[Jack_Spade]

"Alright alright, I get you. We'll burn that bridge when we get to it. Now let's get a move on. The sooner we get there the sooner we can leave again - with or without dragon bite sized pieces missing."
Isaint nodded an upped the pace a bit.

[Aria]

[Saturday July 11th?, 2076; Lyonesse, Metaplane]
 
Following the stream it twists round an outcropping and then plunges down a rainbow filled waterfall into a valley that opens before you.  On the far side of the valley you can see stone ramparts and sitting above it a majestic wooden built hall, a great dun rising over the plain.
 
You are in time to see the front doors open and the majestic form of Celedyr disappearing inside, the doors more than ample for his great size.  Well it would seem you are nearing the party palace!
 
***
 
The sun is dipping by the time you have crossed the verdant grasslands at the foot of the castle.  The sound of music and laughter is borne on the light and fragrant winds.  A sentry, dressed in a lesser version of Isaint’s getup, challenges you but upon seeing Satire yells something into the courtyard below and the gates ponderously open to admit you…
 
<We perform at midnight> comes the message from Satire…that leaves you approximately four hours to prepare yourselves…
 
***
 
#75
 

[Jack_Spade]

Isaint nodded at Satire before turning to his chummers:
"Alright, three things to remember for us all:
The people in there are not our friends. Every bit of information you give them is a potential weapon they can use against you at a later date. So be sparingly with what you tell them or at least do it in a way that is ambiguous. This is triply true should you speak to any scaly individuals.

Don't make any promises or commitments here. I'm not sure about this meta plane, but I know that there are some where your word can bind you more thoroughly than if you had signed a contract made by a corporate lawyer - but with comparable costs.

And finally: It's a rumor I heard, but I want to share the warning with you nonetheless: Consuming food or drink might be potentially dangerous. Not because it's poisoned - although that is always a possibility, but because you could gain a permanent connection to this plane by incorporating it's essence into yours. From what I heard this can cause all sorts of problems: From opening you up for direct astral assaults to being unable to leave the plane again.
Yes, it's unlikely that this will be the case here, but better safe than sorry. Staying sober will in any case be the best policy.

Let's do this."

With that Isaint opened the door to allow Robyn, Al and Rick to enter.



#495

[adamu]

"Well," Al chuckled, "You can def'nitely count on ol' Al fer one an' two. Sober's my least fav'rite state, though, so reckon three'll depend on what's on offer."

Thirsty as he was, however, Al had no desire to form any sort of bond with this ridiculous place. He was more than ready to, in Isaint's words, 'do this.'

This, though, was an elusive concept indeed, as he had only the most vague of notions about what was meant to happen here.

So there was going to be a costume party...maybe....he was pretty sure that's what a masque was, but he wouldn't bet a pack of Lucky Strikes on it. Whatever - he was already basically in costume either way. And the clowns would put on a show. A show in which Isaint and Alyce would also perform. And the show was some sort of cover for or excuse to get witnesses at a wedding between the two girls that thought they were lesbians.

So, was the wedding going to be part of the clowns' show? Or would it just happen at the intermission? And what about rasta-spud's injunction that he and Isaint be a part of things? Well, it was them that had initiated doing the wedding as part of all this...was that enough? Or did they have to do anything else besides stop anyone that tried putting the kabosh on the festivities?

It briefly occurred to him to ask, but then it crossed his mind that no one he trusted enough to question (a total of three people in the place) probably knew any more than he did anyway. And if they did, he figured they'd let him know when the time came.

So for now he decided to just concentrate on seeing the sights - wasn't every day he traveled to a metaplane, though it would hopefully be his last.

[adamu]

And with that Al walked into an SCA freak's wet dream. Damned mother of all Renaissance fairs. There was a king in courtly robes chatting intimately with some filthy-faced genius he figured was supposed to be the village idiot, and a drake with a mouth bristling with teeth like an afanc on steroids was nibbling on viands with a couple of nubile serving wenches. But aside from the fact that the relationships made no sense, everything looked pretty good. No styrofoam swords here, nosirree, and the players were not mostly fat.

