Message-Id: <199901211549.JAA08179@casper.realtime.net>
Date: Thu, 21 Jan 1999 09:49:47 -0400
From: "Quinn@GhostWheel" <someone@ghostwheel.mud.org>
To: quinn@netsville.com
Subject: GhostWheel Message(s) 994 - 1035 from *storylines (#5236)

Message 994 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Nov 22 01:06:56 1998 EST
From:     Ymerith (#22840)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  The Rantings of a Madman

Johnny paced around the cavern talking and thinking with Megasa, "Wutza deal
Meg?"  Megasa turned to regard his friend, eyes whirling in concern.  | What
do you mean what is the deal? | came the response from Megasa.  "I mean, what
are you doing to my head?  What're all these people doing to my head?  Where
is everybody?"  Johnny looked and smled at the woman laying in his bed, auburn
hair framing her face cutely.  Other faces flooded his mind, that flippant
pyromaniac chick from the R/T, The woman he'd met on Jizo, the `Merrie girl'
with the flamingly red hair that knew how to laugh...  "Women, whadda we do
with 'em Meg?"  Megasa replied in the dragon's tongue, | The first one knows
how to pet a dragon, she makes you happy, even if briefly.  The second you
should not give a second thought, though you think she may have something you
need.  The soft one that smells of lilacs knows how to respect and pet a
dragon.  The last one is good for your mind, and for your soul.  She is also
respectful of dragons and pets very well.".  Johnny stared at his friend,
"That's not what I meant and you know it.  I meant why's the Mount mostly
empty?  Where's this supposed family I've got?  Where're the dragons that
helped you learn to fly?  Tell me, come on, tell me!  ... and where the hell
is my canteen?"  Megasa took the verbal stream in stride eyes swirling with
mischief he responded, | I know where your canteen is, and I will not tell you
|.  "Thanks pal, where is it?. | It will find you soon enough, I am sure. |.
Johnny growled, annoyed at his freind, "What're we doing here anyway?  I watch
the walls and patrol the grounds...  It's my duty."  He paused to roll that
word around, "duty...  doo tee...  dooooo teeeee... doo dee..."  He snorted to
himself then began cackling, "doodie doodie doodie doodie"  Megasa raised a
foreclaw to knock his friend to the ground as was the routine when he sensed
his friend was `out of his head', then looked down at Johnny, whimpering in
the corner and took pity on him as he lowered his foreleg to the ground.
Megasa walked out of the cavern both disgusted by and ashamed of his rider's
condition, knowing he could not fix it by himself and not unless Johnny was
willing to be helped.  He heard his friend babbling, "Ask them, ask the other
dragons where the rest are...  Ask 'em where my family has gone."   Megasa
emerged on the ledge, eyes whirling with concern.  |  Lyr'tyzluthe, my
brother, where are the rest of us?  Where are the dragons that I knew when I
was a hatchling? |

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


Message 995 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Nov 23 13:02:58 1998 EST
From:     Melira (#18088)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

She didn't go back to bed after he left... she simply sat for a very long time
in the chair behind the desk, trying to rub away the renewed memory of her
(long since healed) broken arm. For a few moments she pondered having a couple
glasses of wine and curling up next to Damien, but Rathe was probably right -
she needed sobriety.
Rathe... She had been fairly stupid to assume that he was gone for good. She
chuckled quietly at the thought of who else was going to be paid a visit...
the vision he'd given her of Tadwei had been horrible [even if that poor,
stupid little woman half-deserved what she got], and the moment in which he'd
demonstrated his power had both hurt and frightened Melira... But oh to tap
into that well. There was more power to be had there than Melira herself had
ever come in contact with -- it made Toraxyn's offer pale in comparison... it
made this relationship with Sinner look like a bargainng chip.
And there it was, again. That small seed of emotion inside her... not love,
which she was fast becoming reacquainted with, but Guilt. That she could so
easily think of passing Damien up for the sake of power... she frowned at
herself and crossed the room to stare out of the window. So much happiness,
really... glancing over her shoulder at him as he slept made her feel at home,
made her feel warm. She had to look away again, though, at the memory of that
horrible power.. the lust it stirred within her was completely different than
the tug at her heart, at her desire, that she felt when Sinner was with her.
She smirked, the shadows silvering in the moonlight that dared enter the
window... Nothing lasts forever, least of all Love. But Power... that was
something that would replenish itself... replenish The Self... earn you
something you might keep, like pride or posessions or ... more power.
And if the way to come by that was to hitch her wagon to Rathe's again.. then
the Seas be damned if she was going to let anything - least of all love -
stand in her way.

She pulled the curtain closed as the sun began to rise, smiling at the thought
of breaking the news to the cambion that his Master, Lord, Emperor, and
Teacher was back...

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


Message 996 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue Nov 24 03:25:43 1998 EST
From:     Tadewi (#16048)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  The Sky is a Poisonous Garden Tonight.

She was gone.
He could not even bear to watch her fleeing form, disappearing into the garden
of blighted and twisted trees and thorny bushes.  With all his power and all
his  might, she had bested him.  BESTED HIM! With the only thing now forbidden
to him, the sweet touch of love, the passion for life.  A hefty price for
anyone but him, or so he thought.  "Oh Lyetra..."
Rising to his feet, he realized how weary she had made him, how the mortality
he had defeated now weighed upon him like some great mountain.  Clenching his
fists, his features twisted into a scowl, fighting back the human urges, his
ancient desires for her he thought long dead.  And he won... or so he thought.
Tadewi's unconcious form caught his eye and he crushed his fingers together,
her body suddenly screaming to life, the cacaphony of terror and horror a
delicious symphony.  Releasing her to her feet, he tapped her behind gently.
"Run, my dear, run hard and fast, for I will be descending on you shortly."
She took off, white against the darkness of his demense.  Hope being the only
factor that kept her alive now.  Hope of somehow escaping him, or of rescue.
He left her with those precious moments of respite, a broken woman would feed
him nothing.
And tonight... he indeed planned on satisfying the growing ache inside of him,
like the alcohol now forbidden to him, it would drown out tonight's defeat.

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


Message 997 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue Nov 24 03:40:37 1998 EST
From:     Ylaerin (#16541)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

She wanted time alone to smash something, but she had to go for the next best
thing. And so she ran through the forests of Drach'nal, until she reached the
quiet clearing.. the sacred space with the air that comforted her...
A comfort on any night but this. Collapsing in the center of the rings of
trees, she wept nosily. Luthe reached for her - within her mind - but she drew
away, unwilling to share her anger and greif with him. Her words were rushed
and raw with sorrow, "Oh Goddess, Goddess why? Has there not been enough? Have
I not paid the price? Would that you had taken my eyes... I'd rather anything
but this."
She'd been cursed with the very thing that was supposed to be a gift - Love.
And the sorrow that raged in her was nearly great enough for her to seek him
back out.. to wish for the opportunity to _fling_ it at him.. a flaming brand,
a kind of pain, the one thing he had never wanted.

Moonlight pooled around her... the breeze moved through the trees... Air and
Light, the touch of the Goddess... the Fires within her, the Earth underneath.
She took a few steadying breaths and calmed.
There had been pain in his voice, when she had opened her mind to his
searching, when she had finally - after years of hiding, running, denying -
laid bare the one thing that had built her into what she was in the shadowed
places of her soul. It was a secret between them.. the Dragon, the Bard, and
the Elven Lord... And though it hur them all, it probably was more painful to
some.

