From - Thu Mar 5 10:23:03 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 KAA08625 for ; Thu, 5 Mar 1998 10:16:27 -0500 (EST) Received: (qmail 24128 invoked from network); 5 Mar 1998 15:16:09 -0000 Received: from zoom.realtime.net (HELO zoom.bga.com) (root@205.238.128.40) by mail1.realtime.net with SMTP; 5 Mar 1998 15:16:09 -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 JAA02682 for ; Thu, 5 Mar 1998 09:16:03 -0600 Message-Id: <199803051516.JAA02682@zoom.bga.com> Date: Thu, 5 Mar 1998 09:16:00 -0400 From: "Quinn@GhostWheel" To: quinn@netsville.com Subject: GhostWheel Message(s) 403 - 437 from *storylines (#5236) X-Mail-Agent: GhostWheel (casper.bga.com 6969) X-UIDL: ffc1c754019d2005015db0763df4e987 X-Mozilla-Status: 8001 Message 403 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jan 28 11:42:47 1998 EST From: Styx (#1610) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Pitter Patter The rain started innocently enough, a slight misting. It was actually pleasant, for those people who liked that sort of thing. Then it was as if someone had turned up the faucet. It began to pour. Those caught out in the rain were quickly drenched. The rains had started. -------------------------- Message 404 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jan 28 14:03:57 1998 EST From: CEO_PWR (#12541) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: A hand scrawled note pasted to one of the walls in the R/T building. **AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT FOR ALL CITIZANS** All pre holocaust artifacts must be registered. If you have an item, weapon, artwork, toaster, this item must be registered. No exceptions. If you DO not have your relic registered it will be confiscated. This has been a public service announcement from the offices of PWR. -------------------------- Message 405 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jan 28 16:32:47 1998 EST From: Witness (#18794) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: News report Today, clan members of Dune Rider worked hastily on a presentation to a select few members of the surrounding area(s). (televised for your viewing pleasure) Mirage: Today, we are pleased to announce that we have created a new wave in the rush for technology. Though some militias have a select few of these weapons, we have created the upgraded version of the standard Electromagnetic Pulse cannon. Combining technology of the soulmechs advanced guidance systems along with our current advances in technology, mainly thanks to my Sis, Jasper. *claps are heard*. Reporter: Will these weapons be used on humanoid targets? Mirage: Nah, these puppies will be used solely for defense against Rogue drones. Reporter: off the subject, but how do you feel about this.. PWR group asking for your pre-apocalyptic weaponry? Mirage: We, Clan Dune Rider, do not feel they possess a great threat to the soulmech nation as a whole. The denizens of the Firezone will be happy to conduct negotiations with this Corporation, if neccessary. We feel we do not have to give any of our 'pre-apocalyptic' weaponry away, meaning chainguns and Short Ranged Missile Launchers, mainly. Reporter: Do you feel as though they will attempt to destroy your 'mechs' for the weaponry back? Mirage: *Chuckle* of course not. Reporter: How do you feel about the Rogue uprising as of late? Mirage: We feel that the Rogue 'menace' is insubstancial. If need be, we will take action against them. Reporter: And how do you feel about the other clans advances in technology? Mirage: We, Clan Dune Rider, are glad they are advancing in technology, and will hope that they will use it for the right causes. ** END ** -------------------------- Message 406 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jan 29 18:23:01 1998 EST From: Rathe (#14172) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: For sale or trade.. One claymore named "wolfblade" 2 diving masks (in need of some repair..) one crescent blade. 1 blowgun 1 oak wand 1 cat of nine tails 1 woodsman's bow 1 longsword (possible. not yet definite) Contact me via mail or communicator for pricing. --The mngmt -------------------------- Message 407 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jan 29 19:57:27 1998 EST From: Ariadne (#20332) To: *storylines (#5236) and *Chat (#5391) Subject: Upcoming Revamping and Changes to Black Coven (BC) The evil group is being disbanded and restructured. It will no longer be as big in size and will be more elitist in terms of its members. True, there is a lot of evil on this MOO in relation to good, but true again, it is dormant and unstructured. I want some RP outta you folks. Some wildly creative ideas and some fun. (Of course, we're gonna have to eventually make up a good team to play with, but that's later...right?) Anyhow....I have room for 12 Disciples. Me is #13. Got some PCs already in mind but in all fairness, want whoever is interested to @mail me so I can chat and evaluate who's best for the placements. Oh. New Group is to