Message-Id: <199804191922.OAA10814@zoom.bga.com>
Date: Sun, 19 Apr 1998 14:22:43 -0400
From: "Quinn@GhostWheel" <someone@ghostwheel.mud.org>
To: quinn@netsville.com
Subject: GhostWheel Message(s) 547 - 585 from *storylines (#5236)
Status: U

Message 547 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Fri Mar 13 06:56:11 1998 EST
From:     Lykaj (#6068)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  ShadowGaurd

Lykaj tapped the nail in the wood with the hammer a few more times for good
measure. He stood back a few paces and looked over the sign he had made and
placed in front of the keep. "Now Open for Business" "Help Wanted" it read.

"So hard to get good help these days" he mused to himself as he walked back
into the keep.

OOC
Attempting to bring back ShadowGaurd. Looking for people interested in RP.
Need Warriors, Mages, counslers, cooks..whatever.
What will you get by joining you ask?

You will not get paid. (Icly yes..but actually no. Dont have that kind of
crystals)

You will not get sparred by me.

You will not get cool spells or Shadow swords etc etc. (Perhaps in the
-distant- future)

Hopefully it will turn out to be an interesting group that can RP well and
create some plots withen the keep and out of the keep. Thats it.

Any questions/comments/flames/interest in the above, please -mail- lykaj.
Pages will be burned at the stake and your family will be locked in jail and
forever forgoten about.

Lyk

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


Message 548 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Fri Mar 13 09:00:11 1998 EST
From:     Asimov (#23360)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  The reawakening

Outside of the nuclear bunker huge waves of sand crashed down upon the earth,
sometimes slamming into the bunker. The inside of the bunker seemed peaceful
and almost serene.<<Computer>> "20 year hibernation complete. Scanning
lifeforms....All systems nominal." The cover of a cryogenic hibernation
capsule open. The man inside stood up and streched. <<Computer>> "Good Morning
Dr. Asimov... everything is running smoothly, and you?"
Asimov just noded and began to think. "I guess it is time to bring the clan
back isn't it, I wonder what the world is like."
"<<Computer>> "The mage population has more than double from the time you begn
your hypersleep."
Asimov rubs his chin, and then smiles, "Well then... bust out the scalpels...
it's time to rebuild the army.." And with that he went to the kitchen to
prepare breakfastfor the log day ahead of him.

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


Message 549 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Fri Mar 13 09:34:52 1998 EST
From:     Dante (#10660)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Sign upon landing at Ghostwheel

The people of ghostwheel are officially invited to partake a fine beverage to
the Tinder Box. We now offer large furniture objects which you can beat people
with. See Mistress Sammie do her dance of no veils and no surprises! Tired of
the morons blocking exist in the r/t building? Sick of The so called rulers of
the world tormenting your very life? COme to the Tinder Box where if we don't
like you, we'll burn the place down with you inside!

        -The Management, Official guardians of ghostwheel.
             --Dante & Skeeter.

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


Message 550 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Fri Mar 13 10:28:51 1998 EST
From:     Rathe (#14172)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

Hey, *I'm* the one who burned down the tinderbox last time. I don't even get
honorable mention? ;)
Yeah, and this is OOC and such

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


Message 551 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Fri Mar 13 11:06:55 1998 EST
From:     Rathe (#14172)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

Rathe sighed to himself, glancing around maison Mystique's abandoned
ballroom-turned-throneroom. He began to singnal for wine, but then realized
that none of his staff was in the room. "Ah," he mumbled to himself, "they're
all dead."...Well, either that or they were frightened to come within ten feet
of him. "I really will have to hire some new help."

----
OOC!

Well, I, kiddies, along with all the other aspiring warlords, am seeking help!
Looking primarily for bard types, advisors, et cetera. Warriors and such work
too, of  course. Am primarily looking for rp-intensive individuals, people who
play interesting roles...stats aren't really too much of an issue.

You will of course get IC pay, from all the money of Tadewi's Rathe gets to
squander! Woo woo! As for coded pay, -maybe-, all the spare eq and cash I have
floating around will prolly filter down to Rathe's staff.

You're quite welcome to spar each other. Enjoy :P

Help Rathe commit atrocities! Hang with the damned coolest necromancer this
side of the Bayou! (And if the villagers ever revolt, hang literally!) Pillage
the women and rape the fields! Burn the witch!  BURN THE!...well, right.
anyway.
Mail me if you're interested. Then we'll all get together and streak Lykaj's
shadow keep!

--Rathe

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


Message 552 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Fri Mar 13 12:42:24 1998 EST
From:     Seraph (#16551)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Wanted:

One triskelion, good condition. Prices can be negotiated, and seller will not
walk away displeased.

[This text is found on a note written on the R/T lounge wall.]

Contact Seraph via the normal means if you would be interested in selling.

