From quinn@fazigu.org Wed Jul 05 14:39:21 2006 Return-path: Envelope-to: quinn@fazigu.org Delivery-date: Wed, 05 Jul 2006 14:39:21 -0400 Received: from yami.57thstreet.com ([216.110.12.54]) by work.fazigu.org with esmtp (Exim 4.50) id 1FyCHR-0004Eq-3P for quinn@fazigu.org; Wed, 05 Jul 2006 14:39:21 -0400 Received: from moo.ghostmoo.org (yami.57thstreet.com [216.110.12.54]) by yami.57thstreet.com (8.13.1/8.13.1) with SMTP id k65IwuBP012421 for ; Wed, 5 Jul 2006 18:58:56 GMT (envelope-from quinn@fazigu.org) Message-Id: <200607051858.k65IwuBP012421@yami.57thstreet.com> Date: Wed, 5 Jul 2006 13:58:56 -0400 From: "Quinn@Ghostwheel" To: quinn@fazigu.org Subject: Ghostwheel Message(s) 330 - 348 from *storylines (#5236) X-Mail-Agent: Ghostwheel (moo.ghostmoo.org 6969) X-Spam-Checker-Version: SpamAssassin 3.0.3 (2005-04-27) on work.fazigu.org X-Spam-Level: X-Spam-Status: No, score=-0.8 required=5.0 tests=AWL,BAYES_50 autolearn=ham version=3.0.3 Status: RO Content-Length: 31892 Lines: 658 Message 330 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat May 6 01:55:06 2006 EDT From: Alkina (#65436) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: The pearl of the soul of the world Alkina was in her tent when she felt the tremor. The heavy reverberation shaking the coral walls, making the very liquids of the ocean tremoring. Immediately she was out of her tent packing it up and straping it across her back. There was rubble everywhere. Fragile peices of sharp coral wall litering the sandy floors but she couldnt find the source of the tremors. At the end of the day she set up her tent on the ocean floor. underwater tides pulling and pushing at the material like thick wind. Resolving to try again in the morning, the dark skinned mariner woman, settling down for bed, and something glinted at her from a slight crack in the coral walls. Barely wide enough to squeeze through, the sides of the crack pressed dangerously close to her exposed arms, once through there were what seemed to be chambers and rooms. She felt her pulse jump as from nowhere an immense crab scuttled up and tried to attack her. Ducking as fast as she could into the next room she found her safety. Once again something glinted at her. She found it. After years of myth and legend. After prayers and seeking. The pearl. She knelt down on the sandy floor of the ocean cavern and began a prayer to her goddess. -------------------------- Message 331 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat May 6 03:02:08 2006 EDT From: Baron_Ozwater (#37252) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: One journey ends...and another... The tacked together tin and wood shack had always been a piece of him. He liked its smell, its look and put day after day into making it what it is. Yes he had liked his home here, but now he loved it. His feet moved slowly with fatigue as he took the last painful steps back to the hobble. How long had it been? It was longer than a month. Longer than months. Had it been a year? More? It didnt matter anymore, he was home. When dat happen? He thought. The island had been home, and this place just a new place. Regardless, it was home, and he was back. He unlocked the door and shuffled in. Dropping the bag to the ground he collapsed on the bed. He awoke in a panic, worried he had dreamed the return. Franticly thrashing around he screamed, Bock off or I bring ya bock as a shambler! His vision cleared and he recognized the draped fabrics and yellow painted walls. He sighed in relief. Was your rest good? Her voice calm and sweet. Dat it was. Where you been? He questioned the ethereal voice. I have been with you, but I could not help you." The voice "I wish that I could do more than guide you lover, but if Legba caught me interfering, hes wrath would be greater than you could bear. Then it would be all for nothing. I found it, he looks over at the satchel on the floor. It were right where ya tell me. His face whitens as his memories dance in font of him. Dat was a sacred place. We had NO right to desecrate it. Without so much as a breath he continues, I could smell da spirits in da air. Dar pain! Dare hopelessness. Tears well in his eyes as his throat gets tighter, Now da never move on, AND I DID DAT! Stop! She was calm and caring, but chillingly firm. It is unfortunate that some things must be done for this; But it IS for the greater good! IS IT? He screams. Dont tink me da fool. Erzulie? His tone accusing more than questioning. I knowed who he was da first time he grab me. He can fool some a da utters but not me. Id know does talons anywhere. They brought you here for a reason, saved you... Day?" The Baron cuts in, "I know