Return-Path: Received: from requiem.vv.com (IDENT:quinn@requiem.vv.com [206.27.96.69]) by requiem.vv.com (8.9.1a/8.8.5) with ESMTP id LAA03442 for ; Wed, 23 Sep 1998 11:52:12 -0400 Received: from mailhost.vv.com by requiem.vv.com (fetchmail-4.5.3 POP3) for (single-drop); Wed, 23 Sep 1998 11:52:12 EDT 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 LAA17318 for ; Wed, 23 Sep 1998 11:44:45 -0400 (EDT) Received: (qmail 29710 invoked from network); 23 Sep 1998 15:44:36 -0000 Received: from zoom.realtime.net (HELO zoom.bga.com) (root@205.238.183.40) by mail1.realtime.net with SMTP; 23 Sep 1998 15:44:36 -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 KAA06827 for ; Wed, 23 Sep 1998 10:44:31 -0500 Message-Id: <199809231544.KAA06827@zoom.bga.com> Date: Wed, 23 Sep 1998 10:45:47 -0400 From: "Quinn@GhostWheel" To: quinn@netsville.com Subject: GhostWheel Message(s) 789 - 829 from *storylines (#5236) X-Mail-Agent: GhostWheel (casper.bga.com 6969) X-Mozilla-Status: 8001 X-Mozilla-Status2: 00000000 Message 789 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Jun 28 14:24:58 1998 EDT From: Shadowrunner (#24490) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: The Challenge of Honor 4:00 in the Morning, Yesterday : Wasteland Gates The Ninja Stood upon the Dune as Noriko aproached. Noriko recogognized him as his arch nemesis; Shadowrunner the assassin. Noriko wielded his sword and got in the stance. The duel was to start. Nothing went through neither of the Japanese Warrior's minds but rage and death. Noriko never thought about who he loved; Scorch. Even though if the thought crossed his mind he would lose. They had a huge argument before he left. Noriko knew nothing of Shadowunnrer's private life. If he did, he would realise this remorseless man infact was loved by a woman as well. Shadowunner wielded his blade and Noriko his. Both swang their blades which clashed. SHadowrunner punched Noriko with his loose hand. He was better with the blade! Noriko swung hard, but missed! Shadowrunner brought the blade's hilt down on Noriko's head. Noriko grabbed Shadowrunner's arm and flipped him over with a nice Judo through. But the Ninja swung his foot and tripped Noriko. He quickly got up, followed by Noriko. Noriko leaped into the air to execute a jump-kick. Shadowrunner spinned around and swung his foot and connected with Noriko's face. Blood splattered onto the ground in a horrendous manner. Noriko fell on his back. Shadowrunner prepared to skewer him with his blade.... "STOP!", a female voice screamed. A Lady with a red suit. Noriko gasped, "Kamen!? Leave me alone! WHy do you follow me!" Kamen ignored Noriko and said to the Ninja, "You can't kill him." "Why?", asked Shadowrunner. "Give me a DAMN good reason, or I'll slaughter you're ass, too." "How insensitive. You are so unlike my Oberon.", she cracked. "Fuck you. I don't give a damn about any Oberon!", he hissed! "You can't kill him because he's not the last of the Yamatsuo." "Then who is?" "Me." She scooped Noriko into his arms and looked at him lovigly and whispered, "Tora....it's you. My brother." Shadowrunner growled and ordered a ship. Kamen helped her long-lost brother into another ship..... -------------------------- Message 790 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Jun 28 14:51:28 1998 EDT From: Shadowrunner (#24490) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: The End (Of Descendant) 7:00 that evening, in Red Fang's camp. The Ninja known as Shadowrunner aproached Manson's Trailer. He recalled everything Dwight hired him for: Disembowment, Beheading, Dismemberment, and Immolation. He knocked on the door. Manson's voice: Who is it? The Ninja said in a falsetto, "It's me, Cuero. I've come back." Manson quickly open the door. A firm kick to the ribs sent the rocker back into his bed. Shadowrunner narrowed his eyes, wielding his blade, "Howdy." He closed and locked the door. Manson staggered back, "What the hell is this!? Who are you?!" The Ninja looked at him, "Duh. I'm an assasin. You have to die now. I can't talk anymore." Manson gasped, "Who sent you!?" "Dr. Laurence", answered Shadowrunner. "He's a dead man! I'll kill him!", Manson screamed. The Ninja laughed, "No! YOU'RE the dead man. Good night, ugly prince." Before Manson could react, The Ninja's blade impaled him through the stomach. Blood dripped out of Manson's mouth as he vommited. Shadowrunner pulled the blade back and reached in Manson's stomach with his gloved hand. He pulled out Manson's intestines. As blood and vomit dripped on his hand. Pee-Yoo. Stinky. Manson was still alive. Shadowrunner fixed that. He lopped off his head with his blade and made a huge blood-stained gash on the wall as the head fell over. He pulled the blade back and quickly began hacking at the dead rocker's limbs until all where severed. He looked at the sleeping band members. He tossed both out the door. The idiots where asleep still. Oh well. Not his problem. Nobody said to kill them. He grabbed a dish rag and a bic lighter from the floor. He opened Manson's guitar case and shoved his head in it. He walked outside and shoved the rag in the gas cap and lit it with the bic lighter. With a hard shove the trailer rolled down a dune hill away from the camp. *KRACKA-BOOOOOOOOOOM* And that's the end of the Band Descendant. Dwight Laurence has succeeded. THe Ninja walked home, looking forward to a night with the woman he loved.... -------------------------- Message 791 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Jun 29 17:25:09 1998 EDT From: Akeashar (#20348) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: An advertisement over any and all comm channels. Would you like a room in the quaint city of Shadowbrook? Tired of having people loot and ransack your room everychance they get in an area such as Jizo or New Orleans? Then leave a message with me, Jack Sloan (@mail akeashar), and we'll see if we can set you up for a .. nominal fee. -------------------------- Message 792 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jul 1 08:42:00 1998 EDT From: Manson (#23593) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Dimitri Manson Sources claim they witnessed what happened in the Wasteland after the late James