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It is a strange feeling to wake knowing full well that by all rights one should be dead.

Stranger still is the sense that not all is as it should be. As if one was waking from a surreal nightmare.  For though we survived, the cost was high.Trevor is dead. Spider is missing.  And the threat of the unkown looms over us once more.

It seems that we have been transported to a place much like the world we knew, but with subtle changes.  We are no longer hunted (or at least no longer hunted by the populace as a whole.) Our identities seem to show that what lives we had stolen by our previous captors has been returned, if not wholly, then some semblance of it.

We leave the house in Babylon in my host’s automobile.  A classic as these mortals would view it. (A 1972 Chrysler New Yorker Coupe for the curious)  I have a sense of familiarity with it. As if the nightmare confinement was simply that, a surreal dream now faded away.
Finding our freedom returned, we decide that caution is a virtue, and make our hasty escape to the teeming metropolis.

It is difficult to come to terms with a world that feels much as it should be, yet wholly different due to experiences one knows to be real.  The world we wake to is much like our own memories, yet magical aptitude seems to be more readily accepted here.  Public buildings appear to have some form of detection enchantment which allows its occupants to assist those of us with special needs.

The fear I remember is gone. It seems that those of us who are not wholly mortal are accepted. We learn that our lives stopped some three months ago, and now resumed as if nothing happened in between.  It is in New Jersey that we learn much of what we knew is somehow false. And in an effort to gain support and understanding, we decide that the best path for our own survival is to join the local law enforcement agencies.

I learn new things. Some which will help further down the track, others which seem unnecessary. I learn to use a firearm, and while I can never rely on such advancements, I find that they do host an awesome destructive power. What I could have done with a trained group of marksmen back in the golden days!  To think that such a small and insignificant amount of lead can do such horrific and efficient damage to the fragile mortal body.  Still, it is little compared with the rules these modern mortals burden themselves with.  Some aspects are reitterations of what should be common sense.  Others seem complicated nonsense, yet I see the method to their madness.

The seasons pass, and we have learnt what we can, and re-established ourselves. We now have purpose, and support, and I have found a new cause to fight for. 

I now understand why these mortals strive each day of their dreary lives. No longer will I treat this life for granted.

It is rare indeed when an immortal such as I is given a second chance.   With Claideb Solas and the shield of law on my side,  it would be wise of those who wish me harm to beware. For I am Lawrence Finn, also known as Nuada Airgetlam and I stalk these lands once more!

Time for the tour…

We walk through the tunnels and Tell is nowhere to be found; it is only late in the walk that a circular groove is in the wall.

RC (the RedCap) reacts badly and wants to correct the damage.

The circle is approximately 2 meters in diameter, you can fit a knife in and you cannot touch the back of the groove.

I have an idea; strip off go to my true form and push.

It sinks 20 cm into the wall; I ignore RC’s ranting and try to shift it in any direction and discover that if a push to get grip and lean down it will turn.

I turn it 45 degrees (slowly) and push again.

it sinks in almost 30cm and then casually rolls to the side leaving a meter wide gap.

Inside is a rectangular room made of the same rock as was surrounding the shipping container.  On the other side of the room in the roof was a hole in the roof leading to small tunnel.

I lead through, assuming this has to be where they took Tell, after a few minutes we come across a digging drone which I keep electrocuting it into submission until the Kaylee can switch it off, but I break something critical in the 8 times I had to hit it and something internally burns out.

Soon we find ourselves leading into some WW1 tunnels with a sign saying 1 mile to Stockport.

Ignoring the cave in (that on the other side is a WW1 tourist site) it is completely empty.

One exist leads underneath a jeweller’s vault that is has 30cm steel walls.

The one exit leads into some sewers that is looks like kids go down here a fair bit.

It exits into a storm drain and into an alley.

Coming out we scan for cameras and find a CCTV signal (but smashed lens); in no time at all we have video footage of a fight going on between a Troll carring a slumped Tell, and cloaked figure (who casts a spell).

There is an article on the local newfeed from Knight Errant…

Go to the local 24/7 and ask about the scuffle and whether they know the kids involved; The Grimsbys… seriously, they are called the Grimsbys… we even get an address. I swap 100 into a cashchip for a bribe for the right kid and we go to the house.

Kid that answers the door thinks I am a Halloweenwer, I would be insulted if he was old enough to know better, an older kid comes up and knows something. He has some quality simsense rig in his head too, no idea where it came from as I easily purchase his recording of the incident for the cashchip.

