Hiking with Leonhard

Leonhard

The boots are old, cared for, firm. He tightens the laces against the bumper of the Ford. Noon, or a few minutes past, and the trail sprawls before him - more in thought than sight. He thinks of Trianoma, glancing to the mountains of the distance, and Alexander. Alexander. The Orphan, and of a sharply different century. And Praxis. And nature.Nature. Not such an ugly thing, and all around him. He adjusts his rucksack as he steps from one foot to the other. Yes. The boots are ready, though they will be little help in the true route of walking the trail.There will be times like this, more and more. Best begin.

Alexander

It’s just after when Alexander arrives. He spies Leonhard getting ready as he pulls into the car park, and finds a nearby space to pull up into. Kick stand down and engine noise dying away, he pulls the (battered) helmet off and hooks it on one of the handlebars. “Afternoon,” he calls to the waiting man as he swings his leg off. No leathers today: Alexander’s ridden in wearing his hiking boots, walking trousers and a windproof jacket over a couple of tshirts. The helmet gets pushed into the top of a rucksack, which is then swung back on.

The sky is clear. Bluer than it used to be? Maybe.

Leonhard

"And a good one," Leonhard calls back, diving his torso back into the truck to turn off the stereo. The heater doesn't work but the stereo does. Typical Jerbiton. Locking the Ford and losing the keys in his jacket, he meets Alexander with a handshake. In his eyes, calm. In his eyes, patience. In his manner, very mild reticence but certainly concern.

"Might as well get going," he smiles, "Got a lot of ground to cover, I should think."

Alexander

The car park isn’t overly busy – it’s probably a bit early for the more fair-weather walkers and their families to be out and about. There’s certainly a chill in the air as the two men start walking towards the signposts marking out the trails.

“I guess it depends where we go. Do you have a preference?” There signposts give a few options of varying lengths and difficulties.

Leonhard

"Anywhere heading upwards," he admits, continuing with a bodily look at the options. "I'm not as trim as I used to be so the old calves are going to hate me tomorrow. Better more downhill on the way back, how about...?"He gestures to one of the signposted suggestions, quite content it seems that picking what amounts to a medium trail with some passing through of tight slopes should suffice for their trek. His is not a demanding manner in this, simply straightforward.

"What you underwent is commonly called The Epiphany. Perhaps somebody's already told you that much, perhaps not. Either way, that doesn't count for any of your questions."He begins walking, with a sprucely genial come-on-then tilt of the head. "Where things go, I suppose, depends on your questions. You have quite a lot, I'm sure."

Leonhard

[[Damn. That second section should have said it was spoken in German.]]

Alexander

“Works for me,” Alexander replies to the suggested trail. Truth be told, he’s actually quite relieved for things to be a little easier today. His legs are still a little sore from the last hike. Although that journey was definitely a lot further than the simple walk.

The trail starts off gently, with a paved section that gently meanders beside a small river. The conversation starts out gently too. Alexander replies in German too.

“Sera said you’d be a good person to talk to about... what happened. I’m still not sure what did happen. She said that I’d Woken Up,” the capital letters seem to come through in the tone of voice, “but not really what that means. I think we were going to talk about it the day after, but things got weird again. So, I guess the first question is: what did happen?”

Leonhard

What did happen? "The Awakening is, to all of us, the first true step into Reality as it is. You see, or I hope you will settle quickly into seeing, you do not Do Magick. You are Magick," he explains, or rather begins to explain, his words leading on with a practiced tone, an ability to shift his tone and words that they meet the ear rather than invade it. "And I expect that during your Epiphany you encountered a... presence... which is the root of you as one who is Magick - a Mage, to use the generally accepted term. You are Magick because you are possessed of... no, wait, forget I said possessed. The connotations are wrong, even in that context..."

He admires Alexander's directness in the question. That much is clear.

"You are one of those rare pinnacles of humanity that have experienced not only their own Awakening but what is, in parallel, the Awakening in you of the Avatar. Avatar. Daemon. Most usually Avatar. For some, the Avatar appears as a being, a person, a figure, a character, very often remaining the same. For others, it may be a spirit-animal, an animal, an entity not human in appearance. For others, it can be... Well, the individual Mage's Avatar is exactly that: individual. Some insist that it each Avatar is a shard of one great whole, one great amalgamation of the human spirit, or the universal soul. These aren't light terms, I know, but I... Well, you get enough of what I mean. You see, knowledge is one thing, and powerful, but the decision of knowledge, what we might also call intuition and experience and personal truth is a facet of Awakened life that you will discover. Some won't agree with your truth, some will agree with parts, others will want to destroy your truths, but your Avatar..."

He pauses, not for physical dramatics, since he continues moving, his hand finding a high rock to steady him as they enter into the business of a twisted slope...

"Your Avatar is, it can be argued, your one truth to never deny, and your relationship with it began when it Awakened in you as much as you Awakened anew into the world as Magick. Oh, and keep it fed. Definitely keep it fed," he robustly suggests. "Okay. That's one question, and... ah... well, it's nothing like the answer you will come to know yourself after communing with your Avatar a bit more, and settling into yourself over the coming years, but it's a fair start for a quick-fire answer. Many of us study for years before Awakening, and expect it, already have an idea of what to expect. You Orphans... you rather land in it awkwardly in comparison. Anyway, yes. That's one question answered, and probably spurring other questions. Hope I'm helping here."As they continue, he sips at a water bottle and offer it to Alexander.

