Little Raven - Dreamspeaker

Introduction

Little Raven is something of an enigma. A powerful mage of the Dreamspeakers, he was actually propelled forward in time from his place in history to determine the outcome of White Man involvement with the Iroquois. Imagine his surprise when he arrives in a world completely assimilated by White Man, twisted and corrupted by the omnipresent force of the Technocracy.

Naturally, Little Raven was horrified and found the paradigm of the time completely unresponsive to his magicks, and was left unable to return to the 15th century. Taking up the reigns of a conservative Chantry in the polluted, corrupt city of Pacifica, Little Raven hopes to rebuild his world in the future.

Little Raven's Background

        "The tale of Little Raven begins centuries before your
Time, human.  To you, Time holds little meaning; a
continuous road upon which you have no control over your
momentum, forever propelled forward against your will, away
from a comfortable past towards an uncertain future. A
blessing in disguise, I suppose, for without this incessant
prodding, humans would never have accomplished anything - if
Time were as flexible as Space, your race would squabble
over who gets to live during the Roaring Twenties as opposed
to the Great Depression just as they battle over lush
farmland, never considering to move forward, to brave that
which is unexplored.. 
        "But enough, I tend to go on. The story of Little
Raven, as do all other tales, has a beginning, and an end.
Personally I prefer to start in the middle, though to start
anywhere but the beginning would, no doubt, seem premature
to you. So, as you wish, let us begin. For, as you
understand things, Gaia's Dream bows to no one, Time moves
inexorably forward."

                    *   *   *   *   *

        The Spirits of the great willow hanging over the small
lodge which was hollowed out of a hill parted their drooping
leaves, allowing a faint hint of sunlight to stream down
upon the mound. Their whispers heralded not only the dawn of
a new life, but sadly, the end of another. Painful screams
echoed from within the cavern and off of the sorrowful
trees, barely overpowering the reflective, spiritual
chanting of the Susquehannock people as they prayed to their
Ancestors for aid. 
        It was the twelfth day under the Moon of Flowers as,
within the cabin, this tribe's Medicine Man stood
protectively over Nanak Vut, his ageing wife. The screams,
you see, were savagely wrenched from her aching mouth as she
sought with every fibre of her being to give birth to her
first child. 
        The screams faded into oblivion as Nanak Vut closed her
eyes to rest after the ordeal. Dancing Fox, the Medicine
Man, cradled his newest son (he had fathered one girl and
another boy with his first wife, lost to a tragic accident)
in two arms, wiping blood and birth from his nose and
willing him to breathe. Suddenly, a young cry took up where
his mother had left off, a joyous smile wrinkling the
Shaman's eyes and twisting the corners of his lips as the
baby took his first breath. He turned to show his little
treasure - "Papoosca"! Little Treasure! What a beautiful
name - to Nanak Vut, though his face fell soon after. 
        Nanak Vut had closed her eyes for one last time, a
thankful expression on her face as she passed into the arms
of the tribal Ancestors. She had laid eyes on her child
before passing, the first breath of the life she had created
being the last thing she would ever see. 
        Another anguished cry pierced the midday, the Shaman
grieving the loss of the woman he loved. The drums beat
faster, the chanting grew louder.   

                    *   *   *   *   *  

        "Death, human, is such a fickle thing. A life is
created, another destroyed. The cycle of Gaia's Dream, you
understand, for without death there could never be life.
Humans can't except this, they strive for immortality never
understanding that once this goal is reached, life will
cease immediately and eternally. 
        "Gaia's Dream bows to no one, Time moves inexorably
forward."
                    *   *   *   *   *
  
        As all children grow up, Papoosca was no different. His
mane of black hair fell well beneath his shoulders in the
tradition of his father, his nose and eyes the only earthly
remnants of his mother. The Susquehannock was a large tribe,
and there was never a lack for children. Papoosca wrestled
and played games with the others as vigorously as any
warrior, though his calling was of a different nature - as
the second son of a Shaman, he could do little but follow in
Dancing Fox's footsteps. 
        Shortly after his fifth year, the Travellers from Afar
arrived in their great ships, carrying wonderful things and
bearing tidings of friendship and trade. Papoosca watched as
his father spoke with White Man, dressed in their odd
clothing and speaking in tones never before heard. Who were
these strangers? Had they come as friends, or enemies in
disguise? 
        Though White Man seemed willing to trade much to the
Susquehannock for skins and tobacco, it was the Thunder
Sticks that sealed this pact with the White Devils. Shiny
and black, these tools of the gods could silence a caribou
at fifty paces and with swift efficiency. The Susquehannock,
blinded by greed, would do anything for these artefacts.

