that she wasn't really overwhelmed, and speaking in good humour.

"Right. Peter, you can probably tell me more about that than I can tell you. My understanding of the spiritual planes in my world is Heaven and Hell. Heaven's for the good guys, Hell's for the bad guys - so the daemons, they come from Hell."

"As for guns - and arrows," She added, giving a nod to Aalyssa. "Taking a hit from a weapon hurts like hell, but it's not likely to make them surrender. We kill the host body, the daemon wanders off to find someone else. Unfortunately, what that means is that if we have to use our weapons, we shoot to maim, injure, but not to kill."

She stamped her cigarette out on the floor of the porch, and picked up the bottle of rum that was on the small outside table, shoving it into the backpack on her shoulders.

"How about we get moving, though? I can explain more on the way."

Aalyssa shouldered her bow and shivered. At the moment she longed for a cloak but certainly that would get in the way of any fighting she might have to do. A demon should be easy to handle in comparison to her family. Aalyssa checked her supplies and slipped the bag over her other shoulder then added her quiver. "I am ready."

"So if weapons don't work, how do we capture, kill or disrupt these daemons then?" the sage asks as he shoulders his bag.

Joe spat, but he checked his guns one more time in a businesslike fashion. Shooting to maim always got messy in his book. But the lady knew this business better than he did.

"I'll try my best to wing them, ma'am," he said as he moved out with the others.

Meriwether noticing the beautiful woman shiver, said "Excuse me? Would you care to wear my frock coat. It shan't be too big upon you I imagine. Do not worry about me, I still have my waistcoat."

He then winked at Joe "See Joseph? Wing them it is!"

"Are you certain?" Aalyssa inquired. "I am still getting used to the coldness in the air here. My home is very warm."

Meriwether gave her a friendly smile "Most assuredly! I am a gentleman dear lady. I am also totally at your service."

He then gracefully took off the coat & held it out within reach.

Aalyssa accepted it and after a minute, she figured out to put it on. "Thank you, Lord Smythe," she said with a small smile. "It is most cozy."

"Just because they can't be killed doesn't mean that they don't feel pain." Amanda explained to Peter's question. "And the bodies they're in are still just human - which means if you take the legs out from under them, they can't go anywhere.

"It's a lot more about planning and preparation, cunning and intelligence, though, than simply force."

Peter spins to face the woman, a look  of irritation on his face "So, I repeat the question.  How to we kill, capture or dismiss these daemons?

You say it is all about planning.  How can we plan if we don't knopw what we are trying to achieve?  You surely aren't suggesting that we should subject the humans they possess to enough pain to hurt your daemons, but then not know what happens to the daemon?

At the moment you appear to be suggesting that we break the host's legs and then submit them to pain in the hope that the daemon won't like it.  If I am going to help you torture anybody, I need to know what the benefits and outcomes are.  I want to know that we are not just driving a daemon out into the aether so that it can possess again and I need to know know you intend to deal with the thing -  otherwise I am just gouing on a trip to torture some poor soul who probably has enough trouible in  their life anyway."

Hips lips are drawn into a thin line and his brows furrowed as he looks hard at the young woman.

"I don't know what sort of world you are from, nor what sort of person you are, but I am trying to give you the chance to show us that you do understand what you are trying to do.  Personally, I am not interested in  riding along unless I understand what I am getting into before I travel." The sage says speaking bluntly.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:41, Fri 13 Feb 2009.

     Surging forth through the Inn doors Quintus appears bearing a pitcher of wine, (fine Spanish wine of course) and an overflowing tray with steaming buttered rolls on it. "Compliments of the cook, she felt there was not enough bread with the meals and offers a peace offering to those whom she has affronted." A broad smile crosses the ex-soldier's face as he wafts the buttery warmth across the porch before setting the tray upon the table and sitting against the railing. He fills his cup from the pitcher, and sets the pitcher out for others as well, waving for them to partake at their desire.

     Finishing his drink, and wondering at the state of those out on the porch, Quintus heads back into the building. It was almost as if they were stuck in their respective times. Even the smoke from her Iho stick didn't drift away.

Heads inside leaving the tray of buttered rolls and pitcher of wine.

Peter shakes his head from side to side, as if to clear it,  and wonders what the hell is going on.  One minute he had been standing talking to Amanda and the others -   and the next thing he is aware of there is a tray of steaming bread rolls but Amanda has disappeared.  With a start his hands fly to his pouch to check its contents and then to his pack. Finding everything in order he looks around at the others, frowning.  "Are you OK?" What happened there?" he asks.

He reaches out to pick up one of the rolls and sniffs at it curiously.  It smells like bread, feels like bread and looks like bread.  'She couldn't have turned into a plate of bread, could she?' he half queries before shaking his head hard again  'Don't be stupid!'.

Peter takes a tentative bite from the bread roll ....
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:05, Wed 18 Feb 2009.

The large man in the sunglasses comes out to the front porch.  He stops for a second, looking at the individuals gathered.  He lifts his left hand up to his brow as if to tip an imaginary hat.  He then slowly walks off the porch and into the woods.  As he enters the woods, he breaks into a jog, moving swiftly down one of the paths.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:53, Fri 20 Feb 2009.

Peter turns as the inn door opens and then nods a quick greeting to the man is the suit as he pauses for a moment before heading off into the forests.

Once more he turns his attention to those around him who still seem to be under the spell that he was under earlier.  "Hello?  Anyone  home?" he asks reaching out to touch Aalyssa on the shoulder

Mason again approaches the porch, his manner remains supremely confident but his manner of dress is different. An unlit cigarette is in his mouth.  A long, brown duster is worn, the hilt of a Katana extends over his right shoulder and a satchel over his left.  He carries a large, solid duffel in his left hand.  There is a slight movement coming from inside the satchel.

Garrett nods to the approaching Samuraii his eyes still glowing faintly red.  Although he didn't much look like Hishiro he had the same stoicism which he rather liked.  He rather approved but he never could reach that Zen attitude toward the cosmos.  Action and reaction were things that mattered to him.

"Evening."

After passing he looses his blade and reloads his sidearm.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:05, Mon 23 Feb 2009.

Aramendell emerges from the tavern and immediately scans the edge of the forest. After a minute he spots a large fallen branch, recently lost by a Cherry tree.  He proceeds to retrieve the tree branch and bring it to a clearing outside the tavern. Pulling the knife from his ankle sheath he stabs the wood to judge how recently it has fallen.

"A little moist, must have fallen recent. That can be remedied."

The elf wanders over to the edge of the woods and gathers up some leaves, twigs and a few other chunks of wood, bringing all of them to his space in the clearing. With some flint and his knife he starts a small fire and begins striping the bark and twigs from the long branch. A tune begins to drift from his lips as he whistles with the strokes of his knife.

Peter watches a number of people move through the porch area and  shrugs his shoulders, with a final look at those who originally came out with him, he heads back inside.

With the bark and a few layers of wood stripped the brilliant brown of the cherry wood was starting to take his desired shape.  He paced the wood close to the base of the fire, but far enough so that it wouldn't catch.  Reaching into his waist pack he pulled out a length of rope roughly 5 feet long from an unseen spool. Cutting it loose he then undid the the rope and made several pieces of twine.

He drew his scimitar and tied a piece of twine on each end of the guard, and one on the pommel. Placing the blade on the ground and standing on it, he then tied each of the three pieces to his knife in a similar fashion and began to twist, turn and weave his knife around the twine, whistling all the while.

{from the Tavern}

Vanessa glanced at the man.  Nodding she went on, Yeah, that too. She answered, But that's not reason... Kevin and I became engaged. She shrugged.  It was significant perhaps, but not important... as if that made any sense?

She sighed and gazed around.  Okay, so this might not be as easy to relay as she thought.  She tossed her head toward the wood, away from the prying curious eyes of others and definately away from the elf.

People in my world are always say 'think you know someone' and tsk tsk like it's a surprise when another person does something they didn't see coming.  But the truth of it, they probably could have seen it coming, if they only were looking.  But so many of us are so trained to see things in a context that smooths out all the wrong edges, fills in all the missing pieces, that what we really see is an illusion that we make real...

As they walk outside, David feels no need to talk.  He knows this story.  There are a few parallels to his own.  Instead he starts to scan the woods.  For someone who has never done it, it is hard to tell someone what the sensation of scanning through multiple frequencies of vision is like.  He looks in low light, infrared and even in ultrasound as he draws out a pistol, a different one from before, and uses that for the scan.  Where the Thunderbolt was a massive and brute looking weapon, this one is very lean and sleek, the barrel only 2 or 3 millimeters in width.

OOC - TO woods

Aramen continued to his work. He saw the pair leaving the tavern but knew not to concern himself. If they desired his assistance they would have called him or approached him in some way.  He wasn't offended, but a little disappointed.  With a sigh he finished his current project and tied off the tight string.

Picking up the curved blade off the floor, he tied off the other end of the string. With a twist of his foot and a swift kick the elf picked up the drying wood. The slight curve in the wood from the heat would make his task a little easier. He placed the flat of the blade on the curved, dry branch. A twig pulled from the fire and smothered in the dirt made an impromptu pencil as he traced the curve of the blade onto the wood, flipped the sword and did it again.


As the stick was returned to the fire an ember from the fire flew out and landed on his cloak, causing it to catch.  With a startled gasp he started patting out the little flame. Once it was out he looked at the cloak and saw another little hole to add to the tatter.

Oh well, more character

He turned his head over and checked on Mason and Vanessa, not sure if they knew he saw them, or if they noticed him.  They started off to the woods,seemingly on a mission.  Oh well, he'd be there if needed. Sheathing the scimitar and picking up the knife, the woodsman continued to carve the wood in along with the marks he made. It was turning out well so far. One of the better works hes done in this small time frame.

With a smooth slice, the final elven inscription was finished. He placed the project in front of him and closed his eyes. Placing his hands across the wood, Aramendel began to give thanks to his goddess.

After a few minutes of prayer and meditation, the ranger opened his eyes to examine his work. Picking it up he immediately felt a tug toward the wood where Mason and Vanessa entered.

"Lady of the Wood, guide me," he said as he entered the forest.

Garrett watched Gallus sprint away.  In a smooth, exceptionally fast motion his sword was in his hand.  Although he knew he couldn't keep up he drew his sword and summoned forth its powers to find and follow the imense warrior.  Soon he was jogging off into the forest.

[To the Woods]

"Now, someone wanna explain things to me? I know this section of the woods pretty well, But I ain't never seen that deer path afore that led me here, I never had ghost problems in these woods before, and judging by the immediate smell of alchoholic beverages, I'm guessing we're at a saloon of some sort, and I ain't nevah heard o' none in this neck of the woods before. I ain't in Texas anymore, am I?" Boone looks resigned, in a way that is apparently along the lines of oh no, here we go again........

"And I am not sure either, but I know that I disliked our situation." The large Marine strode up to the porch and made a grimace. He had lost his helmet in the engagement and was obviously displeased. He holstered his bolter and chainsword, crossing his arms afterwards. "What foul manner of Chaos would inhabit this place? I thought this was neutral ground?"

A lone man appeared from the trees as a crowd gathered on the steps of what seemed to be a tavern or inn. Common in appearance, with simple peasant clothes and a tri-corn hat, he leans on a long muzzle loading rifle. A powder horn hangs at his side and a short bayonet hangs near on his belt. He limps, a leg wound, most likely a bullet, is indicated by a large red stain on his pants. From the small pack on his back dangles a piece of cloth with red and white stripes on it. He makes it close to the porch, but stops when he realizes the size on one of the crowd and the strange clothes of the others. He raises his hand to his mouth and yells, "Hail, ye be Loyalists or Colonial?"

The ranger staggers to the steps of the tavern and sits, still holding the point of impact. It was starting to make a little more sense, well at least some of it.
"Gallus, that is why they were here. Or at least that's what I think.  This place is not bound by good or evil, just and corrupt, law or chaos."

He took off his cloak, weapon sash and tunic to reveal the studded leather armor underneath. He began to undo the clasps and buckles holding it secure.

"In that field we encountered many spirits, some familiar to you, Gallus. I know there was at least one in that army that I knew in a time past. I wasn't sure during the fight, but looking back it was him. And I do not know for sure, but I believe Master Mason and Miss Vanessa encountered some spirits akin to their past. I do not believe it was by chance that we encountered such a gathering."

Lifting the armor over his head, he revealed a light cotton shirt. With the pressure of the armor off the bruised skin, he began to feel a little better, but it still felt like a rib was at least damaged.

"I believe that could wait, there is new blood in the mix." The elf raised a hand to the new man in the tri-corn hat, "Greetings to you, and I do not know what race a Loyalist or colonial," he called the man. "I am but an elf far from home." The carefree smile that was always on his face before the fight returned as he lightly laughed at himself until wincing.

"I'm a citizen of the United States of America. I'm guessing by your clothes that you are referring to American colonists and Crown Loyalists, correct?" He lifts his hat a bit and continues, "well, y'all aren't in America any more, but I fall into the category of Colonials, if'n it makes much difference here. I'm pretty good with field medicine. Want me to take a look at the leg of yours?"

"There were no spirits in that fight that looked familiar to me.  I saw one that I knew, but she fled before the fight started."

Mason lifts the duffel bag and sets it on one of the tables on the porch.  He pulls out a first aid kit, looking first at the Keeb who seems to have gotten the worst of it.

"Aramendel, hold still, you are starting to come down from that patch I gave you.  You metabolism must run a bit hotter than a human's because it should last longer.  This is going to ease the pain and speed up the healing process."

He puts a probe up to the side of the elf and waits for it to finish.

"Does anyone have any serious injuries.  He looks at the new comer, I have a plast skin that can seal that up for you."

The whole time he works on the elf, he keeps his right hand free almost the entire time, only using for a second here and there.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:33, Thu 05 Mar 2009.

The man keeps a strange face on and doesn't. "Ye do me kind. I won't take to offense of you for treating me, but the big man has to go. He is wearin' Redcoat colors and I won't have it." He remains unflinching.

Garrett steps up onto the porch reaching into his jacket like before pulling out another flask.  "This might work quicker.  It's alchemy courtesy of a gnome friend, Otis.  He runs the alchemical branch of one of the trading companies I control.  Fair trade for covering our backs, as I see it."  He hands the flask to the elf.

He nods to the new arrival and steps inside once again.

