Action, Adventure, Excitement, Part 9
                                Prologs

Subject: AAE 9 Prologue: Storm Warnings

On Tue, 02 Sep 2003 00:28:25 -0700
Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00011154

(OOC-Morgan: This post is doubling as my traditional "X years ago
today" post, as it was on 2-Sep-1996 that The Stranger wandered over
to the bar and said, "I'm bored, and I'm a bit low. I want some
excitement and adventure. Anyone feel like joining me?" Happy seventh
anniversary, all! *G*)

   Champions Island had been built and rebuilt several times. Roland
hadn't been about to take Destroyer's defenses lightly, and much of
the technology had been analyzed and replaced. Still, for all that it
had been Destroyer's island, long before that it had been part of
Valdoria, and later Atlantis. The great tower in the center of the
island, even modified and reduced as it had been, was a part of
Champions history, and none of them had been willing to truly
dismantle it. And so Defender stood atop the tower in the heart of
Champions Island, looking out to the east. His armor was still cracked
from where the Proprietor, and later Mechanon, had shattered it in the
War of the Third Key.
   When he had failed, and Behemoth had died.
   [No.] Roland sighed, running his fingers along the cracks.
[Morgan's right. They all are.] One tear rolled down his cheek within
the helmet. [I'm not a god. And I shouldn't belittle his sacrifice.]
He chuckled sadly. The Proprietor had paid for what he'd done, but the
one-time Freelance Immortal, now his world's most prominent
super-protector, remembered a time when the guilt would have consumed
him anyway. He also remembered a time when the thought of growing up
would have galled him.
   [Now,] he thought wryly, [I hope that's all it is. If I'm getting
used to the notion of losing friends...]

^You're _not_ getting used to it,^ Morgan sent through their private
mental link. She walked out onto the tower's top to join her husband
in her Solitaire 'mode.' ^You're learning to accept what can't be
changed, and move on.^

   Roland chuckled again, and the armor flowed. It became a skin-tight
sheath of sapphire blue, and his usual clothing of longcoat, T-shirt,
jeans, and sneakers as well. "Light, I hope so." He hugged his beloved
emphatically for a moment. "It's just...I never accepted the
'inevitable' before. Am I being philosophical, or just defeatist?"

"I don't think you'll _ever_ consider the loss of teammates
'inevitable,' my heart," Morgan replied.

   Roland squeezed her hand. "I know. And to be honest, I'm just as
happy I'm _not_ the Stardragon -- I wouldn't _want_ to rule life and
death so casually."He grimaced. "Light. Come to think of it,
considering how readily Starspawn follow my orders..." he muttered,
then shook off the notion. Roland didn't like to think of just how
overwhelming a responsibility _that_ was. "It's just...I wanted, so
badly, to show people the truth about their world. Our world.
Now...Destroyer's formed Nova Valdoria -- _Valdoria!_ -- in Africa,
Mechanon is out there planning his usual Skynet insanity, Markoth's
Dark Masters are holding necromantic rituals, and don't even get me
_started_ on Eurostar. Behemoth's dead." His fingers ran along the few
remaining cracks in the armor. Two weeks after the War's end, and
still... "What have we really accomplished?"

Morgan smiled. "Hm. Let me think." She began ticking off points on her
fingers. "We started by revealing the Nephandi's foul plots pitting
each noble alliance against all others." Roland started to respond,
but Morgan held up a hand. "I'm just getting started, love. _You_
didn't bring Destroyer back, but you _did_ stop him. The Champions'
example has allowed the mages, changelings, and remaining Garou to be
accepted. Wizardry and science are both expanding -- and oh yes, the
Traditions and the Order of Reason aren't at war any more. Those
powers ye're lamentin' have saved lives all over the world --
telepathy proving innocence for the wrongly imprisoned, weather magick
saving crops, and the like. Other superhero teams have formed, like
Vanguard and Freedom Force. We've saved the world three times. Ye
personally turned the Wildstrike from a natural disaster into a force
for good." Roland, unsurprisingly, blushed. "We've made peaceable
First Contact with the Mellanians." Morgan stopped, realizing she'd
counted off ten points. She looked back up at Roland, her smile
broadening. "I can grow more fingers if ye want."

   Roland laughed and threw his arms around Morgan again. "I love
you," he replied simply.

"I love _you,_" Morgan said.

   A moment later, a streak of green and gold coalesced into a girl in
her late teens. Her long blonde hair whipped around her slightly
pointed ears. "Defender, Solitaire--" she began, then realized what
they were doing. "eep."
   The two sighed, smiled, and released each other. "It's all right,
Orchid," Defender explained, his armor returning to its usual state.
The cracks, he noted suddenly, were gone. [Odd. Later.] "What is it?"
   The team's youngest member and Behemoth's successor from the faerie
court, Orchid was a huge fan and a speedster, which usually left her
bouncing on the balls of her feet in quivering anticipation whenever
she was with the other Champions. Not this time. "It's...well, it's
Menton, sir. He's come under the 'Pax Valdoria,'" she said, the last
two words spoken with cutting sarcasm, "and says he has something for
you. From the Ultimates."
   Defender grimaced. "Meaning Destroyer." He shared a glance with
Solitaire, who merely glanced back, one eyebrow raised. "Let's go."

***

   Defender, Solitaire, and Seeker stood waiting in the Champions'
reception hall. Seeker juggled shuriken idly while Defender's fingers
drummed on the table.
   "You're going to dent the table if you keep that up, mate," Seeker
quipped.
   "When did you turn into the team Spider-Man?" Defender replied
sourly.

"When wasn't he?" Solitaire shot back gently.

   Defender rolled his eyes. "When he was cramming tepe training into
my head with both hands. Proverbially speaking."
   Seeker laughed. "Hey, _you_ get to be the responsible Bruce now,
'D.' I'm just the hired help."

Morgan and Roland did simultaneous, identical "hmmph"s.

   Seeker sighed dramatically. "Re-_lax,_ you two. Menton's just goin'
through security. He'll be here in a second or two."
   Exactly two seconds later, the doors opened. Menton, flanked by
four UNTIL agents, strode in with a majesty worthy of his master.
   *How do you _do_ that?* Defender sent.
   *Practice,* Seeker replied idly. His mind, however, was instantly
alert, and their combined mind shields were like psychic adamantine.
   "You need not take such precautions," Menton said evenly. If he was
offended, the master psion did not reveal the slightest hint of it. "I
come under the Oath of Truce, unbroken since the time of Atlantis."
   "It was broken once," Defender said softly, but there was steel in
his voice.
   "That...thing...was not my master," Menton replied, his voice
unchanged, though his eyes narrowed subtly.
   Defender nodded in assent. "Malice is gone, true. Still, my
responsibilities are...considerable."
   Menton cocked his head to one side. "I have never understood why
you oppose Lord Destroyer, Defender."
   "It's the names," the Champion replied dryly. "You wanted to tell
us something?"
   Menton scowled faintly. "It would be easier to show you." He
gestured at the table, and a ripple of space/time indicated his desire
to teleport something onto it. "If I may?"
   The three Champions looked from one to another for a moment, then
turned back and nodded as one. Menton gestured.
   Space shifted and snarled, and a body fell to the table with a
heavy 'thud' combining the sickly-wet sound of meat with the clank of
metal. Seeker leapt back skillfully. "By the Akashic Record..." he
hissed.

Solitaire recoiled slightly as well. "Light," she gasped. Of the
Champions, only she and Defender had seen these things themselves
before.

   Defender alone remained relatively passive, though even he
shuddered at the sight of the monstrosity. "A techno-demon," he spat.
And indeed it was, albeit a dead one, as Solitaire's life magicks
quickly verified. Even in death, though, it was a mockery of both
science and sorcery. Its infernal, pale blue body was well muscled,
with alien bat-like wings sprouting from bony protrusions in its
shoulders and running down its back. Incongruously to all unfamiliar
with Tharkold, its left arm was brutal, exposed cybernetics from
shoulder to clawed fingertips, the remains of a ruined pulse weapon
protruding from the forearm. Ironically, aside from the mottled
blue-gray tail snaking between its legs, the desert-camo pants and
black leather boots made it look astonishingly human from the waist
down, albeit a human more well-built and muscled than Schwarzenegger
in his prime. One eye had been replaced by a lens with arcane markings
around the edge. Even in death, his body glowed with magic for those
with the senses to feel it.
   Menton nodded. "Destroyer is aware of your familiarity with
these...creatures. If we face an invasion, he would have a truce."
   "He's got it," Defender replied curtly.

"Invasion? Where did he _get_ this thing?" Solitaire asked.

   "In Nova Valdoria itself," Menton replied, his voice dripping with
contempt. "This monstrosity was spying on the Destroyer's realm.
Apparently, it believed that it could actually evade his all-seeing
eye." Defender coughed. Menton raised one eyebrow dubiously, then
continued. "It claimed that it meant to bargain with Dr. Zerstoiten on
behalf of a being called 'Thratchen.' The moment Destroyer released
it, it attacked. I examined what you see here both physically and
psychically; thus we now know who Thratchen is and what 'High Lords'
are."
   Defender nodded and gestured for Menton to continue. "It seems
unlikely, given our data," the Ultimate went on, "that this
'Thratchen' would attempt a full-scale invasion in its traditional
manner on its own. Nevertheless, Destroyer decided that you should be
notified."
   "I'm...grateful," Defender said, honestly if reluctantly. "And I
agree. Fortunately, the Gaunt Man and Thratchen are not on good terms,
to put it mildly..." the armored Champion looked away, cupping his
helmet's chin in a gauntlet. "...unless it wasn't Thratchen who sent
this techno-demon..."
   "You onto something, D?" Seeker asked.
   "Probably not. Thratchen hates my guts. Still, if the Gaunt Man
wanted us to think we _didn't_ need to worry about a larger
invasion..." Roland sighed. "I'm getting paranoid in my old age. It
can't hurt to alert UNTIL in either case." A crystal sprouted from his
vambrace.

"A Maelstrom Bridge dropping techno-demons isn't going to be a good
thing, _whoever's_ behind it," Solitaire noted.

