ACTION, ADVENTURE, EXCITEMENT PART I - Ch. 7 Date: Tue, 26 Nov 1996 21:09:11 -0800 (93) From: "L.J. Wolfe" At 07:16 PM 11/26/96 -0800, Xzerrion wrote: >On Tue, 26 Nov 1996, KnightShift (Michael Jon Knight) wrote: > >>The Matron stands aghast, as the spiders crumble into black dust. >>The KnightShift looks at the silver wolf, who gazes up at him, tail >>wagging. >> >>"You name wouldn't be 'Sparky', would it?" he asks, stroking the >>wolf's fur again. <*Actually, it's Leeta.*> KnightShift hears an amused "voice" through the link and looks over at Morgan. She grins and shakes her head, and he realizes it was in fact the wolf "speaking" to him. <*These two never cease to amaze me.*> This time, the "voice" is recognizably Morgan's. >>The KnightShift >> > >*Resistance is futile. Too many volts around* Morgan spares a moment to send them both an image of the peanut cannon back at Callahan's , loaded and awaiting their return. >Cutter springs at Drisonel at seeing Xzerrion fall, and takes a >vicious bite out of her arm before the drow elf can manage to shake >the wolf off. Her current source temporarily gone, Morgan goes to Xzerrion. She's relieved to see him move again as she reaches him, but he gently waves her off as she tries to check his wounds. >Angrily, Drisonel begins an arcane chant. The ground in front of the >Callahanians shimmers as a shadowy demonic shape begins to form.. <*Cutter, here. I may need you. Leeta, stay with KnightShift. Be my eyes in case I get distracted here.*> >Meanwhile, Xzerrion carefully, painfully inches his favorite dagger, >Cobra, from his boot. As the demon is almost ready to solidify, >Xzerrion hurls the dagger, putting all his physical and magical >strength behind it. The dagger buries itself deep into Drisonel's >shoulder and in that instant, she loses control of the demon, which >naturally turns on its summoner. <*Nice shot.!*> :-) >'Your troubles are just beginning, Matron,' Xzerrion chuckles weakly. >'That dagger was poisoned.' > >Then Xzerrion slumps over. <*Stay with me, Xzerrion. This is _no_ time to be taking a nap.*> Morgan gently rolls her comrad over and begins gingerly removing bits of chared clothing so she can better judge the extent of his injuries. (OOC: Xzerrion, your injuries, your call. I'll follow your lead on this.) =========================== Date: Wed, 27 Nov 1996 01:55:11 +0000 (94?) From: Roland X Quoth the Wolfe: ><*Stay with me, Xzerrion. This is _no_ time to be taking a nap.*> >Morgan gently rolls her comrad over and begins gingerly removing bits >of chared clothing so she can better judge the extent of his >injuries. > >(OOC: Xzerrion, your injuries, your call. I'll follow your lead on >this.) *Light have mercy,* Roland swears, firing means of blinding white light into the shadow spiders. *Keep working, Morgan, I'll cover you!* Grimly, he works the front lines of the assault. Again. /Welcome back, Roland,/ he thinks with a sigh. =========================== Date: Wed, 27 Nov 1996 07:07:58 -0800 (95) From: "Dane R. Anderson" The Stardragon pauses in its task of clearing the sky of enemy forces. A shudder passes through its body. It is experiencing a sensation that it was afraid would happen after its fight with the Adversary. It used up too much energy and the little dribs and drabs it aquired, by consuming the nearby hills and the bodies of the enemies that have touched it, cannot even be considered appetizers. Its "voice" rings out "I HUNGER" compeletly overpowering all other sound on the battle field. The psionic component of its "voice" spans all mental channels, and is very "loud" indeed. The Stardragon looks up. A wyrm hole appears in the high atmosphere. On the other "side" a planet can be seen in the middle distance, beyond it a giant blue-white star. The Stardragon plunges though the wyrm hole. It is clear that the Stardragon is receeding in distance, but rather than appearing to grow smaller, it seems to be getting larger. As the dragon form reaches the planet, its mouth gapes wide, engulfing the planet. The Stardragon passes through the location of the planet, leaving nothing in its wake. It moves on, headed towards the star still growing larger. Again it opens its jaws, to engulf the star. The Stardragon can be seen to chew a small bright "something". Moments later the dragon form seems to shrink in size. The other end of the wyrm hole seems to shift, towards the last visible location of the dragon. seconds later the Stardragon pops through the wyrm hole. Again its small "voice" can be heard "Ahhh! That was tasty". Its hunger satisfied, it surveys the battle and decides that some new affect is needed. It "says" a few words and those who battle the forces of the adversary feel a force surrounding them muffeling slightly the sounds of the battle. Then the Stardragon begins emitting a 14 cycle note. The Callahanians can just barely feel it, protected by the magic of the Stardragon, but the forces of the enemy recieve the full force. 10000 db at ground level, many curl up into feotal balls terrified. Most just run in terror. =========================== Date: Wed, 27 Nov 96 19:41:51 -0000 (96) From: Roland X Quoth the Stardragon (duc020@bdvdc04i.ca.boeing.co): >The Stardragon looks up. A wyrm hole appears in the high atmosphere. >On the other "side" a planet can be seen in the middle distance, >beyond it a giant blue-white star. The Stardragon plunges though the >wyrm hole. It is clear that the Stardragon is receeding in distance, >but rather than appearing to grow smaller, it seems to be getting >larger. As the dragon form reaches the planet, its mouth gapes wide, >engulfing the planet. The Stardragon passes through the location of >the planet, leaving nothing in its wake. It moves on, headed towards >the star still growing larger. Again it opens its jaws, to engulf the >star. The Stardragon can be seen to chew a small bright "something". >Moments later the dragon form seems to shrink in size. The other end >of the wyrm hole seems to shift, towards the last visible location of >the dragon. Seconds later the Stardragon pops through the wyrm hole. Roland watches this in growing alarm; though he nearly worshiped the great warrior of Light, and he is certain that there were no inhabitabts in the system, the only thing he can think of is an old memory, coming unbidden...the corrupted Phoenix Force, devouring a star system to sate its appetite... >Again its small "voice" can be heard "Ahhh! That was tasty". Its >hunger satisfied, it surveys the battle and decides that some new >affect is needed. It "says" a few words and those who battle the >forces of the adversary feel a force surrounding them muffeling >slightly the sounds of the battle. Then the Stardragon begins >emitting a 14 cycle note. The Callahanians can just barely feel it, >protected by the magic of the Stardragon, but the forces of the enemy >recieve the full force. 10000 db at ground level, many curl up into >feotal balls terrified. Most just run in terror. Roland's thoughts return to the battlefield. He watches as the few remaining grunt soldiers are neutralized; only the remnants of the Adversary's elite (still an impressive cadre) are able to withstand the assault. /Why are they still here?/ he wonders, watching them retreat and regroup. /The only thing worth taking on this barren world is gone, and soon the new Guardians will be returning to claim their world. What in the name of the Light is going on?/ "Gateways," he hears, and a enormous spiderleg slams into him. Roland groans, clutching his side. "What...?" Shadow spiders, unaffected by the sound, circle him. "Not all beings possess the power to travel the Ways, young Eternal. This orb has become a nexus of elseworlds, and many advantages could be gained from control of such a place..." "Fine," Roland growls. *You're welcome to it...for the day you'll be able to keep it. By then, the Guardians will have returned, and you-* "We," he hears, and _things_ form in the shadows, "will be ready for them." *Oh great,* Roland sighs, *just sprocking GREAT! Folx, we have a BIG problem here! Those Dark Sidhe? I think they've allied with the Babylon ficton's Shadows!* =========================== Date: Wed, 27 Nov 1996 17:54:46 -0800 (97) From: "L.J. Wolfe" At 07:41 PM 11/27/96 -0000, Roland X wrote: > *Oh great,* Roland sighs, *just sprocking GREAT! Folx, we have a >BIG problem here! Those Dark Sidhe? I think they've allied with the >Babylon ficton's Shadows!* <*I have a nasty feeling you're right, Roland. When Drisonel summoned _these_ beasties, my first thought was "a cross between a spider and your worst nightmare." And then the way they screamed....*> Morgan shudders briefly. <*Time to fall back and regroup? Gods, _do_ we have time to regroup? Most of us are here anyway, thank the Light, but no one's heard from Stranger in a while. And I don't know yet how badly _this_ one got himself hurt.*> She manages a smile. <*At least we know better than to call on any Vorlons at this point.*> =========================== Date: Thu, 28 Nov 96 12:34:20 -0000 (98) From: Roland X ><*Time to fall back and regroup? Gods, _do_ we have time to regroup? >Most of us are here anyway, thank the Light, but no one's heard from >Stranger in a while. And I don't know yet how badly _this_ one got >himself hurt.*> > >She manages a smile. <*At least we know better than to call on any >Vorlons at this point.*> Roland thinks desperately. *Shadows...Shadows...how do we fight Shadows...* Roland's features suddenly break into a wide smile. *Telepathy. *Quick, everyone, 'shout' as loudly as your minds can manage!* Roland follows his own advice, and soon two Shadows are fleeing, chittering wildly. *Clever, youth,* he hears in reply to his third 'shout.' *What-?* Roland thinks in confusion. *Ally,* it replies. *War of Light and Shadow is wrong. Both necessary. Help one another?* *Yes!* Roland suddenly understands the Shadow weakness to telepathy...Shadow empathy approaches zero so closely that any sort of telepathy is sensory overload. A 'good' Shadow-or at least one who understands other beings-is capable of withstanding the thoughts of others. *Ideas?* *No path home without Adversary. Take us back?* Roland smiles... (OOC: You folx want to wrap this thread up, or is everybody still having fun saving the universe? ) =========================== Date: Thu, 28 Nov 1996 11:52:50 -0800 (99) From: "L.J. Wolfe" At 12:34 PM 11/28/96 -0000, Roland wrote: > *Ally,* it replies. *War of Light and Shadow is wrong. Both >necessary. Help one another?* > *Yes!* Roland suddenly understands the Shadow weakness to >telepathy...Shadow empathy approaches zero so closely that any sort >of telepathy is sensory overload. A 'good' Shadow-or at least one who >understands other beings-is capable of withstanding the thoughts of >others. *Ideas?* > *No path home without Adversary. Take us back?* > Roland smiles... Morgan, a strong believer in a little healthy paranoia :-), sends, <*Both _are_ necessary, but in the proper balance. Dark needs to be held in check, lest it overpower Light. Tread this ground carefully, my friend.