[To Tavern]

Mason takes a look at the newcomer and gives a crooked smile.

"Sorry, it isn't your call who stays or goes.  This is neutral ground."

He stands and motions for the group to go back into the tavern, taking care to meet each person's gaze for a second or two.

"I don't know about the rest of you, but I could use a drink and something more to eat while we debrief.  I'm buying."

"Thanks. Mebbe you can explain where I am while you're at it."

"Welcome to the trans-dimensional Tavern.  This Tavern and the surrounding area exists in many different where's and when's.  You have people from many different worlds showing up here."

Mason is standing, partially facing the man in the Tricorn hat, waiting for everyone to decide whether or not to go inside.

Vanessa had been leaning against a rail of the porch.  She was very irritable.  Trite sayings nipping at her mind, Too many roosters... too many cooks in the kitchen...  Too much discontinuity.  She felt like she had walked into Anacronism-Land... Disney's latest triumph!

Watching Aramen, she was at least happy to see it seemed he was going to be okay.

She let out a deep, exasperated sigh.  Then gave a nod at Mason.  A drink and food would be a good idea.  She was tired and her irritability was making it hard for her to concentrate.

Think of us all as Colonists. We probably all are, from somewhere. She offered the man in the Tricorn hat.

Not waiting for the others, she stood up from her leaning post and and made her way inside.  If people hadn't been so quick to attack and perhaps allowed the spirits to speak, maybe they would have more answers.  But that was done, she'd told herself and stewing on it did little good.

On her way in, she passed a gentle hand at Aramen's shoulder.  A gesture of comfort and support, but said nothing more as she made her way inside to a table.

[To the Tavern]

The wood elf stood and started into the tavern. "If you want to discuss anything come on in, and Gallus," he said while stopping outside the door not turning to look at the marine.
"I'm sorry that we retreated, but to fight a battle you can't win for no gain is a pointless sacrifice. I know it is probably not something you have done often but there are times when it is needed." He leaned over and grabbed the bundle of equipment he made and headed inside.

>>> Tavern >>>

With no obligation to ensure the safety of the newcomers or the space marine, Mason turns and walks back into that Tavern.

>>> To Tavern >>>

Well, it was about what he expected to hear. He'd been in one of these before, so it didn't come as too much of a shock. Lacking anything better to do, he headed in for a drink.

---------------<Into the Tavern>

Gallus pays no attention to the newcomer and proceeds inside.

Tavern>

Nathan looks to the door as he is left alone outside. Not waiting for an invitation, he also follows the strange group into the inn.

The Eldar stopped his planned run right at the edge of the forest. He crouched himself between a thorny bush and a great tree. His chameleon cloak helping him to blend into his surroundings. He quickly ran basic environment diagnostics. He found most of his readings comeing back as errors, but he learned the air was breathable. He stayed here long enough to see a few people walk into the building proper.

It took several minutes but he decided to check out the strange building. Alatoic training told him to leave and find a webgate, but the wonder lust of the Pathfinder in him urged him to venture inside. Most of his peoples live strict, disciplined and xeno=phobic lives. All rangers yearned for exploration and freedom, him above all. He had spent over 400 years of his life as an explorer, assassin, troop leader, and scout earning him the venerable title of Pathfinder.

Deriel slowly stood up and took off his hood. Underneath he revealed a dark green helmet with a bone colored face plate. His helm was odd, not due to any designs or textures as it had none, but because to back of it extended into a dull cone shape. He then unclipped the front of his cloak revealing a tight fitting armour made of tiny interlaced scales. As with his helmet his body armor was a base dark green with bone colored accents. In the middle of his chest sat a fist sized dark blue stone. He slung his rifle on his back and checked his chain sword and shuriken pistol (both hidden under his camouflaged cloak) and began walking towards the porch. He had no idea what he was doing.

<Enters the Tavern propper>
This message was last edited by the player at 02:40, Wed 11 Mar 2009.

The ranger landed in a full front roll over his dagger. The knife seemed to vanish from sight until it flashed in the sunlight during a full thrust as its wielder came to a stop.

His muscles locked in place as his eyes stared forward past the tip of the blade. As his body relaxed he slipped the knife back to its home, his eyes still not moving.  With a slow blink the sunny clearing seemed to vanish before him, replaced by a hazy shadow of itself.  Thoughts of battles long passed coursed through his mind. Overwhelming feelings of being surrounded,  foes coming from each side. It wasn't long for this feeling to become visual as he began to see enemies of battles past come towards him, weapons drawn. All he could do was draw his blades and meet them.

There was nothing there. He was alone in a clearing, but in his mind it was all too real. He could hear as his sword ring off their armor. His body would unconsciously lock to feel the resistance of the opposing weapons, armor or flesh. In his mind, this was no drill, it was a full battle.

He felt it as his blade sliced the arm off of a bandit.  He felt the spray of blood as the shortblade made its way through the neck of an orc.  He felt the searing pain as a blade found its way across his thigh, his mind's way of telling him to tighten his guard.

His battle raged on as wave after wave of combatants charged him in all directions.  To anyone watching it would appear either an elaborate weapon drill, or the raving motions of a lunatic. This mattered little for in his current state, it might have well as been life or death.

Closing the door behind him, Mason watches the elven ranger go through his motions.  He is used to working Katas, but the movements of the elf are more of fighting a real opponent than of a planned form.  Regardless, his hand moves away from holster.  If Aramendel is fighting an opponent that only he can see, then there is nothing that can be done to help.  It takes only a moment to switch from low light to infrared to ultrasound.  Ultrasound is the best, it even defeats every known form of invisibility and stealth.  There is nothing there that he can detect.  He knows better than interrupt though, keeping a silent vigil.

He falls from the sky, freezing air rushes past his face. He looks around, thinking taking a nap on a high alltitude jet was rather dumb. He feels the air getting warmer as he plummets towards the roof of an INN.
 As he draws closer to the roof he stands up, arms out. As he lands he croches and rolls, making a loudd thud, but preventing any harm to himself. He glances around, and notices he is stuck on the roof of a two story building.

The noise on the roof was loud and pronounced.  He spun and took three steps from the building, his gun in hand before a normal man could blink.  He was covering the roof.  His voice a low hiss.

"Aramandel.  Snap out of it."

He notices a gun and sends a dagger spiraling twords it in an attempt to jam, or break the gun. The split second the throwing dagger leaves his hand he ducks down, faster then a normal person's heart can do half a beat.

 "DON'T SHOOT AT ME YOU CAN BE SUED!!!" he yells to distract the mad man.

Mason's voice might have well fell on deaf ears.
Cut. Thrust. Parry. Dodge. Kick. He must have replayed a dozen battles by now, his body was fatigued, but he could not slow.  As he looked at his leg he saw the stain of blood in his pants and gash in his leg.  His wrist became weak as an unexpected arrow hits his left forearm.  His right stayed strong as it flayed the chest of yet other fiend, this time a drow elf.

His vision flashed in a blink again. The sun returned, the field was empty. He looked around in disbelief that all had vanished. The ranger lost his focus as his vision blurred. He stayed on his feet but could only stagger on his weak legs. Both blades fell to the floor.
"What. . . Where am. . ."

Before he could finish his thought his vision went dull again. As he opened his weary eyes could only make out a shadow of a figure.  Judging by the size, an ogre but that was all he could figure out as its large club came in a heavy underhand swing. He could only raise his arms to cushion the blow, but he was sent reeling back. His seemingly battered body collided with a tree at the edge of the of the clearing.  He raised his head to look at his attacker. The shape was still yet a blur as it marched towards him. He struggled to keep his eyes open but couldn't. They closed once again, only to be met with the sunlight once again when they opened.

He tried to form words but instead the wood elf coughed up a mouthful of blood and passed out up against the tree.

He looks at the guy as he starts going crazy, runing into trees and coughing blood.

"Ok... I am on the roof watching someone go crazy" he shrugs, sometimes life did this. He just had to live with it.

Biological creatures reflexes are based on chemical reactions.  One nerve sending a chemical signal to the next.  His entire peripheral nervous system has been replaced.  His reflexes move at the speed of light through hard wires.  He had ample time to shoot the man before he ducked, but this is a crossroads, neutral ground.

The dagger might as well by in slow motion.  Mason's left hand flashes forward, a near invisible whip lashing out.  The thrown blade is nearly cut in half as it is deflected away.  He moves over and picks up the fallen elf protecting him with his own body. The man on the roof might as well be illuminated in day glow.  Shifting to infrared, his heat signature lit up.  He lowers the gun unconcerned.

"Come down or not... this is neutral ground.  I won't shoot you here.

He looks at the results of being slow, he sighs, going faster, he throws a dagger that should deflect the bullet, and jumps into the tree and lands behind them.

 To anyone that can't see things moving at nearly the speed of sound, he would have just apeared behind them as a dagger blasts twords the bullet. "Kinda slow," he replies peacfully.

[Private to Mason: luckily dark is an assasin that was trained since he was 11 to his current age of 13 to kill 1,000,000,000 people every 0.0000000001 seco
This message was last edited by the player at 03:58, Tue 17 Mar 2009.

This message was deleted by the player at 03:36, Tue 17 Mar 2009.

Ignoring the young man, Mason picks up Aramandel and moves back inside, picking up the ranger's weapons on the way in.

<<<to Tavern>>>

This message was deleted by the player at 03:54, Tue 17 Mar 2009.

An adventure stepped on the porch. He looked at the map he was holding, and then back up at the building. "This is it." He then opened the door and walked in.

Carriage pulls up to the front of the tavern. Two white horses with two armed guards followed right behind the carriage. The horses pulling the carriage were white as well. draped over the  backs was the house symbol. Dark blue background gold border  and gold lion in the middle .The carriage was white with  gold trim. The foot man gets down from where the driver was and opens the door. A female steps out of the carriage. She wore Elegant  light blur silk dress. Over the dress was a matching corset. over her shoulders  was tied a long black cloak to keep the colds winds from her body.  She wore necklaces of symbol teal colored jewels. She long sandy brown hair and fair colored skin. She had deep green colored eyes that seem to draw you in.The hood of her cloak was up. She makes her way to the entrance of the  inn. her two guards put up the carriage and the horses and follow right behind  her.

Aramendel stepped out on the dirt and twisted his boot, grinding some of the rubble and making a slight crunch. He bent down and picked up a handful of dirt and used it to dry his hands.  The bow on his back awoke once again, telling him to go what he could assume was south. Its pull was stronger than ever but he ignored it.  Its message became so strong that it was almost audible in his head, but with a sheer force of will he silenced it.

The elf raised his eyes upwards. The clear sky seemed unchanged from when he arrived. The constant sky unsettled him.  He knew he was here for what felt like two days, even if it did not feel that way for others. He turned his head to the carriage. The majestic steeds were  brilliant sight. They were obviously well bred and well trained.  Without thinking he walked over and began to pet both of them. He whispered to them in the same way he would to Slick and it startled both mounts to hear a biped that understood them, but the ranger calmed them both with little effort.

When he heard footsteps on the porch he didn't turn to face them. He could tell by the stride that it was Vanessa, "I'm not losing my mind again, at least not like before. You don't have to watch over me."

[From Tavern]

She smiled.  I don't think you were loosing your mind before.  That's what worries me. she answered, her hands going to the gun Mason had offered just before she left.  It was tucked into her waist and provided more comfort then her own weapons.

And there's not many beings in existence I want to keep on eye out for... consider it a compliment.  It was for her, the closest thing to admiting she carried about something or someone in years.  The elf could have no idea how startling that was, even to her.

So, She cleared her throat, a bit uncomfortable with the admission she'd just made. Where ya goin? She asked,
This message was last edited by the player at 00:16, Fri 20 Mar 2009.

"Home," responded the ranger, still not breaking contact with the horses. "If I can find it."

He moved over to the left most horse, the neg.  He rested his head against the horse's and took a deep breath.  "Amazing, is she not?" he asked as he raised his head and began stroking the mane of the great beast.  "Strong, graceful, beautiful. I wish I could take her with me.  She would be a great companion on the road."  He gave the horse a pat and turned to face Vanessa half way. "But she wouldn't like that, too used to luxury. Plus the one who has her already would not be happy."
He noticed her hand go behind her. "Why are you reaching for your weapon?"

Nessa sighed.  These woods scare me at this point. She admited, though not comfortably and not sure how she had grown so...comfortable with this almost stranger.

Looking around nervously she walked closer to Aramen and the horses.  If your going... are you coming back?  Do you know how to get there? She chuckled at hearing her self. It was like she'd revert back 10 years of her life. Don't make me worry about you, young man! She grinned and teased, making fun of her self.

"The forest can be a scary place alone, if you aren't in touch with it," he responded softly, not even sure if she could hear him.  "If I can find the way back I will return. I should people able to, I was always told I was good with directions." He chuckled at the thought a bit, it was part of his life to give directions. "As for getting there, judging by the tracks, Master Mason and Gallus went that way and both returned from the same direction. If I follow their path I should be safely back in a half day time, most." He looked up and tried to make sense of what he just said. "Not that you can tell in this place."

When Vanessa teased him he dropped his face down. "I'm the one that usually does the worrying. It comes with the job. And I wouldn't call me young if I were you, Miss. If you forgot, I have seen over a hundred winters." He couldn't keep a stoic face at that. He was too young heart and he knew it, and knew that she knew it.  That tells more about age then any number of moons and years.

She smiled and busied herself with gazing at the horses.  If he wanted to go, she didn't feel right stopping him.  Though she wasn't happy about it. It wasn't like he wasn't in his right mind or anything that she could make an excuse for.

I don't like it. She sighed, again uncomfortable by both her thought and expression of it. But I know you need to do what you must... But Aramen... She paused, sighing again and coming up to stand a bit nearer.  Promise me you'll be careful?  She wished she could offer him something.  Something helpful, but she seemed sorely lacking in that.  There were the weapons that Mason gave her, but she knew little about them to be passing them off.

Aramen probably knew more than she... Is there anything I can do?

Careful. Once I go home I have to continue my task of defeating a wizard in his housetower. That's is pretty much the antithesis of careful.

"I wish that promise was something I could make, but my path does not allow much room for taking care. I have too many enemies and not nearly enough allies." With that he looked straight up past the sky and let out a high pitched whistle, sounding more like a hawk than a man. His eyes stayed up in the sky as if waiting for something, but his face betrayed him, showing that he knew what he was looking for would not find him. When she asked if there was anything she could do, all Aremendel could think to ask was, "Do you know any bird calls?"

