Message-Id: <199804261922.OAA24796@zoom.bga.com>
Date: Sun, 26 Apr 1998 14:22:52 -0400
From: "Quinn@GhostWheel" <someone@ghostwheel.mud.org>
To: quinn@netsville.com
Subject: GhostWheel Message(s) 586 - 605 from *storylines (#5236)
Status: RO

Message 586 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Fri Mar 20 00:48:34 1998 EST
From:     Kynwal (#20497)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  I would like to thank the Academy...

562 567 570 571 585


                        * CREDITS *

    Luc Skywalker                             Luc Delaroi
    Rathe Vader                               Rathe
    R2Tad2                                    Tadewi
    CShaePO                                   Shaelin
    Obi-Quinn Kenobi                          Quinn
    MoonWookie                                Moonheart
    Stalinga's                                Stalinger
    Kzeedo                                    Kzin
    Blue Darius                               Darius Lee
    Red Red                                   Red Fang
    Slayer                                    Slayer
    Gene Simmons                              Himself
    Princess Claya                            Clayson
    Kyn Solo                                  Kynwal

Special Thanks To:

                          GWAR
                         Poison
                      Twisted Sister
                          KISS
                   Real Time Incorporated
                         Stryper

*All opinions and parodies do not necessarily reflect on the characters and/or
actors they are named after or played by. Any resemblance to any characters
either wholly played or partially played is coincidental.


@ All Rights Reserved, GUS Productions. Copyright 1998.
This parody is protected by no pursuants of any laws.

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


Message 587 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Fri Mar 20 23:03:39 1998 EST
From:     Brinn (#12457)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  [More MooBabies for $elf]

She kept her back turned, her body held stiffly by more than exhaustiona nd
pain. The..thing.. had finally made its presense known in this world after
hours of wraking pain.
She heard Ybrielle and Yjimmy talking in the room, the squall of the..child..
She knew Ybrielle didnt understand how she felt..didn;t care. It was Her body
that had been used as a..a .. a incubator for some..abomination. Soemthing
that was not human..it didnt even look human!
It..there was no visible gender..its skin was rough, a dark greenish brown,
solid body, tho it looked underfed, the legs and arms..GODS..short..seeming to
bend at all angles, surely nothing human could look like that..and its
head..That cinched it..The head was mishapened..those long, long sharply
pointed ears that extended well beyond the dome of its head. They twitched at
her when she took her first and last look at the ..thing that lay
there..Gods..it had teeth! Sharp, evil things..babies dont have teeth!
She shuddered as YJimael left with it..taking it from her rooms and Ybrielle
got her cleaned up. No..it wasn't any child of _Her_ blood. It didn;t belong
on the Mount..just as she had whispered to Jimmy as he left with ..it..'Throw
the abomination from the ledge.'

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


Message 588 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Fri Mar 20 23:08:13 1998 EST
From:     Oni_Lao (#23321)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  In Another's Eyes.

Oni Lao jerked her head up, trying hard not to fall asleep at the controls of
The Lotus.  Erik's voice crackled over the radio, the static of distance
echoing like nails on a chalkboard. "Oni, get over here now, you're needed."
She flicked the radio on, fingers selectively flicking dials and switches,
"I'm on my way, Erik."  She shook her head and suddenly had a strong desire
for another cup of coffee.
Thoughts of him drifted back to her like lingering incense, wafting through
the hallways of her mind.  She had attempted to get back to business as usual,
to push away that one night, but it seemed her Karma had twisted her fate into
this situation.  His smile seemed to shine in the back of her mind, and she
had to force herself to remain focused on the Lotus controlboard and the
mission ahead of her.  The more she fought it, however, the more it seemed to
settle in.
"I am becoming that which I once condemned and hated," she voiced aloud, and
oddly enough, it did not shame her to realize it.

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


Message 589 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sat Mar 21 00:12:22 1998 EST
From:     Rathe (#14172)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Re 587

Bastards! You killed elfi!
Shapechanging fae freaks have feelings too

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


Message 590 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sat Mar 21 13:08:20 1998 EST
From:     Lyr'tyzluthe (#16541)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  A dragon's thoughts..

