Vaughtar's room

The bed was indeed too small, but that didn't pose that much of a problem. It wasn't the kind of bed that had its frame reaching much higher than the mattress at its head and foot, nor were there any sidewalls. Vaughtar's upper body could just jut out where it became too bulky and so could his feet. Wings were a different story: The leathery skin was covering the floor by the square yard.

When Winston entered, Vaughtar had already hefted himself out of the bed. He was using one of his hands to shadow his eyes. These lights! He had never seen an artificial light that was not based on simple fire, but there just couldn't be a fire in these tiny things. It would have smoked and eventually suffocated. So it had to be magic. And that was the thing that scared him more than the metal panels on the walls, the bed and even the weirdly constructed door that was apparently driven by some sort of hidden mechanism. All of this could be explained without magic, but the lights... Some other supernatural being must have caught him and perhaps it just had entered to pay him a visit in his prison.

Vaughtar examined Winston's body with a penetrating look in his eyes, but he was still using his hand to protect them from direct light incidence. Was that man a werewolf ? Apparently not, he lacked the subtle exterior characteristics. A vampire ? He'd find out when Winston opened his mouth again. Something else ? He didn't knew and probably didn't have the means to find out. And that was a very good reason for not attacking rightaway. Perhaps the entire prison was enchanted and wouldn't let him out without the other man's permission.

"Who are you ? What happened to me and how did you get me here ?" His voice was very, very deep, but there was no threat in it. However someone with an eye for body language could see that he was on high alert, if not even in a slight state of panic.

Vaughtar's room

"Ahem." The man straightened, but, his height would never match that of the gargoyle.

"As I said... My name is Winston. I am part of the organization that rescued you. We are called TRIDENT. You are very likely very far from home..."

Winston crossed the room and sat in a chair, sitting down he would seem less threatening, he hoped.

"You are on a planet called Earth. Have you heard of it? Are you from here? Perhaps?" TRIDENT kept close tabs on the few 'strange' creatures that still resided on earth. Nothing was like the one that stood before him. It reminded him of Gothic carvings of gargoyles. Perhaps there was a connection, perhaps not. "If you have not heard of it I wouldn't be surprised. You might be from another world."

This was the tough part to explain. The thing spoke, so, he assumed a level of sentience.

"Something happened, we do not know what it is or what to call it. There was some sort of portal or rift. It seemed that someone on our world was trying to... Well... are not sure what they were trying to do, because they are all dead." Their bodies were incinerated by magic and dragon fire.

TRIDENT still had not located the dragon. That though made Winston uneasy, but, that was not his prime objective at the moment.

"You, whoever, survived. There are others. You all seem to have been drawn through this rift in time and space. We found you half-frozen on the side of the mountain near the rift. We brought you here and did our best, though, we were perplexed with exactly what to do with you. There is no one else like you, that we know of, here on Earth. I'm glad that it seems... You only needed a little time to recover." Winston gave the gargoyle a half smile.

"I am here to talk to you, let you know what we know about what has happened. Listen to your own story. It may help us figure out what has happened. Where are you from? What was the last thing you remember?"

He shook his head. "I'm sorry. Perhaps I am going too fast... Do you understand what I am saying? Do you have any questions about what I am saying? I will do my best to answer, but, this event is still very much a mystery to us."

Vaughtar's room

Vaughtar was stunned. Earth ? Rift in time and space ? What ? For several seconds he just stared at Winston, wondering if that guy was attempting to fool him or not. But if he really was someone who had kidnapped him, why would he want to try such a thing then ? The theory made no sense, so probably the best thing right now was to continue cooperation and start answering. Winston didn't ask anything delicate anyway.

"Earth ? You mean I am on another world now and that is called 'Earth' ?" He took a deep breath and sighed. What the hell had he become involved into ? "The world I come from is called 'Munimis'. There, persons like me are called 'gargoyles'. And the reason why you didn't know what to do with me likely was that it was daytime. How did you know that I'm a living creature and not just a carved stone ? The last thing I remember is that the sun rose above the horizon and I transformed, squatting on a massive pillar."

Vaughtar didn't comprehend the word 'dragon'. Whatever it referred to likely just didn't exist in Munimis. So he wondered if Winston would be able to understand what he was going to say now: "And magic does exist here ? So there are vamps, werewolfes and dead people rising from their graves here as well ?" He literally nailed down the man with his eyes as he was attempting to watch closely every tiny bit of movement his body made. He hoped that Winston was a bad liar so he would reveal himself whenever he said anything that wasn't truthfully.