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


Message 553 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Fri Mar 13 13:07:19 1998 EST
From:     Ylaerin (#16541)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  [Ylaerin (#16541):  'I was cast away and found again..']

Date:     Fri Mar 13 13:06:23 1998 CST
From:     Ylaerin (#16541)
To:       Ylaerin (#16541)
Subject:  'I was cast away and found again..'

   The mists parted, and Ylaerins breath caught in her chest.  It had been so
long, it seemed, since shed seen the Other Side.  She smiled to herself; a
gift it was, indeed, this thing her old friend Morpheus had named The Sight,
and she wondered if the gift was present in her children her children who
often seemed so strange, even to her.  Once more, she chuckled to herself -
shed been thought different and odd as a child her parents had often told her
that she was a little strange around the eyes...
   Standing on the moor, the heather tickling her ankles, she began to look
around for Syyrl.  Usually, she could see him coming over the rise almost as
soon as she figured out where she was - the Other World was always a little
disorienting unless explicitly sought.  But no tall figure draped in violet
met her eye, and she felt her heart sinking when a voice behind her said
simply, "He wont be here, Laerin."
   Ylaerin jumped a little, and turned to meet the bright green eyes of The
Bard.  His sandy hair waved in the breeze, and he was smiling kindly despite
his words.  "Greetings,"  Etra said, automatically, and curtseyed low.  As she
did so, she wondered that the ever-present weight of her harp was not on her
back for this trip.
   "Hes done his service, Laerin,"  Taliesin said, taking her arm, "And though
he misses you deeply, hes gone to his rest.  That little display he made to
you and yours those few weeks back took everything he had left.  Hell always
be with you, but you must say goodbye to his form - as he has, and has to you
as well."
   Etra nodded, and decided to move past her personal troubles to the matter
at hand, "Youve called me, master.  What will you of me?"
   He stopped, and turned to face her, taking her shoulders in his hands.
"The time has come, Ylaerin Shar, DragonBard and Rider of Lyrtyzluthe.  The
time Ive been waiting so long for has come - and youve been waiting, too, even
if you are too busy and scattered to notice."
   She gave him a puzzled glance; there was an intensity in his eyes,
something she was not surprised at seeing, but *was* surprised to have it
aimed at her.  He looked at her as though she were a prize, a reward  She said
to him, "Wha.."
   He cut her off, gripping her shoulders with slightly more force, "I gave
you the silver branch, Lyetra.  Gave it to you with my own hands.  You took it
with you *out* of the void.  I take it back now,"  she gasped and he shook his
head, "I took it back already.  But only to rebind your staff."
   "Im afraid I dont-", she began, then stopped.  "Ah," was all she could
bring herself to say.
    "Yes," he nodded, grinning like the boy he hadnt been for more than two
millennia. He stepped back, releasing her, and produced her staff and harp
from (essentially) nowhere.  The harp he handed back without a word - she
noted that the chip in one of the eyes where she had mysteriously dropped it
had not been repaired.  Would not be repaired; if he had seen fit, he would
have done it.   He held the staff out to her, and not only did it shimmer with
the new golden trappings, and jingle softly with gold & silver bells, but it
had three new carvings on the opposite side of the wrapping - Ogham carvings
meant as talismans.  There had already been Rowan (protection), Willow (the
sorrows shed fought), and Vine (prosperity). Now there was also Alder
(rebirth), Oak (knowledge), and Ivy (ever green).  Ylaerin smiled, and
accepted the staff on bended knee.
   "Kindly get up, lass," was the jovial response, and they both laughed. The
Bard continued speaking, starting by quoting his own work, "Who shall tell the
tales? / Who shall remember the stories?" he said, in his own ancient Welsh,
and then, in Etras Gaelic, "You shall.  And your son. And those who come after
you.  Its time. Call the Bards to you and band them together not for the sake
of your own authority, but for the sake of remembrance and furtherance of the
traditions.  If they do not know the songs and tales, teach them. If they
forget the fingering of their lutes, show them.  Send them out far and wide;
the Wheel shall ring with song as Britain did in days long past.  Man has been
sleeping too long go and wake him.  You are my Ollamh."
   And with those words, he released her from the dream.  She found her way
home, back to dragon wings and warm beds, and resolved to go to Yjezra and
Lyrzrath in the morning.

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


Message 554 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Fri Mar 13 13:09:41 1998 EST
From:     Ylaerin (#16541)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  My Last...

OOC: Sorry about the length. ;)

I am trying to organize an aossciation of Bards to tie in with several ideas
we had at last night's RP meeting. If you play a BArd already - or are
interested in this kind of RP - please get in touch with me via moomail. I'm
not really 'in charge', and this ins't a new class or anything like that..
it's open to whoever and holds no true limitations. Hopefully Seraph and/or
Akane (and/or Hannibal) will lend me a hand with the details. Happy MOOing. :)

-Jess / Etra

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


Message 555 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Fri Mar 13 20:04:57 1998 EST
From:     Dwight (#20455)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

Dwight sat on his bed, gazing at the viewing screen. Miles of forestry laid
out before him. A dragon roared past the small camera, the noise causing
Pepper to turn in her sleep. His eyes narrowed slightly as he thought...

