Message-Id: <199811221548.JAA18448@casper.realtime.net>
Date: Sun, 22 Nov 1998 09:48:42 -0400
From: "Quinn@GhostWheel" <someone@ghostwheel.mud.org>
To: quinn@netsville.com
Subject: GhostWheel Message(s) 874 - 943 from *storylines (#5236)
Content-Length: 78065
Lines: 1762

Message 874 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed Sep 23 22:46:35 1998 EDT
From:     Matt (#24497)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  A note found in the r/t building

wanted:
a cheap non-replicated bladed weapon.
Page me if you want to sell

Matt

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


Message 875 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Thu Sep 24 15:57:05 1998 EDT
From:     Tirafal (#24173)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

 The enigmatic man with the white hair sat at the bar nursing his drink.
Tirafal watched him from behind her hair as she toyed with her own glass of
water. He was a dragon rider. She knew that from the conversation that eddied
and swirled around her; had heard people greet him in idle remarks. He
fascinated her. Dragonriders were something she had only heard of in the
little part of Wolf Moon Valley where she had grown up. Here was one in the
flesh.
 Tirafal held out her hand to her hawk and he leaped to her arm from the bar,
working his way up her shoulder. She held up her water glass so that he could
drink. She had tried the ale when she first came here and almost gagged,
spitting it out. It was bitter, with none of the sweetness of the barley beer
made from the pure water of the Valley that her father had used to make.She
had since stuck to water. It was bland; over processed and over purified. But
at least it was drinkable.
 She surveyed the dragon rider again. There was an air of sadness about him
and she wondered what had been done to put that slight droop to his shoulders,
that slight thin line to his lips.
 She felt her bird move a bit restlessly on her shoulder, felt his slight
discomfort at being in the bar, reflecting her own uncertainty at being here,
so far away from home. She thought about the dragon rider and his dragon. She
knew they were soul bonded, had heard the tales. But theirs was a bond of
telepathy. She and the bird were bonded because they had fallen in love with
each other. Theirs was a bond of empathy. Still, the bonds were both forged in
love and she related to this man. More then anything she envied him. How often
she had wanted to follow her hawk when he winged into the sky. This man and
his dragon were sky riders. He COULD follow his soul mate into the heavens.
 She offered more of the water to the hawk. The rider watched her gesture and
smiled. She took a drink herself and mustering up her courage she smiled back
at him and said, "Hello."

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


Message 876 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sat Sep 26 01:20:54 1998 EDT
From:     Red_Fang (#5907)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

Red sat turning his glass of whiskey in his hand slowly thinking.. He felt
confident that things would soon change for the better.  Life was fixing to
get interesting again.  Poor bastards should of listened and had some
respect.. The team was back and with the help of the Magus.. Yep things would
be differant.

R.

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


Message 877 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue Sep 29 01:18:25 1998 EDT
From:     Red_Fang (#5907)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Remembering

Red sat watching Jamie sleep quietly and pondered his life and the things he'd
caused that hurt others and evenually pushed them away.

He and Moonheart no doubt where best of friends and a good team back in the
old days.  But Red knew he was selfish and never did care or watch out for his
friend..  That girl Moonheart had ended up with so long ago.. He remembered
only the jealousy that she was keeping him from his friend.. But Cordilia was
special to Moonheart and that was what mattered..
Of course it was Red's responsiblity that she'd been lost evenually, it was
his home she was staying at and it was the enemy that Red had invited in that
killed her.. Them kids, they sure where cute as children and Red remember them
running about the place as small kids knocking over things that shouldn't be
touched.. But they where lonely because after Cordelia was gone from
Moonhearts life he left.. Red knew he could fix that somehow..

Now seeing Renna the other evening and then talking to Rand he knew things
where far out of control.. They'd been tossed into a world of danger and the
only guidence was what they found along the way from people such as Rathe who
took advantage of the twins.

It was apparent that Renna was the smarter of the two.. She would be key.. Red
knew he couldn't let harm come her way but how could he show those kids that
they did have a allie and friend.

His threats of the morning to Rand rolled about in his head, he shouldn't of
done that but that damn boy had the arrogance and ego that no man should
have.. Sure didn't take after his mother, though Red had seen traits in
Moonheart to the same since his friend had become a Magus..

Red had to think, he couldn't mess this up or he'd have no one to trust..
Those kids could be his best allies or worse enemys and without them he might
as well crawl into a hole..  Rathe had destroyed most that was left of
people's faith in this world and it had been too long.. Red had hidden too
long from the fight.

What to do next..


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


Message 878 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue Sep 29 04:49:59 1998 EDT
From:     Tirafal (#24173)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

Tirafal laid in bed and listened to the thunder roll around her as the storm
moved through the valley. The lightning lit the room, periodically drowning
the light from the fire and the rumble of the thunder provided a counterpoint
to the drumming of the rain on the roof. But the cottage was tight and dry,
and the warmth from the fire made her drowsy.
Her thoughts wandered over the past few weeks since she had been venturing out
of the valley into the wider world and the people she had encountered in
chance meeting. She didn't know how many of them Rand knew but would talk to
him about them tomorrow. She depended on him for guidance.
Tirafal sighed to herself.
She had loved her father so much but he had left her so ill prepared to deal
with the world. She knew he hadn't meant to leave her this way. But then again
he hadn't planned on dying either.
Living in the valley, her father had come to know Rand, and had liked the
young man. He was one of the few her father had trusted. She remembered the
day that he had finally accepted the fact that he was dying.
After so many years he had finally told her the truth.
He told her about the developmental work that he and her mother had been doing
for Dakirion Labs; testing the effects of radiation on the recombs, developing
a recomb that was radiation resistant and could go where humans couldn't. He
told her of the fateful day of the radiation spill that had killed her mother
and 15 years later was eating his own body with cancer.
A few days after that he had summoned Rand. He knew the end was near. They had
stayed closeted in the bedroom for several hours, Tirafal listening to the
murmuring rise and fall of their voices through the closed door. Finally he
had called for her. With Rand standing there he had told her that he was
placing him in guardianship over her. He knew Rand was young but he trusted
him to protect and guide her.
Then, as if in discharging this last responsibility he could finally rest, he
died.
Rand held her while she cried. He called his sister, Renna, and she came to
aid them. Together they had sewn the man in his shroud and buried him in the
valley he had loved so much.
Tirafal wept once again, remembering, her tears reflecting the streaming rain
on the windows. Then as the storm eased off and moved away, her own tears
stilled, and she slept.

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


Message 879 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed Sep 30 14:54:33 1998 EDT
From:     Williker (#20481)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  EVERYTHING MUST GO!

Note in R/T:

FOR SALE: a scythe and chainsaw... possibly a shield. Call Williker.

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


Message 880 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Thu Oct  1 21:22:57 1998 EDT
From:     Dwight (#20455)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

Dwight sat at his desk, twirling a pen in the fingers of his left hand while
looking over a computer screen.

"I do believe I need to find out more about these Soulmechs.. perhaps with
their help..."

Dwight pauses, flicking the pen into the air and into a metal container. "Yes,
I do believe I shall find out more about these Soulmechs."

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


Message 881 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sat Oct  3 22:24:05 1998 EDT
From:     Sinner (#12411)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Note on the R/T bar:

In elogant hangwriting, black blood is spilled across a thin sheet of ivory
white hide, obviously human. The words read:

If anyone has the exact location of Magistra Coreen's where abouts, please
contact Sinner or Williker immedately. Williker will be eternally grateful and
give you his soul, and I might be willing to part with something more worth
your time.
Thank you.

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


Message 882 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sat Oct  3 22:52:07 1998 EDT
From:     Sulamith (#16048)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  This Tangled Web.

A concious darkness, like an ever ebbing and waning tide of minds combined,
detached, cloying.  Where in most would be a single conciousness, here the
darkness hides the cracked lines, the borders between seperate entities.
Here they would speak.  It was without invasion, without crossing the borders.
Doing so meant helplessness in another's reality.

*He wishes to free her.*

~But... that's impossible, she is dead.~

*He only says that she may yet live and he wishes to find her.*

>Like hell.  The body is ours and her sniveling presence is gone. She is dead,
he is wasting his time.<

Silence then, as what often accompanied her mad ravings.  None argued with
her, as it was often futile.  And all of them silently wondered if perhaps she
was right.