She conciously let go, flung the windows of her mind open to her Dragon.
Gratefully, the two of them sought solace in each other, and after a time,
Lyetra left the Grove and returned to her dragon.

Beginnings and Endings often look the same. Beginnings and Endings often _are_
the same.  But Ylaerin, DragonBard of Morlith, reminded herself that there can
never be a happy ending... because nothing Ends. And with that bittersweet
scrap of comfort, she fell to thinking.
Rathe was back.  Gods of the Worlds help them all.

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


Message 998 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue Nov 24 03:48:28 1998 EST
From:     Tirafal (#24173)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Musings

Tirfal sat in the big chair by the cottage window, her legs drawn up under her
nightgown, her chin resting on her knees, and stared out at the dawn.
She felt like such an incredible, naive fool.
At the same time that warred with a happiness unlike any she had ever known.
She was pregnant. But she was so damned ignorant she hadn't even known it.
Ynaoise had to tell her. He realized what had been going on when she got up
this morning, so nauseated she thought she was going to die.
To have one's husband tell you that you're pregnant...
But he had lived through it before. And that thought caused a stab of jealousy
unlike anything she had ever known. SHE had his first child. It was SHE that
had his first love.
Tirafal may have him now...but all of those firsts...she felt robbed. And it
fueled her hatred for the woman who had treated him like so much dirt under
her feet.
This child would be a child born of true love. It was some comfort but little.
The day was coming when they would build their new aeyrie....and then they
would challenge the "DragonMistress."
For her it would come none too soon.

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


Message 999 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue Nov 24 08:33:18 1998 EST
From:     Merridwen (#24667)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Rebirth

Merri wandered out into the dawn light and down the lane in Drach'nal. The
mist had risen during the night and she caught her breath at one of the rarest
sights she had ever seen, a sun dog. The sun had risen and was just half over
the horizon. Shining through the mist, it created a rainbow low to the ground.
Her heart caught and expanded at the beauty of it. She took a deep breath,
smelling the scent of the coming spring, a combination of wet earth,
decomposing leaves from the previous fall, and the stirring of the tiny plants
as they began to thrust their way toward the sun. The crocus had been up for a
month and the daffodils were springing to life and would be blooming within
the week.
The equinox would be on them in a few days. Such an important time for magic.
The earth was almost frantic in it's renewal and would feed the ley lines to
the point of bursting. She and Frap had spoken of doing something for the
equinox...what she didn't know...but with Frap it was bound to be
interesting....with an underscore of serious intent that she hoped the other
students would get.
She walked the lane and, coming to a fence, leaned her arms on it, observing
the cows. Some of the heifers were already close to calving. One of them came
to the fence to investigate and looked at Merri with large, liquid, brown
eyes. She put her hand out and stroked the broad forehead, feeling the velvet
touch of the cow's hide.
A sound caught her ear and she looked up at the trees overhead....a robin,
busily building a nest for it's coming family.
Merri sighed...sinking her heart into the magic of the earth. And continued on
her way....

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


Message 1000 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue Nov 24 16:46:43 1998 EST
From:     Sinner (#12411)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  ..to thine oneself be true..

Perched alone in the shadows of nightfall; the Sinner reigned over his domain,
the dirt and sweat of an abandoned church. Sand as far as the eye could see in
all directions; his thoughts have focused on a much deeper, much darker
purpose. Rathe.
Much has changed to his last passing. The soul of the once blood raged cambion
has been purged -- through Frap's magic. Knowing what humanity, solitude, and
yes, by Coreen's words, temptation; he knew full well that Rathe would not be
pleased about this. Also; Rathe's presence could be felt getting stronger,
within the veins of the cambion. Never would he be prone to hide from the
Adept, in physical form. Bonds of blood and magick have been woven too strong
about him. Before death; he was powerful. The most powerful adept in his
field, perhaps. Toraxyn has long raised over him -- as far as his knowledge
has concerned, knew there was no way a truce to go on between them for
protection.
Knowing Rathe could not be decieved, nor tricked -- there was no way around
it. The morbid lust for death was no longer; and could be felt, even by one
with no empathetic features. If Rathe were to know this first hand; the devil
himself could not predict what rituals would the young Sinner go through, and
might be disgusted if thought hard enough. Time was burning through the ether
-- but perhaps it could be used as a shield.. Now is the time for thought; and
not for a corageous act of stupidity that would prevail in final death.

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


Message 1001 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed Nov 25 11:38:57 1998 EST
From:     Ymerith (#22840)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

MERRIDWEN, OF DRACH'NAL AND YMERITH, DRAGONRIDER OF MOUNT MORLITH, WISH TO
ANNOUNCE THAT THEY ENTERED IN WEDLOCK THURSDAY LAST AT THE VALLEY BELOW
MORLITH IN A LAKESIDE CEREMONY WITH MEGASA, BONDMATE TO YMERITH, OFFICIATING.
THE BRIDE, A STUDENT OF THE ADEPT HENRY FRAP AND THE GROOM, RIDER OF THE
EMERALD DRAGON MEGASA, PLAN TO MAKE THEIR HOME ON THE MOUNT.

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


Message 1002 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Nov 29 01:18:21 1998 EST
From:     Sterno (#21938)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Note tacked in the R/T and DarkReach

I'm still interested in finding a mage who can imbue a wand with charges or
instruct me in the necessary ritual.

- Sterno

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


Message 1003 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed Dec  2 11:59:48 1998 EST
From:     Tadewi (#16048)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Black Days.

Long since Sinner's body had decomposed into a small pile of crystals, Rathe
remained atop his throne, a scowl across his features as he contemplated his
former student's rapid change.  Reaching down, he stroked Tadewi's golden hair
absently, ignoring each flinch and shudder running through her frail form with
each renewed contact of his fingers.  So, his old student had lost the Way,
had succumbed to the teachings of Frap.  He was unworthy, and therefore died
by Rathe's own power.
Why then, did this bother the Adept so much.
His thoughts veered towards Melira, her own temptuous and teasing sarcasm,
bitten down under the onslaught of his sheer dominance.  She still hungered
for the power, for what was beyond the petty machinations of war and
conquering.  He had doubted her will, and found it solid.  He had never
thought that Sinner's was the one to buckle under.
Looking down at Tadewi's pale hair, he parted it from her face.  Her eyes were
vapid, staring away at nothing in paticular.  He would need a new victim soon,
she was nearly broken.  A familiar smirk crossed his lips as he thought
briefly of Toraxyn.  Perhaps it was nearly time to confront his old enemy.
In time.

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


Message 1004 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed Dec  2 12:38:05 1998 EST
From:     Vixen (#3791)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

There's a new edition of the Ghostwheel Weekly Journal in the lounge.

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


Message 1005 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Thu Dec  3 09:32:49 1998 EST
From:     Merridwen (#24667)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

Merri stood in the door of the library, her presence unknown for the moment.
Her heart was painfully squeezed, her chest on fire. Spyder was sitting on
Johnny's lap, their voices a low murmur, an ocassional tinkling laugh coming
from the woman.
A white hot bolt of jealousy lanced through her and her Irish temper flared to
the fore. But she was a mage....and nothing if not controlled. She grabbed her
emotions and pulled them back into her and that brilliant intelligence took
over.
She loved her husband; adored him in some ways. But she recognized very early
on that where women were concerned he was very easily led.
She knew what to do....
Pasting a smile on her face she walked into the room.
Johnny saw her and stood up, unceremoniously dumping Spyder from his lap.
Merri greeted the other woman, politeness oozing from her, the smile never
leaving her face. Johnny put his arm around her and she pecked his cheek in
greeting. Johnny sputtered, offering excuses. She ignored him.
Her attention was focused on Spyder. The smile was ever evident as she
exchanged pleasantries with her. She kept up the relentless politeness,
inwardly smiling as she watched the other woman squirm like an upended beetle.
Spyder was a good name for her, she thought.
The other woman finally managed to make her way out of the library, the scene
painfully coming to a close, the smile never leaving Merri's face until Spyder
was out the door.
Then her attention turned to her husband.

