[Game Thread] Prologue: The Revelation

[kaiser6012]

Planning a picnic, particularly in Boston, is never an easy thing - Boston weather is notoriously poor and anything related to the outdoors is fraught with the peril of being rained out. But it seems that today might just be your lucky day, as the sun is shining warm and bright as you head out to meet with the other people who claim to have had the same dreams you've had.

The meeting place is a peaceful grove about ten minutes walk along a forest path from one of your houses - you can't remember which, only thinking that whoever lived there was a lucky person indeed. It's a singularly serene place, easily big enough to fit as many people as a picnic could cater for. A small circle of white stones sits at one end, possibly from some sect of modern pagans or druds or such using this clearing as a place of worship. There's no other sort of disturbance to the grove, however, so the circle is nothing but a peculiar eccentricity to the grove.

Introduction Here's where the story happens. Post up and let's get this thing underway! There's no set order to the post, so just have your characters turn up whenever you feel it appropriate. At this point, activity will be driven by you until a certain point, so for the time being just relax and find the headspace of your character. Oh, and a quick note: you don't need to be finished your character sheet to post here. I'll make a little disclaimer when sheets are needed, so don't worry about not having a sheet when you need one.

[Fragmaster01]

A bit of cracking twigs, squished leaves, and light footsteps accompany Cajun. He's looking rather bored at the moment, vaguely hoping he got the directions correctly. Doesn't look like anyone's here yet, either. Silly parents, having to go somewhere else and dropping him off early; they just don't respect people's needs anymore.

He has a dramatic plop down by a tree, and attempts to catch up on some sleep. Waiting is bad, sleep good. A nearby squirrel takes an odd glance at his t-shirt, which proudly declared Words on a Shirt, as if it were a fashion statement of sorts. The forest creature then decides that this strange newcomer is not a giant acorn, and moves on to better pursuits.

[Aosaw]

Derek got off the train first, his fingers viced around his brother's wrist. Several people jeered at them both as they exited the T, calling them names; nothing lewd or even inaccurate, but all of it insensitive, and Derek wasn't sure he could keep from punching someone in the nose if they stayed there much longer. Luckily, Colin was even less responsive than usual, lost in his own world, so Derek was sure that he didn't really hear any of it. He certainly didn't listen to Derek, half the time.

It had been a long morning.

Derek looked up at the sign, resisting the impulse to curse in front of his brother. Government Center, it stated in bold white letters. They'd gone one stop too far.

"Back on the train, Liliputian," said Derek.

Colin stared at him blankly.

Derek rolled his eyes, and quickly moved his fingers around in front of his brother's face: Back on the train, dwarf.

Colin flashed a sign of his own. You don't have to be mean about it, he said.

Government Center back to Park Street, switch to the Red Line, and then all the way out to Alewife. Why did they have to meet so far outside the city?

To keep people from thinking you're a group of lunatics, Colin signed, answering the question on Derek's face.

We're lunatics anyway, going out to the middle of nowhere for a secret meeting to talk about our dreams, Derek signed.

It's not the middle of nowhere, signed Colin. He made a sweeping gesture. It's Alewife.

There were no cabs around. Which was strange; you'd think that this close to a train station there would be plenty of taxis around, waiting to deliver commuters to the T. Derek wasn't fond of the idea of taking a bus to wherever it was they were heading. Alewife wasn't a part of the map he had in his head.

Colin tugged at his jacket, and pointed across the street. Friends of Alewife Reservation, painted on a wooden sign; behind it, what appeared to be a forest.

"That's the place," Derek signed. Making their way to the crosswalk, Derek tried not to think about what sort of weirdos would be at this meeting.

* * *

"Oh, great; it's you." Derek stepped into the grove, and folded his arms across his chest. "It's bad enough listening to Colin talk about you all day long; I have to spend a Saturday with you too?" He sighed. "Hello, Rupert."

Colin flashed his hands. "Good morning, Cajun."

[BadBasset]

It's a twenty minute drive from Beacon Hill to Alewife. But this morning, for August Carroll, it'd turn out to be a two hour-long expedition.

"This life of luxury sure ain't free," he thought as he kicked through layers of unwashed clothes sprawled across his floor in search of his finest attire: the pants that smelled least of urine; the shirt retaining the most buttons.

He'd had to sell his old Honda weeks ago to raise money for rent. Of course he could still take the train, but Gus didn't care for it. Whenever possible, he clung to the opportunity to distance himself from the healthy, chirping masses. So this morning found him unlocking his rusty bicycle from the rail in front of his apartment and setting out. He kept to the south side of the river, avoiding the busy streets cutting straight through Cambridge. He didn't need the noise: God knows, his head hurt enough already.

Last night he'd ventured out to see some old friends play at The Beehive on Tremont St., sitting at the bar with his back to the stage so they wouldn't notice him; and slipping out when the band took a set break. He didn't care to talk - talking with old friends was awkward. He spent a couple hours in a cheap dive, then home to bed. And to the bizarre and unsettling dreams that kept most of his nights from being anything close to restful.