Luthe sat moodily on the Ledge, staring off down into the valley. His BondMate
Ylaerin was no where near recovered from the happenings of the other evening
-- she'd given birth to a fae child, a beautiful thing but unhuman
nevertheless, and had nearly died in the process.  Luthe struggled, and
failed, to keep the black from his eyes as the memories of her drifting nearly
off into nothingness fluttered over them both. Any distance between them hurt
them both to the edge of madness, and he'd spent those agonizing moments
calling her as Devon and the submariner had... frantically trying to pull her
back to him.
It had been a [ainful evening all together... the closeness of their Bond did
not allow for stepping back from the terrible driving pain which had so
suddenly assaulted her. Watching her beg Rathe for help had hurt him nearly as
much; in her panic she could only fix on one thing, and blast if that 'thing'
hadn't been the elf. Then to have her nearly die once the child was born...
Luthe shuddered and snapped his wings shut tightly on his back.
Ylaerin's voice came soothing and quiet across the Bond, the colors of her
thoughts muted with weariness that hadn't yet abated. /My draig, stop
fretting... I need all the strength I can get../  The flood of affection he
answered her with couldn't be dampened. She was safe now, they would just take
everything one moment at a time. The important thing was that she was in this
world.. in their cavern... Alive and getting stronger.

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


Message 591 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Mar 22 00:41:17 1998 EST
From:     Nomar (#17488)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

A Note Posted Around N'Orleans And The R/T Building:

Would the owner of room 109 located in the St. Jean-Marc Appartment Builing,
please get in contact with Nomar as soon as possible. I have a buisness
proposition for the tenant of that room.
Dial 'Nomar' on your comm for more information if your the tenant or fell free
to leave me a mail message.
Thanks - Nomar

-*- END OF NOTE -*-

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


Message 592 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Mar 22 00:46:37 1998 EST
From:     Yjezra (#5512)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Is there a Doctor in the House???

Yjezra staggers, pale and clearly exhausted, her hand holding her distended
belly. "I..I need to..rest."  She spoke weakly and started toward the
curtained exit oif her friends cavern. They all looked so concerned, Irilyne
jumping up to help her, Devon looking at his sleeping, wife who still teetered
too close to the edge of death from her ordeal. YJimael followed to get the
list of herbs for Devon to give to Myst. Gods she was tired..and the pain, the
gripping in her belly would no longer be ignored.
She entered the cavern she and her husband Ynaoise shared, finding him gone.
Speaking to Lyrz as the first strong contraction hit, /Find Raven, Lyrz. Tell
him it is time../ She laid down on the bed, feeling Lyrzrath's worry and fear,
her dragonfriend wincing as pain wraked her body, knowing this was
normal..wasnt like before. Yjezra fought down her fear and waited.
She heard Lyrzrath in her head some time later as she lay gasping, sweat
covering her. /I cannot find him. Elshydrath says nothing./ Unable to respond,
Yjezra clutched her belly wraked with another contraction. She screamed out
and Yjimael and Irilynne rushed in just in time to see Yj convulse, her water
breaking, tinged with blood.
They worked fast, helping her, knowing from the past few recent births, that
this was not a normal one..Finally, Yjezra was delivered of a beautiful
girl..obviously Fae, with long, yet daintily pointed ears. Her skin was almost
a silver gray, her eyes a deep midnightblue-violet and she had long, silken
silver hair. They cleaned the mother and child, Irilyne staying with Yjezra,
rocking the quiet baby.

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


Message 593 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Mar 22 09:59:33 1998 EST
From:     Yalindra (#13170)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Treading on the edge