*> (Hey, what happened to that demon that turned on Drisonel? If he's still rampaging around we may need to do something about him.) > (OOC: You folx want to wrap this thread up, or is everybody still >having fun saving the universe? ) Also OOC: I am, at least (having fun, that is)! I have a feeling we'll get more active participation once the student contingent gets through finals. If the Callahanian Army of Light wants, we could always wrap this up, go have a victory party, and then have some other hell break loose. Xzerrion, let me know how bad you're hurt. I should know by now :-). And Happy Thanksgiving to all concerned! =========================== Date: Thu, 28 Nov 1996 13:01:49 -0800 (PST) (100) From: Paul Campbell On Thu, 28 Nov 1996, L.J. Wolfe wrote: >At 12:34 PM 11/28/96 -0000, Roland wrote: >>>> *Oh great,* Roland sighs, *just sprocking GREAT! Folx, we have >>>a BIG problem here! Those Dark Sidhe? I think they've allied with >>>the Babylon ficton's Shadows!* >>> >>><*I have a nasty feeling you're right, Roland. Xzerrion's eyes spring momentarily open. *Shadows? Just bloody wonderful. I'll be fine in a minute or two, just let me get to my feet.* Xzerrion staggers, catching himself on Morgan's arm. *Or maybe not ... what the hell did I do with that amulet? I think it's still safe for me to use a little of it's power to hold myself together ... just smack me if I start behaving a little ... odd.* >> *No path home without Adversary. Take us back?* >> Roland smiles... *If these critters can wait a while, I can probly make a gateway. I sure don't want them here, and whatever hell that spawned these folx is welcome to them.* >(Hey, what happened to that demon that turned on Drisonel? If he's >still rampaging around we may need to do something about him.) Oh yeah, that thing. Guess it's my thread :) The demon siezes Drisonel in its claws, and raises her over its head, shaking her as she struggles weakly. 'You called me from my nice warm bed to fight in this wasteland??!! Why, I ought to ...' 'Wait a moment.' Xzerrion interrupts. 'You can eat her if you like, just give me my dagger back first :)' The demon snarls, but pulls out the dagger, tossing it at Xzerrion's feet before returning its attention to its intended lunch. 'Please, help me!!!' Drisonel screams. *OK folks,* Xzerrion asks. *Should we help this one, or let the demon drag her back to the Abyss?* >> (OOC: You folx want to wrap this thread up, or is everybody still >>having fun saving the universe? ) > >Also OOC: I am, at least (having fun, that is)! I have a feeling >we'll get more active participation once the student contingent gets >through finals. I'm having fun. I just may be absent a couple days, as I'm home for Thanksgiving (also why I haven't let anyone know how badly Drisonel hurt me). >Xzerrion, let me know how bad you're hurt. I should know by now :-). I know, I know, just now got to a 'puter :) =========================== From: Martin Gerster (101) Date: Thu, 28 Nov 96 16:05:18 PST Allan Scott/Sentinel's ring appears/arrives/teleports onto the ring-finger of Dhyrclhanc's right "hand". Dhyrclhanc's face is instantly addorned by another one of the Lensdragon's awe-inspiring smiles (not a sight for the faint-of-heart). Immeadiatly (sp?) after adjusting it's size for the larger diameter of Dhyrclhanc's ring-finger, the "First-Ring" blazes into life. Instantly, Dhyrclhanc's Aspect; the eerie emerald shadow cast seemingly by some eldrich horor or elder dragon, also erupts into being. This time, the masive, firery physical manifestation of Dhyrclhanc's Lens-magnified psychic abilities seems more jade than emerald and more majestic and distinct than before. Dhyrclhanc's Lens choses this moment to join into the chromatic chorus and bursts into the ivory/ice-white brightness of a small star. /Sentinel's Ring, where is Roland, Xzercion (sp?), KnightShift and Morgan?/ psionicly queries the draconian Lensman. An instant replay of the actions taking place in the last five posts appears on a movie screen inside the Lensdragon's mind. /Palatine and Taksis!/ The Lensdragon Oaths, upon seeing the deity-backed attack by the Drow Priestess and her Underdark minions. /Well then, Ring, take me to them!/ A turquose etched entrance into hyperspace appears before the Yrth native, and when the adolecent dragon passes through it he is side by side with Roland X. Flying in the airspace over Morgan, Knightshift, and the prone and injured Xzercion (sp?). Roland appears shocked to see the Lensdragon next to him so soon after he sent Sentinel's Ring to look for the draconian Lensman. /Forgive my sudden appearence, fellow Immortal, but it appears you could use my aid here. On several fronts, from the look of things. Thanks to the Stardragon, my conflict with the Omega-class Sentinel robots was cut short. Obviously, it's going to be a little more difficult to convince these Dark Sidhe to leave us alone!/ Turning his attention from his fellow Callahanian to the giant battle-spiders summoned/created by the Dark Elven Priestess from Faerun, Dhyrclhanc gestures with his right arm and hand. Once again, the "First-Ring" comes alive creating an energy field sharply etched in turquose around Dhyrclhanc's right-hand. Like the Stardragon before him, the power the Lensdragon calls upon manifests itself not just as light but also as sound. High in the mHz and kHz ranges the draconain Lensman constructs a disturbance. Shards of sharp, bright jade/emerald/turquose force beams leap from Dhyrclanc's right-hand. Several of the more canine and lupine figures on the battlefeild, both friend and foe, begin to sheild their ears from the high-pitched squeel (sp?) which is now audible, at least to them. Several of the enemy battle-spiders begin to buckle and cringe, both from the audial assault and the painfully sharp, force "spikes" Dhyrclhanc and "his" ring is heaving (sp?) at them. At least half of the battle-spiders are now either crumpled to the ground, unconscious from the Lensdragon's attacks or are fleeing into the distance. Strugling to get away from this new foe who can throw light and noise at them. /Roland, you think you can take care of the rest of these things? I'm going down to see what aid I can supply to Morgan and her patient!/ =========================== Date: Thu, 28 Nov 96 16:06:39 PST (102) From: Martin Gerster The mental voice of Dhyrclhanc "appears" inside everyone's mind. /Now, I know why I was tempted to call these things "battle-crabs". I knew they reminded me of something. Well, I don't know about the rest of you rummies but the B5 'Shadows' were exactly the kind of thing I was trained to fight against as a Lensman. Now that my Lensman TP abilities are enhanced by my possession of Sentinel's Ring, I'm sure willing to stay and fight the good fight. Besides Stardragon, albeit his/her uncomfortable similarities to the Dark Phoenix, are there any other Cosmicly-Powered Callahanians here who are willing to help me make sure the 'Shadows" don't take Oa without one @#&$%* of a fight? Oh, I knew "Kosh Classic" and I mourned his appearent (sp?) passing. If I have anything to do about it, after this conflict is resolved completly I'm heading straight for the Babylon 5 "fiction" and halting the rest of the Vorlon's Cosmic Jyhad!/ =========================== Date: Thu, 28 Nov 96 18:43:35 PST (103) From: Martin Gerster Dhyrclhanc the Lensdragon lands next to Morgan, who is tending to the prostate Xzerrion's wounds. The wolf-woman is suprized at the arivial of the draconian Lensman and her beasts move into defencive positions to protect their mistress from the percieved enemy. "Hush, cousins," anounces Dhyrclhanc, speaking out-loud for the first time in what feels like ages, "I am here as a threat to neither you, your mistress, nor your mistress' allies." The Lensdragon's Lens shimmers as he speaks to Morgan's "watch-wolves". The adolecent dragon turns to speak to Morgan, herself. "Milady, obviously my battle prowess will be needed elsewhere in this combat. However, the suffering being experienced by the fallen warriors in this conflict I could no longer ignore." The Lendragon reaches into his dragon-sized dufflebag where he retrieves a large notebook-sized piece of technology and hands it to Morgan. "I have perceved you to be amongst the many healer/warriors on the field-of-battle this day. What you see before you is the product of the greatest medical technology my adopted 'fiction' can produce. It is a computerized medical kit, it contains a voice-activated CPU knowlegable in the treatment of various ailments and injuries. Within it is various healing medications in hypo-pnuematic spray tubes and hi-tech bandage/splint/cast devices in addition to the normal contents of any standard first-aid kit. I hope this helps you in your tasks. I am also offering my services as transport to our place of regroupment." The adolecent dragon cocks his head, his Lens shines brightly this time as Dhyrclhanc sends a telepathic mesage to Roland; /Hey Roland, exactly where are we "straticaly retreating" to?/ (OOC: Roland, I'm all for having a victory party at the Place afterwards, but let's all tie up these loose ends first. Seeing how it's the Shadows we're now fighting, I'm for taking the combat into orbit. I'm pretty sure the Stardragon would back me up but would anyone else like to join me? At least it would give evryone in that Federation starship in orbit something to do.) =========================== Date: Thu, 28 Nov 96 22:18:25 -0000 (104) From: Roland X First, quoth Lady Morgan (replying to my post): >> *No path home without Adversary. Take us back?* >> Roland smiles... > >Morgan, a strong believer in a little healthy paranoia :-), sends, ><*Both _are_ necessary, but in the proper balance. Dark needs to be >held in check, lest it overpower Light. Tread this ground carefully, >my friend.*> Roland nods. "Worth the risk. But I'll be careful." Then sayeth Xzerrion: >*If these critters can wait a while, I can probly make a gateway. I >sure don't want them here, and whatever hell that spawned these folx >is welcome to them.* "No sweat, Xzerrion, I got 'em." Roland concentrates, examining the agreeable Shadow's mind for deception. It seems to accept the probe, and Roland finds only a desire to return to its original purpose. Finally, the Lensdragon spake: >The adolecent dragon cocks his head, his Lens shines brightly this >time as Dhyrclhanc sends a telepathic mesage to Roland; > >/Hey Roland, exactly where are we "straticaly retreating" to?/ Roland smiles dangerously. "So who's retreating?" Taking the Shadow by the...hand...he grabs the remaining Shadows with TK while their 'leader' calms the warrior constructs (true Shadows would have been considerably more dangerous) and world- walks them back to Za'ha'dun. Then he dances among the Dark Sidhe, broadcasting light and power in every direction. *No sweat, Dhyrclhanc, these clowns are easy-* A lance of blue-gray power tears at reality around Roland. Only his forcefield protects him from being atomized; even so, he obviously feels the effort. "Wh-what-?" A Shadow hovers above him. "Not all were stranded, youth. Some can swim worlds as easily as your kind." "For a Shadow," Roland snarls, "that was practically a monologue. Obviously, though, you can't bring others." "Not all agree," it hisses. "Interference. Nexus will solve problem. Yield." Roland psi-screams at the thing; it spirals away in agony. "Damn. _That's_ gonna be a problem..." Finally, Xzerrion noted: >The demon snarls, but pulls out the dagger, tossing it at Xzerrion's >feet before returning its attention to its intended lunch. > >'Please, help me!!!' Drisonel screams. > >*OK folks,* Xzerrion asks. *Should we help this one, or let the demon >drag her back to the Abyss?