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


Message 1006 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Dec  6 02:32:28 1998 EST
From:     Tadewi (#16048)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  In the Eye of the Storm.

The room was cozy in atmosphere, and the blankets were meltingly warm,
intoxicatingly tempting to the land of dreams.  The panting against the floor
was only Gwen, keeping watch over her bondmate's room, along with its new
occupant.
How strange the night's events had been, from Rathe's odd orders to Williker,
to Williker and Rand's near battle evaded by her pleadings.  There would be
safety for her here, but it would be fleeting as everything in this world was
so long as Rathe lived.
Sleep overcame her, keeping her nightmares at bay, for now.  Later they would
come for her.

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


Message 1007 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Dec  6 02:51:59 1998 EST
From:     Williker (#20481)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Wow?

Williker stepped out of the helicopter, yawning boredly as glanced up at the
sky and saw something flying towards him. "What the fuckin' hell is that?"
thought Williker as it came closer and landed. Towering over Will was a large
wolf.. or was it a dragon? in any event, it was large. Williker became uneasy
and it began to speak. They exchanged words and Williker climbed on its back
and flew away with it.

He climbed off the dragon and nodded, eyeing the strange garden he was now in.
The creature pointed north and said, "in there." Will nodded and walked in
slowly. Sitting on a throne was a dirty looking man, hair unkept and his
clothes ripped. Lying at his feet was Tadewi, looking a bit worse for wear.
"Lord?" said Williker as he took a step foward. "Of course, moron." replied
the man.. Rathe. (OOC: Buh, attention spay straying. Must keep typing.. story.
SHORT VERSION!) Rathe gave him his orders and Williker left with Tadewi.

Later that night, Rand and Williker were about to kill each other when Tadewi
stopped them. Rand gave Will his choices. Will thought. "Hrm.. lose a
teacher/friend I've had for years? Or prolly get killed by Rathe? Eh, fuck it.
What did Rathe ever do for me anyways besides bitch and make me do stuff." So
blah blah blah.

OOC: Sorry about the post.. I thought I could handle doing it now, but I
can't. But you get the idea. Rand's will be better. RIGHT RAND!? *prods*

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


Message 1008 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Dec  6 03:13:13 1998 EST
From:     Rand (#9865)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Unwelcomed News.

Standing on the top of the mountain, peering down into the valley, Rand's
breath was taken away at the sight of the huge Dragon Wolf landing landing in
a clearing.  With a soft growl, Rand sprinted down into the valley, his onyx
longsword blazing a path through the thorns, and wolves that inhabit the
place.
Rand muttered softly as the giant dragon wolf flew off again.  He made his way
to his home, hoping someone there might have seen it.  Climbing up the stairs,
he yelled for Williker.

Williker was just walking out of his room as Rand entered the small house, he
nodded slightly.  "Have you been good, Will?" Rand asked with a grin.  They
spoke for a while, Williker telling him that he had Tadewi in his room, to
keep her from Toraxyn, and to protect her.  "The one that Rathe tortured?"
asked Rand.  Williker nodded slightly. "Yeah."
Rand walked into the room and saw Tadewi, she was in horrible shape, her
clothes soiled, hair plastered to her face and head from sweat.  They spoke
briefly, Rand telling her she would be safe from Rathe and Toraxyn.
After offering her something to drink, Rand and Williker went back out into
the living room to speak.  They began arguing back and forth, about what was
right.  Rand saying Rathe was dead, Williker disagreeing.  Soon, it was
evident that a fight was about to start, Rand with his onyx longsword and ebon
dagger in hand.  Williker with his longsword and shield at the ready.  At the
sound of Tadewi's voice, Rand flinched, and turned to her.
Tadewi swings herself around the entrance to the main room, a mass of soiled
white silk as she rushes in at the sound of a fight, "Please, don't do this."
Dropping to her knees, she gives both men a pleading look, "Don't let me go
back to him.. don't let him tear you both apart."
Rand turned to Williker, "Decide....".   Williker looked into Rand's eyes
after both sheathed thier blades, "If I disobey Rathe, I die....If I disobey
you, I loose a good friend and teacher."  Rand smiled slightly, "And if you
follow your heart?"

Williker paused for a moment and then grined, "Then I die..."  Rand sighed
deeply, "Then that is a road we shall walk together, my friend."

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


Message 1009 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Dec  6 09:55:41 1998 EST
From:     Ymerith (#22840)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Paranoid?  Maybe.

Johnny skulked through the empty corriodrs, shotgun in has hands and ready for
anything.  He couldn't shake the feeling that something was out of place here,
something was wrong.  He passed through a doorway into a lounge of some kind,
noticing a pool table in the middle of the room.  Laying his gun down on the
lip of the table, he racked up the pool balls.  Then he picked up a stick and
proceeded to play a few games of pool, calmness slowly returning to him, his
shotgun never out of easy reach.  After finishing the last game he picked up
his gun and stalked back into the corridor to come to an obvious living area.
He crept into a kitchen-like area, his fears suddenly justified.  Before him
the kitchen was a mess, everything was thrown around, there were some kind of
large claw marks across the walls, and there were skeletons (all human) laying
around on the floor.  He backed out, trying to remember why he was there in
the first place.  Megasa's sudden thoughts in his mind surprised him, they
were unexpected, <You are helping old friends, and new ones also>.  Johnny's
mind raced with the recent past, discovering some old freinds in the valley
and making a few new ones, taking Merri out to camp in the valley so he could
go with them to the complex they told him about first thing in the morning,
the complex itself, the code locked door....  His mind flashed back to the
door that had consumed his attention for the past three days, before he looked
up he knew he'd be standing in front of it again.  Without thinking, his hands
began working at the codelock again.  Picking up where he left off he spent
more hours trying to break the code, trying new combinations.  He woke up to
the sound of his shotgun clattering to the floor, his hand went to the
impression of the codelock he knew would be there on his forehead.  Scooping
his gun off the ground he headed for the exit thinking that if he would sleep
he'd do it holding his wife, not his gun.  The trip back to the camping area
was filled with thoughts of Merri, making him smile uncontrollably, he laughed
once or twice into the night air.  Had it really already been a month since
she'd told him she was sure she'd conceived?  All thoughts of the door or the
complex it was in faded from his mind as he laid down beside her.  He smiled
as he patted her stomach, then snuggled up behind her, closed his eyes, and
dreamed of being a father once again.

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


Message 1010 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Dec  6 20:28:26 1998 EST
From:     Yraelan (#20231)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Complex...ity?

Yraelan stood in the woods, still hunting with a bow he borrowed from a local
fletcher. The fletcher wanted him to use it for a test, and with the precision
of a skilled marksman, a dragon wolf fell to the ground.
     How strange it had been. The other day the small group of riders circled
over the complex. Such a strange one indeed.. soon to be there home. The large
areas able to hold a small group of dragons, with plenty of room left for the
riders. The sudden realization struck him--the dangers Ynaoise had told him
about with this nuclear reactor. With his and Yb's new daughter, it would be
difficult to accept living near such a danger. But, in order to keep safe, he
would brave it.
     It was difficult to imagine moving from a small tent or cavern to such an
enormous building.. one which towered above the mighty dragons themselves. The
complex was a safe haven, and his newest daughter a blessing at this awkward
time.


