old man moomba

It was in the Scadrial PM, I think. Should be be on the latest page, or the one before it.

Dwig shrugged, dropping his own Shardblade, which poofed away. "A businessman. Call me DJ." he smiled enigmaticly at the kid.

Pureblade dropped into Dwig's hand. "Trust me, my dear, I'm not going to steal your Shards."

"I don't know." Dwig squinted at the girl, "I mean, I guess it adds to your hight. Still, Scadrial is not the best place to be wandering around in Plate. If the conners haven't noticed you, they will soon." he shrugged, "Sharblades are a lot less conspicuous, you know."

Radyn pushed his way past a brawny man leaning by the door, entering the parlor proper. Aben led him to a small table and nodded to the chairs. "Please," he said quietly, "Sit. Let's talk" "About what?" Radyn asked, curious as to why the man had brought him here. "Good question. I'll tell you in a bit. But first, drinks!" ~~~ Aben waved the barkeep over, "You. Greasy man." he called sharply. As he waited for the man to arrive, he inhaled deeply. The pungent sent of alcohol flooded his nose, undercut by various emotions. Anxiety, fear, a small bit of panic and, oddly enough, curiosity. Aben didn't try to figure out who was feeling what, he just let the sents fill his nose.

Doc gave an "Ah" of realization. James' reference to Wheel of Time had gotten him thinking. "This is like a Dreamshard! But not really, I don't think. We don't really understand this at all." Doc frowned, "I guess that means research. If we can replicate it, of course, which I think we can."

Ok... Feel free to? Perhaps he could be Aben's brother. I'm unsure if Aben got on the main list so... V-Dois? @Voidus

Dwig floated above the mists, staring longingly at the stars. One day he mused, One day… For now, he would settle for a glass of whiskey and some interesting conversation. He released his anchor and dropped through the mists, coat rippling. Dwig Pushed up at the last moment, slowing himself so he landed with a soft thump. He scooped up the nail he’d been using as an anchor, turning it in his fingers. It was made from good steel, same as most of the nails he carried with him. A single blue line pointed to it. Dwig smiled slightly and dropped it into his coat pocket. It was probably safe to do so, as any Metalborn gunning for him had no idea he was in the city. His smile widened as he ran forward and jumped off the roof. A Push on a rapidly approaching lamppost sent him sailing back into the sky at an angle. He continued to sail above the street on bits of metal, searching for a good place to drink. Dwig spotted a warm blue light, a bubble in the mists. He Pushed on a sign, landing softly. He squinted up at the sign. A soothing parlor. “Why not?” he said quietly to himself, producing a wide-brimmed hat from his pocket and putting it on. It was aluminum lined, hopefully protecting from the Soothers within. Dwig stepped inside, noting the small number of customers already within. His eyes widened slightly as he noticed a Shardbearer. She was young. Younger than any he’d seen. “A Shardbearer walks into a Soothing parlor.” he quipped, an easy grin on his face, “Sounds like the start of a bad worldhopper joke.” ~~~ Radyn strode through the mists, tin at low burn. He could see his destination up ahead. A Soothing parlor. Distasteful. Radyn shook his head, coat carving eddies in the mist. If he hadn't received a note from that Wolfbrother, he would have never even contemplated coming close to one of these establishments. But, that man had wanted to meet, and Radyn wasn’t going to pass up the chance to actually talk to him. He toyed with the note as he stepped up to the door. He was about to open it when someone grabbed him by the collar of his coat and dragged him back. “Hey,” the someone whispered, “It’s me.” “Who?” Radyn asked incredulously “The Wolfbrother. We’re not going in. Not yet anyway.” Radyn spun, glaring at the man, whose eyes shone slightly in the blue light. ~~~ Aben looked the Whitecloak up and down. “I see you followed my advice, friend.” Aben said, then nodded, “You look good. The coat fits you.” “Great.” the man responded, “Can I know your name now?” The Whitecloak was annoyed and just a little bit scared. “Sure,” Aben smiled, “I’m Aben. And you are?” “Radyn,” the Whitecloak said stiffly. “Ah. Shall we?” Aben gestured to the door and the unlikely pair stepped inside.