be called: Children of the Light or Lightbringers, more commonly. Those of you acquainted with Religion and that stuff should understand its meaning. Take care! And do mail. No pages please. *hugs* Sue -------------------------- Message 408 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jan 29 23:51:54 1998 EST From: Styx (#1610) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Puddles into pools The rain fell steady. The people of N'orleans had begun to ignore the steady drone of raindrops on their rooftops. While slowly, what were once puddles began to form into pools. And the rain fell... -------------------------- Message 409 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Jan 30 00:35:22 1998 EST From: Heretic (#6143) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Dragon takes dislike to Feenids... Anyone on the wheel in the last hour would have seen a Dragon chasing down and killing all the feenids it found ...for some as yet unkown reason none of them have yet returned to the wheel. -------------------------- Message 410 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Jan 30 01:22:59 1998 EST From: Ariadne (#20332) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: OOC Post Re: The LightBringers All of the posts for the order of 13 have been filled. There will be, however, room for more in the subgroup. Will let you know. Thanks to those who expressed interest and I will contact you regarding the subgroup soon. -------------------------- Message 411 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Jan 30 02:34:30 1998 EST From: Lily_Tanaka (#20345) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: New Beginnings Lily Tanaka wandered around Ghostwheel, her explorations filled with wonder and delight. The world around her seemed so organic...so antique. The environment was so unlike the world her father had attempted to create. Yes, it was so very unlike the rubbled remains of a technological society that fell victim to disaster. She fell in love with N'Orleans easily, taken by its cajun charm and its mysterious corners. It was there that she spent the most of the day, reading tombstones and studying its architecture. And it was there that she met the interesting stranger, whose scars she could never heal...but whose soul she could possibly touch. She left the temple's bar at dawn and swiftly made her way home. Tendrils of sunlight danced among the fat raindrops which hadn't ceased to fall all night. Pitter patter, her bare feet were a blur over cobblestone. Pitter patter, her heart seemed gloriously alive. Pitter patter, her lower lip still throbbed. -------------------------- Message 412 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Jan 30 15:09:48 1998 EST From: Yaislyn (#7750) To: *DragonRiders (#5915) and *storylines (#5236) Subject: From the Grave The band of wastelanders bid her goodbye, those who did not accompany her back to the R/T. When at last she turned to leave, it was a heartfelt moment, one sad enough to draw tears from some of their eyes. These people had nurtured her after her death, and they had given her back the will to live again. Limping through the R/T building, Yaislyn looked with new eyes at the place she had once adopted as her new home. Her only thought was to find her son. T'was the memory of his existence that had brought her back here. Encountering Khyber, her babyfather, she was met with coldness and subdued anger. He had changed. He was no longer affectionate with her. She got the feeling that he had been happier with her dead. Khyber had no idea of where their son was, even though a stranger had promised to keep Jarelt safe and return him to his father. All this time, Jarelt had been nowhere to be seen or found. Khyber had assumed the child dead, with his mother. Perhaps the quest to search for their son would reunite them. Perhaps it wouldn't. Yaisy's heart felt heavy and her spirit felt crushed. All she could do was return to the Mount and seek out her glorious Valyzraith. The dragon would soothe her, yes. -------------------------- Message 413 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jan 31 18:46:25 1998 EST From: Seraph (#16551) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Rain The quiet splatter of raindrops smacked against the smudged glass of the window. Under a bleary sky, gray clouds sluggishly crawled over the rooftops of the cobbled alleyway and over the swamps, leading in a host of darker phantom shapes, promising yet harder rains. Ceaseless and uneven, the fat droplets fell endlessly, as though conspiring to wear away at glass, brick, wood, and stone, and wash away the world. She could still hear his breathing, over the click and patter against the glass, when she listened. Soft, even, rhythmic, peaceful. A noticeable contrast. A rock of tranquil, pre-dawn silence in a vastness of grey, cold, whistling chaos. 