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


Message 883 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sat Oct  3 23:31:57 1998 EDT
From:     Jazz (#3791)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

There is a new Ghostwheel Weekly Journal in the lounge.

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


Message 884 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sat Oct  3 23:35:59 1998 EDT
From:     Jazz (#3791)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

The Ghostwheel Weekly Journal is an IC tool to get rumors and plots going.
Yes, I write it in a goofy manner for folks to laugh at, but I have seen
people RPing around it.  If you have a plot you want started through the
newspaper, send it to me.  I try to include every rumor I get, but
occationally I do miss one or two due to pages being sent instead of mail.  So
please make sure you mail it to me, especially if I'm idling.
This has been an OOC announcement.  Thank you.

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


Message 885 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Oct  4 14:30:30 1998 EDT
From:     Karma (#20542)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Funny... but I had heard you were dead?

IC Rumor: Despite the discovery of her body in the bayou in New Orleans, some
people claim to have seen Seraph here and there.

The only unusual thing they have noted was that she seemed... quiet. Rather
unlike herself.

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


Message 886 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Oct  4 14:48:47 1998 EDT
From:     Tito (#24588)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Since this is the list for people who actually RP...

I would now like to note that Tito The Pimp is now in play.  When there are
obviously people online, I _will_ devote my time to RP.  That is all.  ;)
P.S.: Be one of my hos!

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


Message 887 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Oct  5 01:20:42 1998 EDT
From:     Phantom_Rose (#6337)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

Frap came home excited, the thought of taking the young mage to on a journey
envigurated the old man.  If he could get Sinner to see things as he did, then
maybe he could turn him from the dark and lonely path he was on.

Frap summoned up a cup of Brinn's tea and began researching through the piles
of books and lore that he'd gathered or found in the library at darkreach.
The tea pot was much to busy to do it because it was composing a new song and
wouldn't cooperate at all.

This umbral realm as Sinner calls it wouldn't be hard to find, the trick would
be to open the door way to it.  Frap knew he could do it with a bit of help.
It was done before..

F.

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


Message 888 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Oct  5 03:13:03 1998 EDT
From:     Yjezra (#5512)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Wall of Ice and Confusion

She walked out of her cavern, her eyes automatically going to the one where he
lay sleeping... if he were on the Mount at all, and just as quickly turned her
eyes away, striding toward the hatchery. She stopped just before entering it,
deciding that as much as she wished to see the hatchlings, she really didn't
want to face Elshydrath in her present frame of mind.
'I can gather the herbs that are needed for the children teething, and for the
tea that helps during Moontime.' She nods once to her own thoughts and takes
the sinuous tunnel toward the ledge.
Glancing at Lyrzrath, she made sure her thoughts were of the herbs and the
preparation of them into the medicinals she was planning on replenishing. She
needn't have bothered, her dragonfriend lifted one lazy eyelid, then closed
it, shifting on the stone for a more comfortable position.
::You think to hide your feelings my friend. You know better. You made the
choices you had to make. It is up to him to find his mind. He blocks
Elshydrath, too, you know.:: The garnet's thoughts were like soft balm to her
sore heart and mind. The comfort of the bond, the understanding, respect and
love that she shared with her friend. She gently ran her hand down over
Lyrzraths nose, more for her own need of the touch and walked toward the
garden.
She walked purposely into the garden, preparing herself that others might be
there, no one was nearby and she escaped to a place of refuge for her. She
placed the basket she carried on the bench, then sat down and looked around at
the herbs that she and others had brought here, saved from extinction in many
cases, and her mind slipped back over the last two years.

[OOC - To be continued]

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


Message 889 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Oct  5 03:37:23 1998 EDT
From:     Dante (#10660)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Raging.

The sounds of the bayou outside awoke Dante, not that he had slept much in the
past few days, but something was missing. He had gathered allies to prevent
the incident with both Enid and Toraxyn, and yet none came to his aid. He
waved a hand as the sweet smell of rotting flesh floated through the room, his
candles, his trophies of those he had defeated and what were they worth if he
could not stop those who wished to control him? Demand respect from him? They
offered nothing in return and none of them showed respect to their betters,
why he remembered when Gideon bested Toraxyn on jizo wryly, surely that alone
ate away at Toraxyn's innards even to this day. And yet, again a female
attempted to control his life. It was bad enough hen his mentor used him to
her advantage, Dante was tired of being used to others whims it was about time
he did something about it. Worst of all Williker plagued him repeatedly, oh
he'd take great pleasure when he caught him offguard, no one is invicible
certainly not Williker. He'd bested Khyber, and Rathe, Toraxyn however still
eluded him but when push came to shove he would have his way, and it was only
a matter of time.

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


Message 890 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Oct  5 03:44:38 1998 EDT
From:     Yjezra (#5512)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Wall of Ice and Confusion (Cont)

Ynaoise had been 'taken', he and Elshydrath, by an evil so dark, Yna could not
speak of it, even to Yjezra, his wife and helpmate. She remembered the pain of
his disappearance, then the joy of his return, just in time to help retake the
Mount, all of them returning home. It took time for him to return to some
semblance of his former self.
As things looked better, more strangness and evil struck. By some strange
happenstance, all the females on the Mount at that time, and of childbearing
age, quickened, even those who had not lain with a man. The pregnancies
advanced rapidly, causing fear, and suspicion among the Mounts residents.
Ynaoise drew away from Yjezra. Condemning her with his eyes, his coldness as
he withdrew into himself. He seemed unable to see the pattern, that of all the
women, even his 'daughter', Brinn, was pregnant.  Yjezra had tried to reach
him, but he was unable to hear her, his mind closed and unbelieving.
The one known as the Seer, the Prophet, came to the Mount after having some
insight into the situation. Morpheus spoke to several of the people there. He
told them what had happened, that the children to be born were not human,
atleast not completely. Fae were involved. That the realm of the faery had
somehow over-lapped in ours. The assurance helped many, allowing them to
understand the rapid growth, the unexplained conceptions. But Yna was cold. He
did not hear the truth. He could not be reasoned with, simply because he would
walk away, or in the bed he shared with Yjezra, he would turn on his side and
go to sleep.

(To be continued)

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


Message 891 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Oct  5 04:01:27 1998 EDT
From:     Yjezra (#5512)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Walls of Ice and Confusion (Cont)

The 'babes' were all born within three months of conception, all within days
or hours of each other. The result of these births were mixed, most showing
their fae heritage, a troll was born, another was what appeared to be half
human-half beast of some kind.
Yjezra's 'child' was sent away, to be brought up by a loving family in the
hopes that peace would once again reign in her life. Things did not change and
she waited, loving him patiently for nearly a year. Finally, still unable to
reach him. To watch him change daily into someone she didn't know... She
backed away.
It was only six months ago that she told him that he needed to seek help, that
until he could believe and trust and return to her arms and their marriage, he
should take his rest in another cavern. She spoke quietly, most of the pain
was dull now after the long year of his silences and accusing eyes, his
appearing half-mad at times. He just looked at her, nodded once, then gathered
his things. He reached out to take the portrait he had done of his family, but
a choked sob from Yjezra turned him and he walked out. She sleeps alone now,
often her hand reaching out to touch his pillow, believing for a moment before
she fully wakes that he is beside her and all is well.
Sitting in the early morning sun, her eyes closed and dry, for all her tears
had been shed now, she was glad she had let Luthe bring Ylaerin home earlier.
Talking with her dear friend... She had needed that, for she had told no one,
not even Brinn of her feelings since Ynaoise had left their cavern.
Squaring her shoulders, she reached for the basket and stood, whispering 'Good
bye my Raven, my husband...'

