Date: Tue, 11 Nov 1997 15:30:32 -0400 From: "Quinn@GhostWheel" To: quinn@netsville.com Subject: GhostWheel Message(s) 116 - 148 from *Storylines (#5236) X-Mail-Agent: GhostWheel (casper.bga.com 6969) Message 116 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Oct 5 04:16:48 1997 EDT From: Chamois (#20294) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: A first time for everything Chamois entered her bedroom in a flurry of emotions. She looked around the room and sighed, calming at the comforts of the place she knew best, the strewn music all about the room, played and nearly memorized, the books, the instruments... She picked up her golden harp and began to strum, but her attentions were not in the music. All she could think of was him! Monsiour LeCroix had been much of her attentions as of late, her eyes constantly drawn to his, so defined, so present, so seductive. She had seen only some men of her day -- only some that had actually stood out among the crowds. Indeed, a man itself was not something new, but the feelings she felt for him, came much as a shock to her. Chamois reminisced of the evening itself. She had felt so wonderful in Fabian's arms, his kiss so potent and alive, moving over what felt like all of her body. So great had it felt that she could only stand there and shiver, her body barely able to stop him before it became unacceptable. All these feelings, indeed so new to her, had caused her to do something she had almost never done before -- allow someone else control, and allow herself to be free. But how could she not? He was everything she had dreamed of, and more. For dreams could not bring the sensations he had brought to her. His passion, so great, compiled with his skill had nearly astounded her. She felt so terrible when she stopped him, sensing that his dissapointment was merely masked by his desire to please her. She had left his embrace under the waterfall, in tears, running back to N'Orleans, unable to face hiim. How she wanted him, and yet, how fearful of all this she truly was. Something had to be wrong with her. Perhaps she could find someone to speak with. She was not the only to have felt this... this... Her mind stopped short, unable to answer. Her fingers continued to strum, the harp singing its answer in reply to her questions. If only she could discern the music it made, enough to realize what she really felt. -------------------------- Message 117 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Oct 5 07:00:44 1997 EDT From: Clayson (#17237) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Soap and Water Clayson glanced down at her reflection in the fountain, seeing wild eyes, unruly hair moistened lightly by the mist of the evening fog. Stripping off her clothes she slid into the cool water, floating unbound in the darkness that surrounded her. Closing her eyes she waited...****where is he, where**** she concentrated hard, but the only image she could conger up in her whiskey soaked mind was Dauthi. His soft lips pulled into an evil grin, the words he whispered to her as he ravaged her body, "I own you Clayson, I own you....." Shaking her head, trying hard to see the other as she listened to ghostly song of the banshee echoing throughout the cobblestone streets. There was only one she wanted, the one who could wash her sins away in a shower of pelting warmth. She ached for him. A trek to the Jizo to find him? If only she could remember his name. -------------------------- Message 118 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Oct 5 13:55:29 1997 EDT From: Jared (#20547) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: A Horse of Course Jared sat on the small cot, its rusty bedframe screaming under her wieght. Making her chuckle as its protestations made her feel like a waterbuffalo sitting on it, instead of her own thin frame. Crossing her feet over one another, she dug the heel of her boot into the toee, freeing one foot from the comfortable cowboy boot. Kicking it off, she let it drop to the floor near the the only other furniture in the bare room, the chest. Reaching down she tugged off the other, dropping it with its mate. With a soft sigh she stood and padded across the room in her barefeet, grabbing her robe from the hook near the stairs. Soft whinnies and the fresh scent of hay wafted up from below, dragging her thoughts back to the night before. She was showing the young woman the horses, happy to have found a new friend, when the sound of thunder across the field drew them outside. K'tal and her boss were racing across the field. -=A fine show of horseflesh=- she thought. Her and the girl had stood, discussing the form and show of the pair. -=My mind on horses.. hers not, why was that?=- SHe brushed the thought aside, returning to replaying the scene over again in her minds eye. Her boss had stood, high off the seat of the saddle, guiding the huge warhorse with his knees, his body weight much to far forward. -=showing off he was, no doubt=- With a speed only this huge brute had, the horse stopped abruptly, throwing her boss over its head and onto the green grass. Pawing and snorting, charging the hurting man. Her and the girl couldnt do a damn thing, K'tal was enjoying his power much to much for them to do more than really watch. Then as quickly as it had started it was over, K'tal snorted once, then trotted around like a docile pony. Her worry over his well being quickly turned to anger as she saw he was in fairly good shape. Turning, she had stomped back to the barn, only yelling an order at him to take care of his horse and to give it oats -=what the hell was i thinking telling the boss to do my job=- -=Why the hell did it piss me off so much?