Dimitri could not quite recall returning to the meeting room, but it had been a rather long day and he had been sober for far too long. Perhaps this was the cause of his brief confusion but in any case, the monk's eyes lit up as his flask appeared on the screen, in all its intricately crafted splendor. the other ones that were displayed meant nothing to him. "Yes there it is! This is my trusty flask! Please tell me it remains intact. I doubt that anyone on earth has the ability to repair such a vessel, but yes, it is very dear to me and I should like to have it returned as soon as possible." the drool practically fell from his mouth as he gazed longingly at the picture on the screen.

He glanced around the room, so many people form all walks of life, all here now. What a strange and astonishing event and it seemed at the moment that the residents of earth were just as puzzled as he was.
Dimitri's mind drifted back to Temperance, back to his life. In all his years he had never paused to consider that there might be other worlds about. This revelation was truly fascinating and he made a note to himself right in the meeting room, that he would try to keep a log of the events as they unfoldrd on Earth so that he could share the experiences with his friends back on Temperance.
The monks countenance fell briefly as he considered the fact that he might never find the way back to Temperance

"What information does Trident or Mercy have thus far? Clearly there is a group of fanatics or something working behind the scenes. But this Rift everyone keeps speaking of. I must say, coming from a place where magic is extremely active, even this rift seems far fetched. Powerful forces appear to be at work here."

His eyes moved to Rosalind
"And you're saying that not one person on Earth has the ability to interpret these symbols found plastered all over that ritual site? Clearly a blood sacrifice was invoked from what I recall of that alter. It just seems strange that not one person is able to read any of those symbols."

Vaughtar's room
"Gargoyles? Yes. We have those but in our world..." Winston hesitated, not sure how the creature might bear this news, "... They are only stone carvings." Was this congruence between Earth and Munimis and so many others merely coincidence? "There are stories and legends of gargoyles coming to life, but, this has never been verified as fact." TRIDENT had found many myths to be in fact, but, not the story of gargoyles.

"Actually, when wee found you, you were not stone. You were unconscious and wounded."

He swallowed hard as the gargoyle pinned Winston with his eyes.

"Magic... Yes. Though, it is not very common at all. Most people on Earth believe that it does not exist. It is the same with Vamps... Vampires? You mean? Werewolves... and un-dead. They have been verified to exist, but most people do not know they are real."

"I am getting the sense that in your world these things are quite common. Here on Earth, they are nearly extinct." Winston bowed his head solemnly.

"Our organization, TRIDENT, is unqiue. We know about these things to be true because we seek them, many of us are them. It is why we came to the RIFT. We detected it and... Well... We make it our job to see to these things here on Earth, on behalf of those who can not or will not accept that responsibility."


The Meeting Room.

Rozalind put her hands on the table, glaring down the monk. She did not like to repeat herself. "You know what we know. We do not have any suspects for who opened the rift. We do not know what they meant to do. None of you seem to remember anything useful, and no one who was on this side before it happened is alive to speak of it. From what I understand even the dead could not be recovered for questioning."

She turned away from the group with a 'huff', crossing her arms and glaring at the screen. It shifted again, to an topographical view of the castle.

"The problem isn't that no one can read them. The problem is that they were blown away by the blizzard wind. Magicians of many sorts draw their circles and symbols in white chalk or paint." She began to pace around the table. "The majority are obscured. Blood-magic is a game that many play and few win..." She turned her head slightly, an idea coming to her mind... She would be sore to admit that the thought might have been inspired by the monk's question. "We will compile a list of all known blood-magicians that are at least half-competent."

There was a pause.

"By 'We' you mean 'Me'?" Zesiro sighed. He took out what looked like a tablet, and began to give the small glowing plate his full attention.

Dimitri smiled at Rozalind's frustration, catching her glare but allowing it to roll right off his shoulder. She seemed to be under a lot of stress which was understandable he supposed, and could not help wondering if she could be cheered up after a few rounds of his special brew.

"Well I don't know what your technologies are like around here, but just suppose that the initial symbols were actually drawn with chalk or paint then once they were reviewed by the guys with all the joo joo were then redrawn with blood before the actual ritual was invoked. Even if the blizzard blew..." He air quoted the word blew smiled then continued "Blew the chalk away. If they did happen to be written in blood afterwards, there would be residue left behind despite the initial stains being washed away or covered up. Blood is blood. Perhaps if you had a team even capture a few fragments of the symbols, you might gain some valuable information from them."