Manson's death. An assasin as seen walking away. one in attire an attire which resembled that of an anchient japanese Ninja. Some say this man is known as the hired assasin, Shadowrunner. Rumor has it either Dwight or Rathe hired him. Autopsies where made on Manson's corpse. "It wasn't Rathe, That's for sure.", says one, "He would have been alot more sadistic, I'm sure. This man's intestines where ripped out, then it seems his head was lopped off by what could have only been a broadsword. After that, his arms and legs where removed and the rest burnt. ALl we have to study is this Skeletal torso, charred with ribs cracked and can tell you excactly what happened." Speaking of James Manson, he has not apeared back from the eagle. But rumor has it, his Older brother, Dimitri plans on taking over the band, ' 'Descendant'. We interviewed him and he seems colder, but much more polite than his brother. REPORTER: Mr. Manson, how is it you can improve Descendant's performance? MANSON: I tought my brother everything he knew about music and the little shit still managed to screw that up. Starting a band for the sheer joy of making heavy metal music is the reason I'm doing this, while he did it with hopes and reason that he would just become another Marilyn Manson. Well, the ignorant little jerk pissed Rathe and Dwight off. He deserved to die. The eagle hasn't brought him back, because he's rotting in hell....if that's what you want to believe. I'm meerly a mortal and don't plan on trying or preaching about religion, when I have no clue which God there is to worship. REPORTER: Will you ever have a religion? MANSON: The day a God or Demon tells me 'Hey, I gave you this. I want some acknowledgement and worship.', then that's the day I have a religion. So far, that hasn't happened. REPORTER: On the subject of Rathe. What do you think of him? MANSON: You know, if a guy's strong enough that he can conquer the world and be it's ruler, then let him. It's probably meant to be. Besides, Rathe's killed my brother, but he had no honor to avenge. Rathe hasn't done anything to bother or harm me, so I just tend to pay my taxes for wherever I am and stay the hell out of the way. REPORTER: And Dwight? MANSON: I don't know who this Man is and if his war is still on our band. But, I will say this. He waged war on the Band my brother lead. James Manson is certainly not worth fighting for, since he had absolutly no honor or any real talent whatsoever. I mean, even in his advertisements he pissed people off. I really don't plan on fighting Dwight. I don't know this man and have no reason to wage war with him. So, Until James Returns, the band will stay out of this. Any members that mess with Rathe, or Dwight. I will personally kill and remove from the band. REPORTER: Okay. Well, one last thing. Do you have any family or children? MANSON: No. REPORTER: Do you molest children. No answer was given for the last Question. Our reporter was given a boot to the face and rudely hussled out of the abode. Apparantly, the question ofended Dimitri Manson. He told them 'Perhaps James was. I'm not.' later on when the Reporter attepted to apologize. Time will only tell what changes will apear in the band, Descendant . -------------------------- Message 793 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jul 1 08:49:02 1998 EDT From: Manson (#23593) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: By the way... -------------------------- Message 794 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jul 1 17:35:01 1998 EDT From: Dwight (#20455) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Rebellion? eh... yeah right A combination of Dwight and Rathe's armies joined up in an assault against what Dwight calls the "Toy Soldier Rebellion". They proved both military and strategic might when they went against a small community known for rebellious actions against Rathe. The battle was brief as the armies unleashed poisonous gas and scorpion assaults, along with hand to hand combat. With the conquering of another rebellion locale, Dwight merely said the following in a brief conference with a reporter: "If the citizens of Drach'nal or Shadowbrook wish to rebel, then they must wish to face the consequences of such actions. Rathe and myself have invoked a zero tolerance policy. We hope that this will make for a .. better community between the areas." -------------------------- Message 795 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jul 2 12:49:02 1998 EDT From: Kincaid (#23816) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: A note found around the R/T Lounge, Desert Rat Tavern, Flaming Heifer, Naked Parrot, and the Tinder Box... *******************FOR SALE********************* 1 gladiator recomb This large bear recomb has served me for several years, but now I am leaving the gladiator business. He know several methods of unarmed combat, and is well trained in gladiator style combat. He is very loyal and has never failed a moreau test. He has limited reading and writing skill, and has an understanding of the spanish language. He is very strong, and is very useful in tasks requiring strength. If you are interested, contact me and we will discuss a price. Tobias Crane (OOC: Just give me (Kincaid) a ring, page or mail if you are interested) -------------------------- Message 796 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jul 2 16:50:03 1998 EDT From: Shadowrunner (#24490) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Recomb... Shadowrunner walked into the Tinder Box and saw the advertisement. 'Hmm. I have enough money now. I could use a recomb.', he thought. He met with Tobias Crane, the owner of Kincaid. He gladly payed him money and left, taking his recomb to his new home In Shadowbrook. -------------------------- Message 797 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Jul 6 22:25:58 1998 EDT From: Skywalker (#6644) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Rumours abound There is talk of a medical clinic that has been opened in Oceanus which services the sick and wounded. Attending the clinic is the young medical student and submariner huntmaster, Skywalker as well as the Keltin Ariakis. -------------------------- Message 798 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Jul 7 07:17:54 1998 EDT From: Durandal (#23874) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Angst *Quite a spectacular fuck-up,* Durandal thought, looking at himself. The room was dark, but his eyes had long since adjusted to the gloom. All he knew was that he had never been here before, and that was what was so great: to just sit in a pool of his own blood, in a dark tunnel. He didn't remember how long he had been here. He didn't remember who had set him in this wretched condition. *It could be any of a million people. It doesn't matter. They all want me to suffer.