* Roland sighs. *I always was a sucker for a damsel in distress. Even a Shadow Court player.* Roland vaults over the creature, grabbing Drisonel from its talons, replacing her with a small dinosaur from a nearby ficton. "There, that's _much_ more meat than she is. More docile, too." Drisonel's eyes dart toward Roland; otherwise, she doesn't move. "Oh, you. You didn't think I'd _trust_ you, did you? You're snugly wrapped inside a TK field. You won't be doing much spellcasting or poison throwing until Xzerrion decides otherwise." =========================== Date: Thu, 28 Nov 96 22:23:19 -0000 (105) From: Roland X >The mental voice of Dhyrclhanc "appears" inside everyone's mind. > >/Now, I know why I was tempted to call these things "battle-crabs". >I knew they reminded me of something. Well, I don't know about the >rest of you rummies but the B5 'Shadows' were exactly the kind of >thing I was trained to fight against as a Lensman. Now that my >Lensman TP abilities are enhanced by my possession of Sentinel's >Ring, I'm sure willing to stay and fight the good fight. Besides >Stardragon, albeit his/her uncomfortable similarities to the Dark >Phoenix, are there any other Cosmicly-Powered Callahanians here who >are willing to help me make sure the 'Shadows" don't take Oa without >one @#&$%* of a fight? Oh, I knew "Kosh Classic" and I mourned his >appearent (sp?) passing. If I have anything to do about it, after >this conflict is resolved completly I'm heading straight for the >Babylon 5 "fiction" and halting the rest of the Vorlon's Cosmic >Jyhad!/ *I think the orbital forces are doing well...my-encounter- with the Holocaust Brand eliminated their flagship.* Roland shudders. *The Shadows aren't a problem...for the most part... the only real threat remaining seems to be the Dark Sidhe. And I have a plan for them...* (OOC: Hey Dhyrclhanc, wait'll you see my epilogue! Also, I have a plan that will allow us to be victorious on Oa and still allow the battle to continue! AAE, part II- War in Arcadia! Any takers?) =========================== Date: Thu, 28 Nov 1996 22:28:14 -0600 (CST) (108 but belongs here) From: The Renaissance Man (via grammarfascist) From: Roland X ] *Oh great,* Roland sighs, *just sprocking GREAT! Folx, we have a ]BIG problem here! Those Dark Sidhe? I think they've allied with the ]Babylon ficton's Shadows!* In the Place, Alaric is sitting contentedly in the hot tub enjoying the attentions of several fellow Callahanians of the fairer sex. Without warning, a shimmer of golden light coalesces into a robed figure, standing about ankle-deep in the hot tub. An elaborately carved bony crest encircles most of his bald head. "Excuse me, ladies," the apparition intones sonorously. "I hope you don't mind me joining you in this unannounced manner. But don't worry, I'm not really here, you know, don't mind me. "All except you, that is," the figure continues, turning to Alaric. "While I would be the last to cast aspersions upon the benefits of the soul of relaxation and such fair company, young man, I believe your attention is required elsewhere. The great machine has made me aware of apparent intervention by the Shadows, in a conflict upon a worldcurrently being defended by a number of your compatriots. I suggest you go and assist them." Alaric looks doubtful. "Well, I don't know," he begins. "My avatar, bearer of the Black Sword, is sleeping rather deeply, and I'm really not equipped to assist them much. Besides, they seem to be taking care of things pretty well, from what I can see - " Draal cuts him off as though he was not speaking. "But you do not see what I see through the great machine," he says. "You have not been needed thus far, but you will be. I have already made arrangements for you to assist in the manner in which you can do the most good. I REALLY must insist that you go. "I suggest, in fact, that it would be a very good idea if you were to go _NOW_." He looks sternly down at Alaric. "I don't like to be kept waiting, you know." Alaric shrugs, and bows to the inevitable. "All right," he accedes. "What do you need me to do?" "Just stand up," Draal replies, "and step through this portal." As he speaks, a ring of opalescent light appears, its lower edge just below the water surface. Where the water meets the plane of the ring, it hisses and seethes, but does not seem to pass through. "Oh," Draal adds drily as he fades out, "and put on your uniform when you reach the other side, there's a good boy. Proper decorum and all that, you know." With a sigh, Alaric excuses himself and steps through the evanescent ring, which closes silently behind him. He finds himself in a small, rather spartanly appointed cabin. On the wall to his left, a screen is blinking insistently and chiming for his attention. "Yes?" he answers. The screen clears to show a woman in a uniform similar to the ones hanging in the small open closet. "Captain, you're needed on the bridge. We're approaching the hyperspace coordinates of the target area. Is everything allright? We picked up an unusual energy signature from your quarters...." "Everything's fine," Alaric replies, thinking fast. "Must have been a sensor glitch caused by stray energy from hyperspace. Run a level one diagnostic on the internal sensors, would you? I'll be right there." "Aye, sir," comes the reply, and the screen shuts off. With a feeling of having been shanghai'd, Alaric steps over to the closet and takes out the first uniform he comes to. It looks to be a fair fit. The stat bar is gold. "NVA," he mutters as he dresses quickly. "Never Volunteer for Anything." A few minutes later, he is standing on the bridge of what is quite clearly a warship. About half the crew members present are Rangers; three of these, and two of the others, are Minbari. Two Narns, a Drazi and a Brakiri are also among the bridge crew. Viewscreens show other ships in formation nearby. Names are visible on several of the sleek, mottled ships - Horatius, Nalden, Valley Forge, Cuchullain, Soreel, and others. "All right," Alaric says, taking the initiative, "what's the situation?" "We're at the target co-ordinates, with no sign of enemy activity yet," the woman who spoke on the intercom earlier replies. "The squadron is ready to deploy on your order. Fighters are prepped and ready. Telepaths are standing by. Several neutrino traces detected, but they're hours old." "Well," Alaric replies, "no time like the present. Take us in. Entry point over the north pole. Have the Soreel, the Valley Forge, ..." He scans the screens. "... and the Granth launch their fighters for cover as we come through." High in Oa's northern skies, a dozen swirling blue jump-points appear.... =========================== Date: Thu, 28 Nov 1996 19:32:25 -0800 (106) From: rolandx@ix.netcom.com (Roland X) alaric@babylon5.babcom.com (The Renaissance Man) wrote: >High in Oa's northern skies, a dozen swirling blue jump-points >appear.... *Finally! Alaric, this is Roland. The ground situation is under control-* Roland dodges a Drow's blade- *-for the most part. I'm pretty sure the Shadows down here are gone, but we haven't heard a report from our orbital forces for hours. You should have two or three GLs for backup and a pair of carriers in command up there. Don't know how many bogies we have, but you shouldn't have more than a few left... Ferengi, Cardassian, maybe a Centauri or two. Good luck...and welcome to the party!* =========================== Date: Thu, 28 Nov 1996 22:57:08 +0000 (107) From: Silence Silence finally manages to work her way through a knot of the dark elves and drops down on the ground next to Xzerrion and Morgan. Her eyes widen at the sight of the marvelous medical equipment, but she decides that there will be time to wonder later; right now, she'll stick with what she knows. Carefully, she begins to examine Xzerrion, not sure where he's hurt or how. (OOC: I personally can't _wait_ to get back to the warmth of the fireplace in Callahan's. Any sort of wrap-up that anyone wants to work out is fine with me. As for going astral, that's not one of my talents, so the rest of you will have to work that one out on your own; sorry. (Folks, this has just been _marvelous_ fun. Thanks to all of you.) =========================== Date: Thu, 28 Nov 1996 20:46:40 -0800 (109) From: "L.J. Wolfe" At 01:01 PM 11/28/96 -0800, Xzerrion wrote: >Xzerrion's eyes spring momentarily open. *Shadows? Just bloody >wonderful. I'll be fine in a minute or two, just let me get to my >feet.* Xzerrion staggers, catching himself on Morgan's arm. *Or maybe >not ... what the hell did I do with that amulet? I think it's still >safe for me to use a little of it's power to hold myself together ... >just smack me if I start behaving a little ... odd.* And then at 10:57 PM 11/28/96 +0000, Silence wrote: >Silence finally manages to work her way through a knot of the dark >elves and drops down on the ground next to Xzerrion and Morgan. Her >eyes widen at the sight of the marvelous medical equipment, but she >decides that there will be time to wonder later; right now, she'll >stick with what she knows. Carefully, she begins to examine Xzerrion, >not sure where he's hurt or how. <*Glad you could make it, Silence.*> Morgan smiles. <*I think I've about got this think figured out. If I read it right, somehow he's managed to come out of this with reasonably minor injuries. I think there was a bit of a concussion, but I've already taken care of the burns. Surface stuff, no big problem. It's good to have a more experienced healer here, though.*> >(OOC: I personally can't _wait_ to get back to the warmth of the >fireplace in Callahan's. Any sort of wrap-up that anyone wants to >work out is fine with me. As for going astral, that's not one of my >talents, so the rest of you will have to work that one out on your >own; sorry. >(Folks, this has just been _marvelous_ fun. Thanks to all of you.) and Roland wrote: >Also, I have a plan that will allow us to be victorious on Oa and >still allow the battle to continue! AAE, part II-War in Arcadia! Any >takers?) The Greywolf leaves Xzerrion in Silence's expert care, and turns to Roland, grinning ferally (sp?). <*Sounds like fun! What loose ends do we need to cover? The Shadow are as under control as I think they're going to get, I assume you'll dispose of _that_ (she gestures toward the helpless Matron) properly, Alaric shouldn't have any trouble with what's left of the fleet... Does that about cover it?*> She thinks for a moment, running a mental inventory. <*Frack. Stranger! IIRC, last time anyone saw him he said he was off to walk into a trap. That was ages ago.*> She frowns. <*We can't just leave this fiction without knowing what's happened to him, but OTOH we can't really interfere in his showdown with Greuber.*> Morgan's fingers tap restlessly, then she lifts her head and takes a deep breath. <*I'm going to see if I can pick anything up. Cutter, Leeta, I'll need your help on this.