"Land of Confusion"

Session 1.3



With violence - at least, violence of a sort - breaking out before them, most of the afflicted skedaddle, but a couple of the most curious or farthest-gone remain, enough to make Disbelief a serious concern.



Or would have done, if I remembered to roll it more often. That's the hardest part of GMing the game for me, stopping the flow every so often to check the spell's Aspect and roll Paradox before resolving the actual casting.



I was hoping to get more practice with casting in session 2, but as I noted, our dicebot went AWOL for most of the session. So 1.3 ended up being our test bed.



Elithora, as an Acanthus, is quickest on the draw when she realizes what's happening. Voice dopplering, she attempts a Time working to slow the nurse down, but the spell unravels uselessly.



The nurse's pen traces quick, jagged arcs in the air, and as it does so, the lights in the reception area seem to go on a dimmer switch as the shadows become inky pools. Her own shadow bubbles up like oil, forming a membrane between her and Blackjack. She grimaces and a little blood trickles from her nose as she absorbs the paradox as Bashing damage.



Elithora: “This stupid nurse is going to flip everything sideways.”



Blackjack makes a halt motion with his hand, and casts reduce friction under the nurse’s feet.



Thom clicked right into the combat applications of even the most minor spells of his arcana.



Aurelia is in the back room – she doesn’t hear the commotion up front because of Blackjack’s silence spell. The doctor is moving between the listless-looking patients, murmuring the High Speech as he makes a show of touching stethoscopes to them, etc. – but it’s clearly a ritual casting. Biting her lip, she continues to observe, hoping to discern whether the apostates are really helping these people or are ritually killing them.



She doesn’t know the Life arcana, but after a few moments, she recognizes a few of the words and gestures, and she’s beginning to think that this actually is some kind of attempt to heal these people. She catches an Atlantean word that can mean, alternately, border, thoroughfare, or cliff, and that is often used when invoking or countering the Abyss.



Sinon is near Elithora, on the outside of the clinic doors. He looks at the two remaining Sleepers. “What the hell are you two doing here!? You’re going to ruin the filming! This may be a hidden camera pic, but do you know how much these effects shots cost!”



The more on-the-ball bum grabs the other by his cuffs and drags him away. “C’mon, man, they gonna call security or something on us…!”



Elithora hisses at the nurse, “You idiot.” She makes a somewhat archaic mage gesture at the nurse as she says it, and stabs twice at the air with her finger.



And rolls no successes, again. This is to become a running theme.



The nurse is backing away from Blackjack and going to try to get help. Unfortunately, the floor under her is frictionless! Her legs go out from under her and she executes a perfect three-point pratfall, banging her head on the counter as her pen goes flying out of her hand.



Blackjack steps gingerly before her: “You are outnumbered and outmatched. If you’re willing to be bound by oath, I will accept your surrender.” He slips the pistol out of his jacket as an "or else."



Nurse: “You…we're trying to, to help people! And you pull a…! No! Go to hell!”



Blackjack: “Pull a what?”



“A, a…!” She points at your gun. “That! I, I mean…what gives you the….?!” She shrugs, angrily, before finishing her sentence a couple beats later. “...the right?”



The gun is a big deal.



“A gun? Yes. I am Blackjack, Talon of the Adamatine Arrow. I am here at the direction of the Consilium to retrive the Tass that was stolen. I am not unwilling to listen, however.”



Sinon walks into the room. With the Sleepers gone, he drops his borrowed jacket to the floor along with the magical guise he had been wearing. He looks at Blackjack. “She should take your deal. She would’ve received better than what the Guardians will give her.”



Blackjack shrugs. “Youthful idealism and haste. Assuming her goals are noble.” He turns to the nurse. “My offer still stands. My word is good.” This last with just a hint of a challenge.



"Indeed,” Sinon says. To the nurse, with complete calmness, “I suggest you take his offer before I call Miss Jones. You know how we Guardians are with Apostates.”



She frowns, looking concerned, and raises her hands diffidently. “But you aren’t supposed to be here. Loki’s going to be mad if he sees you. So will….” she seems to think better of it. “We’re not doing anything to hurt the Veil.”



Elithora glances at the windows at the word “Veil," belatedly realizing that they could still have an audience. The would-be patients have taken off, although given how bright the clinic is compared to the dark street outside, it’s possible someone could be standing in the street. She scowls at the nurse and glances around the room. Where the hell did Aurelia get to, anyway?



