As the party trades introductions (and verbal jabs), Santana checks his wrist; an obnoxiously large gold watch sits there, though you couldn't say whether he was wearing it a minute before. "Well, I'm glad we're all friends, but now that you've all accepted my deal we're in a bit of a crunch. Time works different in the world of dreams, except when it doesn't. I'll let you finish this conversation and decide your next move in a more familiar location. Remember: be clever. Be quick. Cause as much trouble as you can." He gives them a wide smile, and his mouthful of gold teeth made it literally dazzling.
"If you need me, you have my card."
Santana snaps his fingers, and you are struck with what feels like an electrical shock from the card you are holding in your hand (or beak). It's not painful, but is is deeply uncomfortable, and you find yourself unable to release the card. The fractal pattern on the surface closest to you starts to resolve; the colors and shapes that have been moving at random now shift with purpose, revealing a picture painted in Baroque style.
Luka, in the middle of your card is what looks like the offspring of a unicycle and a penny farthing. Its single enormous wheel has eight spokes, and the four cardinal directions are marked with the Hermetic symbols of the four elements. The wheel is circumscribed on a circular map of the world, painted in green and gold. The four corners of the card are marked with different drink glasses--a glass of fine wine, a martini glass with garnish, a mimosa, and a lowball of whiskey. Sitting astride the great unicycle of the world is your likeness, hands outstretched down towards the Earth. Across the top of the card is written: X - The Wheel of Fortune.
Emily, your card is divided in half. On the left side, it depicts the front of a modern public library, in black and white. On the right, it bears the image of an old Greek temple, but the colors are all wrong; instead of stark white against green and blue, the image is a patchwork of colorful, saturated tones. Straddling the divide is you. Your likeness holds an open leather-bound book in front of her chest with one hand, its pages facing out, and her other holds an old-style fountain pen to the sky, placed directly in the middle of the card so it looks like she has drawn the divide between the two sides. On the right side, she is clad in your normal going-to-class clothing; on the left, she wears billowing Greek-style robes. Across the top of the card is written: II - The High Priestess.
Ashley, your card also depicts a library, but the inside rather than the outside. Specifically, it is the library you spent most of your time in growing up. In the background, stacks of books merge with the circulation desk merge with the computer lab merge with seasonal displays in an alien geometry. In the foreground, your likeness sits at a large wooden table. She is dressed in the rough brown robes of an asthetic monk, and the table is piled with dusty tomes. A scroll occupies the center of the table, and spills over the far side down past the bottom of the card. Leaned against a stack of books to one side is a ceremonial staff; as your depiction looks down at the scroll, finger tracing the lines and face locked in concentration, the carved sculpture of an eye that sits atop the staff looks up to the heavens. Across the top of the card is written: V - The Hierophant.
The Crow, your card, appropriately enough, has a metallic sheen to it. The border is decorated with the various objects you have appropriated over the years; a parade of coins, tie clips, credit cards, bottlecaps, and so on in alternating shades of copper, silver, and gold. The background is the New York City skyline. The tops of the buildings glitter in rainbow colors which vanish as you go down, eventually becoming solid black. Imposed on top of them is an iron-grey cocoon which has split open at the top; your likeness emerges from the top of it, your wings akimbo. You are flying upwards in the scene, forming a silouette against the dazzling buildings, except where your white feathers are etched in pearl. Across the top of the card is written: XIII - Death.
The sensation leaves as swiftly as it came, and when you regain your senses, you are all once again sitting in a booth in Mario's. This time, however, you are all sitting in the same booth. Each of you has a cup of coffee in front of you, and a small plate of creamer sits in the middle of the table. A small scrap of paper is tucked under the plate; upon closer examination, it's a bar tab slip, and scrawled on it: "A little pick me up, on the house ;)"
The hour is early, and the restaurant is almost empty, but the smell of cooking grease and strong coffee hang heavy in the air as the staff prepare for the coming breakfast rush. A waitress behind the counter watches the few patrons for empty coffee cups, while they in turn tend to their meals with various levels of lethargy. In short, the scene is all too familiar. Danger is around the corner--literally, in all likelihood--but you have a few precious minutes to talk among yourselves before you have to act. Your only advantages are a feeling of pressure--of potential--that you can now sense hovering in the back of your mind, and the fact that now, you know what's coming.
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