Alexander

The path starts to slope upwards through some trees as they talk. Leonhard starts putting names to the strange chain of events those few days ago, although not all of it makes sense. Before, it would all have been written off as so much new-ago mumbo jumbo, designed to hook in the gullible and extract money from them. Now? Things aren’t quite so black and white any more. And it does match up with what Sera has told him.

You’re fucking magic

He’s silent for a moment as the water bottle is offered. He accepts and takes a mouthful of water, looking around at the low view of the canyon before they hit the trees.

“I’m still trying to figure the day out. There was a voice, calling out of some weird crack thing in the air. But I don’t think that’s what you’re talking about. I did have a bizarre dream the night before, though. There was a storm. And a dark, faceless man and a woman who could have had blood on her lips. Snow.” Alexander stares into space, not seeing anything present in the canyon. “It was so cold... And someone in the storm calling out, asking for help. I heard her later on too, while I was awake. When things got... weird. But then she went quiet. I think she might still be out there somewhere.” He gestures into the air, although the scope for “there” is much, much wider than it used to be. “I want to find her.”

Leonhard

Bern. 1999. Bern, again. So many other places. 1999. Leonhard winces in memory. The Storm, or rather the aftermath... the stinging of the Reckoning, the blast of chill truth across the cracks in the landscape of the Tellurian itself... And now, Colorado, 2014, and he considers of Alexander something, something, somebody perhaps called in their own way to similar service...

"From what you're saying, and from what Sera mentioned... and how she phrased it, more importantly... I would be hard pressed not to think that you are talking about the Avatar Storm, the Gauntlet through which those of us with the right skills can create such cracks, and the Umbra. The Spirit Realms. I'll start again," he offers. Probably best to.

"I may be putting you onto a mistaken path with this but I rather expect that the voice that calls to you is not your Avatar. There are too many suggestions in what I've heard that it is another Mage, though of which Tradition... or even if they aren't a pair of Unionists, those two you saw... (It's possible.) I can't quite say. But what I'm going to have to voice, here, now, to you, is the suspicion that they... she... the one whose voice you hear is somebody on the other side of the Gauntlet, where lies what we call the Avatar Storm. Which is beyond painful to those who travel from this Earth that we know to other Realms beyond the Gauntlet, into what we call the Umbra (at least, what we generally call the Umbra.) Although, the Storm has been raging for... well, about fifteen years. Caused, I believe, by the Enemy of the Traditions known as the Technocracy. Either way, I don't think that she is your Avatar. Not that an Avatar could not take the form of a man and a woman and snow and only one of them bothering to talk to you from what strikes me as the Avatar Storm (or the other side of it). It just... Seems a little too much. I suspect you were close to Awakening, as a Mage of the Ars Ma... ah, of the Spirit Sphere of Magick... and she could sense that, focus on that, on you, to call for help. Tell me: does this speak sensibly to your intuition of the events?"

Leonhard

"Oh, of course, I Awakened before the Storm, and it is... Avatar Storm... what it sounds like. Shards of broken souls, sharp to the spirit, rending to the flesh... or so I've heard from others. Maybe the Awakening has changed now that the Storm is part of Reality. Perhaps... Perhaps Avatars can appear like that. But not in my day, not that I recall."

Alexander

Small pieces of what Leonhard explains, Alexander has already started to pick up. “I’ve seen the Umbra. With Sera and a couple of others. There was this amazing pain. Like part of me that I couldn’t touch being sliced at. Would that have been my Avatar being hurt? It seemed to hurt Kalen and Sera more.” He looks to the other man, before looking down again at the uneven ground. “And I think something was trying to get me there the first day this all happened, too. I heard the sound of rain and voices, excited that I was going to get through to them. Something calling to me, trying to get me closer.” He shrugs. “I still don’t know what to make of the dream, assuming it was anything more than a dream. For all I know, my Avatar is an injured owl.”

The path bends back around, slowly making its way up through the trees. “I’ve heard about the Traditions. Something about where the cool guys get together, but I don’t really know any more than that. Do they have a chorus? Or we? I was told I was with them, but I still don’t know what they are. And what’s the Technocracy?"

Leonhard

"An injured owl I can relate to a lot more... readily. As an Avatar. Frankly, the Umbrood (...ah, 'denizens of the Umbra...') and I tend to steer clear of each other. Perhaps your Awakening, and the subsequent act of your burgeoning Will in affecting the Gauntlet, attracted the attention of Umbrood. But that's the thing, I suppose... and something for me to meditate upon myself... Paradigm. You say tomato, I say boiled cabbage, much like I was saying to you about which truths are yours and the individuality of the Avatar, and how they relate to others'. Weak explanation, but... honestly, you're going to have to speak to somebody who knows far more about the Umbra than I do to get a better one."

He could be embarrassed to have to admit that he's floundering, but the shift in topic catches him on firmer ground as they approach the trees.

"Chorus. Celestial Chorus. The Celestial Chorus is one of the Founding (and continuing) Traditions. As for whether you're a Traditionalist, I would say that you currently are by default (at least in terms of personal bias) simply because you aren't a demon-worshipper or a soulless bastard trying to rip all wonder and Magick from the world."