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


Message 1011 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Dec  7 05:35:29 1998 EST
From:     Ymerith (#22840)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  A Chance Encounter?

True laughed out, "It meant nothing, I didn't feel a thing!".  Johnny lashed
out with what he knew would push every button she had, "Well guess what,
Merri's pregnant!  How was I supposed to know what you felt, you never told
me, just treated me like a one night......".  Johnny didn't have time to
finish his statement or think about the stupidity of it, True had a dagger out
and was charging him.  She lunged for him, trying to take him down, but he had
seen this a thousand times before and simply rolled backward, throwing her
over him with his feet.  In the moment it took her to get back up he had
chosen the smallest blade he carried. pulling a small knife from his boot
sheathe, he assumed another defensive position.  True lunged for him again, he
jumped back to avoid the wild swing by inches.  Once again, she lunged for
him, her free hand aimed for his face.  He ducked and backed up some more,
feeling his back against a wall.  That was the moment Yerox chose to make a
grab for her waist, he wanted this fight stopped.  True proved a little too
wily for both of them, slipping out of Yerox's reach she slammed Johnny into
the wall he was trying to sneak away from.  Johnny tried to catch his breath
as his knife went spinning across the ledge.  True pounced on him, her dagger
about half an inch from his throat, "Where I come from I should kill you for
what you did to me!".  Johnny didn't hear her, he threw his arms wide to meet
in the air.  His arms didn't meet, they were stopped as they almost reached by
True's knife hand.  True dropped her dagger, screaming.  Johnny took the
offensive for the first time, barrelling her over with the weight of his body.
True fell back with Johnny on top of her, suddenly very still and oddly
silent.  Johnny looked on in horror, her sweater and the ground around her
beginning to stain a dark crimson.  True pulled her dagger out from under her,
covered in blood as was her hand.  Already forgetting the fight, Johnny rushed
to her side skinning his knees as he slid down beside her.  He fumbled with
his medkit, then dropped it and picked up her dagger and began to cut away her
sweater.  She jerked away from him to stand.  He dropped the dagger as she ran
away.  "She led Johnny, with Yerox always a few steps behind, through most of
the aeyrie in a dazed and confused chase.  The whole time Johnny was yelling
for her to stop, trying to explain that she'd die from loss of blood if she
didn't let him stop the bleeding.  The chase finally ended at her bunk in the
guest chambers, she had flung herself onto it.  Still not letting Johnny near
her, she allowed Yerox to tend to her side.  Yerox placed a bandage over the
wound and tied a rope around her to stem the bleeding.  While being tended
True called out, "Johnny."  Johnny thought he saw a smile of relief in her
eyes, but couldn't be sure.  He answered hesitantly, "Yes, True?"  The clarity
in her eyes was beginning to fade as she continued, "Johnny, I'm sorry
Johnny." and reached out a hand to him.  He took her hand and squeezed it
gently, "It's probably just as much my fault, don't be sorry."  He bent down
to kiss her on the cheek, her hand moved to touch his lips and spread some
blood onto them.  True whispered, "Ayal....." as her eyes began to flutter
closed, "Ayal."  Johnny and Yerox looked on in confusion as she said it again,
"Ayal" her voice becoming more faint.  Eventually she passed out.  Johnny
stood over her for a while before turning to Yerox, "She'll heal.  She'll
live, does she want to?"  Yerox only nodded and offered, "She'll live."  They
stood there in silence a while longer before Johnny asked, "Will you stay with
her?"  Yerox slipped into a bunk and answered, "For tonight, yes."  Johnny
nodded, "That should be enough, I'll take over tomorrow or something."  Then
Johnny turned and walked out, reaching the ledge he picked up his knife,
leaving her bloody dagger where it lay.

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


Message 1012 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue Dec  8 00:28:01 1998 EST
From:     Tadewi (#16048)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Lifting Shadows Off a Dream Once Broken.

Sunlight streamed into the room from the little window near the bed.  She
lifted her head and blinked a few times, reoriented herself with her new
surroundings.  The deep breathing of Gwen, the panther asleep at the foot of
the bed, reminded her that this was not her home, or any place she remembered
except for bits and peices from the night previous.
It was early, dawn's fingers stretching as the sun awoke in the East.  Yet,
voices echoed from the main room outside the door.  She recognized only one of
them, a deep baritone from the man who had offered her succor the night
before, freeing her and Williker from Rathe's will.
Curious, she rose from the bed, twisting her hair behind her head to keep it
out of her face.  She paused in the doorway a moment, looking back just long
enough to see the panther had moved to lie directly in a sunbeam.  Two men sat
at the table in the main room, Baritone Voice sitting near to another familiar
face, a tall man with white hair.  Vaguely she recalled him, yet her memory
remained ever fleeting, refusing to cooperate in remembering where she had
known him.
Bravely, she wandered out of the room, wiping the sleep from her eyes with the
palm of her hand.  Baritone Voice rose almost too quickly, nearly stumbling
over himself to bow in front of her, referring to her by her noble title.
White Hair lifted an eyebrow and she realized suddenly how odd it must seem to
a stranger, seeing a dishelved woman drifting out of Baritone Voice's bedroom.
After a few awkward moments, and a lot of blushing on her part, as well as
Baritone Voice's, she sat beside White Hair and sipped at a proffered glass of
wine.  She listened quietly to their conversations, from dragons appearing
into the valley, to some strange organization called The Brotherhood.
Emotions ran high, eased only through release.  Even she was not immune,
sharing their intense feelings at any thought of her perils in Rathe's garden.
By the time the sun had claimed the skies, they had completed their bonding,
three near strangers bound by coincedence and similiar torments.  She learned
their names, Rand Hart and Ynaoise Cyorse, and decided to stay a little
longer, till perhaps her memory returned.  But, she couldn't help the nagging
feeling that she was forgetting something for too long.

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


Message 1014 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed Dec  9 02:39:48 1998 EST
From:     Rand (#9865)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Things change....

He sat in the darkness, staring out the window of his home, his back against
 the door to his room.  He hadn't gone into his own room in two days now,
 since she arrived.  But he didn't mind much, after what she had been through,
 she had every right to her privacy.  "The Lady Tadewi," He mused to himself,
 "A striking woman, abused by so many...loved by so few."


With a soft sigh, he stood and walked to the window, leaning out and glancing
 north, "And then there is the Warder"  An odd bird, he was indeed, but bonded
 to him as surely as Ynaoise was bonded to his Dragon, "The news of three more
 Riders leaving the Mount to arrive in the valley, in search of a new home..."
 Indeed this brought a smile to his face, knowing that the Mount was
weakening.

A soft noise in the direction of his room, caused him to turn and look to the
 room with fondness.  "Gwen is where I wish to be, right now...Lying next to
 her, comforting her...." He whispers softly, and added with a mutter "Lucky
 cat."  He leaned against the window frame, tracing circles against the glass,
 "What shall I do with her, once she is healed and has regained her strength?
 Should I allow her to leave me....leave the valley, and risk Rathe finding
 her again?  Bah, she is a grown woman, in love with another, i'm sure...She
 is a Lady and shall do as she wishes...."

