Nick "Nicodemus" Dalton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
nick_garou) wrote2012-09-01 04:15 pm
nick_garou) wrote2012-09-01 04:15 pm
Meeting with Salem and Mouse to talk about visions, things past, and things to come.
I spent 23 hours doing absolutely nothing but holing up in my sanctum and correlating all the raw data in the notebook Topsy loaned me (after I made a copy of it). I cheated and kicked in some Mind magic and Dreaming to help process everything faster and in greater depth--and to read the handwriting. (Seriously, it was that bad.) Fascinating stuff.
In a nutshell, the author theorizes that there are cyclical expulsions of energy (Wyld energy only?) and attempts to look for patterns in historic events/data. Kind of like using seismic data, really. It looks like the author believes that there have been "eruptions" of energies simultaneously into the realm and spirit world for thousands of years; however, there were many more places of power back then, and the eruptions were less noticeable. There are fewer places of power today, so the eruptions have more "backpressure." There's theories that some cites are connected by lines of power, and that the local caern might be connected to a place in Texas and Western Australia. (Unfortunately, there's no precise coordinates. This might be intentional because, holy cow, can you imagine this material falling into.... oh, well, my hands for instance?) The author says he has no means of testing his theory, but it only took me about an hour of poking around in the woods between where I suspected the caern was and the point down in Texas to discover a.... Well, it's not exactly a ley line or an artificially created channel for quintessence like I've seen networking the local nodes in the past back when Nightfall Chantry was still around. It's.... I guess kind of like a ley line with a heavy Prime focus but intimately tied in with Time. It's definitely temporal and cyclical. But it's not clear if these lines connecting the places of power are the cause of the energy surges--like an equalization of pressure between them--or if the three places of power are merely the ends of three interconnected drain pipes, all being fed from the same source.
There's also a prediction of a couple more places where the next eruptions might occur within the next decade. I'm going to not mention that to the garou, actually. In case one or both of those sites are undiscovered places of power. I think I know some mages who'd be /quite/ interested in that knowledge. Hell, I'm interested. I wonder if someone at the chantry in San Fran would be interested? Or should I just skip them and go to the lady in San Diego--and maybe see about making another appointment with that near-oracle in Boulder, Co? And what the hell would I want in exchange for this information?
I knew I needed to let Mouse in on the information (related to the caern and woods here) as soon as possible, but I didn't want to waste her time bringing her partial information. It was time to try and grab hold of those visions and see what I could wring out of them.
I'd gotten a good idea as to when the visions originally occurred, and I knew I'd find garou sleeping in the Glass Walkers' tenement at the time, so I performed an extended ritual to send my consciousness out to the tenement building, in the past, to watch for signs of visions in the dreamscape plane. It took a little rooting about, but I located a couple garou having visions there at roughly the same time. I latched on to the visions, then probed at the underlying content reverberating just out of grasp of the dreamers--the threads that bound the visions together. In doing so, I got the impression that there were two or possibly three other visions that went with this one. Jack had mentioned earlier visions he'd had near the beginning of the year and which might be tied in with the most current round, so I made a note to ask Mouse about them. Based upon the trends I've seen, Mouse likely had visions even if she wasn't in Saint Claire at the time.
I called Mouse and Salem over to meet in my RV, and I info-dumped on them both. I even used some subtle Mind magic to help communicate the entire, unfragmented, raw-feed vision to them. (Consequences for that, though. It's like, sometimes, a morning fog descends and obscures my vision more than a quarter mile out--but apparently I'm the only one who can see the fog. Hope this passes soon. Throttling back on using any more magic until it does.) It's time to spread what I've uncovered with the rest of the garou, but Mouse and Salem can make it look like it largely came from Mouse and downplay my own involvement.
Mouse shared some additional vision-related information with me, so I've got leads for tracking down more visions from the past that the garou haven't managed to put together on their own--once this mild dose of paradox bleeds off. Play it safe, Nick. Play it safe.
Mouse and Salem seemed impressed by what I'd pulled off. Hell, I'm kind of impressed with what I accomplished. Charley seems to look to me for guidance and advice. There were many mages at the San Fran chantry who didn't know as much as I did--even though they belonged to a Tradition and had a support network. I'm... kind of not feeling like the smallest fish in the sea anymore. I mean, sure, I used to be. But I guess.... I guess I've really grown over the past 15 years or so. But let's not let that go to your head, Nick. Maybe you're a Jedi Outcast, but you're no Jedi /Master/ Outcast by a long shot--and probably never will be, either.
===========================
===========================
Below is a log of the event, for those who like to read logs.
===========================
WWNP Campground(#3292RAJ)
A well-tended dirt road, lined with neatly placed rocks winds a sinuous path amongst a pleasing array of camp sites. The tall trees and loamy forest floor provide a cathedral-like atmosphere for visitors to the park. Daytime, lancets of sunshine spike through the evergreen canopy to the russet ground. At night, gentle fingers of moonlight and the occasional glimmer of starlight navigate the maze of branches to the terra firma.
The sites are situated well apart from each other, each providing an illusion of isolation to the occupants. They are equipped with an upright barbequeue and a ring of fire-stones. The ground here is relatively level and smooth, providing a decent repose for the city-soft. Two well-maintained facilities at opposite end of the site provide showers, water faucets, and restrooms. Foot-trails extend into the forest, but return after short diversions of less than a couple of miles.
The grounds appear, more than anything, pristine. This will undoubtedly change.
The dirt road dead ends at the far end, near the restroom, but it continues out to the main park road at its other end.
