Monday, Dec 2, 2069 - 4 PM
While Jason takes care of his preparations and Cadena wades through the new players' intro - at least that's what she assumes he's doing - Tracy settles into the big comfy papasan chair that she moved in a few weeks ago, and slips her VR headset on. Scanning bars slide across her vision as it establishes contact, and then the world itself slips away, to be replaced by the Dantech logo, then the words "The Gloaming", silvery metal reflecting an unseen moon and stars.
Treasa Truclaw steps out of the shadows, back into the abandoned New Metropolis apartment. There were large dog tracks back where she came in from Old London. Or wolf's tracks? Perhaps Face Reality had scrambled its agents together across multiple dimensions in a hurry, and Yappy or Graymuzzle had set the fire by accident, or to distract pursuit and cover their tracks.
She's following the trail of dusty pawprints now, through the back hallways of the apartments. Windows look out onto the city of New Metropolis, which could almost be mistaken for North Bend or any other modern city with skyscrapers, if you didn't mind the Gothic bent to the architecture, the float tubes that run up along the side of the buildings, or the airships that gleam like giant Faberge eggs, surely too heavy to fly in any sensible world. It's daytime in the city now, but time passes differently in this world, sometimes faster and sometimes slower as the computers that run it direct.
Up ahead the trail leads to a disused float tube station. Normally it would be a wide open space full of light, one side entirely transparent, and one would step into one of the side by side float tubes to be gently raised or lowered a floor at a time to where one wished to go... But this building looks to have been condemned; the power's out and the tubes aren't running, making them cavernous shafts with ladders running along the sides. The pawprints lead to the one that would normally go up.
Just then, her message orb pulsates against her chest. She wears it as a necklace under her clothes, easy to take out when she wants, hidden in her clothes without giving away her position by light.
Fishing out the orb, Tracy examines its depths to see who is trying to contact her.
"Treesy! Are you okay? Don't you live in the Arcadia Towers, where that attack was?" It's Cait Sindorel, a faerie that Tracy has teamed up with from time to time. She looks like a young girl, if not for the long pointed ears, but the long dragonfly wings that stretch from her back make her a little hard to disguise under the best of circumstances. Normally she relies on her smallness, being a foot high and thus easy to conceal beneath voluminous clothes. She's come in handy on a few heists.
"Cait?" Treasa replies. "Oh that.. uh.. yeah, I heard about it. I'm okay though." She doesn't think she'd have been very specific about where in the towers she lived when talking to Cait, as she's been careful to keep her identity obscure in the game world.
Cait smiles. "Well, that's good! In game for long enough? I've got a line on a few things we could liberate."
"I'm on a special mission, sort of, and going to be helping a greenie dry his ears," Tracy says. "So can't really break off for a side-quest at the moment."
"I'm just a sidequest to you?" Cait gives Tracy sad faerie eyes.
"It's just that I'm on a time limit, sort of," Treasa notes. "The Wild Hunt is searching for a special target.. and I aim to grab it first. They need to see that they aren't above a little balancing, you know?"
Cait grins. "Ooh, that sounds fun. Want some help then?"
Treasa thinks about it. It might be hard to keep the true nature of things hidden from Cait.. but the faerie is handy and mobile and a good spy. "I'm in New Metropolis," Treasa says, giving in with a grin.
"Right, be there in a few! Give me a beacon?" Cait draws a wand from somewhere on her person - how can skimpy clothes manage to hide so many tools, and where does she fit the loot?
Using the orb as if it were a piece of chalk, Treasa draws a complex symbols on the floor, and then taps the center to activate the beacon over the message link.
The orb leaves green lines behind as Treasa draws. Once she completes the symbol, it lifts into the air, then shrinks... or recedes into the distance, if the distance were the center of the orb, and reappears on the other side, at the tip of Cait's wand. "Got it!" Cait says with a smile and wink.
"I could use someone with wings right about now," Treasa admits, and leans against the wall to wait for the faerie's arrival.
The orb blinks as Cait disconnects, then resumes its normal glassy appearance.
Treasa takes a moment to try and figure out which floor she's on.. there should be a plaque near the tube entrance, after all.
The old and tarnished plaque reads "37A." A larger sign nearby proclaims this to be the Blackwoods Arms apartments, but presumably that refers to this floor of the building.
"I guess this is the 'A' tower then," Treasa guesses. She eyes the ladder, and decides to keep going.. Cait will find her.
Catching the ladder rungs, Treasa checks climbs up to the next level, and then checks the rungs further up for dust. She figures if they aren't coated, then her quarry climbed up further.
Up... Up... Five minutes later, she's followed the float tube up to an airship station, a platform extending out from the top of a building like a bridge to nowhere, its flags blowing wildly in the wind. A ticket seller robot gazes emotionlessly at her from behind the bulletproof glass of an aerodynamic booth, its lines Art Deco curves marred by cracks and water stains. behind it are white billboards that would normally be lit up with route and schedule information.
Aproaching the booth, Treasa taps on the glass to see if the robovendor is still active. "Helloooo in there," she croons.
Whirr... Bzzt.. Click! The robot stirs. "Good afternoon, madam! How may I assist you?"
"I'd like to know the airship schedule, please," Treasa responds.
The robot pretends to consult the book in front of it. "To where do you wish to go, madam?"
"Potemkin," Treasa says, hoping there'll be an actual route established already.
"Very good, madam," the robot says. Whirr. "I regret to say this station is not in active service, madam. There is no airship scheduled to arrive at this station for the next day. The last departure was an unregistered airship, eight hours ago."
"Can you give me details about that airship?" Treasa asks. "Such as: who boarded or disembarked, which direction did it come from and which did it go off in?"
The robot buzzes and clicks. "The Black Thorn was boarded by one passenger. Unidentified and unticketed." It sounds disapproving. "No itinerary is on registry for the Black Thorn, but passengers are advised that the Black Thorn is a pirate vessel. We caution against attempting to fly with pirate vessels."
"Passengers may be at risk of robbery, bodily harm, or even murder," the robot clarifies.
"Did it bear a symbol or crest?" Tracy asks. "Was it marked by The Wild Hunt?" she clarifies.
The robot whirrs. "The Black Thorn, like other pirate vessels, is customarily marked by a white skull and crossbones on its black-painted side. We caution passengers to avoid such vessels. Should your airship be accosted by a pirate vessel, please remain calm, as local defense forces will move to assist you as quickly as possible. Under no circumstances should you attempt to exit an airship in midflight."
"Well.. thank you for that information," Treasa tells the robot, and then heads for the edge of the airship landing to get an overview of the city, in case something is visible from up here. She doesn't know if Potemkin is exposed or inside of a building yet.
New Metropolis by day looks like a fusion of North Bend with retrofuturistic visions of bronze. Most transportation seems to be accomplished through airships, small ones and large, and indeed just over there, past a glassy skyscraper, a pirate ship is accosting a larger passenger airliner.
At this distance the sounds of guns and stunbeam fire are muted. Closer to home, Tracy gets a prickle up the back of her neck. Someone's opened a portal nearby!
Reflexively, Treasa hurries back to put the ticket booth between her and the direction she thinks the portal tingle is coming from. It's probably Cait, she realizes.. but caution never hurts.
The prickles die away. A short-lived portal then. Opened just long enough for someone to cross between worlds.
Treasa tenses and listens. Cait should announce herself.. unless she's going to play Hide and Seek first. Moments like this are always nerve wracking for Treasa.
Nothing seems to be happening so far, at least here. Gray winged fighters zip through the air, distracting Treasa momentarily. The defense forces have finally arrived to relieve the airliner of its pirate assailants.
Drawing her knife, Treasa began to creep around the ticket booth, until she could see the lift shaft housing. If it was Cait, and she couldn't find Treasa, then she should be expecting a call on her orb soon enough.
Aha! There, just on the other side of the ticket booth, a small dragonfly-winged faerie is flying low, peering around in search of Treasa.