"The time has come methinks to bring this wretched place together. Perhaps
then, I will not have to keep my.. troops marching the peremeters, hunting for
creatures which enter my city.. Yes.. I think we need to do something like
that.. A... council perhaps."

He grinned thinly, "Perhaps through this, I can gain some more land for..
annexation purposes.." he chuckled to himself, and patted Pepper's side
lightly, then stood up and made his way to the refrigerator unit, grabbing a
coke and sitting in the recliner.

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


Message 556 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sat Mar 14 01:29:26 1998 EST
From:     Resin (#14555)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  TinderBox

I helped burn down the Espada and all I got was this lousey soulcurse *cough*.
Didn't even get paid for redecorating.  I think it's time for some more...

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


Message 557 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Mar 15 20:19:14 1998 EST
From:     Devon (#23970)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  The cost of a soul.

The shadowy chill of the night crept across Devon's skin as he stared off the
ledge of Mount Morlith. He had been pacing the halls for the past two nights
occasionally going down to greet people and see what he could do to solve his
dilemma. He paused and glanced back to the living caverns wishing that his
life was so loosely held by a string. Holding his teeth together he thought
about Coreen's offer, other then her no one had been willing to take the
savrafice to bond their soul to his inorder so that he could remain in this
plane. Inwardly he sweared as he had day after day of no success in finding an
alternative. HE paused to brush the cavern's curtain aside and visibly tensed
as his hand passed through the curtain. He felt the common sickly feeling of
being intangible as thought passing between two worlds.

    He recalled the images Coreen had introduced into his mind. The anger and
the pain was unbearable, not the experiences but that feelings she had towards
them. He understood her a bit more as he thought about where her power came
from, perhaps with the bond he could try to help her? He might even do some
good for her. But there was the otherside of things, the malevolence in her
mind. If she saw the things Devon had done, she experienced the pain of his
lifetimes both fae and mortal her mind might shatter further, turning her into
some sort of horrid monster in result. He visibly tenced as he sat on the bed
regaining his corporial form. He smile at his sleeping wife and children, he
couldn't cost the pain to leave them. Reaching down to touch Myst's cheek his
hand turned into smoke passing through her as he silently wepped for being
unable to choose.

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


Message 558 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Mar 16 03:26:59 1998 EST
From:     Griffith (#24224)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Tunnels

Griffith admired his handiwork, "if they want these tunnels they can keep
them. But damned if I am moving from my new home." With that, he lit the fuse
on the homemade molotov cocktail and toss it onto the pile of other explosive
substances he had gathered. Then he ran like hell out of the tunnel to a safe
waiting area. A muffled crump followed by a billowing of dust signaled his
success. Griffith stepped back into the nexus. his bandana over his mouth and
nose to filter the dust. "One side down, one to go."


OOC note: The tunnels connected to the Immense chamber under the DRT are now
blocked by a few good feet of rubble.

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


Message 559 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Mar 16 19:01:40 1998 EST
From:     Dwight (#20455)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Wanted

A small little advertisement is tacked up inside the R/T Lounge

To whom it may concern

Am currently looking for a lab assistant of sorts. They must be willing to
work without pay, or very little pay, seeing as how most of my.. money goes
into hardware for the lab. They must be willing to abide by my rules. Please
contact me for more informations.

Dwight Laurence, CEO Shadowbrook Labs.

(ooc: contact via @mail, please)

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


Message 560 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Mar 16 20:15:48 1998 EST
From:     Williker (#20481)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Posted

Nailed around Drach'Nal and the R/T buidling..

Wanted: One lost longsword. Rumors say it might be underwater, if not. Karcass
has it. Reward for finder.

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


Message 561 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Mar 16 20:17:34 1998 EST
From:     Williker (#20481)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

<For last.. heh heh.> Contant Williker if found.

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


Message 562 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue Mar 17 15:30:06 1998 EST
From:     Kynwal (#20497)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  GhostWheel Wars: Part XXVVII

Need it be said this is an OOC post?....

In a port far, far, far away in the 6969 cluster of the Bga.Com galaxy
 there was a little MOO known as GhostWheel. This is the tale of the
  heroic struggle of its $players. We pick up our story not at the
   beginning, for that would not make good marketing sense,
     instead we will start way past the beginning....

*The Banzai flies along the Wasteland cut to figure in a field(?) below.*
Voice: Luc! Luc! Have you finished planting thos chickens, yet?
Luc Skywalker: No fatha! Ah 'ave not ad ah chance to yet!

