Candles gleam through a haze of incense slowly curling, rising into the dark. Bandit sits cross-legged, gazing into the astral from the center of his medicine lodge. He has been many hours considering what he will do, trying to anticipate what will come, and making preparations. The time has come for him to begin. He rises with the incense, drifting free of his physical flesh, beyond the boundaries of his lodge, then through the dark fabric of the building around him. He emerges, still seated cross-legged, hovering a few meters above the ground, into the astral twilight at the rear of the building.