It was hard to miss the king-shit lizard, lolling there on the floor taking up a big chunk of space by one wall, body a mountain and head swaying above the crowd on its tree of a neck. It was chewing on something - probably one of the whole hogs roasting on spits over the central fire pit. Probably.

He didn't see either of the lesbians right away, though the way some folks were carrying on in the straw under the trestle tables, he wasn't sure gender much mattered to any of these freaks. At the far end of the hall a big stage was set up, a velvety scarlet curtain hanging heavily across the proscenium. But the occasional mime ducking in or out from behind it - easy to spot because they were the only ones breaking the dress code - let him know they were busy with their preparations. And sure enough, Parody was heading that way too.

Al figured he'd follow, but was distracted by a busty scullery maid proferring him a tray laden with foaming beverages. "Don't mind if I do, toots," he said. Recalling Isaint's warning, he downed only half of the tankard's contents before leaving it on a table and setting back off in search of his companions. Being blue and mostly naked, however, had rendered him no taller, and unable to see over the crowd he'd completely lost sight of his companions. So he set off in the general direction of the stage, searching for a mime or else more to drink, whichever he found first. 

[Jack_Spade]

Isaint had to force himself to act normally, despite the fact that there was a massive dragon in the room with two drakes at his side. His discomfort was not at all diminished when the Dragon suddenly shrunk and took on the form of a human with bronze toned skin.
Well, there was nothing he could do beside charging him and dying ignominiously.
Instead he headed towards the stage where the mimes were performing already. Robyn still wanted to do her performance despite Alice once again being unable to the vocals. But he couldn't really blame her, this was indeed a once in a lifetime audience. So he would do what he could with the drums. That this would put him at an elevated position, allowing him to see the whole crowd at once was an added perk. Also it would keep him hopefully away from the real shakers and movers here, sparing him the mental fatigue of keeping his mouth shut at the horseshit those people invariably talked.

Isaint dodged the same waitress, from whose tablet Al had taken a drink, and continued through the crowd. 


#496

[Aria]

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

The great hall, seemingly bigger on the inside than the outside would suggest, natch, is crowded with upwards of five hundred people, using the loosest description… there are representatives from each of the Great Houses, and many more who’s allegiance is unidentifiable.  Every metatype is represented one way or the other, although elves and humans dominate.  Cliques form and shift apart and generally rivals are mingling in the party atmosphere without any apparent animosity.

The mighty Holies walk in islands of calm amidst the chaos, vaguely disapproving frowns plastered across their faces…but one, who looks more like an itinerant monk, can be seen laughing and joking with Lady deBathyre…there is your officiate!

Robyn blanches at the sight of members of House Valerian and their scantily clad concubines but thankfully her nemesis can’t be seen anywhere in the press…

House of Vitaris and The House of Barimen can be seen gossiping together, never a good sign for those in the know, the two magic cults of Below standing in their own private pools of darkness…

House Laésal are the most prominent force here, as was to be expected…their brightly woven clothes adorned with a multitude of flowers that waft heady scents across the whole hall.  Only the Harlequins outdo them for the riot of colour as the Murder Clowns suddenly burst forth into the throng in a breath-taking display of synchronised acrobatics, their haunting music at odds with the volume of talk…though that is rapidly quelled as people realise that something is about to begin…

***

#76

[Aria]

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

The Telling is in full swing now and it’s hard not to get caught up in the epic tale…it’s an amazing spectacle with a bewildering array of illusion, AR imagery and virtuoso physicality that make it truly compelling.  Isaint’s steady drum beats counterpoint the wild beats of the Harlequinade whilst Robyn’s haunting cello dips and weaves with the sweet pipes, skirling harps and lamenting horns.  Only Requiem does not perform, a dark and silent figure standing to one side, the sardonic grinning skull tilted to one side…

And then Isaint sees him…one of the Vitaris turns to look up and from the cowled depths the terrifying visage from the Gardens of Dis stares at you across the hall…the voice comes clearly across the noise of the crowd without seeming to be noticed by anyone else

~Thank you Crusader…we will feast well this night~

***

#77

[Jack_Spade]

