Lexy thinks about Chance's words for a short while, before answering, "I am sure that a way could be found to stay in contact.  You could, for instance, take the painting with you.  I have a means to open the link from this end, and look through it, at any time.  It would also enable you to contact me, as you've discovered."

"It would mean losing my easy connection to the people here, but I suppose I would just have to make more personal appearances, and try to reassure them that my walking among them more often does not signify that the world is coming to an end."

She smiles then, though her eyes hold a hint of concern, "Well, not immediately, at last."

Her gaze shifts to Trista, fixing on the other woman's eyes. 

Then, back to Chance, and, "If you do decide to take the painting, you'll need to call the old man back in, so I can explain to him that you're not just thieves."

The painting seems small enough and would probably fit in Trista's pack if Chance doesn't want to carry it. How does he carry something that is not him? What happens to the external items when he morphs?

And do those sunglasses ever come off? Something to consider.

“I can carry the painting if you wish,” a question for those dark sunglasses.

The internal questions stop when Lexy's gaze beckons and then holds her own. This is something Berd would not allow if he were still traveling with her, not without her permission. Yet, what harm?

Indeed, what harm...

"I'll have to fine tune the song, but perhaps I can just use that to keep in touch. Right now, it's barely an outline. It wouldn't let you look out, but you could still use the picture here, to talk to the people. They need that, I think. What do you think would be best?"

Shaking her head, Lexy speaks, "That might not be the best way, since I would not be ablle to contact you if I found myself in need of assistance."  Yhen she adds, after a short pause, while she considers her options, "One possibility might be if you promised to make contact regularly.  That way I might be able to fend off an attack here, until I was able to ask for help."

If Cyan were here, Chance thinks, she could probably just copy the painting. "That is an option. Perhaps we could just take the painting for a time, and return it later. Our Cyan might be able to copy it, but it takes time that we rarely have available on the quest."

Trista nods and slips her fingers around the small painting, lifting it from the wall. She holds it out away from them so both she and Chance can still see Lexy. “I'll slip the painting into my pack once we're done. If Cyan has the time, no doubt, she will copy it. Chance and I will return it to your people. You have my word.”

Remembering the Godspeaker, “We could find your servant on our way out so you can speak with him.”

Glancing at Chance, she waits for both of their approval or for further discussion.

Chance nod and then glances back to the woman in the paining to see if that is acceptable to her.

"We can certainly try that.  If one Cyan can produce a painting, then another might be able to reproduce it.  If it works, then you can return the painting to me... if not, you can still return it, though a little later, I expect."  She seems thoughtful now, speaking as if a little distracted.

"Of course, if the enemy send one of those... what was it called again?  Ah!  A Gatherer.  If they send a Gatherer, all of our plans will be in vain.  But I've only seen about five or six of those, so I suspect they don't use them very often.  Berd once speculated that there might be several groups or clans among the Archons, and they each have their own preferred methods.  One group uses Gatherers and orbs, another prefers the Unfolding Ritual, while still another simply erases time...  The end result is the same."

She shrugs, and shakes her head, "We don't know enough about these things.  They may have a logical reason for choosing different methods, but it is beyond our knowledge."

...simply erases time...

Trista's stomach turns. Are they so powerful? Then again, is Berd that powerful? Dorian? The possibilities mystify Trista. She's playing with the Gods, now. Despite her own version of immortality, it's a daunting situation.

“Our knowledge will expand. It has to.” There's no other option. Did they learn anything useful on this particular venture? Perhaps, but Trista doesn't see it. Not yet.

Leaving the room to seek out the Godspeaker, Trista's glance seeks out Chance's shaded eyes. Had he gleaned something here? Other than a possible ally. Perhaps that is enough. The glance pauses a bit too long, and Trista raises the corners of her mouth in a quick smile before dragging her eyes away toward the hallway they enter.

Trista does not have to go far to find the godspeaker.  He is in the corridor, and starts nervously as the woman opens the door.  He is not close enough that he could have been eavesdropping, and could not have moved away that far away so quickly if he had been, but he does seem a little guilty.

"Ah... hello... I was just... checking for dust.  Yes.  Dust.  Sometimes the dust seems to gather a lot, just around here."


Back in the room, Lexy, says, "There may be allies you can look to, if you can find them, and if they are to be trusted."

"Long ago, we found a record on a dead world which spoke of a war between the Archons and another people, the Vhuulad.  If you could contact these Vhuulad, then they might help.  We tried, and found nothing but ancient tales.  Still, I don't believe they are all gone."

Chance nods. "Ah, yes, the Vhuulad. We encountered one, they're quite an interesting lot. I'm afraid we don't know much about them. Can you tell me anything? We'd be greatly interested in knowing how to locate them, specifically."

"I know that they are older than the stars, and that they hate the Archons.  Beyond that... " Lexy shakes her head, "Well, if you've met one of them, that's one more than I have."

"The original text we found indicated that they were powerful... the most powerful creatures in the Universe.  Long ago, they fought the Archons to a standstill, and then made some sort of pact with them to keep out of each other's way in future."

She pauses, collecting her thoughts, "We looked for them, but all we ever found were very old stories.  Most of them were... well... less than encouraging.  The Vhuulad, according to many of the tales, had all vanished, or died, or gone insane.  Usually the stories told of a creature appearing one day, making crazy demands or statements, and then just leaving again.  There are two accounts where they arrived, built vast structures overnight, and then simply demolished them the next morning."

"I've seen one world where there were no oceans, just a perfect geometric pattern of saltwater canals covering the whole world.  There were stone tablets there, so old that they were barely legible, which told of how there used to be seas, and great port cities, and trade, until one of the Vhuulad changed the shape of the world in a matter of hours."

"They might still be around, but you'd have to be careful about asking them for help."

Laughing, she adds, "I think the Vhuulad might be dangerously unpredictable, and I'm from the Courts of Chaos."

"So we're not just looking for a needle in a haystack, but perhaps a sane needle in a haystack full of insane needles."

Chance sighed deeply, his mind wandering. He considered how if they could find that one sane Vhuulad, many problems would be solved. At least, it seemed that way. Finding them was one big problem. Deciding if any one they found were sane was another problem. Waking one up without it swatting them sleepily into oblivion was a third big problem. After that, well the big problems just seemed to start multiplying like bunnies.

"Thank you for the information, though I'm at a loss as to how we might proceed with it. Lexy, thank you for your time and the painting. We'll be contacting the others now and finding if they have any news.

"This is a wonderful little community. My means are meager, but I can manipulate the myriad worlds--shadow, if you will. Is there anything I could do for them, to help enrich their lives, somehow? Or should I ask the godspeaker?"

He turns to Trista and gives a beckoning gesture, indicating she should bring the godspeaker in now, too. Lexy would need to explain why the painting was leaving.

He wondered briefly if teaching them all his hymn would mean anything. One alone might not be able to use it, but perhaps if an entire congregation played and hummed it....

 It doesn't really matter to Trista if the Godspeaker was trying to eavesdrop or not, but the child-like guilt on the holy man's visage does raise an eyebrow. Holding back an amused smile, Trista responds, “You keep a very clean place; I'm sure it isn't easy.”

In the background, she hears Lexy talking of the Vhuulad with Chance. With the painting still in her hand, Trista takes another step toward the man, “Your - Goddess - has been helpful. She loves your people, here.” Just in case he was wondering.

She catches Chance's gesture, nods, and requests of the Godspeaker, “Would you come back into the other room? She would like to speak with you.”

