10d6.hits (5)=2

Two hits! The information gained will make the difference in what to do.

Astral Space, somewhere south of Seattle

Lamia detects that it is a Plant Spirit, and she senses malevolent intention directed towards her.

Lamia does a 180 turn and starts flying back to her apartment at best possible speed. "Never fight when you don't have the upper hand..." goes through her head. Back in her ritual circle, a Spirit of Man waits... That might let her stop the plant elemental, and if not, it probably can't crack the barrier around her library. If she's fast enough, of course.

Lamia's place, in the library

Lamia dodges and dekes around the spirit and gets home, though not too soon, as it had been catching up to her as she sped towards safety. In the safety of her library, one more observation comes to the fore of her thoughts. It appeared as if the odd thread would disappear all of a sudden, and sometimes a new thread would appear out of nowhere.

There is information waiting for Lamia when she gets around to checking her matrix links. She has been given access to a matrix site which is maintained by the Survivors of the Sixth World. There is contact information there, and various pages of description that give her the following information:

Survivors of the Sixth World

Purpose:
- to facilitate the development of magical and non-magical skills and knowledge among the Awakened;
- to develop a cadre of magicians who display competence and professionalism;
- to enhance the ability of magicians to survive the rigors of life in the Sixth World

Customs:*
- sharing of information relevant to the Purpose among members;
- storytelling about exploits;
- running of workshops for fellow members;
- giving preferential treatment and rates to members when selling items relevant to the Purpose;
- exhibiting professionalism and courtesy towards the general public in the course of practicing magic in daily life.

* respect and status within the community of Survivors is strongly affected by the level of adherence to the Customs

Strictures:
GROUP
-Limited Membership: magicians and mystic adepts
-Material Link: lock of hair is usually sufficient
-Oath: ordeal at first Initiation
INDIVIDUAL
-Attendance: once per year to reaffirm vows
-Deed: as appropriate to member's skills
-Dues: 1000 nuyen per month^#
-Fraternity

Resources: High
-part of dues are being invested to raise Resources to Luxury (^# donations to this effort are welcome)
- Force 10 Magic Lodge at headquarters
-libraries at headquarters and at local offices
- workshops in magical and non-magical skills and techniques to further the Purpose
- potential for instructors in non-magical skills as well

"It must be going in and out of its home plane... or they... this couldn't all be one spirit, could it?" she asks, flexing her meat body now that she's back inside it. Lamia goes to input her new notes. "With an astral camera to record that trail, I could set Watchers to see where it turns up..." she muses. Noticing the new access, she inquires about setting up a meeting so she can apply. The Sisterhood was tempting to follow up on, but... "There are plenty of clubs to join that are fun... fewer with practical skills like this..."

Lamia's Place, in the library

<<@Lamia: Come for coffee at Apollo's, by the wharf. Look for the dwarf with the goatee and the yellow scarf. Coffee's on me.>>

<<@Survivor: I will be there , looking slick.>> is her reply. She squeezes into a tight, black and shiny jumpsuit and puts her business-y trenchcoat on over it, completing the look with knee-high boots. Hair in a bun and dark glasses on, she heads for the destination, keeping her spirit trailing her... a little protection never hurt.

Looking for the dwarf by the wharf, at Apollo's

The coffee bar is more upscale than one would expect in this neighbourhood. The odd retro-future decor draws from a century-old science fiction series from 2-D 'television' as it was called. There are images on the walls of men and women in quasi-military garb, and robots with red-bar eyes, and fuzzy mechanical dogs like bust-a-moves, only much cruder. Hanging over the bar is a large picture of a man in that clothing. dark-haired, with a silly grin on his kind-of handsome face.

At a table overlooking the water, a dwarf sits, sipping something dark and steamy. He is in tres-chic clothing (even more anomalous in this district) and sports a yellow scarf worn as a cravat. He seems to perk up when he sees you.

Lamia gives him a slow, sultry nod and struts over to him, giving her hips a wiggle... eyes moving to see who isn't leering at her display... those are the people who might be trouble. The fabric of her clothes creak as she sits down across from the dwarf. "You are... Mr. Survivor?" she asks with a small smile of her black-painted lips.

"There will probably be a test..." she thinks. "And a surprise one at that."

Apollo's

"Yes, I am. And I am so pleased to meet you, Lamia. Please, may I pour you a coffee?"

Some small-talk about the weather follows, as he decants a steaming black liquid that smells divine. Surely not? Yes. Real coffee! What is this place? And why have you not heard of it? He indicates cream (!!) and sugar for your taste. A tray of sweets arrives, as if by magic.