So this morning Gus wasn't feeling his best. But, well, as Ol' Blue Eyes said, "I feel sorry for people who don't drink. When they wake up in the morning, that's as good as they're going to feel all day."

And as he reached the path leading into Alewife Reservation, he found that the exercise and fresh air had cleared his soggy head. He still had doubts that this strange meeting was a good idea, but it was better than sitting in his filthy apartment feeling sorry for himself. "Alewife," he smirked, feeling the weight of the six-pack of 'Milwaukee's Best' he'd thoughtfully stopped to buy on the way, "I guess that's me today".

---

"You must be Derek." Gus rested his rusty bicycle against a tree. "I'm Gus. You know, um, Doctor B (a finger traced a quick spiral through the air next to his left ear, indicating 'psychologist') put us in touch. Nice to meet you in person."

Gus stepped uncertainly toward the brothers, casting a mildly disparaging glance at the young hipster in the ironic t-shirt before addressing Colin: "Hey there little guy!" he spoke louder (the only sure approach to communicating with a deaf man) "You must be Colin! Your brother's told me all about you!"

Something in the silence that met Gus' too-obvious effort at gregariousness and his overly-bright smile compelled him, like a spasmotic urge to make some sort of contact, to reach out and attempt to tousle Colin's hair.

[Aosaw]

Colin blinked wide-eyed at Gus's attempt at communication. He took a step back, and one hand went to his pocket, wrapping tightly around the sharpened pencil hidden there for just such an occasion.

"He doesn't like strangers," said Derek quickly, ushering Colin behind himself. "Nice to meet you too, Gus. You, er - dressed appropriately." It was hardly a compliment for the middle of the woods, but it was the best Derek could do.

I don't like this one, Colin signed. He's loud and he smells funny.

[Jondera]

Akilah was up early, carefully collecting her thoughts and theories about the dreams and the meeting in a notebook. As the designated meeting time drew nearer, she carefully slid the notebook and her writing supplies into a backpack, pulled on a vest over her blouse, grabbed the cooler full of food that she was bringing to the picnic, then made her way out of the small student apartment where she was living. Climbing into the drivers seat of her aging station wagon - given to her by her parents at the start of her junior year of college - she reviewed her mental map of the city and directed the car out into traffic and across town to Alewife.

---

Arriving in Alewife and locating the park, Akilah parks her car in the nearby public lot, retrieves her backpack and the food from the back seat, then makes her way into the park to the grove she'd picked for the meeting. Noticing that several of the others are already present, she calmly moves forward, sets down the cooler, and gives Guska a wry glance. "You know that talking louder won't help, don't you?" Nodding to Colin, her fingers flick out a greeting. Good morning. How are you today?

[Aosaw]

Sleepy, Colin said. The train was noisy, and it made Derek upset.

"I saw that," said Derek. "Good morning, Doc. You look nice today."

[BadBasset]

"Hey!" Gus' hand retracted as Colin backed away from him, "Oh, hey! Sorry Little Guy!" Gus stepped back, holding his arms out palms up in a strangely-conceived gesture of conciliation.

Dr. Blumfeld's pretty secretary's unexpected admonishment as she entered the clearing from behind him turned Gus's head and he stumbled over his bike, sitting down hard on the world-weary leather satchel he wore across his back. Damn, he thought. Bad start. Then he felt the the trickle of beer leaking from a ruptured can in his satchel. And onto my best pants, too.

No, definitely not the best impression I've ever made. He deftly transfered the punctured can from bag to a nearby bush, hoping that if he pretended nothing had happened the others might see it the same way. "Hiya Ms. Rahal... it's good to see you!"

[Ginnungagap]

Unlike the others, Lucas was not moving at their depressing pace. Instead, he was moving rather swiftly and dexterously, something that appeared on the basest level to be more closely related to dancing. He simply moved across the parkland at a varied step, with the clear determination of one having no cares in the world. He appeared to be simply carrying a plain messenger bag, the contents of which were indeterminate, although considering his character, one could assume that it held at least one transcript and/or notepad, and some sort of writing implement(s), in exorbant quantity.
His method of transport had actually been to walk, which suited him well enough. In fact, the scenic walk had taken only about 20 minutes (albeit if he had taken a direct route, his would have taken only 10), and had allowed him to observe the city in the early morn, something rare for him, considering his affinity for either disassociating from it completely, or simply locking himself in his apartment while writing some script of some sort. The desk where he did so was littered with wrinkled papers and items of vaguely culinary nature, although 'vaguely' used in such terms may be but a positive hyperbole.

His arrival was marked with him announcing himself as per one who was not completely assured og how to introduce themselves to such a group. "Hey Derek, how's Colin been?" He directed this at Derek though Colin was present, primarily as he knew that the boy wouldn't be replying for himself. He didn't know any of the other members of the group (besides the aforementioned), although they had a certain familiarity about them. Not a defined trait, but merely something he could detect among the members of the groups.