"Yes, she does." is all the old man says, before following Trista back into the room.

"You would improve their lives immeasurably if you play even a small part in keeping the Archons away from here.  I doubt, though, that anything can do that.  Prophecy, I find, has a way of ensuring that it is fulfilled."

At that moment, Trista reenters the room with the godspeaker.  The man lowers his eyes immediately.

"These people are going to do something very important, my old friend.  It is something that I need them to at least attempt.  But to do it, they will have to borrow the painting.  I can speak to you at any time you are near the water, but they will travel far on this quest, and cannot guarantee that they will always be able to get to the lake, or any of the waters which connect to it.  They will return the picture when their task is completed."

"I understand, My Lady." the man says quietly, clearly unhappy with her words.

"I do this, not because I am angry at the people of this land, but because there are things at work, out in the world, which require my attention.  These people will act as my eyes and hands, even when they are far from here.  Would you have me cut off my hands?  Or put out my eyes?"

"No, My Lady." the godspeaker replies.

"Then you understand that this will benefit all in this village, and the other towns and villages along the shore?  Good."

"Chance has kindly offered to perform some small task to help the people before he leaves, even though his time is valuable.  I could have asked for something myself, but I decided to let you choose what would be most appreciated.  I trust your judgement."


The godspeaker seems to swell with pride.  The Queen trusts his judgement.  "I will do my best to choose wisely, My Lady."  He turns towards Chance, "One thing which springs immediately to mind, Sorcerer...  The road to Narracott was blocked by a landslide last week, and clearing it is proving difficult.  Do you have some means to speed the work?"

Trista takes a place across from Chance, a little apart from the others so that she can see all three of them without turning her head. A thumb twists the alien-feeling wedding band around her finger.

The goddess of this people – an immortal similar to Trista herself – holds the woman's attention. She listens to the communique with the godspeaker, but it is the irony of the situation which plays through her mind.

Fostered by shadow, Trista had grown wearing a cross around her neck. But when she discovered the truth behind her – uniqueness – she gave up the plastic icon and put the myths of Gods behind her.

This world's god is a woman once on this quest. Berd is probably more powerful. Perhaps even Chance. Trista's eyes blink over to the man with the guitar. A Prince? She's glad that's she met him as he is and not the creature he once was - though it shaped him into who he is today.

Gah, stop with the philosophy and pay attention. Inner thoughts can be so annoying.

A touch of a smile for the man before her blue-grey eyes turn to the godspeaker as he decides what boon he would have of them. Chance's offer of service was unexpected, but she's pleased to be of help. The godspeaker's request of earth clearing might prove to be a simple task for a man of power such as Chance, but if not, Trista is ready to get a shovel and start digging; she's never shied away from hard labor. Particularly, when she's the strongest one in town.

Still keeping her silence, approving eyes turn to Chance to see what magic he can offer these people and the work that needs to be done. Behind all the other thoughts, Trista wonders if they will finish before the little bird returns to them. Finish and have a drink.

"The road Narracott," Chance says, rubbing his chin and looking downward. "I may be able to come up with a few ways to help clear the way. If not, a couple of extra hands should speed the way." His half-smile and arched eyebrow said that he doubted any physical labor would be involved. This was Chance, after all. He took to physical labor like a cow takes to a congo line.

"Lead the way?"

"I can't take you there." the godspeaker replies, "It's a good five or six miles, a fair bit of it uphill, and my legs aren't as young as they once were, you understand.  But I can show you the way to go.  Once you're on the Narracott road, and out of town, there's no way to get lost as long as you stick to the road itself."

His voice takes on a note of warning, as he adds, "Don't step off the road though, 'specially if you're in a dip.  There are bogs and sinking sand in a few places.  The road is well kept, and marked, clear as day, so you'll be alright if you stick to it."

Nearby, Lexy observes the conversation with some interest.  The future of her realm could, after all, be profoundly affected by it.


"If you wish, I can see if somebody will lend you a wagon."

Trista slips the painting into her pack as the godspeaker tells them to be wary. It's oddly similar to, 'don't color outside the lines,' and Trista immediately wants to step off the road in the bog just to test it out.

Fire Engine Red always looked good crossing the line.

Amused eyes swing toward Chance, “The wagon is up to you. 6 miles isn't too far to walk, but the wagon would be fine.”

One last glance toward Lexy and Trista heads out of the room once again to get the two of them on their way.

A slightly wistful smile etches Chance's face at the thought of a wagon ride, lazily gazing up at clouds or at the surrounding ... bog?

Well, it was better than walking, even if it lacked the luster of his daydream.

"A wagon would be fine if it's not a bother, but I don't mind a walk up the road if needed. We don't want to bother the wagon's owner if he has another use for it."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:25, Fri 09 May 2008.

"We shall see... " the godspeaker replies, "There are two or three people I can ask, and one of them will be travelling out to the workers, with fresh water."

Lexy smiles, "It's true, the work is hard, and many of the men are camping on the site, so that they don't have to travel there and back each day.  We have to send supplies to them."

And suddenly, she seems distracted, for a moment, before her attention snaps back to the here and now, "I must go... somebody, a child, is in danger, at the north end of the lake."

Trista halts just outside the door and turns toward Lexy as something obviously troubles her. She waits out the pause before the woman makes her announcement of leaving. Eyes search for Chance, “As long as the godspeaker seeks a wagon for us, we – or I – can go with Lexy to see if she needs any help. Or perhaps use the painting if she goes more directly.” Her eyes question his, acknowledging he is the leader of their small band.

"I can travel much faster alone." Lexy replies, "Unless you can do this... "  She raies her left hand, and the skin shimmers and ripples, and the extremity becomes as insubstantial as smoke for a moment, before coalescing into an identical hand, formed entirely of flowing water.

The godspeaker gasps, "My Lady!" and slowly sinks to his knees, his elderly eyes almost seeming to glow, so enraptured is he by this new miracle.

"I am a part of the lake, where the water is, I can be there in the blink of an eye."


"The portrait would be the best choice now, I believe, though you may have to find your own way back."

An impressed eyebrow lifts. Magic. Again. It flows everywhere she turns.

With Lexy gone, and the Godspeaker on his knees, Trista lifts a questioning eye toward Chance. “It will take him time to figure out the wagon, I'd like to see if Lexy needs help. If you don't have objections, that is.” As she speaks, she tugs the painting out of her pack. The woman hadn't exactly said she needed help, but neither did she say she didn't... something is better than nothing.

"Go ahead," Chance tells Trista with an easy smile. "We'll meet up later, don't worry." He's rather certain they will, since he intends to spend as little time apart as he can manage. Of course, he doesn't want to appear to desperate to be near her, or he'd have insisted on going along too. That's the last thing he'd want her to see.

He turns back to the godspeaker. "Alright, let's go see about that wagon."

Chance's easy manner garners a smile, “I'll come find you when I'm done.” After all, it can't be that tricky to walk back from the North side of the lake to this little town and then down the path toward the excavation needed... can it?

Trista peers into the painting.

A halo of rainbow light unfolds from nothing in front of Trista, and a hand reaches out from it, taking hold of the young woman's own.  Then, in the blink of an eye, the light, the hand, and the woman are all gone...

For a moment, the godspeaker looks as though he is about to collapse, so many miracles this day.  He leans on the table to steady himself, before turning his gaze upon Chance, "It is the Time of Signs.  The End is truly coming, is it not?"  He shakes his head, "No.  Don't tell me.  I do not want to know how long we have.  For now, it is enough to help the people with the simpler things, and prepare them for the Next World.  There will be time enough for worrying about the end of this one."

