Message-Id: <199907121610.LAA32434@casper.realtime.net>
Date: Mon, 12 Jul 1999 11:10:52 -0400
From: "Quinn@GhostWheel" <someone@ghostwheel.mud.org>
To: quinn@fazigu.org
Subject: GhostWheel Message(s) 1190 - 1210 from *storylines (#5236)

Message 1190 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sat May 15 13:13:18 1999 EDT
From:     Hudson (#24866)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  stuff

(OOC) Just an idea, though I'm not the one who should organize this, perhaps a
'convention' of some sorts could be held in the Round Room.  This could
benefit to new recombs, or ones who are not sold yet, we could have several
recombs "on display", perhaps recomb hunters could be present as security.
Just a thought, though I couldn't be the one to organize it.  ;)

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


Message 1191 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun May 16 12:14:35 1999 EDT
From:     Dr_X (#23321)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  An OOC plot event announcement.

Anyone wishing to roleplay with the RRU or with myself, Dr. X, please send
mail directly to me.  Please read my plan, which is strictly OOC knowledge, to
determine if plotting with the RRU is for you.

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


Message 1192 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun May 16 12:18:00 1999 EDT
From:     Eponine (#3791)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Time for a new GW Journal edition, send those rumors to me now!


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


Message 1193 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun May 16 12:22:44 1999 EDT
From:     Eponine (#3791)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Addendum.

Mail me those rumors folks, if I'm idle, I might miss a page, and my memory is
really poor.

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


Message 1194 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun May 16 15:43:05 1999 EDT
From:     Dr_X (#23321)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Welcome to the Revolution.

The cat recomb could swear he felt sweat at the back of his neck, streaming
through the patches of fur that covered his upright body.  The ties that bound
his wrists at his back were biting, pinching into his tender skin.  They had
forced him to his knees, leaving him kneeling in the center of some kind of
circle, atop a dias.  One look revealed the number of recombs surrounding him,
the amount was staggering.  If he could only somehow free himself... Dakirion
would praise him for bringing this place's coordinates to them.
He clung to the thought like a drowning man to his last breath of air.

A gong sounded from the front of the dias, a sinuous lizard recomb slinking it
to the side after the tone to reveal a platform behind it.  The chant began
softly, but then grew in fervor as the crowd of Recombs carried it louder and
louder. 'X, X, Doctor X, X, X, Doctor X.'  The cat recomb's eyes bulged as he
realized who they called on.  Doctor X was a myth, a facade, a creation of
overimaginative minds.
A shadowy figure appeared, laden with ivory colored robes, so thick it hide
any hints of gender.  The hood sat low, revealing only glowing eyes as they
reflected the light.  Its hands were clasped together beneath the sleeves of
the robe.  The crowd hushed without so much as a gesture from the creature.
"Who is this who does not wish to be a brother to us, but to betray us as well
as himself?"  the voice was slightly feminine, yet still the cat recomb
couldn't be sure if that were a trick of the vocal cords.
The zebra recomb who'd captured him stepped forward, cloven hooves clattering
against the dias.  "This is the recomb hunter, Polaris.  He was captured when
we rescued Mary."

The robed one known as 'Doctor X' unfolded its hands, gesturing lightly for
the prisoner to be lifted.  Hands drug him to his feet, shoving him ahead as
the doctor turned from the stage.  The roar of cheers and chants of 'Doctor X!
Freedom for Recombs!' echoed around and about him as he was dragged down a
dark stair case past the platform.
"Fear not, the doctor will make everything better for you, Polaris.  Soon, you
too shall remember your origins," the figure spoke softly and he realized its
arm was lifted, revealing a furred paw holding a syringe needle, which
sparkled luridly in the dim lighting.  It was the last image he remembered
before losing conciousness.

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


Message 1195 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue May 18 07:14:45 1999 EDT
From:     Red_Fang (#5907)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Return...

