IC - Mad World

[arcanus]

This is where the exploits of those active within the wider Sixth World are detailed.

[arcanus]

October 31st 2056
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Presiding upon the 34th Floor, the office was wrong, in a deliberately designed but still asymetrically incorrectly, wrong.
Its mezzanine level contained a stylish corporate office, furnished with Maple desks, 15 foot blue plated windows gave a thought provoking view of Puget Sound..

The sunken central level was some 20 feet square, sitting within this space was a large greenish glass sphere, housed in a vaguely early industrial brass series of tubes.

The younger of the two men, adjusted his back unnessesarily due to his office chair being constructed of bio-forming foam.

"It is not unexpected, his return I mean!"

The older man, didn't turn, instead fixing his gaze upon a Monobe Lav circling distantly towards the rooftop landing zone of the corporations local branch.

"Indeed, in reality his return was expected, it was the elves who was not"

"The elf has not returned, some genetech nightmare of Neuronet"

"If you believe that then, your education has been extremely flawed" replied the older man, flicking the end off a 'Quintero', it flared in the indigo light.

"Forces are at play here, forces that we must understand before we commit ourselves further" stated the older man.

"So we agree that his return could indicate, his inclusion as one of the Great Ones"

The older man snorted cigar smoke " If these 'Scothara' are to be believed! What is their location?"

"They have adopted their old ways and gone to ground, however our best guess psychologically is that he will attempt to re-establish his previous venture which would indicate Hollywood, Metropole or Delhi"

"Considering their non-existant funds, the latter two are unlikely, LA it is"

[arcanus]

'What you seek lies within the Northern Isles' played around the thoughts of Malthalamas Curren, turning he regarded the idle, vacant form of Francis Drake 'Off saving the world again'!

[Curren]

Curren sat on the comfy seat reading a paper in a room he had rented a few hours ago. He looked with irritation at the lifeless form of Drake who was propped up in a sofa on the other side of the room. Drake had insisted that it would be safer if he projected from here, and Curren for the life of him didn't know where or why he had gone.

He lit up a cigar and returned to the Seattle Herald Classified adverts,
'Bookshelf, good condition, customer collect 45 nuyen' he muttered.
He nodded in appreciation, 'All I'll need then is a house and some books!' as he blew cigar smoke through his nose like a dragon.

'Northern Isles' He said aloud.

He stood suddenly and tossed the paper into the bin, bookshelves whould have to wait until another day. 'Now where did I put that bloody map?'
Curren started to pat himself down furiously and check the multitude of pockets that were on his shabby suit.

'Aha!' He exulted as he produced an even shabbier piece of paper from his inside pocket. He unfolded what turned out to be a ludicrously large world map from what had been a folded piece of paper no bigger than a passport.

'A GPS would be better the guys would have said, but I don't know what that stands for let alone how to use it. General Postal Service? Bollocks to that!' he thought with a sneer etched on his face. He sat back on the seat and chewed on his lit cigar.

'Lets have a gander then......

[arcanus]

Hmmm, it could be Iceland, Greenland or even the Artic Belt.

'Used to be New York that never slept' Curren thinks to himself, not with the Corps around' being on the border of Bellvue and Downtown, the soundproofed glass resists the drone of constant road traffic, numerous drones and air transports heading to corporate destinations or Sea-tac.

Snorting, Curren wipes a trickle of blood from his left nostril, thats happened a little two regularly since evac from the CZ.

The Ether of the room shifts, the ticking of a half dozen watches is amplified as turning Curren gazed upon the white polymere door of the ensuite.
Glowing upon its surface is the word "D'z Raaak'

[Curren]

'D'z Raaak?' Curren mused 'Sounds like when I clear my throat!' He hawks back and opens the door to the bathroom and spits bloody phlegm down the toilet.

'Gotta get this checked out, the nosebleeds are getting worse.' he flushes the toilet and washes his hands.

(Magic Theory of 7, 2 fives, 2 fours, and a 3.)

[arcanus]

'Idiot' Curren thinks to himself, I'm bleeding in my physical form.
His hands ghostly, must get back not much time left.

[Curren]

'I really am losing the plot here!' as he puts his head in his hands in confusion. He looks at his harrowed features in the bathroom mirror.
'When did I astrally project? Why?'

[arcanus]

"He did what?" exclaimed Tink, the nubile Dryad had changed significantly.
The only contact the artists formerly known as The Church had left or could truly trust.

"It appears he used his illusion magics and his knowledge of Astral form to make his projecting self real, enough to fool us in the heat of the evacuation" replied Silk.

"He was talking of doing this while we were Questing, we tried to explain that he would be alone, isolated" Silk grew quiet

"So he's still in the CZ" murmered Tink, not so much saddened by Curren's predicament but by the thought of a life imprisoned and bound.

"Yes" replied Silk "He is!"

[Curren]

'Must be the flashbacks and memory loss I always suffer from when I'm under stress' he admitted. 'Or maybe its the time I have been in astral space which has made me think this is the physical world.' he walks out of the bathroom.

Pacing the room he reviews his situation. 'Ok, so I'm still in Chicago. And the shit has hit the fan there for me, but I must get back otherwise my physical form will die and I will cease to be. But I'm here for a purpose and I don't remember why?'

(Research roll of 13, 2 fives, 4, and a 3. What is D'z Raaak?)