                    *   *   *   *   *
  
        "Greed. What a typically human trait. Greed is
responsible for more trouble than anything else - why,
without Greed, there would be no wars, no conflicts, no
anger. Everything stems from Greed, a mortal sin the Red Men
committed - for from Greed spawns Trust in whomever can
provide, a deadly Trust in which the Devil always wins. 
        "Gaia's Dream bows to no one, Time moves inexorably
forward."

                    *   *   *   *   *

        "Papoosca, this world, everything you see, is but parts
of a whole - Gaia, the Earth Mother. All is one, connected,
the same." With that, Dancing Fox snapped the willow twig he
held in his hands, holding the broken pieces before
Papoosca. "I have kept this branch since the day you arrived
in this world. It came from the tree outside this home.
Separated from Gaia, it did not grow as the tree did." A
flick of wrinkled wrist and the two fragments tumbled into
the fire. "There, they will burn. The smoke is a plea for
the willow branch to return to Gaia. As the ashes return to
the ground, this branch returns once more to Gaia's
embrace." 
        Papoosca nodded understanding, watching the branch in
awe. His father treated it so carelessly, and it was seven
years old - an eternity to one of like age. Then he recalled
the lesson, and understood the branch wanted to return to
Gaia, the fire being the only way to do so. He looked up at
his father, and smiled. 
        Dancing Fox smiled back. "In everything, there is
orenda. This is the stuff of Gaia's Dream. Orenda is
everywhere. In time, you will be able to see it." His smile
became cryptic, in the tradition of all ancient Shamans.
"This feather," he said, holding up a red eagle's feather,
"is oky. Whenever I carry it, the Ancestors watch over me
and ensure my protection." He pulled the leather thong over
his head, slipping the single feather around his son's neck.
"You have many years before you become a man, Papoosca.
Swear to me, by the bear, that you will aid our tribe - no
matter what we ask of you." His eyes had grown haggard, as
if he knew the fate Papoosca was destined for. The young
Susquehannock knew nothing of this, and smiled naively. "By
the bear, Father." 
        And that was the end of Papoosca's first lesson.

                    *   *   *   *   *
  
        "Gaia. Of such great importance and, yet, because she
cannot be readily seen, is ignored. You know so little of
the world behind the Curtain, even your Awakened have no
perception of what Gaia -truly- is. The Garou, yes, the
Garou are on the right track," a mocking chuckle, "though no
one has yet scratched the surface. Perhaps in time, you will
come to understand. Only then will you even have a hope of
reaching your ultimate goal. 
        "Gaia's Dream bows to no one, Time moves inexorably
forward."

