Received: from mail1.realtime.net (mail1.realtime.net [205.238.128.217]) by eniac.vv.com (8.9.0.Beta5/8.9.0.Beta5) with SMTP id KAA27068 for ; Mon, 27 Jul 1998 10:06:04 -0400 (EDT) Received: (qmail 11830 invoked from network); 27 Jul 1998 14:05:48 -0000 Received: from zoom.realtime.net (HELO zoom.bga.com) (root@205.238.128.40) by mail1.realtime.net with SMTP; 27 Jul 1998 14:05:48 -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 JAA18921 for ; Mon, 27 Jul 1998 09:05:42 -0500 Message-Id: <199807271405.JAA18921@zoom.bga.com> Date: Mon, 27 Jul 1998 09:05:39 -0400 From: "Quinn@GhostWheel" To: quinn@netsville.com Subject: GhostWheel Message(s) 716 - 788 from *storylines (#5236) X-Mail-Agent: GhostWheel (casper.bga.com 6969) Status: X-Mozilla-Status: 8001 X-Mozilla-Status2: 00000000 Message 716 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu May 28 01:33:02 1998 EDT From: Red_Fang (#5907) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Lost Well, Red thought to himself.. Where the hell did I leave my sword?? Hmm.. Must of snagged it on a tree or something.. Will teach me to get drunk and try to find my way home through that damn maze. Oh well, will retrace my steps tomorrow.. OOC: Yep its out there... You got 3 rl days to find it then I go and get it.. Red -------------------------- Message 717 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Jun 2 10:16:40 1998 EDT From: Red_Fang (#5907) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Lost Sword Well, Yep indeed.. Red lost his sword.. Still ain't found.. Hmmm... OOC Keep on trying.. got till rl time Wednesday night... -------------------------- Message 718 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jun 3 20:54:10 1998 EDT From: Kynwal (#20497) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: From the ashes The last piece of oak was laid on the pyre. The early morning mists swirled and eddied about my ankles. The sun was still not quite ready to rise from its slumber. With a quick incantation, the pyre began to smolder then blaze with a brilliant, yet cool, green fire. I watched the fire a moment, eerie in its silence. Slowly, methodically, I removed my clothes and tossed them one by one onto the pyre. Till all I had left was my wedding band. The sun finally cleared the horizon its rays sparkling on the band as I held it in my outstretched palm. 'Y Gwir Yn Erbyn Byd'. I tossed the ring into the pyre, watching it melt from the blistering heat. I turned and walked away as the white gold turned into a liquid and trickled down into the pyre. -------------------------- Message 719 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jun 3 21:08:32 1998 EDT From: Axelle (#9124) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: The Long Road Home The dawn's silence seemed to whisper to me, like a constant filter of old home made movies. Memories swam through my mind, of years gone by. Every step upon the gravel floor brought along yet another scene that seemed so foreign now. I walked for hours on end, not really conscious of a destination until it found me. Tendrils of sunlight snaked out to kiss my dusty form and I stood before the massive bronze doors alone. It took me quite a while to muster the energy to enter my new home and instead, I wandered the area for some time. Finding myself hovering over the edge of a grand precipice, I stared down into a sparkling pool of rippling turquoise water. I was reminded of life - of energy and constant motion and change. Slipping the two white gold bands from my ring finger, I hurled the jewellry into the waves. For that too, had been so easily erased. Turning my back, I was finally ready to face my new home, my new life, and my newfound ambitions. The symbols of my own failure dissipated in the pool below, quietly forgotten and ignored...put to rest with the home movies. -------------------------- Message 720 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jun 4 03:58:00 1998 EDT From: Mantle (#9814) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Nothing gold can stay He watched. From afar, as wizards are wont to do. He looked through the eyes of the wild, the eyes of the sea. He watched. Old things. Old lives. The world indeed was changing. These two, who he had once known, were changing. Without each other, but changing nonetheless. The magus watched. The waiting time was over, as over as the one life shattered before him in two instances, in fire and water. And now it was time to act. Gold had disappointed all. Now was the time of blood and fire. He smiled. As One, they were lovers. As Two, he would make them heros. -------------------------- Message 721 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jun 4 04:26:21 1998 EDT From: Abe (#21180) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: meanwhile.. Abe sat in the center of the Sarkus, where he somehow seemed the most comfortable in this place.. He closed his eyes, sitting in a cross-legged position, as relaxed as he could be. All around him, he could sense the energies of the Sarkus, but somehow, he couldnt 'touch' it, feeling the energy move around him as he tried.. But as he meditated, he could feel it flowing around, through him, hearing slight whispers, although he could not understand them. Unnoticed by Abe as he sat in the center of the cavern, faint colored lights swirled around him in a slow, vortex-like shape. Behind his closed eyelids, his eyes glowed a faint blue hue, so was he into his meditating, Abe did not notice all this.. (anyone passing by the entrances of the Sarkus, and who can 'see' magic can probably notice the light glow. Abe meditates all night, unable to wake up.) (ooc: dont know where this is going, or if this is allowed by the higher-ups, but i thought i'd make something interesting happen around the Mount, anyone interested, page me or @send?) }:P -------------------------- Message 722 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jun 4 12:32:56 1998 EDT From: Rathe (#14172) To: *storylines (#5236) Rathe chucked, closing the jar of fireflies which were now flying up towards the mount. "Just wait till that Moron Abe sees them." Humming a happy tune, he wandered home. -------------------------- Message 723 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jun 4 14:43:53 1998 EDT From: Abe (#21180) To: *storylines (#5236) (since Rathe forgot there is an anti-magic aura around morlith, and he made a jar levitate UP to morlith, that means the darn thing never made it to the Mount.. :P ) As Rathe walked away, chuckling, the jar made its way to the anti-magic field surrounding Morlith, and lost its enchantment. It hurtled back down, landing where he once stood, and shattered upon impact. (rathe left, so he never saw the jar fall, and is safe from falling jars too..:P ) -------------------------- Message 724 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jun 4 14:47:46 1998 EDT From: Rathe (#14172) To: *storylines (#5236) Rathe awoke from his slumber, blinking. "What an odd dream," he muttered, glancing up towards Morlith. "How very strange indeed, since I did not 'levitate the jar', but in fact released fireflies in the general direction of mount morlith." He shook his head, shrugged, and rolled over, dozing off to sleep once more. -------------------------- Message 725 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jun 4 17:23:40 1998 EDT From: Descendant (#24475) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Posted in R/T Lounge Due to drop-out/disapearing members the following positions in our band, 'Descendant' are now open. Keyboard Drummer Back-Up Guitar Bass Guitar Current members are myself (Vocals/Back-Up Guitar) and Rhodes (Lead guitars) Only 2 requirements. You must play good and be reliable. The last thing I need is more disapearing members. *SIGNED IN BLOOD* - Jimmy Manson, aka Descendant P.S.: Old Members: Kiss millions you could have made down the toilet. If the positions aren't taken, you can come back. If they are: Too damn bad. P.P.S.: I'll update as I get positions filled. Also needing a Bodyguard, Booker. Roadies and mindless worshippers wanted. Anybody else is welcome to send us money. We'll give you love...kinda if you do. -------------------------- Message 726 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Jun 5 14:58:37 1998 EDT From: Rathe (#14172) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Posted to the wall in R/T lounge. Looking for mech pilots and someone who specializes in electronic security systems.. Respond within 1 week. Adept Rathe -------------------------- Message 727 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Jun 7 21:36:34 1998 EDT From: Akeashar (#20348) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: ... Today the Scientist known as Dwight Laurence appeared due south of Shadowbrook. Among him were a band of small well armed mercenaries as well as a small contingent of soldiers. Sources say the villagers were