"Now finish up and go make some jing. Leave a woman in peace."
"Alright, Strell, I get it, you got a short temper, and all that. Thanks for the eats, chummer."Uffington leaves the Magnolia Brewing Company, and heads back to his squat, a long-abandoned four-plex on the edge of Halferville. He nods to Enrique, the Aztlaner dwarf who's busy picking his nose in the common area, and heads upstairs to his room, fighting with the mechanical lock to get his key to turn for a full minute before it twists around and lets him in.
First thing's first, he thinks, laying down on his bed and centering himself. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath in, and on the exhale he leaves his body, floating up and out of the squat, through the city streets, and over to the gallery. It takes him awhile to find it, even knowing the city as well as he does. There's so many conflicting emotions and reverberations in the Dogpatch. The weight of poverty,the promise of future success, the mindless corp drones, the mindless SINless stragglers, the mindless entrepreneurs, the occasional new parent still in the afterglow of bringing a child into the wretched sixth world mess that is the California Free State.
Yeah, g'luck chummer, he wishes the stranger.
It's hard for Uffington to discern much of anything useful, and he returns to his meat body, his opening as if from a dream.
Should've popped a Psyche, he thinks.
I can always concentrate so much better with a little help. It makes him feel weak in a way, that his own talents aren't enough to carry him through, but who's are anymore? Who's were ever, really? He returns downstairs to the kitchen, where all the squatters share their water from a re-purposed rainwater collection barrel, and grabs a cup before returning to his room. He lays out some plastic sheeting, and dips his fingers in the cup, rubs the water down his face. Then he uses his wet fingers to trace a brook, the horns of a stag, the body, a hill in the background. Soundlessly, he reaches out into the astral.
The earth is our mother, her water our life blood. Her oceans and streams an afterbirth still pulsing. Spirit, heed my call. I ask for assistance, for the powers of your sight. Spirit, heed my call. Spirit, come forth.He pours the rest of his cup of water on the plastic sheet, washing away his picture, and from the puddle arises a spirit of water, a highly stylized fish with two heads and one body. The process is taxing, giving Uffington a splitting headache that soon fades to a dull pain, but at least the spirit did indeed heed his call.
I will answer, the spirit says.
and offer you one service. Choose it wisely.Uffington thanks the spirit for appearing, and together the pair makes their way to the gallery. Upon entering, he finds Marianna, who shows him to a room in the back.
"Feel free to use this area for anything you need to do. You may want to talk with Expo, he's the younger of the two painters up front. He may be able to help out with anything you're looking to do. By the way, do you know a 'Knucks'? He's supposed to come by soon as well."
"Can't say I've had the pleasure," Uffington says, lowering his duffel bag and retrieving his crossbow.
"Expo, he the one about yea tall?" Marianna nods.
"Great, I'll get to it then. Thank you."Marianna leaves him to his devices, and Uffington begins to arrange his gear. He's already wearing his armored jacket, a straight off-the-shelf number that he's decorated in knotwork and sperethiel. He takes his ballistic mask from the duffel bag, and shoves it into his pocket, and pops a Psyche for good measure.
Ah, that's better, he thinks even before the drug has begun to take effect.
Spirit, what should I call you? Uffington reaches out into the astral.
It is unimportant. If you must, you may call me a bhaineann le Lir.Wow, that's a mouthful.Wiz, a bhaineann le Lir. We have been tasked with defending this place. Should anyone come with designs on sowing chaos here, I need you to befuddle their mind. Can you do so?
I cannot promise results. Only that I will attempt what you desire.Good enough. Thank you, a bhaineann le Lir.Uffington lays down again, using his duffel bag as a pillow -- far from a unique experience for him -- and closes his meat eyes as he opens his mind to the astral. Again, he leaves his body to examine his surroundings. Confident that he's "seen" everything that there is to see, Uffington returns to his meat form, and goes to look for Expo. The dwarf is no longer in the gallery, though, so he tries his luck outside, where he finds the dwarf on the sidewalk. Before approaching, he takes a moment to assense the fellow.
"Hoi, chummer, Expo right?""Yeah, that's me," Expo answers.
"Name's Uffington. Guess we're the security detail. Supposed to be another one, Knucks I think. You know him?
"Anyway, word is we may be in for a little gang tussle tonight. This used to be solid Chulos territory, but I hear there's a new game in town, some group called the Technoids? Ever heard of 'em? Don't know much about it myself, but if something is going to go down tonight, my guess it's going to be the new kid against the class bully. Scary thing about new guys, they always feel like they need to make an impression. By the way, I guess I'm the mojo slinger. What is it you do, besides paint I mean?"