"By your reaction to the coffee, I see an explanation is in order. This café is owned by the Survivors, and we really don't need to advertise. Word of mouth is enough. Members, of course, receive priority for seating. Well, let's get down to business.

"The Survivors of the Sixth World is a group of like-minded individuals who believe that through the sharing of experience, training and knowledge they can improve each other's magical and non-magical talents. We believe in professionalism and hard work, and, as you can see by this establishment, the rewards that ensue.

"I am authorized by the Group to assess your suitability for membership. This meeting constitutes an interview. I would like you to tell me a little about yourself. No need to get into any information that might endanger you. Maybe... a story. Yes! As much as you can, tell me about a recent exploit of yours, and in particular how this exploit has enhanced your understanding of the Sixth World, and how to survive in it. Of course, if the story includes information that can benefit the entire membership, that would be a very desirable side benefit.. for all."

He sits back and enjoys a sip of coffee and a pastry, clearly settling in for some entertainment.

"I know just the story..." she says, licking the rim of her coffee cup and then leaning back in her chair to stretch her long legs out.

"A lovely and talented mage was part of a group of, mmm, temp workers, I'm sure you know the kind, asked to observe a pair of people... these were people who did a lot of business in clubs, helping others enjoy themselves with the very latest wares..." She's started off with a slightly playful, confident attitude, but that starts to fade. "She had a friend who moved magical items around, who better to ask about a powder that keeps one's tempo up? And so they met and the friend and another associate partook of it... A young woman had already been enjoying this substance and began to strip... and then throw grown men around like toys."

She works her teeth over her lips, a barely noticeable pause. "The lovely mage was watching from the astral plane... The woman was possessed by a spirit, without being Awakened herself. She saw nothing more, for something nearly entered her own astral form, twisting her around and around, nearly snapping her connection with her body. She awoke elsewhere, her friends having left as the savage woman engaged an entire SWAT team. Throwing off her unpleasant encounter, the mage aided her friends in their observations and the patron was very pleased."

"A few weeks later, while endeavoring to recover a lost body for a, ah, proper burial, the mage's friend contacted her, finding she was missing hours of her life, with a dread of doing something terrible. The mage went to her friend and found plant-like tendrils taking root in her aura, moving far off into the astral plane. They could not be cut through, even with an enchanted blade. A stalwart spirit of the earth was slain in following the roots to their origin."

"Once her task was finished, the mage sought to help her friend, who had vanished completely. She found more of these tentacles spreading through popular places to be in the city, though stopped by wards... She followed one trail as best she could, moving towards South America, but a hostile spirit, plant-like, took exception to her. Never one to fight when she did not have a clear advantage, she returned to her body, just in time."

"And so, the lovely mage survived, seeking knowledge of this strange threat... and sharing what she has." Lamia slides a card across the table, filled with the news reports about Tempo she's collected and all of her notes and theories on the seemingly-impossible spirit possessions, and how they must be linked.

Apollo's

'Mr. Survivor' contemplates your story for a few moments. It appears as if his attention wanders elsewhere temporarily. Then his gaze focuses back on you and a wide grin comes across his face.

"What a wonderful and useful story. Your mixture of courage and caution is exactly the kind of personality welcome in our organization. I would like to extend an invitation to you to join our group. As an aside, we may be able to aid you in your search for your friend. We have resources at our disposal beyond those available to most individuals, and team members who can cooperate in rituals of finding.

"Do you have any questions of me before you decide?"

Apollo's

Lamia steeples her fingers together and smiles at the offer. "I am honored, thank you. I am curious about the group's duties towards each other... Perhaps you could tell me a story, one of some task you have undertaken in service to the other survivors?" Her eyebrows lift.

Apollo's

Mr. Survivor laughs lustily. "Well done. Of course! Let me think a moment." He signals the waiter, and orders some Irish coffee, and sweets. The waiter is young and very handsome, and has a twinkle in his eye when he looks at you.

EDIT: @Lamia: Give yourself a Karma point for sticking it to the GM and making him laugh about it.

Mr. Survivor takes his time, sipping his coffee and nibbling sweets. It seems not so much that he can't find a story to tell, as that he is riffling through a rolodex of stories from which to select. After another refill from the good-looking waiter, he clears his throat and begins.

"Years ago, a member who shall remain nameless by his own request ... one who has come to be a friend of mine ... found himself in trouble. He and his team had accepted a job in Tsimshian, back before the troubles with the Salish. Mr. Johnson needed the disappearances of some middle managers from a mining concern in the forest upriver investigated. The company security had turned up nothing and Johnson was getting desperate... being one of those middle managers, as it turned out.