who done it. He turns around looking for someone, Show yar rotten bones! Damn you Baron! I not gonna be ya puppet naw more! You want dis done, den you come ta me. Don't a send ya bitch to sweet talk in me ear! Watch your tongue! She warns him. This is what you where born to do. What dis shit? What some little Houngan gonna do. Bind me some little piss mage. Ya tink dat gonna be enough? Den I was wrong who da fool is! I donna even tink it in da power o some one like... Moonheart? She cuts him off. The realization of the scope of what they think they can do sinks in as his stomach sinks and the blood runs from his face. He stagers back to the bed and plops down. Madness. "Your right. There are those we can and will bring in and others beyond even our grasp, but you WILL continue. You Will remain silent and you WILL proceed. Their souls are in your hands." Silence. She was silent, and so was he. In the silence Baron Ozwater found no rest, no comfort and no peace. -------------------------- Message 332 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sun May 7 15:32:33 2006 EDT From: Heretic (#6143) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Rape and sexual harassment plots Please check this type of thing with the people your planning on playing with, if they say no do something else. I don't think we have any real minors at the moment but keep in mind one might show up sooner or later. H -------------------------- Message 333 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon May 8 20:57:00 2006 EDT From: Capi (#65438) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: mystery Anyone in the last week who's ventured close enough to the titanium walling of the inner wastes can hear the distant sounds of construction. Anyone who ventures closer than that gets a view of construction fencing and a few stern workers telling them to mind their own and move along. Through the slats of the fencing, if one really persisted, could see the foundations of a building being laid. Every so often a tall broad black man in a vivid purple suit can be seen pulling workers to the side and discussing blueprints and plans. -------------------------- Message 334 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue May 9 18:37:19 2006 EDT From: Capi (#65438) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: next Once more a loud ruckus is stirred in the outer wastes. Large crates are being delivered off the back of large frieght vehicles. The huge cages rock and clatter around. And growling and hissing can be heard from the inside of some. Off to the side the man in the bright purple business suit can be seen signing for the deliveries. "Now this is gonna be fun." He hands the clipboard back to the delivery man and goes inside. -------------------------- Message 335 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue May 9 18:46:39 2006 EDT From: FoxFire (#22153) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: A loss and gain Crossing her legs as she settles back into the seat upon Indigo, FoxFire makes her weekly trip to The Academie of Elemental. Sighing to herself as she stares out the window, a thousand thoughts whirl through her mind. About watching DarkReach while Rill and Moonheart are away. Her student. Her love. Her friends, those here and those long gone. And of course, Shandryl, her closest friend. 'Oh, my dear Shand, where have you been.' she sighs to herself as she now turns to realise that the hatch is now open, for the ship had landed in N'Orleans. She exits the ship and slowly makes her way to the Academie, taking in the sights and sounds that greet her every time she's here. As she gets closer to her destination, she senses something wrong within. Opening the door as quickly as she can, she bursts into the Academie, slowly looking around the library, noting everything she sees. Though nothing seems out of place, she still has a wryly feeling that something is not quite right. 'Shan?', she calls, slowly walking towards the desk, noting the large book set upon it, 'You here, Shan?' Before she reaches the desk, she notices a black mark in the shape of an 'S' scorched upon the floor, in front of the desk. She doesnot remove her eyes from this mark until she reaches the desk. Leaning down, she runs her fingers along it, noting the deepness of it. Standing up, she cannot hold back her emotions, tears slowly start streaming from her eyes, her heart knowing. When she places her hand upon the desk, it brushes up against the book sitting on it. Looking at it out of the corner of her eye, se shes a sheet of paper sticking out of it. 