                    *   *   *   *   *

  
        The raven flew faster, and Papoosca was hard pressed to
escape it. The ritualistic paint had all but worn off over
the five days he had been alone in the forests, his stomach
growled from lack of food. His breathing was heavy as he
flew across uneven ground, bounding lithely over fallen log
and overturned rock. Still, the black bird gained on him. 
        A savage, shooting pain flew up his ankle as it caught
in a foxhole, the speed of his flight shattering it in an
explosion of blood and bone. Papoosca flew to the ground
with a pitiful cry. He turned over quickly, and watched in
horror as the raven descended. 
        'Papoosca, this world, everything you see, is but parts
of a whole - Gaia, the Earth Mother. All is one, connected,
the same.' His father's voice echoed comfortingly in his
head, and in that flash of realization, he understood. His
breath slowed, and his arms reached out towards the bird as
it fell. Black feather touched dark finger, and Papoosca and
his arch rival were made one. Images flooded his mind,
overloading his senses, and the teenager fell into
unconsciousness. 
        The world came to life around him slowly, his mind
still groggy from the conclusion of his vision quest. He
stood, testing an ankle which was whole and unharmed - the
terrifying episode -must- have been a dream, he thought. His
eyes floated about the forest glade in which he found
himself, and he discovered the world was like his dream.
Everything was less.. solid. Experimentally, he reached out
as one would do in a dream, touching the fragile landscape
of a subconscious fancy with the strength of conscious
thought. A ripple formed in the air before him, the
spiritskin between this world and the next malleable
underneath his slightest touch. 
        His vision quest was completed. He could feel the
raven, his totem spirit, alive and strong within him, giving
him the strength and the insight he needed to return home.
Upon entering the tribal grounds, the change was instantly
obvious. Papoosca was no longer a boy, everything about him
testified to that - he walked with more confidence, and his
eyes shone back at the world with the force of
enlightenment. The other children, many of whom had failed
their vision quests, glared at him with envy as Dancing Fox
gathered him up in arms which suddenly seemed too small. The
Shaman was ecstatic, and his elation showed clearly in his
voice. 
        "You were successful? No, do not respond. I know you
were successful. I can feel the Raven within you. You have
left childhood, Papoosca, and have entered manhood." His
smile grew. "No longer Papoosca, no, that is not the name of
a Shaman. You are Little Raven, son, and will always be." He
turned away, Little Raven forgotten in a momentary flash of
recollection. "Ready the fire! We must celebrate." 
        The fire was lit, the elders of the Susquehannock
danced to the tune of their totem spirits into the depths of
the night. 
        "We-ma-a-ha-i! We-ma-a-ha-i! We-ma-a-ha-i!" 
        The chanting grew louder, tribal drums beating to the
rhythm of Gaia, a rhythm which Little Raven could feel,
coursing through his blood. The spiritskin thinned with the
force of the Dreamspeaker's ritual, Ancestral spirits
materializing in bursts of ethereal light, drumming and
dancing as if they were one of the tribe before being pulled
back into the spirit lands. Dancing Fox halted his
celebration, a single tear rolling down his left cheek.
Before him, stood his wife, Nanak Vut, her face alight with
the joy at seeing her son so proudly a man. Little Raven
never saw his mother, turning to glance with curiosity at
his father moments after the apparition had vanished.

                    *   *   *   *   *
  
        "Now, now. Wipe the tears from your eye, human. Perhaps
it's just as well that Nanak Vut never revealed herself to
the boy - such traumas can do wonderful things to the
psyche." Another wretched laugh. "So, Little Raven - I
preferred Papoosca, personally - is now a man, at fifteen
years of age. Children grew up so quickly in that hostile
time, though it's fortunate he was shielded by the
Dreamspeakers from those trivial matters of warfare, of
which the Iroquois were masters. What's that, you ask? Yes,
-all- of the Susquehannock were Dreamspeakers. In fact,
Susquehannock is Iroquois for 'Speaker of Dreams'. You
couldn't tell? Shame on you. 
        "Gaia's Dream bows to no one, Time moves inexorably
forward."

