Yodhgorphat Phlagaea is dressed up special today. She has brand new bleach-white gauzy bandages wrapping her from head to toe, in addition to her usual random assortment of baubles and the occasional hanging vial of glowing green goo, and her fur has been cleaned up to a vibrantly unnatural shade of yellow-green. The medicinal scent that follows her around smells heavily of mint and tea leaves today, and she seems far more peppy than a follower of Gorphat has a right to be. She lands on a clear spot – recently cleared, as several pedestrians rushed out of the way when they saw her coming – on the stands, and looks up expectantly for Alptraum to follow. "Here we are!" she announces, as she stomps on the stands beneath her feet to make sure they aren't going to collapse anytime soon.

With lazy ease, Alptraum tucks his wings in slightly and glides in to land near the Yodhgorphat. His wings snap back tight against his back and the Eeee looks around. "Dreary looking place, but who am I to judge. As long as it stays standing, right?" Alptraum says, now looking toward Phlagaea. "And I didn't mention it before, but you look different today. Prepped to cheer on your team? Or, uh … " he asks, trying to not look embarrassed.

Phlagaea just grins and grabs Alptraum by the hand as she picks a random direction to start dragging him off toward. "Let's find a seat before the game starts!" Already, there's quite a crowd of Eeee, enough that even though they generally do their best to give Phlagaea plenty of room as she comes toward them, it still takes some effort to find somewhere to move to get out of the way. The open auditorium is alive with the noise of countless rowdy bats, shouting and hollering, and some counting shekels as they place bets.

Down in the arena, there's a huge cage in the center, the floor of which is marked into sections. Some hefty Fnerfs do stretches, while some bats in stylized robes are engaged in shouting matches. Each end of the caged court has a large and conspicuous spike on it, and near the cage is a holding pen with a great many plump – nearly spherical – beetle-like bugs with tiny, vestigial legs.

Alptraum lets out a surprised squeak and follows along behind Phlagaea. "Okay, okay, let's find a seat. Just remember I have to go meet some folks in a bit about work. I've got to keep active doing something or I'll fall out of shape," Alptraum says, glancing this way and that out of curiosity.

A bunch of white-furred male Eeee in outrageous costumes bearing the rune of Blakat flutter back and forth, encouraging the crowd – and, though it's hard to tell from here – possibly even getting some of them to participate in some sort of anthem.

"Who are they?" Alptraum asks a moment later, pointing toward the white-furred Eeee.

"Oh, they're just the cheerleaders. The Yodhblakat stole them from the Yodhinala. Here we go!" Phlagaea announces, and lets go of Alptraum's hand as she flutters up to sit atop a broad but broken column that just has enough room for two to sit on top of it. "Perfect!" she squeaks, as she bounces on it a bit to make certain it's not going to topple over.

The column, for its part, shows no sign of wanting to topple over – no doubt to the relief of the bats seated at its base.

Alptraum spreads his wings and flaps himself up to the column top. "Seems barely enough room for the two of us up here," Alptraum comments, landing next to her. He looks out over the crowd, trying to locate the place he's supposed to meet Autumn-Storm's friends.

It takes some looking about, but Alptraum finally picks out the statue of the four-armed, muscular demon, Rugharo, though it's somewhat obscured by the forms of various Eeee that are perched on what's left of the statue's wings. That would be the spot.

"All right, I see where I'm supposed to meet them," Alptraum comments. He turns to look at Phlagaea and says, "I am sorry I'll have to head out for a bit soon, but I will try and make it back."

Phlagaea looks quite pleased with herself, until she suddenly squeaks, "I almost forgot the candied beetles! Hold on – I'll be right back!" She hops up and spreads her wings, looking out toward a vendor who has a banner-pole strapped to his back advertising his wares.

Alptraum urps, realizing he had better head out soon. He can't eat one of those. Well, not without an unpleasant experience shortly afterward.