* He shook his head in self-disgust; the movements came sharp, threatening to snap his neck. *That's why I was created, wasn't it?* "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU ALL!" The words roared in his mind, but barely escaped his dried, blood-encrusted mouth as a whimsical breath. He remained frozen for a moment in that position, slack-jawed, slouched over in the claustrophobic depths, starving, bleeding and ridden with disease. *Beauty. This is true beauty.* The thought impacted him like a burst from a machine gun. Had it been his own? It didn't feel that way. It felt... detached. Schizophrenic? No, Dakirion would have detected that long ago, surely. *Even they aren't that stupid, despite what creating me proves.* There, that was a thought of his own. *If it's hateful, it's mine.* "You're fairly fucked-up." Now those... detached thoughts were like voices. They echoed down the corridors around him, a pounding crescendo that felt like it would crack open his skull. *What is happening to me?* A hundred things gnawed at his sanity. Cold fingers were peeling away his fragile grip on reality. He hardly realized that his wounds had been self-inflicted, that he had been down in the tunnels for nearly a month, or that he had been drinking his own blood to survive. None of that mattered to him; all that mattered was that someone - something - was speaking to him. Something had _found_ him in this darkness, this black hell, this misery. But the voice did not return. His mind screamed for an answer, some kind of reason for what had just happened. Thinking again, he didn't know if anything _had_ happened... had it? Surely something had, something had stirred him to thought... He was back where he started. Ever since the beginning. Days passed, and finally, tortorously, he dragged himself back to the sewers. This was where his brain told him home was. Home. *Lost.* -------------------------- Message 799 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Jul 10 21:43:27 1998 EDT From: Anubis (#22578) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Looking for work A note found around GW.... Are you always scrounging for some extra cash? Is hunting on the Wheel getting a little tough. Are you tired of slashing up cainids for very little return? Is life getting a little...boring? Well nows your chance for EASY money. Call Anubis on the comm for details (ooc: or page or mail). (OOC This could be really fun, no high statted players need apply, your fun comes later.) -------------------------- Message 800 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Jul 27 19:29:18 1998 EDT From: Rathe (#14172) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Deus ex Arcana All was in preparation. Real/Time had been cleared, guards had been posted in the garage and the transport hub. A strange quiet filled Real/Time, perhaps for the first time in years. No travelers sat in the bar, speaking quietly over Osbornn's whiskey. The mercenaries and soldiers who had kept Real/Time free from said travelers had all vacated the building, save for the lone garage sentry. Their frequent brawls, and loud swearing over lost games of cards, their challenges and boasts were all absent. For the first time in many months, Rathe felt at peace. The Spirit Point of Power.. the Kiva's incessant prodding had quieted. She hovered nearby, the air thick with her anticipation. Or so it seemed to this single, solitary mage crouched in the center of the Real/Time round room. He wore again a simple black robe, the hood cast back, and sleeves cut off raggedly just above the elbow. His face was gaunt, his entire body grown thin and sickly. He had not eaten in over a week, and had slept seldom, his few scant hours of 'sleep' doing nothing to restore him, filled as they were with the Kiva's incessant demands for unification of the points of power. Left with no other choice, he had simply continued to work, taxing his mental reserves in finishing the last of the four elemental channeling artifacts. Mere hours ago, he had finished. All four artifacts had been attached to their respective elements. The Kiva awaited the unification. He was so close to success. Oh, so close. Slowly, he rose his head, eyes fixed skyward. A low thrumming drummed throughout the building as he opened his mind to the earth artifact first, a muted rush of exhilaration filling his body. He steeled himself, his mind clenching instinctively like a fist. The raw power threatened to sweep him away, as always, but he firmly anchored his consciousness, reaching for the second artifact, then the third. Energy flowed through his veins like molten lava, and his mind strained to maintain control. Reality itself seemed to slowly flow away from him like an ebbing tide. His mind remained clenched around the energy flows, but he knew he could not control all four at once. The Kiva would do that work. He could only serve as a vessel. Fire and water clashed against one another in his mind, elemental opposites battling for control before merging. Air and earth followed suit, and in a moment, all four became one. It was said that the Magi wove much of their most powerful magic in this manner, combining all four, and sometimes all five together to alter the very fabric of space and time. To Rathe, that distant thought, miles away from the walls of burning pain that encased his mind, seemed almost funny. So he laughed. Through the haze of pain, his mind's eye caught sight of a puzzled guard in the garage, braced against the wall. The guard was terrified, the ground at his feet shuddering repeatedly. His