"Well, that's the last of them. Seventy-eight pawns, as requested - one for each Card of The Deck."

The voice, powerful and menacing yet disturbingly normal, brings you back to consciousness. You aren't sure why you were unconscious, you just know that you were. You force your eyes open to see where you are. The voice continues.

"I turn this pack of pawns over to you, Norns, to properly prepare them for our Game."

You are seated on a wooden bench with your back against a smooth stone wall. You are still dressed as you were when you went to meet... someone? You can't recall who. You also have no idea why you even wanted to meet them in the first place. Your sight is still a bit blurry, but you sense that you are in a great hall; and that there are others on the bench with you. As you blink your eyes to see clearly, you hear three voices speaking in unison. They speak in apparent answer to first; and like the first, sound normal but have an undercurrent of immense power.

"We thank you, Nyaralthotep, for your work in this matter. We accept the souls of the 78 you have recruited for us."

Your vision has returned. What you are seeing is starting to make you wish you had stayed unconscious. As your sense of touch told you, you are indeed sitting a long wooden bench which is against one short wall of the great hall you are in. The bench, while of simple design, is obviously of expert workmanship. You aren't sure, but the whole of it may be made from a single log. This is fairly impressive, as the seat appears to be about 200 feet long. You are seated near one end of the immense bench. There are five people seated to your right before the walls meet at a corner. If the conversation refers to you and these others, then 72 more must sit to your left. You can see a wide variety of sexes, races, professions, and social standings represented.

The hall you are in is as wide as the bench and about four or five times as long. The walls soar to about that same immense height to meet in an arched ceiling which is supported by massive wooden beams. Expansive glass windows are set high in the walls. Through the windows on the left side, you can see clear blue sky; the ones on the right show a starry night. The vast room appears to be furnished as some kind of a gaming hall. You can see several tables set aside for card games, a few for dice. There is also a couple "Wheel of Chance" games along the side walls. Further on, there appear to be models of arenas - perhaps representing events which are taking place elsewhere. However, it appears as if there is more furniture than should be able to fit in a room of even this immense size.

But what really draws your attention is the people in this room. There are only about a score of them, yet they somehow seem to fill the room. These men and women all have radically different styles of dress - from rich robes to a simple loincloth - and each radiates an unseen power. The four closest to you appear to be the ones having the current conversation.

Facing you are a group of three women, dressed alike in ankle-length white robes and white cowls. They are barefoot. The one on the right of the group is little more than a child, perhaps ten years old. The woman in the middle is best described as a handsome woman just approaching her middle years. The final is an old hag who stands with the help of a gnarled wooden staff. They have just apparently received an object of some kind from the man before them.

Currently, his back is to you. But he is close to seven foot in height and dressed head to toe in black. He wears a knee-length cape, below which you see knee-high leather boots. A traveller's hat is atop his head. After handing the object to the women, he gives them a slight bow and turns to face your group and walks towards you. His skin is black like a Drow's, but his features are human. His hair and eyes are like the rest him, a flat unrelenting black. His appearance makes you very uneasy; yet it is also familiar.

Then you remember. He was the man you were meeting before you came to be here. He said he had important information for you. It was about... Sioran. What was it? Why can't you remember? As you struggle with the fog that your memory has become, the three women once again speak in unison.

"We Norns receive into this Hall these 78 souls. We accept these gifts of Chaos as players for the Game. We now prepare this deck for dealing."

The child takes the object from the center woman. She intones: "I, Urd, declare their Past to be no more. What they were they are no longer. The Past shall fade; it shall make way for the New."

The statuesque woman takes what you can now see to be a large deck of cards. She intones: "I, Verdandi, declare what their Present is to become. These souls are to become Seekers after the Cards; that what was lost may be recovered. As the Deck and the Game are infinite, so shall their Present be."

Now the old woman takes the cards and intones: "I, Skuld, declare to withhold my hand from these Souls. They shall have no Future until such time as the Game is over, or the pawn is sacrificed for a larger stake. When the Game is over, then shall they have their Future returned."

