Character Descriptions

It's late at night. You're still awake. You watch the bright full moon at it slowly moves across the sky.

The rest of your traveling companions are asleep, and right now you're content that they remain so. You walk away and stand alone in the night, alone with your thoughts.

A piece of paper briefly eclipses the moon. It's blown about by the breeze and lands at your feet. Idly, you pick it and take a look at it.

It's an invitation to a birthday party. This is no longer a world for birthdays. You toss the paper aside.

You continue looking at the sky, immersed in your thoughts, when you feel something at your feet. You look down, and see that the piece of paper was blown back by the breeze and is now fluttering against your leg. You kick it away.

The paper flies into the air -- then flutters back to you, against the breeze. What?

You grab the paper out of the air and read it carefully. The invitation is for a party given years ago -- but the directions to the party are puzzling. They're labeled "How to Open a Portal." It's some kind of ritual or something.

Someone or something wants you to go. But it doesn't have anything to do with the Tower, as far as you can tell. You toss the paper aside again.

It makes a U-turn in mid-air and lands on your face.

All right, that's it.

You follow the directions in the invitation. As you do, something changes in you. Your skills and abilities shift and twist. You're still yourself, but nothing works as it did before. You've passed through some sort of gateway...

You give one last swing of your broadsword, and the remaining barbarian falls to the ground. The battle is over. The centaur village is safe.

Equus, the mayor of the village, trots over to you. Like you, he is panting heavily after fighting the long battle. "We thank you, Kanita. Without your aid, we surely would have fallen. But I'm afraid I have sad news. Taurus, the leader of the People of the Hills, was somehow wounded during the battle. He lies dying in the village. Although he says he never met you, he wishes to speak with you before he passes on."

As the two of you head back towards the village, you ask, "Who is Taurus? I though you were the mayor. And who are the people of the hills? Do you mean this village?"

He responds, "No. The People of the Hills are the centaurs, minotaurs, and other people that you would think of as a mix of human and animal. Taurus is the leader of us all." You arrive at a hut, and Equus gestures you inside.

A large minotaur is lying on a cot, resting. You examine his wounds, and your eyes narrow. The barbarians that you just defeated all used large two-handed broadswords. The minotaur's wounds were caused by a long but narrow dagger. His injuries had nothing to do with the attack outside.

He stirs, then opens his eyes. "Greetings, Kanita. I am Taurus, leader of the People of the Hills. I came forward, from the time when my people were guardians of the world, to bring these centaurs back through the corridors of myth and time, back to their true home." He coughs. You can tell he hasn't got much time left; not even the great Hippocrates could help him now.

"Why did you want to speak with me?"

"Most humans hate us or distrust us. But you have always been a good friend to the centaurs. Now that we are finally leaving this world, I have one more favor to ask of you." He coughs again, weaker than before. "There's so much to explain, and I don't have time. Please listen carefully."

He describes to you a complex procedure, which he calls "opening a portal." With your shamanic training, you have little difficulty memorizing the ritual, though you aren't sure what it does.

"It will take you to a meeting in another time and place," he explains faintly. "In my pouch, there is a ring... take it... you are my..." He trails off, then continues as best he can. "...important to your people too, to all peoples... dark... understand... cycle..." With his last breath he says, "I'm sorry I waited so long."

After a moment of silence, you look inside Taurus' pouch for a ring. The pouch is empty. Could it have fallen out? You search the hut. Later on, you search the entire battlefield. You do not find it.

You stay with the centaurs for a while, attending Taurus' funeral. You ask them what his final words meant, and about the significance of the ring, but none of them know. They explained that only their leader understood such matters, and they will have to wait until their new leader arrives. You bid farewell to Equus, and journey a short distance outside the village.

You follow the directions that Taurus gave you. As you do, something changes in you. Your skills and abilities shift and twist. Your language restructures itself within your brain. You're still yourself, but nothing works as it did before. You've passed through some sort of gateway...

You don't believe it. You stare at your hand. Four aces and the joker. Your head is spinning. You, Louie, the perpetual loser, are holding the best poker hand in all of creation. You look over the tops of your cards at the pile of chips. This is it. You win this one, and you ain't no loser no more! Champagne and caviar all the way!

You swallow. You try to remember the sequence of bets. And then you realize: "Call." You watch as the others turn over their hands. Sammy the Lilac has nothing. Arnie the Twister has a pair of deuces. Harry the Horse has a full house. And you smile. You show them your cards. "Sorry, boys, it's all mine." You start to rake in the pot.

"Yeah, Louie, it's all yours." They're smiling. All of 'em. Why?

"Uh, fellows, I just won all these chips here. Ain't anyone upset?"

"Upset? Why d'ya think we'd be upset, just because you won a bunch of chips? Oh... did you think we were playing for real money? Nah, we were just playing for fun." They start to laugh. They get up and walk to the bar.

"Playing for fun? But..." You twist around in your chair. You bought a bunch of chips from Ronnie the Arm. You look. He's gone, with your money. It was a scam.

You sigh. You should've known. This is normal for you. You bet, you lose. But you keep on trying.

"Hey, Louie!" It's Vinnie the Weasel. You don't much like Vinnie. He says he's your friend, but all his tips get you into trouble. He sits in the chair on your right. "It looks like you won something after all."

You look at the pile of chips. There's a piece of paper in there. A contract? A deed? A bond? Yeah, you should be so lucky. You pull it out from under the chips and look at it. It's an invitation to a birthday party. So what?

"Wow!" Vinnie's eyes grow big. "A lot of people have been looking for those, and looks like you got one! Your gonna have a chance to meet the big guy Van Dorn himself!"

"Who's Van Dorn?" You never heard of him.

"Go, Louie, go to the party. Get cozy with Van Dorn. And if things work out, put in a good word for your pal Vinnie, would ya?" He gets up and leaves.

You look at the invitation and sigh. Hey, why not? No matter what life has thrown at you, you've never stopped trying. Maybe this will finally be your big break. So you follow the directions on the invitation. But as you get to the party, something changes in you. Your skills and abilities shift and twist. You're still yourself, but nothing works as it did before. You've passed through some sort of portal...

It is the year 1823. Your tribe of Gypsies has come far from their usual wandering places in Europe. They've crossed the Atlantic Ocean, passed through the United States, into the territory still possessed by Spain: California. You are encamped near the Pueblo of Los Angeles.

It is a cool autumn evening. The full moon is brilliant in the night sky. The rest of the tribe is dancing around a campfire on the other side of the wagons, but you feel like being alone tonight. There's something in the air, something ominous.

You take out your cards and shuffle them as you meditate. You turn over the first card. It is the Tower. You turn over the next card -- and it's the Tower again. You turn over the next card, then the next, the next -- they're all the Tower! What's happening?

A cloud briefly passes over the moon, and darkness envelopes the cards. When light returns, you see that all the cards are different. What was that? A trick of the mind? A premonition?