'To the rain, then,' she remembered saying, her voice muffled with a chuckle that concealed tears, '...and whatever is allowed to grow after the storm.' Turning her face away from it's reflection against the sullen sky, she watched him sleep in silence, comitting every detail to memory. "Not much to ask for," she whispered almost inaudibly, "...not much at all. A laugh, a show-up, a good smack, a clever insult... " Shaking her head, her eyes fell to the floor, losing focus. "And the thing I can't have... " she whispered, crossing the room slowly to sit at the edge of the bed, "...you." A storm, was, indeed coming. One that would wash away the world. -------------------------- Message 414 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jan 31 23:14:11 1998 EST From: Styx (#1610) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Soggy shins Gertrude wrinkled her nose in digust as a thoroughly soggy and semi-hairless now rat floated by and across the full storm drain. The water was now ankle-high and seemed to be raising faster then the rain fell. -------------------------- Message 415 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jan 31 23:15:51 1998 EST From: Rathe (#14172) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Crazies Strange reports were heard tonight in N'Orleans.. Apparently a black robed man was standing atop the roof of Mannsion de la Mystique, shouting obsceneties at the heavens while screaming about dropping property values and flood damage.. Definite evidence to the lunatic's identity are inconclusive.. -------------------------- Message 416 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jan 31 23:22:22 1998 EST From: Baltisaar (#10734) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Have you seen the weirdo sign? Baltisaar, while sitting in his study, looks up for a moment... He looks south, then scratches his head. Shrugging, he goes back to his books, mumbling 'Property values? What does that have to do with magic or the price of tea in ancient china? Gods only know why I had this thought... The aether is strange this eve...' Balti -------------------------- Message 417 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jan 31 23:26:21 1998 EST From: Nothing (#16048) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Underneath the rainy New Orleans Skies. As the madman reportedly ranted atop the Mystique House, even curiousier was the sighting of Lady Tadewi herself as she yelled up at him to come down from the roof before she shoved him. Locals have been whispering about this and it's implications. -------------------------- Message 418 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jan 31 23:34:19 1998 EST From: Gerald_Hunter (#16547) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Breaking the silence of the night... Gerald looked up as he heard the melodious voice call to a man standing on the roof... The voice implored the insane one, who was on a rant about property values and how the gods should be covered in swiss cheese and fed to the cainids, should come down before she pushed him off the roof... He ceased his screechings, and all was silent... Except for Gerald's heart... 'My... What an interesting voice... So pure... So sweet... I must corrupt it.' He looks up, and contemplates his next target... Hunter -------------------------- Message 419 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Feb 1 00:53:31 1998 EST From: Axelle (#9124) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Bath Leaving the heavy bulk of her armour behind, she stole from the Tower and fled to N'Orleans. Her mind was o'erflowing with thought and she felt as though she would go mad, lest she didn't clear it. Creeping along the shadows, no one noticed her in passing, this elegant stranger with the vibrant emerald green eyes. Caught in the downpour, it wasn't long before her clothes stuck to her skin, till her hair lay flat against her scalp like a waterfall of silken black thread. She took off her boots and waded barefoot in the puddles. It wasn't long until the jagged edges of rock and cobblestone cut at her tender skin. She did not seem to notice the pain, however, and rather delighted in the sight of her own blood mingling with the rainwater. Soon, she shed all of her clothing and danced like a heathen, nude in the falling rain. Her ivory flesh glowed in the moonlight. It was like she was illuminated. Taking a branch from one of the cemetary trees, she plucked it completely of its leaves. Rain whipped against her skin with every lash she gave herself. Soon, her whole body was covered with angry welts and the blood poured down in claret rivulets to pool at her feet. It was then that she lied down in the water, letting the life force of her soul seep away into the cold landscape. Closing her eyes, she opened up her mind and cleared the webs. It was well into the night before she returned home, her bath having been leisurely enjoyed. Oddly enough, the scars on her flesh disappeared during her walk home. The raindrops however, could still be seen in the mirror of her eyes. -------------------------- Message 420 