[[Enigmas + Intelligence - Regarding Alexander's comments on the lady who calls to him and the injured owl and the whole Avatar or Spirits or Whatever debate]]

Dice: 5 d10 TN6 (2, 4, 5, 8, 10) ( success x 2 )

Alexander

The possibility that Alexander now has his Avatar living on his balcony, barfing bits of disembowelled animals up all over the place seems, well, absurd. There’s a slightly disbelieving snort at the thought – surely an Avatar would be cleaner? “I don’t think it’s the owl, but never say never I suppose. Maybe things will get clearer with more time, and talking to other people. Although I was hoping you’d be able to explain a little more about the spiritual side of things. Sera thought you would be a good person to ask about them. So, do you think it was one of these Umbrood things that made the crack thing that I heard it through? I don’t remember doing anything to make it appear.” There’s a wince as another memory – one of a truck wheel close to ending Alexander’s story rather sooner than expected, until he – apparently – stopped it. Or was that this Umbrood thing too? “I don’t remember making anything happen. Or, if I did, how I did it.”

Leonhard explains the Traditions, and Alexander’s membership through lack-of-being-anything-else. “I don’t think I’m any of those. How would I know? I didn’t know I was part of these Traditions until someone told me. And, well: Traditions. Plural. What are the others? Are you part of the Chorus too?”

There may be more than 20 Questions.

Alexander

[[ The storm in the dream doesn't sound like the storm that Alexander experienced when he was pulled into the Umbra. The only consistent part between waking and dreaming was the voice calling for help. The owl didn't appear in the dream, and the storm and two figures didn't appear when he was awake. Make of that what you will, because he's still confused as hell. ]]

Leonhard

"Oh, me, part of the Chorus? No. Hardly. Not to... well, not to suggest a bias against the Chorus, far from it, but my own bias is for my own Tradition, the Order of Hermes. And... you know, you may have to bear with me here, but I think I know how to answer a few questions with one long answer. I'll try to make it as painless as possible...."

He picks at a leaf, crumpling it and smelling it as they continue. Under the treeline, he begins to tell a tale, a spiel, a recital, an answer...

"In 731... Yes, the Eighth Century... Trianoma, a Mercuric maga, which is to say a mage who hailed from a tradition of magick with roots as far back as civilisation itself... had a vision while atop the Bernese Alps. On the top of Brienzor Rothorn, to be precise. I've been there myself, some of us make it a point to visit the place. You might call it a pilgrimage; even we Mages have what you could call tourism.

But, anyway. Trianoma had a vision which is known as the Precipice Experience. She foresaw the eventual demise of Wonder and Magick in this world, and chose to avert it. Barbarism was one enemy to fight, and the Church another to be wary of. But chief among the enemies of the Mercuric tradition was the future rise of what we now call the Technocracy, though it was not then born and not then known. What Trianoma knew was that if nobody did anything, then... by long before today, here, in the Twenty First Century... there would have been no Epiphany for Alexander Brandt nor, I must add, any knowledge of any of this in the head of Leonhard Frick.

Knowledge. It's the first currency of wisdom, and the fuel of true strength. But when faced with an Enemy so vast and wanton as to be able to threaten the very fabric of truth itself... Well... Friends come in extremely handy. So, Trianoma sought out others, first finding Bonisagus. (Well, first she probably ran into at least a dozen who tried to kill her and steal what knowledge she had but she did find Bonisagus a few years later.) Together, they sought out others, to found an Order of like minds, of similar practice, intent upon preserving and extending their Mercuric knowledge, even refining it into the Hermeticism that continues today.

Eleven other Masters of Magick came together with the brilliant and dedicated Bonisagus and the wise and patient Trianoma, and twelve Houses were formed. My own... House Jerbiton... was among them, and so was Founded the Order of Hermes, the Tradition I am a member of. And that, Alexander, is probably enough about my Tradition, you may be thinking. But, no. That is just one of the Traditions, and the perspective I can speak with a degree of historical accuracy from.There were other Traditions. The Hermetic Order, the Celestial Chorus, the Verbenae... These were the three who fought, though. Ridiculous, really. Ugly, bloody, ultimately futile. Witches and Magi were burned, but they struck back, at each other as much as against the priests and Inquisition. Frankly, it was... ridiculous. At least, in hindsight, but that was the world back then, wasn't it?Still, all the while, through five, six, seven centuries, the Enemy grew - hardly having to worry as those three Traditions continued to slaughter each other in fits and starts. Pride, hubris and prejudice. Not things to consider wise, particularly when the Enemy is preparing to kill you in your own home.And so the Enemy grew bolder than the shadows could contain. Not my Tradition, nor the Verbenae, nor the Choristers could contain its spite and passion for destruction, and neither could the others. The Cult of Ectasy, the Ahl-i-Batin, the Solificati, the Dreamspeakers, the Akashic Brotherhood, the Euthanatoi, the Verbena, the Celestial Chorus, the Sons of Ether, the Virtual Adepts, the Order of Hermes... all have been Traditions at one time or other. Members of the Council, of Mystic Traditions. Even the Hollow Ones, these days, I think. The Traditions. Formed in alliance to fight the Technocracy, way back, centuries back.But for that, we have to move well on from Trianoma, though I'd like you to consider sometime how you might have responded to her if she had turned up at your door and shown you what she had seen. But, no, when it comes to the Technocracy, it comes to Baldric LaSalle, of my Tradition. And Nightshade, of the Verbena. And Valoran, of the Celestial Chorus.