'She knows me too well.' FoxFire thought to herself. Upon ever visit, she would sit and read this book, 'The Elemental Magic'. Of the countless books in the library, this one was her favorite. Sitting down at the desk, she looks at the book, pondering what the note might say. After a while, she decides she had waited long enough, drawing the book to her and removing the note. Written in calligraphy on beautiful parchment paper in gold ink, the note read :" To my dear old friend, Foxy, If you are reading this, it means that whatever spell it was I was practicing went array, and that I am no longer with you, at least not in body. I shall miss you as much as you will miss me. I, of course, leave the Academie of Elements to you, and all that is within. Take good care, of everything. I know you will remember me, as you always have. Shandryl Her heart sank as she folded the note up and placed in back into the book. She sat there for some time, breathing in the air of the Elemet Acadamy, that now shall was hers to run. -------------------------- Message 336 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Tue May 9 22:27:22 2006 EDT From: Clayson (#17237) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Leaving Mona stared in the mirror, her age evident even under the soft lights of her cavern. The sign, a display of a simpleton, as if to draw some kind of fear, was thrown to the corner. "It's time to move on.." she whispered to herself. Knowing perhaps the Durandal would never return, his obsession with the dragons has surly brought his death. Opening her old wardrobe, nothing much left now after the thieves had their fun, she dug deep into the corners. There, hidden under some old clothes she found what she needed. Taking what she wanted, selling the rest, Mona took one last glance to the place she called home for the ten years. She smiled on the memories of all that came a'calling, the visits of many friends and enemies. A time when she was younger. As she headed down the path, the explosions took, the ground under her trembled, "bhy bye.." though her words where lost in the noise. Waiting for the ship, she chatted pleasantly with the island dwellers, some she knew, but most where strangers. It didn't matter now, she would never return. -------------------------- Message 337 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed May 10 06:09:22 2006 EDT From: Daryan (#41242) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: A dream of darkness... Fire. Burning brightly, all around. Licking at his bare skin. Threatening to consume him, if he let his guard down for even an instant. Wind. Whipping the flames higher and higher, a self-sustained hurricane. Whipping his hair around, threatening to drag him from the protective shell. Earth. Solid, red-hot underfoot. Offering no solace from the raging inferno. Sustaining the flames through sacrifice. Water. Sweat, evaporating to steam as soon as it left his body, scalding him in places. No soothing waves of ocean green, nor cool and calming streams. Angry, boiling water, searing his skin. Spirit. Rebelling against the strain, trying to force the man's will to break, force him to give in to the forces raging around him. Struggling to drive him into the flames, force him to feel their final, fatal embrace. Shadows. Cool, comforting, terrifying. Reaching out to caress him, then drawing back to lash out at him with needle-sharp whips of pain. Dancing all around him, the off-cast children of the flames. The hidden memories at the depths of his soul... At his feet, a non-descript form that might have been female. Was she the cause of this? Or the reason he was still fighting? He couldn't tell. All that mattered was keeping the elements at bay, making his own body give its all to protect, to shield, to give comfort, to keep harm at bay. To heal... Through the flames, a trio of figures emerged. The foremost, a dark-skinned man with silver beads in his hair. Behind and to his left, a woman, impossibly tall, impossibly beautiful, but... wrong, on a level it didn't take a magus to see. Behind them both, a man with long, silver-white hair and a shining gauntlet. A man with cold, hard, shining emerald eyes. A man wearing a long, black cloak... ~*~ Daryan awoke with a start, frantically searching in the night for something, anything to tell him that it had, in fact, been a dream. His seeking hands found the hand of his student, his beloved. Still blissfully asleep, and unaware of what had so very recently been going on inside her beloved's mind. Safe. Secure. -Home-. With a shudder, Daryan lay back down, carefully enfolding Norah in his arms. At his throat, the silver ring hung from its leather band, a symbol of a promise. A