Without Intent

## Story

The dog-faced creature seeped through into the Wakeworld on the side of the mountain, a smaller moon than the one to which it was used to hanging in the sky.

It took it some time to ascertain its position, but the familiar profile of Mount Koma to the south told it most of the distance had been covered on the Other Side. It had been a long time since it had last stood under those distant stars, and yet it was good being in a place its ancestors had called home.

The throb in his left side brought it back to the present juncture.

Its muscular leg propelling it forward through the undergrowth, it marched towards the old stone temple on the north face of Mount Iwate.

Soon, the white and red lights running on the gray stone strip to the east, and the hazy shine of Morioka were gone beyond the shoulder of the mountain, and the squat shape of the monks house was crouching in front of the lone traveller.

It remembered a darker Morioka, when the famines struck and people prayed for relief.

Its people had been there, then.

The monks understood back then.

It inhaled deeply, savoring the smell of the humans.

They would understand still.

Anything alive fears death.

And if the ones in the temple were still keeping the faith, they would help it, and its god.

The monk they called Simple Mamoru had never been the sharper knife in the drawer.

He was childish, and tended the garden of the temple out of the childish good natured way of his that the monks greeted with a smile and a nod.

The day's chores having settled down with the sun, he sat under the porch, watching the stars and following the blinking lights of an outbound airplane.

The late autumn night was crisp but not unpleasant yet.

A movement finally brought it back to earth.

Standing and bowing, he wondered how long the dark stranger had been standing by the gate.

The fact that the man had been able to enter despite the gates being firmly closed did not bother Simple Mamoru. Much more was the worry that the uninvited guest might have manhandled somehow the Brother Nyogen's scooter, that sat by the entrance, all reds and chrome.

But then he saw the Vespa was all right, and he smiled at the stranger, wishing him good night.

"The head of your house," the stranger growled.

His voice was low and gravelly.

Simple Mamoru scratched his head, wondering what the man needed.

His nostrils caught a weird smell he had never smelled before.

"The master, the leader," the stranger continued, taking another step forward.

He kept one hand pressed by its side.

"The older monk," he tried.

Mamoru brightened.

"The older monk is certainly brother Tetsuro, the apothecary." he nodded. Then he saw the problem. "But you can't see him this late at night, revered guest, as he usually goes to sleep with the chickens, as soon as the sun sets."

The stranger had an impatient gesture. "The one that gives orders!"

So it was that Simple Mamoru saw the light.

The one they called Nyogen caught the smell before everything else.

So it was that when Simple Mamoru came to him, introducing a "strange gentleman", he was ready for the thing that made its way into the empty room.

The old man dismissed the boy with a gesture and a nod, and concentrated his sight on the uninvited.

"I ask for hospitality and refuge," the thing said. "And help."

It had a face of a dog, or a large baboon.

A mane of dark hair crowned its elongated head, and the hands were frightfully human-like, but clawed, the thick nails yellow and broken.

It was old, and wise in its own ways.

Nyogen stared into the yellow eyes, knowing that no blink of human warmth would be found there, but hunger.

He bowed.

"I am Nyogen, of the Tainihodo," he said.

He was not going to forsake etiquette.

Time was of no import.

The creature nodded, shifting its position into a more human posture of polite sitting.

"Pardon my rudeness," it said, bowing its head. "I am called the Mortar of the Namahage, by those of the Taininhodo that still remember me."

Nyogen nodded, one more piece falling in its place.

Mortar, Wasp and Baked Chestnut, whoever had been that named the members of that ancient Namahage embassy had been fond of old tales.

"A distinguished guest," he said. "I welcome you, Mortar."

The baboon faced contracted in an unpleasant grin.

"You should not, human," it said, yellow teeth barely parting.

"I come with bad news, and a request of help on behalf of my people and my god."

Nyogen smiled, considering.

"We never refused…."

A snort.

Urgent, now. "Cut the polite crap, human. My clan is blasted, our House in flames, our god desecrated, our land on the Other Side at war. We have no time to reminisce past favours or talk polite. We need help, so help yourselves and help us."

The monk was not surprised.

That was the way of the dog-faced.

"Explain."