You hear the thunder of hooves on the road. You look up and see a man on a black horse galloping along the road in your direction. You're paralyzed with fear. He's dressed all in black -- black shirt, pants, cloak, gloves, hat. Even his horse is black. But you can see his piercing red eyes, red with the fires of the damned.

Just as the horse is about to run you down, you recover your self-possession. You hurl yourself out of the way. The black horse whinnies as it thunders past you. The sound of hoofbeats fades in the distance -- and then grows stronger again. Is the horseman returning?

No, another horseman comes down the road, pursuing the first. He too is black, as is his horse. But you do not feel fear, for you see one more thing: on his face, a black mask. This is Zorro, hero of the peasants of Southern California. He and his black stallion Toronada race past you. He does not see you; he is intent on his pursuit.

The night grows quiet again, except for the song of your fellow gypsies in the distance. What's that on the ground? It's a piece of paper that fell from the first horseman's saddle as he rode past you. You pick it up and look at it. It's an invitation -- to a birthday party? Somehow, you can't imagine that red-eyed figure attending a happy celebration.

You look at the date: 176 years in the future! How can this be? And yet, the directions on how to open a portal... you can follow them. You can attend this party. Perhaps you will learn who that black figure was, and what the Towers represented.

You pick up your cards, and start to follow the directions. And as you do, something changes in you. Your skills and abilities shift and twist. You're still yourself, but nothing works as it did before. You've passed through some sort of portal...

It is the year 1823, and you are in the middle of your second term as President of the United States. The job hasn't become easier since you took office. Politics, politics, politics: the Missouri Compromise, the southward advance of Russia on the west coast, Spain's attempts to reconquer Latin America. You sit back for a moment and indulge in a rare moment of introspection.

All those nations maneuvering for power, and never a thought for simple, human feelings. You think back to your goodwill tour, early in your first term. Standing near the docks in Boston, you saw a group of European colonists–no, immigrants, you correct yourself–coming down a gangplank. They looked like gypsies.

You remember one gypsy in particular; large eyes, golden-red hair. She glanced at you, and there was a glimmer of... recognition? Connection?

Enough of this foolishness. You're married, and your wife Elizabeth has given you little cause for complaint. Besides, that was years ago. Those wandering gypsies are probably on the other side of the continent by now. Perhaps they are in California. There'd been some wild tales of some vigilante called the Fox from that part of the country. Incredible, romantic stories of a hero fighting the Spanish landowners. If only you could fight the Spanish that easily...

You shake your head. You've slipped into fantasy again. Get back to work. You pick up a piece of paper from the top of your desk.

What's this? An invitation to a birthday party? This is ridiculous. How did this get here? You're about to toss it away when you look at the date: 176 years in the future.

This is intriguing. You read the entire invitation. There are directions on how to open a portal. Preposterous. Ridiculous. Another fantasy.

Still... what if it worked? What if, for a few brief hours, you could actually take direct action into your own hands?

You decide to try it. You follow the directions in the invitation. As you do, your surroundings change. Your clothing changes. Your skills and abilities shift and twist. You're still yourself, but nothing works as it did before. You've passed through some sort of gateway...

You and your partner, John Steed, are agents of British Intelligence. Your boss is code-named "Mother," the head of your Intelligence Division. He was injured on a mission many years ago, and he's now confined to a wheelchair, but you've never met a sharper mind.

Your latest assignment: Priscilla Purple, the "Purple Widow", has been married seven times. Each of her husbands has died in a different, somewhat bizarre way. Right now, you don't suspect Priscilla herself. Your best lead is that an assassin named Neo is responsible -- but you have no clear proof.

Normally this would not be a matter for British Intelligence, except that each of Priscilla's husbands demonstrated a change in behavior just before they started dating her. They all seemed to lose interest in their jobs and their lives, and started courting Priscilla; it's as if a common spirit possessed them. This is not enough evidence for a conventional law enforcement agency, but since when you have you and Mr. Steed been conventional?

You've trailed Priscilla to a birthday party in the States. You also have evidence that Neo will be at the party as well, but you don't know who he (or she) is, and what he (or she) looks like. There is an ominous aspect to this destination: You received a hint from a contact in the American Intelligence community that Neo may be working for a secret agency of the US government. You have no idea why the Americans would sanction the activities of a serial killer, and you want to get the bottom of this.

Before you left England, you had the chance to have lunch with an old friend in UNIT, an organization sponsored by the United Nations with a mandate to investigate signs of UFOs, aliens, time travelers, and any other unusual activity. Your friend reported that their instruments have indicated signs of temporal displacement and inter-dimensional destabilization centering in the region of New York City and southeastern New York State. Since you were heading in that direction anyway, he asked you to investigate. Amused, you agreed, though you have doubts that his detection equipment has any value whatsoever.

After you arrived in the States, you received word from Mother that an agent may contact you at the party with further instructions. They will offer you a pass-phrase: "How's mother been lately?" You are to respond, "She's stuck on the roof and she can't get back down."

So far, it's business as usual. But then, as you get to the party, something changes in you. Your skills and abilities shift and twist. You're still yourself, but nothing works as it did before. You've passed through some sort of portal...

Living in the both the world of man and the world of myth, god and trickster, fast as wit and swift as the wind. You race across the land, touching the world lightly with your presence, laughing, leaping, tongue lolling from your mouth, a joke in each eye, a trick in each paw. You are coyote.

You go to help your good friend Crow build his nest. You point out the bright, shiny thread floating in the sky -- wouldn't that look just fine woven into the nest? Crow seizes the thread and weaves it in. You complement him on his good taste, then race away -- before he discover he's just stuck a blazing hair of the Sun into his fine nest. Ouch!

You head over to Washington, D.C. A tourist feels a sudden impulse, a quick need to twitch a finger on a camera button. A politician who thought his affair was a secret is about to get a rude surprise in tomorrow's newspaper.

What's next? What's next? Perhaps you should see what Two Red Deer is up to... You feel a disturbance in the world. You sniff. There's an unfamiliar scent drifting from Florida. Uh oh. One of your duties is to keep Man from tasting from the Fountain of Youth. You remember leading Vasco da Gama on a merry chase -- but no time now for memories. You race to the Foutain.

You arrive, but no one's there. You sniff. You track. That scent is half-familiar, that footprint tickles your memory... It's Puck! You relax. Puck is of the world of Fairy, not of the world of Man. She is a trickster, like you. If she needs some water from the Fountain of Youth for some joke, you certainly don't mind. You do wish she'd let you on the joke -- or at least ask before taking.

There is a trembling in the world. Huh? What? Another disturbance so soon? Is it Puck again? No. This time it's some sort of vibration. You listen. You put a furry ear to the ground. The Earth is troubled. Something is happening. You hear a sadness.

