Day 1, 0200 - Seattle Waterfront, UCAS
A thin fog covers the streets; the day had been warm and humid and the night cool, creating drifting, rising wisps of almost-tactile moisture. While light, the mist has a deadening effect on sounds, making the constant whine and rush of traffic seem miles away. A jet passing overhead sounds like a loud breath: someone exhaling forever, thousands of feet above you. Behind you, back downtown, bars are starting to close all over the city, spilling drunk & disorderly wageslaves onto the streets; the noise is detached and distant in the misty night air. Each of you, lost in your own thoughts, all stop at the same time and stare up at your destination.

The Agency never holds a meet in the same place twice. This particular building in front if you has demolition notices plastered on all the street-level windows, and part of the roof is missing. As you walk through the hallways, you see piles of broken acoustic tiles, wires & fiber cables dangling from the ceiling like ivy, tools lying on the floor in untidy heaps. You pass through empty security checkpoints with a smile: the smoothest infiltration you've ever done. The building is silent: the Agency's prep teams made sure that schedules & work orders aligned like the stars, so workers and construction drones have been absent for most of the day.

There's one elevator (mostly) working. One light flickers crazily the whole 4-story ride, and the ventilation blows hot, humid air on you. The doors open onto a hallway. At the opposite end, there's an oak-panel door with two trolls standing on either side: they don't actually have "BODYGUARD" printed on their horns, but it isn't really necessary. You ask for Mr. Johnson, and one of them graciously opens the door.

The room looks like it was once a reception area for some nameless service company, but everything's been carefully stacked on one side, with the standard-issue folding table in the middle. The room smells of bleach, ozone and OCD: a comforting sign that the prep team has been through, sterilizing, organizing and arranging everything just so; giving the meet that obsessive, precise Agency touch. The room is almost oppresively neat. You could eat off the floor and perform surgery on the folding table.

The Johnson sits across the immacualate table from you, with two more bodyguards a polite distance behind him. He's a tall, broad-shouldered ork with the confident, cultured expression that's the business card of an experienced Johnson. He's clearly a pro: suit neatly pressed and well-coordinated, hair carefully trimmed. No tattoos, no jewelry, no facial hair, no identifying marks whatsoever. A tablet-sized commlink sits on the table in front of him, exactly squared to the edges of the table, the stylus arranged exactly parallel.

The Johnson gestures towards chairs facing him and, once you're all seated, makes his pitch.

Johnson: "My clients are in the market for information. Specifically, they have learned of certain shipments crossing the Seattle border into the Cascade mountains, destination unknown. My clients would like you to find out what the shipments contain and where they are headed. The contract would require a short stay in the mountains, lodging provided. The pay is 35,000. Are there any questions?"

Grandpa clears his throat and asks, "Will you provide maps of the area? Preferably topographic. Are there any weather issues this time of year that we need to be aware of?"

Want to get him talking at least so the rest of the team can get a feel for what we can expect from him.

The Johnson smiles and nods.
"Maps, of course. We'll send the data to the Agency's node, it should be there within the hour. As far as weather," he shrugs slightly, "it's hard to tell. The lodgings are on the side of a fairly high mountain, so the possibility for inclement conditions is always with us. We do not foresee any problems, but cannot guarantee anything, of course. We will also provide transportation to the area in question."
"In all seriousness, we do not intend for the stay in the mountains to be the most challenging part of the assignment. It is simply a necessary beginning."

Oracle enters the room silently with his companions. His distant-looking eyes pan around the room as he takes in the auras present. As everyone is seated, and the Johnson begins his pitch, Oracle begins to sway slightly in his seat - eyes closed. When the Johnson stops speaking, Oracle seems to snap out of his trance and turns his attention to AR for a few moments, while Grandpa speaks up. When the Johnson responds, Oracle seems to stare off into space again, stopping to glance at each member of the team, even Ziro's astral form, with the same distant look in his glowing blue eyes, before gasping for breath and returning his attention to the room. Finally, he speaks, softly - in words meant only for his companions, but with no attempt made to keep them from the Johnson. "Our futures are all clouded by fear and darkness - it clings to him," Oracle points towards Johnson, "- but he is not is source. He will not betray us."

"By this very meeting, however, our Paths have crossed, and it wraps its tendrils around us all. A malevolent presence hovers beside Death, our constant companion, but is no immediate threat to us. I sense... protection, safety. I do not believe we are meant to die during this quest, but Ziro should beware. The dark mist has taken an interest in him - and I know not why."