          ****Cut to R/T Building****

Princess Claya leaning over and talking to some garbage can looking thing.
*Explosions and sound of something landing on the roof*
*Enter from above figures wear GWAR and KISS costumes*
Claya: Fuck! Go R2Tad2 I will take them all on! *draws her two knives*
*Lots of shooting and no one dies except for a couple members of GWAR*
*Theme from Shaft Plays. Enter Rathe Vader.*
Rathe Vader: So Princess, finally I have you. You were told not to taunt Happy
Fun NecroEmpire.

*Meanwhile.....just down below in the Guest Chamber...*

CShaePO: R2Tad2 where are you! When I find you I am going to kick in your shin
sensors!
*Bumps into Tad2.*
R2Tad2: How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop?
CShaePO: (Kicks Tad2 in the shin sensors) Don't you get smart with me you
mobile garbage can! We have to escape! Rathe Vader is in the R/T!
Tad2: The choice of a new generation.
CShaePO: He is NOT always here! Let's go!


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


Message 563 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue Mar 17 18:55:37 1998 EST
From:     Rathe (#14172)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

Hee, nice post ;)

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


Message 564 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue Mar 17 21:43:11 1998 EST
From:     Ylaerin (#16541)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

OOC NOTE: This is gonna be happy. Deal with it. <grin> [This also might be
crazy, cause I'm not feeling well!]

Ylaerin tucked her children into bed, letting part of her mind drift with
Luthe in his evening flying.  Rowan clutched the toy dragon to his chest,
already drifting downward into sleep... the dragon which had once been Yggy's
-- a gift to her son from his 'Uncle' Devon. She smiled to herself, settling
the blankets around Rhianna and humming softly to them both to sooth their
journey into sleep.
When she was satisfied that they were both at ease for the night, she pulled
back the curtain on the little room and went out into their main living
cavern. Lanyrrli was out flying with her sapphire, and Yshar was seated on the
bed sharpening his blades. 'Put those away, would you, love?' Etra said
sweetly, 'Put an arm around your weary wife.'  Yshar happily obliged her,
kissing her cheek.
'Surely you know, dearest, what today is often thought of as?' He asked,
hugging her shoulders and smiling at her. His raised eyebrow when she shook
her head was enough to tell her she'd managed (in her distraction with
children and pregnancy) to forget something that was most likely important.
'It's the day of Valentines,' he grinned, 'A day for lovers.'
'Oh, Strafe,' Etra's eyes went wide, 'Surely you're not implyin...'  he never
let her finish, only soothed her thoughts by rubbing her aching shoulders. She
changed the subject gracefully, 'Our eldest son now two years and two days...
our third wedding mark coming up... my 23d year, Annie's first birthday...'
she paused, swallowing, 'And in no more than a few days, yet another child.'
If her husband caught the worry and fear which was veiled in her tone, he did
not react to it. Luthe, somewhere over an ocean, wryly observed that the
question would probably be aimed at him. Devon's words came back into her mind
- how if the child was changelin, he would kill it without a second thought -
and Luthe quelled her rising worry. No harm would come to anyone, and Yshar
would stand by her evermore. She leaned back into her husband's arms, and let
him sooth the worry from her heart with his gentle attentions.

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


Message 565 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue Mar 17 21:44:31 1998 EST
From:     Rathe (#14172)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

Counter-post is forthcoming. Down with cuteness!

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


Message 566 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue Mar 17 21:47:48 1998 EST
From:     Ylaerin (#16541)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  RATHE!!

Buh. Can't you even give me St. Patrick's Day/IC Valentine's?

I say.. more happy! Sure, conflict is the core of every fictive 'plot', but
nontheless, it can't all be darkness and wormy magicks. *grin* Besides -
Etra's been down down down lately. Cut me some slack, eh? ;)

-Jess / Etra  {the ill one :P}

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


Message 567 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue Mar 17 23:34:54 1998 EST
From:     Kynwal (#20497)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  GW wars Continued

Continuation from 562.

Voice (Higher pitch): Luuuuuuuuc! We are going to see if the The Stalinga's
about a couple of new 'roids. Come along.
Luc: (sighs) Coming!

*Dissolve then show big transport Mech with a bunch of little robed guys
running around*

Luc looking around: I don' see many good ones hear pappa.
Father: Ah think these are all dis junk.
Luc: This one she looks good.
CShaePO: Of course I am good you idiot! Are you blind! Don't make me kick your
shins!
Luc: Uh yeah. And maybe that trash can too.
R2Tad2: The fresmaker!
Luc: Wha-?
CShaePO: Don't mind him. He just needs a good kick in the shin servos.
Luc: Ah can see that. Let's go.

***Later that evening after a healthy cainid and ROUS meal****

Luc: 'ey! Where as little one?
CShaePo: That tin can ran off into the wasteland!
Luc: Now ah have to go get 'em!