They were young and without faith.

Many, many of them were half-breeds or turned humans, and all were crazy.

They refused the old ways and wanted fresh meat for their feeding.

"They are going to kill the living, and eat them."

There was a strange undertone in the creature's growling voice.

Scandal, Nyogen realized.

Hurt faith in the ancient ways.

"Not today," the thing continued "and maybe not tomorrow, but they are gonna seep through and start feasting on the living, desecrating the Holy testaments."

A steamy explosion of foul breath emanated from its snout.

"The elders confided in our god, prayed and fasted to appease him, so that his wrath at the wayward would not smite the faithful, too, but it was too late. They came and parleyed, and after the parley they struck and killed."

A violent shudder shook the crouching form.

A line of thick spittle dribbled from its drawn black lips.

"They called us 'meat'."

The yellow eyes fixed on the old man's impassible face.

The ghoul prostrated, hitting the floor with its head.

"As I am talking to you, those abominations are eating my brothers," it whispered.

It lifted its head and there were thick black tears in its eyes, flowing and staining the floor.

"Help yourself and help us," it said. "Send someone that can wield the Sword…."

Black smoke drifted from its mouth and the monk straightened, stretching forward.

"No!"

"Taia," the thing said, and let out a yelp, as the word itself scorched its mouth.

It bowed its ugly head once again.

The monk nodded.

And so it was that they came to young Tosui where he sat meditating, as he had been doing twenty years since.

He perceived their coming, and the presence of One of the Foul, and slowly docked back and opened his eyes, taking it all in.

He knew that he was needed as the old monk explained.

Namahage feeding off the living.

Madness and destruction.

Pain.

Suffering.

He stood.

"This will be seen to," he said.

The Foul One growled in appreciation.

It was like in the old tales, and the irony was not missed on the young turks taking their time in the Zoog's wood.

The one they called Snapper, who had been a fairly successful broker till the day his hunger for human meat had not led him down the path of self-inflicted but even more successful ghoul-dom, spat out a mouthful of kid's finger bones and turned upwind, sniffing theatrically.

"By the pricking of my thumbs…." he started.

The idea of "pricking" brought about much cheerfulness from Tinkerbell, the only female present, laying with her back against a large flat standing stone, tripping out on a killer crack/ice cocktail.

She had been a changeling in a well to do Kingsport family before the turn on. She loved meat just as much as she loved the extended highs and rough sex the transition from Human Joy Popepr to Ghoul Geek affected, and the fresh whiff of human coming to her was making her hornier than usual.

The leader of the pack stood, tossing away a femur.

They called him Tetsuro even if it was not his true name and he loved every moment of it.

"Just imagine," he said in his too-neat English "us poor monsters meeting a monk by the roadside."

Tosui stood at the margin of the clearing, straw hat and black travelling clothes.

He had staff for support and a cold light in his eyes.

"Mite mi," the leader grinned, swaggering forward.

He offered a chunk of ribcage. "Moo kutta ke?"

A pair of his companions howled.

Laughing probably.

The monk took in the whole scene.

A dozen of the creatures, most of them young.

Fear disappeared between an inhalation and an exhalation.

This was what the training had been for.

"I am here…" he began.

The leader popped away and something heavy and spiked hit the monk between the shoulder blades.

He stepped forward, stumbled, fell flat on his face.

He was surrounded.

He was bleeding.

As he lifted his head, a blonde gaijin woman was standing in front of him.

Offering a hand in help.

He reached out….

The twist cracked his shoulder and sent him slamming against a rock as the ghouls howled and got in closer.

The female was phazing in and out of human shape, trying weird hybrids and assuming obscene poses.

The leader stood by her, one hand firmly gripping a buttock, claws drawing blood.

"Is this all they sent against us?" he asked mockingly.

Breath came in ragged bursts.

all lost, all useless.

"We imagined a detachment of samurai, right?"

The ghouls cheered.

"Kagemusha-style, you know?"

More cheering.

Tosui tried to bring back the simple centering balance of his early training.

Something scratched his throat.

He felt the foul breath on his face.

He shivered.

The voice was female and seductive. "What is gonna stop me from ripping your lungs out of your mouth right now, meat?"