taken by surprised during the night as Dwight and his band entered the territory. When sending an intranet mail to Mr. Laurence, he only commented the following: This was only a small test to see how a village was entered by an unknown. We merely wish to annex this small area and help it to grow technologically and socially. The Village elder and his council had no comment. -------------------------- Message 728 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Jun 9 09:10:10 1998 EDT From: Red_Fang (#5907) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Red wants you! If you want a job in the Army of Red Fang the Legend.. Get a tent and set it up at 10/10 in the wasteland.. Not in the building.. Thats for drinking purposes.. Then call me.. We'll spar your butts off until your all beefed up and then we take everything in the world that isn't nailed down or planted!! Funds will come from what you loot.. So be prepared to do some fighting! Red. -------------------------- Message 729 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jun 10 00:37:05 1998 EDT From: Rathe (#14172) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: .. Rathe chuckled softly, leaning forward in his almost throne-like chair, bringing his features partially into the light. He propped both elbows on his desk, and steepled his fingers, studying the man that stood before him. His large form was wrapped in a voluminous black cloak, his features indescernable. At his left hip the glint of steel was visible, belying the hilt of a longsword. One hand always rested on that sword, even as he stood before the Adept. Rathe quirked his lips as the man spoke, irritated at the weapon. Under normal circumstances, he would not have allowed anyone seeking an audience to wear a weapon in his presence. Under normal circumstances, he would have not answered the door himself, nor admitted a black-cloaked stranger into his home. But these were hardly normal circumstances, and this man was far from a stranger. The man cleared his throat, and Rathe blinked once, regaining his composure. "So... do we have a deal?" the man asked, shifting his stance. Rathe chuckled again, and extended his hand, clasping the other's in a tight grip. "I believe so.. Welcome aboard, General." -------------------------- Message 730 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jun 10 14:38:55 1998 EDT From: Ylaerin (#16541) To: *storylines (#5236) and *DragonRiders (#5915) Ylaerin was sitting in the dappled shade of the willow tree in Morlith's garden, her face turned skyward and eyes closed, when Lyr'tyzluthe finally approached her. He settled near her, putting his large snout in her lap, and her fingers trailed absently along his eyes ridges. She did not open her eyes, or look at him until he called her -- mentally, through the Bond. The strengthening of his touch on her mind got her attention, though by now it's was as familiar a thing as breathing or playing the harp, and she looked down into eyes turned cool grey with watchful attention. They exchanged wordless thoughts, emotions really, for a few moments.. simply looking at each other. The tip of Luthe's tail twitched, and Etra's hand paused on his snout; she read, clear as day, worry and .. more astonishingly... small flickers of red, draconic anger. Upon her recognition, Luthe's emotions hardened into bright, indelible gem tones... edged in shadow. He raised his head and eyed her apprasingly, while Ylaerin sat back and frowned up at her huge friend... her almost self. 'You've done a fine job of keeping this from me,' she finally said aloud. Luthe shook his head, sending the thought, /You've done a fine job of ignoring it./ When she blinked at him, he only held his head higher. She realized that he was doing his best to contain the emotions, the worries; at this, she frowned deeper and folded her arms across her chest. She refused to be treated this way, least of all from Luthe.. who was, in al things, open with her - not always by choice, but open, nonetheless. Just as she was about to strengthen her resolve, Luthe's deep voice - usually so charming, strangely melodic - cut the air between them like a great, heavy sword. 'DragonBard!' he intoned... the word in his tongue came out strange, rounded. The beauty of its sound bit Ylaerin's heart and softened her mood. But when her hands reached out to his sapphire hide, he sideled away from her. 'DragonBard,' he said again, more softly, 'You defy the orders of your Circle, and disappoint my people.' 'Luthe!' she said sharply, not understanding, 'What can you mean? I do as I can... there are certain --' He cut her off, his head snaking toward her until they were face to face, 'You disappoint ME, my Worthy -- but less so than you disappoint your family. your friends. Your hatchlings.' The words were harsh an hissing, too loud and too condemning. Ylaerin flinched back from him as if struck, her face paling and her eyes wide and sorrowing. Luthe went on, almost mercilessly, 'You save the life of the Damned One, the Elf, and rightly so -- out of honor and by the code of your people. yet there is no excuse for your continuing affections, which you know to be wrongly aimed and yet you coddle and foster as if they were righteous. You refuse the understanding of the pain of others at his hands, focusing on your own and foolishly expecting him to repair them. You dwell on the loss of one child -- who nearly took your life, and you from me, by stealing you life and soul in the way of the Dark Fae -- and yet your small beloved son can hold his lute now and sing for you, and your youngest child, the daughter, reaches for the hilt of a dagger... seeing herself in her father's eyes. They are growing, Ylaerin my Worthy, yet you watch form afar.' Etra was clenching her ever-trembling hands into fists, unable to speak and yet loosing her tightly controlled emotions into the Bond and at her DragonFriend. They struck him with a force that he was unprepared for -- his eyes whirled black a moment... greif, sorrow, rage, fear... They had been bottled up, as his own had; the two of them were learning the ills of keeping things from each other, and the pain slashed through them like lighting. After a few moments, the air around them seemed to lighten; Etra's hands dropped shaking into her lap. Luthe's tail slipped around her ankle -- the response from his hatchling days to his love for her, her Worthiness, her love for him. Quietly, Ylaerin said, "Perhaps you are right, though it hurts me to hear it.' Luthe nodded.. it was clear to her now, what she must do, though the hurt wasn't gone... though it likely never would be. A grim determination sprang up in them both -- Luthe's was to continue to fight the illusions that Etra would never give up... it was not in her nature to stop beleiving, but it was not in his nature to stop trying. Hoping for a smile, he blew a hot breath into her hair... red curls crackled and floated away from her head. His hope was well founded; she laughed swatted at his nose. They played as they had when they were younger, less afraid... the could between then gone, but not forgotten. -------------------------- Message 731 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Jun 12 14:45:04 1998 EDT From: Rathe (#14172) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Long. Forewarned ;) Rathe took another step, his boots crunching into the gravel. His pace was slow and measured, an executioner's march. Held loosely in his right hand, Nightsong glinted coldly in the moonlight, the cold silver blade seeming to smoulder with an inner light. Rathe's cowl was pulled low, his face all but invisible, and his robes rustled ever so faintly with each step. Ahead, a hurried figure glanced back over it's shoulder, and noticing that Rathe still followed it, began to stumble forward with even greater intensity. The struggles were little good, of course. One leg shone crimson in the moonlight, blackened flesh almost completely covered in blood. Rathe's quarry had been crippled with a burst of blue fire, and even now was losing strength. Finally, the figure collapsed, and began to weep. Burbling for mercy, calling out to it's gods. Rathe jammed his sabre, point first, into the earth, and reached down, casting aside it's hood. A terrified girl stared back at him, trying to inch away. Rathe chuckled, and rose, splaying his hands before him. A ring of fire briefly arced across the ground surrounding the girl, blackening the gravel in a perfect, concentric circle. The girl gave a startled yelp, and Rathe's lips twitched into an amused smile. "iA Y'golonac!," his voice rang across the forest, and those creatures which walked the earth at night were silent. Even the wind, which had been sharp and biting, seem subdued. "He who lies sleeping beyond the boundless gulf, waiting for his time to walk again amongst men." He made a sign in the air with his right hand, fingers flexed in an arcane gesture, while