Your mind reaches back to long ago. There had been a warning. Someday the world of Man would end. Someday you would play your last trick, tell your last joke, chortle at your last pun. But that day was not to come for a long time. Why the change in schedule?

You're not sure what to do. Follow your instinct, that's always best. Hear, smell, taste, touch, watch... sense the world of Man and myth... ah, here it is! A party! A party? How can a birthday party signal the end of Man? And how could you not be invited?

Swift as thought, you race to the house of Vann Godfrey. Good, he's asleep. You erase the message from his answering machine -- now he'll never remember to come. You assume Vann's form. Whoops, don't forget the clothes. You grab the invitation and go. But when you get to the party, something changes in you. Your skills and abilities shift and twist. You're still yourself, but nothing works as it did before. You've passed through some sort of portal...

Being as you are the God of Illegal Gambling, you have a lot of business interests. One of your interesting businesses is monitoring the betting among all the other gods. So one day you contact the Celestial Bookmaker, one of the deities of the Chinese pantheon and a good acquaintance of yours. At the top of the board of the today's bets: 10:1 odds that Mankind will not survive the night.

You take the long odds, of course. But that gets you to wondering. You read the paper, same as everyone else. There's nothing going on today that's different from any other day: little wars, petty politics, the weather. What could cause the human race to snuff it?

You send Vito out to gather more information. But you don't just sit on your assets and wait. One of the virtues of being the God of Illegal Gambling is that you get to play with the odds a little. Let's see, what are the odds that yourself would happen to be there at the crises? And just to make things interesting, what are the odds that you'd actually be invited to be there? About a million to one, maybe more?

You reach out into the realm of probability. A twitch of the quantum fields of interaction. Maybe some dice in some casino falls in a different way. Maybe a loser becomes a winner. And maybe an invitation or two gets mis-routed. Hmm, nothing yet. A little extra power, the odds get nudged a little more...

There's a knock on your door. It's a messenger, with your invitation. You tip the kid, who for some reason thinks you're L'rkvaltak, leader of the People of the Desert –what are the odds that someone would make that mistake? – and send him on his way. You open up the envelope, expecting a summon to a world council, or a meeting of mad scientists, or something world-shattering.

It's an invitation to a birthday party. Huh? How could a birthday party lead to the destruction of the human race? What are the odds of that?

And then you smile. You are the God of Illegal Gambling, after all, but there are long shots that don't involve you. It will be fun to face odds that you know nothing about.

Of course, you know that playing with the laws of probability is never localized, not when you've exerted your powers over broad a range. Probably a lot of invitations have gotten mis-routed or mis-delivered. There may be some unexpected guests at the party. Maybe this will shift the odds for you, maybe against you -- but you're not the type of god to let that worry you.

Vito gets back with a couple of tips. You get ready, and then you follow the directions in the invitation on how to open a portal. As you do, something changes in you. Your skills and abilities shift and twist. You're still yourself, but nothing works as it did before. You've passed through some sort of gateway...

You were in Barnes and Noble a couple of months ago, looking to see if Larry Niven's Rainbow Mars was out in paperback, when a woman walked up to you. That happens so rarely in your life that you gave her your undivided attention.

"Bill, I know you're planning a big role-playing birthday party..." she began. She was a young, short, slender lady with long red hair. She was dressed mostly in green. She had a very serious expression on her face.

"How do you know my name? And how do you know what I'm planning?"

"Come on, you've boasted about it for at least two years. Anyway, I know you're having problems coming up with the invitation. So here it is. Just make copies and send them out." She handed you some sheets of paper. You looked them over. There's the invitation itself, directions entitled How to Open a Portal, and a four-page explanation.

You were pleased and amazed. "This is great! You've duplicated by writing style exactly. But why are you doing this?"

"There are special key words and phrases in the invitation to attract certain people. Don't worry about it. Just send them out to everyone, and the right guests will come. Good-bye!" She turned around and walked away.

"Wait! Who are you? What's your name?" But it was too late. She was gone. Another woman out of your life.

And you never learned the answer to the real question in your mind: Why the big lie in the invitation? For it was in fact written by a Bill Seligman impersonator...

It's not going to be easy to make it to Bill's party: the job, the family, baby-sitting, feeding the kids, pets, husband... maybe you should just send Dave and forget about it.

But something happened that changed your mind. A few days ago, you're leaving the house to go to work. As you walk towards your car, a young lady walks up to you. She's short and slender, with long, straight red hair and brown eyes. She's dressed in a fancy green outfit. She has a very serious expression on her face.

"I know you're thinking of skipping the party," she says to you, without so much as a simple hello.

You're startled and a little annoyed. "What? Who are you? How do you know about that?"

"You should come," she continues, ignoring your questions. "This has less to do with Bill than you may think, and a lot to do with what you believe in. You may think your life is hard now. So do I. You won't like my solution. I don't like my solution. But it would be good if someone from the People of the Trees who really understood was at the meeting."

You're confused. "What does that mean?" But the lady ignores that question as she ignored the others. She looks you up and down and sighs. You have a flash of insight: She envies you! She wished she looked like you! She sighs again, then walks away without another world.

So you're here. But as you settle in, something changes in you. Your skills and abilities shift and twist. You're still yourself, but nothing works as it did before. You've passed through some sort of portal...

You've been looking forward to Bill's party, but you begin have second thoughts. It's a long drive, you'll be driving at night to go back, you're not sure that you've got the right things to wear. Maybe you should just forget about it.

But a few days ago, something happens that strengthens your resolve to go. You're in the basement of your apartment complex doing the laundry. While you're folding the sheets, a young lady walks up to you. She's short and slender, with long, straight red hair and brown eyes. She's dressed in a fancy green outfit. She has a very serious expression on her face.

"I know you're thinking of skipping Bill's party," she says to you, without so much as a simple hello.

You're startled and a little annoyed. "What? Who are you? How do you know about that?"

"You should come," she continues, ignoring your questions. "This has less to do with Bill than you may think, and a lot to do with what you believe in. You may think your life is hard now. So do I. You won't like my solution. I don't like my solution. But it would be good if someone from the People of the Trees who really understood my feelings was at the meeting."

You're confused. "What does that mean?" But the lady ignores that question as she ignored the others. She walks away without another world.

So you're here. But as you settle in, something changes in you. Your skills and abilities shift and twist. You're still yourself, but nothing works as it did before. You've passed through some sort of portal...

Even for a wood-elf, no one can deny that you have an unconventional lifestyle. Mixing between the various species of elves (high elf, wood elf, sea elf, and dark elf) is generally discouraged. But you have gone beyond elves altogether, taking a were-panther as a lover. You've grown tired of the comments, the insinuations, the off-hand remarks.

The worst of these remarks is that since you have so undiscriminating tastes, perhaps next you will take a human to bed. This is a remark of the cruelest sort; some humans pass through the corridors of myth into elven times, and they are rude, crude, offensive creatures who think they are clean merely because they take baths.