"Come with me, please."

Taking his cane, he leads Chance out through the chapel and straight across to a wooden building which builds the legend, "Horses.  Wagons.  Haulage."  At the side of the structure is an alley which leads to a fenced area at the back, with stables and a large shed at one end.  Two men are loading kegs and sacks on to a small wagon.

The godspeaker hails one of them, "Eben.  Would you mind taking this man out to the landslide, when you go?  He wants to help them clear it."

Eben is a large, thick-set man of middle years, with a heavy black beard, streaked with grey, and a shaven scalp.  His muscular arms are bare, and covered with a complex pattern of scars, obviously deliberate.  There is a large gold ring in each ear, and another through his nose.  He wears a leather vest, trousers of darkgreen wool, and a pair of sturdy boots.  two daggers, and a brace of what Chance recognises as flintlock pistols are shoved through his belt.

He studies Chance with eyes whose colours don't match, one blue, the other brown, and when he speaks, his voice is a deep, rumbling growl. "Aye, I'll be takin' he with I.  It'd be good to have company on the road."

"What be your'n name, lad?"


Discontinuity...

Trista is on a shingle beach beneath a cliff face.  The clifftop itself is only about fifteen feet above her head.  Close by, a child, a dark-haired girl of about five or six years, sits at the water's edge, her feet resting in the lake.  Her dark blue dress is dirty and torn, and her bare arms and legs are covered with cuts and bruises.  She uses the left arm to carefully cradle the right across her chest.  A thin trail of blood leads from her hairline, down her left cheek, to her jawline, where it drips on to her dress...

Although it was the woman (or the painting itself? Trista still doesn't know how all of this works) who brought Trista through to a cliffside beach, Lexy is nowhere to be seen. Instead the woman's eyes land on a child who bears the signs of having recently fallen from the cliff.

Trista's body language immediately softens as she steps toward the little girl. She smiles warmly, “Hello there, you seem to have been in a bit of a scrape.” Slowly, the woman's pack swings off her back. She tucks the painting back inside and fishes out a small med kit.

“I'm Trista, what's your name?” The woman kneels down by the girl's side, hopefully, without scaring the girl.

The introductions are made, and before long, Chance and his new companion, Eben, are on the road, heading out of town towards the site of the blockage on the Narracott road.

Eben, for all his rough manner, turns out to be a pleasant enough travelling companion, possessing considerable knowledge of the local geography and gossip, a repertoire of jokes and amusing anecdotes (of varying degrees of ribaldry) and the ability to sing in a passable baritone.  He also seems to be quite happy to exercise all of those qualities, as required."


The child turns her head as Trista speaks to her, and smiles back.  "Hello, Miss.  My name's Katie.  I falled off of the mountain."  She points to indicate the cliff at the back of the shoreline.  "I seed a monster, like a bogeyman, and I runned away, like Mam al'ays told me to.  But then I falled off of the mountain, and then I couldn't climb up."

"Are you a stranger?  Cause Mam says I mustn't talk with strangers."  Her gaze, clear hazel eyes, red rimmed, doubtless from tears, locks with Trista's.  It is as if she is trying to see Trista's soul.

Behind the child, now distracted, the water of the lake flows, quickly, and without any fuss, into a vertical column, which shimmers and assumes the familiar form of Lexy, complete with circling halo of live minnows.  The woman's blue gown is entirely dry as she steps onto the shingle.  "Trista is no stranger, Katie.  She is my friend.  Do you know who I am?"

Katie's head swivels around to face Lexy, "The wood lady in the Chapel.  Mam says as if I'm losted or hurts, I got to go to the water, and then you'll find me.  I falled off of the mountain, and I went to the water, just like Mam says."

Monsters and bogeymen...


A grinning moon lit up the clear night sky. Below the dancing stars, laughter washed over the dusty landscape. Adults and children played tag, sang songs, danced with sweethearts, and enjoyed the cool desert air around a roaring campfire.

Trista's eyes sparkled as she darted between the cacti out beyond the campsite, dodging the older boys and girls and finding good hiding spots for the little ones. They wound their way further and further from the tents toward the dry riverbed, heedless of the night.

After depositing little Kristie behind a bolder and reminding her to be very quiet, Trista gave her a wink and sped away, drawing the the gawky Darren's long strides away from her small cousin. Kristie wouldn't be 'it' again if Trista could help it!

With an excited yelp and giggle, Trista slid across the pebbles down onto her knees, just barely out of Darren's reach. Scrambling to get up and run again, Trista suddenly halted in her path, her body tensing and her eyes piercing the dark beyond the riverbed.

“Aha! Gotcha, Tris! Finally.” Darren's hand pushed into Trista's shoulder blade, but the girl didn't flinch under the older boy's strength. Instead her hand cut the air and covered his mouth while her other hand raised a warning finger to her lips. The boy's eyes grew to saucers as he, too, peered into the darkness. He had learned to trust Trista; the younger girl had instincts beyond any of them.

Something lurked out there – the desert's version of monsters. There it was again, a shuffling of a distant stone. Trista pulled Darren back with her, picked up Kristie, and whispered into the game of children, “It's time to go. Now.” Laughter lingered, but slowly died out as one child and then another passed along Trista's message.

The thing drew closer, “NOW! RUN!” Trista lead the pack, her bare feet numb to the sticks and stones they stomped. She didn't look back, not once. Instead, she ran straight to her father and roughly shoved the whimpering Kristie into his arms, tearing him apart from her mother.

“The Mocking Ones are coming. I gotta go back. Get inside the tents.” Trista didn't wait for an answer but spun around to run back into the darkness.

“Wait!” She reluctantly halted, and darted her eyes back. A small utility knife flew through the air and she caught it – a tool from her father. She snapped it open, smiled, and gave him a thumb's up. As she tore back out of the camp, the rest of the children made their way into the camp and poured into tents amidst fearful voices and sharp tears.

11 year old Trista ran in and out and caught Their attention. They circled around and followed her away from the camp and down the riverbed. She drew them away so that only her scent flared their nostrils and only her flesh tempted their fangs.

She chose her spot, brandished the small knife, and faced two of the agile creatures under that grinning moon.


Trista's eyes travel up the cliff when the girl points to it, wondering what is really up there. Her gaze is back with the girl by the time she's boring into her. Amusement tickles the back of Trista's thoughts. She won't get too far if she's trying to get into the woman's mind, but if she wants to read her character, Trista is an open book. Somewhat.

Before she answers about strangers, Lexy appears in a cloud of vaporous beauty. The 'wood lady'? After nodding to the other woman, Trista turns back to Katie, “I'm going to make your cuts feel better, okay?” The cuts first, then she'll turn her attention to the arm. And to getting the girl home.

As she cleans with antiseptic and presses Band-Aids onto the small cuts, she talks soothingly to the girl, “Sounds like your mam would be proud of you, you did just what you were told. That means you're smart as well as resourceful. What did the monster look like?” The last was asked in an almost casual tone, as if it was simply for Trista's curiosity.

Katie watches Trista with concerned eyes as the woman approaches.  She relaxes though when she sees the first aid equipment.  "No worms.  Good, I don't like the worms.  Mam says they drink blood."

She gazes curiously at the dressing Trista places on one of the smaller cuts, but looks up sharply as Trist asks about the bogeyman.  "I seed him.  Like a man, 'cept not really.  And he was covered in knives.  Lots of knives, all walking round on his skin.  He was scary."