The monk stood up and grabbed the nearest writing tool he could find from a tray. then proceeded towards the screen and tapped his chin in thought. "I'm no expert in symbols and rituals, but I know a few people that are artisans in those fields.

He found the alter room on the screen and drew a circle around the alter.
"The more important symbols should be around the edges of this circle, and from what I've seen on Temperance, they almost always have to be joined together some how; intertwined, crossed over or overlapping. He then identified another area on the inside of the circle about two feet closer to the center than the outline. "Perhaps you want to be looking in this general area for all the good stuff! I don't know how Earth responds to magic but any symbols that were involved in the ritual might have been set apart from other blood stains by the magics that passed through them or linked them to any verbal incantations or what have you. It's a long shot I know, but at least it's a shot. " he finished with a nod, then stood back to consider the additions to the screen before glancing down at the pen only to find the words 'permanent ink' written in bold letters.
"Oh My! I'm terribly sorry! Guess I should have read the labels first" he cleared his throat nervously.
"Well in any case, it might be worth your while to send a team back there with some high tech equipment and look for traces of blood that is set apart from the other mess around that area of the circle for a starting reference. Maybe the actual symbols that matter were seared into the alter room ground or somehow discolored or altered from the potency of whatever magic was used to execute the rituals.

In Vaughtar's room

The gargoyle's thoughts were rampaging in his mind. He had not been stone when they had found him ? He did barely know anything about the intricate magical inner workings of himself, but wondering about if this relocation in space and time could interfere with his natural rhythm wasn't far-fetched.

"What time was it when you found me ? Day or night ? And what time is it now ?"

Basically, asking about time was like the key to Pandora's Box. So many other questions could be derived from that simple one that Vaughtar didn't even know where to begin with at best. Agitated, he started slowly moving around randomly in the large room. Every time he made a step Winston could possibly feel a vibration of the floor emanating from where his foot had hit the ground, and his claws left superficial scratches behind until he finally noticed and elevated them a bit.

"I guess you don't know any way back ? Because if you knew you would just have sent everyone back to where he came from and everyone could continue happily ? So... I'm stuck here ?"

One could clearly and in spite of all the differences between Vaughtar and humans see that he was very sad and upset.

"What are you gonna do with me now ? I would have to hide, wouldn't I ?"
Or wait... didn't Winston say that many members of TRIDENT were beings who themselves came out of a rift and didn't belong here ? This probably did imply something.
"How can I be of assistance ?"

The Meeting Room.


Rosalind was surprised that the monk was versed in magic. The way it worked in his world did not sound entirely different from the way it looked here. Yet, she was no expert. Twain was the resident magic expert on their team.

"When Twain returns, you should discuss it with him. He will be able to tell you if your thinking is on the right track. It might be worth going back to the site and combing it over more carefully, rather than under duress. Yet, we are not certain the site is safe or secure. If we return we might be attacked by the dragon again... Or perhaps someone else trying to clean up or cover up this mess. If there are more of them, they might not yet know what happened to their comrades, they might not know there were survivors or witnesses. We also do not know their strength. They were capable enough of opening a rift between worlds, it destroyed them, but they might be more capable with simpler magics."

"If we are lucky, they were all there, and they are all dead. We might never know their purpose, but, they would not be a threat anymore."

The screen shifted, but the marks that Dimitri had made with permanent marker, remained.

"We can not rely on luck."

The screen had turned to four new faces. Dmitri markings gave one a beauty mark, one a pair of lopsided glasses, and another a mustache.

"These are the members of MOON. A small team within TRIDENT. Their missions are always secret. I suspect their area of expertise is espionage, and undercover work. I myself only learned of this teams existence today." She sounded slightly annoyed by this fact, but continued as she rounded the table. A restless tiger frustrated by her prey; the mystery of the Rift. "They went missing several months back. MERCY, the team that found all of you and the site of the RIFT, was looking for them. They had tracked MOON to a city near the mountain, that is where the trail went cold. Then they detected the energy of the RIFT, followed it and... You know the rest."