"The team was a typical mix: magic, muscle and matrix. My friend called me some days after they took the job, in a panic. He was the only one left alive, he was terrified and he needed help 'right fucking now'. Apparently there was a wild spirit involved, in a pact with a young ork man from the local village, a taxidermist for tourist hunters and trappers, but also an adept of the decidedly twisted persuasion. The two of them had been preying on managers in the company. As in, abducting them, skinning them alive for the spirit's edification, and mounting them in the boy's basement. The team had caught them in the act of dealing with Mr. Johnson, and combat ensued. The team was hosed by the two of them working together. My friend had never seen such synergy in action, as if they were of one mind and body, though it wasn't a possession spirit. My friend survived because he ran, taking with him Mr. Johnson, what was left of him, barely alive. He was hiding the two of them in his hotel room, and asked me to help him before they came for him again.

"I flew up right away, though it took a couple of transfers. In the last flight, there was a kid on the plane who turned out to be a budding mage. He was playing with his Talent, and chose to try to piss off a Thunderbird he saw in the distance during the flight. I intervened before he got us blasted out of the sky, but did it in a way that didn't alert and upset the passengers. One old woman noticed anyway. She was the key, as it turned out.

"I got to the hotel in Tsimshian, and found my friend. I asked him to tell me everything he could about how things went down. It turns out, the local village was almost hostile towards his team and provided no help at all. It always makes sense, in my way of thinking, to look for information and resources everywhere. I wanted to talk to the local shamans. My buddy said they had tried to get access, but were denied by the Chief. I decided to try. I mean, come on, a wild spirit in the local forest. The tribal people must know something, right?

"Same story for me. 'Take a walk, Anglo.' That is, until an old woman hobbled into the Chief's chambers. Yup, that old woman. Turns out, she was the Clan Mother, and in their society, the Chief has political power, but she decides who is or is not in the Clan. If you ain't in the Clan, you cain't be Chief. She took a liking to me on the plane, and basically told the Chief he will help me. So I got access to the shamans, who dug up a name the locals had feared to speak for generations... a name that would summon something malevolent and deadly from the forest. So my buddy and I set up a lodge, summoned as many spirits as we could, defended ourselves the best we could, and called the name.

"I tell you now, what showed up was the scariest thing I have ever seen, and hope to ever see in my life. My friend didn't see fit to tell me before that it was female. Absolutely gorgeous. She radiated power on the Astral. She was old. Really old. And she hated us with a passion I cannot begin to describe. She wanted to eat us, to rip us, to make us hurt and dance in that pain and we both knew it from the thoughts and words that came into our heads. I just knew we were dead meat if we fought this thing. So I took the initiative and asked it, 'Why are you killing these people?'

"She just floated there in mid-air, looking at me. I waited. She waited. No fight. Then she spoke, pointing to Mr. Johnson, 'This one and his kind bespoil my Domain. They pour indescribable filth on the land, and it runs the streams into my Domain. I have read his mind as we tortured him. He makes ... profit ... as he tells lies to his masters, taking ... money ... for himself instead of doing what needs to be done to clean the filth. I and my ally have searched for the source of the filth and sought to punish all those who treat my land in this way. You will not stop me. I will destroy you all, and drink in your pain to feed me and make me even stronger. You ... will ... die.'

"'Wait!' I shouted. 'What if we take away the filth and make the land clean again? Promise to leave your domain safe? Punish the wrongdoers in our way so that others see that this must not be done here?' Basically I wanted to give her whatever she wanted. I was scared.

"'If I see this happening within two sunrises, I will cease my revenge. If not, I will take my pleasure of you all.' Bang. She was gone. I couldn't trace her in the Astral, nothing. Just gone. So we took Mr. Johnson to the boss, barged right in, and told him the whole story and that he needed to start the cleanup right away or there was going to be war. The boss took one look at the semi-flayed Mr. Johnson and ordered the cleanup instantly. Work at the plant stopped and all hands went into the task.

"I went back to the shamans and told them everything, too. I got some real good stares at the part about talking to her. They went and found the young man and took him into some kind of 'healing circle' that day. The Chief figured we weren't needed there anymore and told us we were allowed to leave. Yeah. The old woman gave me a nod from across the Great Hall, and a 'thumbs up'. Odd thing from an old woman, but I was glad to see it. I think I have an ally there, if I ever need her.