In the back room, the working still ongoing, Aurelia risks reading the mind of the doctor.



He calls himself Arrowsmith. He’s concentrating very hard on a spell that he hopes will arrest the spread of – you catch the word “bleakscale.” He’s wondering where Memoranda has gotten off to, and wonders if he should trust Loki to be alone with the Tass. They need the Tass to create the cure. That’s what Gerard says, anyway.



Aurelia judiciously decides not to interrupt the man.



Arrowsmith is one of my favorite books. I did my senior English thesis on Sinclair Lewis. So when the time came to name a character who was fanatically devoted to the healing arts, even to the point where it endangered his personal relationships and his freedom, it was an obvious choice.



"Bleakscale," on the other hand...I'm sorry. I cringe every time I read it, and it's all my fault for not having had a better name ready to go when it came up. The idea is that it's an Abyssally-transmitted disease, which I'm fine with and think I made pretty good hay of, but the name is straight out of D&D and if I could change anything about these early sessions, it would - selfishly - be that.



Elithora is still thinking about the spirit she spoke to. “What are you even doing here?”



The door from the back offices opens. “Yo, I’m going out for some eat- man what the fuck?” You see a lanky youth in track pants, a t-shirt, and a skullie. He’s unshaven and has the complexion of someone who eats a lot of McNuggets.



This is Loki, my own answer to the burning question of what would happen if Ali G Awakened. He never gets to do very much, partly because he's a third banana and partly because of his own personality, but writing him is never not a joy.



The nurse - Memoranda, by process of elimination - pipes up. “Loki, you really should have been up here with me. It is not appropriate for you to be taking naps in the back while the rest of us work.”



The original conception of Memoranda was that her speech is bit cockeyed, possibly because she's seated somewhere on the high-functioning end of the autistic spectrum. This detail kind of gets lost in the shuffle of her later appearances, but can be explained away as personal growth.



Blackjack whirls to face Loki, keeping his pistol visible but not raised: “I am Blackjack, Talon of the Admantine Arrow. The Consilium has sent us to retrieve the Tass your group stole. Can we skip the part where you try to fight your way through us?”



The boy shoots Memoranda a look of baffled frustration, then turns to Sinon and Blackjack. “Arrow, huh? What a clusterfuck. We thought you was Seers.”



Sinon chuckles a bit to himself. “If we were Seers you’d be dead.”



Blackjack finds a chair. “Sinon, is it often a problem in your line of…work for people to assume you know what they are talking about?”



Loki shuffles back and forth on his feet. “So this about that Tass, or what?”



Sinon ignores the Arrow. “Yes, this is about the Tass. Specifically: Where is it?”



Elithora decides that a Good Cop is needed and steps next to Sinon with a calm smile. “There are procedures to keep in mind in acquiring these sorts of things, and I sense some of us may have gotten a b it hasty in taking the Tass…even if for a potentially good purpose.”



Elithora is a conciliator at heart. She doesn't get enough chances to do that early on, part of which is my fault and part of which is because the character's outlines were fuzzy at first, but this is where we see the first piece of where she'll be heading.



The nurse sighs. “Well, YOU people weren’t even supposed to BE there. It is hardly OUR fault that you were. I did my job perfectly.”



“You have to understand there are protocols… things can’t simply go missing…”



Loki shuffles back and forth uncomfortably. “Yeah, uh…we need that Tass, dog. These people be sick. And like the lady said, y’all weren’t even supposed to be there.”



Blackjack: “No battle plan survives contact with the enemy.” Sighs. “Perhaps this would all be much simpler if you both sit down and tell us what is going on, and why you took the Tass?”



Elithora almost invisibly nudges Sinon towards Loki while walking toward the nurse with an extended hand to help her up.



SInon: “I suggest you do as my friend asks.”



Meanwhile, Arrowsmith has finished his ritual. A couple of the patients smile and scratch as they feel a bit better without knowing why, and one starts to leave. “Hold up,” Arrowsmith says. “I need to, uh…double check.” He pulls out a tongue depressor. He moves quickly from patient to patient and frowns. “Not as well as I’d hoped…” he murmurs.



As he finishes, Aurelia pats him on the back. He jumps three feet into the air. “What the…?!”



Aurelia: “What exactly are these people sick with?” She smiles at him. “I’m a friend, please don’t be alarmed.”



