Deus Ex Machina Archive 52 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ by Arcana http://members.tripod.com/~project_xat DeM posts belong to their respective authors, the characters belong to their respective authors, etc etc etc. Comprehensive, from 2000-12-24 to 2001-01-02. Game Year is assumed V-498 unless otherwise stated. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ From: in_my_tree@hotmail.com Date: Sun, 24 Dec 2000 11:25:54 -0000 Subject: [DeM] next bit! Hume looked around in the desert surrounding Belvedik. The hot dry wind whipped at her hair. She always felt so free, standing on top of the outcrop, watching the road and feeling the sun on her skin, and the feeling of her feet being off the sand. Hume hated sand, the desert and dry climates. I should have lived in Aquavy, she thought to herself. The cool ocean breeze, and what a thought, no sand except for on the beaches! "Hold on, what's this?" she muttered as her pleasant thoughts were jarred away by the image before her eyes. There just becoming visible on the horizon was a single figure, walking, no shambling down the road from Belvedik to Nissan. Tall, but not too muscular, doesn't seem to carry any weapons, and most importantly he's alone! She thought, feverously peering at the figure to try to discern the details. Being a scout meant that you had to have a good eye for the details, which could mean life or death to the fellow gang members. Hume was a good scout, she had sharp eyes and was very observant. She did notice that the man on the road seemed very tall, almost too tall=85 hmm, he must be a mutant, that could be tricky. Better send 3 instead of two. Hume stretched her cramped legs quickly before sliding down the rocky outcrop. She scrabbled quickly, hoping that she could give the others enough time to surround the man before he reached the setup point. Mutants were always tricky, they were always taller and stronger than a regular Joe Desert-Crosser, but it wasn't anything that 3 experienced bandits with laser rifles couldn't handle. Hume jumped down the last of the large outcrop brown outcrop and started jogging towards the signal point. She took a brief pause to examine in her head exactly what the rock was made out of. Probably mostly Silica based, seems to have some Biotite crystals in it too, must be igneous for sure. The brief and unconscious analyzeation of the outcrop made Hum=E9 think of her days studying geography, and how interested in it she was, as a correspondent to the Ethos. Alas, she thought, a bandit's pay is so much better. Panting slightly from the intense heat, Hume reached the next signal point. The bandits in this part of the desert were highly organized, they had scouts watching the main roads from high ground, and if the scouts saw anything it was only a short run from their lookout to a signal point, a place where someone watching from camp could see the scout's hand signals. The bandits had a complex system of signals, ones for how many in the party, armed or unarmed, mutant or human, caravan or small craft ect, ect. Hume quickly signaled that there was one, unarmed mutant coming down the road. The person watching all this gave her the thumbs up to say that he understood, and Hume ran back to the base of the outcrop, hoping to scrabble up it in time to see the upcoming ambush. She was just pulling herself up the last bit of cliff when she caught sight of 3 of her companions circling ever closer to the lone mutant. She could see the gleam of silver off his fingers, and thought about how many rings you had to pawn to get a one way ticket to Aquavy. Tristan could see them circling him, ducking behind sand dunes and rocks. He pretended not to see them as they drew closer. He pretended to be afraid when they appeared in front of him. Tristan liked to think he could control their actions, by changing what they thought of him, like he controlled their lives, holding their choice of life or death in his thin, frail hands. Hume saw her companions jump in front of the mutant, and then she sat to rest, with her back turned away from the scene, and continued to dream about the ocean. The 3 bandits jumped in front of the mutant, and quickly realized he was rather large even for a mutant. Theoteat, who was the leader of the bunch decided that a quick take out was the way to go. There was a lot of silver on this guy, but he looked almost like a Wels, a mindless blood sucking perversion of humanity. Even the demi- humans are better off than them, Theoteat thought. Crazy, stupid and hungry=85best put out of their misery. Theoteat cocked his laser rifle and spoke to the demi-human in a clear voice. "Hand over the rings and we'll kill you quickly without fuss=85 Or, we could kill you slowly and then just take them." Confident he could see the fear in the face of the demi-human, Theoteat