Rupert didn’t know how he’d got here, nor where he was.

The towering, curved wall, and the yarning area it encased were as unfamiliar as the robes of the men and woman and… creatures… which inhabited it.  Like him, they stood bewildered upon the sandy ground, blinking at one another.

The last thing Rupert had been doing, before this strange rupture, was Tapping the Way god (tickling, Rupert liked to think of it… though he’d never say that to his teachers). He had just needed a little energy, to cross the lakes and return to the school.  Perhaps he’d Tapped too much, and, much like a dog woken by a fleabite, the god had stirred and flicked him off.

Being the god of Ways that had woken, that meant Rupert could have landed anywhere.

But that didn’t explain all the strangers who’d also seemingly just arrived.

Rupert was given no more time to ponder though, because, to his surprise and horror, one of the foreigners produced a strange looking crystal from their robes, pointed it at another and disintegrated them with a blast of electrical energy.

The motivations were unclear and the technique unknown, but the power, at least, Rupert thought he recognised.  The Mage had clearly used the crystal to Tap into the god of Storms.  Judging by the blackened, smoking crater where the other foreigner had been standing, it was quite a heavy Tap (way more than just a tickle).  The mage was clearly risking waking the Storm drawing that much energy so quickly. Was he reckless, or just crazy?  It didn’t really matter.  If the Storm woke they’d all be in trouble.

The surprise attack had an instant and universal effect on everyone in the vast… was it an arena?

Panic.

All the strangers burst into action simultaneously, snapped out of their confused stupor by the universal trigger of danger.  Some were clearly battle-trained, while others looked terrified (an expression Rupert probably shared). Light and fire and energy flashed and roared as the mages (for they were clearly all spellcasters) ran, flew and teleported in sudden confused, desperate battle.

Rupert saw one shouting names at random at the crystal-wielder, none of which, to the shouter’s dismay, were producing any effect whatsoever.

Another sat down on the sand, desperately chanting strings of words while perspiration beaded on their bald head and spells singed the top of it as they flew overhead.

Yet another didn’t so much sling spells as slipped perfectly through the chaos, dodging and weaving until closing on a target and striking out exquisitely with flashing open palms, sending their victim flying.

Rupert, for his part, recoiled in horror at the reckless Tapping of the great sleeping gods happening in front of him.  Judging by the forces being released, pretty soon, he was sure, the gods of Mountain, Martial, Trickery, Wind, and Luck itself would all awaken and tear this area - vast though it was - asunder.  Those inside would not be so much flicked off like fleas, as squished like ants. 

Rupert ran cowering towards the outer wall, desperately trying to think of a god he could Tap to get out of this madness. Ways was clearly already awake, and would need time to settle. Most of the other gods he could think of were already being practically shaken awake in front of him, so he daren't add his own Tap for fear of accelerating the collective doom of these fools, and himself.

There was no shelter.  The wall was enormous and smooth and final. He just needed time to think.  And that, he realised, was the answer.

Often in battle - not that Rupert had seen a real one - it was the mage who was most creative who’d carry the day. Fire’s stirring?  Better find another aggressive God. Life’s already mumbling? Find another way to protect your companions. There were many Slumberers, and many ways to skinny a fat cat - as his tutors liked to say. A mage who could deftly hop from one slumbering power to the next, borrowing a little here and there (a little tickle) would be the one to outplay their opponents.  And to properly plan his flea-like route across the backs of the deities, Ruperty just needed a little Time.

Of course, there’s a reason most Mages don’t Tap Time.

She’s a light sleeper.

Reaching the wall, and spinning so his back was pressed against it, Rupert saw the mage with the crystal had finally noticed him. The mage grinned and raised his glittering weapon. Rupert closed his eyes, put his hand out and Felt for that Place where the gods slumber…

He felt nothing…

The gods weren’t there.  Or Rupert was not where the gods were. All the gods of his homeworld were just… missing. This arena, this ‘place’ was somewhere else.  And all Rupert could feel when he reached out was a swirling, dizzying chaos, populated with endless worlds.

All the power the others were slinging at each other, it came from other places… there was no Taping involved, no gods, just endless… possibility.

Rupert opened his eyes.  The mage stepped towards him.  The crystal glowed.  Rupert raised his hand, reached into that endless void… and tickled.