You're scanning some art prints for class in the old Fine Arts building, the one with the walls like a fort and an electrical system like Ben Franklin's kite, and you're pleased to see that someone sprung for a new scanner...scriff-enabled.  Its much faster than the old one, and the color is sharper as well.

And then a short, a snap-pop, the lights go out, and a sudden arc from the scanner hammers into you...

=============================================

You wake, laying on your back on a comfortable stone, and hearing the murmur of male conversation, startled-by its tone, and then a bold declamation from about a foot away...unfortunately its all in French.  Although you do pick up the word "Miracle".

Your eyes are closed, and you feel good.

Whatdya' do?

Playtester

In the inky darkness under my eyelids I mutter a short curse (probably the 'f' word). Great, I tell myself. Just great. I was just on my way to get a few prints for workshop and this is what I get. A f**cking electrocution.

Slowly I try to raise my right hand over my face to shield my eyes from whatever light may meet me. I really hope those prints didn't get burned. Or my hair singed. Or my nails fried. I wouldn't want to do my whole outfit again, be rather stuck in Cthulhu's john than go through all the hell of redoing my nails again.

You open your eyes to see a smiling man, goatee, hair pulled back in a pig-tail, gold vest, green jacket, purple cloak, rapier at the waist, knee-high knickerbockers of royal blue, and white stockings.

The room is a large stone room lit by candles. About a dozen other men sit in the distance at desks.

You are laying on a bed of stone.

"M'sieu, I am Baron Paul Renault of the Ship-buiding Renaults, and you are the Promised One. May I have the honor of your name?"

He bows slightly.

Meanwhile you hear several people yell.  "Diablo".

Playtester

Surprised, I immediately rise from my position, my hands over my face in short exclamation; I am alive!

I come to my feet, looking at at myself and letting my fingers fall all over my face and my body, just to make sure nothing's missing. "Christonnastick," I whisper to myself. "I live. And...and..."

My eyes crawl from myself on to my audience, a host of men in ancient trappings. In an instant a question stabs me at the back of my head--am I really sure I'm alive? I heared mutterings from a few people, french mutterings; I'm not familiar with the language but I'm pretty sure I know what Diablo means and who its referring to. Should I have played with the candles and the Book, I ask myself?

Confused, my eyes wander to the baron's and I meet his short bow with a piercing curiousity. "Where the hell am I?"

"You are not in any hell, but the City of Lights,Paris, sir, and I resent your blasphemy, even if you are the Promised One."  The baron says stiffly, the warm greeting slipping from his face.

"He is not such a one as you hope, not our deliverer, but instead sent from the Devil himself.  Look at his black fingernails.  A true mark of evil."  A rather agitated man comes forward holding out a silver cross defensively.

"Bishop Moreaux, please, he fills the prophecy."  Another man tries to soothe the situation.

Playtester

"Oh please," I whined and gestured in mockery of his presumptions. "Evil's subjective. Besides," I waved my painted fingers over this bishop fellow, "haven't you ever seen nail polish before?".

These people's acting were certainly good. Eerily good. Good enough to be mistaken for truth. Even the costumes seem too fine for just simple actors.

My next question came off as some sort of a half-joke. "What year is it?"

Another pair had been approaching at a walk, and when you say "evil is subjective," Guiseppe and Marconi perk up with the kind of hunting smile and dazzling intelligence you know from a friend in philosophy class who liked to argue, and could cut professors into rhetorical ribbons.

"Thats a very interesting proposition." Guiseppe says with a small smile.

"See he even corrupts Marconi and ..."  Moreaux yells.

"Please, my good bishop, I've heard heresy before, I'm afraid my ears and my faith survived."  Marconi says dryly.

"Promised One, it is the Year of Our Lord, 1713.  And what is, ah, 'nail polish', is that like furniture polish?"  The Baron Renault says.

And then Moreaux charges you with outstretched poniard, a long dagger like device for stabbing, and he moves with the speed and grace of a professional swordsman despite the heavy robes he wears.

"Diablo...."  He screams.

The bishop's reaction comes as a surprise to me. If they were actors then this is certainly top-notch performance arts!