We called it Mistridge. It sounds like something from a fairy story, I suppose. Mistridge. It was a covenant, a castle shared by magi. You might find it difficult to believe but back then we gathered in such places. Hothouses of study and rivalries. Anyway, it was at Mistridge... a ruined covenant, destroyed by the Technocracy... LaSalle met with Nightshade and Valoran. The three key Traditions of Europe, more usually veering between mistrust and outright venom, all at the same table in a covenant that had been ruined by the canons of the Technocracy. (Which were called the Order of Reason back then.) And what they decided... that the Technocracy's hatred for Magick (and them) was greater than their mistrust and spritual ignorance of each other. So they set about setting up a Council of Traditions, and six other Traditions joined them. We called it the Grand Convocation. You might call it the Big Pow-Wow, where the original Traditions (they change) got together and decided, fuck this, fuck these bastards killing us and denying Magick to the world with their cannons and their clockwork monstrosities and their burning of professors in university courtyards... Let's all get together and bicker a bit and agree a lot. And there was a war which only ended recently.

We lost.

Who are the Technocracy, exactly, though? They would be the five Conventions. Iteration X. Think soulless machines and turning people into robots of both the flesh and spirit. The Progenitors. Doctor Moreau with a budget, but curiously they haven't actually cured cancer (which they made the world believe exists) or AIDs or anything else worth writing home about. Too busy being inventive with evolution, I suppose, like it needs their help. The New World Order. Big Brother on crack, with no end of schemes and strategies. The Void Engineers, who are pretty much Starship Troopers, I think that's the right pop-culture reference. Oh, and let's not forget the fifth Convention. The Syndicate. The Mafia of the Awakened World.Simply put, if you see the Umbra, you aren't going to sit well with the Technocracy. Spirits and the like are anathema to their goal of a world of dry, artless Reason. A world of precision over spirit, a soulless utopia of machines and systems and .... oh... It's just dawned on me. That woman, that voice... Yes, I could be wrong but... You say she...it... was something that was calling to you before you Awakened? Well, perhaps... Hm. If I had to bet, that could very well be your Avatar, and perhaps the owl you mentioned was her herald? (Mind you, if you literally mean a physical owl then it's almost certainly not your Avatar, they don't tend to manifest at all physically.) Perhaps. Like I say, it's all rather weak of me, and better answered by others. Or, indeed, yourself. (Which isn't meant to sound dismissive, just... You know... Try meditating.)"

Alexander

Alexander walks next to the man for a good while, thinking about everything that he’s just been told. That there’s been a massive war, lasting centuries, that he knew nothing about. Factions that used to warn against each other, coming together to defend themselves against this Technocracy. The war definitely seems to be over. 26 years of drifting while his Avatar slept, without the faintest knowledge that is was there. Nobody to guide him. No fits and starts of the Avatar waking. Just one day, the universe gets turned on its head and he has to get on and deal with it.

Well, shit happens. Frequently. From a great height.

“If she came to me last week, I’d have laughed in her face and closed the door. Now? I don’t know.” Alexander shrugs.

“But this war. If the Technocracy won, does that mean it’s over then? How do the Traditions still exist? And how did we end up here, talking about this stuff, if their aim was to strip anything vaguely mystical or magical away? You say what I did, well, may have done with the spirits is against everything they stand for. But nothing so far in my life has seemed anything other than reasoned and mundane. I don’t believe in god, or any name. New age mystics appear on TV to extort money. Ghost and spirits are.. well, were, just random quirks of technology blurring the camera film in some weird way. It was only seeing the damned things for myself that really.. well, opened my eyes. So how can I know I’m not meant to be with the Technocracy? Not that I want to be, but I’m not sure I want to be with any of these Traditions either. Do I get a choice?”

Alexander

[[Why is it always owls!?!]]

Leonhard

Alexander's shrugged admission regarding Trianoma brings about a smile on Leonhard's face. He nods, agreeing, remembering perhaps his own Epiphany however less ill-informed and seemingly random it was. Yes, he smiles. Not with condescension, or even as a teacher might, but as a fellow Mage, and... to be true... as a fellow man.

"Well, she was probably ugly. (I've seen busts, obviously changed through the centuries to look fashionable or prettier.) I find being roped into a lifetime of ceaseless contention and thankless work sells itself better with a pretty face. I suppose that's something married men and women all over the world find at one time or another... until the age sets in and too often they find they married the wrong person. I'm going to guess you're either single or divorced. Keep it that way. Others will argue, maybe even talk of how its clearly a good idea to raise children in Magick and Wonder. Well, they're wrong. Just because the Ascension War... oh, that's what we called the war. You see, the other thing the Traditions have in common is that we believe that the world can be Ascended, to a true utopia. Pymander, we Hermetics call it. The Ecstatics, the Cult of Ecstasy, they probably call it bliss, or something like that, but you've met Sera (good example of the Tradition, she is) so I think you get what I mean by that. But in all cases, an Ascension borne of... well, you know... I quite like saying this. Borne of a love of humanity rather than a perpetual criticism of it, and not elitism or selfishness. (Well, not for the best of us, anyway.)"