As suddenly as his speech came, it ended, and Oracle sat in quiet contemplation.

Grandpa can't help but shiver a little. I don't care how often I get exposed to magic, that is just creepy.

Johnsons are not easily shocked; no-one who deals with the shadows is. You get the impression, though, that Oracle has come pretty darn close. There's a momentary pause as the Johnson stares across the table at the adept. After the speech subsides, the temperature seems to drop slightly and the Johnson looks deliberately at the rest of you, one eyebrow raised in a polite, silent question.

The ball, he seems to be saying, is in your court.

Shaking off his queasiness, Grandpa asks, "Can you tell us who has this shipment, what security it has and where we can pick up the trail? That should be enough information to get me started on a plan." Better not have him think I want to shoot things up unless I have to. "I have no intention of going in guns blazing but you don't get to be my age without knowing what your opposition could have waiting in the wings. On that note, what level of secrecy do you require? I will assume that you would prefer to not leave bodies lying around."

Grandpa keeps his stance open, his hands down and looks into the J's eyes.

The atmosphere of tension eases somewhat with the return to business as usual.
Johnson: "First, as for 'picking up the trail,' the lodgings we have secured overlook a valley that seems to be a frequent path for this particular shipment. Our hope is that you'll be able to observe the package crossing through the valley, and take your steps from there. Our efforts to determine the contents of the package have been unsuccessful so far: the containers are warded and the anti-theft devices are...melodramatic."
"Regarding the owners of the shipment, that is precisely what we are hoping *you* can find out for us. So far, we haven't seen evidence," with a glance at Oracle, "of any extant threat: it's information we want, not conflict."
"As for the acceptable level of force - we rely on your complete discretion at all times. I repeat, this contract is for information only. Based on your findings, we might require less subtle operations, but rest assured that we will negotiate appropriate terms should the eventuality arise."

Grandpa inclines slightly at the waist in his best imitation of the formal bow he has seen used so many times by so many others. Why a handshake won't suffice is beyond me. "I appreciate your forthrightness. Your trust in our judgment shall be rewarded with utmost discretion." He looks to the rest of the assembled team and asks via his comm, <<Does anyone else have any questions for our guest?>>

Once again, the Johnson speaks, and once again, Oracle seems to be looking past him - swept away entirely by another vision. Each one has lasted longer than the one before - and this one longest of all. Looking past Oracle's theatrics, Grandpa and the others attempt to continue business, professionally. A scream cuts through the tense room as Oracle grasps his head and falls to the floor.

The sound of his skull cracking against the sterile surface causes some alarm, but his spasming body assures everyone that Oracle is alive, at least. A moment later, with some help, Oracle makes it to his feet - blood dripping from his mouth and nose. He chooses not to return to his chair. Attention seems to be on him, especially the disapproving stare of the unflappable Johnson. It as if everyone is expecting... something, out of him - but Oracle shows a moments hesitation before speaking.

"I have seen... that we will come to some agreement... the details are no longer of interest to me. On good faith... I will tell you of what I see, now... before it is lost... as it is information you will pay for." Oracle, patted his nose with his hand, and stared at the blood in shock, but continued.

"Bodies. In a metal box. Horrible. Deformed. Sown and Reaped. Burnt." No. The bird. It burned, with them inside. "No! A crash?" With a start, he looks up, casting his luminescent blue irises at the Johnson. "It won't work. Not like they think it will. We will find your information where the disciples lie in the water. But, I see... disappointment. Failure, in your future. I will gladly help. You. Them." His voice trails off as he seems to loose consciousness again for a moment, wobbling upright, before snapping back to reality and standing firm.

He speaks again, with more clarity. There is an urgency in his voice. "It is in your best interest to work with us, Mr. Johnson. As of this moment, we are tools, at your disposal. If anything I have said makes sense to you, let us discuss it before we part paths, as we will not meet again until this mission is over." He pauses for a second. "If not, I am sure everything will become clear to all of us, at that time."

Perhaps in response to the message Grandpa sent some time ago, or perhaps in response to this new vision, but as Johnson takes in what was just said, Oracle messages the team. <<I need to talk to Dionysus. Unless someone wants to renegotiate, let's accept and get out of here.>>

Ziro debates and decides not to put off the inevitable. He will attend the meeting "in the flesh".

Might as well let the clients look me over. It's not like I'm going to come off worse than they might have heard, and if I don't show up they might wonder and imagine. Won't be the first time!