He gives me his dropbox for later messages; he knows how to keep his head down and people will assume he is just a kid and ignore him.  That might come in handy.

From the recordings he know:

• Knight Errant attended the scene
• the cloaked figure is a spellcaster
• the van rego was no available to us, but is in the KE records/
• the rego of the KE car that attended is visible.

assuming the log of the event went through the car, if we can get to car, we might be able to get all the logs with a great deal less chance of being brainfried by some cutting-edge ICE.

So off to visit the local branch.

They had taken over the original police station the neighbouring property is now the carpark for the vehicles, all undercover with electronic survelliance everywhere.

We go it to look through the window at the regos on the car.

A screen on the wall shows an agent with a little platform in front that would show the AR persona if I could see Aug Reality. It offers information at a stupidly high price; more importantly, we cannot see through the window since they are  now screens…

The key is to identify the car; “sniff” it’s network; isolate it from the overall KE network and get access to the logs.

I change into the form of a black cat and enter into the carpark; the alarms go off and my telepathy does not work with Kaylee. None of the cars match, do it is either not on this site, or on the beat.

KE security guard with an atypical aura (no time to properly assense) comes out and looks me over, a focus on “mental cat mode” and run towards my “owner at the gate.

I let Kaylee pick me up and as the discussion goes to my pet registration, it shows like a good time for me to get out and run and I start squirming out of her arms and run ang Kaylee “tries to catch me”.

Sure that something is going to go wrong (eg. taser, tranq, RFID bug) I get down low and go go go.

A few blocks later and the KE creep has not followed and shift back and get my bag off Kaylee.

Kaylee got hit with a tracer and pick us of my combat boot and it is broken.

Apparently I am covered in Augmented Reality bugs, I give her a opportunity to use her bugburner thing and fry the RFIDs that were covering my combat gear and we discuss a course of action.

I am thinking the best idea is to place a non-transmitting camera opposite the carpark and wait for the car to come in…

THINGS WE LEARNT

• The Old Sea Dragon (the only Sea Dragon we know of, also female) is the “engineer” of the Mersey Labyrinth.
• Tell was taken by a Troll and a spellcaster in a van back into Manchester, KE will be able to tell us more information.
• Pics of the troll has been sent to Madame Whyte; we waiting on their identity.
• KE charges too much for little information.

NEW CONTACTS

Jack Grimsby of Stockport… has simsense headware and works cheap.

Okay,
now that Jenny is out the way time to get back to Tell.

I have no idea whether Tell has helped me because I am a useful asset (he knew I was a Dragon) or becuase he likes to help the underdog; or both.
It is immaterial, he has helped me in the past, and I owe him.

My lastest strategy is multiple summoning of small spirits to act has drones for me.

My conjuring is so rudimentry that I need to fix that weakness next; mind you my spellcasting is not that flash either but I can hit hard.

Three weeks past and my map of the underground below the Uni is complete; well complete except for the 40 foot container shape in the middle about 200m underground.

I go to investigate and there is an astral barrier in the shape of a container there.  Underneath the barrier seems to be a rock aggregate fused together with great heat.  Astral barrier has an astral presence similar to the Whitewalls Estate that the Ork and his team found me in.

It’s  strength is greater than my own, so my best bet is to go Dragon and the space is not big enough for my true form.

1. I assume a group of earth elementals to dog out the area further,
2. the next day armed with plenty of energy bars and sports drinks I shift and start a clawing.
3. the area self heals according to the rock surface, so I work on making a hole and work on defacing the rock.
4. I scratch around a door frame the size of a troll and quickly burrow through the remaining 10cm of rock to the inside of the shell.
5. That done, I shift back into Orc form, have a little rest and fill up on energy bars and isotonic drinks.
6. Recovered I go in.

Inside of a container, the bottom is a iron trapdoor.
It has no markings on it beyond the hint of it being cast, could be 100 years old or older.
 
My comlink goes off: a human female who appears asthetically attractive shows up in my googles; she wants to meet. I quick confirmation from Barlow and from Madame Whyte and I organise a time.
Get in Elf form… (and I seriously thinking of becoming a nudist, this is driving me mad).
 
Go visit up at the Uni, she is a drone to some rigger in “Suth America” living in a tank.  The latency should be too much for reaction time, so the drone must be running some top of the line Pilot softs.
 
She joins, we go back down; I lead down the hole.
 
