ACTION, ADVENTURE, EXCITEMENT PART I - Ch. 6 Date: Wed, 6 Nov 1996 11:59:24 -0600 (CST) (48103 & 42) From: Paul Campbell Meanwhile, Xzerrion has been staying primarily on the edges of the fight, using his bow and supply of poisoned arrows to thin the ranks of the leaders of the Adversary's forces and generate confusion. First a few noble Dark Sidhe, then several Manhunters fall before the forces notice that there's a sniper present. At that point, a AT-ST driver notices Xzerrion's position. 'Goddammit!!' Xzerrion dives for cover as powerful laser bursts shatter the boulder he was using for cover. Now that the enemy can see him, a contingent charges his position, howling for blood. 'I *hate* melee!!!' Xzerrion growls, unsheathing Frostbite and Cobra and hunting for a gap in the onrushing foes, any gap ... Several Manhunters, Klingons, and Stormtroopers are seen to fall before Xzerrion disappears from view, surrounded by the Adversary's forces ... - to be continued =========================== Date: Wed, 6 Nov 1996 18:51:50 -0600 (CST) (48200 & 43) From: "steven v. dick" In a momentary lull in the fighting and action, as our group of heroes begins to coalesce once more, a bright and pulsing point of light appears in their midst. It flickers a few times, sending out brilliant rays, and the disappears in a blinding flash of GREEN light. In its place, the long absent Sasquatch steps out of nowhere to stumble across the sands of Oa. Several things strike the minds of the assembled Callahanians in approximately the following order: 1 Hey! We haven't seen this guy since shortly after Roland asked someone to find the battery and shortly before the scanners did. 2 What might be called a javelin if it didn't more resemble a tree trunk is sticking out of The Sasquatch's left side. 3 He's also carrying what appears to be a VERRRRRY old railroad style lantern made out of some greenish alloy and a ring from which a narrow beam of light is springing to etch something in a nearby rock. As these items are noted, Sasquatch speaks. "Roland? Stranger? Someone? Found the battery..." As the big creature's voice trails off he collapses. First to his knees then face down upon the ground. When he lands, the lantern flies from his hand and the ring slips from his finger. Both land next to the rock that the ring wrote upon. The inscription reads, "For the One Who Knows..." An unidentified voice from the group is heard to whisper, "Starheart?..." (To be Continued) (By whoever wants to take up the thread of course) =========================== Date: Thu, 7 Nov 96 00:59:50 -0500 (48395 & 44) From: Roland X Quoth the Lensdragon (ofgerst@pluto.njcc.com): >/No, I'm not any relation to any "Sharakai" or any "Shakari" either/ >Dhryclhanc the Lensdragon broacasts down to Roland as they both >renter the battle/I'm simply an Exhalted Ruby Fire Dragon with a mind >at the Second-Stage of Stability who happens to be a Unattached >Lensman who also just hapens to repeatedly get caught up in the >various wars between Law and Chaos that crop in fictions of the >Multiverse because I'm appearently both an Inter-dimentional >Troubleseeker and a Weirdness Magnet/Dhyrclhanc takes a mental inhale >and then envelops Roland, the Manhunter and the two Orcs in a huge >cone of flame. *eep* >When the blast subsides, Roland is untouched but the Orcs are left >suffering from 2nd degree burns and the Manhunter's is welded into a >shell composed of a single piece of melted metal. *whew* "Curse you, Lensthing!" the Manhunter snarls, struggling within his armor. >/I wasn't sure about the Manhunter, but I knew that would take care >of those Orcs. Happy to help, Roland. Keep the faith and always >remember the adopted son of Titan and the father of Legacy/ The >Lensdragon soars high into the Oan sky. Roland salutes him silently, vowing to keep his mind on the battle. A moment later, his tranchcoat is on once more-only it happens to be jet black-and the sword comes out. He fills himself with the power of the Halo that his kind wields, and charges back into the battle. *Set up a crossfire here,* he says, using his PK to suddenly push a large group of orcs and Ferengi together; the irony brings out a smile even as he notes the presence of a Manhunter in his snare. Green light engulfs them, and they are gone. *Cool,* Roland thinks, setting off a few sonic mines to keep the black hats disoriented. *It looks like we've got 'em, folx; herd this bunch into the minefield again and I think they'll surrender. The leader of the Manhunters should be-* *Right on top of you, organic,* Roland 'hears,' and above him a golden figure fires down. The previously trapped Manhunter charges don, already in a new suit of armor, flies down at the stunned immortal and strikes viciously with his combat rod. (The remains of the armor's previous android inhabitant trail behind, caught in an arm joint.) *Ouch,* Roland thinks, frowning, and the living Manhunter is thrown back by a silvery energy blast. *How does an android learn telepathy, anyway?* *As leader of the Manhunters,* the Grandmaster intones mentally, *I am required to become 'sentient.' An ugly duty, often interfering with my role as a Manhunter, but necessary to follow the illogic of chaotic lifeforms that we must sometimes encounter.* *Well isn't that just too bad-* Roland begins, then stops cold. /Redeem the Manhunters,/ he thinks, remembering the request of the Guardians. /Light have mercy. He's _sentient._/ *Your sympathy is false, meat. You are sentient, and you foolishly cherish it.* The Grandmaster floats down, casually deflecting several attacks (some from the Adversary's own troops) and landing behind Roland and his determined assailant. *You don't understand. I don't pity you your-oof-sentience,* Roland begins, thrust-kicking the gray-armored Manhunter after learning the hard way that PK slides off said armor, *I pity you your hatred of it. Don't you see? The Guardians chose to give your kind a choice.* *We did not want the choice!* the Grandmaster roars, golden energy coruscating (sp?) around him. *We had our duty, and it was enough, then the Guardians-who made us for a task-took away our purpose!* *No! They _gave_ you purpose! You were, in a sense, their children! Whuff-* "Got you!" the Manhunter exults. "No man escapes the Manhunters!" A golden scythe forms on the end of the staff, and he moves in for the 'kill.' A golden hand grabs the scythe. *Wait.* "But-" *SILENCE!* The Grandmaster looks down at Roland. *Speak, child of silver and champion of Phoenix.* Roland smiles. *Silver...Phoenix? Hm. I like it. Regardless. You were tools. But the Guardians knew that tools are not enough to do a job. They gave you intelligence, so that you would be able to truly defend your sectors, and sentience, so that you would know why. They could have counterprogrammed you to be unable to rebel, but they wanted the choice to be yours. They gave you an understanding of right and wrong. Feeling rejected, you chose what you knew in your hearts to be wrong, and rejected your sentience,* Roland says, realizing the truth only as he himself says it. *The Guardians' record on taking action themselves is fairly self-explanatory. They could not interfere, so they tried again.* *They were wrong,* The Grandmaster replied, golden tears sliding down its-his-face. *Had they just _asked_ it of us, we would have returned.* "They ask it now," Roland hears from behind the Grandmaster. Roland's jaw drops. "H-Hal? Kara? BARRY?! GRIFE!" So shocked he reverts to speech, Roland scrambles to his feet. Ganthet, the sole surviving Guardian, stands with the 'dead' heroes of Earth. "We were wrong to abandon you, Manhunter," Ganthet says simply. "We were wrong about...many things. Those I have brought with me to champion the universe anew cannot yet intervene...other powers prevent it. But you and yours can. Take your rightful place in the universe, Grandmaster." "Don't listen to him, Grandmaster! The Adversary spoke the truth-only power is right!" the gray Manhunter cries. "No." The Grandmaster rises into the air. "Manhunters. We have long known that our path has taken us away from our duty. We were promised a return to glory, and revenge on our creators. Our creators are gone, destroyed by one of their own. And there is no glory in this." Many of the Manhunters look up, astonished even in their cold existence. And one by one...they wake up. "Damn," the grey Hunter says, crying out in an inhuman voice. Roland steps back, wincing. Nearly a third of the Manhunter armors turn a sickly gunmetal gray. *Gaunts! Sprocking hell!* Roland curses, firing a blast into the one who had been attacking him. "Manhunters, withdraw," the Grandmaster commands, and the remaining Manhunters obey. Many look reluctant to do so, but follow him up. *Forgive me, Roland, but-* *I understand,* Roland projects back, smiling happily. *Being born must be a very confusing experience. They could get killed. Some would.* *We will aid you as soon as we can,* The Grandmaster says. *If you do not defeat them before then.* "It will not happen!" the gray warrior roars. "I am a lord among the Gaunts! I am-" *A royal PAIN!* Roland replies, firing a blast of power into the Gaunt. *You're one of the Droves, aren't you? A servant of the Adversary from _my_ world.* "Yes, you bastard child of Phoenix! I thought I had finally found a place for myself among the Manhunters, too, until you took it away!" *My heart bleeds,* Roland snarls, and the two warriors charge at one another, while the gray-covered ex-Manhunters try to rein in the growing chaos... ...and where the hell IS Gruber?! Once again, TBC... =========================== Date: Thu, 07 Nov 1996 16:24:13 -0800 (48396 & 45) From: "Dane R. Anderson" The Stardragon sits for a few minutes, resting. Then noticing that several Callahanians may be in trouble, the childlike form rises. With a single gesture the hills on both sides of the valley battle ground vanish, to be replaces by two clouds of energy, which then stream over the heads of the combatants to the Stardragon. Smacking it's lips over this nibble of energy, the Stardragon transforms again into the draconic battle form, however this time the form is only one hundred feet from wing tip to wing tip. Strafing the enemy, being carefull to not endanger it's allies, the dragon hither and yon. Looking for concentrations of enemy troups, leaving fifty foot wide, thirty foot deep craters of glass and tecite in their places. The dragon flies seeming to ignore the enemies efforts to stop it, and why not. The weapons energy blasts and magic of the enemy are food to it. In trying to stop the rampaging dragon the enemy troups are actually making it stronger. Seeing Xzerrion surrounded by the Adversary's forces, the dragon lands nearby deliberately causing a shock wave that knocks all to the ground. Then gently playing it's breath on the fallen enemy soldiers, provides Xzerrion with some room to work. The rescue completed the Stardragon then takes to the sky again seeking more troups to blast. =========================== Date: 6 Nov 1996 12:21:19 -0500 (48195 & 46) From: dion.marshall@pobox.com (Dion P. Marshall) grammarfascist (mickle@kestrel.scs.uiuc.edu) wrote: :>/Good job, Roland!/ she calls out with a spare moment, smoothly :>running an orc through. Casting a professional eye over his :>injuries, she decides that he can heal quickly enough without her :>help. /Now stop gloating and come help us fight. The battle's not :>even half won./ : : *What? And miss the fun? JUSTICE FOREVER!