terror only grew stronger when the faint traces of a maddened cackle reached his ears. Rathe recognized the maddened voice as his own, and laughed even louder. Beneath him, the Kiva stirred. A welling up of power that caused the necromancer's laugh to falter. Terror, mixed with awe. Pure spirit energy welled up around him, and inside him. The elements waging a war inside him were caught within the torrent of power, and Rathe felt as if he would be burnt to a cinder. He reached out, tentatively. "You are she?" Nothing. The pulse of energies grew stronger, as all five elements melted into one. A wave was building. Within moments, it would crash. His mind no longer seemed his own, his body was a million miles away. The taunting call of the Kiva had suddenly quieted. The spirit Point of Power answered him with naught but silence. Realization came, a sudden, painful lucidity. He had been betrayed by his own mind. The Kiva did not speak to him. It's siren call was madness, the lure of power. All his schooling, all his years of teetering on the brink of what his mind could control. When he had claimed the spirit Point of Power for his own, he had teetered over that brink, and was imbued with a religious zeal to see that he would taste of the ultimate forbidden fruit. Oh, it was sweet. The power that coursed through his body was more than he could ever have dreamed of. No mage.. not even a magus had experienced this and lived to tell about it. For a moment, he felt as if he could remake the world. The power was here, waiting to be harnessed. Power to unbind the witness cone, and again release it's apocalyptic fires upon the earth. Power to flood the world with water, to drain the oceans. Power to destroy the world and remake it as he chose. But as every other mage who had attempted this realized, there was no surving such power. He could no more harness the magic around him as his own as a small child could wrestle with a grown man. And this power was relentless. He had called up a force greater than himself. And it would destroy him. -------- The beam of solid white light that erupted from the roof of the Real/Time building was visible for miles around, a relentless fire that burned the very air. Several who witnessed the burning column firsthand went mad, the lucky ones were simply struck blind. Some, who lived in the wastes surrounding Real/Time, claimed that they had heard a screaming like that of a maddened beast. It was several hours before anyone dared enter the Real/Time building, despite the fact that the guards had all disappeared. When a small group finally dared to enter the building, they found it structurally sound, as if nothing was amiss. The shuddering of the ground had ended as abruptly as the white pillar, and an all-encompassing silence had once again absorbed the structure. All that remained was a pile of charred black robes, wisps of steam still rising from the garment. It's wearer remained unfound. -------------------------- Message 801 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Jul 27 19:30:25 1998 EDT From: Rathe (#14172) To: *storylines (#5236) Oh, the previous post was spammy.. Too late now. Oops. -------------------------- Message 802 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jul 29 21:50:22 1998 EDT From: Akeashar (#20348) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Withdrawl The article readS: With the sudden disappearance of Rathe, Dwight and his armies have withdrawn from the small village of Drach'nal. When asked about why he was withdrawing, "this village ain't worth the manpower to maintain a true law and order." he further commented on how he is keeping the areas around Shadowbrook secure, laying what many feel is a false claim on the forest itself. Dwight commented no further on future plans. -------------------------- Message 803 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Jul 31 00:10:04 1998 EDT From: Yeullan (#19204) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: in honor "I used to be a man of honor." "Since the moment of my birth I grew up in honor. Parents taught me the proper manners a young man should have, and how to properly escort a lady. Teachers taught me to salute to a fallen opponent. To bow to one of higher standing. To never attack an unarmed opponent, regardless of the odds against one. To never disregard a friend, or ever condemn an enemy." "And I've seen friends, loves, companions, innocents die countless deaths, all in honor. I have seen men tortured to the point of no return then released for the sake of honor, their lives like shadows behind them compared with the pain of now living. I have seen honorable men drive their swords into the hearts of honorable men to supposedly raise themselves to the status of gods. I have seen lords and ladies sit back and starve those loyal to them, or slaughter their own armies at the hands of an enemy to save the stain of dishonor from their fine robes of silk." "As I walk away, I consider what I've left behind. The friends, the comrades who have shared with me in my honor. Those who I befriend and even love. They are all but shadows of yet another past life, one destroyed by forces beyond my control. Forces that the proper young man should bemoan only to himself, for to do otherwise would dishonor himself in fair turn." "I wonder if I shall ever return to my life of honor. The only answer that touches my breast is a firm, yet terrifying 'no'." "I used to be a man of honor." "Now I am only a man." -------------------------- Message 804 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Aug 1 04:54:47 1998 EDT From: Balth (#3746) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Missing Persons Alert A datapad is handed to you as you enter the R/T building. You barely miss a beat as you stride towards the circular platform whilst you scan the message: Citizen Alert: Missing Persons Over the last week and a half, eight denizens of the Wastes have disappeared without a trace. It is not known whether someone is abducting them or whether there is some malevolent creature roaming the wastes. The only tie between the eight missing persons were their last known whereabouts; north of the R/T building. It is suggested