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


Message 892 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Oct  5 04:07:22 1998 EDT
From:     Tirafal (#24173)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Good Enough

Tira sat on the rug in front of the fire, a cup of tea beside her, and let her
eyes follow the dancing flames. Her hair, unbound from it's braid, spilled
down her back and her arms hugged her knees through the sturdy flannel of her
night gown. The kestrel slept on his perch, his head tucked under his wing,
and Tira sighed softly with contentment.
Her sigh, and the rise and fall of the kestrel's breast, was not the only
breathing in the cottage. Not two feet away from her, he slept on the rug.
She had ran into him again tonight at the Lounge in the R/T building; the
dragon rider with the white hair. Her eyes had followed him, watched him, his
sadness almost palpable. Then kestrel had done a curious thing. He hopped up
the bar to the man and had...the only word Tira could think for it was
"talked"...to him. And they began to talk.
Later, they slipped out of the lounge when it began to get rowdy. Tira frowned
to herself, thinking of the pond scum and bottom feeders that liked to
populate the place and make trouble at night. Softly, out loud, she said,
"Lounge lizards.", and giggled at her pun, because earlier that night there
had actually been a recomb lizard in the place.
They had gone to the green room and sat and talked for hours. She had told him
things about herself she had rarely told anyone.
Tira looked at the winged brand on the back of her hand. She had actually even
told him of how she had aquired it, and what the Lady had said when she gave
it to her. She never talked about that to anyone.
And he had told her of his pain and loss. Tira frowned at that thought.
It was late when he brought her home....very late. He accepted tea, but before
she could get it made, he was half asleep.
He had accepted her invitation to stay. And respected that the invitation was
innocent.
Tira listened to the regular rise and fall of his chest, the first human
breathing in the cottage in sleep other then her own since her father died.
She took a sip of tea, watching the almost painful vulnerability of him in
sleep, and for the first time admitted to herself that she was in love with
him.
Tira glanced at the bird. Kestrel had known; had known long before she did.
She sighed once more and picked up the candle, lighting it at the fire. She
put her cup in the sink and went to her bedroom.
Slipping under the quilt she blew out the candle...and went to sleep dreaming
of the morrow.

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


Message 893 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Oct  5 04:09:34 1998 EDT
From:     Michaela (#16048)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Edge of Thorns.

The void shifted, like the grated of stone against metal.  The emptiness
solidified, taking shape.  A stone wall, perfectly carved, each peice fitting
with exact precision.  There was no door, no window, but there were thorns.
Snaking out as barbed tentacles, thick as a man's arm, wrapping tightly around
the newly revealed tower.
They stared at it in wonder.  How could they be so blind to miss this
monstrousity?  There had been nothing, a void, a blackness, the absense of
sentience.

*She lives.*

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


Message 894 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Oct  5 09:58:34 1998 EDT
From:     Rand (#9865)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  The silence broken...

Rand paused in his hunting, a strange feeling in his stomach.  His eyes
scanned the sky, `A dragon comes to my valley' he thought.  Moonstone eyes
flashed as the huge garnet passed over him.  Three things flashed through his
mind in a split second, the first was outrage that the riders were trying to
take over his valley, the second was anger at himself for leaving his dragon
armor at home, and the third was fear...Not fear for himself, but fear for the
child he protected, Tirafal.
He drew his cloak around himself and drew his onyx longsword.  He sprinted
through the Forest of Thorns on swift feet, his stealth honed to a fine point,
he hardly made a sound.  Slashing out at Dragon Wolves on his way, to remove
the threat of them crying an alarm, Rand made his way to Tirafal's cottage,
hopeing he wouldn't be too late.
As he neared the glade, he paused for a second, listening...What he heard
surprised him, it was the sound of a sleeping Dragon.  "Why would a dragon
land here and sleep," He asked himself, and hissed at the answer, "They have
done what they came to do, she must be dead..."  He scanned the sky again,
looking for more dragons, and sniffed at the air for a scent of the smoke he
knew would be there.  He paused a few moments longer, confusion in his eyes,
as he smelt no smoke, nor saw any more dragons.
Silently he crept closer to the glade, and peered through the trees to see her
cottage in one piece, and a dragon sleeping next to it.  Rand let out a deep
sigh, filled with awe and relief.  Awe at the sheer size of the dragon, and
relief that he still may be able to save Tirafal.
His gaze turned to the cottage, a light burned in the window.  Rand slowly
made his way around the glade, trying not to awaken the Dragon.  When he came
to the side opposite the dragon, behind the cottage, he slipped from the trees
and silently moved towards the cottage, peering into the window.
Twice in one night, Rand was astonished, for he saw Tirafal sitting in a
chair, and a Dragon Rider sleeping on her floor.  "A rider with White hair..."
His face split into a grin, "I've heard of him...isn't that Yj's old man?"
With one last shake of his head, Rand slipped back into the trees and made his
way back to his own house.  As he settled into the chair infront of the fire,
he chuckled softly, "Has he gone against her? Finally, her people will revolt,
and she will be left with nothing...Other then her precious mount."  His mirth
faded and his eyes flashed again, "As it should be...Perhaps I should open my
valley to other Riders who wish to leave her to her own fate."

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


Message 895 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Oct  5 11:07:12 1998 EDT
From:     Tirafal (#24173)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Morning Breaks

Tira sat straight up in bed, jerked out of a sound sleep.
*Rand*, the thought bolted through her brain.
Tira groaned, "How could I have been so FOOLISH?"
Throwing back the quilt, she bolted out of bed and clothes went flying as she
quickly dressed. The sun was just rising over the lip of the mountains as she
quietly slipped out the cottage door, breathing a sigh of relief that she
hadn't wakened Yna. She caught her breath as the sheer immense bulk of Els
greeted her, the dragon's breath regular in her own sleep. *Thank the gods
you're safe too.*, Tira thought.
Almost as if in response to her silent thinking, Els opened an eye and
regarded the girl, closing it in a slow deliberate wink.
Tira gathered her cloak around her, the chill of the early autumn air nipping
at her, and she sped down the path to the valley. Rand would be about at this
time of the morning, she knew. But she would have to find him.
Making her way into the mist of the valley floor, she was startled by a snarl
and a body that suddenly flung itself at her, knocking her off her feet. Her
hands went to the muzzle of the dragon wolf, pressing it shut and holding it
away from her when a figure darted out of the trees.With a war cry loud enough
to raise the dead, Rand kicked the wolf off of her, beheading it with one
stroke of his sword as it turned on him.
Calmly sheathing his sword, he helped her to her feet.
"Out early this morning, aren't you?", he said.
Tira panted and sat down on a log to regain her breath.
"Rand, there's a dragon in the glade."
"I know that. You think anything goes on in this valley I'm not aware of?",
Rand said.
Tira told him of the events of the previous night and her feelings for the
man. More then anything she berated herself for putting him and his dragon in
danger.
Tira", Rand said, "I have no real quarrel with dragons and dragon riders. My
quarrel is with their Mistress. As long as I know YOU are safe they are in no
real danger. I will speak to this man. Until then you have my word and
guarantee of their safety."
"That is all I ask.", Tira said.
Rand hugged her and with a final farewell bolted into the trees.
Tira slowly made her way back to the cottage. Quietly entering, she put the
kettle on the fire for tea and began making breakfast, the sleeping form in
front of the fire beginning to stir.
Morning had come, and with it the new day began.

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


Message 896 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue Oct  6 04:07:26 1998 EDT
From:     Ybrielle (#4778)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Winds of Change.

Dawn spread her sunny fingers out across the mountains, peeking with morning
orange over the ledge of Morlith, setting Ybrielle's red hair afire.  The
Rider stood quietly, leaning against an old quarterstaff, her cheek touching
the blackwood smoothed out from years of use.  A breeze stirred the ledge,
chasing leaves across the stone, their scrapings against the ground like
little screams of protest.  It was a morning like any other, beautiful,
content, peaceful.  Only the heart of the Rider felt heavy with burden.
Ynaoise was gone.  Though she so rarely spoke to him, his manner was cold, his
eyes so distant, his leaving stirred her blood with wanderlust.  Val'Saar
would not have her, this she knew.  It was dishonorable to leave your place of
bonding for frivolous reasons.  Even more, she was nearing her fifth month
with child, it was not safe for her to travel far, nor was it fair to Yraelan.
No logic satisfied her.  Loyalties began to chafe like shackles around her
wrists.  Even Tierz'yrrlan sensed her restlessness and offered to fly her to
Drach'Nal or even to Wolf Moon Valley, hoping this would satisfy her cravings.
And for a little while, it did.
The wind sighed past her, echoing her whispered words, "I regret.  I regret."

