From quinn@fazigu.org Wed Aug 20 12:13:47 2003 Return-path: Envelope-to: quinn@fazigu.org Received: from constr1-host1.corridor.net ([66.100.236.130] helo=yami.57thstreet.com) by requiem with smtp (Exim 3.36 #1 (Debian)) id 19pVak-0006or-00 for ; Wed, 20 Aug 2003 12:13:46 -0400 Received: (qmail 6385 invoked from network); 20 Aug 2003 16:14:11 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO moo.ghostmoo.org) (127.0.0.1) by localhost with SMTP; 20 Aug 2003 16:14:11 -0000 Date: Wed, 20 Aug 2003 11:14:11 -0400 From: "Quinn@Ghostwheel" To: quinn@fazigu.org Subject: Ghostwheel Message(s) 88 - 112 from *storylines (#5236) X-Mail-Agent: Ghostwheel (moo.ghostmoo.org 6969) Message-Id: Status: RO Content-Length: 35273 Lines: 782 Message 88 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jun 21 12:22:48 2003 EDT From: Elendil (#2237) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: First artifact recovered from Austin dig 2nd watch Engineers overseeing the Austing Recovery Dig reported a significant discovery. On Friday, November 27, 2656, TeraMole excavators tunneling beneath pancaked slabs of concrete outside the bombed-out Ranger Base Gamma recovered a great stein of exceptional workmanship. Forged of some space-age polymer substance and protected by a heavy cap, the insulated drinking applicance depicted a great chieftain with his warriors. An archeologist specializing in pre-Cataclysm artifacts dated the great mug at over 700 years of age. "It's truly impressive to see an item of that age, given the great destruction wrought by the Cataclysm, as well as subsequent wars and conflict in Austin." said Dr. Octagon, eyelid twitching inexplicably. "The vibrant images emblazoned on the mug speak for themselves. We may never know who this "Mr. T" is, but clearly from his golden raiment and stalwart companions he was a great warrior and noble leader. Each of his citizens likely had a similar mug or container, perhaps using them with every meal to toast his greatness." Dr. Octagon then slipped the container into his cloak and ran away. -------------------------- Message 89 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jun 21 21:08:21 2003 EDT From: Red_Fang (#5907) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Open house Red's Keep, at the Oasis is showing great faith with an open house approach, please don't kill the bartender or rape the waitress.. Also Coach Bob can help you out with any of your training needs.. But don't walk off with the weapons or you'll be hunted down and fed to a mini-rex. Enjoy. Red. P.S. Dragonriders are not welcome. P.S.S Mech pilots and Subbies drink free! P.S.S.S Mages who sleep with Subbies maybe visit anytime. P.S.S.S.S. Dante and his clan should stay clear.. There are trained Dante killing mines places all over the place. -------------------------- Message 90 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jun 26 00:26:47 2003 EDT From: Red_Fang (#5907) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: ATTENTION MORLITH! >From this day forward.. Your new master is Red Fang.. All riders will report to him and turn over your dragons to be destroyed as abominations to mankind! You will all feel much better with them out of your heads. Red Fang -------------------------- Message 91 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jun 26 01:44:42 2003 EDT From: Owen (#15637) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: What's Past is Dust Owen stood on the roof of the R/T Building, squinting against the dust-laden wind. Wisps of hair caught in the corners of his mouth as he craned his neck, trying to meet the eye of the man mounted on the great obsidian dragon standing a few yards away. "Why do you keep doing this?" He tried to keep any plaintive note out of his voice, and was only mostly successful. Less than an hour before Owen had watched the great dragon slaughtered, seen its breath caught on this same unending wind, watched its blood spread out across the rooftop and trickle over the side. The rider shrugged. "Tyrrsaalth is sorry he hit you, but he didn't think it was prudent to be on the roof." Owen shook his head impatiently. The deep gash on the back of his hand stung, but was nothing serious. He kept staring up at the rider, determined not to be put off. Ferox sighed, shrugged, and capitulated--to a point. "They bring the fight to him, I'm doing nothing. Ask the dragon why he's doing it." Owen blinked twice, then nodded. He craned his neck to the side to address the obsidian dragon directly. It was difficult to get used to, the notion that these massive beasts had a man's intelligence, but Owen had years of experience believing the unbelievable. And courtesy was courtesy, after all. "All right. Why do you keep doing this?" A low rumbling, so deep as to be almost below the normal range of hearing--a sound felt as much as heard, resonating in the chest and the long bones of the legs. Dragonspeech. With a funny twist to his mouth, Ferox translated. "He says because of Red. He still wants an apology." Not an hour since Owen had learned that at one time, Red Fang had been a dragonrider. This dragon's rider. What was it Mirg had said? 