There was a single snapping sound, a twang.

The ghoul female was standing in front of him, a weirdly surprised expression on her contracted, rapidly shifting features, the feathered end of a quarrel protruding from the left eye.

Tosui turned.

The man sitting on the standing stone handled his crossbow with casual ease.

"My, oh, my…" he said."Nisei bone suckers, pickmanned dopeheads and reverted yuppies!"

The wounded female collapsed. He chuckled. "Is this all Eibon the Black's been able to pull together for this party?"

The ghoul leader growled.

"Who are you?"

The man stood.

He was wearing a codpiece and it was damn unnerving being so scared of someone dressing like an amateur rendition of the Twelfth Night, but he was scary as hell.

Much more than the monk.

"He is your karma catching up with you, bakatare," a voice said behind them.

They turned.

An auburn-haired woman in green brocade stood in the middle of the highway, one hand on her hip, the other toying with a tear-shaped bauble at her neck.

Snapper grinned, coming forward.

"Come give me a blow job, meat doll" he bayed.

She let the pendant drop.

Thumb and middle finger touching on the left, right hand extended, palms upward.

She pushed and unraveled him, pulling each strand of meaning from him, one at a time, undoing him like he was a scarecrow and she was taking the straw filling out with chopsticks, one at a time, as he howled like an increasingly weaker wind and then was silent.

It took forever and it reverberated through them all like Mordiggian's hell opening under their feet.

Tosui was finding his center again, ignoring it all.

The man in black codpiece fell besides him and brushed shoulder with shoulder.

The monk's eyes snapped open again.

"You all right, kid?" the stranger asked.

A nod.

"Then I guess it's time you stop doing it and start being it, right?"

And Tosui understood.

It was things as they were and not as they were meant to be.

The bare facts, without embellishment, bias or interpretation, empty of meaning and bereft of harmonics.

Truth at its most simple and self-evident.

It was a sword and an uncompromising sun that cast no shadow.

It was breathing, in and out without effort.

It was.

Without being.

Eternity without entropy.

They all saw it and for some of them it was simply too much.

In his last conscious thought, Tetsuro the Ghoul realized that the monk had been the scarier of them all.

When the blaze abated there were just black shadows imprinted on the ground and standing stones, where the ghouls had been.

For the rest, the forest was untouched, the day was as it had been before.

No zoogs were to be seen around.

No birds flew between the branches.

No insects.

No bacteria.

Holding the crossbow in the crook of his arm, the man in black codpiece patted his doublet in the few points in which it was smoking.

The woman with him was disheveled and her face had some traces of sunburn.

She grinned. "Far out!"

The man scratched his jaw and looked around.

"Nice and smooth," he nodded.

They watched as the monk slowly seeped back, his effortless concentration bringing him back to the Wakeside.

Soon they were alone.

He sat heavily on a chunk of rock, ignoring the silhouette stamped on it.

He picked up a handful of dirt and essayed it between his fingers.

"Are these ones on our side?" he asked.

She arched an eyebrow.

"At least we share enemies," she said.

Alarm clocks ringing somewhere on the Wakeworld, they started feeling the pull.

She started fading. "Be seeing you," she whispered.

He nodded and let her go.

Then stood, watched the blasted clearing, sighed.

And was gone.

(C) Davide Mana

Torino, Italy

December 2000

## Author's Notes

by Davide Mana, with input by Dave Farnell, MarkMcFadden & Edward Lipsett

On December 12th 2000 I wrote to the Kurotokage list

Let me tell you I'm not overly fond of dissecting my own writing - that is, I love to talk about myself and my artistic pursuits, but looking too closely at the thing might bring up all the errors and inconsistencies! :P

Anyway, I owed this one to the list.

Here goes a most unhealthy exercise in personal conceit..

I repeat, comments and further questions welcome.

DM

As luck would have it, the notes were swallowed up by the web and resurfaced only on <insert date here>.

In the meanwhile, wuestions were asked, comments provided and what else.

More ideas were thrown around.

This page collects the original notes, integrating them with the supplemental material, and is still the most unhealthy exercise in personal conceit.