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


Message 897 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue Oct  6 23:09:14 1998 EDT
From:     Dwight (#20455)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

Dwight walked into the soundproof room, muttering quietly to himself as he sat
at his desk.

"I am always screwing things up it seems.." his hand went to a glass of white
lightning, which he promptly threw against the wall, watching the fluid spray
in all directions.

"A flowing wave of moonlit worm made.." if he could find the substance to
that, he could perhaps get her back after all.. unless she decided he was not
worth her trouble.

"We shall soon see.." he opened up his computer and set to work.

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


Message 898 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Thu Oct  8 05:41:24 1998 EDT
From:     Tirafal (#24173)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  The Awakening

He slept for two full days. It was as if he was in a place of refuge, and his
body knew it. His dragon slept with him, both sleeping the sleep of mental and
physical exhaustion. It was only on the morning of the third day, when Rand
came, that Tira had the heart to wake him. He came out of his sleep startled,
rolled to his feet with sword drawn and his mind still cloudy.
Tira gave him tea as his head cleared the cobwebs of his long sleep. Then Rand
began to question him. Rand was actually gentle with him but it was
questioning just the same. A rider gone rouge was unheard of and more then
anything Rand wanted reassurance that the Wolf Moon Valley was safe, not to
mention his ward, Tirafal.
When Rand was sure in his own mind there was no threat, he guaranteed Ynaoise
protection and safety for him and his bondmate. In return, Ynaoise guaranteed
the same protection to Rand. He might have gone rogue from the Mount, but for
the moment he still held the office of Warder of Morlith.
Rand left after the two men gripped arms in farewell, the beginning of an
unlikely, potential alliance.
While Tira prepared food for him, Ynaoise went to the bath house and washed
and tended his dragon. He took her to hunt for food so that she could eat
before he even thought of breaking his own long fast. On returning, he ate a
prodigous amount, and then, once again accepting the refuge of the cottage, he
slept.
>From her chair in front of the fire, Tira watched him sleep, an unlikely
guardian for the man. Whatever he had been through, she knew he was finally
healing. In their conversation, in the way he moved and spoke, one by one she
saw the bands of ice breaking from around his heart. His pain still made him
keep distance from her. The first time she touched him he flinched like a
child used to abuse. It almost broke her heart. Like an injured eagle he
slashed with beak and claws, keeping all at bay. She treated him like an
injured animal, kept her movements slow, her approaches calm.
But finally, when he slept again at last, she knew that trust for her was
building. She loved him and hoped that some day he would love her. But for the
time, just the fact that he was coming to trust her was a miracle in itself.
His heart was reawakening; and with it coming out of it's long sleep his body
finally found the rest it craved.
Tira fell asleep in the chair...the watchful guardian at the post.

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


Message 899 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Thu Oct  8 16:47:44 1998 EDT
From:     Ybrielle (#4778)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Distant Thunder.

Tierz'yrrlan's restlessness now exceeded Ybrielle's.  His constant pacing and
irritated attitude were no longer hidden.  His patience was gone, his eyes
swirling a constant yellowish grey.
Ybrielle understood, more then she dare to say aloud.  Ynaoise's disappearance
also meant Elshydrath's, Tierz'yrrlan's lifemate.  With her gone, he grew
lonlier day after day.  His only reasoning for remaining was out of love for
his Rider, who he knew was in no condition to be dragged from the Mount.  This
did nothing to ease Ybrielle's conscience or her own growing wanderlust.
Sometimes she wondered if it were nothing more then an extention of her
dragonfriend's own desires.
A shreik shattered her thoughts, and Ybrielle looked to the sky, seeing an
eagle flying far overhead.  She sighed, she would not be here forever, as she
once thought.  It was only a matter of honor, lose honor and follow the
heart... or lose the heart and remain in honor...

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


Message 900 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Fri Oct  9 09:14:13 1998 EDT
From:     Dragonbabe (#5288)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  A News Letter sent around various towns and hangouts

Mount Morlith Aeyrie is searching for books and scrolls for their Library.
Anyone having old, or new books can send them to the Mount. Your contributions
will be graciously accepted.
History, Mathematics, Literature, Science books.
Contact any DragonRider.
*signed* Yjezra, rider of the garnet Lyrzrath

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


Message 901 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Fri Oct  9 15:54:28 1998 EDT
From:     Red_Fang (#5907)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  A formal Challange.


I formally challange Williker, holder of the wolfblade to a challage of the
blade to determine that mighty swords ownership.  Letting combat determine its
fate.

I await your answer.

Red Fang.

OOC: POSTED IN THE R/T Round Room.

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


Message 902 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Fri Oct  9 16:04:41 1998 EDT
From:     Sinner (#12411)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  A formal.. mockery?

Ink is etched out in certain space, and a eloquent thrill mark of blood in
it's place. Now, the letter reads:

I formally challange Williker, holder of the *love rod* to a *BDSM scene of
the flogger* to determine that mighty *phallus* ownership. Letting
*beastality* determine it's fate.
I await your answer.

*Mah Wang*

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


Message 903 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Fri Oct  9 16:55:12 1998 EDT
From:     Williker (#20481)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  heh

Written under Red's note:

I formally tell Red Fang, the fuckball who wants the wolfblade, to fuck off.

Theres my answer.

Big Willie


P.S.: I accept Mah Wang's offer.

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


Message 904 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sat Oct 10 12:28:43 1998 EDT
From:     Ylaerin (#16541)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

Ylaerin opened her eyes, and was greeted by the pleasant sight of the diffuse
sunlight filtering through the fabric of the bright blue tent.  Back on the
Mount, Luthe woke as well, and the two exchanged the greetings that had become
a part of their morning ritual over the past four years. The new darkness that
had tinged her Friend's thoughts with the loss of his Mate was eased as Etra
shared with him the joy she had found with her new love.
He was lying beside her, still sleeping. One of his arms was curled
protectively around her, and his breathing was steady and even... the sound of
it soothed her.  She had not expected any of this, really. Not when it had
begun, and certainly not when her husband had comitted suicide; but here she
was, 3 months later, beginning to feel as if her life her truly her own once
more.
She turned slightly, part of her mind devoted to watching her children play in
the garden with Myst's children.. the rest of her mind floating pleasantly in
the haze of affection and comfort she found here in Corwin's arms. While it
was true that there were still many bridges to cross - and a few of them to
finish burning, if she could - and despite the existence of people like
Williker (she frowned slightly as she ran her finger down Corwin's jaw,
remembering his return, bleeding and in pain, afte having  to deal with
Will)... Etra was beginning t feel confident again that she could carry out
her duties.
When Luthe gave her a playful mental shove and told her to enjoy herself for
these last few days before she came home, Etra chuckled quietly to herself and
complied.  And with her attention fully focused on her surroundings, she found
herself once more caught up in the onrush of fire in her heart for the man who
had first made himself her personal champion, and then had sworn himself a
Knight of the Circle, joined with her in her duty if not yet fully joined to
her as her only love.

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


Message 905 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Oct 11 17:16:42 1998 EDT
From:     Tadewi (#16048)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Thinning Ice.

Sunlight streamed through the windows of the Rose Chamber, lighting the carpet
and curtains with a slight mauve tone.  Tadewi sat on the edge of the bed, the
sleepy sluggishness of first awakening leaving her a bit groggy.  The whole
world seemed so alien, as if this were a stranger's flesh she rode.
At least a month had passed, all of that time lost to her.  She felt
disoriented, much as she did when she was younger, when her madness was so
much more prevalent.  Toraxyn had come for her, she recalled it all as a
dream, hazy yet as with most dreams, the memory of it could not fade.
Snatching her robe from the hook beside the door, she wrapped it around her,
not bothering to tie it at her waist.  The corridor was empty, the servants
all in the kitchens or the gardens, the morning light meant preparing for the
day.  She walked quietly to the crimson chamber, slipping in without allowing
the door to creak.
Toraxyn slept quietly, still dressed as the night previous. Neither had
possessed the strength to remove his cloak and clothing.  She stopped beside
the bed, reaching out to touch his brow, but the smoothness of his breathing
made her hesitate.  He was still so pale, the spell that had drawn her from
her mental prison left him weak as a kitten.
She withdrew her hand, it was better to let him sleep.  She knew well his
pride.