promise not even Hell itself would force him to break. Daryan drifted back to sleep, and dreamt of nothing. Tomorrow was a new day... A new day he would spend teaching his beloved. A new day he would spend protecting her. A new day... -------------------------- Message 338 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed May 10 23:22:33 2006 EDT From: Ezekiel (#53373) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Supply Run He flipped the weathered page, reading every word as if it was the most important word in the old book. His eyes strain as the light of the candle grew softer. He removes the glasses perched on his nose and rubbed his eyes. He stares at the flame. His stomach sinks with the knowledge that he will soon have to brave this world again. He needed supplies and that meant another trip to the den of depravity. He knew sooner or later he would have to face those reached souls. If only he could find another like himself. But were there any? He feared no. A twinge of sorrow, a moment of loneliness crept in and he allowed a thought to form. 'Is this all there is for me? Am I forsaken as they are?' He pushed it out of his mind. "Oh Lord, I have transgressed against you." He turned to the small figured nailed up and sacrificed for Man's sin. "I seek your grace and forgiveness." He removed the whip from the nightstand. "Forgive me?" He asks, lashing the whip against his own back. "Forgive me!?!" He pleads again, and again releases the crack of the whip. Scares not long healed, reopen letting fresh blood spill to the floor. "Forgive me?" He ask meekly, continuing the torment until he can't take anymore. He falls to the floor sobbing like a baby, crying himself to sleep. Tomorrow. He will go tomorrow and face the daemons. -------------------------- Message 339 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Thu May 11 05:10:15 2006 EDT From: Einar (#37205) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Flyers posted around. Flyers have been posted throughout the various places, such as the R/T round room, N'Orleans ect.. At the end of the flyer there are little tablets to rip off with the communicator number #32698 along with a E. For those that had a glimpse of the one running around putting up the flyers, it's Einar. Though, she doesn't appear like her 'normal' self, for she's running around in a long thermal shirt and emerging from the top of her head are two fuzzy erect doglike ears. Also with her is a large tiger, along with Lyraticu (The wolf). -------------------------- | WANTED! | | | | Large Metal Cage | | | | | | | |E|E|E|E|E|E|E|E|E|E|E|E | -------------------------- -------------------------- Message 341 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat May 13 16:30:15 2006 EDT From: Einar (#37205) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Shock Therapy Alongside the flyers for the 'Large Metal Cage' more have been placed around the various places. The flyers themselves are a neon green colour with bold black letters. For those that have a peek at the one putting up the flyers, it's Einar once more. Tucked within her arm there is a large bottle of absinthe, though most of it has been drank. Incoherant mummbling surfacing from her, while her steps are stumbling as she trudges along placing these flyers up. ___________________________ | | | SHOCK THERAPY! | | IT CAN WORK FOR YOU TOO! | | CLASSES BEGIN NOW! | | Location: R/T Infirmary | |Call Einar for more info. | |__________________________| -------------------------- Message 342 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon May 15 07:11:44 2006 EDT From: Moonheart (#20495) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: The Marriage of Moonheart and Rill All those that know the couple wake up with the knowledge that that they are now married and that it happened on a snow covered beach. M -------------------------- Message 343 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon May 15 07:12:52 2006 EDT From: Xavier (#37254) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Awww That's sweet. Now, where do we send the wedding gifts, eh? -------------------------- Message 344 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Mon May 15 07:41:09 2006 EDT From: FoxFire (#22153) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Wedding gift? What do you give a couple who has -everything-! I'm sure we'll come up with something. :) -------------------------- Message 346 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed May 17 07:48:45 2006 EDT From: Baron_Ozwater (#37252) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: How do you spell relief, L-O-A-S. The Baron storms