You spend most of your time near your home in the woods. You and the were-panther live solitary lives, and this suits the both of you. So no one could be more surprised when Darius came for a visit. Darius is a wood-elf like you, but one of uncommonly high status. He even has the respect of the high elves, who generally look down their noses at outsiders. He came to your door unannounced, asked to be let in, and practically whined for tea.

You met Darius before, and always regarded him as somewhat conceited and overly concerned with appearances, almost a high elf in his attitude. But now he appears even more extreme, even bizarre. All hints of responsibility and concern for others seem to have vanished from his character.

He finally gets to the point. "Tyaris, I am so bored. There are so many obligations, and they are all so tedious. Look at this foolish invitation. Here, I give it to you. Take it, please go, and relieve me of this burden. You have my thanks. Fare well!" And without another word, he leaves.

You look at the piece of paper he left. It is an invitation to a birthday party for someone whose name you don't recognize. The time is beyond any that you know, far into the future. The place is unfamiliar; to get to it, you have to follow the directions on "How to Open a Portal." But you are intrigued. Perhaps you can get some idea of the reasons for Darius' change in behavior.

You call your lover to your side, and follow the directions in the invitation. As you do, something changes in you. Your skills and abilities shift and twist. Your language restructures itself within your brain. You're still yourself, but nothing works as it did before. You're passing through some sort of gateway.

And suddenly your lover shifts into panther form and springs away into the swirl between dimensions. You cry out; it is extremely dangerous to leave a proscribed path between the worlds. Moments later, he returns, and he is dangling a fairy baby in his mouth by her clothes. Where did she come from?

A moment later, the dimensional gateway ends, and the world comes into focus...

You and the mistress live alone in the woods. You don't know why. You don't care. It is what the mistress wants.

One day a strange elf comes to visit. He smells strange. Something funny, something that maddens. You prefer to stay away from him.

The strange elf leaves. The mistress says you are going on a trip. You don't know where. You don't care. It is what the mistress wants.

She does something. A doorway opens between the worlds. You and she go through.

You are between the worlds. You know it is dangerous to stray from the path. But the mistress is safe. That is all that matters.

You smell something, someone. You hear a cry in the distance. It is young. It should not be here.

The mistress is safe. You turn into your full panther form. You leave the path and leap between the worlds.

You hear the mistress cry out, but you are safe. You can always find her again. You leap towards the sound, the scent.

You find the source. A young fairy child is struggling along another path. You hear her cry and gasp in bursts. "...must get to meeting... forbidden... dark..."

It is strange. She grows younger as you watch. Mistress will know what to do. You grab the fairy by her clothing with your mouth. You take her to mistress.

By the time you reach mistress, the fairy is a baby. You don't know why. Mistress will know what to do.

You both reach the end of the path. As you do, something changes in you. Your skills and abilities shift and twist. Your language restructures itself within your brain. You're still yourself, but nothing works as it did before. You've passed through the gateway...

You are the chief lady-in-waiting to Titania, Queen of the Fairies. It's an important job with many responsibilities: collecting the morning dew for Titania's breakfast; assuring each flower bud in Titania's bower opens by midday (for you never know when she and Oberon will have one of their frequent reconciliations, and sleep together that night); keeping an eye out for that rascally trickster Puck; announcing guests to Titania's court; warning of any approaching humans so the Fairie Court can fade into mist; and last (and most complex of all) obeying all of Titania's whims.

Titania is Queen of the Fairies, and that is responsibility enough for any being, but you have long suspected that she has other duties that most Fairies know nothing about. Many of your fellow Fairies consider her commands imperious, willful, whimsical, or capricious. But you have served her long enough to understand that there is a hidden purpose behind every order. But Titania never bothers to explain that purpose to anyone, not even you, her most trusted servant.

Or so you thought. But this morning you woke to find your Queen in a state of great agitation. You're surprised; normally you wake before the Queen to gather her morning dew. She must have been up all night. You fly to over to her to see what you should do.

She sees you and motions for you to sit down. "Dehlia, there's something I've meant to tell you for some time, and now it's too late. I took on all the responsibilities of representing the People of the Mist unto myself, for who other than myself is worthy?"

You have no idea what she means by "people of the mist," but you are fiercely loyal to your Queen. "Who else could be more worthy, Your Majesty?"

She smiles. "Perhaps you are equally worthy, at least to represent us at the meeting. But I thought I would have time to train you, and there's no time left. An emergency meeting has been declared, I am threatened, and the cycle of races is at risk. If something goes wrong, someone must represent us at the meeting, and there is no one I trust more than you."

Your head is spinning. You have absolutely no idea what she is talking about. Training? Meetings? Cycles? Threats? "My Queen, what shall I do?"

"I must prepare for the meeting, and you shall accompany me. Have someone else fetch my morning dew. Go the Fairie Ring and look inside the largest toadstool. You will find an invitation, a ring, and a small figurine. Bring them all to me here. As soon you get back we shall leave. You may see humans along the way. Ignore them. We cannot allow those crude beings to delay us."

"Yes, my Queen." You ask one of the other ladies-in-waiting to fetch Titania's breakfast. You then fly off to the Ring and look inside the toadstool. You find a piece of paper and the figurine -- but there is no ring. You search again and again, but it's not there. You decide not to waste any more time and back to Titania's Court.

She is not there. You look around. Clearly she has broken her fast, but there are no other signs she was there. You ask your fellow Fairies, but no one knows where the Queen is. No one has seen her since her breakfast was delivered.

You wait. The sun rises higher. You search the Court, and see no sign of Titania. The Court is becoming agitated; you are not the only one who's noticed that the Queen is missing. What should you do?

You look at the paper. It's an invitation --not to a "meeting," but to a birthday party. The time and place puzzle you: it's apparently scheduled for far in the future, further ahead in time than you've ever imagined, and in a place you've never heard of. But there are directions in the invitation on how to open a portal, which will somehow take you there.

You remember the Queen's sense of urgency. If you're going to do something, you should do it now. If Titania placed her trust in you, then you should be worthy of it. You follow the directions in the invitation. As you do, something changes in you. Your skills and abilities shift and twist. Your language restructures itself within your brain. You're still yourself, but nothing works as it did before. You've passed through some sort of gateway...

You read the note that the messenger brought you:

You finish reading the letter and look at the messenger. "The message is much delayed, by several years," you say. "Why is it that you give it to me only now?"

The messenger looks embarrassed and apologetic. "There was much disorder in the household after the fire. A gang of humans (a disagreeable and noxious race, made only acceptable by their relative scarcity) burned down the house, and Argelius perished in the fire.

"The night before the house was burned and looted, he gave my fellow servant Ardala the message that you hold in your hands. I, in turn, was entrusted with the task of journeying to the far-off land Kartoch (though I know it is the land on which we are presently located) to retrieve a certain missive for my master.