"Phlagaea, no need to get me anything," Alptraum quickly says.

"Oh, don't be silly!" Phlagaea squeaks, as she flaps away, down toward the vendor. It looks like she might have a little bit of a wait, though, because there are several Yodhblakat besieging the poor vendor, demanding free samples.

"Crud," Alptraum mutters and spreads his wings to flaps after Phlagaea. "I'm allergic to several things," Alptraum tries to explain quickly, "I've got to be really careful about what I eat. I appreciate the offer, but, I don't think it'll react well with me."

A collective gasp breaks out amongst some members of the crowd, as horn fanfare announces the arrival of the challengers: an air palanquin borne by sickly reptilian creatures who look as if they shouldn't even be able to carry their own weight slowly comes down to the floor of the arena, flanked by similar but smaller airborne ferries. Within the largest platform are a number of Fnerfs who sneeze frequently and generally look miserable, though they still manage lame waves at the crowd. The others carry the Yodhgorphat members of the team, all with bright green fur. All members of the team are wrapped in bandages that glow a sickly yellow in the dim light, giving an ethereal touch to the whole spectacle.

Phlagaea giggles. "Oh, allergies! How cute! Well, if it doesn't react well, I do know several treatments. But, oh well, if you insist… "

"It's not cute if I start vomiting, believe me," Alptraum says, ears perking. "Crud. I've got to go meet up with folks. I'll get back as soon as I can, okay? Just be on top of the column and I'll find you."

"Don't get lost!" Phlagaea calls back, as she bears toward the vendor. Members of the audience start standing up, and some even go airborne, or clamber for higher (and more precarious) ground for a better view.

Alptraum flicks out his wings and takes to the air, going high to get a good view and plot out a course that will keep him out of field way, as well as Yodhblakat way.

With acrobatic moves and unnatural ease, Alptraum sweeps and dives and climbs and bobs his way through the rising cloud of airborne obstacles, made all the more complicated by a few floating skymelons let loose by younger members of the audience. A Fnerf announcer bellows out introductions against the noise of the crowd, but Alptraum can't make any sense of it (and it's unlikely that most others can, either). At last, he alights upon an open area not far from the feet of the statue of Rugharo. The area seems quite unpopular due to the fact that the statue's feet are below the line of sight of the stands, with steps leading down to a secluded area. On a short dais, a short figure is seated – a little horned Rhian-like creature with strange black and white patterns on his muzzle, and dressed in the robes of a Shadow mage – the same Shadow mage that was at the party on Mount Dronnel.

As the mage sits in the middle of a circle inscribed with complex designs and runes, drawn in chalk on stone, his mouth moves as if chanting, but he can barely be heard above the din – though as Alptraum lowers to the base of the statue, the sound is buffered somewhat. It still doesn't make the chants any more intelligible. To each side of the statue and the dais, there are stairs leading down into pitch black darkness. The one of the left seems to only go a short distance until it is blocked by rubble from a collapsed support.

Alptraum's keen ears, however, can pick up something in the passage to the right, from the way the sounds echo. Either there's a column or a statue on the steps, or something is standing just inside the shadows of the stairs.

Alptraum arcs pack slightly, and then swoops downward toward the toward the statue base and the stairwells. I hope this is the right place. And I wonder what Rorschach is doing here, Alptraum thinks.

As the bat passes the unicorn, he can see now in the dim light that the mage is blindfolded – though there's no indication of any bindings on him or anything else untoward. There are purple incense sticks arranged in a circle around him, and little wafts of smoke curl up from them, but no visible flame. As Alptraum heads toward the staircase, the air seems deathly still – unnaturally still – but suddenly he can see light in the staircase that he couldn't before, fading into view, as if he were passing through an insubstantial veil. Standing at the staircase is a tall and very muscular cheetah. His attire is different, and he looks more aged and with a few scars, but Alptraum knows he has met this man before … in a dream … where he was someone else.