*> She kneels between the wolves, a hand on each head, and closes her eyes in concentration. "Come on, Stranger, where are you," she whispers.... (OOC: Gareth, you still with us? If you are, could you at least give us a quick hint? I'd hate to see things wrap up without you :-)!) Morgan /|\ =========================== Date: Fri, 29 Nov 96 22:24:22 -0000 (110) From: Roland X Roland smiles as the tide of battle turns; above, the pawns of the Adversary and the Shadows retreat before the forces of the Babylon Project, while below, the last of the Dark Sidhe (and a lone Shadow) are in retreat. A few squads of invasion forces remain, but otherwise the field belongs to Oa's defenders. *Time to wrap this up,* Roland thinks, channelling his power into his newfound speed. He begins to run. "Futile, futile!" the Shadow rages, trying to maintain its tenuous control of hyperspace. Roland literally runs rings around it, concentrating on the outrealmers. Slowly, they begin to vanish. *Yep, your efforts _are_ futile, Shadow,* Roland sends to the creature as the remaining forces return quite willingly to their home fictons. Mystic energies from his allies don't hurt either. The Unseelie, the Shadow, a few Orcs, and a stubborn squad of Centauri remain, each possessing their own skills in remaining on Oa. *Well, that looks like it wraps up _this_ little adventure!* Roland says in relief. *What say we take these losers down and head back to Callahan's? I have to check up on the Battery before I head back, and frankly, the sooner we get home, the better I'll feel. I'll leave a gateway open for Stranger (and for us if he needs our help against that tower) and we can get some well deserved-* Roland screams. Behind him, Byron draws a sword made of bone from Roland's back. "Guess who, little phoenix?" A sickly yellow ring shines on one finger. *No...the gateways...* "Oh, yes," Byron replies. "Your friends will be at the mercy of _my_ forces, and I will take your Halo. And there isn't a damn thing you can do about it." *WRONG!* Roland blasts the Gaunt with TK-not knowing where he finds the energy-then begins to run again. *Folx, if any of you have anything up your sleeve, now would be a good time to pull it out-* And he hears Drisonel. *Never let it be said that the Unseelie have no honor. You saved my life. I cannot save yours, but you foolishly value your friends' lives above your own.* *Try _anything,_ lady, and I'll spend eternity hunting you,* he replies, and reality folds...the magicks of his friends (and one enemy) mix with his mental powers... (green light/golden suns/living rainbows/the light of music/the scent of magick) Roland collapses. "NOOOO!" Byron raises his bone sword. "You cheated me of my victory-again!" *Always a pleasure, blowhard,* Roland sighs, a smile spreading slowly across his face. *My friends are safe. You can't reach them where they've gone. Your 'army' is gone, your gateways are gone, every horror you have attempted to inflict on the infinite worlds have failed. You can't even kill me, stupid. We're immortals.* Byron's eyes blaze with light-killing energy as his body trembles, the sword out of nightmare quivering ominously over Roland's back. "This is a Conundrum, bastard," he almost whispers. "I can tear away your Halo. Your immortality. Then you will die." Roland's smile only broadens. *Grife. Who wants to live forever anyway?* Byron screams wordlessly and raises the sword high above his head- -and a streak of scarlet races past, snatching Roland from the blade with several milliseconds to spare, easy. "Who dares-" Byron begins...and his rant dies in mid-sentence. A man dressed much like a Manhunter-except with wings adorning his 'helmet' and a thunderbolt symbol on his chest-stands with two men dressed in the uniforms of the Corps and a woman in blue and red, an 'S' symbol on her chest. A third emerald-clad Guardian stands watching from a hilltop, armed with a bow and an arsenal of strange arrows. "Bye," the 'Manhunter' says, pointing his arm at the Gaunt and vibrating it. Byron vanishes. "It's...about time...you showed up...+" Roland chuckles, sliding into unconsciousness. * He awakens to a familiar face, grinning broadly. "Mr. Allen...sir?" Roland asks, dumbfounded. "A pleasure to finally meet you," the Guardian replies with a broad grin. "A pleasure...for _you?_" Roland sits up. His wounds are healed. "People like you have kept us-" he waves in the direction of the new Guardians, refugees from the devastated Silver Age worlds- "alive. In your dreams. In your ideals. By living in the way we tried to. Our stories may not be told in the same way any more, but we live on. Thanks to you." "No wonder you're the first patron saint of superheroes," Roland says wryly. "I wish my friends could have-my friends!" Roland bolts upright, wincing slightly. "They need my help!" "No," he replies, "at least not right now." Roland looks up in astonishment. "Where...?" "Those done with battle are home, in the little nexus you call 'Callahan's.' Nice place. The space battle is now in orbit with 'Babylon 5.' Wherever that is." "...and the rest?" "You'll see." He smiles. "Now you have to go." Roland suddenly looks sad. "Strange...it's been so long, but I feel like I just got here. And you!" He smiles at his childhood hero. "I've wanted to meet you for so long-to fight side by side with the Justice-" "You have," he replies. "Many times. And you will again. Nothing can take us away from you. But now you have your own stories to tell, your _own_ worlds to make. Do them proud." Roland salutes the new Guardian. "I will, sir." An X-Window opens, and Callahan's appears. Roland looks at the symbol on Allen's chest...the symbols on the others. "I wish..." "You can," he replies. "Any time you want. But you have your own symbol now. You've earned it." Roland touches the silver Phoenix on his chest...now traced in black. "Yea. I guess I do. Thanks." He steps toward the X-Window... "Grife! The Battery! I almost forgot!" Roland spins in place, and fades away. The Flash smiles. "Late again, eh, little speedster?" He seems to blink out of existence, but in truth, has merely gone to join his friends again...to forge justice for a reborn ficton. Meanwhile, in another ficton... Drisonel smiles. /My debt to you is paid, hero. Your friends were saved from the elseworld nexus. I never said they'd be safer here in-/ Suddenly the intruders are surrounded by Sidhe. The sun illuminates a Seelie forest, and the colors of the warriors are vibrant and alive. Gnomes in ornate armor carry strange weapons of gears and glamour, and enormous Storm knights watch as Sidhe arrows point at the intruders. "Welcome to Arcadia," a Seelie lord chuckles. "Is that your tower?" he asks, pointing at a familiar yellow keep... The Shadow melts into the...well, shadows...hissing in what sounds like fury. Those familiar with the Shadows, however, feel a cold chill in their hearts, recognizing the sound for what it is...laughter. (Note: the AAE (I) epilogue will wrap up just what happened to the Battery, and why the Shadows were so important to the Adversary.) =========================== Date: Sat, 30 Nov 1996 00:21:51 -0600 (112) From: "KnightShift (Michael Jon Knight)" The KnightShift, clad in kilt and buckskin, stands in wonder at the events he has just witnessed. Just when things seemed going all wrong, and it seemed the Callahanians' darkest hour, the Enemy seemed to vanish, as far more powerful forces came into play. And now, an unknown alien of the Green Lantern Corps stands before him. "The battle is over, you are free to go," it says. "Not yet..." The alien looks at the KnightShift. "Why not?" it asks. "Loose threads. Things are not yet perfect." -------- Zach stands in front of the shuttlecraft as the security squad loads the last of the gear. He sees the KnightShift step around a rock outcropping, back in his black and grey uniform. His head is now bald again. "Cap!," Zach shouts, strolling over to greet him, "Back to your old self, I see. Didn't like the skirt?" The KnightShift grins, "KILT, Zach...And I am not quite back, yet." "Yeah, I doubt I'll be back to normal anytime soon." "Well, you and the rest of the squad have been invaluable here. Captain Humanity has been made aware of this. Sie is most pleased. As are we all...Now, get this bucket of bolts back to the _Populous_...you guys need to get back to the Rim." As the KnightShift turns to walk away, Zach shouts, "But what about you, sir?" "I have my own ride home." -------- Still in uniform, the KnightShift stands on a large cliff, overlooking the battlescene. "You are through here?" says a deep voice, mixed with screeches and resonating chords of various pitchs. "Yes." "Then, we must go." "No." The KnightShift turns away from the battlefield to stare at the owner of the voice. Before him stands a Vorlon, his encounter suit a mottled blue-green. A yellow 'eye' widens at the KnightShift's refusal. "Here is your 'piece' back." The encounter suit opens and a white light shines upwards. The KnightShift's eyes and mouth release the 'energy', which returns to the suit. The encounter suit closes. "No human can carry a Vorlon without a price. You must go to the Vorlon Homeworld." The KnightShift turns back towards the battlefield. "'You do not understand. But you will...'" the KnightShift replies, "The first Kosh to visit Babylon 5 didn't understand fully. The second did not understand at all." The KnightShift turns on the Vorlon. His eyes glow with a golden light. A rainbow of energy shoots straight for the Vorlon's 'eye'. The Vorlon arches it's 'back' as a strange sound of pain escapes. The energy stops and the Vorlon straightens. "I understand," it says. "Perhaps." A strange circle of energy opens behind the Vorlon. It turns towards it. "Leave," the KnightShift intones. The Vorlon does, it's mind full of new thoughts, new ideas, new plans for the future, and a new sadness as it considers the past. -------- "So you learned much, my young warrior?" the elderly Blackfoot asks. "Yes, I believe I have," the KnightShift replies. He scratchs his head, noticing the inch of brown hair. "I think I like my hair best this way. Not bald or long." "It suits you. As does the jacket, But why put all those embroidered patchs on it? And a letterman jacket should have them sewn on, not safety-pinned." "I like them. They represent the places, things, and people I care about. And would you want to sew all these on?" "Point taken," the old man laughs, "Have you got everything? Your backpack?" The KnightShift slings the chile-red pack over his shoulder. "Yup. I am glad we finally spoke, Old Man." "This world is a tricky place, you need to be tricky to survive." "Who would know more than the greatest Trickster of them all." The KnightShift looks across the grassy plains where Old Man has erected his teepee. The sun shines brightly in the blue sky as a storm builds on the horizon. A herd of American Buffalo can be seen grazing in the distance. "A beautiful place. I hate to leave," he says, finally. "This place will always be here. You carry it, and many other places with you. When you leave the world of the living, you will be able to see all of them. But that is a long time from now." Old Man smiles, "Or not. Even I don't know everything." "Life is