                    *   *   *   *   *
  
        Five years passed swiftly and Little Raven became one
with the Dreamspeakers. His father held him in highest
esteem, though Little Raven began to notice the sad stares
cast at him by Dancing Fox and other members of the tribe,
as if they knew the terrible burden he would have to face in
the future. 
        White Man had returned to the Susquehannock, bringing
more Thunder Sticks and gold, though they didn't want fur or
tobacco any longer. They wanted young men, old enough to
recall tribal custom yet young enough to serve whatever
purpose they intended. 
        A lottery was held. This was against Iroquois custom,
though White Man insisted - the tantalizing Thunder Sticks,
of course, swayed all but the most clear of minds. Dancing
Fox was one of these thinkers, though he was quickly
overpowered by the chief's authority. Nine were randomly
chosen, and Little Raven was one of them. Dancing Fox would
have contested, a future Shaman hardly a resource to waste
so quickly. Again, the power of the Susquehannock Chief
overthrew the wishes of the Medicine Man. 
        They left under cover of night, roving Oneida, Onondaga
and Mohawk tribes making travel by day hazardous for White
Man who'd swiftly bred a reputation for treachery. The nine
Susquehannock were taken aboard a large boat, the untameable
waters of the Atlantic Ocean carrying them across to Europe. 
        Little Raven knew not what was happening. He knew he
had been taken by White Man upon the immense canoes they
used to reach the Red Man's home, and he prayed he was being
taken to White Man's home. What marvels awaited him in the
world from which the crafters of Thunder Sticks came! Gaia
knew he wouldn't be disappointed. 
        The journey took many days, and much of the crew was
lost to scurvy. Little Raven was as amazed as the other six
surviving Susquehannock to watch White Man die just as
easily as Red Man - so they -weren't- gods. 
        Under the frigid light of the Hunting Moon, the massive
ship reached the shores of Europe. Only five of the nine
Susquehannock had survived the rigorous journey, and they
were tied together and dragged mercilessly to a home of
scholars and wise men. There, the five kindred souls were
separated and taken independently to be taught the
fundamentals of the English language by these impatient
mentors. 
        Little Raven was taken by Patrick Forbsburg, an ancient
man with a clipped tongue and strict demeanour. Shortly
after the meeting, the ancient Hermetic knew of Little
Raven's Awakening. He was surprised beyond words to find
Mages among such savages, though he took the young man under
his wing and began showing him what greater whole he was a
part of. 
        White Man witchery, as Little Raven's opinion held
fast.

                    *   *   *   *   *
  
        "How fascinating, don't you agree, to see the hand of
Gaia working in the most subtle of ways. Well, of course you
don't agree - you don't believe in Gaia. Perhaps this story
will change that narrow minded ideal. If Little Raven hadn't
been paired with the only Mage in the University, he would
never have returned to the New World. This story would have
ended here. Fortunately, Gaia had other plans for him... 
        "Gaia's Dream bows to no one, Time moves inexorably
forward."

                    *   *   *   *   *
  
        Stars, what marvellous things. The rocking of the soft
boat made them dance in the night sky as Little Raven gazed
at them, wondering if Dancing Fox was looking up at the same
star he was, separated by miles of endless ocean.  His eyes
slowly fell shut, dreams of returning to the Susquehannock
filling a mind now well versed in the ways of White Man. 
        A ray of sunlight pierced his vision, a soft summons
issued by Patrick calling him to the main deck. He stood,
and followed the sound of the Mage's voice. 
        "We are almost to your home, Dreamspeaker. Look!" And
he pointed. 
        The flat land of the New World's east coast had marred
what had been a seamless horizon for the past few weeks.
Twin pillars of smoke rose up from the centre of the land
mass, a signal fire the Susquehannock had no doubt kept
burning for the years Little Raven and the others had been
away. Smiling with elation, Little Raven bounded off the
boat without a single farewell to Patrick. He would never
see the Hermetic again, though at that moment in his life
Patrick Forbsburg was the last thing on his mind. 
        The sun began to set steadily as Little Raven found his
way towards the signal fires, though a sickly smell had
begun to permeate the air. His face became worried, for he'd
never smelt burning flesh before and knew not what this
peculiar odour was. 
        He broke into the clearing. His eyes instantly fell on
Dancing Fox as the Shaman ran to shield Little Raven's eyes
from the massive pile of burning bodies behind him. Too
late, though, as the young Dreamspeaker saw the blackened
remains of friends and family. 
        "Remember the willow branch, remember it. They're one
with Gaia. Never forget!" Dancing Fox' voice was panicked,
he did not want his son to feel the same hopelessness, the
same terror every other Susquehannock knew. Little Raven
fell to his knees, eyes vacant and staring forward, mind
churning with unanswered questions. Why? Who did this? Was
it the war in which the Iroquois were involved? The
Susquehannock were a peaceful people, war never touched
them, so what could have done this? 
        Dancing Fox answered all of Little Raven's unspoken
questions at once. "It was disease, Little Raven. White Man
disease. Your.." his voice faltered. "Your brother and
sister were taken from us. You are all I have left, Little
Raven, we've lost hundreds. Our medicine is helpless against
White Man disease." 
        Dancing Fox helped Little Raven to his feet, leading
his shocked son towards the earthen lodge in which he was
born.