in throwing his pack across the room. "Calm down lover." Her voice, the only part of her that was there sweet like a kiss on the forehead. "Don't let this get to you. This business with Laurent will be worked out in time." The Baron plops down on the edge of the bed. "Well done!" She a sures him, "I must admit, I wasn't sure you could do it." Silence "It -had- to he done. You can ignore their will no more than I can move an object." Her voice a mix of mocking and concern. The old man stairs down at the snake happily coiled around his leg. "And look, she is so happy to see you again." He watches, as his heart flutters back and froth from happiness to misery. "See, you do what you where asked, and you are rewarded. She is back. You aren't alone anymore." Giggles, "Ya day come trough for da Baron." His mind wanders back to earlier that night. "I asked ta help take a soul. Ta bypass dat wich supostta be. Fer dis day reward me?" "This is a step. One of many," She consoles his wounded pride. "You will have to make many of them to reach the end." "A Houngan suposta help! Help bring life inta da world. Help da sufferin' o utters. He does wat need ta be done, ta help utters ta get better, or pass on." His tone cold and angry. "And to punish the wicked and write wrongs done," she rebutts. "I no Bokkor. Stealin' and usin' da gifts is not wat a Houngan do." The images flow through his mind. Daryan taking the chilling sword, cutting the hand of Owen then Lilit. "I still taste her evil." His mind continues with their blood being pulled along the blade by Aksinya as his eyes blur. Sight changed, new prospective. With eyes focused to the ethereal, a figure strolls forward. Dark as night, his pained white face a light with a smile. Like a string on a puppet, the Baron's mouth opens but his words do not come. No words do form, but they aren't his. The stranger plays him like an organ. The Baron shakes his head trying to force the memories away, but they fight for life. Like wounds too fresh they continues. Slowly a chain of life comes to light. Forged in desperation, hate. He reaches for it, guiding it to a waiting blade. Like a throbbing vain it pulses and flows. In a flash it's severed. The neon shadows of the conjoined writhe as one becomes two again. Again the blade moves, and a black-lit shadow rise from the other. 'Now! Call it. Consume it,' the voice of the puppeteer rings in his head. His mouth opens without his consent and the shadow is drawn to him. Images, flashes of memories not his own course past his eyes. Glimpses of a life he never lived flow like water. Things and creatures alien even to this world are suddenly as familiar as his friends and loved ones. Faces, names beings, some as old as some Loas rattle in his brain. Too much! Pain! Anger! Hatred! He can no longer take it, and in an explosion of spirit and passion exspells her. His body released, the white faced figure strolls past him. Sweeping her up, he turns, his pich skin glistening as he smiles, 'Well done.' His image fades taking the Swan to the other side. The present snaps back and the Baron falls the rest of the way into bed. "She not gone." He tells the invisible woman. "He have her, but there still bits o her in here," he jabs his timple with a bony finger hard enough to bruise. "I can't forget wat I saw." "All victories have a cost." He wasn't sure if she was even trying to be gentle now. "It will fade with time. And it will get easier too." "Go away. An take da rest wit ya. I not want ta do any more." "We gave her back to you." The Baron looks down as the boa slithers up his leg to rest on his chest as the voice a sure him. "But you need time. I will quite the voices. For now. But you are -far- from done." Silence, save the flicker of a snake's tongue. In this silence he slipped into a long, hard, sleep. -------------------------- Message 347 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Wed May 17 15:47:56 2006 EDT From: Aksinya (#37211) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: The long road.. Whispering upon the invisible tendrils of wind the words of the spirits echoed throughout the lands. Then the voices of those spirits grew louder with each passing day that the Swan continued to wreck havoc. A beauty the Swan, challenged by none, and within her waves of chaos she fed upon the souls of her victims. She swept from them their souls, leaving behind the empty shell of their physical forms. The hunger would never satisfy her, for her heart was as black as the darkest of nights. It all began upon a night that none would forget, burned into memory as the beginning of the end for the one known as The Swan. Within the safe