***Speeding across the wastes in a beat up chevy pickup.***

Luc: There 'e is!
R2Tad2: There is nothing two sticks of Twix can't fix!
Luc: What's 'e saying now?
CShaePO: He said we are surrounded by Trazkan Raiders!

*On cue, a Trazkan raider makes a sheep bleating noise.*

Luc: Oh great. We betta get outta here.

-A voice is heard from behind a dune...-
Voice: @stop Trazkan one. @stop trazkan two.

*The Trazkan stop moving.*
Everyone looks to see who is doing the speaking. A man wearing a t-shirt and
boxers wanders over.

Luc: Old Quinn!
Quinn: You guys looked like you needed some help.
R2Tad2: K-mart! Your savings place.
CShaePo: No! You can't have any Blue oil right now!

Suddenly Tad2 shoots out a beam of video. (Chance for wizbanger special
effects)

Princess Clays is shown saying (over and over) "Obi-Quinn Kenobi, you're my
only hope. I have forgotten my password and need a new one.
Luc: Hey! That looks like you Quinn!
Quinn: No one has ever called me Obi-Quinn before.

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


Message 568 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed Mar 18 07:04:43 1998 EST
From:     Tarla (#18104)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  of Personal Crisis and addictions....

Tarla sat at the tiny kitchen table in the small apartment she shared with her
sister, late into the night.  She stared at the developing scar on the palm of
her hand, running her finger across the still tender silvery skin of the burn,
unwilling to heal it away.  A small shudder of pleasure went through her as
she relived the brief moment that led to that scar.  Then her mind drifted
back to the earlier events of the night...

Akane.  What did he want from her?  He CLAIMED that he wanted only to learn
more of her... that he wanted nothing more than to teach her and to be her
friend.... but he was a man.... and men couldn't be trusted.  NO ONE could be
trusted... no one but Shy.  A lifetime of pain and abuse had taught her that
much at least.

And yet...

She pushed the rebellious thoughts from her mind. "Remember... trust can get
you killed...."

Tarla glanced over her shoulder at her sister's sleeping form, reassuring
herself that Shynara slept soundly and would not wake, then she pushed back
from the table and walked to the corner of thier small room, lifting away the
top of the tiny panel she had carved here secretly and reaching into the
darkness within.  Her hand closed around the prize she sought and, with
trembling hands, she withdrew a small hyposyrenge cartredge from her dwindling
stash.

After carefully replacing the cover she stood and moved the chair that held
her belongings back over the tiny compartment, then fished in her medkit for
the hyposyrynge and gently pushed the cartridge into it.  She closed her eyes
and placed the hypo at the base of her neck, thumbing the button that sent the
powerful drug coursing directly into her bloodstream.  With a stifled gasp she
stiffened, then relaxed with a sigh that was almost a purr and opened her
eyes, removing the empty cartridge and placing the hypo back in it's
compartment in her medkit.

She ran her hands down her sides, revelling in the senstations, then moved to
an open window and tossed the empty cartridge out into the sea... and stood
there, transfixed by the sight of the moon reflected on the water until it
sank below the horizon.

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


Message 569 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed Mar 18 09:06:36 1998 EST
From:     Red_Fang (#5907)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  things to do

Red went over his list of things to do...

Kill Lord Stryfe..
Capture Lady Yjezra..
Loot Khyber..

Pick up some milk and a loaf of bread for da wife..

Oh a busy life indeed..

Red wandered over to the R/T lounge to have a few drinks and ponder his
responsiblities...


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


Message 570 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed Mar 18 10:51:01 1998 EST
From:     Kynwal (#20497)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  And the saga continues, GhostWars

See post 562 and 567 for the previous two parts.

Luc: Dat is you? Geezus? I heard about you from the Great Lambda System!
Quinn: Yes, Luc. I am a great Coder. Like your father.
Luc: Wow! I wanna be a great Coder too!
Quinn: Of course. We all do.

*Cut to interior of the Desert Rat Tavern, a table in the corner.*

Kzeedo: So, Kyn Solo, do you have those crystals?
Kyn Solo: I am getting them. Trust me. I can only get a thousand an hour. I am
good for it.
(Slowly Kyn turns his sawed-off shotgun towards Kzeedo's midsection under the
table.)
Kzeedo: Denalba will not be pleased. But then again, I can bring him your
death pile to compensate. (Kzeedo draws his gun.)

*There is a loud blast as Kzeedo grows another orifice in his midsection. The
bar patrons take no notice. Cheesy lounge lizard music plays on.*

**Enter Quinn, Luc, and the 'roids.**

Bart: We don't serve their kind in here!
Quinn waves a hand, mutters: Bart, say On second thought, yes we do.
Bart: On second thought, yes we do.
Luc looks around, then follows Quinn to sit with MoonWookie and Kyn Solo.
Kyn: I pilot The Fnord Shuttle. The fatest shuttle this side of the Wheel. She
did the Jizo run in under two minutes flat.
Quinn: Whatever. We'll take it. Since I can't @gate anymore, taking passengers
is a pain.
MoonWookie: I think my hirsutism is exacerbated by this arid desert clime.
That and my dandruff is acting up.