Red sat outside his cabin watching the stars, the rangers had scattered like
fleas on a old dog when trouble had hit..  No word from any of them in ages
with the exception of the recomb Cirrus who was more family than not..
Oh well, things had not gone as expected.. Starting over wouldn't be easy but
it could be done.. This time there was no room for trust..  Dante had started
this, probably from being attacked from a ranger who had a hummingbird mouth..
That was the only explanation.. Dante just wasn't the kind of person to go
after someone without cause..  Of course Red's own hot head had blown things
out of propotion..  That could be fixed.. First order would be to find
Wolfblade, then regain a bit of dignity.. Then find Cirrus.. Poor little
fellow was probably hiding about somewhere.. Was time to find old friends.. A
councel with Moonheart perhaps.. Maybe even a partition to the lady Yjezra..

Things where going to get interesting..


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


Message 1196 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue May 18 12:00:16 1999 EDT
From:     Cirrus (#24781)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Getting bored....

Cirrus was twitching again. Hadn't hunted, or ran, or even chased his tail in
months. His "normal" abnormal behavior had been given up for even MORE
abnormal behavior. For months, he had hidden in dark places, reading chemistry
and microbiology books, and he now only left at the request of one person he
truly wished to keep in contact with, and when he did come out into the light,
he wore a bandage over his eyes still, even though they worked right again.
The bandage was his shield against a world he KNEW had somehow changed. He
couldn't tell how, but he didn't think the change was for the better. But his
twitching.... He'd been sleeping better with the knowledge that he was safer
now, but the nightmares had returned. Now he embraced them. He loved them.
Longed to go to sleep to see what his wearied mind would come up with next.
He'd been sleeping less and less, even with the realization that it was a
required thing, and 120 hours without sleep at a time wasn't good for the
body.
This twitching that he'd been experiencing lately that stopped him from
sleeping was not linked to the nightmares. It was linked to the fact that he'd
been sitting around so long, with his lithe, toned, all be it unimpressively
small body, that his muscles were beginning to atrophy. He was about to fix
that.
SOON! He had to hunt, or run, or something. It would happen, and it would set
him free again.

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


Message 1197 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Tue May 18 19:36:41 1999 EDT
From:     Eponine (#3791)
To:       *storylines (#5236)

There's a new Journal in the Lounge.

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


Message 1198 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed May 19 03:12:12 1999 EDT
From:     Cirrus (#24781)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Things are getting better... (Something's wrong....)

Cirrus went out hunting quite literally for the first time in months. He loved
it. Reveled in it. His unused and near-dead muscles didn't want to cooperate
at first, but he forced them. The sensation of sightlessness, pure battle
rage, that caused some change in the blood vessels of the eyes that he called
simply "red out" was something he hadn't experienced in... too damned long.
This time, when he "awoke" from this state of pure killing fervor, he realized
his eyes actually were red. A fleshwound just above the right eyebrow, near
the center of the forehead, had caused blood to run into his eyes, the salty,
stinging redness of it awakening his senses.
He rasped to himself, "I LOVE combat..." and wiped the blood. Then he found
himself heading for the R/T building for reasons he couldn't understand. The
little fleshwound didn't ABSOLUTELY NEED a cauter.... Something must be
drawing him there. He wondered at this the whole way, and as he stepped off
the elevator into the Round Room, he nearly died of shock. He saw Red Fang,
quite likely one of only three or four humans he actually trusted, and the man
he'd come to think of as a father standing there, fresh off the elevator from
the roof. Cirrus's mind reeled. He had so many things to tell Red.
A brief discussion in the R/T lounge over whiskey and everclear brought a
revelation he didn't exactly like. He was now banned from Wolf Moon Valley...
He didn't exactly like that idea. He had projects going there. He had friends
there. Oh, well. He had a new burrow, and he took Red to see it. Pride in his
work, and nescessity for a hidden place to discuss the sad state of affairs
things had fallen to was probably what prompted that. Red commented that
Cirrus would make a good wolf. Cirrus truly believed he made a much better
lizard and voiced that opinion, to quiet laughter and a nod of agreement.
They managed to speak with Talen and Smoke, the generals... Cirrus had been
hiding FAR too long. He honestly didn't know the sad state of affairs the
Rangers had fallen into. He didn't understand why, or how it all worked. It
was a jumbled mess to him, that basically meant one simple thing: Something
WAS wrong with the world, and it had to do with the Rangers. (Or the definite
LACK of the Rangers, more precicely.) And on another revelation, he'd managed
to get Red to claim ownership of him so he could get Dakiron of his back. That
would be good, since Red was a good friend, and mostly claimed ownership just
so Cirrus could be free, or at least unofficially so.
And there was a biological reason that his bandage remained. His eyes were
permanently and irrevokably damaged, or more precisely, lowered in their
tolerance to any form of light, by the months he'd spent with no light. It had
gotten to the point where he couldn't go out in direct sunlight without both
the bandage AND the shades on, and his eyes hurt constantly. Time to fix that.
He had the jar of water in the sacred place for over two months. The place
where only moonbeams were allowed in. In the jar was water from the fountain
in New Genesis Park, which he knew to have healing properties. And Quix had
told him that water left in light of different colors, gained the properties
of the wavelength of light somehow. A certain energy. And he tested the theory
on the golden, magical energy of the moonbeams of the sacred place. Indeed,
they had transferred energy to the water. The water that already had healing
properties. He also put several hundred crystals, crushed into powder in the
water. And when he drank the water, his eyes were healed. INSTANTLY. As they
should have been.
Cirrus had also taken Red to witness this.  Red seemed impressed with his
ingenuity. And very glad that Cirrus was back to "normal"... (Or at least a
more usual state of abnormality, the most consistancy his psychosis would
allow.) It seemed as if things were getting better.... but Cirrus knew the
dreadful truth, that whenever things started to get better, something happened
to balance everything out again.

