Message-Id: <199804051922.OAA10772@zoom.bga.com>
Date: Sun,  5 Apr 1998 14:22:17 -0400
From: "Quinn@GhostWheel" <someone@ghostwheel.mud.org>
To: quinn@netsville.com
Subject: GhostWheel Message(s) 533 - 538 from *storylines (#5236)
Status: RO

Message 533 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sat Feb 28 12:56:41 1998 EST
From:     Tadewi (#16048)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Blood and Ashes.

Tadewi curled her body beneath the satin sheets as she attempted to clear her
muddled thoughts.   Her memory came to her only in bits and peices now, as if
floating just out of her grasp.  There was her husband, she... she hated him,
but no, she loved him, he was her husband.  No one married for other then
love... or did they.  He was as mage... *MAGES ARE BAD*  No, no, not Rathe, he
was the only one on her side...
She squeezed her eyes shut, the confusion too much for her, besides, she was
so tired...

--------------------------


Message 534 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sat Feb 28 17:22:45 1998 EST
From:     Kzin (#5800)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Rising...

Kzin rested, his back pressed to the cold stone walls of his workroom. The
blade of reddish metal across his lap cool beneath his fingers. His eyes
unfocused, he let the trance come.
Sudden, harsh, cold. Like diving into the arctic ocean at midwinter's eve,
trapped under thousands of tons of screaming ice, skin torn from muscle and
bone by the current.  The blade growing warm, then hot under his fingertips.
Visions beginning to rise, bubbling to the surface of though and breaking
forth, spreading the redness across the inside of his eyes.
......screaming. That was the first thing he recalled. Screaming, as the dark
Magus's power enfolded him, torn him open mind and body, remade him into
something malleable.  The commands, thundering in his ears like a storm,
irresistable, easier to just submerege, let the waves close over your head,
drowning in the sickeningly warm sea, taste of iron forcing it's way past your
lips.  Searing heat the only anchor, skin almost burning away as the sword's
metal became unbearably hot, unable to take his hand off the weapon. Another
globe of memory rising, shattering as it impacts, driving a thousand shards
into his flesh.
The demonspawn, sinking through his flesh, thier wills shredding his. Leaving
only hunger. Relentless, insatiable lust for blood, pain, death, feeding off
it and growing. The laughter as every corpse fell.  Claws of power, latching
inside of his body, his skull, clinging like leeches to a beating heart,
sucking from thier host when no other blood is to be had. The dark shadow,
laughing in the firelight.    Swirling out of the hot coals, taking substance
from the blood turned into ash and steam, overpowering in it's darkness. The
tortured faces dancing in it's 'flesh', the mingled screams and cries of
pleasure that formed it's voice.
Another bubble rising to the surface of the bloody sea, crusted with age and
blackened by the depths of it's hiding.
The earth shakes. The sound of a thousand horses, steel-shod, riding hard.
Thier trail of ash-dust a rising harbringer above lifeless barrens. Riding
hard, harder. The siege of the Temple of Balance.   Sudden, bright, daemonic
flashes, inside  fortress, plasma venting violently, then the magma, pouring
upwards and out, like a towering wave, washing the army away beneath a tide of
black and red.    Dropping to his knee's with sudden pain, mouth open , awash
with the taint of bloody waters. Two prescences in his mind, crushing with
thier power, tearing open channels for the energies they need to exist.
Heedles in thier lust for form, for a bearer, they rip his mind asunder,
leaving nothing untouched, thier memories coloring his.
One last bubble rising, the blade searing his fingers seemingly to the bone
beneath his grip, the metal glowing with heat. Willing himself not to see,
thrusting his consciousness back upwards, outwards, bursting free of the
darkness.
Kzin gasped, his throat raw. His tounge working, trying to rid itself of the
taste of blood. The blade now quiescent beneath his hand, seemiing content to
wait.  He stumbled to his knees, then, leaning heavily on his rapier,
propelled himself to his feet. The trance-dream begining to fragment already,
leaving mere echoes of it's prescence.
Unnoticed by the Adept, a small stream of blood trickles down the stones where
his back was pressed, rivulets following the small cracks between the blocks.
Down to the floor, to slip between the massive granite foundation's line,
seeping back into the dark earth. The moss in the rocks dies, crusting and
flaking away like ash.