With a sigh of relief, Treasa starts to put away her knife.. and then pauses. She has some reason to be paranoid, after all, so steps back to where she can quickly hide behind the booth again, hiding her knife behind it as well. "Hey Cait," she calls out. "Have any trouble finding me?"
"Eek!" A faerie squeak on the other side. "How'd you know I was here?"
"Well, I was expecting your arrival," Treasa points out. "And there's only one way up here from where I sent the beacon."
Cait buzzes about the booth, joining Treasa. "And you didn't take the opportunity to jump on me and tickle me from behind?" She grins impishly up at Treasa. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I've been a bit on edge lately," Treasa admits. "I think the Hunt has me on their target list too for some reason. Anyway.. ever hear of a place called Potemkin, built by a bunch of people that aren't even sharing an alignment?"
"Potemkin... Potemkinpotemkinpotemkin," Cait says, looking up in thought.
"It's just a mockup of a real-world place, built in-game," Treasa says. "It's around here somewhere, maybe inside one of the buildings. It's got a mall and everything.."
The faerie points out, "It's a really funny word to say, isn't it? Potemkin! Like potato. Anyway, now that you remind me, I think I remember something. Wasn't it mentioned in one of our guild newsletters? Some people looking for others to move in, help out with the maintenance cost? It sounded like one of those crazy art projects, kinda like all those 'help me build a Utopia' deals."
"I never thought of it as an art project, but that makes sense," Treasa admits. "But if that's the case, it shouldn't be hard to find, right? There must directions to it somewhere."
"Let me pull it up," Cait says. She acquires the vacant look of the AFK, and then a moment later, snaps her fingers. "Got it. It's a set of three skyscrapers all linked together..." She points across the city, and now that she's pointed it out, it's obvious to Tracy. They look just like Arcadia Towers.
The hair on the back of Tracy's neck prickles. Cait looks up. "Someone's coming," she says.
"I'll head up," Tracy says, pointing to the roof over the tubes. "You want to hide behind the booth and run distraction?"
Cait says, "Sure!" She darts off.
Treasa heads to one of the support poles for the tube rain-cover, and climbs quickly.
A mysterious robed figure climbs up the float tube and gazes out into the airship station. There-- something is glowing blue behind the ticket booth!
The mysterious robed figure stoops over, hands to knees, pausing to pant, puff, gasp, and even wheeze. It must not have taken the climb all that well.
The blue glow starts to dwindle.
Holding one hand to its cowl, the mysterious robed figure looks upward, pulling forth a staff from a sling, and tapping at empty air. Then, it heads over toward the blue glow.
When the figure appears to take the bait, Treasa tries to silently drop down from her perch to get behind it.
The mysterious figure spins about, holding the staff in a defensive posture, to face the descending stranger.
Treasa lands and stands up, then puts her hands on her hips. "Caddy?" she asks, seeing the figure's face now. "In a world with werewolves, you still look like a doggy!"
The cowled figure stops and blinks, glancing to the staff, then bows. "Lady Treasa Truclaw, I presume?"
The blue glow disappears. A small dragonfly-winged faerie, barely a foot tall, shimmers into visibility atop the ticket booth, holding what looks like tiny scale model ninja throwing spikes. "You know this guy?" she calls.
Treasa bows, saying, "At your service." To Cait she notes, "This is the greenie I mentioned, so yeah, I know him. Just not his name yet."
"My apologies, my lady," the figure says. "I am Brother Cadena, and, I am sorry to say, I know little more than that, save that I was sent to find you. I received a hostile welcome upon my arrival to..," he looks around, blinking, "not precisely here, but ... yes ... it was called the Hall of Dreaming, I do believe he said, if he is to be believed."
Cait flits up. If she weren't a foot tall with sharp pointy ears, she could be a young teenage girl with short-cropped red hair and green eyes, wearing a violet version of Tinkerbell's outfit. Her ninja throwing spikes have vanished, but it doesn't seem feasible she could have concealed them on her person. "Pleased to meetcha! I'm Cait Sindorel, League."
Brother Cadena returns his staff to its sling, and bows to the fey. "I am pleased to meet you as well, Miss League. Might I inquire ... just where is this place?"
"Well, Brother Cadena, you've completed your first quest then since you've found me!" Treasa says with a smile. Then she points out the familiar looking tower in the distance. "And that's where we're going next, welcome to New Metropolis. I guess you piggybacked on the beacon I set earlier?"
"Oh no, that's not my last name! I mean, I'm with the League of Extraordinary Persons," Cait clarifies, looking amused. "Like Treesy here! Someone explained to you about factions, right?"
"Oh," Brother Cadena says, apologizing. "I cannot say that it was explained to me, save that apparently I either am or am not in one, depending upon whom I believe, and how I interpret it." He turns to Lady Truclaw, and adds, "I do not know how to answer your question, since I don't know of beacons nor piggybacks. I observed the behavior of an individual, and used this staff to find the way. I regret that while this individual was in one sense helpful, he also apparently wanted to kill me, which ... was rather confusing to me."
"Huh, weird," Treasa notes. "Did he try very hard to kill you?"
Cait leans toward Treasa. "Is he... a role player?" she whispers.
"It's kinda complicated," Treasa whispers back. "But.. yeah, that's the simplest explanation."
"I honestly have nothing to compare it to," Brother Cadena says. "I ... I believe I was expecting some sort of instructions. The first one who appeared gave me a quest without ... without really telling me much more than that. When I asked for help in hopes someone might come, there came a stranger ... well, honestly, no stranger than myself, I suppose." He puts his hand to his nose, as if one thing or the other, or perhaps both are unfamiliar. "He was a fox, or a fox-like creature - a musician, but also a warrior, with the personality of a trickster from a fable. He urged me not to take things too seriously. But then I seem to have said something to upset him, because then he became a bit serious about skewering me. I thought it wise to run rather than to ask for further explanation."
The faerie sighs. "Okay, well, a lot of the Gloaming is people trying to kill other people for no good reason," she says. "But it's not usual for someone to be tryin' to kill a greenie right off the bat. You're sure you didn't sign any papers, take any oaths, before that?"
"Sounds like one of your relatives, Cait," Treasa comments. "A fey trickster. Also.. what color was the fox?" The latter she directs to Brother Cadena - before wondering just how much color vision he even has.
Cait looks defensive. "I have lots of relatives! Not many foxes in the family though."
"I signed no papers, nor was I given the opportunity," Brother Cadena says, shaking his head. "There was a book - I believe it was magical - but I never had the opportunity to peruse it further. I did see this word - 'The Gloaming' - just before the book appeared. I was asked a very sort of philosophical question, and bid to return with an answer. And as for the fox ... well, he was a standard red fox. Ahem. I suppose 'standard' isn't quite right in this context, but I mean to say, the coloration was what you would expect. He was, if you'll pardon my expression, something of a dandy in his choice of attire."
"Hmmm, did anyone actually tell you to find me though?" Treasa asks, sounding suspicious.
"No," Brother Cadena says. "They most certainly did not, and I believe I was being followed for most of the way, despite my very best attempts to evade detection." He abruptly bows. "Please forgive my foolishness! The long climb made me lose my train of thought. I was unable to tell for certain if I shook my pursuers, though I believe I have passed through a total of three, perhaps four worlds this day."
Cait rubs her forehead. "Okay. If this were going normally, you're supposed to have some people come up and show you the ropes. Telling you why you should side with them and not with those other people." She looks over at Treasa. "Is that where we come in?"
"The fox claimed he could tell immediately what faction I was in," Brother Cadena adds. "Is that something everyone can do, just as they can cut open doorways with rapiers and staves?"
"Doorways.. you mean portals?" Treasa asks.
"Well, anyone who's a player-- 'scuse me, an 'Awakened'," Cait says, making air quotes around the last word.
"Uhm ... portals, yes," Brother Cadena says. "I am not certain if there is a proper term for it, but I mean the ability to open up a passagew-- Awakened. Yes! He used that word."
"I confess that I cannot remember whether he specifically called me an Awakened, or whether he specifically said I was not one," Brother Cadena says. "I merely assumed that it described whatever he was. But then, I also assumed he was friendly and had come there to help me."