"It might be a coincidence."

~~~


In Vaughtar's room

"Ah... I don't know exactly what time it was..." Winston looked at his watch. "It was daytime when you were found, I think, and..." He turned the rim of his watch. "It should be about 11pm at the moment. Why do you ask? Is your... Transformation cycle... Relative to the time or position of the sun?" That would be in alignment with the Earth-stories concerning gargoyles. "Fascinating, that that the time would still affect you this far underwater."

"You are right. We do not know how to send anyone home. It is possible that we might find a way to re-open the rift. Yet, seeing the chaos and destruction caused by the first rift, that would be a big risk, and to be honest it is not our current priority."

How Can I Help

Winston set his eyes upon the gargoyle with a serious expression.

"As I said, the Ritualists are all dead. Killed by the RIFT and the things that came out of it. Yet, there were also innocents killed. They appear to have used unwilling human sacrifices as part of their ritual, and, not everyone who came through the rift survived. You were fortunate to come through that portal and eventually wake up. Many others did not." Winston frowned, he was particularly disturbed as he recalled the images of the dead otherworlders. The beautiful mermaid who choked and drowned in the open air....

"We at TRIDENT consider this event a serious crime of a magical nature. Our priority is to find the ones responsible, and prevent them from killing more innocents, and wielding magic for their own perverse purposes, whatever that might have been."

Vaughtar's room

"Wait... daytime ?" Vaughtar was stunned. It took him a few seconds to voice his conclusion: "So this rift has interrupted my transformation cycle. Normally I turn to stone when the sun rises above the horizon, no matter if I can actually see it happening or not. And... underwater ?"

To cut a long story short: Winston had to start explaining. A lot. How the world - roughly - looked like. How society looked like. A few very basic everyday things like phones, cars and planes. The latter one was an item on the list that normally wasn't important, but since this creature apparently was able to defeat gravity on a regular basis and large enough to be spotted by recent day radar technology, it was worth mentioning.

The Meeting Room

When he had finished and Vaughtar's head had stopped fuming, Winston offered him to join a meeting that was going on just right now. The stone gray beast seemed to be kind-hearted, so it was acceptable to let him join it. He quickly pulled the ordinary chair out of Vaughtar's way and shoved a sturdy metal crate towards him that had been sitting around next to one of the walls. 'Hulking' was a pure understatement for that gargoyle, kind-hearted or not.

He was too late to cross Dayna's way in the hallway leading away from the conference room, but though he would have definitely found an elemental sprite very interesting - such things didn't exist on Munimis - there were enough other persons in the room to saturate his curiosity. The person he could identify himself with most at first glance was the lean woman with curly, reddish hair he didn't know the name of. Given that she had also come through the rift, her clothing remembered him very much of what the ordinary people of his world were used to. He could see Matthew and Hirsch, but of course he had no idea about the USMC, so the only thing he noted about them was that they appeared to be a team of some sort in this room, with some similarities in behaviour. Another man, quite tall, was standing next to that horrible thing that had to be one of these 'screens' Winston had told him about. These flashing images divided into a myriad of tiny squares would give him a headache, that was for sure! There was some ink tainting the surface. It made no sense, so it had likely been an accident. Vaughtar wished that whoever had done this would have just continued with it until the entire thing had been covered.

There seemed to be an intensive discussion going on, so Vaughtar sat down onto the creaking crate without saying anything else than a "Hi.", spoken out very low by his standards. He felt strange, very strange. He was the only one who was almost naked. His body was probably nothing to be ashamed of, but it just felt wrong as everyone else here was wearing some sort of clothing. Unlike Wolfe he couldn't transform back and forth to what physical representation suited the current situation best.

Mallaidh

Safe? Mallaidh did not trust the sword with anyone but her blood, and even that had proven unwise in the past. Anger flushed her cheeks and the urge to add a bruised and broken nose to Rozalind’s medley of burns and blisters was so overwhelming that Mallaidh physically hurt from the effort restraining herself. It might have been noted in the clenching of her fists, or the long, hissing sigh and the extended, tight blink.

She is a host in this world, an Otherworlder. Treating a child of Danu to your fist would not be wise. Check your Anger.

Others responded, curiously the dog, but Mallaidh was still too heated to be impressed.

Then the regimental man, Wolfe, spoke up about her sword, and accused it of use in a heinous black act, and of being ‘wrong’.

“You held a sword,” Mallaidh corrected, hers brows almost knitting together over the green flames of her eyes. “You can’t be so certain that it was mine.”