   Defender nodded and handed the crystal to Menton. "Take this to
your master. It has everything I know about High Lords, Darkness
Devices, and the Torg on it. I trust," he added meaningfully, "that he
is wise enough not to want to get involved with these tools of
Oblivion."
   Menton accepted the crystal, frowning only slightly at the veiled
warning. A moment later, he vanished in a vortex of swirling
space-time power.
   "Seeker, tell Quantum to contact UNTIL. I'll call Minuteman myself.
I want our world's forces on Yellow Alert. If we're 'lucky,' it's just
a typical villainous revenge plot...but my gut thinks otherwise."
   Seeker saluted jauntily. "Always trust you're gut, mate. Especially
if you're psychic." He strode off.

"Do we alert the other team, too?" Morgan asked.

   Roland considered this, then nodded. "But just to let them know
that we _might_ need them. This could be a diversion, too. I don't
want the Starspawn, NEMO, the Sevens, and Dhyrclhanc's brigade all
collected here, only to find out that the Marvel multiverse has been
overrun or something." After a moment, he added, "Rob, especially,
should be warned to stay on his toes. Other than that...I'd like to
think we can handle ourselves, most of the time."

Morgan chuckled. Then she added, "What about those who aren't on the
lens-link?"

   Roland paused. "Huh. Good question." He considered for a moment,
but nothing came to him. Fortunately, he's married to Morgan.

Morgan pondered. "'Spose we could ask Callahan to put up a notice in
the Place."

   Roland brightened. The helmet retracted, and he gave his beloved a
kiss on the cheek. "What would I do without you?" As she smiled
winningly, he continued. "That'll also be our now semi-traditional
lead for anyone who wants to join up; if this does turn out to be
nothing, maybe we can put on our Fudd hats and open Thratchen season.
In the meantime, I want to go see the twins." He turned and gazed at
the techno-demon for several seconds. Finally, it vanished.

"I don't think anybody'll mind if we take off a little early," Morgan
replied with a smile.

   "It's not like they don't know where to find us," Roland added.
With that, he wrapped hyperspace around them; after his battle with
the Proprietor, it took him longer to teleport, but in seconds, they
were gone.
   (OOC: If you need a lead-in, Rob, I was planning on doing a bit
with Eric/Hunter anyway. It turns out that vampires are becoming a
problem again...anyone for a bit of Vampire Hunter D for prologue? ;^)
=================================

Subject: AAE 9 Prologue: Calm Before...

On Tue, 02 Sep 2003 00:30:37 -0700
Morgan and/or Roland Said As CAoL Message # 00011155

   "DAAADDY!"
   Two small blurs, one red-gold and one gray, slammed into Roland,
hugging him as fiercely as only young children can.
   "Oh, oh, you're getting so _big!_" Roland laughed, hefting the two
(one in each arm) with relative ease, but 'staggering' under their
weight
8^) "Look at you! What is your mother _feeding_ you two?!"

"It's not like you didn't just see them this _morning,_" Morgan says,
following him with a broad smile. "And what am I, chopped gryphon
liver?"

   "MOOOMMY!!" The twins lit up in delight, vanishing from their
father's arms instantly and piling on top of their mother, hugs every
bit as intense.
   "Feel better?" Roland quipped wryly, suddenly twin-less. ^Yeah, we
know who rates around _here,_^ he added privately, though his tone was
just as light as his voice.
   "We did finger-painting today --" Rachel began.
   "-- and then we won a game of dodge-ball --" Liam continued.
   "-- then we went to OTHER kindergarten --" Rachel put in.
   "-- and we did shapeshiftin' --"
   "-- and floatin' stuff --"
   "-- and Miz Psyche gave us both stickers!" Liam finished as they
both wriggled down to floor level. He dug into a pocket and pulled out
what looked like a normal sticker page at first glance, except the
wrinkles ironed themselves out as soon as it was clear of his pocket,
and the stickers were animated and glimmered with all the colors of
the rainbow.
   "Whoa, sounds like you two had a busy day," Roland replied, his
smile growing gentle. "No trouble, I hope?"
   Liam shook his head emphatically. "Ogre-puss spent the day
sulking," he said with a wicked gleam in his eye.

"It's not nice to call people names," Morgan explained patiently. A
moment later, she added, "You didn't do anything to _make_ him sulk,
did you?"

   Rachel shook _her_ head with equal fervor, if greater innocence.
"Nuh-uh. Shelbert got caught putting a Pattern Spider in Priscilla's
k'tany space."
   Liam scowled. "Bert's _mean._ Prissy's a _mage,_ what's he want,
for her to get _'Dox_ 'n stuff?"
   Roland sighed as the lot of them headed for the den. ^Light.
They've seen villains -- heck, they've _fought_ villains. Remember the
Tooniverse trip?^

^Vividly,^ Morgan sent emphatically.

   Roland nodded. ^They've never matched that one, thank the light,
but there was the Foxbat incident and the 'Day of the Peanut Butter,'
but they still don't really get...well, _mean_ people, do they?^

^Don't rush it. They'll understand soon enough,^ Morgan sighed. "So
what did you shapeshift into?" she asked brightly, giving them full
'Mom' attention.

   Both children brightened instantly. "I turned into a wolf!" Liam
blurted proudly.
   ^Big shock,^ his parents sent to each other in simultaneous pride,
smiling.
   "Yeah, a wolf _cub,_" Rachel replied.
   "Yeah, well, your _tigress_ didn't come out any older," Liam shot
back.
   Rachel's right foot twisted in the carpet. "I did a cat-girl," she
said shyly.
   "I did a werewolf!" Liam replied, showing them for emphasis. In
moments, they were all staring at a three and a half foot tall
were-cub (Liam having grown a few inches in the transformation). He
howled, and Roland and Morgan each took a step back, suitably
impressed.
   Rachel looked downcast for a second, thinking hard -- then
brightened again. "I broke three hun'rrd em-p-h!" she blurted,
beaming. "Orchid said that was _real_ fast! Wanna see?"
   Roland held up his hands, laughing. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Speedy, you
can show me in the Danger Room, sweetie. I don't think the carpet can
take it."
   Liam, who had been enjoying an ear-skritch from Mom to that point,
popped back into his normal human form and jumped up and down
excitedly. "Ooo, ooo, Danger Room!"
   Then Rachel caught the bug, and in an instant they were hopping in
unison. "Oh, daddy, can we? Mommy, can we? Can we? Pleeease?" they
asked as one.
   Roland looked at his love for a moment, then nodded, his smile
broadening. "Oh, why not?"
   "YAAAYY!" they shouted in glee, and disappeared -- Rachel zipping
off at super-speed (though avoiding going _too_ fast; Daddy _said_),
Liam simply teleporting.
   Roland began to head off with them, chuckling, when Caitlin began
coming down the steps. "Hey, ma'air!" he called up with a wave. "The
kids are off to slay princesses and rescue dragons, or something like
that," he quipped. "Want to watch? Or join in, for that matter?"

"Actually, we need to talk first," Morgan said significantly.

"Trouble?" Caitlin asked, her tone managing to be light and
no-nonsense at once.

   Roland stopped in mid-step, frowning faintly. "Maybe. Hm. I'll get
the kids to hold up for a minute --"

"They should be ok by themselves for a little while. Now that they
know better than to mess with the safeties," Morgan added with a grin.

   Roland nodded. "Still, I'll feel better with a holo-split being
down there with them." He concentrated for a second, and was quickly
rewarded with distant peals of surprise and delight. "Okay." And he
gestured to Morgan in a 'take it away' manner.

"We don't know yet how serious it might be, or even if it'll get
serious enough to worry about," Morgan began. "But anything that has
Destroyer willing to call a truce..."
   At Caitlin's Spocked eyebrow, Roland continued Morgan's thought (at
a mental prod from the druid). "Menton -- Destroyer's right hand --
brought us a creature called a techno-demon. You're familiar with
cybernetics, right?" At Caitlin's curt nod and furrowed brow, he
continued. "These techno-demons are monsters from another plane, that
need magical cybernetics to survive in low-magic environments. Their
own plane has suffered from this problem until recently. Their
leader..." Roland cleared his throat, not blushing but still mildly
embarrassed. "His -- _its_ name is Thratchen, and it has a mad-on for
me. Um, it hates me."

"'It?'" Caitlin asked.

"They don't have gender," Morgan explained. "It's too biological for
them. For Tharkoldu, Thratchen's...race...'human' is an insult."
Caitlin nodded. "But we don't know if we're dealing with Thratchen
plotting against Roland, or if someone's planning a full-scale reality
invasion."

Caitlin's eyes grew wide. "_Reality_ invasion?"

   Roland sighed. "Aye." [Light, now _I'm_ doing it.] "Thratchen is
one of a...well, a group of evil beings. These beings, called High
Lords, have weapons called Darkness Devices. These Devices let them
invade other planes, other realities, and transform them to match
their own. They believe that one of them can eventually become
immortal in this way, and in the meantime, each conquered plane makes
the victorious High Lord stronger."
Caitlin snorted. "It dinna sound _tha'_ different from any other
conqueror."

   Roland chuckled wryly. "True enough." He grew serious quickly.
"Except that reality itself becomes a weapon. Imagine if Skynet, from
Terminator, could attack our Earth, taking whole sections of the world
and disconnecting them from magic and divine power. Or if Dracula took
over Germany, and all the cars turned into horses and carriages."

Caitlin nodded, frowning. "We don't know that anyone's going to
invade," Morgan said quickly. "It's just that, well, techno-demons
don't tend to go wandering off to random worlds on their own, so
_someone_ must have sent it here."

   "So you can relax," Roland said sardonically, "it's probably just
Thratchen plotting revenge against me."

"Oh, aye, tha's all," Caitlin replied, her voice quavering ever so
slightly.

   Roland quickly became serious again. "If there's any trouble, or we
send word, just take the twins, pack up the house -- you know how to
shrink it down, right?" Caitlin nodded. "Anyway, you know how to get
to Callahan's, so if things get bad, you know what to do."
   The house shook slightly and there were more cries of laughter from
below. Roland shook his head and smiled. "Mojo Jojo's really taking a
beating down there."

"An' what about you two?" Caitlin asked.

   Roland straightened, and the Defender armor swirled and formed
around him. "Whatever this techno-demon means, it's up to us to help
stop it."

"In other words," Morgan added, "we'll do what we always do, ma."

   Roland grinned sheepishly, the armor becoming his street clothes
again. "Enough worrying, huh? Let's go have some fun with the kids."

