From quinn@fazigu.org Mon Sep 04 12:09:23 2000 Received: from (yami.57thstreet.com) [198.78.146.163] by requiem.netsville.com with esmtp (Exim 3.12 #1 (Debian)) id 13VyoF-00069L-00; Mon, 04 Sep 2000 12:09:23 -0400 Received: from moo.ghostmoo.org (localhost [127.0.0.1]) by yami.57thstreet.com (8.9.3/8.9.1) with SMTP id LAA48676 for ; Mon, 4 Sep 2000 11:13:52 -0500 (CDT) Message-Id: <200009041613.LAA48676@yami.57thstreet.com> Date: Mon, 4 Sep 2000 11:13:52 -0400 From: "Quinn@Ghostwheel" To: quinn@fazigu.org Subject: Ghostwheel Message(s) 11 - 17 from *storylines (#5236) X-Mail-Agent: Ghostwheel (moo.ghostmoo.org 6969) Status: RO Content-Length: 13372 Lines: 259 Message 11 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Jul 11 13:21:40 2000 EDT From: Dexter (#14882) To: *storylines (#5236) Dexter slowly crawled forward, retracting the steel blade into his arm, his ears keen for any living noise. Peering down the edge of the ravine he saw his quarry, the tiny mini-rex that saved him from a mini-raptor those long days ago when he first appeared in this strange future. Shonen skittered around the ravine floor catching rats and bugs. Dexter reached into his backpack and grabbed a few crystals, tossing them down to the dinosaur below. "C'mon boy..." he whispered and whistled low from his vantage point. The little mini-rex raised his head and peered around until he saw the familiar glint of crystals, luring him back up the slope. Dexter smiled at the potbellied godzilla waddling before him and opened the old can of Dinty Moore for the mini-rex. It had been three weeks since he started coaxing Shonen to trust him, getting beyond the pat on the head that most mini-rexes allow. Dexter kept a keen eye on Shonen, now a mess from grease and bits of pork around his mouth, just in case anyone happened along wanting to hunt mini-rexes. They could have the rest, but as far as Dexter's concerned this one is his. -------------------------- Message 12 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jul 13 17:10:26 2000 EDT From: Fortitude (#24841) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Rumours More rumours abound from the wasteland. Patrons of the R/T Lounge have seen many amateur archaeologists returning from the now infamous abandoned museum in the wastes. Apparently, a saboteur used a device to cause an entire wing of the underground building to collapse. Luckily, nobody was harmed but any attempts to salvage items from the damaged area have been unsuccessful. -------------------------- Message 13 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jul 13 17:20:29 2000 EDT From: Fortitude (#24841) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Got posse? (A note left in the R/T lounge) Several close friends of mine have brought a horrible crime to my attention. It seems that some villain has purposely destroyed a building of particular historical significance and possibly escaped with several treasures of his own. Since we are left with no other choice than to take the law into our own hands, I am putting out a call for a band of adventurers to capture this man and bring him in for disciplinary action. We do not believe him to be dangerous but due to our remarkable transit system, he could be anywhere and we require the services of people who know the land. Please contact Mortimer Smith for details. (OOC: Obviously, you'll want to contact _me_) -------------------------- Message 14 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jul 15 21:46:47 2000 EDT From: Darius_Lee (#10280) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Surprises Darius Lee stared tormentedly into the mirror. Her silver skin gleamed in the soft candle light, her black and silver tresses following the curves of her face to lie in curls against her shoulders. But all she could see was the blood shed of vanquished friends and enemies. Guilt tormented her daily, whispering in the back of her mind all her wrongs, all her faults, all the times she failed to be what was expected of her. Hell she couldn't even be a decent wife to her absent husband otherwise he wouldn't be gone so often. That had to be the reason. Her failings had to be the cause for kzin's disappearance. Miserably Darius slammed her fist into the mirror, barely flinching as shatter glass scratched her hands into a bloody mass. Over the years she had changed greatly, from the illustrious Red Fang's side kick, feared demonwolf of the ghostwheel plains, to a simpering bitter weakling, only to rise once more as royalty of the wolven fey, wife to Kzin the black master of magic, but her strength never returned to her full force. Under the layers of silk and