"I runned away, and I looked to see if he was after me.  Then I falled, cause I didn't look at where I runned.  He looked at me from up there, but I stayed still, and he never seed me I think.  His eyes looked like they was on fire, but he never seed me."

She pauses then, as a new thought comes to her, "Or maybes he thinked as I was dead."  And another idea, adding a note of panic to her voice, "If he knows I ain't, he'll look for me!"

Lexy moves closer, laying a hand on the girl's head, "I'm sure he's gone.  Maybe he was scared that he would fall down too, so he gave up."

Worms?

Leeches, most likely. The idea tickles, but Trista keeps a serious face, taking the girl's dislike seriously.

The description of the bladed man proves more disconcerting. A man, not a wheel. Trista listens with a neutral face, nodding at appropriate intervals, finishing up her work as the girl talks. After Lexy seeks to reassure the girl, Trista gives Katie a proud smile and a wink, “Personally, I think you out-smarted the bogeyman.”

“Now, will you let me see your arm?” If the girls allows, Trista gently examines the small arm, looking for breaks or other problems she might be able to splint.

As she does so, she quietly continues, “After we get you back home, I'll do my best to make sure the knife man doesn't come back, okay?” After all, Trista is the Childward as Berd put it.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:09, Sun 08 June 2008.

With a gasp at the sudden movement, Katie holds her arm out for Trista to examine, but her gaze turns to Lexy, which is, perhaps unsurprising.  It's not every day that you get to meet a lady that you generally only see as a statuette, nor one with a halo of live fish circling her head.

The arm is very badly bruised, and the child winces several times, as Trista examines the limb.

The break, which is readily apparent, is at least a fairly clean one, about half way along the ulna, with especially severe bruising to indicate the location.  To Trista's eye, it looks as though Katie probably struck something with her arm on the way down the cliff, and the impact was hard enough to fracture the delicate bone of the child's forearm.

There are a few pieces of driftwood at the water's edge.  Branches mostly, any of which would work as a splint.

Lexy's expression grows distant for a moment, "He is riding along the bank of a stream which flows into the lake.  I believe I can reach him."


Miles away now, Chance rides in the cart with the surprisingly friendly Eben.  Suddenly, the black-clad man finds his attention drawn to the brook that they are currently travelling beside...

Chance lounges as much as he can in the wagon with Eben, arm slung over the back of the stiff wooden bench that creaks with bump and bounce of the sturdy wagon. He smiled. For once, he didn’t have to be all the entertainment. He enjoyed listening to stories as much as telling them, and it was also a bonus to add a few more pages to his mental notebook.

It took a few moments to realize what had happened. Eben was distracted by the babbling brook, and Chance soon realized the brook really was babbling--speaking to him.

“Stop,” he barks and bounds off the bench.

Guitar clutched to his chest he trots over to the water and looks down. Was Trista in trouble?

Relief soothes his features moments later, and he nods in understanding.

“Maybe,” he says. “From the tales Luke told me, I remember a few shapeshifters encountered along the way. The blade and fire ones, I know they change sizes and have extreme control over their bodies.”

He shudders at the memory of letters carved into a desk, sawdust flying, and he trying to remain calm. Those blades could slice the flesh from a man and leave the bones standing without a knick.

“But I don’t think they could appear entirely as a man, the way the shapeshifters could. At a distance, through a child’s eyes, one of the wheels could perhaps get close enough to a human form to pass under those circumstances. Why? What have you encountered?”

He glances over his shoulder to see if Eben has run off in fear yet.

Behind Chance, Eben stretches and halls a satchel out from under the seat.  From this he takes a green glass bottle, holding some clear liquid, and a sandwich that could choke a fair-sized dragon.  The teamster takes his lunch, while waiting for his passenger to come back.


Back at the lakeside, Trista continues to tend the child's wounds...

Utilizing a cloth from her pack and the driftwood from the beach, Trista gently splints Katie's arm. She gives the girl a few tidbits of advice and warning on how to care for her injured arm, but otherwise, her attention wavers.

Chance turns and offers a smile to the wagon drive and then returns his concentration to the water.

Katie nods amiably as Trista explains the things that she should, and should not, do with her injured arm.  Her eyes are still fixed on Lexy though.  Suddenly she laughs, and says, "Thirteen!"

"Yes, there are.  Do you know what else there are thirteen of?" Lexy replies quietly.  The child grows thoughtful, screwing up her face in concentration.  Lexy's own face becomes sorrowful, as does the voice echoing in the minds of Chance and Trista.


"Thirteen friends for the Lady!" Katie exclaims, triumphantly, bringing a smile from Lexy.  "That's right, Katie, thirteen fish to remind everybody of my thirteen Companions.  Your mother will be pleased that you remembered that."

As her fingers finish their job, Trista follows Katie's laughing gaze to Lexy. Perplexed, the woman takes a moment before counting the fish herself. Thirteen. She gives the girl a wink and a grin and proceeds to stuff back into her pack as the girl considers the puzzle put to her.


An eyebrow pops up, “Thirteen friends?” She glances at Lexy as she stands then turns back to Katie, “Why don't you tell me about them while I walk you home. Do you think you can lead me back to your house?”

Katie starts to get to her feet, struggling a little, but refusing to ask for assistance.  "We can go that way to climb up."  She points along the shore with her good arm.  "Some rocks and dirt falled down there and maked a... a... "  Her face screws up in concentration, and her eyes close tight, as she tries to think of the word, and then, "A ram!"

"We can walk up there, and then go over the South Three, to the house.  But you'll need to keep up."  She starts to walk slowly along the shingle, in the indicated direction.

"The Lady had thirteen friends, except they was called something else.  That word she said, the big one that starts with a C... "

"Companions." Lexy interrupts, and starts to follow the child. 

"Yes, copanimans.  There was John, with his swords in his hands.  And the Beast, that is a kind of magical cat.  And the hunter with the wolf, but I can never 'member her name.  And Ares, and Jack, and the singing lady, Sky-Anne, and she could make magic pictures... "

Chance spends a few more minutes facing the water, nodding here and there. Finally, he turns and heads back to the wagons with a friendly smile. "Sorry about that; I thought I heard a voice in the water there."

There's a touch of confusion in Trista, but she shakes it off as she takes after Katie and Lexy, drawing up alongside the little girl. She listens amiably as she discusses the various companions and realizes she must be talking of those who have gone before when Lexy traveled with Berd.

Magical cat? I need to remember that one. No doubt, Berd would be amused. Or insulted, which could also be amusing. After all, the description comes from a child.

The woman keeps alert, her ears on both Katie as well as their surroundings. Her eyes scrutinize everything on their way, looking for signs of the creature's passage. If not the creature itself.

Lexy stops in her tracks, just for a moment, and then hurries to catch up again.

She seems to avoid the child, walking instead on the opposite side of Trista, though that might be because it allows her to walk at the water's edge.  Still, she studies the child as she walks, with eyes which seem less friendly than previously.


Katie continues talking as she walks, stories of battles against monsters, of deaths and terrible injuries, of kindness and sorrow, of a ship as big as the moon, and women with snakes in their hair.


Finally they reach a point where part of the cliff has tumbled, producing a ramp to the area above, which is barely higher than Trista's head by this point.


Eben chuckles at his passenger.  "Well now, I's heard o' them as have started to hearin' voices where there's none to be heard, on account o' loneliness, but I always reckoned as how it'd take longer'n an hour or two to break a man's mind."

"Hop up, lad, an we can be on our way."