Morgan started humming the "Powerpuff Girls" theme, stuck her arms out
as if to 'fly,' and headed toward the basement to... *ahem* Fight
Crime, and the Forces...of EVIL!
=================================

Subject: Re: AAE 9 Prologue: Storm Warnings

On Mon, 8 Sep 2003 18:47:09 -0700 (PDT)
Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00011156

     [One of the oddities of the multiverse,] Rob noted as he dried
his hair, [is that there seems to be a Motel 6 in every universe where
Earth-born civilization still exists.] The sign visible from the
window of his hotel room stood as mute proof of this.

     Since his decision to stay on Earth-9, he had managed to work on
some projects that he previously lacked either the skill or the time
to put together. The results were currently laid out on the bed,
surrounded by dirty clothing - a piece of rose quartz that glowed
softly after a week in the sun, a "instructor's gem" which contained
one less spell now that Rob had mastered it, and a sword with a small
white marking on its black hilt.

     The sword went into a cylindrical tube that had once held a
fishing rod, the laundry was stuffed into a backpack, and everything
else went into one pocket or another. "Getting a little heavy here,"
Rob told himself. "And I used to pride myself on traveling light. Of
course, I also didn't have any place to put soap..." Thinking back, he
decided that the post-Wildstrike period, when his arm was in a cast,
was the real start of it all. Staying in one place, he decided, caused
a person to buy new clothes. And a backpack. And a motorcycle ...well,
maybe not the motorcycle.

     With everything in control, he got on his motorcycle - a rather
beat-up Toshiro Circe - and flipped a coin. "Heads is NYC, tails is
Boston." Five minutes later, Rob was on the onramp for I-90 East.
=================================

Subject: Re: AAE 9 Prologue: Storm Warnings

On Mon, 08 Sep 2003 23:57:34 -0700
Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00011157

>On Mon, 8 Sep 2003 18:47:09 -0700 (PDT)
>Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00011156
>
>     With everything in control, he got on his motorcycle - a rather
>beat-up Toshiro Circe - and flipped a coin. "Heads is NYC, tails is
>Boston." Five minutes later, Rob was on the onramp for I-90 East.

   Eric pulled his duster tightly around him. One of the disadvantages
of feeling emotion again, he decided wryly, was that it got a lot
harder to ignore the cold.
   It was early for cold, but then, this was New England. He hadn't
been in New England much (at least, as an adult), just one case of a
werewolf gone bad in Vermont. The demon hunter glanced casually at the
man who'd asked to meet him.
   Beckett had always been an odd one, even for a vampire, and he
seemed to be reacting to true immortality in his usual style: he
wanted to know everything about it, three days ago.
   "1795," Beckett said suddenly, as urbane as ever.
   "Excuse me?" Eric asked idly.
   "The 'new' State House. Construction began in 1795. It was
impressive, even then, though it didn't gain its true luster until
Revere added the copper plating to the dome in 1802."
   Eric paused. "Revere."
   Beckett nodded. "More famous for his over-rated midnight ride, but
quite the man of his time, I assure you. Of course," he added with a
smile, "I prefer the gold."
   "I didn't know you were especially familiar with Boston," Eric said
dryly.
   "I get around," Beckett said mysteriously, donning his hat.
   "So do I," Eric replied, trading 'dry' for 'flat.' As usual, with
the hat, Beckett resembled nothing so much as a pale Indiana Jones
with round sunglasses. "I also didn't come here to watch you play the
enigmatic immortal show-off."
   Beckett nodded, sliding the glasses up his nose slightly. "Of
course. My apologies. I forgot that you prefer the direct approach."
   "But you remember the architectural history of Paul Revere," Eric
replied, deciding on 'dry' again, as Beckett pulled a book out of his
pocket.
   "Indeed. Such are the perils of surviving Ages." Beckett offered
Eric the book. It was old, but it..._felt_ strange. The Hunter could
feel his ch'i almost writhing in protest over it.
   Exaltation had been good to Eric. The rush of power and purpose had
completely healed his many battle scars, and even the wound that would
never heal hurt less afterward. Still, there were disadvantages to his
new state. The vast pool of ch'i -- Essence -- granted him abilities
far beyond his previous (and already impressive) talents, but it also
made him more sensitive to some things. Like this book.
   "It's...wrong, somehow," Eric said as he accepted the tome. Beckett
raised an eyebrow. "Just a hunch."
   "I trust your hunches. Also, I have read the book. Please do so."
   Eric nodded and began flipping through the pages. Research, being
vital to his work, made him an expert in many of its aspects,
including speed reading. Further, his Exalted powers were useful in a
wide variety of situations, not just combat. So in moments, he had
read the entire work.
   A moment later, Eric's jaw slackened. "Impossible."
   "Yes, isn't it?" Beckett agreed conversationally. "I spent most of
my unlife studying the nature, permutations, and destiny of the
Kindred. Even this new dark twist, the rare Exalted of Oblivion,
follows from the ancient history of my k- my _former_ kind," he
continued casually, as Eric went back to the beginning and re-read the
entire book, halving his speed. "There is no precedent for this."
   "A vampire," Eric noted, closing the book slowly, "that has no fear
of the sun, fire, or stakes, gains more essence from the blood of
attractive victims, and is weakened by garlic."
   "Kindred, as you know, had no difficulties with garlic. Well, other
than accounting for taste, of course," Beckett agreed. "My research
indicates that great faith can repel this creature, but even that is
not a thing I can be sure of."
   Eric nodded absently as he handed Beckett the book. It quickly
vanished into the former Kindred's pocket; it seemed that he had
quickly mastered what Eternals called 'katana-space.' "Great Gaia."
   "That is not even the most interesting part of the tale," Beckett
explained. At a dubious glance from Eric, he continued, "I was, as you
might imagine, curious as to the origin of this scholarship." Eric
snorted. Beckett was 'curious' the way a pit bull was 'determined.'
"Just so," the immortal archaeologist admitted. "What amazed me about
my find was that I soon discovered that a book that is clearly
centuries old...did not exist until a few weeks ago."
   Eric's eyebrow went stratospheric. "How could you possibly be so
certain?"
   "Weeks of research, combined with a judicious use of Auspex -- I
mean Clairsentience. The same principles apply, more or less," the
scholar explained almost apologetically. "I assure you, however, I
_am_ certain."
   Eric frowned. If Beckett was willing to declare certainty on a
matter like this, as far as the Hunter was concerned the matter was
closed. "Then there's only one question on _my_ mind. Where _is_ our
garlic-hating, Chandler-hunting daywalker?"
   There was a sound somewhere between a slap and thunder. A figure in
black went flying, and a slender woman with disheveled raven-black
hair leapt out next to them.
   "Lucita?" Beckett asked, his eternal aplomb finally shaken.
   "He...he..." the woman, slim and attractive, was wearing a dark
maroon one-piece dress with long sleeves. She would have been the
picture of poise and self-possession under other circumstances. "...he
tried to _drink_ of me!" Lucita hissed in fury. And something more.
   Eric had met Lucita three times, and fought her twice. That she was
still alive spoke volumes about her strength and skill. She was
afraid.
   The Hunter uncoiled his ch'i. [Just as glad the Masquerade's
history.] Deliberately using Essence that would call his anima banner
to life, he became a whirlwind of motion, fiery daggers of pure
sunlight forming between his fingers as he leapt several yards into
the air. "Clear the area! NOW!" he roared.
   The mundanes present took one look at Eric, in mid-anime-leap, with
a blazing panther-totem howling around him, and bolted.
   Lucita's target was another story.
   He was dressed impeccably. With a few brushes of his hand, the
wrinkles vanished from his suit -- a bit old-fashioned, perhaps, but
he didn't look like a Bela Lugosi wannabe. The creature stood there,
looked at him, and _smiled._
   Eric gritted his teeth and held his solar daggers, landing with a
resounding *crack* scant feet away from the vampire -- and vampire he
clearly was, from the delicate fangs jutting out of his smile. "I'm
only going to say this once. You're coming with me."
   "My dear boy," the thing said in a cultured British accent,
"although I am certain that by your standards, that is a highly
considerate offer, I promise you that you haven't the slightest idea
of the risk you are taking." He glanced past Eric at the two former
Kindred, who were circling around behind the Hunter to his left. "Now
if you will excuse me, I have some unfinished business with a lovely
young lady."
   "That 'young' lady is probably older than you are, and I know what
you are," Eric replied darkly.
   "She is not," the Brit replied confidently. "Her mastery of
this...time...is admirable, but her accent carries faint traces of
late 12th Century Aragon. I predate her by at least three centuries."
   "Bully for you," Eric snapped, all pretense incinerated by fury at
the world being blasphemed again by such foulness, and the roar of his
very Essence against it. "_I_ have slain things that would have
thought you an infant."
   The vampire's attention returned, whip-like, to the demon hunter.
"You...speak the truth," he said reluctantly. Eric smiled ferally and
nodded. The creature glanced back and forth between Eric and Lucita,
the latter of whom was still glaring. She was waiting only for a
moment to pounce, that was certain. "First things first, then." He
leapt at Eric.
   "Thousand Sun-Shard Storm!" the Hunter bellowed, and his hands flew
out. The solar daggers multiplied hundreds-fold, and unlike his old
'Thousand Dragon Fire Storm,' it really could have been over a
thousand blazing shards of sunfire flying at the creature. Eric's
attack ravaged the monster, tearing it in a hundred placed. The
Exalt's smile broadened.
   But only for a moment. The wounds vanished almost as quickly as
they appeared, though they continued to smolder faintly after the rest
of the damage was gone. The vampire clutched its chest and hissed at
the Exalt. "Pain," he snarled.
   Eric's body was wracked with agony for a moment, as if every blow
he'd ever taken returned to haunt him. This attack didn't last any
longer than Eric's own, however; pain was no stranger to the Hunter.
Sunlight glinted off of Eric's jade sunglasses. "Is that all you've
got?" he asked contemptuously.
   His opponent looked at Eric, then at the two now-living ex-Kindred,
and took one step back and to his right. The monster hunter groaned
when he realized the thing's foot was on a tree's outstretched shadow.
"Damn," he sighed.
   "It is not, I assure you," the vampire hissed. "And when you meet
Victor Manwaring again, you will learn precisely how vast my arsenal
is."
   And he flowed into the shadow, a shadow himself for a moment. Like
that, he was gone.
   "Bloody Savior!" Lucita breathed. "What in the name of Eternity
_was_ that?"
   "Another bad guy who has to do exposition before he chickens out,"
Eric snarled. "Nothing more."
   Beckett clucked at the Hunter. "This Manwaring creature is
considerably more than that, Hunter, and you know it." At Eric's
exasperated sigh, the Kindred scholar continued. "There are few in the
world whose knowledge of vampire lore equals either yours or mine, and
I would wager none who exceeds us both combined. So tell me, Eric
Demon Hunter, what did you just fight?"
   The master warrior's teeth ground loudly enough for all three of
them to hear it. He didn't have an answer to Beckett's question, and
they all knew it.
=================================

Subject: Re: AAE 9 Prologue: Storm Warnings

On Wed, 17 Sep 2003 00:13:24 -0700 (PDT)
Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00011159

>Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00011157
>
>   The master warrior's teeth ground loudly enough for all three of
>them to hear it. He didn't have an answer to Beckett's question, and
>they all knew it.

