You see it in your dreams... Or in visions, if you're not prone to such mortal frailty. In the datastream, if you commune with the Digital Web or the Technocratic networks. The city of New York, twisting and warping underneath the horrific gravity of impossible forces. Owls gather on Park Row, sleepless as their home town, cruel as laughter at a funeral.

Their eyes follow you, no matter where you go... No matter where you are. You dream in Central Park, and they see you. You rest in the Technocratic Construct... They see you. Hungry gazes, patient but malevolent. Their feathers drift like autumn leaves upon the wind, molted as they change and adapt to the mutating city...

But the owls aren't the worst of it. The *screams* from across the Greenpoint Bridge, the sickening way your viewpoint is dragged against your will to the people lining up to be drowned in Newton Creek in some mockery of baptism... That's worse.

But the most terrible aspect of all is that the screams are not of terror. As the shuffling Masses are led to the slaughter, they find ecstatic release... Or something like it. The skyline twists once more, the earth shakes and shatters... Your perspective, suspended without form in horrible, unblinking attention, reading the points of data as they create a picture no one would want to see, hearing whispers from the spirits and your ancestors describing the growing pit...

No. Not just one pit. The world gives way at several points to the north and south of Manhattan, plummeting and swirling down into... Something. Something you don't want to understand, even for all the curiosity of an Awakened or Enlightened mind. Butterflies of blood splash and flutter from the yawning chasms, readouts describe casualties mounting and ascribe coordinates to them, familiars and Avatars describe the carnage... As lines are drawn between the consuming points of madness. Describing... Something. (Int+Esoterica diff 8 or Occult diff 9, threshold 3 and a WP point to even be able to contemplate the symbol).

While this abominable work continues, lesser streams of more muted butterflies, less emphasized data, whispers describe a lunatic cobweb of much more subtle suffering... The Masses, the beasts, even the insects begin to be crushed and molded by great, shadowy hands, flesh and bone like putty.

You try to look upon the one who is responsible... For surely it must be this great power... Whether from fear, righteous indignation, sheer instinctive hatred or faith in your power, you look. You observe. You listen. And as your senses and diagnostics and auguries begin to understand... You wake. Screaming.

The lull in the war for New York City has come to an end... And as each of you tastes the bitterness of adrenaline or the soothing chemical bliss of numbing it away, you cannot help but feel the weight of the world settling upon your shoulders.

Someone must try to turn the tide in truth, to change the course of this ocean of madness.

well that also goes for my mage too, atleast Matti gave it a shot.

theres Jyrik's roll, as its what I figured, neither of them would be able to make sense of it.

Chemical dependencies keep the worst of the nightmares abated. Peyton turns to her Mentor, who grumbles and gruffs and brushes the girl aside to deal with his own demons.

A newly Awakened Mage with little understanding, Peyton takes to the streets, quite literally. She attempts to ... erm... well... notice something amiss. It seemed a marvelous idea when she'd first gotten high.

She meanders the city streets listening to a playlist that is likely more distracting than not.

It wasn't the first time Aster had awakened in a cold sweat. Rather than try to bring it to someone else's attention she stared at the ceiling, eyes wide. She holds her dog tags in her left hand, clenching and unclenching her finger around them, squeezing tightly until the metal beads leave imprints in her flesh. The pain cut through her grogginess like a knife, swiftly bringing her to full wakefulness.

It didn't make sense. What was that symbol? Aster kept waiting for a flash of Genius, some hidden insight that would make sense of what she had witnessed, but nothing came to mind. Still, she had to face facts. What she had seen did remind her of something. Something malign and otherworldly. Too horrible to stare at directly lest its meaning be seared directly into her retinas.

It could mean only one thing. It wouldn't be long before Asteria Nikos would face the enemies of mankind again. All she had to do now was figure out who they were this time. She'd felt some of that weight bear down on her before, but this time she felt like she was being crushed under the pressure.

Aster reached out in the darkness of her room to grasp the cold, familiar metal of her sidearm and rolled out of bed. A cold shower to clear the mind, then Aster would contact Administration to see what they made of this. Someone had to have answers.

The symbol throbs behind your eyes. It works its way into the logic of your calculations. Numerical tics that create minor, irritating errors. The numbers 13 and 19 begin to seem more common in waking speech overheard, or written on walls and sidewalks. Whether you discovered deeper knowledge or not, you know that the first moves of this new offensive have begun to hit.

Park Row. The Woolworth Building. It begins. It ends. It has already happened. It's not too late.

You need to speak with someone.

The screams were more than just piercing to his ears, he could feel the warmth of their breathe on the back of his neck. They seemed to meddle and mix with the screams from his past. He sits up from his bed, body beaded with sweat. He stumbles out of bed, drawn to a unique looking laptop rig. The screen lights up helping him find the chair and sit down.