that if you intend to venture into this area, you keep alert. If you have any information about this matter, please contact the Dakirion Corporation, the R/T services staff or Magus Theseus. You finish scanning the datapad and toss it into a recycling bin as you make your way to your final destination. OOC: If you don't go into the R/T building, you won't see this, obviously. -------------------------- Message 805 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Aug 1 05:03:27 1998 EDT From: Williker (#20481) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Wheefun, no more! Williker piloted about the wastes in The Ripper, wondering as to what happened to his beloved Lord. As his mech stomped on some poor teramole, he heard Lord Rathe's voice. "Rathe?! That you?", he called out. "Yes, Williker... I've finally become what I've always dreamed. I am a God.", this voice rang. Williker snorted and looked around his cockpit, thinking it might be a joke, but saw no one. "Believe me, Williker. You are the only one that has remained loyal to me, you shall be rewarded." the voice said. A glowing light appeared around Williker, "Thank you, Lord! Thank you!". -------------------------- Message 806 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Aug 2 10:23:22 1998 EDT From: Red_Fang (#5907) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: WolfBlade Wanted, my sword was lost a while back.. I want it back... Anyone finding it and reporting its where abouts to me will be rewarded.. Anyone caught with it and is not in the process of handing it over to me will be killed. Red Fang -------------------------- Message 807 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Aug 2 16:56:23 1998 EDT From: Tadewi (#16048) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: This Too Has Passed. Tadewi felt relief flood through her as she opened the door to the Maison and Joline rushed to her with open arms. The two women embraced, tears streaming down their faces, tears of joy and of release. For nearly four years now the Maison had been a place of gloom and fear, at last it was free of the curse, free to assume the laughter and love of the Familie. Lord Rathe was dead. Gaston appeared as Tadewi pulled away from Joline, kneeling before her solemnly, "Never again will I allow this to happen to you, my Lady." Tadewi bid him to stand again and as soon as he was afoot, she hugged him as well. "Worry not, Gaston, I do not blame you for anything." The other servants teemed out from the halls, along with the Familie. Everyone set to the task of cleanup, all of Rathe's items immediately discarded or burned. Deckard was finally freed from the cellar below, and strangely there were human bones found beside him. A woman left to starve there, apparently, according to his reaccounting of the tale. Tadewi asked that she be buried in the Metairie. The Maison easily began to assume its former warmth, but even as the household worked towards this goal, Tadewi felt a certain chill that hung in the air, like a spectre that would not be exorcised. Rathe's spirit loomed here still, and always would. She would have to deal with that in her own way. -------------------------- Message 808 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Aug 2 21:40:35 1998 EDT From: Skarr (#24528) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Public Announcement. Dakirion would like to introduce it's new line of recomb, as a experiment they are renting out their newest model of informational gathering recombinant called 'Skarr' For a mere price of 500 crystals per month the recomb can be owned for jobs as well as assinations. This is a limited time offer, so don't miss up! OOC : Looking ro an owner, cost of Skarr is as stated for 500 crystals you get me for 1 RL month, kind of like a contract at the end of the time you can do it again, or decide not to own him anymore. contact me in the usual ways ;) -------------------------- Message 809 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Aug 2 22:19:46 1998 EDT From: Gerald_Hunter (#16547) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: And in the course of dark events... He looked up. The proper alignment of stars, the sound of a crow. Rathe had died. The Hunter of Shadows sat upon his throne, made entirely of human ivory and contemplated. No emotion he showed, but inside, he felt the lost of the closest thing he had to a friend one from the shadows could have. An Ally. There would be no mourning. He looked toward Formalhaut and Aldeberan, 'iA! Yog-Sothoth! A warrior comes to bask in your greatness! iA!" The temple rings with his yell, the acolytes cringe with the passion in their dark lords voice. He lights a black candle, and places it in a special lantern. Darkness surrounds it for many feet. He goes to the altar and places it upon it. 'As I live and work for He Who Calls Forth Pain, let it be known that a beacon shines forth in the Light. He has died, and walks in the Abyss. He shall return again. And when he does, the Obsidian Brotherhood will rejoice! SO I SAY IT, SO SHALL IT BE!' And with this, he draws his Ibis headed Thoth Dagger, and rams it into the altar. It embeds itself into the stone without fail, the eyes of the Ibis shine malevolently in the darkness of the lamp. And so a legend ends, only to one day be born again. Life is ever a circle, is it not? By my hand, Gerald Hunter -------------------------- Message 810 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Aug 2 22:54:21 1998 EDT From: Skarr (#24528) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Side OOC note. Recombs need not apply to buy Skarr, for obvious reasons. -------------------------- Message 811 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Aug 3 04:24:52 1998 EDT From: Kuhio (#22695) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: The climb of a life time. Kuhio glanced around the clearing. It had taken him several hours to get here, but the hike was not too difficult. The grass grew tall here, but there were several areas of large depressions. Kuhio licked his finger and placed it high into the breeze. The wind was soft and gentle, perfect climbing conditions. He glanced up at the sheer rock face in front of