	Yalindra's mind sat on the edge of awareness, her body lying
(unknown to her) weak in her bed. What passed for her consciousness
drifted in a sea of darkness, completely alone. Or so she thought.
Like a large air bubble slowly rising from the depths, a thought floated
by and touched her. >>Yalindra...?<< The voice was familiar. The
thinking process seemed to take an eternity. Another bubble rose with
exactly the same question...Yalindra was a name...she knew that much.
The name was familiar, as was the voice... "Give me a moment..." her
consciousness thought, if it was capable of such an action. Yalindra...
That was the consciousness's name...the voice was... The name escaped
her. >>Yalindra, I can barely feel your presence...<< the voice bubbled.
The consciousness took a moment to recall that it was called Yalindra,
and was being addressed. Intrigued by the prospect of not being alone
in the murky depths, the consciousness...swam?..towards the voice.
Could it swim, possessing no limbs, no corporeal body with which to
move through the water - if it was water -? >>Yalindra..?<< the voice
called out, stronger this time. -Myr?- the consciousness found itself
replying. Myr? Was that the name of the voice which called? A light
shone in the direction the consciousness swam...the voice strengthened
as it drew nearer. >>Yalindra...<< the voice sounded relieved. >>You
had worried me...are you well?<< The consciousness had no concept of
wellness, and would have made some non-committal gesture had it been
in possession of a body. >>I lost contact with you after the hatching
.<< Hatching? A fragment of memory sped out of the darkness and
struck the floating consciousness with a blinding flash of light.
There had been a birthing...yes...the consciousness...Yalindra...
remembered going into labor...the great pain of the contractions.
She built on that fragment of memory. -Myr? How is the child?- she
asked, more out of curiosity than concern. >>Well, though it does not
resemble you or your kind...so I can not be sure...<< Another memory
struck her. Ylaerin's child...Brinn's child...Fae...her tail. A torrent
of recollection surged over the consciousness, and the light grew
brighter, until the darkness was merely a shadowy fog. Yet Yalindra
remained floating in the cold void... -Myr? Am I dead?- she ventured.
Out of the fog, a pair of oval looking glasses appeared, and she
could see the dim outlines of a pale woman lying in a bed in a dark,
rough-looking room. Was that her? -Of course it is.- her mind clawed
through the fog. >>You look to be sleeping to me...<< Myr's voice
came to her again. -If I am not dead, then how come I am aware?- she
mused. >>I do not know,<< came the answer across the Soulbond...an
answer that seemed long and distant, as if the bond stretched over
many leagues to reach her. She sighed - if her floating spirit could
sigh - and set out to wait. She would remember this as her most
difficult birth, her consciousness remarked wryly in its shadowy prison.

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


Message 594 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Mar 22 10:48:35 1998 EST
From:     Devon (#23970)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Choices.

Devon awoke staring at Yalindra sadly. She just laid there like a statue, the
new baby lying at her side quietly sleeping. Bersa'at, so much like the
crystal, and yet strong as a bear he thought it suited him. He glanced at
Yalindra, unsure of what to do. A simple cut and she could return the by the
eagle unharmed but he coulkdn't bringh imself to do that, the price of life
was too high and she had suffered already, heaven knows what it could do to
her. Rising he glances at baby Bear, and wondered exactly what he'd like to
eat. He'd have to try a few things the fact he was part troll spoke of the
difficult of raising him. Going back into the bed he thought what he would
have to do, there was too many choices.

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


Message 595 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Mar 23 18:23:51 1998 EST
From:     Raanve (#16560)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  The True to Life Adventures of Jess: Episode One

Episode #101: The PEZ Shrapnel Incident

So there I was, sitting in first period Concert Band... now this was several
years ago, but the dangers remain even to this day -- do not think yourself
free simply because this happened in a twon you never heard of to a girl
you've never even met. At any rate, I was sitting in Band, waiting for class
to start, my flute sitting docilely on my lap, when my friend Angie leaned
forward from the row behind me.
'Say Jessica,' Angie murmured, 'Got any candy?'
I was, in this way, gloriously reminded of the brand new PEZ dispenser I had
bought only the night before. A very handsome Tweety Bird model. Never even
used it.. I'd just filled it that morning before departing for school in my
huge electric blue station wagon. So I nodded to Angie, grinned, leaned over
and produced the dispenser from my jacket pocket.
Angie saw it and smiled, the heads of several other friends turned. Suddenly,
several pairs of eyes were on me and my new prized possesion. Jo, Dori,
Amanda, Angie... they were all watching, eagerly desiring a piece of candy,
too. Ahh.. the power. It's an inexpressable kind of feeling, you know? When
people want PEZ, and you're the one with the goods... But I digress.
So, I suavely turn around to face Angie and I say, 'PEZ?' -- just the way
you're supposed to. Cool, you know? Smooth. Like those guys who drove cars
with fins in the movies. Like James Dean, only with candy instead of a
cigarette (cause cigs are bad for you -- and James Dean died too young in a
car wreck). So I say, 'PEZ?' and pull back the head of the dispenser....
And it all goes horribly, terribly wrong. The head jams, like it shouldn't,
but only for a split-second.. at which point it gives and the candy inside
shatters. Shatters, yes, from the force of the spring and the lever action,
and the laws of physics cause the shattered PEZ to go flying in approximately
4-7 directions. Dori caught a piece in the eye. Another shard went pinging off
of Jo's saxophone. An unsuspecting band member got a piece in the ear. Angie
ducked. I swore. The horror and bloodshed was unbelievable.
When everyone had recovered and we all looked around, it wasn't really as bad
as it had seemed. But the fear never leaves me.. and I'm more careful now than
I was then with a new and untried PEZ dispenser. Hear me now, MOO denizens!
Even in the most innocent and cutsey-pie seeming things and people lies the
power for chaos and destruction.
Well, that and a sugar high.