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


Message 906 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Oct 11 17:22:38 1998 EDT
From:     Red_Fang (#5907)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Conquest


At approxamently 23:45, Mon October 29 2642.  Red Fang landed in the Village
of Drac'nal claiming it as his own.  All residents will be taxed and force to
sign oaths of allegence to avoid execution.  A 5000 crystal reward is posted
for the remains or the living body of one Rathe, also a 2000 crystal reward is
posted for the capture of Williker.

R.

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


Message 907 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Oct 11 17:34:24 1998 EDT
From:     Moonheart (#20495)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Drach'Nal

A note posted in the R/T building....

Moonheart Magus and Swordmage herby recognizes Red Fang's rule of Drach'Nal
and offers his support.

Moonheart

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


Message 908 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Oct 11 17:37:41 1998 EDT
From:     Anubis (#22578)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Note in R/T

Wanted... shotgun. Contact Anubis.

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


Message 909 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Oct 11 17:42:23 1998 EDT
From:     Williker (#20481)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Whee

Note around Drach'Nal:

The people of Drach'Nal will not stand for this. Red Fang is to be shot on
sight. Along with his mage buddies.

- W.V.

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


Message 910 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Oct 11 20:37:40 1998 EDT
From:     Akeashar (#20348)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

Akea, god of the know-nothings, recites they never knew Red Fang took control
of Drach'nal.

(OOC post)

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


Message 911 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Oct 11 21:06:31 1998 EDT
From:     Oberon (#22725)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

The emerald robed figure sat in quiet solitude at his desk, pouring through
dusty tomes, even unrolling the occasional scroll and moving through its
contents. A man by the name of Red Fang had claimed ruler ship over the
Valley, his homeland. The candle upon his desk flickered softly, the only
light now in the entire cottage. Oberon had decided not to use any more of a
light, not wanting to attract the attention of Red Fang or his army.
He knew that there was no way he could best Red Fang with his sword arm...put
perhaps there was another way..The man thought as he went back to work,
studying over the texts.

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


Message 912 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Oct 12 01:10:02 1998 EDT
From:     Red_Fang (#5907)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Needed


Red Fang sat pouring over the statistics of keeping control of such a large
area of land.  He wasn't going to make the same mistake this time as he had in
the past.  Having his friend Moonheart's backing would help but the magus was
busy and wouldn't be there at all times.  Red needed to build up a strength of
arms and a plan to keep the people of Drach'nal happy.  He decided against the
taxing of them for that would only cause hardship on them.  He would police
the area, keeping the Necro's men at bay and call on a few allies to assist in
freeing the valley.

Posts would go up, Men and Women at arms needed.  Also engineers and thinkers
of all kinds.  Merchants would be needed to start trade in the village.

A mayor of some sort would need to be elected..  Symbolizem mostly but Red
didn't really want to control the village or its people, he only wanted to
show the world that Rathe's powers where dead and that the dark arts would not
be tolorated again.

A special messanger to Morlith asking for aid and assistance in keeping the
peace was sent.  Word still had not been received.

Red would welcome the Druids also in this and beg forgiveness for past
transgressions.  Things would need healing..

Also he sent a ambasitor to the Mech's, finding if there was any clans there
who opposed Rathe's rule.  Also Red contacted the Submariner nation seeking an
alliance.

A Fair price would be paid to men and women of arms who wished to join and
fight for the liberation of Drach'nal.

R.

OOC:  Ok, not your regular Red invasion going on here.. *grins*  If you wanna
join the fight for freedom of GW from the black mages then @send your request
to me.  I have a small bank roll so to speak to pay NEWBIE's who wish to be
memebers of my force.  @send your interest to me and I'll let ya know where to
set up camp so we may begin training.  Medical benifits included!


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


Message 913 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Oct 12 01:13:05 1998 EDT
From:     Red_Fang (#5907)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  re: previous

Forgive all the spelling errors.. And let me know if ya have any other
questions.

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


Message 915 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Oct 12 04:57:26 1998 EDT
From:     Yjezra (#5512)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Renewal of Trust or Another Betrayal?

Ytyrlan found her in the supply cavern, taking an inventory of the Mount's
needs. She had made note that she and Freiga would need to make more soap
_soon_ and she couldn't understand where the sheets were disappearing too. Not
alot of them, but one missing here, another there. They began to add up.
Strange. She turned and smiled at the old Rider as he stomped in, stopping
herself in surprise as he puffed in, red in the face and looking none too
happy.
Shaking a folded sheet of thick paper nearly in her face, Ytyrlan spoke. 'Ye
know 'e is nothin but trouble, lass. Don' go getten mixed up wi' the likes 'o
him. 'E brought ye heartache afore and I be tellin' ye tha rogue canna change
'is stripes!'
She listened to his tirade, unsure of who he was talking about and reached for
the letter he waved in her face as a punctuation of his words. She made a grab
for it several times before she finally caught it in her hand, but then it
seemed that the old rider wasn't going to give it to her. "Please Tyr, what is
this all about? Let me have the letter.' Ytyrlan scowled at her, his voice
gruff, 'Tha scallawag said ter bring it to ye straight 'way, lass. I dinna
want to, but I promised tha bonny dragon I would. Immediately 'e said ta her,
so I brung it to ye immediately Az'yrrli give it ta me. I be warning ye, 'e is
up to no good onct again.'
She nodded to Tyr, turning the thick paper over in her hand, her eyes widening
in surprise as she saw it addressed to her in his familar handwriting. Bold,
impatient as always. She looked up as the rider stomped out, mumbling under
his breath, 'Thrice damned scalawag.' She opened the paper, took a deep breath
and began to read. After a moment, in something like shock, she sat down on
the nearly empty barrel of soap and read the letter over again. 'Yes,' she
thought to herself, 'Tyrlan has reason enough to worry. Again. Can this be
true or is it more of his plans of conquest?' She looked up from the letter
and looked around at the shelves filled with everyday supplies and shook her
head, her thoughts running around in circles.
'Is this another trick of Red's?' she whispered to herself.

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


Message 916 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Oct 12 11:49:01 1998 EDT
From:     Red_Fang (#5907)
To:       *storylines (#5236)


In order to raise funds for the freeing of Drach'nal and riding the world of
the black magics..  Red Fang annouces..

For sale or trade:  One Broadsword formally owned by Toraxyn.  Name on sword
is Bloodsong.

Highest bidder or best offer will be entertained.

R.

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


Message 917 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Oct 12 21:14:13 1998 EDT
From:     Williker (#20481)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Missing?

Williker awoke to the sound of breaking glass and the smell of smoke. He
quickly jumped outta bed and grabbed his shotgun; kicking open his bedroom
door. Just as he did a cocktail made of liquoir and a flaming rag flew through
the window. Williker grunted and leaped back into his bedroom just as the
cocktail exploded.

As the smoke cleared the angry mob stormed there way through to the rubble,
screaming and yelling. Williker raised to his knees, his body bruised and
battered. The leader of this mob shouted and pointed, "There he is! Grab him!"
Before Will could even flinch at least 4 men grabbed him. "You! You are the
reason this Red Fang has come! Rathe just died, we were finally free, but then
you brought this on us!", screamed the leader. Will coughed up some blood and
glanced up, "People of Drach'Nal..", he mumbled, " go fuck yourself." and with
that he shrugged free just enough to grab his gun. He aimed it at the leader
and smiled grimly, "I'll be back.. count on it." Williker grabbed what stuff
he could and staggered off towards the transport. A man in the mob shouted,
"Get him!", but the leader yelled, "No.. let him go.."

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


Message 918 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue Oct 13 01:28:23 1998 EDT
From:     Durandal (#23874)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

Among the ungodly scattering of other notes hammered to the wall of the R/T
lounge is yet another:

-Looking for:-
Ball bearings, shotgun shells, gyroslug and automatic bullets.

(OOC: page me if you have them and we'll work out a deal.)

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


Message 919 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed Oct 14 00:15:56 1998 EDT
From:     Matt (#24497)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Another note in the r/t.....


Wanted:

A whip and a throwing dagger....

Contact me if you wish to sell...