'Why else would he have such a hate of them? You have to love something to hate it.' To buy himself a minute to think, Owen raked his fingernails back through his hair, pushing back the strands that the wind had whipped free of the braid. He had firsthand experience with Red's stubborness. Apologies weren't the man's strong suit. "And if you never get one?" That deep rumbling came again, accompanied this time by Tyrrsaalth's eyes bleeding out to a vivid blue-green and a curving of the mouth. The dragon's lower jaw dropped very slightly, gaping in an unmistakable grin. Ferox grinned as well as he translated, "Dragons live a very long time." Almost against his will, Owen laughed. "All right. I'll let you two be on your way." He stepped back several yards, giving Tyrrsaalth room to take off. He lifted one hand in a wave as the great black dragon snapped out leathery wings, beat them once, twice, three times to gain altitude. The dragon banked and swung away into the night. Owen watched them go until the dim lights would no longer allow him to differentiate between the black dragon the dark sky. Finally he turned and stepped onto the platform that would take him back down to the Round Room. As the metal elevator shuddered beneath his feet, Owen scrubbed one hand over his mouth, trying to rid his lips of the taste of dust and ashes. -------------------------- Message 92 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jun 26 09:27:30 2003 EDT From: Kijindei (#25075) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: A befuddled expression. Kijindei idly wondered as he stared at Red's proclimation how the riders, who rarely ventured down to the surface would ever even read the message. He shrugged and decided sometimes with Red it was better not to ask silly questions. Walking briskly to the helipad, he went to continue his training. -------------------------- Message 93 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jun 26 09:44:41 2003 EDT From: Eryn (#22906) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Cause Im feeling left out Eryn sat on the floor in her newest home, legs crossed with the heavy sword resting across her thighs. The wolfblade was cool to the touch and heavy, much to heavy for her really, as she let her fingertips lightly slide across the inset emerald. She felt tired and a lot older than her 17 years. The room she was in was quiet, and if she concentrated, she could hear the beat of her heart, but that wasn't what she wanted. For the first in her life she was alone and her feelings of guilt were building for she had forsaken all she had known. -------------------------- Message 94 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jun 26 12:42:02 2003 EDT From: Ceri (#24980) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: None Ceri sat in the R/T Lounge listening intently to Red command the DragonMistress to allow herself to be jailed. WHatever the crimes were listed as, Ceri couldn't care less. All she knew was that Red was gonna have Yalindra around 24/7. This she couldn't stomach. Listening to Red conatantly talk about the woman made Ceri feel ill to her very inner being. But to have that WOMAN, under Red's gaze constantly! She just couldn't sit around and take it. After drinking her beer and only half paying attention, Ceri heard Red ask for someone to fight the woman for him. 'This is m chance' thought Ceri as she volunteered. Crescent against crescent. No interference. It was over before she even knew it had started. Ceri, unscathed had taken Yalindra in just a few hits. IT was beyond beleif. SHe didnt expect to get more than a scratch on YAlindra, but here she was! Sent to the Eagle. Her joy at being able to lash out at her competition turned quickly into regret. Death was uncalled for. Humiliation was what had been needed. Everyone in the R/T just stared at Ceri, untouched by the blade of her tormenter. Was it possible that Yalindra hadn't even put up a fight? Ceri, shook it all off, drank until she couldnt think, and then went home to sleep it all off. THis wouldnt be the end of her troubles, for that she was sure. -------------------------- Message 95 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Jun 30 10:22:54 2003 EDT From: Dante (#10660) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Wicked indulgence. Dante brushed his hand against the surface of the mirror as it rippled like water before him. His eyes burned with power as he soaked in the source of the art. He listened intently to the words being spoken with a vicious laughter. "Red Fang thinks he can betray me? He thinks he can blame me by telling the accursed Dragonbard about what I'm doing to his daughter?" Rage sworled as the magical gates of his tower parted, he looked past the bayou with a chuckle, "Something wicked this way comes." Dante had been reminiscent lately, he had been killed twice to date, and nearly beaten by a number of Red Fang's minions. Without allies, Dante had been before, but never quite so annoyed by the chattering of the ordinary humans. The shuttle landed, and swept him across the wasteland