From quinn@fazigu.org Fri Nov 03 11:12:45 2000 Received: from (yami.57thstreet.com) [198.78.146.163] by requiem.netsville.com with esmtp (Exim 3.16 #1 (Debian)) id 13rjSP-0008TY-00; Fri, 03 Nov 2000 11:12:45 -0500 Received: from moo.ghostmoo.org (localhost [127.0.0.1]) by yami.57thstreet.com (8.9.3/8.9.1) with SMTP id KAA99206 for ; Fri, 3 Nov 2000 10:13:55 -0600 (CST) Message-Id: <200011031613.KAA99206@yami.57thstreet.com> Date: Fri, 3 Nov 2000 10:13:55 -0400 From: "Quinn@Ghostwheel" To: quinn@fazigu.org Subject: Ghostwheel Message(s) 40 - 43 from *storylines (#5236) X-Mail-Agent: Ghostwheel (moo.ghostmoo.org 6969) Status: RO Content-Length: 7775 Lines: 152 Message 40 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Sep 7 19:09:17 2000 EDT From: Etien (#5288) To: *DragonRiders (#5915) and *storylines (#5236) Subject: A Farewell Etien hugged his mother goodbye, thankful there were no tears. He shouldered his backpack and turned, grabbing the riding straps of the garnet's harness and stepping onto her proffered foreleg, climbed onto the dragon's shoulders." Looking down at his mother, he realized how small she seemed, and though he was still growing, he was already several inches taller and that brought back his feelings of protectiveness. "Mom, I will be fine, and I will keep in touch. Please don't worry and take care of -yourself- too. Promise?" As Yjezra nodded, smiling, he nudged the great dragon "Let's go, Lyrz." He turned with a final wave and with a quick look around at the only home he had ever known he felt the powerful muscles bunch beneath him as the dragon lept from the ledge. "Head for the ridge, Lyrzrath. I will start there." In response, the dragon turned smoothly, drifting down on the currents, letting their altitude drop until she made a slow, gliding circle over the lake and landed gently on the ridge overlooking it. The young man removed the riding straps and kicking a leg over the dragon's shoulder, slid down to the ground, landing with a slight >thump< and a small puff of dust around his feet. He hitched his backpack further onto his shoulder and gave Lyrzrath a firm pat on her side, "Take care of Ama, Lyrz. I will keep in touch, and tell her I promise I will be out of the area in two days as she asked." The dragon spoke to him, her eyes whirling a pale grey flecked with orange and green, her words were mostly incomprehensible but he understood. Etien quickly strode off toward the woods, turning once to wave back at the dragon a last time before the trees closed around him. [OOC: This is posted to inform that the young man is in the area briefly. If you wish some RP with him, page me. DB] -------------------------- Message 42 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Sep 22 06:48:04 2000 EDT From: Rathe (#14172) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: .. It was night. It was neither dark, nor stormy. The sky was clear, and the sickly moon hung low in the sky, casting its poisoned shadows over the ground below. A sea of barely illuminated trees, twisted and bent as if some bizarre, giant chinaman were to make bonsai of a thousand trees, twisting them into deformed parodies of nature. Somewhere -- somewhere deep in the not-quite-natural forest -- something howled, a choked, grating sound. The tortured death rattle of a creature twisted like the vegetation around it. Joined, then by ten, twenty, a hundred othersl; a chorus of dying cries to the vicious, poisoning moon. It is night. It is neither dark, nor stormy. The sky is clear, and the sickly moon hangs low in the sky. A figure, perched on a stone edifice like a living, breathing gargoyle, casts its poisoned shadow across the ground below. It is young, but unaccountably old. It is dead, but it is still living. And it breathes, a rattle not entirely unlike that of the dragonwolves howling below. A deep breath through the nostrils, infinitely deep, scenting the night air. And exhale; a spiral of foggy breath into the dead, dead night air. There is no wind tonight. Nothing to stir the atmosphere, save for the cries of the dragon wolves below, and the steady breathing of the animate gargoyle. And it is a person. Beneath a curtain of dead-white hair, pale blue eyes drift slowly open; sharp as any predator's, sliding across the forested ground below. And a hand rises, parting that dead-white hair, and the features are outlined beneath the pale, sickly moon. Masculine? No, but neither feminine. Inhuman. A step, a jumper's final walk through the dead night air. A suicidal man's final voluntary action. Rise from the crouch, a dissapation of the darkness around him, and a single step-- into the air, unmindful of the ground fifty feet below. A break in the silence. An upwards buffet of wind, a howl of tearing air where there was none, ripping at clothing, snapping the heavy officer's coat like a cape. Connect with the ground not with a crunch of bone and a scream of pain, but with a silent crackle of leather boots against deadwood twigs. Backwards tilt of his head, and Rathe lifts his head to the twisted canopy above, upraised hand clenched into a fist. Gnarled branches shift, intertwine, trees misplace themselves, shrubbery accelerates itself in a twisted parody of natural life's slow processes. A tunnel, leading into the darkness. Leading to his destination. The time was now. The Adept left the hideous illumination of the sullen, venemous moon, traversing instead the tunnel forged from the dying woods. Tonight was the night that his ally would be raised. Tonight was the night that the tables would be turned. -------------------------- Message 43 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Sep 22 19:04:36 2000 EDT From: Darius_Lee (#10280) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: A change of pace Darius looked forlornly around her home. Silently she wandered from room to room, her hand softly gliding over the familiar and comforting objects of her life. Her lips twitched in a soft smile as she spies Herman's small practice broadsword, left--forgotten, under a small chair. With eyes slowly filling with tears she retrieves the small sword, holding it to her chest for a moment before placing it on the top of the children's toy chest. The children were with the wolf pack now and there they would remain to be protected, nourished and love for her month of service. Her bag was packed long ago, she wouldn't be needing much, but there was one task left to complete before she could leave, the hardest task of all. Slowly she walks over to the desk in the corner, his desk. She hadn't touched it since he'd left, she hadn't changed anything. Everything was as it always was, as he had left it, waiting for his return. With shaking hands she pulls open the desk drawer, searching among the jumbled contents for paper and a quill. A soft laugh escapes her lips when she eventually finds a blank sheet, "he's going to throw a fit that I used one of his spell sheets to write him a note". But the laugh dies quickly and she is left staring at the blank sheet, quill in hand, not knowing what to say or how to say it. How do you write a note to a husband who may never return? Let alone explain the circumstances that have led her to her debt of one month's service to Toraxyn. In the end the note is brief. My dearest darling, The children are on holiday with the wolf pack for the month. All has been well in your abscence, the twins are doing marvelously, they ask about you constantly. I am sorry that I am not home to greet your return but an event has occured that requires me to fulfill an honor debt to Toraxyn of one month's service. I'm afraid I lost my temper and seriously ravaged the man, my service will be spent nursing him back to health. I hope your journey was successfull. With loving regards, DL She stares at the note for several long moments, before placing it in the center of the desk. She backs away slowly, her breathing labored and ragged until she can't stand it anymore. Growling softly sher resolutely sets her shoulders, grabs her pack and marches out of the house, refusing to look back as she walks briskly to the awaiting helicopter. Yet, as the helicopter takes off she finds herself with her face pressed to the glass for one last look at the island and her home. Sobbing softly, her rests her head on her knees murmuring quietly, "Kzin, where are you? I need you so much..." --------------------------