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Colin's dreams have been more disjointed than normal lately.  He's come to terms with riding them out, seeing where they lead.  But some nights it's hard.  Thursday night he finds himself sitting somewhere, a tent maybe?  There are little kids here, and ladies are painting their faces.  He suddenly realizes it's the county fair.  He walked past the face painting tent.  An wrinkled old man is thumping Colin on the back of the head until he looks at him.  The old man's lips move, but Colin doesn't hear anything, no sound at all save the voices of the fair around him.  The old man takes a paint crayon from the table next to him and begins to draw on Colin's arms.  As he does Colin sees that the fractured tattoo of the Eye is gone.  Instead, his outer forearms are covered in the symbols the wrinkled old man draws there.  The old man carefully draws three characters on each arm.  All different.  He looks up at Colin again, a smile touching his leathery lips.  He moves his mouth again, but Colin doesn't hear anything.  Then he takes a can of gas from the table, a can of gas Colin was certain wasn't there before.  And begins to pour it all over himself.  When he's done he sits down and looks at Colin.  It's then Colin realizes that he has his lighter in his hand.  The lighter with the emblem of his father's ship.  Colin knows what is expected of him.  There is a moment of hesitation, and then he opens the lighter, and flicks his thumb across the striker wheel, bringing the flame to life.  Colin looks up and sees the old man smiling, and this time when his lips move Colin hears what he says, "Faith."  Then Colin snaps his wrist, tossing the lighter into the man's lap. 

Colin sits bold upright in bed, a sweat covering his body and a searing pain in his arms like they're on fire.

Colin clenches his teeth. He tries to force himself to stand the pain but it's even more difficult forcing himself from worrying about the vision. There's a message in this for him, and it's not over yet.
He bits his lower lips, and at least waits for the pain to subside. He takes long, slow breaths, and suffers through this new branding. The only thing that escapes the tight grip he had on his thoughts is about the Eye. It's been part of him for quite some time, and he can't help but wonder how his life is going to be without it.

In the dim light of his room Colin suffers through the pain, and then there is a soft glow from the characters on his arms, red to white then the glow fades and with it the pain.

Only when he's sure it's over, Colin looks at his arms. If it's necessary he uses the mirror or even the camera. Actually, he tries to take some good pics of the new tattoos anyway, in case he needs to send them to Donnie via mail.

And he has several glasses of water, once he's sure his hands won't tremble too much. He looks for his father's lighter as well, its cold, metallic feel against his skin comforts him and he starts thinking about the dream.

Who is that man? I'm sure he was meaning well, he wanted to help me, and he needed me to help him be reborn. The fire wasn't something bad for him. He was smiling, he was ready for it, and I remember noticing the phoenix on my lighter. I don't know why I couldn't hear him talk. It looked like I was important, but all I have is 'faith'. I wonder... I got the eye just before it was needed. They gave it to me so I could be prepared to face that demon. Maybe this new tattoos mean there's another challenge ahead, and to rise above it I'll have to have faith as well. It kind of makes sense. Ok, let's see what these new babies mean.

He turns on his computer and goes pour himself some coffee, then start researching the new symbols.

OOC: is the eye on my shoulder still there?

The characters, six in all, are not in any of the usual places you've gone to look for native American symbols or magical symbols.  they look like tattoos, easily visible in normal light.  When you look at them with your Ghost Site you see them glow, and they look like steam or thin wisps of smoke are rising off of them slowly.  There are three characters on each arm, and with no idea what they are you're not entirely sure how they're oriented.

OOC: Yes, that eye is still there.

Colin smiles.
Ok, I bet this is going to be interesting - he says to his spiritual guide - And I wouldn't be surprised if I was supposed to figure it out just at the right moment. On the other hand, I'm supposed to be myself, so I'm gonna behave as usual, and that means applying my curiosity to this new challenge as well. Do you have something to say?

He sends he pics to Donnie and, if he has a way to do it, to Bobby as well. He starts drawing, trying to fix the details of his dream while they're still vivid in his mind. He also copies the symbols on a slip of paper he intends to send to Blaire.
Then he checks, just in case, when is the county fair supposed to be held.

And following a strange intuition as well, he looks for a church. He has no particular church in mind, he lets his instinct take over. He'd like to have a talk with someone about faith.

Donnie blearily sits up from bed, wiping drool from one side of his face. Dammit, fell asleep reading again.

He looks around his dimly lit room, trying to remember what woke him. His phone blurbles at him again, and he grabs it off the nightstand next his bed. Late night email from Colin? He has set his email account to send him notification if he received an email from certain people. Colin was one of them.

Yawning hugely, he stumbles over to his desk and wiggles the mouse to wake the screen up. When the room is filled with the soft glow of his dragon-background computer screen, he pulls up his email and takes a look at the pics Colin sent him. Hmm..

To: Crow, Colin
From: Drgnboy1

New tattoos? You woke with them? You are gonna be a walking mystical billboard by the time you're 30. I'll research.

He starts crossreferencing the symbols with his college-level textbooks, manuals, and grimoires.

