From someone@ghostwheel.mud.org Sun Mar 14 10:58:33 1999 Return-Path: Received: from localhost (quinn@localhost [127.0.0.1]) by requiem.vv.com (8.8.7/8.8.7) with ESMTP id KAA14966 for ; Sun, 14 Mar 1999 10:58:21 -0500 Received: from mailhost.vv.com by localhost with POP3 (fetchmail-4.7.7) for quinn@localhost (single-drop); Sun, 14 Mar 1999 10:58:31 -0500 (EST) Received: from casper.realtime.net (casper.realtime.com [205.238.128.161]) by eniac.vv.com (8.9.0.Beta5/8.9.0.Beta5) with ESMTP id KAA02766 for ; Sun, 14 Mar 1999 10:57:22 -0500 (EST) Received: from casper.bga.com (localhost [127.0.0.1]) by casper.realtime.net (8.7.4/8.7.3) with SMTP id KAA06554 for ; Sun, 14 Mar 1999 10:05:35 -0600 Message-Id: <199903141605.KAA06554@casper.realtime.net> Date: Sun, 14 Mar 1999 10:05:18 -0400 From: "Quinn@GhostWheel" To: quinn@netsville.com Subject: GhostWheel Message(s) 1036 - 1077 from *storylines (#5236) X-Mail-Agent: GhostWheel (casper.bga.com 6969) Status: RO Content-Length: 62020 Lines: 1325 Message 1036 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Dec 22 10:50:54 1998 EST From: Dwight (#20455) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Ponderings The mountain far off in the distance, the treasures it holds. Dwight sat back in his chair, sipping his third cup of expresso as he ran code after code through the machine. The R/T had been easy to hack--an unfortunate slight that they had escaped the R/Ts fire door. Perhaps this time his plan wouldn't be so easy to screw up again. The hunter.. that was it! He must find the hunter, and the rogue, and the scout. Together, the plan will be put into effect. Dwight sat his cup of expresso in the cup holder, and stood, moving to a video console. -------------------------- Message 1037 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Dec 23 12:57:26 1998 EST From: adele (#12937) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: cutely annoying adele stood at the edge of the graveyard. Her own little chubby hand wrapped tightly around Molly Riley's, own decaying fingers Adele smiles, and looks up at the poor decrepit figure, She squeezes her hand tightly once before she lets go. Adele wipes her hands on her cute dress, trying to dislodge the peices of decayed flesh from herself. Adele Runs off into the Graveyard looking for more friends. Once that don't lie, one's that dont patronize, and more importantly one's that wont die....again. She knew there was something she was supposed to be doing, but she shrugs it away. She had something at one time, a family, a life....a Home. Adele shakes her head, knocking the memory out of place. Happily she skips about checking all the casket and vacant graves for more friends. -------------------------- Message 1038 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Dec 24 00:26:13 1998 EST From: Sinner (#12411) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: ..a cry in the night.. In the passions of mid summer; the Sinner strays alone. Blurring through the realities which surround him, in fear of what once he called Lord. For treason is a horrible crime; and an even more upsurd cost will be scorned upon his weary soul. The Village isn't safe.. Hell wouldn't be safe right now for this once infernal being, if .. there was such a place. .and through this torment; the need for mayhem still resides. The need for corruption festers within the broken soul of this once good man, of which he tries to make shine. To beam through the cages of shadows which bind his soul into the fire. .there.. .in the shadows.. a child.. Crouching down, almost in instinct; a magickal barrier of unholy webbing is cast about the repentant mans form. He glares out through it, studious to the newfound kinder's state in life.. No less then five years. Obviously lost in the dirt and filth which surrounds even this reality -- the Sinner keeps this.. in mind. The cravings for death still loiter his thought. Control; control, control -- he screams to himself internally. Unable to avert his eyes, the child glances straight at him with tear filled eyes.. .. .compassion dead.. .lust perpetual.. .yet he can not.. .he can not.. .he can not resist.. Shreading through the obfuscated silence; Sinner's fangs are bared. The child stares, much like a dear in headlights -- unable to scream, or move. It's instantanous, the pain, the void -- the death. .*CRACK*.. Severing the neckbone from it's 'proper' position, the cambion tears a hole deep within the boy's skin. Blood rushes out from the wound -- in trails of arching pleasure. Painting the ivory clouding flesh of this Sinner, the boy dies -- minus the angels, the praise and glory of rightous death. .just another bastard in the wrong place, at the wrong time.. .as is the sinner.. -------------------------- Message 1039 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Dec 24 12:43:27 1998 EST From: Mirage (#20202) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Planning The map was before him, the red X prominant.. was it drawn in blood? Mirage stood from his desk, moving the magnifying glass-like device from his path as he poured his eighth cup of expresso.. she didn't show yet.. something must be up.. probably getting some sleep before the journey.. The window had since closed, they must await another night before attempting.. gives them time to spend together planning. The cup of expresso fell to the floor as he noticed rogue mechs attacking the base. He rushed out to the bay, and went about his business as Speaker yet again. -------------------------- Message 1040 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Dec 26 16:13:16 1998 EST From: Clayson (#17237) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Window Cold air, circulated by droning machines chilled the body of the half waking woman. Her movements groggy, slow as she pulled her wool coat about her body. She sat up suddenly, fully awake now as her mind snapped into action. She scanned the area with a small heat seeking device that was clutched in her left hand. One life form flickered on the screen, it seemed to be to her immediate right. She laughed softly in the darkness when she realized who it was. Calling out, hoping her words would awaken the one sleeping in the next bunk. Time was growing to a close. Two hours left till the window opened, if they missed it this time it would be months till another chance was at hand. The weapon must be brought back now, mounted, in order to secure the wastelands. Scampering from her place of rest she headed over to the sleeping man, her words obviously lost to his comatose mind. She nudged him softly, preparations were in hand. Without his help she would achieve nothing..... -------------------------- Message 1041 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Dec 27 03:53:59 1998 EST From: Mirage (#20202) To: *storylines (#5236) The weapon was found--easy enough to acquire.. then they got it to the office he was too tired to continue and fell asleep on the couch. He woke up two hours later and noticed her gone--he feared the worst and tried all possible communications. finally giving up on that, he merely shrugged his shoulders, and was going to have a talk with her when she got back. His eyes glanced at the weapon, then to her.. she would be his. -------------------------- Message 1042 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Dec 28 05:16:25 1998 EST From: Durandal (#23874) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Out of the Pit Things were looking up. Durandal stole quietly through the tunnels beneath the R/T, his sleek form bathed in red light. The chainsaw trembled in his tensed handpaws as he sought to keep a firm grip... Too many had been telling him about Temple, about how stupid he had to be to have been staying with her for the past months. Too many that he knew and trusted could not be