My right hand instinctively rushed outwards to meet the bishop's blade, my gaze fixed now at the bishop with a half-maddened tint still full of confusion.

"--Don't--"

Renault arm thrusts and trips the bishop, and then draws his own rapier.

"You ignorant dolt."  Renault hisses at the bishop.

Marconi and Guiseppe grapple the bishop and separate the two combatants while a general cry arouses of "Do not shed blood in the House of God."

Those weapons look real.

Playtester

"Oh don't worry," I say to them, a dagger look fixed on the bishop. "I won't shed blood in the house of God..."

Maddened with rage, my legs rush towards the bishop, my hand balled into a fist in all intent to smack his face into the ground.

Time to roll the dice.

You leap up, a pink mist descending over your vision, and before you know it, you've landed a punch on the side of his cheekbone, snapping his head to the side.  Since that felt so good, you follow it up with another from the other hand.  It lands more poorly, and glances off the top of his head, and suddenly you hear a ringing voice cry out.

"Fiat!"

And you are thrust back to stagger against the altar you had been laying on.

A priest, one of the more simply dressed in the room, has his crucifix out.  And for a second, you could swear you see a crown of fire upon his head.  But then it goes away.

"I understand your rage my son, but it is wrong to strike one of the anointed when he is no threat to you.  Bishop Moreaux acted out of turn, if he has fears of your being a servant of the Devil, he should have brought his fears to an ecclesiastical court."

"Shut up, Simon."  Moreaux snarls raising himself to his elbow.  "This is serious business here.  You're only a Father, as a courtesy, so mind your place."

Playtester

ooc: What kind of dice should I roll and for what? I thought this was freeform? Or is this freeform with minimal dice rolls? I do not really have any idea what system your using other than freeforming the roleplay.

I use a mixture of Multiverser and freeform.  I guess the minimal rolling as you say is the best descriptor.  I like a little randomness.

I'll do the dice rolling as that is simpler in an online forum.  Tabletop, you'd be doing a lot of them, but here that would just slow things down.

I'm using a simplified form of MV.  Attribute + skill =/- any situation modifiers (like being  held down while someone punches you)= percentage. Roll under the % and you succeed.  Closer to the % the better.

Let me illustrate.

Lets say you have a 60% chance of walloping someone.  You roll a 48 for a serious punch, and 07 for a minimal damage punch.  60 would have been a max damage in this particular situation listed here.

Now you could botch. 100-60=40/10=4; 97-100 would be a botch.  Most likely that means you blow your attack.  But if you roll on a General Events Roll of 3d10 a 3,4, or 5 you get really lucky, and even though you mess up, you stumble into clobbering your foe.  Roll a "30" and you trip over your shoelaces, land on your chin, get dazed, and your foe easily kicks out and snaps your neck.  Thats basically a 1/4000 chance of that happening in this situation.

Thats about as deep as I get into the combat stuff.  There's a few other important areas such as making attribute checks, and for learning skills, and then using skills, but I'll save that until Renault teaches you how to use a rapier, or you start learning spellcasting.  BTW, spellcasting botches can be really nasty.

Hope that clears some stuff up.

Playtester

"And you are only a man." I immediately interrupt the bishop.

This bastard is really starting to infuriate me. I rise from my seat, my right hand still balled into a fist. "What right have you to differentiate men from demons? So I look different. Just because something has horns does not mean it is evil."

The Bishop gets to his feet as the others gape in shock at your statement.

"I am not just a man.  I have been chosen and anointed by the Standard Church with authority and power.  It is my job to fight the demons that come among us, whether from the Double Moon, or from within us with pleasing guile to trick us into Hell."

"But then, he is the Promised One. Sent not by the Church, but as God's own Paladin." Renault points out.

"But his doctrines..." The Bishop begins.

"Not necessarily incorrect as a basic concept." Marconi says with amusement. "It is the nature of a being that makes it evil.  Not its outward appearance. Really elementary stuff actually."

"Indeed." You hear from the back of the room as an older man in resplendent costume steps out from the shadows. "We shall judge him by his deeds as the Scripture says.  If he be foul, then foulness will be found. If he be sent by the Highest, then such will become quickly evident.

Promised One, you have the freedom of Paris. Do not go beyond it, except if you must go the the Double Moon. Dismissed."