"When I returned from my journey, I saw the house was burned, and heard that my master was dead. I could not find no other member of the household, and so therefore found employment elsewhere in the city.

"It was only month ago that, by purest chance, I encountered Ardala again. We exchanged our respective stories, and it was then that I discovered that Ardala had never left to deliver the message to you. So distraught was she with the then-recent events of the fire that, in her distress, she assumed that the death of her master meant the delivery was no longer necessary.

"I know little of my master's business, but I do know that he intended you to be his successor. Thus his possessions are rightfully yours. I decided that the last remaining deed I could do in service to my former master was to deliver that which he felt was your rightful due. He was particularly interested that you receive two items: a simple ring that he often wore, and a small blue stone gargoyle in the form of a winged cat. However, though I searched through the ruins of the house, I could find neither of those two items.

"I do, however, entrust to you the message that my master originally sent me to fetch for him. Thus do I give you the message, and the note originally entrusted to Ardala that I've promised to deliver in her stead. Thus do I consider my obligation discharged."

You thank the messenger, reward him a reasonable amount, and bid him farewell. You deliberately neglect to mention that, due to a remarkable chain of circumstances, you already possess the gargoyle that Argelius intended for you.

You examine the missive that the servant gave you. It is an invitation to a birthday party for someone whose name you don't recognize. The time is beyond any that you know, far into the past. The place is unfamiliar; to get to it, you have to follow the directions on "How to Open a Portal". But you know that if you're going to have any chance of answering the many questions raised in Argelius' note, you will have to accept the invitation.

On a hunch, you fetch the blue stone gargoyle. You follow the directions in the invitation. As you do, something changes in you. Your skills and abilities shift and twist. Your language restructures itself within your brain. You're still yourself, but nothing works as it did before. You've passed through some sort of gateway...

Throughout your youth, your favorite relative was your great-aunt Belladonna Took. She was a prim and proper hobbit -- when she was with others. But she came from Bywater to visit your family, and you and she were alone, her grim features would disappear and a wonderful smile appeared on her face. You played terrific games, and she shared good pieces of hobbit advice and wisdom that were of much practical value as you grew older.

At your thirty-second birthday (Belladonna was ninety-six), she told you, "Next year you'll reach the age of thirty-three, a proper adult age for a hobbit. It will be time for you to become responsible. On your next birthday, I'm going to come to your hole [for like all proper hobbits you live under a hill], stay several months, and start teaching you for real. It's about time I started training my successor."

Now, you had no idea that great-aunt Belladonna had any other job or titles other than head of the Took Clan. So you looked forward to your next birthday more than you usually would, for you wanted to know what your dear Belladonna wished to teach you.

And that made it all the harder when, three months before your birthday, you learned that great-aunt Belladonna had fallen mysteriously ill. Although she was ninety-seven by then, she was a hale and hearty hobbit, and everyone thought she was at least good to reach one hundred and eleven (as the famous Rory Baggins had -- and he was a Took on his mother's side, as you are).

You were concerned, so without delay you traveled from your home in Hobbiton to Bywater. But by the time you got there, your great-aunt was dead. The entire Took clan showed up for the funeral. They all knew of Belladonna's special relationship with you, and you were welcome as part of the close family.

Afterwards, you asked if any of them knew what Belladonna had planned to tell you, but none of them knew. However, your cousin Nellie Took told you that Belladonna had prepared a package for you that she intended to give to your on your next birthday. Belladonna kept that package close by her at all times, and it was fact on her nightstand on the day she died.

Nellie gave you the package, and sure enough it's labeled, "For Periwinkle Pipe on her thirty-third birthday." You decided that since your great-aunt intended it to be a birthday present, it was only fitting and proper that you wait until your birthday to open it. It was the best way that you could think of to respect her wishes.

So you waited three months. The celebration at your birthday party was muted somewhat by your great-aunt's recent passing, but it was a fine hobbit celebration for all that. After the guests had gone, but before you started cleaning up, you sat down and opened the package. It contained two pieces of paper and a small mathom.

One of the pieces of paper was a note, and you realize as you look at it that Belladonna must have written it on her deathbed. It read:

The handwriting became very weak and scrawling by the second paragraph, as if she had no more energy. Apparently she didn't even have enough strength to sign the note.

The mathom is a small stein. You've seen it before; it was one of your great-aunt's favorite trinkets, and she often carried around with her. You search the package for a ring -- but it's not there. Could someone have taken it? Who? No hobbit, especially one of the Tooks, would have stolen from the head of their clan. Come to think of it, if Belladonna barely had enough strength to finish the note, how could she have sealed the package?

There had been rumors of strange humans in Bywater lately. Most of the humans you've met were depressing and suspicious people. They often made rude boasts about having once ruled the world before the hobbits, whom they called "the burrowers." Sometimes when drunk (a state they indulged in far too often for your taste) they claimed they would rule again one day. It was well known that humans had no compunctions against stealing from hobbits. Could one of them have taken the ring?

The remaining piece of paper in the package is an invitation to a birthday party -- and it's not to your birthday nor to Belladona's, but to someone whose name you don't recognize. The time is beyond any that you know, far into the past. The place is unfamiliar; to get to it, you have to follow the directions on "How to Open a Portal". But you know you're going to follow your great-aunt's wishes. Besides, you have so much left over from your own birthday party that you might as well share it.

You wake up bright and early the next day, and make proper hobbit preparations for going to a party. You follow the directions in the invitation. As you do, something changes in you. Your skills and abilities shift and twist. Your language restructures itself within your brain. You're still yourself, but nothing works as it did before. You've passed through some sort of gateway...

It is the most holy day in the Mayan calendar. You are performing a sacrifice to the god Tohil, hoping to see a vision of bounty and success for your people during the coming year. As you hold the offering up to the sky, a wave of dizziness passes over you. You almost let go of the still-beating heart of the sacrifice as it slows in your hand.

A mist obscures your vision. Your sight is carried to another place, another realm: the realm of Tohil. The image of your god appears before in all his might and majesty. You make all due obedience to him, and he bides you to rise.

"Forty-five Jaguars, you have served me faithfully and well," he proclaims. "I therefore shall entrust you with an important task. Fulfill your duty, and you shall reap great reward in the new world that is to come.

"A great change is about to come over the world, an inevitable change, and many will not survive. I am determined that my people, my devoted followers, should be among the ones to live and flourish after the change. To do this, we must rely on the good will of Grotar, god of the People of Fire.

"You shall attend the Great Meeting." At these words, a scrap of hide flutters from above and lands at your feet. "Place your power and abilities in the service of Grotar. Give Grotar good reason to trust, respect, and honor the people of Tohil. Listen, learn, and report to me all that you experience when you return.