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


Message 1199 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed May 19 15:52:58 1999 EDT
From:     Grymdal (#20508)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  A lovely midsummer night stroll.

The kudzu writhed and contorted, a ragged looking boot emerging from its
depths into the sleeting rain.  The mud-covered footwear seemed to hesitate
for a moment, floating back and forth above the muddy earth before locating
the worn cobblestone path and descending.  Trapped liquid within the sole of
the boot was compressed to the point of evaporation, eliciting a loud *squick*
as a bloated form wreathed in shadow stepped from the murky swamp, pushing the
full weight of his girth forward onto the path.
        "Fucking swamp."
Driving his walking stick deep into the soggy ground, Grymdal paused, pulling
some assorted gunk from the greasy mess that played at being a beard. Gusts of
wind caused the rain to form an almost horizontal sheeting, pummeling him
through his clothing.  Realizing after a quick once-over that his duster was
ruined, the soaked shopkeeper muttered audibly as he approached the walls of
the impossibly dark tower looming before him.
        "Fucking Rain."
Thunderous booming played grim accompaniment as Grymdal crossed the small
stone courtyard before the main entrance to the blackened spire, occasional
gouts of lightning illuminating the scowling visage otherwise hidden behind
the hood of his duster.  As he approached the door, a gawking, wiry man
stepped out from within a shadowy corner of the archway.
        "Dante will see you now," Fester rasped.
        "Fucking Mages," Grymdal muttered, following the seeker inside.


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


Message 1200 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon May 24 00:18:49 1999 EDT
From:     Red_Fang (#5907)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Party!

In celebration of life, happiness, and a new friend.. Red Fang invites all to
a celebration at the R/T lounge to meet his new recomb friend Cirrus and also
to just enjoy the company of old friends.

Hopefully will be a great time.

(OOC: Wednesday Night! May 26th from 6pmMST to closing)

Come one come all!!

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


Message 1201 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Mon May 24 00:33:58 1999 EDT
From:     Red_Fang (#5907)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  previous

The previous IS Posted bigtime in the lounge and invitations delivered to all
the people that could be remembered..


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


Message 1202 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed May 26 00:45:55 1999 EDT
From:     Red_Fang (#5907)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Home sweet Home...

Months of planning and work, pleading and begging, Finally Red was able to
close the deal that brought him home to his wasteland Oasis..
Things where pretty much like he'd left them so long ago.. He didn't even see
any sign that Kzin had ever lived there.. But now it was home again...

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


Message 1203 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed May 26 08:25:31 1999 EDT
From:     Red_Fang (#5907)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  re: Red's Party

Moving the Party to OOC Saturday evening from oh lets say 6pm MST to whenever
we get tired..


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


Message 1204 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Fri May 28 06:57:26 1999 EDT
From:     Cirrus (#24781)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  What a day! (It's gonna get worse before it gets better....)