* : And with that, Roland dives into the battle. A tall man, if man he is, with the head of a beast, and a black cloak (or is it wings) marked with red, strides through the battle. In his left hand a machine shotgun throws a hail of 12 gauge slugs, In his silver right hand a short double-bitted battleaxe makes short work of anything that gets too close. A boston terrier the size of a bull frolics nearby, grabbing warriors, shaking them and tossing them into the air. Few rise again, of those, all make haste to safer locations, if such exist. A crowd of Drow Elves, recognizing the halfling for what he is, cry "Abomination!" and crowd to attack. One sees the silver right arm, and recognizes it for the sign of favor it is. Their rush is checked for but a moment, but in that moment some of the mist and smoke of the battlefield clears. An old washer-woman is plying her trade on a pile of bloody rags. Dion says to her,"Good day to you mother, and whose armor is that you are washing?" The old woman looks up from her work, smiles and says, "Not yours, my champion, not yours." "Well Redwing, that gun is a pretty toy, and there's no doubt, but I think it's neither sporting nor creative enough." "Well enough then," says the tall one and drops it into a hole in nothing, "truth to tell, it was getting boring. How about this then?" He waves his hand, and a gate opens near a stand of the enemy. Out of the gate a large roaring form speeds, knocking over scores of armored forms, then passes though another gate and is gone. The Drow begin backing up. One of the companions thinks, "*What was that!*" Dion thinks back, "*It was the 4:49 out of New York to Poughkeepsie.*" "Back to your play, Redwing," the old hag, looking suddenly not so old, says as she kisses Dion on the cheek, "and me back to my work." She fades away. The Drow back up, seeking to leave before Dion remembers them, but afraid to turn their backs on him. Behind them, they hear a play-growl and a bark. "You wouldn't run out on me would you?", say Dion, testing the edge on his axe. Dion (Redwing to only one being in all the worlds.) =========================== Date: 8 Nov 1996 04:35:19 GMT (48410 & 47) From: ofgerst@pluto.njcc.com (Martin Gerster) >Seeing Xzerrion surrounded by the Adversary's forces, the dragon >lands nearby deliberately causing a shock wave that knocks all to the >ground. Then gently playing it's breath on the fallen enemy soldiers, >provides Xzerrion with some room to work. The rescue completed the >Stardragon then takes to the sky again seeking more troups to blast. The 32-ft. long true ruby, carnelian, amber and ivory form of Dhyrclhanc the Lensdragon almost colides mid-air with the 50-ft long battle-form of the Starchilde known as Stardragon. The Lensdragon going in one direction and the Stardragon going in an other. The wakes in the air, created by the passing of the Starchilde leave the Lensdragon spining in mid-air. The emerald powergems that Dhyrclhanc wears shine with power and a column of Oan sub-strata shoots up into the atmosphere creating a perch for the Reptilian Lensman. Here he sits for a moment trying to both catch his breath and get his, normally unfazable, mind straight. Finally, those who are senstive to this kind of thing can hear Dhyrclhanc mentaly swear /WHAT, in the names of Bahamut and Tiamat, WAS THAT?!!/ =========================== Date: 8 Nov 1996 06:34:34 GMT (48431 & 48) From: ofgerst@pluto.njcc.com (Martin Gerster) Dhyrclhanc rests upon the top of his newly created pillar of Oan stone. His ivory colored eyes are closed and the ivory-colored Lens siting in his leather headpeice is glowing brightly. His Aspect, the physical manifestiation of his psionic abilities; the emerald-fire ancient dragon, continues to block out an eigth of the strangly-colored Oan sky. While his physical form is still, his mind is racing over the alien landscape, searching for a single individual in the multitude of combatants who amass over the surface of the ancient world. Those who are remarkably perceptable to psychic impressions hear a gutteral and yet strangly pleasing voice calling /Roland?/Roland?/Roland?/ Finally contact is made. The Immotal feels a tickly presence in the back of his mind. Roland recognizes this as the presence he felt before when he was in contact with the Lensdragon. /Hey Roland? I'm heading back your way and trying to make sure I've got all this straight. All of the Callahanians who are here are either various Champions and/or Heroes from throughout the Multiverse and the reason we're here is we are the only ones who can put up a resistance to the this Adversary of yours. Speak of the devil, this Adversary is a Thing-Man-Was-Not-Meant-To-Know who you've come into conflict with before and currently "he's" using matreils and personalities from Silver-Age DC (and other fictions) in an attempt to either take over and/or destroy this fiction. Did I miss anything?/ Before the Immortal can even form an answer, a third, darker, presense is felt in the mind link *Child of Mentor, you do not belong here. Nor are you welcome!* /Oops, gotta hang up now. Looks like I've gained the attention of the Man, Himself. I'll get back to you later, I hope/ Roland feels the contact broken and, thankfully, along with the link the Adversary's presence is no longer felt in the Immortal's mind, either. *Who are you? How do have audacity to attempt to aid these heroes? Their valiant but vain, strugles against me and my forces will ultimatly be for naught. Why do you think your pitifull powers can help them in their doomed quest?* the Adversary's black presence darkens the skies around Dhyrclhanc's makeshift aerie. A stream of energy composed of utter night corses out of the Darkness and hits Dhyrclhanc square in the chest with the sound of a thunderclap. The Lensdragon is knocked of his pillar of stone, which is shattered in the process, and he plummets back to the sands of Oan's surface. Dhyrclhanc gets back up, he is obviously hurt but he is far from down. He spreads his mighty wings and soars back into the unholy slash in the sky. His Aspect reapearing around him and his Mindsword appearing in his right hand. /I, you bargain basement Belial, am Dhyrclhanc. I am an Exhalted Ruby Dragon, an Unattached Lensman, and an adopted son of both the Arissian known as Mentor and the "Universe-of-the-Lens." I have psionic abilities undreamed of by my fellow Lensman from my Second-Stage Stable mind. What's more, I am a Dragon, i.e., a physical manifestation of the magickal energies of the multiverse, and as such I am a Mage of unequalled power. Last, but not least, I am a Champion of the Forces of Light. All this gives me both the Power and the Right to stand against you. And what's more I'll thank you to GET OUT OF MY MIND!!!!!/ Dhyrclhanc's Lens glows like the captured, fragment of the heart of a star. He now holds his Mindsword, the emerald-fire two-handed Claymore-style sword which respresents his full psionc potential, in both hands. Dhyrclhanc shatters the darkness in the Oan atmosphere that is the Adversary with a combination of the blazing light of his Lens and a mighty blow with his Mindsword. The Astral Plane shudders with the almost audiable scream of the Adversary once more being, at least temporarily, separated from the material plane. /Well, I'm not so naieve (sp?) to think we've seen the last of him. He'll probably be back, reletivly (sp?) soon. At least, I've bought us a little more time to deal with his "chesspieces."/ /So, Roland/ Mentaly spaketh the Lensdragon, as soon as the mindlink was restablished /As I was saying, before, was there anything else I should know?/ =========================== Date: Fri, 8 Nov 96 22:14:00 -0000 (48609 & 49) From: Roland X >/Hey Roland? I'm heading back your way and trying to make sure I've >got all this straight. All of the Callahanians who are here are >either various Champions and/or Heroes from throughout the Multiverse >and the reason we're here is we are the only ones who can put up a >resistance to the this Adversary of yours. Speak of the devil, this >Adversary is a Thing-Man-Was-Not-Meant-To-Know who you've come into >conflict with before and currently "he's" using matreils and >personalities from Silver-Age DC (and other fictions) in an attempt >to either take over and/or destroy this fiction. Did I miss >anything?/ *Actually, the Adversary-* CLANG whoosh chink CLANG *-is one of my kind, an Immortal of staggering age, though calling it a 'Thing-Man-Was-Not-Meant-To-Know' is entirely too accurate.* Roland and his gray-armored nemesis circle one another slowly, taking one another's measure. *I think I inadvertently caused the choice of locale when my dark side was recruited to the cause. I have retaken that part of my soul, and many of the Adversary's forces were defeated, but we still have a serious gash in the fabric of the multiverse here. As for us, I think that the Adversary lured us here-or at least, me-so as to gain my form as an avatar.* Roland smiled wickedly, feinting at the Gaunt while using PK to pull the ground out from under him. Literally. >/So, Roland/ Mentaly spaketh the Lensdragon, as soon as the mindlink >was restablished /As I was saying, before, was there anything else >I should know?/ *Just one thing, Dhyrclhanc. See this guy I'm fighting? Don't let him, any of the remaining Manhunters who've grayed over the way he has, or any of the Dark Sidhe reach the Battery. Other than that, this fight is pretty much over-* "EYYAH!" Roland screams. The Gaunt's golden sickle is buried to the hilt in Roland's abdomen. "Foolish whelp," the Gaunt cackles. "You should have joined us." He raises the sickle. "No one escapes the Gaunts!" He brings the sickle down, and Roland's Halo flares like a miniature sun. "Know this, servants of the Light! I, Byron Gaunt, have slain your champion!" With this, he holds his scythe high, and it turns gray as Roland's blood soaks through it. A flash of silvery light explodes from where Roland fell. *Nice try, 'Byron,' is it?* Roland says, rising out of the light. *But I'm afraid I'm not impressed.* The tatters of Roland's trenchcoat fall away. Roland is now clad in silver-armor?-with golden gloves and boots, a golden belt, and a gold-inlaid starburst on his chest. Two arcs, like abstracts of wings, protrude from his back, two pieces of a disk sliced into thirds. *At last, I know who I am.* The sword fades into his hand. He closes his hands together, and when he opens them, he wields a short (4') staff of a silver/steel alloy instead. *Something I owe, in large part, to my friends. You know what those are, don't you, Gaunt?* The Gaunt snarls at Roland. "You'll die, Phoenix child. And this time, you'll stay dead." Roland-Silver Phoenix-smiles. *Sorry, gruesome, but I don't have anything left to prove to myself. And you I _never_ needed to prove anything to. Right now, my friends need me.