The doctor’s eyes narrow as he looks you up and down. “Hm.”



Aurelia's utterly unthreatening demeanor probably helped her here.



His nostrils flare with momentary anger, then he relaxes. “It’s called bleakscale. It’s an Abyssal intrusion, last seen in Prague in 1931. Showed up in the homeless population roughly six weeks ago.”



Aurelia frowns slightly. “That’s not good. And you’ve been stockpiling Tass to attempt to cure it?”



Arrowsmith looks at the Mastigos. “Precisely. It takes a lot of mana, and with no Hallow and no nearby ley lines, we had to make our own luck. I’ll face the Consilium’s judgment if I have to, but I stand by what I’ve done.”



Aurelia nods. “I take it you’ve discerned why I’m here then. I can’t force you to come with us, but I think it would certainly be better to tackle this issue with the support of the Consilium than be seen by the as an enemy. For the sake of your patients, if no-one else.”



Arrowsmith pauses. “Voices…you brought friends, didn’t you?” He sighs. “Okay. Let’s go up front.” He looks at the patients, who’ve been watching your conversation quizzically. “Uh, you folks can head out the back entrance over there. Take plenty of Vitamin C and come back to me if your symptoms recur.”



Up front:



The nurse takes Elithora’s hand somewhat reluctantly. “People have been getting sick, magically. It’s called bleakscale. Some have died already. Their ghosts want us to fix it…well, they want me to fix it. I don’t think they care what Loki does.” She sniggers.



They totally don't



Blackjack: “So you took the Tass to power a ritual to try to cure it? Do you know what its source is?”



Memoranda shrugs. “It’s Abyssal. Someone’s spell went really wrong, or…maybe a Scelestus?”



Loki says, “We been looking, but ain’t found anyone yet. When we do, though….” he makes a tough-guy face.



Elithora taps her chin thoughtfully. “We should call this in. I suppose our benefactor would want to know about his missing rock candy. Wait…” She turns to Memoranda and Loki. “Why haven’t you gone up the ladder with this? Do you think this problem came from inside?”



Blackjack: “Apostates. In a Guardian-controlled area. Still, I would assume there have to be a few Free Council members who would have helped just for the benefit of tweaking the Guardian’s noses. And they could have gotten help from the Adamantine Arrow.”



Arrowsmith and Aurelia come up front from the back hallway. Arrowsmith frowns. “I thought you were our site security, Loki.” Loki looks at his shoes. “Get off my case, man.”



Arrowsmith claps his hands together. “Okay, ladies and gents. You’ve caught our little cabal. Are you Guardians, or what?”



Memoranda grumbles. “They weren’t even supposed to BE there!”



Sinon: “Only one of us.”



Arrowsmith nods. “Hm. How much do you know?”



Sinon: “We understand the situation and your plan. Which was nicely constructed, by the way.”



Memoranda smiles. “That was me. I did most of that.”



Aurelia looks around. “There was another. We’re one short.”



Blackjack: “Which does bring us to an important point. There was a man with that Tass. What happened to him?”



Aurelia, realizing she forgot to grab the entire reason they came here, doubles back to the office with the Tass. Loki and Arrowsmith look at Aurelia briefly before looking away. Arrowsmith clears his throat. “The, uh, bulky gentleman? He’s fine. After the spirit left him, I gave him a bit of morphine and put him in a cab headed toward the nearest Best Western. He’ll wake up in ten to twelve hours feeling pretty good.”



The Tass is in two gym bags on the floor of the records office; it’s been made to look like barbell weights. A small quantity has been used, but the bulk of it is still here. Aurelia closes the bag, relieved.



Arrowsmith looks at Loki and Memoranda, then to Sinon and Blackjack. “So what now? Whatever happens, someone has to do something about the bleakscale.”



Blackjack: “Of course. Would you be willing to address the Consilium on the matter?”



Arrowsmith nods. “Of course.”



Aurelia grabs one of the gym bags. “Can I get some help? This stuff’s heavy.”



Arrowsmith looks to Memoranda and Loki. They shrug. “Ain’t gonna be me,” Loki says. Memoranda snorts.



Blackjack stands up and finally holsters his gun. He slings a bag of Tass over his shoulder and steps up to Memoranda. “Can I speak with you a moment alone?”



Memoranda looks at her cabal, confused. Arrowsmith nods his permission. “Okay," she says. "Just don’t be a creep or anything.”