Ziro decides that a little backup might be in order, and conjures an Air Spirit to place "on standby". He negotiates two services from the spirit, and a black eye as well. Ziro manages to treat the eye - barely manages - with his well used Medkit.
Not the smoothest beginning, Ziro thinks as he examines himself in the mirror. Best if I keep my shades on. He puts on his trodes, and kisses his fingertips, before patting his reflection and turning out the lights. As he heads out the door, he makes a mental note to stock up on Medkit supplies.

Once at the meeting, Ziro goes into "Overwatch Mode". He circles the meeting place, assencing everyone and everything. Once inside he parks himself in a corner of the room, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible. In addition to his astral watch, he tries to monitor both the live conversation, and the private talk on the agency comm channel. He pays particular note when the Johnson describes the warded cargo containers. He also listens with interest to the discussion concerning renumeration. The Agency came through -- thirty-five kay.

Ziro tries his best to show no outward reaction as the Oracle knocks himself out. Nope, not the smoothest beginning, Ziro thinks once more.

Ziro doubles his attention to the astral goings on, hoping to avoid... just what it is he isn't sure - a faux pas, maybe? However, in response to Grandpa's question, Ziro starts wondering about the split.

Concentrate on keeping watch, fool! Worry about the expense account later.

Note to self. Oracle gets a bullet with his name on it. He is going to piss someone off at some point in the future.

Grandpa smiles at his own private thoughts.

The Johnson stood up when Oracle fell over. He sits back down, carefully smoothing his jacket and moving his stylus from one side of the 'link to the other.
"I feel that I have taken up too much of your time already," a flicker of a glance at Oracle, "You have much to discuss. Are the terms acceptable?"

"With the understanding that we may need to negotiate further once we have acquired the information in question, yes, I believe we are." Grandpa thought, I normally can't get them to shut up, now they all act like the cat's got their tongue. Ah well. We'll know soon enough.

He bows again.

Cinzia had kept quiet behind her shades, idly and rhythmically swinging her left leg as it lay across her right as she lounged in the too small for her ork frame chair. Alternating her stare from behind her glasses between the two bodyguards in a futile game of stare me down that had been going on, only interrupted by the almost seizure and spastic predictions from the chair beside her. She gave up. She shrugged minutely and eyed the ork across the table.

"Half in advance." with a nod of her head to the side where the earlier pronouncements had come from, "We cannot always depend on him making it through another episode, and he does make mistakes, so we will be conducting our own research, and of course, a trip to the mountains and preparations for unexpected journeys on short notice tend to bump the costs. While I am always prepared to go have adventures alle alpe, not everyone is as prepared."

perhaps I will be able to buy those new aero boots with the smart soles before we go climbing the hills

<<Cinzia, Please, ask the Johnson if he would like us to employ Bound Spirits on this assignment. Tell him that the use of Bound Spirits is an extra cost option: 8,500 Nuyen each, up front. Tell him that the choice is his, and would be, considering the warded nature of the cargo, a prudent investment.

Alternatively, I suggest that expenses like that be taken off the top, before the split. It would alleviate certain decision making responsibilities. Thing is, I can imagine a scenario where the others might wish to veto certain outlays, especially after having heard the Johnson decline said services.>>

The Johnson thinks for a moment, looking thoughtfully at Oracle.
"Indeed. However, we have provided many of the necessary preparations: the accommodations are supplied with sufficient food, and we will arrange transportation to the site. Perhaps 10% up front? Or perhaps we could come to an agreement regarding payment in kind? Are there specific, ah, preprations you wish us to provide?"

The ork across from her was an attractive drone. Briefly she contemplated pirouetting on his head as a prelude to a sweeping kick at one of the trolls as a strategy to get them to react, or at least blink, but discarded the thought as impractical. She cocked her head, shifted in the seat, and looked around at the rest of the team inquiringly as she routed all the team's matrix traffic she was receiving in a standard repeater link mode.

<<@team:: Any particular needs besides huge piles of magical gobbledy gook?>>

Private matrix chats reminded Cinzia too much of her old elite prep school.

The Johnson looks down at his tablet for a moment, then makes a quick gesture in the air over it. Each of your commlinks registers an incoming message; it contains the access ID for an anonymized node and some GPS directions that lead to an out-of-the-way municipal airport in Snohomish.