towards his intended goal. His magical sight granted him the best of situations as he watched the mariner leave. "Fresh for the picking." Rage distorted his mind as he attempted to bring composure to his focus, "This one shoots before asking, and I should only return the favor." Launching himself up the platform a familiar soothing glow surrounded Dante's hand as he slammed the sleep spell into his first target. The fatigue of the blast knocking the gun from his intended prey. A smile creeped eerily across his expression, "This should make it interesting." Entering the lounge he shot Red Fang in the head, snarling out a command. "Leave." Not knowing discretion is the better part of valor, the wouldbe wasteland warrior chose to press his attack. The battle was already over before it had started. Never know for being a caring individual Dante mauled his two enemies after satisfying his inventory of useful equipment, he murmured quietly. "Red Fang said that he didn't want me to take his sword Foe... I'll just have to keep it fair and simple." With a laugh, he hurled the shattered body of his enemy to the storyteller, and left as quickly as he had appeared. "Now, whatever shall I do to indebt myself to Morlith so that the dragonbard's daughter will leave the safety of their home." Dante's finger idly traced the surface of the wolfblade, as the familiar cackle of maniacal laughter filled the tower of Chronomancy. -------------------------- Message 96 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Jun 30 15:27:52 2003 EDT From: Red_Fang (#5907) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Blackness, Dreams and Hope. The torture had been unbearable and the shear thought of being touched by Dante made Red's skin crawl. Red knew better to get involved and try to talk to the girl about her father. He knew better. Pain stabbed deep into Red's mind for a final time, Dante wanted him to submit but he couldn't do it.. "Go piss in the wind" Red barked as blood ran down his chin, then he was out. But before losing all of himself to the darkness he invoked the Moonheart prayer. Darkness swirled around him, then he was back home.. The tall trees standing for all time rose in a canopy of peace and tranquillity. The sounds of the forest called and Red's heart soared as he breathed in the air. His old friend was no where to be found though. Stolen away most likely by time but he had left this gift. A walking dream for Red to remember where he was from. Then she appeared to him. An angel in form. Red remembered her from long ago.. She'd protected him in the forest and led him to the Moonheart and then the rest of the world.. She could not follow. "My silly wolf boy, you have grown but you also have grown forgetful. Why are you here again?" Her eyes told him without words. Questioningly Red looked at her and thought for a long moment. "I am Red Fang, The world belongs to me!" A terrible sorrow filled the eyes of the woman, "Yes Red, it does belong to you, just as it belonged to your father and mother. The wolf owns the world but does not own anything nor does he need anything.. You are trying to own something you have been given freely. But you can not control it no more than you can cause the wind to blow or the sun to set." Sadly Red gazed at the woman, "I had forgotten, the other humans all have property and control. The Dragons control the skies, the Mech's control the wastes...and the mages." Fear came into Red's eyes, "The mages control the world don't they?" The angel's eyes softened for a moment, "no, the mages do not control the world either my wolf boy, some of them attempted to contain the evil brought on the world by greed.. Some of the mages though attempted to go farther and control the world. They where jealous of the power they could not obtain. So they created blackness to hide it.. The world stopped healing as it should. Now there is a balance that must not be broken." Anger flared in Red's heart for a moment, "But humans get treated like subjects.. We walk the ground of a scorched earth trying to survive and at every turn we are met with magic and dragon laughing at us. We do not have a lush green mountain to hide upon and look down over the world. We are not safe.. And now the only mages of power that walk the world are black and evil. We do not have balance. We suffer every day!" She smiled a smile that caused Red's heart of soften, "Red, why did you do what you did? Why did you try to help the girl, why return the Dragon mistresses things at such a cost? Then stand here and say you own the world? You can be such a force for good yet you waste it on petty things. You have power but you must use it wisely. You where given the temple by the magi, it will protect you from the darkness. Use it, and find its secret to help you in your fight. But make a good fight Red. Don't make enemies who would be your friends." Then searing pain shot through Red's mind again as his conciousness crept back into his mind. Blurred images and lights danced across his view, someone saying eat that big boy or such. Unable to move, panic and despair filling his mind. Then slowly