hold of the DarkReach Tower three mages that are known as Baron Ozwater, Aksinya, and Daryan that were often seen, came for matters of their own. The chattering spirits echoed within the mind of Baron Ozwater, their talk about the swan. >From there, the talk ignited about the swan. This and that, plan after plan, the final decision coming down to that she must be stopped. Amidst the conversation the new seeker, Daryan's student, Norah came into DarkReach. Hesitant at first, she asked only slight questions of what they spoke of, and given unto them ideas. The story unfolded like a movie before their eyes of how Owen came within this world and what the Swan had done to him. Daryan's words were brought to life by Baron's spell weaving. The story of how the Swan binded her life force to Owen so when one may pass on, the other in turn would do the same. And in this laid the problem that was set down onto the gathering of mages. A soft, hushed voice emerged through the ruckus and once again did the seeker known as Norah prove that her participation within this planning was key to its success. She spoke of the sword that Owen carries. From there the plan came to life, piece by piece the puzzle was put together. It was not a job for a single person, but a trio of the oddest collection of mages would pull together this. Behind the veil, preparations were being done for the event that would take place soon. Each doing their own part to make everything come together, some even working together. The secret lay amongst only four sets of ears, for if it ventured out then surely the plan would take an unexpecting, and not pleasant, twist. The locations, the props, everything must be done before they could even think of starting with the next few pieces of the puzzle. What the mages were not expecting indeed come true. For upon their way into the DarkReach tower there was the Swan herself blocking the entrance. None could go in, and none could go out. It left the three mages (Aksinya, Daryan, and Baron) to do something about her. Few of the mages ended up being injured, including Baron with an arrow being shot right into his bum. There laid before the DarkReach tower one of the main pieces, knocked out and strung across the hot sand. Once again another barrier suddenly crashed down upon the plan as the Druid known as Amberjohn took the unconscious body of the Swan. Demands were made from Aksinya for Amberjohn to hand over the body, but they were all in vain. Amberjohn rushed into the DarkReach tower, as well as the other mages. Arguments up rose, firing through the air like bullets amongst a war. A wave of peace washed across, or so it is thought, that an agreement was placed down. Amberjohn would take the unconscious body of the Swan and keep her that way until the time came for the ceremony to be performed. Perhaps no sleep came to those that night within their beds, or some had little restless sleep. It was a time of resting, but could one really rest with the knowledge of what was to come? Magic is an unstable force, never to be fully trusted into working the way you want. Nor has this type of plan ever been done before. The time had come to gain the final piece of this puzzle, Owen. The call was made to begin a meeting within the tavern known as The Naked Parrot. Rowdy was the bartender and the occupants that frequent the place, but it was the spot chosen to conduct the meeting. Daryan and Aksinya were the first to arrive. Down the steps came Owen, alongside him his wife known as Scorch. Explanations, to their best of abilities, arose from Daryan and Aksinya about what they needed from Owen and the plan at hand. It was indeed a long shot, but they had to take it. Suspicion grew like a plague across the couple, Owen and Scorch, of the intentions of Daryan and Aksinya. For especially the Necromancer known as Aksinya to be wishing to 'help mankind', truly something else must be amidst behind her of what she truly was doing this for. A savour in disguise came down the steps, 'lo and behold it was Baron. For the strangest thing occurred, Baron made sense. He explained in trusting words to both Scorch and Owen what was needed to be done, and the other questions that they asked. The decision had been made; Owen would participate willingly in this event. The time had come. The trio of mages, along with Owen headed out of the Naked Parrot to begin. The ship ride to New Genesis was for the most part, a silent one. Everyone began their preparations in their own way, gathering themselves for what about to occur in a mere matter of minutes. Within a clearing they arrived, and within the center iron chains were draped across the