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Feb 1 01:49:03 1998 EST From: Tadewi (#16048) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: How long have I been sleeping.. She awakens with a scream emitting from her throat, sitting up to find herself safely in her own room. The memories return like persistant splinters that can't be plucked from the skin of her conciousness. Like liquid opal on porcelain, her tears flowed as she still recalls the feeling, the violation. And yet, even as fresh as it should be, it still feels as though the memories are ancient. Wrapping her arms around her knees she idly wonders about the child's fate. What has her monstrous husband done with the infant... but even as she asks, she knows she does not want an answer. -------------------------- Message 421 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Feb 1 02:32:35 1998 EST From: Red_Fang (#5907) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Reward! Large reward offered to information on a Quartz Crystal.. If you come up with the right crystal a very large reward will be paid.. No questions asked.. Red Fang.. OOC: posted in various areas around the r/t.. -------------------------- Message 422 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Feb 1 13:07:33 1998 EST From: Akeashar (#20348) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: o/~ it's a rainin', the world's a drownin'... o/~ Akane watched outside the banzai as it sped past new orleans, winds whipping against the steel walls of the transport. Lightning crashed, thunder rolled, the rain thudded against the armor shell, cooling down the interior. "Strange indeed." he thought aloud. The forecast on an underground weather-scope didn't show Rain for atleast another week. He could feel the Banzai land with a sickening squish as its wet landing gear easily turned the grass which the gear landed on into mud. He frowned, leaping out of the doors and being thoroughly knocked from his feet by a gust of wind, whipping him into the side of the Banzai. "Damn, what the hell is this strange weather?" he summoned up a slight ward, water pelting off a translucent shield as he walked, boots sloshing through the mud. He was glad he wore shoes today, "Else I'd be half underground." he thought aloud, chuckling. Ankle deep water, "Strange indeed." He continued walking, boots making small waves as he trudged through the water. The rain poured on. -------------------------- Message 423 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Feb 1 13:21:35 1998 EST From: Aquilya (#4188) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: And the Thunder Rolls... Aquilya lit the candles on the alter, her voice dropping into a low chant as she gave her daily prayers to Ghede. The trickle of rain from above echoed around her, the steady fall having not ceased in days now. The locals were beginning to talk fervently about it as the puddles became streaming rivers down the streets. So far, Aquilya had not worried herself about it. "Dance for me." a voice demanded. Aquilya recognized Ghede's tone and rose, taking the mask of the eagle from the wall, fitting it over her head. Spreading cornmeal on the ground in the veve pattern for Ghede, she begin her dance to the drumbeats in her head. And when her skin grew cold and the hair on her arms stood up, she knew his presense was near, yet he had not possessed her, as the Lwa always do... Instead he manifested before her, the pale visage of a Lwa, eyeless yet all seeing, featureless yet unforgettable. "Leave the Temple, my Priestess. Go far from New Orleans. Dere is bad gris gris coming and I will not leave you to drown." Enthralled, Aquilya merely nodded. Ghede faded away and her skin again felt warm, the goosebumps disappearing. Aquilya replaced the mask on the wall and gathered her most important ritual items from the altar. As she left the ritual room, she finally noticed the pools of water seeping in from the earth surrounding the basement room. After gaping at it a moment, she continued upstairs and gathered her personal effects and instructed Marie Claire to leave, quickly. Many sat up and paid attention as the reknowned Priestess walked the streets, the rain flattening her ebony curls against her face, soaking the backpack slung over one shoulder. She travelled wordlessly, ignoring the stares of the locals. Talk began anew, as to why the only Vodou Mambo in town was leaving... and the worries of the residents grew with tension. -------------------------- Message 424 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Feb 1 14:00:21 1998 EST From: Ahnahkha (#4096) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: And now, something strange. Ahnahkha settled his Stetson snugly onto his head as he exited the shuttle. He trudged out three or four paces into the rain and stopped dead in his tracks. He blinked momentarily, then lifted the brim of his Stetson and looked ponderingly at the sky. He hadn't even noticed the droplets and pooling water at