                    *   *   *   *   *
  
        "Smallpox, of course. Such a painful illness, one felt
most drastically by the Native Americans during the great
plagues brought by White Man. Your science, though blinding
you to things less obvious, has done wonders in combating
this deadly illness. 
        "Do I hear myself complimenting humans? I must get on
with the story before I find myself admiring you.. 
        "Gaia's Dream bows to no one, Time moves inexorably
forward."

                    *   *   *   *   *
  
        "No. I will not leave you, Father. I am needed here.
This is foolish." 
        Little Raven stood opposite Dancing Fox, who sat on the
ground. The Medicine Man's features were worn, his eyes had
lost that youthful glitter. "You have no choice, Little
Raven. We need White Man or we will fade into history. Our
tribe is but a shadow of what it once was, decimated by
starvation and disease. Without White Man, we will surely
die." He rose, slowly, clutching aching muscles as he leaned
upon a feathered staff. "We must learn what they intend to
do, so we can take what they bring without giving ourselves
completely. I have asked Gaia for insight, though the Earth
Mother is only willing to share tiny, vague hints of what is
to come. You must travel the Dream, and find out yourself." 
        At this, the bearskin covering the passage into the
earthen hovel parted. A striking Red Man with white hair
strode inside, flanked on two sides by a small entourage of
young men. A voice called from inside. "The Onondaga Shaman
is here, Medicine Man. I hear the Oneida in the distance.
Soon, all the Iroquois wise men will be at your bidding." 
        Dancing Fox greeted Runs with Bull warmly, while Little
Raven stood uncertainly behind him. "You wanted to see me? I
came, and brought that knowledge you desire. Was Gaia's
Dream ridden that night?" Little Raven noted with curiosity
that the peculiar Shaman spoke as if everything had already
happened, as if he were telling a story having occurred long
ago. Dancing Fox nodded, apparently expecting this. "I do
not know," he turned to Little Raven, who suddenly shifted
weight at being the centre of attention. A pause, and he
nodded, sadly. "I will go." 
        The future was set.

                    *   *   *   *   *
  
        "Gaia's hand plays such a role in this tale, as even
you can easily see. For the first time in countless
centuries, the Medicine Men of all Iroquois tribes met under
one roof. There, they discussed the future of Little Raven,
the future of all Iroquois. 
        "Gaia's Dream bows to no one, Time moves inexorably
forward."