Researching Colin's tats (1d20+12=13) (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/1812672/)

Muzzy headed, his efforts prove futile as he drifts back off to sleep in his captain's chair (http://www.ultimategamechair.com/)..

OOC: Darren, have you got a picture for these symbols yet?

Do as your nature dictates.


OOC: The county fair is in Summer, usually August.  (Technically well after the game will end since it will only run until the end of the school year, perhaps a little into summer but certainly not til the County Fair.)



Colin is almost getting the hang of not paying attention to where he's going.  And getting where he needs to be.

The El stop is like any other, except he notices the only other passenger is a waitress, obviously headed home from a long day.  He normally wouldn't pay attention, except that the little bird tattoo on her left hand looks familiar.  He steps off the train as well.  In Chicago, late at night, when a woman is followed from a train this is usually a bad thing, and they get nervous.  She sees Colin and smiles, and continues on her way.  Most people just don't feel threatened by him.

On the street he bundles his coat around him and starts off in a direction.  And it's not long before he's walked into one of the less than safe neighborhoods.  He gets eyed by a few of the locals.  Night Owls that prey on people, but none of them makes a move on the slim boy making his way along the dark streets.  They see something in his eyes when he looks their way and smiles, something that makes them think twice before committing mayhem.  Some people just feel threatened by him.

He stops to let a newspaper delivery truck round the corner, looking up from his study of the sidewalk.  As the truck passes he can see it ahead.  The towering old church with it's cathedral like design.  The Church of St. Michael.

Colin grins.
Hehe. Thank you.

Since he's quite awake, he gets dressed, leaves a note for his mom and heads out. He still needs to cool down a bit, the pain in the arms a dull throb now.


Wow - Colin says to himself, and regrets not taking the camera with himself. He walks to the door, listening to the echo of his steps in the damp street.
St. Michael. The angel who struck the devil down from heaven, according to some. Also, the patron saint of policemen. Chris has a little medal with him, if memory serves me.

The door, unsurprisingly, opens with a creak. Colin smiles slightly and steps in.

The door opens as Colin approaches it.  The building giving him admittance well after the hours it would normally be locked, as though it had been expecting him.  It's creaking echoes across the vast cavernous space, and the light shining out to greet him. 

As he crosses the threshold Colin can see the tattoos on his arms light up.  They begin to shed ghost light, as if he were looking at them with his own magical vision.

As he gets closer to the front of the room he sees a young man, fastening a colar and pulling on a coat, "Yes may I...."  he stops.  His voice and his feet both stilled by the site of Colin.  He stares in awe at the Ghost Light leaking off the young man.  "I'll get Father Donovan."  he says, turning to run off.

Colin blinks. This is unexpected. What kind of place is this, where magic comes so quickly to the surface? He looks around, trying to get a 'feel' of the room, so see what's hidden. If his tattoos shine here, what more is there to be seen with the ghost sight? He wonders what the young priest was doing, and why he ran away so fast.

Did I scare him?

Some are ready for the unexpected.  Some merely know who is.

The long pillars along the edges of the room are painted with arcane wards.  They light up to Colin's Ghost Site, and he can tell they're old, laid down when the church itself was constructed.

A few minutes later an older man came in with the younger priest.  He had graying hair and eyes that seemed to take in every detail as the pair moved across the space towards Colin.  The older man had not bothered to fully dress, but wore the collar of his vestments under his flannel robe.  He smiled and extended a hand towards Colin in greeting.  "Welcome to the church of St. Michael.  I'm Father Patrick Donovan."

Colin shakes his hand. "I'm Colin Crow, and I'm sorry, I mean, I didn't want to disturb. I just... Well, I thought of looking for a church, and the next thing I know is that I'm out into this street in the middle of the night, and I find this place."

He looks down at the light coming from his arms and shoulder.

"Maybe I should give some explanation."

"If you feel it's necessary." Father Donovan says, the younger man moves away.  Father Donova points to a pew, "Perhaps you'd like to sit down?"

"Oh, thank you, Father."

Colin takes a seat, and realizes that explaining isn't really that simple.

"I've been chosen to fill a role. I'm a sort of intermediary between the material world and the spirit world. I try to arrange things so that they heal and nurture each other. I'm the Spirit Dancer. It's a position of great power and responsibility, and I'm only beginning to grow into it. These tattoos are usually instruments to help me face the troubles that might lie ahead. These particular ones are brand new, and I haven't figured them out yet. I'm sorry if they messed with your wards. They're... interesting." he says, looking around at them.

"This is the first time in many years I come to a church. My family is in peculiar terms with religion. My mom used to believe, but I'm afraid she's never really forgiven God for taking away the people she loved. it's quite inevitable for me to have a different perspective on such things. And this is why I'm here now, I guess. Some time ago, I've been asked if I would have embraced faith, or if I would have been stuck with 'knowing'. I know people who have faith. I have a sort of unfair advantage over them though. Earlier tonight I've had a dream, and that, and these new tattoos, have something to do with faith as well. So I thought of looking for someone who could explain me what faith really means, and I wound up here."

He looks around again.

"Churches are meant to help people feel closer to God, aren't they? God doesn't need them. People sometimes need a little help, though. I confess I wondered if it would make a difference to me as well."