wrong... especially Her. She had taken him back despite his mistake, She seemed to have always cared... not like anyone else, not even Temple, though he swore that her feelings were genuine... weren't they? His sharp ears picked up the rattle of an exoskeleton, his eyes caught sight of that spindly, insectoid-demon form of the slisssh that was too familiar... he was drawing closer, saw rattling. The mere fact that She would forgive him was easily all Durandal could have wanted... but there was the matter that had been barely touched upon, a new issue, since he had spoken to that man; John Kiva, he had introduced himself as. He had been told of some complex, buildings or caves or something... and for some reason, after talking to Mr. Kiva, the recomb had been invited to visit this place. A place to stay, if he was permitted and could make himself useful, perhaps, perhaps... Durandal surveyed the gruesome mess that covered the walls. The chainsaw had yielded a rather unappetizing splatter effect with the slisssh's blood, and thick, blackish liquid dripped from the walls, smattered with bits of exoskeleton. The recomb flicked a piece from his coat, gathered the crystals that remained of the former slisssh, and continued on his way. He would have to tell Temple that, as fun as it had been, he wouldn't be needing her "protection" anymore, he was sure of that. Yes, things were indeed looking up. -------------------------- Message 1043 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Dec 28 14:26:40 1998 EST From: Akeashar (#20348) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: [Clayson (#17237): Homecoming] Date: Mon Dec 28 14:23:35 1998 EST From: Clayson (#17237) To: Akeashar (#20348) Subject: Homecoming Darkness enveloped the two as they stood on the threshold of time. The woman held her weapon ready, her mind unable to grasp the powers that lay before them. Her instinct to survive was her only guide as she followed the man through the window. Space become serene, nothing was as it seemed. Her screams echoed, perhaps only in her mind, the pain intensified her terror as they traveled from one sphere to the next. Then it was over, solid ground beneath her feet again. A long hallway stretched before them, all to familiar, this place of her birth. She slipped on her night vision goggles only to spy her accomplice heading west down the long corridor. Trailing behind him, she kept to the walls, footsteps silent as they headed toward their quest. Nothing had changed, the armory stood as it did ten years ago. Mirage was already inside, obviously nobody bothered to change the entry code either. Pulling off her glasses she slipped between the solid doors. Mirage was already at work. A small flashlight was clutched between his teeth, the only light he could afford. His movements were quick, precise, as he dismantled the objects that lay before him. The footsteps came suddenly, how many...one, two. She motioned to Mirage, but he had already cut the light. She heard the small click as he released the safety latch of his weapon, preparing for the worst. The doors opened wider, a shadowy mass entered. Their conversation was hushed, casual. Mirage took aim, killing the first with a silent bullet that penetrated the poor soldiers forehead, exploding, shattering the back of his skull. The second man froze, then turned as if to flee. His escape was not an option. Before he made the doors, he was no longer alive. The woman pulled the bodies further into the room, stowing them behind a large crate as her partner hastily finished the job at hand. Time was short, finally Mirage signaled that he was ready. Each with a lead lined case in hand, secured with the gifts of war, they headed out. The homecoming a success. -------------------------- Message 1044 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Dec 28 19:51:52 1998 EST From: Vertemis (#23360) To: *storylines (#5236) The wind from the west blew huge waves of sand over the entire wasteland. The machine silently stalked her prey. Crouching down in a nearby sand dune, the Ghost waited. Vertemis watched the depot from his cockpit window. The mission had been easier said than actually done. It was an cookie cutter reconnaissance mission, or so he was told. Thomas chuckled to himself. The jobs he had taken before this seemed easy, but this,.. this was no ordinary camp. He examined the perimeter of the base. Three guards, he thought to himself. All three were well armoured, and extremely well armed. The Ghost took a few more steps towards the camp. Thomas switch off the mech comm system, that would be the first thing they would watch for. He look through the cockpit towards the main tent. He counted outloud the number of crates. Pulling a black electronic clipboard from his tool box he scribbled '13' on the screen. Thomas threw the data-pad down and began his retreat from the area. The mech took a large, but silent step back from the dune. **Computer:: Missle Lock Detected** "Shit!" he yelled twisting the torso of the mech. The Ghost crouched behind the dune just as the missle hit the area behind her. >From outside he heard the loudspeaker of the two warrior mechs zooming towards him, "Give up now and you life may be sparred!". May be sparred, he thought to himself. He didn't like the phrasing in that. The Ghost flew across the wastes, its large feet pounding into the earth surface. The rattle of chain gun fire echoed behind him. The familiar sound of slug against metal blasted on the inside of the Ghost. He knew his armour would hold for the time being, he needed a way out. Vertemis used his speed as an advantage. He remembered the wreckage he had seen earlier. An idea formed in his head. He ducked behind the dune closest to the wreck. The two mechs gained ground on him, but he was out of their visual sight. **Computer:: Missle Lock Detected** Thomas smiled, their mechs were state of the arts, but they were using textbook tracking styles. The missle volley flew towards him. He ran by the wreckage and and quickly divereted their course to the pile. A second after the blast the Ghost scorched the downed transport with his flamethrower, reducing to nothing but a heap of melted metal. An instan later he quickly concealed himself behind another dune. The two rookies came over the farthest dune to inspect their kill. After a moment of examining the mechs turned around, stomping in the direction from which they came. Thomas sat there for ten minutes, waiting. Then he smiled, and set autopilot for home. -------------------------- Message 1045 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Dec 28 22:17:00 1998 EST From: Eponine (#3791) To: *storylines (#5236) There is a new ghostwheel weekly journal in the lounge. -------------------------- Message 1046 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Dec 29 23:44:39 1998 EST From: Williker (#20481) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: VIVA EL SOULMECHS! The Ripper stomped through the wastes, chaingun online and ready to fire. Williker sat in the cockpit, whistling away a happy tune but suddenly; **WARNING: Object approaching from the east***. Williker muttered and the Ripper came to a sudden stop, rotating on its torso it spun to the right to see another mech stalking over. The Ripper turned to the face the mech and its loudspeeker boomed out, "May I help you motherfucker?" The second mech, with the markings of the Storm Casher clan on it, boomed, "Why yes you can. I've come for you, rogue." The mech wielded a large flailing weapon and a chuckle came over the loudspeaker. "I see.. bring it!", boomed the Ripper as it shut off its chaingun and wielded its mechsaw. The second mech charged at the Ripper, swinging its flail overhand into the Ripper's torso, knocking it back. Williker almost fell out of his pilot's chair, "Holy shit.." Williker belted himself in