In The Beginning...

It had been a typical day in Formosa-- as typical a day in a multidimensional nexus can be. The merchants squabbled with customers in dozens of different languages, the gondolas carried busy, important people across the islands, and the shining dirigibles crossed the firmament relentlessly. As night-time settled, the streets became more seren- though never completely inactive- and most Alefians retired to their homes- those who had them- and visitors from other worlds sought for lodging.

Under the august archway that served as the entrance to the University, a man who seemed to be in his forties was addressing a gaggle of young women who milled about his figure with certain excitement. And, indeed, what figure it was! Clad in a military uniform one might see in Germany, Circa late 1700s. He was slender and elegant, and his slick black hair under a wide-brimmed, plumed hat, and tied back in a rather curious-looking thin, braided ponytail that seemed to defy the laws of physics as it remained suspended in mid-air behind him, describing a curious curve.

"... and unbeknownst to my captor, I had already managed to secure the aid of his most becoming wife, Persephone. With the aid of a Portuguese-English phrasebook, a fine barrell of pickled cherries and a herd of hollow cows, I eventually made my way out of the Underworld. And that, my dear ladies, is only one of the many times I met my death. It is something I would not be hasty to recommend to anyone, much less such beauteous damsels." At this, the man makes a pause to dig a hand into his military jacket and produces several roses, which he begins to hand out to the young women. "Specially such beautiful ones who remind me of Catherine The Great, Empress of Russia, whose hand in marriage I once had the honor to decline."

Apart from the narrator and the group of women is an anthropomorphic tiger clad in only a vest and some trousers, with a sword hanging by his side. By the bored expression on his face, it is evident that he has heard this story many, many times.

"Maus, I said!" The man's voice startles the tiger and, as he looks in the direction of the voice, he sees the man looking at him. "Did you not hear me? I said 'it would be best, Maus, for you to go to the Inn and tell them I am expecting company for dinner- sixteen to be precise.'" The man smiles at the assembled ladies and his smile almost shines with his undeniable charm.

"Of course, Baron..." Maus says as he stops leaning against the wall, "Right away, Baron!"

As the tiger begins to walk away from the Baron, he ovehears parts of the conversation...

"Tell us, Dear Baron," interjects one of the ladies, "About that time and the rare circumstances that led you to fight a duel with yourself-- to the death? We never grow tired of hearing it!" The women around him echo her enthusiasm with murmurs and whispers.

The Baron, handing the Alefian masked woman a rose, bows and says "Why, of course my dear lady. That was back in the day when I had my extraordinary servant, Adolphus, with me-- he could run around the world in less than an hour... unfortunately nowadays one can't count on having extraordinary servants any longer..."

The tiger was sure he didn't deserve that kind of treatment. It was true that his tenure with The Baron had been, perhaps, not as exciting for the famous nobleman as some of his other servants had made it-- but, Maus believed, this was purely because of his agreement to be a Guest Lecturer at the University. He had hired Maus for his practical and theoretical knowledge of magic and the arcane arts- even if he could no longer practice them- but so far his greatest adventure had been fetching wine to wet his master's throat during the many hours of storytelling.

As the tiger walked down the labyrinthine alleyways that comprised the island the University was in, he felt a certain sense of uneasiness permeate the air around him. Although he couldn't tell for sure, he was certain that something strange was afoot, yet it was intangible and vague, far too vague to discern. Ahead of him the alley finally gave way to a quaint plaza that overlooked one of the major canals. This was one of the many points around the city where steam ships (known as vaporetti- vaporetto being the singular) ferried people from one island to another adjacent one. "I guess I should be thankful he lives near the university and not on the other side of the city!" Maus says to himself with a certain optimism as he walks barefoot across the cobblestones. In the distance he can see the vaporetto beginning to approach this shore.
"Five, ten minutes and it'll be here." He says, putting his hands inside his trouser pockets and whistling quietly. The Piazza, normally a bustle of activity with its many restaurants and eateries, is unusually quiet...

MAUS
Just as the tiger stops at the pier for the vaporetto, a tall figure seems to detach itself from the shadows of the alleyway and walk slowly towards the Piazza. The figure is garbed like an Alefian, with a long black cloak obscuring most of the garb, except that it is black as well. A black wide-brimmed hat covers the figure's head, and the only contrast comes from the bone-white mask that covers the face-- it is not very elaborate at all and it is simply a depiction of general features: hollow eyes, an expressionless mouth and a nose.

The figure moves quietly and its boots do not echo on the paved stones as normal boots would. Unless Maus had a reason to look back, he would not notice the approach at all.

EVERYBODY:

THIS is where the adventure begins! Write yourselves into this story in any way you want to--- perhaps you're the reason Maus will look back, or perhaps you are somewhere else in the city, taking care of your own business? Let your imagination roll. We're starting this general thread today and each one of your entries will receive a Narrator post when appropriate. Explore the city, interact with each other, and be prepared to be caught up in the overarching plot. But most importantly of all, have fun.

A run-down apartment several alleyways away from the vaporetto pier

With a sigh, he tipped the glass backward to his mouth, feeling a sweet and refreshing coolness slide across his taste buds. He paused for a moment, letting the beverage linger on his tongue...and then swallowed, chasing the liquid down his throat and quenching his thirst for the time being. As the remaining echoes of the drink's rich, sweet flavor danced across his tongue, he let his sapphire eyes wander to the glass' remaining contents--a deep indigo juice distilled from a rare breed of berry. Known to most as Darkmoon Draft, only a meager amount of it remained, a translucent film of dark liquid that barely coated the bottom of the glass.