Alexander's questions continue, welcomed, but the Jerbiton takes another moment to use a passing tree to steady himself much as he had done earlier with the rock. The calves are doing well. The boots are holding up, well broken-in years before, but not having seen much use for many months. He huffs, ever so slightly, as they wind upwards. The calves are doing well, but this is a man who may well have been used to gamboling about the Alps in his youth, even in his twenties, but his forties are but a few years hence and... he does like a drink, doesn't he? Alexander has seen this fact in action. A drink, a carousel of moments, of the arts, the music, the theatre... not hiking... though there he continues, not stumbling, not huffing again, but not so resilient as the cop in the face of the hike

"You're living your choice, Brandt," he quips drily. His use of the man's surname is more collegial than rude. Indeed, it is anything but rude. Familiar, or at least passingly familiar, but also resolved to the truth of what he has just said. He is living the choice. He is Magick. He is out on a hiking trail with a man who is telling him about fairy-tale castles and that the blurred truth of half-captured images have always been behind the eyes of a world barely whispering its wonderful secrets...

"By which I mean, you'll find out but you already know. Your Avatar will decide, though I suppose you could argue with it. We all argue with our Avatars, unless I count the merest of us, those who barely grow beyond their first Seeking. (Poor, silly jerks, some of them.) Will you join the Technocracy? Why do we still exist, we Traditions? Same answer: mutually assured destruction. They won the Ascension War... at least, played their strongest hand during its final, catastrophic crescendo... by using a weapon which damaged them as much as it did us. Crippled them as much as it did us. Of course, we lost by dint of the fact that it was never about defeating (or even fighting) the Technocracy. LaSalle did not understand this. Valoran and Nightshade and all the others at the Grand Convocation, they didn't understand this. The War was started by the Technocracy as a means to deny us a victory in attaining Ascension. Clever, tricksy, cunning. (And most people will disagree, but most people haven't had the kind of time I've had to consider such things.) So, no, you won't be joining a Convention, because not only are they as wracked and crippled as we are, but they are also rather likely to kill or corrupt you just to save themselves from polluting themselves with a potential heretic like you would be. And we survive, we Traditions, because there are always Mages awakening. Either Orphans like yourselves, many of whom find a home in a Tradition, or exist as Disparates, Orphans who are content to be our fellow travellers even if they don't join a specific Traditions."

Alexander

“Yeah.” Alexander gives a big sigh. “I’m single.” He goes quiet again for some way, until they get to part of the path where it doubles-back along a ridgeline. He swings his rucksack off and sits down on the edge of the path. Legs dangling, he takes in the view.

“So, I’m fucked then. I can’t join the Techno guys , because they’ll kill me. I can’t join a Tradition, for the same reason. Not joining either leaves me standing between two sides still taking potshots at each other. So... “ He looks round to see what the other man’s doing, to look at his expression. “What happens if I walk away? Ignore it all, pretend it never happened, and go back to my old life of arresting bad guys and disappearing into the hills for days at a time?”

Leonhard

"So get laid. You're not ugly, and... you know... I've heard about cop-hoppers. Just don't dig yourself any holes is all. I'm not saying don't fall in love. I'm the last to say that, hell, the very last. Just... Take your fucks where you want to find them, and realise that... no... you're not fucked (in that sense)."

He sits, too, but on the trail. Although he is a little away from Alexander, he is not sat anywhere that requires anything but a comfortable turn of the head to see. And should that turn of the head occur, Alexander would see him sat cross-legged and watching the clouds.

"You could very well join a Tradition. It happens far more often than it used to. I'm not entirely convinced that fast-track apprentices are to either party's benefit, but it happens. But, equally, you aren't especially likely to be caught in any crossfire if you simply wanted to back away from the Traditions. To one purpose, being the purpose of not wishing to be caught up in our propaganda and closet skeletons, that would be a good plan, I think, if I were an Orphan with the choice. You won't be surprised to hear this, not really... well maybe a little... but those Hollow Ones I mentioned? They were all Orphans. Probably still are, at least most of them. A Tradition that has formed of Orphans deciding for themselves, and that might be a good place for you to find... well, even if not an option you like... at least some answers as to where you might prefer to be. You've probably not been in town long enough, I mean as a cop specifically, but check out a woman called Alyssa Solomon. She's an investigator, probably got whatever licence it is that they need in Colorado. Certainly got one of the state's firearms licences. She's a Hollow One. Only... don't go barrelling in, and I'd prefer it if should you speak to her and she asks 'Who The Fuck Sent You?' you not make it sound like I'm just trying to fob you off on her. I just... well, you see what I mean, right? I just think you might benefit from her perspective, or that of those she might be able to put you in touch with that are Orphans as well."

There it is. Supportive. Resonance.

"I'd like you to try something. I'd like you to open your senses. Try to sense me, sense my Resonance. We all have some. You have a feeling of the glacial about you, Sera said. What about me? Can you sense anything about people you didn't before? Almost passively. Without actually working any Magick. Could come in handy as a cop."

Alexander

[Per+Awareness - Is anyone there..?]