* And Byron of the Gaunts, Slayer for the Adversary, screams his rage as Roland flies back toward the false battery. (OOC: My thanks to all of you for making this possible.) =========================== Date: Sat, 9 Nov 1996 16:14:11 GMT (48628 & 51) From: Silence >From: "steven v. dick" >2 What might be called a javelin if it didn't more resemble a tree >trunk is sticking out of The Sasquatch's left side. Silence swears under her breath and begins to make a straight run for her injured companion. >As the big creature's voice trails off he collapses. First to his >knees then face down upon the ground. "Someone cover me here," Silence calls as she drops to her knees beside the Sasquatch. Two or three people immediately move to hold off the enemy soldiers. With some help from her ring, Silence carefully rolls the Sasquatch over. The spear is buried deep in his side, and what she can see of his skin is pale from blood loss. Almost absently setting the blood vessels to healing--difficult, because his anatomy differs in some ways from the ones she's familiar with--she takes hold of the end of the spear and focuses. Slowly, a green shimmer surrounds the wood and begins to edge into the wound to enclose the part of the spear that's still inside the Sasquatch's body. Silence pours more and more strength into it, and the edges of the wound begin to pull away, stretching instead of tearing. The bleeding, which had almost stopped, begins afresh, but she is too close to her goal to be able to spare a hand to staunch it. With a last burst of energy, the field around the spear becomes smooth and solid, and she somehow manages to pull it out and cast it aside. With the last of her strength, Silence sets the blood vessels to healing again. Miraculously, the spear seems to have missed any vital organs, and the wound, which would have been so deep as to be deadly to a human being, is not quite as serious as it seemed. "Lady Cheron... someone... bandages...." the healer gasps, and then quietly keels over beside her patient, her body pressed up against him and holding the wound closed even as she slips into unconsciousness. =========================== Date: Sat, 9 Nov 1996 16:26:11 GMT (48627 & 52) From: Silence On Mon, 4 Nov 1996, Dane R. Anderson wrote: >The Stardragon sits, resting and recovering slowing from its >injuries. Silence stirs and somehow her eyes open. By rights, she should be unwakeable for at least another day--but a dragon's pain is enough to rouse her. >The Adversary was stronger than ever before, it (the Stardragon) has >been severly wounded and will take a long long time to fully recover. She struggles to sit up, her clothes stiff with dried blood and dirt. Her healer's instincts pull her, first to her knees, and then to her feet. >Sitting the childlike form ignores the remainder of the battle around >it, nothing on this world has the power to harm it. its allies >wouldn't attack it, and any enemy so foolish would deserve the >results. /Don't,/ comes the voice of the Stardragon in her mind. /I will heal. Take care of the other. He is still hurting, and needs you./Fighting off the call of the dragon's injuries, Silence sits down again before dizziness overtakes her and begins to reexamine the Sasquatch. Someone has bound up his side with a cloak, and although still unconscious, he seems to be healing as well as could be expected. She pours what little strength she has into encouraging the scab which has been forming over the wound, protecting it from infection, and then sinks back down to the ground and lets unconsciousness overtake her. =========================== Date: Sat, 9 Nov 1996 16:42:56 -0500 (EST) (48625 & 53) From: Shadow >From: "Dion P. Marshall" >A crowd of Drow Elves, recognizing the halfling for what he is, cry >"Abomination!" and crowd to attack. One sees the silver right arm, >and recognizes it for the sign of favor it is. Their rush is checked >for but a moment, but in that moment some of the mist and smoke of >the battlefield clears. An old washer-woman is plying her trade on a >pile of bloody rags. Shadow, who has been doing what he can with poisoned claws, nearly falls out of the air. No one else seems to see the old woman, who glances up to smile straight at the invisible K'therr. Although she is washing clothes in a river, there is somehow no river to be seen.... >Dion says to her,"Good day to you mother, and whose armor is that you >are washing?" The old woman looks up from her work, smiles and says, >"Not yours, my champion, not yours." Shadow heaves a silent sigh of relief. >"Back to your play, Redwing," the old hag, looking suddenly not so >old, says as she kisses Dion on the cheek, "and me back to my work." >She fades away. The Drow back up, seeking to leave before Dion >remembers them, but afraid to turn their backs on him. Behind them, >they hear a play-growl and a bark. Carefully re-poisoning his claws, Shadow seeks entertainment elsewhere; these he will leave for Dion. Suddenly, back in the crowd, he sees a contingent of animals and... other things which are at least twice the size of normal creatures. At their head, in a sledge drawn by two reindeer who are being whipped to within an inch of their lives by a cruel-looking Dwarf, stands a tall woman dressed all in white. In one hand she waves a bloody knife, and the other carries a wand. Snow appears before the sledge just long enough for the runners to move smoothly over the battlefield. Across the tumult of the fighting, Shadow can hear the woman screaming, "All shall fall beneath the feet of the Empress Jadis!" As the creatures behind her begin to fan out and enter the battle, Shadow searches for one long, gaunt form. At last he catches sight of it, and projects his voice with full force into the other's mind. /Fenris Ulf!/ he hisses. The grey Wolf whips his head around, searching for the source of that hated voice. /Yes, look, dog, before you go slinking back to your mistress. Did you think the White Witch could hide you from me?/ His voice has grown louder and louder, and now he lets go with a full-throated mental roar which makes even the Witch herself stop in her tracks. The reindeer, desperate, break free from their harness and race away before the Dwarf can stop them. A form appears on the edge of the battle: Shadow, but changed in color. Now his coat is the deep variegated golden of a lion's mane, and his wings shine golden in the sunlight. The red sands beneath him seem to give up their color, and as it flows into him, his fur and feathers turn red-gold. Now that his ring is no longer nullified by the yellow, he draws on its power and begins to grow until he is the size of the Wolf he faces. "Well, Fenris Ulf?" he snarls. "Will you face one who has been touched by the Lion himself? Or will you turn tail and run away, as you always have before?" "This time I will face you," the Wolf replies with a growl behind the words. "And this time I will win!" And it whips its head around in the age-old manner, teeth bared, going directly for his opponent's throat. =========================== Date: Sun, 10 Nov 1996 00:25:25 +0000 (54) From: Gareth Owen The Stranger cuts through the hordes of foemen, emerald fire blazing around him. He grabs them, one after another, shouting "Where is he?" at each in turn before casting them aside. Nothing stands before him, the power ring fuelled by his iron resolve is an unstoppable combination. Suddenly he spots a figure he recognises and lands before him. The figure wears the grey of a TAS bonded courier. "You are the one they call the Stranger?" "I am" "I have a message for you" "Go ahead" "The yellow tower north of the castle, my, ah, client awaits the pleasure of your company" "Thats all?" "Yes. You understand?" "Yes." The Stranger launches himself skyward and arcs across to where Roland is fighting. "Roland! I'm off to walk into a trap. See you later." With that he boosts himself into a graceful parabolic trajectory leading straight to the castle. to be continued.... [OOC: I'm not feeling up to writing my final battle just yet, cos its long, The Stranger has a gauntlet to walk, hopefully I'll get it in tomorrow. This is really good, thanks everyone] =========================== Date: Sat, 9 Nov 96 19:44:21 -0000 (55) From: Roland X >>2 What might be called a javelin if it didn't more resemble a tree >>trunk is sticking out of The Sasquatch's left side. > >Silence swears under her breath and begins to make a straight run for >her injured companion. (OOC: Roland is occupied with Gaunt at this point.) >>As the big creature's voice trails off he collapses. First to his >>knees then face down upon the ground. > >"Someone cover me here," Silence calls as she drops to her knees >beside the Sasquatch. Two or three people immediately move to hold >off the enemy soldiers. Roland, flying back to 'hold off' the force trying to reach the decoy battery, sees this desperate situation. Weaving Forces and Mind together, he propels himself at insane speeds down to the battlefield, cutting a swath through a contingent of Centauri and freeing the Narns they enslaved. The Narns do the rest as Roland surges forward again... >With some help from her ring, Silence carefully rolls the Sasquatch >over. The spear is buried deep in his side, and what she can see of >his skin is pale from blood loss. >With a last burst of energy, the field around the spear becomes >smooth and solid, and she somehow manages to pull it out and cast it >aside. Some foolish orcs, seeing an apparent moment of weakness, try to move toward the wonded and his healer. Roland, now moving just under the speed of sound, screams wordlessly and pummels them wiht lightning-covered fists. >With the last of her strength, Silence sets the blood vessels to >healing again. Miraculously, the spear seems to have missed any vital >organs, and the wound, which would have been so deep as to be deadly >to a human being, is not quite as serious as it seemed. "Lady >Cheron... someone... bandages...." the healer gasps, and then quietly >keels over beside her patient, her body pressed up against him and >holding the wound closed even as she slips into unconsciousness. Seeing someone-Lady Cheron, perhaps?-attending the wound, Roland turns and snarls at the approaching enemy, his vision now so blurred he uses his telepathic powers (now under his control) to tell friend from foe. He does not like what he sees. *Come on, you cowards!* Roland roars into their minds, and the Adversary's forces shrink back again. *Come ON! What are you waiting for, an invitation? You want the battery so badly, you want to take my friends, well all you have to do is get past one warrior!* A wave of raw power sweeps the motley platoon away. *Hmmph. Typical.* Quickly scanning Sasquatch and Silence, careful not to intrude on their minds, he satisfies himself that both are well (for the moment) and begins setting up defensive fields from which the others can fire. =========================== Date: Sat, 9 Nov 96 19:50:37 -0000 (56) From: Roland X >The Stranger cuts through the hordes of foemen, emerald fire blazing >around him. He grabs them, one after another, shouting "Where is he?" >at each in turn before casting them aside. Roland remains with the battery, but continues to watch as the Stranger cuts an impressive swath through the enemy. >"The yellow tower north of the castle, my, ah, client awaits the >pleasure of your company" /Yellow?/ Roland wonders darkly, then remembers to shield his thoughts. Still, his face says it all...he mistrusts this development. >The Stranger launches himself skyward and arcs across to where Roland >is fighting. Roland looks up, and smiles as a few of the Gaunt's Droves slam facefirst into his steadily strengthening forcefield. >"Roland! I'm off to walk into a trap. See you later." "Oh. Okay. "You're WHAT?!" >With that he boosts himself into a graceful parabolic trajectory >leading straight to the castle. *Stranger, for the love of Light, wait for backup!