His face darkened slightly as he thought more of Ynaoise and thier talk
 earlier that day, "So he knows of the brotherhood, he survived it as
 well....The white haired man knows alot. He makes me think higher of Riders
 every time I speak with him."  Rand rubbed his thumb, and the semi-healed cut
 he had made to swear brotherhood to Ynaoise, and to bond them for life.  He
 smiled slightly, "Does the Warder ponder this as well?"


With a sigh, Rand made his way back to the spot infront of his bedroom, and
 sat down again.  Starting his faithful watch for any trouble.


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


Message 1015 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed Dec  9 03:55:58 1998 EST
From:     Tadewi (#16048)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Erm... warning.

NExt post is bound to be spammy.

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


Message 1016 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed Dec  9 04:03:47 1998 EST
From:     Tadewi (#16048)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Spark.

Wolf Moon was possibly the most beautiful, mysterious, valley Tadewi had laid
eyes on.  Idly she wondered why she had not come here more often.  Thick fog
coated the grounds, giving the trees a ghostly appearance as they appeared as
quickly as they faded from view.
She had left Rand's treehouse fort to gather her thoughts.  Her mind and
memories were still so jumbled, huge chunks of time simply missing from her
life.  As often as this occured to her, it never ceased to upset her.  Every
miniscule shred of a clue to the missing pieces of her life was precious, yet
in this case all she could remember was her cruel husband, thought dead.  The
very thought of him left her a trembling mess.  And so, even her precious few
memories were best left forgotten.
She wandered far past the safety of Rand's home, past the glade where Ynaoise
and his new wife lived with the other Riders and dragons.  The hazy maze lead
her further, the swirling mist drawing her forward with a hypnotic quality.
Distracted, she did not hear the quiet sound of paws following her, tracking
her with all the hunger of a predator.
The dragon wolf launched itself into the air, jaws snapping just barely
against the flesh of her throat as she shrieked and swung to the side to avoid
instant death between sharp teeth.  Landing on the ground, it quickly rounded
on her, the weight of its body knocking her to the ground.  The force of the
landing drove the air from her lungs, leaving her dazed, her arms raised to
keep the snapping jaws from finding the juggular, to send her crimson blood
jetting into the silver mist.
Just as she felt her strength fading, the black curtain of death certain, it
suddenly whined loudly and backed off of her felled body, giving her a chance
to rise to her feet.  Her heart jumped into her throat as a man stepped
forward from the mist.

Rathe.

The arrogant smirk on his face seemed a mockery of his former self, as
obviously his vanity had somewhere disappeared by his continued dishelved
appearance.  He stroked the dragon wolf atop its head and its tongue lolled
out, content with its master's attention.  "Don't be so surprised, Tadewi.
Did you think I would have no way of knowing Williker's betrayl?  You may mean
little to me as a wife, but you are and shall always be, my property.  Your
screams will haunt his dreams each night, long before he feels my true wrath."
Footsteps pounded against the hard ground and the mist wildly swirled to
reveal Rand, obsidian sword in hand.  Tantamount to Rand's surprise at seeing
Rathe -alive-, was Rathe's surprise at the swordsman's extremely good timing.
The two faced one another silently a moment, and Rathe released the dragon
wolf, sending it lunging at Rand.  Blood sprayed through the air with one
practiced motion of Rand's sword.
"So, the Magus' son still displays part of his father's talent," Rathe's voice
was reserved now, his concentration focused on Rand.
Rand held his sword at the ready, the determination in his eyes a tribute to
his courage against a magically superior foe.  "The apple never falls far from
the tree, Rathe."

*ENOUGH*

The voice echoed loud enough to rumble the ground beneath the three and force
the dragon wolf's corpse to disintegrate into crystals.  The mist swirled
violently, gathering suddenly to reveal the form of a ghostly woman.  "Not in
my valley, usurper of Nyx's power!"
Rathe visibly flinched, lifting a hand in an attempt to feebly ward off the
woman.  Tadewi watched in rapt fascination as it seemed the all powerful Adept
suddenly weakened in this apparition's presense.  "This has not ended..." he
hissed, and with that he fled into the cover of the fog, disappearing.
The ghostly form clung to the air a moment longer, the faded just as suddenly
as she had appeared. Tadewi felt a sense of loss, of sadness enaminating from
her, but it was gone just as quickly.
 Rand, slack jawed, whispered, "The Lady of the Valley."  Shaking his head, he
sheathed his sword, walking over to help Tadewi to her feet.  Her legs felt
like jelly, as did her arms, unused to the physicality of defending herself,
and she leaned against him heavily as he walked her back home, sparing her the
lecture of safety in numbers.  Perhaps his own thoughts were too wrapped up in
the previous events.

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


Message 1017 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed Dec  9 12:30:32 1998 EST
From:     Ylaerin (#16541)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

The two of them sat together, as it seemed they always had, and shared their
thoughts in silence for a while.  The small woman in blue, looking older than
she was and pensive, leaned against the bulk of the bright blue dragon. After
a length, Ylaerin spoke aloud, "Then that's what I must do, draig. I can be
brave when I need to be, and it's time I got back on my feet. People need me."
Luthe's eyes remained closed, and he rumbled softly... anyone else would have
believed him to be sleeping. But Etra didn't need his audible confirmation -
she never had, not even before the Bonding. She sighed, running her fingers
lightly over the carvings of her harp... It was never going to be simple, not
anymore, and that's what it boiled down to. The last truly simple moment she
could remember in her life had been that afternoon in the meadow, Rathe's
proposal. She had come through the tragedy of her parents and her first love
and her people... she had thought everything was repaired. She closed her eyes
and called up the memory - hazy sunlight, the field of flowers, his eyes
before the kindness left them - she held on to it for only a moment, used it
to staunch the flow of the ill thoughts that were to follow.
>From that one moment, everything led spiralling down to where she stood
today... A dark and cloudless sky of living, the points of light that danced
within it were not enough to illuminate the rest. And that was it, in the end
- you are what life makes you, and all you have are the things that have
happened to you, and there are no guarantees. In some way or another, you
become what you have lost.
But there was one star streaking across the night sky, one brightness that had
welled up out of centuries of darkness... that point on the spiral that was
neverchanging.   Corwin.   She'd told no one, though she'd shared almost every
moment of her life with him since winter... only the two of them knew, their
dragons, and Yjezra.  The rest would know, in time, but for now, it was a
secret to savor.
Gathering up her harp and fastening her cloak about her shoulders, she turned
to the dragon once more, this time speaking in the tongue of her homeland,
Eire, "So first we will speak with Corwin, it is time to return to our duties
as bard and bard's champion. We have both been sworn to the goddess and each
other, and that is enough protection for any two such as we. And I will be a
mother to my children, whether they have a father or not; and I will be Bard
to my people, and a Bridge between the Aeyries, and a Light where I may take
one."
Luthe grinned, sobered, flashed her a mental image of Rathe. She stood up
straighter, clenching her staff in her fist, "His love and mine, that has ever
been a thing used for harm.. and though it may not ever leave me, that love is
both my weapon and my shield. I have no cause to fear him."
/And me?/ Luthe asked, speaking aloud now as well, /What about my shadows?/
And with that, she lay her cheek against his hide, the scales warm and shining
in the light of the goddess' moon, "I carry that, too. That blame is mine as
well... We may never completely leave the shadows, Luthe, but we'll carry the
candle anyway."