However, when Rozalind also supported Wolfe’s assertion, the floor of her anger fell away, leaving just an oily sick feeling swimming inside her. She ran a distressed hand through her wavy locks of beaten copper. How could she refute the divinations of the Tuantha De? She gawped at the screen, at Fragarach, wondering how its majesty had fallen into the hands of such foul vermin that would use it to end the life of a defenceless sacrifice. It should be swung in glorious and bloody combat, not used for some cowardly murder.

The monk had returned, and the conversation turned to magic, the dragon, the question of any surviving cultists and a missing team. It all went over Mallaidh’s head, not that she made a terrible effort to understand any of it; she had much more pressing concerns.

“So if the sword is important, should I not be allowed to see it, and confirm that it is truly mine, and the one used for-” she didn’t even like thinking about it. “To confirm it is the sword we all think it is. I might have some information about it that is valuable.”

XIII chuckled bitterly when the ball of light asked if the first group that found him gave him his powers. "That would be something," he started before glancing at the sprite. "Sorry. No, I don't think those people gave me this ability. The place I came from have people who are born with abilities. Some have control over specific elements, others can move from one place to another in an instant. All of these abilities have drawbacks. The moment I get cold, I have no control over fire." XIII absentmindedly ran a hand over the burnt side of his head as he spoke.

"The people that found me believe that people like me are a danger to the world, and they want to get rid of us, one way or another. They tried to turn me into a weapon against others like me. They took my memories and tried to break me." XIII stopped talking as he recalled his time as a prisoner. He shook himself out of his thoughts and looked at the creature in front of him. "But that's enough of my sob story. I guess I should introduce myself, You can call me XIII. We should probably make our way back to the meeting, don't you think?"

Herbert

“How long does that usually take?”

He watched the creature scurry away, and then stared off into space, not looking at Twain. It was unspoken that Twain understood what he was going through, and that it had truly been him in that vivid dream, if one could call that experience of shared consciousness so. He feared the innumerable alternatives that didn’t bear thinking about.

A stiffness pervaded Herbert, and his vision was pulsating, the darkness at the edge of his vision ebbing and flowing, so that at times he could not see more than a few inches in front of his nose. In those instances, he was blessed; it hid apparitions, creatures made from floating spider silk and barely-fogged glass. They resembled human forms, in most cases, and faded in and out of the world, sometimes phasing through the room and the people in it, and sometimes they just stood. Their faces were indiscrete; Herbert could not tell if they were looking at or away from him. Whispers hung like cobwebs in the air, too faint and tangled to understand. He shivered.

“I am not overly fond of this.” He whispered on the barest of breaths, his own voice joining the hush, mixing with it, and forming an amalgam of sorts.

Louder voices, real voices, shattered the whispers, and chased them away until Herbert might find silence again. Dimitri's and Twain's. Herbert was beginning to accept the arcane and secret world unveiled to him, and he was not sure what that meant for his sanity. The recent experiences were irrefutable and too vivid, and had made his mind more open and plastic; clearly there were forces greater than science. That realisation seemed dully familiar, and reminded his of a dark-bound tome…

A hand on his shoulder and deafening clamour. It was Dimitri, but then his face warped, and his clothes melted and reshaped, and copper tufts spread in clumps until a ragged mop was covering his head. A fervent and angry face filled his vision, all frown lines and shining eyes.

“We’re so close Herbert, why do you want to give up now?”

“It’s… it’s inhumane.” That was his voice. He remembered.

“So is what we aim to achieve; above man, above even God. Do not worry for your humanity, you’ve already sacrificed it coming this far, turning back now would mean all has been in vain.”

Air! Herbert sucked it in, in a shallow gasp, and then bigger, steadier breaths.

He remembered. A little at least, and it rattled him.

Dimitri was there still, and the parts of Herbert’s brain that had been in reality related what had been said to his consciousness. He realised he should say something, or they’d think him psychotic.

“Then you have my deepest gratitude.”

Herbert thought he was dealing with this all rather well. Perhaps it was the incentive; Herbert was a smart man, and not blind to the possibilities that has presented themselves. Or perhaps it was that part of him had been changed, corrupted maybe.

The monk left.

“I wouldn’t mind some tea,” Herbert said, mainly to Twain. He turned to face the man, and noticed for the first time, thing wisps of complete and utter darkness burning off him, licks of black flame. The corner of Herbert’s mouth twitch and his eyes flitted ever so quickly to look Twain up and down.