=- That was one thought she did quell right away. No need to dwell on that. Slowly she peeled the rest of her clothes off, slipping herself into the emerald silk robe and heading for the stairs. One last time to check all was locked up for the night before getting some sleep. She usually trusted herself that it was done, but firing the 2 stable hands had given her the creeps. Their parting words stil echoed in the back of her mind. -------------------------- Message 119 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Oct 5 16:34:59 1997 EDT From: Seraph (#16551) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: The safety of a mask... She turned the tiny amulet over in her hand, eyeing it critically. "Three nights, eh?" she said, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. The jingling bit of brass had cost her two weeks' hunt, and it felt far lighter in her hand than the sack of crystals it had cost her. "This had better work... " she muttered, turning it over and over in her palm. Crescent and serpent, one to each side. Simple design. She hoped he had been able to capture the intricacies of the images she had given him, painstakingly drawn at the cramped workroom table downstairs. She couldn't say that the mounds of silk hadn't inspired her, but she did know and accept full well that she had no talent with them. The amulet would have to suffice. -High price- she thought, -for a parlor trick-. There was a dim irony in the fact that the one person who lived above the costume shop in N'Orleans would not be piled in silks and velvets, but instead, a web of intricate illusion. She walked to the small mirror in front of the shop, and slipped it over her head, staring in the mirror, prepared for disappointment. It fell with the serpent side facing upwards. She stood, blinking at her reflection, for a long moment, her jaw falling faintly slack. "That's _me_?" she asked the glass, and only on seeing the image move with her began to believe it. Clutching the tiny pendant in her hand, she laughed, and shouted out a tiny yelp of victory. It had been worth it. Bounding back upstairs with a girlish laugh, she fell back onto her bed in fits of chuckling. Turning over the events of the past few days, she pondered her moods. At times, she was fully herself. Nothing seemed very out of place at all. Others, she felt strange, melancholy, or as she did now, which, were she thinking as clearly as she often did, she would have easily ridiculed someone else for. It made less than no sense to her whatsoever. She sat up, not able to take the previous night out of her head for reasons that jumbled like spilled matchsticks in her head. She had always flirted with the Dragonlord, this was nothing different. She could pinpoint his animal appeal, and sense that he was not one to become attached. At least it seemed so. If he could see her dance, her certainly knew she had more in her. Yet... it wasn't him. She scowled at the tiny pendant that glimmered in between her fingers as she held it up to the light. It wasn't him at all. It was what Jared had said that troubled her, and she almost instantly became cross. She liked Jared. The woman seemed to have a tremendous grasp on some matters that still managed to elude Anne. It wasn't more than concern. It _couldn't_ be. That would be irrational in the extreme. It would also make her that one thing that she so much did not want to be... a 'girl'. A silly, romantic, unrealistic, impractical GIRL. What good would that ever do her? The pendant glimmered in her hand again. It was for a silly ball. She had purchased it in on a romantic whim. Its effect certainly wasn't realistic. There was no way in hell it had been reasonably practical. She had gone and done it. She was a girl. Definately. Even if it wasn't for the reasons people thought. She grinned up at the pendant, watching it catch the light. "A girl, maybe... " she said, then chuckled as she remembered the reflection. "But oh... what a girl I'm going to be." *Cinderella?* one of them asked. "Only for tonight... " she answered aloud, repeating more softly, "...only for tonight." "So much for not believing in fairy tales." A faint sadness crossed her eyes, watching the light begin to fall outside the window. The preparations were being made already, she could see. If only one night would ever be enough. -------------------------- Message 120 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Oct 5 21:42:17 1997 EDT From: Baltisaar (#10734) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: The Dark Time... Era's end. Baltisaar stood before the great Isis-Urania Temple #3 in England, also known as the Mark-Mason's Hall. He looked up at the worn facade. Two shadows broke out of nowhere, then appeared next to him. 