* Roland sighs as the Sranger fades into the distance, realizing that the Stranger is doing what he must, and has the Power Ring to back him up, but even with the advantages the Callahanians have gained, he feels a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach...just where _has_ Gruber been all this time? >[OOC: I'm not feeling up to writing my final battle just yet, cos its >long, The Stranger has a gauntlet to walk, hopefully I'll get it in >tomorrow. This is really good, thanks everyone] (OOC: have fun, big guy! That _is_ the point, after all...) =========================== Date: Sat, 9 Nov 1996 23:11:35 -0800 (58) From: "L.J. Wolfe" At 04:42 PM 11/9/96 -0500, Shadow wrote: >Across the tumult of the fighting, Shadow can hear the woman >screaming, "All shall fall beneath the feet of the Empress Jadis!" >As the creatures behind her begin to fan out and enter the battle, >Shadow searches for one long, gaunt form. At last he catches sight of >it, and projects his voice with full force into the other's mind. >/Fenris Ulf!/ he hisses. The grey Wolf whips his head around, >searching for the source of that hated voice. /Yes, look, dog, before >you go slinking back to your mistress. Did you think the White Witch >could hide you from me?/ His voice has grown louder and louder, and >now he lets go with a full-throated mental roar which makes even the >Witch herself stop in her tracks. The reindeer, desperate, break free >from their harness and race away before the Dwarf can stop them. The roar, and the sudden knowledge of who it was directed at, catches the attention of one of the warriors of Light. One who has, quietly and unregarded, been dispatching enemies here and there. >"Well, Fenris Ulf?" he snarls. "Will you face one who has been >touched by the Lion himself? Or will you turn tail and run away, as >you always have before?" >"This time I will face you," the Wolf replies with a growl behind the >words. "And this time I will win!" And it whips its head around in >the age-old manner, teeth bared, going directly for his opponent's >throat. Behind Shadow are heard other lupine growls, and then a quiet voice through the telepathic link. */Don't worry, Shadow, these are with me. They won't interfere unless invited, but they'll gladly help you with _that_ one if you ask./* It takes the K'therr a moment to recognize the speaker, and he spares the smallest fraction of a moment to look around. Clad in unbroken grey from her boots to the band holding her hair, Morgan stands with two large wolves, one silver-grey, the other darker, both of whom are regarding Fenris with undivided attention. /|\ =========================== Date: Sun, 10 Nov 96 22:53:28 -0000 (59) From: Roland X >Behind Shadow are heard other lupine growls, and then a quiet voice >through the telepathic link. */Don't worry, Shadow, these are with >me. They won't interfere unless invited, but they'll gladly help you >with _that_ one if you ask./* *As will I, but who...?* Roland asks, now using his force walls to slam at attackers. >It takes the K'therr a moment to recognize the speaker, and he spares >the smallest fraction of a moment to look around. Clad in unbroken >grey from her boots to the band holding her hair, Morgan stands with >two large wolves, one silver-grey, the other darker, both of whom are >regarding Fenris with undivided attention. *Morgan! Good to see you again, your Ladyship! You wouldn't be Sasquatch's mysterious benefactor, now would you?* Roland smiles, and his energy fields crackle with lightning this time around... =========================== Date: Sun, 10 Nov 1996 23:44:18 -0800 (60) From: "L.J. Wolfe" At 10:53 PM 11/10/96 -0000, you wrote: > *Morgan! Good to see you again, your Ladyship! You wouldn't be >Sasquatch's mysterious benefactor, now would you?* Roland smiles, and >his energy fields crackle with lightning this time around... Morgan smiles at the honorific. */No, Roland, that was Lady Cheron. I've been laying low, picking off a few baddies here and there. But I couldn't ignore Fenris' presence. It's the likes of _him_ that the rest of us/* */are still trying to live down. One of the original Big Bad Wolf's./* */I think Shadow has a personal stake here, though, so we'll just keep anyone else from interfering until honor is satisfied. And we're here for backup if necessary./* Morgan Greywolf /|\ (OOC: Lady Cheron told us a few weeks back she'd be busy and to "...feel free to use the character when and as needed." I think the Sasquatch situation fits that bill. And the smile at the "Ladyship is the SCA sensibilities. I'm still at least two levels of awards away from that title. Someday, though :-).) =========================== Date: Mon, 11 Nov 1996 10:34:56 -0800 (61) From: duc020@bdvdc04i.ca.boeing.com (Dane R Anderson) >Martin Gerster Wrote: >Finally, those who are senstive to this kind of thing can hear >Dhyrclhanc mentaly swear /WHAT, in the names of Bahamut and Tiamat, >WAS THAT?!!/ /Sorry, I did not notice your approach. It is fortunate that we did not collide, as my outer integument would have been deadly to you. Greetings to you, small dragon. I am the Stardragon, an entity of pure living energy./ returns the small mental voice of the Stardragon. Those that "hear" it get the definite inpression of both youth and great antiquity. /I appologize for not noticing you, the injuries I sustained defeating the Adversary are making it difficult to concentrate on more than three things at a time. Unfortuneately watching for flying allies lost out. Sorry./ =========================== Date: Mon, 11 Nov 96 17:31:08 PST (62) From: Martin Gerster >On 11/11/96 Stardragon wrote: >/Sorry, I did not notice your approach. It is fortunate that we did >not collide, as my outer integument would have been deadly to you. >Greetings to you, small dragon. I am the Stardragon, an entity of >pure living energy./ returns the small mental voice of the >Stardragon. Those that "hear" it get the definite impression of both >youth and great antiquity. /I appologize for not noticing you, the >injuries I sustained defeating the Adversary are making it difficult >to concentrate on more than three things at a time. Unfortuneately >watching for flying allies lost out. Sorry./ /Ah.. Apologies accepted. If you are a pure energy being I'm glad we didn't colide, too. Always a pleasure to meet another dragon, no matter what form or what the circumstances. But If *You* defeated the Adversary, then what was that living embodyment of Darkness that I mentaly drove from this plane of existance? I thought the creature I just defeated was the Adversary./ =========================== Date: Tue, 12 Nov 1996 13:20:36 -0600 (CST) (63) From: Paul Campbell (via grammarfascist) >On Sat, 9 Nov 1996, Silence wrote: >"Someone cover me here," Silence calls as she drops to her knees >beside the Sasquatch. Two or three people immediately move to hold >off the enemy soldiers. Among them is Xzerrion, who rushes over after a nod of thanks to Stardragon for getting him out of something a bit too deep. 'I'll keep them off' *slash, clang, grunt, stab* 'for as long as I can.' >With the last of her strength, Silence sets the blood vessels to >healing again. Miraculously, the spear seems to have missed any vital >organs, and the wound, which would have been so deep as to be deadly >to a human being, is not quite as serious as it seemed. "Lady >Cheron... someone... bandages...." the healer gasps, and then quietly >keels over beside her patient, her body pressed up against him and >holding the wound closed even as she slips into unconsciousness. 'Goddammit, this is getting too fraggin complicated!' Xzerrion sheaths his poisoned blade Cobra and pulls out his disrupter, setting it on maximum, locking the trigger into place, and places a rather nasty fire glyph on it. 'Here, play with this,' he mutters, tossing it into the midst of the foes. While some opponents are distracted he works on bandaging with one hand while fighting off the onrushing troops using Frostbite. This almost proves fatal, as Xzerrion ducks seconds before a Klingon Batlath (sp??) removes his head. 'Just bloody wonderful!' Xzerrion ties off the bandage, and pulls a dagger from his boot, tossing it into the throat of the unfortunate Klingon. He then uses his free hand to finger his amulet, and taps into the dark power thus provided. 'Sorry about this, Silence, but I need you on your feet, there's too friggin many for me to hold off myself.' As his eyes glow an evil red, power flickers in Xzerrion's hand, directed towards Silence. 'Some extra energy to replace what you lost might help you get back to consciousness, but I hope that wasn't too much, healing isn't my specialty.' Unsheathing Cobra again, Xzerrion returns to slashing at the enemy, hoping Silence gets up *before* he gets tired. =========================== Date: Tue, 12 Nov 1996 15:01:50 -0500 (EST) (64?) From: Shadow >On Sat, 9 Nov 1996, L.J. Wolfe wrote: >Behind Shadow are heard other lupine growls, and then a quiet voice >through the telepathic link. */Don't worry, Shadow, these are with >me. They won't interfere unless invited, but they'll gladly help you >with _that_ one if you ask./* > >It takes the K'therr a moment to recognize the speaker, and he spares >the smallest fraction of a moment to look around. Clad in unbroken >grey from her boots to the band holding her hair, Morgan stands with >two large wolves, one silver-grey, the other darker, both of whom are >regarding Fenris with undivided attention. Shadow takes to the air for just long enough to avoid his opponent's lunge, and lands on the Wolf's back, sinking four sets of claws into his shoulders and haunches. The claws are no longer poisoned, but they can now do a great deal of damage, and the Wolf howls in pain and outrage. Mercilessly, Shadow uses his claws almost as reins, pulling Ulf this way and that. He throws a thought over his shoulder of /Thanks, Morgan--and I can see why you'd want to help me with this one. But he's _mine_./ The K'therr retracts one set of claws, pulling a forepaw away, and slashes at the Wolf's eyes, half-blinding him. Suddenly, he feels a rush of cold and horrible shrinking sensation. When his mind clears, he realizes that he is once more kitten-size... and that a very tall, furious woman in white is standing over him. "Your illusion is hardly proof against my magics," she says triumphantly. "Are you so brave against my champion now, little cat?" Shadow hisses defiance and struggles to his feet. "Bravery has nothing to do with size, witch," he spits. "Will you fight without your magic, then? Is your pet dog there--" Ulf snarls "--brave enough to fight without you saving his mangy hide every time he gets into trouble?" And as he speaks, he begins to grow again. The White Witch shrinks back, not from the K'therr but from the true Lion who has paced, unnoticed, through the battle to stand at his side. "Your battle is not with this cub," comes the Lion's deep voice. Shadow turns and bows with the deepest respect. "Your battle is with myself and myself alone. We have both died before. Are you willing to die again, and again, to prove to yourself that we are--as we have always been--at a stalemate?" The