"To me, the real moral of this story is that we were hosed if we decided to muscle out a victory. We survived and got a good result because we talked instead of fighting. And, I guess, we made use of all of the available resources. And finally, I think you always have to play the game as if you are looking in from the other side. That old saying 'Do unto others...', you know? It means something. My friend owes me a big one, but I'm saving it."

Mr. Survivor takes a sip of coffee, thinks about it, and calls for some scotch.

Lamia took in the story as it unfolded. It had the ring of truth to it. She's learned enough magic to know how little she knows about magic... which is a secret every mage keeps very quiet. "I see..." she says with a nod at the conclusion, a bit unsettled herself. "I do hope that does not represent a typical task though" she says with a thin smile.

"Now... I accept your invitation. How will I begin?"

Apollo's

He transmits info to you. "Come to this address tomorrow evening at 7 pm. Be prepared for a ceremony and investment of yourself."

Apollo's

"I shall. Will dress be formal, informal... or actionwear?" Lamia sends back.

Apollo's

"We often celebrate afterward, or commiserate if the ritual goes awry, so come dressed for a party."

"I prefer to undress for a party, of course... I shall see you then." Lamia takes her leave and returns home to research more about plant free spirits until it's time for the initiation. She picks out a bustier and tight, tight leather pants for the party, along with her stylish longcoat... her sword is discreetly slung underneath it.

Survivors of the Sixth World - Downtown Chapter 6:50 pm.

The evening is cool and overcast, with a slight drizzle of rain. Lamia, you arrive at the given address a little early, and survey the scenery. The neighbourhood is middle-class, close to the University of Washington, with a mixture of residences, small strip malls and low-rise office buildings.

The Chapter house is a relatively new building, built with lots of glass and metal. No sign of corrosion from the Seattle environment. The design reminds you of cubist paintings from the last century. The grounds around the building are tastefully landscaped. There is a parking pad in the front of the building, and a few vehicles are parked there. Lights are on inside, but you can't see much else through the tinted windows. The front doors are surmounted by a sign that declares the building to be "Narbonne Research Inc. -- Magic and Technology for a New Age."

As you approach, an astral glance tells you there is an impressively powerful magic ward around the building. Video cameras cover the entrance and all outside grounds. There is a buzzer and intercom to the right of the front doors. You have your 1000 nuyen. The energy of your spirit is pumped and ready for the ritual ahead. This is a big step, and the details of the ritual are unknown to you. Nevertheless, this way lies growth, knowledge, fraternity ... and power.

Survivors of the Sixth World - Downtown Chapter 6:50 pm.

Lamia pauses for just a moment before the doors. She draws a breath, the fabric of her top creaking. "I've come this far, time to go all the way..." she thinks, pressing the buzzer.

Survivors of the Sixth World - Downtown Chapter 7:00 pm.

The front door is opened and Lamia is greeted by a young human woman with flaming red hair, dressed in a sparkling green, metallic party dress. "Welcome, Lamia. Come inside. My name is Rocket." She steps aside and indicates with her arm to enter. There is no doubt this is a welcoming place. The aura inside as Lamia enters is redolent with excitement. This is the kind of aura one would expect in a kindergarten class as the children are about to dive into the fingerpaint.

She is led down a hallway, at the end of which is a large open space from which comes the buzz of conversation among several people. Before going there, though, Rocket leads Lamia into a side room, where Mr. Survivor sits, reading a document. he rises and says, "Hello Lamia. Now that we are at this stage in our relationship, let me identify myself. I am Dr. Marvel, the founder of the Survivors, and I will be presiding over the ceremony tonight. Before we begin the ceremony, there are a few administrative details we need to attend to."

He directs Lamia to the table at which he had been seated, and indicates for her to sit. He passes to her the document he had been reading. It delineates the articles of membership in the Survivors of the Sixth World, exactly as outlined in the research Lamia had conducted.



Dr. Marvel asks Lamia to sign the document to indicate she has read it and accepted the terms of membership. The matter of the first month's dues is dealt with discreetly by way of credstick transfer. "Marvellous," he says. "Now, let's meet the assembled company." They move down the hallway to the large room at the end. It is a sparsely furnished, cathedral-ceilinged room with lots of windows and lighting. There are some twenty people assembled, all in party dress, with drinks and hors d'ouevres flowing freely. Conversation drops off as they enter, and everyone looks at the two of them. Dr. Marvel announces, "Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce to you our prospective member, and the reason for our festivities tonight, my newfound friend, Lamia." Cheers and raised glasses come from the assembly. Lamia is introduced to many of the assembly, especially the four members of the local chapter which she is about to enter: Rocket, the local chapter head, Zoltan, a middle-aged and balding dwarf, Speedball a tall, young, blond orc man, and Devious, a short, slight human man, whose age is hard to pin down. "Now, let us set the party aside for just a few moments, and move to the Lodge. We can return afterwards, to party in celebration or commisseration."