and jerked the controls. The Ripper rolled to the side just as the large flail came crashing down on the wasteland floor. Williker jerked the controls again and it climbed to its feet quickly, its saw buzzing loudly. Another chuckle boomed over the loudspeaker as it again swung the flail overhand trying to smash the mechs torso. The Ripper sidestepped easily and jammed its spinning saw right into the back of the other mech. Steal and electronics flew everywhere as the second mech jerked wildly and feel to the ground. Williker smirked and sent the saw into the second mech again, this time aiming for the cockpit area. It slammed into it and the spinning teeth squealed as it cut through the mechs armor. The Storm Chaser mech stopped twitching and went silent. The Ripper's saw stopped spinning and folded back into its arm. "Another one bites the dust." boomed the speaker as the mech stripped anything of value off the second mech and walked off into the wastes. OOC: Yup, I suck at storylines, but its fun darnit! -------------------------- Message 1047 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Dec 30 00:58:43 1998 EST From: Vertemis (#23360) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Another day in the rat race... Vertemis trudged the dolly up to the cockpit of the Ripper. Dropping it with a thud he let it roll into position just under the mechs control panel. Casually dropping his tool next to the dolly, he lied down on it, rolling under the mechs computer system. The large screwdriver unscrewed the panel in less than ten turns. He pulled of the panel and took a look into the mechs anatomy. The glare of the small flashlight between his teeth illuminated the machines innards. "Heh," he smiled. The main energy bank had been burnt out, and at least three of main transformers would have to be replaced. He stood up from the floor, a handful of wires in one hand and the screwdriver in the other. The elevator hissed as it hit the floor. Vertemis walked over to the torso of the Ripper and took it off. He examined the dents and shook his head, walking it over to the torch. The metal heated up to a dull red. Tom pulled a large steel hammer from his tool box and began pounding away... -------------------------- Message 1049 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Dec 31 01:48:13 1998 EST From: Tirafal (#24173) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: The Scent of Water Tira lay, cradled in Ynaoise's arms as he slept, and let her mind wander back over the events of the day. Skywalker had taken them to Oceanus, a thrill of a trip in itself, to examine Tira with the advanced medical equipment they had in the clinic there. She and Ynaoise both had been concerned. She was not a large woman and to be carrying two babies was a medical risk. But after Skywalker had performed the ultrasound he pronounced both babies healthy and the pregnancy itself not in danger. Moreover, he was able to tell them that the twins were identical....and girls. Tira's hands cradled her swollen abdomen and she felt the babies move under her palms. For the first time since she and Ynaoise had found out she was carrying twins her heart felt relieved. *Girls*, she thought to herself, and she envisioned long hair and blue eyes and downy white skin. More importantly for Ynaoise, all of the women of his race were gone. Tira remembered the stunned look on Ynaoise's face when Skywalker had made the announcement of the babies gender and she smiled to herself. It was one thing to be the beloved mother of a man's children...another to know that you were the vessel of preservation for an entire race. Tira turned over and snuggled up to Ynaoise's back, the babies kicking him in his sleep and making him sigh. He had become used to it, by now. Indeed, told her he welcomed the feel of his children. With a small sigh of her own, Tira went to sleep.....dreaming. -------------------------- Message 1050 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Dec 31 16:29:09 1998 EST From: Vertemis (#23360) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Discovery The machine stomped across the cool sands of the desert. The flaring sun fell just below the horizon line of the wasteland. Thomas watched over the sand dunes. He loved the wastes at night, he always had. The glow of the witness cone shined a dull glow over the empty sands. Vertemis switched the Ghosts's external floodlights on. The mech turned in three hundered and sixty degrees, shining it's lights over the land. Thomas stopped and rotated back a few degrees. He knew he wasn't hallucinating, he saw the shine of metal. The mech stalked over towards the object. Thomas switched the machine off. He felt a little stronger, not having to support the machine as well as himself. The glass tube *whooshed* to the ground and Vertemis stepped out. The object was a door, and a large one at that, half-buried in the sand. Thomas attempted to open the door, but the massive amounts of sand halted his progress. Thomas logged the location in his datapad and stepped back into the mech. He felt the familiar sting as he powered his mech up. He stomped towards his garage. He would come back in the daylight, and with tools, he thought, as his mech stalked over the dunes and out of sight. -------------------------- Message 1051 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jan 2 02:21:26 1999 EST From: Temple (#11763) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Set aside for a *HUMAN*...Yet again! Seething with rage, she stalked back and forth in her pavillion. "Stupid, stupid recomb! To want the mistreatment and humilation of being some *HUMAN*'s pet!" She grabbed her whip and snapped out at the silken draperies covering the walls. "DAMN HIM! " It wasn't like she wanted the cowering, submissive recomb, he was fun to toy with for a time, and she had become bored with him, but for him to choose a *HUMAN* over her! She continued to pace, then threw her whip across the interior and raised her head, a primal scream of hatred bellowing forth. She remembered a certain human..one she had loved. She had given him all of herself. Was a match for him and she had known he loved her as she loved him...Then he turned away, threw HER away and chose a human. A weak, snivling *HUMAN*! And now! Another human female pushes into her business. Stryfe had betrayed her love AND her trust..now this cowardly recomb tucks his tail between his legs and crawls back on his belly to Clayson when the human female snaps her fingers. Fools, all men are fools! Temple turns, stalks over and grabs her whip from the floor, impatiently opens the closure on her chainmail skirt and lets it fall around her feet. She growls softly and storms off to the plains, anxious to kill, to maim and release her pent up hatred. -------------------------- Message 1052 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jan 2 06:46:28 1999 EST From: Merri (#24667) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: SpellSong Merri leaned over the edge of the balcony on the SpellSinger's Hall and looked at the silver ribbon of the river flowing peacefully through the valley of Drach'nal. She thought back to the day she had come here, caught out in a blinding thunderstorm and looking more like a drowned rat then anything else. She had wandered into the village from Frap's cave when the storm had caught her and she had nowhere to shelter. She had pounded on the door of the Hall and Akane, the owner of the hall, had answered. He led her into the central room of the hall, gave her tea, warmed her at his fire. She had sat at his table and cupped the hot tea in her hands, her heart sickness over Ymerith permeating her. Gently, kindly, he questioned her. Merri was amazed at how quickly she trusted him. He was not a young man, yet not as old as Frap. Silver sprinkled the black of his