[Jack_Spade]

"Take care, we'll hopefully be back tomorrow."

After organizing a safe exit to the surface, Isaint went to visit his armor and weapon dealer. It took a while to get a new helmet and the shield with all the specifications, but at least the drones were no problem to purchase.

Another storage area outside of London became their new home and Isaint spent the whole night setting things up. But when he left, his little robot army was crafting away, handling acids, cooling agents and organic solutions.

In about 4 days he would be able to fetch the results.

[Aria]

[Sunday July 5th onwards, 2076; Above ground, London]

A tentative reaching out to your contacts suggests that there is still an alert out for a group linked to a non-specific terrorist threat and that it would be wise for you to keep your heads down!  Although it is unlikely that the police are actively involved it is still entirely possible that the security services have your profiles on their radar and London is only surpassed by Manhattan for its ubiquitous surveillance tech!

***

#72

[Aria]

[Saturday July 11th, 2076; Astral Shallow, Below, London]
 
And so you find yourselves back again…one moment you are in a dark cavern lit by whatever artificial means you have on you, and then a step later and you are outside in the late evening air.  It is damp underfoot and the air is heavy and still with a hint of fog rolling across the marsh land.  The mournful sound of bird call carries to you from far away, the only other sounds being the chirr of insects and the ever present sound of lapping water.
 
The Roman road is beside you, built up out of the marsh on compacted stone and gravel, running straight as far as the eye can see away out of London.  Satire, your guide for this misadventure, gestures you up and then is off running.  The rest of the Harlequinade are making their own way to Lyonesse, as are the bride and bride, their unsuspecting families and a host of other dignitaries and assorted onlookers from Below.
 
It takes longer than you’d anticipated, given the size of the cavern you’d entered, but eventually you are standing before a faded dolmen…the granite obelisks stand some three meters tall with the table top slab perched above forming a gigantic doorway.  There are forms carved in to their surface which initially look like Celtic knotwork, but upon closer inspection seem to form something like a stellar map…or perhaps an astral one…
 
Satire makes it clear that you should all join hands before stepping through, and then it is too late for last minute thoughts or regrets…
 
 
[Saturday July 11th?, 2076; Lyonesse, Metaplane]
 
After the fog of the shallow the air here is crisp and sweet, without the dampness of Below or any hint of the pervasive pollution that you are used to in the Sixth world, even in the deepest of wildernesses.  It smells like spring and salt and there is dew on the lush grass underfoot.  Clouds scud across the early morning sky which is a rich unnatural blue and despite the cool air you can feel that the sun has more heat in it than you are accustomed too, unfiltered by the crap in the air at home.
 
You are on a rolling ridge overlooking cliffs that soar down to the vibrant sea below you.  The island is big enough that you can’t see the full extents from here but green hills with striking rocky outcrops dominate the landscape.
 
Al
 
All four limbs, check, leather jacket, well it’s here although it doesn’t look like it should, fags…no fucking fags?  What’s this pipe crap all about!?
 
The others seem to have made it through unscathed.  Robyn and that big damn dog with your name look much the same, although she’s got a slightly strange look on her face… Deckard too doesn’t look much changed, but damn, Isaint has come through looking like some sort of Roman soldier boy…!
 
Robyn
 
The first thing that strikes you is the wonderful smell of this place…then you realise what your brain has been screaming at you for the last millisecond or two…you can see it!  No AR interface, radar or sonar overlay…although the information is still there…you can actually see!
 
Deckard
 
A metaplanar journey that seems to bypass the Dweller is definitely something to be recommended!  The uncomfortable truths it spouts might well have upset things somewhat!
 