Isaint's heart skipped a beat but not his hands. 'I fragging knew it. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And now I'm on a meta plane without most of my toys. Fragging fantastic.'
With a mental flick (time to see if the pseudo matrix of this world actually worked) he composed a message to the team and to the Harlequinade insofar as he had their commcode:
<<The Nightmare is here. He just revealed himself to me as one of the Vitaris. That doesn't actually has to mean that he is one of their numbers - I could have been fooled by an illusion - but he certainly has a presence here in some form and it seems he and his retinue intend to attack the guests.
Which could be a feint - there are after all high powered spell casters among the guests, not to mention a freaking Great Dragon. If anything I expect some possession and or domination shenanigans.
Hopefully this channel is not compromised and the spirit doesn't know I can warn you. As long as I keep playing we should have time to discreetly warn the important and powerful people here - I stress "discreetly". Let's not turn this into a red wedding.>>

[adamu]

Al had found a spot where he could see much of the room, and the brides-to-be in particular as they prepared for their moment. He moved over to them.

"Ladies, ya may not recognize me, bein' blue an' all, or else perhaps distracted by this gratuitous display o' my impressive physique, but it's me, Al Guthrie. It's my job ta make sure yer unholy nuptial go forward without a hitch. No pun intended. Long story short, altered appearance notwithstandin', we's met."

The annoyed looks on the women's faces made it clear they knew perfectly well who he was, and Al congratulated himself on the indelible impression he invariably made in the memories of the fairer sex, regardless of their stated preferences.

"Well ol' Al's here ta tell ya, our good friend from yer genius garden meet's done found his way here, an' up to his ol' hippie-demon tricks. So eyes sharp - can't think of anyone better ta mess with than the happy couple. So either of ya notices t'other doin' anythin' peculiar, out o' character-like, then lemme know lickety-split. Reckon I'll be close by."

And with that he faded back into the crowd just far enough to not be 'with' them, but close enough to reach them quickly. Ray-gun slung across his back, he called forth his brass knuckles with a quiet mutter to the voodoo gods.

<<Roger roger, boss kemo sabe. I'm with the girls.>>

[obidancer]

It had been a long week of studies, incantations and spirit binding. Deckard had tried to learn as much he could on the Lyonesse Metaplane. Robyn had been helpful finding the appropriate Matrix libraries, and he even paid a visit to the House of Whisper. Every day that drew closer to the tri, so was his excitement.
Oh he knew the danger of the Metaplanes, but traveling through an Astral Gate, to a world of mythological importance, was simply any magician dream and hope.

He would go there prepared. Sure he didn't have use for the arsenal ISaint could have access to, but his specialty was Magic, and he was about to step in a Magical world.

****
The first thing Deckard did upon entering this plane was to take a deep breath; the air was fresh and pure, a change from London heavily polluted air and a pleasure following many days spend deep below London, with only artificial light and recycled air to keep one sane.

He then looked at himself. Nothing was drastically amiss, contrary to Centurion ISaint and Barbarian Al. His was still wearing his coat, only the fabric seemed different. Embroidery along its edge created with golden threads and the overall thickness made it fancy. His clothes were replaced with a layered mix of silk, velvet and cotton.

A mental command made a quick connection with the Spirits and elemental he had bound for the occasion and confirmed their ability to exist in this world.

All I need is a staff and I'll fit right in, he spoke out loud to no one in particular.

He had none. However his throwing knives were still readily accessible, but more importantly, he could feel the reassuring weight of his revolver tucked inside his coat. And with it, a presence. The one of his father. With a confident glance, he looked up at the sky to watch the majestic sight .




This is pretty much what Deckard would be wearing

*****

Dragons... and how to shatter dreams... oh sure, it was a magnificent sight... Once in a life time hopefully, but with it came the realization everything he was experiencing, witnessing, enjoying, in this world, could just turn to drek in a blink of an eye. Such was the god given gift of the giant lizards. He had been raised in the Shadows; he knew the saying oh too well: Never Deal with a Dragon.

He looked at ISaint. Deckard could tell that he too was upset, even Al's blaze look had somehow diminished. What wrong could happen... really?