uncertain," the KnightShift says, "Best to just let it happen, and enjoy it while it lasts." "You are learning, my friend. Where are you going now?" "To quote a crossword puzzle: 'A four letter word...Where the heart is.'" Old Man frowns for a second then smiles... -------- Mike Callahan was, as always, behind the bar. Business was starting to pick up since the Adventure thread was dying down, but there was one person he hadn't seen in a while. Then he heard it. A loud tapping outside, in time with a person's footsteps. A smile crossed Mike's face, as he quickly went to work behind the bar. The door swung open and in walked... "KnightShift!" Mike boomed, as he slid a coffee ice cream/Jolt Cola float down the bar, "Welcome back!" The KnightShift caught the caffeine concoction just before it slid off the bar. Dropping the backpack at his feet as he took a sip through the straw, the KnightShift scanned the familiar faces and surroundings of the Place. He smiled. Mike looked at him closely. Then Mike smiled. "Make that, 'Welcome HOME.'" The KnightShift OOC: AAE2, Roland? Bring it on! Just let me finish this float... =========================== Date: Sat, 30 Nov 1996 12:11:18 -0800 (PST) (113) From: Paul Campbell On Sat, 30 Nov 1996, KnightShift (Michael Jon Knight) wrote: > Mike Callahan was, as always, behind the bar. Business was >starting to pick up since the Adventure thread was dying down, but >there was one person he hadn't seen in a while. Then he heard it. A >loud tapping outside, in time with a person's footsteps. A smile >crossed Mike's face, as he quickly went to work behind the bar. The >door swung open and in walked... > "KnightShift!" Mike boomed, as he slid a coffee ice cream/Jolt >Cola float down the bar, "Welcome back!" > The KnightShift caught the caffeine concoction just before it >slid off the bar. Dropping the backpack at his feet as he took a sip >through the straw, the KnightShift scanned the familiar faces and >surroundings of the Place. He smiled. Mike looked at him closely. >Then Mike smiled. > "Make that, 'Welcome HOME.'" > >The KnightShift > >OOC: AAE2, Roland? Bring it on! Just let me finish this float... After having finally recovered his amulet, Xzerrion focuses his willpower one more time, and the patrons at Callahan's are surprised to see an X-window open - from the outside. More surprisingly, Xzerrion steps through it, staggers, closes and seals the X-window, then almost collapses. 'Um, hi folks,' Xzerrion murmurs sheepishly. 'I'm not as bad as this looks. Mike, could I get a glass of feywine?' Wordlessly, Mike hands him a drink. 'After saving the universe with my friends (who'll be coming through behind me) I could really use a backrub, and probly so could they. Any takers?' =========================== Date: Sat, 30 Nov 1996 12:29:33 -0800 (114) From: "L.J. Wolfe" At 12:11 PM 11/30/96 -0800, Xzerrion wrote: >'After saving the universe with my friends (who'll be coming through >behind me) I could really use a backrub, and probly so could they. >Any takers?' As the battle worn Callahanians trickle back in, a grey shimmer is noticed in the air near the chalkline. It coalleses into the image of Morgan, dressed in grey instead of her more usual (for the Place, anyway) plaid sash, standing between two large wolves. "My friends, it has truly been an exciting adventure, and I look forward to fighting with you again. But for now, and for reasons even I don't fully understand, I'm unable to join you here in Callahans." Her voice is weary, and holds a touch of sadness. "Someday, I'm sure, I'll be able to return. But not now. Not here." She smiles and absently scratches the wolves' ears. "But if the Callahanian forces go to do battle with those who would do ill to our fictions, send a call out on the listserve." The shimmering image begins to fade out. "The Greywolf and company will answer!" =========================== Date: Sat, 30 Nov 1996 18:12:57 +0000 (115) From: Silence On Sat, 30 Nov 1996, Paul Campbell wrote: >After having finally recovered his amulet, Xzerrion focuses his >willpower one more time, and the patrons at Callahan's are surprised >to see an X-window open - from the outside. More surprisingly, >Xzerrion steps through it, staggers, closes and seals the X-window, >then almost collapses. 'Um, hi folks,' Xzerrion murmurs sheepishly. >'I'm not as bad as this looks. Mike, could I get a glass of feywine?' Silence slips in behind him, just before the window closes, with Shadow back in his once-accustomed place on her shoulder. Quietly, she puts an arm around her friend and comrade-in-arms and gets him into a low, comfortable chair. >Wordlessly, Mike hands him a drink. Just as wordlessly, Silence pays for it. >'After saving the universe with my friends (who'll be coming through >behind me) I could really use a backrub, and probly so could they. >Any takers?' Still quietly pensive, she moves around behind Xzerrion and begins rubbing his shoulders gently. Shadow, meanwhile, has made a beeline for the fireplace, and curls up happily on the warm hearth. Simultaneously, and almost too low to be heard, they say, "It's definitely good to be home." --Silence and Shadow, posting together for the first time in what feels like ages =========================== Date: Sat, 30 Nov 1996 19:12:09 -0600 (CST) (116) From: The Renaissance Man (via grammarfascist) ]From: Roland X ] A lance of blue-gray power tears at reality around Roland. Only ]his forcefield protects him from being atomized; even so, he ]obviously feels the effort. "Wh-what-?" ] A Shadow hovers above him. "Not all were stranded, youth. Some can ]swim worlds as easily as your kind." ] "For a Shadow," Roland snarls, "that was practically a monologue. ]Obviously, though, you can't bring others." ] "Not all agree," it hisses. "Interference. Nexus will solve ]problem. Yield." ] Roland psi-screams at the thing; it spirals away in agony. "Damn. ]_That's_ gonna be a problem..." As the jumpgates close and wink out, twelve cruisers spread out into a double-crescent formation high over Oa. Fighters of three different types stream outwards, forming a protective cloud, as the remaining ships deploy their fighters. "Lieutenant Rico," Alaric asks, "situation report?" "One ship in orbit," comes the reply, "unknown configuration, unknown IFF, monitoring for communications now. Debris bearing 047 mark 15, starting to enter the atmosphere; looks like the remains of a single ship, back-tracing trajectory vectors. Recent Shadow neutrino traces; no Shadow ships on scanners at present, though there's some disturbances out by that moon. Indications of recent heavy combat on the surface; looks like it's pretty much down to mopping up by now." "Very good," Alaric replies, wondering what Draal's urgency was all about. It doesn't *appear* as though there's much assistance needed here. "Warleader T'Kal, detach your fighter wings for planetary interdiction. If anything moves toward or from the planet, or if there's anything happening in the atmosphere, I want to know about it. Watch out for that re-entering debris, and see if there's anything in the impact area. If there's anything under where that junk is coming down, I want it reduced to pieces small enough to burn up." On the bridge of one of the two Narn heavy cruisers now forming the leftmost tip of the lower, leading crescent, the heavyset Narn commander relays orders. Two squadrons of Narn heavy fighters break formation and drop toward the upper fringes of Oa's atmosphere. "Captain Teleen," Alaric continues, "order your fighters to take top cover. All ships prepare shuttles for evacuation or ground assault as required. "Mister Naldiss, anything from your telepaths?" "There is considerable telepathic activity," a tall, slender Minbari Ranger replies, "almost all from the planet's surface. We detect both human and Shadow minds, plus others we cannot identify. A number of Shadow minds just vanished; we are not certain how, but there is no sensation that they died." "Keep monitoring," Alaric replies. "See if you can make contact with some of the human telepaths. Let them know we're here." "Sir," Lieutenant Rico breaks in again, "I've isolated a comm signal from the ship in orbit. The computer still can't recognize their comm protocols, and I'm having a little difficulty matching their modulation, but they're hailing us in English. I can make out 'Federation starship' and a request for identification. I'd hazard a guess we're just picking up a harmonic or a sideband of their signal." "Respond and send our identification codes," Alaric replies. "Put it on a loop until you have a clear channel." Rico nods and continues trying to lock down the signal. Alaric pauses, thinking, trying to imagine what he might have overlooked that could be cause for Draal's concern. Finally, he turns to the helmsman. "Take us down to a hundred kilometers," he orders. "Orbit the combat zone at about forty kilometers radius. Keep full engine power available in case we need altitude in a hurry. "Lead element, follow us down to about a hundred and fifty kilometers. Trailing element, watch our backs, watch the horizon, and keep an eye out towards that moon. If you pick up so much as a gnat moving out there, I want to know about it before it knows it's arrived here. Same applies if anything appears from behind the planet. I don't want any surprises." The formation splits into two, the lead six ships dropping down closer to the planet, one dropping further and faster than the other five, while the trailing six ships spread out into an umbrella guarding against attack from above. On the bridge of the lead ship, Alaric surveys the situation, wishing Draal had been a little more explicit about exactly what he was supposed to be assisting with. =========================== Date: Sun, 1 Dec 1996 14:47:28 -0800 (117) From: rolandx@ix.netcom.com (Roland X) Subject: STORY: Action, Adventure, Excitement (Epilogue) Roland could almost feel the Guardian's smile on his back as he left Oa and rematerialized in his apartment. He picked up the small green 'sculpture' on his desk with a wide smile; the First Ring had made his job simplicity itself. Roland's smile vanished. /Oops./ Without the First Ring, how could he restore the Great Battery? /Um...Battery? Can you hear me?