Isaint
 
Well, it’s almost as you’d anticipated from the clues in the shallows, you look like a Centurion, although it isn’t quite like the museum pieces from back in the real world.  And Al?  He’s come across as the epitome of Celtic barbarian!  Also to be expected no doubt!  Robyn is in a dress but for some reason Satire has managed to retain her skintight body glove…what it is about these murder clowns that allows them to avoid the metaphor of this place might give someone with more time on their hands an interesting thesis…
 
Your weapons appear to have been altered by the metaphor too…they appear to be energy weapons rather than the projectile based ones you walked in here with, although the melee weapons remain the same, albeit far more decorative with beautiful Celtic knotwork adorning them.
 
As you are taking stock a craft flies by overhead…it looks like a cross between a jet fighter and an ornate sailing yacht…heading inland…Satire gestures that you should follow it…!
 
***
 
#73
 

[Jack_Spade]

[Wednesday July 8th, 2076; Robyn's Place, Below, London]
It had taken some serious disguise work on Isaint's part, but he had managed to get out and in again to Below without being detained - despite the fact that he was now actively engaging in the production and delivery of real explosives. 'Your honor, I'm no terrorist, I just happened to get involved in a weird job that made it necessary to transport bio-weapons through a shopping center and producing explosives in a shed.' He had to admit that this probably wouldn't hold water in any court of law. So now he was back underground with his new shiny toys and a 16kilo bag of TNT for Al.
"Fresh from the helpful elves, just don't use it all at once."

Somewhat relieved but tired he enjoyed the relative quiet of Robyn's place. Jackhammer and Iris where with the doctor, Rick was meditating, Robyn was using her contacts to send out the invites for the masquerade and Al was smoking - everything seemed to go according to plan. But for some reason Isaint couldn't relax. He felt as if he was standing beneath a power line, could almost feel the static electricity. Finally he recognized the feeling: This was his patron trying to talk to him while he wasn't fighting for his life. Ironically it was at these moments that he felt his connection get strongest, where he could almost make out words but certainly the intent the dragon slayer tried to convene. Well, there was a way to talk to him - after all he had practiced meditating over the last month not just so he could sit in the cramptastic Lotus position.

So it came that Isaint found Robyn's small cupboard turned of the lights, plugged his ears and shut off all electronic gadgets. For the first few minutes it actually was disorienting. He had been wearing his trode-net nonstop for the last week, had constantly monitored the feeds from his allies, his agents and his drone. Now it was as if a large water faucet had been shut off, revealing the severely eroded state of the pipes. For a moment panic threatened to overcome him - his mind automatically trying to send the command to his trode-net to turn everything back on, but the trodes lay in the other room and there was no response from anything.