Johnson "If that's all satisfactory, I'll let you get started. You'll be able to use this node to contact me should anything arise, and to inform me when you have completed your mission. It's there if you need it, but of course the less it is used the safer. Our pilot will pick you up at the indicated location at 700 hours four days from now; I'm sorry that I have to insist upon haste, but we need you to be in place by the time the next package arrives."

There's a click as he snaps his stylus back into its slot and slides the tablet into an attache case. Everything neatly put away, he stands, bodyguards falling into place beside him.

"If there are no further questions, I wish you good luck and look forward to hearing from you as soon as possible."

They were not far out of the door before Oracle brought up an AR window, and made a call back to Agency HQ.

"Please put me through to Dionysus," he instructed the operator who handled his call. It wasn't that agency members were not allowed to have one another's contact information - but routing calls through the agency made it more convenient for everyone, and infinitely more secure. It would be clear that this was about business. While he waited for the connection to be established, he paid attention to whatever discussion (or idle chatter) the others were making.

The agent handling the call says "Excuse me while I locate the party," bows and vanishes. There's a long silence; just as you're wondering if the connection has gone dead the AR window blinks and displays the face of Dionysus, unshaved but otherwise neat and calm. The apartment behind him is deliberately fuzzy, but clearly dark.

The elf cocks an eyebrow once the image resolves. His voice is crisp and clipped, distinctly Speriethiel-accented. "Se'seterin, Oracle. I will not insult your intelligence or prescience by asking if you are aware of the time, but I do hope this will prove to be a fascinating conversation."

Oracle had not actually considered the time. It wasn't usually an important detail to him. He nodded, however, and responded. "I apologize for the interruption. The mistake was my fault, as you could not have foreseen that I would call you. I should have, and contacted you, yesterday." He was mostly being facetious - it would have taken convoluted logic and supernatural foresight to have had the idea to check if he would have been consulting with anyone outside of the team on this mission. He made a mental note to try to do so in the future, just to see what comes of it. "I believe the fact that I did not, until just this moment, is strong evidence that my most recent revelations were important, and have changed my path. Yesterday, I did not believe we would be talking, right now. Today, I believe we are." Oracle's nonsensical way of speaking was often confusing - but, at two in the morning, it was even more so.

Fortunately, Dionysus didn't have to think about it long before Oracle went on, making more sense as he did, "I had a series of disturbing, and unusually cloudy visions regarding my most recent mission - and in the last, I clearly saw the goddess Diana, which I understood to be a symbol of protection, but also, itself, having meaning by being interpreted as a Greek goddess - a clue which has lead my analysis here. If I am not mistaken, you are a connoisseur of ancient Greek plays, and I may have overlooked the meaning of some of the other images, if I didn't understand them in the context of Greek mythology - which I know little or nothing about."

"I do not believe that this is a particularly urgent matter, however. When we meet to discuss this, is less important than the fact that we meet and do so. I believe that once such a plan is set into motion, the most important details will become accessible to me." He stopped, and was reminded once more about the Trapped, and the dangers of relying on such dangerous recursive logic to control his actions. He was fascinated by deterministic philosophy, but had seen with his own eyes that it could lead one to complete apathy. He had been having a harder time coming out of Trance, the more he considered this mission, and preferred not to have to rely on it again, so soon. His nose still hurt. "I have found, however, that the outcome of meetings are much clearer in retrospect than in prospect, so, I am eager to move this event to the other side of my temporal horizon prior to the point where I apply my understanding of what I saw. Perhaps, if you are free later today...?"

The elf ponders for a moment. "I would be the last to deny the value of your visions, I am glad to help you. It would perhaps be more productive for both of us if we were to meet later today, when the sun has risen. Seward Park is a favorite haunt of mine, could your team, for I assume this is business, spare you for an hour around noon? I will do some research on your moon goddess in the meantime."

[OOC: more coming later, when I have a chance]

Hours later, you're walking along a well-kept lawn overlooking Lake Washington, the beautiful landscaping of Council Island in the background. As you walk, leaving the hum of the sprawl behind, you explain pieces of your visions. Dionysus is silent, nodding from time to time. When you finish, the two of you walk on in silence for a while. After some time, Dionysus stops by a molding statue; with a shock you realize its the figure from your vision, covered in leaves and vegetation. It's a tall, beautiful human woman, stabbing a serpent to death with a broken arrow, her bow lies behind her in pieces. Her quiver is torn open, spilling arrows onto the ground, her flesh is torn and bleeding in several places.

