From - Wed Jan 14 14:43:02 1998 Return-Path: quinn@bga.com Received: from mail1.realtime.net (mail1.realtime.net [205.238.128.217]) by eniac.vv.com (8.8.3/8.7.1) with SMTP id OAA26402 for ; Wed, 14 Jan 1998 14:38:45 -0500 (EST) Received: (qmail 9330 invoked from network); 14 Jan 1998 19:37:35 -0000 Received: from zoom.realtime.net (HELO zoom.bga.com) (root@205.238.128.40) by mail1.realtime.net with SMTP; 14 Jan 1998 19:37:35 -0000 Received: from casper.bga.com (casper.realtime.com [205.238.128.161]) by zoom.bga.com (8.6.12/8.6.12) with SMTP id NAA22599 for ; Wed, 14 Jan 1998 13:37:29 -0600 Message-Id: <199801141937.NAA22599@zoom.bga.com> Date: Wed, 14 Jan 1998 13:37:27 -0400 From: "Quinn@GhostWheel" To: quinn@netsville.com Subject: GhostWheel Message(s) 299 - 337 from *storylines (#5236) X-Mail-Agent: GhostWheel (casper.bga.com 6969) X-UIDL: f34e84a6d7ef2381dbc2459f163c8241 Status: U X-Mozilla-Status: 8001 Message 299 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Dec 8 10:57:45 1997 EST From: Akeashar (#20348) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: News News reports indicate a newly made electronics store was robbed today. Most of the items stolen were expensive fibre-optic cable and electrical diagnostics equipment, but a few personal computers were stolen. The robbery occured at 2am in the morning. Reports indicate a loss of atleast four-hundred thousand dollars worth of electronic merchandise. -------------------------- Message 300 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Dec 8 11:50:59 1997 EST From: Karellen (#21084) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Madness and sand Memory receeding into that vortex of darkness at the middle of her being, all thought fragmenting, screams of voices not her own, the walls...walls falling inwards, constricting...she couldn't breathe..the fear.." .the eagle thing, the tearing teeth, the pain...the elf-thing's laughter..." ..powerlessness...Rhanzhi's long black hair sweeping her face in the cold breeze sweeping down the mountain's flank...hiding in the terror-filled half-light of bales of cloth and luggage on the rough splintered wood of a merchant's wagon..." .'You will never conquer yourself until you have taken the darkness to you, daughter of my heart'..." The old rusty knife, plastic handle cracked and crumbling, the blade dull, her hand driving it deep into herself, laughing, freedom, triumph..'I will not bear the Pharoah's child.' " .her *self*, all she was...'You must die with every action, every thought, dying to yourself'..Blood gushing out between her legs, a river, a flood, the cleansing pain..." The barely noticed sharp sting of a scorpion piercing her leg as she lay delirous and empty beneath the blazing night sky..." The grains of sand blown by the hot winds across her body, soothing, like a mother's touch." -------------------------- Message 301 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Dec 9 12:47:57 1997 EST From: Ylaerin (#16541) To: *Storylines (#5236) and *DragonRiders (#5915) Ylaerin sat at the little table, pen in hand, her best parchment and inks before her, listening to the sound of her sleeping children. She was aching all over, weary still from the birthing, but she wanted to announce the occasion. She sighed, and let her mind wander as she carefully went over the drawing of the wolf's head. The dream... the dream had been terrible... she wished it had been some other way, and couldn't understand why THAT dream.. with THOSE people. She'd not dreamt like that since the Bonding. She closed her eyes a moment, and the images floated back to her; Kzin and the knife, flames and blood, the R/T round room... her hand reaching out to Rathe... his cold gaze. Only, in this nightmare, it wasn't the same as it had been before - not the same dream.. not the true happenings. Like before, there was Kzin's altar, and his demon-mad eyes; like before there was the wrenching pain.. the searing.. the twisting of her consciousness. But this time, there was the elven adept.. grinning at her, mocking her.. speaking of love and all the while little black flames around him, holding the dancing, writihing, horrific images of those she loved. Kzin only wanted her blood, her dead body.. Rathe wanted her twisting mind, her heart, her soul. He kept greedily stroking a shining blue scale. "Tyzrath," he said, "Dragon lover... Sick girl, you are. I'd have kept you, but you're weak." The words sounded serpentine, false in her ears, something crazy her mind would make up to put in Rathe's mouth - he had better taste than that, always had. But the real pain began when he pulled forth a tattered piece of wing - azure, brightest blue. She didn't need to ask, his laughter told her everything; it was Luthe's. The pain ripped through her again, then, and hands began to clutch at her.. she tried to fight them off... Etra shook off the memory, shivered. The pain had merely been her birthing pangs.. the arms had been her husbands.. her draig was whole, fine as ever. She calmed herself, let her thoughts run into Luthe's.. they wandered together for a while, until she felt herself again, and then she turned back to her work. Yshar's bruise was fading, thank the Bard. She'd cracked him a good one; blacked his eye. She felt stupid over it.. but couldn't remember much of the birthing anyhow.. it was far more difficult and painful than Rowan's had been.. and she was out of her head most of the time. But she had a healthy daughter.. Yshar's heir (heiress?). A fine, strong girl, and lovely, too. The only thing that troubled her were the infant's eyes - a molten, flowing, shadowy gold... much like her own eye, but with more motion to the color. Ylaerin couldn't place it, but she'd been warned in advance - this was to be a special child. The announcements were done... she walked outside breifly to tack the one up on the bulletin board in the Living Caverns, pausing to admire her work a moment. She would let Shar take the other downland to the R/T. She was so sore.. so tired... it would pass, but for now, she wanted to stay home with her children. She read the page to herself once more... ~*~ Yshar and Ylaerin - Lord Strafe and Lady Lyetra of the House of Shar and Riders of Morltith - are pleased to announce the birth of their daughter, heiress to the House of Shar. Rhianna Aerin Shar was born April 10, 2640. Hail to the goddess and the Song, and many thanks for her healthy birth! Yshar's -------------------------- Message 302 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Dec 9 13:09:22 1997 EST From: Yrathe (#14172) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Razor's edge His body drenched in sweat, he again swung the flame katana in a violent arc, bringing it to a sudden stop perpendicular to his face. He held the pose for several moments, the adrenaline and vile corruption coursing through his system with equal strength, churning and mixing into a physical and mental high that most drugs could not come near. The seductive quality of this power grew stronger daily as he pushed his limits, drawing greater and greater amounts of negative energy. Madness would eventually strike, wouldn't it? But would there be any difference? His mind was already beyond the understanding of humans. Madness would be no great leap. If he was not already insane. Now, posed in a loose fighting stance atop his laboratory, he gazed out over the beautiful valley that stretched in all directions. The forest, the mountains, the river that