     (seven hours later)

     Rob walked out of the Boston Science Museum, stretching as he
took in the sunny afternoon. Exploring the museum had taken most of
the day, and he had decided to pass up the gift shop in favor of
finding a good restaurant.
     In the interest of avoiding the traffic quirks of an unfamiliar
city, he had parked his motorcycle at Riverside, and taken the Green
Line in, with suitable praises to the MBTA and one-day visitor's
passes. The downside, he noted as he climbed the stairs to the
elevated platform, was that he had to figure out how to get where he
was going - in this case, a Chinese restaurant he'd heard good things
about which was somewhere near the north end of the Red Line - and the
risk of just missing his train, like he was doing right now. [Oh,
well. That's what books are for,] he mused, pulling his current book
from an inside pocket.
     Just as he reached the part where the original Albert paints
himself gray, somebody came up the stairs. Rob gave the newcomer a
casual glance, then went back to his book for about half a second -
the time it took for the new arrival to cover thirty feet and get a
one-handed chokehold on Rob.
     There are many responses to such an action. The most common one
is to grab the wrist of the choking hand. More effective is to attack
that arm. Less commonly, some people are trained to attack the head or
body of the person choking them. Glowing purple and throwing an
electric shock into one's opponent is, perhaps, the rarest possible
response.
     "Maybe I'm old-fashioned," Rob gasped, "but I like to be
introduced to somebody who tries to strangle me."
     Rob's attacker picked himself up and smiled apologetically. "I
can't believe I've forgotten my manners so badly. Victor Manwaring."
As Rob started to answer, Manwaring raised his hand. "I prefer not to
be introduced to my food," he said dryly, showing his fangs.
     [A vampire?!] Rob considered himself to be an un-stereotypical
male; he read the instruction manual, asked directions when he got
lost, and had no problem calling in an expert for advice or
assistance. /Eric!! Vampire attack, broad daylight - advice good, help
better!/
     As he dodged the bloodsucker's first lunge, Rob realized that the
vampire was slower than he was. [Unfortunately, he's -much- stronger,
and I'm going to get tired first, if Manwaring has the endurance of a
typical vampire.] With that in mind, Rob parried the next attack,
guiding his opponent toward a trash can. Reinforcing that direction
with a kick, he moved back, putting some distance between them.
     Manwaring was not amused. His next attack failed to do real
damage, but it made Rob's haircut visibly lop-sided. [Needed a trim
anyway,] Rob noted as he concentrated his will into a ball of fire and
threw it at the vampire, who batted it away.
     As the next train pulled in, Manwaring tried to grab Rob, and
ended up lying on the floor, with one hand superglued to his face and
the other to the floor. [I hope he appreciates that,] Rob thought as
he boarded the subway. [This stuff is expensive.] By the time
Manwaring managed to free himself, the train had left.
     /Cancel the red alert, Eric; either I've lost him, or he's
playing with his food,/ Rob sent via mini-lens. [I -hope- I've lost
him; if he was sandbagging as much as I think he was, I'm going to be
vampire chow before the sun sets.]
=================================

Subject: Re: AAE 9 Prologue: Storm Warnings

On Wed, 17 Sep 2003 13:54:30 -0700
Dane Said As CAoL Message # 00011160

>Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00011159
>     /Cancel the red alert, Eric; either I've lost him, or he's
>playing with his food,/ Rob sent via mini-lens. [I -hope- I've lost
>him; if he was sandbagging as much as I think he was, I'm going to be
>vampire chow before the sun sets.]

/*HMMMMPH! Vampires! Undead! A foul plague upon those who should be
moving on to their next life.*/ The Stardragon opines. /*Call me if
you need any help. We'll see how it likes the heart of a blue white
giant.*/
=================================

Subject: Re: AAE 9 Prologue: Storm Warnings

On Wed, 17 Sep 2003 13:54:22 -0700
Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00011161

>On Wed, 17 Sep 2003 00:13:24 -0700 (PDT)
>Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00011159
>
>     Rob walked out of the Boston Science Museum, stretching as he
>took in the sunny afternoon. Exploring the museum had taken most of
>the day, and he had decided to pass up the gift shop in favor of
>finding a good restaurant.

   A library that few mortal eyes have seen.
   "Dark Savior, Beckett," Lucita sighed, "how did you _find_ this
place?" She wrinkled her nose in disgust.
   "I was owed a few favors by the Nosferatu. As the vast majority are
as beautiful now as they were ugly as undead, they have by and large
abandoned their former strongholds." Beckett smiled absently.
"Treasure troves of lost lore, ripe for the plucking, their owners
eager to be rid of them..."
   "Work now, dream later," Eric snapped. "And stop pretending to be
so _delicate,_ Lucita. You took a blade through the stomach without
flinching."
   Lucita smiled dangerously at Eric. "You always _did_ know how to
show a lady a good time, Hunter."
   Eric ignored the retort. Lucita watched the only entrance into the
sewer alcove that he and Beckett worked in. At two old desks, worn by
age but still sturdy, he and the scholar of Kindred lore went through
book after book, looking for information on Manwaring.

>     In the interest of avoiding the traffic quirks of an unfamiliar
>city, he had parked his motorcycle at Riverside, and taken the Green
>Line in, with suitable praises to the MBTA and one-day visitor's
>passes. The downside, he noted as he climbed the stairs to the
>elevated platform, was that he had to figure out how to get where he
>was going - in this case, a Chinese restaurant he'd heard good things
>about which was somewhere near the north end of the Red Line - and
>the risk of just missing his train, like he was doing right now. [Oh,
>well. That's what books are for,] he mused, pulling his current book
>from an inside pocket.

   "This is pointless," Eric muttered, closing a book with a bit more
force than he'd intended. "We'd have as much luck looking through the
local goth book store."
   "Not necessarily," Beckett countered agreeably. "I found that first
book among another such cache, and I believe we may have similar luck
-- here!" The former Kindred thumped the page he was on gently with
his palm, then began to read, moving his finger along the lines.
   Eric was at the explorer's shoulder in an instant. "What have you
got?"
   "Information, Eric, information. 'Beware the rituals of shadow, the
hunger for blood, the blight of men and Kindred alike. From beyond the
Mists they come, a foulness to make our First Sires shudder.'" Beckett
tapped the end of the line thoughtfully.
   "'Sires?' Then it's true?" Lucita asked.
   Beckett nodded. "Caine, as I suspected, is a myth. The
Antediluveans were the first."
   "He called himself the Forsaken Lion..." Eric whispered.
   Beckett looked up. "Hm?"

>     Just as he reached the part where the original Albert paints
>himself gray, somebody came up the stairs. Rob gave the newcomer a
>casual glance, then went back to his book for about half a second -
>the time it took for the new arrival to cover thirty feet and get a
>one-handed chokehold on Rob.

   Eric shook his head. "Never mind. Manwaring?"
   "Ah." Beckett fingered his "Indy" hat and returned to his reading.
"It continues, 'Born in shadow, he is shrouded from the sun, as are
his Childer.'"

>     There are many responses to such an action. The most common one
>is to grab the wrist of the choking hand. More effective is to attack
>that arm. Less commonly, some people are trained to attack the head
>or body of the person choking them. Glowing purple and throwing an
>electric shock into one's opponent is, perhaps, the rarest possible
>response.

   People had gasped and stepped back, and a transit cop had
approached. The purple flare sent most of the onlookers rushing away
in fear, including the cop.
   "'His strength is as the mightiest of Kindred, and e'en the claws
of the Savage Ones do no lasting harm.'

>     "Maybe I'm old-fashioned," Rob gasped, "but I like to be
>introduced to somebody who tries to strangle me."

   "'His speed is as the Celerity of the First Sires, and his touch
bears the chill of the grave with a thought.'"
   Eric frowned. Manwaring hadn't used _that_ one yet...

>     Rob's attacker picked himself up and smiled apologetically. "I
>can't believe I've forgotten my manners so badly. Victor Manwaring."
>As Rob started to answer, Manwaring raised his hand. "I prefer not to
>be introduced to my food," he said dryly, showing his fangs.

   The rest of the onlookers took one look at Manwaring and fled.
   "'To drink of the living gives not life, but mere power, to him.'"
   Eric's frown deepened. [Not a good sign.] "Come _on,_ Beckett, does
he have a _real_ weak--"

>     [A vampire?!] Rob considered himself to be an un-stereotypical
>male; he read the instruction manual, asked directions when he got
>lost, and had no problem calling in an expert for advice or
>assistance. /Eric!! Vampire attack, broad daylight - advice good,
>help better!/

   Eric's thoughts tilted, swerved, and derailed. His eyes flickered
to the mini-lens. /N...Nishikawa?/ His mind raced. /Your attacker!
Image!/
   (OOC: Assuming Rob complies...)

>     As he dodged the bloodsucker's first lunge, Rob realized that
>the vampire was slower than he was. [Unfortunately, he's -much-
>stronger, and I'm going to get tired first, if Manwaring has the
>endurance of a typical vampire.]

   "/GAIA!/" Eric snarled.
   "Hunter?" Beckett asked, looking up.
   "A -- colleague, in trouble! It's MANWARING!" With a single burst
of speed, Eric shot from the room. A moment later, Lucita was at his
side.
   /Garlic! He's vulnerable to garlic!/

>With that in mind, Rob parried the next attack, guiding his opponent
>toward a trash can. Reinforcing that direction with a kick, he moved
>back, putting some distance between them.

   "You weren't going to hog _all_ the fun, were you?" Lucita asked
dryly.
   "Just remember, rescue first, payback second," Eric replied curtly
as the two burst out of a manhole. Onlookers gawked as they leapt
fluidly onto a motorcycle.