Contents:
Old Winnebago RV(#1070AJYe)
Obvious exits:
Out to the Main Road
Old Winnebago RV(#1070AJYe)
Before you is a tired-looking 1977 Winnebago Brave D26RT. A collection of dents, dings, and scratches pepper the vehicle's tan exterior. Depsite the cosmetic damage, the vehicle otherwise looks to be in decent shape. The Winnebago logo is hard to miss; it's integrated into the huge stripe that sprawls across the vehicle's sides. The "Brave" badges, alluding to the company's oft-overlooked Native American tribal themes, are placed somewhat more subtly around the vehicle. There's a ladder on the back, allowing access to the roof, which also bears dual air conditioning/heating units.
A roll-out canvas awning on the passenger's side of the RV allows the rapid establishment of a porch to keep rain out and provide cooling shade during the day. Clip-on mosquito netting has been added to make the area even more hospitable. If the vehicle is parked for any significant length of time, the awning is typically deployed along with a couple folding chairs, a TV tray, and a pair of plastic pink flamingos flanking the improvised "patio" area.
If the patio area has been deployed, the perceptive might notice that, on the ground right in front of a pink flamingo--amongst all the other sticks, twigs, leaves, and rocks on the ground--are four short twigs, two longer twigs, and an unusual crescent-shaped rock subtly arranged to make the Glass Walker tribal glyph.
Nicodemus is seated in a folding chair outside of his RV, awaiting guests while futzing about playing Angry Birds on his Kindle Fire.
Mouse arrives on foot, presumably having parked some distance away. She's bathed since Nicodemus last saw her, and her clothes have been washed, but there's still lingering mud stains on her coat, and she has yet to do something about her shaggy hair apart from pull it back into a ponytail again. "Hey," the Theurge calls, when she's close enough.
Salem limps along behind Mouse, looking, well, as scruffy as he generally does, these days. The old giant satchel's been replaced with a smaller but still heavy-duty-looking messenger bag, and the jeans and boots might be different, but otherwise the scarred old bastard still looks like a homeless 'Nam vet gone to seed. He nods his own hello.
Nicodemus looks up at Mouse's call, then stands to greet her and Salem. He parts the mosquito curtain so you can come into the patio area. He's--within the past few days--apparently had an incident with mosquitos as his face, neck, and hands bear a few raised bumps that look exactly like mosquito bites. "Hey. Come on inside." 'Inside' apparently means the RV, as he indicates that with his free hand. "I've got some information for you. About that thing." The intentional vagueness indicates this ought to be a private conversation. "And there's Cokes, Corona, and wine in the fridge."
"Something had you for lunch," Mouse observes lightly. She steps up into the RV when Nick offers, then slides out of the way for the other two to join her.
"Breakfast too," Salem adds as he climbs into the RV, his tone all dry humor.
"Damn mosquitos," Nick grumbles irritably, though the irritation passes quickly. "Forgot to put DEET on when I went camping last. Thanks for the brush piles, Salem. Appreciated them." He climbs in to the RV and closes the door behind everyone. He pushes a button on a small device on the countertop and it begins emitting low background noises--a white noise generator. "First off, I wanted to let you know that I've been collecting people's visions--mostly the urban garou--upon Nieve's request." He hands the Kindle over to Mouse. "There's what I've gotten so far. Although I had a conversation with Topsy a few days ago and she dropped something interesting in my lap." He points to a battered notebook full of charts and maps and calendars and notes--all in a hideously crabbed handwriting so that it's nigh-illegible.
<OOC> Nicodemus: Text file is here: http://nick-garou.dreamwidth.org/34174.html
Mouse accepts the Kindle and spends a few moments tabbing through the accounts, before glancing toward the indicated notebook. One eyebrow raises. "What is it?"
Salem finds a place to sit and gets comfortable in that loose-limbed-but-ready-to-spring-at-a-moment's-notice way of his. He looks mildly curious at the Kindle, even moreso at the notebook. One black eyebrow rises.
Nicodemus looks to the notebook, then both of the garou. "I'd call it the equivalent of a very rough draft of a dissertation research project for a garou--someone named Falcon-Follows-on-Shadows-Wings. Ring any bells?"
Mouse immediately puts the Kindle down and turns to snatch up the notebook. "/Christ/. No, but if it did, you can be sure I'd find a heavier book to hit them with. Sounds Silver Fang." She flips the notebook open, scanning the pages. "Why'd Topsy give it to you?"
Salem's mouth thins out. While Mouse takes up the notebook, he leans forward the take the Kindle, giving the other two an ear as he reads Nick's notes.
"Topsy knew I was collecting visions--I'd asked her if she'd had any and she had--and she acquired the notebook during her recent travels. She thought the contents might be relevant to the current situation and might shed some light on things. It took me a couple days to go through the notebook and extrapolate all the data. It's not just a straight read," Nick explains. "So anyone who just reads it straight through isn't going to get too much out of it. You've got to sift through a ton of data and correlate and crunch everything--and layer some rambling and very speculative writing on top of it all. So it's kind of easier to just sum it all up. The nutshell version? For the last thousand or two thousand years, there's been periodic eruptions of Wyld, chaotic energies that burst into the realm. It might have been going on since the dawn of time itself. But there were many more places of power thousands of years ago, so there were more.... relief valves, so to speak. The eruptions weren't so noticable. And these days, with fewer places of power, when the pressure builds up enough to cause an eruption...." He motions with a hand towards the afflicted area of the woods and the general direction of the caern itself. "Kaboom."
"Sounds /very/ Silver Fang," Mouse mutters, though her attention clearly narrows as Nick continues. "...That...would fit with everything else we know about it. So the theory goes that the Caern is basically--" Her mouth twists, wry, "Vomiting the excess?"
Salem looks up from the Kindle. "Lovely," he says, at Mouse's analogy.