his left traced a burning, writhing rune, followed by a second. The air around him seemed to grow darker, and the blackened circle began to glow with a faint, reddish light. "iA Nylarathotep! The crawling chaos who calls from beyond the stars. Nylarathotep of a thousand forms, hear me!" His fingers twisted into a second gesture, and his left hand traced a third, then fourth rune in the air. "iA Shub-Niggurath! Great black god of the woods! iA Cthulhu, alseep in ancient R'lyeh! Ye old ones, take my offering!" The ground shuddered, and the circle began to glow with a violet light. Rathe hurriedly made a final gesture, and traced a fifth rune into the air. Before him, the girl's mouth opened in a terrified scream, and the air around her seemed to suddenly distort, reducing her features to a blur. Rathe struggled to maintain his balance, and made a sweeping gesture with both arms. "Uthgos plam'f Daoloth asgu'i! O come forth Thou who sweepest aside the veils of perception, and showest the realities beyond. For it shall be here as it is in Yuggoth, in Tond as it is in Shaggai, in Poseidonis as it is in Yaddith-Gho, in Yian-Ho as it is in Tsan-Chan. The time of Thy coming is nigh, and the Abyss of the Night of Time is bridged. Make Thyself manifest in our spheres, that we may gain Thy knowledge and be edified thereby. Ia Th'ailog! K'thakluth m'khur'g ath'lys! Ia Daoloth!" With this, Rathe fell to the ground, his own scream echoing across the woods. The girl in the circle was now barely a blur of color, and the adept himself felt as if he might be swept away at any moment. Something dark, deeper than any shadow, crossed his field of vision as he stared at the circle, and even the blur of color which was once a village girl was now gone. The ground shuddered one last time, and Rathe collapsed, barely concious. [Meant to do this last night. IC end of october and whatnot, but I didn't get around it. Oh well :) BTW, most of the stuff in the post came from http://www.eerie.fr/~alquier/HPL/azif/. Online necronomicon project. Cool stuff.] -------------------------- Message 732 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Jun 12 16:24:08 1998 EDT From: Anubis (#22578) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: The Journey A dark cloud swept in front of the sun blocking the rays that reflected off the still water of the swamp. The swamp was dead, not a sound could be heard, as a large reptile emerged from the water. Standing up in the knee high water, Anubis looked around. 'I am refreshed, I am born again, but this time, it isn't from the test tube of a scientist, but from my sanctuary... my home.' he spoke in a raspy reptillian voice. The new powers granted to him from the forces of the swamp were still new to him, but knew they would soon come to serve him well. Anubis walked towards his new home, one that was more suited for his new life. A note was nailed to the bridge above his home. 'From Rathe' he thought, "Well... this shall be interesting...' and with that he lept intothe rushing water below. -------------------------- Message 735 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Jun 12 20:57:16 1998 EDT From: Rathe (#14172) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: .... A bizzare sight was seen today. At nearly high noon, a bar of solid blue light burst from the top of the Real/Time building, visible for miles distant. Those living near the tower reported that the ground quite literally shook, as what felt like an earthquake rocked the vicinity. Rumor has it that five necromancers were seen leaving Real/Time directly after this occurance, and many speak in whispers of a new flag flying in Real/Time.... [There, got the typos out that time :)] -------------------------- Message 736 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Jun 12 20:58:45 1998 EDT From: Rathe (#14172) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: OOC OK, Rathe claimed Real/Time and the spirit point of power, along with Coreen, Gerald Hunter, Kzin, and ShadowHawk. He also had Williker and Anubis set a fire in undershaft. If you live beneath R/T, chances are, well.. you don't anymore :) -------------------------- Message 737 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Jun 12 23:21:35 1998 EDT From: Noriko (#24467) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Escape from Rathe's Wrath? Noriko Yamatsuo sighed a relief as the Helicopter lifted off the R/T Pad. "TOo close, that time....Scorch's place has well....been scorched." He sighed once again before the helicopter landed, "Could be worse. At least she isn't...." He gritted his teeth as he got off the helicopter and headed toward Banzai, hopefully that crocidile recomb wasn't smart enough to follow him. He entered the Banzai and leaned against the wall, looking around for the pesky recombiant. "Computer, set course to Wasteland Gates and engage.", he said, relieved that the computer responded and the ship, like the helicopter was working. "Damn, that was too close. At least he doesn't know where I live. Well, looks like Sanchez will have alot more business. Oz' prolly dead. Poor guy...." -------------------------- Message 738 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jun 13 01:37:25 1998 EDT From: Zealot (#14400) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Dawn Patrol Zealot banged a few control panels and reattached a couple loose wires. He pressed the start button and with only a few sparks and a wisp of smoke, The Reaver powered up and went online. "Great, time to get this show on the road," he thought. A few quick systems checks told him The Reaver was ready to go. Slipping into the command chair he strapped himself into the sophisticated VR harness. Zealot took a moment to reorient himself and waiting for him as usual was the embodiment of The Reaver. The Reaver looked much like it always had, a large male human. Yet not quite human, there was just something unnatural about it. "We are going to block entrance to the R/T building," Zealot said. The Reaver smiled its chilling smile, "of course. Shall I power up the weapons and have them ready?" "Yeah, do that." -------------------------- Message 739 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jun 13 02:11:53 1998 EDT From: Renna (#12014) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Bonded. Renna blinked her eyes, desperately attempting to gather her wits. Her tongue felt thick, swollen and her eyelids were like lead, unwilling to obey her commands to open. Her ears, however, caught every sound, the droning chanting surrounding her, the scraping of feet and shuffling of robes. There was heat against her face, perhaps a fire burned close to where she lay. Rathe's voice became distinctive, uttering syllables and gutteral words. She could see him in her mind's eye, gesturing and tossing spell components into a brazier. Kzin's voice continued to chant, his voice rising and softening in need, others joined in with him, but her conciousness wavered and she barely kept herself awake, let alone decipher others present. Pain seared through the palm of her left hand and she felt the swelling of warm blood seeping into the cup her fingers formed as lifeless as they remained, still unruly against her commands to move. A larger hand rested atop the cut suddenly, and she recognized the callouses, the roughness.... RAND! Her mind screamed aloud, even as her tongue refused to obey her. His presense was hardly comforting, her twin brother, he was not the boy she knew from their childhood. The warmth of his hand suddenly turned to ice as a tingle slid up her arm. And suddenly she felt another presense within the depths of her mind, like a frightened, cornered animal she scrambled away from it, instantly afraid. Rand's voice, older and full of bitterness, echoed from within the growing maelstorm... See how love, unholy, cuts into your mind... sister. For those present at the ritual, the girl's screams howled long into the night. -------------------------- Message 740 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jun 13 03:13:34 1998 EDT From: Rebels_Of_Drach'Nal (#3791) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Rumors Abound. Though in Drach'Nal, the gloom and oppression of Lord Rathe seemed to weigh heavily in the air, there was a momentary glitter of hope. For found on the walls of Rathe's keep inside the village was a small magical inscription... a circular slash crossed down the middle. The Rebellion had again left their mark, and more bodies of the tyrant lord's men behind... this time escaping with several sacrificial prisoners from within the compound. Lord Rathe had no comment. -------------------------- Message 741 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jun 13 15:40:11 1998 EDT From: Rebellion (#3791) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: The Latest Turn of Events in Drach'Nal. It seems that the Rebellion in Drach'Nal is