"Now go, Forty-five Jaguars, go in service to your god and your people. We place our trust in you." With those words, the vision fades.

You are standing again in front of the sacrificial altar. The offering has gone cold in your hand. And there, on the floor, is the scrap of hide you saw in your vision. A trickle of blood from the sacrifice has run along the floor and begins to discolor the edge. You pick up the hide and read the marks upon it.

It's an invitation -- to a birthday party? You don't understand. Still, you know better than to disobey the will of Tohil. You go through the rites of purification and put on fresh ceremonial robes. You follow the mystical directions in the invitation on how to open a portal.

As you perform the rite, something changes in you. The language that you speak changes within your mind. Your skills and abilities shift and twist. You're still yourself, but nothing works as it did before. You pass through some sort of portal...

How can you possibly be so unlucky in love? Seven husbands, seven delightful men, all cut off at the moment of supreme happiness. And can there be any doubt that it was their moment of supreme happiness -- because they were married to you!

It's interesting, though, they even though they were seven very different men, they all seemed to have the same personality. And they did seem to use the word "Earthling" in conversation more than most of the other people in your social circle. However, they were all extremely attentive to you and your needs, and were devoted to your happiness. A shame, what happened to them... a shame.

The last and latest of your husbands was an Englishman named Cuthbert Collingworth Wilkinson IV, but all of his friends called him "Binky." He was some sort of archeologist, but of course he gave up all the musty digging into old cities once he met you. After he passed away, you went through his papers and found the invitation to a birthday party. Well, any invitation meant for Binky must have included you as well, so you decide to go.

Funny thing about that invitation. It was among the archeological relics that he dug up, and it looked like it was written on a really ancient piece of vellum. How could Binky possibly have had an invitation to a party that takes place in 1999, but was written thousands of years ago?

Oh, well, it's another mystery. It's time to put the unpleasantness of the past aside and to look towards the hope of the future.

Another funny thing. As you get to the party, something changes in you. Your skills and abilities shift and twist. You're still yourself, but nothing works as it did before. You've passed through some sort of portal...

You stagger out of the cave and watch the sun rise. You are tired -- not physically, but spiritually. As Diego de la Vega, you are used to playing the role of a spoiled nobleman. As El Zorro, "the Fox", you are used to the role of hero: defending the peasants of Pueblo Los Angeles against the villainous landowners of Southern California.

But you are not used the role of fighting the minions of the devil. The peasants had brought you tales a dark ghost, a creature all in black, a monster with red eyes from the depths of Hell who drank blood. Night after night you hunted for it. At first you thought you were chasing after the bad dreams of foolish, drunken old men. Then you saw your first bloodless corpse.

Finally, last night, in the light of the full moon, you saw a shadow rise up from the ground, a blood-drained old woman at its feet. It looked at you with those red eyes, hissed, then turned and ran. You overcame the fear within your heart and followed.

The creature mounted a black horse and rode towards the mountains. You ran to Toronada, your black stallion, and pursued the black rider. Toronada is as swift as the wind, yet the creature's steed was just as fast. You barely kept up with it. You rode through most of the night, past desert cactus, some gypsy wagons, an old mining town.

Finally, the night three-quarters done, the creature reached the mountains. It raced up a mountain trail and into a large cave. You stopped outside the cave and dismounted. You drew your sword, and slowly entered the cave. The pounding of your heart was the only thing the disturbed the silence.

The creature jumped at you in the darkness. You swung your sword, struck -- and the blow had no effect. You dodged, swung, struck again, your horror mounting -- but no matter how many times your blade passed through the creature, it did not die; no wounds, no blood, not even a hiss of pain. The rest of the night past in nightmare as you defended yourself against a foe who could not die.

But finally, the sun rose, and its light entered the cave. The piercing light of the sun did what your sword could not: the creature dissolved into dust, screaming as it faded.

Now it's over. As you look into the cave, you see the creature's horse. You walk over to him. He seems calm -- no wonder, after that monstrous rider there could be little that would scare him. You search the saddlebags. What's this? Sheets of paper, parchment, hide, vellum -- and all identical, all with the same writing. It's an invitation -- to a birthday party? And it's in 1999, 176 years in the future. It makes no sense.

There are directions in the invitation on how to open a portal. You decide to try, hoping to find some answers. As you follow the directions, something changes in you. Your skills and abilities shift and twist. You're still yourself, but nothing works as it did before. You've passed through some sort of gate...

Some call you Robin Goodfellow, others just call you Puck. Either way, you're the trickster of the Fairie world. There's only one person who gives you orders: Oberon, the King of the Fairies. Sometimes you resent this, but most of the time the tasks he gives you are finer than any tricks you could have thought of yourself.

For example, take this latest trick. You received a message from Oberon, in the traces of dew that form outlines of letters on a cliff face (that's a little strange; normally he gives you orders in person). You went to the Fountain of Youth, which is located in the place called Florida in the world of Man, and drew forth a full beaker of water.

You then flew to the court of Titania, the Queen of the Fairies and Oberon's husband. You transformed yourself into a butterfly so that you would not be noticed, and fluttered over to the tray that contained Titania's breakfast. You emptied the chalice from which she normally drinks her morning dew, and substituted the water from the Fountain of Youth. You then flew to the top of a nearby tree and watched from your hiding place.

Oh, the joyful surprise! Titania drank the entire chalice. She then began to grow younger and younger, from regal woman to young teenager to small child. A sudden gust of wind knocked you from the tree so you didn't see what happened next -- but you have no doubt that she would become a tiny baby before long.

Chortling to yourself, you fly high into the sky. Oh, the joy, to be free and fair. You fly back down into the forest, and notice a pattern in the leaves on the ground. You return to your natural form, and see that it's another message from Oberon.

The message says, "Seek in the hollow of a nearby tree. You'll find an invitation to a birthday party in the world of Man. But there is more to this party than meets the eye or mind. Accept the invitation, and go the party. Restrain your enthusiasm for your jests and pranks, and be my eyes and ears. When I am ready, I'll send you a command through a messenger. They will identify themselves by saying, 'The petal of the rose hath many virtues.' Your reply shall be, 'And love is the least of them.' Obey my commands, or face the wrath of Oberon!"

You have no desire to spend another century as a prickle-berry, so you do as he says. You find the invitation. You follow the directions in the invitation on how to open a portal. As you do, something changes in you. Your skills and abilities shift and twist. Your language restructures itself within your brain. You're still yourself, but nothing works as it did before. You've passed through some sort of gateway...

You know, life is unpredictable. Here you are, a common, every-day acupuncturist. Then one night, without warning, as you're heading back to home and family, a space alien unexpectedly devours you.

However, you're still you. If somehow you manage get free from the alien's wicked clutches, you'll be yourself again. Or will you? As you get to the party, something changes in you. Your skills and abilities shift and twist. You're still yourself, but nothing works as it did before. You've passed through some sort of portal...