wound south from the large northern lake. A smirk crossed his lips, and he shifted slightly, the air wards around him stirring faintly. How beautiful would this place be once his touch was upon it? What foul animals would survive? What tree left undevoured by swarms of locust--what body unchanged, what soul unscoured? He laughed aloud, and shifted again, slashing five times at the air before him. Each movement brought him nearly to plummeting from the rooftop, but this was only another part of enjoyment. To draw this much energy alone could be fatal to the soul, was the harm of this tortured, scarred body any concern? He raised his katana again, sneering at the air, the forest, and all that lived before him without corruption and horror. He slashed, suddenly becoming aware of a resonance starting at the base of his spine, slowly spreading throughout his body. The katana suddenly scorched his skin, and shattered, a thunderclap echoing throughout the valley. He fell to his knees, grasping the roof's cool stone, and looked towards the other end of the valley. There..beside the lake. Baltisaar's home. At first he thought it an attempt on his life.. Would not the inner circles be trying to destroy him by now? But following the thunderclap and shattering of his focus, a heat began to build in the air. It was not natural, not, persay, supernatural. The very blood in his veins seemed to shriek, and the art came to his hands unbidden, seeking out the source. A gate. A doorway. Baltisaar had gone to hell.. However not quite in the way Rathe had suggested. -------------------------- Message 303 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Dec 9 18:21:04 1997 EST From: Red_Fang (#5907) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Needed Any special weapons or armor anyone can part with.. Will pay top crystal! -------------------------- Message 304 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Dec 9 19:13:24 1997 EST From: Brinn (#12457) To: *Storylines (#5236) and *DragonRiders (#5915) Subject: An Uneasiness Brinn paced through the echoing caverns of the Mount, drawn to the Sarkus. She felt an uneasiness that had only grown in the last days, first her meeting with her Mentor and friend. She had felt the shift and opening of the gate deep in the valley, she knew Baltisaar had again stepped into Chaos. This time he went willingly, to seek her 'father' Ynaoise and Elshydrath. To return them to this plane, to save them the tortures he himself had been subjected to. She rubbed her forehead, closing her eyes to try and escape the visions he had shared with her of that hellish time. Tears squeezed from her eyes at the thought of her mothers husband suffering the same fate, of the tortures the Treaders would exact on rider and dragon....hoping that Baltisaar's quest would be speedy and successful. The uneasiness washed over her again and she opened her eyes, frowning and walked from the ledge to the Sarkus, feeling its power wash over her, but today it did not sooth the worry, the feeling of something not right. Azzy followed her into the Sarkus and scowled at the young mage, grumbling. Still upset at Brinn's visit to Uruken. She knew where the uneasiness came from..her unanswered questions. She called forth her orb ...determination in the set of her chin. -------------------------- Message 305 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Dec 9 19:21:40 1997 EST From: Sinner (#12411) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Upon the darkness.. Sinner perched alone on the abandoned cathedrals rooftop, overlooking the vast wasteland. "This desert has got a million holes, and a million dead bodies to go in each of those holes. One of em's got Maeoni's fuckin name on em." He spat, watching it sizzle through the rotted wood. Suddenly, a rumble ached through his wicked soul.. A rumble like he had never felt. His eyes lit up with the darkest hellfire, and he knew, the hellgates were open.. If this was the time to do something that would suceed after his death, it was now! He rose from the roof, and blended with the shadows, fading with the night.. -------------------------- Message 306 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Dec 10 01:14:14 1997 EST From: Baltisaar (#10734) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: And on the third day... He ascended from hell. Silence reigned in the vale of Drach'nal. All was peaceful and somewhat quiet. The bees went about their chore, as did other wildlife. Unfortunatly, the wind of change was blowing foul. Large clouds swept in, and lightning began to play in the clouds. Massive, angry red bolts of pure energy, bordering on plasma swept through the air. In the meadow just outside the retreat of the Cordath family, in a circle of stones created by Baltisaar many moons ago, a stirring occured. Then, as the torrential rains began to pour, all the lightning in the air struck the ground, like a blacksmith striking a hot sword with a hammer. It shook the valley forcefully, but strangly enough, only left one mark. A Chaos gate. A lone figure came stumbling forth from it. He fell to the ground, heaving for breath. Turning to the gate, he waited eyes glowing a hellish red under the black robes he wore. A scream could be heard, but not that of a human. It also shook the ground, as its creator came crashing through the gate, carrying a tall individual strapped nude across its back, bleeding profusely. The robed one stood, gathered energy to himself which he could not afford, but yet did... Began incanting in a language that none would recognize... A form raced towards the gate from the other side, making good time towards the gate.. It would be close, the entity sticking a hand through the gate as it crashed closed. Both the figure and the hand fell to the ground... And the thunder continued to roll... -------------------------- Message 307 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Dec 10 05:48:10 1997 EST From: Yjezra (#5512) To: *Storylines (#5236) and *DragonRiders (#5915) Subject: Madness The touch of her dragon's mind, the roar of rage gripped her, pulling her back from the dark place within that she had retreated to. She blinked and looked around before Lyrzrath's icy fury hit her again and she heard the roars of other dragons at the same time that there came an explosion from the ledge. She was on her feet and running, grabbing up Dragon's Touch as she raced out to join other riders and dragons in the Living Cavern. She ran toward the ledge, stumbling against the wall as super-imposed over her own sight that which her lifemate was seeing. UNDEADS! Lead by that one that was once a rider! 'Traitor!' she screamed out as Lyrzrath's raging scream tore through her. She drew Dragon's Touch, throwing the scabbard to the side as she turned toward the ledge, barely registering the smell of gunpowder and dragons blood, the slickness of that blood on the stone beneath her bare feet. The rage of her dragon pulsed through her, her thoughts now her dragons. 