The assembly moves downstairs into a smaller room, decorated in arcane symbols on the walls, ceiling and floor. The aura of this place is definitely one of power and community. It is the heart of the chapter house. Chairs are set up around the outer perimeter, to which most of the crowd goes and sits. The four chapter members complete a circle, standing with Dr. Marvel around a central area with dense markings on the floor. Lamia is directed to stand in the centre. Dr. Marvel, using an ornate knife of ancient origin, gently lifts Lamia's hair and from an inconspicuous place cuts a small lock of hair. He places it into a locket he draws from his pocket. This he places on a small table behind him.

Dr. Marvel begins. "Good evening, Survivors, to this most auspicious occasion, as we welcome with open arms and eager minds the investiture of a new member, Lamia. This young woman has demonstrated by her story telling, by her exploits, and by her commitment to the Purpose and Customs of our Group that she is a worthy addition to our Community. I ask you now, Lamia, to confirm before all assembled, do you abide by the Purpose, Customs and Strictures of the Survivors of the Sixth World?"

Lamia answers, "I do."

Dr. Marvel reaches out his arms, and the four other chapter members hold hands with him, completing a circle around Lamia. Immediately, she can feel mana buzzing and building around her. Opening to the astral, she perceives a pentagram of light linking each of the five around her, with rays from each of them coming to her, in the centre. She can feel the life force in her, the energy and knowledge and power that she has accumulated in her life, mixing within that complicated pattern with the others in the link. Like an ink well, she feels energy drawn from her and spread throughout the assembled community, into the people, into the building, into the locket behind Dr. Marvel, into the light rays, into the symbols on the walls and floor and ceiling.

"Now, Lamia, read the lines of power and let the knowledge hidden in them bring you completely into our fold."

[OOC: Lamia has given 5 Karma points into the magical matrix of the Community. Now she must make a Logic + Arcana (2) Test to receive the final link.]

Survivors of the Sixth World - Downtown Chapter 8:00 pm.

The mana lines pulsed back and forth among the participants in the ritual. Odd patterns in the pulses confused Lamia at first, as she tried to make sense of their repetitions...were they a code like in the old Morse code, or a numerical sequence? They weren't making sense and Lamia was beginning to worry the ritual would fail. She delved deep into her own emotional and intellectual core, and looked for clues.

The clues finally came when she allowed her focus to include not just the mana lines joining the people, but also the symbols scribed into the floor. The pulses seemed to highlight different symbols at different times, in a repeating pattern. Lamia watched the pattern for a few repetitions. Slowly, it was as if a window opened before her, and she perceived the others in a clarity far beyond normal sight. It was as if she could see them down to the cellular level, and into their minds and emotions. Lamia knew they could see her with the same clarity and insight. She saw them all, the five of them in a circle around her, smile broadly, and the mana lines thickened and brightened. A cheer rose from the assembly seated around the edges of the room.

She was one with them now. She belonged. This sense of belonging was a visceral one that went far beyond team membership or even all but the most intimate of familial relationships. Lamia had not felt anything like this in a long time. Not since... she tried to block that thought... but a wave of compassion came over her from her Group mates. She let the memories flow through her. She felt the loss and the fear, but they were not a part of her this time, and she could endure them. She hadn't dreamed this could be one of the effects of joining.

The mana lines slowly faded, and Lamia's attention returned to the physical plane, and the assembly around her. The five immediately closest to her came to her, hugging and shaking hands, and the rest in the outer assembly took their turns welcoming and congratulating her.

Dr. Marvel called for everyone's attention. "Now. ladies and gentlemen, let us resume the festivities upstairs." He motioned for everyone to go up. He and Rocket hung back, to escort their newest member upstairs.

Rocket said to Lamia, "You will have a hundred questions, and will want to explore the facilities provided for members here and in the other chapter houses, but there is time for that later. Now there is serious revelry to attend to."

Survivors of the Sixth World - Downtown Chapter 8:05 pm.

"The only question important now is 'where are the drinks?'" Lamia said in a light tone, returning the handshakes and clasps in turn, and with a wide smile, showing less of her usual wicked artifice than usual. Not 'none of it' though." She slips off her longcoat and holds it under her arm as she heads upstairs to enjoy the evening and get to know her new more-than-friends. Her skin was buzzing from a high that no drugs could match.