The room begins to empty.  Moreaux feels his cheek, and gives you a black look decidedly not filled with Christian charity before leaving.

PT

"Wait a tick uh," I try and fish for names in my head..."um, Renault is it?"

"Don't I get an escort? I mean I just...ah...arrive from here. Wherever, whenever here is. I'll certainly need an escort to guide me about and around."

"Milord, I would be honored to escort you around the finest city in all the world.  And perhaps, we can buy you a sword, and some proper clothing."  Renault says, and holds out his arm to help you up.

Before you leave he points out the stone bed you had arrived on that says on the side in English.

"Behold, in the time of the Double Moon, while the Earth groans in terror, there will come the dying undying one, with a light in his eye."

Then you both walk out of the Notre Dame and into the Paris afternoon, and above you, you see two moons.

"Well Promised One, could you speak of any plans to me on how to save us from the monsters who nest there?"  Renault asks with obvious faith in you.

Playtester

"Hah," I chuckle as I look at the moon. If this whole thing is a show, someone must really love me to play such an intricate prank.

"If I didn't feel so displaced I would say that that," I point at the double moons with a black fingernail, "is a very beautiful sight. From where...whence... I came from I remember the Earth having only one moon."

I resist the urge to be a little mean, undaunted by the rude stares from a few passers-by. Certainly I need some new clothes if I am to be expected to blend in such...a colorful ancient parisian environment.

"Anyway, we're lingering, I apologize. I'm pulling unwanted attention for the both of us. Please Renault, carry on to the clothier."

And, ah, what's this about ah, a promised one?"

"Indeed, until but a few years ago, we had but one moon, and then as a star, and a small moon, and finally as you see it now, this the invaders have come."

He leads you down several streets, up a back alley which has him fingering his sword as he glares at a couple occupants, and out onto another street which has many well-dressed people just standing about in front of shops.

"Promised One," He says after a bit. "You saw the prophecy on the bed of stone on which you arrived.  It is hoped that you have come to deliver us from our tormentors."

He leads you to one.

The tailor inside asks what type of clothing you would like and Renault translates.

PT

Peter nods as he looked at the selection. Drab. Ancient. Too much fluff.

"I don't really...like. Um. Pastel colors. And large fluffy ruffles. I'd prefer something simple. Just pants, a leather jerkin and that's it. I'll keep my boots thank you very much."

Renault's talk about invaders and the second moon made him think about a certain sci-fi novel he muddled over when he was working as a book keeper in the Louvre. "Renault, what are these invaders? How is the...promised one supposed to help you drive them out?"

The tailor nods.

"Ah, soldier's clothing. Very easily done, m'sieu.  But you should have a leather buff coat to turn sword blades and shield from musket balls, and a cloak to sleep on in the field."  *Translated.

"These invaders" Renault says as the tailor measures you.  "They come in spheres of steel"  He shapes it with his hands. "Hideous beasts, each unlike his brother in many respects but fundamentally the same.  Tall like a jotun, brutish, yellow or green skinned,  they grab livestock, people, food, and take them back to their spheres and ascend back to teh Double Moon.  We never see our fellow countrymen again.  And they scourge the whole world, but mostly us for they always stay above us in the sky by some alien magic.  We have slain some with musket, although they die hard and they stink horribly as they decay."

"As to what you are to do, well there are various prophecies, some are doubtful as to whether they are of you or not.  But we know the one on the altar is, and it says, you will have a light in your eye.  Now what that means, many scholars have debated."

PT

"One of...?"

This statement obviously amused Peter, nodding as he mused over the tailor's suggestions. "Aye, aye. Then we'll keep the ruffles then, tell him that Renault."

He put a black fingernail under his chin, rubbed the slight stubble underneath and smiled. "As to weather I am one of them or something else, I prefer to imagine the latter. I'm not sure if this age now harbors astrologers, men who study the stars and the things outside this world. It would help me a great deal...to help you if I knew more about this second moon." Peter addressed this statement to the both of them, speaking as he waited for Renault to translate what he had just said. "You know, it would be easier for the both of us if I knew a little french," he whispered sideways over his escort.

"One of?"---Not sure what you mean.