'Ave, Frater M.T.S. We are glad to see you have returned...' said the one insubstantial wraith. Baltisaar bowed, 'Ave, Fraters N.O.M. and D.D.C.F. Thank you for your greetings... I have fallen behind in my studies... It is now time to advance them... I seek entrance into the Inner Order. I have completed the work necessary to that of the Portal grade, and am ready to take on the trappings and rank of Adeptus Minor in the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn.' The two spectre's looked at each other, then nodded. They made a wide sweeping towards the door of the hall. The doors open, and they entered, both spectres and man. Time warped, then ice formed about the door. In the distance could be heard a chant, only moments before the entire building fell. City officials combed the rubble for days, and found no bones. As they left, they heard a spectral voice laugh... A musical mix in accent of Spanish, French and Middle Eastern... And it ends, and in all time, we move on... The Body may die... But the Spirit... lives on... -FINIS- -------------------------- Message 121 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Oct 5 22:18:40 1997 EDT From: Ynaoise (#11886) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Do not go gentle... Ynaoise sighed as he looked across Drach'nal. Rathe's rule of it bothered him, but never the less there was nothing he could really do. He hated feeling helpless, but he was not a man of war, but a simple engineer. He leaned against Els on the area near the lake and the Adept's house... Baltisaar? Yes, that is it. The wind picks up, and various things go blowing across. Leaves, branches... Small trees... Then, out of nowhere come four men, dressed in red armor, a black sun emblazoned on the breastplate. Magics flared from their hands as Elshydrath's eyes went black. A bitter battle ensued, Man & Dragon versus the four magi. The blue blade, known as Magebane glowed a brilliant blue that day, living up to its true potential. In the end, when all was said and done, no one truly knows what happend that day. A massive display of pyrotechnics could be seen for miles around, but all... Dragon, man and magi, had vanished. Tales are spun by old wives of Ynaoise... His hatred of mages, and what seems to be the end of his life... No one knows where he is... Only that he is gone. -FINIS- -------------------------- Message 122 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Oct 6 09:58:07 1997 EDT From: jared (#20547) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Wanted Posted in the R/T lounge and other establishments : ------------------------------------------------------- | Looking For : | | | | One or two stable hands. Must be knowledgeable, | | honest, and not afraid of some hard work. Please | | apply to Jared -StableMaster or Lord Stryfe. | | Serious enquiries only. | ------------------------------------------------------- OOC : No pages please. Mail is fine to send a resume of sorts. Or find us in person - ICly only. -------------------------- Message 123 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Oct 6 10:28:21 1997 EDT From: jared (#20547) To: jared (#20547) and *Storylines (#5236) Subject: The morning after Jared curled up in her bed, pulling the blankets over her head. "GO away Sun, gooo" she groaned softly, trying to calm the ceaseless throbbing in her head. Drinking wine in quantity was such a fun new experience, but this pay back was a bitch. Her whole body hurt, felt like she had been in a fight with some mangy dog along the way. Jared peaked open one eye, enough time had past in bed that she could at least handle that much. The horses below whinnied and snorted, attesting to her late morning, "God.. Im coming, Im coming" she mumbled out, staggering out of bed. She grabbed her robe from the rack near the stair, stuffing her arms into it as she descended them. The sweet scent of hay assaulted her nostrils as she made her way to the first stall. Her eyes widened slightly in suprise, a feeling of gratitude and relief sweeping over her. Someone had taken care of the horses, given them hay and water. "Thank You, Santa" she whispered, checking the other stalls before making her way back to bed. "I hope it was you who gave me the leather jacket too..." -------------------------- Message 124 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Oct 6 14:39:21 1997 EDT From: Styx (#1610) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Tourney announcement A vellium scroll is read by a man wearing colors of the OOW. He proclaims to all within earshot as he visits the various population centers: Let it be known far and wide, a call to men and women at arms, sportsmen of all breeds, races and creeds. Lord Stryfe of the Order of the Wyrm shall host a tourney in the shadow of Mount Uruken. A purse of 600 crystals to the victor of each of the contests. All are welcome to compete. If you do not wish to compete, you may participate in the sport of kings and people everywhere. Spectating. *** See *RPG for more information on event *** -------------------------- Message 125 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Oct 6 15:05:46 1997 EDT From: Chantal (#20467) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Hrm. The party had been as much of a hit as she had expected. The old crowd seemed to enjoy themselves, yet, they always did. It was the mingling of the old and the new that concerned her, and though not ideal, it could easily have been worse. She thought over the costumes and works of walking art on the streets from the previous night, and worked on another posting note, this time composed in her delicate, flowing script. Prizes have been awarded for the costumes seen at the ball last eve in the following amounts: First place, a