<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 7pt;">This is an open thread. Please see first post for the "rules". If you want to take the story somewhere, please don't be bashful, don't be shy, just jump in. The idea is for multiple authors to collaborate on one character. But you also should feel free to write in NPCs as well. PM me if you have questions or want more details.</span><br/><hr/><br/>The Guardian watches as the<em>presence</em>stalks the young woman. It realizes that she will just make another wrong choice unless she is given some guidance. Faced with the panoply of weapons and armor, so many humans fail. {We wonder if they will ever grow up,} murmurs the Guardian to itself.<br/><br/>Finally the Guardian decides to intervene, even though the<em>presence</em>will then know it is being watched. It judges the possible benefits worth the risks.<br/><br/>Z hears another Voice in her mind, but this one sounds incredibly ancient, almost sinister in the antiquity oozing from every syllable. "You are in grave danger, our dear Z. Do not travel the way of the physical. In this realm you must travel the way of the metaphysical."<br/><br/>As the voice grows silent, Z is struck by two things. First, the mode of address: "our dear Z." Who ever would say that? Second, and much more important, is the sense of utter sincerity in the voice, as if eternal and elemental Truth were being spoken. Z considers, then removes the weapons she had donned just a moment before. After a moment's hesitation, she also removes the gown, stripping down to bare flesh. Feeling slightly foolish, she says loudly, "I wear my wits."<br/><br/>The Guardian smiles to themselves. {This one has promise,}  they realize as they fade back into background electronic noise.<br/>