And now it's publicly displayed.

**1. 'Without Intent'**

The title comes from the Miyamoto Musashi's quote Mark gave us: "Without intent the sword does not cut."

I found it extremely fitting to the storyline - even if in the end the rationale might be just the opposite.

**2 . 'The dog-faced creature seeped through into the Wakeworld'**

Aha! "Seeped through" indeed.

I always had a problem with the fact that you can enter the Dereamlandas both physically and in dreams. I'm currently further exploring possibilities.

But when it comes to ghouls, that exist both Wakeside and Dreamside, how do they move between the two? Do they need contraptions like the Lamp of Alazred? Gating spells? Or can they just phase from one level through the other?

I like this last option best, as you see.

And in retrospect I added:

Normally newbies enter the Dreamlands through the Gate, following the Staircase, through the Hall and pop un in the cursed Zoog's Forest (I do not like the Zoog's Forest).

More experienced dreamers can simply take up their dream from where they left before - this needs practice, but it's basically what Val and her partner usually do, materializing somewhere around Hlanith.You can also bypass all these places by using a Gate/Window Spell or a Lamp Device (like Alazred's, or Abe Zelkowitz' in my next story), with the added bonus that you enter Slumberland with your physical body (don't ask). The Ghouls tunnels work like Gates for all practical purposes.

In my rationale, Ghouls - being creatures of both worlds - can 'seep through'; sort of a phasing in/phasing out trick.

Mortar does this in the very first line of the story. Tetsuro the Ghoul uses something similar to pop away from under Tosui's sight and reappear behind him to strike.

**3 . 'It took it some time to ascertain its position, but the familiar profile of Mount Koma to the south….[etc]'**

The Wakeworld bit of the story takes place in the Iwate prefecture in Tohoku, on the northwestern slope of mount Iwate itself. The "gray stone strip" is the Tohoku Expressway.

The Iwate area is - according to my references - often overlooked by tourists but rich in history. Nice place to bring in some Ghouls.

And later expanded, adding:

My mental processes while writing tend to be rather convoluted.

I selected the Iwate prefecture because it's low profile from a tourist POV, a mountainous region with a lot of traditions. The Fujiwara clan ruled these lands, and Yoshitsune hid for a while in Hiraizumi, which he reached thanks to the help of "mountain monks" (most likely Yamabushi from the source data I have).

I picked up Morioka because of the Juroku Rakan, a statuary group there, erected in remembrance of the famines that struck the region.

Famine = Lotsa Dead Bodies = Ghouls

I do not want to push my impromptu piece of fiction as canon.

And talking about statues…. Also in Morioka is the Hoon-Ji, featuring 500 statues of Buddha's Disciples (this was done in 1731). The group also features Marco Polo and Kublai Khan.

Now that's weird.

**4 . 'It remembered a darker Morioka, when the famines struck and people prayed for relief. Its people had been there, then.'**

According to my sources, Morioka was hit by four catastrophic famines in the past - lots of dead and desperation.

A famine, plague or major battle ("luckily" pretty standard events in Japan's past) are probably the only occasions in which Japanese ghouls could feast on the dead. That's why they have been getting scarce ever since WW2.

**5 . 'And if the ones in the temple were still keeping the faith, they would help it, and its god.'**

This is based on the assumption that Taininhodo monks made contacts with the ghouls and established some non-aggressive modus vivendi with them. After all, they are carrion eaters but, as long as they stick to the Mordiggian cult, not such a bad lot. The monks are compassionate.

**6 . 'The monk they called Simple Mamoru had never been the sharper knife in the drawer….[etc]"**

Not much to say here.

The ghoul uses his shape-shifting abilities to sucker Simple Mamoru. He has problems with the technical term to indicate the head of the temple community - an actual problem I had too as I was writing this.

The scooter is just an old Vespa. It was used as transportation for a Buddhist monk in Lupin III, first series. Ignore it

"Not much to say" my foot. Nt when you have eagle-eyed readers, that is.

And one of them's the father of the Taininhodo.

Ed noted….

A scooter ;>

But yes, they are not reclusive hermits in the proper sense.

More, they are out of the spotlight. Their solitude is not due to physical isolation.