                    *   *   *   *   *
  
        "The onnoint, Little Raven. Once you pass through the
spiritskin in the Time distant from now, you must gather
what information you can. Return, through the spiritskin and
the spirit lands, pass through the dreadmire into those
lands beyond the spirit lands. There, you will find the
onnoint. A golden snake, larger than a million worlds yet
smaller than the stars in the sky. Seek him out, only he can
return you to us. 
        Dancing Fox said these final words to Little Raven as
he stood inside the small earthen hovel in which the young
Shaman was born. Outside, eighteen Shamans from every
Iroquois tribe gathered around a circle, chanting and
dancing and beating their drums as they prepared to alter
Gaia's Dream like never before. They waited only for Dancing
Fox to finish, for him to join the circle and begin the
ritual. 
        "Vaebn," he pointed to the black raven on his son's
shoulder, "is an incarnation of your totem spirit. He will
guide you through the spirit lands - do not part ways with
him for if you do, you will become lost." He smiled, thinly,
and his eyes wrinkled in determination - he wouldn't cry. "I
will remember this day, the first underneath the Travelling
Moon, for the rest of my life. I pray I will see you, for we
will know by tomorrow if you were successful." He didn't
wait for Little Raven to respond, but turned his back and
stepped out of the his home.
        Only Gaia knew he would never return. 
        Little Raven sat on the bearskin rug, glancing around
at the provisions his father and the other Shamans had
provided him. Sweet grass, flint and tinder, a small supply
of food and other items of grave importance. Foremost, he
fingered the large, clear stone hanging from his neck. A
gift from Dancing Fox, it was oky and would protect him on
his voyage. 
        He could hear the drums now, the chants, the purest
essence of Gaia's Dream crackling in their around him. He
curled up in the centre of the room, his eyes watching the
cloth covered passageway. 
        "We-ma-a-ha-i! We-ma-a-ha-i! We-ma-a-ha-i!" 
        The chanting grew louder, the sickly sweet smell of
sweet grass wafted in as a soft breath of wind rippled the
bearskin door. 
        The air turned cold, a ghostly apparition flickered
into being across from him, an image of a small boy clothed
in thin leather and braving a blizzard before his eyes
closed one last time. The apparition vanished, followed by
another equally depressing scene of sad, lonely death. 
        "We-ma-a-ha-i! We-ma-a-ha-i! We-ma-a-ha-i!" 
        Little Raven's breathing grew heavy as the entire mound
strained against the spiritskin. Time had already begun to
shift, seconds seemed like days and days seemed like hours,
though only minutes had passed since the beginning of the
ritual. Suddenly, the chanting blinked into nothingness, and
Little Raven began to slide. 
        Slide is the only word that fits, for to the young
Dreamspeaker in the cabin it was if the entire structure had
begun to flow swiftly down a steep hill. Spirits flashed
into being around him as he breached the spiritskin, no
longer ghostly apparitions but beings as solid as himself.
Still, the cabin slid, spirits vanishing in explosions of
light as Gaia's Dream was ridden further than even they
could reach. Little Raven could feel the approach of the
dreadmire, and he braced himself for the impact he knew
would come as the two met. 
        There was none, merely a brief slowing as the cabin
halted its movement. Stuck firmly in the dreadmire as a fly
on flypaper, Little Raven suddenly felt as if he were
underwater - Time was shifting, now, for Spirit had been
completed. 
        "We-ma-a-ha-i! We-ma-a-ha-i! We-ma-a-ha-i!" 
        The ominous chanting floated in from all directions,
and for a moment Little Raven worried that the ritual had
failed and he had returned to Dancing Fox and the other
Shamans. 
        A raucous caw broke his reverie, as the chanting faded
once more. Vaebn was staring at him with beady, black eyes,
as if to say all was well. The sensation of water faded, the
ritual was complete. 
        Little Raven stood, and moved over towards the bearskin
which would serve as his bed. He lay down, Vaebn perching
upon a wooden cabinet, as they waited.

                    *   *   *   *   *
  
        "Witness the power of Gaia's magick, human, and
understand the world is not all as you see it. The tale of
Little Raven takes an interesting twist here, as he leaves
his father and Mentor without question and braves the depths
of the Umbra. A brave young man, though living during these
painful times does that to you. Would you have the courage
to prevail as Little Raven did? Likely not - walking down a
mysterious alley in the depths of night is the extent of
terror your kind can cope with. 
        "A pity, for you found your way to me - do you wish to
feel real terror? 
        "I didn't think so. 
        "Gaia's Dream bows to no one, Time moves inexorably
forward."