first, heading out into a storm as if it was normal, just like he had done so often, so many years ago. "What the hell...?" Ahn's brow furrowed as he tried to remember the last time it had rained like this, especially in N'Orleans. He could not offhand, and surmised the best guess would have been at least 600 years ago. He wondered momentarily if Magi or necromancers could be involved, but got no feeling one way or the other from his masters. He pulled the brim of his worn, leather hat down once more, and began trodding through the mid-ankle deep water, intent again on his purpose in N'Orleans. By the end of the evening, he would secure the services of the mages he needed to bring the wench Yjezra to justice. He would have her beg at his knees for redemption, and he would then give her what she deserved. -------------------------- Message 425 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Feb 1 15:04:04 1998 EST From: Ariadne (#20332) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Seminar There'll be a seminar later, cuz Axelle needs some action. Would be cool to get a good showing. Anyone's free to participate. Not sure around what time...sometime in evening though...whenever I log back in. And I'm counting on a few, very wicked women to help me here. I suppose though if I say 'ballbreakers' no men will come? -------------------------- Message 426 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Feb 1 15:15:30 1998 EST From: Temple (#11763) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: A Snake in the Water The recomb paced and listened to the rain falling against her window. Still! She hisssed sharply, "Gods Be Damned! WILL IT NEVER STOP?!" She stopped to look out the dirty window, the water sheeting down the glass, lightning spattering shadowed drops over the room. Whirling around, she threw her helm across the room, where it hit the wall with a hollow clang before landing on the old bed. She smiled slightly, eyes glittering coldly as if the sudden sound decided something for her. Moving around her seedy room, she gathered her things, slipping her hooded cloak around her. She stopped and stared at the door for long moments, then keyed in the code and pausing a moment as the door swung open, before almost leaping outward into the deludge. Pulling her cloak around her tightly, her head concealed beneath the hood, she started down the rickety stairs, only to hisss angrily as her feet hit water before they did the last step. She moved forward quickly, the cold water sucking at her feet and calves, draining her of warmth and causing her to shiver. She ran forward as best she could, her anger increasing tenfold as she had to wait in the draughty alleyway for a transport to show up. As the transport sped off over the sodden swamps, then finally leaving the rain behind and speeding over the dead wastelands, she watched, her humor no better. Hissing furiously as the craft landed and she stepped out into the heat that sucked the moisture from her, she raged, "Someone will pay for this indignity! Mages..Has to be those stinking mages!".. -------------------------- Message 427 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Feb 1 16:33:32 1998 EST From: Mulder (#709) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Constructs The sun blazed high in the sky, beating down on the pale sand. The rippling waves nibbled at the beach quietly, sand slipping off with every rumbling wave. Sheltering palm fronds cast hazy shadows on the tiled terrace. Mulder sat in a wooden lawnchair, his feet, coated with a thin layer of sand, propped up on the ironwork table, next to a large tropical looking beverage. He slid his sunglasses up to his forehead, and rubbed his bare chest idly. "Nice day. Very nice." A short, young woman with long blonde hair and fair skin walked up behind him quietly, clad in a simple blue swimsuit and a white skirt, tied in a knot at her waist. "Your messages, Mr. Mulder?" "Oh, hello Amy. Yes, please. Have a seat." Amy sat down in one of the nearby chairs and cleared her throat, "Highest items of interest are a sandstorm in the Wastelands, to the south of the SWNA transport terminal." "Equipment damage?" "Superficiary." "Good." "Also of interest, an unexplained weather phenomenon over N'Orleans, causing so-far uninterupted downpours," she continued, glancing down the shimmering screen that had appeared several feet infront of her face, hanging in the tropical air. "Poor shits. They'll probably be drowning like rats if it doesn't let up soon. That town isn't exactly stable." Amy nodded politely, "The usual fiscal reports are coming in from the various divisions, nothing deviant from the norm. The aftershock from your premature death has been absorbed into the overall financial waveform." "Hmmm, yes. I wish they'd hurry up and finish growing my new body. Still being sentient has its benefits, of course, but I'd like to be back in the 'real world', so to speak." He grimaced slightly, "Twilight," he said, and it