Witch's eyes narrow. "A stalemate? Hardly. But that can be proven another time. This is hardly the time or the place to reinvoke the magics. Believe me, though--I will _never_ stop fighting! And I will _win_!" And with that, she plunges back into the fray and is soon lost from sight. The Wolf, whimpering, tries to run and follow his mistress, but soon realizing that his tail is caught fast under the Lion's great forepaw. "Now, Llrrr," Aslan says gently. "Do what is right." Shadow recovers from the surprise of hearing his birth name from another's lips and stalks around in front of Fenris Ulf, fur and feathers bristling. "No Beast is evil from birth," he says slowly, "so I will not kill you. And no Beast deserves to be helpless, so I will not leave you that way. I can, however, make you useless to your mistress." He focuses, and the emerald ring around his foreleg begins to glow. And the Wolf begins to shrink.... Those watching soon realize that he is not simply smaller; he is _younger_. And soon a bewildered Wolf pup looks up at Shadow, who has lost his own exaggerated height and is now only slightly larger than his former enemy. Then he looks up further, and further, into the eyes of the great Lion. "Aslan," he says, in a very small voice. "I think... I think I did something wrong. But I don't remember what." "You were misled," the Lion says in a calm, deep purr, "which was hardly your fault. Come ride on my shoulders, and I will make you strong again." With some help from Shadow, a much meeker and younger Fenris Ulf clambers up onto the Lion's back. Frightened by the great height, he clings to the great shaggy mane. Aslan throws back his head and roars, easily raising his voice to be heard by every participant of the battle. (A contingent of Telmarines look up, drop their swords in terror, and run.) His coat begins to glow bright golden, so bright that none can bear to look at it, and when the glow fades he is gone. Shadow, shaken, licks his fur into place--absently noting that it is once more black, and that the green highlights seem more pronounced than ever--and walks over to Morgan. He looks up at her, timidly. "Did I do the right thing?" he asks. =========================== Date: Tue, 12 Nov 1996 15:13:04 +0000 (65) From: Silence >From: Paul Campbell >>On Sat, 9 Nov 1996, Silence wrote: >>"Someone cover me here," Silence calls as she drops to her knees >>beside the Sasquatch. Two or three people immediately move to hold >>off the enemy soldiers. > >Among them is Xzerrion, who rushes over after a nod of thanks to >Stardragon for getting him out of something a bit too deep. 'I'll >keep them off' *slash, clang, grunt, stab* 'for as long as I can.' Silence spares a millisecond to send wordless thanks. >He then uses his free hand to finger his amulet, and taps into the >dark power thus provided. 'Sorry about this, Silence, but I need you >on your feet, there's too friggin many for me to hold off myself.' As >his eyes glow an evil red, power flickers in Xzerrion's hand, >directed towards Silence. 'Some extra energy to replace what you lost >might help you get back to consciousness, but I hope that wasn't too >much, healing isn't my specialty.' Silence shudders violently and opens her eyes--again. "Xzerrion? What the hell?" >Unsheathing Cobra again, Xzerrion returns to slashing at the enemy, >hoping Silence gets up *before* he gets tired. Swearing softly under her breath, Silence works her way up to standing shakily. "If you could spare some more of that energy," she mutters, "I could use it. Doesn't matter where it comes from at this point." Hoarsely, she sings a few drops of water into her parched throat, unsheathes her sword, and begins dispatching soldiers, forcing herself to stay upright by reminding herself that they _can't_ be allowed to get to the Sasquatch before he awakens. Thank heaven for the wall behind them! She adds a silent prayer, too, that someone will be able to spare a hand before she and Xzerrion _both_ wear down. --Silence, who _hates_ being woken up =========================== Date: Tue, 12 Nov 96 20:40:32 -0000 (66) From: Roland X >Silence shudders violently and opens her eyes--again. "Xzerrion? What >the hell?" Roland, still hurling forcewalls into the enemy, shudders as the resonance of the magicks invoked reach even his pattern-based mind. "What the sprocking-?" >Swearing softly under her breath, Silence works her way up to >standing shakily. "If you could spare some more of that energy," she >mutters, "I could use it. Doesn't matter where it comes from at this >point." Hoarsely, she sings a few drops of water into her parched >throat, unsheathes her sword, and begins dispatching soldiers, >forcing herself to stay upright by reminding herself that they >_can't_ be allowed to get to the Sasquatch before he awakens. Thank >heaven for the wall behind them! She adds a silent prayer, too, that >someone will be able to spare a hand before she and Xzerrion _both_ >wear down. Roland's eyes widen as Silence and Xzerrion fight valiantly, but against increasingly overwhelming odds. Either could handle the grunt troops they're fighting alone, but he can feel their exhaustion... *Silence! Xzerrion! NO!* A silver blur bursts forth from where Roland had been standing, and suddenly the Silver Phoenix is everywhere at once. Power crackles in his fists, stunning unconscious anyone not knocked cold by the force of his super-speed blows. Silver waves of energy hurl squads of troops into one another. His staff dances on its own, sweeping strange energies through enemies as it strikes. Telepathic psibolts flash through those of weaker will, sending them into a temporary oblivion. The darkness within Roland regets this temporary nature, but roars its satisfaction as Silver Phoenix screams wordlessly, and what he thinks is soundlessly, until he finds himself standing in a nearly empty field, his kinetic waves chasing the fleeing foes, and he hears himself screaming. He stops. He stares. *Merciful Light. Did _I_ do that?!* =========================== Date: Tue, 12 Nov 1996 19:54:09 -0800 (67) From: "L.J. Wolfe" At 03:01 PM 11/12/96 -0500, Shadow wrote: >Shadow, shaken, licks his fur into place--absently noting that it is >once more black, and that the green highlights seem more pronounced >than ever--and walks over to Morgan. He looks up at her, timidly. >"Did I do the right thing?" he asks. Morgan smiles down at Shadow, back in his usual (to the rest of us, anyway) form for the first time in what seems ages. The darker of her wolf companions gently noses the feline (not enough to ruffle fur - he knows better than that ), followed by his silver counterpart. "Lucas mya K'therr, you did a very right thing. We've all gotten far too accustomed to blowing the living hell out of anything that offers us any opposition. You've reminded us that sometimes killing an enemy isn't the best way to defeat him. You gave Fenris a chance to redeem himself, and under Aslan's guidance I'm sure he'll succeed." "I'm ashamed to admit it, but I doubt I would have been so generous." Her wolves nuzzle up to her, one at each hand, and she listens briefly to the Callahanian "channel" to check in on the various fronts. "Come on, let's go rejoin the fray. Roland just pulled Silence and Xzerrion's butts out of the fire, but Sasquatch is still in a bad way. And the Stranger may need _all_ of us for backup before this is over." =========================== Date: Tue, 12 Nov 96 23:39 MST (68) From: faust@rmi.net (steven v. dick) >"Come on, let's go rejoin the fray. Roland just pulled Silence and >Xzerrion's butts out of the fire, but Sasquatch is still in a bad >way. And the Stranger may need _all_ of us for backup before this is >over." Meanwhile, back at the Sasquatch's side some of those watching are violently dismayed to see the largge creature's form begin to literally fade. Just before he vanishes from sight his eyes open and he whispers, " Don't worry, I'll be right back." In half a heartbeat his words are proven true. He reappears, standing tall over the ring and lantern that he dropped upon his dramatic reentry. "I was born of myth and of myth I remain. Fading away when my place in a tale is through and reappearing when legend demands!", he sinks to sit cross- legged upon the ground. " I just wish legend hadn't demanded quite so soon this time." The Sasquatch's color is still pale and his voice was definitely not it's normal booming roar. He bends at the waist and picks up the ring and lantern that he retrieved, cradles them in his palms, and concentrates. A blue glow springs up and surrounds the items and then he speaks once more, "I always knew I was not meant to bear these. I hoped... but my place as the final link in the chain is clear. There is honor in stewardship." The Sasquatch clears his throat and raises his voice, "I know many of you have already fought for and won dearly the symbols of power that you already hold, but I have here one that may truly change the tide of battle. This is the ORIGINAL ring. Not a mere construct of the Guardians but forged directly from the Starheart, the central core of Oa itself. It is slightly different from the rings you may have encountered, it is vulnerable to wood(long story). I am not meant to bear it, one of YOU is..." With that, the ring, lantern, and glow float to eye level amongst the assembled Callahanians and the Sasquatch his duty momentarily complete, collapses into unconsciousness once again to continue healing. (OOC: Take it away guys and gals) =========================== Date: Wed, 13 Nov 1996 14:53:31 -0600 (CST) (69) From: Lady Cheron (via grammarfascist) >Paul Campbell wrote: >>On Sat, 9 Nov 1996, Silence wrote: >>With the last of her strength, Silence sets the blood vessels to >>healing again. Miraculously, the spear seems to have missed any >>vital organs, and the wound, which would have been so deep as to be >>deadly to a human being, is not quite as serious as it seemed. "Lady >>Cheron... someone... bandages...." the healer gasps, and then >>quietly keels over beside her patient, her body pressed up against >>him and holding the wound closed even as she slips into >>unconsciousness. From whereever she's been, Lady Cheron hears the whisper in her brain. She grabs her pack, closes her eyes and concentrates. "I'm needed. Take me *there*" The air shimmers, clears, and she is gone. >'Goddammit, this is getting too fraggin complicated!' Xzerrion >sheaths his poisoned blade Cobra and pulls out his disrupter, setting >it on maximum, locking the trigger into place, and places a rather >nasty fire glyph on it. 'Here, play with this,' he mutters, tossing >it into the midst of the foes. While some opponents are distracted he >works on bandaging with one hand while fighting off the onrushing >troops using Frostbite. This almost proves fatal, as Xzerrion ducks >seconds before a Klingon Batlath (sp??) removes his head. 