Isaint forced himself to breath - in, out, in, out - until his heartbeat normalized again, then became slower and slower. Suddenly the darkness around him seemed to become lighter - or rather he suddenly glimpsed a small light in the distance. For an errant moment he thought someone had unplugged the keyhole, but as he concentrated on the light he realized that it had humanoid shape. He couldn't say if he was moving there or if it was coming closer to him, but it grew closer and in detail:
A large human, easily 4 or more meters tall, glad in an armor from Roman times mixed with medieval and renaissance implements. The figure carried a large sword and  that seemed to belong to the 14th century, while the helmet and shield certainly belonged to a Roman Centurion. And all the time the figure was glowing bright as the sun although Isaint curiously noted that he had no problems looking at him.
'That's because you don't see me with your eyes, Pankratius. Took you long enough to get here.'
'You are reading my mind? Ah never mind, stupid question. Funny, you aren't the first one to say that to me.'
'I am aware of that, being in your mind and memories and all that.'
'Oh right. So I felt like you wanted to talk with me. What is this about?'
'You are mistaken, it is you who wants to talk with me. You have once again taken responsibility for others and despite your best efforts and intentions they have been hurt.'
'Yes. But this time it's different. Jackhammer and Iris are seasoned professionals who knew the risks.'
'Nex, Interfex and Carnifex also knew the risks and you are still blaming yourself for their deaths.'
'No shit. The difference is that I didn't put a bullet between Iris' and Jackhammer's eyes - well technically I put a bullet between Jackhammers shoulder blades, but that was just a capsule round. But, you know, I didn't have to shoot their head off to stop the Shedim inside them from killing me.'
'Yes. You know that it wasn't them, that their spirit had already moved on and that the shadows only used their dead hulls?'
'No i don't know it. They could have just been possessed. The wounds weren't that deep, they could have still been in there and I might have killed them for real instead of just banishing the Shedim.'
'Pankratius, stop. You've been thinking about that day for over five years now. It is time to let go of that moment. It's in the past, there is nothing you can do to change it.'
'Easy for you to say. When you slay something you can be pretty sure if it was a dragon or not.'
'But true nonetheless. This is not about scales or no scales. Although I have to say I disapprove of you getting involved with a drake. Those always work for a dragon and working for a dragon always means that some poor souls are turned into food or worse, turned into monsters. Speaking of which, you recently faced the Nachtmahr, a supremely evil being and it vowed to find you again.'
'Great, thanks for reminding me. With what I have in my mind the thing would have enough ammunition to send me into my own personal hell.'
'Nonsense. The Nachtmahr is powerful, but ultimately it can't do anything lasting to you - at least not as long as you don't allow it to. Your feeling of guilt and regret is your weakness and your strength.'
'This is getting awfully Zen for my taste.'
'Well, than stop interrupting me so I can explain. Secretly you are yearning to be relieved of responsibility for your actions. Getting possessed or infected would be the perfect excuse to follow your impulses without being held responsible. That's how the Nachtmahr could get to you and turn you into a monster.
I've sent you my wrath to shield you from that temptation, but I can't guarantee that I might be able to do so again next time.'
'Thanks for that by the way. It felt amazing to punch those four shadow spirits back to their home dimension.'
'Eh, de nada. While you are awake you are already very good at defending your mind. That guilt won't let you give up or give in while your friends are in danger. That's why it's also your strength. That will help you once you get to Lyonesse. I'm telling you nothing new  if I say that this will be crazy dangerous for you and yours. You really have to learn to say no to women.'
'Very funny. Talking and negotiating is just not my strong suit.'
'And yet you can't seem to shut your trap for longer than a few seconds at a time. Now shut up and listen: I'm teaching you a way to get in contact with me without having to raid a cupboard and sitting in the dark for four hours. Conveniently it will also allow you to postpone sleeping and in case of a severe wound stop you from bleeding out in seconds. You'll also be able to sense every movement around you. That should give you enough time to react should the Nachtmahr decide to pay you a visit.
Ok. You may talk again.'
'Gee, thanks. But... it's just... Are you really real? I mean this is all in my head after all. How do I know that I didn't just go crazy when I killed Nex?'
'First of all, you shot Nex but it was the Shedim who killed her, capice? And secondly... does it matter? I'm looking out for you just as you are looking out for your friends. That's all that counts. So don't fuck this up on Lyonesse. I'm serious: If you get yourself killed there I'm never talking a word with you again.'

Isaint wanted to answer but became aware that his patron was no longer there and he was once again in the small cupboard inside which the air had become really, really stale. Dizzy he reached for the door knob, his joints creaking from the prolonged disuse. He wanted to push open the door but became aware that someone stood just in front of it - how he couldn't say. So instead of  kicking it open, he just opened it slightly to let air and light in.

Rick looked at him curiously: "Did you find what you were looking for? You've been inside there a while."
Isaint smiled as he replied: "Yepp, long distance call and a bit of sensory deprivation to master a new skill..."