him. It towered above him several hundred feet. The moon was bright and gleamed off the face of the cliff. He had climbed several mountains in the past, some very tall ones, but this one was different. Kuhio strapped secure all of his harnasses. He withdrew a large bracing spike from his sack and began his upward travel. At first it was easy, the rock face relatively sheer, but enough steady footholds for a smooth climb. He reached for the next grip, stretching his body and shifting his weight. His left foot slipped its hold. Kuhio grabbed the rock face tightly, hanging suspended from the cliff. He held on for several seconds before his finger went numb. His body fell for what seems like forever. It twisted in several positions catching more and more momentum. A loud scream echoed off the rock face as Kuhio's body crashed into the ground. His body stretched across the meadow below the rock. His pulse faint, and his mind escaping. Finally he slipped out of consciousness. For the next several minutes all he could remember was mumbling, and giant lizards. Kuhio awoke on a hospital operating table. He looked at the two men that stood before him once more before drifting asleep once again. -------------------------- Message 812 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Aug 5 13:58:33 1998 EDT From: Eponine (#3791) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Read all about it! There's now the GhostWheel Weekly Journal in the R/T Lounge. Rumors will be posted there. P'nine -------------------------- Message 813 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Aug 5 14:19:16 1998 EDT From: Ylaerin (#16541) To: *storylines (#5236) The stars above her glimmered in and out of thin cloud cover, and the high grasses whispered and sang around her as Ylaerin lay near the lake in the valley. Her cloak was spread out around her, and her dragon was nearby, and these two things combined with the smell of water and earth were the things that tethered her to herself. Nothing was the same any more... it seemed the past was truly dead. As usual, the Elf was the catalyst to all her troubles... Rathe's death had come as a great shock and a tremendous blow to her, and if the depression surrounding the death of a former friend and love wasn't deep enough, Yshar - her own husband! - had spurred it along into a great writhing blackness inside her. Not that Etra didn't understand his sense of victory... but that he had seemed to care nothing for her own pain drove her half-mad. Several days after she and Yeullan had found Rathe's smouldering robes, was the first night she had come here to stare at the stars and try to find her whole self again... She had stormed out of the cavern and off of the Mount that night, intent on never returning... she had nearly thrown her wedding ring into the lake in a fit of greif and rage, but Luthe's clearer senses stopped and soothed her. Since then, she and Strafe had reconciled enough to see how much they needed to keep the marriage whole - for themselves and their children - but Ylaerin still felt solitary, and a little angry (though she wouldn't admit it) and so kept a separate cavern... But even when things seemed to be righting themselves, something else had come along... Yeullan... Corwin, her old friend, had kissed her that evening. He was talking of leaving, speaking of regrets... and then he kissed her, as any lover might. Etra knew, now, that she had reacted rashly, cruelly... speaking to him cryptically and fleeing, close to tears. She had no idea how to face him again, especially if Yshar was with her. But she could not shake the memory, or the image of his face. As the dew fell around her in the twilight, and as she prepared to return to her solitary cavern, Ylaerin's love for her husband competed with her worry for a dear friend... and the memory of a parting kiss and touch that was still so fresh it burned. -------------------------- Message 814 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Aug 5 22:21:37 1998 EDT From: Cinderella (#14877) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: DJioreni! ( Translation : New faces!) OOC : FOr all intents and purposes, my character speaks in gibberish. She's insane and basically a feral child/adult now. I'll write a nice line of gibberish explaining her thought pattern then translate for all you non gibberish speaking people :) Dniqonfi!!nioenwin!! klJiewjini1! FWEE! sjdiownijneiowuieni!I1jioj3ioj1I3j!IJ!OI1jiO!IJ1kljl!LKJ LSkjdkl!!!!! jdkjkjkjKJ KEJKEJKEJEKEJKEJ! BLUD! BLUD! poff. Saw faces ... many men waving hands around. They made me giggle, because they all wanted to send me to sleep. I enjoyed their acts and they squirmed, playing with me lots. Some of them took pointy sharp things, making my cheek drip. It hurt. One gave me a >big< drink that made me dizzy and happy at the same time. I cut my hands on it. I hurt. Now i'm tired. Many caped ones making me sleepy. . -------------------------- Message 815 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Aug 5 22:23:12 1998 EDT From: Rathe (#14172) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: OOC Jesus you're weird sometimes, Carey. -------------------------- Message 816 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Aug 5 22:24:02 1998 EDT From: Akeashar (#20348) To: *storylines (#5236) Nothing wrong with strange, wierd, or otherwise indifferintiated individuals. Ake -------------------------- Message 817 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Aug 6 23:25:47 1998 EDT From: Sammie (#23512) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: diggers Sammie shielded her eyes with her hand, watching Smoke's form wavering in the noonday heat as she drudged through the dunes. "Get over here and help me" she yelled out to Smoke. "I can't be doing this shit all by myself." "Yea, yeah" Smoke muttered, her hands already grasping the beat up wooden handle of her spade. Neither of them moved for a second. No conversation, just the noise from the 'thing'. Metallic rattles and machine pulses, a rhythmic baritone drone filled the stale air. "I ran into Kzin last night" Smoke finally said, breaking the silence like nails on a chalkboard. "You should keep your fucking mouth