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


Message 1018 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed Dec  9 16:26:43 1998 EST
From:     Ybrielle (#4778)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Winds of Hope.

Ybrielle sighed quietly in their little tent, her fingertips brushing across
the top of her new daughter's head.  She silently wondered at the infant's
fate, for Raelan had already given full report about this strange building,
things that Tierz'yrrlan had been unable to see.  Skeletons in what had once
been the kitchens, and a door that was locked and no amount of force could
open it.
However, this place was huge.  Certainly big enough to fortify and live in
with the dragons.  It was better then being caught in the open, as they were
now for as long as they remained in Wolf Moon.
It was a terrible risk, with the possibility of high prices.  Was it worth it?
Only time would tell.

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


Message 1019 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Fri Dec 11 00:29:10 1998 EST
From:     Ybrielle (#4778)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Discoveries.

The four Riders stood around the strange thick shards of eggshell discovered
within the black sands of a room of unknown usage.  Everything in the complex
was HUGE, not to mention confusing.  Thoughts raced through their minds, of
the skeletons and the claw marks....
.. then Yerox suddenly offered, "Giant chickens?"

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


Message 1020 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sat Dec 12 01:06:10 1998 EST
From:     Toraxyn (#19315)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  The Return

	As the night sky lit with pyres of deep violet, the figure emerged from what
once was a clearing of light woods.  The trees behind him were scorched beyond
recognition into gnarled, black harbingers of the chaos emerging. He stepped,
calmly, fluid in each grace of movement, like the very air passing seamlessly
through the tree's leaves, until the light of the moon struck him as palely as
the night he had entered.

	Oblivious to the destruction behind him, oblivious to the magic worked up
until mere moments before by his own hands, oblivious to everything he was,
since it mattered little in comparison. He made his distinct path forward,
each step, no longer one any different than the impossible emotionless void
ebbed forward with each pulsing of his heart.  Of all he had gained, it was
the one gift, though double-edged and bitter as any else given him, that he
would never deny.  And stronger was it now more than ever, until the last
remaining goal that gave purpose to his strangled existence remained undone.

	Through the shadowed hair, few would see any difference in each calculated
movement, in the cold acknowledgements occasionally granted, but for those
accustomed to a gaze warming to them.  The tattered remains of ensorcelled
clothing would be replaced, and blood staining his bared chest would be washed
and perhaps bandaged.  Harsh leather yet covered the hideously-made scars of
his forearms, and though they pulsated now with light beyond the comprehension
of most, few would see their meaning and more would shiver at the thought that
such things could even exist.  Yet one thing none could miss.  Eyes once as
cold and blue as the sharp edges of sapphires, now burned with a sickly green
life, one that could not be mistaken as human no matter what the
circumstances.  A life that would play the hunted no longer, but would become
the hunter. Play it's hunt it would... and he himself doubted that, in it's
wake, that anything will remain of himself but the pale, useless husk of what
once could have been a man...

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


Message 1021 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sat Dec 12 01:54:38 1998 EST
From:     Tadewi (#16048)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  And So We End the Chapter and Let the Stage Lights Fade...

Brittle, the branches were so very brittle as Tadewi reached out to brush her
fingertips over them from the window of the treehouse.  Grey bark tumbled
towards the ground, smacking the forest floor with a dry crack.  It was dark,
but then, darkness always pervaded the Forest of Thorns, but no natural means.
She idly wondered how Rand could choose to live here.
The thought brought her back to the subject of Rand.  Tall, handsome, charming
in an odd way.  She chided herself for even dwelling a moment on him.  She was
engaged after all... wait, she was?  The thought confused her, and she reached
into the void of her mind in hopes of finding the answer.  Again, it eluded
her, leaving nothing but a confusing swirl of mighthavebeens and
shouldbeforgottens.  She shook her head, resting it against the window frame.
She would sleep soon, her body was tired.
She did not relish the thought of sleep, for though normally it drowned out
the trials of the day, lately she couldn't shake off dreams of swirls of
sapphire turning a sickly green... only to consume her whole...

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


Message 1022 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sat Dec 12 12:41:53 1998 EST
From:     Ymerith (#22840)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Ragged piece of paper on the R/T bulletin board

look paper

There appears to be some writing on the note.

read paper

Wanted:  fruits and vegetables in bulk, willing to trade goods and services.
Also wanted:  Anyone with experience maintaining and/or controlling nuclear
power devices, we don't have much to offer as of yet aside from room and board
in the way of payment.
Anyone interested in fulfilling these needs please respond here or contact
Kiva via comm.
(You finish reading the note)

OOC:  Replies to this post, specifically the job offers, will be expected to
be RP'ed.  Johnny and the others will be rather wary of who they entrust the
safety of their families to.

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


Message 1023 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Dec 13 08:58:45 1998 EST
From:     Hawke (#16551)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

Stalking quietly through the room, pacing endlessly.

"It's never going to be over," came the whisper. "It's never going to be over
until I put a stop to it myself."

And so, thus, came the change. Slow at first, but practice made its progress
quicken. As with all things, practice made perfect. There had been a master to
study under; a master whose footsteps were best to mimick, but not follow.

After all. They had preceded him. They had been mad from the start.

The ring of a spur sounded against the cobblestones of the Fin de la Rue in
N'Orleans as he turned his eyes to the moon overhead. The spur drew sparks as
it struck the ground. He didn't notice. He simply hoped that the sound would
bring some attention; he hoped the sound would bring a test.

Only the zombies stirred at this time of night.

The zombies, and the only one who ever spoke to them, that is.

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


Message 1024 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Dec 13 10:29:55 1998 EST
From:     Tirafal (#24173)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Hope and Roses

Tirafal sat at the bar in the R/T lounge, alone when the stranger walked in,
the ring of a spur on the hardness of the floor the only herald to his
arrival.
She covertly watched him, his appearance darkly handsome, the force of his
presence almost overwhelming, a bit frightening....yet a bit thrilling.
She quickly turned her gaze away from him as he talked to Osbornn, a hint of
irritation...almost hurt....that the barman didn't recognize him. Then he
turned to address her and Tirafal felt her heart leap, half in dread, half in
excitement, that he had noticed her.
The man swirled with undercurrents eddying about him. There was a darkness to
his soul that repeled her....and at the same time a poignancy that tugged at
her heart. She saw in him elements of the terrible hopelessness that had eaten
her husband when they had first met....and the longing to find hope and love
again.
They talked...his words of hatred and revenge voiced but with an unvoiced
undertone of almost unbearable pain snaking through like tendrils of smoke.
She saw him regard her with an odd gentleness, her pregnancy affecting
him...touching him in some way.
Before he left, he called her "lady"....her last words to him almost
pleading....to never give up hope.