Cirrus had had about enough for today, this week, this YEAR, hell, this
LIFETIME. In the past week or maybe just a bit more, he'd been shot, severely
injured by the chimaera, blown up, skull bashed with a maul, and now this.
He sat in chains, reminiscing how he'd come to the conclusion that life blew
mutant goats. The room was dark, aiding his thought by not hurting his already
strained eyes with light. He thought back, muttering base profanities in every
known language, that he'd picked up from listening to the employees of the
very institution he likely sat deep in the bowels of at this very moment.

Let's see, first, there was the incident with Durandal. Red hit the "scare the
recomb with threats of Dakiron" thing a bit too hard and got the poor ferret
worked up into a nice little frenzy. Net result: Cirrus got shot in the foot,
a nasty, punctured, shrapneled, bleeding mess if he'd ever had one, and shot
AT several more times, threatened with rather nasty things, belittled, and
overall PISSED OFF at his attacker, with nothing to do to vent the raw,
seething anger he felt.
Then, the day on the wheel. The godsdamned Chimaera had hurt him several
times, almost killed him twice, and managed to tear an arm off in just one
hunting trip. When Red came by to try and deal with the Chim, and get Cirrus's
arm back, the damned Chim nearly killed Red too. But it did drop Cirrus's arm,
and left before it actually DID kill Red, so that was a plus. Cirrus managed
to stitch his arm back on, drag Red to the landing sight, get to the fountain
at New Genesis City, and drink from the water to heal his arm, even as Red
healed his own nasty wounds from the chimaera with the water as well.
And that's not the half of it. A device, implanted in his head, right near the
cerebral cortex, meant to deliver shocks as a control device, started
malfunctioning earlier today. A stomp to the head from the Chimaera's goatlike
hind legs some time back had sent him to the midrealm. The Eagle healed his
body, but couldn't have possibly known the device needed to be repaired. As a
result, said device began to short out. And the extra electricity was hurting
his brain like having his skull crushed several times a second.
Then, he simply disconnected the wires in the back of his neck that connected
the device in his head to the power supply for it in his abdomen, and the
device exploded rather nicely, sending parts and pieces of his head
splattering all over several close friends. Another trip to the midrealm, and
he got the hammer he borrowed from Kiva back from the ROUS that had picked it
up (gods knew how) later.
And it got better. After his return, triumphantly holding the maul high for
all to see, he began playing with the heavy, unwieldy weapon, throwing it high
into the air, with huge, coiling exertions from his admittedly rather weak arm
muscles, and catching it.
One distraction, and the next thing he knew, he was waking up in the
infirmary, with a splitting ache in his head, jaw, and neck, almost no vision
in his right eye from the shards of glass from his broken shades, and a
submariner doctor whose name he didn't remember through all the pain smiling
down at him and telling him he was lucky to be alive.
And NOW the unholy bastards from Dakiron had plucked him from the relative
safety of the infirmary and taken him to what he could only assume was a place
DEEP within the headquarters. Or maybe the Steel Bowels under the R/T
building. They HAD healed him magically of his previous damage, and he was
good as new, but something gave him an ominous feeling that he wasn't going to
stay that way, considering his surroundings.
His fears were about to be confirmed, as a fairly short, lightly built, red
haired woman in a black robe of thick, hemp-like material appeared from the
darkness, looking him over appraisingly. Cirrus rasped at the woman, "Ah,
you're back, huh, you fuckin' wtich!?"
The woman regarded him cooly, saying with open contempt, "You just don't
learn, do you, Cirrus. I have power over you. Over your every action, and your
very state of existance, if I should so choose. And it's time to exert some
power, darling."
Cirrus knew not the name of this vile being, but he knew who she was by
previous experience. He'd seen her before. He'd been TORTURED by her before.
He'd begun to think, after all she'd done a month ago, and at several
intervals in between, that he was her favorite. She always was the one to "set
him right" when he fucked up. They stoped bothering with conditioning him, it
simply didn't work. They started using raw fear, and it was working nicely.
Cirrus laughed at the woman, spit in her eye, and sang loudly, so it echoed
down the hall, in a stupid Arkensas accent, "AH'M LEAVIN' ON A JET PLANE! AH
DUNNO WHEN AH'LL BE BACK AGAIN! SO GIT DOWN ON YER KNEES 'N TELL ME YA LUV ME!
BLOW ME LIKE YOU'LL NEVER... LET ME GO!"
The woman wiped the saliva and blood from her eye and, as the soft laughter
from down the hall began, her eyes glowed bright red with pure anger, with her
voice not sounding syrupy and condescending anymore as she said coldly to
Cirrus, "You're going to pay for that, you scaley sunuvabitch."
Then the pain started. Using magical healing when she had to to keep Cirrus
alive, the mage proceeded to cut deep gashes over every inch of Cirrus's body
with a razor blade, pour the wounds full of salt, and sew them closed tightly
before the blood could flow the salt out. It had to be the most excruciating
pain Cirrus had ever experienced in his entire life. And the magic that the
mage had put on him prevented him from dying of the wounds, keeping him just
healthy enough to be alive. She left him, writhing against his chains in utter
agony, a chuckle of triumph escaping her lips as she said, "Don't have too
much fun, Darling, I'll be back in a few hours to check up on you."
Cirrus screamed down the hallway, "FUCK YOU, YOU RAGGEDY WHORE!!!!" as the
mage walked away from him, and he barely heard her say, "You'll pay for that
too." through all the pain, and the laughter of people down the dark passage
way.
Cirrus thought, "It's going to be a LONG day..." just as a huge wave of pain
washed over him and finally, completely, probably irreversably removed all
conscious thought.