shut Samm...don't be telling those freaks about our find out here." "Speaking of freaks, what's with that outfit Smoke?" Smoke looked down at herself, the hem of her tutu now dungy and stained with sweat and grease, "I'm a fucking ballerina...does it bother you..or are you trying to change the subject?" "You're a damn fruit cake Smoke" Samm said, her words tinged with laughter. "Now come on, if we work another few hours I bet we could dig at least 10 feet..." -------------------------- Message 818 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Aug 8 19:00:23 1998 EDT From: Red_Fang (#5907) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Liberation After hearing of Rathe's demise, Red Fang formally declares the R/T building his and all are welcome to visit him and have a drink.. Red. -------------------------- Message 819 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Aug 12 01:32:17 1998 EDT From: Williker (#20481) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Bwahahahahaaa! A note posted in the R/T: Dear Red Fang, I've got wolfblade and your welcome to come and try to get it, but if you do, I also have Smoke... touch me and I torture her beyond your wildest dreams. Have a nice day! Your friend, Williker -------------------------- Message 820 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Aug 12 09:41:25 1998 EDT From: Smoke (#12541) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: No title :) The pain in her chest was unbearable, she could feel the blade hitting her breastbone. She looked up at the man, his face hidden in the darkness. Struggling to get away, she awoke, the man faded but the pain was still evident. A rock lodged between her and the cold floor where Will had thrown her was her only enemy now. She had slept in a small pool of her own blood, now dried, caked to the side of her face like a lifeless itchy scab. Squirming, the bonds that Will so expertly knotted dug into her soft skin, the rock dislodged, she lay quiet again...listening. She swore she could hear the low drone of the 'thing', impossible, it was miles away. Still buried at least three quarters under the sand. But she could hear it, a metallic lullaby, comforting her. Oh Will would suffer, she knew this. In her mind she heard his screams, his body consumed by flames. She tried to laugh at the image, but only managed a soft whimper of delightment. (ooc I don't know if delightment is a word or not, it wasn't in the dictionary. But I like it damnit!) -------------------------- Message 821 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Aug 12 11:53:41 1998 EDT From: Red_Fang (#5907) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: re: Williker **Posted just below Williker's note*** Dear Williker, Wolfblade will be mine again, but that is beside the point of this note.. Ms. Smoke is a very good friend and allie.. She will be avenged.. You might as well release her and just hand her the sword to cut your balls off because if I find you worse will happen.. You are foolish to try this with your mentor being dead.. I am in control again. My legions will search you out at any cost and you will forget what sleep is in the fear you will live in... Prepare for the worse.. You have invited it.. Red Fang -------------------------- Message 822 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Aug 13 00:47:38 1998 EDT From: Yitsune (#19242) To: *DragonRiders (#5915) and *storylines (#5236) Subject: Long nights, Longer Days Juliet awoke from a night of horrible nightmares, her body shooting up in bed, crying as she sat there, tears streaking down her cheeks, her eyes quickly getting red. The dreams of how changed Corwin had become since she last saw him continued to haunt her mind, torturing her while she slept. She had not slept at all since the day she saw Corwin, the thoughts that she had ruined it for her, lost everything that was precious to her, and would never find love again continuing to come to her as she slowly stood, looking at herself in the mirror." She stared into the reflection of herself, softly saying, 'Well fox, you really did it now.' She sighed and slowly looked down, closing her eyes as she did, softly saying, 'I'm useless. Why did I ever come here in the first place. I'm no good to anyone. All I ever do is get in trouble, and hurt others.' The tears returned to her eyes, unable to hold them back anymore. 'I might as well just disappear. No one would care. They may notice for the first few days, but after that everything would return to normal.' She sighed as she turned the mirror away, not wanting to see herself, the pitiful creature that she was. She looked at the enterance to the cave and shook her head, moving back over to her bed and sat down, closing her eyes, losing herself in her thoughts that had kept her in the cave for the past two days, deciding to still not go out. -------------------------- Message 823 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Aug 13 21:12:24 1998 EDT From: Xiara (#14877) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Search for the new light Xiara wandered the Jizo isle, her red hair falling to the slight breeze. She shivered involuntarily, looking back to the nearly hidden Citadel that was her new home. The home of the Adept Kzin. She had taken quite a liking to his gentle dominance. She had been here a good week now, watching the world, finding who would be best suited for her services. She smiled, "My services... ", she said. She knew she had fulfilled her parents wishes, following the teaching well. She had grown to be knowledgeable, refined, and quick to please whoever she had chosen. She had enjoyed the strange pleasure she entertained being a courtesan, and somehow she knew this place would suit her tastes and her profession well. The arrangement had been simple with the Adept: He would be her protection and shelter, food and teacher, while she provided him with basic ammenities, meals, cleaning, companionship, and pleasure. He had taken each of her actions with appreciation, and for that she was proud. She reveled in listening to him talk of the spells he could cast, what he was perfecting, how he was shaping things. He seemed to enjoy the conversation as