'Just >bloody wonderful!' Xzerrion ties off the bandage, and pulls a dagger >from his boot, tossing it into the throat of the unfortunate Klingon. Lady Cheron materializes in time to take over the bandaging. "I've got it, Xzerrion. Sorry I'm late." >Unsheathing Cobra again, Xzerrion returns to slashing at the enemy, >hoping Silence gets up *before* he gets tired. With her free hand, Lady C reaches into one of her pockets and pulls a pistol. Thumbing off the safety, she starts picking off targets, keeping the area behind Xzerrion clear of immediate threats. "I'll take care of the ones trying to blindside you. You can fill me in after the fight's over." =========================== Date: Fri, 15 Nov 1996 06:46:16 -0800 (70) From: rolandx@ix.netcom.com (Roland X) dion.marshall@pobox.com (Dion P. Marshall) wrote: >"This is fun, Nellie", Dion said to his dog while stopping for a >breath and to wipe his axe on the clothes of a Drow who got careless, >"but it doesn't seem to be getting us anywhere. That ring will help, >but I don't think it's enough. It's time to get rid of some of the >lesser combatants." Dion takes the form of a great mastiff, and >begins running in a circle large enough to surround the battlefield. >"Callahanians! Make sure you are outside the circle I am >proscribing." Roland, watching Dion's efforts and realizing the extent of Sasquatch's sacrifice, realizes what he must do. "I know you are not for me, ring," he says, snatching it from where it floats, "but I'm going to need you for a short while." *Folx! Fall back! It's time to let them take the 'battery.'* Grim smiles and brief amounts of confusion are met, particularly from Colonel Gray's forces, until the explanation for the enoumous green construct behind them is given. The retreat moves quickly and orderly, much to Roland's relief. *Roland, are you sure about this?* he hears. *About taking this ring? Hell no. About pulling our trump card? If they have _more_ aces up their sleeves, we're gonna get worn down anyway. This ought to do it.* "Fall back! Two-by-two, retreat to the plains!" Roland hurriedly puts on the First Ring, wishing he could do it more justice. But his friends (not to mention the multiverse) come first. Solemnly, he concentrates on the false battery, linking the First Ring to it... And Byron Gaunt, Maestro (leader) of the Droves present, shouts his victory. "At last! The battery is ours!" *Despite the setbacks we have faced,* he adds to the Unseelie and officers of the remaining forces, *the power _will_ be ours, the Adversary will be supreme, and then all we could wish for will belong to the eternal night.* *So long as that _includes_ us,* one Dark Sidhe replies dryly. The Gaunt walks up to the 'battery' smiling, almost reverent. /Come on, come on, bring your friends up,/ Roland thinks desperately. He looks up, and though the ships Gray and KnightShift brought with them are fighting well, they are also outnumbered. Roland's thoughts flicker, and a few emerald proximity bombs give them some room to work with. /Either way, they won't have any problems in a few minutes./ Byron walks up to the mouth of the battery. So does the Dark Sidhe leader. They look at one another, daggers in their eyes. The remnants of the army gather in front of the battery. Roland looks up...the enemy fleet is in place. *Wish me luck,* he says, and concentrates. "I was chosen by the Adversary, and _I_ shall-" Byron is saying when the 'battery begins to glow. "What-?" The Dark Sidhe's eyes widen impossibly. "By the Fomori! It's a trap-" An emerald explosion drowns out their objections. Roland smiles grimly, and concentrates. All the worldwalking that had been done left the fabric of reality loose, to say the least, around the various forces in the invasion. The light of the Battery (the real one, fueling the 'explosion') fills the landscape. Roland 'pushes' with the Ring, trying to send the troopers home. Some begin to disappear, but not enough... ...then he feels the others catch on. Smiles begin to break out among the group as the realize that this is their chance. Magicks, hypergates, telepathic suggestions, all the powers of the collected Callahanians come to bear. Roland aims the light upward, and most of the invading fleet is bathed in the light as well. When the light fades, only the mightiest of the dark warriors remain. And the battery doppelganger is gone. "'The battery is ours,' is it?" The Dark Sidhe snarls. "Brilliant, you immortal fool. We have been deceived!" "Oh, shut up," Byron replies. "The real one _is_ here. Somewhere. And our enemies are gone. Send down the Brand." Roland watches grimly as one last ship uncloaks. A thing out of nightmare, like a fat worm covered with beetles, screams (literally) out of hyperspace. Through the Ring, Roland can see the markings on the 'side' of the ship. 'The Holocaust Brand.' Roland snarls. "I don't think so." He concentrates, and the true Battery glows beneath the ground. "Roland!" Byron cries, seeing Roland silhouetted by the light. Roland smiles a frightening smile at him, and concentrates. The glow vanishes. "Your prize is gone, Gaunt. It was never meant to remain here. The new Guardians will forge a new source of power, and the Green Lantern Corps will live on in another time and place. You're beaten." Byron screams wordlessly. Roland looks up at the nightmare ship approaching. *Well, folx, we can all have our honor duels now. This one's mine.* And with that, Roland flies up, creating a sonic boom before he even reaches the aerial battle. (Or what's left of it; the Lensdragon and the Stardragon can't have left much. 8^) The Brand writhes, bearing down on the planet. "Sorry, Corruption-Lords, but if you want _my_ friends, you're only future is disappointment!" Roland calls on the full power of the Ring, and channels all of _his_ power into it, and fires one green and silver blast. A counter-attack, like ink and toxic waste shot from some obscene firehose, envelops Roland. Gaunt's eyes widen in fear, and reality is butchered as he flees this fiction for his home realm. His Droves follow suit. The dark ship is annihilated on one blast; only the prisoners in the 'belly' remain, in green cocoons falling gently to Oa's surface. The Callahanians see the Ring reappear among them. A few minutes later, pieces of Roland's Silver Phoenix armor, tainted by that...attack, follow... (OOC: I'm off to Florida! See y'all in a week! 8^) =========================== Date: Sat, 16 Nov 96 02:39:40 PST (71) From: Martin Gerster Recently, Roland X wrote the following > And with that, Roland flies up, creating a sonic boom before he >even reaches the aerial battle. (Or what's left of it; the Lensdragon >and the Stardragon can't have left much. 8^) /Hate to burst the bubble of the rest of you/ Telepathicly shouts Dhyrclhnc the Lensdragon /While I don't know where the Stardragon is, right now, I'm over by the real Power Battery. What's more, I'm a liitle busy fighting off several hundred of the remaining Manhunter-Gaunts and Dark Sidhe who didn't dissappear with their main forces. I could realy use some help over here! Oh Yeah, would sombody tell Roland X to give that Ring to me once he's finished with it! I've been in mental communication with the Battery and I think the First Ring is my destiny! Before I forget; HELP!/ The assembled Callahanians mentaly witness the Lensdragon locked in mortal combat with 18 different , 20 ft. tall, light-blue and lavender colored, humanoid robots. He definetly looks like he could use some help. Then the image shorts out. =========================== Date: Sat, 16 Nov 96 12:06:45 PST (72) From: Martin Gerster At 02:39 AM 11/16/96 PST, Dhyrclhanc wrote: >>OOC: Um, folx, did I misunderstand something, or didn't Roland X >>send the "real" battery away in his last post? He said, >>Just trying to keep things straight. :-) >>Morgan /|\ /Gee, I don't know if the Power Battery's still here, but there are quite a few (ahem) "people" who are still p.o.ed at us and they're all taking it our on me. I still could use the help! Between the Manhunter-Gaunts, the Dark Sidhe (aka Goblinoids) and these Omega-Class Sentinels, I've got my hands more than full!/ =========================== Date: Sat, 16 Nov 1996 09:26:25 -0800 (73) From: "L.J. Wolfe" >/Gee, I don't know if the Power Battery's still here, but there are >quite a few (ahem) "people" who are still p.o.ed at us and they're >all taking it our on me. I still could use the help! Between the >Manhunter-Gaunts, the Dark Sidhe (aka Goblinoids) and these Omega- >Class Sentinels, I've got my hands more than full! The assembled Callahanians look at one another. A lot has happened in a short span of time, and their faces show it hasn't all quite sunk in yet. Roland, who had in a way been functioning as their leader, was gone, and no one wanted to think about whether he'd be back. Greywolf speaks up. "Well, folx, looks like Dhyrclhnc needs our help. How 'bout someone stay with Lady Cheron and Sasquatch to provide cover and help get him to someplace he can heal in peace, and the rest of us go kick some more bad guy butt? " Morgan Greywolf /|\ =========================== Date: Sat, 16 Nov 96 20:13:56 PST (74) From: Martin Gerster >"Well, folx, looks like Dhyrclhnc needs our help. How 'bout someone >stay with Lady Cheron and Sasquatch to provide cover and help get him >to someplace he can heal in peace, and the rest of us go kick some >more bad guy butt? " /I'm not one to beat a dead horse,/ telesends Dhyrclhanc /But I'd sure appriciate the help!/ =========================== Date: Mon, 18 Nov 1996 00:07:56 +0000 (75) From: Gareth Owen The Stranger alights in the central courtyard of the castle. All is quiet, the residents are out fighting his comrades. For a second he looks back towards the maelstrom he has left behind, wondering if he shouldn't be with them. But his work is here now. Ahead of him stands a yellow tower, featureless except for a single door. He approaches it. His ring is useless against yellow, he knows. A figure emerges from behind the tower. A short figure with blue skin. "You're the last, aren't you. Are you really here?" The figure shrugs, almost sadly, spreading his hands. "Well, we shall see." "He could do that?" The Stranger removed the power ring from his finger and handed it to the figure. "I don't think I need this anymore" Suddenly the figure was gone. The Stranger stood there, now clad in his old coat and hat, a Colt Python tucked into his waistband and a pump action twelve gauge in his hands. Familiar weapons for a familiar battle. He racked the shotgun, approving of the solid sound it made. "Fill your hands Gruber, I'm coming for you!" He kicked the door open and entered. To be continued.... =========================== Date: Mon, 18 Nov 1996 03:23:22 -0600 (76) From: "KnightShift (Michael Jon Knight)" Zach, the Earthforce shuttle pilot, watches his targets crumple and/or explode under his barrage from the shuttle's cannons. Several times he has narrowly missed his CO, the KnightShift, Who has been bounding across the battlefield astride what would look like a house cat, if it weren't the size of a horse. Zach watches the security team from the _Populous_ sweep across the battlefield, finishing off stragglers employed, or enslaved, by the Adversary. Then he catches a glimpse of the KnightShift again, who has just taken out a small band of Orcs. But, Zach sees a danger his CO doesn't. A small band of lizardy-looking people with large red eyes is creeping towards the KnightShift from behind. Zach immediately trains the cannon on the small band and, on a whim, turns on the shuttle's audio/video enhancing equipment. Though Zach doesn't see what tipped the captain off, he watches the KnightShift and cat turn their heads as one to face this new enemy. Zach hears a simultaneous snarl escape both their throats. But neither lizard or human attack. Sizing