>     Manwaring was not amused. His next attack failed to do real
>damage, but it made Rob's haircut visibly lop-sided. [Needed a trim
>anyway,] Rob noted as he concentrated his will into a ball of fire
>and threw it at the vampire, who batted it away.

   (OOC: So, does he have hair rakishly swirled in front of one eye?
;^)
   "Lucita! Tell Beckett to read faster!" /Fire doesn't bother him!/
   [Damn damn damn DAMN! Too much we don't know, not enough TIME!]

>     As the next train pulled in, Manwaring tried to grab Rob, and
>ended up lying on the floor, with one hand superglued to his face and
>the other to the floor. [I hope he appreciates that,] Rob thought as
>he boarded the subway. [This stuff is expensive.] By the time
>Manwaring managed to free himself, the train had left.

   Manwaring melted into shadow, leaving the glue behind, then
restored himself. He glared at the rapidly receding train, snarling.
   "I'll be home in a few hours, Vincent," a beautiful blonde woman
said as she descended the stairs. Manwaring turned suddenly. She was
speaking into a small box in one hand. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. Stop being
a mother hen." She smiled gently. "Love you too."
   Victor's snarl became a sly, cruel grin...

>     /Cancel the red alert, Eric; either I've lost him, or he's
>playing with his food,/ Rob sent via mini-lens.

   /I want his last known location,/ Eric replied darkly. /Your
playmate and I have some unfinished business./
=================================

Subject: Re: AAE 9 Prologue: Storm Warnings

On Thu, 18 Sep 2003 21:05:19 -0700 (PDT)
Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00011165

> Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00011161
>
>>Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00011159
>>
>>   There are many responses to such an action. The most common one
>>is to grab the wrist of the choking hand. More effective is to
>>attack that arm. Less commonly, some people are trained to attack
>>the head or body of the person choking them. Glowing purple and
>>throwing an electric shock into one's opponent is, perhaps, the
>>rarest possible response.
>
>   People had gasped and stepped back, and a transit cop had
>approached. The purple flare sent most of the onlookers rushing away
>in fear, including the cop.

   [Run, yes. Good plan. As soon as the other people are gone, I'll do
that too.]

>>   [A vampire?!] Rob considered himself to be an un-stereotypical
>>male; he read the instruction manual, asked directions when he got
>>lost, and had no problem calling in an expert for advice or
>>assistance. /Eric!! Vampire attack, broad daylight - advice good,
>>help better!/
>
>   Eric's thoughts tilted, swerved, and derailed. His eyes flickered
>to the mini-lens. /N...Nishikawa?/ His mind raced. /Your attacker!
>Image!/

   With contact through the mini-lens, Rob created an open link,
allowing the Hunter free access to his vision and hearing. /I hope
that'll do - I'm a little busy!/

>>   As he dodged the bloodsucker's first lunge, Rob realized that the
>>vampire was slower than he was. [Unfortunately, he's -much-
>>stronger, and I'm going to get tired first, if Manwaring has the
>>endurance of a typical vampire.]
>
>   "/GAIA!/" Eric snarled.
>   "Hunter?" Beckett asked, looking up.
>   "A -- colleague, in trouble! It's MANWARING!" With a single burst
>of speed, Eric shot from the room. A moment later, Lucita was at his
>side.
>   /Garlic! He's vulnerable to garlic!/

/Great - and I'm nowhere near a grocery store./

>>   Manwaring was not amused. His next attack failed to do real
>>damage, but it made Rob's haircut visibly lop-sided. [Needed a trim
>>anyway,] Rob noted as he concentrated his will into a ball of fire
>>and threw it at the vampire, who batted it away.
>
>   (OOC: So, does he have hair rakishly swirled in front of one eye?
>;^)

   (OOC: Rob's hair is brushed straight back, to keep it -out- of his
eyes. As for Manwaring? Well, you created him - you tell me.)

>   "Lucita! Tell Beckett to read faster!" /Fire doesn't bother him!/
>   [Damn damn damn DAMN! Too much we don't know, not enough TIME!]

   /The platform's empty - I'm going to try to stall him!/

>>   /Cancel the red alert, Eric; either I've lost him, or he's
>>playing with his food,/ Rob sent via mini-lens.
>
>   /I want his last known location,/ Eric replied darkly. /Your
>playmate and I have some unfinished business./

   /Science Park, Boston, at the elevated...Ghidrah's fangs, NO!/

>   "I'll be home in a few hours, Vincent," a beautiful blonde woman
>said as she ascended the stairs. Manwaring turned suddenly. She was
>speaking into a small box in one hand. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. Stop
>being a mother hen." She smiled gently. "Love you too."
>   Victor's snarl became a sly, cruel grin...

   Rob's hands were wrapped in red a second before they shattered the
safety glass, protecting him from the blow. As he issued a mental
apology to the MBTA for not using the emergency exit instructions, he
pulled the quartz from his pocket. [I hope this works...or this is
going to hurt...]
   Stepping back, he ran for the shattered window, casting the spell
as he did:

   "Sheathe these feet in the driving gale,
   make swift these legs - o'er land I sail!"

   He jumped from the train somewhere around "swift."
   Spells don't always translate neatly from dimension to dimension;
in this case, rather than receiving a temporary burst of superspeed,
Rob's feet were wrapped in miniature tornadoes. [Good enough,] Rob
decided, as he skidded to a stop. /Bad news, Eric - Manwaring's
decided to go for a different target, I'm going back to help her.
What's your ETA?/

                                -=--=-

   Manwaring was the sort to make the best of a situation. If he
couldn't have the most nourishing morsel, he'd settle for terrorizing
a less filling target before feeding. He didn't derive any nourishment
from the terror, but he enjoyed the look of fear that he could create.
   He was almost done savoring the moment when he heard somebody
shout, "PSYCHO CHILLER!" Then his world dropped eighty degrees.
   "RUN!" Rob roared. "I'll hold him!" As a tiny voice in his head
began questioning the validity of such a claim, the woman dropped her
cell phone and ran for the exit. Turning to face his opponent, Rob
shielded his eyes as the ice shattered.
   "You should have kept running," Manwaring observed. "You might have
gotten away."
=================================

Subject: Re: AAE 9 Prologue: Storm Warnings

On Tue, 23 Sep 2003 20:22:16 -0700
Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00011167

>On Thu, 18 Sep 2003 21:05:19 -0700 (PDT)
>Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00011165
>
>>Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00011161
>>
<fang-snip>
>>   "/GAIA!/" Eric snarled.
>>   "Hunter?" Beckett asked, looking up.
>>   "A -- colleague, in trouble! It's MANWARING!" With a single burst
>>of speed, Eric shot from the room. A moment later, Lucita was at his
>>side.
>>   /Garlic! He's vulnerable to garlic!/
>
>/Great - and I'm nowhere near a grocery store./

   Eric boggled slightly at the quip when his fellow -- martial
artist? Hunter? -- whatever; he didn't know Rob well, yet he felt a
definite kinship, even moreso than with the other members of Roland's
"Army of Light." Regardless, it was rather...cavalier, all things
considered.
   /On my way!/

>>   (OOC: So, does he have hair rakishly swirled in front of one eye?
>>;^)
>
>   (OOC: Rob's hair is brushed straight back, to keep it -out- of his
>eyes.

   *shrugs* Well, it _is_ traditional for anime characters. And it
never seems to impede their sight -- you ever notice that the better a
mecha pilot is, the farther across his/her face the hair comes, until
half the face is completely obscured? ;^)

>   As for Manwaring? Well, you created him - you tell me.)

   Oh, you _wish_ Manwaring were an anime character... <EG>

>>   "Lucita! Tell Beckett to read faster!" /Fire doesn't bother him!/
>>   [Damn damn damn DAMN! Too much we don't know, not enough TIME!]
>
>   /The platform's empty - I'm going to try to stall him!/

   /Good plan./

>>   /I want his last known location,/ Eric replied darkly. /Your
>>playmate and I have some unfinished business./
>
>   /Science Park, Boston, at the elevated...Ghidrah's fangs, NO!/

   "/Eh?/"
   "What?" Lucita asked.
   "What's a Ghidra?" Eric asked.
   "A monster from Gojira -- Godzilla movies, why?" the former Kindred
replied.
   Eric frowned. "Not good."

>>   "I'll be home in a few hours, Vincent," a beautiful blonde woman
>>said as she ascended the stairs. Manwaring turned suddenly. She was
>>speaking into a small box in one hand. "Yes, yes, I'm fine. Stop
>>being a mother hen." She smiled gently. "Love you too."
>>   Victor's snarl became a sly, cruel grin...
>
>   Rob's hands were wrapped in red a second before they shattered the
>safety glass, protecting him from the blow. As he issued a mental
>apology to the MBTA for not using the emergency exit instructions, he
>pulled the quartz from his pocket. [I hope this works...or this is
>going to hurt...]

   "Hello, my dear," Manwaring said in a silky voice the moment she
hung up. The woman stopped in her tracks, eyeing the stranger warily.
[Beauty gives me less power than strength, but this one has both.
Perhaps I will encounter the Cathayan again later.]
   "Do I...know you?"
   Victor smiled, subtly showing his fangs. "Unlikely."

>   Stepping back, he ran for the shattered window, casting the spell
>as he did:
>
>   "Sheathe these feet in the driving gale,
>   make swift these legs - o'er land I sail!"

   The woman, oddly, didn't run. She began to back away, but took a
defensive posture of some sort. Manwaring growled.
   "Am I in the wrong cosm," he hissed, "or is this one of those
realities where _everyone_ has Eastern combat training?!?"
   The woman smiled. "My heart bleeds."
   Manwaring's eyes suddenly flashed a bright, terrible, burning red.
His intended victim jumped in surprise. "That...can be arranged."

>   He jumped from the train somewhere around "swift."
>   Spells don't always translate neatly from dimension to dimension;
>in this case, rather than receiving a temporary burst of superspeed,
>Rob's feet were wrapped in miniature tornadoes. [Good enough,] Rob
>decided, as he skidded to a stop. /Bad news, Eric - Manwaring's
>decided to go for a different target, I'm going back to help her.
>What's your ETA?/

   /I don't suppose,/ Eric sighed, /it would do any good to tell you
not to be a hero?/
   (OOC: Of course not. 8^)
   /Should be there any minute./

>   Manwaring was the sort to make the best of a situation. If he
>couldn't have the most nourishing morsel, he'd settle for terrorizing
>a less filling target before feeding. He didn't derive any
>nourishment from the terror, but he enjoyed the look of fear that he
>could create.
>   He was almost done savoring the moment when he heard somebody
>shout, "PSYCHO CHILLER!" Then his world dropped eighty degrees.