--------------------------


Message 535 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sat Feb 28 20:31:10 1998 EST
From:     Lovinia (#10869)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Peace

She woke tired as she had been increasingly the month that Rathe had Antoine.
She was determined to find him that day, to beg for her son's return or a
speedy end to his tortured existance.
She walked to the village, leaving Baltisaar in his study, knowing he would
know what she was doing if she could not shield it from him. When she arrived
at Rathes, Williker answered her knock. And upstairs she found Rathe and
Julian...Antoine or what was left of the poor child on a stone bier, wards
shimmering in the air around him. Rathe taunted her, as did Julian, who made
more snide remarks as he had the day he tore Antoine form her arms in the
lounge..as he kept asking Rathe for her..to be his..toy.
Rathe wanted the stone..the ston she didn't have. She told him she didnt know
where it was, begged for her child. Rathe gave her three choices, saying " 1:
I lock you in a cage, with your child, to be Julian,; Williker, and
ShadowHawk's plaything. or  2: The child remains with me, and is harmed no
further; for one week. During that time, you may make progress on finding my
stone. and finally, 3: I simply keep both of you, and we can all hope;
Baltisaar can find the stone."  She shuddered at the choices asking in return
" "What happens after a week if I cannot find it?" Rathe then told her, "You
return here, and we...renegotiate."  To make such choices.
Thinking quickly, knowing she had no real choice..not if she were to save her
son, She chose #1. Rathe chuckled, having Kzin magically bind her so she could
not use magic, had Williker grope her, searching for weapons and whatever
hisparanoid mind could concieve. Juliam stood and leered at her, asking
Williker how hre body felt..Lovinia shuddered, ignoring the indignities as she
ached to take her child in her arms.
When Rathe said okay, the ran to take her childs torured body in her arms,
sobbing and entered the small cage Rathe ordered her into. She couldnt bear to
look at her childs face or body, so praying to Gaea for strenght and for
baltisaar to forgive her, she placed her hand over her son's mouth and nose,
kissing him softly, tears streaming down her face as his body weakly struggled
in her arms for but a moment. She held his small body till the eagle claimed
him, then turned to face Rathe and the others.
When Willker came at her, the strange blade in his hands she closed her eyes
calling on Gaea for the strength to indure. She heard julians harsh words,
calling her a terrible mother and murderess. She heard Rathe laugh calling her
a 'broken spirit'. And she felt Baltisaar's pain and rage. Murmuring softly a
prayer to Gaea, and seeing the soft light surround her the gentle presence
calling her, she let her spirit go free of her weary and emaciated body, a
smile on her lips a soft laugh of victory in her throat.

--------------------------


Message 536 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Mar  1 17:50:49 1998 EST
From:     Willow (#22906)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Leaving Home

Willow walked silently across the Great Hall, kicking up small dust clouds
from the hay flooring. Up the wide stone staircase, she turned, and followed
along the railed walkway until coming to a halt infront of 2 wide oaken doors.
With great hesitation she raised her hand and rapped her knuckles on the door,
"Papa, its me." She added, "Willow" as if scared he would not recognize her
voice.  Leaning close, she pressed her cheek to the cold wood, listening for
any sound. "You may enter" she heard. The sounds of servants helping her
father up, came more easily to her as she turned the handle and pushed one of
the heavy doors open. She stepped slowly into the room, letting her eyes
adjust to the meager candle light. Each heavy step took her closer to the foot
of the bed. Resting her numbing hands on the footboard she curtsied politely,
"you called for me?" she said after waiting for her fathers accepting nod
which granted her permission to speak.
  "You are leaving here. You have an eve to prepare, then you shall take
Bahkan and go across the great sands" the old man coughed out.
 "-but father " she interrupted rudely, her face reddening even as she spoke.
The old mans hand shot up, showing a strength that his ill health could not
take away. Her words died in her throat as his continued, "do not return,
there is nothing for you here. Valencia will give you a name of someone who
might offer shelter, the rest is up to you," He coughed mightily again, "Now
GO from my sight"