Blackjack leads her to a quiet corner. “You are an Apostate. Why?”



She shrugs. “I don’t know. It just seems dumb, asking for permission for everything. We weren't hurting anyone. And you guys were supposed to be Seers.”



Blackjack: “You keep saying that. Why?”



“Because that’s what he said!” her voice rising in frustration, loud enough to be heard across the lobby.



Sinon walks over. To Blackjack, “I’d apologize for interrupting, but I don’t care about your little recruitment pitch.” To Memoranda, “Who said what?”



Sinon can be pretty catty! He is, of course, completely correct about what BJ is trying to do.



She looks at Sinon. “Ga-rrowsmith. Arrowsmith said it. He’s our leader, OBVIOUSLY. He would say it.”



Aurelia tries a little magical reading.



Memoranda was thinking “Gerard.” His appearance: a slim man of average height, late forties, balding, with long grey hair in the back, dressed kind of outdoorsy with a wooden walking stick. And he has a kind of high-pitched voice.



Sinon: “Arrowsmith! What do you know about this?”



Arrowsmith blanches slightly. “What do I know about what?”



Sinon: “Seers.”



Aurelia looks at Sinon and shakes her head. "Don’t worry about that right now. It’s late and we have reports to make."



Aurelia's split-second choice to keep this secret is one that is still relevant to what's happening twenty sessions later.



Arrowsmith speaks slowly, choosing his words with care. “We had heard Pitch would be making a deal with Seers tonight. That’s why we picked tonight to do our little heist. Obviously, we were misinformed.”



He’s leaving something out, but with his mundane skills at people-reading Sinon can't guess at what.



Elithora muses, “Pitch should make new friends who don’t gossip.”



Aurelia grits her teeth. “If Pitch is dealing with Seers that’s a serious issue. Moreover, if his information is correct that’s a very serious issue.”



Sinon looks at Aurelia. “It is deadly serious. Let’s get the Tass loaded up and get moving.”



Blackjack shoos Sinon away, then turns back to Memoranda. “Now that we've cleared that up, a further moment of your time. I simply want to point out that members of the Adamantine Arrow are expected to act, and do what they see is needed. Sometimes that means asking for clarification from above but often that means doing something. When I came through the door, you didn’t hesitate. You acted. Perhaps you might consider a role in the order. Just a thought.”



She thinks for a long moment. Too long, even, so Blackjack snaps his fingers in front of Memoranda’s face. She looks up at him peevishly. “WHAT?!”



“Usually that recruiting pitch gets a ‘Fuck off, do I look like I wanna die.’” He smiles slightly.



"She kind of “harrumphs” at Blackjack. “Talk to me later when I’m not having such a DUMB NIGHT.”



“Oh come on. This wasn’t so bad. Sure the door got kicked in, and you fell down, but hey, not every night can be Seer attacks and fighting off monsters from the beyond.”



Sinon’s phone rings; he heads outside and answers. “Yes.”



Elithora watches Sinon walk outside and volunteers to pick up the other bag. She looks lost in thought.



Aurelia looks to Arrowsmith. “Are you coming with? I can’t promise they won’t judge harshly, but I will promise to speak up for you, for whatever that’s worth.”



Arrowsmith nods. “We’ll come quietly. I think circumstances will vindicate us.”



It’s Montesquieu on the phone. “Any luck with that Tass?”



Sinon: “The Tass is secure. Most of it at least. We have those responsible. There are other issues, however.”



Montesquieu: “Elaborate.”



Sinon: “I’d rather not over an open line. I’ll elaborate when we get there.”



“…Good point. I take it you have prisoners, yes? Shall I send the Sentinels to take them off your hands?”



Sinon: “Go ahead and send them over. The perpetrators have agreed to come in willingly, though, so I don’t think there will be much difficulty.”



Montesquieu says, “Good work, Sinon. Expect them momentarily. Tell your associates I said to be ready for the full Consilium next week. It’s going to be must-see TV.”



Elithora avoids the politics and starts lugging her bag to the limo.



Sinon hangs up the phone. He looks over at Aurelia and says, “Apparently we’re in.”



About two minutes later, a space warp opens up in a nearby alleyway and two men step out – one tall, sturdy-looking, and dressed in coveralls, the other shorter and in dark glasses. They introduce themselves, respectively, as Carson and Lefors.