All three speak again. "Thus We have declared their Fate. Let other Fates have their hand in the deal." There is a pause. The Norns look at each other then speak again. "Camaxtli, that's your cue, dear."

Further back in the hall, a man gives a slight start, looks embarrassed, and then sheepishly takes the deck from their hands. He appears to be human in the prime of life. His skin is an even tan; which comes from the fact he wears only a loincloth. He also wears a feathered headdress which appears to fashioned as a winged snake. He carries a golden ball of light in his left hand. After taking the deck in his right, he moves his left hand with the ball over his left shoulder. He releases the ball - and it remains there, hovering in the air. He then proceeds to shuffle the cards of the deck.

As he does so, two things happen at your end of the hall. First, the others now begin to regain consciousness. And second, an odd chill and shudder passes through your body - much as if "someone walked over your grave". When he is done, he turns to his left and hands the deck to a woman standing next to him. "Istus, your cut."

The woman resembles the Man in Black in that she is dressed head to foot in light charcoal grey silk. Even though she appears young, her hair is of the same color. Even her skin has a grayish cast to it. Hanging from her belt is a golden spindle. She accepts the deck with a slight smile, and cuts the cards directly in the middle. As she does this, everyone on the bench is now fully aware. And, you feel an odd tingling at the tips of your fingers, toes, and nose. Then the Grey Lady turns and moves to about halfway into the hall. She approaches a man and woman who are seated at a card table, and sets the deck on it between them. "I believe it is time for Luck, Good and Ill, to determine our players."

While their features mark these humans as brother and sister, their appearance and expressions show them to be complete opposites. The woman is beautiful. Her blond hair is tied into a single braid which falls around her head and over her right shoulder. She is dressed in a flattering red silk dress and matching slippers. Her blue eyes sparkle with mirth and an easy smile lights up her porcelain features. The man is as dark and ugly as she is bright and pretty. His brown hair hangs limply on his head. His pale skin is marred by the scars of childhood disease and a few lost knife fights. His clothing is the worn-out wool of a workman. His features are twisted by a permanent scowl.

"Sister," he snarls "why don't you draw first? It seems that the mortals always have your smile before they see mine."

"Thank you, Brother. It's when they forget to use their skills that you have providence." She turns and gazes into the depths of the hall. "Chung Kuel? Are you going to record our draws now, or wait until we are done?"

The man who stands at the side of the table and answers appears as old as the hag of the trio of women who you saw earlier. He is pot-bellied with a long grey beard; his features betray some elvish heritage. His is dressed in long, richly appointed silken robes. He carries what should be a massive tome with great ease. He opens this book and produces a quill. "I will record now, if it pleases you Honorable Mistress Rudd." He bows to her. Then he turns to the man with thinly concealed distaste. "Ah, Ralishaz-san. I did not hope to see you here."

The grimy man smiles as if at a private joke. "That's because you don't know how to look." The old man grimaces and nods to him. Then he readies his quill. "If you will begin?"

The siblings then proceed to reach out in turn their right hands, hold them for a moment several inches over the deck of souls, and then draw the top card. The drawer looks at it and makes some expression of approval or distaste, and then shows it the elder who mumbles something and writes in his tome. The siblings draws a total of one score of cards. On the 13th card (drawn by the woman), you distinctly hear the old man state a name: "Rogan Dannerson, Banes-kin". You remember that as being your name. Somehow, this doesn't reassure you.

After brother and sister finish drawing their cards, they leave the table and stand at a long table on the far end of the hall. The elder scribe places sand on the inked pages to dry them, closes his book, and joins them their. As your attention is drawn to that end of the hall, you catch a glimpse of the Man in Black in the corner of your eye. He seems to be placing the unused cards into a pocket of his cape.

A voice from the far end grabs your full attention. "Bring the Hands here so that they may be dealt out on the playing table." Suddenly your bench is at the other end of the hall. It also, somehow, feels smaller. Glancing up and down its length, you can see that now only a score of people are sitting on the bench - the exact number of cards drawn. You know now that you are part of something very strange and magical. You know that you have no choice but to listen and learn.