The pirate airship sails away, flame trailing from its rear as the military fighters harry it. The wounded large passenger airliner rises slowly.
"Er," Brother Cadena says, as he looks out at the passenger airship, worried. "I hope they are going to be quite all right? I don't intend to be callous about their fate, but I honestly have no idea how I am intended to come to their aid. What sort of lawless place is this that ... I'm just going to guess those are pirates, but it almost seems too obvious."
"I don't like the 'being followed' part of that," Treasa notes. "We need to get over to those towers, and there aren't any airships docking here soon." She goes to the edge of the roof and searches for bridges or other connections between the towers, since it's a long climb down to the street otherwise.
Brother Cadena bows again. "If there is any way I might assist, please let me know. I ... I don't know if this will work, but...." He retrieves his staff, and clasps his hands in prayer. "Lord, please guide me, if it be Your will, to those towers that Lady Truclaw seeks out, in a way that does not involve quite so much climbing or falling."
Cait laughs. "It's all right! It's just scenery. I tried to save them once. For the next hour or so, I had some idiots milling around on the ship deck saying they needed to get back on the airship I'd just saved them from. After that, they got off meek as mice on the station top and hailed the next airship out." She looks at Cadena curiously. "Oh, you're a Finder?"
Brother Cadena opens one eye, regarding Ms. Cait. "If indeed a 'Finder' is my calling, then I have something to call myself at least. Given that I was asked to find an answer, and to find Lady Truclaw, that seems as apt a title as any."
Sparks of light crackle around the base of the staff, then arc along its length to coalesce at its top. It bursts, like a plasma soap bubble popped, to leave the staff apparently unchanged.
"But Finders are just a.. well.. myth, I thought!" Treasa notes in surprise. "Or at least so rare that that's what people think."
The large passenger airliner makes for the nearest airship dock... This one. It billows black smoke from its damaged rear section.
"Ah," Brother Cadena says, "if they're really quite that rare, then I won't claim to be one, as I ... oh. That passenger airliner! I suppose I do need to assist them after all! A bit late to the fact, I'm afraid, but still ... there may be wounded!" With renewed purpose, he takes his staff in one hand, holds his cowl low with the other, and dashes toward the docking station, light robes and drapes flowing behind him as he runs.
"Well, they make for handy explanations," Cait observes. "How'd we find this really amazing set of ruins where a place of power is going to be held and that we'd never have found out about without being tipped off? A Finder did it! Oh, now where is your greenie going?"
"The Spirit guides me!" Brother Cadena calls back behind him as he dashes off. "This way!"
"Well, he's also clearly a cleric," Treasa points out and follows. "Maybe we can get a free ride out of it though!"
The airliner is basically a bronze elongated ovoid, slightly flattened and streamlined, with curlique ironwork running over its surfaces. A gondola roughly the size of a bus hangs beneath the lifting body, flanked by two giant engines with huge propellors. Across its side is written its name, "Rose of Galilee."
As it approaches the dock, airship workers pour out of it and swing down on lines to secure it in place. A previously unnoticed hatch in the building roof opens to release maintenance robots which rush to tend to its damaged components, and the ticket taking robot pushes a switch to light up the station. "Rose of Galilee, now in station! Next departure in thirty minutes," it announces. "Buy your tickets now!"
"Hello there!" Brother Cadena calls out to the first crewman he sees. "I saw the battle - I am trained in the medical arts! Have you any wounded who need assistance?"
"There might be pirates if they were boarded," Treasa warns, gripping the handle of her knife, then turning to the robot. "Where is it headed next?" she asks the mechanical man.
"Ahoy there! Are you a doctor? Funny dress for a doc, I say," calls a salty-looking beareded man in a nautical-styled jacket. The gangplank slams down to the platform and releases coughing passengers.
The ticket vendor peers down at the blank pages in front of it, then reels off a set of stations Cait says, "There, that one, 47th and Market. That'll be spittin' distance from Potemkin."
"My apologies, sir," Brother Cadena says, bowing. "I have only recently arrived here, and have not adjusted to the local customary attire." He stows his staff, and checks the folds of his robes, looking slightly surprised as he pulls forth a first aid kit. "This is all I have with me at the moment for emergencies."
The captain waves Brother Cadena aboard and directs him to the injured crew and passengers. Surprisingly there aren't too many - most of the damage is smoke inhalation, but a few people were injured by shrapnel from explosions and need wounds tended to. Most of the unconscious were hit by the pirates' stun rays, and now have obvious gaps where wristwatches and other jewelry were ripped off. The luggage compartments were also hit. "They took Ms. D'artagne," he says as he directs Cadena. "Nothin' we could do! 'spect her family will be seeing a ransom demand in a few days."
Treasa buys three tickets from the vendor and then joins Cadena. "We can get close to our destination now," she informs the.. monk?
Brother Cadena nods sadly at the captain's tale, and gives Treasa a very brief thanks, as he hastens to tend to the wounded with all the urgency to be expected for a potentially life-threatening ordeal such as this.
While his first aid kit may be limited, his skills are not; in no time at all, Brother Cadena's kindly manners have the passengers back on their feet. They stumble out to await the airship being repaired,
Repairs proceed surprisingly fast. Workers pull away crumpled sections of ship's hull and install new ones, and one individual in a greasy blue overall pounds on the engine with a wrench... Which actually works. It coughs and sputters, then roars back into life.
The prickles on the back of Tracy's neck and the hackles raising on Cadena's neck let them know that a portal has been opened nearby... Probably the very same one that Cadena used moments ago.
Brother Cadena looks to Lady Treasa in alarm.
"How soon will you be launching again, Captain," Tracy asks the airship pilot, while keeping an eye on the tube access. "We're about to have company again, Cait," she notifies the faerie.
"The Rose of Galilee will be departing in twenty minutes!" calls the ticket taker. "Please have your tickets ready and be ready to board in fifteen minutes. In the meantime, snacks and drinks are available in the courtesy lounge."
Cait mutters something about "Popular place, this."
"Yeah, must be Cadena's admirers," Treasa notes. "A Finder is a valuable catch after all. I'm going back up on the roof to get the drop on them," she announces, and hurries to climb back onto the tube-shaft overhang.
The salty-looking captain checks his watch. "Aye, lassy, repairs should be done any time now, an' then we refuel. It's just a matter of regulations, thirty minutes at any stop, scheduled or not, in case of new passengers who should be wantin' a ride."
Brother Cadena rushes over to Lady Truclaw, and bows before her humbly, whatever he was about to say aborted since it seems she already has reached the same conclusion. But then he adds, "I fear that those who are coming may not hold the welfare of bystanders in high regard. We may be putting these people at risk if we remain here aboard the ship. I do not know how to reconcile this with the direction I was given." He pauses as if in prayer, resting one hand upon the staff as he does so.
Two oversized robots trundle up and insert a hose into the side of the Rose of Galilee, presumably the refueling that was promised. One taps its foot and watches a gauge as the other operates a pump.
Looking up and seeing that Lady Truclaw has already vanished while he was praying, Brother Cadena looks over to Ms. Cait. "Pardon my ignorance," he says, "but is there any reason that would justify this sort of reception here? It seems somehow disproportionate a response for a ... a 'greenie,' as you say? And perhaps it is not really all that difficult to 'find' people. Of course, I have nothing to compare it to."
Once in place, Treasa focuses inward and tries to bring on her shapeshift, since if she's going to be in a fight with multiple foes she stands a better chance in her panther form.
"If you're a genuine Finder, well, you'd be more coveted than Queen Sheba's... um, well, let's just say every Faction in the game either has things they'd really like to find, or things they don't want other people to find," Cait explains. "Actually if you're really a Finder, this place should be crawling with people trying to recruit you now. Unless they're keeping it a secret because they don't want other people knowing about you!" Whomever 'they' might be. "Of course I might be wrong, and you're just RPing being a Finder."