Named after Kit Carson and Jo Lefors, two figures of the Wild West.



Or more accurately, Carson, an authentic Alberta cowboy, is named after the frontiersman; Lefors, a movie buff, is named after the character Jo Lefors from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, an implacable and relentless Terminator-like lawman who bore absolutely no resemblance to the historical Jo Lefors, a venal and corrupt killer.



“We …” Elithora turns to the two men. “The paperwork for this will never end, will it.”



Lefors smirks, Carson says in a broad but not unfriendly Albertan drawl, “nnnnnope.”



Sinon: “You should’ve joined the Guardians. We’re not allowed to write reports.”



Aurelia lugs the tass into the trunk. “And the others? You won’t hurt them, right? They aren’t bad, really.”



Lefors nods, brisk and businesslike. “The Arrow have kept an eye on these Apostates, but we deemed them a non-issue – they’re basically neophytes. But of course, they’re just smart enough to make trouble. We’ll try and set them on the straight and narrow if we can.”



Blackjack: “Should be ten minutes or so to write up my report. One of them might make for a recruit. She didn’t freeze up when we came in the door.”



Lefors looks at Memoranda appraisingly. “You don’t say. Well, we could always use warm bodies…”



"Hey! They're not cold cuts!" Aurelia snaps.



The two men commandeer a nearby car and lead the captives to it. Arrowsmith looks back at the four mages. “Don’t let them forget about the bleakscale. If they’re really worried about Sleepers, they’ll do something about it…!”



Blackjack nods to Arrowsmith. “We will not allow them to forget.”



He smiles back. “Thank you.”



They pile into the car, and Lefors and Carson drive them off.



Aurelia smiles at Elithora as the car pulls away. “I was scared shitless in there. But once I realized they were good people, I relaxed. One last thing before I forget. I know the identity of the fourth man, the one they were desperately trying to protect.”



Elithora: “Fourth man? Who?”



Sinon: “The one who tipped them off to the meet.”



Blackjack raises an eyebrow.



Aurelia: “Gerard. I know what he looks like. How he dresses. Acts. Sounds. Smells.” She smirks. “It was written all over their minds as you were giving them the third degree in there.”



Sinon: “Some of us are only Apprentices of the Mind.”



Aurelia slaps Sinon on the shoulder, grinning. “Buck up, you’ll get there someday.”



Elithora repeats the real name “Gerard,” like someone handling a gun that they don’t know is loaded or not. “We need to track him down. I’m not a fan of this Seer business. And does Montesquieu know his little pals are dealing to them on the side?”



Later that night, Sinon has a dream.



He's in a forest, lost. It’s night. The trees are huge and he has the oddest feeling that they’re watching him.



An owl hoots from somewhere ahead. It seems to be calling his name – his real name.



Sinon walks toward the owl.



As he moves in the direction of the owl’s voice, shafts of moonlight pierce the treetops to dimly illuminate the next few feet in front of him. They seem to follow him, or precede him, providing a path over the treacherous ground, moving ever closer to the source of the sound.



They also illuminate something else: there are carvings on the trees.



The light is dim and the carvings seem to move and shift as he glances at them, but every so often he sees arrangements of symbols that resemble names. Not any names he recognizes, though, and he has a feeling some of them are very, very old indeed.



Sinon momentarily brushes his hands across a name as though that could bring its meaning forth. He stops and then continues on the path toward the sound of the bird.



The path takes a turn and the Guardian emerges into a clearing. Two enormous totem poles – bigger than anything in reality – tower over him.



The owl flutters above, soaring up and perching on one of the eagle wings of the right totem pole. It points its beak at the ground before him, where a pair of masks sit - the masks of comedy and tragedy, in fact. “WHAT WILL YOU CHOOSE, SINON? DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE?”



Sinon starts to reach down. As he does, both of the masks' expressions blank, becoming neutral. He stops suddenly. “Who are YOU!?”



The owl turns its head 45 degrees to the left. It blinks. “THAT…WOULD BE TELLING.” A distant laugh tinkles like crystal. “ALWAYS THE INQUISITOR, EH? I’LL MEET YOU FOR THE FIRST TIME VERY SOON NOW. NEVER STOP ASKING QUESTIONS.”



The dreamer awakens.



Elithora sits upright, looks around, grabs a pad of paper and pen next to her bed and begins scribbling down notes.