Mason comes out to the front porch.  Taking a surveying look at Vanessa and Aramendel his face is still blank, his voice flat.

"Is everything OK?"

He looks out at the woods, scanning for any possible threats.

Bird calls? She mimiced.  That was not what she was expecting.  She thought for a moment. She could sound like birds, but was it really a bird call?  For all she knew she was telling them something rude. I, ah.

She turned to as Mason came up. She gave a slight, indescrete shake of her head in response. Aramen is heading home. She said her voice intentionally neutral.

Turning his attention fully on the elf,

"Is there something that you need to do in your world that is so pressing you can't at least say good bye?"

The nod that he gives is small and almost imperceptible.

"I apologize for thinking you might need help from a friend."

"I did not mean to be gone for long," he turned facing Mason fully. Something wasn't right about Mason, he was too blank, too stoic. Instead of asking he just continued, slightly distracted by the lack of emotion. "I, I had a task that I was pressed to do. Upon completing it I had a goal for myself, I can not say if it is a reward or punishment, just a determination."

He would enjoy the assistance, and the one fighter he trusted here among those he just met was Mason. He could not fight along side someone who could not express emotion. But he could not figure out his disposition change.  Part of a soldier is heart, and if Mason lost his for now, it could spell defeat.

 He could ask Vanessa to accompany, but for one who has not seen true magic and with no experience against it, she would be a liability. It was not because of combat skill, but she would not know anything about the potential of her adversary.

"Gallus returned to his home for years, you returned for days and it was as if no time had passed here when you both returned. I expect to be gone no more then a tenday in my world, minutes here.  I appreciate the offer for assistance, but I do not know if it could be assisted with." He topped for a second. He wanted to ask where Mason's soul went, but couldn't figure out how to phrase the question.  Instead he turned to Vanessa and whispered to her. 


OOC:Yeah, i know you can read it Mason.

"Aramendal, it isn't just my vision that is enhanced.  I can hear you."

He gives a small glance over his shoulder, towards the door.  When he speaks his voice is low.


Mason looks at Vanessa and gives a small smile.

Aremendel just nodded, he understood that motive and everything made more sense. He also respected that he would not risk to be heard any more so Aramen changed the subject.
 "Master Mason, when you say your vision is enhanced, do you mean you have infravision?"

"I can see in several specters of light as well as with thermographics.  Elves in my where and when have low light vision, do you?"

He could also see with ultra sound, very effective for finding invisible opponents but echo location would be lengthy explanation.  It didn't matter.

"Do you need help with this... goal?"

"Help? I don't really know. I have two goals right now. The larger of which is an assassination." He looked over to Vanessa, not knowing how she would react. He spoke of battle before but people always reacted poorly to the term.  He never liked being thought of as an assassin. Ranger, Bounty Hunter, Woodsman, Scout, all titles he was called at some point and time, but the name Assassin put a disgusting taste in his mouth, even if it was on behalf of his order.

"Master Mason, you said before that there is magic in your plane, but it was very taxing. Have you ever faced a necromancer? Someone devoted to the magic surrounding life and death itself? Or an Evoker, a master of bending magic into elemental weapons?"

In truth, Aramendel did not know the exact abilities of his next target, only that he was a member of a cult of dark wizards. He had been eliminating its members systematically over the last 4 months and each one was different and had their own specialties.  These assumptions though was as good as any.

"It is one of them that is my target. But I do not think I can accept help. My order and squad would not look so well on an outsider joining in the matter."
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:45, Sat 21 Mar 2009.

They were certainly and odd trio, Nessa looked between the two men, but they seemed to understand each other. She relaxed slightly, as more information came forth.  In truth, she understood Mason far more than Aramen.  She would have liked to tell herself that was simply because they were both human, but that wasn't really it.

She had not flinched at the term assassin, she certainly had no right, and found it rather ... sweet, that Aramen had seemed act like she might.  Rather, she listened, intently.  This was a strange place, these two had seen far more different worlds and species then she, and she trusted them.  All she could do, really was learn.

Necromancers in my world are human, but they never work truly in public, too dangerous and none are that powerful alone.  Fortunately, too, humans don't like to share power...it keeps things... safer. She was mostly thinking aloud. But if you come from a world where magic and all that we find... odd is open... A necromancer has the power of an army of dead behind them.  You can't fight that with out an army of dead yourself...?

There was in her thoughts both a hundred questions and none stated. And for the first time she consdered the idea that her concept of power should be linked with her concept of magic.  But she didn't have time to dwell on that.

She looked between them, suddenly leery that she had spoken her thoughts aloud and wondering how much of her own experience in this applied to their worlds.  Maybe none.  Maybe it was ... better than what little she felt knew?  Yeah right, nothing is ever better, she chided herself.

"I was not fighting them myself. If I was I would have asked for assistance from a few of you.  For two tendays I have been watching the activities surrounding the target. His strongest minions only last for 12 days before he has to resummon them. I sent a friend of mine with orders for a strike team on the next time where they fall." He whistled again, still hoping for a response.
"In six days time, a team from my order will infiltrate the tower and eliminate this target.  If I could recruit from outside for assistance, I would be asking both of you to assist me, but I do not have that authority, yet.  Outsiders are not looked well upon without a period of research, and explaining where you are from would not make it any easier." The ranger turns back to the horses and begins petting them once again.  "This is the fifth member of the cult that I have hunted and the last one within my reach. Hopefully, spilling his blood will finally close a terrible chapter in my life. I have a feeling that bout I had was my mind telling me that it needs to be ended as soon as possible."

"Necromancy is not a form of magic that I have ever encountered.  The animation of the dead is not something that is done in my world.  But there are other forms of magic that are just as bad if not worse.  Blood magic is one of the worst.  A dozen powerful mages, hooked together in a circle by machines that circulate their blood through each other.  It links them together as one.  It turns them into a nearly unstoppable monstrosity of magic.  There is no magic that can stand against them.  The usually have 8 elite guards each, 96 men protecting the circle.  I have destroyed two such circles.  I know how to deal with mages."

Mason still stands there, still scanning the woods and keeping an eye on the door.

"I understand working with a team of people.  Outsiders don't fit in well.  I have worked with the same team for over 10 years.  On occasion, we have had to bring in specialist to complete a job.  Success in the mission is more important. I have some pretty heavy fire power upstairs, enough to take down a large building or kill a target from over a mile away."

Aramen sighed at the thought. He knew that one such as Mason would be an asset. "I respect that the mission is always important, and I have full faith in my team that it will be completed. But I do not know how often I will have to work with these men, nor do I know how your attendance would effect them, or their image of me. I know you understand the importance of image, you just expressed it fully."

Fearing that he might have offended Mason he changed the topic slightly.

"You have weapons that can topple a building, an unnatural strength at the cost of part of your body. I hold no judgments to people and always try to base on merits but my views do not extend to my superiors.  The members of the Assembly of Balance are not the most welcoming to the unnatural, or unleashing power they do not understand in an area so sensitive.  You look human enough, besides your funny clothes, but anything that reveals your true nature could be seen as a black mark against me for taking such a risk." 

Mason's world just sounded worse all the time, she shuddered. Casting that aside, and listening to Aramen.

Born from frustration, So, your saying we can't help. We must simply wait here and hope you return to indicate you're okay.

She didn't like it, but understood it.  She rarely would work with a partner, never mind a team.  She hardly trusted enough people to even form a small 'team'.

Then... I wish you the best Aramendel. Given how time worked, in his world that situation might be over, years past and all fine.  Of course, she didn't believe that, but she liked the idea.

You know that if you need something, you need only indicate it. She veered slightly toward him, wanting to hug him, a good bye, but restrained her self.

"Hope? No don't hope."
The ranger turned to Vanessa and gave a small smile. "Hoping implies that there is a chance that what you want wont happen. I will not fall in this fight, and I will find my way back. I may be a little battered up when I finish my task, but I will not let the scum that I seek get the best of me."
He let out a slight laugh at his confidence, this was the first time he was not at all nervous about an expected fight.
"Hey, maybe I'll find a new blade while I'm there? That would be a treat."
With that he started walking towards the woods. After only a few steps he turned and faced Vanessa.
"There is something, if something delays me, just make sure you do not plant that flower in the ground. You can put it in water, but to plant in the soil. It might cause a bit of a growth problem. I'll see you soon, and hopefully I will not be alone."
With that he started towards the woods at slow pace, letting off another sharp whistle as he went.

Nessa gave him a firm nod indicating she understood.

Quickly she returned to her usual crooked stance, arms coming to fold across her chest.  She sighed and paused. I have to say Mason.  Your world and his make mine look better all the time.  And I thought mine was pretty ... rotten.

Elf ears work quite well and it wasn't hard for him to hear what was said.
"Do not be mistaken, my plane is quite beautiful and wondrous," he yelled over his back. "But as with the prettiest and most majestic trees, some of the bad branches and fruit need to be removed and pruned."

"I wish you luck."

Mason turns to go back inside.  He thinks about his jaunt back to his own where and when.  He went right back into the fire fight he had been pulled out of.  He had dropped four men in order to clear a path.  He hadn't been able to return here until the heat had died down.  He puts a hand on Vanessa's shoulder:

"His mind is made up, best to let him go."

As Mason watches him go he starts to think about his own responsibilities in his world.  As much as he would like to stay here or even go to another world, he is going to have to go back home.

=========> From the Tavern


Yana strides out onto the porch, her chain shirt jingling ever so slightly, her crossbow cocked, though not loaded.

For the Love of Fharlanghn, Aramendel!  If you're not going to try to actually recover before rushing out into the woods, at least wait for us!

Walking up to the ranger with Boone in tow, she represses the urge to smack the foolhardy (in her opinion) elf.

Boone says he'll join us.  Do you want me to try to recruit anyone else?

Hearing the voice behind him, Aramendel came to a stop. He turned to face them.

I was not exploring these woods without you. And if I was, I do not want that one's help.

He looked back upon the trail he was going about to follow.

I was going home for a little while. A tenday there, but mere moments here.

Yana's brow crinkles in confusion.  "That one"?  You mean Boone?  What are you talking about?  I don't understand. 

Of course she wouldn't she did not see when the others made this trek.

"When Mason and Gallus returned to their homes, great deals of time passed for them, but hardly any passed here. Days for Mason, Years for Gallus, but it was but minutes in this plane."

He turned back to the young woman and pulled back his hood a bit. He met her eyes with a sullen visage.

"I feel like I have been here such a deal of time, but the sun has not moved in the sky.  I'm going home to find the stars. I will return before you pluck the feathers from a falcon."

Yana looked at Aramendel and snickered a bit, then she sighed.
I was kind of hoping that you'd have told me before wandering off, but I understand.  I guess it makes sense if you figured you'd be back before I knew you were gone.
Shrugging, Yana steps back onto the porch.
I'll be inside when you come back.  Come get me when you're ready.

Yana was tempted to follow Aramendel back to "his world", since it was the same world.  Still, she'd just arrived, so it was silly to leave yet.  Besides, she had business of her own.

Bowing to her elven friend, she turns back to Boone.

Well, it looks like I'll have time for that drink.  Coming?

Yana turns and heads back inside.

=============>  To Tavern

He just stood there as she turned away. He could not bring himself to start walking once again.  Aramendel found himself speaking as Yana walked in the door, but not by thought but instinct.
"Yana, come back here, please, if just for a moment."

Yana stopped and turned towards Aramendel.  She was feeling out of sorts, still trying to figure out the rules in this strange place.  Turning to Boone, she says Bide a moment,please.  I'll be back soon.

Coming to the elf's side, she looks at him, curious.

Look, Aramen, I'm not really mad about you sneaking away to visit home.  I understand, really.  Just hurry back, ok?

The ranger didn't speak. When Yana finished speaking he just leaned in and kissed her softly.  Giving a soft but true smile he looked into her eyes, gave a slight nod then turned towards the woods.
With a new burning determination to end this vile chapter he lived for too long, he set off for home.

Stunned, Yana lifted her hand, to touch to spot Aramendel kissed.    Confused, she fumed.  Damned inscrutable elf!  Was he kissing her goodbye, or was he trying to say something else?  Fighting back tears of conflicting emotions, Yana walked back to Boone.
Putting a smile on her lips, she nods to him.
I'm ready for that drink, if you're still buying,

Vanessa had almost smiled when the elf responded.  Curse his hearing, she thought, but she didn't really mind.  The scowl returned quickly though.

Nessa nodded and shrugged off Mason's hand, Don't have to like it. She answered, her voice hard.  She knew Mason was just trying to be kind to her, but she didn't want nice or to care about these people.  She got hurt when she cared about people or elves or whatever.

Turning to go in, she paused when Yana came out, but glancing between the woman and Aramen, just reinforced her thoughts.

She headed back into the tavern.  Thinking she should appologize to Mason, but she couldn't bring her self to do it, just then.

[To Tavern]

Boone shifted uneasily. Of course Yana, whatever you desire. He doesn't want to say it, but he has to be fair to the young lady. Yana, is it possible that Aramendel cares for you personally? Given his nature, it seems all too likely he would have difficulty expressing it.

With Yana beside him, he heads back into the tavern.

-------------------------> to the tavern

Aramendel broke the treeline into the clearing.  It seemed no major amount of time had passed for him.  However, his hair and clothing were clean and untraveled, save for his partially tattered and patched cloak. Across his back was a new quiver, lined and decorated with silver. Crossing his weapon sash was another, this one a brilliant red. On his left bicep there was a tied matching red handkerchief.

He leaned against a tree and looked on the tavern. It was unchanged, and spotting Slick still trying to play with the with sign of the tavern told him that his assumption was right, and no significant time had passed.  His confidence met some trepidation as he looked on as he mentally prepared himself for returning to the inn.

He kept his vigil for a bit and whistled with the same loud sharp tone he sounded off when he last left this place.  This time, however, he was not left waiting as the hawk he carried to the plane perched on his wrist bracer.

[From the Deep Forest]

Approaching the bridge, Raphael paused to take in the inn on the opposite bank. He smiled to himself. It was almost too perfect, like something from a fairy tale, but he reflected that fairy tale was a good deal better than grubby reality from whatever era. The older travellers' inns remained indelibly associated in his mind with sour beer and the smells of sweat, smoke and wet horse. The most modern pub he'd been in had been worse: braying city suits getting drunk on imported beer and exaggerating their prowess. He'd willingly brave a fairy tale ogre or two rather than that. With a little shrug of the duffel on his shoulder, he stepped onto the bridge and to the porch of the inn. There he paused, this time not needing to say anything more complicated than "beer" for the raven to swoop down to him and perch again on his shoulder.