"This is your goddess," Dionysus says, "The only statue of Diana in the city that I know of. It was made years ago to honor the fallen in the battle with the insect spirits in Chicago.

"Diana is not a goddess of the Greeks, but of the Romans. The Greek equivalent is Artemis; you may know her better. The idea of her as a protective figure is interesting: she is primarily a goddess of the hunt, strong, athletic, very beautiful, chaste, and short-tempered. Certainly a valuable ally, but not usually thought of as actively protective.

"Modern cultists sometimes associate her with the Wild Hunt, an army of gods or goddesses or the dead who forever hunt across the sky. Who exactly makes up the Hunt, and indeed what precisely they are hunting, depends on who you ask. Most often, though, it's evil spirits or demons, thus this statue," he carefully picks a dead leaf out of the fanged maw of the serpent.

"It is difficult to be more specific; she is something of a vague figure, and the images from your vision are not clear to me. If she represents a person, that person may be powerful, or they may simply be headstrong and quick to anger. It could mean that those you hunt, or those that hunt you, fear moonlight." Dionysus smiles slightly and turns towards you, "It may be that I have finally outdone you in confusing talk, Delphi."

While on the phone with Dionysus, Oracle smiled, and answered his question with "I do not foresee a conflict."



Sure enough, a few hours later, he was able to make the meet, and seemed to rather enjoy the quiet walk outside. His lack of knowledge and misunderstanding of his visions was evident, but Oracle didn't see embarrassed or even surprised. He simply stated what he saw, and soaked up everything Dionysus had to say like a sponge. The conversation was eerily one-sided, once Oracle laid our the fantastic vision - at that point, he was simply interested in hearing how Dionysus would interpret it.

As they came to stop at the statue, Oracle considered what was said about the goddess. "I did warn you that my knowledge of this subject was embarrassingly nonexistent." He turn his luminescent blue eyes to Dionysus, "I would expect the symbolism to be more subjective, than not - but what you have said helps frame my perspective. Protection was the theme, even if uncharacteristic for Diana. She was not offering her protection, but that of the moon - a symbol for which, she fits, and on whose behalf, she can speak. Speech was important, as I needed to ask for assistance, to receive it. I misclassified her origin, but doing so led me to think of you. It was you, who I asked for help, which lead me here, and to this." He looked once again at the statue - very similar to the image in his vision. Although he had never been here before, he had seen it before. He had seen what he would see - what he was seeing, now. He experienced the pleasant feeling he associated with something coming full-circle - the way he felt when he observed one of his predictions come true. "This was the image I saw. I believe I am on the right track."

He reached out one pale hand, and placed it upon the statue, closing his eyes. A few moments of silenced past, where he shuddered as if chilled to the bone by the psychic impressions he was picking up. The majority of strong emotions tied to this memorial were unpleasant ones. When he released his grasp, and opened his eyes, he seemed saddened - all evidence of the pleasant feeling he had had just before, was now gone.

"I believe this meeting was very important. I think I will stay here for a while, and see if anything else comes to me. " He moved closer to the statue. "Is there anything I can offer you, before our paths separate again?"

Dionysus steps back, shaking his head and bowing slightly.

"No, thank you. I will leave you to your thoughts, Delphi."

He turns, and heads back down the path. After a few steps he looks back, "One more thought occurs to me: if your Diana is indeed a person, mortal or otherwise, it would be well to avoid boasting. It has turned out poorly for mortals in the past. Imo herme, Oracle."

"There is just one more item." she flashed a smile and shifted in the seat.

"We have access to more resources then are covered in your proposed budget, how would you like to handle that expense should it become clearly necessary for accomplishing the goal?", she frowned momentarily, then continued, "I don't pretend to understand, but it involves some kind of prepaid magical services."

The Johnson consults his tablet briefly, then nods. "I believe that's possible. What kind of figure did you have in mind?"

[I assume you mention the 8500 figure Ziro gave you]

"Very well. We can give you 10% up front, as well as the 8500 each for, ah, extra resources."

Day 5 - 0800 - Alpine Lakes Wilderness Area, Salish-Sidhe Council
The pilot sets the LAV down gracefully and gives the thumbs-up as the hatch opens, letting in a blast of cold, wet mountain air. The t-bird has landed in a disused parking lot, just below the snow line at this time of year. Trees close in the horizon on all sides, ringing the visible world in wet bark and drooping pine needles. Small piles of snow and ice still cling to the ground in the lee of trees and rocks, giving the ground a chessboard pattern. There's a blazed trail leading down the slope; double orange. The seasonal gate is closed across the trailhead, with warning signs in several languages proclaiming that the trail is closed indefinitely due to dangerous erosion conditions. A light rain starts to fall as you step past the gate into the trees. After the constant hum of the metroplex and the droning of the t-bird, the stillness on the mountain is almost oppressive.