'KILL!' she hissed between her clenched teeth. She was her dragon, whirling through the sky as she struck out at the hideous abomination, deep bloodless grooves appearing in her apponents decayed scales. Then the horrific stench of the acidic gas as Vexingal spewed forth. She wheeled and dove to attack, now rising, seeking her target. The horror that was once an amethyst and the demon that rode her! Ystryfe! Behind her she heard Yshar scream out in rage and she turned to see a hoard running onto the ledge from the garden. She set her stance and raised her sword before her with a low gutteral growl. [OOC] I have broken this into several posts, to help cut down on evil spam. -------------------------- Message 308 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Dec 10 06:30:19 1997 EST From: Yjezra (#5512) To: *Storylines (#5236) and *DragonRiders (#5915) Subject: Madness (continued) More Treachery! Soldiers, She recognized Khyber, Toraxyn in the front..then Red Fang..coming toward her. She watched him, ready to attack this man who had been brother, friend, fellow rider, kidnapper...now betrayer. Words, yelling, Khyber and Toraxyn and some female moved forward while some other she didn't know yelled for them to surrender. She heard at the edge of her consciousness, Yshar screaming out defiantly, her friend Myst cursing out in her native tongue. Red Fang was yelling something, but as others moved forward, her attention split and so didnt register his words, nor Khybers yelling about treachery. One of the enemy moved toward her and she struck out, Dragon's Touch fairly moving on its own to disarm him, barely catching from the corner of her eye the battle engaged between Khyber and Red Fang. She turned as she heard Red's death cry and Toraxyn moved in, disarming her, his spear biting deep into her shoulder just above her heart. She staggered back, her hand pressed against the wound, blood seeping from between her fingers. Another of the enemy yelled at her to surrender, but she reached out for her sword, never making it as her world grew suddenly dark. Consciousness returned, her head throbbing dully in the noise around her, the distant roar of raging dragons. She felt the pain of Lyrzrath's wounds and she flinced to the side in sympathy with her dragon as Lyrzrath desperately attempted to swoop out of the way of Ellyws attack. She screamed out as she felt herself falling, her wings tattered, useless as she tried desperately to halt her fall. Yjezra's body shuddered and she nearly passed out as she felt her LifeMates death in the valley below. Toraxyn poked her with his spear, drawing a line of blood down the edge of her jaw as he snarled at her. She gripped at what felt like the remnants of her sanity to no avail. Toraxyn crushed her hand, but she was nearly beyond pain, jerking back in a nervous reaction, she pulled her wound open, blood gushing forth, soaking the silk of the kimono she wore. She slipped to the side, laying in a pool of her own blood. Voices around her, but her mind was smothered in cotton. She began to sing some childish song, drawing a finger through her blood and across the stone. A voice from above, familar yet..distant and gloating, 'She has snapped.' -------------------------- Message 309 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Dec 10 08:47:11 1997 EST From: Red_Fang (#5907) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Honor or Dishonor? Red had not been in the best of moods since his return from the north. The death of his wolf mother Motagwa had hit him hard. His time away had given him time to reflect on his life. Nenana had left him for some reason or the other and this bothered him greatly, Married life seemed to of become routien.. Kzin and Darius bothered him, but if they where happy then that was that. But Lord Stryfe's plans over Morlith had bothered him since he'd learned of the plot. Red knew in his heart that even though he'd had disagreements with the mount he could not allow himself to be made to betray a place he'd called home. Red kept to himself mostly but joined the invasion party.. He knew what he must do.. He watched Khyber and saw himself over the years, young and foolish just looking for a fight with out knowing truly why. Red knew if he had any chance at all at saving Morlith he'd have to kill his young friend first. Red knew that Stryfe would not look kindly on his betrayal, but since their first meeting long ago when the ragged rider came to his home requesting the throne that was made of the bones of old Morlith that this day would come. Stryfe had honor, but knowing some history Red knew better than to trust a rider who had suffered the loss of the soulbonded companion. Red looked back at what Fin'dawa and Motagwa had given him, he looked at what Jamie had given him and he saw the faces of Grady and Erin. Red wanted them to grow up in a world where life was worshipped and death was feared. He wanted more for them than he had. He wanted them to beable to choose. Red's children would grow up in a world where wolf, dragon and man could walk as one. As Khyber's blade cut through Red's body he smiled seeing the faces of his children. He cryed seeing the saddness of Ykaires face, it had happened again. More pain and sadness in the world. Red knew he would return, but what would happen to Morlith now? Red ooc: excuse the poor typing and grammer and all that.. -------------------------- Message 310 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Dec 10 09:19:48 1997 EST From: Phantom_Rose (#6337) To: *Storylines (#5236) Subject: Steamed Frap The rip in the fabric of the universe was strong, something very wrong was going on and Frap paced back and forth in his room. Charlie 'Quacked' and ruffled his feathers as his partner nearly stepped on him in the frustration. Frap snapped smartly as his hat appeared to turn into a small volcano on his head steaming a small cloud over his head, "Ducks are not dragons! You would be roasted and served up with a nice vegitable dish if you went to take a look! I know she's in trouble but I don't know what to do to help." Frap's spell he had been working on lay ruined on the floor, small sparks of magic still disapating into small lightening bugs and fluttering about the room. "I knew this was going to happen and I completely let it slip my mind! Brinn's not strong enough yet to deal with these things alone.. She should never of been left alone! Am I the only mage that cares about the balance anymore?" "Charlie! get off that book, we got to pack and get moving! By Quinn I'll do this myself if I have to.. I will feed those bones to the dogs I will!" Frap tossed a few things together stuffing things into the steaming hat as he went. Picking up a fallen chair he absently put it in his hat also. Charlie dodged being part of the contents of the strange mages head wear and let out a sharp 'Quack' getting Frap's attention. The two stepped out into the Library and out of the room down the steps to the oak door, entering the wasteland beyond, heading towards the R/T building then shuttling to Drach'nal and to whatever was to come. Frap -------------------------- Message 312 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Dec 10 10:08:05 1997 EST From: Quinn (#2) To: *RPG (#1193), *rp-announce (#22597), and *storylines (#5236) Subject: NEW LISTS I've added a new list *rp-announce (writable only by GMs) and made *rpg writable only by programmers. Hear this -- *RPG, *rpg-dev Discussion and announcements of programming related to the coded RPG core -- NOT plot developments or role-playing announcements. Send those to *rp-announce. *storylines, *stories Use this forum to post requests for inclusion in a "tinyplot", to advertise plot openings, or to discuss developments OOC. *RP-announce, *plots General announcements of upcoming plots and role-play developments. Send prose to *storylines; send outlines and casting calls here. (Note that *storylines no longer has the