"There is always the possibility that," Brother Cadena says, rubbing at his forehead as if developing a headache, "simply as a result of being disoriented, and at the shock of an unexpected attack from a seemingly friendly individual, I have imagined perils where there were none, and have been taken more seriously than one of my limited experience warrants." He looks to Ms. Cait again, and then digs out the mirror from his first aid kit. "Is there anything about my appearance that would warrant someone to attack me on that alone? I was struck by a sensation that something was terribly wrong, and that I really ... shouldn't ... I ... seem to have lost my train of thought."
Brother Cadena gazes momentarily at his reflection, tracing the chain-like blue patterns in the fur on his cheek ruffs, and gingerly tapping at the glassy blue "gem" affixed inexplicably to his forehead.
The faerie looks sympathetic. "Well... You look like a werewolf to me, but no one hates werewolves around here, at least not for just being werewolves. Maybe for being a different faction, but... You say you didn't sign up with any faction?"
"Not knowing the rules for oaths and obligations here," Brother Cadena admits, "I cannot be certain whether merely agreeing to be of assistance to someone or acknowledging someone's superiority might have saddled me with a longer-term commitment than I realized. But, to the best of my knowledge, I specifically avoided signing on with any faction, as the quest-giver seemed to hint that factionalism and the resulting strife was a bad thing ... unless I inferred too much."
Cadena puts away the mirror, and gazes off. "Factions strive one against another, an endless quarreling for power," he recites after some time, slow and uncertain on some of the words. "The struggle is its own reason for being, and one must lose for another to gain. How can anything great be built here? Yet perhaps here you may find the answer to my question."
"Well then, maybe you just misinterpreted people wanting you to join their faction," Cait surmises. "Some people just don't get how they come across when they 'RP', y'know. Like, they think they're being all cool and imposing, but they just look like obnoxious jerks."
Getting onto all fours, Treasa darkens and distorts. Her face pushes out into a muzzle, her hands become paws. A long tail emerges from under her coat, and then the coat vanishes into her fur-sprouting skin as she becomes a large black panther.
And just in time! Something's coming up the float tube... Fast. Too fast to be climbing the rungs.
"You are probably right," Brother Cadena concedes. "It was all new, and I suppose it was a sin of pride to assume too much importance to my own arrival. Renard - that was his name - he approached me as if I should have known who he was, like he knew more about me than I did. But if he really knew more, then why would he have been surprised when I explained about how little I knew about why I was there? Why would he have suddenly decided to turn on me, when he could have just as easily ambushed me before, striking completely from surprise? I've been trying to make sense of it, but perhaps it makes no sense at all ... just a trickster egging me on for his own entertainment." He nods to the fey. "Thank you for helping me to put these things in proper perspective."
Unaware of impending disaster, five or so passengers loaf around on the platform of the airship station, awaiting the boarding call. The rest have gone into the courtesy lounge within the ticket taker's building, there to take advantage of the 'free drinks and snacks'. (how it is possible that these are still available, let alone tasty, when the building itself is supposed to have been abandoned for some years, must be a mystery for the ages)
Flame wooshes out of the upward bound float tube! A red-skinned demon steps forth, at least seven feet tall, batwinged, and wielding a whip of some kind. Where his cloven hooves touch the ground as he lands, smoke rises.
Cadena snaps out of his mulling. "Pardon me, Ms. Cait, but in this world ... that's a bad thing, am I not mistaken?"
"Oh, that's just great, Treasa thinks, since the demon's head is nearly tall enough for her to reach out and touch.
From the other tube emerges a tall woman, blonde, wearing a flowing white dress cut a little low in the front, accentuated with lace. Her eyes glow as she floats upward and out, a few seconds after the demon. Next to her is a dark-skinned man in black leather armor, the very model of a rogue down to the dagger in his hand.
Treasa looks down from her perch, trying to get an idea of which faction this group might belong too.
Cait squeaks. "Um... Mind if I hide in your clothes?" she says, flitting up and clinging to Cadena's shoulders.
Brother Cadena, not taking his eyes off of the spectacle, holds out an arm to make room under his outer cloak. "There should be some space in the first aid kit," he says absently.
The demon glares around. "Where is he? Where is the one whose arrival was foretold?" he growls in a low and gravelly voice.
"That sounds ... rather vague, given the lack of context," Brother Cadena whispers. "Does that mean anything in particular, Miss Cait?"
The angel murmurs, "Calm yourself, Demeritorous. Do you have to make everything into a slight against you personally?"
Foretold? Treasa dislikes that. Even more than seeing a Moon and Sun type working together.
"This one's led us a merry chase," the black-armored man says. "Welcoming a newbie was never so much of a hassle before. And why you two got called out for this..." He glances at the other two.
Cait whispers, "Um. I guess they were supposed to be your welcoming wagon. But still, they look awfully scary."
"This is part of the usual routine, then?" Brother Cadena whispers, hopefully.
Aha! The rogue is probably the only VPC, Treasa reasons. She focuses her attention on his attire, looking for any telltale symbols.
"In the Army of Darkness, all must serve! We are not pampered lordlings like those of the Hellfire Club, sending others to do our biddings," Demitorious declares.
The woman sighs. "Of course, of course. So..." She looks around, then espies the airship. "Could that be where our newbie has gone? I've never heard of one opening a portal before anyone even gets to him before. But a first time for everything!"
"So, Army of Darkness.. the demon may be more bark than bite," Treasa thinks. Rogue is with Shadows, a mercenary, and Angel must be Hellfire Club then..
Taking a gamble, Treasa says from her perch, "Too late, he's with the League now."
The rogue glances toward the passengers. "If you were going to hide, better to do it in a crowd--" He glances up at the panther. "Oh, very sneaky of you, miss." He grins. "So you sent him a message to get away from us so you could get him all to yourself?"
Demeritorous's and the apparent angel's attention go to Treasa as well.
"Actually, he found me all by himself, which was the plan all along," Treasa replies, licking the back of one paw. "He's my pet, you see."
"Is it too much to hope that the refueling might be done before they finish their ... banter?" Brother Cadena whispers to the fey. "And ... let me get this straight. As a normal course of coming to this ... this 'Gloaming' place ... first you come to the Hall of Dreams, where you are presented with a book, a quest-giver tells you your mission and your role, then a helper comes and, if you waste too much of his time, tries to kill you in order to drive you along to your goal ... and then after being chased on a whirlwind tour of the ... ah ... worlds ... a few powerful individuals come to greet you and make dramatic proclamations about your arrival being 'foretold.' I ... can't help but think that something is kind of off about all this, however."
Cait whispers to Cadena, snuggling into his robes and peeking out of his hood, "Well, no, none of that sounds like the normal course of thing. It's usually pretty low key, y'know, 'You're part of a secret conspiracy that knows the truth of things! Only there are a few different ones, and you should pick which one you like better.'"
"Oh." Cadena looks a bit nonplussed at that. "No, I think it was made quite clear to me that I honestly know very little about anything."
The angel, if that's who she is, lifts an eyebrow archly. "And has he been initiated yet, Miss Kitty? Or are you just hoping to smuggle him away from the rest of us interested parties until he's committed for good?"
"That's just a formality," Treasa claims. "We're in the middle of something right now and that can wait until later."
With a loud CLUNK, the robots shut off the refueling operation. They begin to walk off with the hose, while the captain closes the valve. The maintenance robots seem to have completed their repairs now.
The rogue considers the civilians. "Maybe we should ask him in person," he says. "You! The one in the robe! Want to come and have a little chat? Maybe your cat friend here hasn't told you everything you need to know."
Demeritorous shifts his stance, looking ready to leap into action. "Bah! 'Chats'. You make it sound so... Social."
Brother Cadena's eyelid twitches. "I think ... I think I should follow my directions. Take a leap of faith ... or, rather, a sit-down of faith." He moves over to the nearest seating, mindful of Ms. Cait, as he takes his place to wait for whatever is supposed to happen next. "I suspect something's about to be decided for me, whether I like it or not. Again."
"No spells or weapons or coercion," Treasa growls. "And be quick, or else follow along - we aren't missing our airship launch."