hair and beard in a small dusting. But he emanated a power that drew Merri like a moth to a flame. She had run her hand over the musical note carved into the table in the central hall....asked it's meaning....and was told of the SpellSinger's abilities. He had sang to her, ensorceled her heart, further ensnared it with the tragic sadness of his own life. They were two lost, hurting souls. And they reached out to each other to give what comfort could be given. So she had come to live with him; had made his tea, baked his bread, sat with him for hours, talking of magic...learning from him, and in return giving him companionship. Until the day that she was sitting in the hall, writing in her journal. She looked up and watched him walk through the door and with a catch of her breath, a skip of her heart beat....she knew she loved him. Her love for Ymerith had been that of a maiden...he was so childlike. And her love for him had been imbued with the innocence of a child. This was different...quieter...deeper. She loved Akane with the full flush and floodtide of her womanhood. Ymerith had captured her heart....Akane had captured her soul. -------------------------- Message 1053 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jan 2 23:28:12 1999 EST From: Smoke (#12541) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Orders Smoke stared down at the orders before her with glassy eyes. "In charge, second in command" she muttered, pulling the bottle closer to a more comfortable reach. "In command of what" she wondered to herself, her eyes peering about the empty HQ as she lifted the bottle to her lips. A small guest of wind took hold of the papers that were scattered about the table. The door opened quickly, a familiar form stepped through. Smoke tried to pull herself into a more presentable form, only managing to spill a bit of the liquor among the papers. "Red" she called out in surprise, now rising to greet him, "I was just going over your orders" she paused, staring directly into his ebullient eyes. Saying nothing the man moved closer to her, she could feel the heat of his body as he faced her, just inches away. After a century of silence he finally spoke, "You will follow what is written Kathy" his voice low, challenging, "if you fail..you will face the consequences". A small grin formed upon his full lips, he moved away. Only the smell of his being surrounded her. Her eyes followed him. "I will be in touch" he continued, his head turning a bit to glance at her, "Talen will return soon. His reports have informed me of urgent matters, read on, try not to dilute them to much with your whiskey" he laughed softly before fading through the northern doorway. If asked, the woman would swear she heard him whisper "Umbra" before the door slammed shut. -------------------------- Message 1054 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Jan 4 03:32:29 1999 EST From: Abe (#21180) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: mischief Abe sat at the bar as he listened to the small group of people chat in the lounge, drinking his own beverage in sips. he began to notice the turn of the conversation Kiva was having with Williker, about trading some stuffed dragons on Morlith, along with some other items.. Abe mentioned to kiva about the children there..how they play with it, but Kiva either didnt hear or just answer. Abe heard him mention something about 'merri' having one, and the sight of them around the mount driving him sick. 'well,.. that doesnt seem so fair for the kids..' Abe thought to himself, sliding off his barstool and muttering a goodbye. Reaching Az, he quickly rides to the Mount, moving quickly. Looking about, he snags the two stuffed toys he spies 'before kiva gets here' he thinks with a smirk. Going to the dorm room, he pushes his buk from the wall and shoves at a section of the stone wall. With a THUNK!, part of the wall gives way.. a hollowed part behind the wall he discovered quite a while ago. Abe squeezes through the hole, grunting as he thinks to himself, 'oy! this was much easier before i grew!' and breathes in, finally sliding into the small hidden cave, where his valued possesions lay. With a grin, he tosses the toy dragons against his chest and chuckles, squeezing himself back out, replacing the wall in place again and setting the bunk back into place. 'i have to make some plans' he thinks to himself, a crooked grin spreading on his face as he dusts himself off, walking down the large hallway, back to Azzie.. as he climbs up on the big dragon's back he watches Kiva glide in on Meg, his mount.. Keeping a straight face, he nods to the man and taps Azzie's shoulder, letting her know to go.. good thing Kiva has no clue.. Time to find a toymaker..... -------------------------- Message 1055 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Jan 4 09:09:09 1999 EST From: Red_Fang (#5907) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: New orders Red sat reading over reports and stats from the following weeks of his absents. The decission to make Smoke his second in command with rank over all the teams was settling.. And with the return of Talen their would be other changes. Talen had skill and organization that was needed but Smoke had guts and that was the deciding factor.. Now if they will just work together he thought. Durandal's report in hand, Red smiled thinking of the posibilities that he knew they Rangers could accomplish if they just learned to work together. It read, Sir - You requested some time ago a report regarding the capture of the Techorder building. Finally, here it is, a brief summary derived from what I can remember. 0200 hours: The group members - I (Durandal), Darkpaw and Tiarnan met north of the target. 0230 hours: After carefully crossing the pontoon bridge and scouting the area around the building for resistance, the group made a quick, stealthy entrance, in combat formation and prepared to meet force with force. 0245 hours: A long, thorough search of the building begins. Tiarnan and Darkpaw both prove to possess excellent self-discipline under mission conditions. 0415 hours: Tiarnan comes across two sleeping squatters in the building. They are left alone, not being perceived as a threat. 0430 hours: A watch is set as our group occupies the building. 0700 hours: Building is deemed captured, as no resistance is encountered. So a specialized team of engineers and scientist would be sent to clean the place up and make it their home. Squatters would be asked to join or leave. But they place seemed secure and was ideal. Next Red pondered Sammie, the girl was so young and full of herself that it was very hard to think bad things about her.. But she did need a lession in decipline.. Perhaps Smoke could handle it. Next, They needed a more outlined report on the goings on of N'Orleans families and a detailed report of Rathe's return if that was the case. He'd mention it to Smoke and get her onto it at once.. So many responsiblities and life went on.. Red's mind then drifted to his family.. He smiled knowing that was his best hope for happiness.. Jamie was a wonderful woman and the kids where growing up nicely.. Popping the cork on a fresh bottle of whiskey and pouring a shot he sat back smiling.. Those days of brawling and fighting where near the end.. Was time to just share what he knew about the world and help others obtain what they should have. Unity through strength was going to be the only way, but it would still go the right way if things were done right. The world was still a dangerous place, and Red was determined to set his part of it right.. For the kids if nothing else. -------------------------- Message 1056 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Jan 5 19:55:23 1999 EST From: Meoni (#9687) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: She's a killer, she's a thriller. Laughter filled the studio as Meoni pivoted her hips left and right, then spiraled around the little room. Her image reflected back to her in distorted portions, think congealed blood still oozing down the slick surface, leaving a crimson trail that turned the whole room red. Formerly a man in his middle ages, the victim's eyes had remained open, the terror of his final passing still etched keenly into his clammy features. His mouth hung open with the final peircing cry, his dirge of death. His blood scarred the entire room, the remainer pooled around his throat, where Meoni had given him a final smile. Meoni seemed oblivious to the gelled blood caking her hair, slicking down her arms. She danced around the corpse, leaving a trail of blood footsteps in her wake, swaying to the beat of the pounding base released throughout the room. *Death is an art form, as much as dance* she mused, gracefully bending over to retreive the murder weapon without missing a beat of her routine. *And one only improves with time.