Between the worlds we know and the worlds that are, there lies the Dreaming....

[mari_grayson]

The Dreaming is, by its very nature, not bound by the laws that govern the physical universe, and yet those laws may inform its form and function. Time and geography have different meanings here, and even those meanings may shift as the dreamers (or the Lord Shaper himself) wish, but at this time, there is a place that has been set aside by order

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[mistress_magik]

Even as Queen of Limbo, Amanda knows little about the Dreaming. She's only ever heard of it through vague retellings in old books and the occasional folktale she's overheard among the demons who reside in her realm.

Yet she knew to be here for this. Or perhaps Strange did, and his aura on hers compelled her to be here. Either way, she has arrived, and with her, the Sorcerer Supreme of her universe.

[grey_walker]

A silent figure stands, perfectly still save for a flutter of his cloak - blown by the winds of the realm he has just departed to arrive here.

[jla_extras]

A grey-haired man with a spit curl and kind blue eyes silently watches the proceeding. Croutex wasn't the first destroyer. He won't be the last. This he knows.

But let's hear this out.

[jla_extras]

Off to one side a man appears, shimmering into existence with his arms outstretched as if holding onto hands that have disappeared. From his right hand dangles a plumb-bob, looking like a child's top on a fine gold chain, and cupped in his right is a small magnet shaped roughly like a shell. Although he appears to be at least in his seventies, if not eighties, he stands tall and firm in his indigo robes, and takes a moment to stroke his long beard absently as he looks around. The Manni have always been explorers, not keepers of the worlds beyond their own, but Henchick of the Redpath Clan has felt the power of Croutex, and comes now to prevent a recurrence in any way he is able.

[doctorfatejsa]

Indeed, many come to see that future calamity is averted.

Fate has been here many times ... indeed, it was he who requested it as the location of their conference.

There will be a price for asking favors of Dream. He knows that. But that's a question for later. For now, he has visitors to greet.

[mari_grayson]

Nightstar bows politely to the mystic in the golden helm. "Dr. Fate. The Lord Shaper bid me send you his regards."

[doctorfatejsa]

"Thank you, Mari Grayson," says Fate, nodding politely. "I trust the Shaper, Lord Dream is well?"

[onecoldbastard]

And it goes to show, that if there was ever a gathering of multiversal powers, a Century Baby would be there. And lucky for all here, that individual happened to be the one dressed in white that didn't smoke anymore.

Though he couldn't help but look at all those gatherered books from across time and space and drool, well.. mentaly at least. And the temperature of the Dreaming has gone down just a few degrees for those that would notice such things.

Fact is, The man in white had been here before, back in the seventies during a little field work involving one of Jack Carter's.. escapades. And the explorer in him always wanted to come back and, in no uncertain terms, snoop.

One white eyebrow did lift at the gathering crowd of costumed individuals, some he's heard of through whispers and studies of the bleed, others he's never dreamed of. He was starting to feel.. underdressed.

"Well, isn't this interesting.."

Yup, Elijah Snow's in the Dreaming. Let's see if he can get out without offending too many realities.. shall we?

[jla_goldenage]

"I'd say it's an unprecedented opportunity," says a man in a trenchcoat and fedora, smoking a pipe. The man steps from the shadows and offers his hand.

"Richard Occult," he says genially. "Doctor Richard Occult."

[onecoldbastard]

The hand was taken and shaken with a firm, if slightly chilly grip. But then, that wasn't really something Elijah could help, was it?

"That it is, that it is.."

Though he couldn't help but flash a grin at the Doctor's.. Doctor.

"Elijah Snow, Planetary Corperation."

[jla_goldenage]

"Planetary Corporation?" says the trench-coated doctor. "I seem to recall a book owned by a collector I met in one of the far realms. Round about 1950. Riveting reading, but if I'd dallied much longer my head and amulet would have ended up in one of his display cases."

[the_old_wolf]

A flicker, and a older-looking man dressed in tunic and hose and cloak - and looking distinctly irritated - stumps in.

[mari_grayson]

"Hello!" Nightstar offers the newcomer a flagon of what looks like ale. "I understand this is your favorite drink?"

[the_old_wolf]

He deftly snags the flagon.

Well, at least there's good service here.

So, has anything of import happened yet, or are we all just standing around making awkward conversation? That's what usually happens at these things.

[mari_grayson]

"Awkward conversation and introductions." She glances around. "And verbal duelling. But Dream has instructed me to provide something ... um ... call it a unique opportunity for you all later on." Mar'i grins. "I just hope you'll remember it, otherwise it seems like a waste of time. Not that time exists here, really."

[_captain_marvel]

It is all very new to him, and yet it feels like familiar territory.
Swimming in lightning and magic, the new Shazam tests his footing as he slides between realities and manifests in the Dreaming.

Beaming, the boy who is not a boy looks around. Golden light arcs around his eyes and his face breaks into a guileless smile.
"Neat."

[mari_grayson]

"Billy?"

[knobontheend]

A harrumph from behind her.

"Billy"? Hardly what a proper wizard should be called. Wizardly names should strike... what's the word I'm looking for... awe. Yes, awe. Into the hearts of lesser men, which is most people really don't you know.

He peers at the younger man.

And I daresay that body is a thaumic construct. Very unhygenic. I don't much hold with such things.

[mari_grayson]

"Hi!" Nightstar smiles at the older man. "Sorry. When I first met him, he wasn't a wizard." She makes a beckoning wave at the nearest wall, and it parts as elegantly as opera house curtains. A long buffet train, complete with several pudding cabooses, rolls in towards the Archchancellor.