Unlikely as it seems, the passengers on the platform haven't taken notice of the demon... Until he begins striding toward them and the airship. Suddenly, they panick! "AHHH! Demon! A devil!"
The angel sighs. "Aggro," she mutters.
"You have to buy a ticket you know!" Treasa calls out. To the others, she says, "You're wasting your time. Cadena isn't going to join up with mercenaries or snobs."
The rogue chuckles. "So, not the League then?"
The angel lifts into the air... And floats toward the airship as well!
The panther hisses. "He's not here to.. never mind. He'll join the League, because we'll let him help people." She hops down from the overhang, and starts to follow.. but not letting the Shadows agent get behind her. "After you," she offers him.
Cait whispers in Cadena's ear, "Oh, the big guy's got the progs stampeded! This is going to be a mess."
The captain takes a look at what's coming, then yells, "Get onboard, ye landlubbers! Man the guns, crew!"
The rogue shrugs. "As you please," he says. Compared to the demon's crooked stride and the angel's floating, his walk seems perfectly ordinary.
"We cannot allow a mess," Brother Cadena says. "There will be ... unintended consequences beyond the obvious." Reluctantly, and shakily, he stands back up, clutching to the staff for support, to face the strange newcomers. He holds up his hand as if in a halting gesture.
"Why isn't there a rep for Blessed Light?" Treasa grumbles. "They're the only other group that'd stand a chance." She watches the demon and plans out possible attacks. The backs of the legs could be vulnerable, and shredding the wings would be handy if he could then be dropped over the side of the building..
The demon comes to a stop at the platform, watching the passengers scurry on the gangplank, then laughs. "Foolish mortals! They are like mice, startled by anything that surprises them. You however... You seem cut from a different cloth," he says addressing Brother Cadena.
The rogue waits patiently behind the demon, and the angel draws up to be even with the devil.
Two self-defense guns on the side of the passenger airliner's gondola swivel and focus on the demon. "Just say the word, sir," a gunner yells to the captain.
"Please accept my sincere apologies," Brother Cadena calls out in as firm a voice as he can manage, "but there has been a terrible misunderstanding. I am not here of my own accord, and I am not permitted to formally join with any faction. I beseech you not to threaten the passengers or crew of this vessel."
The angel's eyes widen. "Are you being held prisoner?" she asks kindly, but her glance goes toward Treasa.
"See?" Treasa calls to the demon. "He's not signing up with anyone, so you should just all leave us alone now."
Demeritorous reaches back to aim a threatening finger at the cat. "Silence!" he declares.
"Gonna throw an old boot at me?" the panther challenges back.
"No harm has come to me," Brother Cadena, "and the one known as Lady Treasa Truclaw has done nothing to threaten or coerce me. I have been given directions by a party that I am unable to identify within the confines of the directions I have received. No harm is intended toward you or any of your respective factions."
"Trifle not with the Army of Darkness," Demeritorous bellows. "I shall teach you to be silent in the presence of your betters!"
The rogue throws a pellet to the ground - and disappears into a puff of smoke!
"Ms. Cait, for reasons that I find very frustrating that I am simply incapable of articulating clearly here, I am unable to take any actions that would mark me as siding with one particular faction over another," Brother Cadena says. "This causes me considerable consternation since Lady Treasa Truclaw's wellbeing is also my high priority. Toward that end, I could use your advice, for my instructions are frustratingly vague on this point. If I may do so without violating this requirement, I shall offer my abilities to try to protect you from the fallout of this conflict, unless you shall be involving yourself directly." His eyelid twitches again, as he carefully picks out his words.
Cait Sindarel pats the big white dog on the cheekruff. "You talk a lot, you know that? It's fine, they're just playing... I think."
"Oh, and Cait's my first name! Just call me Cait, if you start calling me Ms. Sindarel, I'm going to be looking around and wondering who you're talking to," the faerie adds.
At this, perhaps in a token concession toward talking not quite so much, Brother Cadena just nods, watching the confrontation anxiously.
Demeritorious turns fully toward the black cat. His whip hand pulls back, clearly ready to snap it toward Treasa.
The black cat takes advantage of the smoke to seek some cover before Demeritorious can strike! She does this by rushing to get behind the angel.
Crack! Demeritorious lashes out, trying to spot the panther as she moves.
The whip snaps several feet behind the panther.
"Nice try, maybe you should join a circus!" Treasa taunts.
"Now now, dear, we simply want to make sure you're aware there are other factions than the League," the angel says. Her gaze turns toward the cat now crouched near her. "For instance, you could be helping others, pushing back the forces of darkness... Shielding the weak." And at that, she draws a circle in the air, which explodes outward into a disc of energy that protects both her and Treasa.
"Bah! The Blessed Light is a faction of weaklings! True strength lies in crushing others, bending them to serve your will," the demon growls. "All the realms will fall to the Moon, and the Sleepers' lamentations will rise to the heavens as we tread them underfoot!"
Cait whispers to Cadena, "RPers!" She sighs. "No offense intended, but sometimes you just want to get it over with."
"Your pathetic shield will avail you naught!" yells the demon. He growls something deep and his whip bursts into flames... And three imps appear out of the air at his sides! "Go forth, my loyal minions!"
The angel whispers to Treasa, "He's so unmanageable when he's like this! Go, take your friend and get out of here. I'll deal with him."
Her hands begin to glow with light as she readies some sort of counterattack.
"Oh, I thought you were with the Hellfire Club!" Treasa says to the angel. "You'd actually be a good fit for Cadena, once he's able to join something.." She then rushes towards the gangplank.
The airship captain stares at the combat unfolding on the airship platform.
"Captain!" Brother Cadena calls out, not taking his eyes off the confrontation. "Can we possibly get these people away from the danger, on the ship?"
The angel smiles. "Well, we'll have to discuss it... when we don't have a very loud and very annoying demon on our hands," she says.
"All aboard!" roars the captain. The ticket taker emits a loud whirr and screech. "Excuse me, sir, but you are not scheduled to depart for ten more minutes!"
"Irielle, your interference will cease now!" Demeritorious yells. "Imps, catch that cat!" And scurry they do, after the panther.
The angel gets the first move in however, unleashing a wave of blinding light!
KaTHOOM! The light slams into the imps, shredding them into smoke... And Demeritorious himself grits his teeth as he braces as if leaning into a strong wind. Pieces of his armor fly away.
Knocked back a few steps, the demon is forced to flap his wings and take to the air, lest he fall.
Cadena stands in the entryway of the airship, prepared to help anyone coming aboard amidst the explosions and smoke.
Passengers stumble up past Cadena with his help. The ship rocks as the crew start to cut the lines loose. "Sir! Sir," the ticket taker yells. "There'll be a FINE for that!"
Demeritorious returns fire. This time when he cracks his whip, even though it should be too far to reach, it unleashes a searing bolt of fire that heads straight for Irielle.
Alas, it splashes against the shield. The angel Irielle smirks. "Barely felt that," she says.
Treasa leaps for the gangplank - and has to scrabble wildly for a grip since the ship is already lifting off. She finally finds purchase and pulls herself inside, where she immediately attempts to put on an air of 'I meant to do that' as befits her current feline form.
The airliner Rose of Galilee lifts off, despite Demeritorious's yelling, and its self-defense guns keep him covered. It appears that Irielle isn't going to press the idea of having a 'friendly little chat' just now, in favor of keeping Demeritorious from crashing their party...
Of course there's still the rogue, looking down over the railing, dagger in one hand picking out dirt from under his fingernails. "Exciting, wasn't that?" he says. "I think they script it so your escape is always 'just in time.'"
Brother Cadena finally straps himself in, securing the staff and bracing himself with one hand, while reflexively shielding "Ms. Cait" with the other. He casts a worried and apologetic glance toward the cat on the gangplank, then snaps his attention back to the rogue. "Is this the way things are always planned here then, sir?"
"For excitement? You wouldn't want it to be a boring game now, would you," the rogue says with a smile. He flips his dagger to his left hand and holds his right hand out for a handshake. "The name's Fisher. Jack Fisher."