* She glanced around the room, finally paying heed to the distorted mirrors and spattered walls. "Yes, I think it's time to redorate." -------------------------- Message 1057 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Jan 5 19:56:19 1999 EST From: Meoni (#9687) To: *storylines (#5236) Redecorate that is. Never try to post to storylines while under the influence of cold medicine. -------------------------- Message 1058 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jan 7 21:43:21 1999 EST From: Gerald_Hunter (#16547) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Pain is for the weak... After the messenger left, The Hunter chuckled to himself and prepared... He met the CEO of Shadowbrook, a young Mr. Lawrence, near the landing site. They talked for several minutes, Dwight informing him of a nice catch that awaited them at the Tinder Box. Dwight was excited, he could feel it... Even though he was a man of science, Gerald was a man of science also... But he could feel the primal urge within his companion for this night... Could feel his heart beat to the drums of an older god... An Elder God... An Outer God. They entered the Tinder Box and took a seat at a table. The subject was with a recomb of some sort, talking in low whispers, and getting rather close. Waiting minute after minute, they discussed a plan. Hunter would put her to sleep, while Dwight would put the recomb down with a well placed shot. Finally, when the chance presented itself, they put the plan to action. It was rather simple. Dwight began explaining to the recomb how to load his gun, with the offer of bullets for it as an enticement. Luckily, the recomb's greed won out, and the scientist had a captive audience. Meanwhile, Gerald began to incant to himself. Their prey yawned. Time passed. After several minutes, Dwight wrapped up the lesson with a quick pull of the trigger, putting the recomb down. Hunter pulled on his magic, and put the submariner female down. It was a good day, after all. They took her, bound her up for the long trip to The Hunter's domain... Once they arrived, they strapped her to the crude stone altar. A knife was produced, and her clothes fell prey to it. Her screams of filled the cavern, protests of being the wrong person, not being suitable, of pain... They were music to the ears. That night, the scientist learned what the Hunter had learned... That the Outer Gods have a plan, and it is a plan that can see no failure... He was caught up in it, basked in the fear, made it part of himself... But not so much so as the Hunter... For him, this was his life, and his meal. The fear filled him, giving him back the energy he so desperatly wanted and needed. And his god feasted too, its laughter ringing through out the night... They tortured her with blazing hot needles, driving them into only the softest and most sensitive areas on her body, using the purest of ice to keep her awake and alert. They tortured her nearly the entire night, slowly, and with much enjoyment. When it was all said and done, and The Master of Pain was sated, the cut the arteries of her inner thighs, letting the most powerful blood seep out of her, down on to the altar, into the sacrificial bowl. The God-Avatar inside the statue drank of it deeply, bellowed his pleasure at his servant... It was most pleased at him, even if the god had set him on fire just moments earlier, to purify him and his blade. And so she died, the submariner... Slowly, and alone... Surrounded by evil like an ungentle lover... And the corpse of Clayson was fed to things that... Are better left undescribed. -------------------------- Message 1059 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Jan 8 11:37:43 1999 EST From: Ymerith (#22840) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Well.... Megasa sat on the roof of the R/T building, slightly on edge. The undead dragon was ignoring him, so he ignored it back. Two strangers came to the rooftop via the elevator, though not together. From what Megasa and his rider could understand from what was put together later their names were "Damon" and "the beat down express". The one called Damon asked the other about something called `sparring' to no real response from the other. Without warning or provocation "Damon" pulled out a dagger and started swinging it wildly at Megasa. Megasa easily moved out of the way of the dagger for several minutes before growing tired of the activity. Megasa reared back and turned the stranger's upper body to a bloody mess with a foreclaw. The stranger's dagger fell to the ground, but that didn't stop the stranger. The stranger began swinging his fists at the curious and now quite annoyed dragon. Still wishing to dissuade the stranger, Megasa opened his mouth and a bolt of lightning sizzled into the stranger's leg. The stranger would still not stop, Megasa was upset now. Whipping his body around in a blur, Megasa lashed his tail around the stranger's throat and suffocated him. Megasa let go of the corpse to see it vanish, replaced by some equipment the stranger had been carrying and a crystal. The stranger known as "the beat down express" muttered something about "PK". He repeated it three times, as if maybe it were a mantra. Megasa felt no regret at killing the first stranger, but was surprised to see him appear at the top of the elevator a few minutes later. The stranger "Damon" babbled incoherently but managed to somehow appeal to the other stranger for help, asking him to assist in his nutty notion of taking Megasa on again, then moving on to the larger obsidian undead dragon. The second stranger's eyes laughed at "Damon", but he did nothing. Cyhyraeth took to the air, evidently not wanting to bother with the lunatic, Megasa followed suit after telling his bondmate he would be around. -------------------------- Message 1060 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Jan 10 16:15:52 1999 EST From: Akeashar (#20348) To: *storylines (#5236) A flash of green light streamed through the sky, a loud screeching noise was head--then all was silent. An occasional flower looked up towards the light, thinking it a second sun, until the second sun skidded into the ground, then going diagonal, embedding into a wall. -------------------------- Message 1061 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jan 14 13:52:26 1999 EST From: Sterno (#21938) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Note in the R/T and in DarkReach Still looking for an Adept or Magister who is able to imbue a wand with charges, or could direct me to an tome describing the process. -Sterno -------------------------- Message 1062 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jan 14 18:25:52 1999 EST From: Oberon (#22725) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Awakening The figure robed in emerald sat at his desk, a single candle