in full swing as the still unknown and unseen force again leaves their mark on Rathe's domain. Apparently sometime in the night, the Rebellion attacked the compound, whisking away several prisoners slated for execution and wealth from the Drach'Nal vaults. No comment could be gleaned from Rathe or his emissaries. -------------------------- Message 742 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jun 13 15:54:39 1998 EDT From: Dwight (#20455) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: IC post. Today, following a conferencel between the leader of Shadowbrook known as Dwight and the officials of Drach'nal, a press release was issued onto any and all available data lines, even through Intranet. The following is an except from such. Dwight: I see that rebellion has struck Lord Rathe's area. It saddens me to see such insolence and audacity when Rathe has done nothing but good things for the land. He uses the "wards" to protect from the invasion of locusts each season, and to protect the farmers crops from drought and despair. Press Official: Others see differently. What do you see mr. Laurence? Dwight: I believe it is time that someone aided Rathe in his struggles to maintain a strong central governmental hold of Drach'nal. Therefore, I will be aiding him in his struggles with any and all available funding I can. Press Official: How do you wish to accomplish this? Dwight: Very good question. Today, even as we speak, my fellow officials and workers are assembling weaponry as well as armor and food supplies. They will travel by way of Armoured Hover vehicles to the assigned waypoint destination. Press Official: Do you have any conclusion as to when the supplies will reach Rathe's area? Dwight: We (my fellow collegues) hope to see the shipment by as late as tommorrow. Press Official: Anything else you'd like to say before we switch to other matters? Dwight: Indeed. All resistance will soon be dealt with in the harshest manner possible. Insolence is Ignorance. That which resists will be destroyed. Press Official: Thank you for your time, Mr. Laurence. -------------------------- Message 743 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jun 13 15:54:57 1998 EDT From: Rathe (#14172) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Rathe announces curfew Early today, in what many fear may be a step further towards the police state atmosphere that has been so common in Drach'Nal as of late, Rathe announced a curfew over the entire Drach'Nal area. "As violent terrorist groups continue to attack this village," Rathe was quoted as saying, "there is more and more risk that innocents may be harmed. I know that some of you, already, have lost brothers and sons who were drafted into my army. Hopefully, this will be a step towards a safer, happier Drach'Nal." Locals and visitors have been warned to not travel outside after dark, as Rathe seems to have reinstated his old warding system, and bound them to be activated only at night. Rathe's future plans defense have been reported to include the introduction of guardians other than his usual collection of troops, including lesser shadow elementals, blood demons, and wraiths. The adept, upon being asked about these creatures, responded with a simple "No Comment". -------------------------- Message 744 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jun 13 15:58:36 1998 EDT From: Rebellion (#3791) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: A parchment found nailed throughout Drach'Nal, N'Orleans and the Ghostwheel Plains. People of Drach'Nal and N'Orleans unite! Free yourselves from the tyranny of Rathe and his allies! Join with the rebellion and together we shall cut the legs out from under those who would rule us with iron fists! DRACH'NAL FREE! -------------------------- Message 745 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jun 13 16:21:09 1998 EDT From: Dwight (#20455) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Blitzkrieg In what seemed only to be hours after the press conference, Shadowbrook has once again proved that it is serious in its demands for Drach'nals lands to be safe. combining hired mercenaries as well as his mutations, Dwight conquered villages surrounding Rathe's claim. His only comment was "All of these areas surrounding Rathe's claim were infact neutral before the revolts began, but as time progresses, I am not so sure they would hop off onto the right side of the fence. Therefore we must shove them off ourselves." When asked if the lands were in possession of Shadowbrook or Drach'nal, he remarked, "They are neither, and they are both." Panic of revolt has spread through the city of Shadowbrook, but Dwight also commented on this. "A revolt of any kind will be dealt with in great degrees of severity. More mercenaries will be hired in anticipation of such, and I have already began sealing off sectors which are troublesome. Rest assured, polls show the utmost confidence in my decisions as Leader of my fair city." More news to come as it's recieved. -------------------------- Message 746 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jun 13 19:23:13 1998 EDT From: Rathe (#14172) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: For DragonBabe ;p Rathe walked into the village green, eyed his surroundings cautiously, and planted a new flag in the ground. Muttering something about street punks, he then walked home. -------------------------- Message 747 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jun 13 20:38:18 1998 EDT From: Red_Fang (#5907) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Posted in the Tavern out at 10/10 in the wasteland To the men and women who have volunteered for my Army.. We are in a training phase and a gathering.. Sorry I've not been around much but I want you to know that I am with you in spirit. I want you to choose among you leaders that you can trust.. Then start training together as soon as possible.. Do not get mixed up in any other politics or goings ons at the moment.. I will let you know when and where we move. Beware of trators and devulge nothing to anyone that you've been told. As of now we have no friends and no enemies.. I'm sure that will soon change.. Well.. Keep gathering and I will depend in your own skills and knowledge to organize things in my absence.. But I will inspect and let you know if anything isn't ok.. I'm sure with your brillance and talents you will do a fine job.. Yours faithfully Red Fang -------------------------- Message 748 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Jun 14 01:23:05 1998 EDT From: Devon (#23970) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: A note tacked to the real/time guest chamber Pestered by Rathe? annoyed by his hooligans? Now Devon for a limited time only can break you into the real time building free of charge! No ships, no dragons, just quick and easy access to the fine building and to the underground with little or no hassle! Remember, if Rathe thinks he's got the building, he's wrong, so call Devon! -------------------------- Message 749 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Jun 14 08:46:08 1998 EDT From: Smoke (#12541) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Rathe and his army of Dirty Birds. Smoke stomped though the sludge, making her way home. "Fucking Mages" she screamed to unlistening ears. Pouting and whining, her footsteps echoing through out the long tunnels of the sewers, "No weapons, no nothing" she grumbled, "oh well.....I can take a bath, put on my best undies and get shit faced...life is still good. Screw em...if I dont have nothing, they cant take nothing" -------------------------- Message 750 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Jun 14 11:21:31 1998 EDT From: Red_Fang (#5907) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Shitfaced Red walked into the lounge and found his favorite ragtag friend Smoke enjoying a drink.. Least the company around here has changed.. No sign of them goof ball mages floating about.. Even though smoke lookeed like she'd not washed in ages and her hair was a mess Red fantazied about rubbin up against her and maybe asking her if he could wash her hair.. *grins* -------------------------- Message 751 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Jun 14 11:53:15 1998 EDT From: Coreen (#18717) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Note tacked next to Devon's At this time, we would like to inform any of those who make the imprudent choice to take Devon up on his illegitimate offer of entry into the R/T that, in accepting his offer, you bring upon yourself undue health risk. We are not responsible for any loss of life, property, first born children, etc. that you may incur whilst accepting this offer which we do not condone. Access to the R/T without permission is, in short, a very bad idea, and we strongly suggest that wait until safe passage can be approved before entering the facility. Thank