[Fragmaster01]

Cajun looked up at the babysitter. "Oh great, it's me. Because school just can't seem to separate us, can they?" This Gus person looked to be a bit more sociable, though. He'd get a handshake. Just one, and not a very long one; he'd have to earn more. "Hey. Don't suppose he's coming here for this wonderful bit of group therapy." Cajun gave a wave to the assembling crowd of onlookers, attempting to avoid making any obvious reaction to the wonderful smell emanating from Gus' clothing. But no, if his secretary was here, the old quack wouldn't be putting forth that much effort. Too early in the morning for one of his station.

[BadBasset]

August shook Cajun's hand, either not noticing or not understanding why Cajun's nose wrinkled in objection as he approached. "Gus Carroll," he said, "Good to meet you". Regardless of his contempt for hipsters, Gus recognized that he was the odd-man-out: a ragged, middle-aged block of coal lodged amongst bright gems of youth. So he appreciated the friendly gesture.

As Lucas loped into the clearing, Gus turned back to Derek: "So... is this everyone you were expecting? Well, then let's get this party started." He produced the surviving cans of Milwaukee's Best from his satchel, opened one, and took a long drink. Then, with a lecherous smile, he gestured expansively at the remaining beers; offering them up to anyone who cared to help themselves. Satisfied that this display of vulgar generosity had set him on the path to smoothing-over his earlier social blunders, he leaned against a tree and waited for one of the others to speak.

[Aosaw]

"Hey," said Derek, "Don't make this out to be my idea. I'm just here for the food."

I'm here for the nature, Colin signed boredly. He turned to Akilah. These nincompoops won't get anything done if you don't do it for them. Whatever you're going to say, you'll have to say it first.

[Jondera]

Akilah gives Gus a long look. "Kindly keep that... stuff to yourself. Giving alcohol to minors is illegal, you know."

Then she looks around at the others, and gestures for everyone to take a seat. Popping the lid off her cooler, she fishes out a couple plates with half-sandwiches of various kinds, a veggie tray, and small bottles of fruit juice and water. "Help yourselves. While you get started, there's a few things I'd like to bring up, however." She pauses to wait until everyone who wants to get some food has done so, then continues. "I organized this meeting today because of a certain phenomena which all of you have purported to share - dreams of some other world. I told Dr. Blumsfeld that I wanted to investigate this phenomena for my masters thesis, but in truth, I have a somewhat more personal reason as well... I have also been having these dreams. While I was prepared to dismiss them as nothing more than particularly vivid dreams by myself, having a group of this size, all of whom have had nearly identical dreams, pushes the boundaries of skepticism somewhat. So I'd like to find out exactly what these dreams are, and why we have been having them. Would any of you like to comment?"

[Fragmaster01]

Cajun takes mock offense at Alikah's remark. It's only illegal if someone catches you. Besides, he's just leaving it out in the open where others can guzzle, not giving it to us. Regardless, he helps himself to a sandwich, and not a beer, muttering something about his parents being overly nosy about that sort of thing. "Well, don't keep us in suspense, you sound like you've got a speech ready." He prepares himself for a long spiel of people rambling about dreams, only for them to realize they're drinking the kool-aid a bit much, and should probably get more sleep themselves.

[BadBasset]

"Oooh, you're right!" Gus whispered, taking on a cynical, hunted look at Akilah's latest remonstrance. With exaggerated caution he shaded his eyes and shot quick darting glances into the bushes, as though hoping to surprise someone watching them unawares. "No... don't see any pigs out there," he muttered, with deep dramatic seriousness. Then, with a sudden jerk he ripped open the flap on his satchel and gazed inside: "none in here either." Satisfied with the state of his satchel he spun and, hooking a finger under the hem of Cajun's shirt, pulled it up just enough to duck down and peer beneath: "...don't think he's bugged..."

He turned back to Cajun. "Don't worry, kid. As the poet said, 'reality is an illusion that occurs due to the lack of alcohol'. And I'm thinking that we're here to kiss illusions good night. So have a beer if you want, and Ms. Fussy here can close her eyes."

"Now, Aki," he said, thoughtfully rolling a cigarette, "I used to work with this bass player and he was a... what did he call it? ...nostic, but with a silent 'gee'. Gnostic: it's a sort of religion. And he was always on about how the world," Gus waved his cigarette at the surrounding trees dismissively, "isn't real; and our brains are like cosmic radio receivers that pick up the... like... universal truth. He said our lives are always empty because they're not what we're meant to do, because we're not where we're meant to be."

"I always told him, 'Mike you're full of s--- and you're a s--- bass player.' But now I'm thinking I was only half right. Maybe he was onto something with this gnostic stuff. Because Derek here told me that you guys have been having the same dreams as me. And how else can we all be having the exact same dreams unless there's some other place more real than here, and we're picking it up, with our... like... cosmic minds?"

And with that Gus took up a striking pose, arms crossed in front of his chest, smugly convinced that his philosophic discourse had laid the mystery bare to all reasoning minds.