Also, Renault is not saying you are one of the invaders.  Although, I suppose Moreaux if he were here might well disagree.

"Yes, I know of several astrologers.  We could visit one, Henri of Boulogne, a professor, now currently on the Left Bank of the Seine, who would be quickly free, or the others, well they are on retainer and might not see us so quickly.  As soon as you are measured, and I would prefer you had a sword too before we wander Paris.  Many hooligans, and occasionally some such are paid by men of power, if you take my meaning.  But, if you wish we can immediately go to Henri."

He agrees that you should practise your French, and offers to send by a tutor tonight once you have a garret, or you can sleep at his townhouse.

PT

"Then let us have the tailor measure me, have you help me find a suitable blade and teach me some of the basics. In my..." Peter looked down, shook his head and smiled. "...my world I've never needed to be taught swordsmanship. Since here is neither my time or my world it is best I learn the inner workings of this Paris from you, mon sieur Renault."

Peter smiled, and proceeded to motion for the tailor to do what it is he set out to do. As he let out his right arm for the tailor to measure, Peter leaned over across Renault and whispered something. "I...ah, apologize sir Renault. I'm afraid I've no form of money which your shops might find acceptable. Later perhaps, I might show it to you and it might tell you specifically when in the future I came from."

Renault waves away your money problem irritably with aristocratic grandeur.

"That is a concern for merchants.  I am not a merchant, but of the blood of one of the greater houses in France.  Besides, if you save us, as I hope you will, I think it we who will owe you."

You get measured, and then he takes you to get a sword.  A rapier with little in the way of decoration is what he recommends.

"Gew-gaws are for boys.  A swordsman does not want his weapon getting caught on a string.  Plus you want a sturdy sword, not a courtier's play toy."

He shows you how to put it on, and offers to take you out to a park, and train you a bit in it.  But he warns you that even with much training you will not be the equal of a master swordsman, and you should avoid duelling such unless you want a glorious end.

"But I can teach you enough so that you won't embarrass yourself, and so that you can get the better of a street bravo or a bandit or the Bishop."

Playtester

"That will do Renault. Besides, if my reading on this day and age is right enough I do believe there still exists more horrible ways to bring harm to men or your invaders."

Peter appraises his rapier with a grin. "I only need enough to defend myself. I have sense enough to know that I am no swordsman. Later or tomorrow perhaps you can teach me more, but I believe we should be getting on our way to meet this astrologer you mentioned..."

"Indeed cannon filled with grapeshot is a horror.  And then their exists the mysteries of magic and the power of the Divine.  But yes, let us see Henri."

He takes you across the city to a river, and takes a boat down river a mile.  Upon alighting he points to the tallest building in the area.  Its rather odd looking.

"Henri made his fortune as a hatter. Poor man."

You walk a hundred yards through a rough neighborhood, and arrive at a fine mansion with walls and guards who look on their master with uncomfortable compassion.  Henri is standing outside in the street looking up into the cloudless daytime sky weeping.

"I cannot see teh stars, I cannot see teh stars.  Is not my suffering enough?  I am going blind as well."

PT

Peter tapped Renault's shoulder, his eyes fixed upon the rambling man. "Let us talk about the thing you said before you made mention of the divine and after grapeshot cannons--I believe you understand my meaning--but later of course, when we are in the privacy of your quarters. In the meantime, is that..."

Peter shook his head slightly, his face bore a confusion and disappointment which could not be dismissed. "...is that man the Henri you were talking about? The astrologer?"

"Indeed, privacy is essential for such matters." Renault agrees gracefully.  "And yes, this is Henri the former hatter, and now astrologer.  Mon ami, let me explain. Since the coming of the Double Moon all astrologers command handsome rates, and either have long waits to meet them, or are simply unavailable.  Except for the charlatans, and ..." He points one fringe bedecked arm. "The mad." He whispers.

PT

"I...see." Peter nodded, smiled a bit. He saw the sense in that yes, but the thing which now begged questioning was his madness: how did he come about this affliction? "But remember that Jesus himself was regarded as a madmen spewing nothing more than empty blasphemies and it was only when he died that all men knew that he was the Son of God. We may yet find better insight with such prophets than overpriced scholars."