burning in a candlestick. The scented wax wafted over his nostrils as he bent over his journal, writing in it the events of last night. That fateful day, Oberon had had no idea of the the new calling to befall him: After meeting the Rowan Lovinia in the R/T lounge, they had both travelled to the greet tree Eldorath, the tree of Gaea. The ceremony falling afterward was both strange and wonderful, all together. The visage of the Goddess herself at flitted over him, in the enormous boughs of the tree. With hair of vines, and clothing of leaves and other things that came from nature. Beautiful..and yet sad as she moved to him..accepting him into the brotherhood of the druids...of the earth. He slowly closed the journal, setting the pen beside the leather bound volume. The mariner let his mind travel back to yesterday, blowing a bit of air at the candle. It's light winked out, leaving his cottage in darkness. -------------------------- Message 1063 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jan 14 21:13:40 1999 EST From: Merri (#24667) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Rebirth Merridwen sat in her garden and watched the play of sunlight create rainbows in the air through the spray of the fountain. Akane had created this place for her; a small bit of earth taken and dedicated to the Goddess of her heart. There had been a time of bitterness in her for the Lady. She had blamed Her for the death of her child, this Goddess who was supposed to be the Mother of all things on the Earth. But now she felt peace in her heart and gratitude that the Mother had given her even the short space of time She had to have carried and nourished the small soul in her own body. Merridwen looked at the crescent moon tattoo on her ankle, a symbol inscribed on her body of her dedication to the Three Faced Lady...the Maiden, the Mother and the Crone. The day that the Lady of the Wood, the priestess of the Lady Goddess, had permanently marked her body as she made her vow to forever honor and worship Her had been the proudest of her life. She didn't know that there would ever be a time that she would turn away from those Faces. A hot flush of shame filled her as she thought of the bitter recrimination she had felt for the Lady. It was the Lady that had brought her to Akane. And to peace, at last. Once again she danced in the moonlight. And now, Akane had given her the skill to Sing to the Lady as well. Akane wanted children. And for the first time she opened her heart and let go of the hurt, the bitterness and the regret she had carried from the loss of her baby. Indeed....how better to honor Her then to meld the love between these two people and give it back to Her in the form of a new soul? For they were all Her children. -------------------------- Message 1064 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Jan 15 06:16:11 1999 EST From: Red_Fang (#5907) To: *storylines (#5236) Red didn't like camping, it was too much like he'd always lived and those times where always hard and full of danger. But the kids wanted to go and he knew they needed the lessons it would teach. So they had spend a week on the shore of the great lake. Playing and surviving. The kids enjoyed it very much and learned anything that Red could teach them about nature and the way to control it. So Red couldn't help feeling a bit guilty as they stepped into the cabin greeted by Jamie's smile. She was so patient with them.. Muddy boots and all. She was as pretty as the day Red had met her.. Thinking back he knew that wasn't so.. She was much more now than she was then.. Back then Red had the fire in his eyes and nothing was pretty.. But today she glowed with her own light that made his heart soft.. Ordering the kids to get their things put away and cleaned up Red went out and washed up and changed into some clean clothes.. Returning he held his wife in his arms and gave her what he could of his love.. Tomorrow would be another day.. Ranger headquarters was dark and smelled dusty when Red finally reached it.. He knew the troops had been lacks in his absents and Smoke apparently hadn't mustered them as of late.. That would have to change.. We are going to have to pull them together and get them working as a team if this is to work.. Leaving, he decided that he'd check out the R/T lounge before heading home.. The shuttle flight took longer than he wanted but then he had more time to think things through.. Upon arriving there he found Smoke just entering with a friend.. She seemed in a very good mood and her friend was a nice man it seemed.. Wiser than some he'd seen Smoke with. The evening was quiet over all and he explained his want to form the Rangers into tight working platoons and get them practicing together. She seemed to agree and they decided to call a meeting soon. Finishing his drink he gave his respects and good byes and left back home. Finding Jamie looking all the more prettier than before.. The kids slept soundly as Red and Jamie talked over a bottle of whiskey that he had brought from the lounge.. Jamie still liked her whiskey ever so often. Smiling and falling into a deep sleep Red couldn't help but feel happy for all he had.. Life was bring him just what he wanted these days and he felt good. R. -------------------------- Message 1065 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Jan 19 04:15:06 1999 EST From: Tirafal (#24173) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Happiness Tirafal woke up and somewhat groggily realized Ynaoise wasn't next to her. Something was different. Her eyes opened and fell on Ynaoise, sitting in the easy chair by the fire, baby Rose asleep, warm and soft, on his chest. His own eyes were closed and he slept with his daughter. It was over in one way; the pregnancy that was so worrisome to Ynaoise. The babies had been born in the wee hours of the morning, as most babies are. They had been early by about three weeks but although they were tiny they were perfectly formed and fine. They were exactly identical, the first born named Emarel for Ynaoise's mother, the younger one by 5 minutes named Rose, after Tira's mother. There was only one tiny, minor difference, but it was enough to tell them apart. Rose had a tiny red birthmark at the nape of her neck. They were beautiful, with the firey red hair of Tira's own mother that had only come out as strawberry in her own hair, and the shifting, changeable grey eyes of their father. They had one other feature inherited from Ynaoise. They both had a nictanic inner eyelid. It had startled Tirafal the first time she saw it close in Emarel's eyes just before she had drifted off to sleep after being born. The birth itself had been, in many ways, easy. They had just come. Emarel had already been born when Ylaerin had come in and assisted Ynaoise to deliver Rose. Ynaoise had been upset. He had never expected that he would have to deliver his own babies. But Tucker was gone from the Complex and the babies had decided to come early. Yna had welcomed Ylaerin with relief, although he had done a credible job with Emarel. Ylaerin had taken over for Rose, giving him much relief. Tira thought of Ylaerin with warmth and gratitude. She had been thrown into a situation she had never expected. But babies will come when they come and to Ynaoise she had been a godsend. One other momentous event occured after the babies had been born. Tirafal had looked up to Yna and very simply said, "I love you." In return he had said "I love you too." She hugged this close to her heart. As much as she loved him, and as much as she knew he loved her, she didn't think he even realized that it was the first time he had actually said those words to her. She turned over and studied Emarel; her complete and total perfection awed Tirafal. She pillowed her head on her arm and fell back to sleep with her baby. -------------------------- Message 