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


Message 1025 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun Dec 13 16:16:02 1998 EST
From:     Yalindra (#13170)
To:       *storylines (#5236) and *DragonRiders (#5915)
Subject:  A favor to a friend

The day was shrouded in the same calm that was characteristic of every
other day, of late. Yalindra relaxed in the den, having left all of her
family save her son Bersa'at to sleep - the young demihuman was often
restless in the mornings and she knew how much her husband
cherished his sleep. The two meditated quietly - she had been trying to
teach him methods of calming his rambunctious nature, which were so far
proceeding well. A familiar voice spoke to her from the doorway, crossing
the created void of tranquility in Yalindra's reverie.
It was Yjezra; Yalindra had not seen her friend in such a long time.
Yjezra, however, had not come to catch up on old times. There was
purpose in her voice, yet her eyes reflected inner turmoil over something.
She had something of importance to discuss, she said. Yalindra
immediately suspected that her husband had yet again been up to no good,
or that some other dire circumstance had befallen the Mount. Whatever
troubles Yalindra conceived in her mind, she was not ready for the
words that Yjezra next uttered. "I want to step down as DragonMistress,"
Yjezra said softly, sending Yalindra reeling in surprise, but not as
suprised as she was when her friend continued. "I am too kind and soft...
we need someone with a warrior's Spirit to lead us. Myst, I want you
to take my place." It was clear to Yalindra that Yjezra did not believe
in her own strength of character, and Yalindra found herself unable to
understand how Yjezra could see weakness in kindness and tolerance.
She voiced this concern to the troubled DragonMistress, but the woman
would not listen, claiming much "death and suffering" had been caused by
her inaction, her "weakness" in the past. Clearly, Yjezra would not take
no for an answer, and so Yalindra felt herself compelled to accept her
friend's offer - it was indeed a great honor, but she could see that
there was a great wisdom in Yjezra...one that would serve the Aeryie
much better than the rash "strength" of a warrior's Spirit that Yjezra
felt was needed.
True, Yalindra reflected, that the invasion by the Wyrms may have been
averted had all dwellers of the Mount resisted with the skill and strength
of warriors...but most were peaceful by nature. If they were forced to
adopt the uneasy life of a soldier, the peace that such a lifestyle
was meant to protect would be undermined. Not all were bred for battle,
and often Yalindra envied those who swore never to pick up a blade, never
to do harm. But then memories of the past filled her mind; the abduction
of her husband by Temple, her own capture at the hands of Red Fang and
Rathe...the many confrontations with the evils of the world that had
been vanquished, or at the very least driven away, by those who
embraced the warrior's path. Certainly, Yalindra did not want to see
her family slain or enslaved by the Urukenites, nor Toraxyn, Red Fang
or any of the other evils which plagued the world.
"I will accept your offer on but one condition..." she told Yjezra. "That
I only hold this position until you realize the strength you possess.
Until you believe in yourself." Yjezra admitted her doubts that such
a time would ever come to pass, but Yalindra was not so convinced. Perhaps
Yjezra just needed a rest...surely the matters of the world weighed
heavily on her shoulders. The pair embraced and began to speak of matters
less dark, of hatchlings and bondmates, of children and of the future,
which seemed, as always, uncertain. Yalindra made a silent vow to do her
friend proud - she did not think of herself as much of a leader, but
she had trust in Yjezra's judgment. She chuckled to herself, realizing
that she, like Yjezra, had a great amount of self-doubt...was that was it took
to be a leader?

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


Message 1026 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Dec 14 02:39:08 1998 EST
From:     Hawke (#16551)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

It was strange how easily the truth came out. He hadn't expected that at all.
He'd sat beside the woman in the bar; he'd frightened her -- that much was
certain. Once he would have appreciated that, even reveled in it, but not now.

He walked the streets in silence. Everything was familiar, but it held no
charm for him now. Not with his love having fled to take the arms of another.

He remembered his first impressions of the place; he remembered the beauty and
freedom of N'Orleans. Freedom had swelled to become apathy. He was free
because not a soul gave half a damn whether he lived or died. There was some
peace in that, and at the same time, it was the whole of his pain.
She had been lovely. He envied the life growing inside her -- life instead of
death inside. It was something he could not begin to imagine.

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


Message 1027 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon Dec 14 03:54:45 1998 EST
From:     Tira (#24173)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  An ad

Ad found on the bulletin board at R/T:
Wanted: a medical doctor to provide services to a growing community. If you
have the qualifications and wish to apply please commlink or send mail to
Ynaoise, Tirafal or Ybrielle.

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


Message 1028 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue Dec 15 19:24:40 1998 EST
From:     Akeashar (#20348)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  May showers bring death.

In what looks to be a meteor strike, over fifty wastelandic nomads lives ended
earlier this morning. Around 2 or 3am our time, reports of a streak in the
sky, then a loud explosion were heard.

Though not totally confirmed, the meteorite was believed to have been the size
of a large transport. It crashed down just outside of the region known as the
Firezone.

When asked to comment on the situation, the Soulmech Pilots refused all
questioning, and in an apparantly startling act, removed the meteorite from
its spot.

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


Message 1029 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Fri Dec 18 15:43:12 1998 EST
From:     Ynaoise (#11886)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  The wages of freedom...

I looked up from my book as Tira entered.  She related that some riders had
arrived unannouced, and that I must come and speak with them.  Pondering
boiling oil and lasers, after being up seventy-two hours straight researching,
I put on my best smile and met with them.  Ylaerin was with them, along with
Devon and Yalindra.  Was not Devon dead?

They came to talk.  They came to argue.  They came to insult.  They really
could not seem to make up their minds between them.  All and all though.  They
came at the wrong time.  I was tired, and _not_ in a good mood.

So at that, loud discussions began happening, some would call them arguments.
They were thrown this way and that, getting nothing accomplished.  Tira tells
me that I passed out after Elshydrath went odd.  She dreams now of our time in
captivity.  I help her as much as I can.  I do not know what to think.  Tira
went to see Enid while I slept... It would seem twins are on the way.  I worry
for her, and her small size.  I will discuss it with Enid when Tira is not
around.

I return to sleep.  I am still very tired, but I wanted to write in my journal
before I went back to my dreams of death and dying.

There is no peace at the gate.

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


Message 1030 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Fri Dec 18 15:52:23 1998 EST
From:     Devon (#23970)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Leftovers.

Devon paced around the library, an exercise he had been preforming often of
late. His mind working as he thought back on his actions. Were his words too
strong with his former friends and family? Shrugging he didn't seem to care
anymore. Many times already he had faced friends to offer words he felt with
passion, he spoke with his heart and soul and kept nothing back. Most would
hide for civility but Devon feared nothing that his mind could imagine. So he
thought what to do? Without the others Morlith was doomed, Yalindra was the
new dragonmistress and he would not let her fail, but who to turn to? His mind
whirled on the faces of his friends, weary brows, and the land they now lived
tortured as much as their inhabitants. Suddenly his thoughts recalled the
ward, he kne not it's purpose and in most cases he would not be so desperate,
but without the other riders Morlith was open to attack. There was no way they
could withstand Stryfe's legions with the skeleton crew that now lived here.
But what if he found the wards purpose, Kzin would know and if enough power
could be garnered the ward could be shattered. Surely the 'New Hope' Would
become Despair and they'd be forced to return to morlith... With Yjezra no
longer the leader they could accept normal lives with Yalindra ruling. It was
all too perfect and all Devon needed to do was lead the way.

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


Message 1031 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Fri Dec 18 18:31:52 1998 EST
From:     Yraelan (#20231)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  ...

Faint light.

The shadows fell upon dark eyes as he held the katana in his grip.

Darkness

The flash of light brighting up a good portion of the forest as the blade sank
into the creature's chest.

>> The mage was getting too big for his britches << his mind repeated over and
over.

The scent of fresh, hot blood filled the air as the creatures' arteries
released.

The strange katana in his hands, the thoughts flooding his brain. He knew
something had to be done. With a twist of his heel, he walked back into the
forest, eyes faintly glimmering.