After an idyllic hike downhill for about an hour, you reach a small cabin hidden in a copse of evergreens. The only door faces into the mountain, shielding it from prying eyes below (or any that might be flying past.) The soft light over the door is the only exterior light on the building. Once inside the cabin, you discover that the entire valley-facing wall is one-way glass, allowing a spectacular view for miles in each direction. It's been recently festooned with camouflage netting, which probably explains why you didn't notice it on your way up. Looking down into the valley, you can see unmanned cargo drones humming along the highway thousands of feet below, and occasionally a small passenger drone slinging low and fast over the mountains, hugging the terrain. Unless you were asleep, nothing could move across the valley within twenty miles without you knowing it.

The cabin shows signs of use as an observation post, and recent abandonment. Hardwire Matrix ports dot the walls, and fiber is everywhere on the floor. A tripod mount still sits by the windows on the upper floor: no way of guessing if it held a telescope, sat-relay or anti-aircraft weaponry. The roof sports an impressive array of camouflaged antennas, including long-range communication arrays, a satellite uplink (probably for 'trix access), and a birdfeeder dangling from a high-gain directional dish. There's a kitchenette, stocked with a depressing array of krill- and soy-based products, dented tin mugs and biodegradable paper plates.

Kicking the trash aside, you settle in for some surveillance.

Grandpa watches as the youngsters file out of the T-bird. Let them think I'm old. I have no desire to get shot. This much tree cover and I'd have a shot at anyone getting out of this thing. Realizing that he was judging his team. They aren't stupid old man just anxious. Grandpa jumps down and heads toward the cabin. Nice! I would love to have a shooting blind like this back in town.

"Well kids, I'll take first watch. Us old folks can't be up too late - messes with our sleep."

After an inspection of soy in the kitchen, he then opens his pack and takes out a meal replacement bar - real food no less - and begins to munch down.

Pacing around the building, Oracle seemed to be taking everything in, but his eyes were unfocused, he seemed to be looking past everything and just sort of zoning-out while he made his rounds. When he was finished, he took a seat near the others. "It appears as though those who came before us were on a similar quest." He did not seem to be speaking to anyone in particular. "I sense overwhelming boredom, throughout this place, spotted with sparks of excitement when thunderbirds passed by."

"Whoever they were, when they left, they did an exceptional job of erasing all traces of their auras, despite nothing particularly interesting taking place, here."

At almost the last minute, a slightly beat up Ziro shows up at the pickup point. "Last minute shopping", he explains. You notice Ziro is pulling a rather large piece of wheeled luggage. On second glance you realize that the "luggage" is actually a duffle strapped with bungee cords to a lightweight Dwarf-sized hand cart. The cart is designed for both pulling and pushing, and the large wheels make the hand cart appropriate for rough terrain.

Ziro spent the previous four days alternately binding spirits and recuperating. While recuperating, he had time to contemplate this mission, and decided to order some emergency supplies. As his gear is loaded into the LAV, Ziro wonders what preparations the other team members have made. "Find out soon enough", he thinks.

During the ride in the LAV, Ziro maps the route on his commlink. Upon arrival in the parking lot, he pinpoints its location on his map. Ziro is already thinking of how to evacuate the area and survive in case the mission goes FUBAR. Ziro realizes that he is being haunted by "the ghosts of missions past", and tries to cheer himself up with an upbeat musical selection. "Better monitor my medication closely", he reminds himself. "Stressful situations sometimes necessitate adjustments."

The hike through the woods does much to reassure Ziro. He alternates back and forth between normal and astral vision. The wary feelings return once Ziro enters the cabin. He is reminded that others have attempted this mission before. It occurs to him that "the target" might be aware of this cabin's existence and location.

"I'm not running this show", Ziro thinks. "I'll do my part, and let others worry the big picture."

It's about 4am on your third day when things start to happen, Grandpa's on watch when an irritating whining growl breaks into the valley. Only the dimmest light is visible, but the old man's still got it. T-Bird, without a doubt. Just after it crests the hill, Ziro's spirit zips into astral space in the cabin and wakes the mage. The words "A ward is coming, flying across the sky" float into the mage's consciousness when he awakes.
Judging its speed as best as possible, it looks like 5 minutes before it's cleared the valley and vanished over your heads.