"I'm detecting an elevated heartbeat and physical signs of distress. Did you have another dream... nightmare?"

Clu rubs the back of his neck, nodding at first then sighing and leans over typing on the keyboard.

"Yeah, except this one was different. It wasn't... the research center. It was just... fucking weird. It was horrible Yori... honestly is there some new modular horror subroutine you're developing for our VR landscaping toolbox? If you are I would appreciate not being your guinee pig, at least not without notice or even permission..."

There was a pause. Then from the corner of his eyes a holographic woman materializes like a scene from star trek. Clu hangs his head forward knowing he's not going to be able to just go back to sleep. This is gonna be one of those "Let's have a talk" moments.

"I deduce a 98% probability that discussing this in further detail will be of great positive benefit to you. Therefore, we need to talk."

Clu leans back in his desk chair like an "overwhelmed" teenager about to throw a tantrum.

"C'mon... I haven't even started debugging the damn labyrinth from the 4th level of this damn new DLC we're pushing out ... two weeks... two weeks Yori. You refused to help remember... So I'm doing this damn debug alone."

"I recall you once referred to your previous employment doing such code analysis, as being a code monkey. This is not acceptable. I am not a code monkey. You still have not apologized for even asking if I would lower myself to do something so..."

Clu leans forward and stares at Yori interjecting.

"Ok, I'm sorry you're right. You are not a code monkey. You're a mother hen. A calculatingly cold and nurturing borderline frigid... momma hen"

"Apology accepted undisciplined ignorant unappreciative egg head, that I am attempting to hatch. Designation and correlation acceptable. Now about this dream.

Yori extends her hands and small window screens float before him. He's in awe and also intrigued by a replay of his dreams. Seeing them this way helped his analytical mind work. Emotion was pulled away by being able to not experience but witness the visuals.

"Yori, we talked about this. I am not comfortable with you watching my dreams. It's borderline creepy..."

There was no response. Then there were some beeps.

"Much is scrambled. There was a powersurge which caused this feedback brute forcing through your firewalls and worming into your subconscious dream state. I could go into further detail but I am afraid it is currently beyond your comprehension. What is important to note Clu, is this is big, and this could be dangerous."

Clu nods a bit and sighs cracking his neck. Finally he clears his throat and looks to Yori.

"Ok, so we should get word out to people. Let them know we may have stumbled unto something. Warn people... help you know."

Yori did not seem amused or pleased with his response.

"My intentions are to convince you to leave this city for... perhaps five years and we will then analyze further before deciding if it is safe to return. I say this so you understand precisely... this is beyond your lone capabilities to manage."

Clu rolls his eyes.

"Yeah no that's not happening Yori, this isn't like the research center where running because I was a kid was the right move. I'm not a kid anymore... and I know its beyond my lone hands, why do you think I want to get the word to others. You're the one always going on about maintaining the construct... logical structured order... improve if you can but do not stray from the construct. Well this looks like fucking straying from the construct doesn't it? I mean unless hell on earth was part of the new upgrade to the construct?"

"No, hell on earth is not a construct upgrade, but my responsibility and prime directive is your safety."

Clu pauses.

"I thought your prime directive was you support my decisions because it must be my choice and choice only to merge with the construct (awaken)... supporting directive was to keep me alive to rebuild the construct."

"That is correct."

Clu nods slowly, she's speaking shorter bursts and less words. He's got something on her.

"So me deciding to help and contact others, is my choice on my path to merging with the construct and you must support me on this correct?"

"That is correct."

"Excellent lets analyze these images. Can you help me with this weird ... I don't know... symbol... icon... have no clue what that is. Dig up info then see about sending an encrypted email to local chantry people... I'm sure I never presented myself. I think I sent a fruit basket... not sure."

Yori looks at Clu a moment before evaporating as quick as she appeared.

"I will attempt to assist with this knowledge that is beyond your... capabilities. I must inform you Clu, I am not pleased with your rash decisions. I am not pleased at all."

Clu pauses for a bit. Ok that weird sentient woman had the combined way of making someone feel safe and cared for yet afraid at the same time. As he looks back go his Trinary and "plugs in" he is logged into his DOJO server, kneeling like a digital samurai oiling his blade. Clu meditates, silencing the void and lisening for Yori's digital buzz. It was a constant melodic tick tip tot tot, tick tip tot tot. It resonates giving part of his mind to her.

[Using Dreams 2 for Escoterica]

(OOC note: Those of you with 1+ suxx may, if you come across someone else with partial knowledge, be able to cobble together the whole picture. The Union Underground bar might be a good place to start seeing who else had that dream)