***Cut to interior of the Indigo. Quinn and Luc are trying out Programming.***

Luc: (curses and throws his wind-up duck across the shuttle) Error line 7! I
will never get this working!
Quinn: Just keep reading the manual. You will get the duck working soon.
Kyn: Moonwookie! Why the hell are we going towards the R/T?!?! I didn't set
that course.
MoonWookie: Well, it looks like the transverse thruster has shifted and thrown
off our co-ordinate axis by a latitidue of twelve minutes. Thusly, ensuring...
Kyn: Wha-?
R2Tad2: Just do it.
CShaePO: Cousin it is saying the shuttle is on autopilot.

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


Message 571 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed Mar 18 11:39:15 1998 EST
From:     Kynwal (#20497)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Somebody Stop me! GW wars

You know the drill: 562 567 570

**The Fnord lands at the R/T. The heroes are surrounded by troopers dressed as
Twisted Sister.***

R2Tad2: Mom, do you douche?
CShaePO: (kicks Tad2's shin servos) Shut the hell up.
Kyn: What are we going to do? We have to find Princess Claya.
Quinn: No problem. I will move her to you. Meanwhile, I am to play Rathe
Vader. I will be back.
Kyn: Gotcha.
(Quinn vanishes for parts unknown. Princess Claya has arrived.)

**Cut to R/T Scrabble Lounge, VooDoo Board. Quinn has 1 bazillion points,
Rathe has 999 million points.**

Rathe: (plays the word Azo) Hah! Quintiple word score! That that Obi-Quinn!
Quinn: I see you have been practicing. Either that or you have a small word
book. (Ob-Quinn studies the board.)
Rathe: Feh! You just have to understand I am better then you at this.
(Quinn idles, perhaps in deep thought.)
Rathe: (twitches) It's your turn Obi-Quinn.

***Time passes. The others wait on the Indigo.***

Kyn: It's been over an hour! Where is Obi-Quinn!
Claya: Well, at least I got my new password.
MoonWookie: Perhaps Rathe Vader and Obi-Quinn are locked in the ancient,
mystical, metaphysical, battle of wits, hand of death scrabble rally with
double overtime.
Kyn: You lost me again.
CShaePO: Maybe Quinn has idled out again.
R2Tad2: Visa. Everywhere you want to be.

**Cut back to VooDoo Board**

Rathe: (plays with the enui doll) Oh no Lord Vader! You are the meanest and
the badest!
Quinn: (idles)
(Rathe yawns.)
*Quinn has disconnected.*
Rathe: YES! I am all powerful! I am the Scrabble GOD!

**Meanwhile on the Indigo**

Kyn: (powering up the shuttle) We need to get out of here. They are beginning
to play horrible glam heavy metal
Kyn: (powering up the shuttle) We need to get out of here. They are beginning
to play horrible glam heavy metal song again.

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


Message 572 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed Mar 18 14:28:33 1998 EST
From:     Jamie (#18105)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Things to do

  Jamie went over her mental list of things to do...

1) Throw party. Remember to Invite Stryfe, Khyber and Rathe.
2) Visit forgotten friends on Morlith
3) Stir up a bit of trouble. Life had been too quiet lately.
4) Leave Red enough frozen TV dinners to eat.

Oh a soon to be busy life indeed..

Jamie wandered over to the R/T lounge to have a few drinks and ponder her
responsibilities...


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


Message 573 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed Mar 18 16:54:49 1998 EST
From:     Red_Fang (#5907)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Frozen Dinners

Red looked about the house for something to eat.. Frozen dinners again!!
Damn.. Not even a clean cup to drink out of..

So wandering back out to the R/T lounge he decided he'd have a few drinks for
dinner and ponder what to do next..

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


Message 574 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Thu Mar 19 01:54:15 1998 EST
From:     Jamie (#18105)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Oh, what to do.

 Jamie sat in the R/T lounge, writing absently on a scrap peice of paper. *Who
am I missing?* she thought. She glanced down at her list of names, speaking
them softly as she read down.
Rathe
Stryfe
Moonheart
Khyber
Ylaerin and Yshar
Yalindra and Devon
Yjezra?.. * she wasnt sure she would come..but would ask.*
Kzin?..Darius Lee?   *Perhaps she has changed some with having her own
children.. pups?*
Skywalker, of course.  *Was he stil married to the mage?*

She tapped her pencil on the table. Frustrated at her lack of memory. *Another
shot of whiskey should help* she thought, placing the paper and pencil in her
bag as more people filtered into the lounge.