"Or maybe Gaia ate Taco Bell and is now paying for it?" Nick's humor is deadpan and brief. He's back on topic a second later, looking at the book as he speaks--as if sucking the knowledge from it. "Interestingly, the current eruption does not appear to be completely localized, nor is it widespread to all areas of power. It's like it hits a few places at once--and these places might somehow be connected to one another. The author had been researching two other places: one in Texas and one in Western Australia. I'm guessing that Topsy must have conveyed the news about the caern and bawn here going crazy, because there's a hastily jotted down bit of information.... A map that links here to Texas and to Western Australia. There's a brief note about how the author believes that there are lines of energy connecting these three places together--or maybe just these three places are release pathways and nothing else. Either way, he wrote that he had no means of testing to see if these lines of energy exist." Nick then looks to you two. "His theory is correct. I did notice one line of power, but haven't put much time or energy into it since then."
"I knew about Texas," Mouse muses. "/Australia/?" She thumbs through the notebook. "If it follows, then there's one between here and Oregon." There's a grimace at this. "That was a Dancer Pit. Was being the operative word. And then there should be at least one leading somewhere further north." One eye narrows at a thought, but she doesn't voice it. "Caerns are a manifestation of Gaia's power, whatever their nature happens to be. The Wendigo refer to them as Grandmother's Heart. It doesn't surprise me that there's some sort of connections between them other than moon bridges."
"There certainly seems to be a connection to something, though the lines of power are different from what I've seen elsewhere--although those were constructed lines and not naturally occuring ones. And what's out in the woods right now isn't really a ley line per se. Location--and more importantly time--seems to be variables with it. So if there's another caern on the line of power's path, it might not be affected at all because the lines there aren't in the right phase of time itself," Nick explains. Or rather hopes he explains. "If that makes sense?" He adds, "What's a moon bridge?"
Salem exhales a quiet breath and leans forward to hand the Kindle with the dream-notes back to Nick. "I'm surprised there's any logic to it at all. Does the notebook indicate whether this... eruption... will go away on its own, or?"
"Hence the star charts," Mouse says. Again she goes quiet, thinking. "Oh, it's a...well, it's complicated. In short, it's kind've exactly what it sounds like. A pathway leading through the Umbra from one place to another. Caerns are capable of opening them between each other if certain conditions are met. They're much faster than conventional travel, if sometimes very dangerous. We used one a few years back, when we were fighting the Dancers in Spokane."
Nicodemus seems to grasp the concept of a moonbridge fairly easily. "Okay, that makes sense." Zero disbelief from the mage, but he does seem fairly impressed at the ability. He looks to Salem. "Actually, I've got a theory on that based on the visions. Which, in actuality, was really just one fragmented vision. I don't suppose either of you has the mind speaking ability? If not, I think I can communicate the entire vision to you both clearly without it. If you're both okay with that and a little Jedi Mind Tricking."
Mouse visibly hesitates as she closes the notebook. She shakes her head at the question. "That's generally a Galliard gift. So Kavi, Jacob, Flint." There's another pause, then she lifts her chin. "I'm willing."
Salem absently scratches at his beard, under his jaw, and nods. "Mage away." He glances at the other Garou.
Nicodemus clears his throat. His right hand begins making ever so subtle gestures as he speaks. The words carry with them an unusual clarity that almost lends a visual experience, further creating the illusion of a near-perfect recollection of the dream--including an element of even barely feeling the vision's sensations. "The dreamer is on a swing hanging from a vast tree--or the dreamer is very small. The dreamer is swinging forwards and up. The dreamer starts to feel stronger and healthier. The dreamer swings further forward and up. The dreamer becomes something or someone else, changed and bizzare with wierd surroundings. The dreamer finishes swinging forwards an up and starts to swing back and down. The dreamer feels fit and healthy again. The dreamer reaches the bottom arc of the swing, and feels mundane and drab, with surroundings that are city-like (the Gnawer reporter thought it smelled like home). The dreamer starts swinging backwards and up, and starts to get older and weaker. The dreamer swings further backwards and up, and dies. A girl in a silvery dress appears and recites a poem: There is no wrong, there is no right, there is only dark and bright. I did not come, I did not go, I cannot change but only show. You cannot win, you cannot lose, but where to stop? That you can choose. The sound of buzzing ends the dream." The hand motions cease, and so does the telling of the vision in its entirity. He looks to Mouse. "That obviously can't come from me. Maybe you could say that Chimera brought you the full vision or something else that'd seem plausable--aside from 'oh, one of our kinfolk happened to have the full vision'?"
Salem lowers his head slightly, brows furrowed together in thought. "...My pack's totem's one of Chimera's," he notes, quietly. "We call her the Oracle." And then he shrugs; there's something reluctant about his manner.
Mouse jerks her chin toward the Kindle. "You collected them. Maybe we went over it together, like a puzzle. Though I'd think it's just as plausible to say that you pieced it together on your own. You're a smart man, quite apart from anything else." She adds, after a moment, "I'm impressed with the mage-ing though. That was a lot less intrusive than the Galliard's gift."
Salem waves a hand at Mouse. "Or we could do that." A corner of his mouth quirks upward, wryly.
"I prefer subtle," Nick asides to Mouse. "So the less attention drawn to me, the better. And it makes you--or Salem--or both of you--look more bad-ass." He continues. "I got the impression from whatever or whoever sent the vision that there were at least two other visions. There /might/ even be a third one--in the past or possibly the future. And I'd heard from a couple garou that they'd had visions before this one that might have been related. If you can determine the time, date, and location where people had these past visions, I might be able to intercept one or both of those visions and put them together for you." He gets more serious. "I'm completely speculating here, but I'm concerned that the swinging--the waxing and waning of power and weakness--followed by the eventual death of the dreamer, might indicate that the garou need to determine not only how to stop the effects on the bawn, but when to stop it. Stop it at the wrong time and you might damage the place of power. Stop it at the right time and you might empower it. But wait too long, and it may crumble. And, perhaps--or perhaps not--the solution might involve sending envoys to Texas and Australia. Maybe linking all three together or opening a release valve of some sort if there's no similar Wyld output there. Or maybe linking all three simultaneously with a moonbridge?" He shrugs. "Complete and total speculation on my part here."