You are an anthropologist, specializing in primitive civilizations. These Earthlings are among the most primitive you've ever encountered, and just about the stupidest as well: they've discovered nuclear power, but they still haven't discovered floon yet -- and floon is easier to discover than fire (though a little harder to discover than water).

The primary reason you're on this ball of rock is because you made a bet with Ktlqrrp, your semi-cousin and fellow anthropologist. About forty Earth years ago, you bet that the Earthlings would destroy themselves in a nuclear holocaust before their calendar reached 2000 A.D. Unfortunately, peace broke out, and it now looks unlikely that you'll win. For several decades (less than one Centaurian week) you hung around the planet, trying to figure out a way to launch their nukes at each other -- but you're not a veterinarian, and you have no idea how to get these creatures to do what you want.

But now the bet has moved to the back of your minds, because you've fallen in love. Her name is Priscilla Purple. You can't say attracts you to her -- it can't be a matter of the heart, because you haven't got one; it can't be her mind, because she only has the one. Whatever. You're in love.

You've possessed one body after another, just to be close to her. In fact, you've been married to her seven times. But each time you've married her, before you felt confident enough to tell her the truth about yourself, your human body has been killed. Is this a co-incidence, or is someone after you? You don't know. But you keep trying.

Your goal is to get to her accept the truth, accept your alien love, and take her away to Alpha Centauri on your spaceship. And if she can tell you how to win the bet, and how to convince the other Earthlings to blow themselves up, so much the better!

You found out she was going to this birthday party, so you possessed the body of one of the guests, an Earthling with the unpronounceable name of June. It probably doesn't matter to you that it's a female body; after all, if you can overlook the fact that Priscilla only has one head and respirates oxygen, surely she can overlook any minor physical differences. And if she can't, or if you can't, you can always possess another body.

When you first heard about Bill's birthday party, you were a little skeptical and not terribly anxious to go. Fantasy role-playing? Bardic Circles? Costumes and games? And the whole event is supposed to last nine hours. You like to have fun as much as the next person, but it all seems a bit much.

You wondered whether or not you should go, especially since Steve couldn't make it. [Remember, he's not at the party -- Hippocrates is.] You're still trying to make up your mind as you visit the supermarket a few days before the party, picking up a few groceries for the house.

As you maneuver your shopping cart through the baked goods section, a young lady walks up to you. She's short and slender, with long, straight red hair and brown eyes. She's dressed in a fancy green outfit. She has a very serious expression on her face.

"I know you're thinking of skipping the party," she says to you, without so much as a simple hello.

You're startled and a little annoyed. "What? Who are you? Are you one of Bill's friends?"

"You should come," she continues, ignoring your questions. "Everyone else there will feel special, empowered, all full of themselves, all so self-assured that they know all the answers. At least one sensible example of the People of the Trees should be there -- if there really are any left."

You're confused. "What does that mean?" But the lady ignores that question as she ignored the others. She walks away without another world.

So you're here. But as you settle in, something changes in you. Your skills and abilities shift and twist. You're still yourself, but nothing works as it did before. You've passed through some sort of portal...

You look at the pile of scrolls upon your desk and sigh. Papers and notes, correspondence and journals, records and drawings -- your research is intended to advance the knowledge of mankind, but mostly what it seems to do is advance the consumption of parchment. You begin to search through the pile, looking for the notes you made on that woman you examined a few years ago. She had a condition similar to that of the patient you saw this morning. The same condition, and so perhaps the same cause. But where are those records?

You pause and sigh again. Ah, how better it will be in the world of the future, when all these questions are answered. Once physicians learn the cause of illness and disease, surely all these notes and records will be unnecessary. You feel a burst of envy for those doctors of the future.

You rummage though your notes again, when something catches your eye. What's this? You don't remember putting this on your desk, and your servants have strict instructions not to enter your office. It's an invitation... to a birthday party? Who put this here? You read it. The party is in the future, twenty-four centuries from now? How can this be?

You read the directions on how to open a portal. Well, this is certainly implausible. And yet... to visit the future. To have the answers to the questions you've always asked. To learn the cause of disease. To have proof that it's not a flux of bodily humors, or possession by some demonic spirit. To know the causes and effects associated with illness and health. Wouldn't it be grand if the invitation were real?

Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. You get up, walk out of your home, and follow the directions in the invitation. As you do, your surroundings change. You change. Your skills and abilities shift and twist. You're still yourself, but nothing works as it did before. Your clothing changes, your language restructures itself within your brain.

And with the new language, new knowledge. At first, this knowledge is disappointing. Healing spells? Resurrection rituals? This contradicts everything you've researched throughout your life! You've worked hard to show that human illness is not magic, that the treatment of disease is subject to cause and effect, and can be determined through experiment and reason.

But as your mind settles, you come to understand the peculiarity of your present circumstance. Yes, this is the future. Yes, they have a better understanding of illness and health, and how to treat disease. This "magic" that you are now capable of is a transient thing, a momentary truth that exists only for this party. The reality is the rationality of medicine that has been your goal as a man of science.

You are eager to find out more about this world, and about their doctors. Surely, with all the knowledge of the medical world at their disposal, human health has reached a state of perfection! You should find someone and ask.

Ten to one odds that Mankind does not survive the night. Da boss says investigate. So you investigate.

First you check with the Celestial Bookmaker. The short side of the bet was set up by a god named Grotar. You never heard of Grotar before, so you ask around. The nixies, the pixies, the naiads, the dryads, the elves, the dwarves, the centaurs, the minotaurs -- none of 'em ever heard of Grotar.

Finally you try the orcs, and you hit paydirt. Grotar is the big god among the orcs, number one, the top kahuna. He's a god of fire, fighting, and war. He used to be the big time, about half a billion years ago, when the orcs ruled the earth. But he went down when the orcs went down, and he's been small potatoes ever since.

On a hunch, you check out one of the boss' favorite joints, a place where he likes to play cards. Vinnie the Weasel is there, shooting his mouth off, as usual. You ask him what's going on, nice and polite-like. When you let him drop to the floor, he tells you that Louie the Loser has won an invitation to a birthday party.

You can't help but smile a little, which hurts your face. Louie the Loser is one of the boss' favorite people. Louie never wins, but he never quits hoping, never quits betting. Louie doesn't know it, but he worships Benny the Teapot about as much as any devoted follower who put gold-plated dice with silver spots on an altar. Louie never met the boss face-to-face, but maybe the boss would like to meet Louie.

"Is dat it," you ask Vinnie. He mutters something through his busted teeth (maybe it would help if you learned to watch your temper). "What's dat? A little louder this time."

"Van Dorn," says Vinnie. "He'll be at the party. He's -- no, no, NO!" What's Vinnie scared of? You aren't doing anything to him. But he's staring over your shoulder.