OOC:sorry iffin i forgot you.. its been a LONG time since Jamie has been out,
and i dont totally remember everyone she's friends with. PAGE ME, k?.. IF i
did.

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


Message 575 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Thu Mar 19 09:36:17 1998 EST
From:     Melira (#18088)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  The taste of success...

And so it seemed that she had learned something, after all. That not
everything was failure... and this was more than relieving, considering the
downward spiral she had seen her life as up until just a while ago. This was
liberating. It was a revelation. It was a *change*... and what's more, it was
a change in her favor.
She had chosen, and had chosen wisely.  She had demonstrated the brains that
she always knew were there, the wit she had always known to be sharp and more
valuable than just a laugh.  True, she'd made mistakes... several largely
stupid ones.  But it seemed now that even these could be ironed out.
She was known as Magistra, now. Despite everything. Who was it that had told
her the gift she bore was strong? It hardly matter now -- though she
nevertheless sent out silent thanks -- it had proven to be true.  She'd taken
one more step toward being her own person.. dependent on no one... calling the
shots.
She recalled the faces at the gathering.  The mutual respect... something
vaguely like admiration.  They welcomed her as one of them; not beneath them,
below them, a lackey, a student. But one OF them. One growing into becoming an
equal... and that was even more intoxicating than the taste of power that came
with the title.
So maybe she would change for the better? Iron her personal difficulties out
with Lord Rathe? Get  a nice place... cultivate her relationship with
Treigan... Sure, he was young, but he was also handsome and smart and not the
type to stand in her way on things. He respected her too, she realized; he
might not understand a single things about the Art, but that hardly mattered.
And being a better person didn't necessarily mean changing for those around
her... no goody-two-shoes junk had to happen. No... rather, it meant as Rathe
always said (or at least a paraphrasing of that) All for one and that one is
me. Better for herself. In her own eyes.
She flung herself onto the bed, not minding the squealing protest of bad
springs, or the heavy mildewy sensation that hadn't left the chambers since
the flooding. Tomorrow.  Tomorrow she would get a nicer place. Tomorrow she
would smile winsomely at Treigan, and speak to Rathe about her thoughts.
Tomorrow, indeed. The power starts tonight, she thought, and it's for no one
at all but myself.
And for the first time in her short life, Melira believed her own wrods,
smiled to herself, and set to playing with a finger-flame of fire that came
when she beckoned.

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


Message 576 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Thu Mar 19 10:18:20 1998 EST
From:     Dante (#10660)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Awakenings.

Dante walked the streets of N'Orleans, trying to center his thoughts as he
contemplated what was next for him. Deep inside him something gnawed at the
surface of his memory as he moved through the cemetary gates he felt drawn to
something. He passed behind the willows staring forward in understanding, he
was faced with the past. Brief flickers of memory shattered the spell Damien
had used to shield his memory. He hadn't understood why he felt so cruel to
Anne till this moment, when he did it he felt a sickening joy of making her
suffer. He remembered now, who he was before.... He thought back on the past
months and smiled to himself, perhaps Damien's spell was a gift to show him a
different view of life. Shaking his head he decided to remain Dante. Dauthi
was a child striking back at the world, he would try to be more subtle.
Chuckling quietly he stepped back into his coffin waving a hand as the
firelight flickered and returned, he was home better for worse.

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


Message 577 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Thu Mar 19 12:59:38 1998 EST
From:     Kynwal (#20497)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  GhostWars - The conflict

562 567 570

*** Fade into R/T Round Room ***

(Rathe Vader arrives from below. Guards dressed as Poison and Stryper salute.
Lt. Gene Simmons steps forward, looking a bit nervous.)

Rathe: (looks to Gene) Report.
Gene: Um um. (His tongue suddenly flashes out in its historic display.)
Rathe: Disgusting!
(Rathe gestures and Gene is teleported into a large crate marked 'crystals'.)

****Out in the Wastes, a bunch of people with the heroes are standing around
in a circle of Mechs.***

Kyn: (kneeling in the dirt holding a stick. In front of him a diagram of
lines, circles and x's and o's.) Everybody got out plan?
Claya: What are we waiting for? Damn. We talk too much!
Tad2: It keeps going and going.
MoonWookie: My visual and mental-
Kyn: (to MoonWookie) You got it.

*** A bunch of SoulMech's begin to run along the Wastes in a straightline. ***

Slayer: (looks up from a board that looks a lot like a lite-brite) Lord Vader,
we have a bunch of white blips at the top of the board.
Rathe: (peers at the image) Are you sure they are not part of the picture?
Slayer: Yes sir, I am doing a happy face. There is no white, just black and
yellow.
Rathe: Prepare my mech! To battle!