Mouse bows her head a little, eyes narrowing in thought. "I've had plenty of visions relating to this in the past. Let me...give it some thought." She tucks the notebook under one arm and leans against the RV wall. Apparently 'give it some thought' means 'right now'.
Salem leans back in his seat and stretches his legs, nodding to the Theurge.
Currently the moon is in the waxing Full (Ahroun) Moon phase (96% full).
"You two mull it over and take a load off," Nick says as he heads for the door. "I need to make a run to get some propane and toilet paper before the corner store closes for the day. I'm sure shitting in the woods is fine and dandy for you two, but some of us still have to wipe our asses." Humor over, he waves a farewell. And with that, he heads out the door, clambers into his little yellow roadster, and takes off.
<OOC> Nick's player had to split here, but stayed logged in.
Mouse doesn't even look up as Nick leaves, but she eventually pulls out her phone, and turns on the recording feature. "January second, Monday," she murmurs into it. "The Noah's ark dream. A woman in a silvery dress smiles and hands me a hammer and nails, then points to a stack of wood and planks. Then she points to the air, where plans for a ship appear. Dream shifts, I'm standing on the ship. In the distance is a rolling green tide coming toward me, and between me and the tide there are all sorts of animals. Falcons, deer, crows, wolves, owls, horses. I can't make all of them out. Some of them keep looking back, some of them actually turn back, some of them are pushed or pulled by the others toward me, and I know it's time to lower the gangplank. Another shift, and the ship is riding through the storm. I look ahead and see a light in the gloom. It's the light of a silver fountain, and I start steering toward it." She takes a breath. "January fourth, Wednesday. The first wasp dream. Weird sensations of wandering, searching. I feel like I've got too many legs, and wings, and I need to find somewhere for my children. That dream kept coming for a while. Sometimes the sensations stuck around even when I was awake. January seventh, Saturday." She rubs at her face. "Potential city father or mother dream. Set in the city, centering around a man whose face I can't see. Colors and patterns swirl around him in a chaotic mess, and spirits are in the background, entering and leaving the dream. Some of them give the man something of their nature. I woke up feeling tired, but I didn't get anything /forboding/ from that dream."
And she keeps going. "January eighth, Sunday. The Chimera dream. I'm looking into a mirror, but my eyes are silver and reflect my reflection back, like two mirrors lined up with each other. My reflection spoke." She inhales, and recites, ""Because I see a part of myself in you, you shall be the most favoured of my children, to carry on my work after I am gone. You shall find wisdom by seeking that which is outward, not that which is within yourself." In the reflection your hair, your fur, is beginning to turn to grey. "To ensure the future you must look beyond the sight of your eyes, and find protection for that which is as yet unborn." By now your hair or fur has become snowy white. "For every thing there is a time, and there is a season for every purpose. My season draws towards its end. The spring to follow winter will be shaped by the actions of Gaia's guardians'. Then the mirror broke, and one of the shards hit me in the heart." She puts her hand there. "I woke up with a scar, which was pretty damn disturbing. Lots of people had this dream, but not all at once. I think I was one of the first. Salem had it too. And it was really hard to talk about with anyone who /didn't/ have it, for quite some time." She glances sideways. "That's about when I started being told about the dreams other people had. All of this was before the Caern was closed and the Wyld errupted."
<OOC> Mouse le spammeh. She'll send this to Nick later, or show it to him when he gets back. >D
Salem stirs a little when Mouse starts describing the Chimera dream. He frowns slightly and without thinking about it scratches at his chest, where that particular scar lies.
Mouse considers for a moment, then raises the phone to her mouth again. "January fourteenth, Saturday, Silvertip told me about his dream. He was lying on a rock, overlooking a pack of wolves, though the wolves were all different subspecies. Timber, arctic, desert. You get the idea. The pack was resting between hunts, with the pups outside, playing. The land was rocky and green, grazing deer, and the moon was up. But past the packlands the terrain was inhospitable, full of shadow-wolves. Very far in the distance, often obscured by shadows, he thought he saw glimmers of moonlight, surrounded and besieged by howling packs of shadows that bite at them, making them fainter. Then the moonlight fades and the deer run. Sunlight comes and hurts the eyes, the pups whine in fear. The light burns hotter and brighter, until it's impossible to see or think, and the fur smoulders and the earth burns his paws. It is beautiful, powerful, deadly, and there's no shade. The pack looks to him, and the dream ends." Breath. "Earth Whisperer had a dream sometime before February tenth, Friday. He's sneaking into strange land, scouting. The lands don't belong to enemies, there's no malice, but the occupants are deadly and merciless. There are a lot of scouting missions. He's looking for something in particular. He's in their den, and the air throbs with a deep humming. He's trying to get to where they keep their pups. Many days pass. He's not the only one involved, there are many. He learns the layout of the tunnels, and where the pups are kept at the heart of the stronghold. He knows where to find the only girl pup of the den's Alpha. She's the target. When the call comes, he must be ready to steal the Princess." One eye narrows. "This is pretty much the Red Talon version of a dream Lefty had. They're both Ragabash, which would be the Garou chosen for a scouting and infiltration mission. She dreamed she was scaling the walls of a castle, going to rescue a princess. And she /also/ felt that there were others with her, working alongside her. As far as I know, she had it around the same time as Earth Whisperer. We theorized that it meant that at a certain time, we'd have to steal the new, baby queen from the nest that's being built over the Caern. We have to keep her safe and make sure she survives, because it's the only way the wasps will move on." Her thumb moves over the screen, ending the recording. She looks at Salem.
"Good god, woman." The old halfmoon's impressed.
Mouse grins, tight and faint. "Should give him something to look into, anyway."