"Do you have any fish though?" Treasa can't help but ask, staying in feline character.
"I didn't realize that excitement was a necessary component for my mission here," the cowled priest says, extending his hand, "but then, there is much I have to learn. I am Brother Cadena."
Jack shakes hands, then rummages through his pouches before giving Treasa an apologetic look. "Fresh out, sorry! But I do have this for you, Mister Cadena." It's a black calling card marked with a silver fishhook. "My organization pays well for people who are very good at what they do... Like myself. If someone needs something... special... done, we do it for them."
Brother Cadena looks over the card, flipping it, for any obvious phone number or address, but somehow doesn't look terribly surprised. "I have no card to offer in exchange, I am afraid. I was thrown into all of this with very little explanation. I am beginning to think that may have been part of the intent ... some sort of ... test."
"We don't like to ask for explanations too much in our organization," Jack observes with a grin. "It so often gets in the way of getting the job done."
"I'll show you how to use calling cards later, Cadena," Treasa says.
"Is there a Renard in your organization?" Brother Cadena asks. "One who looks something like a fox, much as I look like a ... whatever it is I am?"
Mr. Fisher raises an eyebrow. "Several who go by the name. It's a popular name. It suggests someone sly and often dastardly... At least to those who've read the original. There might be someone who's an actual fox. I'd have to check."
Brother Cadena sighs. "I suppose I should have reasoned that it wasn't nearly enough information to go by. A fox. A trickster, with a rapier and a lute. Uses his rapier to cut open portals, and can walk through open space where there's no apparent floor." He checks his own attire, tapping at his chest for some reason, and looking perplexed. "He wore ... archaic-looking attire, very flashy. He might have been red, or perhaps, now that I think of it, brown in color. I'm sorry I never got a last name. We were never properly introduced. It was a fairly awkward encounter, and I'm afraid I was forced to cut it short."
"Plenty of tricksters out there," Treasa notes, and turns her attention to the windows, just to make sure they aren't about to get attacked by pirates or flying saucers or flying spider-monkeys.
"Our organization is a relatively wide-spread one," Mr. Fisher explains. "We have a Switchboard, people who run the Switchboard, who connect those who need a job done... with those who can get the job done. If you can make the grade, you get promoted to bigger and better jobs. If you don't... Well, you're not working for us anymore then. But one thing we don't do is to treat it like a big friendly party, everyone knows everyone else, like the League and their clubs." He lifts an eyebrow at the panther. "We're all about the job. Getting it done. Keeping it secret. Not talking it up and hashing it over endlessly."
"So, your Mr. Renard... Even if we don't know of him directly, we can get a line on him, given a little..." Jack rubs two fingers together. "Incentive."
Cait whispers, "Like we're a debating society and his bunch are the ones that get the job done! Hmf."
Brother Cadena lets out a nervous chuckle at this. "Ah yes. I'm afraid I need to work on my ... wordiness." He shakes his head. "I thank you, but I do not yet have anything to negotiate with and I suspect I will run into Mr. Renard again, soon enough. It's just something about your card's design made me wonder if there was a connection." He carefully tucks the card away.
"Brother Cadena is a Finder," Treasa points out. "I think he'll be able to find this Renard on his own with a little practice."
Whispering back to Cait, Treasa notes, "Well, it does take a bit of discussion to decide which dimension alignments need to be preserved or tipped.."
Brother Cadena shakes his head. "I cannot confirm such a theory," he says. "Just because I am looking for things does not mean I am -" and here he gestures his hands expansively, "- a Finder. I was a bit thrown off, and a little ... er ... overly excited about my reception here."
"Oh really?" Mr. Fisher's eyebrow raises at Treasa. "I hear a few people claim they can find things." He lifts his dagger, though not threateningly aimed at anyone. "And there are a few tools around that can do the job, within a certain range. Like, oh, finding newbies to be introduced to... more diverse options."
"If that is the role," Brother Cadena says, "then I would suspect Mr. Renard of being the Finder."
"In any case, Cadena is still getting his bearings and footing, and doesn't need to be pushed into making any decisions right now," Treasa notes. "Besides, I know from his demeanor which Faction he's best suited for. And no, it doesn't happen to be my Faction, either."
"Please, Lady Truclaw, I don't know if you answered this already and I missed it in the chaos," Brother Cadena asks, "but is there any way to tell what faction someone belongs to, simply by looking at him or her? Mr. Renard claimed he already knew what my faction was, and that this was why no one ever asked me for my choice."
The priest shrugs, gesturing vaguely. "Granted, the 'welcome wagon' that just arrived does seem to make his assertion a little premature."
Jack considers. "Perhaps not, but I just wanted to make sure that your Brother Cadena knows there are other options." He grins. "And if he really is a Finder... Maybe he can find the Map."
Brother Cadena cocks an eyeridge. "The Map? I can sense a proper name in that. Is this another piece of common lore everyone is supposed to know about already?"
"He's got Blessed Light written all over him.. and there are other reasons too," Treasa claims, then lowers her ears at mention of the legendary Map.
Mr. Fisher stands up. "Normally, Brother Cadena, I'd invite you to come by, have a tour of our facilities, give you a grab bag with a few weapons, some useful potions, that sort of thing. But I can sense I'm outstaying my welcome so I'll just bid you a good day..." He tips an invisible hat. "Feel free to stop by, and if you do happen to find the Map, we're willing to offer a lot of money for it."
"I will keep that in mind, good sir," Brother Cadena says, half-bowing, "but I can make no promises. I have not yet sorted out my existing obligations."
With the gangplank cranked up, Mr. Fisher would appear to have no immediate exit from the airship. Instead, he walks down to the bathrooms in the rear. The light flicks from 'Unoccupied to 'Occupied'... And then a few seconds later, back to 'Unoccupied'. The hackles on the back of Cadena's neck and Tracy's hair both prickle at the same time, recognition of the portal that he just opened.
Cait whispers, "Ooh, the nerve of that guy! But is the Map really real?"
Treasa becomes human again when everybody is looking at the bathroom, and takes out her messaging orb. "Well, now that we have a moment of peace," she mutters, and tries to send a message Mike Dexter: "Coming to find you. Trust noone. Don't eat anything. - Tracy." Who knows if he'll actually get it though. "As for the Map, it seems unlikely to exist as an object in the game."
The orb blinks to indicate the message has been saved.
Cadena turns to the panther. "I am terribly sorry for the confusion, and I regret this sudden ... complication in our mission here. I am afraid that ... I don't quite know how to say this, but it appears that I have obligations I was not fully aware of. I shall do my best to alert you if this might in any way compromise my ability to fulfill my obligations to you and ..." He pauses, looking as if some bit of realization has come to him. "Your mother. Yes. Your mother. Your mother was the one who tasked me with ..." He furrows his brow. "I ... What was her name again? This should be something I remember. I mean, I have not forgotten. But ..." His nervous tick twitches again. "I do not know how to explain it."
"Damn, it's your game programming becoming active I bet," Treasa says to Cadena. "My mom's name is Holly, does that help? You may be having trouble remembering or thinking of out-of-character things."
"Holly," Cadena repeats. "That sounds familiar. Not quite right, but - no, I do not mean to question you. Holly." He shakes his head. "When I came to this place, I was supposed to receive instructions. Laws. No, rules. They were ... missing."
"It may be that you've got embedded knowledge for use in the Diadem universe, and coming here has caused some sort of conflict," Treasa notes, then asides to Cait, "See, Cadena is sort of an organic AI. I'm wondering now if maybe your Renard is actually an AI too. Unless you are supposed to be the Map, somehow. I mean, a Finder would need to know the sorts of things that the Map is supposed to offer: where all the portals are and lead to, where places of power are going to show up, and stuff like that."
Cadena shakes his head. "I do not think I ... am able to respond to ..." He squints his eyes, looking pained. "I have a question, but I cannot ... do not know how to ask it. You mentioned ... werewolves are here. I can definitively say that I am not a werewolf. I am not a were-any-sort-of creature. Most people do not get to choose how they appear. I did not choose ... how I appear."