Welcome to my life, he thought with irony. Drained to the dregs, and waiting for a fresh draught that may never come.

Were anyone to walk through the door and the foyer, they would see a living room in mild disarray, illuminated by the sun-rays streaming through the window...and by the ethereal light emanating from a set of Oriental paper lanterns, each one producing white-glowing flames with multicolored cores. On a coffee table, a series of partially-written manuscripts had been scattered--to the curious reader, they would prove to be fiction of various sorts; some were straight-out fantasy, while others involved a sci-fi background. Apart from a fireplace, the table, a nearby chair, and a few wall hangings with Japanese script, the living room was relatively Spartan in nature—the walls were plain, and the floor was of simple wood. A simple, humble place…but cozy enough for someone who just wanted a little peace. And the figure slumped in the armchair was such a person.

The mysterious silver-white radiance from the lanterns, speckled with motes of colored light, fell across a member of those colloquially known as “the furry community”—in this case, a tomcat with golden-hued fur, interrupted only by the mop of chestnut hair that fell partly over eyes like sapphires. His build was toned and athletic, suggesting that either he had a steady exercise routine…or that, perhaps, circumstances of whatever sort had honed him into the sort of physical condition that never truly went away. His attire shared the same Oriental motif present in the lanterns and wall hangings—his torso was hugged by a canary-yellow Chinese vest with a Yin-Yang symbol on its back; simple black trousers were secured by a belt of sable cloth; and emerald-hued gauntlets adorned his forearms. Those who knew him would also be looking for a forest-green cape and coolie hat—both of which were presently draped over the chair and coffee table, respectively. The haphazard manner in which they had been set aside suggested an air of weariness—and though the attitude was mirrored in the way the golden-furred tomcat was slouched in his chair, anyone who got close enough to look in his eyes would detect that the sense of exhaustion was as much spiritual as it was physical…the mark of a world-weary traveler.

He’d been a hero, once—Sovan Kawasagi, host to a celestial spirit and a vagabond. His travels had taken him across the multiverse, sending him to a number of places—both as a background witness, and as an active participant. Along the way, he’d met a number of characters as colorful as himself…some of whom, he’d grown rather attached to. And the adventures they’d had together were amazing—some of the best memories he’d ever had. Especially some of his experiences in the ethereal otherworld known as the Napping Cat’s Dream.

But time had seen fit to send Sovan down a separate path from many of those peers…and, over time, had turned him into the remaining witnesses after a number of the “Stories” he’d recently frequented came to their ends. The familiar worlds went the way of the Napping Cat’s Dream—in one way or another, circumstances had dictated to him leaving, to seek adventure elsewhere. And worse…time after time, he had been exposed to blatant selfishness, mistrust, and injustice of the sort that he could not easily fight. Battle after battle…trial after trial…finally, after so many experiences—so many comrades and worlds faded into the mists of memory—Sovan had finally had enough. He needed a vacation. A long vacation. One that he wasn’t certain if he’d ever come back from.

Rather, he suspected that deep down, he intended not to.

And thus had his path brought him to Alef, where he’d managed to find work as an author—refreshingly, the residents of this dimension seemed to hold the various creative arts in high esteem. And, after all of his adventures, Sovan had a wealth of exotic elements to employ into his works…along with a certain degree of writer’s block that made completing them a challenge all its own. And yet, he’d managed to keep his head above the proverbial waters…it wasn’t a BAD life he’d found, here, after all.

Even so, after all the darkness and selfishness that he’d been exposed to, Sovan wondered if he’d ever be the same Psychadelic Avatar that had once gleefully forged into the next new adventure alongside his friends—if he’d ever regain that sense of optimistic heroism that had been the core of his being. In its place, the waters of his spirit had been muddied a sense of deep weariness…and on his worse days, bitterness. Sometimes, it got so bad that he had to wonder if perhaps the bond between himself and his spirit familiar—the Stardust Dragon—had been affected, at all. Of course, it seemed that the ethereal spirit still lingered—both in the white-laquered katana that hung sheathed over the mantelpiece, and within him. Sometimes, though Sovan wondered if it was just an echo—if the Stardust Dragon had moved on, displeased with the darkness that had begun to cling to the edges of his personality.

As he swirled the glass around, watching the remaining traces of Darkmoon Draft swirl around the bottom, Sovan Kawasagi let out a sigh. What he wouldn’t give to wind the clock back—to go back to a time when everything was so much brighter…

The air above the quaint piazza begins to ripple and shimmer, not unlike a heat mirage in the desert. The firmament is suddenly pushed aside as a wild portal opens and a black coated figure on fire drops through the hole, into a fountain with a loud splash. Steam rises suddenly obscuring the view around the fountain.

A few seconds later coughing can be heard and loud grumbling issues from the steam. "Crazy NPC quest giver! Just a few Kobolds in that sewer eh! Bloody hell! Giant pink gelatinous cubes sure aren't Kobolds!! Almost bit the big one that time, good thing I can open random portals....but dammit there goes my gold reward....again."

As the steam begins to clear; anyone watching will see a very wet gray furry Mouse humanoid sitting in waist deep water in the fountain. Dribbles and small chunks of what looks like firm pink jello is evaporating off his clothes and fur. From the expression on his face, he seems quite miffed at the moment.