prize amount of 1000 crystals, goes to 'Tegra'. My dear, if I had your moxie (and figure) I think I could take over the world. Good show! Second place goes to both 'Lobo' and 'Lady Lace', in the amount of 500 crystals each. Third place recognition goes to our 'Wyvern', 'Rageddy Andy', 'Kitty Kat', and 'An Angel', in the amount of 250 crystals each. Looking forward to the nex party, with all best wishes- Chantal Pierette Delaroi -------------------------- Message 126 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Oct 6 19:16:54 1997 EDT From: Lovinia (#10869) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Silence! Lovinia was relaxing, her pregnacy near completion. She sat gently stroking Elsa's warm fur as she read the book she had found at the R/T Library the last time she had ventured that far from home. The room was comfortable, the fire burning quietly in the fireplace as a cold wind blew against the Retreat. A slow smile crossed her face as she felt Baltisaar, soemthing was happening, something he seemed pleased of. She looked up from the book and sighed, happy. She hoped he would return soon as the birth of their child was eminant. Suddenly, she cried out softly as all sense of her love closed like the slamming of a door. She started to rise, fear washing over her when her child moved in her, pain washing across her back and down her legs. With a soft moan, she slumped to the floor. -------------------------- Message 127 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Oct 7 01:42:05 1997 EDT From: Phantom_Rose (#6337) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: A bit of beauty and magic If you stand upon the helipad you will see in the distance a Rainbow, its brillance coming from the great druid tree Eldorath.. Showing a sign of hope and a new day.. The birth of a child. -------------------------- Message 128 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Oct 7 01:44:08 1997 EDT From: Heretic (#6143) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Brith... And the 4 wise men head for Eldorath ..and prompty fall out of it because they aren't druids ..look around embarresed then go home hoping no one noticed.. H -------------------------- Message 129 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Oct 7 01:48:50 1997 EDT From: Phantom_Rose (#6337) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Addition The name 'Antoine Baltisaar Cordath' fills your hearts and minds. Shimmering in the light of the rainbow as it changes colors. -------------------------- Message 130 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Oct 7 02:10:32 1997 EDT From: Dexter (#14882) To: *Storylines (#5236) Dexter stood upon the windy shuttle pad, waiting for the Lamar's arrival. The expanse of the wastes laid out before him, warm breezes caressing his now dusky skin. He barely noticed that his bionic pinky was acting up again, whirring out of control when the implanted lens in his eye caught an anomaly above the large tree called "Eldorath". Deep within his brain, something stirred. The Lamar came and went without him. He was too busy staring at that damned rainbow singing, "It's a world of laughter, it's a world of tears..." -------------------------- Message 131 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Oct 7 07:58:06 1997 EDT From: Seraph (#16551) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Aftermath or... ? As soon as she stepped through the door of the costume shop, she let out the loudest, most frustrated scream in her life, slamming her shoulder against the doorframe, then sliding down to the floor in an exasperated heap. The little brass charm let made a soft *CLINK* as it hit the floor. Her eyes narrowed at it accusingly, and her lip began to twitch unpleasantly. "This is all your fault... " she muttered at the glowing amulet. "One more use. Right.. " she sniffed at it with a derisive toss of her hair, "...like that will ever happen again. You're goin' in the bag, and you can moulder and rot there for all I care." She paused a long while, looking at it critically, angrily. "What's _really_ irritating, you cheap little carnival coin, is that he _did_ seem to like it." Pushing herself up, she had almost reached the workroom door when she stopped dead. Her brow furrowed, and she half turned to look out the glass door to the Fin de la Rue outside, then at the amulet again. Her brow knit with a scowl. "Oh it would just figure... " she said, reaching out an arm to slump against the frame of the workroom door. She let out a low growl, skirting around drifts of fabric and haphazard stacks of books and sketches. She slipped her key into the loft's lock, and headed up to crouch on her bed like a gargoyle. Picking at the hanging fringe, she hung the amulet from one of the posts of the bed, letting it give the predawn room a fragile glow. "Stupid, stupid Cinderella syndrome," she muttered almost at the little amulet. "Just next time, remind me to check my princes more carefully, huh?" She huffed with frustration. *Why are you ao angry anyway, Annie? You said you weren't interested in the man anyway* "Don't start," she replied simply. "Because it isn't that. It's that I don't like being tricked. And I don't like Bram very much, sometimes." *Well, he did say they were much alike. And he did say he liked the dress.... or... whatever it was you were wearing* "Yeah... " she sighed, "I know." "First