much as she, and she could only smile. Xiara dug her journal out of her bag and began to write: -Journal- The newness of this experience will shape me. The Adept has control over things that I cannot yet comprehend, but I will. I am free of the fears that I had on my voyage and the unknowing of my silence when I was first here. My parents would be proud I have found such a noble following to serve and care for. Xiara shut the journal, sliding the pen carefully between the pages. She stood from her lotus position and began walking onwards, back to the Citadel that would now be her home. -------------------------- Message 824 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Aug 15 15:51:38 1998 EDT From: Eponine (#3791) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Read all about it! There's a new GhostWheel Weekly Journal in the lounge. -------------------------- Message 825 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Aug 16 09:15:32 1998 EDT From: Lykaj (#6068) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Spring cleaning The screams finally ceased sometime in the early morning. The constant echoing of the tortured was not a pleasing thing to Lykaj but it was a necessary evil he would have to live with. With carefully placed footsteps he climbed the stairs, avoiding the blood stains splattered about the dungeon floor. He makes his way through the main hall and outside to the fresh air. Several gaurds snapped to attention as he stands outside the gate. Their eyes swollen and tired from lack of sleep but still they kept a vigilant watch over the keep. He takes in a long deep breath of the cool morning air as he scans the barely sunlight horizon. "They are out there" He thinks to himself. "Anytime now they will show and I am not even partially prepared." He had made a few friends over the long years but even more enemies. "Who will side with who?" Was the burning question in his mind. He silently cursed himself for his possible mistake. His army was never large to begin with, but now was just a shell. Barely enough to defend his home. Over the last several weeks he had fired or killed most of the guards for lack of loyalty. "Perhaps it is better to have only the loyal ones" he tried to convince himself. He turns on his heals and heads back inside the massive gates. He thoughts never leaving his current dilema. "Who will side with who?" kept echoing through his head. -------------------------- Message 826 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Aug 16 21:22:50 1998 EDT From: Slant (#18192) To: *Chat (#5391) and *storylines (#5236) Subject: My quest. I believe that to many worthless deaths have happened here. It isn't that we don't care for eachother, but when we help one another, it is far to late. Knowledge needs to be passed down in a better fashion! Eventhough my body is shattered, I have set myself on quest to help others. I can't heal, I'm not rich, and I won't fight your fight... but I will help distribute the knowledge everyone should know. I have set myself on the task of placing large white signs around our known world. On these signs will be a short haiku describing a danger that is nearby. You may argue that these signs will not help, but I need to do my part. I must do my part. This is also a call to others. I cannot do this alone. While I will happily distribute these signs, I do not know enough to cover the world. Please, reach me on comms, send netmail to me, talk to me. I need YOUR input, advice, and knowledge to help others. This may be a neverending quest. Our known world expands everyday and more dangers appear on the horizon, but nothing is to great a sacrifice for our own safety and the safety of the next generation... Thank you, Slant. -------------------------- Message 827 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Aug 16 21:47:30 1998 EDT From: Blight (#18795) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Solitary Preparations Blight watched from a shadowy recess as Lykaj made his, almost like clockwork, rounds of the keep. Turning to the keeps small kennel of hunting dogs he quickly finished up his chores and closed the animals in for the night. He would stand beside Lykaj as was proper. Even to the death. Which was likely. -------------------------- Message 828 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Aug 17 09:13:32 1998 EDT From: Rune (#13063) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: taking sides Slipping silently out of her room, Rune moved through the night to the top of the stairs. The darkness surrounding her made her shiver as she padded into the main room in her bare feet. She quickly made her way to the training room and began her grueling practice. Night was the best time, for most of the people were asleep, and she could work alone. She moved to the center of the room and drew her sword, watching the low light glisten off the bared blade. Silence assulted her ears, and the sawdust on the floor was soft and cool against her feet. She froze for a second, taking in all her senses would offer. The twisting movements of the practice came rapidly as she called each from memory, but the pain of being out of shape warped it. After nearly an hour of blocking, slicing and thrusting amidst the shadows she paused, gasping for breath. In the haze of exhaustion, she thought of the way Lord Lykaj had been acting. 'He's preparing.' she muttered to the empty room, 'I shall not fail m'Lord Lykaj and i shall not fail Demonwolf.' With an almost feral growl, she wrenched her sword back into the air, and began the practice again... -------------------------- Message 829 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Aug 21 01:48:49 1998 EDT From: Sinner (#12411) To: *storylines (#5236) Hellfire ran pure through the eyes and soul of the cambion known as Sinner, as rage consumed his somewhat logical thought. Setting the simple Dragon rider Ylaerin on fire, while savagely attacking her weak assistant, Abe, only for the joy of chaos itself. Standing for Satanic power, and the name of his fallen lord, Rathe, he vows that hatred and indisputable bloodshed will reign supreme as long as Rathe is gone. So declares the Sinner.... --------------------------