"Look alive people!" Grandpa shouts. He readies his sniper rifle and trains it on the T-bird. "Damn! Didn't expect it to come from that way. You're getting soft old man," Grandpa thinks to himself.

Oracle becomes alert, he moves to the window, getting a look, then his blowing blue eyes dilate at he shifts his vision to the astral plane, taking in the lingering auras around the vehicle, however faint.

Ziro commends the spirit, "Good work! Keep watching for others."

Ziro spends a several seconds summoning an unbound air spirit and three watchers before addressing his teammates.

"Okay people, my bound spirit tells me that a magical ward is flying across the sky. I summoned another spirit to follow it until sunrise. I'm ready to provide overwatch if desired. What's the plan?

"We only have a few minutes before this bird flies out of sight range, a few minutes to determine if this is the target. No time for a lengthy debate.

"One more thing: others have tried before, and failed. Our reps are riding on the outcome. Let's do this!"

Grandpa pipes up, "I've got the shot. The pilot may notice it. Do I take it anyway?"

57, 56, breathe, 54, 53

Oracle's face looks confident. "This is it. The bird follows the tail of darkness - the shadows I saw before."

Spurred by the incoming signal, Cinzia rolled out of her hammock and slid into her clothes as she reviewed the situation.

3, 2,

The surprisingly quiet shot rings out from Grandpa's rifle. The tracker round is away.

In AR, you can all watch as the signal from the tracker round weakens and finally vanishes behind the mountain, it's blip replaced by a probabilistic tracking overlay, cones widening roughly eastward, shifting occasionally as Grandpa's software refines its estimates.

Ziro's air spirit continues to follow the t-bird, but is trying its best to keep its distance, and the impressions coming back are tinged with a certain discomfort. Not really fear - but if a spirit could feel nauseous, this is what it would be like.

The echoes of the t-bird die away in the canyon, leaving just the predawn stillness behind.

As dawn approaches, Ziro contemplates his options. If I only knew how long this mission is going to take....

The problem:

• The Spirit Contract expires at dawn.
• I can only Astral Project for six hours at a time.
• My first priority is to provide Astral Overwatch here.
• My spirit is getting some nasty vibes from the target.
• I've been getting bad vibes about this whole mission.

My options:

• I can conjure another unbound Air Spirit at dawn to replace the one currently following the vehicle.
• I can send my bound Air Spirit to follow the vehicle.
• I can Astral Project and follow the vehicle myself.

{{Internal debate redacted to prevent boring the reader}}

Ziro eventually achieves the "Aha" nexus.

Ziro decides that a few minutes before dawn, he will Astral Project and join the Air Spirit following the vehicle. At dawn he will summon a New Air Spirit to continue the remote tracking assignment. He can leave the bound Air Spirit alone for those few minutes as it is technically performing a remote service already. {{I say technically because as he flies back and forth, he is continually passing in and out of the range of what is considered a local service}}.

Ziro announces his plan to the other team members, and braces for the expected backlash.

Oracle nods, thinking to himself for a moment before speaking - his eyes dilate only slightly, before returning to normal. "Far too many variables for me to See, with any certainty, and my own understanding of conjuration is minimal - I trust your judgment. I sense that, if there is danger in what you propose, it will be when you rejoin your spirit. You will be alone, and the strain and distraction of the next task would leave you vulnerable, if our prey becomes aware of our hunt." He starts towards the door. "We will call in our transport and follow at a safe distance, while we can. We can worry about the changing of the guard, when dawn comes, if we are still in pursuit."

"I apologize for having no clearer picture of what will come to pass, other than our next move."

Grandpa speaks with a slight rasp to his voice. "The damn mumbo-jumbo sounds just fine to me." He nods to Ziro. To the group he says, "I'm good with long range ... but not this long. I need to follow that thing if I am going to keep my tracker in range."

Day 7 - 0832 - Over the Cascade foothills
First, the mundane
You hit the panic button a few minutes after loss of signal, and the LAV that dropped you off on the mountain arrives about 20 minutes later, hovering impatiently just past the roof. It's a bit harrowing to board a t-bird in flight from the roof of a mountain cabin, but you manage it. The pilot gives a thumbs up, closes the door and passes out, jumping into the drone. An icon appears in your AR displays; an anthropomorphic Thunderbird with an expression of professional concentration.