“Then after the meeting, perhaps we can talk?”

Vata sat quietly at the table while the meeting went on, trying to take in everything that was going on so then he could try and better understand the situation in this strange place. There were a number of unfamiliar people and strange things that came and went, most notably the bizarre wolf-like creature, which reacted strangely to a couple of objects shown by the even more bizarre device that seemed to project three dimensional images into the air. The wolf-like thing also made some strange gestures that Vata couldn't quite make sense of, but a few others at the table seemed to understand it. A moment later it left the room, and then a strangely dressed woman took its place. To Vata, it seemed like the longer he stayed here, the stranger things got.

Among the objects shown by the seemingly magical device was Vata's own bag that he kept some of his books and writing tools in. Unfortunately, it had seen much better days, and it was likely that some of his belongings inside had been ruined. He figured that it may be best to bring it up after the meeting, so then he could assess what had been lost or made unusable. However, despite the thought of some of his precious belongings in the bag being damaged, it comforted him somewhat seeing that he had something from his own world that hadn't been lost, something that made this world feel just a little bit less alien to him.

With all the talk of things they didn't know about the event, Vata began to wonder if there was something he could do to help. Then, he caught wind of the conversation regarding the arcane symbols the group found at the grisly site of the ritual. It seemed like the monk knew a bit about them, but he didn't seem to be entirely certain about what he was looking at. Vata felt the Spirit of Inspiration stir inside of him at this, realizing that this could be his chance to help with the investigation of the event, albiet indirectly. Despite the potential dangers involved in going back to that horrible castle that he would much rather forget about, he felt strangely calm, and more surprisingly, confident. Putting his nearly empty mug of coffee aside, he finally spoke up, brushing his jitters and nervousness aside.

"I think I may be able to help decipher those symbols. I don't know anything about them, but there's something I can do which can help anyone that has any experience with arcane symbols like them. It's...difficult to explain, and would require some time for me to explain how it works, so I'll leave it until after the meeting."

Then, Vata heard a creaking noise, and an odd, unfamiliar voice said "Hi." When he turned to look at who said that, the confidence he felt just a moment ago was replaced by a mixture of disgust and surprise as he laid eyes upon the massive, grotesque creature that just appeared at the conference table. Shocked, he blurted out something that he probably would regret saying later.

"Spirits preserve, what is that...thing that just appeared at the table?"

Speaking of someone who was actually present and could hear one's words in third person was impolite, and resorting to the word 'thing' as a designation for that very someone was straightforwardly rude. He had already demonstrated being sentient and communicative, even if it had just been a single word! And since that guy was, for some mysterious conincidence that just added itself to the heap of things yet to be investigated, speaking the same language, the gargoyle had some reason to assume that this rather dark-skinned man should have some sort of apprehension for this.

On the other hand, Vaughtar wasn't the one to become infuriated just because of this. He was flabbergasted, but the slow pace he lifted himself off the crate and started walking around the table towards Vata indicated that he wasn't angry. However he left another trail of small scratches behind him as he forgot about his claws again. This just had not been an issue on Munimis' dirt roads and wilderness. And there was so much drag induced by his folded wings that a noticable, short-lived breeze filled one half of the room.

He didn't come closer to the other man that about two yards and squatted down, taking two or three seconds to examine his face before speaking.
"Please feel free to touch me. I'm breathing, talking, am emitting body warmth and I even eat. What makes you think I'm a 'thing' ?"

Wolfe could tell by Mallaidhs reaction she was upset at the thought of her sword being cursed. Wolfe could relate, his grandfather had a large collection of antique firearms-still functional. Given the same circumstances... Wolfe wouldn't want to believe one his grandads prized possessions were used for...this.
"I apologize, I did not mean to upset you ma'am," Wolfe said.
"I am fairly sure that is your sword.... Just not... Your families sword as you remember it."
Confused looks came his way. Wolfe thought for a moment then spoke again.
"Imagine, a large bubble," Wolfe said, he got up to a white board and drew a circle, he made random dots inside the circle.
"Ok, imagine this is a bubble, on a three dimiensional scale, so there would be dots next to, behind, above, and so on and so on with every other subsequent dot, this large bubble, is called the Multiverse" Wolfe looked around making sure he was still be followed.