The open door is also symbolic - they are here to help, after all.

This conforms with my main perception of most Buddhist monks I met (admittedly, not many) and read about (much more).

As I noted in my Lost Notes (hey, sounds good….), the scooter-riding Buddhist monk I first saw in the Lupin the 3rd cartoon series; hardly a doctrinal source, but it stayed with me.

What I read about everyday life in Japanese monasteries led me to think of them as very down to earth institutions. The Vespa parked behind the main door is a good way to show that (hopefully).

A donation from a faithful?

And then it is pretty damn useful - they are pretty far from the closest urban center (Morioka).

None is a superdude, and they'd probably shy away from the notion.

They are a monastic order. Their doctrine leads them to interact with some elements of the Real World with which most do not interact. So they developed relevant abilities. Some are better than others.

True.

The 'need to know' thing is very strong here, and serves two functions.

First - the very best way for keeping their special knowledge hidden from prying eyes, is surrounding the ones in the know with people in the dark but in good faith. And someone's got to take care of the laundry.

Second - this Knowledge is a hard thing, so you can't hit the guys with the full Truth in a single shot. As the monk progresses through his studies, he is let on some more facts.

God, yes!

As I said quite expansively in my Lost Notes, the Tosui guy is showing at the same time his power and his shortcomings.

He senses the Ghoul ("senses it", mind you, not "smells it" like his boss did), but then classifies it as a Foul One, thus showing a tragic lack of compassion.

Tosui is quite well versed in doctrinal affairs (and is by default a high level Dreamer), but his is a knowledge of the mind, not a true knowledge.

He knows it, does it but is it not. That's why he gets a severe beating by the ghouls.

The old monk can read Mortar like an open book (that's mentioned passingly) - he'd recognize a liar.

And then Mortar mentions the Sword Taia by name.

Taia is something all men have (so Takuan says), but in my rationale its power is such than Mythos-connected creatures cannot even mention it. Hence the fact that the name burns the mouth of the Ghoul. As he is pleading for the Sword's intervention, he obviously knows of its powers. By his suffering, he demonstrates his good will.

More from my Lost Notes.

Tosui knows very little of the Dreamlands, and probably feels badly about the place - after all, it's a realm of illusion. What he lacks is direct experience and true feeling for the place.

That's why he completely loses his concentration and screws the whole op badly.

I'd not call it a trial by fire.

I'd call it a much needed lesson.

We basically do not know the details of what Mortar told the abbot.

The abbot knows (as usually abbot know) that the kid can make it.

But he knows that the kid has one major shortcoming he needs to face and overcome.

He probably underestimates the Heretic ghouls - this is the first Heretics/Taininhodo face-off, after all - and so the kid has it a little rougher than expected.

But my take from the beginning was - the abbot \_wants\_ Tosui to get a short and sharp finishing lesson, topping all his doctrine and practice with a taste of what's it all about.

Hope this helps and stimulates further questions.

(It certainly did)

**7 . 'The one they called Nyogen caught the smell before everything else.'**

Ghouls smell of death in my stories. They can't hide that for long.

I wonder how Agent Qualls deals with that. She's lucky I'm not writing her stories, I guess]

**8 . 'So it was that when Simple Mamoru came to him, introducing a "strange gentleman", he was ready for the thing that made its way into the empty room…. [etc]'**

The head of this Taininhodo monastery is a "person informed of the facts".

He knows about Ghouls and Mythos stuff. The thing does scare him but does not alter his composture.

No amount of illusory shape-shifting can sucker this man.]

I'm not excluding there are not other monasteries, and I've avoided the whole hierarchy-scale stuff.

I cannot exclude - even if it's a bit far fetched - a stable Taininhodo presence in the Dreamlands. But something like that, should it be there at all, would rather be some kind of mirror group endemic to Slumberland.

But Dave thought about that, too, so I later added:

As for the Monks having a foothold in Slumberland, I like it but only up to a point.

It would be \_much more feasible\_ (IMHO and all that) if the guys had some kind of connection with one religious order endemic to the Dreamlands (The Saffron Robed Priests of K'thay or something like that).