off, he's probably just being polite. And... anyway, maybe if I had actually not been purple when he'd said it, I could have said something about it. Talk about role reversal, I'm the one who needs to lighten up... " Because I'm insane, we skip on to the next day.... She stalked in, repeating the same sequence of events, just a few days later, falling into an unceremonious heap and burying her face in a pillow. *Well... you made him laugh, Anne... * She screamed into the pillow. "Laughing _at_ me is not exactly what I had in mind... " she muttered through a few pounds of feather and linen. *Well, I don't know what you're so worried about. It wasn't kinky, or violent. It fit your qualifications quite nicely. He looked very amused, really* She beat her fists into the pillows on either side of her in partially bemused frustration, then sat up abruptly. "Ok, ok. So it was funny," she admitted grudgingly. "You know, I really hate it when people look so damnably charming when they're snickering at you." *Take it as a good sign. You heard what Jared said* "I don't want to even _think_ about what Jared said... " she muttered. Listening to her new friend tell her how she simply must have fallen for someone merely made her faintly nauseous. *Admit it* "No." *Admit it* they insisted more fervently. "No," she answered with equal determination. *Come on, Anne, admit it* She groaned. "Ok, I like the man. That doesn't mean I want to bear his children, or have images of a white picket fence and a puppy scampering through my thoughts, ok? He's interesting." *Interesting?* "Yes, interesting. I can talk to him for more than five minutes without wanting to knock his teeth in." They collectively sniffed at her. *Well, it's... something* *You blushed, you know. More than a little. That's something too* "No it isn't... " she defended. "Stop trying to make me out to be some girl. I think he's a nice guy. I can talk to him. He's even charming. I respect him... and that is exactly why I'm not going to do _anything_ like this again." She buried her face in the pillows, curling around a tattered blanket and tucking it under her chin. Shooting hateful glances at the glimmering pendant, she said, "You know, this was all your collective idea. I was doing much better-" *Without any experience in dealing with civilized people? Sure you were* "-before you all got involved," she finished with less fire than she began. *You made him laugh, Anne. It's something* She simply groaned an unintelligible answer, and tossed a few times, trying her damndest to get comfortable. "Screw it. It'll blow over. I'm sure of it." *Unless Bram says anything... * "Shut up, Mother." *There is the ride. Maybe it will go a little better* She sighed, staring up at the bedframe. "Yeah, you're right. It's not like it could be worse." *Unless the Dragonlord says anything... * She quietly resigned herself to not sleeping, and simply turned up the music, hauling herself out of bed to finish painting the studio downstairs. -------------------------- Message 132 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Oct 7 15:33:05 1997 EDT From: Styx (#1610) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Routine Maintenance? Dingo scratched his balding head, thinking aloud. "I do not recall leaving the ventillation control room door unlocked." Shrugging, he too out his keys, re-locked the door and got his mop and bucket and shuffled off. -------------------------- Message 133 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Oct 7 19:32:48 1997 EDT From: Dwight (#20455) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Dash it all Dwight sat in front of his computer terminal, punching keys rapidly, "Damned Real Time Security!" he slammed the enter key, a scrolling of text whizzing by. Then.. [ACCESS DENIED] a button flashed. "God damnit!" Dwight screamed at his computer, "I suppose I must go and find some way into its systems. Hrm.." he picked up a small disk, which was labelled `Tech Order - Woodshole Research Facilities'. With hungry eyes, he slid the disk into the disk drive and tapped a few keys.. "Perhaps I will yet get into the Real Time Building's systems after all.." A grim smile crossed blood red lips. -------------------------- Message 134 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Oct 8 19:07:54 1997 EDT From: Kzin (#5800) To: *Storylines (#5236) Kzin stood above the sleeping form of Darius, shaking hish ead, and laid down beside her, his fingers tracing across her shoulders. He whispered to himself, lookin across her body, noticing the marks, others had left. Involuntarily, his fingers clenched, teeth grinding slowly, as waves of other memory washed hm. Almot without thought, his nail began to carve into Darius's back, slowly, carefully, the nerves around the cut going dead before they could react. The shape, the rune, grew to life, over a few hous of imbuing and carving...there was a light sheen of blood across Darius's back, when it was done...but ith ad to be done...and it was perfect -------------------------- Message 135 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Oct 9 00:47:16 1997 EDT From: Darius_Lee (#10280) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Rune Darius Lee writhed on the floor in tortured agony as flames seared her back, her screams rang through the room for several minutes before she fell silent.Darius Lee layed on the floor shivering violently