[Saturday July 11th?, 2076; Lyonesse, Metaplane]

Isaint marveled at his outfit - it was almost exactly a replica of what his patron had worn, except that he didn't carry a sword but his cestus instead. His Ruthenium Polymer Cloak had turned into a commanders mantle, still able to turn it's wearer invisible. The new helmet also had kept his abilities, including the chemical seal, although that one seemed to just be some kind of shadow covering his whole face, turning him into a truly faceless soldier. Gems all along the edges of his shield glittered merrily, ready to turn into a stroboscope display at his command.   
Satisfied that his gear had come with him as promised he turned to his companions:
"If I had known you could bring a freaking GMC Banshee VTOL in here, I might have forgone my cloak, no matter how spiffy it looks now. Alright, let's move or we'll be to late for our own show."


#490

[adamu]

Blue.

Fucking blue.

Far more interested in his own appearance than that of his companions (not because he was self-centered, just because he was more interesting), he had looked down at himself to find a dense scrollwork of geometric patterns covering every inch of his flesh - and all blue. The blue lines were so damned thick it looked as though he was just fucking blue all over. He held up his link and looked at himself. Yup. Whole face a swirl of damned blue lines. Whipping off the leathern cloak that his pa's jacket had become (he could see the spot where that stupid ork "warrior" girl had shot him in the back, so he knew it was still the same jacket), he reached over his shoulder and snapped an image of his back - they were still there, all three of them, thank the voodoo gods. They were fucking blue now and had lost all their texturing, since his scars were gone, but they were still there.

And certainly well enough on display. Aside from the jacket/cloak, he had some sort of leathern loin cloth thing on - looked like a damned miniskirt - and nothing else. The bags at his hips, straps criss-crossing his chest, covered more than the damned skirt. And yup, sure enough, the Elephant was swinging free down there.

Ridiculous pipe clamped between his teeth - the leaf burning in the bowl somehow tasted just like Lucky Strikes - he hefted what had been his Remington. But this oddity was nothing at all like his own weapon. In stark contrast to the boiled leather crap adorning his blue body, this thing was all matte black resin composites and digital bells & whistles. But it had a business end and a trigger, so he pointed it at a boulder thirty yards away and damned he was wasn't carrying a bloody ray gun. Blew the boulder to bits under a burst of lime-green bolts. He'd have to look at the thing more closely when he had a chance, see if he could turn the bolts blue to match his new look.

Well, it was a good thing for his state of mind he'd taken the past week to rest his poor mind from the travails of hippie immersion he'd experienced being back in Below. He'd lit out with Isaint and they parted ways, seeing each other again since only once, when Al had descended mid-week to touch base with everyone.

He'd spent the rest of the time in as much sunlight as possible. He had his dog to look after, and the cars he was working on. But mostly, he knew, he was avoiding a week with Robyn - and Isaint - and Rick - at her place. Alone, but not alone. Was he just looking for the right environment in which to try getting reacquainted? Or was he trying to avoid getting reacquainted altogether?

Still hot, he'd come out in the LCZ and then called his Outrider remotely. River traffic was a lot easier on the dog-brain than the road would have been for the Bulldog (now that the Beamer was toast), and registrations weren't watched as closely, and cameras actually easier to duck if you knew what you were doing. Before long the sleek boat was there to pick him up. He stayed in the small cabin until they were out of the city, and then messed around a bit to make double sure no one unwelcome tailed him to his new hideaway. On the way, he'd arranged for Horace to burn both his IDs - a good forensics team would be able to tie the Beamer to both - and start the order for two more.

Then he'd set to work on the two cars that had occupied so much of his time since he'd moved into his now place by the river. That - along with a hell of a lot of beer - had been therapeutic in dealing with the twin trials of hippie exposure and Alyce re-exposure. Oh, and fighting to the death with mercs and beating off a pack of demons. But that was the small stuff.

And now it was all small stuff - he felt like he was here, but in fact, it had been explained to him again, his actual body was out of time. Well it had damned well better find its precious way back into time when he was ready for it, which couldn't be soon enough.