he remembered...Dante...He was listening. Had to go, had to get away from his eyes. Slowly feeling came back to his legs and arms, Skywalker was there working feverishly on the wounds.. Red owed that guy too much.. But then it was just Owen, Red had been so unfair to him as of late. Owen and the cat. So it was time to make new friends and trust someone. So they offered help to get him home, he would take it.. He would tell his story and maybe they could find a way to beat back the blackness. -------------------------- Message 97 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Jun 30 16:59:22 2003 EDT From: Red_Fang (#5907) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Who to get? So the consences was, we need a mage to fight a mage. Hmm.. No way to get Moonheart back, he was off in fairy land chasing nymphs far as Red knew. All the other powerful magi really wouldn't give Red the time of day if they decided it was day. FoxFire was useful but she was not nearly as powerful as Dante. Hmm. Coreen? No she hated Red as much as she hated Dante. And she seemed to always lose to Dante anyhow. Who could Red get to fill the void left from his friends disappearance. No one was around to help. What ever happned to that crazy old man with the funny hat and duck? He seemed to be pretty good with magic and was hardly evil. Oh well. They where all gone. Even his kids god father was no where to be found. Rathe was a equal for Dante, but he was also as dark when he wanted to be. Oh well.. Maybe someone would come along who could be trusted. -------------------------- Message 98 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Jun 30 19:24:22 2003 EDT From: Elendil (#2237) To: Elendil (#2237) and *storylines (#5236) Subject: The R/T Shuttle Times Why, it's another issue of the R/T Shuttle Times... Vol. II Iss. 45 _______________________________ Shuttle Times 50 crys. "Slanderiffic & Libelicious" ================= "Tell Your Friend(s)" 'Dante Promises To Fulfill "Alt In Every Room" Oath By 2670' R/T Roundroom (AP-Wire): Uber-Magistra Dante, speaking from atop the flag-bedecked obsidian desk, reiterated his election oath to place a spy alt in every room by '70. "Our great nation cannot run the risk that RP activity involving myself go unobserved," he announced to the cheering throngs. "It behooves us to the utmost to place a minder of appropriate appropriateness in all areas necessary to ensure the calmness and non-rascalism of the body politic." Paying little attention to the text of the scrolling teleprompters, Dante (R-Morlith) also affirmed his commitment to a dragon for every alt. Reaction to the speech was mixed. Bloodhide, a gecko recomb, exhibited his pleasure at Dante's willingness to police the land, but balked at the increased "Power Taxes" such close observation would require. Likewise, Dusty Dirk, a renowned crystal hunter, felt suspicious of the caveats to the House Pacification Bill 1.5.1 requiring all non-mages to be followed by dragons at all times. 'Warden Island Warden On Duty For 16,590 Days In A Row' Warden Island (AP) - Sgt. Jackson has been on duty in the Warden Island maximum security penitentary for several decades with no sign of relief. "Please kill me," this noble hero rasped desperately into the microphone, clinging to this reporter's legs. "90% of my body has been burnt by flaming toilet paper. I eat my own lice to stay alive." Sgt. Jackson entered the proud penitentary force at age 18 and never looked back. A career officer, he promptly shows up every day at the main gate and inquires whether his relief has arrived. "For the love of almighty god, take me with you," he screamed at our departing helicopter. "Tell them we're here! Tell them!" He then collapsed into a heap as he was shivved by a disgruntled inmate. 'Magic Does Everything' R/T Lounge (Reuters) - Wasteland denizens were recently informed of the expansive nature of magic, much to their surprise and delight. "Holy cow," gushed Alex De Favre, soulmech pilot and now aspiring mage. "Did you know that if you know Magick, you can do anything? There're no limits!" While this blue collar crowd is typically more at ease with axes and crossbows, none could refute the awesome power of magic. "Dude, it's 'magick'. You have to have the 'k' at the end, it adds to the magickness." lectured Jack "The Hammer" Falstern, an ex-crystal hunter and aspiring necromancer. "And apparently once you have Magick, you can see everything, cast infinite distances, and do other crazy stuff I haven't even invented yet. But once I do, then I can. See?" While many scholars argue that magic, or Magick, should be a subtle, reserved art devoted to study of the human form and the betterment of all, the warriors here disagree. "Hell no," snapped Alex De Favre, now calling himself "Justiciar The Almighty One Of Infinite Telepathy." "Don't make me fireball your ass, punk! Or wait..wait..I can think of something better. I'll make a meteor strike your ancestor 10,000 years ago, and you'll cease to exist! Ahh, magick." While this reporter could not independently verify claims that the most powerful mages, or 'magus', could destroy