Dice: 4 d10 TN6 (5, 7, 8, 8) ( success x 3 )

Leonhard

[[Same roll... Shall take Insightful to be a relevant spec unless you think it's a stretch.]]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5) ( fail )

Leonhard

[[Good grief, that's... going to be funny.]]

owl feather

[There are changelings ALL AROUND Leonhard. ALL AROUND. You're sitting on a mystic log.]

Alexander

Alexander wonder’s if something may have gotten a little lost in translation, as the other man talks about getting sex with cop-chasers. He’s about to say something to correct him, but the conversation moves back on track.

That Leonhard’s suggesting staying unaligned, or joining with these Hollow Ones, almost comes as a surprise. Surely these Traditions would want as many people as they can get to keep standing against the Technocracy? If they can’t keep their numbers up, then won’t they just fade to dust as the world continues its slow decline into the mundane. But he does appreciate that the Order of Hermes recruiting drive isn’t in full force.

“I’ll ask after her, see if I can track her down. Although it sounds like she’s going to be another gun to stay out the way of, even if the rest of these Hollow guys aren’t.” Alexander picks up a rock and throws it off the edge of the path, watching it bounce down the slope and setting off miniature avalanches where it hits. “So how many of us are there in the City? It seems like I can’t walk without tripping over two or three every time I leave the flat.”

At Leonhard’s request, he turns round and looks. Similar to how Sera had a sensation of visceralenthrallingliminal surrounding her, the other man feels inspirationalsupportive. “I can feel you. It’s like an aura, I guess. Although maybe not as new-aged as the whole staring-through-crystals thing.”

Leonhard

"Yes, you could say it's like an aura, and good crystals are quite the commodity before you totally discard the notion" he replies, warmly, supportively, clearly pleased with Alexander's success and, for good measure opening his own senses to... to... to... Sera, you were so wrong..! Glacial? The man's positively burning the aether about himself, just sitting down and dangling his legs! [[Oh, what a botch to make!]]

Sensing the Frozen as Searing, perhaps much like the mistake of the skin in touching ice for a moment only the shock remains and is misread... so wholly misread... Leonhard flinches backwards from Alexander. Flinches back as he had done as a Zelator when first in the presence of a Flambeau Master. Flinches back like a child, and not a graceful one at that. Even scuttles a couple of feet, putting up that hand not helping him withdraw so suddenly as an involuntary shield against that spectral and fuming, steaming, heat that he senses in the Orphan's Resonance...

His boots scuffle with the dust and stones of the trail, some even sent falling over the vista that Alexander had been enjoying.

"Providence!" The Jerbiton mutters, bringing his hand down and relaxing his senses. He looks... foolish, foolish, foolish... and vainly attempting not to. "Sorry... Uhm... I might need to speak with Sera regarding your Resonance. I think..." Demonic? Nephandic? No, but... Wait! Maybe! What if Sera was wrong? Or what if she was right? Then, Alexander's Resonance fluctuates? Is that it? Marauder? No, he can't be, not so soon, and so... Think! Think! The Cultist was wrong. That's it. The Cultist was wrong. No, the Cultist might be right, which would mean... What does this mean? Strange confusion about his Avatar? Check. Spirits? Check. Snow visions? Burning? WHAT THE FUCKING HELL?

He looks thunderously foolish and... confused. Oh-so very confused. Hitting his head on the nearest rock hardly helps. Catching his ankle under his weight in trying to stop his scuttling before looking (any more!) foolish hardly helps. Slipping from the one arm that had been trying to ferry him with such panicked speed hardly helps. Grazed cheek from the crashing down from his slipped arm. A cut on the back of his head, bleeding even if only lightly. The pained expression that only a sprained ankle can bring... Yes. Leonhard Frick, everybody. Proclus Vaduz bani Jerbiton, Groom of Valnastium, Camel of Cad Gadu, the Hiker In The Valley of The Fool...

Oh, dear. He's pissed himself, too...

Alexander

As Leonhard starts to... well, panic. That’s really the only word for what the other man is going through, Alexander stands. Something has obviously sparked it off, so he’s looking around and all he can see... well, it’s stuff that should be there. Sky, clouds, rocks. No obviously traditional scary things, like snakes or spiders. And he’s gone this far without being bothered by heights.

No, there’s something else going on. Alexander’s sense of the magical is very new, so maybe he’s missing something that the other man can see. Another portal into the Umbra? One of those big snake things that he saw surfacing through the undergrowth in that red realm of Purgatory? He was able to see the fracture on that very first day, when Sera said she couldn’t. So would he be able to see the same kind of thing now? Or is it something else entirely, something else that nobody ever thought to mention.

He backs up, away from the edge of the path. Away from what, he assumes, Leonhard is seeing that’s terrified him. Which brings him closer to the other man.

Back to not understanding, not being able to do anything to help, he’s scared himself again. “What is it? What’s there?”

Leonhard

[[Re-trying... Fingers firmly crossed. Per+Awareness...]]

Dice: 7 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 4, 4, 8, 8, 9) ( success x 3 )

Leonhard

But Leonhard's eyes are locked on Alexander now... Locked. While his body is less tense (certainly his bladder is, so just as well he hadn't drunk so much of that water...) his eyes remain wide and full of folly. The small stain on his denim to the left of his crotch is ignored. The pain in his head is ignored, such as it can be. His ankle, his graze, everything... What if Sera was right? It's been so long, he thinks, since he was in good practice with auras and Resonance and... Best be sure before I try and kick the cop off the ledge...