About four weeks after the DocWagon incident, Ms. Johnson sends a request to meet to each of the team members. Back at Ticklers again, 9 pm. tomorrow night.

Ms. Johnson is urgently requesting your response.

That job has passed by, but another one is available.Ms. Johnson is getting strident in her calls.

It has been days since Lamia's induction into the Survivors, and her head has finally cleared. Out of the haze comes a realization: she hasn't heard from Cleo since before the induction ceremony.

Lamia rolls out of bed, alone for the first time in a while. She calls up Cleo's place, hoping to get more than her message filter and not surprised if she does. Recalling the nasty spirits she ran into the last time she poked around, she decides to go in person, gearing up for a run, weapon focus, summoned Fire Elemental, Wathcher, the whole bit... As she's in the cab heading there, it strikes her that she does have some new help, and sends a message to the Survivors's board asking if she can get some astral overwatch as she visits her friend.

Lamia gets to Cleo's place before a response comes to her call. It looks as if no-one has been taking care of the place for a while. Windows are dirty, flyers piled up at the mail slot. Taking a chance, Lamia lets herself in.

The place is disheveled and dusty. Dishes sit in the sink. The bed is unmade. There are some small, dark stains on the sheets. Food in the refrigerator is rotting. Cleo is not here, and it looks as if she hasn't been for days.

Yes, the stains are blood. Not enough to be a scene of violence here. More like leaks from cuts received elsewhere.

Lamia hesitates a moment as she considers her next course of action. The last time she assensed something related to this case, it nearly twisted her soul around until it snapped. And the last time she went fully astral, something nasty came after her. Still, there's no other course of action. CSI isn't going to get any useful information, so it's up to magic. She draws her blade just in case and lets her perceptions turn to the astral.

Lamia is certain the stains are blood, and that it is Cleo's blood. The rest is murky. A vague impression of violence, but that is to be expected given the material. The stains are days old, at least. Hmmm.... there is an image .... like the inside of a club or bar ... a red triangle with a yellow .... circle? not sure.

*pop* A watcher spirit appears manifested before you. It looks like the Cheshire Cat, but a kitten. "Hi! What's up?"

"Yo, lady. I ain't got all day! Need our help or what?"

The kitten's cuteness has faded somewhat.

The astral kitten gets bored and disappears in a puff of pink fur, almost at the same time as a message from Lamia's fixer appears in her commlink.

<<@Lamia: Those employers you worked for a while back called me. Got more work. Meet at the same bar. Confirm with me soonest.>>

From Nell's fixer:

<<@Nell: Got some work. You available?>>

Saturday, 17 September, 2072 Newsflash in various tabloids

<<Yet another victim in the rash of homicidal, suicidal, extra-ordinarily violent outbreaks to hit our city in recent weeks was taken down by police yesterday evening. A woman, aged somewhere in her twenties, destroyed a nightclub in Everett, killing five people and injuring twenty-seven before being stopped by Knight Errant SWAT. Miraculously, the young woman survived the onslaught of concerted fire from 7 police officers and is being held under guard in Seattle General for treatment and questioning. The police have no information as to cause or reason for the violent outbreak.>>

Lamia had been thinking too deeply on the question of what is going on... how an astral presence thousands of miles away can be controlling people... the cat poofs and the commlink goes off, breaking her out of her focused trances. << "Confirming, interested" >> she sends back. "The same bar? There's no such thing as coincidence..." she muses, heading to the street to get a cab.



Lamia tags that report, looking for more stories on it and starts drawing notes on a virtual screen. "Who benefits the most? A berzerker drug that lets one take down a SWAT team is not a street drug with a side effect. Combat drug being tested by pharma corp? Weaponized as gas? Magical connection important..."

Saturday, 17 September, 2072

In the cab, the driver asks Lamia, "Where to, lady?" He can't help but take a glance at her... attributes.

It's at this point that Lamia's reverie dissipates and she realizes two things. First, the job talk she is pursuing is terribly stale-dated. Second, the young woman at Seattle General Hospital is in the same age range as her missing, injured friend Cleo DeNile.

Nothing like a rush of unpleasant truth to clear the head and get the blood pumping. Lamia's eyes widen. "Seattle General, fast" she says to the cabbie, wondering how she can get past security to see if it is Clio. An astral peek seems like a bad idea, considering past experiences with assensing people affected by the drug...

