Freshman Year, just after Intersession

From the Desk of Justin Thorne:

Uncle Justin's [Utterly] Unauthorized Guide to Altclair

[This is the Utterly Unauthorized version, going out to Michael, Delilah, Jim, Helen, Rashid, Jennifer, and Annmarie. You're getting the version without pictures, but with the more classified stuff. Everything in brackets will be cut from the merely Unauthorized version, and your suggestions will be taken into account. In other words, please send feedback!]

Welcome to Altclair! If you're reading this, chances are you already know how strange this college is. The problem is, sometimes, someone needs to know a few more details before winding up in Outer Mongolia or confronting a ghost. That's the reason for this Guide.

Now, this is only the first edition, so it's obviously not complete. You'll notice I only mention one ghost, for example. I hear there are at least three on campus -- if anyone knows about the others, please stop by Room 305 and let me know.

Caveat Lector

While everything I print here has been personally verified, I do not pretend that this gazette contains the whole truth. For one thing, that would get me thrown out of Altclair. For another, not everyone likes having their secrets bruited about, and as long as these aren't the kind of secrets that could sweep unsuspecting freshfolk to 13th century Mongolia, I do respect confidentiality.

The Ghost

As those of you in the Theater Department already know, the tunnels are haunted by the lovely Annmarie Browning who died in 1927 when the old dorm collapsed on her. Thorne discovered her last quarter, and did what any sensible fellow would do when confronted by a ghost: he turned tail and ran.

[Annmarie, do you want folks knowing you can turn my forge on, or should we keep that quiet?]

Fortunately, Justin recalled that a journalist's job is to face the truth, while Thorne's sense of the theatrical prompted him to show off his new find. Even more fortunately, Annmarie forgave Thorne, mostly, for being such a cad at their first meeting.

Those of you who attended the final performance of Goethe's Faust, Part I last quarter will remember the unexpected appearance of the Virgin Mary in the final scene. She was played by Annmarie, who received an instant invitation to the cast party, which she certainly deserved.

[Should I put in a "she gets lonely, so come, meet her, bring her up to snuff for the 20th century, or do you figure them as wants to meet her already have or will ask me?]

The Classics Department Time Machine

Yes, Virginia, it's true. The Classics Department has a time machine.

No, you can't change the past. I have no idea why; the best minds of the Math Department are still trying to figure it out. It can't go back in time any earlier than five centuries, which means the late fifteenth century, but if you're a Classics major, you probably don't care about such recent history.

So, you've decided to use the time machine. What do you do? Well, that depends on what your major is.

Classics: See your chairman.

History: See your chairman. History has an understanding with Classics.

Theater: See Sarah Lacy.

Anthropology: Forget it.

Departments not listed above: See your chairman to find out if you've got a chance.

You see, boys and girls, Anthropology is feuding with Classics. When Classics first got the time machine -- something about a bequest. I don't know the details -- Anthropology argued that it should get the machine on the grounds that Classics has texts to work with. This strikes me as semantic hair splitting; a text is simply an artefact, and not always a reliable one at that. On the other hand, I don't see why the machine can't be shared.

Now, maybe Classics would have shared it, but I gather that Anthropology started sneaking in, and this offended Classics, so Anthropology is permanently banned from using the machine.

Let's assume that you can swing permission to use the machine. Why on earth would you want to?

This is a serious question, people. We're talking about really going into the past, where you can be killed for any of a number of reasons ranging from not realizing that you've goofed an inflection and insulted someone's sister when you were only trying to ask for directions to catching a local plague to coming out in the wrong spot. Even if you manage not to get killed, there are still plenty of nasty things that can happen to you.

Let's take a case in point, leaving out the names of the innocent and guilty alike. A young woman of my acquaintance accidentally went through the machine and found herself in thirteenth century Mongolia, near Samarkand. No, this isn't supposed to happen, and I gave Classics the sharp end of my pen. The whole incident is what gave me the idea for this gazette because the next person to wind up in Mongolia might not be so lucky.

We came out just after a sandstorm. Any earlier and we would have been killed by it. Any later and we would not have had an excuse to claim hospitality. This was a stroke of dumb luck that favors idiots like us. To get an idea of just how lucky we were, you have to realize that the name of the desert around Samarkand translates roughly to "You go in, you don't come out."

We posed as foreign merchants, aided by some fine linguists, including a gentleman in whose debt we all are. Through sheer good fortune, we found out where our friend was being held, and we -

Did not race in, weapons drawn, grab her, and fight our way out. Any such idiotic shenanagans would have gotten us all killed.

No, we bartered for what we wanted, and we wound up looking like stupid country hicks. And we got out alive. With our friend.

That's not the end of the story. First of all, she'd managed to get cholera. Look it up -- you'll find out exactly how nasty it is. Second of all, the experience was extremely stressful. Not only did the young woman in question need the name of a good psychologist, she had to take incompletes in all of her subjects and spend the entire intersession trying to catch up. And remember, she was lucky.

[Delilah, this about right? I don't want to exaggerate. I'd like to be more explicit, but I will assume, unless informed otherwise, that this is as much detail as my health will permit me to go into.]