True to his word, the wagon starts moving almost before chance has had a chance to sit down again.  The road continues, gradually climbing away from the stream, though never quite getting out of earshot of it.

After a little while, Eben gives Chance a curious look, "You don't live in these parts, do you?  What makes you want to help with the road?"

Though she schools her face to nothing but keen interest in the child's stories, Trista's eyes darken slightly as she scrutinizes the child on one side of her and keeps aware of Lexy's every motion on the other side of her.


The little group come to the fortuitous ramp and Trista halts, a hand coming out to gently stop Katie's movements. The woman lowers herself to be at eye level with the girl, a reassuring smile on her face. “Katie, before we go up, how about we play a little game?  It's a guessing game. You think of something, anything at all, and I will try to guess what it is. Then you can try and after we'll go up the cliff. It'll be fun!”

And with that Trista's mind gently, so carefully, so quietly, seeks to touch Katie's mind.

Chance smiles softly at the question, but his eyes remain distant, as if looking through the trees and hills to some distant horizon. After a few moments, he says, "That's an interesting question. What makes any man want to help? I mean, don't we naturally have great interest in our own prosperity? You and I both know I'll gain nothing from helping but a sore back. Yet, I've gave my word and I intend to keep it. Well, in this case, the offer is not so noble. The godspeaker showed Trista and I considerable hospitality today, put us in touch with someone that can help us in our quest, so I asked if there was a way to return the favor. It's those that help without a stake in the helping that are really crazy."

He smiles, knowing there is more to it than that, but waiting to hear the man's answer before adding to it.

"What about those who hear voices when they're near water, especially if it connects with the lake? You reckon they're crazy too?"

Katie looks back, straight into Trista's eyes, and smiles proudly.  "I'm good at guessings!"  She closes her eyes, then, and he brow furrows in concentration.  "Ready!"



"Oh, aye.  Daft as they come." Eben replies, chuckling.  Then his expression grows more thoughtful, "It'd be a special kind of daftness, mind you.  Folk in these parts have a lot of faith in their Lady.  I respects that, even if I's never seen her, or spoke to her myself."

The wagon moves on, slowly but surely, climbing up and away from the stream.

"There's few in these days'd stay true to such a promise, made to strangers as it was."

"I's not from here neither, but they've all been good to me.  Right from the start, they acted like I's always lived here.  Good folk, all."  Smiling, he looks in Chance's direction, and then past him, as his eyes widen and the smile becomes a frown.  "What the bloody hell's that?"

Further up the slope, to one side of the road, is a large boulder, perhaps ten feet tall, jutting up from the earth.  Near the top is a hole, a little less than three feet in diameter, and perfectly circular, bored straight through the stone.

"That hole weren't there yest'day."

It doesn’t take long; in fact, the little girl’s mind unabashedly opens to Trista. Guilt envelopes Trista for the non-invasive intrusion and she quickly withdraws. Although she can’t stop a smile from edging her lips up. The image she found in Katie’s mind was pure childhood innocence. But perhaps it would be best if Trista didn’t guess correctly.

The woman faux concentrates just as Katie does, then opens her eyes and cocks her head to one side. “Hmmm, could you be thinking of a pig?”

Once Katie confirms she’s wrong, and they both laugh over it, Trista allows the girl to guess. And perhaps… give her a little edge. “It’s your turn; what am I thinking of?” A small smile remains as she hopes Katie can guess correctly…

Katie laughs, "No, not a pig.  A sheep!"

Then she focuses her eyes on Trista's, and says, "You are thinking about a...  No, no... you are thinking about a cow that jumps."  Nearby, Lexy laughs and continues up the ramp.  As she reaches the top though, the look of amusement fades from her features.  She turns to face back down the incline, "Katie.  I had a magic red pebble once, and I think I lost it just down there, near the water.  Can you see if you can find it.  You are very clever, I'm sure that you can find it for me."



Eben steps down from the wagon and walks a little way off the road, carefully watching where he puts his feet.  A little way off, the pierced stone stands, mute witness to some mystery.

“Impressive,” Trista gives the girl an appreciative nod and a wink, “Exactly what I was picturing.” Infectious good humor eases the woman’s soul, yet not for long.

She tightens again at Lexy’s faded smile, pauses, and imperceptively nods.


Keeping an eye on Katie as the girl goes to fetch the pebble, Trista makes her way up the ramp to draw slightly ahead of the watery woman, her hand automatically going to the hilt of the knife strapped to her thigh.

Katie starts searching at the water's edge and starts searching for a pebble which matches Lexy's description.  She doesn't seem to be having much luck, as the pebbles down there are fairly uniform pieces of grey, black, or light brown stone...

As Trista reaches the top of the ramp, Lexy says nothing, but nods towards something sitting on the ground, a short distance away.  Even seated, it is clear that the creature would stand taller than a man, and the breadth of its shoulders  is impressive.

Its skin appears to be composed of bands and plates of steel, most of which have jagged blades and spines projecting from them.  The blades themselves are not fixed, and seem to slide across the skin, creating complex patterns of currents and eddies.

The thing's eyes are dead black orbs, as it glances at the two women, and then returns its attention to a spot on the ground.  It reaches out a metal sheathed hand, and one of the blades slides to the tip of a finger, where it stops.  The finger, tipped by the blade, touches the grass.  Then the creature raises it close to what could probably, since it is the location of the eyes, be referred to as its face.  It seems to peer intently at the fingertip for a moment, and then it speaks, in a voice like the sound of knives being sharpened.

+ WE ARE CALLED TRGIAOB.  FEAR NOT, FOR WE WILL NOT HARM YOU.  YOU MAY BE ABLE TO SATISFY OUR CURIOSITY.  TELL US, IF YOU CAN, WHAT IS THIS CREATURE? +

The finger which it had been studying so closely is held out towards the two

Trista prepares herself for anything. And yet, somehow the roughly humanistic bladed creature catches her completely by surprise, stopping the woman’s breath. Shoulders. Finger. Sitting. Eyes. Human-shaped. A frown mars the woman’s forehead and her hand grips the machete more tightly as she pulls it from its leather casing.

When her breath comes back, she takes a protective step forward. The creature sees them, but pays them no mind as it studies something on the ground. A ruse? Yet, she remembers what the others have said concerning ‘good’ wheels. Then she remembers Katie’s description of the human-shaped creature she saw. And here it is in the flesh. Or metal, as it were.

Completely confused, Trista merely stands there, eyes riveted to the blades in constant motion. It seems almost child-like in its curiosity. Don’t be fooled.

The grating sound if its voice comes and Trista lifts an eyebrow toward Lexy.


The woman lowers the blade so as to not appear threatening and purposefully walks forward until she can see what might lie on the thing’s ‘finger.’ As she does so, she takes the polite path, “I am Trista. You appear a long way from home.” If the creature allows her to draw close enough, she stops when she is able to see what resides on the blade.

+ YES.  FAR FROM HOME. +

The creature's voice seems to change, less like the honing of blades... more like the polishing of them, + IT HAS BEEN LONG SINCE WE WERE HOME.  WE CAN BARELY RECALL IT. +

The harsh clashing tones return, + YOU ARE NOT LIKE THIS THING.  IT IS HOME, BUT YOU ARE NOT.  IT APPEARS THAT WE HAVE A CIRCUMSTANCE IN COMMON. +

Interesting. An eyebrow arches as the Archon seems to grow nostalgic over its home. Not a trait Trista would have equated with the creatures. She had only ever been in contact with one of them, aiding James in a fight against a large wheel of fire. The bladed wheels had been in the sky, but one which resembled a human in shape… and emotions?