Alptraum inhales sharply, suddenly uneasy. "Shouldn't this person be dead? Didn't he take my hand at the sea and yank me into the dreams? This … isn't right," Alptraum thinks, as he eases back on his wings and lands on the ground. He takes in a deep breath and tries to push back the nervousness, then nods to the cheetah.

The cheetah nods solemnly. If Alptraum recognizes the cheetah, there's nothing in the cheetah's bearing that seems to indicate that he recognizes Alptraum – at least, not beyond, say, being told to wait for a black-furred Eeee with white hair, and so forth. He waves his hand in a "come along" gesture, and starts to head down the stairs, carrying a hooded lantern with him that provides what little illumination there is.

Alptraum follows, keeping a safe distance back. He looks to the cheetah's hands and thinks back, trying to see if they are the ones that took his at the sea.

To the best of his ability … these are the same hands, and this is the same cheetah. It doesn't make any sense … but there he is. He's breathing, there's no smell of death about him, nothing that seems to suggest that he's walking with a ghost or a zombie … but nothing that offers any explanations, either.

"Stay calm, Alptraum. Maybe that whole dream wasn't real at all. Maybe he never hurt her," Alptraum thinks, pushing back the surge of anger that comes when he remembers the pain she – and he, felt.

At last, the cheetah makes his way down to a landing where the staircase turns. The stairway continues down further, though the way looks more treacherous, with signs of collapsed supports here and there – a place where perhaps a Savanite might be able to squeeze through, but an Eeee would be putting his fragile wings at considerable risk. The cheetah sets the lantern down on a pedestal, then signs, "You are Nightmare?"

"I am," Alptraum signs in reply. "You must be Clenching-Fist. I feel like we met before, but I think it was only a dream. Where are we going?"

"Ah, dreams are important to you, yes," Clenching-Fist signs. "We are going nowhere just now. Was it made clear to you just what we are doing? How important this mission is?"

"As much as she could tell me, yes. She gave me little to no detail on the particulars, though," Alptraum signs. "Not that it matters. I would help her, regardless of the dangers."

"Please speak. Your use of sign is admirable, but speech is faster – and no one will hear you. The little monster outside will make sure of that," Clenching-Fist signs, smirking. "Now then – Autumn-Storm assures me you can be trusted. Do not disappoint her. Tell no one of this. We go to the Tower of Babel in two teams. I will be providing a distraction. Autumn-Storm will be securing the objective – and you will be helping her."

"He is no monster. Anyway, understood. What is the object in question?" Alptraum asks.

"That, even I do not know the whole of," Clenching-Fist signs. "It is an orb, covered in shell like the carapace of a shiny beetle, with tiny little legs and bits that couldn't possibly allow any real creature to move on its own. Let me show you a picture." He digs into his vest and pulls out a leather scroll case wrapped in strips of cloth, which he unwinds. He pulls out a rolled parchment that appears to be scavenged, for Alptraum briefly catches sight of what looks like a shopping list or some such on the reverse side, in a different color of ink. On the face that Clenching-Fist shows, however, there is a diagram of the tower, a map, a path, several notes, and a picture of a bizarre bug-like device that matches the description Clenching-Fist just gave.

"Interesting. Who wants it?" Alptraum then inquires, peering close and thinking back to all the odd items in the tower they were shown.

"The mystics of the Children of Vael," Clenching-Fist answers, pausing a moment to trace his fingers along the path and point out several details. He then continues, "I believe it has some magic in it, to hide things – much like we are being hidden from view now. This will help the Children of Vael keep their secrecy … and in return, they will assist us in the extraction of forty former slaves seeking to escape to Xenea."

"There is also money," Clenching-Fist adds, with a gauging look at Alptraum, "if that is not enough."

"The freedom of those enslaved means more than money. Life matters; coinage does not," Alptraum says firmly. "The Tower is guarded heavily, and penetration into the inner sections will not be easy. Are these passages you indicate unknown to the current residents?"