alias *plots.) -------------------------- Message 313 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Dec 10 10:57:18 1997 EST From: Ylaerin (#16541) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: [Ylaerin (#16541): `I woke, my back and '] Date: Wed Dec 10 09:55:15 1997 CST From: Ylaerin (#16541) To: *DragonRiders (#5915) I woke, my back and legs aching, my head thrumming painfully. The room smelled of dragons, restless in their dozing; I was lying curled next to Luthe for extra warmth, three children sleeping tumbled in my lap. My Rowan, my daughter, and Kijin - all three well.. all three unaware of the terrible happenings of the night before. Luthe woke, his mind opening from sleep to mingle more with my own. I took stock of the room... seven dragons including my own Bondmate.. a few scattered sleeping riders. Azzy.. Myr... No Myst.. no Yjezra.. .. no Strafe. I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, staving off tears. We were safe for the moment.. the children were safe. I'd done the right thing. If only I could get news of the battle.. but there was no point in waking anyone just now. We had a long haul ahead of us; at least I had my harp and staff with me. The memory of Yshar's goodbye hung in my mind's eye... something that had happened long ago. I wasn't home.. I was safe, but this wasn't Home. I gathered myself, letting my mind wander alongside Luthe's - making decisions about food for the children, for myself. Now was the time for strength; the last time I was driven from my Home I'd lost faith, lost strength, lost a chunk of my memories. Not this time. Lady Shar was stronger now, much stronger. If I had to deal with the demons, this would be set to rights. Rhianna stirred, her bright eyes glimmering in the low light of the drafty cavern. I wrapped her tighter in her blankets.. wondering if she'd ever call Morlith home. She was no more than two weeks old.. where was her father? Where was her bed? Her home? Rowan stirred against my lap, gabbing to himself in his small dreams, his red hair sticking out in all directions - over a year old.. still to young to hold many memories. And Kijin.. not even mine... Oh gods, please let his mother be well. Restless dragons, restless sleepers; myself, my Luthe, and my tiny daughter the only ones awake in the whole cavern. I began to suckle Rhianna, gazing down into her face. Was she destined to raise a blade, regain the lost homelands of her parents? Only time could see... I looked up, stared out across the ledge into the growing spring light... looking for Home... waiting for my love and family. -------------------------- Message 315 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Dec 10 18:23:07 1997 EST From: Dauthi (#10660) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Thoughts. Dauthi chuckled, thinking surely the fight must be over, he'd tried to help them to see what he would gain. Tapping his chin pensively he glanced at the sky, biding his time. He would gain something from this, it was time that he was recognized for his duplicity, no one ever seem to care when he made threats. If his plans went through corrently he'd show everyone who ever slighted him, and earn back the title of Lord that he deserved, Stepping slowly upto the helipad, he knew the riders would need help, Alone they couldn't face Stryfe, but a deal would be struck and everything would end the way it was supposed to. -------------------------- Message 316 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Dec 10 18:31:22 1997 EST From: Rathe (#14172) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: A never-ending circle of revenge Again atop his laboratory, Rathe focused the expensive pair of kilmore day/night binocoluars, watching morlith, a finger of dark rock jutting out of the valley's wall. There, unable to look away, he witnessed the dragons, both undead and living take to the air. His face twisted in an expression of utter rage as the battle played out, but he remained quiet, unmoving. The battle was a slaughter, of course. Morlith's numbers, due to the work of the Fold, himself, and Kzin, had dwidled greatly. Now, after all their work, when morlith was ripe for the picking, Stryfe had swooped down and taken what was his. His, by years of work, by blood and fire and magic, by his very birthright. The cocky bastard, who's only power rested in the reanimated bones of the dead, power given to him by magic wielded by another mage, had deprived him of his prize. The sarkus, and its sweet song of power, the dragons, and the call of madness. The call to take more of the filthy flying creatures to the grave, to reap their souls like death itself, to send them to that place of eternal torment he had been forced to witness by Brinn and Baltisaar. Now his hopes of dragging every fire-lizard on that accursed rock down to the lowest pits of rank damnation had been -taken-. Taken by a mortal on a pile of bones. And he stood there into the night, the cold wind tearing at his robes, untill the last undead dragon swooped down onto Morlith's ledge. His teeth clenched, he threw the binoculars to the earth, and cursed the mountain that held his darkest dreams, his greatest aspirations. The den of dragons that gripped him in the deepest recesses of hellish nightmare, and pressed down upon him daily as if its massive weight was lain on his back. He would learn who had helped Stryfe, he would destroy the dragon knights and their mounts one by one. "My enemy's enemy is my friend.." He spat, a smirk crossing his lips. "What a fool must have dreamt that one up." -------------------------- Message 317 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Dec 10 19:24:45 1997 EST From: Yalindra (#13170) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: A dark day The day had finally come... Yalindra still could not believe it. After all the seemingly-empty promises of the Wyrms to take over the Mount, they had made their attack. And, outnumbering those riders and dragons that could be wakened from their slumber in time, they had prevailed. It was only hours after the attack that Yalindra's eyes and head cleared of consuming battle-rage. Her battlecry had been synonomously echoed by her bondmate as they charged together into battle, united as one. Now, as Yalindra stood in the cool night air, Myr's thoughts were only a muted rumble in her mind. She had felt every gash of tooth and claw through the soulbond the garnet was horribly injured. Great lines of red-black scab covered Myr's countless wounds. Her scales were nicked, their healthy gleam masked by the shadow of caked blood. Myr slept. Yalindra's mind was clear, for now, but when the garnet awoke, the pain flowing across the soulbond would be almost incapacitating. Yalindra seethed with rage at the injury of her bondmate. She swore countless oaths in her native tongue, condemning the souls of the Wyrm riders to unmentionable fates. Worse, she knew not where her children were; in the moments before the attack, she hand bundled them up with Ylaerin... There was no time to think of the children, no time for anything but the hunt. Food was needed for the survivors, especially if Myr was to survive to be healed. Besides, it gave her mind something to do other than worry about her children and her bondmate. Yalindra dashed off into the underbrush, seeking any prey she could find... -------------------------- Message 318 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Dec 10 20:01:02 1997 EST From: Clayson (#17237) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: The Taking Mona awoke to the smell of coffee, opening her eyes slowly she glanced through the mesh opening of her tent. She could see the shadowy forms of the soldiers moving about, their hushed voices filling the air, reminding Mona where she was. Rolling out of her cot, Mona quickly pulled on her chaps and boots, heading out to the crisp morning. Glancing about she saw the two captains sitting together, their heads close in a heated conversation. She wandered to their table trying to catch a few of their whispered words. Upon seeing her the captains smiled, stopping their conversation abruptly. "Sit..sit miss and enjoy some coffee" one of the captains said to her as he took a long swig from his own cup. "Tis a beautiful morning on the mount, its great to be alive on days like these" he chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving Mona's. Mona shrugged indifferently, pulling a camp chair between the two captains, "I guess" she said before yawning broadly, "what's the word anyway, you heard from Lord Stryfe yet?" Slumping into the chair, Mona eyed the captain slowly. "I dinna ken miss" he said between sips, "D'ye think Lord Stryfe tells me everything?" Leaning closer to Mona the captain whispered, "The Lord did tell me one thing thou wee one...you are not to leave the camp, nor taunt our new guests. If you donna follow these orders your punishment will be swift, but verra verra painful." Upon hearing the whispered words, the second captain busted out laughing, "Oh...I dont know, after seeing this feisty one sling that sledge around last night, I dont think I would want to tangle with her." Moan smiled slightly, "Well..since we are stuck here all day" she said as she pulled a deck of cards from her bag, "how bout a friendly game of poker....?" -------------------------- Message 319 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Dec 10 20:07:01 1997 EST From: Akeashar (#20348) To: *storylines (#5236) At his computer, Dwight yawned. "Alot of activity near Morlith.. guess they're having some kind of party.." he chuckled, looking at the night before's radar logs. "Dragons.. nothing else could be that large.." the large blips coming close together and drifting apart. He then shut off the recorder. "Computer, what's on our agenda today?" The computer replied in its synthetic-feminine voice, "The experiments, Doctor." "Ahh. very well..." he paused. "Computer, I want you to try and find out everything your database can recall about Dakirion." Again, the pseudo-feminine voice, "As you wish, Doctor." the computer remained quiet. "Very good.. very good indeed.." The Doctor straightened his tie and walked into his main office. -------------------------- Message 320 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Dec 10 21:56:51 1997 EST From: Stryfe (#5113) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Dark Ambitions Stryfe stood on Morlith's ledge, brusies and wounds from the battle fading back into memory. The battle had been quick and bloody. As all well planned wars were. The Riders of Morlith had grown soft being unchallenged for so long. It was merely a matter of biding his time. And now he had done it. Even something Embryon could not accomplish with all his power and magick. He had taken over Morlith and the Sarkus! He knew he could not rest. For his enemies would ally against him. The disposed Riders would want their home back. He would not make it easy. Oh no. They would pay for every square foot in blood. It was time to prepare for a game. A game of King of the Mountain. -------------------------- Message 321 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Dec 11 00:14:45 1997 EST From: Yerox (#11884) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Problems. Yerox awoke from hs slumber, unable to rest in the room full of so many people and dragons. He thought to himself how this wasn't the life he had wanted, he missed his lab and his work, he didn't want to have to rely on people again. Tyrrsalath poked Yerox's ribs with his snout, speaking with him, "*/ You've got to relax or your going to explode again, remember what happened last time? you Nearly went poisoning every submariner just to get at one, if you don't let this grudge with Stryfe end you'll get everyone killed, including yourself./*" Yerox grumbled and ignored his dragonfriend, He thought about options, where were all the other riders? His old friends all gone, it was like only the young lasted, Corwin had been gone for months, would he return to help the fight? Was there even a way to find him. Yerox's brow furrowed, Rathe's plan had not been expected, he wished there was another way then to deal with the necromancer, especially as he gazed upon the armored scales he now wore as armor. Sighing and wishing he could get some sleep he broke out some of his supplies, the stench in the cavern almost imeediately woke everyone, where they decided to throw him out of the cavern for the night. Yerox thoughts went back again to his lab, he would get back there, but how? -------------------------- Message 322 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Dec 11 03:35:17 1997 EST From: Stryfe (#5113) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Blind Justice Stryfe looked down from his bone throne at Yjezra kneeled before him. She was mad with the death of her dragon, acting more like a child then the cool Dragonmistress most knew. "Do you have anything to say in your defense to the crimes leveled against you?" Tyrlan spoke for her. He was quickly silenced and would now share her fate. Yjezra merely giggled in response. "So be it. You will be put to death." Stryfe watched as guards hauled Yjezra, Tyrlan and Yshar's bloody and pulped form from his sight. Preparations had been made prior to the trial for their execution./ -------------------------- Message 323 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Dec 11 03:42:45 1997 EST From: Styx (#1610) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: A chilling discovery A helicopter pilot was the first to discover the three bodies. They were arrayed on the helipad on large wooden crucifixes. Yjezra in the middle on the largest cross. Steel spikes driven thru her palams and feet. Her eyes gaze lifelessly in the direction of the New Morlith. Flanking Yjezra on the left side was Tyrlan. Faithful mentor and friend from the old Morlith before Yjezra arrived. His tongue removed, ear severed and shoved into his mouth. His once vibrant sparkling eyes were sewn shut. On the right was Yshar. His body bruised and beaten, legs hacked to pieces, jaw shattered. His head hangs oddly, chin brushing against his chest, bobbing in the wind. Closer inspection reveals his neck was slit from ear to ear. -------------------------- Message 324 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Dec 11 12:02:15 1997 EST From: Sarkus (#20286) To: *storylines (#5236) and *DragonRiders (#5915) Subject: Stirrings of the Air Light and darkness swirled to weave its patterns, movement in thought. Uneasiness. Threat. *BRINN*. Silence. Then only the edges of a mind, that *tasted* wrong. Fear. Anger. Thought. The entities swarming over the ledge and through the mount felt the trembling of the stone around them. Those on the ledge felt the hair on the back of their neck rise, standing on end, might have seen at the edges of their perception the ripple of something in the vacinity of the Sarkus. The mage felt it more strongly. The energies around him..living..electric. He saw the shimmer of the threads weave a barrier over the entrance, a shimmering of blue. All on the ledge felt the >snap< of something like the air being sucked away with a subtle change in pressure. The mage heard it. The mage felt the tingle it left along his Mage-senses, like static electricity along the hairs on his arms. Retreat. Protection. Self-preservation. Waiting. -------------------------- Message 325 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Dec 11 12:53:29 1997 EST From: Brinn (#12457) To: *storylines (#5236) and *DragonRiders (#5915) Subject: Betrayal and An Awakening Brinn waved her hand over the softly pulsing orb before her, a slight frown creasing her brow. 