- Matt

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


Message 920 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed Oct 14 04:16:13 1998 EDT
From:     Tadewi (#16048)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Haunted.

Tadewi rose from the bed she shared now with Toraxyn and reached for the robe
still left lying on the floor, throwing it over her shoulders, clutching it
closed with her hand.  Trancelike, she left the crimson chamber, the door
creaking with protest, the old hinges complaining like old men.  The robe
drifted behind her, long enough to catch the carpet fibers as she drifted down
into the main hallway, now empty in the dead of the night.
The body had since been removed, and the blood scrubbed as well as possible
from the carpet, but there still lingered in the air the scorched scent of
death.  Like an angelic ghost, she haunted that spot, kneeling down where poor
Desiree had been informed that her fiance, one of the Mystique Maison's
personal guards, was dead.  The girl was still stricken, sleeping now only by
the mercy of medication.  Tadewi understood her grief, shared it.  The guards
were all her personal friends, more then just hired swords.  Their deaths at
the hands of Sinner pained her.  This one in paticular, for his death had been
painful and horridly gruesome.
She found the note kicked into a corner, the paper crumpled and torn in one
corner, from the heel of Toraxyn's boot.  Her fingers trembled as she smoothed
it open, anxious yet fearful of its contents.
The parchment was written with a dark red ink, which she realized in horror
was blood, probably the blood of the dead guard.  The script was fanciful,
formal even.

Lord Rathe has returned and he will soon come to claim his wife and rightful
property.  Leave, usurper of Rathe's legacy!

There was no signature.

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


Message 921 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Thu Oct 15 19:16:37 1998 EDT
From:     Oberon (#22725)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

The emerald robed figure sat, nooked peacefully between a place where two
giant roots crossed, forming a area bedded with leaves. The hood of his
voluminous robes were tossed back, revealing the azure tones of his skin. The
man's eyes where lidded peacefully, but the silvery orbs beneath the lids
moved back and forth, as if watching something within his head.
His mind was filled with a soft song, a peaceful one of nature and harmony,
his only thoughts were focused upon the soft tones of its music. The figure
could sense the life and power pulsing behind him and around him, emanting
from The Tree of Gaia, Eldorath.
Suddenly, the mariner's eyes popped open, silvery orbs shifting about
erratically, as if searching. A sudden light pierced his thoughts, only
slightly covering the soft melody of nature's song in his mind, clearing away
any jumbled thoughts in his head at that moment...and he knew his path.

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


Message 922 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Fri Oct 16 00:01:53 1998 EDT
From:     Williker (#20481)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Wheefun in my pants

Note in R/T:

Creasent Blade for sale. Call Williker.

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


Message 923 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Fri Oct 16 18:11:41 1998 EDT
From:     Devon (#23970)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  We should hav a sign board in the r/t for sales.

A note tacked to the lounge.
    For sale : quarterstaff named "Thumper" and one bison warclub.

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


Message 924 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sat Oct 17 02:51:38 1998 EDT
From:     Sterno (#21938)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Note tacked up in the R/T and DarkReach

I need information on how to embue charges in a magical wand I have found.
Proper information will meet with a reward.

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


Message 925 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sat Oct 17 03:13:27 1998 EDT
From:     Eponine (#3791)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

There's a new journal in the Lounge.

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


Message 926 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sat Oct 17 15:07:39 1998 EDT
From:     Red_Fang (#5907)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Meeting

A meeting will be held tonight approxamently 8pm MDT for Red's men/women..
Usual meeting place.  New comers are welcome to call and get the details.

OOC that time is ooc time.. not game time since that is so hard to judge..

Red

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


Message 927 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Oct 18 04:44:55 1998 EDT
From:     Tirafal (#24173)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Found

Posted in R/T building:
I found the following on GW Plains:
A rapier, a broadsword and a pair of boots. Rightful owners can contact me for
return (and a few crystal reward.)
Tirafal

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


Message 928 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Oct 18 15:24:06 1998 EDT
From:     Venom (#20510)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Another Sign Posted In R/T Lounge

Selling Throwing Knives and Bull Whips... Contact Venom for more information.

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


Message 929 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Oct 19 05:38:08 1998 EDT
From:     Tadewi (#16048)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Pain, Retribution.

A moonless night sky greeted Tadewi as she drifted onto the garden balcony,
clad only in her nightdress.  The chill of the evening breeze wound through
her hair and teased the sides of her robe, blowing the silky material behind
her as her hands fell upon the cool marble rail that seperated her from the
slumbering splendors below.
Faint light from the maison filtered out onto the grass, the only light by
which to see, by which she could adjust her eyes to make out the shadowy
shapes of trees and distant buildings beyond the walls of her property.  How
often she came here to seek solace, how the night always welcomed her with
open arms.
But not tonight.
The chill breeze lifted the hairs on her arms, like the hackles of danger
raising prematurely.  The twisted outline of trees swayed with a foreboding
rustle, even the city seemed to menace her in its repose.  She wished Toraxyn
were here.  He would know what it was that disturbed her and ease her worried
thoughts with but a touch of his hand.
As if on cue, he was beside her, a gloved hand stroking the hair from her
shoulder, his face near to her ear.  His breath was warm against the coolness
of her skin, "You are up rather late, my love."  He might have startled her,
but that she had begun to adjust to his stealthy ways.
She turned her head enough to murmur in return, "I could not sleep."
His hand trailed down her throat, then down her arm to clasp with her fingers,
lifting them to his lips to kiss them lightly, "Then perhaps you can accompany
me, there is something I need show you."
*NO! Don't do it... don't go..."
The harshness of her inner thoughts dizzied her and she blinked repeatedly, a
small gasp escaping her lips.  Toraxyn's arms were around her instantly,
supporting her in case she fell, his caress so warm, so inviting.  "Are you
all right, my love?" he murmured to her, to which she could only mutely nod.
"Then I think you'd best come inside, the night is chill... I'll not have you
catching cold."
Numbly she allowed herself to be lead off the balcony and through the
ballroom, his step never faltering, even in the darkness that surrounded them.
The initial feelings of dread never left her, not for a moment, and with every
step she took, her heart pounded faster and faster.  Finally, she forced him
to pause in the hallway, questioning him gently, for fear her voice would
betray her innermost desire to bolt and run, "What is it you wished to show me
so late at night, dearest?"
A low chuckle, the sound of fabric rustling as his hands rubbed her shoulders.
"You always wondered what my work station was like, I know you have, even
though you've patiently kept from asking..." he bent low again, lips brushing
over her ear, "... if you are so restless tonight, I will show you."
*You mustn't, go back to bed, woman, go!*
She whirled around, too quick, too spooked, her composure lost, "No... I am
tired again... I..." she felt his arms encircle her waist and fought the urge
to shudder.  "I will return to bed, my love."
A sigh in the darkness.  His hands stroked her back.  "I had hoped this would
be easier, but it seems your intuitions leave me no choice."  Roughly he
grabbed her by the arms, lifting her off her feet to throw her over his
shoulder.  In her surprise, it never even occured to her to scream, to wake
the servants and the guards.  This was her husband... he wouldn't do this, he
couldn't!
Her mental protests did nothing to change reality as he carried her down into
his basement workroom and she realized at last why he never allowed her or the
servants to accompany him, or even to set foot here.  Her eyes caught sight of
his devices, things resembling torture items, experimental creatures in cages,
yammering and howling against their bars upon sight of the master returning.
He silenced them with a movement of his hand and set her atop a large table.
The scent of terror and hopelessness hung thick in the air.
He turned away from her suddenly, shaking his head, as if he couldn't look at
her at all.  "You will have to forgive me for this, Tadewi.  It is not of my
choosing that I do this.  Your innocence is all they want, and I must give it
to them."
He turned then, blue-black energy flaring down his arm, shivering from one
hand to the other.  A ceremonial dagger glowed with an eerie greenish aura as
he held it up, allowing it to glint in the dim lighting.
Tadewi found her voice then, but it was too late.  There was no way the guards
or servants could hear her now.  There was no escape from this, not this time.

*These are images of things to come*


Daybreak.  When night's shroud flees west, to escape the stabbing fingers of
Dawn.  She awoke with a sob, tears streaming down her face.  It was a dream,
only a dream.