"Whole damned business openin' doors in ol' Al's mind, baby," Al said to Alyce, who turned to look at him. Or whatever she did instead of seeing but that always seemed to work just as...no...and that weird smile on her face...was she...? She nodded excitedly and he couldn't help feeling excited for her. He knew she no longer needed her sight. Hell, he wasn't even sure if she'd be willing to take it back if she could, at this point. He just didn't know the answer to that question. But to have the sense back, after all these decades, well, it had to be...something...to her. If only in this moment.

It made him kind of want to hug her or something, but they were working, dammit. And for all he knew, if they touched in this place they might explode or something. Or their out of time bodies might. So he gave her a wink and shouldered his new ray gun before taking off after Isaint.

[Aria]

[Saturday July 11th?, 2076; Lyonesse, Metaplane]
 
Leaving the dolmen behind you, you make your way after the skyrunner, down into the lush valley below.  A stream bubbles over a rocky bed and dragonflies flit across the bright reflected rays of the sun…except they probably aren’t dragonflies, upon closer inspection they look like tiny fragging pixies!
 
A wordless roar fills Isaint’s mind moments before the sun is blotted out briefly above you and the immense downdraft of giant wings staggers you… as the dragon flies over you are momentarily blinded by the sun on its silver and brass scales.  Flying in close formation are two drakes…
 
<<The Loremaster has come, Celedyr is here for the Masque, The Fates dance to your tune now>> comes the AR message from Satire…
 
***
 
#74
 

[adamu]

"Holy...." for once, Al was speechless. He wouldn't have been more surprised if Santa Claus had shown up. Seems they'd picked one hell of an event to stage their little shindig at.

Well, what, a lizard right? Could fly. Owned corps. Did brain research or something. Magical. But basically a lizard putting on airs of sentience. God had created man to subject the earth and all its creatures, and this was just lizard. An animal with bells and whistles. And he figured it was here as a spectator anyway, nothing to do with them.

Still, he took a good look at the drakes, checking to see if he knew one of them....

[Jack_Spade]

"You motherf..." a host of obscene expletives in four different languages - one of them dead - escaped Isaint's mouth before he could get a grip on himself.
"I can't believe they invited a dragon to our show. This has gone entirely to far - actually it has gone so far that it crossed the point where it went to far twice...

Sorry, sorry, I'm calm again. It's just... those arrogant, stupid, scum sucking, pea-brained MOTHERFRAGGERS really have called in Celedyr to this show, a freaking Great Dragon... and they couldn't have told us that before? Diese verdammten, hohlbirnigen, wichsgriffligen Töchter einer syphelitischen Hure..."

When Isaint had really calmed down (it took only two more outbursts) they had almost reached the halfway point of their journey. He still felt that incoherent and not at all rational rage bubbling inside him.
"For your information, I'm not amused about this turn of events."

[Mercy Merchant]

Robyn is speechless as she crosses the barrier.  It has been over forty years since a maniacal Yakuza lieutenant had sent a bullet into her brain and taken away from her the ability to see.  Certainly, she uses drones and her implanted sensors to "see" what is around her, but nothing is the same as being able to actually look out and see it with functioning eyes.  Her mind has captured every memory of what she had seen before the shooting, but those are all in the past.  And this is the present.  Her very first action is to turn to face Al.  Dear, lovely, glorious Al.  If this sight goes away soon, she wants to have stored in her memory what he looks like.  Her fingers have already mapped his face and torso, but she wants to see him with her eyes.  She removes her glasses, revealing bright blue eyes rather than the dead white ones he has seen in the past.  He smiles at her and winks before walking off behind ISaint, who she finally spares some time for.  The entire Roman centurion thing he has going on totally suits him, she thinks, as she picks up her cello and follows along. 

Her attention is understandable focused on Al's butt, but she spares the time to really LOOK at the things around her.  The sun, the grass, even the rocks on the path, have new meaning now.  A new vibrancy that she had thought lost forever.  She has been informed many times that no surgery possible will ever allow her to reclaim her sight and she has grown to accept that.............but now.  For now she can see.  Part of her would stay here forever if only for that reason, but the larger part of her would never stay here, even if she could see.  She loves a man with a passion that cannot whither and die and his place is not here.  She would gladly give up the ability to use her eyes again for the chance to be with him.  Even if he does not return her love, she will never stop loving him, but neither will she allow him to just leave without trying to convince him to take her with him. 