 
It goes down 300 meters, at the bottom I have no signal (it was faint at the top anyway).
No other networks are emitting, so unlikely any cloaked networks; she is still running…
 
I think she is an AI like Kray (well not exactly, he seemed to be possessing a cyberzombie).
 
Summon some spirits to search what appears to be a giant cavern and close the lid up above. Hmmm, she is still running and responds to my questions too well to be a Restricted Intel. so must be an AI…
 
We go down the tunnel, 10mins later we find an awaken Dwarf with giant boots digging a hole.
He talks about payment to get in and the doorman.  I run him a line to annoy him that I must be the doorman since there was no door before I got there.
I made the door so I must be the doorman.
 
He is confused but seems to accept payment if we deal with the creature that kills anyone trying to leave.  Hell, I needed to do that anyway if there is such a creature so we go up.
Some awaken bat hits us with a weird cloud of lighting, but the lightweight is taken out with a standard issue stunbolt.
Dwarf is amazed (I love the easily impressed).
 
We go down and meet a rigger human who works for him. It is suggested that he was given as a gift and is technically a slave.
 
What we do find out.

• The tunnels are intended to draw the power generated by the Mersey.
  the power is no longer there.
• Power of the Mersey used by Jenny’s domain, but it can be bartered if someone has something Jenny wants.
  • I used to have something Jenny wanted; her teeth.
    • I gave them to the Lord Protector.
      • Crap…
• Tunnels are funded by a Green Western Dragon some time over 100 years ago… (which I can only find Nachtmeister, who was killed a while ago)
• Something made me think Welsh, Welsh Dragons include: Celedyr, Perianwyr, Rhonabwy, The Sea Dragon (Leviathan, wrong type)
  So unknown Dragon, or one hiding their form…
• Our Free Spirit friend is also known as “The Trickster”; that reminds me, I have to summon him back next week…
• The Dwarf is a Red Cap, and seems to be a lot older than the other Dwarves, I do not know if he is a metavariant or a faerie; but he thinks he is a faerie.  He has been active since before the Sixth Age…
• The have footage of Tell being dragged by some humanoid creatures into the tunnels; that was a week ago (he has been lost for 5 weeks).

Next Actions

• Find Tell
• Find out who this Green Western Dragon is.

Surprisingly, the lycanthropes are not what I expected. The others are a little disturbed that I would dispatch foes (even ones as young as these) with little regard to killing.  I think it is fair that my foes are crushed underfoot, especially since they brought knives to play.

The thought does nag at my host’s memories sometimes. He would like to think that it would be far easier to be mortally honourable.  I really do not see how our actions would be deemed dishonourable.  We crept about like thieves intent on larceny, yet any good scout does the same. When the battle was joined, we did not look for any weapon of sort, but dispatched our foes efficiently and ensuring that the maiden fair was unharmed.

Maybe these mortals would prefer if I dealt with them much like those Arthurian Knights that they place much romance about.

Still, the maiden is safe, and we headed home.

Stranger things are afoot. As I approached our home, I noticed a strikingly tall man or ghost, I cannot tell which. He stood watching, like those natives did so long ago. But this one smelt funny, as if decaying due to some rot. The flies seemed to announce his presence.

Undeterred, I thought best to circle, but it seems the rogue would follow.

He gave chase, and was as quick as I, if not faster. And I thought it best not to bring this one into our home, but to deal with him (with the aid of the others) out of mortal sight.

Trevor attempted to ground the damn thing, but it merely enraged it.  And it was strong, throwing a shaft of timber at Trevor with speed.  Lucky for Trevor, I managed to intercept the shaft, unlucky for me, the ghost throws almost as hard as I do.

I remember little of what happened next, but I know it bested me with strength, and it pains me to say that Trevor fell.  The young drake seemed to do fine for a while.  Still, I know the host blacked out for a short while.  When I awoke, the ghost had its hands on Trevor’s heart, and I knew it indended to gain more power.

With a blast, I managed to dispatch the ghost into ectoplasmic goo, unfortunately, our domicile was destroyed along with it.

Now we are on the run once more. This time heading to the city called New York.  Hopefully we will be able to find some form of solace there.

Weeks have passed, we have managed to find lodging and more suitable attire.  Life for these mortals moves on in such quick strides.

Aside from the mundane upkeep of living in the mortal world, I have used what spare income I have to purchase books on the maintenance of automobiles and machinery. It seems simple enough, and the metal does not disturb me if I remember to use ample protective clothing.  Still, I have little idea of if the machines will work.  For some reason, machinery seems to dislike those of us gifted with magical potential.