"Now, each dot, represents individual universes, mine, yours, everyone's. They are independent of each other, never connecting, but still follow at a parallel rate. Contrary to popular belief, time is not linear," he drew a line and imedietely crossed it out, "instead...its spherical. Like when your on a plane going to the other side of the planet, um," Wolfe looked at her clothing and remembered she probably doesn't know what a plane was.
"Um, a large ship going accross the sea, you look out to the horizon you see a natural curve." Hirsch actually appeared to be paying attention, which surprised Wolfe. He always knew Hirsch was a good warrior, hell, one of the best, but Wolfe always felt that Hirsch was...simple, to put it politely.
"At some point," Wolfe drew lines from one dot to another "there was an...event? Somehow, someway individuals from these independent universes, and times were transported, across time and space...to...here," All the lines intersected on one dot, his dot, only four years later.
"Now to answer your statement ma'am," Wolfe went on.
"Just because you knew your families sword in your time," Wolfe pointed to one dot, then moved the marker around the bubble then a sharp downward angle to the intersecting dot.
"Doesn't mean, that in between your last memory of your home, and waking up here, years if not centuries may have gone by in your universes, and that sword made its way here...to my world... Four years ago, and to me, it feels like yesterday, because subjectively it was yesterday."
Wolfe finished, looked to Hirsch and asked "You got anything to add Joe?"
Hirsch looked to Mallaidh and spoke directly to her.
With a giggle and a sheepish grin, "you got pretty eyes."
Whack!
Hirsch recoiled from the blow that Wolfe delivered to the back of his head.
"Fraggin moron!"
Before Hirsch could speak his eyes widened.
Something just walked in the room.
"Holeeeshit! It's ma'fucking Goliath! Bruh I loved your show as a kid!"
WHACK! This time it was harder.
"Owww man! Whiskey tango foxtrot asshole!?"
"Stow that shit you simple dumpster baby."
Hirsch scoffed and sat back down.
Wolfe walked up to the large creature, his eyes conveyed two things to Wolfe, intelligence, and kindness.
He held out a hand to the creature, "I apologize for my SAW gunner, he's a idiot with no filter, but probably the best human being to have on your side in a fight. My name's Wolfe, Corporal Wolfe, but you can call Wolfe, and that's Hirsch, as I call him numbnuts."

Charles trundled down the hallway humming the tune to a song he only vaguely remembered hearing on the radio. He had hoped to be at the meeting much earlier to help set up everything and run through all the information gathered at the site, that he was allowed to disclose, with all those involved but unfortunately he had gotten distracted when picking up his morning cup of tea.

It had just so happened that Martha had also been doing a quick morning coffee run and of course the two of them got to chatting away about their weekends and their plans. A few minutes later Johnathon also showed up for a well-earned break which drew the conversation to wondering what the pencil-pushers upstairs actually did because it certainly was not actually filing the mountains of paperwork correctly. Next thing Charles knew he was late by quite a bit.

“Meeting and Interrogation Complex 212…” Charles mumbled at the signs nailed to the walls beside him. A dull ache throbbed somewhere in the back of his mind and he tried his best to suppress a yawn. “Better get some aspirin or something when I can.”

Deciding on where he needed to go Charles also made a mental note to not stay up past “stupid o’clock” in the morning processing mission data. Even after sleeping little bits of information and half-done thoughts kept popping into his head along with hundreds of different questions about their guests who were, at least from Charles perspective, simply fascinating. He was very much looking forward to this meeting and learning as much as he could about them all.

Charles entered the meeting room, after momentarily fiddling with the levers and buttons for the pressured doors, and for a moment juddered to halt. He had not quite gotten around to preparing himself for all the very strange looking people gathered there around the table. He recognised a few faces but the rest were all very new to him.

“Hello all.” He slapped on a smile and waved. “Apologies for being so late I got a we-e-e-e-e bit held up this morning.” He sauntered into the room and up to the white board. “Slept through my alarm this morning, late night and all going over everything from our lovely time up in the mountains. Hope you all got some lovely souvenirs to show your friends when you get back. I’m personally glad I’m no longer in danger of freezing my tits off.” He threw a quick look down at his chest and grinned cheekily. “Well, it may be a bit late for that.”

His eyes roved over the little diagrams that had been drawn and the image the projector displayed seeing if he could guess what the conversation had been about. “But it looks like you’ve all been pretty busy anyway without me. Might I ask for a small run down?