Her ruminations are disturbed by the shadow of the flying Great Dragon.  Celedyr!  Amazing!  She cries out in spite of herself.  "Celedyr!  How magnificent!  What you three are about to do will be noted and remembered by a Great Dragon.  Stories will be told for generations of what you accomplish here.  I only hope that my part in this does not embarrass you in any way.  I will do my very best to get the music right."

[adamu]

Yup, one of them was eTher. He nudged Isaint's shoulder, nodding towards the serpentine silhouette they were both familiar with. "Told Jackhammer, didn't git 'round ta you...good or bad, lizard-chica did indeed pull the bait an' switch on the family at the service area, jist like I reckoned. So her showin' up might not be all bad."

He figured that since Robyn's eyes worked now, maybe her super-hearing didn't. But whatever.

[Jack_Spade]

"Yeah, you actually mentioned that to me too. Not that I'm not happy for the boy and his family, but it just goes to show how you really can't trust anything that comes from a drake - or its master for that matter. Using others as pawns is second nature to them, or at least most of them.

And let me tell you: Getting the attention of a Great Dragon is never a good thing. They never do anything with only one purpose. There is always at least one other hidden agenda - if not dozens - they further by one overt act. Our only hope is that we aren't part of one of the more pertinent agendas."

To Robyn he said: "Actually, in my line of work I prefer it when there is no reason for a story to be told. Living in interesting times and all that. Cheering for the majesty of a dragon is like a song bird cheering for the majesty of the cat."


#492

[adamu]

"I'll allow as they's good ta give a wide berth. End o' the day, though, they's jist lizards. They ain't made in God's image. An' they know it. That's half the reason they's always tryin' ta show folks how great they is. They's compensatin', ya ask ol' Al."

[Mercy Merchant]

Robyn laughs out loud.  "ISaint, you have no poetry in your soul.  We will just have to agree that neither of us sees things in the same way.  In my opinion, there is no reason for everything one comes upon to be negative in some way.  I have a great faith in the God above us and the voodoo spirits that protect me, and in a love so strong that nothing can possibly sunder it.  I believe in these things with all my heart.  I look at the dragon in wonder and awe and would pen songs that tell of them.  I am as sure in  my beliefs as you are in yours,  and neither of us will be able to change the way the other looks at the world and its miracles and majesty.  I will tell you, though, that I have seen a great deal of death and misery in my long life and none of that has been able to drag me to the place you are in.  I am certainly not saying that you are wrong, only that I feel differently about most of the things we have come upon together,"

[Jack_Spade]

Isaint opened his mouth and stopped. There were a dozen responses he could say to that and all of them were needlessly hurtful.
'You are blind to the real world...'
'You have been broken and pieced together wrong...'
'The fool that looks at the sky fails to avoid the abyss...'
'You are deluding yourself about your love and who reciprocates...'
'It's easy to be happy if you ignore the suffering of others...'

When he had actually thought about his response for a few seconds he said:
"I was forged by my experiences and the consequences of my decisions. I failed, I sinned, I repented - again and again, but I'm always striving for betterment both of myself and for the life of others.
For that my patron found me as I found him. It's the nature of the scorpion to sting and it's my nature to worry about my friends. It makes me profoundly unhappy that - as it turns out - I'll very likely be powerless to protect you all in case this creature should decide to kill or take one or all of you.

Closing my eyes from that truth might lessen the pain, but I'd rather endure it and walk into danger with my eyes open."

[adamu]

"Yeah, an' Confucius say: 'He who crosses bridge before he comes to it must pay toll twice.'"