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 >Who are you?
 >Where are you?
 >How did you get here?
 >These thoughts and more float in head as you feel yourself soar on unseen currents through this waterless sea.
 >Wait…
 >There it is.
 >A purpose.
 >It’s vague, but it’s there.
 >You need to find something, or someone.
 >But what exactly is it that you are looking for, and why?
 >Your unvoiced queries echo off into the eternal distance.
 >You wish you weren’t stuck in this.. place.
 >You can’t move, can’t see or feel.
 >But something in the back of your mind tells you there is one thing you can do.
 >You flex incorporeal muscles you didn’t know you had.
 >They flow through and around you like snakes, ready to enact your will.
 >You think.
 [Show me where I should go.]
 >And they do.
 >Out of the nothingness they come.
 >Sights, sounds, smells, all of it at once.
 >Visions of foreign places and unrecognized faces.
 >...
 >You see her.
 >A girl, working feverishly on some mechanical contraption.
 >She’s in a small, dark, and dusty workshop.
 >Old tomes and mistreated manuals litter the tables and shelves around her, where the space isn’t taken up by drawings and other little machines.
 >A half eaten pastry sits forgotten on a dingy little desk on the far side of the room, next to a mug of coffee that has long since gone cold.
 >The girl herself looks like she’s seen better days.
 >Or maybe not.
 >Her hair is dirty and unkempt, her clothes are lightly dusted like the room itself.
 >The girl herself is incredibly pale and likely hasn’t seen the light of day in a long while.
 >She mutters to herself as she continues to work on her “thing,” whatever it is.
 >A small crystal on the contraption begins to glow softly.
 >She lets out a small gasp before muttering with even more intensity.
 >As she tinkers with the thing when suddenly the glow from the crystal begins pulsating rapidly.
 >”No, no, NO!”
 >There’s a muffled poof, and the crystal shatters.
 >”Argh!”
 >She takes the thing and throws at the other wall, before sighing and slumping down, face in her hands.
 >...
 >You’re in the countryside now.
 >A young woman is attempting to till her fields, but it doesn’t look like it’ll do her much good.
 >The ground is dry, practically dust.
 >It’s not just this farm.
 >The surrounding countryside looks to be in a state of drought.
 >There might be a famine in the near future, if it hasn’t started already.
 >But still, on and on the woman works.
 >The sweat and dust on her brow and some scratches in the dirt are the only reward to her hard work.
 >She pauses for a second to look off in the distance.
 >The road is empty.
 >She gives a forlorn sigh before turning back to her work.
 >...
 >A city appears before your eyes.
 >It’s streets bustle with the activity of what must be thousands of people.
 >Gleaming spires and boulevards paved with what may as well be marble.
 >The vision shifts.
 >Clean, beautiful squares and tall buildings built to please the eye make way for narrow streets beneath wooden shacks built one on top of another.
 >There is people here, no less than before, but everyone is dirtier and shiftier.
 >In one of these streets a young girl sits.
 >She huddles in shadow of the crowd, covered with a threadbare shawl.
 >In front of her is a beat up tin, in which lies a single coin.
 >The crowd passes her by, few even deigning to look at her.
 >She stares at the ground, a sad look on her dirt smeared face.
 >...
 >You see a small town.
 >While nowhere as ostentatious as the city, it is quaint.
 >Small parks and humble buildings make for a pleasant atmosphere.
 >A shopkeep sits in her small work area, looking bored.
 >She fiddles with some cloth before setting it on top of a small pile of similar pieces.
 >Her face momentarily shifts to one of worry as she looks at the window of the shop.
 >Several holes mar the surface of the otherwise pristine glass.
 >They seem to be recent, but have since been covered up.
 >Seems like there was trouble recently.
 >The shopkeep looks from the window to a small painting on the wall.
 >It’s of a noble couple, sitting on a bench with a mansion in the background.
 >A wistful smile crosses her face before it promptly leaves.