1066 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Jan 19 20:50:12 1999 EST From: Dwight (#20455) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Distractions Today was not the day to trouble the good doctor. Body stiff from rigorous exercise, nerves frazzled from his vow to Pepper to stop smoking. Grim face, lightly quirked mouth sipping his white lightning. A soldier walked into the twister, saluting Dwight. He shrugged, "what do you want, private?" he rolled his eyes, expecting atleast some semblance of good news. "I'm afraid someone has raided food stores on the eastern boundaries of the land.. we were helpless to stop them." That wasn't what he wanted to hear. Not in the slightest. "You didn't just say that." Dwight remarked, turning towards the private. Eyes shooting daggers towards the beret clad youth. The stare was too much -- the lad trembling in his boots. "If what you say is true, I will be most angered." the youth backed towards the door, slamming abruptly into a steel fire door. "it..i.i..it.. is, sir." Eyes flecked with red, a flash of anger in his eyes as he levelled a gun towards the private. "You picked a bad day to say that." The pull of a trigger, hammer against bullet. Crack, whoosh, pop. The private fell to his knees, then to the floor, blood collecting around his head. -------------------------- Message 1067 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jan 23 13:44:06 1999 EST From: Yalindra (#13170) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Found in the R/T Lounge, Round Room, and tacked up in bars and on bulletin boards practically everywhere (Written in an elegant flowing script with a delicate caligraphy border done with soft-colored inks and decorated with small stencilled dragons in flight.) Attention! homemakers, craftsmen, scholars and artists! Do you have difficulty finding work and/or a place to call home? Or are you successful in what you do and would like a chance to help others? The Aeryie of Morlith welcomes both the former and the latter, of all walks of life to fill positions desperately needed! We are currently interested in Blacksmiths, Healers, Caregivers, Historians/Librarians, Musicians, Artisans Cooks and Gardeners. If interested, you need only speak with a Rider, who will arrange for a meeting/interview. Those seeking Residency may also apply in a similar fashion. In return for such services, the Mount offers a beautiful, safe place for the raising of children (or merely a safe place to sleep and live) without the need to worry about any ruffians or thieves. Free room and board is also included, as well as possible monetary payment for services. Morlith can offer the warmth and security of a family...a peaceful and beautiful living environment. Together, we can build a brighter future, for all. Signed, Yalindra Rider of Garnet Myr'leth'saarath DragonMistress of Morlith OOC: Obviously, known enemies of Morlith need not apply. I would encourage applications be directed in person to online, IC Riders, though since that is often a rarity, MAIL (no pages) to myself or Yjezra would be okay. -------------------------- Message 1068 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jan 23 13:58:13 1999 EST From: Stryfe (#5113) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Yalindra's Notice Stryfe reads the notice posted by Yalindra in the lounge. "Damn! Obviously just because I attacked, and held, Morlith I am now unfit to apply for healer or even caregiver." He punches the wall next to the notice. "Now I must return to playing overlord and all around nasty fellow." He walks off muttering obscenities under his breath. -------------------------- Message 1069 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Jan 24 03:05:53 1999 EST From: Tirafal (#24173) To: Yjezra (#5512), *storylines (#5236), and *DragonRiders (#5915) Subject: An IC letter Dear Yjezra, Ynaoise has no idea I'm writing this letter. I'm not sure how he would react were he to know. As I am sure you have heard by now from Ylaerin, I have given birth to twin girls. We have named them Emarel, for Yna's mother, and Rose, for my own mother. Since the birth of our daughters Ynaoise has, in his quiet way, shown a longing to see his son, Etien. He has wanted him to meet his sisters and come to know them. There is a sad lilt in his voice when he says how he wishes that they could be together for awhile. Then he turns away, as if such a thing was impossible. I have never believed that anything is impossible. If there is anyway you could find it in your heart to allow Yna to take Etien for a week or so, please do. The man needs his son. And in my heart, I believe the son needs his father. Tirafal -------------------------- Message 1070 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Jan 24 09:45:46 1999 EST From: Red_Fang (#5907) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Training The new recuit grumbled as Red put him through his manuvers.. Hours it seemed and sweat poured from his brow.. Red grined.. Talon Bloodwynd was a good man, had what it takes to be a Ranger.. Just needed a little work and some desipline.. The other Rangers knew this routien.. Red wanted 100% improvement in days. The teams would have to get formed tightly soon.. -------------------------- Message 1071 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Jan 25 15:35:38 1999 EST From: Yjezra (#5512) To: Tirafal (#24173) and *storylines (#5236) Subject: A letter delivered Yjezra took the letter from her pocket, unfolded the single sheet of paper and smoothed the wrinkles from it. Slowly she read it yet again, a slight perplexed frown between her brows. She shook her head, thinking, *I really don't understand this at all. If it weren't for Etra saying she felt the letter -was- from Ynaoise's new wife, I would not consider it.* She glanced over at Etien happily concentrating on the lessons she had set out for him, hiding the worry she felt. She sighed softly and turned back to read the letter yet once more. *It would be too easy for someone to have tried to get him ..to hurt Ynaoise or I or..both. Too many enemies.* She reached for some stationery and a pen and began the first of the letters she would send out today. Dear Tirafal, I received your letter and am a bit confused by it. You suggest that Ynaoise would believe me capable of keeping his son away from him. Nothing could be further from the truth. Ynaoise has not returned to the Aeyrie in well over a year to see his son. He has not contacted me with a wish to do so. Until very recently I did not know of his whereabouts, or of his remarriage, or of the birth of your daughters. I would not keep Etien from having visits with his father. If Ynaoise had let us know he wished this, maybe a lot of pain and confusion for my son could have been prevented. Etien asked in the beginning for his father. He does not, and has not, asked for some time. Tirafal, we have not met. I do not know what kind of person you are, nor do you know me. By your letter, I do know of your concern and love for your husband, so maybe you will understand this. I want Ynaoise to ask to see his son. To this end, I will make the first move. I will not tell him of your letter to me, this letter to you will be given to you by Etra,. Privately. I will write a second letter to Ynaoise, asking him if he wishes to see his son. It will then be up to him, and no blame of interference will be attached to you. Blessings on the birth of your daughters. I am glad to know things went well, and that you have brought forth two lovely and healthy daughters. I wish you all happiness in your life with Ynaoise and your children. Yjezra, rider of garnet Lyrzrath. She waved the paper around a moment, letting the ink dry, then carefully folded it, wrote Tirafal's name on the front and put it aside. She reached for another piece of