   Manwaring turned, mildly surprised and not the least bit bothered
by the cold. A moment later, he was much more surprised to find
himself covered in a sheet of ice.

>   "RUN!" Rob roared. "I'll hold him!" As a tiny voice in his head
>began questioning the validity of such a claim, the woman dropped her
>cell phone and ran for the exit. Turning to face his opponent, Rob
>shielded his eyes as the ice shattered.
>   "You should have kept running," Manwaring observed. "You might
>have gotten away."

   The woman was cursing herself for fleeing, but as much as it galled
her, she knew that her training was of little use against vampires.
   As she reached the bottom of the stairs, a motorcycle skidded to a
stop right in front of her.
   "Eric?!" the woman gasped.
   "Catherine!?" Eric blurted.
   "Perhaps you belong in 'missing persons,' Hunter," Lucita quipped
dryly.
   "Chandler," Eric sighed, "what are you doing--"
   "No time! Vampire! Up there!" Catherine gasped, then pointed up the
stairs, winded.
   "Stay here," Lucita told Eric, then leaped.
   Eric whirled around on her with a start, then glared after her as
her leap took her up the flight with one bound.
   Manwaring, up to then, had been circling Rob (or circling _with_
Rob, more likely), sizing his opponent up again. "You have many
Possibilities, stormer," he said in his cultured voice. "I shall enjoy
feeding on them."
   Then Lucita landed next to him.
   "Hello, handsome," she said, then spin-kicked him in the face, her
fitted dress stretching to allow her to perform the move flawlessly.
   Manwaring's head snapped back. A mortal would have been killed
instantly. Instead, the monster became shadow again, and flowed down
the stairs like water.
   Only to find Eric Lancer, Essence flared around him like a
miniature sun, standing there waiting for him.
   "By all the HELLS!" Manwaring roared from his pool of shadow. "You
begin to weary me, hunter!"
   "I'm _already_ tired of you, vampire," Eric snapped back. His chain
uncurled itself from around his arm, then grew glowing golden blades
all along its length. He carefully kept himself between Catherine and
the thing.
   The pool began to shrink immediately. "Vampyre," the thing
corrected, and Eric could hear the subtle difference. "We are not cut
from the same mold, like our pale reflections in this cosm. You will
learn the truth all too soon."
   Eric raised an eyebrow as Lucita landed across from him with a
cement-cracking landing. She was smiling ferociously. "Oh, really,"
Eric said coolly. "From my perspective, _you_ are the one about to be
schooled...in manners."
   The puddle of evil laughed, still shrinking. "Am I?" it gloated.
"Though the other warrior was an unexpected bonus, did you really
believe our collective presence here simple coincidence?" Eric paled.
"This world's two greatest masters of vampiric lore in the same city,
kept occupied?"
   "rrrRRRAAAH!" Eric roared, smashing his fist into the spot the
puddle had been a moment before.
   Far in the distance, to the southwest, clouds could just barely be
seen gathering. Strange flashes of red and blue lightning gave them a
truly eerie cast.
   "Vincent..." Catherine whispered.
   "Gaia," Eric breathed.
   "I am no expert in these occult matters, but I would hazard a guess
here...that we are all in grave danger," Lucita replied.

To be begun in AAE IX: Dark Storm Rising!
=================================

Subject: Re: AAE 9 Prologue: Storm Warnings

On Wed, 24 Sep 2003 07:15:23 -0700 (PDT)
Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00011168

>Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00011167
>
>>On Thu, 18 Sep 2003 21:05:19 -0700 (PDT)
>>Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00011165
>>
>>   He jumped from the train somewhere around "swift."
>>   Spells don't always translate neatly from dimension to dimension;
>>in this case, rather than receiving a temporary burst of superspeed,
>>Rob's feet were wrapped in miniature tornadoes. [Good enough,] Rob
>>decided, as he skidded to a stop. /Bad news, Eric - Manwaring's
>>decided to go for a different target, I'm going back to help her.
>>What's your ETA?/
>
>   /I don't suppose,/ Eric sighed, /it would do any good to tell you
>not to be a hero?/

/None at all - it's a bad habit, but I just can't seem to quit./ Rob
briefly summoned up the idea of a twelve-step program for compulsively
heroic people before returning to the current problem.

>>   "RUN!" Rob roared. "I'll hold him!" As a tiny voice in his head
>>began questioning the validity of such a claim, the woman dropped
>>her cell phone and ran for the exit. Turning to face his opponent,
>>Rob shielded his eyes as the ice shattered.
>>   "You should have kept running," Manwaring observed. "You might
>>have gotten away."
>
>   The woman was cursing herself for fleeing, but as much as it
>galled her, she knew that her training was of little use against
>vampires.
>   As she reached the bottom of the stairs, a motorcycle skidded to a
>stop right in front of her.
>   "Eric?!" the woman gasped.
>   "Catherine!?" Eric blurted.
>   "Perhaps you belong in 'missing persons,' Hunter," Lucita quipped
>dryly.
>   "Chandler," Eric sighed, "what are you doing--"
>   "No time! Vampire! Up there!" Catherine gasped, then pointed up
>the stairs, winded.
>   "Stay here," Lucita told Eric, then leaped.
>   Eric whirled around on her with a start, then glared after her as
>her leap took her up the flight with one bound.
>   Manwaring, up to then, had been circling Rob (or circling _with_
>Rob, more likely), sizing his opponent up again. "You have many
>Possibilities, stormer," he said in his cultured voice. "I shall
>enjoy feeding on them."

   [?!] Rob thought. [Possibilities? Stormer?] Even as he wondered
what Manwaring was talking about, his bravado made use of his voice.
"Fine, Vic. Can you drain my Possibilities in five minutes?"

>   Then Lucita landed next to him.

[Make that five seconds,] Rob corrected.

>   Far in the distance, to the southwest, clouds could just barely be
>seen gathering. Strange flashes of red and blue lightning gave them a
>truly eerie cast.
>   "Vincent..." Catherine whispered.
>   "Gaia," Eric breathed.

   "Ghhhk!" Rob gasped.

>   "I am no expert in these occult matters, but I would hazard a
>guess here...that we are all in grave danger," Lucita replied.

   Up on the T platform, Rob blocked off his sense of space-time, the
sense that enabled him to create wormholes. When his dimension-jumping
power had first manifested, his sensitivity was weak, and the area he
could detect small. By now, he was sensitive to relatively small
ripples in space-time, and his range extended over the horizon - just
how far, he didn't know.
   What he did know was that the storm clouds were related to some
sort of space-time disturbance. "Ghidrah's breath. That felt like
Martha Stewart decorating a city in space-time fabric."
   Not for the first time, Rob wondered why his sense of humor took
over his speech center when he was under stress.
=================================

Subject: Re: AAE 9 Prologue: Storm Warnings

On Wed, 24 Sep 2003 21:47:36 -0700
Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00011170

>On Wed, 24 Sep 2003 07:15:23 -0700 (PDT)
>Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00011168
>
>>Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00011167

<you only snip twice>
>>   /I don't suppose,/ Eric sighed, /it would do any good to tell you
>>not to be a hero?/
>
>/None at all - it's a bad habit, but I just can't seem to quit./ Rob
>briefly summoned up the idea of a twelve-step program for
>compulsively heroic people before returning to the current problem.

   In spite of his best efforts, in his mind's eye, Eric saw Roland,
in his Defender armor sans helmet, standing at a podium with a hangdog
expression. "Hi. I'm Roland...and I'm a hero."
   "Hello, Roland," Superman, Captain America, Rick Hunter, Neo, Doc
Savage, and Sydney Bristow all chimed back in a semi-bored tone.
   [I've been hanging out with these people for too long...]

>>   Manwaring, up to then, had been circling Rob (or circling _with_
>>Rob, more likely), sizing his opponent up again. "You have many
>>Possibilities, stormer," he said in his cultured voice. "I shall
>>enjoy feeding on them."
>
>   [?!] Rob thought. [Possibilities? Stormer?] Even as he wondered
>what Manwaring was talking about, his bravado made use of his voice.
>"Fine, Vic. Can you drain my Possibilities in five minutes?"

   "Almost cer--" Manwaring began.

>>   "I am no expert in these occult matters, but I would hazard a
>>guess here...that we are all in grave danger," Lucita replied.
>
>   Up on the T platform, Rob blocked off his sense of space-time, the
>sense that enabled him to create wormholes. When his dimension-
>jumping power had first manifested, his sensitivity was weak, and the
>area he could detect small. By now, he was sensitive to relatively
>small ripples in space-time, and his range extended over the horizon
>- just how far, he didn't know.
>   What he did know was that the storm clouds were related to some
>sort of space-time disturbance. "Ghidrah's breath. That felt like
>Martha Stewart decorating a city in space-time fabric."

   "Someone's going to have to tell me about this 'Ghidrah' some
time," Eric replied dryly.

>   Not for the first time, Rob wondered why his sense of humor took
>over his speech center when he was under stress.

   Mew appeared with a cork-like "pop" at Eric's shoulder. "Mewew?"
*Eric?*
   Eric jumped slightly, startled. [Don't DO that!]
   Mew giggled gently. "Mew mew." *Sorry.* "Mew mew ew mewmewew mew
mew mewemew." *I felt a disturbance in the Tapestry.*
   "Good. I think we're going to need a ride _real_ soon."
=================================

Subject: Re: AAE 9 Prologue: Storm Warnings

On Thu, 25 Sep 2003 18:32:58 -0700 (PDT)
Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00011171

>Roland X Said As CAoL Message # 00011170
>
>>Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00011168
>>
>>   What he did know was that the storm clouds were related to some
>>sort of space-time disturbance. "Ghidrah's breath. That felt like
>>Martha Stewart decorating a city in space-time fabric."
>
>   "Someone's going to have to tell me about this 'Ghidrah' some
>time," Eric replied dryly.

   As he made his way down the stairs, Rob sighed. "Which one, the one
from the movies, or the one I met? There's a big difference between
the two." Searching through his pockets, he pulled out a locker key.
   "Whatever's happening, I'll need to stop at the bus station.
There's a few things I left there."

