From quinn@fazigu.org Wed Aug 11 12:10:01 1999 Return-Path: Received: from casper.realtime.net (casper.realtime.com [205.238.128.161]) by requiem.vv.com (8.8.7/8.8.7) with ESMTP id MAA00977 for ; Wed, 11 Aug 1999 12:09:58 -0400 Received: from casper.realtime.com (localhost [127.0.0.1]) by casper.realtime.net (8.7.4/8.7.3) with SMTP id LAA30270 for ; Wed, 11 Aug 1999 11:11:16 -0500 Message-Id: <199908111611.LAA30270@casper.realtime.net> Date: Wed, 11 Aug 1999 11:11:15 -0400 From: "Quinn@GhostWheel" To: quinn@fazigu.org Subject: GhostWheel Message(s) 1211 - 1224 from *storylines (#5236) X-Mail-Agent: GhostWheel (casper.realtime.com 6969) Status: RO Content-Length: 16494 Lines: 374 Message 1211 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Jun 15 20:19:08 1999 EDT From: Vertemis (#23360) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Idle hands... The click of a dropped tool rattled through the garage. Thomas sat at his desk, a stack of old mathematics and science books to one side, and an electronic datapad in his hand. Slowly, he went over the information. Every few minutes a glance up to the automated workers kept him assured everything was running smoothly. -------------------------- Message 1212 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jun 16 15:11:47 1999 EDT From: Scorch (#16959) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: follow the yellow brick road..... The R\T was quiet for the most part. People coming and going, early afternoon chores. Scorch sat behind the desk and sipped her coffee, watching the busy working people. She was glad she wasnt one of the working women of the world, but she was completely bored. Letting out a sigh, she set her coffee down on the desk with a loud thud. Just as she was about to leave and go pilfer for something to do, a creepy but familiar figured passed through the doorway. It was Dwight. Suspicious at first, their conversation was tense. Then figuring she had nothing better to do, she invited herself along on the Doctors stroll. They hopped in a helicopter and the next thing Scorch knows she's strolling down the lanes of Good Ol' shadowbrook with Doc Dwight. The place bothered her at first, The too dense fog stuck to her skin, and something kept bumping into her feet. Scorch, being how she is didnt let it get her all wound up. She smiled and made polite conversation. Then Dwight smiled at her. A wide toothy menacing thing that she hoped she would never have to see again. Then she blinked, and it was gone. All that was there was empty space of no conversation. -------------------------- Message 1213 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jun 17 00:54:19 1999 EDT From: A_mage (#14172) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Moving day It had been a wait of weeks; daily inspection of the apparati strewn across his desk, waiting for the exact moment that the magnetic fields would be perfect for the task. The lunar chart had been balled up and chucked out the window weeks ago -- it was too imprecise for his purpose. Now, finally, everything was in alignment. He had a window of perhaps two hours. Tools set aside, the Adept stepped out into the cold night air. The moon, needless to say, was full; that had been established with the chart. Only now, however, could the ritual be performed -- without the aid of the Medicine Wheel, he needed every bit of earth energy he could possibly harness. The wind tore at his robes, and an unconscious sneer was shot in the direction of Morlith. The wind came from the south, but the Sarkus fueled it. This the Adept knew all too well. Careful etching into the earth; a five-pointed star surrounded the stone spire; burning piles of sulphur lit at each point. Glyphs for four of the five elements capped each star; only air was missing. A minor point -- a petty point -- but one made nonetheless. In it's place, a marking for the demi-element of shadow was scorched into the earth. The ritual took exactly an hour. Violet flames licked at the tower's base, and red light encompassed the spire's entirety. Behind him, enormous padded feet shuffled forward at his signal; the Adept turned, and ascended onto his mount's back. They took to the air. A wash of energy. The harsh crackle of dark magicks and the elements meeting. No wisp of energy emerged uncorrupted, but the whole served his task. The beast's claws tug into unyielding stone. They flew low, to avoid the watchful eyes of the Sarkus' children. They flew south, towards safety. Several reports filtered in during the night. An enormous creature -- like a dragon -- carrying what must have been a stone turret nearly sixty feet high. No, it was not a dragon. It was a demon. It's eyes were glowing red, and it carried an entire castle. By and large, such claims went ignored. Mass hysteria. Again. -------------------------- Message 1214 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jun 19 15:52:02 1999 EDT From: Outlander (#24884) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: The Outlander. The fire. Bright red tongues, licking at his brain. He cried out, so it would stop, but it didn't. It remained burning. What fed the fire? Memories, or the lack there of? He didn't know where he was running - all he could remember was the razor scraping his scalp, and the iron burning a shape into his neck. But that was all gone. His mind was even losing grasp of those recent memories. Now his legs felt as though they were on fire. He kept running, forgetting what he was escaping. He knew it was something, but what, he did not remember. His nude form slowly chanced upon a shape in the wastes. Tall, glimmering building. He ran to it, through its doors. When he crept in, he was almost terrified to death. People! Lots