stationery, lifted the pen and paused. Her thoughts were calm, no longer the painful confusion accompanied by the pounding heart, she knew exactly what she wished to say to her, now ex, husband and father of her son. She set pen to paper and began to write. -------------------------- Message 1072 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Jan 25 21:17:17 1999 EST From: Yjezra (#5512) To: Ynaoise (#11886) and *storylines (#5236) Subject: A letter delivered She wrote quickly in her clear flowing script, the soft scratch of her pen against the thick creamy paper an accompaniment to Etiens contented humming as he worked some math problems she had set him to. Dear Ynaoise, I am writing to ask for Etien if you wish to see him. It has been nearly two years since he has seen you. I recently heard of your remarriage and the safe birth of your new daughters and hoped you might wish to have your son with you also for a visit. I would never keep our son from you, but up until a few months ago, I did not know where you were, that you had remarried or your wife was pregnant with your child. I still believe you wish to be part of his life, to watch him grow and allow him to know and love his siblings. Please tell me this is so. Please reply. We can arrange a time to have him visit with you and your new family. I will bring him to you, I would like things to seem amiable between us for Etien's sake. I also wish to see this new place you have found. I have heard much of it, and would like to ensure that it is safe for him. Blessings to you and your new family, Ynaoise. And congratulations on the birth of your daughters. Yjezra She put the pen down, and read over the letter once more. Her thoughts were still calm, but for a tug at her heart for her son. She knew she would miss him terribly while he was gone, but it was the best for him and wouldn't be for long. She turned and smiled at him, knowing that Ynaoise would be proud of his strong, intelligent and loving son. Folding this second letter, she wrote Ynaoise's name on the front. Picking up the other letter, she went looking for the DragonBard, feeling the door close on a part of her life, but opening another through which she had glimpses of joy and happiness. -------------------------- Message 1073 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jan 27 17:58:55 1999 EST From: Khyber (#12460) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Posted in the lounge Selling one set of plate mail Contact me if interested. Khyber -------------------------- Message 1074 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Jan 29 23:22:47 1999 EST From: Akeashar (#20348) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Soulmech post by Williker (he asked me to post it after my perusal, I find it acceptable) Williker's watched his breathe slowly roll out of his mouth as he sat in the pilot' chair. Outside the temperature was so hot a human would die within seconds of exposure. The Ripper stalked through the firezone looking for something, but nothing in particular. As Williker masterfully jerked the controls he noticed something glitter in the light. **[Warning: Object in motion to the east]** "Fuuuuck. Another one.", Williker muttered as he tried to see if he could slip away unnoticed, but it was too late. The other pilot had seen him and fight was unavoidable. The other mech strided over as its loudspeaker rumbled, "Hey hey rogue. Time to die!" Williker sneered and armed his chaingun. The other mech twitched in reaction and lunged toward the Ripper, mechsaw buzzing loudly and fiercely. Williker jerked the Ripper to the side, his adrenal kicking in full force. As he jerked to the side, he targeted the other mech and fired off about a dozen rounds with little to no affect. The bullets mostly bounced off the armor of the other mech. "Ha, you'll have to do better then that rogue.." boomed the speaker of the other mech as it again lunged forward, mechsaw spinning swiftly, this time with little time to react the saw cut into the Ripper's torso, showering the area in sparks and debris. Williker grunted and held on to absorb the impact. **[Warning: Object in motion to the east]** "Fuck!" Williker yelled as he quickly darted towards the south, arming his mechsaw as he did. Two mechs now followed the Ripper as he stalked through the firezone, swiftly trying to escape. Williker quickly checked the damage report, "oh good, nothing too serious." One of the other mechs now had a plasma cannon armed and begin firing. The Ripper narrowly dodged some of the rounds, others not even coming close. Seeing his opening as the mech behind was pretty close, Williker suddenly spun the Ripper around on its torso and made it fall to one knee. The other mech didn't see it coming and saw straight into the Ripper's buzzing mechsaw, slicing a large gash into it. Sparks and debris flew everywhere, and the mech caught fire. "Must of his the power core.. or something." Williker muttered to himself as he twisted the controls for the Ripper to stand back up and begin running once more. Plasma blasts seized for a moment as the other mech threatened to explode. Williker took advantage and forced the Ripper into a run as fast as its hulky machine could go. A few moments later the mech did explode, sending pieces of it -everywhere-. Debris rained down from above, hitting the Ripper harshly, but not affecting it too much. Then the plasma fire started again, this time it was a bit more aimed and was whizzing right by, even nicking it once or twice, but it was too late, the Ripper was far ahead of the mech and almost to safety. As the Ripper traveled through the tunnels to the wastes, sparks shooting out of the large gash in its torso, Williker rearmed his chaingun and headed for his hanger. "Fuck.... what a day." he muttered. -------------------------- Message 1075 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Feb 5 13:27:22 1999 EST From: Dante (#10660) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Challenge Written in flowing script, the letters themselves seem to writhe and twist as though alive. "Let it be known that Magister Dante, former Duke of Kiasyd, and founder of the tower of chronomancy has been challenged by the The unknown brother of Seraph, known only as 'Hawke'. The battle is to commence within the week, and is going to be held in the Old Remy cemetary in New Orleans." -------------------------- Message 1076 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Feb 5 13:33:43 1999 EST From: Dante (#10660) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: OOC The event will be held this Saturday night, I'll guess around 8 PM but we'll look for availibility with people who want to watch. More the merrier. -------------------------- Message 1077 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Feb 10 17:44:53 1999 EST From: Sterno (#21938) To: *storylines (#5236) Slamming shut yet another tome and pushing it away from him, Sterno rose from the table in the tower's library, exhaling a soft sigh. He was ready for more.. more power, more knowledge. He could sense that he was more powerful than others.. perhaps had even more raw power than Dante inside of him. But without the knowledge, he could never release it. He glanced about at the tomes spread over the table, all unable to give him the knowledge he thirsted for. Chuckling softly to himself, he whispered to the empty room, "I am as eager for power as those I despise.. perhaps Esmeraude was right in her beliefs..." Turning, he swept out of the room silently as he pondered what his art was doing to him. His slipped his hand into his pocket, his fingers automatically curling around a red crystal with long habit..or compulsion. The crystal seemed to pulse weakly with life at first... then rapidly warming to his touch, the energy strengthening. --------------------------