10:45 Saturday, 17 September 2072, Seattle General Hospital

At the word "fast", the taxi driver smiles. "Sure thing, Lady. You pay the ticket." The taxi squeals away from the curb and starts weaving through traffic, leaving a wake of honking horns behind it. Within 15 minutes, a breathless Lamia arrives with smoking tires at the front of Seattle General Hospital. The fare is a touch more than usual. She seems not to notice.

Inside, the reception area is busy. Friday night's revelry is still paying dividends.

Lamia tightens her coat around her body to look more respectable as she heads up to the admittance nurse. "I think a friend of mine was brought in a short time ago?" It doesn't take much acting skill to look worried. She describes Clio's characteristics but doesn't give her name... The police might be very interested in that fact.

10:45 Saturday, 17 September 2072, Seattle General Hospital

The receptionist looks relieved that Lamia showed up. "Oh, good! The police were hoping someone who knows her would show up. She's on the third floor, under guard. I think the police sergeant is still in the building. I'll page him to come talk to you."

"No problem, nurse. I'm right here." A man in his thirties, quite handsome, actually, but dressed like every plain-clothes cop you've ever seen in a trid series, steps to the reception desk and interposes himself between Lamia and the receptionist. This would seem to be exactly what she didn't want.

Except for the wink, meant for her alone. "Would you like to come with me and chat for a moment?" He indicates the elevators down the hall. Sotto voce, he confides, "I believe your friend is still in danger. I can help, but I need yours as well."

The fellow is such a cliche that Lamia has to wonder if it is a put-on of some sort... and dealing with the police when drug use has caused a mass killing... the notion of blasting her way out flickers through her mind for just an instant. Still, she moves with him towards the elevator bank. His words surprise her and she manages to relax slightly. "I see... what kind of danger? And what sort of help would that be?"

10:45 Saturday, 17 September 2072, Seattle General Hospital

The man positions himself so his back is to the elevator's video, and he activates a device that puts out a hissing sound. "I know this sounds kind of cloak and dagger, but sometimes clichés can be real, too. I am impersonating the police sergeant, but I think people are getting suspicious, so I will try to get us into your friend's hospital room where we might have some time to talk before we may be required to do something drastic. Just follow me to her room. I'll talk to the guards."

The elevator slows to a halt, and the doors open. He looks to be sure Lamia is still willing, and then walks down the corridor, past the nurses' station. He smiles at one of the nurses and she gives him a lovely smile back.

Past the desk two police officers stand on either side of a private room door. They look at the sergeant quizically. "Sarge," one says, "what are you doing back so soon? I thought you said you had a lot of paperwork today."

"Yeah, well a lead just appeared." The sergeant replies, indicating Lamia with a nod of his head. "We're going in to see if we can identify the woman."

One officer opens the door. The other one looks long and hard at the sergeant as he and Lamia pass through the door. Once the door is closed, the sergeant turns and concentrates for a moment. Magic is clearly happening. Lamia detects a physical barrier come up just inside the door to the room.

In the bed, Cleo lies unconscious. She looks really beaten up. various tubes and monitors are hooked up to her, and there is a chart at the end of her bed. A glass of water sits untouched on the side table.

The sergeant speaks. "We have a few minutes at most, I think. Some people know me as Tee Dubya. You may as well use that moniker. Let me be brief and to the point. The trouble your friend faces is one that is afflicting more and more people, not just here in Seattle, but in many places around the world. If you have checked her astrally at all, you may have noticed that there is some kind of astral link leading away from her. I believe it is a form of spirit pact, though I have not had the chance to follow a link to see where it leads. I stumbled across this phenomenon while dealing with a separate issue, and have tried to determine what is going on. Near as I can tell, this link always occurs in the presence of an addiction to a new drug appearing on the scene. This may be coincidence. I don't have enough data.

"This link opens your friend to possession by the spirit on the other end of the link. It is like a Dream Pact, but some seem to be able to be taken over even while awake, though they lose consciousness for the duration. Your friend is in danger because these possessions seem to be conducted as experiments, or joy rides even, and often leave the vessel dead afterwards, as she is dispossessed in deadly circumstances. It would appear by your friend's injuries that her spirit has been playing that game.

"I can get her to a protected place where the spirit will find it very difficult to approach her. There I can try some techniques to break the link and free your friend from the spirit's domination. This is how I believe I can help you. In the process of determining her problem, I essayed a study of her mind, and I discovered you there. It would appear the two of you care for each other a great deal, and that you are a magician of some skill. That opens the possibility for you helping me.