Clenching-Fist nods. "I know little of who the Children of Vael are, but I believe that some of them served in the court of the Sabaoth. They know of secret passages that the Sabaoth deliberately reserved for himself and his inner circle – and did not allow to be known even to the Guardians of the Tower. Once we use them, they will no longer be secret … but this is important enough to make that sacrifice. This is not even only about these forty slaves – but about establishing a partnership with the Children of Vael, and to demonstrate that we can be counted on. With their help, we will do much more for our brethren here in the city in the years to come."

"I agree with the hoped outcome, but I am a bit … concerned about the Children of the Vael – especially if they served the Sabaoth. Have you mentioned me to anyone who interacts with them? Or to one of them directly?" Alptraum asks.

"No names of any of those participating in this have been communicated to the Children of Vael," Clenching-Fist signs. "They need only know that we did it – not who, not how."

"Good. How sure are you that we can trust them to fulfill their part of the deal?" Alptraum asks next.

"Once we have what they seek, we will show them we have it. They will then help us with half of the forty. We will then give them the orb, and trust them to help us with the other half. If they cheat us, then at least we have delivered twenty people from bondage – and they lose any chance of dealing with us again. I see no reason why they should cheat us. But we are always aware of that possibility. My superiors have judged it worth the risk," Clenching-Fist signs.

"I lived in exile because of the Sabaoth. I'm not convinced of their good intentions, is all. Once you show it to them, what would stop them from taking it on the spot, then turning you all in for say, a reward?" Alptraum says. "Please understand, I'm just trying to be sure all the angles have been covered."

"Those that will make the exchange are accepting that risk. If they are captured, they will not let themselves be taken alive," Clenching-Fist signs solemnly. "That will not be our task, however."

Alptraum nods again. "Still, be wary. When does the event occur?" he asks.

"Within fifteen days," Clenching-Fist signs, "though we will need a means by which to contact you when the time comes. The exact time to move will depend upon factors beyond our control. There will be a distraction arranged to draw the General and most of his forces away from the Tower. The remaining forces will be even more vigilant, of course, but they do not know of our secret access."

"Autumn knows where to find me, and I work in the city part time helping do repair work. I can relay to her my schedule so I can be more easily contacted," Alptraum says, then adds, "Be wary of the General. I have a suspicion … What do you know about the person?"

"You wouldn't be the first to have suspicions about the General. I will sum up what I know by saying that he is to be avoided," Clenching-Fist signs, "though I hear that you were given a tour of the Tower's interior. That might come in handy."

"I was," Alptraum confirms. "There is someone there I want to speak to again, so I may go back soon. And are you absolutely certain the General is a he?"

Clenching-Fist grins. "Not at all. Can't say as it matters one way or the other to me."

"It could. Merely to confirm or refute a suspicion," Alptraum says.

Clenching-Fist nods. "Now then, feel free to look over this. I can't let you take it with you, but you'll be provided with more material later. Now, let me explain the map… " Clenching-Fist starts to point out the various symbols and details, showing which ones are doors, which ones are guard posts, various hazardous areas to avoid, and so forth.

Alptraum follows along with the explanation, nodding. Now and then he asks for a bit of clarification to insure that he fully understands the map and will better remember it.

"There," Clenching-Fist signs. "That will have to do for now. I'd advise against paying the Tower a visit until we've taken care of our mission. No sense in drawing any undue attention to yourself."

"All right. I'll keep that in mind. Am I supposed to meet anyone else today?" Alptraum asks.

The cheetah shakes his head, and starts rolling up the map/diagram. "If there is nothing else, I will be leaving now."

"Nothing comes to mind," Alptraum says, then adds, "Except perhaps one day you'll have to tell me how you escaped the Sea of Souls." Alptraum lets the statement end there and watches the cheetah for any sort of reaction. Finally, he adds with a grin, "Sorry, I remember where I saw someone like you before in a dream. It was pretty strange and stuck in my memory. Don't mind me."