The man who speaks is actually no more than a human teenager. He is quite handsome and obviously physically fit. He wears an odd outfit of a loincloth, feathered sandals, and a helmet. He carries in his right hand a short, white staff that has two marble snakes wound around it.

"We have chosen the Hands - let's play them. I will watch to make sure that no one cheats. Well, no more than necessary anyway. Daikoku, if you would oversee the betting and placement?"

The man who steps out of the crowd appears to be of the same half-elven race as the old man with the book. But his appearance is quite different. He is middle-aged, portly and balding. But his unshaven face bespeaks an easy grace and a comforting presence. "Certainly, Hermes of the Arbitrators." He strikes the table these Powers are gathered around with a wooden mallet that he carries. "Make room at the table so that all may see. Let us have the first wager."

The group shifts so that you can see the table they are gathered around. It is a massive square, perhaps a score of feet per side. In one corner is a roulette wheel, and in the opposite there is an odd metal sculpture. It seems to be a spherical cage of some sort, set with 18 jewelled baskets. On the surface of the remainder of the table, there are three circular areas inscribed. One is a silver mirror, with many gems of all colors inlaid in it. A second appears to be a circular, wool tablecloth with oddly designed patches sewn into it here and there. The last is large circle made from mother-of-pearl and is set with many crystalline spheres.

The man with mallet speaks again. "Perhaps we should remind everyone of the Game before we begin?" He is addressing Hermes, but he seems to be looking in your direction.

The boy nods and replies. "Of course. Many ages past, we of this Hall created an artifact. We had seen the creations of the others in our pantheons, and grew jealous. We wondered why weren't we allowed to place things within the multiverse? Why must the aspect of Creation be limited to those the mortals worship as Creators?"

"So we pooled our powers and created an item to fully represent our aspects: Luck, Chaos, Trickery, Fate. And we turned this artifact loose on the multiverse. Not only was it our creation, it would also cause trouble for the creations of the others. And so it was."

"Now, its task is complete. It has inspired the mortals to create their own versions of it. And so, it is no longer needed. But as the artifact was created as a Gamble, so must it be destroyed. Thus, our Game. These two Hands - one of Good, the other Ill - shall play against each other to find our creation. Which ever hand becomes stronger at the end will determine what will be done with the power stored within the artifact."

The boy lifts his staff and spins it once in his hands and an image forms in your mind. You see a deck of cards. Each card measures five inches wide, seven inches high, and a quarter-inch thick. As you watch, the cards spread themselves into rows before you. You can see that there are 78 cards. Each appears to be made of some dark wood, inlaid with precious gems and metals. The edges of the card are bound with gold; lapis lazuli covers most of the back. In the wood that is not covered, rubies, emeralds, diamonds, and sapphires are set. Then, the cards turn over so that you may see their faces. The designs on the front are just as ornate and priceless as the backs.

The cards have ranked themselves into five rows; the top four of 14 and the last of 22. The cards in first row are all of a suite of pillars of flame. The next seem to be of crystal swords. The third depicts icicles. The last of the suits shows mystic runes carved into rock. The bottom row does not seem to be a unified suit. Instead, it is a collection of pictures - which move as if alive. You catch a clear look at some of them: a burning tower, an archmage, a court jester. The vision fades as Hermes speaks again.

"This is what the Hands seek. For us, it is merely the Deck. For the mortals, it has gained the status of legend. For them, it is the Tarot Deck of Many Things."

The man with the mallet nods. "Thank you, Hermes-san." He reaches out and draws one the cards from one of the hands. "This is the first. Shall we have the bets and the placements?" You are unable to follow what happens as you suddenly black out again.

You awaken to the sound of your name. "Ah, yes, Rogan Dannerson the Banes-kin. He should make for some interesting playing. Tyche, it is your turn to determine his playing field."

Tyche is a beautiful elven woman, dressed only in a sheer (and thus, somewhat revealing) blue toga. In her hands, she holds a glowing blue sphere. As she speaks, she rolls the sphere over her fingers, across the backs of her hands, and around her palms.