<You bet it is! -D.>

There was another loose end as well: it seems that she'd met a young child with green eyes. Everyone in Samarkand thought he was a demon because of those green eyes, so she wanted to save him. The interesting part is that he'd apparently come through the time machine just before she stumbled onto it, and she followed him back.

I don't know what he was doing here, if someone from our time was trying to kidnap him or save him as some sort of cultural souvenir. But I do know two things: First, this child, Jido, was adopted by Professor Corbet and his wife. Neither they, nor I, nor any of us who went to Mongolia will take at all kindly to anything happening to this child. Second, the Classics Department will almost certainly have better security from now on.

[To summarize the stuff that doesn't go in the merely Unauthorized edition (hereinafter referred to as MUE): The current theory is that something special about Jido pulled Delilah to the time machine for some reason. Now, my theory is that Jido being a dragon and a "soul child" who came out of the mountains with no parents - have I got that correct? <Yes> - pulled Delilah who was pulled out of her universe to ours. Jim, can you find out how much Classics knows and what it's doing to try to find out more? I want to know what, if anything, showed up on the cameras that night. The department secretary says that the film is only checked if an alarm goes off, but Professor Hilary in the History Dept. says that it's always checked, so either someone's lying or the secretary doesn't know what she's talking about. Delilah, can you protect yourself? Let one of us know if anyone bothers you or asks you a lot of questions about what happened.

Professor Hilary says that Anthropology might want to save unique people who didn't affect history, and that in any case, we should see who's missing from campus, and do follow up to make sure they haven't just burned out and run home. But it's possible that someone pushed Jido through and then got killed or captured, and wasn't as fortunate as Delilah. I gather that Anthropology has a "do what you have to and just don't tell us how you did it" policy. This makes students a bit, ah, enthusiastic. Helen, you've got Anthropology. Jim, Classics. Michael, History. Find out if we're missing anyone.]

Okay, but none of this convinces you. You're determined to go back to the past.

If you bring modern weapons, make damn sure you don't leave them behind. We brought modern firearms, but note well that we did not use them or even show them to anyone. Brute force did not carry the day; our wits did.

[Rashid, should I cut this bit, except for the first sentence?]

Do your research! I cannot stress the importance of this enough. For example, we spent some time figuring out what trade goods to bring to Samarkand. What did we settle on? Spices, particularly pepper, which is inexpensive here, but worth its weight in gold there, and saffron, which is damned expensive here, but far more so there. Cotton cloth. This may sound odd, but the only cotton cloth at that time was made by the Egyptians. No offense intended, but the Egyptians made lousy cotton at that time.

Make sure that at least one person speaks each local language.

Bring water filters. This was what kept us from getting cholera.

Bring antibiotics. This kept the young woman alive until we got her to a hospital, but it wouldn't have been enough if we'd been later.

[Guys, do we have any left? If so, hand them over, and I'll keep them safe. If not, should we stockpile?]

Have a plan. It may not last even five minutes into your trip, but you should have some idea of what you want to do and how.

Make lots of lists.

[Helen, should I mention that we brought back a Mongolian pony?]

[Faust Director Not in League with Satan

To recap: Daniel tells me that he's about 140 years old, allowing for skips somewhere. He says I don't want to know about those, but like I told him, I intend to find out sooner or later.

He assures me that he is not in league with Satan, and says that he has no idea why he's lived so long. He doesn't know who his parents were. Jennifer senses magic around him, but Michael says that Ash said that if he's immortal, he can't be a mage because to stay immortal means to put all one's will into staying put, sort of like what Annmarie did to become a ghost.

He says that the reason no one else figured out that he keeps coming back to Altclair is that he has an SEP field. For the uninitiate, this means that people just don't notice anything odd even if they really ought to. He says I figured it out because I'm a mage -- I think he figures I'm a mage because I figured it out. Well, the mage part is true, more or less, but Annmarie is the one who put me on the scent. Unless you tell me otherwise, Annmarie, I'll continue to leave that detail out of it.

He says he keeps coming back here because he loves the theater and likes Altclair, and that he has no plans to take over the world, just do really good theater. Frankly, I'm inclined to believe him.

Yes, Jim, I know you don't like the ethics of making everyone dance at the Walpurgisnacht scene. I tried to talk to the musicians about ethics, but it was tenth week, and they informed me that they were ethically entitled to strangle me if I didn't go away and let them study for finals. I think they had a point.

I'd love to put all of this in the MUE, but while Daniel did say I could tell people about it, figuring that no one would believe me anyway, I don't know if he meant I could tell the entire campus. But I'll ask him, and if he says yes, I'll put an edited version of this in the next issue of the gazette.

Post-New Year's Update: Jim, I think you got it in one. Ash says that this sounds like a case where the fay are taking an interest. This could explain why there is magic around him. Should I mention any of this to him?]

Sensitive Gal on Campus

No, this isn't a personal ad. Mrs. Jennifer Corbet is what is known as a sensitive. As far as I understand the term, this means that she does not do magic, but she can sense it. She can tell what is going on and where, although if there is a lot of magic going on, it is hard to pick out any one mage or magical item. She can also sense some specifics about any given magic item, although what she learns will vary. And I understand that she reads Tarot cards as well.