satin, brocade and clever stitching, she was still a simpering weakling a tired old woman at the age of26. Well no more. She vowed silently no more would she hide in her house, afraid to face the world and it's trials. Quickly she stripped out of her elaborate dress, and back into the simple woolen gown of days gone by. Quickly efficiently she strapped her claws back into place The wolf woman was back. -------------------------- Message 15 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Jul 16 22:16:10 2000 EDT From: Dexter (#14882) To: *storylines (#5236) Dexter leapt from the McKinney, cursing his luck at choosing a slow ship. After a late day drinking binge at the Desert Rat Tavern, he had gained the fellowship of some dusty Drifter and Wanderer who had just stumbled into the confines of the black barrier surrounding the R/T Building. The night wore on, soon a weary Hobo came in followed by a seedy-looking Vagabond who wasn't too subtle about wiping a blade on his poncho. Dexter and the Drifter were in a deep conversation regarding about the different shuttles that would zip overhead at supersonic speeds to unknown destinations, each one was fast but which one was the fastest? The conversation was amazingly interesting if your blood alcohol content was as high as theirs was and it brought the attention of the other unnamed scoundrels in the bar. The swinging doors burst open and there stood the Nomad. Nobody knew his name but everyone remembers coming across him once in a blue moon to visit the general store at the R/T Building. His tattered garments were bloodstained and he pointed across the bar to the seedy Vagabond. "You! You were the one who knifed me in the back! By Quinn, why?" The Vagabond's dirty face broke with a bright white smile, "I didn't do a thing to you, friend." Wanderer saw the Vagabond slipping a replicator-grade dagger under his poncho and grabbed the filthy wrist. "What's this?" he asked loudly, showing the rest of the Tavern the somewhat-stained blade. Nomad's eyes widened, "You bastard! You knock me out then murder me with my own dagger?" Nomad stormed over to Vagabond who found himself cornered by the bionic and the other ruffians. Vagabond hmmed. "Come on! It's not like murder means anything to anyone anymore!!! You just go to the midrealm with the eagle and you come back just a little nutso!" Drifter shrugged, "He's got a point there, y'know." Nomad yelled, "OH YEAH! DEATH IS REAL PLEASANT!" Dexter patted Nomad on the shoulder and shhh'ed him. Vagabond smiled, noticing that he now had everyone's attention and he wasn't in any trouble for the moment. "I declare that we all head to the R/T Buidling and have a lovely shuttle race. If I beat Nomad, he has to forgive me. If Nomad beats me, he can murder me." Wanderer's jaw dropped, "You're sick." Vagabond shrugged, "It's only fair. Wouldn't you say, Nomad?" Nomad leapt at Vagabond, "I should kill you right now you scumbag!" only to be held back by Dexter's bionic grip. Drifter nodded, "It would be a nice, sorta non-violent way to solve things." Vagabond grinned, "Yes, it would. Plus I used to offer my mechanical services to the R/T Building every so often to maintain their shuttles and I can vouch that all the shuttles can fly about the same speed... of course a better pilot could push a shuttle's limits and get someplace quicker." Dexter looked at Drifter. Drifter looked back, then at Wanderer who poked Nomad. Hobo fell face forward onto the bar, dead drunk. "Well, Nomad?" A droplet of sweat began to bead on Vagabond's forehead waiting for Nomad's answer. Vagabond knew full well that the Banzai was the fastest ship and if he could get into that baby he'd win this. No one needed to pilot those scrapheaps, the computer did all the work. The controls were there just to make the passenger feel useful. Nomad's face grew beet red and he blurted out, "FINE! We'll do your damned stupid race." Within an hour, they had crossed the darkened wastes to the gleaming edifice of the R/T Building and had gotten their way to the chopper over to the shuttle bay. Dexter stopped the raggedy bunch. "Alright. The Vagabond and the Nomad get to choose their shuttles first. We're all going to Jizo. We're going to follow and make sure there ain't no hanky panky. Deal?" They murmured deal and shook hands. Vagabond tensed as he saw Nomad start to enter the Lamar, look over at the Banzai's quadruple injection turbojets then back at the Lamar. The R/T chopper landed, its landing gear flexing like a cat underneath it followed by Hobo falling out flat on his face. "Dere youse are. Whar'd ye go?" slurred Hobo. Wanderer and Drifter picked up the red-nosed Hobo, dragging