the world at a whim, there was no question of it. "Sure," announced Alice Greywater, ex-mariner and hopeful mage, "Just because they haven't yet doesn't mean they can't. Heck, maybe they did..maybe we're all atoms dancing on the foot of a unicorn's virgin paw. Now that's magick!" The group then started putting hexes on each other and stealing one another's children. -------------------------- Message 99 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Jul 1 00:50:55 2003 EDT From: Rathe (#14172) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Real/Time A message has been scorched into the side of the Real/Time building. It seems to have been done superficially, and will likely dissapear with the next acid rain. It reads: The beatings will continue until morale improves. -R -------------------------- Message 100 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Jul 1 00:59:11 2003 EDT From: Red_Fang (#5907) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: A proclamation! It has been decided by decree that the gang, which from this day forward will be knows as "The Ragamuffins" Or "Those who will be needing liver transplants long before you not a ragamuffin." Shall take their libations in secret quarters so as not to interfere with the populace at large who will be known from this day forwards as "Dante, Rathe, Ferox, or anyone else smelling of magick or dragon." This is not to say that dealings with such people is not allowed. Just the taking of refreshment in their company seeing as it is bad for digestion. Furthermore, No war will be made on any type of dragonrider, living on the mount called "Morlith" or in a tent somewhere in the wastes. Dragons are flabby and are considered unhealthy to consume and do not yield enough crystal matter to matter. It is also conceded that close proximity with a dragonrider has been known to cause a high birthrate among the populace. Future "Ragamuffins" will be so named by their need to hang in groups of friends which will be known as "Gangs" and their need to avoid being in close contact with those who smell of rot or manure of the Draconian type. It is also decreed that Red Fang, known as Red Fang will not be the chosen leader of such gangs but can with all rights given a free living soul be comforted by the company of his chosen "gang" which is also known as" group of friends." The position of "Ragamuffin" mage is open and a heavy drinking sword wielding, shotgun tooting person will be chosen for the position. Apply where ever "Libations" are served. The death of any mage known this day forward as "Rathe" or "Dante" will be cheered with great merry making. This is not saying that this organization of friends known as the "Gang" are openly declaring anything but drinks on the house. It is also with great thanks to "Rathe" for the new name of the "Gang" which from this day forward will be known as "The Ragamuffins who will be needing liver transplants before you not a ragamuffin." "Libations" are considered to be any beverage that induces a warm feeling of peace to ease living among mages and dragons. Yours truly, Law offices of Fang, Fish and Fry. -------------------------- Message 101 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Jul 1 05:23:38 2003 EDT From: Timber (#9805) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Changes The Magistra walked through the familar woods to the small clearing by the oxbow pond, her expression thoughtful and withdrawn. She stopped, squatted down and placed a hand on the earth beside the still water. Time moved... she did not. Finally, with a soft sigh, she stood and looked around. It was night, silent as it had only been since a few weeks ago and the night the Earth rumbled. Shaking her head, she entered her cabin and began to set things aside, those that she would take with her, those she would leave or give away. Shouldering her bag, she walked away from her old home and into the wilderness that was the GhostWheel, back to an even older home. She hoped the wards she had placed on it so long ago were untouched and a home was there to welcome her. -------------------------- Message 102 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Jul 1 12:30:04 2003 EDT From: Kijindei (#25075) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Still confused. Kijindei read over Red's newest proclimation and stood perplexed as with the last one. "Libations? I don't think that alcohol exactly induces warm feelings of peace, so I guess I'm not involved in this circumstance." Shrugging his shoulders, he went back to training. "I wonder when Red's going to say that he's the King of the World and intends to have a crown and throne made in his honor." -------------------------- Message 103 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Jul 3 03:19:39 2003 EDT From: Owen (#15637) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Promises Made and Broken Owen was very, very drunk. He felt he was entitled, all things considered. And it wasn't as though it had happened by accident. He'd stolen the bottle from Red's bartender quite intentionally, knowing that tequila made him a sloppy drunk, knowing that he was going to drink it anyway and be dog-sick in the morning. He was rather looking forward to being sick, actually. Is it better or worse to break a promise that you make only to yourself? It wasn't as though anyone had asked him to keep the damned thing hidden, keep it secret. He'd made that decision himself, just as he'd decided to hide it away so that he wouldn't be tempted to use it. And he had been tempted, a time or two. That barmaid up north, the one with the broad hips and pockmarked skin and the hair that fell like ironed black silk down her back. She'd confessed to him one night that she knew she was ugly but at least she had beautiful hair. 