Salem shifts his weight in the chair, sitting up with a grimace. "And ponder." He shakes his head. "I wish I could add something, but..." He shrugs and makes a vague circling gesture with his maimed hand.
<OOC> And my comp went into idle mode and the log got cut off.
In a nutshell, the author theorizes that there are cyclical expulsions of energy (Wyld energy only?) and attempts to look for patterns in historic events/data. Kind of like using seismic data, really. It looks like the author believes that there have been "eruptions" of energies simultaneously into the realm and spirit world for thousands of years; however, there were many more places of power back then, and the eruptions were less noticeable. There are fewer places of power today, so the eruptions have more "backpressure." There's theories that some cites are connected by lines of power, and that the local caern might be connected to a place in Texas and Western Australia. (Unfortunately, there's no precise coordinates. This might be intentional because, holy cow, can you imagine this material falling into.... oh, well, my hands for instance?) The author says he has no means of testing his theory, but it only took me about an hour of poking around in the woods between where I suspected the caern was and the point down in Texas to discover a.... Well, it's not exactly a ley line or an artificially created channel for quintessence like I've seen networking the local nodes in the past back when Nightfall Chantry was still around. It's.... I guess kind of like a ley line with a heavy Prime focus but intimately tied in with Time. It's definitely temporal and cyclical. But it's not clear if these lines connecting the places of power are the cause of the energy surges--like an equalization of pressure between them--or if the three places of power are merely the ends of three interconnected drain pipes, all being fed from the same source.
There's also a prediction of a couple more places where the next eruptions might occur within the next decade. I'm going to not mention that to the garou, actually. In case one or both of those sites are undiscovered places of power. I think I know some mages who'd be /quite/ interested in that knowledge. Hell, I'm interested. I wonder if someone at the chantry in San Fran would be interested? Or should I just skip them and go to the lady in San Diego--and maybe see about making another appointment with that near-oracle in Boulder, Co? And what the hell would I want in exchange for this information?
I knew I needed to let Mouse in on the information (related to the caern and woods here) as soon as possible, but I didn't want to waste her time bringing her partial information. It was time to try and grab hold of those visions and see what I could wring out of them.
I'd gotten a good idea as to when the visions originally occurred, and I knew I'd find garou sleeping in the Glass Walkers' tenement at the time, so I performed an extended ritual to send my consciousness out to the tenement building, in the past, to watch for signs of visions in the dreamscape plane. It took a little rooting about, but I located a couple garou having visions there at roughly the same time. I latched on to the visions, then probed at the underlying content reverberating just out of grasp of the dreamers--the threads that bound the visions together. In doing so, I got the impression that there were two or possibly three other visions that went with this one. Jack had mentioned earlier visions he'd had near the beginning of the year and which might be tied in with the most current round, so I made a note to ask Mouse about them. Based upon the trends I've seen, Mouse likely had visions even if she wasn't in Saint Claire at the time.
I called Mouse and Salem over to meet in my RV, and I info-dumped on them both. I even used some subtle Mind magic to help communicate the entire, unfragmented, raw-feed vision to them. (Consequences for that, though. It's like, sometimes, a morning fog descends and obscures my vision more than a quarter mile out--but apparently I'm the only one who can see the fog. Hope this passes soon. Throttling back on using any more magic until it does.) It's time to spread what I've uncovered with the rest of the garou, but Mouse and Salem can make it look like it largely came from Mouse and downplay my own involvement.
Mouse shared some additional vision-related information with me, so I've got leads for tracking down more visions from the past that the garou haven't managed to put together on their own--once this mild dose of paradox bleeds off. Play it safe, Nick. Play it safe.
Mouse and Salem seemed impressed by what I'd pulled off. Hell, I'm kind of impressed with what I accomplished. Charley seems to look to me for guidance and advice. There were many mages at the San Fran chantry who didn't know as much as I did--even though they belonged to a Tradition and had a support network. I'm... kind of not feeling like the smallest fish in the sea anymore. I mean, sure, I used to be. But I guess.... I guess I've really grown over the past 15 years or so. But let's not let that go to your head, Nick. Maybe you're a Jedi Outcast, but you're no Jedi /Master/ Outcast by a long shot--and probably never will be, either.
===========================
===========================
Below is a log of the event, for those who like to read logs.
===========================
WWNP Campground(#3292RAJ)
A well-tended dirt road, lined with neatly placed rocks winds a sinuous path amongst a pleasing array of camp sites. The tall trees and loamy forest floor provide a cathedral-like atmosphere for visitors to the park. Daytime, lancets of sunshine spike through the evergreen canopy to the russet ground. At night, gentle fingers of moonlight and the occasional glimmer of starlight navigate the maze of branches to the terra firma.
The sites are situated well apart from each other, each providing an illusion of isolation to the occupants. They are equipped with an upright barbequeue and a ring of fire-stones. The ground here is relatively level and smooth, providing a decent repose for the city-soft. Two well-maintained facilities at opposite end of the site provide showers, water faucets, and restrooms. Foot-trails extend into the forest, but return after short diversions of less than a couple of miles.
The grounds appear, more than anything, pristine. This will undoubtedly change.
The dirt road dead ends at the far end, near the restroom, but it continues out to the main park road at its other end.
Contents:
Old Winnebago RV(#1070AJYe)
Obvious exits:
Out to the Main Road
Old Winnebago RV(#1070AJYe)
Before you is a tired-looking 1977 Winnebago Brave D26RT. A collection of dents, dings, and scratches pepper the vehicle's tan exterior. Depsite the cosmetic damage, the vehicle otherwise looks to be in decent shape. The Winnebago logo is hard to miss; it's integrated into the huge stripe that sprawls across the vehicle's sides. The "Brave" badges, alluding to the company's oft-overlooked Native American tribal themes, are placed somewhat more subtly around the vehicle. There's a ladder on the back, allowing access to the roof, which also bears dual air conditioning/heating units.