"Shall we?" And without waiting for an answer, he entered.

[To the Inn]

Parker come out onto the front porch and looks around to see where the crazy racist went to.  All of the forms of him, shifting and moving about step off of the porch and into the yard.

"Are you so closed minded that you are not able to put your differences aside?  Do you think that you are so superior that everyone should just fear you and bow?

Stepping to show himself from the tree line, Gallus looks and points at the small lizard. "I had thought myself under control until your disrespect for the weak forced my hand. I am used to awe, but do not expect it. I will not be cowed to stepping down simply be cause you cannot swallow your own arrogance." He draws his sword and pistol, the sword crackling to life with streaks of blue lightning caressing the blade.

"You are the opinionated one.  I laughed when one who tried to murder me fell on his ass.  He was not weak, just a drunken fool.  I have no respect for such.  I will assume that that weapon shoot out the metal projectiles like the other's weapon.  I will step out of the way so your weapon does not hurt anyone in the inn."

All of the images of Parker step around to the side.

"Now will you try and stike me down or shoot me with your weapon?"

When he no longer has his back to the tavern, he sits on the ground.

Gallus utters a growl and charges forward, bolt pistol firing off three shots. After the third a high pitched whine can be heard, followed by a small explosion. The jetpack fires and sends him shooting towards the nearest image. his sword is drawn up and slashes at the target, hissing as it burns the very air around it. The mass reactive bolter rounds have left small craters where they hit.

As the tempers flared, Wilford opened the door with his camera on, already search for the action. He holds it at stomach level, watching through the view screen. He doesn't saw the word, only moves as far away as he can without being in the way.

His face is a grimace of pain. The bolt pistol, along with the jet pack nearly deafened him. Adrenaline coursing through his body, all urging him to run as far away as he could.

Three of the images disappear as the bullet strike them.  The sword passes harmlessly through another, dissipating it.  Parker opens his own wings and flies straight up, putting only three feet between himself and the marine.  He says a few words in the language of dragons as he tosses a pouch full of ruby dust up in the air, some of it coming down upon himself and the images, the rest falling to the ground where it is consumed by the magic.  In his other hand he holds a rod and some of the magic seems to focus through that.

"I think I will go back in and have my dinner now."

There is an invisible force cage around Captain Gallus which becomes evident as he crashes into it.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:14, Thu 26 Mar 2009.

Jarred, but quickly recovering."It will not be that easy." Gallus mutters a few words under his breath and one of the parchments glows along with his power sword. He jabs the sword straight up. The force cage breaks visibly into pieces. He activates his jetpack again and this time rockets upward, firing bolter rounds at the tiny creature. He then stops and swoops down, seeking Parker again wit his bolter and sword.

While the Marine starts to break out of the cage, Parker calls forth more arcane might with no readily apparent result.  When the Marine starts to come down again, Parker holds his hand up again.  And again the marine crashes into a solid invisible wall.

"Why you hypocrite.  Go ahead and use what borrowed magic that you like witch.  By the way, I can keep this up all day."

"It is faith in the Emperor that protects me, xeno. He grants me the power to destroy you and your trickery." His armor rock against the field as he hit it. He recovered once again and backed off. He disappeared below the tree line after his retreat and shut off his jet pack. He is gone for a few moments before streaking once again, a few feet off the ground, from the treeline and at the small mage. His sword is beside him, ready to swing while his bolter continues to fire off rounds.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:56, Thu 26 Mar 2009.

While the Marine sped off Parker continued to chant, blinking from existence for a few seconds before reappearing a little ways off.  He has seen the power of the armored giant's weapon and the man standing on the porch watching.  Never one to allow innocents to get hurt, he has moved off to the side, so when the man charges again, he will not hit the inn.  As the marine continues to fly straight at him, loosing round after round, Parker simply sits down, the bullets passing through him.

"If you are the future of humans, I weep for your world."

"You shall weep for your wounds." The Space Marine goes to spear the mage with an extended sword arm. He quickly pulls up as he gets near the kobold, washing the area with exhaust. Using the chance of a smokescreen from the dirt and exhaust, he cuts the engine and falls to a knee in front of the kobold while extending his sword in a great sweeping motion.

Coughing at the exhaust, the kobold jumps back, crying out in pain as the blade sweeps across his arm.  The cloud of dust and flying debris seems to be trapped into a small area that surrounds the two.

Still muttering under his breath, Rafael slipped out onto the porch, remaining close to the door as he scanned the state of play. He flinched a little at the sight of the little kobold, surrounded by debris, apparently wounded, but at least Parker seemed to be holding his own. What worried him more was the others: Wilford and the Kid and anyone else who might be caught in the crossfire. And it wasn't just mundane: he could sense the magic in the air. With a frown, he looked out beyond the melee for the crazy investigator.

Seeing the kobold wounded, Gallus lets out a primal growl and raises his sword high. It comes down in a flash, but is not for the kobold. It sticks in the ground and dies. "We are done. I claim victory, unless you wish this to be to the death?" He stands tall, holstering his side arm and crossing his arms.

Wilford had been running up and down the porch itself with his camera. He kept it focused on the fight. Sweat was running down his forehead, he was a bit scared. He was in awe, no- shock, at everything he was witnessing. Invisible barriers, a machine man flying around shoot explosive rounds, and just the oddity of the event itself was becoming a bit much for the man. He wanted to go back inside, but he needed to show this to the people back home.

"Don't worry... it was all a trap, something my people excel at.  You see when you have people that are 10 times your size trying to kill you all the time, you have to be clever."

The voice comes from outside the force cage.  Parker lands a short distance away, appearing from thin air.  The image of him inside the force cage disappears.  He is unhurt.

"The illusion was perfect, programmed to respond to attacks and everything.  By the way... while you were flying around shooting at me, I have erased all of your scrolls.  That is the problem with borrowed magic, it is easy to  take away.  The first attacks you made were a test, to see if you could see through illusions, you obviously couldn't.  I am through playing games and dancing around...  before, I made not a single attack against you.  If you want me to really fight, I will oblige you."

Gallus turns to face the smug lizard and smiles."And when you are a commander, you pick the best field to fight on. If you cannot find one then you make one." In his hand is a small rod capped with a button. He presses it and explosions rock all those near. One explodes in front of Parker, but as well as inside the force bubble, sending the Marine reeling into the side of the cage. Taking up his sword, he slashes through the force field and steps into the open, only to crash into the barrier again, blood from a cut above his eye dripping. "You erased but material items. Faith lies in the soul. Attelus will rip through force and armor alike." He waited to see if remote grenades had any effect.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:45, Fri 27 Mar 2009.

The explosion causes Parker to blink out of existence, appearing a short distance off.  Was that really him or just another illusion?  But the force cage holds... there is no amount of physical force or explosion that can disrupt it.  It is even impervious to almost all forms of magic.

"Wow... I never thought you would blow up the whole area, yourself included.  You obviously care nothing for the innocent, only about winning a pointless fight.  And this is pointless."

Parker appears sitting in mid air.  He is no longer smiling, he is looking over at those on the porch to see if they are OK.

"Rafael, please if you are able to, put up a shield to protect those on the porch from any further danger."

On the porch, Rafael had already realized that the marine was so murderously intent on the kobold that collateral damage wouldn't even cross his mind, and he had begun to murmur beneath his breathe. Utterly serious now, he crouched down onto his haunches and, as he barked out a few words in Latin, touched the floor with one hand and traced out a symbol into the air with his other. His eyes were closed with concentration. From his outstretched hand came a faintly shimmering mist that settled just beyond the porch, between combat and observers. He stood and looked out into the melee.

"Blast away Preston." He shouted to the kobold, "It'll hold back pretty much anything." The shimmer had already settled down and faded away but he knew that the ward would hold off anything from missiles to magic until the next dusk. Yet it had taken it out of him and he leaned back against the wall, his face even paler than usual, the raven strangely quiet as it nuzzled into his shoulder. Dammit, he wanted that scotch right now. But he was going to stay it out to the end. Parker deserved as much. As did Wilford, speaking of whom, was racing up and down the porch. That made him grin. At least someone was enjoying this,

"Hey Wilford." He yelled after the figure, "Get any good shots yet?"

Vrith had just walked outside to see the kobold and someone else fighting. He knew he needed his shield but saw someone that might be able to.

Knowing the porch was protected, Rafael was able to relax a little. Still leaning against the wall, he motioned to Vrith,

"If you stay on the porch, you'll be safe." He motioned towards the fight, "You don't want to go out there." He stood up again, absent-mindedly reaching across to stroke the raven perched on his shoulder, "I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Rafael. Rafi." He extended his hand to the boy.

"Vrith." He shakes hands with Rafi. "Great. That the dragon-kobold form inside?"

"Good to meet you Vrith. I think you've met Gerald" He nodded to the raven, who peered at Vrith, "Yeah, hopefully Parker will teach that xenophobic lunatic a lesson." He paused and looked out to where the explosives had left deep marks in the ground, "Preferably without causing too much damage."

"Who?" Vrith was puzzled. "Parker and Gerald? Who are they?"

Those explosions were far too close! Hopefully that building will provide better protection thought dave

He crawls back into the trees and makes sure he's out of sight before jumping into a sprint to his pack. Once he has his bag he runs as fast as he can through the forest to the back of inn. He place's his pack behind a tree then checks to see if there is anyone on this side of the building. Finding noone he sprints to the back of the building, then drops into a crouch and begins to slowly make his way along the side of the building back to the front. He would need to know as much as possible before reporting back to the nearest barracks.

Rafael peered into the melee, pointing out the kobold, "Parker, the dragon-blooded kobold, our hero." He then reached up to his shoulder, letting the raven hop onto his hand and extending that hand towards Vrith,

"And this is Gerald" The raven cawed a little at Vrith, "He is harmless." The raven turned towards the mage and cawed more harshly, "OK. Mostly harmless."

Decided to watch the show? He was completely focused on the marine, wondering if he could ever escape. Wilford didn't even notice the trickle of blood coming from a small cut under his left ear. It wasn't serious, but like most head woulds the blood kept coming. The Goliath never had a chance! Move one the alligator bested him, sometimes big and dumb doesn't cut it! He still couldn't believe he had real proof of the supernatural instead of second hand accounts.

"Thought I'd better make sure you weren't getting yourself killed." Rafi grinned back at Wilford, then appeared to notice the cut and, frowning, shook his head,

"You're hurt." He muttered a profanity under his breath, "Need me to deal with it" He couldn't tell how bad it was but given that Wilford was still up and filming, he assumed it wasn't so bad.  Of course, the adrenalin flooding through the investigator's system would probably keep him upright with anything short of a mortal wound.

He stopped, as if pulled free from a dream. What? Hurt? He began looking over his body feverishly and froze in place when he saw some blood trickle onto his shoulder. He lifted his hand and rubbed that side of his head, wincing when he pulled back a small flap of skin. I am. I thought the shrapnel missed me. His face turned white, he didn't realize the kind of danger he was in- he never did, not until it was over. Is it bad? The cut was slightly jagged and an inch long, the flap of skin he felt was a sliver of metal sticking from his head. The shrapnel was only revealed now that he had wiped some of the blood from it.

As Wilford started feeling about in his neck, Rafael winced in sympathy. He saw the piece of metal sticking out: it really shouldn't have been there,

"Blimey, Wilford. Stop messing with that and come over here." He knelt down and began rifling through his duffle, muttering under his breath until he found what he sought: a small bottle of brownish-red liquid that he extracted with a sigh of relief, "I thought I had this in there.". He looked at Wilford again,

"Don't worry. It isn't blood or human and you don't have to drink it." Still holding the bottle, he stood, while Gerald hopped to sit on top of the duffel and watch, "OK?" He looked at Wilford questioningly, his hand slightly outstretched.

Displeased, but noticing that the power sword did have and effect on the barrier he waited, pulling a healing gel from his pouch. He could wait. He would wait. Taking a knee, he began to pray to the Emperor.

Parker watches the marine slash at the cage for a few seconds before flying over to the porch.

"I apologize to you Sir Wilford.  It was by my clumsiness and arrogance that you were injured.  I thank you Wizard Corwin for your offer of assistance but this is my task to do."

He freezes for a second and looks again over at the Marine, the barrier seems to have wavered for a moment before Parker holds up his hand and it is solid again.

"I have a small amount of healing magic that I can use to heal you."

Wilford was a bit stunned. The old familiar fears of leaving his son behind repeared. The fear only ever struck him when mortality slapped him in the face.

He was about to answer Rafael when the Kobold made his offer of magic. Uhm, thanks, but I don't know what magic does, and that iodine... He motioned to the bottle. Is something I understand.

He give the human a small bow.

"As you wish.  If you decide later that you would like the aid, it is yours."

He sits down, staring over at the marine.

"Wizard Corwin, I wonder if I could ask a favor of you?  When you are done and decide to go back inside, could you ask the barkeep to bring my meal out here?  I have a desire to sit out here for a while."

Looking a little surprised at Parker's interjection between him and Wilford, Rafael seemed about to say something when the kobold made his request.

"It would be my pleasure." He bowed to Parker, "It is quite annoying to miss one's dinner." He frowned a little at Wilford,

"It looks like the fighting has paused for the moment. Why don't we go back indoors where I can take a proper look at that."

All emotion seemed to wash away from him, he seemed almost at peace, lethargic.
Yeah, I've had my fill of danger today. I think I am ready for another gallon of beer. He shook his head as he headed to the door. Under his breath he sighed and talked in a hushed whisper to no one. Then I guess I need to find the way home soon. Before entering he turned off his camera and digital recorder.

<<exit to Tavern>>

Rafael nodded to Wilford and picked up his duffel, ready to follow the man into the inn. He couldn't say he wasn't relieved that things seemed to be dying down.

"Don't forget. Don't go beyond the porch, Vrith" He reminded the kid as he stood in the doorway, and addressed the kobold, "I'll have the food sent out, Parker. Yell if you need anything else."

[to the Inn's main room]

Parker sits on the porch watching the space marine pray.  He will not interrupt someone while they are in a state of worship... a personal choice.  He surveys the damage that was done to the area and shakes his head.  Those devices were almost as powerful as a fireball, not quite, but almost.