/ *Take the Battery to the ficton you intend,* he heard. Roland shrugged-at least it was a plan-and shifted. * "I'm getting to old for this," Garibaldi sighed. Outside the station, the biggest star battle any of them had ever seen was raging furiously. Lyta was certain the Vorlons would arrive to end it-decisively. Inside the station, half the civilians were panicking, the other half were running or rioting, and the damn Centauri were threatening war if Babylon 5 intervened in any of it! And now this...THING...appears in the center of the station. A giant green lens, guarded by a single man in silver armor. The Rangers, of course, wanted in on this one. /Just to make my life complicated,/ he thought, exasperated. "Look, Mr..." "Jordan." "Jordan. Right. Anyway, you're a pilot, why aren't you out there shooting down Shadows?" "Delenn. She sent me down here with you." Garibaldi's eyes rolled almost of their own accord. He liked Delenn, but there were times when he wished the Minbari would just butt out. "Look, Dr. Palmer is down there examining it, I've got my best forensics expert looking for clues, and we already _have_ a Minbari observer, Delenn's friend 'Kara.' What are-" Garibaldi stopped. And stared. An enormous emerald lens, braced above and below by two green bars of some sort, glittered with power even the grounded Garibaldi could feel. Dr. Palmer was in full gear, Barry was still sifting through shards of...something, and Engineer Stewart was examining the infra- structure for damage. "Stewart?" Garibaldi asked hoarsely. "She'll be fine," he replied. "From what I can tell, there wasn't any real damage to speak of, and this section of the station was designed to withstand this sort of thing." Stewart waved in the general direction of the nearby Alien Quarter. "When I build 'em, they stay built." "This was not an attack," Kara explained. "It was a gift." "A gift," Garibaldi said, the sarcasm dripping from his voice. "Right. A gift from whom?" "People with no further need of this," the man in silver explained. "Says the fashion victim of the year," Garibaldi replied. "Who the hell are you?" "I am Roland." "Fine, pleased to meet you, Roland. You mind telling me how you got on board without anyone noticing a magnifying glass the size of a small fighter?" Roland smiled. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." "Try me," Garibaldi snapped. Roland told him. Garibaldi stared for a moment. The station rocked from the effect of a nearby starship's blast. "You're right. I don't believe you. Hey, Jordan, time for you to make yourself useful-" Garibaldi blinked. Jordan was staring into the lens as if mesmerized. "Yo, Jordan, could you give me a hand here? Jordan?" "Yes...the oath, Ranger. You know the oath," Roland whispered. "Um, just a minute," Barry said, fumbling with a piece of golden Oa rock. "We still haven't finished our investigation of-" "In brightest day..." Jordan said. The Oan material vanished, and Barry sat down as if thunderstruck. "It begins," Kara said. "...in blackest night..." Dr. Palmer vanished. "Doc!" Barry exclaimed, and was wher the doctor had been in a flash. "He's-" Dr. Palmer reappeared from underfoot. Almost literally. "...no evil shall escape my sight." Stewart stared at the Ranger carefully. "That sounds familiar..." Kara smiled, floating up and back. "Clan Zorel will be pleased." "Let those who worship evil's might..." Jordan's hand reached out to touch the Great Lens. Garibaldi tapped his comm. "Seal off this area! NOW!" "...beware my power..." Barry looked up at the floating Minbari in surprise and Stewart tried to reach Jordan. "...GREEN LENS' LIGHT!" One flash of green light later, Jordan and Stewart are wearing ring-and-lens setups on their hands. Roland smiles ruefully. "I _knew_ I should have made it look more like a lantern when it showed up like this. Oh well, it could have been worse...he could have called himself the Green Ranger." Jordan looks over at Roland. "Hmm...that _does_ sound better than 'Green Lens.' Roland's eyes bulge, and he covers his mouth (too late) but Barry looks up from the golden rock with a shocked smile. "Hey, this changed us all, didn't it? I bet we would make a great team...a real force for justice in this sector!" "JL Babylon..." Roland says, shaking his head. "...yea, I want that Queen guy too. And John Jones...yes, I _know_ he's a PsiCop, I _want_ a PsiCop down here!" Garibaldi rants into his intercom. Roland laughs gently. "That's my cue..." The station shakes. "Then again, maybe not." Roland summons his staff-and in a sudden inspiration, transforms it into a ring adorned with a green gem. He points his hand at the Lens, and green light fills him. "I'll explain later," Roland says, and vanishes. * "You failed," a Shadow hisses at a monitor filled with dark images. "Lords of Shadow, I assure you..." the darkness replies. "We were to maintain your astral 'nightmare' realm in the world you designated. You were to provide up with a weapon to destroy the Vorlon. We have fulfilled our pact; now you shall fulfill yours. The 'Darkle' will provide such a weapon." The Shadow 'projected' its intent through the screen; the words are an approximation of its expressions toward the Adversary. "But that is the source of my Halo! Without it, I can never regain my corporeal form!" the Adversary rages. "What you ask is impossible! The Conundrums are all parts of me, but the Darkle is the only one with resonance of my essence!" "Then we will take the power source you so coveted instead." "It was to be mine," the Adversary replied weakly. "It was agreed." Roland stifled a chuckle. /Oh, this is too rich! The Adversary, acting like a petulant child!/ "You did not fulfill your portion of the agreement. The Vorlon still exist. You claimed that only we could transmit your essence to this 'Oa,' and you were correct. The Oans were among the 'First Ones' who left in our reality. Yet we are still faced with the Vorlon." The Adversary's image shifted and flickered faster than anything human could follow. "Very well. But I want it when you're done. You wouldn't have a chance at it if not for me-" *And they never _will_ have it,* Roland sent, and the Shadows screamed. "YOU AGAIN?!" The Adversary raged. *That's correct, absolutely correct! You win the 64 dollar question!* Roland laughed, cutting off the 'dream' transmission with the borrowed power, then transferred all the remaining energy into Babylon 5's shields. *So long, suckers,* Roland said, fading out as 'JL Babylon' charged out of the docking bay. * THOOM Roland stared at the door to Callahan's ruefully, closing it almost gently as the wind whistled behind him. "Hey, Mike," Roland chuckled. "Roland," Mike said, sliding a chocolate shake down the countertop. Roland nodded his thanks, dropped a bill into the box, and began to drink. For a full minute, there was nothing louder than the usual conversation... "For the luvva Pete, Roland, how long're you gonna leave us hanging? WHAT HAPPENED TO THE BATTERY?!" Roland splurts some shake out of his mouth, laughing heartily. "Easy, Eddie," he says in between chuckles. "I had that coming." An X-Window opens, revealing JL Babylon faring quite well against the Shadows. "I gave it a good home." He finished the shake and aims for the fireplace. "To heroes!" *C*R*A*S*H* (OOC: And to the Champions of Callahan's! Let's do it again some time!) =========================== Date: Sun, 1 Dec 1996 17:42:40 -0600 (CST) (118) From: grammarfascist Subject: Re: STORY: Action, Adventure, Excitement (Epilogue) On Sun, 1 Dec 1996, Roland X wrote: > "To heroes!" > *C*R*A*S*H* > (OOC: And to the Champions of Callahan's! Let's do it again some >time!) Rose--shimmering slightly, and seeming to occasionally half-become her alter egos of Silence and Shadow--raises a glass (or is it three glasses?). "To heroes, and to the Champions!" she cries with an enormous grin, and adds, "And _especially_ to you, Roland!" *SMASH* "If you do start another AAE thread, I don't think Silence and Shadow will be able to participate," she finishes sadly. "It's been hard enough trying to keep up with both the storyline and my work this time around, and I wouldn't be able to spare the energy to do the tale and my companions justice. But best of luck to you--wherever you go, whomever you fight--and you know that you can always call on me/us if you need to." --Rose, near-to-bursting with half-earned pride *) =========================== Date: Sun, 1 Dec 1996 18:58:17 -0600 (119) From: gdm@kestrel.scs.uiuc.edu (Gian-Paolo D Musumeci) [ Sanderson Home, Terra ] The old man looked up over his morning paper and sipped from a cup of hot tea. He rustled the paper, sat back in his chair, and kept reading. "Randolph!" a matronly voice shouted at him. "How many times do I have to tell you not to lean back on the chair like that?" The old man harrumphed and set the chair back on its feet, glaring at his wife. "Martha, nobody every got hurt by leaning back in a chair in their own kitchen!" The door-chime rang, and they both got up to answer it. "Here, now, what is this?" the old man said, quietly, to the two men in the uniform of the Terran Confederation Fleet standing on his porch. "Are you Mr. Randolph Sanderson, sir?" "That's me, yes. What's going on here?" The old man looked almost angrily at the man who spoke. His wife looked around his arm, catching a glimpse of the two men. "Sir, we sincerely regret to inform you that your granddaughter, Lieutenant Elizabeth Sanderson, was killed in action three days ago aboard the TCS Exeter." The old man cried. -=- [ Dahlquist Memorial Cemetery, Terra ] The wind was bitterly cold that November morning, the rain trickling down from the slate heavens like tears. A crowd of people stood in front of a handful of open graves. A man in the formal dress uniform of the fleet, his right arm in a sling, steps forward and began to, very softly, speak. "War is never a pleasant thing, especially when it takes the lives of so many, so young. We are here today to mourn the death of the crew and pilots aboard the Terran ships Exeter, Victory, and Blenheim. Against forces of unknown origin, these soldiers fought until the bitter end." "I had friends - and I know many of you had children, grand-children, and spouses - aboard those three ships. I can say little to comfort you, except that we will not forget. Even though they are no longer among us here, they will always be in our hearts, in our minds, and in our memories." Colonel Gray turns away for a moment, wiping his eyes with his good hand, then faces the small squad of marines behind him. "Unit, attention." Twenty-one rifle shots sound out, crisp and sharp and clear, over the neat rows of white crosses. =========================== Date: Sun, 1 Dec 96 20:25:38 -0000 (120) From: Roland X The wise Gian-Paolo (gdm@kestrel.scs.uiuc.edu) wrote: > Twenty-one rifle shots sound out, crisp and sharp and clear, over >the neat rows of white crosses. The people trickle away, some in small groups, some alone, but it is a long time before the plot of land is empty. And then it is not. Roland steps through a gateway, tears shining in his eyes. /It shouldn't have come to this,/ he thinks. /But then, it _never_ should./ "I don't know if you can hear me," he says finally, "but I wish...I wish this could have ended differently for you. But there's always a price to be paid, even in the stories, to stand against the long night...and you paid it. With courage and honor, if you served with Colonel Gray." Roland kneels. "Even I can't bring you back. But I can honor the sacrifice you made. May your next lives bring you joy and laughter." The chant goes on long into the night. * Roland returns through an X-Window to Callahan's, considerably more sobered than the last time he arrived. "To the ones who don't make it back." *C*R*A*S*H* (Dedicated to my Aunt Janet, the bravest warrior I ever knew. She fought an enemy she couldn't see, hear or strike back at for eleven years-a disease that eventually killed her-so her children could have a mother.) =========================== Date: Mon, 2 Dec 1996 08:55:30 -0800 (122) From: duc020@bdvdc04i.ca.boeing.com (Dane R Anderson) ------------- Begin Forwarded Message ------------- Roland X wrote: > Roland watches this