Father Donovan listens intently as Colin explains his situation.  He nods and smiles, absorbing the information he's presented with.  "Well, if you've come here for an explanation of what faith means, I have some disappointing news."  he shifts to look towards the front of the church, "That is something you will have to take up with the man in the mirror.  Faith is an intensely personal matter.  It shifts with time and changes as you mature and change.  some people are close to the church their whole lives but never really have faith.  They accept the teachings, they claim faith, but they never have faith."  He takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly and looking around the massive structure.  "People come to church for a variety of reasons.  Some seek the community of people, some crave the feeling of being closer to God.  The reasons are as varied as the structures themselves.  Some humble, some grand.  In a way it's testament to the diversity of the human race."  He looks towards Colin, "You've done no harm.  If you'd have been a danger the house wouldn't have opened to you.  Those doors are locked at night, this isn't the safest neighborhood after all."  Father Donovan reaches a hand towards Colin's arm, "May I?"

Colin listens and nods. "I see. I know I have to come up with my own answers. But i'm really interested in your take on the matter. Could you try to explain it to me?"


"Oh, sure." Colin says, rolling up his sleeves and offering his arms.

Father Donovan takes a hold of Colin's arm, examining his tattoos.  "I recognize them ass magical symbols.  Polyglots if you will.  they can mean different things depending on how you llook at them, what way the character is facing."  He looks at Colin's other arm.  "There is a Latin term.  Magica ars varia.  Essentially it means versatile magic."  He releases Colin's arm.  "Think of them as a sort of Swiss Army Knife of magic.  Like a spell book on your arms, and the spells they are depend on how you put them together."

Father Donovan leans back in the pew, looking towards the front of the church again.  "As for my definition of faith.  It means being part of a bigger universe, one where miraculous happen all the time.  Accepting that I might be in control of everything but my own actions, and being content in that."  He smiles, "But ask five men of god to define Faith and you'll get eleven different answers."

Colin suddenly realizes the he has looked at them as pictures so far, not as words. He hasn't tried to read them. So now he concentrates, and tries to summon the old tongue to the forefront of his brain, asking it to translate the meaning of the symbols into words. He tries, almost comically, to bend his arms around to see the symbols in every angle.


Colin smiles too. "Being content is quite a rare feat, anyway. Thank you."

"Can I ask you why there are such elaborated wards? Is it like this in every church?"

Try as he might the symbols don't come to him as words.  But almost like concepts.

"No, this is no ordinary church."  Father Donovan says softly, "Not by any means."

OOC: The concepts are too fragmentary or obscure to understand taken out of context.  You'll just have to see how things go as time moves on.

Colin looks up at Father Donovan.

"Oh? Are you keeping something safe here?"

"The Order of St. Michael has dealings with the unpleasant from time to time.  Our churches serve as sanctuaries, fortresses, and places of worship.  As you are aware, the world is larger than most people know."

Colin looks around at the church and its wards one more time, but his eyes are different. This time he asks the building and its ghosts to show him the past of this place.

The church has been a part of the city since the early days of the district.  It's been the site of weddings, christenings, and funerals.  It's also been the site of battles between angels and devils, and magical healing rituals.  It's harbored the homeless, the lost, the fallen and even vampires.  A rich tapestry of images pass in and out of Colin's vision as he lets the past of the place soak into him.

OOC: Notice check DC 16

Notice check (1d20+12=29) (http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/1816257/)

Colin looks for a moment in awe at all the stories the church has to tell.

In some of the scenes Colin sees a man he's only met once.  He's younger in some, wearing the uniform of the Chicago PD.  Times change, uniforms change.  He changes more slowly.  Stanley Juszkowski was a handsome young man, and he's left a powerful imprint here over the decades.

Colin is slightly surprised, and stores the information for later use.

He turns back to Father Donovan.


"And yet it looks so little sometimes. Father, can I ask your phone number, and give you mine? There might be times we could use each other's help."

"Certainly."  Father Donovan and Colin exchange phone numbers.  "I hope you find a path that brings you as much happiness as possible Colin."

"Thank you. I wish the same to you." Colin says, shaking his hand.


Once out of the church and on his way back home, he has a question for the blackbird.
I'd like your advice. These new tools I've been given, should I train to use them, or save the energy for when I'm really going to need it? You know, I don't want to be disrespectful and ask for the spirits' help fore futile things. On the other hand, instinct can go a long way, but some instincts work better when they're honed.

Ah, so these are final. Then you're right, I should get in friendly terms with them.

He runs his fingers above them.

Uhmm. Magica ars varia. What should I start with?

He looks at them, turns them around, looking for a symbol of -light-. When he finds one that satisfies him, he tries to power it up, reading it aloud, pressing it, or holding it in front of himself.

In response to the thought, a broken street lamp flickers back to life shedding a soft glow over Colin.

OOC: These will have a variety of functions dependent on a lot of things.  So we can assume that you practice getting a feel for them and what they might do and just play them in scenes as needed.

Oh. Handy.

Smiling to himself, he resumes his way home.




OOC: Ok. Thank you.