[Post-Christmas note: Jennifer, will you be staying?]

[I think I'll round out the MUE with non-magical tips, stuff like where the churches, synagogues, mosques, and so on are located, where to find good soda pop or a good psychologist, and so on. I've got notes from Michael and Rashid on this -- let me know if there's anything else I should add. This section should probably be kept more or less the same from year to year. If there are any covens or other kinds of alternative religions that want to be listed, they can contact me with details.]

Transportation Consultant: Michael Conaway

[Much of this may have to be revised due to the intersession mess.]

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To the train called The City of New Orleans:

Thank you for a safe trip to and from thirteenth century Mongolia, and thank you very much for being understanding about the pony and the dragon.

Sincerely,

Justin Thorne

---

To the Theater Department, particularly the cast and crew of Wait Until Dark

First of all, I apologize for trying to build the sets when I'm the director. Yes, Daniel has gotten it through my head that this is not a one man show.

Second, I've torn it all down, and it was very therapeutic. Thanks, Daniel. And I've given Daniel all the designs I made. Just don't tell me what he did with them, okay?

Third, to prevent this sort of thing from happening again, I've given myself a side project that has nothing to do with the play. To wit: I'm building a model train set for an acquaintance off campus.

Hopefully, this will keep me from getting on everyone's nerves more than the average director. If that doesn't work, I have a back up plan. If that doesn't work, Daniel has a two by four.

--Thorne

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Some annotations to the above, out of character.

UUE:

Yes, putting the soopa secrit stuff in writing was stupid. I actually printed this up for the game, and Justin has gotten burned twice. The second time was Naomi's doing, but the first time, she just watched as we wrapped rope around our necks. Jim's sister Cat came in, and Jim asked Justin to let her read UUE. He did. She proceeded to blurt the worst possible thing out to the wrong person.

Annemarie's theatrical appearance was part of Justin's attempt to foil whatever Daniel was planning to do. It failed completely, only making the play better. Fortunately, despite everyone's fears, it appears that all Daniel was trying to do was create damn good theater.

Sarah Lacy is a 6th year senior who is the real head of the Theater Department. She scared Justin shitless Fall quarter, but he's getting used to her.

"Delilah, who was pulled out of her universe to ours": Oh boy, did that sentence get Justin into trouble. It's not even accurate.

I gather that Egyptian cotton is still lousy.

"Make lots of lists" is Justin's joke. He's always making lists, and his friends tease him about this.

Daniel was utterly furious that Justin missed all but the last performance of Faustus, as he was working as crew for it.

Daniel: Where were you?

Justin: Thirteenth century Mongolia.

Daniel: That's no excuse! You belonged here.

Justin came to Daniel after the last performance of Faustus to ask point blank how old Daniel was. This was highly amusing.

Justin: Daniel, can we talk?

Daniel: If it's a problem, not now.

Justin: No, no problem. Just a question.

Daniel: Okay, come in.

Justin (making sure door is closed): Daniel, are you a fairy? (realizes the possibilities of the word) I didn't mean that the way it came out. Um, can I ask you a personal question?

Daniel: I think you just did.

Justin: How old are you?

Daniel (thinks a minute, does some calculations on his fingers): About 140, more or less, except for some skips.

(Justin sinks into a chair. Unfortunately, there isn't one, so he winds up on the floor.)

Justin (starting to have real trouble breathing): Um, Daniel? I know I promised that there wouldn't be a problem. But, um. Daniel? I'm, um, having a problem with this. Sorry.

Daniel (patiently, if only because he's so exhausted he's functioning on autopilot): Put your head between your knees. Take deep breaths in through your nose and out through your mouth.

---

[From a comment on handling language barriers in rpgs]

Our modern day pcs in Naomi's game wound up in 13th century Samarkand, and we all kept things enjoyable while still keeping track of who spoke what and how well. The results were often hilarious. What the hell, I'll give you a sample.

Jim (Manny's pc, speaking modern English): Blah, blah, blah! I'm yelling at you, telling you to make up your mind already!

Justin (my pc, speaking modern English): Blah, blah, blah! I'm telling you I want a girl who looks like home. Home! Where the time machine twinkles! Where my director may be Satan, but he's not interfering with my studying for finals!

[some time later]

Jim (in Mongolian, which he has deliberately studied -- he is a linguist): Ah. My brother has odd tastes. He likes them fragile, even sickly.

Justin (in modern English, understanding none of this): He's saying awful things about me. I just know it.

Michael (Josh's pc, in modern English. He understands some Mongolian. Also a linguist, but not as good as Jim): Yes. He's implying that you may have some feeling from the waist down.

[Michael and Justin don't quite understand each other's attitudes towards women. Michael sleeps with anyone possessing two X chromosomes and no Y chromosomes. Justin has just had his third date, and they've finally reached first base.]

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Addendum as of when I posted this to the wiki: Amusingly, by his senior year, Justin had some first hand experience of what Daniel meant about skips, and was asking Cassidy to solve some Merlin-like riddles about himself in exchange for information for a bit.