--------------------------


Message 537 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Mar  1 21:01:10 1998 EST
From:     Sater (#4919)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Idea

As Sater roams about in the Wastelands he notices a huge machine. He later
finds it's name is a SoulMech.  For many days now, Sater has been examining
this fantastic machine.
On the third day of examining the Soulmech. He goes back to his home, in the
undersea.  He starts thinking.....
On the fourth day, Sater goes back to the same sighting of the SoulMech but
notices it is gone. He seareches for hours looking for it . He find the track
of the mech and it leads him to a huge powerplant.  In order for Sater to
build a Mech he finds out that he needs a nuclear powerplant.  Sater goes back
to Oceanus to search for a lost nuclear powerplant.  For days now, he has been
searching.
As Sater gets tired of searching he feels a incredible surge of heat.  As he
swims closer and closer and finds a underground nuclear powerplant probaly
used to power the village of Submariners. As he steps in the powerplant, Sater
notices it is abandoned. He decides to to stmake this place his new home for
his new SUBMARINE.
With Sater's ability to build, in which he learnt from Oceanus University, in
which he has a master degree in.  For a long time SAter has bot builtt for
years.  AS his mechanic sences come back to him he begins with his project.
Now the only question is  that if he can build it......


This is my first time doing a storyline and i did this in like 4 minutes so
don't mind the grammer L). I"ll try to do better next time.

Thanks

--------------------------


Message 538 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue Mar  3 20:49:23 1998 EST
From:     Seraph (#16551)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Journal Entry

The room was much as she had left it, save for a musty smell, and watermarks
that crawled up over the whitewash walls like greedy fingers. Carpet in ruins,
it still squished sickeningly beneath her footsteps, its already fading colors
gone to grave browns and greys.
It was the new year, time to clear away old things -- cobwebs, memories,
inhibitions.
She paced the room, leaving small bootprints in the rippled coating of mud
that sprawled over her once immaculate floors. Frowning down at the
foul-smelling sludge, she started suddenly.
There was another set of tracks, there, strange clawprints, the impressions of
cloven feet.
Her lips curled back into a snarl, the first thought racing through her mind a
deep sense of invasion, that someone had come into her home, someone had
decided that the place had been abandoned -- or, something, rather. The fury
faded to a cautious curiousity, the ebon glow erupting from her palms fading
into a dull, low crackle, like a live wire spitting sparks, waiting for the
thing that would set it ablaze.
A sound, behind her, caused her to wheel rapidly, breath catching in her
throat. Her eyes ranged back to the tracks for a fraction of a second. They
led in, but not back out again. It was still here.
The anger crept back into her blood, the sense of violation, the invasion.
A rattle at the window.
Wheeling quickly, she raised her hand, sending a blast of wind hurtling
towards the sound as she tried to pinpoint it, still in motion.
The window shattered, sprinkling shards of flashing glass across the branches
of a tree that lay outside it. They crashed to the street, some delayed by the
impediments of branches. Wind whistled against the broken glass, bringing a
rush of January cold.
*You're losing it, Annie... * one of them crooned.
The creak of a floorboard.
Turning, she saw something flash across the room, a half-glimpsed peripheral
phantom.
*Definately losing it. What would your teacher think if he saw you now?*
She spat out a curse, her eyes searching the dark corners for any detectable
motion.
Another set of tracks, crossing behind where she had just been standing.
Cloven feet.
*And what about your lover, Annie? He doesn't like you listening to ghosts,
how do you think he'd feel about you chasing them?*

--to be continued, later-- (Don't you just hate cliffhangers you don't really
care much about anyway?)

--------------------------