A roll-out canvas awning on the passenger's side of the RV allows the rapid establishment of a porch to keep rain out and provide cooling shade during the day. Clip-on mosquito netting has been added to make the area even more hospitable. If the vehicle is parked for any significant length of time, the awning is typically deployed along with a couple folding chairs, a TV tray, and a pair of plastic pink flamingos flanking the improvised "patio" area.
If the patio area has been deployed, the perceptive might notice that, on the ground right in front of a pink flamingo--amongst all the other sticks, twigs, leaves, and rocks on the ground--are four short twigs, two longer twigs, and an unusual crescent-shaped rock subtly arranged to make the Glass Walker tribal glyph.
Nicodemus is seated in a folding chair outside of his RV, awaiting guests while futzing about playing Angry Birds on his Kindle Fire.
Mouse arrives on foot, presumably having parked some distance away. She's bathed since Nicodemus last saw her, and her clothes have been washed, but there's still lingering mud stains on her coat, and she has yet to do something about her shaggy hair apart from pull it back into a ponytail again. "Hey," the Theurge calls, when she's close enough.
Salem limps along behind Mouse, looking, well, as scruffy as he generally does, these days. The old giant satchel's been replaced with a smaller but still heavy-duty-looking messenger bag, and the jeans and boots might be different, but otherwise the scarred old bastard still looks like a homeless 'Nam vet gone to seed. He nods his own hello.
Nicodemus looks up at Mouse's call, then stands to greet her and Salem. He parts the mosquito curtain so you can come into the patio area. He's--within the past few days--apparently had an incident with mosquitos as his face, neck, and hands bear a few raised bumps that look exactly like mosquito bites. "Hey. Come on inside." 'Inside' apparently means the RV, as he indicates that with his free hand. "I've got some information for you. About that thing." The intentional vagueness indicates this ought to be a private conversation. "And there's Cokes, Corona, and wine in the fridge."
"Something had you for lunch," Mouse observes lightly. She steps up into the RV when Nick offers, then slides out of the way for the other two to join her.
"Breakfast too," Salem adds as he climbs into the RV, his tone all dry humor.
"Damn mosquitos," Nick grumbles irritably, though the irritation passes quickly. "Forgot to put DEET on when I went camping last. Thanks for the brush piles, Salem. Appreciated them." He climbs in to the RV and closes the door behind everyone. He pushes a button on a small device on the countertop and it begins emitting low background noises--a white noise generator. "First off, I wanted to let you know that I've been collecting people's visions--mostly the urban garou--upon Nieve's request." He hands the Kindle over to Mouse. "There's what I've gotten so far. Although I had a conversation with Topsy a few days ago and she dropped something interesting in my lap." He points to a battered notebook full of charts and maps and calendars and notes--all in a hideously crabbed handwriting so that it's nigh-illegible.
<OOC> Nicodemus: Text file is here: http://nick-garou.dreamwidth.org/34174.html
Mouse accepts the Kindle and spends a few moments tabbing through the accounts, before glancing toward the indicated notebook. One eyebrow raises. "What is it?"
Salem finds a place to sit and gets comfortable in that loose-limbed-but-ready-to-spring-at-a-moment's-notice way of his. He looks mildly curious at the Kindle, even moreso at the notebook. One black eyebrow rises.
Nicodemus looks to the notebook, then both of the garou. "I'd call it the equivalent of a very rough draft of a dissertation research project for a garou--someone named Falcon-Follows-on-Shadows-Wings. Ring any bells?"
Mouse immediately puts the Kindle down and turns to snatch up the notebook. "/Christ/. No, but if it did, you can be sure I'd find a heavier book to hit them with. Sounds Silver Fang." She flips the notebook open, scanning the pages. "Why'd Topsy give it to you?"
Salem's mouth thins out. While Mouse takes up the notebook, he leans forward the take the Kindle, giving the other two an ear as he reads Nick's notes.
"Topsy knew I was collecting visions--I'd asked her if she'd had any and she had--and she acquired the notebook during her recent travels. She thought the contents might be relevant to the current situation and might shed some light on things. It took me a couple days to go through the notebook and extrapolate all the data. It's not just a straight read," Nick explains. "So anyone who just reads it straight through isn't going to get too much out of it. You've got to sift through a ton of data and correlate and crunch everything--and layer some rambling and very speculative writing on top of it all. So it's kind of easier to just sum it all up. The nutshell version? For the last thousand or two thousand years, there's been periodic eruptions of Wyld, chaotic energies that burst into the realm. It might have been going on since the dawn of time itself. But there were many more places of power thousands of years ago, so there were more.... relief valves, so to speak. The eruptions weren't so noticable. And these days, with fewer places of power, when the pressure builds up enough to cause an eruption...." He motions with a hand towards the afflicted area of the woods and the general direction of the caern itself. "Kaboom."
"Sounds /very/ Silver Fang," Mouse mutters, though her attention clearly narrows as Nick continues. "...That...would fit with everything else we know about it. So the theory goes that the Caern is basically--" Her mouth twists, wry, "Vomiting the excess?"
Salem looks up from the Kindle. "Lovely," he says, at Mouse's analogy.
"Or maybe Gaia ate Taco Bell and is now paying for it?" Nick's humor is deadpan and brief. He's back on topic a second later, looking at the book as he speaks--as if sucking the knowledge from it. "Interestingly, the current eruption does not appear to be completely localized, nor is it widespread to all areas of power. It's like it hits a few places at once--and these places might somehow be connected to one another. The author had been researching two other places: one in Texas and one in Western Australia. I'm guessing that Topsy must have conveyed the news about the caern and bawn here going crazy, because there's a hastily jotted down bit of information.... A map that links here to Texas and to Western Australia. There's a brief note about how the author believes that there are lines of energy connecting these three places together--or maybe just these three places are release pathways and nothing else. Either way, he wrote that he had no means of testing to see if these lines of energy exist." Nick then looks to you two. "His theory is correct. I did notice one line of power, but haven't put much time or energy into it since then."