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


Message 930 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Oct 19 06:39:02 1998 EDT
From:     Merridwen (#24667)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Red is the Rose

The night air had a slight chill to it as Merri and her mentor made their way
through the wasteland toward the R/T building. Merri was still unfamiliar with
the terrain around the mage's tower so Frap, the Phantom Rose, led the way and
carried the lantern to guide her steps. Following behind him, Merri couldn't
help but think of the Tarot card, The Hermit. And he represented that to her
as well; the teacher and wise counselor.
She hadn't been with him long; only a little over a week. But in that time he
had proven himself to her over and over that she had made a sound choice in
mentor. When she had first met him in the R/T lounge there were people making
fun of him, calling him senile. But Merri's own raw, unformed talent knew
better. He was eccentric, but there was an underlying wisdom, and yes, slyness
to his seemingly erratic behavior.
In a short time she had come to love and care for the old man like a daughter.
His many kindnesses, his courtliness, the gentle gentlemanly way he treated
her had touched and won her own soft heart. And she now trusted him and placed
her talent in his hands to mold.
They shook off the chill of the night as they entered the R/T building and
made their way up to the lounge to spend an evening socializing. It was
Merri's first night out since she had joined Frap in the mage's tower and she
looked forward to it; a self reward for all of the hard work she had put in
training in the last week.
There were several people in the lounge when they entered, all of them
strangers to her, save one, and she only recognized him by sight. She recalled
his name was Sinner. There was also an Egyptian Soul Mech, who almost
immediately drew the attention of Frap as they discussed the pyramids and the
Egyptian Pantheon of gods.
Merri got tea from the barman for Frap and herself while he happily discussed
Egyptian esoterica with his new found aquaintance. Sinner interjected a remark
about the dark gods and Frap laughed at him. But Sinner became more insistent
and began to press the old man.
Suddenly her teacher broke under the harrassment and he stood.
A scream came from Sinner, "YES! Kill me, Rose. BE what I am! Be what your
destiny calls you to BE!" and his eyes closed; waiting to die, wanting it with
all of his might.
A flash of light pierced the vortex and a dark cloud surrounded Sinner
completely enveloping him in a swirling mass of light and dark.
Through the vortex Sinner screamed out, in... orgasmic lust? Conscending
shadow and light fell to the floor, revealing... Sinner in a pimpin hot lime
green leisure suit! And his hair, so well curled in a.. fro!
Pulling his arms across to reveal his chest, he slithered out of obsidian
lips-- "ssssmokin!"
Quickly, Sinner lunged towards Rose- in an attack? No! Grabbing the adept's
wrist he forced the mage into a tango!
Phantom Rose grinned, taking Sinner in arm and producing a red rose from his
hat,"Very well", he said.
Sinner whispered to Frap, "Cuba, 1912. Me and Biggy Ben Ben Dice went rolling
for a few.. Quick chicks- you know? All of a sudden; RUE PAUL came out! Man,
was she one healthy dame!"
Sinner tangoed Frap across the lounge and, crashing into Melira at the bar,
Sinner turned to her and grinned,  "Well, hellllooooo nurse!"
Melira, laughing hysterically one moment at the enspelled Sinner, suddenly
scooted away.
Sinner grabbed for his chest where his heart would have been had Toraxyn not
ripped it out. A sigh escaped him. "No. Please, don't leave me, you divine
creaure of immense beauty you. My little.. shnuggula plum."
Phantom Rose smiled up at Melira, "It isn't the spell,you know, only his own
natural feelings coming through that he has hidden for so long."
Sinner wiggled his hips suggestively. A huge *SNAP* came from Sinner's  bones,
as if they hadn't been jostled that way in a long time.
Sinner winked toward Osbornn, before getting on his hands and knees with a
illusionary diamond ring, encased in a small black box. "Marry me, and I'll
show you where your grog comes from."
Suddenly abandoning Osbornn, Sinner made an attempt at tangoing with Charlie
the Duck. Frap rescued Charlie and stuck him in his hat. Frap stood and put
his hat on.
Frap smiled around the lounge, "Well it's time to be off home. Enjoy."
Frap and Merri hurriedly left the lounge. When they got outside the door Merri
broke down in gales of laughter.
"You were magnificent, Sir.", Merri grinned.
"And what did you learn from this night, child?", he said.
"I've learned....that I have much to learn!"
Pushing open the door and going back out into the night air, Merri and her
teacher walked home.

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


Message 931 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Oct 19 09:48:15 1998 EDT
From:     Legion (#22908)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  A foul wind rises...

It had been hours -- he had long since ceased any protest.
Here there was no one who could hear him cry out, and for that they were
grateful. They let him go, knowing there was no need for a threat -- their
smile communicated more than enough.

They stirred all around, the dead things; the husks that remembered nothing of
life. It would be as good as what they now had -- that much was certain. In
silence they cursed the weakness of this flesh, and the indecision of their
mistress who simply could not stay dead as she'd promised. It was to be
-their- body now; their _living_ flesh -- not the decaying husk it was rapidly
becoming. Curse the Adept, curse their mistress.

Splinters of their collective seeped forth, filled the withered forms; they
would do nicely for now.

"They are almost like children," Legion vocalized as they stirred, gloved
fingers coiling around the handle of its new 'friend'.

Between those who speak in whispers and understand the transience of flesh;
strange bargains were struck as the clock chimed the midnight hour.

They had a new mistress. One that would give them, if not life -- blood.

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


Message 932 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Oct 19 15:28:43 1998 EDT
From:     Melira (#18088)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

Melira woke and went straight for the bottle of wine. Usually she held off
until the early afternoon, but this was a special circumstance. Wrapped in her
old robe, her best (and only) gown hanging carefully in the corner, Melira
poured herself a glass of red wine and brushed dust off of the crumbling chair
in the corner.
She settled into it, thought about doing some reading, and decided against it.
A few more glasses of wine ought to fade the memory of that "cambion's" kiss
enough to make being awake today bearable. No man had dared touch her since
Treigan, and no one had gotten more intimate than an arm around her shoulder
since... well, it didn't do to think about _that_ right now. Melira quickly
drained the first glass and poured a second; she was starting to wake up, and
now she could run through her options...
Sinner had been under Frap's spell. It was an impressive spell indeed, but
with a strange side effect. Of course, there were a few things to consider...
She'd never seen Sinner act so honestly - he'd *smiled* at her, which was
pretty impressive - but the odds that he'd secretly found her attractive all
this time... wel, they didn't seem good. So, Sinner could be lying to her just
as much as she was to him. Or he could really be sincere. Either way, she
could at least get a little entertainment out of him... as long as she could
kepe him from touching her too much (she quelled a shudder of repulsion with
another hearty swig of wine).
So, she could play this up for all it was worth. If he seemed sincere, she
might be able to turn him to her advantage. If he was lying, she could at
least make him look like an idiot for a couple of days... further undermining
all his silly claims of 'divine guidance' by Rathe.
As she downed the second glass and started on her third, she began to smile.
The wine felt warm within her, and she could feel her power tingling all
around her. One thing Sinner -- Damien -- would not do would be to humiliate
her. He thought very little of her, that was plain, but no one really knew
Melira like she knew herself ... and Sinner knew her least of anyone.

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


Message 933 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Oct 19 17:07:48 1998 EDT
From:     Sinner (#12411)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  ..souls shattered..

.could there be a force so powerful.. that can destroy a soul..
.could there be a hell so infinite; that could warm over the coldest of
hearts..

.there is, indeed..

.it came from the lower east side..
.it came from the 1970's..
.his name was Vinny. Vinny Badabucchi, aka- "The furious flirter from
Flushing, Disco Jester; and god's gift to all females..
.and thanks to Phantom Rose.. it now possesses sinner.. and it has only one
thing to say about it..

HEY, BADABOOM! I GOT THIS **ITCH** IN MY GROINAL SECTION. YO, BIGGIE WILL.
.the saga continues..

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


Message 934 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Oct 19 17:53:32 1998 EDT
From:     Melira (#18088)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Sinner's Last: OOC Note

Boy howdy am I glad I got all caught up in THIS.

-Jess

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


Message 935 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Oct 19 20:21:03 1998 EDT
From:     Seraph (#16551)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  A small note tacked up in the r/t round room...