                    *   *   *   *   *
  
        Years, yes, years passed for Little Raven, his mind
torn to the limits of sanity at the horror he endured
surviving in the depths of the dreadmire. To him, merely two
years had passed. In the world outside, the Treaty of
Versailles had just been signed. Three weeks later
(dreadmire time), Germany was at war again. 
        It's easy to see how fickle and unpredictable humanity
is when you're watching the course of history measured in
days as opposed to decades. 
        Little Raven endured, however, Vaebn bringing him the
necessary food - familiars have a way of finding things in
the deepest reaches of the spiritlands. He continued to
wait, finding solace in meditation and quiet contemplation
then, later into his trek, braving even the dreadmire with
Vaebn as a guide. The things he saw during his careless
explorations scarred him for life, much as the funeral pyres
he'd witnessed after returning home had done. 
        Surviving for two years in the dreadmire is something
no human should ever have to face. 
        Little Raven had become used to the spirits which would
greet him upon waking - tall Iroquois women with black,
flowing hair would vanish as he reached out to touch them,
while ancient crones would stay with him for hours on end.
Animals and White Man were present too, though odder still
was Black Man - Little Raven had never seen people with skin
so dark. 
        One night, Vaebn never returned. 
        His raven usually flew through the bearskin door during
a time he'd come to know as night, Little Raven would eat
shortly before sleeping. Vaebn never came, and Little Raven
was forced to sleep hungry. 
        Awakening, Little Raven discovered that his familiar
had not returned during the 'night'. He stood from his mat,
walked across the earth floor and peered out of his cabin
into the dreadmire. A shimmering wall which boiled and
rippled, colours running across it like oil slick. The
vertigo alone made Little Raven nauseous, the insane
blubbering of malicious spirits forcing him to return to the
safety of his home. He knelt, confident now that Vaebn had
been lost in the spirit lands. Odd, how he never felt the
wrenching pain which usually accompanied a Mage's loss of
his familiar. 
        The hunger grew, and Little Raven feared death - the
failure of his quest. He almost jumped with ecstatic joy
when he felt the slide begin once more, this time in a
direction opposite of that he recalled two years before. 
        "We-ma-a-ha-i! We-ma-a-ha-i! We-ma-a-ha-i!" 
        Tears flew out of his eyes unbidden as he imagined he
heard his father's voice chanting alongside the others. He
wondered how the chanting had followed him along Gaia's
Dream, though thoughts of this vanished as he noticed
spirits he'd come to consider friends waving in fond
farewell. 
        The slide slowed, just as before, followed quickly by a
subtle jolt as he broke through the spiritskin. He never
expected to see another spirit, for he was once more in the
land of mortals. Imagine his surprise when he saw an ancient
White Man fade into being before him, clothed in tight
fitting white skins which were creased and folded beyond
repair. 
        "Good evening, friend Mage, what brings you here?"
asked the man, in elite, decadent English. 
        Little Raven paused and stepped forward, scanning the
man as if seeing a human being for the first time. "I have
come to .." he falters, unwilling to continue. 
        "You will not tell me? That is all right, I suppose,
though you've done such great harm to the natural flow of
time. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to restore the
time flow - let me take you back to where you started, and
we can reverse things." He started walking towards the door,
indicating Little Raven should follow. 
        Little Raven just shook his head, staring at the man in
the wrinkled suit oddly. Haltingly, testing his english: "I
have done nothing."
        The White Man glanced around the room, as if measuring
something with senses that defied explanation. He brought a
slender finger to pursed lips. "You are right, Little Raven,
you -haven't- done anything. I must delve to the heart of
this matter, friend Mage. You will hear from me again. Good
day." At that, the man nodded his head and smiled before
vanishing as quickly as he'd arrived.
        From the peculiar rippling of Wrinkle’s departure, a
piercing caw echoed almost painfully about inside the cabin.
A moment later, Vaebn appeared, flowing through the bearskin
door as if the devil himself were on his tail. Words echoed
loudly in Little Raven’s mind:
        "I have a gift for you, Susquehannock."
        Vaebn turned and left the cabin once more, followed
quickly by Little Raven - where had Vaebn been these past
weeks? Who was this mysterious man? What was the gift?
        
                       *   *   *   *   *
  
        The onnoint's golden scales grate painfully against you
as the coils constrict tightly, the Umbrood's forked tongue
snaking down towards your head as it speaks. "Why would I
tell you such a tale, you might be wondering? What possible
purpose could it serve, aside from giving me a taste of
human conversation?" His tongue flickered distastefully, as
if he found the concept repulsive. "Lessons often come in
parables, Mage. The tale of Little Raven has scarce begun,
and yet already there are countless teachings to be learned.
You would dare seek me out and bend me to your will? As if I
haven't crushed more Void Engineers in my lifetime than
exist on your world right now? Only those with pure motives
will be granted my ear. Your motives are.. not pure." 
        The coils constrict even tighter, and you find it
difficult to breathe. Still, the onnoint continues its
story. "When Little Raven seeks me out, you may be
wondering, will he share the same fate as you?" The spirit
chuckles. "Only.. Time, will tell." 
        "Gaia's Dream bows to no one, except me." 
        As the snake tightens its grip even further, the sound
of grinding ribs and your own piercing scream is the last
thing you ever hear.

Conclusion

Little Raven was a very fun character to play, mainly due to his odd outlook on life and the confusion he was forced to endure upon arriving in such a demonic world.

Sadly, this character really wasn't of leadership caliber, for he was in no way able to cope with such modern institutions as the Technocracy or economic/business concerns. Upon being blasted by a ten point Paradox backlash, he became a bird with an inability to use magick and was killed by a sniper shortly thereafter.

Ryan West, 1999.
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