"I have a project underway that requires some special natural materials from a location out East. I would go myself, but opponents to this project wish to intercept me and will do what they can to hinder my progress. Someone whom they don't know may be able to circumvent their barriers and traps laid for me. That would be you. In circumstances such as these, it is customary to strike a deal before either party commits, but we don't have time. The police will soon come to move your friend to a more secure facility, where magical tactics to extract her will be countered. It's now or never to save your friend from incarceration and severe repercussions for her last 'joy ride'. Your friend has a high opinion of your moral character, though your behaviour would outwardly deny it. In any case, let's get out of here through the window. I can carry your friend and make her and me invisible. I assume you can do the same for yourself?"

He moves to the bed and starts unplugging monitors and tubes. Things start beeping. He really seems like he expects people to do as he says.

"You seem quite well-informed... you've convinced me you're not a police officer" Lamia says sardonically. "Your information corresponds with what I've uncovered. We will have to compare notes... later." She too begins removing monitor patches. "He must be on the level... a real officer would have had Clio 'shot while escaping' after a rampage like that..." she thinks.

Lamia slides her hands under Clio's unconscious form once at the window. "I think I will carry her and you will handle the invisibility... that way will be safer." Plus he can't drop her 'on accident.' She invokes a levitation spell under her breath, waiting for this "detective" to cast his cloak.


14d6.hits(5)=6 for force 3 levitation. 9d6.hits(5)=2 for drain resist.

10:45 Saturday, 17 September 2072, Seattle General Hospital

Tee Dubya makes a set of gestures with one hand in the air before him. Nothing seems to happen because of them, but a few seconds later all three of the people in the room shimmer out of view, though the two conscious ones can see each other. Lamia notices that Tee Dubya is breathing much more heavily than a moment ago. It makes sense. Three Invisibilities and a Levitate all at once. The Drain must have been substantial. Just then, the door opens a sliver and crashes against the magic barrier. "Whathefuck?" echoes through the room. "Sarge. Unblock the door."

Tee Dubya remains in place a few moments longer. Lamia gets the sense he is removing the traces of his spells. He opens the window as wide as it will go. Banging on the door begins, as well as shouts of "Open up!"

When "Try the other room. Then through the bathroom." is heard, Tee Dubya suggests, "You go first. Head to the big maple tree in the park below. I'll catch up to you there."

Lamia nods once... There's no time to spare for more. She floats through the windowsill and takes Clio with her once she's clear, descending straight down the side of the hospital, avoiding the windows. When she gets to the second-story level, she changes direction and flies horizontally some distance from the hospital's doors. She sets down an inch above ground level and uses the spell to hover the rest of the way to the designated spot. Once there, she lets the spell go and rests against the tree, holding Clio up like a friend who has had too much to drink.

Steeling herself for the worst, she lets her senses drift to the astral and inspects her friend's aura.



Assensing test. 6d6.hits(5)=1

10:50 Saturday, 17 September 2072, Seattle General Hospital

The shaky look Lamia gets of Clio's aura tell here Clio is badly injured, but not diseased in any way. That astral link she saw before is not there, but that could be because of the hazy view Lamia has.

Shortly after the two of them land by the tree and Lamia takes an astral look, Tee Dubya drifts in for a landing. "I have a car parked in the parkade over there. Let's get to the car where we are sheltered from view so we can let go of the spells."

10:55 Saturday, 17 September 2072, headed towards Bellevue

Within minutes they are driving out of the parking structure. Somewhere in the dark of the building, Tee Dubya drops his impersonation. Now he looks like an older man... short for a man, but tall for a dwarf. Hard to tell. Stocky and muscular even at his age. "It will take us about 15 minutes or so to get to my place. Once there we will be safe from pursuit and your friend will be protected from the spirit that holds her in its sway."

Lamia refrains from assensing Tee Dubya at the moment... it would be rude and would put her off balance should he try something. Plus if he can use one metamagic, he might well know another, such as masking his aura.

"This will be awkward..." she says to him conversationally, keeping her tone light and airy as she sits next to Clio in his car. "You're an accomplished mage yourself, working outside the law, dealing with something related to both an unknown magical threat and illegal drugs, with others working at cross purposes against you. 'Who are you doing this for' is something one can't ask or tell, of course, but as I'm going to be assisting you, I'd like to hear your 'why are you doing this.'"

She's resigned to do his little job... Clio is as good as dead without more magical assistance than Lamia can provide, to say nothing of the extortion lever that Dubya can pull with her safely.