"Five fields of play;
five infinities in which to game.
To place this pawn is for me to say -
the Outer Planes are the realm I name."

Daikoku nods. "Interesting gambit. Bes, your spin."

A savage dwarf steps forth. He wears a white kilt, and a cloak made of a complete panther's skin. A long sword is strapped across his back. He produces a small steel ball and moves to the corner with the roulette wheel. He reaches out and spins the wheel with his right hand, and casually tosses the ball onto it with his left. The ball bounces around the wheel as it spins; as the wheel slows, the sphere comes to rest in a pocket. The dwarf looks at it, and gives a decidedly unpleasant smile. "Baator. He goes to Hell."

"Norebo, choose the layer."

This time, a gnome approaches the table. He is dressed as a merchant - rich silks, a cape, and a pair of money belts arranged as a bandolier across his chest. He reaches into a belt pouch and pulls out a die. "Good for Baator. I haven't had cause to use this nine-sided bone for quite some time." He shakes it in his hand and then tosses it on the table. "Snake eye! It's Avernus for him."

"Xochipilli, it is your turn to pick the region."

Another savage young human steps forth. He appears much the same as Camaxtli, but instead of a ball of light, he carries a bloody hand axe. "This Game has been far to polite to the Hand of Good Luck. We shall see how favored he is. I place him near Bel's fortress. Let's see how a Lord of a Layer enjoys his part in our Game."

There is a general murmuring around the table. Daikoku merely nods. "Fantastic strategy. That should free up some power for the rest of the hand if he dies. It will also make the odds more interesting for the wagers. Lakshmi, you may choose the time and method of entry."

A noble woman with black hair and golden skin, seated on a giant floating lotus flower moves forward. She smiles with compassion as she says: "Fortune has dictated that a group of non-players will arrive in that area soon. I decree that he shall arrive with them, at their portal. Let's see if he can be a leader."

A blond man dressed in red and black at the far end of the table raises his voice. "Hermes, I protest! That is cheating. No one ever stated that the Cards of the Hands could be given external help!"

The boy barely spares him a glance. "I did say that there was to be no more cheating than necessary. I think Bel makes this necessary. Besides, no one said that it could not be done. But if you are so upset by this, Loki, you can help Kishijoten with the Gifts available to him."

The nordic man gives an evil smile. "Thank you. That will be fair compensation. Let's see what I can do to him..."

"Loki! None of your mischief. This is to be fair choice. That is why I am here." It is another woman who speaks. She is dressed in full length rose robe, held together by a white belt. She carries a diamond the size of an orange in her right hand. "We will chose together."

The man gives a long suffering sigh. "Oh very well. What aspects are we choosing in?"

"He is the Second of Runes. Let us stay with the Pattern and make him his Card. I choose to grant him the aspect of Grace Under Pressure; he should be unhindered by perils in his Task."

"That could be useful... a bit too useful. I say that he shall have liveliness forced upon him when he becomes Graceful. Must remember the reversed aspects, after all." He holds up a hand to forestall her protest. "And, in counter-point, I will allow him to 'force' such Gaiety on others."

"A good compromise. He should also be able to Adapt to Additional Burdens in his travels. I grant that aspect." Kishijoten begins to spin her diamond in her hands.

"Interesting. I won't hinder that; I enjoy travel myself. The Second also indicates a Variability of Moods - I choose to let him grant that on others."

"Done. But as he can change others, so shall he be changed. The Second is the Card of Change after all. And, I say let him also have the aspect of Launching New Ventures; it is a useful trait to have for what he was."

Loki bows. "That is the last for you. For my last, I will give him a minor gift. Nothing too great, just something that requires he have more Bounce in his step." The Norseman gives a small smile that is both innocent and evil all at once. The woman with the jewel frowns as she tries to decipher his meaning." Before she can say anything, Daikoku speaks again."

Daikoku nods. "It is done. The Card is played and I have the bets. Place him on the table. Let's go on..."

Your card is dropped onto a corner of the table. You feel a cold wrenching sensation in your gut as you are enveloped in a blue light...

Authored by: Ken Lipka E-mail me: krlipka@yahoo.com

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