him away from the chopper. "Just pick a damned shuttle already, Nomad!" barked Dexter. "I will, don't rush me punk!" snarled Nomad who got a faceful of a steel blade that erupted from Dexter's forearm. "I didn't hear you correctly. What did you just call me?" Nomad gulped, "Sir. I called you sir." "That's what I thought." Dexter pushed Nomad into the Lamar and quickly babbled "computer, set course to woods hole, engage" before leaping out. Vagabond scrambled into the Banzai, shouting out his commands and soon the shuttle bay was filled with the deafening roar of jets. The rest scrambled into the remaining shuttles. Nomad growled as he was knocked back against the wall from the sudden acceleration and took a seat in the pilot's chair. The wasteland rolled beneath him as he watched the sun start to rise in the west. Vagabond punched the useless controls once he realized the Lamar had a decent lead. Far below, a passing teramole herder cursed when the speeding shuttles spooked his livestock. Once over the Pacific, the ships seemed to be neck and neck. Vagabond mashing at the controls hoping that one of them would give him an edge. Dying hurt and there was no way he was going to pay up if Nomad won this stupid race. Ten minutes later under the orange rays of the setting sun, the Banzai set down on Jizo Island crushing the mini-raptor Karpov into a thin red paste. Vagabond leapt out and saw two specks in the east closing in fast. The Lamar and the Indigo landed almost at the same time, a sullen Nomad with Wanderer wandered out from the crafts. Before long the motley crew all witnessed Nomad forgiving Vagabond. Then they were all eaten by mini-raptors who were drawn to the scene by the smell of the blood of one of their own. Only Dexter was skilled enough to survive and he decided to go look for Shonen. Maybe today Shonen would let him scratch his belly. -------------------------- Message 16 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Jul 28 15:13:05 2000 EDT From: Dexter (#14882) To: *storylines (#5236) 3/20/2648 Dear diary, It's been a month or two since I've started coming to Jizo and trying my hand at befriending one of these little lizards that have infested this tiny island. The one called Shonen seems to know me now, but I really think that it has something to do with my having cans of corned beef and cainid-jerky in my bag when I come by rather than the rex liking my company. Been quiet a lot around the R/T Building and I think everyone's gone up north for some reason. Eerie hearing my footsteps echo through that building, sometimes it's so quiet I think I can hear the beeping of the monitor on Osbornn. He doesn't know where everyone's gone. I'm definitely glad for the shuttles, otherwise I'd go stir crazy hanging out at the old Tech Order building. Coming to Jizo helps me get my head together, plus I can fill up my time guarding the mini-rexes from the mini-raptors and whomever comes by thinking they can hack and slash my favorite piece of surplus recombinant DNA. Tomorrow I'm going to try calling for Shonen to see if he comes. -------------------------- Message 17 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Jul 30 12:21:58 2000 EDT From: Dexter (#14882) To: *storylines (#5236) The burning fingers of the sun, filtered through the jagged mountains to the east, woke Dexter from his deep slumber. His mouth felt like a rat's nest, tiny hairs stuck between his teeth along with a disgusting film that coated his tongue. He absently got himself into a sitting position only to fall back again which opened his eye. Completely nude and missing his limbs. "What the hell happened to me last night?" A gurgle rose in his throat, followed by an explosion of orange and a familiar flavor. The mists parted slightly, he remembered Osbornn giving him... what were they... oranges? The tiny oranges from the shrub? "I always pick those myself... ugh, so this is what happens when I eat too many oranges..." he mused. But that didn't account for the stink or the taste. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Osbornn's laughing face. He shifted his weight and rummaged around in his sick for no reason and found something smooth, like ceramic. Sunlight glowed through it like it was dirty glass. He sniffed it and expelled the other half of his stomach. Dexter suddenly remembered. Droppings. He was eating slisssh droppings like the complimentary peanuts down at the Tinder Box. For the next hour, he crawled through the ashen sands of the wastes searching for his wayward prosthesises and clothes. "That definitely explains why I was sick, but it doesn't tell me why my ass is so sore..." --------------------------