**Riding in his Mech, confering with the others.**

Kyn: Okay, we are going to try a hail mary. Claya, you and MoonWookie take
receiver. I will take QB the rest of you run blocking.
Claya: Come on! Let's kick butt!
(everyone scrambles into position, crouching. The opposing force lines up.)
Quinn pages Kyn: Remember Kyn, use your GEO powers...
Rathe: (to his team) Okay, we are going to blitz, people.

*A clanging and clashings is heard as the two teams...err forces join.*

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


Message 578 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Thu Mar 19 13:21:44 1998 EST
From:     Kynwal (#20497)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Bad typing skills (previous post)

See what happens when you skip the editors? Quinn pages Luc not Kyn. -=0)

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


Message 579 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Thu Mar 19 15:39:35 1998 EST
From:     Akane (#14270)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

Akane sat in the dark, dim, dank chambers beneath the hall of the
spellsingers, drumming his fingers on an overturned bookshelf, listening as
the thrumming of the generators which kept -his- hall cool in the summer, warm
in the winter.

"Seems Tarla does not trust me." his thoughts drifted back to their
conversation before he left.  "She accuses me of wanting to do whatever to
her.." his anger caused his drumming to turn into a fist, which he slammed
through the back of the shelf. "Very well, she will learn my teachings, and
that is all." he smirked, "Not like A magister like myself is good for
anything. all I've done my life is watch others accel around me, even Morrigan
told me I would amount to nothing.. perhaps his visions have finally come
true.." he shrugged slightly as he pulled his bloody and splintered hand from
the remnants of the bookshelf. "One day I will show them," bitterness etched
in his voice, "Seems like I'm the one being thrown down the ranks when others
gain them."
He reached over with his left hand, grabbing the herbal tea mug with it.
Swallowing it down, he threw the mug aside, watching it splinter into large
ceramic fragments when it hit the brick wall. "They will succeed, that is
their own destiny. Mine is to suffer and watch them." he grinned to himself as
he began to pluck the splinters from his hand one by one.

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


Message 580 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Thu Mar 19 19:23:23 1998 EST
From:     Dwight (#20455)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  OOC Post

Need the IC "Leaders" of the Wheel and its surrounding areas (check *char) to
mail me with what they would like to contribute to the RP of the IC Political
System TP. Also, will need for the Leaders to select two or three IC reps, and
send them along as well.

Thanks!
Dwight

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


Message 581 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Thu Mar 19 19:24:51 1998 EST
From:     Dwight (#20455)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  OOC Addenum to last

The two to three reps are just a suggestion, you don't really need'em.

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


Message 582 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Thu Mar 19 22:51:08 1998 EST
From:     Rathe (#14172)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  You tell me if this is an OOC post..

Father Rathe, the Amish, was worried about Ylaerin's birth at first. These
things happened only so often, and the council would expell him from their
bible studies class if he failed. Stroking his beard thoughtfully, he watched
Ylaerin warily, sitting through the hours of contractions.
Finally, after many hours of waiting, there was a loud squealing noise, and a
clank as the bloody bundle of joy fell into the metal bucket Rathe had
provided. He quickly rushed forward, cutting the cord and picking the bucket
up.
Thankfully, Rathe's prayers to the almighty had worked, and the child did not
posess pointed ears. Smiling to himself, Rathe signalled for his fifteen sons
to hitch the buggy, and prepared to take the child to market. He would fetch a
good price, and his boys would drink fresh lactaid tonight, aye.


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


Message 584 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Thu Mar 19 23:27:05 1998 EST
From:     Rathe (#14172)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

ignore last was supposed to go to dwight (I @rmmail'd it)

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


Message 585 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Thu Mar 19 23:33:03 1998 EST
From:     Kynwal (#20497)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  GhostWars -The End?

562 567 570 571 (you know them all by now)

*Kyn Solo fades back. Luc Skywalker tries to run to the R/T. Rathe Vader tries
to sack Kyn.*

Kyn: (looking for an opening) Blue Darius and Red Red, stop Rathe Vader!
Blue Darius: (smashes an oponent before getting hit by Rathe.) Woo! I booste-
*Blue Darius is killed.*

*Red Red holds off Rathe Vader for a few moments.*
Red Red: I am a legend in my own mind!
Rathe: And?
Red Red: Women want me!
Rathe: (hands red an inflatable woman)

(While Red is distracted, Rathe runs over and attacks Kyn.)

Kyn: OW!
(Rathe knocks Kyn out. Luc dodges people and almost reaches the R/T entrance.)
Rathe: Damn! (He pulls out a warp tube and with a flash appears in front of
Luc and the entrance.)
(Luc skids to a stop.)
Rathe: (aims his guns at Luc) You are not going anywhere, Luc!
Luc: Ah think I am.
(Luc vanishes for parts unknown.)
Rathe: Dammit!

(The door to the R/T slams shut. Rathe Vader, seeing he has lost for now,
pulls out a small card and crumbles into pieces, vanishing.)

                       *** The End ***

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