Peter took a few careful steps towards Henri, his right hand held out in friendly gesture, his long, black fingernails unconsciously flaunted to meet his handshake. "Sir Henri, I greet you. I am Peter Raphael Mutuc. I am here to inquire about that." He pointed at the second moon with a foreboding look upon his face.

He runs your name over his tongue several times, and then starts converting it into numbers, and dividing by days, and then he gets excited. He carefully examines your fingernails.

"'And the dragon will come from the dark, and to the dark, and yet onward. His talons will be dark, and his eye will be bright with his wisdom, and the ravagers shall be before him as a meal is spread before the hungry.' Very interesting, young man."

He pauses and gestures you and Renault closer.

"I will tell you what you seek, and you will tell me the year and the day you were born. Let me begin a little. But first inside."

He leads you and Renault inside through a gate, and into a small walled herbal garden.  A maid comes out with tea for everyone, and there are benches to sit at in the garden.

"Tonight you shall be able to see the Moon of metal in my Telescope on the roof. I know others say I am mad, but it is a ship, I swear it. Crudely made too which I don't understand. Ask what you will."

Playtester

Peter followed Henri inside, looking back at Renault before he ventured inside Henri's garden. He took the cup of hot tea with a grin and sipped as he spoke.

"A ship eh? I'm not really surprised. And believe me when I tell you I believe you when I say you're not mad. People always seem to misunderstand visionaries and prophets. We're often... condemned for society's misconceptions."

Brushing his hair aback, Peter looked up and winced. "If you're saying that's a ship... a space ship, I guess its a no-brainer to say that's where the invaders came from. The question is where did they come from?

"As for my birthday: August 11, 1984."

"I don't know if my visions and insights are the result of the astrology, or if they are merely the curse of the hatter.  'Mad as a hatter' you know."

He does some complicated calculations with various dates including your birth date, and then looks up with astonishment.

"So, you're an immortal. Incroyable. And the Promised One. Your future holds much challenge, opportunity for glory, or for terror. I cannot see if you will save us or not, but I believe that is why you were sent."

Playtester

"Truth be told I don't know what to make of what's happening." Peter shook his head as he sipped his tea.

"I'm not sure if this is just a dream really; if anyone's to be accused of being a--a hatter really, it should be me."

HE looked at the hilt of his sword and pressed his thumb on it until blood broke through the skin. The sting was enough to reassure him he wasn't dreaming. "I...we just need information on the invaders. Or give us anything to help us with the threat. I was sent here for a reason and I believe until I haven't done what I was sent here to do I won't return to my world."

"Ah, being a hatter is a fine profession.  I do not accuse someone of honest labor and craftsmanship.  I was a hatter.  Now with my wealth gained from the making of hats, I am an astrologer."

He pauses.

"I can keep a look on the Double Moon, and tell you when one of the spheres is set to descend to the Earth although once it gets low enough I will have a hard time giving details although I can tell you if it is near teh city and one of the cardinal directions.

Perhaps I can find more data in the mystic pursuit of numbers as to where they land.

Also, if you have questions then I may be able to ask the numbers that question, but without a question, a line of inquiry, I am fishing in the dark.

Now some will contest this with me, feeling that you are not the Dragon of the Dark, but the similiarity of the prophecies between the Promised One and the Dragon make me think they refer to the same person.  And the Dragon has the light of wisdom in his eye to aid him.  Thus I think you are specially gifted with wisdom or knowledge to defeat these monsters."

PT

Peter let out a short laugh. "When I said I was a hatter, I was referring to the phrase mad as a hatter, not that I was a maker of hats."

Brushing the prick from his thumb with a rub from his index finger, he returned his gaze to Renault and then back at the hatter. "If you don't mind, I'd like to know more about the prophecy of the Dragon of the Dark. Truth be told I've really no idea how I'm to accomplish this puzzle. Even now I am at a loss to explain this... this phenomena to myself, let alone convince myself that this is actually happening, that I am in medieval Paris."