 >A small bell jingles, the sound disturbing the young shopkeep’s peace.
 >She rushes to greet her potential clients.
 >The scenery changes again.
 >...
 >A cottage sits on the edge of the forest.
 >It’s empty.
 >Your focus shifts elsewhere, into the forest itself.
 >An animal shrieks in pain.
 >There’s the rustling of leaves, then silence.
 >In a clearing, a figure is hunched over a huge white stag.
 >The animal is clearly in pain, and blood has wet the grass around it.
 >The figure is movements are quick and erratic.
 >They try to staunch the wound and soothe the animal.
 >It’s no use.
 >There’s too much blood.
 >And there’s something else at work here.
 >The stag coughs out blood, and its eyes cloud over.
 >The figure doubles their efforts, but it’s too late.
 >The stag gives a final ragged breath before finally succumbing to its wound.
 >The figure pauses, then embraces the animal, as though to say they’re sorry.
 >They finally look up.
 >They is actually a she, and she peers deeper into the woods.
 >Tracks lead off into the deep forest, strange ones.
 >She has worried look on her face, but it quickly turns into one of determination.
 >She gets up and sets off.
 >...
 >Pastures in an idyllic hill country.
 >Sheep graze as a young shepherdess plays around with some rocks.
 >She juggles them, sometimes throwing one out, then hitting it mid-air with another.
 >It’s quite a sight.
 >She hits every single one of them without fail.
 >When she runs out of rocks, she takes a large stick from the ground and begins to play around with it.
 >She duels with imaginary foes, hacking and stabbing the air.
 >The sheep occasionally pause their grazing to look at her, unimpressed with her antics.
 >Jumping onto a small boulder, she brandishes her weapon at her invisible adversaries, as though daring them to challenge her.
 >A yell startles her, causing her to lose her footing and tumble off the boulder.
 >Another shepherd waves at her frantically, obviously distressed.
 >That’s when she sees it.
 >A pillar of black smoke on the horizon.
 >”Not again…”
 >She rushes off to follow her compatriot.
 >The sheep watch as they leave before returning to their grassy meals.
 >They aren’t going anywhere.
 >...
 >A desert stretches out to the horizon in all directions.
 >The occasional mesa juts out of the ground in the far distance, stretching up to meet the sky.
 >A young woman sits in the shade under a tree.
 >She looks out to the horizon, as though she were expecting someone.
 >She’s haggard, but otherwise calm and peaceful, and her clothes and pack, though somewhat dirty and worn, are well maintained.
 >There are scars on her face and hands.
 >She’s obviously had a hard and violent life, as young as she is.
 >Behind her, a cloud of dust grows closer.
 >Someone is coming.
 >She looks back at it, then continues to look forward.
 >She occasionally looks up at the empty sky, then down at her wrist, at a crude time telling device.
 >What could she be waiting for?
 >Whatever, or whoever it is, it seems as though they’re late.
 >The vision fades, as do your senses.
 >These are what you must find.
 >You must gather all of them.
 >However, you can’t be in seven places at once.
 >So where should you start?
 >You think for moment, before deciding.
 >You see it in your mind.
 >You want to be there.
 >And so, there you are.
 
 >The desert sun shines upon you, it’s heat warming your skin.
 >You look around.
 >It’s just like your vision, except now you’re in it.
 >In front of you is the young woman from earlier.
 >She sits there, giving you a blank stare for a second before finally recoiling in surprise.
 >You probably weren’t who she was expecting.
 >The dust cloud from earlier is even closer now, but the figures within remain obscured.
 >The woman briefly looks back at it before picking herself up off the floor.
 >Grabbing her pack, as well as some odd looking materials that lay in front of her, she makes her way over to you.
 >She slows down as she nears you, before coming to a  stop a short distance away.
 >She has a nervous look on her face now.
 >”Are you the one they told me to meet?”
 >Who?
 >You look at her in confusion.
 >”You know what, we can talk about that later. Can you help me?"