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


Message 1205 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Fri May 28 15:49:53 1999 EDT
From:     Cirrus (#24781)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  More fun with the wonderful "people" at Dakiron.

For almost 28 hours, Cirrus had been here. In the dark end of some dark
hallway, chained to a smooth wall of material he couldn't identify due to the
pain. Four hours after the first incident, the woman came back. He remembered
their brief conversation....
Cirrus: Back again, eh?
Mage (in her usual sarcastic, hateful tone): Yup. I just can't stay away from
you, baby.
Cirrus: You know you drive me up the fuckin' wall with all them nasty tricks
you always pull on my ass.
Mage: Good. Maybe when I've got you culled into submission, you won't be
trying to pull nasty tricks on Dakiron.
Cirrus: At this point, after all they've done to me, Dakiron can take a flyin'
fuck. I, among many others, strongly recommend termination in this case, cuz
yer sure as HELL not getting me to submit to your crap.
Mage: Aww, but you're too FUN to terminate.....
Cirrus: Blow me, bitch. Just start the show.

And then the pain started again. Intense pain from forms of torture ranging
from fire, to acid, to blades of all varietys, bones broken in odd ways, claws
broken off at the roots, and even darker methods... magical methods. This
lasted the better part of 24 hours. Cirrus would call the Mage persistant, if
nothing else. Well, actually a LOT else, and to her face even.
At the end, he hang in the chains for nearly an hour. The mage came back,
healed him magically, and said with a certain happy tone, maybe just a bit
triumphant at Cirrus's current state of mind, "You're free to go now." She
unlocked the manacles keeping Cirrus up against the wall, and before he could
react to the sudden drop to the floor and FREEDOM.... She took out a big,
nasty, barbed one handed sword and cut the achilles tendon of both of his
legs.
She healed the actual wounds magically, but left the tendons floating freely
in his legs somewhere as she said with a chuckle, "A final gift, from me to
you."
Cirrus muttered, "Godsdamned witch." and crawled out of the room, with the
woman's course, grating laughter echoing behind him.
Cirrus found his weapons, with their sheathes, and his pack, unlooted in the
hall several feet down.  After strapping the weapons to various parts of his
body so he could use his arms to crawl, Cirrus was well on his way to freedom.
This apparently WASN'T the Steel Bowels under the R/T building because by now,
he'd be slisssh food.
The Mage was now walking slowly behind him, taunting him, and he ignored her.
Cirrus sang loudly behind him, "I AM... SMELLIN' LIKE A ROSE, THAT SOMEBODY
GAVE ME ON MY BIRTHDAY DEATHBED! I AM... SMELLIN' LIKE A ROSE, THAT SOMEBODY
GAVE ME, CUZ I'M DEAD AND BLOATED!" Laughter from behind him. He screamed out,
still maintaining some semblance of a singing voice, "I AM... TRAMPLED ON THE
SOULS OF A DIRTY WHORE'S SHOES, CUZ I WOULD _NOT_ SUB-MIT!" That made it stop.
>From behind him, the woman's hateful, low-pitched, strange voice left words
burned in his brain that he'd heard a thousand times before, but this time
believed.... "I'll get you for that, lizard."
Eventually, so eventually, he'd managed to insult the Mage into a frenzy. This
is what he wanted, he thought. From behind him, he briefly saw a blue light
flash, heard the Mage's laughter, her grating, maniacal laughter, and then,
intense, explosive pain as he was blasted with some kind of pure, magical
energy. But he managed to use the pain of every nerve in his body firing pain
messages all at once to briefly lose his will to live. As he twitched there,
he managed to turn on his back, and look up at the cackling witch in front of
him, saying simply, "You can't get me."
Then he died, and contrary to the Mage's wishes, he contacted a scout from the
Rangers to get the hammer for him, and the eagle recognized him. Recognized
and welcomed him, as it always had. And, as it always had been, 60 seconds
later, he woke up in his burrow, the memory of his death only a faint, clawing
sensation in the back of his mind.
And he got up, determined to go on with his life, what little he had left.