each other up, Zach supposes. A lizard, dressed differently than the rest, steps to the front of the small band. This lizard wears a large, green, Darth-Vader-shaped helmet. He draws a sword with barbs on the tip of the blade, and points it at the KnightShift. "Human! Your kind have despoiled the sands of Mars for the last time. You will not leave this planet alive. Mars belongs to the Ice Warriors!" /Oh, boy, Cap. This guy doesn't even know where he is! And he aims to cut your head off for it./ Zach thinks. No one hears this but Zach, as he has no telepathic abilities, but, just as he finishes the thought, the KnightShift appears startled, as if waking from a dream. "Mars? Ice Lord, did you say Mars?" the KnightShift asks in wonder. Zach watches, horrified as the KnightShift slowly dismounts. "Fer God's sake, Cap! What are you doing?" Zach shouts, his voice echoing in the small cabin. Zach aims the shuttle cannon on the head lizard's helmet. But the KnightShift steps in the way, causing Zach to lose the shot and swear violently. The KnightShift looks at his cat and says. "Pyewackett, go home." The cat looks indignantly and hisses at the band of Ice Warriors. "PYEWACKETT!" the KnightShift snaps. The cat is suddenly a normal house cat, who meows sweetly, trying to get back on his human's good graces. The KnightShift smiles and waves a hand behind him. A small cat door forms from thin air. "Go on home. There is a fresh can of tuna in your bowl." The cat licks its lips and, making small 'mur'ing noises, trots over to the door and goes through it. The door promptly vanishes. The KnightShift turns to the Ice Lord again, and takes his sword and scabbard off. Holding it at chest height, he draws the sword. He then purposely drops the scabbard on the ground. Raising the sword horizontally above his head, the KnightShift suddenly brings it down, snapping the blade in two over his knee. He then drops the sword on the ground at his feet. "Ice Lord, noble warriors, you have been misled. This planet is not your glorious homeworld. Your world is halfway across the galaxy. I will die before I shed the blood of the innocent." The Ice Lord looks closely at the KnightShift. "You speak the truth...a rarity among your kind. No blood shall be shed today. The Ice Warriors shall leave you in peace." The Ice Lord turns to his group and makes a series of clicking and hissing noises, with lots of R's and X's thrown in. Then the band disappears in a strange blue light. Zach marvels at what he has just witnessed. "Un--believable." Zach whispers in awe. The KnightShift turns his head and smiles directly into the camera. Zach is surprised as the KnightShift winks knowingly. "No way he heard me..." Zach is suddenly startled as he hears the voice of the KnightShift in his mind. /Don't panic, Zach. Talking this way is just faster. I have an exercise in futility for you. Take the security team and assist Lady Cheron and Sasquatch in getting off planet. If they won't leave, move Sasquatch into the shuttle to recover and help Lady Cheron tend the wounds. I will be with the Lens Dragon. Last I heard, he needed help near the castle. When everything is fine there, drop them off at the castle and get back to the _Populous_. Old Man knows I have enough innocent blood on my hands already. It is time this thing is ended./ Following orders, Zach picks up the security team and lands the shuttle a safe distance from Sasquatch and Lady Cheron. Emerging from the shuttle, Zach says, "This may be pointless to say, but the Cap has offered to take you off planet. He says if you won't go, our facilities are at your disposal. Lady, just between you and me, I would rather stay here. The Cap is gonna need all the backup he can get. And I get the feeling this thing kinda involves us, too. But, the Cap says it's up ta you, so we'll do what you think is best." Meanwhile, the KnightShift has picked up the broken Claymore. Placing the broken pieces back together, the KnightShift concentrates, rejoining the sword. He places it in the scabbard and puts it back on. Then with a thought, the KnightShift vanishes...to reappear when and where he is needed next. In the meantime, he plans and waits. =========================== Date: Thu, 21 Nov 1996 07:03:42 -0800 (77) From: "Dane R. Anderson" Martin Gerster (Dhyrclhnc the Lensdragon) Wrote: >I could realy use some help over here! The Stardragon seeing Dhyrclhnc's predicament, swoops over, being careful to ram into as many flying enemy as possible. Those hit by the breath or body of the Stardragon cease to exist, physically. Seeing it comming the Dark Sidhe scatter, they are no match for it, and they know that it would just feed on their magics. Matching flight with Dhyrclhnc, the Stardragon begins gently grasping the robots attacking Dhyrclhnc, being extremely careful not to touch the Lensdragon. Of course on impact with the Stardragon's "skin" the robots are converted to energy and absorbed. When the last robot is disposed of the Stardragon begins sweeping it's "breath" about the sky blasting anything that is clearly an enemy. =========================== From: Martin Gerster (78) Date: Thu, 21 Nov 96 13:18:35 PST >The Stardragon seeing Dhyrclhnc's predicament, swoops over, being >careful to ram into as many flying enemy as possible. Those hit by >the breath or body of the Stardragon cease to exist, physically. >Seeing it comming the Dark Sidhe scatter, they are no match for it, >and they know that it would just feed on their magics. Matching >flight with Dhyrclhnc, the Stardragon begins gently grasping the >robots attacking Dhyrclhnc, being extremely careful not to touch the >Lensdragon. Of course on impact with the Stardragon's "skin" the >robots are converted to energy and absorbed. When the last robot is >disposed of the Stardragon begins sweeping it's "breath" about the >sky blasting anything that is clearly an enemy. /WOW! Color me Impressed!/ =========================== Date: Sun, 24 Nov 1996 13:48:53 -0800 (PST) (79) From: Paul Campbell Using the Stardragon's flamboyant attack as cover, Xzerrion quietly drifts through the shadows, looking for a leader to the assault on the battery. 'They've got to be here somewhere,' he mutters, 'the dark sidhe have to have someone keeping them organized, but where - what the ...?' Xzerrion stops dead, seconds before entering the view of elite group of dark elves, led by ... 'Matron Drisonel? But ... I killed her ... nobody can survive a retributive strike at point blank range,' he breathes, remembering just in time to keep his voice down. 'How convenient, the one who brought down my house, brought by chance under my eye.' Without thought, Xzerrion raises his bow and looses two poisoned arrows, following with a third, his eyes glowing red with a flash of hatred. As fast as he fired, Drisonel was faster, flinging up a hand and stopping the arrows in mid-flight. 'Bold, young warrior, but foolish. You could have joined with me once, but you choose to fight on past your clear defeat. Most of the drow are more ... pragmatic. Yes, Xzerrion, I know who you are, and further, I know where. Take him, warriors, but try not to harm him too badly. He will serve me yet.' Xzerrions eyes widen, and his eyes flicker red as he draws on the power of the amulet. His first two arrows drop two warriors, before he is forced to draw his blades. 'Yes, young warrior, draw upon the hatred within yourself, and the power of dark magic. It may save your life, but I will have your soul!' The struggle in his face is plain to see. This battle must be won for the sake of his friends, but losing himself to the dark sidhe would be as devastating a loss. Two more warriors fall to Xzerrion's blades, but now the hatred is more clearly etched in his appearance. 'NOOOOOO!!!!!' Xzerrion removes the amulet before the temptation can overcome him, but now fatigue begins to reach him. His strokes are less sure, and he can barely hold off the remaining six. 'You see, young warrior, one way or another, you are mine.' 'Not yet, Matron,' Xzerrion gasps. 'You see, I'm not alone.' *am I? Can someone out there hear me? I need help here ... * - To be continued =========================== Date: Sun, 24 Nov 1996 18:04:18 -0600 (80) From: "KnightShift (Michael Jon Knight)" The Noble Xzerrion wrote: >'Not yet, Matron,' Xzerrion gasps. 'You see, I'm not alone.' > >*am I? Can someone out there hear me? I need help here ... * The glint of steel is all that can be seen, as several of the Dark Sidhe fall. A voice calls out from behind Xzerrion. "You are *never* alone, my friend." The KnightShift stands holding his sword, wiping the blood from the blade. "'Matron', your men are wounded only. I am willing to let this 'incident' go unnoticed...if you withdraw from this fight. I will not make the offer again." One of the dark elves draws a throwing knife. Before he can release it on it's deadly trajectory toward the KnightShift's head, a bolt of electricity arcs from the KnightShift's eyes to the dark elf, striking him dead. "Your warrior made the wrong choice. Will you, Matron?" The KnightShift [ Yeah, right. This thread would be awful short if our enemy chickened out at the first sign of resistance. :) ] =========================== Date: Sun, 24 Nov 1996 16:11:16 -0800 (82) From: "L.J. Wolfe" At 01:48 PM 11/24/96 -0800, Xzerrion wrote: >'Not yet, Matron,' Xzerrion gasps. 'You see, I'm not alone.' > >*am I? Can someone out there hear me? I need help here ... * Three of the Matron's warriors suddenly find it rather diffucult to breath, owing largely to the holes in their necks put there by three sets of fangs. Two of the blurs attached to the fangs, one silver, one nearly black, go for two more throats, while the third slows and drops back to Xzerrion's side. As it approaches, the grey wolf shifts to human form, becoming a grey-clad woman with a large, very sharp sword. "You don't think we're going to let you have _all_ the fun, do you?" Morgan smiles at her fellow Callahanian. One of the injured warriors moans, and she turns and, with a quick stroke, takes his head off, muttering, "Can't abide needless suffering." "Well, Xzerrion, do you want that one, or shall we deal with him while you have a go at _her_?" The remaining dark warrior is standing, blade in hand, looking from one to the other of two wolves. The wolves are sitting just far enough apart and away from his so he knows that if he charges one of them the other will take him out before he can do much damage. But, then again, if he does nothing they may both charge _him_. =========================== Date: Mon, 25 Nov 1996 19:23:54 -0800 (PST) (83) From: Paul Campbell On Sun, 24 Nov 1996, L.J. Wolfe wrote: >"Well, Xzerrion, do you want that one, or shall we deal with him >while you have a go at _her_?" > >The remaining dark warrior is standing, blade in hand, looking from >one to the other of two wolves. The wolves are sitting just far >enough apart and away from his so he knows that if he charges one of >them the other will take him out before he can do much damage. But, >then again, if he does nothing they may both charge _him_. Matron Drisonel cackles evilly. 'You think you've won, don't you? All your two friends and their pets have accomplished is to stand with you as you die!' Xzerrion, Morgan, and Knightshift duck as a dark shadow passes overhead, coalescing into several huge, spidery creatures, each over 12 feet tall, their fangs dripping venom. 