ground from within the earth. The final preparation was brought, delivery by Amberjohn before he departed, for he would take no place in this event. Bound within iron chains the Swan laid unconscious upon the ground until Daryan sent a zap to awaken her. The swan, Lilit, continued to upkeep her usual appearance to the best of her abilities. Holding herself regal as she spoke to her son, Owen. This was the first time that Owen had spoken to his mother, or has seen her to his memory. A reuniting of mother and son, but not the touching kind. Baron stripped of his clothes and began, chanting and beginning a beat. Owen and Lilit exchanged words throughout the entire affair, keeping a casual conversation. Daryan was handed, by Owen, the famous katana known as 'Whisper'. It was rumored to know whose spirit it belongs to. The sword was sliced across Owen's hand, drawing from him the life essence of blood to soak the blade. The sword then was drawn across the upper arm of Lilit, also drawing her blood upon the blade. Lilit's beauty, the shell that covered her, began to fade away. Piece by piece it fell from her, revealing the alien looking creature beneath. The iron chains burned at the places they rubbed against as she squirmed within them. Aksinya's hand followed the path the sword made, forcing the blood to coat the entire blade. Baron then binded the spirits to the blood. With a single swoop done by Daryan with the sword, the bond between Owen and Lilit was cut rendering their life forces no longer connected. Owen, shocked for a moment, stumbled back. What once was part of him so long now was not. Daryan handed the sword to Owen for the final part of the plan to be done. Owen then plunged the sword down into his mother's heart. Lilit's screams echoed throughout the clearing as she began to deteriate, falling into a lifeless slump that would no longer have a single heartbeat within it. The deed had been done. Owen sheathed the sword, bowed and then left the clearing. The mages then were left with the body, and their own to take care of. After everything was settled, the trio of mages met within the Graveyard of N'Orleans. Aksinya garbed within a cloak of brilliant white, carrying the corpse within her arms. Baron performed his own part within this, as did each in turn. Daryan raised from the ground a mausoleum of black cold iron to house the body. Aksinya scorched into the iron the name 'Lilit' along with runes. Other things were set in place to assure that none living nor dead would enter within the building nor would the corpse be free to leave. It seemed as if it was the end of this whole ordeal. Though, truly is there an end? Or is this merely the beginning? -------------------------- Message 348 from *storylines (#5236): Date: Sat May 20 22:27:11 2006 EDT From: Amberjohn (#37251) To: *storylines (#5236) Subject: Shield of Faith As he had planned, John reached his favorite spot on the cliffs just a few minutes before sunset. He had an hour or so before he had to meet Norah and Daryan and wanted to clear his head before talking to anyone else. Ydhana's grief had been like a physical miasma around her, no matter how she tried to play at being "normal". Not even discussing the Swan's death had been enough to snap her out of her misery, and in the end John had left without doing her much good. And now as he sat down on a smooth rock and tried to relax his body and mind before facing Norah and Daryan, John coudn't help wondering whether he was doing anybody any good. Einar, Norah, Daryan, Ydhana. All grieving and hurting in so many ways and he was helpless to heal them. Not for the first time, he wished he was a warrior. The rational part of his brain said that there were enough warriors in the world, and not even they were enough to protect people from being hurt. But there was nothing rational about his need to protect those who had already borne so much pain and who he knew would eventually have to bear more. John's breathing slowed and evened out, he consciously matched inhale and exhale to the rhythm of the waves. Fighting wasn't his job. His job was to protect and heal. Heal the earth and heal those who walk across it. Vengeance belonged to other men. He calmed further as he repeated that in his mind. Heal, protect, shelter. Leave vengeance to other men. Ceridwen would give him the strength he needed to shield those under his care. Breathing with the sea and listening to the sounds of the forest behind him, John felt a certainty settle over him that was almost like peace. He would protect the people in his care, and let go of the need for retribution. That was his job, his path. --------------------------