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


Message 1206 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Fri May 28 19:53:19 1999 EDT
From:     Edison_Paul (#24410)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  A letter to Dakirion

September 17, 2644


To Dakirion Industries;

My client, Red Fang, has hired me to pursue a lawsuit against your company.

Recently he paid good crystals for the use of the recomb Cirrus, constantly
he's not been able to get the full satisfaction from his recomb because of
interference from your company.  The last straw as it were came on September
16th, 2644 when Cirrus was abducted and taken to your labs for some sort of
horrid treatments or conditioning.

My client feels that this constant abuse has caused him and his family great
distress and he is seeking full compensation and damages in the sum of 250,000
crystals.

Please be advised this suit will be followed through on.

Respectfully yours,

Edison Paul

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


Message 1207 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Sun May 30 17:10:10 1999 EDT
From:     Red_Fang (#5907)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Embargo

September 23, 2644


To Dakirion Industries;

In regards to the lawsuit filed September 17th, 2644, we have not had any word
from your company so I can only assume that the arrogance that is Dakirion
feels it does not need to reply.  Know this, by taking this stand, you only
cut your own throat.  From this day forth, a embargo and complete halt of
goods going to Dakirion industries is in effect.  Any employees of DI will be
arrested and held until this issue is resolved.  No company can stand on its
own.  It has been said that DI is a MegaCorporation.  No company can survive
without the people.


Respectfully yours,

Red Fang

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


Message 1208 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Wed Jun  9 22:42:26 1999 EDT
From:     Williker (#20481)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Wha?

Williker sat in his room, eatting waffles.

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


Message 1209 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Thu Jun 10 00:26:23 1999 EDT
From:     Dwight (#20455)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Winds of Change are blowing

The man sat silent in the dark room, only the light from a single candle
gracing his face. Cool, calm, calculated was his stance as he closed his eyes
and bowed his head.

The old faded picture before him was cast in shadows. A sharp dressed figure
in front of an old rolls royce. A relative? a friend? perhaps merely an
business acquaintance. Wax dripped briefly onto the frame, trailing down the
flat edge.

His face remained solemn, cold as he stood up. "That girl has caused me enough
trouble.. first destroying my associates in a fire, then having the nerve to
show up in the R/T.." he pauses, sipping his coffee. "She will pay.. I see
things in the future for her.. oh yes.." his cold expression turned into that
of a wry grin. "The thief will pay."

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


Message 1210 from *storylines (#5236):
Date:     Fri Jun 11 14:21:48 1999 EDT
From:     Scorch (#16959)
To:       *storylines (#5236)
Subject:  Scorch

The wind began to tug on strands of Scorch's bright red hair. A storm was on
the rise.
Scorch lifted her gaze to the sky watching the gray clouds roll in. The
temperature was dropping rapidly, she packed up her stuff and began heading
back towards her cavern
Whispering through the wind, a voice caught her off guard, she turned abruptly
looking for its source
Turning back to her quick departure, she couldn't help but shake that odd
feeling that trouble was on the rise.

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