Pilgrims of both orders might ask for sanctuary in the other's monasteries, Wake- or Dreamside.Gives much more gaming hooks, does not force you to build a complicated structure and keeps most of the Taininhodo firmly anchored in the Wakeworld.I do not exclude - and actually actively propose - the option of Dreamlands Wondering Monks of the Tainihodo.

Apart from the obvious "Kung Fu in the Dreamlands" angle, the lone monk exploring the various corners of Slumberland, seeking and dispensing wisdom is - probably - more in keep with the original structure.

**9 . 'He was not going to forsake etiquette.**

Time was of no import.'

But ritual is. Repeating the movements in the correct order, concentrating on them but with the levity of a child letting his father's hand go, is a shield against chaos. Better, a viable interface with chaos.

**10 . 'Mortar, Wasp and Baked Chestnut, whoever had been that named the members of that ancient Namahage embassy had been fond of old tales.'**

Mortar, Wasp and Baked Chestnut are the three beings that help the Son of the Crab to extract his revenge upon the Monkey in the "Crab and the Monkey" faery tale. Sounded good. Humor is also important to Zen monks in general and (IMHO) Taininhodo monks especially.

The Embassy refers to some ancient parley between monks and Ghouls.

**11 . 'They were young and without faith….[etc.]'**

The confrontation between the traditionalist ghouls and the Heretics of the younger generations is outlined in various DG books. Countdown posits the possibility the Heretrics are actually a new breed of Ghouls. I have other, tangential opinions. I've added cannibalism to their many sins, to make them really scary, like in "badass psycho cultist dopehead scary".

**12 . '"Taia," the thing said, and let out a yelp, as the word itself scorched its mouth.**

It bowed its ugly head once again.

The monk nodded.'

The Sword Taia is something every man has, but few learn to use.

Its power is such, a Mythos-connected creature cannot even speak up its name without being hurt. Mortar knows but has to give witness of his commitment.

**13 . 'And so it was that they came to young Tosui where he sat meditating, as he had been doing twenty years since…. [etc]'**

Not all monks learn to use the Sword Taia.

There are other mantras, other paths. But someone with the proper attitude surfaces every now and then, and is trained.

We get a pretty unflattering detail about Tosui - for him the Ghoul is a "Foul One". The kid still needs practice in the ways of compassion.

**14 . 'It was like in the old tales, and the irony was not missed on the young turks taking their time in the Zoog's wood.'**

OK, I hate the Zoogs and I hate their Forest.

The fact that most Dreamlands entrances seem to drop the dreamer there is just an aggravating fact. But you have to stick to the canon sometimes.

This is where the Dreamlands part begins, and as the story was also (and most importantly) the dry run for a set of gaming rules, things heated up:

1 - instinctive reply: How the fu@# do I know? :>

2a - true professional reply, part the first: most of the action takes place Slumberside - to be precise, from the paragraph that goes….

'It was like in the old tales…. [etc]'

[In the Dreamlands it's always like in the old tales, silly!]

The Tosui chap has been sent to grock the Heretic ghouls - not necessarily blast them away from the face of the universe, maybe just find some common ground.

He finds himself hindered by his own drawbacks - most notably a lack of compassion and experience that's positively crippling. Val and her pal cover him for the time he needs to find his balance. Then he goes off like a little tactical a-bomb. More worries for our heroes.

2b - true professional reply, part the second: strictly Dreamlands activity.The Wakeworld simply excludes such effects (same with Val's Weaving spell) from the makeup of reality. Granted, Nyarlathotep might pull it, but no human.

While this is not spelled out, Tosui is a monk with strong meditation and doctrinal background \_and\_ a strong Dreamer, what would be called Elton-class by my Dream Operatives.You need both capabilities to operate in the 'Lands as a Taininhodo monk - that's why there's not armies of them stomping around the whole Slumberland landscape.

Only, Tosui has little or no Dreaming training and very little first hand experience.

And considering how he sees the Ghoul Mortar as "a Foul One", he probably sees the 'Lands as something alien, the realm of Maya or Illusory Perception.

He's not at ease, and he loses his concentration.

He's a little prig, in other words.