'I stand before you with the power of almighty Lloth! With the help of the Spider Queen, I shall take my place as the host of the Adversary, with my rivals so conveniently killed by your friends. You could stop me, Xzerrion, but poor thing, you lost your ability to work the greater magics long ago. If you had joined me, I could have restored them. In fact, I can afford to be generous. You can join me and live, or fight on and die with your friends.' Xzerrion's face grows cold, resigned to death as he answers. 'I could never join you or your goddess, Drisonel. You could not understand, I left the drow elves for love, and for love, I will fight on, until my dying breath and beyond. And Matron, you will never learn all my tricks. This day you die, even if it means you take me with you.' Xzerrion's hand dips into his pocket and comes out holding a wand. He levels the wand at the spiders and Drisonel, shouting an obscure and vile dark elven arcane phrase (aproximately translated to "pull the legs off a spider"). A bright flash of light equal to full daylight emerges, causing the spiders to howl in pain and Drisonel to duck, momentarily blinded. 'Stand in the power of the Light, demonspawn,' Xzerrion snarls. His free hand conjures up an incandescent turquoise ball, which he hurls at the nearest spider, which explodes in a burst of cold fire. 'This fight is far from over, Drisonel, and I think you won't like the result.' =========================== Date: Tue, 26 Nov 1996 01:23:08 -0600 (CST) (85) From: Roland X (via grammerfascist) So, just what _did_ happen to Roland, anyway? /Pain!/ It is Roland's first sensation upon regaining consciousness. Slowly, he struggles towards awareness of his surroundings, but the darkness is complete. Then the pain is gone, and the Light is with him. *You have courage enough for ten, my child,* he hears, and though he disagrees with the sentiment, he smiles, tears of joy flowing down his face. *Phoenix. I knew you would not leave me there.* *You must heal, my bright warrior,* Phoenix says. *Remember always that peace serves me so much better than war.* The Light fades, and he sees his parents' home. His astonished father looks up, and laughs. Some time later... >'Stand in the power of the Light, demonspawn,' Xzerrion snarls. His >free hand conjures up an incandescent turquoise ball, which he hurls >at the nearest spider, which explodes in a burst of cold fire. > >'This fight is far from over, Drisonel, and I think you won't like >the result.' The spiders, having paused at this display of power, give Xzerrion their undivided attention. A fatal mistake. /Come on, come on, work, blast it!/ Roland pushes at his backup ficton entrance. His 'Claris emailer' portal avails him not, but he manages to open another gateway, and seeing the danger his friends are in, he acts. *YES!* Roland surges through, followed by light and healing power. Three more spiders are engulfed in light and vanish. "Hey, folx! Did I miss anything?" Roland asks with a smile, mentally sending the First Ring up to the Lensdragon. He winks at Drisonel with a laugh in his eyes. "And who's the babe?" Revitalized, reborn, Roland stands within a blazing shield of psionic power and raw Light, waiting for a response. =========================== Date: Tue, 26 Nov 1996 00:18:09 -0800 (88) From: "L.J. Wolfe" At 07:23 PM 11/25/96 -0800, Xzerrion wrote: >Matron Drisonel cackles evilly. 'You think you've won, don't you? All >your two friends and their pets have accomplished is to stand with >you as you die!' Morgan chuckles softly. "I can think of worse ways to go." >Xzerrion, Morgan, and Knightshift duck as a dark shadow passes >overhead, coalescing into several huge, spidery creatures, each over >12 feet tall, their fangs dripping venom. >Xzerrion's face grows cold, resigned to death as he answers. 'I could >never join you or your goddess, Drisonel. You could not understand, I >left the drow elves for love, and for love, I will fight on, until my >dying breath and beyond. And Matron, you will never learn all my >tricks. This day you die, even if it means you take me with you.' The Greywolf stands her ground as well. She would far rather die holding a line against the darkness than to abandon her friends. >Xzerrion's hand dips into his pocket and comes out holding a wand. He >levels the wand at the spiders and Drisonel, shouting an obscure and >vile dark elven arcane phrase (aproximately translated to "pull the >legs off a spider"). A bright flash of light equal to full daylight >emerges, causing the spiders to howl in pain and Drisonel to duck, >momentarily blinded. The wolves also blink in temporary blindness, giving their potential lunch a chance to make a strategic retreat. Looking faintly diasppointed , but seeing there are now bigger fish to fry, they move to flank the Callahanians. >'Stand in the power of the Light, demonspawn,' Xzerrion snarls. His >free hand conjures up an incandescent turquoise ball, which he hurls >at the nearest spider, which explodes in a burst of cold fire. > >'This fight is far from over, Drisonel, and I think you won't like >the result.' "Fireballs: simple, elegant, effective," Morgan says quietly, laying her hand on the dark wolf at her side. She half-closes her eyes in concentration as she moves her hand in small circles through the fur, and as sparks begin to crackle the wolf softly growls. "Easy, Cutter." Her hand closes as if scooping something up, and with a swift motion she pitches a ball of lightning at the nearest spider. The arachnid obligingly shrivels up and dies. Morgan and Cutter exchange slightly surprised looks. "Never know what you can do 'till you try, can you, boy?" She gives his ears a quick scratch, and resumes stroking his fur while choosing her next target. The Knightshift feels a nudge at his hand, and glances down to see the silver wolf eyeing both him and Xzerrion, an inquisitive look in her amber eyes.... Morgan Greywolf /|\ =========================== Date: Tue, 26 Nov 1996 08:25:42 -0600 (90) From: "KnightShift (Michael Jon Knight)" The noble Morgan wrote: >>At 07:23 PM 11/25/96 -0800, Xzerrion wrote: >>Matron Drisonel cackles evilly. 'You think you've won, don't you? >>All your two friends and their pets have accomplished is to stand >>with you as you die!' > >Morgan chuckles softly. "I can think of worse ways to go." The KnightShift sighs, "They *always* give the wrong answer." >>'I stand before you with the power of almighty Lloth! With the help >>of the Spider Queen, I shall take my place as the host of the >>Adversary, with my rivals so conveniently killed by your friends. >>You could stop me, Xzerrion, but poor thing, you lost your ability >>to work the greater magics long ago. If you had joined me, I could >>have restored them. In fact, I can afford to be generous. You can >>join me and live, or fight on and die with your friends.' /Blah, blah, blah...Long-winded, ain't she? :)/ >>Xzerrion's hand dips into his pocket and comes out holding a wand. >>He levels the wand at the spiders and Drisonel, shouting an obscure >>and vile dark elven arcane phrase (aproximately translated to "pull >>the legs off a spider"). A bright flash of light equal to full >>daylight emerges, causing the spiders to howl in pain and Drisonel >>to duck, momentarily blinded. "Pretty. When facing the Dark, I always prefer turning on the Light." >The wolves also blink in temporary blindness, giving their potential >lunch a chance to make a strategic retreat. Looking faintly >diasppointed cats :-)>, but seeing there are now bigger fish to fry, they move to >flank the Callahanians. "Heh. Smart move, dark elf." >The Knightshift feels a nudge at his hand, and glances down to see >the silver wolf eyeing both him and Xzerrion, an inquisitive look in >her amber eyes.... "Hello, girl," the KnightShift says softly, scratching the silver wolf behind the ear. A small spark arcs between his fingers and the wolf's fur. /Dry climate, animal fur...static electricity. Excellent!/ The KnightShift strokes the wolf, absorbing the static charge. As the buildup continues, the KnightShift's eyes close and a smile crosses his face. Loose strands of hair start to rise as he opens his eyes. He looks between two menacing spider creatures. "Eeny, meany, miney..." On 'Moe', the KnightShift's gaze rests on the left spider as his right hand points at the right. The smell of ozone is clear as electricity arcs from both his eyes and his hand, striking their respective targets. 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. The KnightShift looks at the Matron, eyes looking like electric plasma globes. The smell of ozone builds up again as the KnightShift smiles. The Matron takes a half-step back. "We've proven we can stand up to you, Matron...How much resistance can *you* put up?" The silver wolf growls at the Matron as the KnightShift begins 'Ohm'ing softly. The KnightShift =========================== Date: Tue, 26 Nov 1996 19:16:54 -0800 (PST) (92) From: Paul Campbell On Tue, 26 Nov 1996, KnightShift (Michael Jon Knight) wrote: >>The noble Morgan wrote: >> *Spiders. I spiders. Why do you think I left the underdark?* >/Blah, blah, blah...Long-winded, ain't she? :)/ I know, stereotypical egomaniac villainess. >>The Greywolf stands her ground as well. She would far rather die >>holding a line against the darkness than to abandon her friends. *Onward, then. We shall defeat this misbegotten child of a black widow spider and the Ebola virus.* (I know, creative insults :) >>Morgan and Cutter exchange slightly surprised looks. "Never know >>what you can do 'till you try, can you, boy?" She gives his ears a >>quick scratch, and resumes stroking his fur while choosing her next >>target. *I'd say that attack was amply effective* >The KnightShift > *Resistance is futile. Too many volts around* Matron Drisonel, shocked at seeing her forces so quickly dispensed with, steps forward, black light flickering at her fingertips. 'I could have been merciful, but you show that you are not worthy of my mercy. And you, Xzerrion, know that now you may never return home.' 'Good,' Xzerrion smiles. 'After my first taste of drow justice, I don't ever want to go back.' Drisonel responds with a wave of pure blackness, knocking the Callahanians to their knees and momentarily damping the electrical discharges. From one knee, Xzerrion tosses another incandescent ball, this one flickering orange-red. This one disappears on impact with the Matron's cloak, leaving several wisps of smoke drifting through the air. As Knightshift and Morgan toss bolts of electricity, Matron Drisonel momentarily staggers back, before raising an electric-blue shield which reflects the bolts straight back, setting up a nasty resonance as bolts now fly in both directions. She cackles madly, and throws a bolt of fire at Xzerrion, knocking him back against a boulder, where he rolls over, apparantly unconscious, as smoke and steam rise from a blackened hole in his clothing. 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. Angrily, Drisonel begins an arcane chant. The ground in front of the Callahanians shimmers as a shadowy demonic shape begins to form.. 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. 'Your troubles are just beginning, Matron,' Xzerrion chuckles weakly. 'That dagger was poisoned.' Then Xzerrion slumps over. ===========================