"I knew about Texas," Mouse muses. "/Australia/?" She thumbs through the notebook. "If it follows, then there's one between here and Oregon." There's a grimace at this. "That was a Dancer Pit. Was being the operative word. And then there should be at least one leading somewhere further north." One eye narrows at a thought, but she doesn't voice it. "Caerns are a manifestation of Gaia's power, whatever their nature happens to be. The Wendigo refer to them as Grandmother's Heart. It doesn't surprise me that there's some sort of connections between them other than moon bridges."
"There certainly seems to be a connection to something, though the lines of power are different from what I've seen elsewhere--although those were constructed lines and not naturally occuring ones. And what's out in the woods right now isn't really a ley line per se. Location--and more importantly time--seems to be variables with it. So if there's another caern on the line of power's path, it might not be affected at all because the lines there aren't in the right phase of time itself," Nick explains. Or rather hopes he explains. "If that makes sense?" He adds, "What's a moon bridge?"
Salem exhales a quiet breath and leans forward to hand the Kindle with the dream-notes back to Nick. "I'm surprised there's any logic to it at all. Does the notebook indicate whether this... eruption... will go away on its own, or?"
"Hence the star charts," Mouse says. Again she goes quiet, thinking. "Oh, it's a...well, it's complicated. In short, it's kind've exactly what it sounds like. A pathway leading through the Umbra from one place to another. Caerns are capable of opening them between each other if certain conditions are met. They're much faster than conventional travel, if sometimes very dangerous. We used one a few years back, when we were fighting the Dancers in Spokane."
Nicodemus seems to grasp the concept of a moonbridge fairly easily. "Okay, that makes sense." Zero disbelief from the mage, but he does seem fairly impressed at the ability. He looks to Salem. "Actually, I've got a theory on that based on the visions. Which, in actuality, was really just one fragmented vision. I don't suppose either of you has the mind speaking ability? If not, I think I can communicate the entire vision to you both clearly without it. If you're both okay with that and a little Jedi Mind Tricking."
Mouse visibly hesitates as she closes the notebook. She shakes her head at the question. "That's generally a Galliard gift. So Kavi, Jacob, Flint." There's another pause, then she lifts her chin. "I'm willing."
Salem absently scratches at his beard, under his jaw, and nods. "Mage away." He glances at the other Garou.
Nicodemus clears his throat. His right hand begins making ever so subtle gestures as he speaks. The words carry with them an unusual clarity that almost lends a visual experience, further creating the illusion of a near-perfect recollection of the dream--including an element of even barely feeling the vision's sensations. "The dreamer is on a swing hanging from a vast tree--or the dreamer is very small. The dreamer is swinging forwards and up. The dreamer starts to feel stronger and healthier. The dreamer swings further forward and up. The dreamer becomes something or someone else, changed and bizzare with wierd surroundings. The dreamer finishes swinging forwards an up and starts to swing back and down. The dreamer feels fit and healthy again. The dreamer reaches the bottom arc of the swing, and feels mundane and drab, with surroundings that are city-like (the Gnawer reporter thought it smelled like home). The dreamer starts swinging backwards and up, and starts to get older and weaker. The dreamer swings further backwards and up, and dies. A girl in a silvery dress appears and recites a poem: There is no wrong, there is no right, there is only dark and bright. I did not come, I did not go, I cannot change but only show. You cannot win, you cannot lose, but where to stop? That you can choose. The sound of buzzing ends the dream." The hand motions cease, and so does the telling of the vision in its entirity. He looks to Mouse. "That obviously can't come from me. Maybe you could say that Chimera brought you the full vision or something else that'd seem plausable--aside from 'oh, one of our kinfolk happened to have the full vision'?"
Salem lowers his head slightly, brows furrowed together in thought. "...My pack's totem's one of Chimera's," he notes, quietly. "We call her the Oracle." And then he shrugs; there's something reluctant about his manner.
Mouse jerks her chin toward the Kindle. "You collected them. Maybe we went over it together, like a puzzle. Though I'd think it's just as plausible to say that you pieced it together on your own. You're a smart man, quite apart from anything else." She adds, after a moment, "I'm impressed with the mage-ing though. That was a lot less intrusive than the Galliard's gift."
Salem waves a hand at Mouse. "Or we could do that." A corner of his mouth quirks upward, wryly.
"I prefer subtle," Nick asides to Mouse. "So the less attention drawn to me, the better. And it makes you--or Salem--or both of you--look more bad-ass." He continues. "I got the impression from whatever or whoever sent the vision that there were at least two other visions. There /might/ even be a third one--in the past or possibly the future. And I'd heard from a couple garou that they'd had visions before this one that might have been related. If you can determine the time, date, and location where people had these past visions, I might be able to intercept one or both of those visions and put them together for you." He gets more serious. "I'm completely speculating here, but I'm concerned that the swinging--the waxing and waning of power and weakness--followed by the eventual death of the dreamer, might indicate that the garou need to determine not only how to stop the effects on the bawn, but when to stop it. Stop it at the wrong time and you might damage the place of power. Stop it at the right time and you might empower it. But wait too long, and it may crumble. And, perhaps--or perhaps not--the solution might involve sending envoys to Texas and Australia. Maybe linking all three together or opening a release valve of some sort if there's no similar Wyld output there. Or maybe linking all three simultaneously with a moonbridge?" He shrugs. "Complete and total speculation on my part here."