Interesting, indeed.

The woman draws near until she makes out the little red body and 8 thin legs. She stops, there. Her chin juts out toward the little creature, “That’s a spider. Most are harmless to creatures our – size.” It sounds vaguely silly to equate Trista’s smaller frame to that of the metallic Trgiaob. “They make silk,” just an added thought.

Shifting her gaze up to the black orbs representing eyes, she cautiously asks, “Why do you think this is not my home?”

Simply put, Trista’s at a loss.

+ SPIDER.  INTERESTING, THAT A THING SO SMALL CAN BE SO COMPLEX. +

The Archon extends its hand, and carefully returns the tiny arachnid to the grass.  + WE CAN TELL THAT YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE, EITHER OF YOU.  THERE IS A MUSIC TO EVERY WORLD, AND EVERY THING VIBRATES IN HARMONY WITH IT.  IN YOUR CASE, THERE IS A DISCORDANCE.  NOT AS GREAT AS OUR OWN, AND NOT AS SUBTLE AS IN THAT ONE, + it indicates Lexy, + OR IN THE SMALL HUMAN, BY THE WATER.  YOU ARE NOT IN HARMONY WITH THE WORLD AROUND YOU. +

+ THE SPIDER IS IN HARMONY WITH THIS WORLD.  WE SUSPECT THAT THERE MAY BE A MINGLING OF WORLDS HERE.  PERHAPS THE WORK OF THE SERAPHIM. +

+ DO YOU SERVE THE SERAPHIM? +

Chance had really hoped to ignore the hole in the boulder. Not out of some silly, they're-more-afraid-of-me-than-I-am-of-them thinking, but so he could come back later, alone, and investigate. That wasn't possible now.

He sighed. Where was Trista when he needed her? He felt downright vulnerable without some kind of assuring presence at his side.

"Yep," Chance says, "that's a problem, alright. Sorry Mr. Eben, but things are likely to get a little weird now. If anything scary happens, get as far from here as you can. In fact, get yourself to the lake, or water that connects to the lake. I know this'll sound weird, but tell the lake what happened, alright?"

He hops out of the wagon. As he does, his clothing shifts to chain and leather armor. The guitar melts into a hefty blade.

"It ain't superstition," he adds.

Moving at a slow pace, he checks his surroundings as he approaches he boulder and seeks a way to look down into the hole.

The hole runs straight through the stone, perfectly circular, from one side to the other.  As Chance moves closer, and peers into the opening, he notes a peculiarity which had been invisible from further away.  The inside of the hole is covered with fine writing, or at least rows and lines of odd symbols which might be writing.  The lines spiral around the interior of the hole, and certain groups and combinations of symbols are repeated at irregular intervals.


Lexy studies Trgiaob, standing quietly just two yards from Trista.  "As far as we are aware, we do not serve the Seraphim.  We are travellers though."

The Archon turns its head to regard her, + WHY ARE YOU IN THIS PLACE?  IT IS DANGEROUS FOR YOUR KIND. +

Chance shakes his head. "Okay, Rosetta," he muses, "what are you trying to tell me." He glances around his environment, knowing that if there were an Archon nearby, preparedness would only lengthen his suffering anyway. He braces himself and leans closer for a better look at the symbols.

What little he knew of linguistics said this was probably some form of language, given how symbols and groups of symbols repeated.

"Or maybe I'm the one that should be leaving a Rosetta stone.

He adopts a sitting position atop the stone, next to the hole, as he thinks. The others would probably have a better idea of what to do with this. Among humans, writing was used to convey or store information. He felt certain this was an Archon's doing, remembering Cyan's pair of followers and how one of them demonstrated their precision by writing on the table. He doubted this Archon was writing down a recipe for Chicken Soup--so who was it trying to talk to?

"Hey Eben," he calls out. "Any idea what these symbols say in here? Come take a look."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:47, Thu 21 Aug 2008.

As Triagob speaks, Trista’s mind grasps for snatches of knowledge imparted by Berd. All the factions she’s heard about, into which does this one fit? Certainly not the Seraphim by the passive behavior he displays. And by his last question… interesting.

Why isn’t Chance here? He’s the diplomat. He would know what to ask, here. Me? Not a chance. Trista lets out a tiny little snort at her inward pun, glances sideways at Lexy, “Sorry,” and stills her face again. She’s meant to play guard, not think circles around what to ask.

Then her mind lights upon a possibility. Nephelim? Didn’t they actually like people?

Trista re-focuses on the conversation at hand. “Why is it dangerous to us?”

Trgiaob rises smoothly to its feet in a single sedate motion which leaves it towering over the two women.

+ THE SERAPHIM HAVE DAMAGED THIS WORLD, WE BELIEVE.  OTHER NEARBY PLACES ARE BLEEDING INTO IT, WEAKENING IT, AND THEM.  THE SMALL ONE WHO TRAVELS WITH YOU IS A CLEAR SIGN OF THIS.  THIS IS NOT TRULY HER HOME, THOUGH IT IS CLOSE. +

Lexy gives Trista a sharp look, "That might explain Katie's slightly different version of history."

+ SUCH MINGLING OF WORLDS, TO WEAKEN THEM, IS OFTEN A SIGN THAT THE SERAPHIM ARE TAKING AN INTEREST IN A PLACE. +


Eben wanders over to the stone, with its mysterious bore hole, "Looks like writin', but not like what's used in these parts.  'cept maybe out at some o' the further farms, where they didn't see much school."

"What made this?  Nothin' could make a smooth hole like this, so quick."

Trista tenses at the creature’s words; the need to safeguard Katie rises quickly. Katie and her world. She throws a tight nod toward Lexy and then focuses on Triagob again. “Trgiaob,” it doesn’t sound right coming from the woman’s lips, but she does her best to pronounce the Archon’s name, “you are an observer here? Do you know why the Seraphim have taken an interest?

She pauses for only a moment, weighing her words. Best to just ask, “And more importantly, are you willing to help these worlds?”

+ AGAINST THE SERAPHIM, WE COULD DO LITTLE.  COULD YOU DEFEND THIS WORLD, ALONE, AGAINST A THOUSAND OF YOUR KIND?  AGAINST TEN THOUSAND?  A MILLION?  WITH ALLIES, SUCH AS THE NEPHELIM, WE COULD, PERHAPS, MAKE A STAND HERE.  BUT WE ARE NOT OF THE NEPHELIM... WE ARE ALONE.  TRAVELLING, EXPLORING, LEARNING WHAT WE CAN BEFORE ALL IS DESTROYED. +

The Archon's harsh mnetallic voice, manages to sound lonely and sad, + WHEN THIS WORLD IS GONE, WE WILL STILL PRESERVE THE MEMORY OF SPIDERS.  THIS IS OUR PURPOSE. +

The blades begin to move faster, and briefly they disconnect from the skin, becoming a wheel of clashing steel, which scatters showers of sparks across the grass.  + THE SERAPHIM TOO HAVE A PURPOSE.  SINCE THEY LEARNED OF THESE WORLDS, THEY HAVE COVETED THEM.  WE BELIEVE THEY WISH TO CONQUER, AND MAKE ALL OF YOUR WORLDS INTO PLACES WHERE ARCHONS CAN RAISE YOUNG.  THE SERAPHIM ARE AN ARMY, BUT EVERY MEMBER OF THAT ARMY DESIRES ITS OWN ARMY, WITH WHICH TO IMPOSE ITS WILL ON THE REST. +

Trgaiob pauses briefly, befor adding, + WE HAVE HEARD THAT A HUMAN TRAITOR DIRECTED THEM HERE, TO THIS WORLD, AND TO OTHERS. +
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:00, Thu 04 Sept 2008.

