From quinn@fazigu.org Tue Nov 18 13:57:53 2003 Return-path: Envelope-to: quinn@fazigu.org Delivery-date: Tue, 18 Nov 2003 13:57:53 -0500 Received: from constr1-host1.corridor.net ([66.100.236.130] helo=yami.57thstreet.com) by requiem with smtp (Exim 3.36 #1 (Debian)) id 1AMB2v-00046T-00 for ; Tue, 18 Nov 2003 13:57:53 -0500 Received: (qmail 67014 invoked from network); 18 Nov 2003 18:58:10 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO moo.ghostmoo.org) (127.0.0.1) by localhost with SMTP; 18 Nov 2003 18:58:10 -0000 Date: Tue, 18 Nov 2003 12:58:10 -0400 From: "Quinn@Ghostwheel" To: quinn@fazigu.org Subject: Ghostwheel Message(s) 155 - 161 from *storylines (#5236) X-Mail-Agent: Ghostwheel (moo.ghostmoo.org 6969) Message-Id: X-Spam-Checker-Version: SpamAssassin 2.60 (1.212-2003-09-23-exp) on requiem X-Spam-Level: X-Spam-Status: No, hits=-4.9 required=5.0 tests=BAYES_00 autolearn=ham version=2.60 Status: RO Content-Length: 3662 Lines: 107 Message 155 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Sep 29 23:09:34 2003 EDT From: Devon (#23970) To: *storylines (#5236) and *DragonRiders (#5915) Subject: Storyline this weekend. So I want to do a major plot, that involves the riders heavily, and will probably come down to the main area of the R/T for the climax. Those obviously involved with Devon normally, I'd appreciate if you sent me good times of availability, night time is always a plus, Saturday/Sunday good. -------------------------- Message 156 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Oct 5 19:25:03 2003 EDT From: Aetherean (#24859) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: The release. Devon stood perched atop the highest peaks of Mount Morlith. His gaze was drawn to the lowlands below as the perpetual vortex of air spiraled around him. He drew his hands into a fist screaming out into the open air. "It will serve me, or it will break me!" The vortex seemed to answer to this, swirling around him with increased force. The very walls of Morlith and the veins of air sought their way back to the Sarkus, a heartbeat seemed to echo through the walls as the very earth beneath them began to shake. Deeper and deeper the energy traveled, all the ways back to the R/T building. Some would say they felt the air stir as if alive, others more magically attuned understood that the air was answering to a call, a call for release. -------------------------- Message 157 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun Oct 5 19:49:08 2003 EDT From: Aetherean (#24859) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Fall from grace. Carried by the wind, fighting for his life the romany magister Devon was carried away from Morlith. His enemy, their enemy, had realized that the closer to the Sarkus he was, the stronger the magister would be... now carried away he was merely just another mage. Soulmechs and wastelanders alike, watched as the violent storm not seem for centuries carrying it's way to the dimensional nexus... of the Real/Time building. The tornado moved in a swath across the desert, shattering small shelters in its wake. A cry was heard perhaps in the wake of the explosion, as the entire thing smashed into the helipad... leaving two figures in its place to battle. -------------------------- Message 158 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon Oct 6 20:22:08 2003 EDT From: Clockwork (#22209) To: *storylines (#5236) Clockwork layed on his couch, surrounded by broken lightbulbs and strung out prostitutes. He had hit rock bottom. He pawned his equiptment off aside from one shotgun and a shell. The jib had taken over. -------------------------- Message 159 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue Oct 7 00:02:58 2003 EDT From: Dexter (#14882) To: *storylines (#5236) laid -------------------------- Message 160 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Oct 16 20:31:17 2003 EDT From: Elendil (#2237) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: One morning Elendil used his amazing class 999 faerie powers to destroy the entire world. The End. -------------------------- Message 161 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu Oct 16 22:12:48 2003 EDT From: Darkpaw (#24594) To: *storylines (#5236) He was only going to hit her over the head, take her rucksack, lock it, and revive her.Then hand it back to her with the suggestion that she keep her things safe. In his own twisted way, he was doing her a favor. He died for it, and lost his prize possession. Darkpaw retreated within his tent in the New Orleans cemetary, deciding it had been a mistake to try and be socialable again. --------------------------