Clenching-Fist frowns as he regards Alptraum. "All right. I won't." He puts away the scroll case, and picks up the lantern. He points to the stairs. "I trust you can find your way out." Then, the cheetah turns the corner, stooping and crouching to get past a fallen beam.

Alptraum watches the cheetah leave, lost in thought. He then turns and heads back up the stairs, thinking, "I really should get back to Phlagaea. She went to a lot of trouble to look good today, and I think it's for me. I feel like a heel for going off like this."

The lantern light soon dies off, as more rubble blocks the view of it. Alptraum's ears and his memory, however, help fill out the way back up to the surface – though his ears still register an area of nothingness just up at the top of the stairs, where some strange magic must be at work.

Alptraum spreads his wings and leaps into the air, flying upward to escape the magic zone. He looks around quickly as he does to, to make sure all's clear and to plot a route back to Phlagaea.

The darkness gives way to raucous noise and scattered lights, as Alptraum sees that the game is in full chaotic swing. Inside the massive cage, Fnerfs gallop back and forth, Eeee flit about and frequently collide, and Nagai climb along the walls with their coils. The whole spectacle seems to involve wrestling over a squirming spherical bug that seems incapable of moving on its own, and trying to rush with it to one side or the other. The objective is soon apparent, as a red-furred Yodhblakat triumphantly slams the bug-ball onto a sharp spike. It spews its liquid innards in a messy spray, and the Yodhblakat whoops gleefully even as she's showered by the goop. The crowd goes wild – but when Alptraum sees Phlagaea, she's just sitting atop her column, reaching into a bag of bugs and occasionally scooping them out and eating them, resting her chin on one hand, and looking utterly glum.

Alptraum wings his way back toward Phlagaea, care to avoid the playfield yet get back as fast as he can.

As Alptraum approaches, at first Phlagaea looks up angrily, as if to rebuke anyone who might challenge her, but then when she sees that it's Alptraum, her eyes widen momentarily, and her mouth – obscured partially by a gauzy veil – widens into a smile. "There you are! Just as well you didn't want any – There's hardly any left now!"

Alptraum grins and says, "Well, I still don't so they're all yours!" He swoops down and lands next to her. "You looked upset just a moment ago. That doesn't fit such a bea … " His ears flush red and he then quickly asks, "What's wrong?"

"Wrong? Nothing's wrong!" Phlagaea insists. "Actually, the game's quite exciting. We're tied!" Given how horribly the Yodhgorphat team seemed to be doing just a moment ago, it seems hard to believe.

Alptraum sits down next to the Yodhgorphat and looks around for some sort of scores posted. "You sure seemed pretty glum from a distance," Alptraum says, "I'll sorry I was gone so long. You went to a lot of trouble for me today and … " His voice then lowers some and he says, "You look really good. Thanks for inviting me along."

Phlagaea's ears perk up. "Oh! Well … ah … you look really good, too." As Alptraum looks for the scores, he can see bats on poles switching cards to show the new score: 7 to 7, Gorphat vs. Blakat. Meanwhile, another bug-ball has been delivered, and it's in the hands of the Yodhgorphat. They seem hard pressed to be coordinated enough to even pass the bug-ball to each other without dropping it, but the Yodhblakat seem suddenly possessed of great ineptitude, barely managing to avoid them. (In fact, not a once does Alptraum see any of the Yodhblakat touch any members of the Gorphat team. Perhaps this isn't a contact sport after all, though everything he had heard about it had indicated otherwise.)

The reason dawns on Alptraum and he grins. "They are doing good," Alptraum replies, looking over at Phlagaea and leaning back on his hands some. "How much longer does the game have to go?"