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


Message 596 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Mar 23 18:25:25 1998 EST
From:     Rathe (#14172)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

uh. ok.

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


Message 597 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue Mar 24 18:51:08 1998 EST
From:     Warrick (#18285)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

Warrick walked around on the beach, looking at his sixth broken Surfboard. It
was sanded down from where it slammed into the coral, a broken fin, and the
wax was peeling.

"I need to find me a girlfriend." he chuckled, throwing his surfboard into a
local trash bin.

"They damn sure can't cost as much as a brand new board."

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


Message 598 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue Mar 24 19:06:20 1998 EST
From:     Yalindra (#13170)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Walking the edge once more

	Yalindra's consciousness held the murky darkness around itself
like a cloak, relishing in the warmth and comfort so much like a
mother's womb. A bubble slowly floated out of the darkness, but jarred
her as if it were a stone shot from a cannon. >>>Yalindra...you must
return.<< The voice again. Myr... Yalindra's spirit shuffled away
like a child stirred from its rest. >>Yjezra is very insistant in this.<<
At the mention of the name, another surge of memory came - Yalindra's
coming to the Mount, the egg hatching, the Bonding of her and Myr...
A yearning made itself known deep in the spirit's essence, a yearning
for the solid granite, the mountains wrapped in down-like tufts of
clouds...the sunrises and sunsets that set the very sky ablaze...
>>Yalindra...your mate says that he needs you...that your hatchlings
need you...<< More memories...Devon, their marriage, Kijindei's birth,
Sariana's...all came in such a raging torrent that the spirit felt
that it was drowning.... At once, it wanted to both flee, and reach
out to the memories. Then came memories of the Fae magic...her tail,
Devon's return, then finally her newborn child...the child that landed
her here, the dark limbo that her spirit found itself in. >>Yalindra,
_I_ need you...<< Again the bright light erupted, a light so pure it
would have blinded her spirit had it had eyes. Myr needed her...they
all did. Her spirit looked around in the brightness, seeing silhouetted
faces...people from her past and present. They did not speak, but
their thoughts made themselves known. **Return.** They urged. She
was reluctant to leave the warmth of her newfound womb. After all the
pain she had suffered in her life, she needed the rest. Just as she
reconciled herself to block out the light of her Bondmate, another
bubble of a memory reached her. It was of the night her parents were
killed. Feelings of sorrow, rage, hopelessness...all filled her spirit's
consciousness. Then came the faces of her children...Kijin...Sariana...
and the face of her newest child, as yet unknown to her. Her spirit
opened its eyes to the light once more, its purpose clear. She could
not abandon her children, to leave them motherless as she had been...
she could not burden Devon with their care, and her loss...not even
to heal the countless wounds to her heart. Her spirit floated in a
determined manner, if possible for an entity of no body or shape,
towards the light. Myr's voice grew stronger as it approached.
>>Yalindra...please come back...<< The spirit reached out with its
etheral substance, and touched the light, and was absorbed. The dark
murk of the 'womb' was left behind, replaced by the darkness of her
eyelids. Slowly, her eyelids fluttered and opened; she squinted at
the bright light, and her vision was blurry for a moment. Pain
registered almost as immediately as Myr's presence in her mind did.
But she was back. She felt a warm body against hers, and gently, slowly,
lifted her
head, seeing for the first time her newborn child. She was surprised at first
at its appearance, but the
longer her weary eyes rested on the child, the more she felt herself
loving it. She stroked its jet hair with a feeble hand, her pale lips
smiling with soft, mother's love.