as the pain faded a toneless voice simply asking, "where's my payment?" Darius groaned and pulled herself to her knees dropping her claws weakly as the person just smirked and snatched the claws and stalked away. Darius Lee groaned and dropped her head to the floor in pain, her back free once more. -------------------------- Message 136 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Oct 9 20:16:14 1997 EDT From: Clayson (#17237) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: The Belting Pelting salt water sprayed against Clayson, lifted from the stormy ocean by a strong breeze that whipped her hair into a frenzy as she made her way along the shore of Jizo beach. Her bare feet sinking lightly into the wet sand with ever crashing wave. **I wonder where my boots are** The trek proved to be longer then expected. Her punishment, as Dauthi called it, seemed to have a mind of its own. Ever ten steps or so she had to stop and adjust the chastity belt back to comfort. Due to Dauthi's little spell, every time she tugged on the thing it would send a shock of electricity through her body, causing to her to scream out and shiver slightly. Glancing around the beach, her face flushed with embarrassment, she continued her journey inland towards the ship landing. "This is nuts" she muttered, "Dauthi is really going to have to fix this damn thing, sometimes one size does not fit all." -------------------------- Message 137 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Oct 9 22:59:51 1997 EDT From: Saben (#11887) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Beaten Beaten and bleading ..Saben crawled off into the waste wondering why people he thought were his friends attacked him in such a manner...the world grew dim and with a sudden sensation of falling fadded tottaly from view.... Saben -------------------------- Message 138 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Oct 9 23:23:45 1997 EDT From: Heretic (#6143) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: silver flutes fly south for the winter. All across the world strange reports of flying silver flutes have been heard ..no one sems to know where they come from or where they are going ... ooc all the flutes ahve been recalled ..may or may not show back up some day. H -------------------------- Message 139 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Oct 10 02:47:49 1997 EDT From: Hannibal (#16038) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Harmless Anxiety Slipping into his room at the Spellsinger Hall Hannibal sighed loudly, his mind confused as emotions crept about in his head. Having spoken to the girl was a good idea, it felt nice to speak to someone and know that at least for a while he had someone he could talk to without worry. Having shared hardship as badly as him he paused, he didn't want to get involved with her but there wasn't much he could do to stop thinking about her. Pain was shared as well as happiness with each story, she endured and was a strong spirit, intelligent and yet still calm. Her words of Saben worried him, she was attracted to the wolf through something he didn't understand, shaking his head sadly he decided to not get involved, her life was her own, and he had hurt to many souls in the past, If it were upto him he'd bow out and give the good lady her space and let them only share stories and arguements about different views of life. But his heart thought otherwise, her smile made his heart flutter and he did nothing to hide this. Groaning with all the thoughts on his mind as though everything was a jumbled puzzle he collapsed into his hammock and decided not to think about it. Needless to say hannibal didn't get a single wink of sleep that night... -------------------------- Message 140 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Oct 10 05:58:57 1997 EDT From: Saben (#11887) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Hunted Saben crouched warily shadows seemed to move around him grasping at him like things alive ..pulling at him ....the oder of his own fear disgusted him..then pain filling his body into unconsiousnous. -------------------------- Message 141 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Oct 10 09:27:42 1997 EDT From: Dwight (#20455) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Ponderings Dwight walked through his labs, tending to the cages of the lab mice and checking his security. "This is perfect..everything is in order." he thought back to the girl, "foolish child, she will be bent to my will." he chuckled heartily, and walked back into his bedroom, slipping under the sheets beside the female. -------------------------- Message 142 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Oct 11 00:28:57 1997 EDT From: Moonheart (#20495) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Notice scrawled in glowing ruins all around the R/t building. Reward offerd for the Return of the Axe Famine ....The axe was lost by it's rightfull owner on the wheel some time ago. Please get in touch with Moonheart if you find it. Mnht -------------------------- Message 143 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Oct 11 02:55:04 1997 EDT From: Seraph (#16551) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: A long day's night... She paced the edges of her room as though she would wear a hole through the boards. Something felt wrong, deeply wrong. Though whatever