"I have no idea," Phlagaea admits. "This is my first game. She reaches under her veil to cram a few more bugs in her mouth, then digs around in the bag and comes up empty. She shakes the bag upside down, only letting loose a few spare legs. "Hopefully not much longer. The prices for food here are outrageous!"

"Ah, well, you'll just have to settle for my company and not food if it does last much longer," Alptraum says with a grin. He then looks out over the playing field, trying to follow the chaos.

"Another goal for Gorphat!" an announcer bellows, and bits of food go flying, tossed by rambunctious spectators.

Alptraum cheers right along with the rest of the spectators. "This is really weird, but what the heck. When in Babel… " he thinks.

Phlagaea hops up to her feet, screaming at the top of her lungs, and flapping her wings behind her, swinging one vial of glowing green goo around in a circle above her head, slung by a string, making a little green ring of light in the air.

Alptraum leans back so he can look up. He grins at the sight of Phlagaea cheering on her team.

So the game continues, back and forth, back and forth. If it weren't for all the ridiculous revelry of the audience and Phlagaea's outbursts every time the Gorphat team scores, the game would actually turn tedious. Generally, a simple rule seems to be followed: If Blakat has the ball, they keep it, and they score. If Gorphat has the ball, nobody is willing to touch them, and it just takes a little longer for them to score a goal. Finally, the end of the game is called – a tie! This seems to greatly disappoint a large sector of the audience, as a great many boos are called from both sides, but Phlagaea looks pleased.

Alptraum leans back, spreading his wings out, then forward for balance and cheers! He was expecting the Gorphat team to lose, so a tie is good. "Hey, your team tied! I have to admit, I was a bit worried at first, but," Alptraum says, looking over at Phlagaea.

"Hurrah! Oh, it's too bad we didn't win. If we did, we were going to break into the sacramental beetle-wine," Phlagaea says, looking for a moment disappointed, though she recovers from it soon enough.

"Ah, you'll win next time," Alptraum says assuredly. "For the first game, a tie against the Blakat is good!"

"Oh, they'll be having a fit!" Phlagaea squeaks gleefully, almost falling off the pillar in her excitement.

The Gorphat team members file out to their waiting sky palanquins, and a cluster of Yodhgorphat watching from the crowd rise up in a cloud of green and yellow, circling around the arena. As they pass nearby, one of them shouts out, "Phlagaea! To the Temple!"

Alptraum reaches out to steady Phlagaea and grins. "You seem to like the thought of that. I don't even know much about the… " he says, stopping after the Yodhgorphat fly by. "I guess you've got to go?"

Phlagaea sighs. "Yes – and as much as I'd love to drag you along, High Priestess Cessteria will be there … and she would not approve. I'll … see you later?" she adds hopefully.

"Avralie, I doubt she would approve of me. But yes, I hope to see you later," Alptraum says with a smile. "Take care. I'm pretty sure I can find my way from here."

Phlagaea laughs, and leaps to the air, snapping out her wings, and soaring after her sisters. "Hail Gorphat!" she shrieks, joining the chorus, leaving Alptraum alone on the pillar.

Alptraum watches her fly off, hair moving now and then in the occasional breeze. He claw-combs his hair back out of his face and looks around the crowd. "Maybe I should let the crowds die down before I fly out of here. I don't need to attract any attention," Alptraum mutters.

The chaos continues to run rampant for some time, though most of the audience makes haste to fly off, especially before any waves of Yodhblakat can fly past them. (It seems that the Yodhblakat are more than a little disappointed in the outcome of the game, and are more inclined than usual to take the time to harass random audience-members to vent their frustrations.) A majority of those remaining are inebriated, and far more amenable to parting with alcoholic beverages and candied bugs to depressed and angry Priestesses of Madness. It's probably a good thing that what's left of the arena is made of stone – with this rowdy of a bunch, if it were possible to tear it up any more, it would probably happen.