Mouse bows her head a little, eyes narrowing in thought. "I've had plenty of visions relating to this in the past. Let me...give it some thought." She tucks the notebook under one arm and leans against the RV wall. Apparently 'give it some thought' means 'right now'.
Salem leans back in his seat and stretches his legs, nodding to the Theurge.
Currently the moon is in the waxing Full (Ahroun) Moon phase (96% full).
"You two mull it over and take a load off," Nick says as he heads for the door. "I need to make a run to get some propane and toilet paper before the corner store closes for the day. I'm sure shitting in the woods is fine and dandy for you two, but some of us still have to wipe our asses." Humor over, he waves a farewell. And with that, he heads out the door, clambers into his little yellow roadster, and takes off.
<OOC> Nick's player had to split here, but stayed logged in.
Mouse doesn't even look up as Nick leaves, but she eventually pulls out her phone, and turns on the recording feature. "January second, Monday," she murmurs into it. "The Noah's ark dream. A woman in a silvery dress smiles and hands me a hammer and nails, then points to a stack of wood and planks. Then she points to the air, where plans for a ship appear. Dream shifts, I'm standing on the ship. In the distance is a rolling green tide coming toward me, and between me and the tide there are all sorts of animals. Falcons, deer, crows, wolves, owls, horses. I can't make all of them out. Some of them keep looking back, some of them actually turn back, some of them are pushed or pulled by the others toward me, and I know it's time to lower the gangplank. Another shift, and the ship is riding through the storm. I look ahead and see a light in the gloom. It's the light of a silver fountain, and I start steering toward it." She takes a breath. "January fourth, Wednesday. The first wasp dream. Weird sensations of wandering, searching. I feel like I've got too many legs, and wings, and I need to find somewhere for my children. That dream kept coming for a while. Sometimes the sensations stuck around even when I was awake. January seventh, Saturday." She rubs at her face. "Potential city father or mother dream. Set in the city, centering around a man whose face I can't see. Colors and patterns swirl around him in a chaotic mess, and spirits are in the background, entering and leaving the dream. Some of them give the man something of their nature. I woke up feeling tired, but I didn't get anything /forboding/ from that dream."
And she keeps going. "January eighth, Sunday. The Chimera dream. I'm looking into a mirror, but my eyes are silver and reflect my reflection back, like two mirrors lined up with each other. My reflection spoke." She inhales, and recites, ""Because I see a part of myself in you, you shall be the most favoured of my children, to carry on my work after I am gone. You shall find wisdom by seeking that which is outward, not that which is within yourself." In the reflection your hair, your fur, is beginning to turn to grey. "To ensure the future you must look beyond the sight of your eyes, and find protection for that which is as yet unborn." By now your hair or fur has become snowy white. "For every thing there is a time, and there is a season for every purpose. My season draws towards its end. The spring to follow winter will be shaped by the actions of Gaia's guardians'. Then the mirror broke, and one of the shards hit me in the heart." She puts her hand there. "I woke up with a scar, which was pretty damn disturbing. Lots of people had this dream, but not all at once. I think I was one of the first. Salem had it too. And it was really hard to talk about with anyone who /didn't/ have it, for quite some time." She glances sideways. "That's about when I started being told about the dreams other people had. All of this was before the Caern was closed and the Wyld errupted."
<OOC> Mouse le spammeh. She'll send this to Nick later, or show it to him when he gets back. >D
Salem stirs a little when Mouse starts describing the Chimera dream. He frowns slightly and without thinking about it scratches at his chest, where that particular scar lies.
Mouse considers for a moment, then raises the phone to her mouth again. "January fourteenth, Saturday, Silvertip told me about his dream. He was lying on a rock, overlooking a pack of wolves, though the wolves were all different subspecies. Timber, arctic, desert. You get the idea. The pack was resting between hunts, with the pups outside, playing. The land was rocky and green, grazing deer, and the moon was up. But past the packlands the terrain was inhospitable, full of shadow-wolves. Very far in the distance, often obscured by shadows, he thought he saw glimmers of moonlight, surrounded and besieged by howling packs of shadows that bite at them, making them fainter. Then the moonlight fades and the deer run. Sunlight comes and hurts the eyes, the pups whine in fear. The light burns hotter and brighter, until it's impossible to see or think, and the fur smoulders and the earth burns his paws. It is beautiful, powerful, deadly, and there's no shade. The pack looks to him, and the dream ends." Breath. "Earth Whisperer had a dream sometime before February tenth, Friday. He's sneaking into strange land, scouting. The lands don't belong to enemies, there's no malice, but the occupants are deadly and merciless. There are a lot of scouting missions. He's looking for something in particular. He's in their den, and the air throbs with a deep humming. He's trying to get to where they keep their pups. Many days pass. He's not the only one involved, there are many. He learns the layout of the tunnels, and where the pups are kept at the heart of the stronghold. He knows where to find the only girl pup of the den's Alpha. She's the target. When the call comes, he must be ready to steal the Princess." One eye narrows. "This is pretty much the Red Talon version of a dream Lefty had. They're both Ragabash, which would be the Garou chosen for a scouting and infiltration mission. She dreamed she was scaling the walls of a castle, going to rescue a princess. And she /also/ felt that there were others with her, working alongside her. As far as I know, she had it around the same time as Earth Whisperer. We theorized that it meant that at a certain time, we'd have to steal the new, baby queen from the nest that's being built over the Caern. We have to keep her safe and make sure she survives, because it's the only way the wasps will move on." Her thumb moves over the screen, ending the recording. She looks at Salem.
"Good god, woman." The old halfmoon's impressed.
Mouse grins, tight and faint. "Should give him something to look into, anyway."
Salem shifts his weight in the chair, sitting up with a grimace. "And ponder." He shakes his head. "I wish I could add something, but..." He shrugs and makes a vague circling gesture with his maimed hand.
<OOC> And my comp went into idle mode and the log got cut off.