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


Message 599 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue Mar 24 19:07:17 1998 EST
From:     Rathe (#14172)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

Rathe farted, and scratched his ass. He pondered for a moment, >>What is the
significance of this?<<, but decided there wasn't any. So he went back to
sleep.

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


Message 600 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue Mar 24 20:01:08 1998 EST
From:     Ylaerin (#16541)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

Ylaerin awoke somewhat blearily to Therin's insistent wailing. For a few
disjointed moments she could not even call her name to mind and merely sat
there, until Luthe reached his snout over and shoved her leg, speaking her
name in their mind.  /Ylaerin!/ he said, an odd force to his voice, /The
hatchling creels./ He lay his head back down... Etra forced her eyes to focus
on him, the wise blue eyes regarding her with none of their usual humor and
all of their usual love. What made her Blue look so old? So tired?
Wearily, she nursed the child. She knew she was pale... she fetl stretched
over her own form like ill-tanned leather. But looking into the faces of her
children and her husband -- looking into the wide, clear eyes of her newborn
son -- she could only smile.  She caressed Therin's hair... his pointed ears..
so like... ah. The name escaped her; it had been long ago, anyway, Luthe
impressed on her, not worth troubling over.
She had not set the baby down yet. Not once. She had not let him out of her
grasp since the submariner Skywalker placed it there those few minutes after
she'd swum back up into life.  A crazy, niggling part of her mind twittered at
her that this was normal. Normal. Had she not hovered over Rowan? Cradled
Annie in her arms enough to spoil her? There was no reason for this child... a
beautiful child.. to leave her sight or touch.  The still aware portion, the
Luthe portion right now, said it was a wonder she had no cramps in her arms
yet from clutching the small thing.
She tried to raise her eyes from Therin's face and could not. He simply lay in
her arms, fists wound in her loose blouse - clutching her even as she clutched
him. An uneasiness settled over her: she felt spelled by the child, though
that was ridiculous here where no magic had effect... she felt held by his
sea-eyes... opaque eyes like stones, but alive. The falls of pale hair over
his delicate forehead... the sweet angularity of his features... the starry
edges of her vision....
A bright bugle split the air. A war call? No.. no.. a dragon cry. Luthe was
snapping his wings in irritation... how long had he been calling her? In his
mind and aloud? How was it she hadn't noticed him? /You don't distract that
way!/ Luthe was shouting at her, /You always hear me! You are mine. Mine.
OURS, Ylaerin. One of us can not do without the other./
She nodded, tears welling in her eyes... she told him she was still mortally
tired.. she begged him to check on Yshar and the children in the garden... She
had never seen his eyes go dark  like that.
Looking back down into the face of her new son, now sleeping, she called Luthe
back to her merely by the terrible shudder that wracked her senses.

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


Message 601 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue Mar 24 21:49:14 1998 EST
From:     Devon (#23970)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Final Choice.

Devon looked around the hollow construct surrounding him. Morlith was no place
for a mage, he drilled that into his head again and again trying to rationlize
his actions. He didn't belong there, it was simple. His knowledge was his
enemy and it cost him Myst, and perhaps even his friendship with Ylaerin and
Yshar. he rolled over in the bed, thinking how clear the whold thing was to
him. Ylaerin was ill, she wouldn't eat, all she cared for was the faeling
which didn't belong here. WOrds spun through his head, soul eater, faerie
emtrapment. Ylaerin was an irish born girl and even she fell to it's grasp, he
was so bloody foolish. At least the danger was past, the child was dead now
Ylaerin and her dragonfriend would survive, a bit stronger for the whole. But
Myst had told him to leave and never come back, he'd acted hastily perhaps,
but given the choice he'd do it again. Devon rolled over the material darkness
in his mind letting it grow and take form, he was on his destiny and no other.
The life that was Devon's, the one before him had ended.