of them! All speaking something he couldn't understand! A terrified loner, he cried out to the crowd as they rushed by, until almost all of them left the room, the room was like a wheel. He was in a hub of some sorts. Spokes going every direction. His mind could not take this. He was more overwhelmed by such an ominous place _inside_ than an ominous place outside. Slowly, he shrugged his shoulders around his neck, crouched down, now in a fetal position. He began to sob and scream, not knowing what to think at all of this place. -------------------------- Message 1215 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Jun 20 12:41:18 1999 EDT From: Crenshaw (#24879) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: The Black Pearl. Sebastian slowly pushed past the rickety gates, and before he knew it, he was standing in a new world...In the center of this circular area enclosed by short brick walls, he saw a dried up lake..somewhat dried up...There was still a good amount of water in the center, but getting there meant crossing through tons of mud and sand...and along the way were plenty of odd locals. First to assault Crenshaw was a strange man, looking around 40, in loose clothe shorts and an brown vest decorated with dead fish...the smell carried. This man had at least one glass eye...he stuck a large brown foot on a chain in Crenshaw's face, erupting bad breath and words at the same time, "Hey sonny! Whatcha doin' here? Gonna get yourself a pearl o' sometin'? Take dis paw with you for good luck, only 200 crystals!" Crenshaw sighed, taking all the help he could get from the locals, dishing out the money... As he continued to make it towards the water, a man looking to be of Asian descent popped out from behind a booth. In broken english he spoke, holding a rather...unimpressive rod in his hands, "Uh, herro! Sah, if you ah going to go to get da black pearl, you mus' have a good rod! Only 500 crystals with free hook, yes!" Crenshaw shrugged, and once more, payed up... An hour later, Crenshaw found himself struggling under the weight of ...the goods of the locals. Crazy freaks, he said to himself, throwing everything down at the shore of the small lake. With that, he wore his paw around his neck, rubbed 'magic oil' on his hands and the fishing rod, got out the 'silver hook', and other assorted good luck charms, and with that, cast the line... Two hours later, Crenshaw was sure he had been dooped. With that, he dropped everything, and dove into the water.. The small lake allowed him to swim about 20 feet under. He found himself in the swirling pool of slimey water...The locals called it 'the sump'. He dug around in the misty sands, until finally, he found it...a circular shape no larger in circumfrance than a dime...He grabbed it, and swam to the top. Was this was Master Rynaldus wanted? -------------------------- Message 1216 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Jun 27 13:22:14 1999 EDT From: Cain (#24893) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: wanted (OOC): Looking for a recomb hunter to do a little RP with Cain ICly, contact me about specifics if you're interested. -------------------------- Message 1217 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jun 30 00:05:32 1999 EDT From: Thalhkarsh (#20487) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: A final chapter. The long dormant tale of the shrinking mage has come to an end. A confrontation with his teacher took place in the tower overlooking the swamp. A spell was wove and the shrinking stopped. The still small mage was sitting on his bed muttering about not having enough power to fix it. -------------------------- Message 1218 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jun 30 14:23:03 1999 EDT From: Dante (#10660) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: The beginning. A wicked wind this way blows, as the dragonknight and the Adept took to the skys. Their destination was obvious, as they landed on the mountain of their enemies. The foolish riders were all asleep, and none save that sapphire dragon pestered them. As they slipt through the halls they came upon the former dragonmistress cavern, and journeyed onward. They found their goal, a small child. Taking it up the two left Morlith, to begin their evil plans with large sugary substances. -------------------------- Message 1219 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jun 30 17:03:51 1999 EDT From: Rathe (#14172) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Uh Wow. Either Dante's just waiting to get bitchslapped... .or whatever he's doing was prenegotiated. -. -------------------------- Message 1220 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jul 1 00:53:20 1999 EDT From: Rynaldus (#24133) To: *storylines (#5236) Rynaldus hammers the sign into the soft mud in front of the tower. --- Free booze for free women --- "There", he said, smiling, "that should get 'em rollin' in," And he strutted back ito his room. -------------------------- Message 1221 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jul 1 15:48:40 1999 EDT From: Vertemis (#23360) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Desert Sands Vertemis scanned over the copies of the books he had acquired. The contents were vaguely familiar, but if he couldn't crack them there would be no point. He looked around the empty garage, the few service droids that remained were run down and barely functioning. The once bustling shop had coroded into a shamble of a work area.=-- Perhaps it was time to leave, start a new -- he thought to himself. Perhaps that's just what he needed. -------------------------- Message 1222 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Jul 2 11:30:24 1999 EDT From: Akeashar (#20348) To: *storylines (#5236) The man scrambled through the desert, stumbling over his own feet. His face was dirty, his clothes ragged, his body weak. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair was scraggly, covering most of his face. The savior seemed so close, yet so far away. The man tripped and fell, then began crawling towards the bright flash of light a few meters ahead of him. His skin burned from the intense heat of the wastes, and his tongue was swollen from thirst. "savior.. will protect me.." was his only mumble as he reached the source of the light. Tall, ominous, silent. The object stood before him like goliath to david. The man's hand reached up, shaking as he moved to touch the object. His cut up hand was able to feel the strange coolness of the object, the smoothness that could be akin to silk.. or skin. "savior.. help me.." his hand pressed more against it, and a strange glow began to enimate. "They are all against you." The man blinked, staring up at the object. "all..against me?" "All your friends, your associates, they left you here to die--die you shall." the voice seemed to appear from nowhere. Strangely neuter, possessing not a single gender-like quality in the voice. "Savior! help me!" the man called out, before curling into a whimpering ball, a mere shell of his former self. The sands embraced the form of the man quickly, then all was silent. -------------------------- Message 1223 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Jul 2 13:56:06 1999 EDT From: Smoke (#12541) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Thing The woman dragged herself from bed, her dirty feet stepping over debris that cluttered the floor of her quarters. Her hard work had finally paid off; the thing was at least taking shape from its grave of sand. Finding her boots she pulled them on with blistered hands. A few of the tiny sores opened, blood and pus gathered about the top of her boots. Like second nature she wrapped her hands in filthy rags, grabbed her shovel and headed out to the heat of the morning. Her trek about the object was cut short this morning, something, someone had invaded her little circle of life during the darkness. She moved closer, the smell was over powering. The sun had taken control of what ever it was, changing its human form, stealing its life in trade for death. She poked the corpse with her spade; the sound of charred flesh cracking open invaded the silence. Heated bile of disgust burned the back of her throat. She pulled her spade quickly from the bloated flesh and started to move away. Her eyes caught a small object near the corpse's hand. Small, black, embedded into the smooth metallic skin of the thing. "The object must have shifted during the night," she thought to herself. She moved closer, pushing the corpse out of the way to get a better look. Fear took the better part of her senses, she moved back quickly, tripping over some crap that had gathered about her work sight for the last three years. Rapidly she punched some buttons on her communicator. "Damnit...answer your comm" she muttered, she glanced back to the thing as she listened to the ringing. The ringing stopped, the connection made. "This is M...." static filled the comm, the words of the party she was calling faded in and out. "Hello" she screamed into the communicator, "are you there?" Only static again, trying one more time she gave her coordinates, hoping to hell that her friend would come quickly. -------------------------- Message 1224 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jul 3 04:51:49 1999 EDT From: Murdock (#9869) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: changes... Murdock brooded as he looked around the ruined lab, the sounds of his assistant Alexandra in the other room sweeping. Thinking back to the past month, it was hard to accept what happened. ************************************************************************** For one of his experiments, he managed to salvage and fix a recombinant splicer and a nutrient vat, used for genetic surgury. His goal, to be able to alter other creatures for his own personal use. One day as he was cleaning some grime from the top of the vat, Alexandra was curiously looking over the controlls to a robotic arm attached to the ceiling, that ifts very heavy object no normal man could lift. Looking up, he warns his recomb assistant, "Dont mes with those, Alex." and goes back to his cleaning, making sure not to fall into the full vat. A sudden humming warns him of the arm turning on, and a *swoosh!* as it moves. Murdock hears Alexandra say, "OOPS!" softly as the arm CLUNKS the scientist, knocking him in the vat. As the arm swings back, it knocks the top lid shut, engaging the autolock, AND the recombinant computer. through the murky fluid, he could barely see his assistant desprately trying to work the controls of the computer, trying to get him out. Reaching up, he grabs the air mask to prevent himself from drowning, and waits, falling asleep in the warm, soothing liquid. ************************************************************************** What seemed like hours later, he woke up in his cottage, with his feline recombs face hovering above his. he vision wasnt so hot, but he was able to make out the crying assistant as she cried, "im so sorrry mmmuurddock!" As Murdock sits up slowly, he raises his hand to rub at his face, and stares at it in shock. ************************************************************************** Outside, somewhere on the beaches of Jizo, a strangled cry of suprise and shock can be heard from a small cottage. "AAAALLLLEEEEXXXX!!! WHAT THE _HELL_ HAPPENED TO ME!!!" (ooc: ok,.. like i was suggested, posted and am now waiting) --------------------------