"Vrith was it?  I would recommend that you go inside.  I can not guarantee your safety should you decide to stay out here.  I believe I would enjoy a conversation, but not right now and not out here.  If you are hungry, you are welcome to have one of the guinea fowl that I brought."

The whole time that he is talking to the youth, he is watching the space marine.  He chants for a second and his eyes flash and glow as he studies the man and the items he carries.

Finishing the litany of battle, Gallus stood and activated Atellus, his power sword again. Bringing the tip up to the edge of the cage, he watches as the sword probes the field, slowing dimming it. He notes that it does not penetrate the barrier, but does weaken it. Smiling he draws the sword back to his side and waits again, staring down the wizard on the porch. His cut has nearly healed, his advanced physique doing its job.

Parker holds his hand up and the barrier is back to full strength.  He continues to study the marine.

"You need to understand, the effort for me to maintain this is minimal.  I can keep this up for quite some time.  I can also shrink the cage down to one one hundredth of it's size...  but that... is not my intent.  Are you willing to talk?"

This message was deleted by the player at 17:12, Sun 29 Mar 2009.

Vrith nodded and silently walked back into the inn.

>>Tavern>>
This message was last edited by the player at 18:30, Sun 29 Mar 2009.

Parker sits quietly outside of the invisible force cage.  He calls forth a small amount of power and a bizarre creature appears.  This creature seems to be about the size of a pony.  It has four insectlike legs and a squat, humped body.  Two long prehensile antennae wave around in front of it.

The creature immediately starts to root around on the ground, looking for any more traps laid about.

While it is moving about, Parker continues to watch the Marine.

"I am willing to wait to see if you decide you want to talk."

"And I am willing to wait until my death. I have faith that the Emperor willing see me through this." With a quick motion, he lunges at the barrier wall and begins to cut a circular pattern in it with his power sword. It seems to be cutting away at the barrier, though not destabilizing it like before.

Hoping that the two combatants would be too busy concentrating on each other to notice him Dave shoulders his rifle and begins to move in a controlled military fashion to the door of the inn.

Parker waves his hand and refocuses his concentration on the barrier and again it is at full strength.

"You who claim that all magic and wielders of it are evil, yet you wield a weapon blacker than any necromancy I have ever seen.  Any you use faith magic yourself.  You good sir are the greatest hypocrisy.  By the way, as long as I focus my will, you will not be able to escape."

Parker may not have noticed the man moving quickly towards the door, but the summoned creature has.  It makes a quick b-line to intercept him, for such a clumsy looking creature, it covers the ground quickly.  Blocking the path.  Turning towards the creature, Parker smiles for a moment then it sprints back over towards him.

"I apologize for that.  It is mostly harmless.  We will not hinder your progress."

Looking down at the creature it instead goes over to the force cage and stands opposite the marine, it's antennae waving towards the man.

Gallus draws the sword out of the barrier as it seals up behind the blade. Looking at the creature, he speaks to Parker indirectly. "Then you do not listen if you think that. I said that it corrupts if not checked. Some of my battle-brothers use it to great effect. My sword is a relic, archeo-tech from the Golden Age of the Empire on Man. Both are but tools. Your skill is commendable, but will not last. I can wait."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:40, Mon 30 Mar 2009.

With a shrug.

"That blade has some magic of it's own, but mostly it focuses the magic from inside you and corrupts it.  And you, who would wantonly injure or even kill innocent people to win a fight that has no point have no right to question corruption in others.  Are you so anxious to continue this?  The fight is over... you have lost.  You are injured, I am not.  You have proven that despite all of your weapons and total disregard for others, you are incapable of hurting me, I have proven that I am capable of disabling you.  If I wished it, I could crush you like an insect."

The creature is on the other side of the cage and stands with it's large paddle like tail and antennae ready to attack.

"The uglub wants to feast on your bones.  Should I release you to fight it?"

"Only in death am I defeated. Only with death shall this end." And that was all he said.

"Do I have to kill you for you to admit defeat?  What if I fought you in hand to hand and just broke your arm?  Would you admit defeat then.  I will fight you without any of my weapons."

He strolls over to the porch and drops the rod and the staff.  He also pulls out two different wands which he sets down.

     "Who has chosen to breach the neutrality of this place? Who is willing to sacrifice his honor and that of those he represents? Who is willing to sunder all trust, all friendships, allegiances, and  rapport. Why would anyone be so close minded to believe that in a multidimensional/integrated timestream, that their opinion is the only one that matters. The only right opinion. How arrogant, how oblivious to his own actions can any creature be. How can either of you say that you are on the side of good, or even sanity, when you willfully resume your combative natures in a place that has been repetitively peaceful, openly hospitable, and has only asked for neutrality. Are the two of you aware of the injuries incurred, the damages done?" The disappointment is evident in the eyes of the ex-legionairre turned busboy as he berates the two mortals locked in postmenstrual strain in the yard beyond.
     "Brother-Captain Gallus, you call yourself a man worthy of command, yet you are perfectly willing to take a loophole and exploit it  for your own personal feral gratification." Quintus glowers at the man demanding equal rank and consideration.
     "As for you Master Parker, you speak of such great lineage, of honor and knowledge, of respect and strength. How are you upholding those ideals by bullying a simpleton outside in front of your "friends"?" Quintus shakes with livid disgust.
     "As a station of true neutrality, the Inn, Barkeep, Cookie, and the rest of the staff will allow you back without reservation and without judgement, but shouldn't you really think about what you have done, before you choose to reenter this place?"

Looking at the roman with some respect.

"Master Quintus.  You are right in many ways... I should not have allowed myself to be goaded into such a fight.  I am only partially redeemed in the fact that all I did was defend myself.  But I am ashamed to admit that you are right... in seeking to teach a bully a lesson, I have become the bully."

Parker strides back over to the porch and picks up his belongings.  With a wave of his hand.  The creature is gone.

"Master Quintus, I am done here.  I sought to teach a bully a lesson without anyone getting hurt.  I have failed on both accounts."

Gallus sneers at the Roman as he gives his speech."I do what I must to be victorious. My men know the perils and dangers. If a few must be sacrificed for victory then so be it. It is only right that people pay respect to those that protect them. I thought as a soldier you would understand that." He ignores Parker entirley.

     "How far the rank of Captain has fallen. I have held that rank, I understand the rules of neutrality, I understand the rules of leadership, and I understand the responsibilities of that which as a commanding officer I represent. How low humanity has fallen to think, that they can act without concern for others. Have you even noticed that it was a human that has suffered the only injuries other than yours, and that it was from your weapons that the concept that you defend so diligently was injured. Wilford was injured by a hunk of iron from your boom trinkets. A necessary casualty when a commanding officer feels like shooting off a bit more than his mouth. You will be accepted what ever your choice inside, though I pray that you think before you act in the future." Quintus turns and enters the Inn again through the double doors. Frustrated over the fact that the only thing he can do to these pompous overpowered children is berate them over their behavior. Men under his command would be on the road in full pack. His child would have been switched on the spot, yet these were people of repute where they come from. If Quintus had acted this way he would have been thrown into the gladiatorial arena, or executed.

Parker watches as Quitus enters the inn, shaking his head.

"I will apologize to you as well Gallus.  For what I have done to you was cruel and unneeded."

With that Parker returns into the tavern.


<<<To Tavern>>>

Fear flashes across Dave's face as the creature charges towards him and he takes a half step back and prepares to fire. When The dragon calls it off, the look on his face changes from fear to shock and confusion. Watching the exchange that takes place right in front of him has him even more confused. He just watches the drama play out in stunned silence.

Gallus stares for a moment, not looking at anything in particular, when he spots the newcomer. Giving the man a stern look, he signals him to approach with his finger.

Scott had inched up close enough to see the men... or the man and the alien and to eveasdrop.  He shook his head.  He didn't believe in all that outer space crap.  Though it did make sense, statistically that they weren't alone, but there was no way.  These must be some kind of weirdos who dress up or something.  But then... why were they on his property.

He squinted, not sure if he should be mad or scared. What was he thinking, he was going to join the Army and be a Ranger. No Ranger would be lame enough to hide in the woods.

With a bravado that could only come with ignorance, he strode out of the woods, hands on his hips, the same way his Dad came over to investigate something, and made his way toward the two men.  The normal one, or at least he thought, till seeing the tat and the guy in the custome.  Of course, seeing the tat gave him second thoughts, but now he was into it.

Gallus swung his bolt pistol to meet the other man. There were now two of them. They were more than likely lost like he had been, but it didn't matter. The pistol was small in his hands, but as large a a small dog to others. His sword still crackled energy and the jetpack let off heat waves as it continued to cool. "Claim yourself."

The sight of a building this remote was a little unnerving, but right now he felt nothing could surprise him. That was until he saw the metal clad man pointing what he could only assume was a gun at the two other men. He looked like a stormtrooper on steroids and yet, somehow looked vaguely familiar. These woods are supposed to be empty, but seeing another person or two was expected. This though, was not.  Thinking fast he put his back flat against a tree and pulled his phone once again, using its mirrored front to look around at what was going on.  One man had a rifle, but it was shouldered, the other looked like a normal kid. He couldn't just let that muscled giant attack those men, but was hardly equipped to do much.

Dave lowers his rifle slightly and moves cautiously towards the Giant.
PFC. David Hamilton, Commonwealth Marines. Who or what are you? and what is your business in Commonwealth space?
This message was last edited by the player at 21:48, Tue 31 Mar 2009.

Alright, the guy with the rifle seems to know what he's doing but the kid is probably in trouble

Jethro quietly slipped back on his case and got ready. He would need to get the kid to cover and the inn seemed as good as any.  He took a deep breath and pocketed his phone.  Breaking into a sprint, he ran straight for the confused looking teen with highlights. Grabbing the kid's shirt he tried to pull him along as he dove into the tavern and out of the line of fire.

//into the tavern//

Okay, now this was just wrong. One thing for a bunch of weird guys to be on his, well, his dad's, well, his family's property but now guns and pretending to be all miliatry-like.... They didn't seem to be pretending....

This must be one of those stupid TV shows where they try to mess with your head... but then how did they know he was going to be here? Huh? He didn't know he was going to be here....

The full impact of totally weird was just hitting him, when it felt like his thoughts had been embodied.  Great, now some new dude, was pulling him along, like he was some clam in the tide.

He stumbled at little, but accepted it.  Not like he had a whole lot of choice. And well, standing around nut jobs with guns wasn't a swift idea either... getting into the building was a good plan.

Wait...there was no building on their property....what the...?

Whoa dude, who... His words were lost as he stumbled into the tavern.


[To the Tavern]

"Marines? Then you are human military. Fair enough." Was all he said as he strode back over to the porch, dumping the nearly spent jetpack with an audible hiss. He gave one last look at the new comer, signaled for him to follow and went inside.


//To Tavern

Dave, now more curious and confused than ever, lowers his gun and follows the armored hulk into the tavern.

[to tavern]

As he stepped out into the open air, he stretched his arms to accept the change in scenery. With a snap of his fingers, he signaled Rhys to take off from his arm.  He watched as the great bird soared almost straight up into the vast and eternal blue sky.

Back in his routine he stepped off the porch and picked up a bit of the sandy soil to dry his hands. Walking slowly around the clearing he surveyed the battle ground between Parker and Gallus and became paranoid when he noticed the insect tracks in the dirt.  He pulled his bow and drew a silver fletched arrow and scanned area with his bow trained.

When he didn't see anything he lowered the bow and reached into his wallet pouch, tossing a few silver coins on to the floor, then moving back methodically, checking all around himself.

Watching the elf survey the area, Mason looks around, scanning through each spectrum of vision.  He steps off towards the woods, no weapon in hand.

"Nessa it's your show, why don't you take point."

It is very hard for him to suggest such a thing.  He has been the one out in front for so long.  It has always been his job to attract the incoming bullets.

He relaxed a little when nothing came towards the coins. Still keeping his bow ready, he picked up his diversion.

"Everyone, cover anything metal you have. Especially you, Master Mason."

Bending low he checked the tracks once again. "I am not very familiar with monstrous insects, but if I'm not mistaken, a rust monster tread here recently."

He kept his bow out, but wrapped the scimitar on his side with is cloak.
"I can't determine where it went, it might have even just vanished, but it is not a risk I would like to take. Best we make haste and stay alert."

Nessa had been about to tell Mason he worried too much, until Armen talked about rust monsters.  She'd never heard of such and decided in that instant, she'd be better off surprised.

With a sigh at Aramen, she secured Mason's coat.  Hid things comfortable at Aramen's words, and then rearranged things, so her own weapon was not visable, but easily gotten to for the moment they went through to her world.

She glanced at Mason, then Yana, knowing she didn't have to say to the man to watch out for the woman, it was still hard not to verbalize it.

Alright. I came in that way. She pointed. My thinking is if I just head straight that way it's the yellow brick road home. She glanced to the other two who had done the trek.  She had no idea how, when the time came, Yana was going to go to her world and the guys with her, but there wasn't much she could do about that.

Waiting for the affirmative, she set off with purpose.

[To forest]

=============>  From Tavern


Yana walks to Aramendel's side.

Where do you need me?

Returning his arrow to the quiver and reshouldering his bow. "Our path lies along theirs." Rising to his feet he looks over to Yana, still regretting putting her in a spot where she feels the need to run. He couldn't stop her, it would be the wrong thing to do.
Turning to face the trail he paused, "Yana, do you remember that whistle I taught you for when we need to signal the others?"

I remember.  I still think it makes me sound like a cat with stomach problems, though.

She smirks at the memory of the long hours he spent teaching her the whistle and then trying to convince her that he wasn't laughing at her each time she tried it.Love the new look, by the way.  What prompted that?

Aramen removed his bracer and handed it to her.

"I really don't understand why you think that. . . but oh well. If you use that whistle, Rhys will land on the bracer. I'm sending him back with you. Tell him to find me and he will fly in to last spot he last saw me. He wouldn't understand crossing planes, so it would be one long line to him. He should lead you right back to the point where you crossed over to here. Just be sure to call him down to perch and carry him through when you find the threshold."

He looked up and smiled. "It pays to have spent that time to train him as a messenger." With a turn he looked back over to the path, "Well, I've kept you long enough . . . the trail is this way."