in growing alarm; though he nearly worshiped >the great warrior of Light, and he is certain that there were no >inhabitabts in the system, the only thing he can think of is an old >memory, coming unbidden...the corrupted Phoenix Force, devouring a >star system to sate its appetite... The Stardragon, sensing Roland's rising concern, hastens to reassure him, /Fear not, brave ally, I have not been corrupted. You are correct, that star had no self aware life forms. I had marked it for use as an emergency meal long ago, and have periodically taken steps to ensure that no such life forms could develop there. As for the eating of stars, well what else would I eat. My diurnal cycle is the bang-crunch of the universe. I "sleep" only when the universe approaches the maximum density. My bed is the mono-block. I awaken only when THE VOICE commands the mono-block to disrupt. I am careful and have been careful, since I first became aware of stelar and planet bound life forms to never be near such when my hunger approaches. Knowing that sooner or later the Adversary and I would fight, and knowing I would hunger after using up so much energy, I took steps to ensure that I would not need to feed wherever I happended to be at that time. You need not be concerned that I might become corrupted. Only the Adversary has that particular skill, and he cannot approach without my knowing (to me he stinks). The Dark Phoenix destroyed a star system to sate its appetite. I destroyed a star system to abate my hunger. The two are NOT synonemous. Particularly since she did not care whether the system she distroyed was inhabited by self aware life forms./ =========================== Date: Tue, 3 Dec 1996 19:38:56 -0600 (CST) (123) From: The Renaissance Man (via grammarfascist) As Alaric's Ranger/League task force establishes superiority above Oa, a single EarthForce shuttle leaves the surface. Behind it, unseen to the shuttle's pilot or crew, something strange is happening. "Captain," Lieutenant Janet Hayes says slowly, "I think you'd better see this." She indicates one of the secondary tactical displays, currently showing the surface of Oa, where the signs of battle and strife are evaporating like the morning mist. "I'm picking up a residual energy release," she adds. "But it's fading fast. I think I've captured the spectral signature, but it doesn't match anything in the computer. It's.... it's almost like two different signatures, overlaid, ninety degrees out of phase. They resonate with each other, in counter-phase." Alaric stares intently at the display as he adds in this new piece of information, trying to fathom what is happening. Stepping over to her console himself, he keys in a few commands and examines the resulting display briefly before cancelling the sequence. "What's the word on that other ship?" he asks, turning to Lieutenant Rico. Rico rechecks his console. "They're no longer hailing us," he reports. "In fact.... they're gone. No jumpgate, no neutrino trail, just - gone." Alaric is about to reply when a priority message comes in from the _Annapolis_, lead ship of the six currently in the top cover umbrella. "Four Shadow warships just broke out of the cover of the moon," comes the alert. "They're out in full view, heading this way - wait, they're changing heading.... entering hyperspace. They're gone, sir." "Departure vector?" Alaric queries. "200 mark 15. That's back towards home." Alaric nods, then turns back to Rico. "Hail that shuttle," he orders. "Extend an offer of escort back to Babylon 5 space." He turns to his executive officer, the woman who called him via intercom in his cabin. "Recall all fighters; prepare to bring them back aboard in hyperspace to refuel. Let the pilots take a break, but keep them on standby. They'll be going back out." "Aye, sir." She looks curious, but does not inquire further. A few minutes later, the task force enters hyperspace, the shuttle safely tucked alongside Alaric's flagship, _Miyamoto Musashi_. As they sweep through the roiling turmoil of hyperspace, fighters are brought back on board and refueled, their pilots given a welcome chance to refresh themselves as their fighters are prepared for launch again. "I want both parts of that energy signature copied to every ship in the squadron," Alaric commands. "Have them programmed into the fire control systems on all the fighters. I want everything we can field able to detect and lock onto those energy signatures, and tell them apart. "Any sign of those Shadow ships?" "They're ahead of us," Hayes replies. "Beyond visual range, but they're not gaining on us much, if at all, judging by the neutrino trails - nor us on them." Alaric nods. "That's exactly what I want," he replies. "Still heading for the station?" "Aye, sir," Hayes answers. "Good. Launch all fighters when we're fifteen minutes out," he orders. "Until then, just maintain our separation. Let me know if they veer off." "Aye, sir." Amid the bustle of activity, the trip seems shorter than it probably is. All too soon, fighters stream outboard once again, forming up into wings above and below the cruisers that carried them. As the task force approaches the jump point, Alaric gives final orders. "All right, people," he says, "look sharp. This could be nothing, or it could be one giant furball. Heat'em up, but no-one is to fire until I give the word, unless we're attacked first. If anything engages you, return fire. "All ships, jump engines online?" He waits briefly for confirmation. "OK, let's go." Jump points blossom, and the twelve ships and their almost three hundred fighters pour into the Eridani system at nadir. rolandx@ix.netcom.com (Roland X) wrote: ] "I'm getting to old for this," Garibaldi sighed. ] Outside the station, the biggest star battle any of them had ever ]seen was raging furiously. Lyta was certain the Vorlons would arrive ]to end it-decisively. Inside the station, half the civilians were ]panicking, the other half were running or rioting, and the damn ]Centauri were threatening war if Babylon 5 intervened in any of it! ] And now this...THING...appears in the center of the station. A ]giant green lens, guarded by a single man in silver armor. The ]Rangers, of course, wanted in on this one. /Just to make my life ]complicated,/ he thought, exasperated. The squadron races up from nadir, all weapons armed, as League ships and Shadow vessels swirl in battle. The unarmed EarthForce shuttle swings wide, waiting on the fringes until it has a clear run for the station. "Tactical scan!" Alaric orders. "Scan for those energy signatures. If anything matches either of them, I want it tagged onscreen. Telepaths, stand by. Block any Shadow vessel that comes within firing range." One by one, then clusters at a time, ships on the screen are marked by the fire-control systems. It's hard to discern a pattern, and Alaric waits as they approach the fighting. A group of five stray Shadow fighters sweep in from the left, firing as they come, but defending fighters fall on them like wolves. "Scan? Report!" Alaric snaps. "I can't identify a pattern," Hayes replies, her fingers flying on her console. "Both signatures one and two are present." ] Barry looked up at the floating Minbari in surprise and Stewart ]tried to reach Jordan. ] "...GREEN LENS' LIGHT!" "Sir! Massive burst of signature two from the station!" Alaric pounds his hand on the railing. "That's what I was waiting for," he answers. "Tag all targets emitting signature two ... paint them green. Paint signature one red. Copy to all ships, and open the squadron command channel." On the screens, about a third of the ships are suddenly tagged red, with slightly less than a quarter marked green. "If it's painted green, it's on our side," Alaric says, "but it can look after itself. Ignore anything hostile that's untagged unless it attacks you. Protect untagged League ships as best you can, if they're in trouble; otherwise, leave'em to it. If it's red, it's open season. Let's take them down. "Narn and Drazi cruisers, stay back and mop up the lesser threats and stragglers. All Ranger ships, you're with me. There's target one, right there." The squadron splits again, this time not six and six, but four and eight. The eight lead ships, their familial resemblance to the White Star type plain to see, leap ahead. Nearby, seven Shadow battlecrabs are maneuvering to flank a trio of untagged Minbari cruisers. The eight Ranger ships tear into them from below before they can react. Minbari telepaths thrust at the battlecrabs, disrupting their control, and as they veer away, the main batteries on the cruisers burst into life. While three White Stars against a battlecrab is a fairly even contest, the Ranger cruisers are five times the size of a White Star, and built using the same hybrid Minbari/Vorlon technology. Mounting far more firepower than a White Star, they are another matter altogether. Four of the seven battlecrabs disintegrate in fiery ruin immediately, and a fifth spins away out of control as the "arms" along one side vanish in a green blaze. The sixth and seventh scatter in opposite directions, one breaking between the Minbari cruisers with a hole burned clear through it, the other trying to get away into hyperspace - an attempt that is cut short as the combined fire of four Ranger ships turn it into a cloud of incandescent debris. The de-armed ship falls to the fire of two more, as the other two turn their attentions to the other wounded battlecrab, but their line of fire is blocked by the three untagged Minbari ships.In its haste to evade the fire of the Ranger ships, though, the damaged battlecrab has left itself wide open to the Minbari, and blue lances of energy carve it to pieces as clouds of black fragments spill from its torn hull. "Split up and pick your targets," Alaric orders, as a dozen of the Granth's heavy fighters sweep in to strafe a red-tagged Centauri battlecruiser hammering at an unmarked Drazi Sunhawk. The Sunhawk is in bad shape, but not nearly as bad as the Centauri is a few moments later as it comes under unexpected attack from behind. The Narns hit it hard and accurately, raking it at close range. Coming on top of the damage the Drazi has already done, the Centauri is overmatched. It lists away to the right, rocked by internal explosions, but the Drazi Sunhawk pursues it, firing into it until it explodes. As the Narn fighters sweep around to look for a new target, two of them vanish in fiery explosions as four Shadow scouts sweep in behind them. Another is blown apart as the remaining Narns veer away, breaking formation and diving below a nearby pair of Vree saucers. Three of the four Shadows follow the Narns down, only to disintegrate in a hail of green fire from the Vree; the fourth goes high, strafing one of the two saucers as it passes close above. The Shadow turns about for a second firing pass, but for a frief moment it is almost stationary, and a direct hit from a Brakiri cruiser blasts it to fragments. The Narns, meanwhile, have become embroiled in a dogfight with six Centauri fighters from the destroyed battlecruiser. Violet fire slashes past the _Musashi_, glancing off the left side of the hull. The ship shudders and shrieks as the lights flicker, but the ship's Vorlon skin sheds the energy, and it rolls