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


Message 602 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed Mar 25 15:19:32 1998 EST
From:     Ylaerin (#16541)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

Luthe would not allow her to lie curled in the bed in the forced dimness of
their cavern.  Instead, he forced her into the garden, to sit with him on the
grass in the pale sunlight of early spring.  She had done with crying but now,
having no tears left to cry.  He had stopped her from saying over and over,
"Therin is dead, and he looked just like everyone I ever lost."  She'd be
saying it in her mind, aloud, in Common, in Gaelic.  Luthe had never used
force with his Rider, but there you had it -- sometimes you could only do what
you must.
So they both did their best to steer their thoughts away from the time when
Luthe had thrown himself into her, knocking her down and sending the faeling
child flying from her grip.  How Devon had brought his blade to bear on
Ylaerin's youngest son.  They both made themselves only aware of how Ylaerin's
voice had come blooming and crying back into Luthe's mental hearing. How far
away she'd seemed, and how much nearer now that she was back again. She leaned
back against him, closing her eyes, feeling the warmth of his hide and the
warmth of the sun, and drove her mind away from the shadows that lingered.
And then they sang together a while - but without the familiar voice of the
Harp. There had been that terrible painful sound.. a harp string snapping,
being cut.  Ylaerin would have to fix it, but there you had it.. the price you
paid for being so deeply pixy-led. It had hurt her, the cutting of that single
silver string... it was proof to them both that she was a True Bard now, a
Master and not a student. The harp's secert named lay in her heart now...
would grow to replace the vacany of a lost child...
Ylaerin had dreamed, last night, of standing on a river shore, staff in hand.
An impossibly beautiful young man stood the other bank, his aspect shifting
and slipping from one shape to another, but most often a tall, fair haired
lad.. young and bright... bejewled and with eyes like living stones. He called
to her in the oldest of tongues, that Bards hear in their hearts at the right
moments - or the wrong moments. He'd called to her, 'Mother, my mother, swim
to this shore.' Over and over. Like music... like rain.  She did not go. This
was no true dream -- only just a dream. And she had let her dream figure be
borne away on blue wings as opposed to the waters of forgetfullness...

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


Message 603 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed Mar 25 18:22:32 1998 EST
From:     Dwight (#20455)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  A message on all comlinks

[*] Begin Message From Doctor Dwight Laurence, CEO Shadowbrook labs.

Attention Fellow Leaders of the known areas of the Wheel, It has come to my
attention the disarray of the lands, and how we constantly war between
factions. I propose that you, the leaders of these fine areas of the 'Wheel,
join me for a.. meeting of sorts. The best place to hold it would be.. I
believe it would The Tinder Box? unless any of you have preferences against
such, then we can arrange it elsewhere. Please contact me for more
information.

Thank you very much,
Dwight D. Laurence
CEO Shadowbrook Laboratories.

[*] End Message

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


Message 604 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Thu Mar 26 21:14:36 1998 EST
From:     Dwight (#20455)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Addenum to last

Meeting should be held sometime this weekend (sat. or sun. EST mebbe around
8pm? if I can't hold it then, we'll reschedule)

Dwight

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


Message 605 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Thu Mar 26 21:19:58 1998 EST
From:     Sorrow (#20478)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  ,,,

Sorrow paced back and forth, his anger rising. He would not sit idly by as his
friends were killed, and todays attack on him had set him off. He quickly drew
his sword, swinging it at nothing in particular. He ground his teeth trying to
release the anger he felt inside. Without thinking he scraped his sword on the
ground, not really paying attention.
After several moments, the anger subsided, and he took a step back. The marks
he left in the ground caught his eye, and he stared at them for a while. They
looked familar to him, yet distant. Formula raced through his mind as he
slowly walked around the strange marks. Then it hit him, and a smile appeared
on his face.
'The gate, it's the bloody formula for the gate.' He said to himself. Laughing
he quickly commited the symbols to memory then scratched over them, so that no
one else would make sense of it. 'Soon, ' he thought to himself, 'soon I'll go
back...'
Sorrow started to walk away but stopped and turned around to look at the mark
once more, ' Or I'll bring help...' he said to himself.

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