'Now, why does he wish to meet me out in the wastes. And asking me to hide my identity with this ragged cloak?' She pulled the filthy, smelly cloak from behind the machinery in the R/T garage and wrapped it around her. Heading out to the wastes, she looked up at the skies, making sure she wasn't followed. She felt strange, uneasy. She followed the coordinates he had given her and approached the huge gates to the 'Keep'. The guard, smirked as he let her in, directing her toward the doors of the imposing building, soldiers were milling about, many staring at her as she entered the dim hall. There he was, sitting upon his strange 'throne'. Curious, she sent out her mage-sense' blinking as she recognized the bones as dragon. Old. Brinn nodded hesitantly, feeling out of her depth, nervous after seeing all the soldiers outside. 'Stryfe, your men seem to be readying for something. You did tell me that the rumours I told you of were untrue...Did you not?' Stryfe rose from his 'throne', a slight twisted smile on his lips as he raised his hand, some strange object in it. She heard a slight >pop<, the pain of something striking her head and felt her consciousness slipping away. His cruel laughter the last she heard and a sudden realization of betrayal the last she knew as she sunk into darkness. She woke to someone's rough hands on her, shaking her, the harsh voice demanding she wake, that the Lord wished her presence on the Mount. Brinn struggled to gather her her thoughts, wondering why Stryfe wanted her at Uruken, her head throbbing dully. The one shaking her, satisfied she was conscious enough forced some bitter liquid down her throat, then wrapped the smelly cloak back over her and lifting her, threw her over his shoulder. She struggled weakly, realizing she was bound hand and foot. She was hauled up into someone elses arms, she could smell the stench of an undead beneath her before blacking out once more. Then cold wind, flight..this registered in her drugged mind. She turned her head, the wind freeing her face from the smelly confines of the cloak and recognized the valley below Morlith. She smiled slightly, her drugged mind taking in 'Home.' -------------------------- Message 326 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Dec 11 20:03:13 1997 EST From: Phantom_Rose (#6337) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Sad offerings and a curse Frap found the body of Yjezra crucified still dripping blood on the helipad of the R/T building, he wondered who had passed seeing this and did nothing. His body shivered knowing the evil that had to of done this. He cast a sad spell which caused the bonds and stakes that where driven into Yjezra's limbs to vanish, then slowly lowered her body to the floor. He reached down, muttering a few words he sent the soul of the dragon mistress to the Eagle with blessings and care. That part beyond him, he looked out over the waste, far to the east he knew the evil lived. He cursed and in his anger he weaved a spell he did not think he had in him to do. He tapped his staff roughly leaving a mark on the floor of the helipad, then speaking strange words he released the power of his spell, 'Nothing dead shall step here again, for if it trys, may flames consume its very being sending it to the pits of hell!' With that feeling old and frail Frap turned and stepped onto the elevator disappearing for his home. -------------------------- Message 327 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Dec 11 20:36:07 1997 EST From: Meoni (#9687) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: A Cold Wind Blows Right Through. Fingers of light lengthened along the cavern floor as the sun finally rose above the mountains in the distance. Meoni stepped out into their golden light, letting her face bathe in it as stepped to the edge. How breathtaking the view was from Morlith. How she wished she could have seen the battle that left the caverns slick with blood, dragon and human alike. By Mueva's insistance, she had to be left behind. Now deemed safe and under the rule of Lord Stryfe, her Undead companion had flown her here. Too long had they been banished to Uruken, but fate had seen to their ultimate victory. Meoni smiled as a cold wind wound through the ledge, twining through her hair, howling back into the now empty caverns and stirring scales and flesh off the recently dead. She tossed her head back and raised her arms to the sky as she laughed with delight. "Morlith has fallen! The stone is taken! The fortress broken!" -------------------------- Message 328 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Dec 12 08:32:03 1997 EST From: Lykaj (#6068) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: HomeSweetHome Lykaj looked around slowly, takeing in the beauty he once called home. The recent battle was still evident. The new rulers of Morlith still had the victory look in thier eyes. He wandered around the ledge takeing in the sights. Finally pausing at one of his old favorite spots. Takeing a deep breath he let his mind wander back to the good old days. With that out of the way he unzipped his pants and urinated on the ledge. Giving a good shake before heading back to Nusratt for a ride back. As the great beast flew him upwards he muttered, "I've been holding that one in for a looong time." -------------------------- Message 329 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Dec 12 11:00:55 1997 EST From: Tegra (#20547) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Awakening Jared curled around the sleeping form of her husband, unable to sleep. Her bruised and battered body cried out with each little movement, and her broken wrist continued its dull steady thumping. She could feel the tingle at the ends of her fingers, her nails broken and pulled back from the skin. Slivers of wood digging in beneath. She could feel it all, her senses on overload. Tiny little shadows of anger started to creep into her head, filtering past her pain and weariness to swirl and eddy, trying to collect. She pushed them back, not letting it take hold. The tendrils grasping, but without the closeness of the marble box its hold was fleeting. She murmured softly to herself, her voice broken and beaten, "go away..let me rest..just a minute more". Hot tears flooded her cheeks, and she knew soon the fire would again consume her, pushing her until it wore her down again. -------------------------- Message 330 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Dec 12 16:02:18 1997 EST From: Yseult (#4778) To: *DragonRiders (#5915) and *storylines (#5236) Subject: Beyond the Curtain. Yseult barely looked at the scenery as she and Tierz'yrrlan flew overhead on patrol, instead trusting her dragonfriend to spot