strangeness had affected the lounge earlier in the week had passed, she couldn't help but wonder about its consequences. She knew that no drug or drink would do anything save for bring out something that was already hidden inside, and what she had seen troubled her more than she would have even admitted to herself. She had been even more restless than usual, had felt her sex drive hit critical mass, grew more agressive and paranoid with every moment she had stayed there. At least it was better than being girly, she thought to herself. *You told a complete stranger to drop his pants in the bar, Annora. That isn't done* "I normally don't do it either, Mother. You follow me around enough that you should know that pretty damned well," she muttered in a clipped reply. This, at the very least, was a familiar and tangible frustration. It was something she had grown accustomed to, and despite the minor annoyances that tagged along with it like children after a circus train, it was something she accepted with passing grace. Something still nagged at her about the way everyone was perceiving her feelings lately. As awkward as she was socially, they seemed to be fooled on that account and taking her actions for something completely different. Having a few days of utter chaos allowed her to distance herself from the matter, and she felt much better for it. From the more objective view she now found possible, she recounted the matter to herself. She did like the man well enough, though it wasn't in the sense they imagined. His laughter had made him seem somehow more accessible, not quite so cold and distant. The distance was what she had noticed first, reminding her altogether too much of a wall composed of bricks of intellect, manner, and ettiquette. It had kept her out before, less, no doubt, from his own concious intention than by her own uncertainties about his reactions. She had respect for him, which was something she was unused to. If she had pushed the wrong brick in that barrier and found something less than cordial underneath, she risked losing that respect, and it was something she knew to concern herself with. What she had found underneath, or at least what she had been permitted a glimpse at, was familiar to her when viewed through the cracks. She was put more at ease. She had liked what she had spied, finding it somewhat refreshing. Her comfort was increasing... he knew she was only human, no matter what walls she established. It was something to remember. Should she fail at some strange endeavor, then would be the time to worry, not over the trivial matters she had been placing strange importances on. It would all resolve itself soon enough, she knew. All there was to do now was wait. -------------------------- Message 144 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Oct 11 16:23:58 1997 EDT From: Spiral (#20542) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Halloween night... A small flyer is found, tacked up to the wall in several convenient locales: Tonight is Halloween, the night where the souls rise up to mingle with the living. In celebration, there will be a party in New Orleans, a 'Graveyard Waltz' where the dead and living can mingle and trade their secrets. Throughout the city, the festival will take place, with a final wrap-up at the Bayou Gardens beginning at midnight, carrying the city into the Day of the Saints. Yep, this one is definately on the fly, but it crept up on us. Have fun with it, and happy IC Halloween. -------------------------- Message 145 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Oct 11 18:54:05 1997 EDT From: Rathe (#14172) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Notice Let it be known that everyone may once again tour beautiful Drach'Nal freely. The registration process has been suspended, as has the visitation fee. Feel free to set up temporary residence in the forest, if you wish. The requirement for building permits still stands, however, for large places of buisness, homes, et cetera. --Lord Rathe -------------------------- Message 146 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Oct 11 18:54:29 1997 EDT From: Rathe (#14172) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: PRevious Found in Drach'Nal, R/T, ect ect ect -------------------------- Message 147 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Oct 11 18:58:19 1997 EDT From: Akeashar (#20348) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Sightings >From a newspaper clipping in the R/T building. "Today, local law enforcement came upon the body of a small animal, possibly a doe, and a brown bear. Once again, these creatures were mauled severely, bones powdered rather than broken. The law enforcement still has no idea what might have caused this. The village now turns to Lord Rathe for possibly answers..." -------------------------- Message 148 from *Storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Oct 11 19:05:28 1997 EDT From: Spiral (#20542) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Bayou tours... The caretaker frowned, scratching his chin. He saw the grass all torn up on the way to the bayou gate, and found it more than slightly unsettling. There were all sorts of stories about the place, after all. Taking paint and brush in hand, he made a little warning sign, and dropped beside the orchard grove, figuring it would cover most of the concern. --------------------------