>   Mew appeared with a cork-like "pop" at Eric's shoulder. "Mewew?"
>*Eric?*
>   Eric jumped slightly, startled. [Don't DO that!]
>   Mew giggled gently. "Mew mew." *Sorry.* "Mew mew ew mewmewew mew
>mew mewemew." *I felt a disturbance in the Tapestry.*
>   "Good. I think we're going to need a ride _real_ soon."

   "If Mew has a fast way to," Rob paused to estimate the location,
"New York, I vote you take it. Regardless, I think it's time to call
for the Head Cat Herder." /Roland? This is Rob. I believe that this(*)
counts as a Situation.../
=================================

Subject: Re: AAE 9 Prologue: Storm Warnings

On Thu, 25 Sep 2003 20:27:51 -0700
Dane Said As CAoL Message # 00011172

>Rob N Said As CAoL Message # 00011171
>   "If Mew has a fast way to," Rob paused to estimate the location,
>"New York, I vote you take it. Regardless, I think it's time to call
>for the Head Cat Herder." /Roland? This is Rob. I believe that
>this(*) counts as a Situation.../

/*"It most certainly is. Roland, I suggest you rally your troops.
You're REALLY going to need them ... soon."*/ Oracle responds.
=================================

Subject: Arrivals: Guess what came to dinner

On Fri, 26 Sep 2003 17:52:10 -0700
Crystal Jade Guess Said As CAoL Message # 00011173

Running. Always running.

As the energy blast just missed her, CJ looked ahead of herself.
#There has GOT to be something I can use as a "Doorway" around here.
Where the frack did they get energy weapons?#

Then she saw it, just ahead. Some slabs of rock that had fallen into a
door frame position.

#Hallejuja!# she thought. #Now, if it just works.# She dove forward,
curling around L.U.T.E. to make sure that it didn't get damaged.

As she went through the "doorway", she *felt* the transition. It was
stronger than she had ever felt before.

OOC: Okay folks, you get to decide where she came out.

NOTE:
These doorways are a rather strange means of teleportation that only
work when she really, REALLY *NEEDS* them to.
=================================

Subject: AAE 9: (Prologue) Intruders

On Sat, 27 Sep 2003 18:22:07 -0400 (EDT)
Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00011174

     The woman scrambled through the window she'd just forced and fell
to the concrete floor below, yelping as she landed badly. Her face
shifted from pain to terror as she crawled away from the spot she
landed, outside growling male voices closed on her hiding place, one
of the boxes she'd been standing on had fallen over as she had leapt
up to crawl through the window.
     "She's in here!" one of them shouted from the alleyway, "Looks
like she went through the window."
     "Find a door," another ordered.
     The echo of a door being kicked at resounded around the
warehouse. If only she hadn't looked down that alley when she heard
the woman scream. But no, the woman had gotten away, but she herself
had caught a world of trouble now for the rescue.
     Touching her leg, her hand came away bloody, and she saw in the
dim moonlit night that a bone was fractured and poking through the
skin, though not her jeans.
     She felt ready to faint, her stomach suddenly in knots as waves
of nausea coursed through her. Elsewhere the latch broke and unseen
figures could be heard walking in.
     "Fan out," came the order from the leader as she cast about,
faint and desperate, for a place to hide. There were some crates about
ten feet away, she tried to stand and hop, but fell back over
immediately.
     Rolling onto her back, she caught a glimpse of glistening white
from the rafters that vanished suddenly. She tried crawling again,
this time dragging herself to the stack of crates. There was a small
gap where she thoucht she might be able to squeeze in, hopefully they
wouldn't see the trail of blood, or in the darkness assume it
something else.
     Huddling in the midst of the crates, there came the sound of a
loud thud directly atop the crate above her, and then the clicking of
something like claws perhaps.
     "That way," one of the men shouted, footsteps getting closer,
"Come on out here, sweetie, you wanted to play with the big boys,
well, here we are."
     One of the men screamed suddenly, and the sound was abruptly cut
short by something she couldn't recognize, something cracking wetly.
     "The hell?!" the leader shouted, then came the sounds of gunfire,
and a low rumble followed by more screaming, cut off by a sickening
crunching.
     The smell of burnt meat, fat, flesh and hair struck her nose and
she realized with a sudden certainty that someone had been burned
alive. Two pairs of feet were running toward her location.
     From above her came a roar and whatever had landed atop the
crates had suddenly leapt off onto one of the figures, as his scream
was cut short by the sound of something snarling as it took a bite.
     [What in hell is in here with me?!] she thought, panic-stricken.
Then she saw a pair of legs outside the gap she'd hidden in. They'd
ran around from one side, then something crashed into the crates over
her head, knocking them over and scintilating white scales gleamed in
the firelight as the pair of legs were engulfed in flames, the scream
again cut short by the sickening crunch of something eating the burnt
body.
     She couldn't help it, she fainted.
=================================

Subject: Re: AAE 9: (Prologue) Intruders

On Fri, 3 Oct 2003 23:50:05 -0500
Martin and/or Dhyrclhanc Said As CAoL Message # 00011183

>On Sat, Sept 27th 2K3 Mike Knight Said
>
>     Then she saw a pair of legs outside the gap she'd hidden in.
>They'd ran around from one side, then something crashed into the
>crates over her head, knocking them over and scintilating white
>scales gleamed in the firelight as the pair of legs were engulfed in
>flames, the scream again cut short by the sickening crunch of
>something eating the burnt body.
>     She couldn't help it, she fainted.

Dhyrclhanc snapped into a horizontal position in his bed, instantly
awake.

.. And groaned, aloud.

He was in his bed in his quarters in the Xavier and he, and his "Cadre
of Light", were in Interdimensional Space half-way between Merlin and
Rifts-Earth, where he'd hoped to gain some additional help with the
Crisis on Earth-9 that the Crystal Skull had shown him.

Sikorsky had convinced him to try to get some sleep, and then the
dreams had come back.

The dreams represented what he interpreted as a slowly burgeoning
Precog talent, but they were never clear enough for him to make any
conclusions about what they foretold.

The Crystal Skull, at least while it wasn't always co-operative, would
usually give him enough to make some conclusions about what he'd seen
through the Skull's eyes.

However, this dream had been different.

"Moonstone's coming back, unless I miss my guess." he muttered to
himself and then collapsed back onto the bed and tried to get a little
more sleep before Planetfall.

<OOC> Mike, don't worry if this is completely off-base with what
you're planning. Dhyrclhanc knows he could very possibly be wrong for
the, by now obvious, reasons that I detailed above. </OOC>
=================================

Subject: AAE: Introductions...

On Fri, 10 Oct 2003 20:53:09 -0400 (EDT)
Mike Knight Said As CAoL Message # 00011264