any trouble. Nothing seemed quite the same now, not even the bond with her dragon drew her back from depression. Ilithya was with her father, Thaire was with the Val'Saar Aeryie, and Yseult was alone by her own choosing. Tierz'yrrlan's presence in her mind invaded her thoughts and she actually found herself resenting his intrusions, even though she knew it was only his concern for her. She rubbed at her eyes and sighed, then patted his neck, "Let's go back home, there's nothing to see here." They saw the fires of war blazing even from a distance, Tierz'yrrlan's sharp gaze turned his eyes from gray to red as he roared in anger. Yseult herself felt her mind seperate from her body, the instinctual warrior in her emerging, ready to do battle. The scent was nearly nauseating the closer they approached and Yseult felt the blood draining from her face as she saw the skeletal undeads occupying the ledge, victorious... the acrid scent of blood mingled with their disgusting odor. Tierz'yrrlan dove downwards, only to be met by two of them, dancing around them teasingly, as if this was a game. "The war is over, didn't you know that, the Mt. is ours!" one rasped. In outrage, Tierz'yrrlan raked his claws at one, ripping rotting tendon from bleached bone. Yseult flung her staff like at arrow at the second, shreiking a victorious cry as it penetrated the eye. Unphased, it merely shook it's head, sending the staff crashing down into the rocky valley below. Then its maw opened wide and a stream of gaseous fluid spurted at her. She barely had time to scream before darkness claimed her. She awoke in the Midrealm with a start, the Eagle's sharp gaze looking down at her, as if asking her without speaking to choose. To her left was the way back to the world, and all its sorrows. To her right was the Beyond and the Chavva's embrace. She felt Tierz'yrrlan struggling to find her, their bond nearly severed. "Forgive me, my black beauty..." Yseult stepped through, to the beyond and tears of joy streamed down her face as she ran right into the arms of the mother she had never known and the father she had watched die years ago. She didn't even feel the tug of the bond as it snapped in half, nor did she realize that Tierz'yrrlan's howl of agony echoed for miles around him. -------------------------- Message 331 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Dec 13 15:39:17 1997 EST From: Yaisho (#22364) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Sighting Standing on the top of the R/T building, Yaisho gazed up in awe at the great beast flying in the air. The beasts huge scaley body hovered around, even though it was big, it moved around gracefully. As Yaisho watched the beast fly away, he wondered to himself what exactly it was.. At home Yaisho sat on his bed, thinking about what he had seen. He remembered reading about huge animals who were friendly and helpful to humans. What was it though.. Would he ever see one again? Yaisho fell asleep and dreamed about mounting one of the beasts and them riding together forever.. -------------------------- Message 332 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Dec 13 15:42:51 1997 EST From: Rathe (#14172) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Sighting Standing in the round room, Rathe gazed up in awe at the idiot standing on the helipad. The fool's flabby body remained absolutely still, and watched the sky with an idiot grin. As Rathe watched the idiot fall off the building, he hoped he would never discover what it was. At home Rathe sat behind his desk, thinking about the horror he had seen. He remembered reading about blubber demons who were hideous and farted at humans. What was this creature on the helipad.. Would he (god forbod) ever see one again. Rathe fell asleep, nightmares of blubber-beasts haunting his dreams. -------------------------- Message 333 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Dec 13 18:10:14 1997 EST From: Jileah (#20212) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Clipped Wings The air had caressed her like icy fingers... gently tugging her midnight cloud of hair from her eyes so that she could see clearly, granting her the view of a lifetime. Her clothing ballooned out around her, tiny wings and bubbles, fluttering and flapping, cracking like flags and streamers behind her, private banners, saluting her purpose. She never had time to think about the fact that the rapid rush of air was all that kept her tears from falling, then, drying her eyes, freezing them open as she rushed wildly onward. Fear? No, there was no fear. A tragic acceptance of the tangle of green and grey that flooded towards her as her arms remained outstretched, fingers catching at the wind and turning a bloodless gold. Her name had always told her this would be her destiny... ..to fly. She mourned not herself, but her cowardice, the fall of what she had left behind her, so high above now as she gave herself fully to its governing elemental, leaving her ultimate fate in its ethereal grasp. Her eyes widened as she anticipated the pain, steeling herself in the pit of her gut for the soulwrending crunch that was to come... ..that never came. Feeling herself bourne up with a nearly sickening lurch, like a fresh catch on a line, she ascended. Head first, barrelling upwards faster than she had fallen, tugged by an uncontrollable, unyielding force. Only now did the fear come as the light drew closer, and closer still. Was she supposed to see this? She had expected only silence. The glow chilled and thawed her at once, drawing the breath from her lungs as the rise spun her head, turning the soft amber light to a spinning and dizzying crackle of lightning against the blackening rush inside her ringing skull. She hung in the air, stopping abruptly, wieghtless, formless, to look what held her line eye to eye. Reflected in the stillness of her icy eyes, the massive godform was tiny, as tiny compared to her in the twin miniatures as she was to it in the shifting reality of its plane. "You are afraid... " she heard it echo to her. "Afraid of your own lack of power to stop what you have seen. You have, now, the chance to take it back, should you choose to take it." Not understanding, she nodded once, too stunned for else. The world rushed back to her in a blur. Plummetting, she felt herself fall for the first time. No gentle wings bore her, no sound, no light, only darkness, a crackling, hissing void, and then... the earth beneath her feet. Swallowing down air as though half drowned, she sat upright in bed, clutching her blanket close to her chest as she screamed soundlessly into the damp air of the chamber. The dream would never leave her, nor would the memory of the events she would ever wish she could dismiss as such. -------------------------- Message 334 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Dec 14 01:35:13 1997 EST From: Toraxyn (#19315) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: A Twist of Fate Toraxyn wandered the halls of Morlith, sighing to himself. He took a deep breath, intending to sigh it out, but he could only manage a string of ragged coughs. "Bloody mountain.. Don't they ever clean this place? Filthy undeads are shedding dead skin everywhere... Why the hell am I here?" He rolled his eyes and muttered. The discomfort of living in a huge cave was one thing, but Toraxyn's biggest bane was boredom. The past few days were spent watching the Uruken soldiers quarrel over posessions of the former inhabitants of