"'Medieval', what a strange term for the modern day.  The prophecy of the Dragon of the Dark has several core verses, and about a half-dozen more doubtful verses.  The most common interpretation of them is that the Dragon is a figure of great evil, a herald of the End of the World, or perhaps even the cause of the End.  This viewpoint commonly puts these verses in with the Prophecies of the Evil Man, the Servant of the Prince of Lies who will rule the world before the Almighty comes down to destroy him.  It says that the Dragon is merely another name for the Evil Man.

But I disagree.  While the Evil is said to die and rise again, the Dragon is said to die undying with the sense of never really dying, I think.

The qualities of the Dragon are these.  1)He has a light in his eye which is his knowledge. 2)He is immortal, of some sort. 3)He comes from outside the world, and will return to outside the world. 4)When he flies, the world will shake. And I find it interesting right now that we have had an earthquake every week since the Double Moon came to us. 5)He will have black talons, or I think black fingernails. 6)The final quality I've been able to deduce, perhaps a more learned theologian might be able to unriddle more, is that he will have a special grace with tossing mice out windows.  Which has led many to suspect that he will have catlike reflexes or be a half-cat.

But I'm not sure we are meant to understand since it seems directed to the Dragon.

As it says.  "And to the Mighty Wyrm birthed in chaos, I say, you shall open the window, move the mouse, and know how to bring the worlds to order. Selah."

"Selah. That means think on it. I know that much." Renault says.  "I didn't know these Dragon prophecies, but I do think they tie to you, because of what was on the bed of stone you arrived on.  It said you would have a light in your eye.  Most of us thought that meant you would have glowing eyes, and shoot eyebeams at the Double Moon."

PT

"I see." Peter displayed his painted black fingernails. "I have these at least. As for shooting light from my eyes, I can't say I've learned to do that...

"...Yet.

"If coming from the outside meant also coming out of this age, then yes, I am an outsider. I actually come from the far future--such truths are certainly not hard to believe now, yes? In my version of history, no alien threat came to paris in this age, no prophecies of dragons of darkness, no chosen ones."

He took a quick sip from his cup. "Will you tell me of the other prophecy before I ask another question?"

"The Prophecies of the Chosen One, or Promised One, are fewer, but more definite.  They describe events that Will happen.

The Promised One will come-to the church at Notre Dame, and in the bed of stone made for him will he fit.  He will have a light in his eye.  Darkness from within and without will strive against him in his righteous mission.  He will end the threat.  Simon foresaw your coming in the day you did, so we gathered to greet you."

Renault says.

"Ah, but what does 'end' mean?" the Mad Hatter says. "It could mean, we all die, and thus the threat is gone."

"If you didn't have such good tea, I wouldn't like you very much." Renault grumps.

PT

"SO, shit. I don't really follow you but do these two prophecies tell of a 'chosen one' who might be able to choose whatever end he or she wishes to bring to this world?"

Peter scratched his ear as a tired look befell him. "I don't really know what I want to do. I just want to get back home like I said. And as I mentioned before, if helping you people get you out of this jam might even if by some remote chance help me get back to where and when I'm supposed to be, hell, I'd be more than happy to send your invaders back to where they came from--in twenty or so separate parts depending on what the prophecy says I'm able to do..."

He took some more sips of his tea then resumed to talking. "Of course, we're not really sure if I'm even one of those," he paused, and pointed to nowhere in particular. "But first thing's first. Before I got here I was very much engrossed in reading several tomes dealing with the occult."

Peter put down his cup and crossed his arms. A wry smile crossed his lips. "I believe you know what I'm talking about."

"Its uncertain whether the Promised One will have the power to choose, or will somehow cause something, or is simply the signpost of what is to be.  I hope for the first.

You would like to study magic.  Aye, I can help you some there.  I know a bit of astrology which some consider magic, some science.

A little of charm-making to protect, and shield.  Some more of alchemy.  Summoning fey spirits of insight.

Renault knows how to bless a ship, and call a wind, and how to Strike a Deadly Blow."  The Mad Hatter says.

"Wi, I do, but it is a hideous spell.  You only cast it if you wish certain death on your enemy, and for him to die in agony."  Renault looks rather pale.  "If this is not sufficient, there are others more schooled in magics, and indeed practising other teachings in the city.  No offense, but I come to him for astrology, not for magic."

The Mad Hatter nods. "I am no arch-mage it is true."