The pilot takes you in a strange course through a few passes, and then finally you heave up over the last ridge and the tracker signal comes back, weak but steady. Chatting with the Thunderbird persona, you ask the pilot to follow at a discrete distance and keep the signal in range. The icon nods, and a map display appears, marking your current position and the position of the target. The t-birds navigation 'softs are somewhat higher grade than Grandpa's, so the probability cones are tighter. The map shows you just crossing the eastern foothills of the Cascades, with the target much further north and some eighty miles further east, heading almost due east. Based on your best guesses as to the make & model of the target t-bird, your pilot marks an estimate maximum range; a fuzzy circle centered on Seattle and terminating somewhere just west of Chicago.

Looks like it might be a long flight, so you kick back for some R&R.

Ziro on astral overwatch
The approach of dawn comes before your transport, so you take leave of the meat world and head out to join the spirit in pursuit of your target. When you get in view of the t-bird's astral form, you frown a little to yourself - what little you can see of the auras inside the ward seems very strange & unsettling, and the ward itself is oddly twisted. You can't quite seem to put your finger on it just now, but something about it keeps nagging at the back of your head. When the sun pops over the horizon, you quickly summon up a new spirit, issue your instructions and head back to the real world.

Everybody
After a few hours of flight, the probability cones on the display resolve quickly into a solid line terminating near the Minneapolis metroplex. The pilot's icon glances up at you and says, "Heads up. The target's making final approach into Minneapolis airspace, probably going to go to ground just outside the city limits. Do I follow him in, or stay away? We don't have a lot of range left, so we have to land within an hour or so no matter what. Your call, gents."

Ziro, about this time your spirit notifies you that the target is starting to land. It will continue following the target down unless you ask otherwise.

[edited to fix my misunderstanding of Ziro's tactics]

Grandpa speaks up. "If there are no objections, I would suggest that we land as close as possible without looking like we are landing close and then start our tracking from there."

Sensing that his comment may not be understood correctly he adds, "I don't know. Fly casual."

"Yeah, Do a casual fly-by of the target's landing spot. Let's see what kind of place it is. I hope somebody is taking pictures.

"I'm thinking that if it is in an area where our landing won't seem out of the ordinary, like a warehouse district, airport, industrial park, etc.; then if we can find a spot where my spirit can maintain line of sight on both us and the target, my spirit will conceal us.

"That won't be as difficult as it sounds. The spirit is not going to be very close to the target; it will probably be some distance up in the air. It is going to want to be as far away from that toxic aura as it can get and still follow it's directives.

"What? I did mention the toxic aura, didn't I? D'oh! Yeah, the ward on that vehicle has a toxic aura. That's either due to the wizzes that created the ward; or else it's leakage from whatever is inside the ward. Nasty in either case! Speaking of which, I don't want to get too close, either. It's possible that the landing zone will have a background count that will negatively affect my ability to protect youse. For those of youse not hip to Magical Theory, Background Count is wizspeak for negative vibes. I'll check it out once we land.

"Oh yeah, something else I was thinking. After the fly-by might be a good time to give our employers an interim report. You know, Minneapolis, toxic shipment, etc. They might want to give us additional instructions based on that info. Things we can charge extra for."

Grandpa nods. "Complications are always extra."

He thinks, Now, don't go getting paranoid. This ain't Cuba, you know.
The other part of him replies, Just cause your paranoid doesn't mean they aren't out to get you.

Cinzia suppressed a yawn and stretched her tusker frame to it's full length. After twisting her neck and hearing a pop as her vertebrae settled she commented, "We'll need transport locally? Someone able to scrounge something or should I go shopping?"

The start of the chase had been thrilling and she'd been bouncing up and down on her feet, but as it had settled into the long haul, she quickly faded into a nap. The prospect of getting out seemed to have gotten her active again.

Oracle nodded, but let his companions to the majority of the discussing. "Updating the client is a good idea, although I sense he knows more than he let on. Even if the information isn't new, he will appreciate hearing that we are making progress." He surveys the area, blocking out feint premonitions about landing in several nearby locations - echos of possibilities, without enough substance to convey any information. "Exercise caution. From here on out, our jobs will become more difficult. However, if we can get within sight of the package, as it is being unloaded, I may be able to tell us more about its destiny than the men transporting it."

"A toxic aura, however, will make such observation difficult - and explains a number of disturbing images I have seen."