the mount, or simply wandering to and fro, looking for something occupying. He purposefully stayed away from the entrance to the Sarkus whenever he could. The laces of magic strung up before the entrance pulsed in his mage-sight eerily, and it made him shiver to look upon them. His quiet muttering came to an abrupt halt as he glanced where he stood. The large letter scratched above the cavern door marked it as the one belonging to Brinn. He hesitated before lifting the curtain, calculating carefully if it was worth the risk. The guards were nowhere to be seen, he checked twice to be sure. He grinned, there was nothing else to do, why not gamble the odds? Entering the dark cavern, he saw that the young mage was sprawled over her bed, bound tightly by the wrists. He shook her lightly until she was roused. Drugs were heavy in her system, her mind was as slurred as her speech. He gave her a drink of his last flask of whiskey he had diluted to make it last longer. Weighing the odds again, he sliced her bonds free. She blinked at him in surprise as he told her rather plainly what had happened, and explained that she was going nowhere. While he knew that if found out he would certainly be severely punished by Stryfe for going as far as he did already, the soldiers on Uruken were pitiable company, more concerned with a few crystals in their pocket than anything of the intellectual world. The exchange of conversation continued until he struck on the topic of the Sarkus, and Yjezra's sword which laid as a flickering flame on the edge of the mount. At that she summoned her strength and fought to her feet, walking towards where the caverns joined. His eyes narrowed and he grabbed for her arm. She persisted, and Toraxyn, frankly still having nothing better to do, gave her an old cloak for disguise and took her to the ledge. He watched in marvel as the Sarkus sparked, almost in reluctance, to her weak call. Failing dismally to work her magic, Brinn collapsed before him, exhausted and weakened from mistreatment. A strange sense of pity creeped through him, and he cursed his own inability to work magic, else he would have done something to ease her drugged state. He refastened her bonds more loosely than the original ones. He also left her a small bundle of dried fruit for sustanance that the soldiers had not given her and let her sleep, promising to return again, should situations permit. -------------------------- Message 335 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Dec 14 04:44:13 1997 EST From: Friega (#20286) To: *storylines (#5236) and *DragonRiders (#5915) Subject: The Gift She was watching from the dimness of the tunnel, trying to hear anything of Stryfe's plans from the soldiers on the ledge. They were a rowdy bunch, all puffed up prideful like with their 'victory'. She snorted softly, then faded back further into the shadows as one of the abominations swung its great head toward the tunnel. 'Careful lass, they aren't stupid creatures tho they stink up the good caverns with their stench of corruption.' She looked back along the tunnel toward the living cavern and the sleeping soldiers there. Chuckling softly she remembered how they had all paniced last night when Daan'yrrli had wandered the caverns. As if she would harm anyone. There was a scrabbling sound at the ledge, the sweeping sound of a living dragons' wings. She moved forward stealthily, and looked out on the ledge. A living garnet stood there, somone on her back. She knew that garnet. It was Elshydrath! She had to stop herself from moving forward. With tears of joy, she slipped back into the den, picking up the fretful boy and rocking him gently. 'Today is your birthday, me laddy. And the most wonderous gift has coom for ye.' She kissed Etiens forhead, 'Aye, and will be a blessing fer ye mother also.' -------------------------- Message 336 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Dec 14 18:33:11 1997 EST From: Stryfe (#5113) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Preparations Stryfe began to organize his troops into preparing a defense on the Mount. They had their few days relaxation as reward for the take over. Now the hard part would be coming. The keeping on the easily won mountain. Brinn was resecured and her guard changed reguarly now. 'I know they will try something. The only ones I can really trust are in my Order.' He thought, remembering how his so-called ally Red Fang had turned so viciously. With the sounds of pounding footsteps from all over, Stryfe went to talk with Ellyw. -------------------------- Message 337 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Dec 15 00:45:14 1997 EST From: Toraxyn (#19315) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: A Hasty Exit He walked through the forest in silence. The pale glimmer of the longsword he clutched under his cloak caught the light of the moon with every step, intent on capturing his attention or so it seemed. A moment of retrospect hit him in the quiet of the night, and he realized bitterly that he made no conscious decision to take this path of action. A short chuckle escaped his lips, and he mused to himself as his feet crunched audibly through the forest plantlife. "Perhaps next time i'll betray the other side..." What he had seen was nothing less than amazing, he told himself inwardly. The Sarkus, reluctantly accepting him into it's defenses, once again allowed him to witness the magic worked by the dragonmage. He was certain in that moment that feelings of jealousy and almost hatred for her ability that he lacked crossed his mind. However, they were quickly swept away by resolution. Yes, he would reach that level, passing it by as he had every other obstacle thrown at him, save one. Thoughts of the scarred visage of the Adept burned in his memory, and he forced them into hiding once more with the hate they flooded him with. He would pay a great fee for this small show of magic should he be found before his plan was completed, he thought with chagrin. The blade of the dragonmistress felt far too odd in his grasp, and though he wanted it since it was knocked from her hand in the fight for Morlith, at that moment he supposed he would give anything to have never touched it. He growled inwardly at the irony of cowardice towards a simple blade, driving the longsword under his belt and shaking his hand to rid himself of the writhing sensation. He chanced a look up to the sky. He was not far from home now. He would find the refugees, and play his part out before he went mad. Perhaps they would reward him for what they considered 'good and just' actions, perhaps they would toss him to the side as he expected. It did not matter. A biting whisper slipped into the cold air from his mouth, "I will visit you again, Sarkus. And when I do, I will be felt tenfold what I am heard." A smile crossed his lips as shocks of moonlight spilling through the trees cast shadows over half of his face and struck his clothes in illumination. He smiled as the door of the remote cabin, casting it's shadow over the tiny meadow, opened to his touch. His heart lightened a shade as he thought of how it would be to see Jaelene again. Turning to gaze once more in the direction of the great Mount Morlith, he shared one last moment of absolute quiet with the moonlight. Finally, he grinned sardonically, fighting off thoughts of what would happen next, and stepped into the cabin leaving the forest whispering with a nearly inaudible chuckle. --------------------------