Treasa frowns. "Of course you can choose.. unless you think the character was predefined and just waiting for you to use it?" she asks.
"I am certain of very little," Brother Cadena says. "I am only certain that this place that I have come to ... there are two types of people who come here. I knew somehow that something was wrong, but only upon asking people within this world more have I become more certain that something very definitely was wrong, and still is. I am no Map, and I do not ... I should back up. I am doing you no service at all by chopping it up and getting it all out of order."
"So, when you got here, were you taken to the Hall of Awakening and shown the book, where every page is a different dimension?" Treasa asks.
"Where I was, I simply appeared," Brother Cadena says. "First, there was a word, written or spoken - The Gloaming. Then, there was a starry expanse, and within it, I floated, and a book was before me. The book showed many places, some of which I recognized. I knew that I had a mission, and that I was obligated to find you, Lady Treasa Truclaw. I had trouble remembering - it was either in Old London, where I believed you had a base, or in New Metropolis, where ... I am not sure why it was there I thought you might be, but that was the other location that came to mind."
Cait gives Treasa an odd look from where she's curled up in the hood of Cadena's robes. "Doesn't sound like any greenie intro I've heard of," she says. "The Halls of Awakening don't have just plain stars, at least when I went through, umpty-yeah years ago. Marble tiles, pillars, paintings of places, yeah."
"It seems like.. well, like you're being an Avatar instead of a player," Treasa notes. "You should have been shown the archetypes, and chosen one to be. And there'd be a mirror. Maybe AIs go through something else, and have to be bound somehow to another player?"
Brother Cadena shakes his head. "I saw no such details, and I at least thought that I was unable to move from my place. I appeared there as I do before you now, and I had with me this equipment." He taps at his chest, and the thump hints that there is some sort of armor - but not metal, per se - beneath the apparently archaic robes. "I was given no direction as to my role in this world, nor was I asked for my preference. It should have been one or the other, depending...." He trails off again, then coughs, and continues. "I was not alone for long."
"One or the other, you say," Treasa says. "What were the two choices then?"
"Depending on who I was ... what sort of visitor ... I should have been given a choice ... or I should have been given instructions on my proper behavior," Brother Cadena struggles to say. "There are usually additional rules. It's for ... fairness."
"But the choices.. which type of visitor.. where never explicitly given?" Treasa asks.
"It should have been known," Brother Cadena says. "It is not a secret, if anyone asks."
"Darn it, my kid bro needs me to take him shopping!" Cait whispers to Treasa. "And this was kinda interesting, though if he's RPing it, he totaly needs to learn to jazz it up. Tell me what happened when I get back, okay?"
The faerie curls up to sleep on Treasa's lap.
"Oh, right.. take care, Cait," Treasa says, giving a little wave. She's clearly trying to work out what's going on though.
Brother Cadena shakes his head. "I might be able to explain ... later ... I think ... more clearly. But there was someone there. Someone I know. Someone who I think isn't supposed to be here. Just like I am not supposed to be here."
"Okay, I think there is definitely some wonky AI stuff going on," Treasa notes. "You've got a staff, and armor.. so maybe you're a Sentinel type. You still have control over your VR interface, right?"
"What I see ... is what I see," Brother Cadena says. "There may be senses that others have in this world, things they may perceive. I do not see these things. I am no Map. I have no inherent knowledge of the locations of Portals. I have simply been guided, by waiting, praying, and being tugged this way or that. This is no power of mine, and I thought it was something that all visitors here have - and perhaps they do, but I have simply inadequately described my experience in terms everyone else understands."
"It sounds like.. like you're being treated as a game-controlled character almost," Treasa notes, scratching at her scalp. "Like the system doesn't know how to treat you or something. Maybe I should look up how it handles AI players.."
"There was an entity who was there in the space. He was there, and yet not there," Brother Cadena says, gazing off. "I knew him from before. He had called me a child of Light before. I am not clear on my relationship to him, except that at some time past, I had been obliged to his service. 'Factions strive one against another, an endless quarreling for power. The struggle is its own reason for being, and one must lose for another to gain. How can anything great be built here? Yet perhaps here you may find the answer to my question.'"
"I was obliged to go forth, as his agent, to find an answer, to find out if anything great could be built here," Brother Cadena says. "There was no contract, no deed, no asking, no naming of himself, no naming of any faction, no mention of any enemy. If I had any choice in the matter, it did not seem as if I did at the time."
"Child of the Light," Treasa focuses on. "That's an Avatars reference. The fox was probably a representation of something embedded in the AI part of your mind! Cadena, where did your mind come from, if you know? Was it created by another AI?"
"I cannot answer that question meaningfully," Brother Cadena says, "not here, not now. But I know that I can speak freely of the Light. Of that, I feel no restriction."
Then, the priest contemplates. "I have a feeling that if the fox were to be a representation of something within my soul ... it was not right. He should have looked like something else. But it was he who came next. The quest-giver vanished before I could ask for more direction. I wondered at what to do next, and I felt that something was lacking. I asked aloud if someone might hear me and instruct me further. A door appeared, cut into the sky by a rapier blade, and a fox stepped through, as I described him. He had a knowing expression, though it could have been purely jest, as if I should have known him, but not necessarily that he knew me. He instructed me, telling me to use my staff to guide the way. He also warned me that many factions would be vying for my attention, and that I shouldn't take them seriously - that they were all trifles, and that it's all in fun. With that, he left, and parted through the door. I tried to use the staff to guide me."
"I felt pulled to the book," Brother Cadena says, "but I also felt pulled to that doorway. I recalled my quest, and it occurred to me that the fox might have more to tell me, as it seemed he had assumed just a little too much about my predicament. He said that I was lost, after all, far afield from where I was supposed to be, in the Hall of Dreams. How could I be lost, when I had just arrived? Somehow, I chased after him - and I still do not know how, for there was no floor under me, nothing to push against."
"The Hall of Dreams," Treasa repeats. "See, here, the players are called The Awakened and everyone else.. the game-controlled characters.. are the Dreamers. And being far afield is another big hint that you were designed to work in the Avatars game world. And if this game decided you were an AI, but had bits indicating you weren't a player, uh.. I don't know what it would done. Whoever Renard is, he isn't a player. I couldn't even say if he was being controlled by The Gloaming's AI or an Avatars one, somehow. But you think this is to do with some order my mother may have given to you?"
Brother Cadena shakes his head. "I don't believe this was your mother's intention at all," he says. "I would have received further instructions. But as for Renard ... I caught up to the door in time. I believe it was just a portal, such as any other here, now that I've seen more. On the other side was a mansion - at the time I assumed it was his - and he ... I honestly don't know if he was surprised, but I sensed that I wasn't supposed to go there, by his reckoning. He humored me at first, and seemed uncertain as to whether or not I was Awakened or not. I looked into a mirror, and saw my own face. It concerned me ... but no one else seems to be alarmed, nor was he."
The priest draws back his cowl slightly, looking directly at Treasa. His face is canine, but the fur looks unnaturally orderly, such that fine blue patterns are visible in the fur, clearly spelling out stylized chain links, while a glassy blue bauble is attached somehow to his forehead.
"Hmmm, the colors are the same but your real face doesn't have chain patterns," Treasa notes. "But the game is made to be played by humans, while being able to support shape-shifting, so this compromise form isn't that surprising. Unless.. it's a mask?" She actually reaches out to brush her fingers through Cadena's cheek fur.
The fur feels real enough, and she can feel muscles underneath the cheek as Cadena reflexively twitches. The breath from his nose feels real as well.
"Nope, feels natural," Treasa concludes and sits back down.
The only unreal aspect would be how the fur somehow just falls right back into place despite being disturbed.
"It's not that," Brother Cadena says, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. I'm focusing on trifling things. More importantly, I believe, is what Mr. Renard said. The reason I thought of him when I saw that card is because he declared that he served the Black."
Treasa nearly chokes at that revelation. "The Black? The BLACK?" she sputters.