In a charming script; the paper covered in abstract doodles...


One nunchucka for sale. Inquire at Le Masquerade in N'Orleans. Leave a note
for the owner with offers.

(In other words, send mail to Seraph. Pages will be ignored.)

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


Message 936 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue Oct 20 02:45:34 1998 EDT
From:     Yjezra (#5512)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Confusion and Betrayal

Lyrzrath spoke to her through the bond they shared, ::I do not trust him. He
was one with those that came here and tried to destroy us. Forced us from our
home. You should not have stayed. You should have left as soon as he
appeared!:: For a moment Yjezra pushes the garnets thoughts away, closing
herself off from her dragonfriend's scolding.
She stood from her bed in the lonely cavern. Looked around, seeing the family
portrait Ynaoise had drawn of their family. Turning, she looks up at the
DreamCatcher hanging over the bed, she reaches up and gently touches the long
white cord looped there. She sighed and opened her thoughts to her dragon once
more, only to be met by cold silence. She walked to the wash stand and
scrubbed her face, rubbing at her lips as if to destroy the feel of his lips
against hers. ::You can't pretend it didn't happen.:: The immediate thought
enters her mind and she physically winces. She looks down and turns the ring
on her finger, light glinting off the blue topaz and the garnet set within the
entwining gold vines.
She thinks of the recent events by the lake. How he had come upon her there,
alone. What could he possibly want? He called her dearest. Said such..things
to her. What did he want? He alluded to Love. Pulling her into his arms
roughly, he had kissed her. And, ashamed, her body had responded. She didn't
love him. But..she could feel nothing of his emotions. Nothing. But he was
right. She had been hiding, from herself and from others. She had enclosed
herself in seculusion. Hiding. "No more, no more... " she whispered to
herself. She dropped her hands and left her cavern. Hers now. But she was not
alone.

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


Message 937 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue Oct 20 03:09:25 1998 EDT
From:     Enid (#16526)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Lifting Shadows Off a Dream.

Eldorath's shade comforted Enid, even in the heat of the wastelands, as though
the tree garnered immunity from the destruction and devestation that
encompassed the surrounding region.  The gentle rustle of leaves in the wind
eased her thoughts and freed her mind.  There could be no other place for her,
none in the world, in all her years of travel and study.  Eldorath would
always be home.
Her return gained no attention, she was quiet in her arrival. There were so
few new students to the magicks of life.  This disturbed her enough to realize
her return held a deeper meaning then homesickness.  Eldorath called and she
responded in kind.  Too long she had played prodigal daughter, seeking her
soul in a world beyond her home, too long running from the pain she kept so
well hidden.
It was a new world now.  Nothing remained the same from her Podara days, or
even her time as a Dorasu.  She chuckled at the antics of Red Fang, self
proclaimed leader of the vastness of the Wastelands.   His fervor served him
well, and his personality was contagious, whether righteously angry or high
and friendly.
The Magister Dante brought a frown to crease her brow, never had she
experienced such disrespect from one of a lower circle.  He would be a problem
in the future, but she had chosen her enemies before, and twas her choice to
make them now.  Williker might too have upset her, but instead he brought out
a chuckle.  Her curse on him was fitting, to bow low to anyone female and
respect them, for just once in his life.  The lesson would do him good.
Her thoughts swept last to the Adept Toraxyn, an equal, but that he held his
Circle for a much shorter time then she.  Charming, sensuous, a romeo playing
the part of a wolf in sheep's clothing.  She knew his type, had bantied words
and parried charms with them before.  Their paths would cross again, no doubt,
and she was tempted to assume the part of Jezabel.
She shook her head, there were more important things to attune her thoughts
to, such as Hannibal's upcoming blessing for Dorasu, and her official return
to Eldorath.  Time was fleeting, even for one as long lived as she.

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


Message 940 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed Oct 21 07:21:38 1998 EDT
From:     Freiga (#5288)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  A Lightening of the Darkness

She bustled into the Living Caverns, her arms filled with fresh linens when
she came upon Yjezra. Freiga smiled at the Mistress, then squinted, coming
closer to look at her. Something was amiss. Yjezra's hair usually so neat was
blown about her head, tangled, the treasured comb missing from the dark hair.
Looking closer she noticed Yjezra's cheeks were flushed and her arms were
empty! "Glory be, Mistress. Ye go oot to fetch the linens we require, but ye
coom back empty handed! And in such a tither too, I might be addin'."
Yjezra stopped as Freiga placed herself in Yjezra's way. Her cheeks flamed as
she realized she had not completed her errand. "I am sorry, Freiga. I was...
distracted. I will return for them in the morning."
The Mount's chief housekeeper and cook shook her head "Na' doon be worrying
yerself. I can send Tyrlan in ta marnin' Lassie. But, where is yer lovely
pewter comb ye put such store by? Ye dinna loose it did ye?" Yjezra's hand
flashes up to her hair, a look of distress coming over her face. "Oh, No...."
she whispered.

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


Message 941 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed Oct 21 07:25:39 1998 EDT
From:     Temple (#11763)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  The New Toy

She looked down at him and smiled. Not the smile he had seen on her lips
earlier, as she played him, drew him in. 'He is mine now. How easily it was
done.' She laughs softly as she watched him sleeping, his body relaxed, the
expression on his face as he lay among her pillows so different from the one
as he slept last night curled up on the cold floor outside her pavillion.
Slowly she slipped from beneath his arm, stood and stepped over his body and
grabbing up her cloak against the chill, she slipped out of her room in
N'Orleans. She chuckled, 'So bleeding vulnerable and so willing to trust.' was
her thought as she took a deep breath and set out to take a transport to the
wheel. She needed something to release the tension of the last hours.
Hunting viciously, tearing the throats out of her victims, the cainid corpses
rose in bloody heaps around her. She raised her head to the sky, blood
staining her jaw and clothing her bare breasts in crimson. "If there be gods,
where were you...?" She screamed out her rage at the cold uncaring stars
before lunging at yet another cainid that came too close, her jaws opening,
fangs burying themselves into the hapless creatures throat, its last breath
gurgling as its blood dripped down over her.
Finally finding some release for her anger and hatred she returned to the R/T
and washed up before going to the lounge. She brushed past some drunk and
walked into the bar. Few people were there and those that knew her, backed
away while the other, sensing her mood or just following the lead of the
others gave room at the bar. Osbornn set the glass of her regular drink before
her as she slid onto a stool. She lifted the glass, drained the viscuous
liguid and setting the empty glass down, motioned to Oz to refill her glass.
Something bumped her arm, and as she turned with a growl, was met with the
drunk's eyes practically plastered to her bare chest.
She pushed him away roughly, growling that he best leave, she wasn't in the
mood to be leered at. The drunk started to speak, and tripped, falling, his
drooling mouth against her breast. Her eyes narrowed as she looked down at his
silly grin as he looked up at her. His arms encircled her waist as his
slobbering lips latched onto hers.
With a hissssss her hands caught his upper arms before he could move, her grip
too tight for him to break. Releasing her fangs from the roof of her mouth,
she bit his lower lip, pumping her venom into his bloodstream. A strong
dosage, draining her poison sacks and until they replenished in a few days she
would be more vulnerable. And none for her new plaything. Her new toy. She
released the drunk and pushed him away, looking at him with loathing.
Nudging his twitching body with her foot, she watched his eyes glaze over and
a smile stretch across his face as he moaned in pleasure. She stepped over his
body. 'Damn, " she thought, "With that dose he won't take long to die, but he
will have the most...pleasurable sensations until he does."  She laughs as she
walked out of the lounge, ignoring the looks of those left behind.

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


Message 942 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Thu Oct 22 18:50:58 1998 EDT
From:     Shadowrunner (#24490)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Tacked in the Lounge

-FOR SALE-
Yanked form the hands of Manson himself!
1 Electric Guitar
Play it, Tune it, beat the shit out of somebody with it.
Alot stronger than the average staff. Kill in style!

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


Message 943 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Thu Oct 22 22:14:48 1998 EDT
From:     Williker (#20481)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Note

Note in R/T:

One bison club. Awesome weapon. Call Williker.

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