But he will learn - as soon as he'll realize that his presence alone in the Dreamlands can kill thousands, he'll start walking on the right road.

Oh, he might go bad and decide that as Slumberland's illusory anyway, who cares if a few dummies get scrapped?

But he would not live long following that path.

And again….

In my fictional world, Wakeworld expression of Dream powers is a theoretical possibility (there should be a paper by Phillips himself, privately published in '21) but for all practical purposes this is regarded as an urban legend by professional dreamers.

You'd need a Kuranes class dreamer (you usually get one in a generation) working in a Weakened Texture Area - like Kingsport, or Prague.There he'd be able to express part of his powers, and most likely cause some major mess.

**15 . 'The one they called Snapper, who had been a fairly successful broker…. [etc]'**

As I was saying, my take on the Heretics is, they're not a new breed, they're just the dregs of the ghoul gene and meme pool - turned humans, people that spontaneously got ghoulish, changelings like Pickman and so on. The malcontents and the misfits, those that were probably looked down upon by the Traditionalists. A bunch of punks, with some agent provocateur added to the mix.

They are developing as a culture apart, and share their texture with a plastic reality. Unsurprisingly they are taking a morphology of their own.

**16 . 'They called him Tetsuro even if it was not his true name'**

So yes, the Heretic leader is called just like the older Taininhodo monk, the one that goes to bed early. I wonder if he dreams….

(But apparently no one noticed that. Sigh!)

**17 . '"Mite mi," the leader grinned, swaggering forward.**

He offered a chunk of ribcage. "Moo kutta ke?"'

Tetsuro speaks with a distinct Kansai accent. Make what you will of it.

**18 . 'Fear disappeared between an inhalation and an exhalation.**

This was what the training had been for.'

Centering and controlled breathing can dispel fear, but training is not enough. Even twenty years meditating cannot help you if you are not at peace with yourself.

As already noted, considering how he sees the Ghoul Mortar as "a Foul One", he probably sees the 'Lands as something alien, the realm of Maya or Illusory Perception.

He's not at ease, and he loses his concentration.

He's a little prig, in other words.

Couple that with little or no Dreamlands experience, and you get a disaster.

**19 . 'The leader popped away and something heavy and spiked hit the monk between the shoulder blades.'**

Neat trick - Tetsuro blinks in and out of phase, in order to get at his opponent's back. Further reinforcement of the fact that he might be a dreamer.

**20 . 'Something scratched his throat.**

He felt the foul breath on his face.

He shivered.'

So his eyes are closed. Is he concentrating, or refusing the experience of Dreamlands reality?

**21 . 'The man sitting on the standing stone handled his crossbow with casual ease.'**

The Dreamlands Repeater Crossbow from "Chasing the Bride".

Val and her pal are here on some (possibly) unrelated business - civil war between ghouls is sure to attract Outfit attention.

And if these are the Cursed Zoog Woods, then Hlanith (were the guys have a safe house) is not that far.

Also, they probably perceived Tosui's effect on the texture of the Dreamlands (as all strong Dreamers he has a large fingerprint).

**22 . '"Is this all Eibon the Black's been able to pull together for this party?"'**

Here I drag screaming a chunk of the MiB's imagination in my own story - Eibon's got plans for the Dreamlands, he's been slowly enforcing them. He's got a finger in everyone's pie Dreamside and can't even be pinned as good or bad anymore. Here I see him like one of those western robber-barons that use mercenaries to "relocate" local settlers. The Heretics, with their costly needs, make for excellent cheap muscle.

**23 . 'He was wearing a codpiece and it was damn unnerving being so scared…. [etc]'**

The infamous black codpiece. IIRC it was Mark that pointed out how Tetsuro gets scared after he notices the codpiece. He then let himself get distracted by some sophomore humour instead of expanding on this brilliant insight in Ghoul ethology. Pity.

**24 . 'An auburn-haired woman in green brocade stood in the middle of the highway, one hand on her hip, the other toying with a tear-shaped bauble at her neck.'**

Val, of course. The bauble's new, as is her knowledge of Kansai expletives.