Alptraum decides to kneel down as best he can and stay out of the view of the Yodhblakat. "Better if they don't see me," he thinks. "Don't know if they'd do anything, but considering my appearance… " He then looks around for a flight route out that won't have him crossing their paths.

For a moment, Alptraum has a terrible feeling of being watched … but none of the Yodhblakat go out of their way to hassle him, fortunately. Things start to die down, and several of the lights burn out, with no one remaining to keep adding oil except for the scattered drunken parties still carrying on at the far corners of the arena.

A rakhtor flies up from near the vicinity of the statue of Rugharo, quietly beating its wings as it ascends toward broken glimpses of the Procession peeking between the towers far above.

Alptraum extends his wings and takes to the air, curious as to where that creature is going. Better keep a safe distance back, eh? Let's just see roughly where it's going, then head on home. Sounds like a good idea, right Traum? You know what happens when you have "good idea," he thinks, stopping that train of thought there. He wings upward, after the beast.

The rakhtor continues its ascent, just as slowly and casually, circling over an updraft, then beating its wings again as it breaks through to the tops of the towers, and turns toward a southeasterly course.

Alptraum follows along a distance back. He squints, trying to make out if there are any riders, and who they might be.

Even though Alptraum is pretty sure he should have a clear view, what with the Procession light and a cloudless night, he can't seem to make out any real details of the rider – or the bird, for that matter. It just looks sort of … fuzzy.

Alptraum wings a bit harder, trying to make sure he can continue to follow this thing. "Is this that little mage, perhaps? Some sort of distortion spell? A spy for the Tower, maybe? I'd just better see where this person is going." Alptraum decides.

Along the way, the rakhtor makes several twists and turns, occasionally ducking down low beneath the tops of the towers, and occasionally coming back out again, but eventually its ultimate destination is unmistakable: the Mages' Guild Hall of Babel. The rakhtor circles the tower, then alights upon one of the suspended platforms, where some cloaked attendants wait to take the bird to a kennel of other rakhtors.

Alptraum eases his wings back and calls out. "Rorschach, that you?" he shouts.

A short shadowy figure near the rakhtor suddenly freezes. "Who – who's there?" he calls out, while the others – apparently unconcerned – lead the rakhtor quickly to the kennel.

"It's Alptraum!" Alptraum replies. "Don't you remember me from the party?"

"Ohhhh!" the unicorn calls back out. "Hey, could you land, or something, so we're not yelling out across the city? It's kind of late, and I don't want to wake anybody up. It's bad public relations!"

Alptraum glides toward the tower, then moments later alights upon the platform. "No problem. I thought that was you I saw at the game," Alptraum says, grinning. "Boy, that was odd."

"You saw me? At the game?" The unicorn's eyes go wide, and he gulps. "Sunspots! I really blew it! Please don't go telling anyone. I'm supposed to be sneaky."

"Yeah, I saw you. What were you doing? Looked like some sort of magic. Why the blindfold?" Alptraum asks.

The unicorn's jaw drops. "That's impossible! Oh, woe!" He puts his hands to his head melodramatically. In a more hushed tone, he continues, "Nobody should have even noticed the place except anyone who was specifically supposed to be there! And I don't even know who that was because I was supposed to wear a blindfold to maintain client privacy! If you saw anyone there, don't tell anyone! I don't know what it was about, but they wanted absolute secrecy, and if some sort of word leaks out … well then, that's not very secret!"

"Oh! Well, then I won't mention it to anyone else. Someone hired you? That's weird. Any clue who they were? Or can you not tell me that?" Alptraum asks. "And sorry, but the gypsy in me is always curious."

"I'm not supposed to have any clue who they are," the unicorn says. "I was hired through an intermediary. Client confidentiality. Very important for Shadow mages. So, I can't tell you any more than that, and if you ask me again, I just won't tell you, because I'm a lousy liar, and I might inadvertently reveal something if I tried to cleverly omit certain details to deliberately mislead you."