//to the forest//
OOC:Mainly me getting off my ass and photoshopping up a pic to show what i really wanted and it finally being accepted to the gallery. The full pic is in my description.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:42, Sun 05 Apr 2009.

Yana nods, biting her lip as she fought to say something. After failing, she steps forward and hugs him, fiercely.  With a tear in her eye, she turns and walks into the forest.


=================>  To some other forest?

[From the inn]

Emerging from the inn onto the porch, Rafi stretched and took in a deep breath of fresh air, enjoying the contrast to the smoky atmosphere that had built up inside. As he did so, the raven let out a loud caw and launched himself upwards, wheeling about, a black dot against the clear blue. As he waited for the others, the mage stood to one side and, with eyes closed, murmured to himself. Little shimmers of light flowed down over him, giving him a very faint glow once then twice. He would feel guilty to let Scott go out and about without any protection but that didn't mean he intended to go out defenseless either. When he was done, he leaned against the wall and waited, his hands back in his pockets, whistling slightly to himself.

Wilford finally emerged from the inn. His face betrayed very little emotion this time around. His body did not know how to display the complex feelings he was dealing with at the moment. Fear, excitement, wonderment, gratefulness, apprehension and even a deep sadness whirled inside him like a hurricane. He stepped close to Raf.

Thank you. I do not know if I have said that yet. I feel so alone here, and while you may be a good witch from the North, you still come from my world and it comforts me. My life went from theories and strange occurrences to the outright weird and traumatizing. I do not know you, but to me you are a boon-companion, a true friend in a strange land. I already owe you too much to repay.

With that said, he surveyed once again the battlefield of just hours ago. He saw the craters from the explosions and even the large holes caused by the marines bolter fire- some of which even damaged the porch supports that seemed to function normally despite the great damage given.

[From inn]
Give me a second to go get my things

Dave jogs off around the side to the back of the inn and grabs his backpack.

//From Inn

Gallus followed the rest of the group outside as they filtered from the tavern to the porch. Checking his bolter and ammunition count, he walked over to his jetpack and latched back in, the massive thing giving off an audible hiss as it snapped back into place."I am ready."

[From the Tavern]

Scott had wandered up trailing Rafi.  Over hearing Wilford's words, he waited for the man's attentions to be else where and looked at Rafi with a grin. Good witch of the north? He snickered, Gotta broom? The words out of his mouth, he thought better of it.  Sobbering instantly, he added, I'm just kidding.  Aren't you supposed to be called a warlock or something?

As Wilford emerged and spoke, Rafi seemed momentarily nonplussed. Although he did not take his hands from his pockets or move from where he looked out over the run up to the inn, there was a slight shift in him. He looked to the side where WIlford stood and smiled. It seemed genuine, but didn't quite meet his eyes, a glimmer of sadness and regret flicking across his face as he replied,

"You owe me nothing, Wilford Smith." His voice dropped to a new softness, "Sometimes... too often it seems these days... I find myself spending too much time alone, isolated from humanity. It can seem easier at times, than the alternative. You have reminded me why that is a bad idea, why humanity matters, why they are worth the risk. It is an honor to spend time with you, amicus." He seemed about to say something more but the others were emerging too including Scott. At the young man's comment, he turned around, raising an eyebrow,

"Broom?" He boomed in mock anger. "That is Archmagus to you, sunshine." He shook his head and grinned, then held his hand to his forehead in faux despair and sighed,

"What's a man gotta do to be addressed properly?" He winked at the young man, and motioned to the ring, "Lose that and you owe me three months service in my lab." He didn't wait for a response but looked back out over the front of the inn, murmuring to himself gently.

Well, Boone snickers at Rafi's melodrama, you could always wear a hat with the word "WIZZARD" spelled out on it. He wonders if anyone else will get the reference.

He nods to the others as he walks out into the battlefield.  Clearly comfortable with the damage.  More than comfortable, interested.  Over the course of several minutes he wanders the disturbed terrain, guaging, measuring, and evaluating.  Every mar, scorch and disturbance gains some interest.

To nobody in particular, "Hard to believe I slept through this."

With that he walks back up to the porch, "Just a strole?  Anyone have any particular interesting direction?"

My old college roommate once said that if your looking for trouble then follow the direction that your genitals point to. Wilford gave a nice laugh. Boy Scouts, on the other hand, taught me that if you want to explore a area then you pick the most interesting tree you can see and then continue on in that direction and keep going past it. Makes sense to me. He stopped and grew serious.

Few of us know what really lays beyond this inn. We could die out there, face fates far worse then death. So I warn everyone, turning back now may be your best option. Who knows what we can find the a realm where all worlds seem to connect. To me the risk is worth the rewards, but I have never been known for my sanity.
Take a look over at that forked tree over to the east of us seems interesting. Take a look at the bark and you would swear a face was looking back. I say we go east.

Rafi grinned at Boone, "Ah, but I know more than one spell... Although I think some mages I know inspired the University staff..." He shrugged and walked out a little into the devastation wrought by the earlier fight. He looked to Drake and then to Wilford,

"You've probably explored this place as much as anyone here, General. Anywhere you suggest for cheap thrills?" He bowed shallowly at Wilford, "I am yours to command." He took a step aside to allow others to take the lead, drawing alongside Gallus to murmur,

"I'm not normally one to quibble about the kind of equipment a person might need, but a jetpack?" He frowned a little, "I would feel terribly guilty if a spark from that thing set the entire forest ablaze. The brush can get quite thick."

"The I will have to be careful. I am an Assault Marine. The skys are my battlefield. I wear this jumppack as a soldier might carry a sword. I trst that this forest has more to it than meets the eye and will not have to worry about a small fire." Galls stares into the woods ahead, as if daring them to challenge him.

So can Gallus Boone mutters in a sotto voice.

I have seen that thing in action, the way the thrusters work is odd. It never even left a scorch mark upon lift off. Let the man take it with him. We all need our safety blankets, besides, it may come in handy. He paused, and could not keep himself from making his next jok as he walked to stand right next to the marine. If I get tired can you carry me on your shoulder? He smiled.

Anyway, we either go east or we spin around in circles until we get dizzy and head off in the direction we face when we fall down. I don't think direction will matter in this place.

With a shrug, "I've been here about a day.  Honestly, It might be better to have someone with a sense of direction and a bit of survival instinct pick a tree to wander past and Mr Wilford's tree looks fine.  I can find our way back without difficulty using 'Pathfinder' but without a destination I have nothing to operate against."

When he says 'Pathfinder' there is an almost affectionate tone as he taps the hilt of his sword.

Gallus looks sternly at the man, "If you are wounded, then I might throw you in the direction we came from." A wry grin creeps to his face.

Wilford lets out a single loud "HA" at the armored mans joke and slaps him on the back, then recoils his hand quickly shaking it from pain having smacked it against not only the hard armor, but at a target that didn't even pretend to move. He looks to the others. Remind me never to that that again.

As far as a destination, could anyone here even possibly have one? Or should we have done the smart thing and asked the bartender if he knew of anything in or past the forest?
This message was last edited by the player at 02:48, Tue 07 Apr 2009.

Rafi shook his head and bit back a comment. If they were going to go on an expedition together, they had to have some measure of trust. He had to trust the marine not to torch the forest. And be prepared to act if an accident happened. He rolled his eyes towards Boone and shrugged, then looked out in the direction that Wilford indicated,

"Follow our bollocks to the tree. Right-ho, boss." Shielding his eyes, he looked into the sky to where his bird soared over the trees, "I can send Gerald ahead to see if there's anything interesting. Save us the legwork... Of course, he might get distracted by a dead rat, but that's a risk I guess we have to take." Even as he spoke, the black dot began to move towards the section of the forest that Wilford had indicated.

Scott followed the conversation, wincing at Gallus.  He was not exactly a tree hugger, but risking setting something on fire? Idiot. He thought squinting at the man.  Playing with the ring Rafi had given him, it was secure on his finger, he followed Wilford.  Though the feeling of misgivings were still strong.

This message was deleted by the player at 06:25, Wed 08 Apr 2009.

Baal comes out to the porch from inside. He is breathing heavily. He lays down the the ground. "Get a grip you old badger" He says to humself. Hr looks at the front door of the tavern hoping noone would come out after him. He was embarassed of what he did.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:38, Thu 16 Apr 2009.

After collecting himself Baal stands up and shakes his head. "I hope they don't hate me now." He walks back into the tavern expecting the worst.


To> Wolf Head's Tavern

From the wood comes Obiohoe mounted on his faithful "steed" and companion, Windtail. He is no glorious knight, no their kind would call him a savage. His mount is no proud war charger, Windtail is not even a mammal.

The newcomer is a halfling, proudly just under four feet tall with the worn bronze skin of person who has spent most of his life under a harsh sun. His face is marked with three painted lines on each cheek, a mixture of orange and red to appear as flames. His forehead sports a brand of a triangle with a single dot in the center, the burn mark is so precise it almost seems like he was born with it.

The halfling sports an open vest made from the faded green scales of some reptilian beast with several tears and holes patched with dull red fabric. His chest is bare showing a painted blue hand print and small gold loops for nipple piercings. His waist is adorned with a triangular loin cloth from the same skin as his vest, the triangle pointing earthwards. His feet are covered with roman sandals, the straps reaching mid-calf. His belt sports multiple pouches and the left side a loop keeps a special curved blade. The sword, a large dagger to most, is made of a strange green stone that glitters as the light catches. Several runes of magic are carved into the blade. In his right hand he carries a spear two feet taller than he his with a leather thong wrapped over the spear-head. Just under the protective leather thong there are two yellow feathers hanging from it, each a foot long.

Windtail, a purple scaled velociraptor, is a stunning example of its breed. His muscles are strong and prominent, the claws on its hands are sharp and well manicured. The distinctive long talon on each foot has magical runes careful etched into them. His rider sits upon a bright yellow blanket and the reigns have many small bells, shells and down-feathers tied onto them.

Before Obiohoe make sit near the actual porch he makes an odd low growl and Windtail crouches low. Obiohoe lept from him and pointed upwards for his companion to stand once more. He put a hand on his chest and spoke to him as a caring father. I will not bring you inside, nor will I restrain you in any stables they may have. Do not look sad my friend, at least I will not need to cover your deadly glory as my spear is. Go and find your food, listen for my call. Be safe my brother and eat well.

With that, the reptile darted with amazing speed back into the forests. Obiohoe promptly made his way onto the porch and then into the Inn.

<<Exit to the Inn>>
This message was last edited by the player at 07:34, Sat 18 Apr 2009.

The sounds of his pipes reach the porch long before he does. A cadence to his lords son Cu cuhlain. As he reaches the others they can see that a light green fog pours from the end of the instrument forming several wolf hounds that dance about him as he moves. Stopping he slings the bagpipes over his shoulder letting it hang at his back with a deep exhale he comes to the tavern porch looking around. "Blessings of Lugh."

He shrugs and walks through the door to the tavern


<Heads into the tavern>

Bareback walks up to the tavern and surveys the building.  He is no stranger to travel and his face shows that he has seen and experienced much.  Bareback was a large man, not muscular but not fat, was dressed in his usual: boots, jeans, and an untucked flannel shirt.  His hat rested on his head, it was always there, not so much because he was what you would deem a 'hat person' but because it concealed a nasty head wound that he suffered awhile back.  A head wound that had not sufficiently healed and left that part of his skull bald and scarred.

How he got here he wasn't exactly sure, but he had seen several interesting characters enter the tavern already.

Torn between removing his hat and showing his wound, or leaving it on and appearing Rude, Bareback sighed, removed his hat, and tried his best to fluff what hair he had over the wound.

Sighing he entered the tavern.

Jethro walks out into the clearing and takes a few large rocks , making a small ring to place the plate.

"You said your toothy knife makes fire, correct? Well, we don't have magic readily available."

He pours the mixture on the plate and inserts about 4 inches of the wire.

"We can't wave our hands or ask a dragon to melt things for us, so about 100 years ago, in my time, a chemist discovered what is known as a termite reaction. Ground aluminum and Iron-oxide, rust, when lit with a magnesium primer," he pauses as he takes out his lighter and ignites the metal wick, careful not to look at the bright light it emits as he moves a good distance away.

". . .can create a self sustaining fire of 2500 degrees centigrate." With that as almost a cue, the concoction flares to life as a extremely  bright flame and liquid metal start to burn on the pewter plate, melting through it cleanly. The fire continued to spark and burn on the ground, radiating heat that could be felt yards away.

"Most fires can be smothered, or drowned, this one can not, as it does not require the combustion of external oxygen in the air."

He looked over to the observers, giving a smile and knowing that the next fact should startle them.

"It can even burn underwater if mixed and lit properly."

Two weary travelers emerge on the horizon. from the distance it looks like they have a dog with them and a horse or a mule carrying their luggage. As they near the tavern it is easy to make them out as hobbits, standing only about 4 feet tall, and alongside one of them is a dog, whose fur is almost a pure white, and has many wolf-like features. between the two of them is a mule with dark brown fur, and is being guided by the reins by the one clothed in a white shirt with round buttons on it, a dark green cloak or cloth, with a little white laced around the sides of it, dark brown pants, with 2 pockets on the sides, and a black leather belt with a square, gold colored buckle. The other halfling wore a hood over his head, and a sheathed shortsword on his hilt, going by the name of "By-tor". As they approached the porch, the dog started barking at some of the people there.  "Cygnus - NO! Stop!" By-tor cried, as he started to restrain him by his leash. After calming Cygnus,By-tor shyly smiled at the people around the porch, and nervously laughed saying "he's not used to being around strangers" Just as they were about the enter the tavern, By-tor realized that he probably couldn't come in there with a dog and a mule, so since he had no choice, he took the reigns of the mule, and tied them to a post, and then tied Cygnus' leash to another post. "Fralo, can you watch the animals while i get us some drinks? I don't think we should leave them by themselves, also you can see just how afraid Cygnus was..."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:46, Wed 22 Apr 2009.

Obiohoe followed the man to watch this little experiment. He kept a close watch of his words and tone, the man seemed to be excited by his actions. As the concoction flared to life the halfling smiled and even gave a clap.

I have seen similar, but it means more knowing how. Is this how you planned to make a small sun? Seems like it would work with enough of all that.

While no where near as primitive as his tribal tattoos, marks and clothing would have one believe- he had never received a "proper civilized" education. More importantly, the world where he lived was just experiencing it's first few industrial revolutions.