Chance rubs his chin as Eben speaks. "I doubt this would be the work of farmers, though. Perhaps whatever made it meant to imitate their writing, but I can only guess at what made it." Pretty accurate guess, though, he thinks.

"Well, we should probably keep going and just keep our eyes open for trouble. I don't know what else we could do here. What do you think?"

+ ONCE THEY SET THEIR MINDS TO TAKING ONE OF YOUR WORLDS, THERE IS LITTLE THAT CAN BE DONE, BEYOND PERHAPS DELAYING THE END TO SOME SMALL DEGREE. +

The Archon tilts its head, gazing up at the sky, + SOMETIMES THE WORLD ITSELF WILL FIGHT BACK.  THE ESHURIANTI DISLIKE WATER, SO EXCESS MOISTURE IN THE ATMOSPHERE CAN SLOW THEM, AT LEAST WHILE IT CONTINUES.  EVEN SO, IT IS USUALLY ONLY A BRIEF DELAY. +

As if to emphasise the point, it starts to rain.  Large drops, seeming almost lazy in their descent.  Trgiaob's blades move faster again, and those droplets which fall close to the Archon seem to explode into mist...


Eben regards Chance thoughtfully, as if unsure just how much of a guess the man would be making.  Then he turns back towards the wagon.  "We needs to move.  Reckon it's comin' to rain soon."

He nods towards the sky, above the valley behind them.  Dark clouds are gathering there now, pierced by occasional swift-moving shafts of sunlight.  As Chance follows the man's gaze, something gleams in one of those shafts, just below the clouds, like a glittering disk of polished metal, no bigger than a pin's head at this distance...


Trgiaob's eyes drop, to meet Trista's, + THEY ARE HERE. +

To have more experience. To have more knowledge. To have those who know…

Trgaiob doesn’t impart good news to Trista, though its sentimentality touches her in an odd way. Stormy eyes reflect the anger brewing inside the woman. What right? What point to devour without thought. Pointless question, and she knows it.

“There has to be a way,” she retorts, “A way to stop them. Our worlds deserve preservation in more than memory.” Eyes soften and she adds, “Thank you, Trgaiob. Perhaps it is the Nephalim I need to seek. Otherwise, I’m at a loss.”

Then the rain.

And the foreboding news. Trista’s eyes open as the creature’s words take root and she immediately turns to look for Katie. Once she knows she’s safe – for now – she turns back, “I may only be able to delay, but I have to try.”

Turning to Lexy, she speaks in hurried words, “Can you reach Chance from here? We need to tell him of this.”

The small black bird stops to rest, finding a branch on a tall tree. It has been a long journey with little reward and the creature looks forward to seeing "The Woman" again. The insects crawling on the bark make a fine meal.

ämi can still feel Her having never completely released the connection, but it is weak, though growing stronger all the time. Finally he is close enough now to pick out important bits from Her thoughts.

Trista doesn't have to look far to find Katie.  The child is running up the ramp towards the group who are conversing on the clifftop.  As she runs, she is crying out excitedly, "I sawed a star that danced!  It was in the clouds, and... "  She spots Trgiaob, and her words stop abruptly, becoming a scream.

The Archon shifts form, becoming a wheel of blades.  "BEHOLD!" it proclaims, and a swarm of assorted butterflies, bees, and birds burst forth from the empty space at its heart.

Katie stops screaming, though her mouth remains open.  Her eyes grow round, as she watches the scattering creatures darting out across the meadow.

Out above the lake, there is a flash among the clouds, Katie's "star" blazes brightly now, rain-dimmed sunlight, breaking through a sudden break in the cloud cover and reflecting from metal.

Lexy turns to Trista, "Chance may have moved away from the water.  I can't feel him."  Then, quietly, as an afterthought, "Or something might have happened to him."


The Archon drops rapidly, coming across the water towards the cluster of humans, and Trgiaob.  Behind Lexy, the rain seems to redouble in its intensity, curtains of water swirling around each other, and then...

... and then the waters of the lake seem to leap skyward, spinning, forming a tornado-like column which envelopes the lone Archon.

"Go!"

Damn.

The girl won't take this well, of course. And so Trista immediately moves toward her as she finishes speaking to Lexy, but not reaching the girl before she sees the Archon and a piercing shriek slices through her excited babble. Trgiaob displays his true self amidst a fluttering of tiny creatures, and the girl goes into shock.

Chance can't be reached, and time runs out.


She's confronted this choice before: to be the warrior and boldly face the enemy or to be the protector and bring safety to the innocent. There is no hesitation - she will protect the innocent Every. Blessed. Time.

Trista scoops the shell-shocked little girl up, hugging her close as she runs toward the village, her body confident and her step sure. Her thoughts, on the other hand, race and scatter, worrying over Lexy, Chance, and the gentle Archon.

And over Katie.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:39, Fri 19 Sept 2008.

Chance stares off at the darkening clouds for a moment, trying to catch another glimmer. This was too much. Too many warning signs all at once made him uncomfortable. Sure, he had made a promise to the town, but he never said when he would help clear the road.

"You know, Eben," He says, "I just realized I dropped my lucky coin back there, by the water. Why don't you go on ahead, and I'll catch up after I look for it. In fact, I know a thing or two about storms, you might want to find shelter for a little bit. This one is going to be ... something else. I'm serious, now. I've seen this kind of storm before."

Without waiting long for a reply, he stuffs his hands in his pant pockets and saunters off towards the water, intending to quicken the pace when Eben is further away.

Trgiaob moves swiftly towards Trista and Katie, shrinking until no bigger than a dinner plate.  The clashing metallic voice, somewhat quieter now, asks the young woman, "DO YOU REQUIRE ASSISTANCE?  WITH OUR COLLECTION RELEASED, WE COULD EASILY TRANSPORT YOU."


Chance heads back down towards the stream, while Eben, not requiring any further urging, gets his wagon moving along the road, and away from the water.


From where Chance stands, he can see the lake, seemingly rearing up to hammer against the clouds, a rapidly rotating column of water and floating debris, and then the gleaming metal ring breaks loose of the ascending torrent...


Above and behind Trista, the enemy Archon appears again, moving a little erratically for a moment, before plunging down towards Lexy.  The woman glances at Trista, and begins to change shape, becoming a spinning hoop of water.

Thinking Trgiaob intends to escape as the now-small archon reaches her swiftly, the creature's words take Trista off guard. It offers assistance, but full trust isn't easily extended.

Still in motion, Trista's thoughts fling about. First remembering the other archons she's seen. Then the words of Berd and Dorian. The little spider Trgiaob handled with such care. The myriad of creatures let loose from the archon. Collection? He was keeping them alive and safe.

“Yes, if we can bring Katie to the village, warn the others, would you bring me back here?” Trust tenuously extends to her bladed ally as she comes to a halt and faces Trgiaob, “I would appreciate the help.”

To Katie, she whispers, “Trust me and close your eyes. We're going for a short ride.”

The Archon expands again, rising above Trista and Katie, to lay horizontal in the air above them for a moment, and then it drops...

Trgiaob rises again, leaving nothing but a ring of freshly cut grass where Trista and her young charge had stood.  Then the Archon blurs away through the air, towards the village.