was. "Better." -------------------------- Message 428 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Feb 1 17:11:12 1998 EST From: Ahnahkha (#4096) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Flyers posted around You see this flyer posted around in every city of GW, in an annoying yellow color you just can't miss. No matter what language you speak/read, it appears in your most fluent. Looking for information on a cache of weapons. Looking to buy a large collection of weapons/buy information about a large cache of weapons. Top dollar paid. Dial #3437 on your phone or contact me via mail. Especially looking for magical weapons/warded weapons. Will pay extra. Ankh -------------------------- Message 429 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Feb 1 17:27:57 1998 EST From: Red_Fang (#5907) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Need a sponser Ever want a hasben on your employ list?? Red Fang needs someone to sponser him and supply him with good weapons and lots of crystals so he can do your bidding.. You can trust him really.. A sparing partner would be nice too.. Will work for whiskey.. Gud bless.. Red -------------------------- Message 430 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Feb 1 19:22:22 1998 EST From: Ahnahkha (#4096) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Another Flyer: You see an addendum written into the flyers requesting ammo/weapons/magickal weapons: Also looking for a few highly-skilled individuals for small ops mission. Pay negotiable. Ankh -------------------------- Message 431 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Feb 1 20:10:42 1998 EST From: Sorrow (#20478) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Another bad day.... Sorrow walked slowly back through the R/T building, his muscles sore from the brief hunt he just had. We lifted the grate leading under the R/T building, his new home since N'orleans began to flood. Slowly he walked up the coridor and stopped. Confussed he walked back a few paces. No where... "Damn" he muttered to himself, "I know I set up camp around here." After a short while of looking he gave up. "Who the hell would be so lame as to steal a man's tent?" he said to himself. Tired and sore, he created another in a rep and setup camp again. This time sword in hand, ready for the idiot to come back. -------------------------- Message 432 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Feb 1 22:56:47 1998 EST From: Ariadne (#20332) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: More Notice and Postponement Seminar to be held tomorrow night (Monday) at 8 pm EST. Thanks. -------------------------- Message 433 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Feb 2 11:36:40 1998 EST From: Styx (#1610) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Rain rain, go away The water rose steadily overnight, the rain abated some turning into a soft misting. The waters level now began to reach some of the lower stoops of the houses and businesses. And it seemed to show no sign of stopping... -------------------------- Message 434 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Feb 2 11:40:51 1998 EST From: Styx (#1610) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Strange dogs Various reports have filtered in from all over the populated areas of man. The more populated the area the seemingly more sightings that have been reported. They vary some from telling to telling, but all have one common thread. Each story invovles some kind of dog or dogs, that are all black, shaped much like a greyhound, with a single band of white around their neck an inch wide. The animals or animal appear from a wall or are suddenly just there. They act like normal dogs in all ways except they vanish as suddenly as they appeared. -------------------------- Message 435 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Feb 2 20:15:30 1998 EST From: Ariadne (#20332) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Sorry The tp's gonna be postponed till later. Not sure when later. Prolly when I figure out who's participating and such. *chuckle* If not later, another day. -------------------------- Message 436 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Feb 2 21:53:18 1998 EST From: Ariadne (#20332) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Signs Puddles formed all around Ghostwheel, in the most oddest of phenomena. They all gathered together, forming their seperate paths towards one point of origin. The puddles of rain led people to N'Orleans. The cemetary, in fact. They all gathered Within the Circle of Broken Circle Road. <> -------------------------- Message 437 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Feb 2 23:55:41 1998 EST From: Axelle (#9124) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Clear Night The rain stopped magickally some time in the middle of the night. The people of N'Orleans woke to a clear and sunny morning. No one was certain as to what happened. --------------------------