He waited for a response, but became distracted by the new travelers. They carried beasts of burden and even a war hound, and to Obiohoe's eyes they were halflings like him, just a tad odd. He knew right away from their clothing they were not from any of the nations he knew of, but there were still many smaller states that remained unknown to most.

Hail there good brothers! The jungle's kindness to you! He smiled and waved his free hand as if talking to family.

Seeing the other halfling approaching Parker returns his attention to the fire.

"I don't know this measurement you use... but let me see how hot it is."

Parker steps up, take a ring off of his hand and pulling up his sleeve.  He reaches down into the fire.  Holding his hand there for a few seconds before pulling it out unscathed.  He gives a big grin.

"It is a good flame."

In reply to Obiohoe (msg #249):

"Hello, I am By-tor Greensborough of Buckleberry, and this is my friend Fralo Boffinbuck, we have just been traveling for about a week, and stopped here for a much needed rest." By-tor explains. "Who are you?"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:54, Thu 23 Apr 2009.

The fact that the kobold can even look straight into the fire was pretty astounding, that he stuck his hand in he knew some magic was afoot.

"Well, I'll be. . ." he shrugged off the teasing gesture and turned back to the halfling.

"Well, this is not how we are trying to replicate the sun. No for that we are using nuclear reactions, splitting nuclei and reforming them to used the released energy.  This is just a way for people to make a good pocket fire. As soon as all the oxygen is combusted and the metals are used, the fire will go out."

As the other halflings approached, he was amazed at the number of short people and creatures that have congregated here recently. After coming face to face with Gallus, he felt like a child. Now he felt like a giant, and that he was about to be greeted by the Lolly-pop guild.

"Jethro Caso, nice to meet you," he offered a hand to shake as he introduced himself.

By-tor shook his hand firmly and said "nice to meet you too, mr...?" in a manner as to ask what the man's name was.

"Mr. Caso, if you insist on being formal, I'd prefer if you just called me Jethro," he glanced over at Parker. "Or 'the bard' as I've so affectionately have become known as here."

haha why are you called that around here?

I am Obiohoe of the Stone Claw Tribe from grand Harrow, Lore keeper and medicine man. Good Man Caso her was telling us how to make a new sun, but, I think he speaks an ancient language. Which is odd as seeing I have noticed this place lets you understand what other people say. I know ten languages, and the people here seem to be able to speak them all- so magic must be working here. But how good man Jethro is able to get around the spell, I do not know.

Long winded to be sure, but one can only contain their nature for so long. The human undoubtedly knew he wasn't circumventing magic, only speaking over the halflings head both figuratively and literally.

He smiled from ear to ear, these new folk were a welcome surprise. Perhaps they even had similar customs. They lacked the paint, tattoos, loin cloth and tribal appearance, but customs go further than what the eye can see.

Obiohoe was even shorter than these new halflings by just under a foot. This was normal, his tribe had always been short when compared to others of their race. It is not often a halfling can call someone "shorty", but many from his own nation got to do just that when a Stone Claw walked into the room. Humans and dwarves had taken to call his tribe squats, pygmies, Half-whelps and a slew of less polite names. Things get dicey when your 3ft10.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:49, Thu 23 Apr 2009.

Jethro  finds what the tattooed wee-man is saying funny, considering that he seemed to be more advanced along, technologically speaking.

"I think I get around it because I'm describing things that your languages don't have words for yet. Unless you speak the Greek language, the word 'Atom', would have no meaning to you.  I am pretty sure that the concept that matter, that is everything tangible as either a solid, liquid, gas or plasma, is made up of particles that are incredibly small, each one consisting of a core, called a 'nucleus', and orbiting particles, but mostly empty space, has yet to be established. Because of this, 'Atom' and 'nuclear' have definition in most of the languages of my world, but in yours they just a string of sounds."

He realizes that he was getting into a long winded speech so he smiled and tipped his hat. "As for the nickname, when you come inside you will probably understand."

With that he tips his hat once again, and heads back indoors.

Nice talking to you Obiohoe, but i think i will follow Jethro inside, as I was just about to leave for food and drink. By-tor heads inside the tavern.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:15, Thu 23 Apr 2009.

Dave walks out of the forest twords the tavern rifle slung over his shoulder. He acknowledges the new comers with a nod but is clearly lost in thought.

If everyone want to suddenly scatter to the four winds that's fine by me but I'm not running willy-nilly through an enchanted forest by myself, besides this little vacation has gotten a lot more interesting than I planed. Being transported off faraway to and extra dimensional tavern where creatures from other universes come and mingle was not part of his the travel brochure. That Gallus fellow was wound tighter than just about anyone he'd ever seen, if he were to snap there was certainly nothing he could do about it with only his hunting rifle. Rafi on the other hand seemed like his head was on nice and straight. The rest of the mismatched, motley crew of patrons in the tavern seemed rather normal in demeanor if not appearance.

[to tavern]

Parker just watches the halflings, in his home world, their races have been rivals for resources for years.  While outside, it would be best to see the intent of others.  Also noting one of the fellows from the earlier expedition coming back, Parker hopes that the Space Marine didn't kill the rest out of frustration.

<<<to Tavern>>>

He nods as those around him leave. The halfling took a second to see if his mount was watching, he was. The beast was crouched down behind a few trees and looked straight at its master to see if he was needed.

The halfling made a series of signs above his head and the raptor dashed off back into the forest. With that down, he went to re-enter the tavern.

"I brought some kabobs that the chef made, for you and Cygnus" By-tor explains to Fralo. He could start to feel the chill of the night, and decided that the animals were probably fine on their own. He pets Cygnus, his fingers running through his thick white fur. "The animals can watch themselves, and it's cold out here, I'll just give Cygnus some food, and bring out some water and hay a little later, join us inside the tavern Fralo."

I'd be glad to meet some of the character's here, and even more to get a good drink! let's go! So the two hobbits walk up the few steps into the tavern, stepping on a couple creaky boards along the way. Fralo pushes the door open and steps into the tavern along with By-tor.

"Are you ready to go Baal?"

"What about the other man that was going with us?" Baal asks the young female

"I dont think hes coming." she says looking back "lets go."

A slow tribal and rythmic drumming is heard through out the outside area of the tavern. His dark hands beat on the drum while his body moves with the beat. Moving like a drunk man as he seems to stumble through the woods followed by two men and two women all of which move much like him though slower and more forced.

The Baron granted his son a small amount of his power to help him and the four zombies behind him that dance to his music. The undead's faces are locked in a mix of fear and extasy as they spin, hop and gyrate to the drumming.

"All hail Baron Samedi and his son Croix the Nephew Skeleton."

The dark skinned man quits drumming and the four zombies drop to the ground dead as the day he found their bodies. He smiles as the earth swallows them up so he can enter the tavern. The god child winks to the woman and man on the porch as he opens the door and goes inside.

<<To the Tavern>>

"That was.....interesting" Baal says with a raised eyebrow

"How strange....."

Jaim rushes out of the Tavern stopping behind Johanna with a smile. "Sorry bout that. You guys ready to go?" He scratches his chin not sure where they were going.

[From the Clearing]

"First three on me?" Rafi grinned at Scott, "Given the circumstances... " Given he had expected at one point back there to be turned into blackened ash, he'd buy the drinks all evening. Although he knew that there remained things with which they needed to deal, they would wait; although he was drained in every sense, he could still manage to take the last few steps up the porch with a bounce in his step, as if the mere thought of alcohol energized him.

Seeing the three people there, he nodded to them with a cheery "Greetings" and looked back to the Boone and Scott, "C'mon slow-coaches. Last one in's a slug."

[To the Tavern]
This message was last edited by the player at 18:26, Sat 02 May 2009.

[From the Clearing]

Hey, slugs are cool. Scott said as an off hand comment to Boone and stayed at the exhausted pace he was operating in.

Noticing others he didn't know heading out, he gave a nod and a toss of his head in greeting.  He did wonder if some kind of warning was in order.  But what did one say? Excuse me, think about bunnies and happy thoughts, but there is a demon roaming about an if you happen to find a dead wizard, just ignore him.  Mmm hmm.  Maybe they were going to a ... a portal somewhere else anyway. Or maybe they were demons?  He had a feeling not too much was going to suprise him any more.

Glad to be there, he followed Raf into the tavern.

[To the Tavern]

Boone trudges into the tavern after them.


---------------> To the tavern

Ya Jaim we were just about to head out, come on Baal.

{to the Dark Fprest}

[From the Inn]

Coming outside lost in thought, Raf wandered to the end of the porch and perched on the railing, looking out towards the forest. Finishing his pint, he carefully lowered the glass to the floor and then sat smoking slowly, letting his thoughts drift just like the silver streams of cigar smoke.

The singer walked over and leaned on the porch rail and looked out into the clearing.

"You alright?"

As Jethro came out, Rafael looked around and smiled,

"Sure." He shrugged, "It's just been a long day." He ran his free hand through his hair, everything about his demeanor, his aura, suggesting someone far older than the man's apparent youth. He looked tired, drained.

"I thought I'd be spending the day drinking beer and talking crap with an old friend... " He gave a sideways grin, "But when do things ever turn out as we thought?"

In reply to Johanna Stoneburg (msg #275):

Baal follows behind


to: the dark forest

"They never do, what is it? 'The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry'."

He sighed as he looked past the clearing into the wood, watching the next group of 'explorers' wander off.

"By now I thought I would be on a plane to Amsterdam, instead I'm singing to kobolds and halflings.  Go figure."

He releases a ring of smoke and took a sip of his sour drink.

"So what are they going to find out there?"

"I've only ever met one mice who was into plans, but he was an evil little bugger. I only hope none of his plans come to fruition." Rafael grinned, knowing full well what the musician had meant,

"Amsterdam? Still a cool city in your time and place?" He took a puff on his cigar, "Where were you when you came through?" He shrugged slightly at the last question,

"Who knows? Just like planning is a crap shoot, so's trying to guess. All that can be done is be ready for all sorts."

"Yeah, still a great place. Its actually gotten a little better lately, if you can imagine. Some call it the freest city in the world now, but with that a lot of people are scared to go there," he said a little disheartened. "Mainly from propaganda."

"As for coming here, I was in Liverpool, passing through Knowlsy Park and poof."

He slapped his hand against the railing.

"Next thing I know I see that space marine pointing a gun at Scott and Dave. So where were you?"

"Liverpool?" Rafi gave out a little laugh and continued in an authentic Scouse accent, "Christ... small world. I was born just north of Liverpool, although it's been a little while now since I got to go back." He dropped back into his regular accent, "I never heard of Knowsley Park being a potential gateway though... Although.... " He shrugged off the thought,

"I came here deliberately. There are paths if you know where to look, or not look." He frowned slightly, not sure how to describe the process, "If you look for portals, they often don't want to be found. But if you go to a place of power... in my case, a stretch of ancient, primordial woodland in New Jersey... and kinda wander, looking without looking..."  He waggled his hands, "Voila."

Jethro couldn't help but lower his head and laugh, his hat falling into the dirt below.

"Ancient, primordial place of power . . . New Jersey. Sounds like an oxymoron.  I guess maybe that explains the smell. As for Liverpool. I've only been a few times, once while in school to do the Beatles tour, then twice on, well, business trips."

He hopped the rail and got his hat back, then hopped back up, not spilling a drop of his drink.

"Well, I wasn't really looking for this place in particular. Well, maybe not consciously. Though, I always had thoughts that there was more to everything than what science found so far. Guess this is my personal proof."

"Yeah, I know. You don't exactly think New Jersey and primordial woodland, but within five miles of Philly, just over the water, there's a wood that hasn't been touched." Rafi looked into the distance, towards the forests surrounding the Inn, "There used to be more once, all over Europe, miles upon miles of forest. Some places, you could walk for days without seeing another soul. Most of it was just trees, but some of it?" He shook his head, shaking himself back to the present,

"...The march of progress: it's neither good or bad, just is. We lose the forest, we gain TV; get HIV, learn how to cure the Black Death." He looked curiously at Jethro, "You're a scientist?"

"Used to be, I never made it to my doctorate though. I spent a good 5 years of my life in labs and lectures, though, and most considered me one."

He sighed and gazed into his drink, watching the ripples in the brown liquid bounce off the edges of the glass.

"I traveled a lot to various universities, and even contributed to a few interesting discoveries. I worked with teams on designing some experiments and had a hand in a few inventions, too, for making fusion power a viable source of power."

He looks up with the same lost look that he had as he gazed into the glass.

"That's all the past, though. I left Academia 4 years ago."

"It sounds interesting and way beyond me. So why did you leave, if you don't mind my asking?" Rafi looked at Jethro curiously,

"Not that I don't sympathize. I walked away from the lab too, told myself it was in the past and good riddance. I'd have done it before too if I'd been allowed." He shrugged a little, "But the best laid plans of mice and men...."

"In some of his writings late in life, Einstein said that his greatest regret was when he sent a letter to the American President explaining the danger and potential weapon capabilities of nuclear work that was being looked at in Germany."

"I should have figured that with the world going to hell, somebody would take my work and weaponize it. When trying to cool a reactor, a team I was in tried to work on a way to funnel residual radiation to increase efficiency and reduce the cooling needed. To test it, we made our scale models and testing tools. We actually used my design. And being students in a lab, we played with them and shot each other with concentrated microwaves and x-rays. Well someone from the team decided he could make money from this, stole my design and marketed it to a weapons maker."

He took a long final drag and slowly pushed the air out as it circled his head a bit. He flicked the butt and took out a pouch to start rolling another.

"They call it the 'heat taser' now, and 'governments'," he says with an airquote, "love them. No reloading like a normal taser, no broken bones like with sandbag rounds. Its pretty much hand held oppression. With the world going to hell in a hand basket, some of the more scared countries have put them to extensive use."

He finished making another cigarette and flicked open a lighter to light it.
"I really should quit," he smiled as he lit it.

"So why did you leave the lab?"