you for your cooperation. Signed, The Management -------------------------- Message 752 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Jun 16 12:58:21 1998 EDT From: Noriko (#24467) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Running... Noriko woke up, glaring into the face oif the dead horse head. RATHE! It had to be him. Wait...Rathe knows not where I am. It must be someone of this army of Red Fangs, he figured. He snooped around and through the horse head into the desert sand, "Bastards.", he muttered. he disassembled his tent and walked away. But as he walked, to seek out Rathe. He left a note...a new one on the horse's head. To whoever left this in my tent: FUCK YOU! You want me? Come get me? -------------------------- Message 753 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Jun 16 13:00:50 1998 EDT From: Noriko (#24467) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: So... -------------------------- Message 754 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Jun 16 23:28:00 1998 EDT From: Manson (#24475) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Advertisement...... Are you a Musician? Do you like loud-ass vulgar Heavy Metal? Are you tired of the So-Called 'Emporer' and his bullshit? Then Join a Kickass Rebel band. The best one out there is... `+\\``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````||```````` `||\\`````````````````````````````````````````````````````````||```````` `||`\\``````````````````````````````````````````````()================() `||``\\```+----+```+----+`/====`+----+``|\`|\``````/\```|\~||`||```````` `||```\\``++---+```\\````//`````++---+``|\\||\````//\\``|\\||`||```````` `||```//``|+-+``````+==\`||`````|+-+````||\\|\\``//``\\`||\\|`||```````` `||``//```|+-+````````//`||`````|+-+````||`||`\\`|====|`||~||`||```````` `||`//````++---+`````//``\\`````++---+``||`||`//`||``||`||~||`||```````` `+///`````+----+``+----+``\====`+----+``||`||//``||``||`||~||`||```````` ```````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````` (C) Hellion Records, Satan's Blade Inc, and James B. Manson **Our current members are*** Jimmy Manson, AKA Descendant (Vocals, Rythym Guitar) Rhodes (Lead Guitar, Album Photography) Aerin (Flute, Backing Vocals) ***In need of following positions*** Bass Guitarist Backing Guitar We could Also really (really...REALLY...R E A L L Y) use a Bodyguard. Also we wouldn't mind a few roadies, orchestra whores, Erand-Runners, and...yah, I suppose we could use a slimeball Manager too. ++All Aplicants dial 21042 on your communicator or write to Descendant++ ***For more information, dial 21042 on your communicator** -------------------------- Message 755 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Jun 16 23:31:16 1998 EDT From: Anubis (#22578) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: RE: Last After reading the note from the band... 'This is my opertunity to become what I truly wanted to be... the body guard for a popular rock band!' Anubis says. 'I can't wait till they come to town.' and with that walks back to his bridge and goes to bed. -------------------------- Message 757 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Jun 16 23:38:30 1998 EDT From: Rathe (#14172) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Advertisment paid for by the Necromantic Circle Are you a Pansy? Do you like getting fucked up the ass by "Uncle Jimmy"? Are you tired of all that meanness and those un-nice Poopoo heads? Then join a bunch of thin-boned, fragile shemale vocalists. `+\\``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````||```````` `||\\`````````````````````````````````````````````````````````||```````` `||`\\``````````````````````````````````````````````()================() `||``\\```+----+```+----+`/====`+----+``|\`|\``````/\```|\~||`||```````` `||```\\``++---+```\\````//`````++---+``|\\||\````//\\``|\\||`||```````` `||```//``|+-+``````+==\`||`````|+-+````||\\|\\``//``\\`||\\|`||```````` `||``//```|+-+````````//`||`````|+-+````||`||`\\`|====|`||~||`||```````` `||`//````++---+`````//``\\`````++---+``||`||`//`||``||`||~||`||```````` `+///`````+----+``+----+``\====`+----+``||`||//``||``||`||~||`||```````` ```````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````` (C) Boullion Records, Ornate Blade Inc, and James B. Hanson **Our current members are**: Jimmy Hanson, AKA Descendant ("Uncle Jimmy") Rhodes (Cheif "Doctor" and...photography) Aerin (Flute (must we explain?) and 'Backing') ***In need of following positions*** Legion of small pre-teen boys 40-something biker Dom We could Also really (really...REALLY...R E A L L Y) use a clue. Also we wouldn't mind a few roadies, orchestra whores, Erand-Runners, and...yah, I suppose we could use a few PRETEEN BOYS too. ++All Aplicants dial 21042 on your communicator or write to Descendant++ ***For more information, dial 21042 on your communicator** -------------------------- Message 758 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jun 17 08:21:02 1998 EDT From: Manson (#24475) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: The Necromantic Circle's Advertisement Manson yanked the advertisement off the wall. He knows damn well who put it up. "I'll show you, bastard." He grinned and turned to Rhodes, "It's time our first video to finally air. Come, to The HQ Dead-Boy!" Rhodes chuckled darkly as the two head to Ne orleans, "Rathe's gonna LOVE this video..." Manson shrugs, "I sure hope not...." The two of them laughed.....where Rathe's Last post was; There is no paper at all. There is now a sloppily painted upside down cross. "Yeah, we'll show him who Satan is...." More dark laugher.... -------------------------- Message 759 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jun 17 08:29:07 1998 EDT From: Manson (#24475) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: !!!!DISCLAIMER!!!! The next post is VERY VERY VERY and rather Vulger. I've been instructed to place this disclaimer before posting the next one. So, you my just want to skip it if you are afraid of humor, hate mindless acts of violence, or hate bad langauge.... So, just thought I'd warn you and I'll prolly do this on most Descendant Videos. Otherwise, just sit back and enjoy. ONE FINAL WARNING: The next post is also VERY spammy. :) -------------------------- Message 760 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jun 17 08:30:27 1998 EDT From: Manson (#24475) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Descendant Video Monitors all over the warning begin blitzing from their original programming. *WARNING: Illegal Transmission Incoming. Source: Unknown All of the sudden, a rather strange man with long black hair and totally pale skin is seen. Then he smiles a grim smile. "Hello, Kiddies.", he says with one of the most angelic of voices. Another man; very pale stands behind him. Dressed in ragged clothes and a mop of red dreadlocks hanging in his face. He holds a wicked electric guitar. He simply says nothing, awaiting the other pale man's next words. "This my first video. I dedicate the occasion and making of this video to Cuero. Wherever the hell you are. Wish you could have been here to help make it. Your suspicions that Rathe was an insane motherfucker was very correct. So, this is my turn to say: You where right I was wrong. We've reserved the keyboard spot or you; wherever you are. And or everyone else that hates Rathe, sit back and enjoy...." *Incoming transmission* At the beginning of the video, the following flashes: Descendant "You Suck: An Ode to Rathe" >From Hell Hellion Records Director: James Manson You get a bird's-eye view of a Helicopter lying around the R/T Building..... A feminine voice reports the news in a rather realistic way: "Emporer Rathe has taken over the R/T Building as his new base of operations. The question remaining is; Why?" Suddenly, another voice cuts in. The same voice of the pale man who spoke earlier interferes, "I'll tell you why, ya stupid bitch! Because Your emporer is a cum-guzzling wanker who had to make a name or himself because he's an insecure, insolent little blind fuck-head!" The news lady cuts in before he says more, "Who is this!?" Suddenly static hits the screen and the one who was talking is seen. This time he is dressed in the oddest clothes. He answers the news lady as the view fades in on a couple band members behind him. The dreadlocked one and a fusia haired one, "We call ourselves Descendant." Demonic laughing is heard in the background as the dreadlocked one begins bring in pounding thunder-like sounds rom his guitar. The front man; the one who was talking begins on his electric guitar, forming a rythym. The usia-haired one begins playing his flute in an eerie tone. The front-man begins yelling out his song, sounding almost like his famous ancestor; Marilyn Manson. "RATHE! YOU'RE A FUCK-HEAD!" "YOU SHOULD BE DEAD!" "DAMN WELL! "You don't know HELL!" "You should be intro-duced." "I suppose the idea hasn't seduced. Yeah. "YOUR