[Mercy Merchant]

As the small group approaches the castle, Robyn nods at ISaint's warnings and instructions.  She has decided that the two of them will probably not ever think the same way about things and she can live with that.  She does nod, though, at his warnings as some of them are quite realistic.  >>I understand and will do my best to not give anything away.  I am quite sure that I will know many of those in attendance here and it would be quite rude and out of character for me to not pass trivialities with those I know.  I will not talk of our mission without your permission.<<

The wonders of this place are many and Robyn finds herself almost lost in the majesty as they approach the castle and are granted entrance.  The courtyard and great hall are already crowded as the group enters and makes its way to the stage area.  Robyn's heart skips a beat despite herself when she recognizes several people from House Valerian, but her tormentor is not among them.  As she walks across the marbled floor, she almost feels at home, a feeling that is only increased as she feels the movements of the enchanted tattoos that adorn a good part of her body.  She is a ward of the Seventh House and her markings show that she has the favor and protection of the Earl and she can feel the various hydras move about her face and body in harmonious response to the proximity of the tattoos on others in the crowd.  She has lived here for several months of each year for over thirty years and, as she had told ISaint, knows quite a few of the other guests, some by name only but others as acquaintances.  She is stopped several times by people that greet her and engage in small talk, releasing her from their orbits only after she indicates that she is part of the ceremony and needs to get ready. 

Robyn is surprised by ISaint's message about the spirit, but does nothing more than send a short reply indicating that she has received and understood the message.  As before, there is little that she will be able to do if the spirits attack, so she plans on doing her best to protect the brides.  She has faith in the Old One's judgement and will act in a supporting role, as he has indicated she must.

[Jack_Spade]

While keeping the beat going, Isaint frantically went through his options. Getting up and charging the bastard wouldn't work - too many people in the way, not to mention trigger happy bodyguards. The spirit wanted to spoil the wedding and feast on the fear - that was dangerous on and in itself. But it would also most certainly stop the proceedings from going through, allowing the detractors to rally and stop it from happening.
A perfect lose-lose situation. They had to somehow spring the trap without revealing the real deal...
'God damnit, it's so crazy it just might work.'

<<Alright folks, we can't have the Nightmare interrupt the ceremony. We'd lose the element of surprise and would give the opposition a chance to stop us.
Our best chance is to create a dummy wedding to goad it into attacking early. And we have only one viable bride left for this.
Rick, I need you to put a mana barrier in the astral around Robyn to block any immediate attack or astral spying.
Once the piece is finished we have to announce her getting married to one of us and start the ceremony. We call the two real brides up as best men or rather best women so they are in place.

There is an old law that says the best man has to marry the bride if the groom doesn't follow through, so all we have to do is step aside at the right moment to get those two married instead. That will narrow the window of opportunity for the Nighmare significantly to spoil our plan.

Al, do you want to do us the honor of leaving Robyn at the Altar?

For all who think this is needlessly complicated, I'm composing this while keeping a bass drum going...>>

[Mercy Merchant]

Robyn almost misses a note.........almost.  Countless hours of practice at her craft is the only reason Robyn does not break off her playing at ISaint's idea.  From where she is sitting, she cannot see Al with her eyes, but she knows exactly where he is standing.  She waits a half second then responds.  >>Not too bad an idea.  Are you up to dumping me, Al?<<

[adamu]

Isaint was worried the plan was unnecessarily complicated, but Al was thinking it was just plain just-kill-me-now dangerous...some fates were worse than death, and marriage was one of them. It didn't pay to flirt with disaster here in the land of anything-can-happen and commitments-are-more-binding-than-usual.

Plus, he wasn't sure how this elaborate plan was any different than just suddenly having the two real brides stand up and get married.

But now wasn't the time for debate or argument, and Isaint's plans were usually pretty good...he'd just have to make sure he got the leaving-at-the-altar part right....

<<All inna day's work, compadres.>> His voice was casual, but something told him they were seriously raising the stakes here somehow. <<Gimme two ticks ta fill the girls in, an' we'll head fer the stage.>>