Now if only the wyldfae would talk about the strange disturbances, alas we are at an impasse, as they seem to notice the smallest of things, yet miss the more significant events.  At least that is what they have conveyed to me.  But they seem happy with food as payment, though their notions of offerings seem odd, though they are rife with gossip.  I need to speak to Spider about his frequent nightly walks (especially since it seems he has been spotted by children during his prowls into others iceboxes)

The night of the full moon approaches, and yet, we have heard nothing about the ruffians which plague this town. I have asked the wyldfae to be my eyes in this matter.

While waiting at a gymnasium, a place the locals call the “Y”, my little friends alert Jake, Trevor and I to trouble brewing across town at the Marina.

It takes minutes to arrive, and by the time we arrive, we are too late to stop whatever larceny occurred.  Local authorities are already on the scene.  By sheer chance, we find a lock which has been touched by our quarry, and Trevor crafts a spell which allows us to view a trail over water.

It takes us a further few hours to reach our quarry’s lair.  Soon, the sun will rise, and the spell of trailing will fade.  It seems to me that we have had a little luck to aid in our inquiry, but not enough to make this task what the locals would call a “cakewalk”

New York is much larger and overcrowded than I remember it.

We stop by Grand Central Station, obtain some maps, and soon we are travelling once more.
There is some debate on where we should go. I seem to have memories of a place called Greenwich Village, which apparently is where people like my host congregate.
There is mention of a place called “the Bronx” and also of Long Island.
We settle on travelling to Babylon, which seems as familiar to me as any of these other places. Memories, but not much else.

Our lodging when we arrive is spartan, but cheap.  And while it seems strange to search for an income, we all decide this would be best.  I manage to obtain a position as a “bus boy” though I still am not clear on what exactly that entails.
After a few hours, it seems to me that bus boys are eating house workers who clear tables, wash dishes and do menial tasks.  Why they call them bus boys I still have to discover.

The town we stay in seems troubled.  Apparently disturbances occur more often when the moon is full. I have managed to find that there are winter fae in town, and a mortal witness has confirmed that there are some thugs who seem immune or impervious to guns.

I made the mistake of contacting the wild fae, while they have their uses, they are as twisted as the rest of us.
This particular sprite seemed too greedy, and I underestimated his cunning.

Still, catching a cat and watching sprites proved little distraction, at least now I know that there is a large presence of Winter in this town.

The others have found some more permanent lodging.  It needs work, and is rather spartan, but it suits our needs

I have filled the others in on the situation with the fae, it has been decided that we need to learn more about our surrounds and what else we can do before having more dealings with local faeries.

It is a start, and I hope our presence here lays undetected by those who would incarcerate us.  I also hope that we aid this town more than simply acting as a font for trouble.

Running like a fugitive is not so different now as it was then.

Yet, the landscape is not what I or the host remembers.  Then again, our conveyances are limited.  After all, most of these cars seem to malfunction around Trevor, and there is the issue of property ownership.

It must be said that travelling like a “hobo” seems to be innocuous, though the iron clad boxes do cause some discomfort.  The grifters and wandering folk seem to give us no mind, and are as strangely dressed as we are.

I have managed to remove what insignia the guards had placed on this jacket, though it does not appear to be stylish.  And of course, it occurs to me that these pants I am wearing do somewhat stand out.  Specially when none of us have footwear.

Still, we are away, and there is a city full of baselines ahead of us.  Hopefully we can lose ourselves in the masses.  Yet even that gives scant hope, especially when the masses seem to be more predatory than I have come to believe.

How far we have fallen indeed…

Waking up groggy is a strange feeling. Even more so when you realise your shirt has a hole the size of your head both in front and in the back.

Realising that laying on the floor profits nothing, I notice that the tentacled beast is gone.  Maria is standing shock still in one corner, Trevor is slowly getting up from the floor.  Ensuring  no-one notices, I absorb what meagre energy I can to heal my wounds.  The world spins, but when my vision clears, the wound in my chest has vanished, leaving nothing but an ugly bruise to indicate where the tentacle punched through.

Soon, the manacles are off as I find the appropriate keys.  It takes mere moments to free the others.

Unsurprisingly, the others are content to stay behind me as we explore the area.  We soon find other beings like us. Prisoners who suffer because they are magically active.  Some are near humans, others are totally in-human.  All dressed like prisoners, though all seemingly healthy.