PT

"If you trust me then you shall teach me. Teach me all of it."

He paused for a while as he calmed himself; hearing them both talk about sorceries with strange casualty excited him slightly. "I apologize. I've only read about magic in books in my time and even then society frowns on anyone who looks into such things. Dabblers were called madmen, and magicians--if they were actual magicians--were labled charlatans. If this magics you speak of are true, then maybe it would do us all no harm to render a harmless demonstration here?"

They study you, look at each other, and then Renault nods.

"Light a candle if you would." Renault says, and the Mad Hatter pulls a candle out of the desk the tea is sitting warming on, and lights it by the warming fire.  Then he hands it to you.

Renault turns, studies something, and then draws his sword, reverses it, kisses the hilt, and speaks.

"Lord Uriel, of your mercy, send us a wind so that I may witness of your might."

Then he repeats it two more times, faster.  Then he speaks it very fast in another language.  And finally, he whistles the rhythmn and tone.

As the last note fades, a sudden gust of artic air wracks the garden, almost blows the candle from your fingertips, and extinguishes flame.

Renault bows, and touches his sword to the ground, the wind ends.

"Remarkable." Peter smiled, clasping his hands together in solemn and utter awe. "If this is but a sample of what power you can bestow yourselves with magic, why not use it to defend yourselves from the enemy? Or is the church that stupid and stubborn to turn to good men such as you?"

Recalling the archbishop's reaction earlier, Peter shook his head. "Never mind," he waved his hand in negation.

"Would you teach me such power? If whatever transported me here was of magic, then maybe with your help we may be able to help each other out. I know we have nothing but the prophecies to assure us of the nature of my current situation here in this... time and place, surely if you trust me I can be taught magic?"

"Not all members of the church feel as the bishop does." Renault objects.

"Peter, if I may be so bold, you fall into the trap that many young magicians stumble into.  Tell him Renault of how you learned this spell."  The Mad Hatter says.

"Oh, wi, I had to study a week the nature of Uriel, a most dire creature.  Archangel of the North, the Earth, and Death.  To do that, I had to not only be able to read and write, but most proficiently.  Not one man in ten can do that.
And few of those have the freedom to spend a week at a study.  Or the coins for the books which are rare and expensive.

Then I had to learn, tone perfect a phrase of Latin.  Then I have to be a good whistler.  And there is more you did not see, I have to imagine it all in my mind, most clearly. Few men can do that.

Plus my sword is consecrated to magic.  And my first attempt to cast the spell, I nearly blew myself into the harbor.

But still, my friend astrologer, perhaps Peter is right.  Perhaps we need less an army and more a council of archmages.

"Its alright my friend," Peter said. "In my time and place what I saw in my mind I made manifest on canvas, metal, paint and other such materials. You would not believe the horrors that lived in here," Peter smiled foxily as he propped a finger to his head.

"As for latin, I never had classes but I was a foreigner to France in my time and even here I believe my french is 'accented' enough to be understood. Hard it may be for me to learn but an enthusiastic student is better than a bored know-it-all who thinks he knows it all eh?"

"As for time, I have all the time in the world I believe. Especially questioning the very situation we now find ourselves in: the conundrum of my being here. A puzzle which I do believe all of us involved would certainly like answered, me most of all. I cannot even deny myself to be insane. I have witnesses on how I came to be here," he nodded at Renault.

A hollow sigh escaped his lips before he took another sip from his cup. He has found a possible solution to get back to where and when he came from but would this Mad Hatter and Renault give it to him? The thoughts gnawed at him as he looked at the patterns on the hilt of his sword.

They look at each other, and you can see the wheels in their minds turning until finally some conclusion gets traction, and the Mad Hatter turns to you.

"We could hardly refuse.  To do so would place us in the position of refusing someone who we believe may be the protector of our world, chosen for his greater or peculiar wisdom, and then we in our arrogance pit our wisdom against the Almighty.  Not a thing I wish to do, not at all.

Thus, if you don't mind, let us start with one of the simplest of spells.    A charm for the purification of water.  It goes on this wise."

Then he begins to lay out a simple spell, which will cleanse dirty water.

OOC: Feel free to describe it you like...

PT