     Scintilating scales, glistening white gown, fire, burnt flesh,
roaring, screaming, ropes binding, no escape, death.
     She awoke to the flickering of candles, a soft mattress and light
cotton sheets in which she'd entwined herself. The smell of cooking
meat, not the smell from the evening before, bacon and sausage,
greeted her waking mind as she became aware of her surroundings.
     Moving, she suddenly remembered her leg, but it wasn't broken.
Had it all been a dream? Surely, her last memory, a giant scaled thing
passing over her, that must have been pure fantasy. And yet, she was
not lying in any familiar place, so something must have happened.
     Extracting herself from the sheets, she found her jacket, money
and jewelry intact, but her jeans, socks and boots were missing.
     Now that she was standing up, she had a better vantage to take in
her surroundings. She had been lying on a stack of five king-sized
mattresses of the sort used on hotels, longer in length to suit even
fairly tall people, the top one fitted with bottom and top sheets, a
blanket she'd kicked off in the night, it seemed, and a pillow. A
lantern was lit atop an old trunck, the area curtained off but lit
from outside, apparently also by lantern or candlelight. The floor was
bare concrete and cold under her feet, though there was a rather nice
rug nearby, conveniently where the curtained walls parted.
     She stepped toward these and peered outside. What met her eyes
was a warehouse, large and empty, but the smell of food was stronger
out here. The curtain that had been above her head obscured a second
floor above her, probably office space, and the area off to the side
of her 'room' had more light than the rest of the area, as well as
seeming to be the source of the smells and now sounds of cooking meat.
     Creeping around the curtain 'wall', she peered around the corner
into what looked like a makeshift kitchen also lit by lanterns and
candles. In the center of the room sat a large, white,
friendly-looking dog, who turned and looked at her as she saw it.
Wagging its tail, it barked.
     At the counter, a woman turned from tending to several large woks
full of ground pork sausage, by the smell of it. She was dressed in a
white apron, white tee-shirt and bleached white denim jeans.
     "Oh, hey, you're awake. How you feeling?"
     "Uhm... fine... I think. Uh, where am I?"
     The other woman gave her an address, adding, "I was worried about
you, those guys I scared off looked pretty rough. Did they slip
something into your drink?"
     She shook her head. That would be the obvious assumption, she'd
been on some sort of bad trip, except events up until she entered the
warehouse seemed distinctly mundane. Frightening, yes, but not out of
the ordinary for the rough neighborhood they were in.
     "I'd just left work, was headed home to do a bit of heavy
reading, my collection of eviction notices, looked down the wrong
alleyway. They chased me here, where I hurt my leg getting in, they
broke in, then things got weird. How'd you chase them off anyway?"
     The other woman nodded toward the dog, "Jack there can be pretty
vicious when she needs to be."
     The dog wagged her tail. She smirked.
     "Oh, she looks like a real killer," she said, then scratched the
back of her head, "Uh, would you mind telling me where the rest of my
stuff got to?"
     "Oh, I threw it in the washer, should be ready in about an hour."
     She nodded, paused for a full minute, then asked, "So, where's
the dragon and the tiger?"
     The other woman, who'd turned back to her woks, dropped the
spatula on the floor.
     "What dragon and tiger?" the other woman asked carefully.
     "Well," she said, "I saw them last night, when I broke my leg
severely falling from the high window I'd been trying to climb into.
My leg's not broken now, of course, and all I find here are the two of
you. But, judging by the meat you're preparing, they can't be far."
     The other woman laughed nervously, "No, I'm just cooking up some
food, I like to cook ahead, then put the rest in the freezer."
     "I see," she said with a nod, turning and walking out of the
kitchen area toward the crates, "It must have been a very vivid
hallucination, then. There's the open window, there's the crates where
I hid. Say, you keep a tidy place, I can still smell the cleaning
supplies used over here."
     "Must have been quite a dream," the other woman said, having
followed her. "But look around, there's no dragons or tigers here."
     "And no injury here," she said, slapping her leg where she had
felt the blood last night. So why'd my pants need cleaning?"
     "Oil stain, had to get you to the bed, forgot there was a spot of
oil on the floor."
     "Why didn't you just shake me awake? I could have walked."
     *No you couldn't, your leg was broken,* came a sudden thought
from the dog.
     "DAMMIT, JACK!" the other woman shouted at the dog, who shrinked
back a bit.
     "So my dream wasn't a dream after all," she breathed.
     The other woman looked frantic, "Look don't tell anyone, okay?
Last thing I need is to have to move after getting settled here."
     "Are you kidding? You could make a fortune with a pet dragon and
a telepathic dog! Why not tell people?"
     The other woman sighed, muttering something. Her hair, white in
the light from the windows, suddenly rose, stiffening, her face
lengthered into a snout, neck elongating, growing in bulk, yet keeping
a very serpentine appearance. Scintilating white scales with a pale
blue luster shimmered in the daylight.
     "You wouldn't tell anyone if you were the dragon," the creature
spoke.
     She stepped back in horror, "You -- you ate those guys last
night, didn't you?"
     The white dragon's face changed in a way that almost reminded her
of a look of disgust.
     "Ugh, don't remind me," the dragon said, "My father claims humans
tasted sweet, but they were awful, probably the most foul thing I've
ever tasted."
     She giggled nervously staring at the nauseated creature before
her, "Probably because we're garbage eaters anymore, too many
additives and preservatives."
     The dragon seemed to smile at that, "Well, look, I don't eat
people as a regular thing, if they hadn't have been after you, I'd
have not done it. I don't like strangers in my lair as a rule, but I'd
just run most people out. That bunch though were bad news, brought the
whole neighboorhood down, been hurting women for the past couple
weeks, I'd been hearing. They caught me at a bad time, nearly got
clipped by a 747, came home, found people lurking around, trying to
hurt someone on my territory, they go off shooting soon as they see
me, stupid jerks deserved what they got."
     She nodded, but cocked her head to one side, "Doesn't make it any
easier, does it?"
     The dragon looked crestfallen, even her spines drooped a bit
more.
     "Hated every second of it, don't ever want to do it again." The
dragon muttered something again and retook her human form, clothes
coming back as if they'd melted out from under her scales.
     "Yeah, I can imagine," she said, regaining her composure now that
she was facing a human again, though something about facing down a
dragon seemed to strike a chord with her somewhere deep in her memory.
She shook that feeling off, she'd have remembered something like that.
     "So," the other woman said, "Your I.D. said your name was
'Karma'? I'm Moonstone."
     She nodded, "That's me, what's your name anyway?"
     "'Moonstone,'" the dragon-lady said.
     "Well, Moonstone, considering what you did for me, I'd be
ungrateful to turn you in. No telling what people would do, either,
couldn't have that on my conscience."
     Moonstone smiled gratefully, though with a touch of sadness,
"Thanks, Karma. Hey, you said something about going home to face
eviction notices?"
     Karma nodded, "Yeah, damn landlord's using any excuse to force me
out, though making rent's getting to be a serious problem anyway."
     "Well, I'd been thinking about getting a roommate, but the whole
thing with not knowing too many people I could trust in the city made
it a moot point."
     Karma considered that a moment, "I can't afford much, rent's
killing me."
     "I'm not worried about the money, I just want the company."
     "And I keep some odd hours, working swing shifts at the club."
     "So do I."
     "You might eat me."
     "Ugh, no."
     "I'm straight."
     "Pfft, you're not my species, and the wrong gender to boot.
Honestly, I'm just in it for the company, even as a dragon, this place
is pretty big, and it gets lonely. Most of my neighbors are at least a
block or two away.
     "Oh, uh, I should warn you though, I'm not the only weird thing
that resides here," Moonstone said.
     "Well, there's Jack."
     "No, this is weirder. It's like we're at some sort of crossroads,
not a main thoroughfare, that's out on Long Island--"
     "If you say so."
     "Look, you handled the teep dog and dragon thing with surprising
aplumb, don't wimp out on me now."
     "Point," Karma said.
     Moonstone was leading them back to the kitchen. She paused a
moment to check on the sausage, then lead the way upstairs to the
second floor. That area'd been converted to a living room and office
area. Moonstone sat down at the desk and opened up a drawer in the
side.
     "Is that what I think it is?" Karma asked, staring at the black
box Moonstone had withdrawn.
     "Tricorder," Moonstone confirmed, "Look at the screen, there's
weird energies all around here, wormholes in spacetime, but they lead
to different worlds."
     Karma shook her head, "Call it information overload, but I just
don't buy it."
     Wandering over to the coffee table, Karma found herself drawn to
a short sword, in fine condition, which she picked up to admire.
     The smell of burning forest, underpinned by screams of pain, the
weight of armor, cold, rainy air chilling the sweat on the skin,
charging men, battle cries, raising the sword, swinging, hacking
through limbs, being clipped by an enemy soldier, spinning with the
impact to take the head of the man behind as the enemy sword pierced
his gut.
     His gut?
     "Whoa!" Moonstone yelped, "What the hell?"
     Karma blinked, the sword held just over Moonstone's head, who'd
ducked lest she have it severed from the rest of her body.
     "Oh my god, I'm sorry, I don't know what happened," Karma
stammered, "I was looking at the sword, I picked it up, and suddenly
it was like I was a Roman centurian. I was fighting, and someone stuck
me in the stomach."
     Moonstone took the sword, "Weird, well, you were swinging that
thing like a pro, I know some guys in the SCA who'd be envious. Here,"
she added, taking an old gun from a cabinet, "Get anything off that?"
     Moonstone tossed the weapon over, Karma caught it and felt it
again.
     "Okay, this is weird, I'm seeing a muddy field full of trenches.
I've got this gun out and I'm crawling through the mud. Oh, the gun
barrel's clogged with mud, gotta clean it ou--. And that's it, I think
a machine gun got whoever owned this gun. Maybe that was how the
sword's owner died."
     Moonstone shook her head, "Eaten by dragons, both of them, those
were part of my family's hoard, I suspect the centurian and soldier
had been lost at sea, my father is notoriously intolerant of human
intruders, nearly incinerated me when I first cast this spell on
myself, didn't know my mom had been teaching me magic."
     "Maybe I'm just having a psychotic episode. Never had one of
those before, but it would explain everything," Karma said.
     "Or you're having past life experiences."
     Karma gave a rueful smile, "Or I'm dreaming."
     "Well, you certainly can field-strip one of those guns,"
Moonstone pointed out, the coffee table Karma had been sitting in
front of held the parts neatly laid out.
     Karma looked down at the tool that had been rubberbanded to the
weapon.
     "What is going on?"
     Moonstone shrugged, then sniffed the air, "Oh heck, breakfast is
burning. C'mon, roomie, you're welcome to join me."
     "Be there in a minute," Karma said, cleaning the weapon and
reassembling it. She tweaked the sights, then set the weapon down and
looked around the room.
     She didn't know if she believed any of this, and began to wonder
if she were asleep or not. But, after a moment or two trying to alter
her 'dream' fruitlessly, she sighed and gave up.
     Her instincts told her to take Moonstone up on the room offer,
she certainly felt a draw to this place, it seemed to have some sort
of power she could feel. And there was another place pulling at her.
She went downstairs and told Moonstone she'd take her up on her offer,
then asked if there were a way up to the roof.
     As her jeans were still damp, she tied the top sheet from the bed
around her waist like a sarong, then put on her jacket and climbed up
onto the roof. She stared in the direction her senses seemed to be
drawing her.
     A tug on her makeshift skirt caught her attention, and as she
looked down, a tiny white monkey crawled up her and sat on her
shoulder.
     "Well, who're you?"
     *Jack.*
     "Well, aren't you full of surprises? Maybe we should name you
'cracker-jack?'"
     *I don't like crackers.*
     Karma smirked, "Well, Jack, this day is certainly turning out to
be overwhelming. As skeptical as I am, something about all this seems
to be telling me that this is right, that I'm not being lied to or
tricked.
     "I'm a skeptic by nature; I've always been of the opinion that
what we've been talking about is impossible, no one's ever been able
to prove past-life experiences or dragons or 'talking' dogs, these
things just don't exist. Anyone I told this to would think I'm on
drugs, and I've never taken a drug in my life. I couldn't show anyone
without risking you guys, I have no extraordiary proof to back up my
extraordinary claim. So, Occam's Razor applies, the simplest
explanation to anyone else is that I'm whacko."
     "We're not from this world, if it helps any," Moonstone said from
behind her, "But believe it or not, this world has some rather odd
things running around that are native to it. Thing is, they're so
outlandish, and people react so badly to outlandish things, that it's
just plain safer to fake being normal or hide yourself away somewhere
people don't normally go."
     Karma nodded, having looked over her shoulder to see Moonstone,
then turned back to look in the direction the odd sensation was
pulling her.
     "What's that way?"
     Moonstone grinned, "Long Island. Oddly enough, when I was
thinking of outlandish things hiding, that was where I was thinking."
     Karma nodded, "Would you turn into a dragon again for me? Right
here?"
     Moonstone sighed, "I don't like the idea of it out in the
daytime, but as long as we keep this brief, I understand where you're
going with this."
     Moonstone reassumed her dragon shape, Karma stepped forward and
felt the scales under her hands, leaned in and listened to the
dragon's heartbeat, felt the teeth, walked all around her, felt the
breath from her nose. She put a hand on Moonstone's face and asked her
to change back, then felt the flesh return as the scales left, the
bones reshaping, the jaw shrinking.
     "Well," Karma said, "No one else may believe me, but I think I
finally believe me. You're a dragon, Jack's a telepathic shapeshifter,
and I seem to be having past-life memories."
     "Well, you're handling the news rather well. Want to go out to
Long Island? I think you'll fit right in with the folks out there, its
an exotic bunch, very accepting of the unusual."
     "I dunno, I tend to have a hard time with people who just accept
things without questioning it."
     "Oh, no, they're SF fans mostly."
     "Still, look at the state of sci-fi, people will gush over
anything that has a little tee and ay and fancy special effects."
     Moonstone shook her head, "No, I mean Ess Eff, books; Heinlein,
Asimov, Clarke. Not to say they won't line up to see the latest Star
Trek film, but everyone needs a little junk food now and again."
     "Star Trek's hardly junk... well, except Enterprise, but it's
repairable junk... maybe."
     Moonstone smirked, "You'll fit in fine."
=================================