High above the lake, in the hills, Chance hears a sound rolling up from the distant water.  It is a sound which probably only two people in this world might recognise, and one of those two is not in a place where she can hear it just now.  The sonic boom echoes back from the surrounding hills, startling Eben and his animals...

Chance glances in the direction of the sound, unsure of what it meant. Knowing what it was didn't tell him if it was friendly or hostile. Things were feeling out of control, and in a way he wasn't comfortable with. He frowned, glancing back towards Eben. He hated to leave the man unprotected, but worry over Trista overwhelmed him. He had just found her. He couldn't stand the thought of losing her. One archon here meant there would be more. There were always more.

He turns back to the water. "Lexy," he says. "Can you take me to Trista?"

Though she has extended trust to Trgiaob, the site of the creature expanding and hovering above her and Katie sends shiver down Trista's spine. I made a mistake!

But she stands fast, her eyes reflexively slamming shut as the archon drops around them. Lexy's voice suddenly cuts off, and Trista opens her eyes to see... nothing. Emptiness. No sounds, no lights, no color. Not hot, not cold. The woman gulps and sooths a hand through Katie's hair.

"I can try.  The ride may be rough, I'm a little preoccupied."

Chance suddenly finds himself on his knees, in about six inches of water at the edge of the lake.  Above him a hoop of water whirls through a deadly dance with one of the danioti, under a sky filled with a sprawling, rotating cloud formation, blazing with flickers of lightning.  Torrential rain falls upwards from the surface of the lake, is focussed and directed through Lexy's elemental form, and hammers into the Archon.

A twelve inch sliver of razor-sharp metal splashes down only a yard from Chance.  An upward glance reveals two more Archons ripping through the storm clouds and...

... Chance is back in the town, kneeling outside the chapel.  Around him, people are gathered nervously, staring down towards the lake.  The waters have receded from the dock, leaving boats laying on the exposed mud and weed.  A few fish are flapping about helplessly.  Far off, in the distance, a storm rages.

And then an Archon appears, hurtling into the crowded area and somehow failing to injure anybody.  It hovers before Chance, and a Trista steps from the empty space at the creature's core, with a small child, eyes tightly closed, gripping her hand...
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:27, Fri 03 Oct 2008.

Chance flinches at the sight of the Archons in the water, trying to get his bearings. Then, finding himself suddenly in town, flinches at the appearance of a second Archon--already preparing to throw himself between it and the townsfolk. Too late, it is already among them.

He sees Trista, somehow emerging from the belly of the beast.

Archons ... water ... inverted Rosetta stones ...

Before he can think he is on his feet and sweeps Trista up in an embrace, arms wrapping around her tightly.

Then, just as suddenly, but more awkwardly, he steps back. "I mean," he looks down and runs his fingers through his hair. "You okay?"

Emptiness gives way to the town with sky, buildings, people, and Chance kneeling before the church. Ironic. Before Trista can say anything, the man ran rises and she finds herself clutched closely to him. Startled, she brings her free hand up to return the embrace. It's been far too long since anyone greeted her in such a manner, and because of that she doesn't know quite what to do. Or say. Or think.

Behind her confusion, like a single note of an oboe in a cacophonous orchestra, lies a pleased appreciation for his warmth.

Concern fills her eyes as he steps back and she sees his soaked jeans. “Yeah,” she quietly responds, “I'm okay. But what about you? What happened to you?”

She wants to ask more, but after he responds, there's no time to lose and she continues on. “Archons are here. Interested in this world, or one of the worlds... they're bleeding into one another. I -” she cuts off as she crouches beside Katie.

“It's all right, you're home. Do you see your parents?” If she does, Trista encourages her to go to them. If not, she holds on all the more tightly to the girl.

Rising again, Trista draws closer to Chance, speaking in hurried, low tones. “Lexy is up against one. I told her I'd return to help. Trgiaob here,” she gestures to the patient Archon, “can bring us back to her. He's (no longer an it in her mind) one of the observing kind. I want to help these people but I don't know how unless we can stop a possible invasion if more show up. And Lexy needs our help.

“Will you come with me?”

"Oh, yeah," he says, looking down at his jeans. "Just a bumpy ride is all."

He watches as she talks to the child, unsure where the kid came from. As usual, his composure recovers almost immediately. The momentary awkwardness might never have existed given his features now.

"Yeah, I think we can stop one, but I'm not so sure about an invasion. No way to stop that from happening if it does, though. Let's go help her."

He steps back as his clothing flutters in an invisible wind and begins to change.  Glossy black plates and high-tech gray mesh replace jeans and t-shirt. An opaque faceplate drops over his features, from a helmet. The high-tech armor whines as internal power fires up, bringing targeting systems and automated defenses online.

Thick plated gloves finger a string on the guitar, spawning a gentle note.

His voice is metallic and distant. "Ready."

Katie looks about nervously, but she doesn't look nearly as nervous as the crowd which is pulling back from the hovering Archon.  Finally the girl points at one man, "Uncle Bak!"  She starts to run towards the confused-looking man who, nonetheless, does seem to recognise her.

She stops, and turns, running back to Trista, and giving her a quick hug, "Thank you."

Behind Trista, the Archon's voice suddenly booms out, and a number of the people start to run.  Others simply fall where they are, laying on the hard ground.

"WE SHOULD HURRY.  MORE HAVE ARRIVED."

And then, the wheel darts forward, dropping over Trista and Chance, before darting away again, leaving only an empty space in the market square.

Katie, holding the hand of her uncle, points to the place where the pair had stood.  "Magic, like Berd the Cat."


Trista and Chance are in a place where nothing exists except them.  It is neither warm nor cold, and there don't appear to be any walls, though there is sufficient light to see some distance in every direction.  For that matter, there doesn't really seem to be a floor, though they can feel that they are standing on something.

There is a blurring in the air, and a sort of circular window appears, displaying a view of the lake, and the surrounding hills and valleys.  The scenery is flashing past at incredible speed, and ahead, in the distance, there is a column of spinning water, lightning, and three gleaming metallic discs...

Trista mirrors Chance's backward step, putting more distance between the two as t-shirt and jeans give way to sleek black metal. She blinks hard. And I was sent along as a bodyguard for him? Against archons, he appears much more capable than Trista. Franky, it vexes her.

But there's no time to dwell as Trgiaob announces more of the enemy and their ally encloses them for the ride. The poor townsfolk will be talking about this for years to come, embellishing it as time goes by.

If they survive.

She attempts to send ämi a message, but cannot feel him inside this... place. This time, they're allowed a window to peer through. Tension quakes every muscle as Trista takes in what is happening ahead. “He's right, there are more.” Her hand wraps around the handle of her solitary machete. Normally, she would be strategizing, but right now, she doesn't know what she'll do against creatures such as these with Chance's hi-tech suit and her single blade. She shakes her head, though determination keeps her from hopelessness.

There's always a way.

Isn't there?

She takes a deep breath and glances at Chance, “Hurry, Trgiaob, hurry. I don't know how long Lexy can hold against them.”

Beneath the mask, Chance's visage shows hints of concern. He doesn't know how Trista will perform against Archons, but he knows he has little to bring against them. Remembering what he saw in Cyan's camp, he doubts the armor will mean much against those horrible, spinning blades. They'll carve through the armor as easily as flesh. He bows his head and tries to keep his breathing regular. What else can he do? He can't flee this battle, like he has so many times in his past. He doubts staying will be much better. He'll either die or be as useless as he was in Charyk. That's my fate, he thinks. Useless, little more than pretty decoration, standing among gods.