'My one vanity,' she'd said. She'd been found dead in the alley behind the bar, her beautiful hair hacked off in chunks, what remained smeared and clotted with mud and blood and worse. He'd thought about breaking his promise then. After all, who did she have to avenge her? Who cared enough? But until now he'd kept his vow. Whether that was good sense or cowardice or some combination of the two he'd never dared examine very closely. And now he'd broken it. If only he could be sure he was doing it for the right reasons. What was it he'd told Timber? 'Tilting at windmills a specialty.' And so he was off, armored with a barber's basin and wielding a weapon more terrible than any sword. And all for one sharp-featured girl with fragile hands and the trembling, coltish mannerisms of a child on the knife-edge of womanhood. A fitting enough Dulcinea. He levered himself up to a stand, casting the empty bottle off to the side and half-laughing at his own unsteadiness. "People," he declared to the empty wasteland, "are damned fools. And I am the most damned of all." -------------------------- Message 105 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jul 5 01:08:28 2003 EDT From: Shandryl (#24740) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Emergence Shandryl stood in the Roundroom of the R/T trying to figure out everything that happened to her today. There was Rathe. Cordial and quiet, he commented on the strange happenings taking place. First off, there was the slisssh. THey had somehow abandoned the Steel Bowels below and were taking over the Wastes. Not just that, but when you stepped on the lousy things and killed them, they gave up not just one life crystal, but 1000! Then there was the "wars" going on. Seemed everyone was trying to loot, rape and pillage the others. This was unnerving to Shandryl. It upset the continuum of things. That, and the fact she wasn't even sure how true it was made her shudder. She was learning spells she hadn't ever dreamed of attempting lately. Her magic and power was growing. SHe would seek out her teacher soon, so she could expand into the other elementals. Her hunger for acheivement was insatiable. The most perplexing thing though was the submariner that sought her out. He gave her a weapon she didn't understand. THe moment she felt her fingers grasp the handle of the strange weapon she felt a chill come over her. The screaming in her head became louder, and her very soul was shaken. Shandryl went to the roof of the R/T and reread the note the man had given her. "The gathering storm.. each weapon a piece, each piece a key. Unlock the seal, unlock the war, an apocalypse of magic, magick, or satellite-borne earthfire. It matters not, the wheel begins to turn. If it is slow now, it is only because it is hard to speed..and yet hard to slow when it reaches its grind. War, Famine, Pestilence, Plague.. and victory at last." What did it all mean? -------------------------- Message 106 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jul 5 19:38:16 2003 EDT From: Clayson (#17237) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: RedFang Laughs as she hears the news, "Red..the new Master..." she mutters to herself, "I wonder if this involves bending over, or spankings." She takes a quick glance at Durandle "I thought you were the Master?" she questions softly, "or that freak, what's his name...Lord....?" -------------------------- Message 107 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat Jul 5 20:07:36 2003 EDT From: Yak_the_Ninjak (#20718) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Sanchez is a freak. Yak casually stepped through the open doors of the Tinderbox, looking for a bottle of liquid courage before going into the cainid pits. As he entered, he waved happily and greeted his once 'buddy' Sanchez. Sanchez turned angrily at the large recomb and replied with a very unfriendly, "Get out." Yak was startled, wondering if sanchez had forgotten the favour he had previously done for him. After bickering back and forth over unappreciated kindness, Sanchez began throwing out insults such as 'Snot-nosed kid'. Although many would argue that a 1300 lb yak and a snot-nosed kid have very much in common, Jak was strongly offended by this comment. It reminded him of something that Kijindei or possibly Ferox would say to him. 