GODDESS DENIES ME BECAUSE SHE FEARS ME!" "SHE FEARS MY FAMILY! YOU CANNOT SEE!" The guitarist pulls the volume up more, punding in a rapid heavy-metal sounds. The eerie sound of the Flute stops and the purple-haired one sings in cue with the Front-Man: "YOU SUCK! ODE TOO RATHE!" "YOU STINK! TAKE A BATH!" "SATAN SENDS US! TO PISS YOU OFF!" "THAT'S WHY OUR ROCK WILL NEVER BE SOFT!" The lead guitarist headbangs rapidly, his dreadlocks everywhere. The Fusia-Haired one begins playing his eerie flute once again. It sounds creepy, as if a ghost where singing in words you can not understand. A large explosion takes place in the waste-land. Hellfire blazes about 8 by 8 feet squared. The band walks rom it, all with black clothes and black hair. They all wear crucifixes which have been turned upside-down. The Front-Man begins singing with rage and hatred in his dark voice: "FUCK YOU! HELL DOES EXIST!" "UNLIKE YOU INSIST! "AS YOU CAN SEE THAT'S WHERE WE COME FROM!" "MY UNHOLY GOD CAN SQUASH YOU WITH HIS THUMB!" "DON'T GET ME WRONG, I GO TO CHURCH, JUST AS WELL!" The Fusia-haired one interupts as if planned: "YEAH! THE CHURCH OF HELL!" The guitarist laughs a demonic laugh, his pounding music grows louder as the two singers sing in chorus once again: "YOU SUCK! ODE TO RATHE!" "YOU STINK! TAKE A BATH!" "THE DEVIL SENDS US! TO FUCK YOUR DAY UP!" "KNEE YOU WHEN YOU DON"T WEAR A CUP!" Once again, the lead guitarist rapidly headbangs, picking up the hard sound he had before. The Fusia-Haired one plays his flute. Images of laughing corpses dancing on their coffins apear in a japanese animation style. You realise it is each abnd member. As each flashes it tell a name. The Dreadlocked one: +- R H O D E S -+ The Front-Man: +- M A N S O N -+ The Fusia-Haired One: + - A E R IN - + In the cartoon as Rhodes plays his Guitar solos a mocking vision of Rathe begins walking to the coffins, pointing and screaming! A Few of his soldiors come and the band begins palying as hard as they can atop their coffins. Cartoon Rathe and his soldiors cover their ears ears as sonic waves come from every instrument and their heads explode. The screen switches back to live action and you see the ront-man, now with ram-liek horns of a demon is sing, his hair flapping in the wind: "YES! THIS SONG IS MEANT TO BE OFF-PISSING!" "AS YOU WATCH THIS VIDEO OUT OF ANGER, YOU ARE PROBABLY HISSING!" "YOU ARE A GOVERNMENT! AND WE ARE ANARCHS!" "YOU ARE FISH! AND WE ARE SHARKS!" "NOW THIS SONG IS OVER AND WE ARE AMUSED!" "AMUSED FROM PICTURING YOU ABUSED!" The three of them open their mouths to laugh loudly, fangs in them revealed. ALl the efects in thsi video seemed so real. But could they have been? With Descendant; Who knows. The band apear mellow in the next seen as the credits for the video flash. "We'd like to say a few more words.", says Manson. "First of all", Rhodes says, "Good luck to the Rebellion!" Aerin adds, "Yeah! We support you guys 100 Percent!" Manson says then, "And good luck to Morlith and it's Residents, and my sister who woudl probably be pissed if I mentioned her name. So, anybody else who is against the Emporer. I have one thing to say... RAISE FUCKING HELL!!" Rhodes grins, "The god of music has spoken......" With his words the the video ades out and returns your monitor returns to whatever the hell it was supposed to, unless you havn't already destroyed it... The End. ;) -------------------------- Message 761 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jun 17 11:34:12 1998 EDT From: Rathe (#14172) To: *storylines (#5236) Rathe eyed the stack of letters on his desk, and rubbed his eyes sleepily. "Bastard...", he mumbled, reaching for his ale, "After that damned music video aired.....well, the applications for my army just won't stop coming in!" He sighed again, and switched on his communicator. "Rand? Could you look into finding me a secretary....?" -------------------------- Message 762 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jun 17 14:40:33 1998 EDT From: Cornelius (#2746) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Another video -Fade in from black- Three white guys are standing with their backs to the camera. They are wearing black jumpsuits, black sneakers, and backwards Kangol caps. A heavy bass begins to thud and they turn as the treble begins to kick it. They begin to rap: Chorus: So you think you can rock? So you think you can roll? So you think you can mock? We think you had better crawl back into that hole. Each of the three sings one line, their heavy gold chains bouncing as they strut: Your lyrics are inane! Your chords suck! We are gonna run them over like a runaway frieght train! Why do you think anyone really gives a fuck?!? *Repeat Chorus* Your stage show was cute, But your bass-ass acting we will refute! You have to be somking grass, If you do another video we will pop a cap in 'yo ass! The video feed switches to Cornelius, grinning into the camera. "And that was 3-white-Boyz-Who-Have-Never-Lived-In-The-Hood with their song 'untitled'. Cornelius puts his hand over the camera lens and the image disappears. -------------------------- Message 763 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jun 17 15:43:00 1998 EDT From: Manson (#24475) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Rap Sux... Jimmy Manson walks out of his bathroom in a black robe, his hair wet from just taking his shower. He sees the white rappers on TV and gets an agitated look, "Damn it. I hate rap! I'm in the middle of re-dying my hair and I have to put up with THIS shit?", he growls. With an angered poke, he shuts off his Monitor. This causes him to miss the last part of the damn video.... He mutters, "My music's better...." -------------------------- Message 764 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jun 17 16:01:19 1998 EDT From: Dwight (#20455) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: In other news. Dwight has officially declared war on this "descendants" band and all they stand for. When asked why, he merely said, "They have shit for nothing music, and It'd be fun to watch their eardrums blow out through their eyelids." This disgusting yet truthful remark has only shown what is to be the end of the "Descendants" -------------------------- Message 765 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jun 17 16:11:38 1998 EDT From: Manson (#24475) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Manson POV Our reporters came to Mr. Jimmy Manson after hearing of Dwights war upon them and asked him what he thinks of this. REPORTER: Dwight has declared war on your group 'Descdendants'. What do you think of this, Mr. Manson. MANSON: First of all, my band isn't pluralized, you stupid fuck. There are not any other 'descendants' of any important satanic rockstars of the past other than me in my band, so it's 'Descendant'. Get that, dumbass? REPORTER: Oh. Okay. Well, what is your view on Dwight's declarance of war against you? MANSON: You know what? I don't really give a fuck what that suck-up to to our dickheaded emporer has to say or declare. I'll write a song about his preppy little ass as well. REPORTER: So we should expect more vulgar songs and acts of violence from your group? Manson said nothing more. He hit our reporter on the shoulder with his his guitar and forced him to leave, violently. Nothing more on this man who claims to be the descendant of Marilyn Manson can be said. -------------------------- Message 766 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jun 17 16:12:00 1998 EDT From: Anubis (#22578) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Journey The large recomb stepped under the bridge into his home. He had rarely been there since Rathe had taken over the R/T building. He climbed up onto the rocky ledge and sat pondering above the clear pool below him, "There must be more than just killing... there must be more than this," he thought. He stretched out, placing his long knife down at his side, "I must discover what this new magic, what this new Religion, is." -------------------------- Message 767 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jun 17 16:32:56 1998 EDT From: Seraph (#16551) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: In the quiet of the night... "Poor elf," she muttered. "He has no idea what he's getting himself into." Musing over the irony of the situation was only an idle passtime. The one who had refused to understand was now the pawn that she had been. She stopped, letting the volume of their chorus echo through her mind, easing the barriers that defined where they ended and she began, listening. The silence dissolved into a wailing cry from the teledisplay, and she startled back to conciousness, staring blankly at the spectacle unfolding before her. "What the.... " *I wonder that poor dear girl knows that her ancestor died in a pink mumu while eating bon-bons at poolside on the grounds of Sunny State Country Club?