away from the Shadow beam with only minor damage. Moments later, the _Valley Forge_ hits the Shadow directly between the two lobes of its hull with main and secondary armament together, punching through its hull and rupturing its main weapon and its power source. The battlecrab glows briefly, lit from within by an actinic red-violet glare, before it shatters. In front of the Musashi, another red-tagged battlecrab is carving up a Brakiri cruiser. It's too late for the green-tagged Brakiri, but as the huge ship disintegrates, the _Musashi_ and the _Valley Forge_ swing in above and below the wreckage, catching the Shadow in a murderous crossfire. It returns fire, but the violet beam is silenced before it can strike home. As the battlecrab spins away to ruin, trailing black fragments, the two cruisers join up with the _Nalden_ and _Soreel_, falling from opposite sides on a trio of red-tagged battlecrabs and a pair of Centauri destroyers lining up for a firing run on the station itself. The four cruisers concentrate their fire on the two outermost battlecrabs, destroying them both; the third battlecrab fades part-way into hyperspace as it spins about, then shimmers back in directly in front of the _Valley Forge_ in a suicidal ramming attack. The _Valley Forge_, still travelling at close to full speed, collides with the Shadow as it solidifies, and both ships disappear in a tremendous explosion that hurls the _Musashi_ end over end. The two Centauri enter firing range of the station before _Nalden_ and _Soreel_ can regroup, only to be strafed mercilessly from both sides by a flight of starfuries from Babylon 5 itself. As the starfuries swing around for a second pass, the lead Centauri is hammered again by fire from the station's defence grid. It breaks off and dives for nadir, but is intercepted by two Gaim. The Gaim come in from underneath the Centauri, raking its belly, but as they overshoot, the Cantauri's weapons track onto the leading Gaim and rip into it. It spins away trailing fire, to be finished off a short distance off by a stray Shadow fighter. The other Gaim turns onto the Centauri again, hitting it in and around its main reactor.; it begins to tumble out of control as internal fires spread rapidly through it. The other destroyer has problems of its own, as the Starfuries swarm around it and cut it to pieces. The tide of battle turns rapidly. The Ranger cruisers do not belong to this time, this ficton, any more than do the red and green tagged ships. They more than balance out the numerical superiority of the "red" ships, and within an hour and a half, all the red-tagged ships have been destroyed. Much of the wreckage drifting through the battle also faintly radiates residual "green" energy signature, and the Ranger squadron is also diminished. Besides the _Valley Forge_, the _Horatius_ has been lost, along with the _Granth_ and both of the Drazi ships. More than eighty fighters will never dock again. "Disengage and withdraw," Alaric orders the surviving ships of his squadron, as the last red-tagged Shadow goes down under the combined fire of two green-tagged Minbari and an untagged Brakiri. "And get me secure channels to all of the remaining green-tag ships you can contact." As his ships break off, the comm channel is established, and Alaric completes the purpose for which Draal called on him. "Your task here is done," he explains. "Neither your ships, nor mine, belong in this ficton. Neither your ships, nor mine, should exist in this ficton. We upset the balance of power here by being here. We sway the future of this place. "You were created, brought into this existence, to fight a staged war. That war has been won - of course; it has been won, as it was planned from the first that it would be. Your part in it is done; but now there is another thing you must do. "The enemy would not hesitate to take advantage of the imbalance. But those of the enemy that did not belong here, we have now destroyed. Those that remain, belong here - and the League forces that belong here can handle them. Now it is time for us - ALL of us - to leave, and allow this ficton to return to its own path, to develop as it is supposed to. "This place is not for you. But there will be other places, and other times. They are in your future. Leave this place now to its future." Turning away from the comm screens, he orders the squadron to form up and prepare to jump out. Amid the swirling battle, green-tagged ships break off and disengage, by ones and twos. Not all of them - a few still remain - but enough. Waiting long enough for the other "visiting" ships to catch up, Alaric gives the order, and the jumpgates form...... * * * * * * Shortly after, one of the X-Windows activates itself, and Alaric steps through. He is dressed in an oddly-cut uniform, and he looks tired. Mike Callahan looks over from behind the bar and waves welcome. "Hi, Mike," Alaric says. "...Say, do we have any extra chairs around? And what's the weather like outside the french doors right now? "I brought a few friends with me....." =========================== Date: Mon, 09 Dec 96 01:12:47 PST (124) From: Martin Gerster Marcus and Ivanova were staring at the giant, green lens left at the station before all #$%l had broken loose. This particular brand of #$%l was definetly one of the largest and strangest battles with the Shadows, Babylon 5 had ever experienced. "So," began Marcus, "what is it?" "Nobody knows for sure," answered Ivanova, "and those who might know aren't giving us anything we can work with. Or that makes any sense anyway," she concluded. As she said this, two of the "transformed" station inhabitants walked in the oposite side of the large chamber where the mysterious lens had been left. Their names were Hal Jordon, a Ranger, and John Stewart, one of the station's engineers. They now both wore strange black, green and dark grey, skin-tight uniforms and wore a strange rig on their right forearms and hands. All of which had a strange, vaugly lantern-like motife. As Susan stoped speaking, both she and Marcus heard the sound of a small explosion from somewhere behind them. The looks on Jordan and Stewart's faces, told both Ivanova and Marcus that something was wrong behind them. They heard a strangly masculine voice say, "I know what it is." Ivanova whirled around and steped away from the voice. By the time Marcus had turned around he had his fighting pike out and extended, ostensibly ready for anything. Niether was prepared for what they saw. Behind them, or rather in front of them, was a minature jump-point, tinged with green. Slightly in front of this was a 16ft tall, winged, reptilian-looking creature. He, wore many unusual looking items. Strangest of all, however, was a ring on the creature's right "hand;" it was green and had a lantern-motife vaugly resembling that on Stewart and Jordon's costumes. "Oh," she said, "it's him." "What, or rather who is it, exactly?" asked Marcus. "Its, excuse me, his name is 'Darklance,' he claims to be something called a 'Lensdragon' and he's been here before, several years ago." "Any advice?" "Yeah,don't make him angry" "Well, I could tell that. I mean, he's a dragon, isn't he?" Ivanova vaugly shruged her shoulders, steeled herself and then bravely walked up to the Lensdragon. Or as bravely as you can walk, when walking up to a 16ft tall ruby, carnelian and amber-hued dragon. "Hello, again" she said in a voice which sounded as meek as she felt. "Nice to see you again, shall I tell everyone you've returned?" "Dosvadanya, Lt. Commander. Actualy it's 'Dhyrclhanc' not 'Darklance' and there's no need to alert anyone to my arrival. I'll be gone again before you know it. I've simply got a few things to take care of here." replied Dhyrclhanc. "Oh good," replied a strangly relieved Ivanova, "and by the way, it's Commander now." "I appologize, *Commander,* congradulations are in order I'm sure! However, I'd appriciate it if you didn't tell anyone I was here, exept for maybe Lyta Alexander." "I'd be glad to tell Lyta that you're here." delighted for the excuse to leave the chamber. She'd always felt nervous when the Lensdragon was around. Ivanova turned and walked to the exit. Leaving Marcus in the chamber with the Lensdragon and the two transformed station residents. /What was I thinking?/ thought Marcus to himself. He had followed behind Ivanova when she stepped up to speak with this "Dhyrclhanc." And now, he couldn't remember feeling this way, at least not since "King Arthur" had arrived on the station. "Now, First things first. Roland, no offence, but I think you might've done a better job than this. Then again, the Last Power-Battery didn't grant you this. Did it?" The Lensdragon was now staring at the giant lens and was appearently talking to himself. Either that, or he was talking to the odd-looking, green ring he was wearing. "Ahem, excuse me," quietly interjected Marcus, "but what, exactly are you doing?" after he colapsed his pike and put it back into the folds of his cloak, trying to be polite "Oh you must be Marcus Cole," said Dhyrclhanc, looking down at him. The Lensdragon crouched down, attempting to put the Ranger more at ease. "It's very complicated, but I'll try to explain. Palatine and Taksis, I'm dying to tell someone anyway." Jordon and Stewart looked as if they had decided this would probably be a good time to leave, the Lensdragon motioned for them to stay. "On a planet, well... at least several million light-years away, several compatriots and myself rescued that device. It's the last of several power-batteries used by an ancient race. My friend, Roland, left it here only it didn't always look like this. I've come to change it back, you see." "Ahh, Yes," said Marcus as he was nodding his head. One of the nods turned into a shake, at which point he added, "or rather... No. Exactly how are going to do this?" "Like this." Dhyrclhanc pointed his draconian right-fist at the green lens and a burst of emerald fire escaped from his ring into the lens. Slowly, the lens appeared to shrink and widen. Finaly, when the lens was at 75% of its original hieght, the whole lens changed its shape into that of a huge railway lantern. "That's better." said Dhyrclhanc finaly. "Oh my God!" swore Marcus. Jordan and Stewart's uniforms had changed as well, the imagery and the colors were sharper now and their "ring-and-lens" rigs were more defined, changed more into fingerless gauntlets. The rings had become almost separate from the rest of the rigs. Each of the lenses now had a more defined, lantern symbol surrounding it. They were both awestruck. "Now you two look like you fit being the beginings of a new Green Lantern Corps." said Dhyrclhanc. "Only from now on, you will both also weild a Lens of Arisia, So your powers will be different from any who come after you." "What did you call us?" said Jordan and Stewart, in unison. "You are both Green Lanterns. The Beginings of an entirly new Green Lantern Corps." "Green Lantern?!" said Jordan. "I don't know about you, but I like it." replied Stewart. "Of course, you both know that you must return to this central lantern once every 24 hours, to recharge your abilities." said Dhyrclhanc. *** TO BE CONTINUED *** =========================== [end of Action, Adventure, Excitement 1]