What am I thinking?!? Frozen. Frozen. FROZEN! The Cultist was right and I...

The rucksack finds a brief home in his crotch, the jacket comes off, awkwardly. His eyes relax, relax, oh, hell, what a display, relax. "I, ah... shit. Shit. That doesn't happen often. I feel a bloody fool. Oh, please, relax, Alexander. I saw something that wasn't there. I'm so very out of practice, and here's me trying to sound like I can help you get into gear with some of the basics. Ridiculous of me."

The jacket off, he lifts himself awkwardly to his feet, favouring his good foot, tying his shirt about his waist that the knotted arms can cover his shame. Not since Lucerne in 2003. Not for eleven years has he been so foolish, looked so foolish. He looks sour, angry at himself. He looks to Alexander, utterly assuring him with his manner that there is nothing more amiss than a silly Jerbiton who really has no business trying to help him.

"I'm sorry, Alexander. I don't think I can sta... ow... ha, stupid. Stand here? Limp here! I don't think I can stand here and pretend I'm back up to any level suitable to help you much. Too long on my own, really. Avoid that. Don't be alone, that's all I can offer as advice: don't try it alone, even if you only turn to your Avatar as true to your needs... I do have one favour to ask of you, though... Well, two, come to thi... ah, hell, ow... two favours."

Alexander

First, Alexander finds out that he’s just landed in the aftermath of some massive war that he never knew existed. Now, something causes the other man to back away in absolute terror. Something that he can’t see, or otherwise sense, but must have been there to have caused the reaction. Maybe it’s gone away just as soon as it’s arrived, but it’s something that has definitely made Alexander feel vulnerable again. Too vulnerable to be stood on the side of a mountain. It’s time to start heading back. There’s plenty to mull over later, once he feels safe again.

But, at least for the moment, the panic is dying down. Whatever it was that terrified the other man is no longer there, but he’s not in a great state for getting back down the mountain. Unless Leonhard can do the same thing that Sera did with his ankle those few days ago, it’s going to be a long slog back along the trail.

“Hold still, I might have something that’ll help.” Opening up one of the side pockets of his rucksack, he pulls out a first aid kit. A bandage for the ankle, a dressing for the head. The other bumps and grazes will have to wait for attention later on. “I don’t suppose you can heal yourself, can you?” he asks, looking closer at the wound on Leonhard’s head.

“What did you see?”

Alexander

.."And what were the favours?"

[[Oops, missed the obvious bit at the end]]

Alexander

[[And int+Medicine for the first aid.]]

Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (5, 7, 7) ( success x 2 )

Leonhard

"Nothing good, and nothing true," he replies, testing the back of his head. "The bang on the head seems to have set me right. Oh, nothing big, nothing surprising. I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention my, ah... accident."

He looks to his ankle. The bang on the head is far from bad and the graze... well, just a graze... which he pours a little water over and considers it done with... but the ankle is going to be a pain later. But for the boots, it might have been worse.

"You might have to help me down that bit," he says, pointing to the wider area in a route of return. "Just as well we went uphill first, I suppose."

Alexander

“I thought bangs to the head were supposed to make bad things happen, not make them go away?” Alexander asks while he closes up his rucksack. The bandage is offered to Leonhard, in case he wants to strap up his ankle before they try to get back down the slope. There’s a shrug at the first request – nothing really to tell, to be honest, nothing anyone really needs to know about. To the second, “I think I can manage that.”

When Leonhard’s ready, Alexander helps the man up onto his feet. Hopefully without any more bizarre visions on the way down, he tries to give the man the support he needs. Maybe there will be a decent branch on the way down they can use as a walking stick.

Leonhard

"I knew a phrenologist once, said it added character," he jokes.

He makes for a poor patient but not so poor that he doesn't give a grateful murmur as he packs a bound ankle back into a tightened boot. Keeping to his own weight for the most part, at least wherever there is a rock or a tree to pull on, or no great difficulty to be found in managing a spry hobble, he does take to the Orphan's shoulder here and there...

"So," he comments. "Probably time you were told about Quintessence. Unless Sera or Dan have already covered that."

Alexander

Lending his support where needed, the two men slowly make their way back to where they started. At least the slope is downhill, rather than up!

“Never heard of it. It’s not something else that’s out to kill me, is it?” Half joking, but it’s getting hard to tell if there’s much that’s safe in this awakened world.