* "That's not a girl, mom." *Hmph. Looks like one.* "Long hair is _sexy_ on men, mother." She tuned out the grating voice, trying to focus on the static-filled images that flashed across the screen before a second scenario popped into view. "Oh GODS!" she laughed, "Cornelius, _what_ are you doing?!?!" As the scene faded, she applauded wildly from the seclusion of her loft, laughing to herself and saying, "Mother, that's my partner up there. Well I'll be damned... " -------------------------- Message 768 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jun 17 17:19:53 1998 EDT From: Gerald_Hunter (#16547) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Amd the plot sickens... We decided, yet once again, to get a totally neutral view on the subject of Descendant and the Rap group who has seemingly taken Emperor Rathe's side in this old fashioned Rock'n'Roll ego bash. We find Gerald Hunter, Neocount of Dubh Narnia, and lord holder of Dark Storm Castle, today in his massive fortress: Wasteland Times: Good Afternoon, Count Hunter. So have you seen the videos that were shown on broadband this morning? Count Hunter: Yes, I have. Wasteland Times: Your thoughts? Gerald Hunter: To be honest, as long as both stay out of Dubh Narnia, I have nothing to say about it. Wasteland Times: And if they should happen to come here? Gerald Hunter: Then I shall catch them, have them beaten with lead pipes until they submit sexually to a cainid, and then sacrifice them to the great god C'znathotep. Wasteland Times: Ummm... Could you elaborate further? Gerald Hunter: *smiles coldly into the camera* Why... Of course. *What is then heard are several black robed men entering the room, chanting in an unknown tongue. You hear the sounds of flesh being hit with something heavy, bones breaking, flesh splitting. Hours of screams follow, with repeated begging that yes, the reporter and her cameraman accept Mistress SnuffleGarbage as their mistress. The chanting begins anew as the sacrifice begins...* (Ed.- This tape was delivered to our offices, yet again, by being thrown through the window still attached to a hand. DNA tests show it was the reporters. Our condolences go out to the Blaise family in their time of loss.) -------------------------- Message 769 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jun 17 19:09:56 1998 EDT From: Rand (#9865) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: ... Rand sighed softly as his training was interupted, again, by Rathe's voice on the Communicator. A thought floats through his mind, "Secretary? Christ, what next? Dinner? Maybe Renna will do me a favor and be his Secretary...no, don't want her that close to Rathe.." After a short time, Rand resumed his training, smiling sightly to himself at the size of his army gathered before him. He chuckled softly to himself, "Maybe Uncle Red can be Rathe's secretary after I destroy Red's army." -------------------------- Message 771 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jun 18 11:24:23 1998 EDT From: Noriko (#24467) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: REPOST! Sorry :P Noriko chuckled at Descendant video, "How cute. Though that's not how Rathe should be taken care of." he smiled evilly, "Now this ought to be fun. I can't wait until Scorch comes with that bomb. We'll be known as the best terrorists in the world." He laughed, thinking of future events and acts of terrosim upon Rathe. (OOC: There. Fixed it. Cut & past SUCKS on my comp!) -------------------------- Message 772 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jun 18 18:43:45 1998 EDT From: Rathe (#14172) To: *storylines (#5236) Red's encampment was rather astir as a group of black-liveried servants approached early this morning, dumping two bundles in the center of the camp. "A gift from Lord Rathe," one explained, before the entire group vanished. Upon unwrapping the bundles, the unconcious forms of both Noriko and Scorch were found, sans arms and legs. -------------------------- Message 773 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jun 18 18:56:42 1998 EDT From: Manson (#24475) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Bundles That morning, Manson walked out of his HQ at Red's camp. He noticed the two bodies, "Oh, that's nice...", he muttered as he walked to Noriko's corpse. He kneeled down to check his pulse. When he found he was alive her smirked, "Must be in serious pain. Man, I hope Red's got some kinda things to replace those. Coulda been worse...far worse. Emperor Asshole...er I mean Rathe must have been in a good mood. Seeing the two immobile bodies he built up and appetite and went back into his HQ to eat..." -------------------------- Message 774 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jun 18 19:01:42 1998 EDT From: Dante (#10660) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Twisted Dreams. Dante awoke, and found himself dressed oddly, in the form of those of a patriarch of a church. He went down into the lower area of the church as he suddenly heard a odd knocking at the main door. Before him Noriko and Scorch rolled in, both paraplegic. Dante shook his head and dared to ask what they wanted. "We're Looking for work! We want to ring the bells!" Dante chuckled and shook his head, "You've got to be kidding, you have no arms or legs!" Both shook their heads emphatically, "We can do it, let us try please." Dante out of perhaps sheer morbid curiousity let them go to work. Surprisingly thwey bounced off the walls and made all the bells ring, Dante even taught them the pattern for the morning mass. However right when they were about to finish, they both hit each other, went out a window, and plummeted to their deaths. Later that day when the police arrived Dante shook his head, "Idiots, I won't know why I bother." The police glanced at the bodies and nodded, "You didn't happen to catch their names did you?" Dante shook his head, "I'm afraid not, but they're face rings a bell." -------------------------- Message 775 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jun 18 22:04:11 1998 EDT From: Akeashar (#20348) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Announcement An aged man appears on a broadband broadcast, holding a blunt in one hand, a bottle of whiskey in the other. He grins slightly, speaking into the camera: Hey dudes, you ready to join the hippest cat daddy in Shadowbrook for a few brewskies or maybe a hit or two off the bong? Well, you just get your asses down to the Twister Bar and Grill, and we'll set you up just right. Peace out man! (the above was a paid advertisement for the Twister Bar and Grill. C/O Dwight Laurence Enterprises. All comments should be sent to the district supervisor.) -------------------------- Message 776 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Jun 19 15:44:10 1998 EDT From: Obadiah (#16532) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Fire Fire consumed the small grey tent outside the Desert Rat, not a sound was heard from within it as a true believer entered the Midrealm for the first time. -------------------------- Message 777 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Jun 21 17:25:30 1998 EDT From: Noriko (#24467) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Death and Pain; Rathe's 'Parents' Noriko lay in the wasteland, unconsious for days. Maggots began crawling into his festering wounds as he slipped slowly into death. He opened his eyes in the Midrealm for the first time. 'This is death...', he thought. A saddened expression came on his face as he realised he would never see Scorch again. But, he saw a a portal and his body was constantly healing. He walked into it and awoke where he had dyed. His legs felt a bit stronger but he was insane when he came back. Thank goodness he could barely walk. He smiled and giggled constantly as he slipped into his and Scorch's tent. His right hand had been compeltely Mangled by Kzin's Torture. He laughed He unsheathed his broadsword and placed his mangled hand on the ground. He threw the blade down hard, severing it. He dropped the blade, giggling. He ripped leather from his shirt and began rapping it around his stump. He took the dagger out of his boot and held the blade down with his foot as he forced the handle off. He jamemd the dagger-blade into his stump, wincing. The blade end stuck out and he re-warpped it. As the wound healed slowly around the blade, he smiled. The pain of Kzin's torture was no more and he had a new weapon; a twisted one yes. But, in deed an effective one. With a giggle, he smiled, "Now it's _My_ turn to torture." Unfortunatly, he fell asleep because of his weakness. -------------------------- Message 778 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Jun 21 21:50:42 1998 EDT From: Dwight (#20455) To: *storylines (#5236) Dwight climbed down into the second area below the R/T, zipping up his jumpsuit a little more as the stench of scorched plasteel filled the room. "Why didn't