Rafael listened to Jethro's explanation with a frown. At first, it was one of concentration: he had a vague idea of the basics of physics but the language of modern nuclear physics required somewhat more thought. Still, the upshot of the tale was clear enough. It wasn't even the first time he'd heard something like it. His frown had become one of frustration,

"Sh*t. Nothing changes does it? I'm sorry. It can't be easy seeing something that could have been good perverted like that." He rolled his eyes, "There's a reason I'm careful not to advertise my .... skills... to governments. Who knows what they'd do with it?" He took a long puff of his cigar and smiled slightly at his comment about smoking,

"Tell me about it." He waggled the cigar, then shrugged slightly,

"I guess my lab isn't quite a physics lab." He smiled wryly, "Probably rather more dangerous... I'd been in a lab since I was a little kid; at first I didn't have a choice and when I did, I didn't know anything else. It took an explosion, a pretty close brush with death, to make me realize there was more to life, way more. I've gone back since but never let myself get too obsessive." He glanced back to the door of the inn, smiling slightly, "Meeting people like Wilford, Scott, you, help me keep things in perspective."

"I want to return to the lab, but with the way things have gone for me lately, I doubt it will happen. Perspective is a funny thing, though. That little box and that hard air crap with the cowboy is pushing me away from returning even more. I know that technology is always going to get perverted for warfare. I'm not even going to be ignorant to say that war should be completely eliminated and new weapons should never be made."

He took a large gulp and forced the bitterness down his throat. "Remind me to ask for less lime next time," he laughed before gazing off again.

"Hell, when he said miniature sun, and the bastard that made it used it to make weapons, I realized how fucked up people can really be. The sciences, and I'm sure magic as well, are beautiful things that have just been too corrupted lately, especially in my fields. The word nuclear has a stigma about it. People think it and immediately think bomb. We finally were getting past that and the shit hits the fan. Well, as long as your perspective isn't too distorted, I'm glad I could help."

"Some people will manage to corrupt just about anything be it technology, magic or..." Rafi smiled wryly at Jethro, "... music." He shifted a little to lean up against one of the porch uprights and put a foot up on the railings; his head was bowed,

"Human history is full of the struggle between our nastier instincts and our better natures. It's easy to give up on the whole damn mess. " He shook his head slightly, "Hell, I've done it myself. Spent quite a time in Arcadia once in a drunken haze, but eventually, I decided that I couldn't remain neutral. I had to find a way to help, especially as there were plenty who were merrily taking advantage." He shrugged,

"I'm not saying you should get thee back to the lab: certainly not the kind of lab you've been used to..." He looked up at the young man, "But don't rule anything out. There are always ways..."

Jethro smiled looking over to the magus. It was sort of looking like into a weird fun house mirror.  It seemed this man understood him more than most people he's crossed lately. Well, most of the people he associates with are lunatics by most standards.

"Amen, sometimes you just can't sit by and do nothing. I don't.  My work now is not the most savory, but its something that is making a difference.  I don't know what motivated you to take action, but me it was guilt. I know I didn't sell the design to be used as a weapon, but it was my design. After seeing a group of those fuckers in Austria using it against protesting citizens, I couldn't help feel like shit."

"So, how do you take action against those that were taking advantage, as you put it?"

"Not the most savory?" Rafael leaned forward, curious, "Do tell." He took a puff on his cigar, watching the smoke as it drifted upwards and away before looking to Jethro,

"I do what I can. Sometimes it's just tracking down the worst offenders: the sort of threats that humanity can't deal with alone... persuade them of the error of their ways. Sometimes, those threats take rather longer and more effort to deal with." The magus frowned, as if an unbidden and painful memory had forced itself up into his consciousness, but it was only for a moment.

"I also watch out for when humanity decides that it's a good idea to unite with some of the more dubious denizens of the realms, to indulge their worse instincts. Ambition goes hand in hand with seriously bad judgement too damn often."

Jethro was normally hesitant to go into his line of work lately, but everything Rafi was talking about made him feel like the two were pages from the same book, and if there was anyone around here that would understand, it was him.

"You'll probably think of me of a hypocrite, but I don't care. There's blood on my hands. With the rise of pseudo-fascism and corporocracy there are too may people that get away with too many obscene crimes.  The circle-jerk of the UN is useless. I was watching a pirated report on how a party leader in Greater Bulgeria was drugging the water in areas where resistance was forming, supposedly causing the death of nearly 100 children. Those that claimed to have evidence of it disappeared, and the government denied it all. There I was, drunk off my ass, ranting and carrying on blaming myself since he was a fan of my toy. They chucked me out of the bar I was in.  That's when they picked me up."

He tapped the ashes off his cigarette and returned it to his mouth.

"The sick fucks call themselves, "The Game".  In my weakness, I agreed to be part of their little escapade. They erased me. They changed my fingerprint records. They put false DNA records all over the world. They would cover my living expenses, travel and anything else I could want. In exchange, they get to watch me preform."

He sucked down the cancer stick and let the smoke creep from his nose.

"A month later that party fucker slipped in the bath and drowned."

"The Game?" The magus seemed neither shocked nor disapproving as Jethro explained his work to him, but after the young man had finished remained quiet for a long moment.

"Except you and I know it isn't a game, don't we?" He looked at Jethro, wondering just how many other slips in bathtubs there had been, how many other accidents. He would not judge though. He could not judge. How many accidents had he caused, or at least failed to prevent. Live long enough and no-one was without at least metaphorical blood on their hands.

"It must be hard." He said quietly, "They are, after all, still human. And of course, the kicker is that half the damn time, the spooks don't have a plan for afterwards. It's just 'get rid of X' and all the problems will go away. Until Y comes along and is worse." Rafael paused and looked out to the forest thoughtfully, finally asking,

"Have you thought about why you are here? Why the Inn brought you here?"

"It's not a game. People get hurt, people die. But all the other 'players' seem to think of it as one. Psychos, almost every last one. They blindly follow orders, and do everything to appease the sponsors."  With that he downed the rest of his drink and started coughing.

"If by dubious denizens you meant demons, I guess they are my targets and coworkers alike. Some of the shit they do would make some of the higher ups in hell squirm with fear and delight."

When Rafi brought up the thought of why he was here, he paused. Sure he thought about it a bit, but never for a significant amount of time. "I don't know why I'm here. Maybe I needed a break to reflect on thigs, or to see everything and everyone here. Hell, it could just be they needed a street musician to liven the air. Why did you come? Just wanted a drink?"

"Demons? Yes, dubious denizens include demons among others: some kinds of fae, rogue magi, some old gods and other charming types." He frowned,

"F**k mate. You work alongside and for demons?" He shook his head, sounding terribly tired, "I know you want to help, to do something, but... "

"Perhaps it's different in your reality but where I come from, demons not only lie, they are lies. Everything has an essential nature: the essential nature of a table is to be table-shaped, hard and rigid; that of a human is to be a bipedal carbon-based reasoning being in this rough form," He waggled his hands, "The essential nature of a demon is a liar. It can't be changed. They can't help themselves even if they want to."

"What I'm saying is that you can't trust them. You can't believe a word they say when they assign you a target and if they haven't betrayed you yet, they will do soon." He took a puff on his cigar,

"You deserve better mate. There are others ways." He shrugged, "Perhaps the inn drew you here to work out how." He smiled wryly, "Or maybe it was just for the beer."

Jethro gave a hearty laugh at the mage's reaction. Figures a man that dealt with magic would think literally.

"I didn't mean actual demons. As far as I know anyway. Androu has me thinking a bit, but no. As far as I know, people don't contact demons in my world and get answers back. These people are just twisted. The last one to fall by my hand was a leader of a vigilante/militia group. He was a big fan of torture. I don't mean waterboarding, whipping or crap like that. He like get medieval on the men. Women, I don't even want to say. . . "

"My sponsors gave me this," he takes out a cellphone that looks ordinary. "In this is a simple AI, and a GPS that lets them triangulate on me with a satellite to watch me work. And my coworkers. Well, like I said, they don't ask questions. They are always so eager to get to the job. They never ask who or why. Some take steroids that fuck with their minds a bit too much. They don't care."

"I'm the only one that actually chooses my own job, and ever rejects a task. I don't take anything where the person is touchable in any other way. Only those that are above the law. They are the law, or they pay so justice turns a full blind eye. I realized though that the leaders might betray me, but they always say how interesting I am, and how unlike the others."

He spit on the ground in disgust.

"F***ing makes me sick. But as long as I'm interesting, I think I'm safe. I do want a way out, but I haven't thought of one. I'm afraid to just quit and refuse. I'm sure that there are a few of the newer players that would love a shot of a higher rank."

"Sh*t, sunshine." Rafael laughed, "You shouldn't say demons unless you mean actual, you know, demons. Horns, pitchfork, goat-legs, all that stuff... except of course, they can change their appearance, but you know what I mean. " He became serious again as Jethro continued and asked quietly,

"Do you know how many they have playing their sick game? "

Jethro chuckled, "Sorry man, not used to talking to someone who has met actual demons. It's still weird."

"There are eight of us with rank that are still alive. There are always a few low rankers that I haven't met. I really wish I didn't meet any of them. Well actually one is kinda sweet, in a heavily medicated way."

The singer's eyes went upward, thinking about things for a bit.

"I wonder if I could just not go back. The world is a shit hole with the new governments fucking everything up. Most people don't see it but once you do you can't turn a blind eye. I'd think I'd rather take my chances in a world with demons."

He looked over to Rafi and smiled.

"Talk with demons? Not if I can help it, mate." Rafael said with a small laugh, "Lesser ones I send back whence they came and the big cheeses? If they catch me unawares, I scarper, but with planning... " He shrugged: with enough of the right sort of planning he could deal with most of them.

"Perhaps that's why you came here, a fresh start." Rafi looked intently at Jethro, "Certainly your version of earth sounds like a regular sh*thole. But... " He frowned and took a draw on his cigar, which was burning now down to a stub, "Every place has its problems, whether the demons are real or metaphorical. Although, I'll admit that with real demons, you do know where you stand. There ain't much moral ambiguity with those guys."

"Most of the world has is ignorant to the shit, like I would figure in your world. I don't think everyone knows that there are demons and vampires walking in the world. The religious extremists would have a field day. Correct me if I'm wrong though."

He took the cigarette from his lips and began to twist it around between his fingers.

"My world is in a weird state right now. Some places are the same as they have been, like America. Some are in a weird state of anarchy now. Some, well. . . ever read a dystopian novel? Some places are like the like what a prequel would be. You see the first signs of it in eastern Russia, England, and a few other countries. Hungary is almost fully there. Surprisingly, one of the anarchistic countries is Germany." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of newspaper, one full page.

"You would think that with the internet, propaganda would fall by the wayside and be pointless. Well with firewalls and tons of staged bogus reports, its become largely ineffective at stopping things like this." He holds open the paper to show a headline -40 Dead and Hundreds injured in German Food Service Riot-

"The riot they are talking about was a picket line strike for a pay raise and dental coverage. I was down the street when it happened. There was no blood, the only violence was a guy from a pub across the street punched a guy for sitting on his car. They are trying to make the weaker government areas and 'corrupted' people look like they are evil and falling apart."

"With the company I keep I get to see both sides of all the stories. Most people don't hate how things are now because they are ignorant, and ignorance is bliss. I'd love to get out of it all. A fresh start sounds nice. Anywhere you can suggest?"

Rafael listened to Jethro with a growing frown and when he finished, he shook his head,

"People are pretty much ignorant of all those things. Some, like Wilford, are clued in a certain extent but they tend to hit out at all who aren't normal." He made little quotation mark hand gestures, "But there again, isn't that part of the human story? Whether it's nationalism, racism, sexism, homophobia or just people who dress differently, we react with fear and then with violence." He shook his head grimly,

"Wilford wants people to know about the dangers out there but I don't think he realizes what it could lead to. At the moment, yes, there are rogue elements, but most of us either try and help humanity or stay neutral. If humanity gets afraid, starts some religious nut crusade ... and we know they would... hell, organized religion would love to stoke those flames, those who are trying to help would go away and those who are neutral would join the bad ones and makes things that much worse." He paused and gestured to Jethro's cigarette:

"Spare some papers and tobacco?" He smiled grimly, "One of the my releases. Most people... smoking and drinking and random sex are among the worst things they can do. They have consequences. Me though... consequences of these vices are nothing compared to ... the rest... " He paused and with a little gesture turned the stub of his cigar to dust that floated away in the breeze, following the trail momentarily before looking back at Jethro,

"You can come with me." He smiled slightly, "I can show you places. But don't think it's easy." He slid off the railing and stretched slightly. "Although some times are easier than others."

"Speaking of vices... " He glanced towards the door to the Inn, "Why don't you think on it and I'll grab us a round. What're you drinking?"

He took out his pouch of tobacco and handed it over.

"Sounds interesting. And as for things being easy, I don't expect things to be."

"As for my drink, its a Snake Bite, Southern Comfort and lime on the rocks. Thanks."

This was the first time Jethro ever thought he had a real out that didn't end with his death, or at least an impossible struggle leaving him with no money, identity or home.  If it meant dealing with demons on occasion, so be it. Maybe he could actually get back to real work and see some of the stuff he used to read and dream about.  There was certainly a lot to think about.

Taking the pouch of tobacco, Rafael quickly rolled up a cigarette with the skill of someone who'd had plenty of practice, tucked the smoke behind his ear and handed the pouch back to Jethro,

"Thanks. Southern Comfort and lime?" Rafael looked at Jethro dubiously, "If you insist mate." Shaking his head, he stepped back inside the tavern.

[To the Tavern]

[From the Tavern]

Returning to the porch after a few minutes, Rafael handed Jethro his drink,

"In England, a snake bite is a lovely combination of cider and lager, a favorite of teenage boys for years now. I suppose at least this isn't as bad as that." He took his own drinks and sat down on the floor of the porch away from the door, with his back to the wall so he could look out over the forest. Taking a swig of his beer, he pulled out the roll-up from behind his ear, lit it and looked to Jethro,

"Wilford's about to go, I think with Parker and Boone going with him. Quite the combination... " He smiled to himself, "I fear for the New York sewers."

[From Tavern]

Wandering tentatively out to the porch after Rafi, he slunk his way up to the two guys.  He didn't want to interupt. 'ey. He offered awkwardly, and even more awkwardly, turned to Jethro.

Hey dude, I, um, wanted to say, I was sorry for hassling you, before, ya know, about your music.  You're good. And your taste isn't really that bad. He gave a shrug.

Rafi looked at Scott and motioned him to join them at the end of the porch.

"C'mon, sunshine. No need to stand on ceremony. He's OK." He took a drag on the rollie and paused, running his hand through his hair as he thought then looked carefully at Scott,

"What you said before. Did you mean that?"