'Gimme back the bat then you ungrateful sod', he shouted, but Sanchez decided he was the man and was gonna run off and get his boss instead. In what was possibly a miracle of the so-called 'magick', a light-bulb appeared above yaks head as he got a humorous idea, 'If they wanna lock me out, maybe instead I'll lock them out!' he mused to himself. As the glowing lightbulb faded into the air, yak shut the door and waited. After shimmering into existance briefly a few times, Sanchez suddenly came hurtling through a portal from the midrealm and quickly unlocked the door for a fuming Dante to come in. 'Magick' began flying, and although it was much to descriptive for yak to bother paying attention to, he found himself lying on the ground unconscious after a barrage of about 10 unreturned attacks. Hours later, awake and swollen, he wondered, 'Why is Sanchez such a dick sometimes, but such a polite person other times. It seems like whenever Skeeter is around he is friendly and thankful, but when Dante is around he's an unjustified asshole. Strange.' 'I wonder why Sanchez likes working for a boss that will kill him just to get him back into a room to unloc the doors. he gets used like an object rather than a human, isn't that offensive? What could possibly motivate you to follow orders so blindly and be killed for them, it's obviously not money, that poet shirt of his was very $0.25 rack... I'll never underatand this guy. I just hope next time I'm around him, so is Skeeter instead of dante. there's already enough lippy Feroxs and Kijindeis out there.' and with those final thoughts Yak returned to the tinderbox to gve false apologies, and get his stollen stuff back. Funny how Sanchez like having things returned to him but wont go out of his own way to return others things... -- Sorry about bad spelling. This was the best story I could come up with to help justify the poor IC incongruencies that went down. -------------------------- Message 108 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Jul 7 23:39:47 2003 EDT From: Timber (#9805) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: For Sale - New (Posted in the RT Lounge and the PX) Having found a new source of wood, I am able to sell Longbows and arrows. The supply is limited and will be priced accordingly: Longbow with 100 starter arrows is 10k Crystals. Additional longbow arrows will be 500 crystals per 75 arrows. Contact Timber. OOC: Send moomail if you are interested and have the required crystals. Pages will be ignored. Thanks. If Timber or Dragonbabe is not available, contact Fortitude for assistance. Thanks Thanks. -------------------------- Message 109 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Jul 7 23:50:15 2003 EDT From: Timber (#9805) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Short and Longbows/Arrows (Let me recap!) Woodsman's bow (aka shortbow) is 5000 w/100 arrows. Additional arrows are 250 per 50. Longbow is 10K w/100 arrows. Additional long arrows 500 per 75. -------------------------- Message 110 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jul 9 14:37:47 2003 EDT From: Mirg (#11887) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Must kill Red.. Mirg ran as fast he could staying just ahead of the slisssh, making it to what used to be the gate to Red's keep he slammed into the wall clawing in vain at the vanished door to safety, "East East, I know it was east...", Mirg screamed as the slisssh tore him to tiny shreds of cat meat and gristle. -------------------------- Message 111 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed Jul 9 21:40:43 2003 EDT From: Red_Fang (#5907) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Moving doors I bet that cat will be visiting soon, I think I'll move the doors so he'll get confused and smash his poor nose. Because anyone else would actually beable to distinguish a wall from a door. -------------------------- Message 112 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Fri Jul 18 17:17:45 2003 EDT From: Red_Fang (#5907) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Rangers It was voted on and decided this date and time. Wed Feb 17 02:07:51 2657. that the reformation of the group known as Rangers take place. The Rangers have a simple goal. Fight evil and then hangout at the Bar! The following was the original intentions of the Rangers and still holds. What the Rangers stand for. In creating the Rangers, Red Fang has given birth to a organization to insure the population of the world a force to fight for freedom and justice. If there is trouble the Rangers will be on the side of the poor and weak. Red Fang gets his ideals for justice from the sword 'Lawgiver'. From as long as he can remember that sword has triggered his imagination on what law and order should be. Unity binds. The Rangers are not a governmental force, more of a (united nations) peace keeping force relying on alliances from all groups. Dragonrider, Crystal hunter, Soul Mech, Submariner, Recomb, and even Magic users may call on the Rangers in a time of need. Anyone can apply to join the Rangers. With this reformation, law and order can and will finally come to the wastes. Applicants may apply in any local watering hole. Commanding, Red Fang. --------------------------