Ciera sat in a chair upon her Skimming platform. Alone. No Warders to guard her. Cakuin was off investigating... something. She would go to great legths to figure out the mystery of her killers. Galvris was... away. So Ciera sat alone. She rubbed her eyes and stood up. Time to be a Ghostblood. A gateway snapped open as she stepped off the platform, depositing her in Oasis City. She checked her phone. Nothing of importance, besides the sky, of course. She opened a secure communication service, made by and for Ghostbloods, and dialed a number. "Lusk," she snapped, "What's the situation. I've been... indisposed. Sorry for the curt tone, by the way." Ciera finished hastily, realizing Lusk was her serior at the last moment.

"Well it's not just like it. It isn't a reflection of our own world, but a shared consciousness. Still, preception reigns supreme here." Doc gestured to his clothing, "It changed when I left my own dream." Doc cencentrated, holding out his hand. After a few seconds, a massive Blade appeared there. Doc grinned widely and rammed the sword into the ground. "It worked. Reality is malleble here, it seems." He let go of his focus for a split second and the blade poofed away. "And now my head hurts. Yippe."

Dwig grabbed the glass of whiskey, checked his watch, ate the rest of the chouta and finally summoned his Shardblade. He mumbled something sounded like "Scadrial Gotspy" and cut his way through the wall onto the street. He didn't pay and had taken the whiskey with him.

"Yeah. So you Connected our dreams. This could have many uses..." Doc ran his hands through his hair, "Any idea why the house is on fire." I remember something like this... Visions... It may be that this is similar to those. The Stormfather's rumble seemed to change It's been a long time... he grumbled to the Nightwatcher.

Jamie sighed, looking glumly at the burning house. "So now we're in Inception, is that it?" she pointed at the burning house, "What's up with that?" The house didn't seem to be be actually burning. Flames continued to spurt from it, but it's shape reamained exactly the same. ~~~ Doc stepped up to James. "Any idea how you brought us here? Inquiring Godspren want to know." Doc grinned slightly. I've never seen anything like this before. That woman! Bah!

Rain. It always seemed to be raining here in Portland. Perhaps that was just his perception, a reflection of his own mental state. James sat on a stump in the pouring rain, fiddling with a piece of metal. He shrugged and tossed it back to the ground. Useless. Like James. James! A voice echoed in his head. Oh, so I’m hallucinating now? James thought ruefully. No… James, it is I. The Stormfather! “Ok,” James mumbled, “Whatever.” he stood up, rain streaming off of his hat and coat. You’re in a dream, James. A dream of your past. At your lowest moment. It isn’t natural. “Jᴀᴍᴇs, ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴜsᴛ sᴇᴇ!” A sense of timelessness flowed over James. That voice. It felt as if the very sky was rumbling at him. He trembled, falling to his knees, as the timelessness faded. Horrible whispers flowed into his ears. James screamed. No, James. You can fight it. We can fight it! “I can try.” Doc stood up, spreading his arms. Doc smiled and clapped a single time. The world melted into streams of water. He was standing in the middle of a road that he recognized. It was the street his house was on. He ran up the road, towards the house. It was on fire, several figures standing in front of it. He recognized them as well. The other Knights.

"I see? I'm Jamie, since you asked. Just one question: how did you get here? Oh," she paused, "Is this happening to anyone else?"

Cakuin rolled her eyes, “I just told you. I can’t aim with big guns. Just because it’s a magic gun isn’t gonna change that. That’s not how aiming works.” she grabbed the paint and began painting the armor, “Now, if you have a smaller gun that does the same thing, sure, I’ll use that.”

PalAr looked around. Why were people clapping? The man had said about three sentences. That was not deserving of applause.