**25 . 'Thumb and middle finger touching on the left, right hand extended, palms upward.**

She pushed….[etc]'

The Weaving effect is pure Shirow's "Orion"; I decided to pay more attention to Val's gestures and positions when performing, after the discussion(s) on DGML about non-verbal components of languages and spellcasting. Add to that the trick of looking at one's own hands to get control of the Dream. Hands are important.

For the rest, the rationalization is the usual: the Dreamlands are made up of Meaning (what stands for matter) and Harmonics (what stands for states of the matter, but it's more complicated than that). The Dreamer can alter (Shaping) or manipulate (Weaving) meaning. More later….

**26 . 'It was things as they were….[etc]'**

OK, here we get to the hard part.

First and foremost - meditation and sleep are normally mutually exclusive.

My Dreamers meditate \_before\_ entering the dreaming state, as a way to focus their self-image, but that's it.

According to some of my sources, expert yogis can meditate while sleeping, but we are talking \_expert\_ yogis.

A case can be made for Lucid Dreaming, which is a state in which you dream and know you are, and have a certain amount of control over the comings and goings of your experience; but I'm pretty sure this too would be met with a good whack from your roshi should you try this stunt while meditating.

And anyway, the mutual exclusion is only part of the problem: meditation dispels illusions, is actually \_another mind\_, you brain finding the basic note despite all of the harmonics. No more veils, no more falsehood.

If you are meditating, even as you sleep, you cannot dream.

Couple that with the power of a strong dreamer (LK Level or above), one that influences the Dreamworld with his presence alone, and, entering a perfect state of meditation while in Slumberland obliterates the Dreamland Reality in the half second before you are expelled from it.

I explained again when the Lost Notes got Lost, so here's Take Two

Ah, the micro-nuke.

It's not that, you know.

Let me try to recap….

In Dreams you have Meaning (that stands for Matter), and Harmonics (that stand for the States of Matter).

Combinations of meanings and harmonics thereof make up the Dreamlands "Reality" - which is much more plastic than our own because humans (and certain humans in particular) are highly adept at manipulating Meaning and/or Harmonics.

To the Awakened Mind, there are not Dreams but one True Meaning.

So all the rest just ceases to exist. Instantly.

The moment in which Tosui achieves a state akin to Awakening

a . he cannot stay Dreamside any longer (and in fact, he wanes)

b . his Dreamers power adapt the surroundings to his perception, annihilating most of what's around.

In the future he'll be able to re-enter the Dreamlands (if he is not a hopeless tight-assed prig) but he'll have to maintain a strict balance between the Dreaming and the Awakening.

So, even more, this short unpleasant visit is part of his instruction.

**27 . 'When the blaze abated there were just black shadows imprinted on the ground…. [etc]'**

Had we not just left this party?

Yes, in "Dream Reaper".

Remember?

Tibetan-primed Buddhist artist robbing the Dreamlands of meaning and blasting whole areas into nothingness. The effects are almost the same.

The fact that Val and her partner have been there before is the main reason of their attitude. In that story and in this, Val's partner grasps a handful of dirt and feels it with his fingers, essaying the calcinated soil.

**28 . '"Nice and smooth,"**

Ray Davies says it at the beginning of "David Watts", a song about a real guy everybody always thought was a Davies invention. Ray Davies's book "X ray" has some strong Dreamlands elements and is absolutely a suggested reading.

King Mob says it a lot in the Invisible comics (and at the start of Volume 2 acknowledges the Davies bit).

I say it once in a while.

The Dreamer with No Name probably refers at whatever spared him and Val a quick and dirty demise. The bauble on her neck?

**29 . 'They watched as the monk slowly seeped back, his effortless concentration bringing him back to the Wakeside.'**

Obviously. As we said, meditation and dreaming are mutually exclusive. You enter the state, you pop out of Slumberland. Afterimages linger for a while. The collateral effects of your taking off are not pleasant.

**30 . '"Are these ones on our side?" he asked.'**

The Outfit does not have tabs on Taininhodo. And vice-versa.

Considering the Taininhodo monk showed powers akin to those of the Tapir God cultist in Dream Reaper, investigation is obviously pending.

## Credits

Without Intent was written in 2000 by Davide Mana for the original DGML.