we just let a few scavenger droids down here, it could've been over with in thirty minutes to an hour." he chuckled to himself as he descended to the floor. "The scanners indicated an abandoned sewer station down here sir. The droids can't gain egress." Dwight glanced around, Gyroslug pistol in one hand, a flashlight equipped on its tip. The crew walked behind him, occasionally firing on some slisssh. They took several diff. pathways until they reached a single grate. "Is this where the most activity has occured as of late?" Dwights' eyes roamed over the burnt grate as he glanced through the small holes. "Aye sir. This is the sewer sector." A soldier glanced at the grate, then to Dwight, "Shall we remove it, sir?" "Of course." Dwight motioned to the grate as he stood up. "perhaps this will reap some kind of reward from being down here." a few assorted chuckles filled the dank air as the grate opened. "Let's go and get this over with. I do have more important things to do." and with that remark, Dwight slipped into the grate entrance. -------------------------- Message 779 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Jun 22 09:57:11 1998 EDT From: Noriko (#24467) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Suicide Mission Noriko stod in the lamar and yanked the dagger-hand and wrapping from his stump where he had severed his hand. He through it on the ground. The man was not isnane any more. But very weak. His hand would heal back normally if he died again. He was to do just that. He angered the Grave Dancer in new orleans Graveyard purposely until it killed him. Once again he woke up in Scorch's tent, asleep. He was too insane to realise if he had been fully healed or not. Only time will tell.... -------------------------- Message 780 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Jun 23 08:10:41 1998 EDT From: Shadowrunner (#24490) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Advertisement Is somebdoy bothering you? Are you being Harassed? Would you like it to end? Call Shadowrunner; Professional Ninja Asassin. No questions asked and no remorse. "He'll get the hook-up." -------------------------- Message 781 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Jun 23 12:55:33 1998 EDT From: Scorch (#16959) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: limbs Scorch came to in the desert, gibbering with madness from the pain. The wind blew sand against the drying blood on her limbs. Scorch passed out again, her face buried in the sand. She awoke a few hours later on the Bridge in Drach'nal. The place where she had danced with the moon. Saying silent farewells she slipped off the side and under the depths of the rivers currents. -------------------------- Message 782 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Jun 23 13:03:56 1998 EDT From: Scorch (#16959) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: dead or alive Scorch slipped from the cold mists of the Midrealm, only to be dumped onto the floor of her tent. A terrible cold was her only embracer. Once again her sanity slipped from her as well as her consciousness. Terrible beast's chased her through fevered dreams. Death with rathes face stalked her. Then An empty void embrassed her. She never wanted to wake to reality again. -------------------------- Message 783 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Jun 23 16:20:01 1998 EDT From: Descendant (#24475) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: New Video! (WARNING! EXTREMELY VULGAR!) The ever-so-familiar monitor interuptage occurs. The following words pop up: Descendant "Tripping Hellboy" Special Song Made for Dwight Directed by: James Manson Pounding Guitars are heard, a very sweet sound to any Heavy Metal Lover. Manson apears in a puff of black and red smoke. He is dressed in a black latex suit, fitting tightly against him. A traingular cut reveals his mid chest and a section of his abdomen; both tattoed. From it is a large red collar. Protruding from his head are Ram-Like demon horns and he twirls around a red Pitch-Fork. He whispers rythmicly, "We all owe it to Dwight...." "Who's too pussy to fight..." "Because of him..." "The results ARE IN!" "because of him and his fools..." "DESCANDANT RULES!" The guitars grow faster and harder. Manson nearly screams the lyrics; "BLIND TO THE FORCES OF SATAN!" "YOU, WE SHALL KEEP ON HATIN'" "YOU GO SO FAR" "AS TO DECLARE WAR!" "WE ACCEPT! YOU WILL DIE!" "AND WE WILL FLY!" "WE WILL GO TO HEAVEN AND GIVE GOD MANY AWFUL FATES!" "FOR THE DARK LORD, WE WILL BREAK DOWN THE GATES!" "WE WILL PUNISH YOU!" "YOU KNOW EXCACTLY WHO!" "WE ARE!" "YOU CANNOT RUN FAR!" "SEE YOU IN HELL!" "I'LL BE THE DEMON TORTURING YOU, DAMN WELL!" Manson chuckles, his rage still clear in his face. He then says as he leans into the screen, "Doctor Dwight Laurence.... If you want me......COME GET ME!" Manson punches the Camera in! The screen goes blank. You monitor goes back in it's regularly scheduled programs. -------------------------- Message 784 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Jun 23 17:25:02 1998 EDT From: Oberon (#22725) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Music The submariner shuddered, shaking his head after the second horrible video. "Alright...thats enough...", and with that, he lifted his crowbar and smashed his monitor to bits. Dropping the weapon, he brushed his hands off with his cloak, and went back to reading. -------------------------- Message 785 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jun 24 15:27:00 1998 EDT From: Anubis (#22578) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: A note posted around R/T. ******************Reward********************** Missing: ---------- 1 bone necklace a robe 1 long knife named "The Brain" 3000 crystal reward for the return of these items and the mauled carcass of one submariner wench known as Clayson. (The price is low because I know you want to kill her anyway.) Thank you for your time. Signed, Anubis -------------------------- Message 786 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jun 24 23:50:43 1998 EDT From: Clayson (#17237) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Fish Sheathed in clothing not her own the woman wandered through the R/T building. Bowing and nodding as though a mage, undetected. Her eyes sought out a small poster offering rewards for items of nothingness. Laughing she fingered the crude necklace about her neck. "Fool" she muttered, "if he wants his stuff back so bad why doesnt he just ask...." Mounting her beast for the long ride home, bored as the clouds floated by, pondering what a large scaly recomb would look like dressed in her silk panties. -------------------------- Message 788 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Jun 26 02:41:59 1998 EDT From: Styx (#1610) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: And Rathe-y went a-courting Here's what really happens during a familiar summoning: Styx digs out his How to Summon a Familiar for Dummies - 2nd edition . Rathe says, "I don't have to learn any perlscript, do I" You say, "Nope, just Java." Rathe cowers. You say, "Okay, start you ceremony stuff." Styx waits for the farm animals. Rathe pops open a nearby trunk, removes a gagged and bound virgin, and drops her in the middle of a pentagram on the floor. Giving thanks to the elemental plane of SHESHWAN CHICKEN silently (while vocally going on about Nylarathotep and whatnot), he utters the unholy arcane syllable "Giddiup", and draws a ritual dagger across both sides of her neck. Her blood spurts out like it came from a fountain hose...a pretty off pink color. (low budget film) Rathe curses the gods of special FX, and vows revenge, then draws a happy face on the ground in blood, humming the theme to "The Smurfs" Grouchy smurf appears, a sickly green color. "Ga-Nap!" he says. Rathe [to smurf]: no no you won't do Rathe banishes grouchy. "Lets try again!" Grouchy tries to pinch your butt, but vanishes before he can. Rathe makes various arcane passes and points at his shadow while glancing off-camera, and uttering in ancient sumerian, "Go by the damned script!" The shadow whips out a scriptbook. Howls about not having enough lines then shoves it away. Your shadow begins to ripple as you channel energy into it. Shaping your desire. Rathe [to shadow]: shush you. Now, RISE! RISE! You SHALL live again! Hahaha! The children will fear your throbbing shadowhood! The Ghost of a Texas ladiesman....errr GhostRider...Err Beetlejuice...Damn I mean...The SHADOW knows! Err Arathiel takes form.mean...The SHADOW knows! Err Arathiel takes form. Rathe [to shadow]: You're so cute. I'll hug you and pet you and call you Rathe [to shadow]: or perhaps Arathiel. As George, elemental demon of peanut butter may be offended. You feel a bit weaker, having used your own essence to call and bond this creature. Arathiel bows then runs around the room yelling Happy Happy Joy Joy. --------------------------