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


Message 1032 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sat Dec 19 09:04:00 1998 EST
From:     Merri (#24667)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Lament

Merridwen knelt on the ground next to the old oak chest and opened it, the lid
rising to expose the whiteness of her wedding gown. Her hand trailed across
the purity of the white cloth and lace, symbolic of the purity of her own body
the day she had worn it. Tucked in a corner was the stuffed dragon doll that
Ymerith had given to her just two days before she had lost the baby.
Her fingers brushed against the soft satin of the dragon doll's body,
remembering her life with Johnny and Megasa...and touching heaven on dragon
back. She remembered Johnny's laughter, and Meg's rumbly chuckle. She
remembered her own laughter and happiness.
It was gone, now.....all gone.
She looked down at her hand; at the slim, delicate, gold band on her finger.
Slowly, sadly, she removed the ring and placed it in the chest on top of the
wedding gown. Then she shut the chest, symbolically shutting off a part of her
heart at the same time.
As she locked the chest she looked up to see Frap regarding her from the chair
where he had been dozing. The look of sadness and compassion in his eyes
almost undid her. But she had been crying for three days now. It was time to
get on with life; to rejoin the living.
Her back went straight and almost defiantly she returned the gaze.
"Let's go over that spell again, Frap....I think I almost have it."

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


Message 1033 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sat Dec 19 09:51:23 1998 EST
From:     Tira (#24173)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Fire and Ice Part 1

For three days, Tirafal sat next to Ynaoise's bed as he slept, his body
tossing and turning, occasionally crying out as his soul swirled in the
nightmare of his sleep.
She thought of how he came to be here, their fragile peace shattered in the
wake of the visit from the Morlith Riders, and her mouth twisted in a grim
line.
Yalindra had acted as though the fact that she was the new DragonMistress
should have been enough to persuade the New Hope Riders to come back to the
Mount. That all she had to do was announce the fact and they would kneel and
kiss her feet.
She had initially regarded Tirafal as almost beneath contempt. But she
underestimated the small woman with the strawberry hair. Tira's upbringing in
WolfMoon Valley, motherless and isolated, had built into her a strength and
independence of spirit few suspected until it was called forth.
Tirafal's body was deceptively fragile appearing, especially in pregnancy. But
she drew herself up to her full 5'2 and a half inches and dared the
DragonMistress to say what her look so plainly conveyed.
To Tirafal, the DragonMistress seemed to respect her challenge, and her
attitude swiftly changed as she realized that Tira was a force to be reckoned
with.
Tira had warmed a bit more to Ylaerin; she genuinely seemed to be interested
in making this a true diplomatic mission. Until, that is, she had said
whatever she had to Elshydrath to touch off the distress that had sent Ynaoise
to his knees. She remembered her horror as Yna had sunk to the ground, Yraelan
supporting him. And she remembered Ylaerin's harsh and chastising response to
her distress over Yna.
Tirafal frowned, remembering her own words....a much deeper understanding in
her now of just why the New Hope Rider's had left Morlith. There was no real
love for their brother and sister Riders in either woman.
Tira thought of the other New Hope Riders....Ymerith was an unknown, his life
shattered by Merri's abandonment of him and their marriage. She worried for
him, fearing that he and his dragon were on the edge of insanity. He may leave
New Hope, but somehow Tira thought if he did, it wouldn't be to return to the
Mount.
Ybrielle and Yraelan....she smiled at the thought of them. She knew that as
long as she and Ynaoise held firm in their belief in this new place, Ybrielle
and Yraelan would stand with them.
Ynaoise stirred in his sleep again, crying out and muttering words she
couldn't understand. Her hand tried to soothe him.....and she worried.

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


Message 1034 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sat Dec 19 11:31:01 1998 EST
From:     Ymerith (#22840)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Out of the frying pan...  onto a plate....  then back into the fire.

Johnny cried.  He cried a lot.  He kept crying until there were no more tears
and he felt faint from all the sobbing he did.  He reread the note, hoping
that maybe he'd misread it...

Dear Johnny,
I spoke to my old teacher, Henry Frap, and he has agreed to let me come here
for awhile to Drach'nal. I think it best.
When I lost our baby I thought my world had come to an end....and in some ways
I think it did.
Maybe someday, when I have healed, I can talk to you about it. But for now the
pain is too fresh....too raw.
I'm not sure if there is a chance that we can pick up the pieces and put our
marriage back together. It's not your fault....please, don't ever believe it
was your fault.
With all my love,
Merridwen O'Roark

Somehow, there were more tears to cry and cry them he did.  Opening his link
to Megasa he shouted [Wake up, we're going somewhere!].  Megasa shook himself
awake, inwardly happy that his friend had reopened their link after almost
three days of silence.  The link promptly closed, confusing and terrifying the
dragon again.  The flight from the complex to the graveyard was long and
silent, Megasa grew more despondant by the moment.  Upon landing Johnny leapt
down and ran for the graveyard.  He cornered a poor grave dancer, blocking any
chance for it to escape Johnny pulled out a hefty crowbar and advanced.
Johnny proceeded to beat down the poor thing in front of him, the initial
beating lasted an hour before it slumped unconscious to the ground.  Johnny
woke it up to continue pounding on it, first breaking its feet, then its legs.
Johnny slapped it awake again, not wanting it to miss a second of the
treatment.  He slowly worked at it some more, shattering each finger, then
hand, then wrist.  He moved up the arms, reviving it again to shatter its
upper arms and shoulders.  A few kicks yielded some shattered ribs and a
satisfied smile before he woke it again.  Levelling his shotgun to rest
between the pathetic, broken, crippled being's eyes, Johnny smiled as he
pulled the trigger.

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


Message 1035 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sat Dec 19 15:28:04 1998 EST
From:     Tirafal (#24173)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  "Fire and Ice part 2

On the third day of Ynaoise's unnatural sleep, Tira began to panic. This was
too much like what she had gone through in their earliest days together; too
close to the way he had slept, shutting out the world, when he had first come
to her.
She recalled that she had promised Ynaoise to go see Enid anyway, and she ran
to the Rowan for help.
Enid held her trembling, frightened body, her overwhelming concern for her
husband overriding everything else.
Tira told her the tale of the visit from the Morlith Riders, Elshydrath's
keening and sorrow, and Ynaoise's reaction and sleep. And the
nightmares.....the terrible nightmares that forced her husband to cry out and
fight demons in his sleep.
Enid comforted her, pointed out that this time, Ynaoise slept with his dragon,
that the nightmares he suffered were not his but Elshydrath's.
"Listen, child", Enid said, "Ynaoise is one of the strongest people I have
ever met. He has carried a burden for years that would have driven most men to
their deaths. Believe in him. Trust his strength."
Tira listened, and the words the old woman said soothed her heart.
But inwardly it also steeled her attitude toward the Morlith Riders. To have
done this to another human being was bad enough. But to do this to a
dragon.....
"By the way", Enid said, "Congratulations on your babies."
Tira started, looked at the old woman, "Babies?"
"You did not know already?", Enid said, "Just now, when I held you, I felt the
heart fires of two little ones, not one."
"Ynaoise suspected it....thought it possible because I have grown so big in
such a short space of time. But I simply thought it was because he was so big
and I am so small."
Tira held this news to her like a beloved doll as she traveled home. When she
reached New Hope her joy was doubled to find her husband awake and writing in
his journal. He seemed composed, unharmed. She told him the news of the twins
and he held her quietly, his mixed joy and concern slipping through him to
her.
Finally putting her from him he slept again, but this time it was the sleep of
exhaustion....dreamless and restoring.
Tira lay next to him and held him, taking in the idea of two babies and
becoming used to it.....and finally, slept herself.

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