Alptraum snaps his fingers. "Drat. Ah well," he replies, shrugging. "If you can't tell me about that … hm. Say, you've been around Babel a while, right? Know much about the General?"

"The General?" Rory repeats. "Uhm … let's see… He's in charge of an army, right?"

"The one currently in residence in the Tower," Alptraum prompts.

"Which one?" Rory asks.

Alptraum says, "The Tower of Babel," Alptraum replies."

"Ohhhhhh! Wow. Yeah, that'd be pretty important," Rory says. "Uhm, sorry, no, I don't really know much about that, except that the Tower of Babel is, you know, really really incredibly old, and nobody's allowed inside, and it's so well fortified with anti-magic shielding that it even survived the Boomer."

"You know," Rory adds, "I heard that back when the Dream Realm was still active, there were actually some Royal Babelite Mages inside the Tower of Babel, doing this really big ritual that was at the center of making the Dream Realm real! All the Sifran crystal in the Tower shielded them from outside scrying and influences."

"Oh well, had to ask," Alptraum says, then perks up. "Say! Are there any mages here good at examining people? I've been told once that they sensed power in me, but wouldn't tell me anything more. I've been thinking they're just pulling my leg, like I used to do to Hexen. Why once I kept hemming up his pants and told him he must be growing. Well, he caught on after one pant leg got longer than the other. He didn't believe that he was growling lopsided … " He then blinks as what Rory said registers and replies, "Ah, the Dream Ritual. It affected me too. I'm glad it's over with."

"Well, yes. What sort of examination? I suppose you'd want a Scrying mage – a real one that is, though. I'm only an Apprentice in Scrying Magic – and in Life Magic, though I can do rituals and all. Shadow Magic is my specialty, and that's for hiding things, not finding them out," the unicorn says.

"That's just it. I don't know what kind of examination," Alptraum says, rubbing his neck. "At one point, I was called the child of a foreign god, and that this weird priestess wanted the power within me. She fed off the life of others. It was freaky. I watched her kill someone. My friend saved me barely in time."

"Oh. That's terrible! But sometimes you get called strange things around here. Why, Dinahzadze keeps calling me the Messenger of the Sisters," Rory says. "I've got to find out what she means by that. I don't know if that's a polite title, or whether it means I'm supposed to be an angel from Paradise, or what. I really don't want to disappoint her, but those kind of titles make me nervous. You know – someone gives you this big praise and all that, but then it's like you suddenly have to live up to these big expectations, or it all comes crashing down – KABOOM!" He waves his floppy sleeves up in the air for dramatic effect.

"Avralie, tell me about it. Want to know a secret about me?" Alptraum asks.

"No no no! No secrets! Client confidentiality! And when it's not that, I'm lousy at keeping secrets – when I'm not using magic to do the job, that is," Rory quickly amends.

"Well, all I'll say is then that my birth was … unique," Alptraum says with a shrug. "I've been trying to get to the bottom of it. Not that I have any money to pay anyone, anyway. Ah well."

"Well," Rory says, looking embarrassed, "I kind of have to keep a limit on how much 'charity work' I do. You see, if I do things for free, then it cuts into the business for other Shadow mages who charge for their work. So … I wouldn't really be of much help unless it was a real emergency or something. Or just goofing off with cantrips and shadow plays and stuff."

Alptraum shrugs. "Don't worry about it. I doubt anyone can answer the question, anyway," he replies. "Anyway, I should probably be going. Sorry for surprising you like that. Of course, I can't remember where I saw you that prompted me to stop by. Take care of yourself, Rorschach"

"Oh! Well! Don't try too hard to remember, then!" Rory grins and waves. "I'm just fine with that. You take care, too! Byeeeee!"

"Try what?" Alptraum says with a grin, then spreads his wings and goes airborne. He makes a lazy arc to fly back towards Mount Sunala. Better get home, anyway. It's getting late, Alptraum thinks.