You turn just in time to see something -- a bat? -- flutter away. You turn back, and see that Louie is dead. Too bad. Now he can't answer any more questions. Wonder what killed him? You know it wasn't you.

You get back to the boss and tell him what you know. It isn't much. He already knows about the birthday party. That's the boss -- always one step ahead. He follows the directions in the invitation. As he does, something changes in you. Your skills and abilities shift and twist. You're still yourself, but nothing works as it did before. You've passed through some sort of portal...

There are many species of elves: wood elf, sea elf, and dark elf. You are of the highest, most refined, most civilized of the elven species: the high elf. Silver of face and noble of mind, you are respected by all the other kinds of elves -- or, at least, those who wish to consider themselves respectable respect you.

Even among the high elves, you are well known as a practitioner of advanced and esoteric magic. Many an elven wizard comes to you when they have problems, such manipulating the pathways between the worlds, or dealing with infestations of humans near their castles. (Some humans pass through the corridors of myth into elven times. They are rude, crude, offensive creatures who think they are clean merely because they take baths.)

So it is all the more irritating that for all your reputation, it is a mere wood elf named Darius who has the title of "Leader of the People of the Air." You don't know what the title means, but it is one that is granted by the highest circles of high-elven leadership. You've made no secret that you'd like the title for yourself. You wait for the day that the Council of Elven Unity recognizes Darius' unsuitability for the role, and assigns it to you.

One day, Darius pays you a visit. His attitude is bizarre and strange. He has become conceited and overly concerned with appearances. He lacks any remnant of the respect that he once showed you. "Beleriond," he whines, "I don't know why you seek my title. It is so boring, so useless. There are so many tedious obligations. Would you take this one off my hands?" He shows you an invitation to a birthday party. Clearly, he is mocking you.

"Please," he begs, "Take this ring and go in my stead." He removes a ring from his finger and tosses it at you. You grab for it, but it bounces off one of your fingertips and flies out a window. "Oh dear, oh dear," he moans. "You lost the ring already. Clearly you are not the one to go. Perhaps Tyaris would be a better choice. Good-bye!" He leaves.

What an insult! Tyaris Panbrook is a wood-elf who is known for her bizarre sexual relationship with a were-panther. Now you want to know what this is all about.

You look outside the window of your home for that ring, but you don't find it. Perhaps Darius picked it up. You set up a magical trace around Darius, something that only the cleverest wizards could attempt. You find that he indeed visits Tyaris. Now you transfer your trace to her.

After a time, she leaves the elven realm and heads through a dimensional gateway. You mystically trace the path. You duplicate the pathway for yourself and travel along it, determined to reach her destination before she does. When you reach the end of the path, something changes in you. Your skills and abilities shift and twist. Your language restructures itself within your brain. You're still yourself, but nothing works as it did before. You've passed through some sort of portal...

You and your partner, Emma Peel (Mrs.), are agents of British Intelligence. Your boss is code-named "Mother," the head of your Intelligence Division. He was injured on a mission many years ago, and he's now confined to a wheelchair, but you've never met a sharper mind.

Your latest assignment: Priscilla Purple, the "Purple Widow", has been married seven times. Each of her husbands has died in a different, somewhat bizarre way. Right now, you don't suspect Priscilla herself. Your best lead is that an assassin named Neo is responsible -- but you have no clear proof.

Normally this would not be a matter for British Intelligence, except that each of Priscilla's husbands demonstrated a change in behavior just before they started dating her. They all seemed to lose interest in their jobs and their lives, and started courting Priscilla; it's as if a common spirit possessed them. This is not enough evidence for a conventional law enforcement agency, but since when you have you and Mrs. Peel been conventional?

But for you, there's a personal aspect to this case. Priscilla's last and latest husband was Cuthbert Collingworth Wilkinson IV, known to his old Cambridge friends (of which you were one) as "Binky." Binky was a trifle eccentric, but what British intellectual isn't? He was an archeologist, pursuing a controversial theory of human history: that the Lost City of Atlantis was inhabited by a race of bull-headed people, whose last survivor was the Minotaur of ancient Cretan myth.

He gave up this line of research about five years ago. The rest of the archeological community thought it was because he gave up on such a weird ide. However, he confided in you that the reason he abandoned his quest was his belief that the Atlanteans had deliberately erased signs of their civilization. It was pointless to look for any hard evidence for his theory, because the Minotaurs themselves would have destroyed it.

Be that as it may, Binky is dead, as are Priscilla's six previous husbands, and you want to know who's responsible. You've trailed Priscilla to a birthday party in the States. You also have evidence that Neo will be at the party as well, but you don't know who he (or she) is, and what he (or she) looks like.

After you arrived in the States, you received word from Mother that an agent may contact you at the party with further instructions. They will offer you a pass-phrase: "How's mother been lately?" You are to respond, "She's stuck on the roof and she can't get back down."

So far, it's business as usual. But then, as you get to the party, something changes in you. Your skills and abilities shift and twist. You're still yourself, but nothing works as it did before. You've passed through some sort of portal...

There is a secret government agency called Bureau 13. Its purpose is to seek out and destroy hidden threats to the security of the United States. It's the type of organization that's dedicated to getting rid of people like you. They tried. They failed. You were always too fast, too clever, always one step ahead.

So they did the next best thing: they hired you. You didn't care who you worked for, as long as they paid well. Since you've started working for Bureau 13, you've had all sorts of interesting assignments and faced many difficult challenges. But you've always succeeded. You know you're the best.

You're latest assignment from Bureau 13 is a little puzzling: you are to immediately terminate anyone who gets involved in a romantic relationship with Priscilla Purple. She keeps getting married again, and you keep killing them. So far, you've killed seven of her husbands, and you're ready to kill another one if she gets married again.

As usual, you've been very clever in how you killed your targets. You knew that if you killed all seven of her husbands in the same way, Priscilla would see the pattern. So you've killed each one in a different way, each in a way so that no one would ever suspect that an assassin was involved.

You have no idea why Bureau 13 has given you this assignment. But that's not unusual: although you work for them, they haven't given you a high security clearance. They never explain why they want you to kill someone; they just tell you who the target is, you do it, and they pay you. You don't know anything about Priscilla: who she is, what she does, why the Bureau wants her husbands dead. And as far as you're concerned, you don't need to know.

You've followed Priscilla at a distance. It's easy to do, because she always wears purple and she stands out in a crowd. She's going to a birthday party in southern New York state. No problem -- you follow her in one of your best disguises, that of a 12-year-old boy.

The Bureau has let you know that they may need to contact you at the party to give you further instructions. If they do, your contact will give you a pass-phrase: "The Bureau sent me." Your code response will be, "Then keep the wardrobe shut."

So far, it's business as usual. But then, as you get to the party, something changes in you. Your skills and abilities shift and twist. You're still yourself, but nothing works as it did before. You've passed through some sort of portal...