The initial shock of seeing the gargoyle that Vata felt was quickly replaced by a profound feeling of embarrassment as the gargoyle walked over and scolded him for the way he was addressed. Vata's mind raced as he tried to compensate for his careless words. It was fortunate that the creature only seemed to be about as confused as Vata was, and not as offended as Vata would be if he were in the creature's place. Pushing the uneasiness he felt aside, Vata met the creature's stony gaze, hoping that his face wasn't quite as red as he imagined it would be. Not surprisingly, his voice was rather unsteady as he tried to force words out of himself to try to defuse the situation. "I, uh, apologize for that. I haven't seen anything quite like you, and, um, your sudden appearance caught me by surprise. Uhh..." Suddenly, Vata's mind went about as blank as his own paper when he noticed the creature's considerable size. A few seconds passed before he managed to find his words again. "Ah, damn it. I've made quite the fool out of myself now, and there's nothing more to it than that. Calling you a 'thing' is definitely inappropriate, but, what should I call you?"

Vaughtar took a wry look at Vata, his mind was like How concentrated on other things must someone be in order to not notice a metal crate being shoved across the room and screaming for its life when I put myself on it. He didn't tell the other man his thoughts as he didn't want to stir up things again now that they were just settling down so nicely.
"Just call me Vaughtar, that's my name." he responded with a friendly look.

The gargoyle left his crouching position, hearing someone being slapped in the background. During his walk back to the crate, he felt addressed by one of the two men he had already thought of being some sort of team. The fact that the poor guy accepted just another bash without fighting back underlined this thought. They seemed to know each other very well.

Vaughtar didn't accept the hand offered to him by Wolfe immediately. It was just so unusual for someone to reach out his hand towards him, especially for someone who basically didn't know him at all. A somewhat embarrassing delay of several seconds later, he finally grasped it, trying to be gentle. No matter what however he couldn't take away the sight of his own stone-grey hand literally devouring that of Wolfe, with his claws reaching further up the lower arm. He was very carful to not let them touch the Corporal's skin - a random spasm would probably have lead to a bloody incident right now.
"Hello. I'm Vaughtar." Half of the things Wolfe had said were unknowns to him: What was a SAW gunner and a Corporal ? The latter one sounded like some sort of rank... And of course he had no idea about the biblical Goliath and even less of an idea about the Goliath Hirsch was referring to. "Well, erm... I hope I don't get caught up in a fight. And may I ask why your friend is so ecstatic ?"

The Meeting

The entrance of Charles and the gargoyle created a stir. She had been notified of the various creatures found that were being treated for their injuries, but, it seemed she could not estimate which would become well and join the team, and which would not... Not yet anyway...

To the younger red-head: "The nature of the RIFT and the multi-verse is uncertain, yet, I agree. Your familiarity with the sword will tell us something important. We should confirm if it is the same sword Wolfe encountered. Dzel, can you bring the sword to this meeting? You might as well fetch the other items that have been recognized. Once it is here, and we know it is yours, I would like to hear more about it."

The quiet green-eyed girl looked up and nodded. She got up from her chair and left the meeting.

Once gone she turned to Charles. "For the benefit of you and the Goliath, I'll give you the 'run down'." She did not keep the smoldering annoyance out of her voice. She herself had lost an eye and a limb, practically, and still managed to arrive at the meeting on time. Charles had only lost sleep.

"We have been gong over the site. There is no doubt that this event was magically provoked, but, the nature of that magic is unclear as is the original intent of the magicians... things did not go according to plan. Twain couldn't even sense any dead. He said they were 'long gone'. He marks that this is quite unusual even for necromantic works. The symbols used were painted in white chalk, as is protocol for many magicians, so most of it was shuffled away in the chaos, or, blown away by the wind... However, it seems that this one, Vata...? He may have a way to help us decipher or recover what was lost."

"We went over some items-of-interest that was found. Surprisingly enough, many of them were recognized. Two recognize this sword. It seems that items as well as individuals came out of this thing. Dzel has gone to fetch them here so we can get a closer look."

"We are calling it a 'rift' for now."

She looked to the gargolye. "He is pleased with himself because you remind him of a cart--... A children's story that is popular in some parts of our world."

Have I missed anything? She addressed the room. "Can we move forward?"

The Hallway

Dzel passed by XIII and the ball of light as she left the meeting. She nodded toward them, but that was all.

The ball of light would feel a distinct elemental energy coming from the young woman. Earth. Yet, not quite the same earth on her planet.

Herbs Hut

"Tea? You got it!" Zesiro smiled wide, glad to see that the old man was feeling like his old-victorian-brit-self.

"We have a lot to talk about, my friend. Such as... What the hell were you thinking? That was a risky dive!"