Leonhard

"Quite the opposite, Alexander," the magus answers, quite merrily despite the ankle. "I suppose if this were school, you've just had the history lesson and now it's lunch-time. Quintessence is the menu. It is sometimes called Vis... chiefly by members of my own Tradition, but sometimes others... and sometimes other names, too, in other Traditions. But mostly Quintessence, being the Council term for it, the common Traditionalist term for it. When we had our Pow-Wow, its effect in bringing us together was smoothed somewhat by everybody adopting a sort of common argot for things. There are plenty of terms you'll come to know. But this one's a popular one in my own head. It's from the Latin. The Fifth Essence, at least in the old Western philosophy. Earth, Fire, Water, Air. And a fifth one... a rather magical one. We breath Air, we stand on the Earth, we are warmed and empowered by the Fire... we drink the Water... as mortal beings, at least. Yet, as Mages, we also find fuel for our Avatars in Quintessence. It helps our Workings, our Will to succeed in achieving Rotes' successes, and it comes in various flavours. Much like you've seen that different Mages have different Resonances (like you most definitely have a Frozen tint to yours) which are caused by our paths, our Workings over time, so too can Quintessence. (So, too, can all things, really.) The downside is that there aren't Starbucks doling it out. There are ways to wring it out of things, though, and there are what are called Nodes. Places where Quintessence pools, in various Resonances, in various ways. At Nodes, the Quintessence will often take a physical form, always different depending on the Node. (You'll note, again, that individuality and differences are common in the Awakened World.) I've seen Nodes... sadly lost, dissipated, they grow rarer... which had Tass in the form of mushrooms that could be eaten, herbs that could be smoked, dust that could be rubbed on the skin... Quintessence, though... It's something you'll be most happy to acquire. You can hold it, quite effortlessly, with the help of your Avatar, in yourself for as long as you don't use it. Ah, but... Once it's gone, you'll want to have discovered a source or a means to wrest it from the world."

Leonhard

[[From the Greek!]]

Alexander

Too much, too quick. Alexander appreciates the effort that Leonhard is obviously putting into getting the newly Awakened Mage up to speed on the events of the world. But maybe there’s a reason the lessons of Unawakened Mages being brought up under the wings of the various groups are spread out. Awakening; Learning that there’s a whole new layer to reality; trying to work out who the hell you are now... It’s a hell of a lot to get through, and the poor Orphan is starting to get a headache. He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes for a moment, as the pressure behind his forehead slowly builds towards a stress headache.

“I think... Just tell me what I need to watch out for, that’ll kill me before I know what I’m looking at?”

Leonhard

"Ah, that would be Paradox. There are Technocrats, which you now know a little about. There is Paradox. There are Nephandi, who are best summed up as Evil, as the minions of demons. There is Paradox. There are Marauders, who are... insanity made Magick and Magick made insane, and immune to Paradox. Paradox is probably going to be the first to get you, but it will almost certainly not kill you. But it'll get you. When you work your Will, it is felt by the, ah, Consensus of the Tellurian, the Consensus of the universe, the awkward disagreement of the Commoners (Sleepers) with the truth we could otherwise more brazenly show them, teach them, give them. The Technocracy's little tricks made it worse but I suppose it was always part of that same Truth itself. It bites back, it claws at your endeavours, it will burn and scar you... unless you are prudent, keeping your Magicks from plain sight for example, by not pushing Reality too far too quickly as another example of prudence. Paradox. You'll know it when it comes for you."

He hobbles a while.

"Oh, and Massasa. You would call them vampires. They are out there, though we tend... not that I'm complaining... to avoid each other. The Ascension War was not the only war we Mages have been in. And Lupi... ow." He loses his thought, taking again to Alexander's shoulder. "More than enough bad news to be going on with but the good news you already know... You already are the good news."

Alexander

“I don’t think keeping things out of sight will be much a problem. Since everything went back to normal on that first day, I’ve not even been able to figure out how to do it all again. Although with everything you’ve told me, I’m wondering if I really want to.” A sigh, a shrug, and another spell of silence from Alexander.

Vampires, now? Wait, the woman in white in the dream... The one with the red lips, was she a vampire then? But, then, he didn’t know they existed outside of fiction before this conversation. So unless his subconscious or Avatar or some other weirdness was prodding something into his conscious mind... Probably not. Probably.

As they make their way along, with stops and starts as Leonhard’s ankle allows, the paved section of path comes back into view. They’re almost back to the carpark.

Leonhard

For all the support that he takes from Alexander as they come to the flatter ground of the paved section, there is a supportive squeeze from his hand when the Orphan shrugs. And then he lets go, managing to continue... with comparatively less discomfort.

"You know, I'm not a particular fan of straight lines," comments the hobbler, which likely comes as no surprise to Alexander after hearing his meandering splurges of information. He points to the paving, and reverting to English. "Cities, all those grid patterns, so technocratic I find. Which is why some of us prefer the mountains, I also find."

Oh. Yes. He remembers something, clapping a hand against Alexander's arm, while his other hand adjusts his tied shirt. There is a couple with a surly teen daughter approaching, passing them, gone. The teen daughter, all part-punk and boredom in black, crooks a look as she is hurried past. You need fresh air, Sally, you need exercise, her parents enthuse.

"Actually, you've probably got far more to chew over than you expected, so I won't go adding any more at the last minute," the Liechtensteiner says. "But you have my number."

Alexander

“Cities aren’t so bad. At least, the people in them. But yeah, “ he looks over at the other man as the family come into view on the path. “It is nice to get away and enjoy the silence now.”

So the hike ends, possibly a little prematurely due to injury. But at least Leonhard was able to get down with a little help, rather than a major rescue attempt. “I do,” Alexander replies, about the phone number, and holds his hand out to the other man. “Thanks for telling me about all this. It’s been... educational today.”

Some of the details may fade from memory, but the important parts will remain. And, so, the two of them return to their vehicles and make their respective ways home.

Alexander

[[And now I'll go feel crap on the couch for a while. Thanks for the scene!]]