Brother Cadena winces. "I am reasonably certain about that much. I assumed that had to do with why he drew a sword upon me ... though ... I honestly cannot complete a thought as to why that should make sense. He 'explained' that the reason why I had not been asked about my faction, nor given a choice, was that I serve ... no, that was not his word at all. I feel that I can only say it clearly because he said it."
"He declared," Brother Cadena says, "that I belong to the White."
Behind them, the airliner crew tends to its passengers with efficiency, even panache. Complimentary drinks are served by smiling humans... Or perhaps robots, judging from the strange ear decorations they wear. The cityscape drifts beneath them. Those who take airships are evidently not in a great hurry - if this were an ordinary skybus, they would have been halfway to Florida by now.
"You're a White Cadena, an Avatar of Light," Treasa says. "But.. this all implies that the Avatar's ADs are somehow able to communicate with and influence this world! If portals can be opened from a virtual world to the real one.. then I suppose they can be opened from one virtual realm to another as well. Or maybe it just means you're meant to protect players..."
"The duty of a White Cadena is to protect travelers from predations by monsters," Brother Cadena recites, "particularly from a Black Cadena ... except that it is almost always a losing battle, because the Black Cadena is stronger." He shakes his head. "I'm sorry. I have no idea how relevant that was at all."
"We'd better keep an eye out for those then, although they shouldn't appear here," Treasa notes. "I mean.. well, you shouldn't appear as you do. Something's overridden the normal protocols here - and it sure sounds like it's an AI. Ironically, it's the one that seems to have helped my mother and Jason and Randall before, if I'm remembering the story right. And it's asking you about whether this world was strong enough or whatever is ominous too."
Cadena looks to one side, letting out a sigh, but at least it looks as if the twitching has ceased. "White Cadena and Black Cadena are myths from South America. They are not gods, and I am no avatar of such a creature. I am, however, marked with the appearance of a dog, and the appearance of chains, and so that is the name I was given by the order. If there is a 'black' version of one such as me, there is no particular reason to be concerned. I may have a dog's face, but I do not have the strength or power of any of the beastmen of these domains. If anything, I am Cadena. Perhaps the 'black cadena' here is just a symbol - a recognition of my lack of perfection, of my darker tendencies if left unchecked by goodness."
"What darker tendencies?" Treasa asks. "How can you even have dark tendencies, I mean?"
Cait stirs. "Are we there yet?" the fairy drowsily asks.
"Pride," Cadena says. "Self-centeredness. A rush to anger. Taking offense too easily. 'Dark tendencies' needn't always include ... oh ... murderous tendencies, a predilection for cruelty and ... oh, no, sorry, I don't think we are."
"Those are actual tendencies you have?" Treasa asks, her brow furrowing. "How old are you, Cadena? Aren't I your first.. assignment or whatever?" she asks.
"I have been through places where time is difficult to measure," Cadena says, "so I am not certain how to measure my age. And, I am not certain how to answer your question most meaningfully ... but ... no, I don't believe this was my first assignment." He frowns.
"Cadena.. are you saying you're mind came literally from a White Cadena Avatar with years of experience in the Diadem?" Treasa asks, wide-eyed.
Outside the windows of the Rose of Galilee, what appear to be the Arcadia Towers now looms large before them, replete with advertisements for products familiar in North Bend but rarely seen here. If Tracy weren't aware that the replica was intentional, she would have assumed that outside megacorporations had bought advertising space... But now it occurs to her that they may serve a double purpose, creating similarity.
"No," Brother Cadena says, staring off. "I don't believe I said that."
Cait whispers to Treasa, "He didn't give you a backstory about abusive or murdered parents is there? Or searching for some ultimate answer?"
The priest absently unhitches his restraints, and stands up, gazing at the towers.
"But you can't be clearer," Treasa notes, looking out at the replicated towers. "I wonder what's in my apartment there?" she says aloud. Then realizes Cait is 'awake' again. "No, nothing like that," she assures the faerie.
"Good, 'cause I'd have told you to ditch him and find a boyfriend who doesn't write such a cliche story," Cait says sleepily.
"Next stop, Main and 47th," the captain announces. "All ashore who's going ashore! Please have yer tickets ready."
"He's not my boyfriend, he's.. a family friend!" Treasa insists, as she gets the tickets from her pocket. "Anyway.. I hope the elevators work."
Cait stretches. "A family friend, huh? Is he cute?"
Cadena fishes out his ticket in something of a dazed state, repeatedly looking off and up at the towers, going through the motions as he disembarks. He only snaps out of it when he sees an occasional familiar face amongst the other passengers, exchanging small friendly well-wishes.
"Oh, adorable," Treasa admits with a grin.
Outside, Treasa finally thinks to ask Cadena, "What did you do to open a portal to this place? I mean, specifically?"
"I did just as Mr. Renard instructed me," Brother Cadena says, still gazing off at the towers, "though admittedly I had to fill in a few of the gaps. I felt a tug, and periodically I would make a remark out loud, wondering at where you might be, or I would say a quick prayer, and then the direction would become more clear again. I passed through the mansion, and then through what I think was Old London, through a monastery, and found a wall where I traced a portal, came into an old dusty apartment, and climbed a shaft ... and when I could climb no further, I met you and your friend. That is all there is to it."
The airship docks at a station similar to the one they left an hour ago, but rather than float tubes, there's a standard elevator housing with a sign next to it: "You are now entering the POTEMKIN DISTRICT. This space is privately owned and controlled, and penalties may apply for unrestrained property damage. If you would like to participate, for more information, please see our website..." A hyperlink blinks at the end of the sign.
"So the tug is what triggered it, it sounds like. You'll tell me if you feel another one right?" Treasa asks. "Can you try and pray for finding Mike Dexter?"
"I can try," Brother Cadena says, prying his gaze away, "but there are limits to the specifics. I believe it's tied to the staff, just as for Mr. Renard it's tied to his rapier. He didn't give the impression that there was anything the least bit special about it." With that, however, he unslings the staff and stands it on its end, resting his hands on it, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply. "I pray that we might find Mike Dexter, by whatever name he is known in this realm."
"I think definitely a Sentinel archetype," Treasa mutters.
The staff shifts in Cadena's paws... But it doesn't seem as if there's a strong enough pull to be able to track its target.
Brother Cadena sighs. "I do not feel particularly led at the moment. I cannot honestly say whether this should be chalked up to my inexperience, to inadequate faith on my part, to the lack of specifics in whatever name Mike Dexter might be known here by, or whether it requires that he wish to be found."
"Or that the system just doesn't know how to deal with him yet either," Treasa says, and points to the nearby tower. "But for now, we can start in the most likely place; Potemkin!"
Cait looks disappointed. "So who is this Mike Dexter guy?"
"The Hunt's current #1 Target," Treasa notes. "I want to get to him first though, and spirit him away before they can."
"You're messing with the Wild Hunt? That's going to get them so ticked off at you," Cait marvels.
"This Hunt," Brother Cadena asks warily, "is it properly a faction, would you say?"
"Yes, but I specifically want to stop Sasha's group within it," Treasa notes, narrowing her eyes.
The fairy perched on Cadena's shoulder shrugs. "I've known some good Hunters, and some real jerks. The main difference is whether they give you a head start and if they rub it in your nose if they win."
"These guys definitely fall on the jerk-side of the equation," Treasa says, heading for the towers. "They're starting to hunt people in the real world too!"
"What? Isn't that all kinds of illegal?!" says Cait.
"Well, they're jerks," Treasa reminds. "Therefore, I think they should be deprived of their prey. It's karma!"
Brother Cadena nods, casting a wary eye back up to the towers. Then, he forces his gaze away, pulling his cowl down a little further, and picks up the pace to keep up with Lady Truclaw, wherever the way to "Potemkin" may take them.
Cait nods agreement. "Power to the League! Confusion to the Hunt!"
"We are The League of Extraordinary Beings," Treasa notes, with determination. "We bring Balance to the Universe. The Wild Hunt has gone too far, and needs to be brought back into balance no matter how many of their skulls need cracking.."