It takes more minutes till we free everybody.  Trevor seems to have a knack in undoing all the shackles, he needs no keys, and it seems has more control over his spells than I have while here.

We get outside, only to realise there is no real way off the island. The boats have been sunk by the horror from the deep.

After some investigation, Trevor notes that there is a strange light coming from the lighthouse tower.  I look, and realise that there is some form of spell.  Again Trevor proves his worth by advising that the spell affects us all by causing this barrier effect.

I try to disable the light, but it seems too well protected, and I am still weak from my earlier exertions.  It is not until I ask that we find one of the other prisoners has the ability to change shape into that of a hawk.

We soon task our avian accomplice to fly to the mainland and steal a craft to aid in our escape.  For some reason the mantle of leadership seems to pass to me.  Which is expected, but it galls me that everyone else appears content to merely be sheep.   It highlights once more that these humans are too long removed from the adventurers and carefree people they once were.

Time passes, as we wait, and through impatience, I decide to investigate the sunken boats.  As I am informed that it may be worthwhile to salvage so called “life rafts” and it may be best for us to attempt our escape with those.
More minutes pass as I explore the murky depths, thankfully the guards lanterns are built to the task.  And I find enough temporary craft to make our way over the depths.  In the distance I see that our wet friend is still riding his pet beast towards land.

We finally make the village, when lo and behold, we see our avian friend is on some craft attempting to sail into the wind.

Trevor, the Spider and I decide it is best if we (all 30 survivors) split into smaller groups, as it would increase the chances of our escape.
The three of us, decide that the avian had skills which were useful, so we invite him to join our little group as we head for a road train to freedom.

It is decided that our next stop is a place I vaguely remember.  The city of New York.  Where hopefully the teeming masses will mask our presence.

As I lay awake, hooded and shackled in the accursed cold iron I wonder
what leads these men to feel such fear.  Fear of us few who are
trussed like pigs ready for slaughter.   And yet, there is such fear
in our guards eyes.

It has been over a month, and the “doctors” here still think I am insane.
They probe with their words, and try to elicit responses by delivering
electric shocks with their machines.

But tonight something has changed.  There is a feeling of apprehension
among the others. The one known as Spider seems agitated, almost to
the point that sitting idle is painful.

As we sit at our evening meal, it occurs to me that I have done little
to prepare for escape.  So much have these chains befuddled me that I
have had little to think about aside from survival.

Before I can compose my thoughts, one of the others, I think he is
called Trevor has stepped up to the guards but is soon subdued by
their weapons.  It all happens almost too quickly for the eye to see.
I feel my legs freed, and soon I too find myself joining the fray.

I try to drag the now unconscious Trevor away from the fighting, and
then try to drag one of the unconscious guards away from the horrors
attempting to gain entry to this room.  As I reach the guard, I feel a
pain unlike any I have felt before, and the room spins as I see a
tentacle extract itself from my chest, just before the cool floor
rises up to meet my face.

The last thought that goes through my head is that of soft beds in a
life far away from here…

They have had me locked up for 12 weeks,
technically three cycles of the moon.
They think that the constant changing of lighting, random meal times and no defined schedule will keep us imbalanced enough to destroy our self-esteem; one we doubt ourselves, our magic fades away.  It is their way of killing the part of us that they fear.

However they do not know the basics of Magical Theory.  Every threshold weakens magical constructs; if you concentrate you can feel barriers and spell flicker at sunset and dawn; you can feel the surge and wane of emotions that comes with the phases of the moon.  All their effort to learn and they have no idea what really makes us tick.

The moon came just became full 2 minutes ago, and I have been feeling his summoning.  I feel the Deep One coming from the Atlantic, entering the inlet, passing a sleeping coastal town.  It crawls onto the Pier and slaughters the guards in complete silence and rolls over the gate and attaches to the front door.

It’s beak overs the double doors and that retracts once it starts to squeeze it’s tentacles through…

Nothing I can do… this have muted my magic enough that I am impotent to stop it; but my senses are not dulled and certainly not dulled to the horror of the guards as they are crushed to death.

Finally Obed makes his move, the lights go out and then two tentacles come through the door

I might not be able to stop him, but I can certainly try to save who I can, an unconcious guard is better than a dead one.  I raise what power I can to hex their tasers and walk towards a guard,
I manage to release it as the taser hits me and it all goes black…