dropped his guard, just a little, just enough. Tristan wiped the fear from his face and looked at the now startled Theoteat. "How about I kill you?" He said, widening his black eyes and rocking his head back and forth from side to side as he said each word. In turn Theoteat widened his eyes and shook just a little before firing his laser rifle. Using Theoteat's hesitation against him, Tristan easily sidestepped the blast from the gun. He dropped to a crouch and touched his palms to the sand, and prepared to jump. "What the hell?" Theoteat managed to blurt out as he saw the demi-human step away from the blast. "That's not possible is it?" "But why not, my dear lad?" A voice whispered in his ear. Startled Theoteat turned to face the voice and found himself staring into the large empty eyes of the demi-human. He realized with the sick feeling of dread in his stomach that he was fighting a Wels, and a very skilled one. He went to fire his laser rifle again, and then discovered that his arm had just been broken, and that the Wels, in the second he looked down towards his gun had again circled behind him and now had both of his hands around Theoteat's head and neck. Oh god, thought Theoteat before Tristan gave an efficient twist and ripped his head from his body. To the horror of the other two guards who had been too afraid to move since seeing a man jump five feet in a spilt second like a giant grasshopper, they now saw the jumping man turn and such the blood from Theoteat's still quivering neck. Tristan noted that they turned and ran screaming before they could see what he did with the rest of the body. =09 -------------------------- eGroups Sponsor -------------------------~-~> eLerts It's Easy. It's Fun. Best of All, it's Free! http://click.egroups.com/1/9699/0/_/529963/_/977771976/ ---------------------------------------------------------------------_-> Deus Ex Machina: http://members.tripod.com/~project_xat/ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ From: Arcana Date: Thu, 28 Dec 2000 16:46:34 -0500 Subject: [DeM] (9) "Break" [Irina] (9) "Break" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ August 23, morning, V-498. Victoria wasn't thrilled. The day of Solaris' assault on the pathetic city of Bledavik was closing in shortly, and she had received nary a word from Alyson regarding their intended operations. She had now been on the surface for days now, waiting for the plans to come together. It had been days since she had ridden a gear, as the resources didn't permit it. There was no way she would be able to practice while she was considered "undercover". In any case, this meant that she would have to go into battle cold. It wasn't made any better by the fact that she really had no firm idea of how Irina was in live combat. "She's going to be okay," Myaru had told her before she was paired up with her on this 'special operations' mission. "She's obedient and follows orders. Her gear is a machine designed with emphasis on dexterity and close urban combat. She'll be a good squad-member." Thanks, Myaru, Victoria thought bitterly as she glanced outside of the window again at the filthy, dark-skinned _Lambs_ doing their everyday business. She found little pleasure in things she would normally do in Solaris such as sports or reading, and Shaina's absence didn't make anything smoother for her. Irina was starting to get impatient as well. The girl, initially a quiet, content companion, started to acquire some sort of inability to sit still. She had a tendency to want to go outside to explore, and would be on the verge of screaming when Victoria had to deny her access outside. Not that Victoria really blamed Irina for being antsy, since they were holed up in this room for the last three days, but she was also getting tired of playing baby-sitter. Victoria considered, perhaps, taking another short trip to this prison area they were supposed to hit tomorrow based on a go-ahead from Alyson. It would at least give both of them something to concentrate on. She might also check on their gears as well; they were locked up in one of the underground Gebler docks installed during Solaris' foothold on the surface. Unused by Aveh and locked from Kislev view, they were still available to the advanced superpower. Her mind made up, she headed for the door. "Come, Irina. We'll go check up on our gears in the underground lot," she said in her strict Solarian. Without checking if the girl was actually getting ready, she grabbed her loose coat and placed her hand on the doorknob. She was met with three swift beeps in succession. Victoria looked down at the wrist, where the comm was blinking. She immediately pressed a button. "Victoria here," she whispered. "Victoria, it's Alys," was the fuzzy reply. "It's about time," Victoria snapped back. "Tell me what the operation is." "I've gotten Elly's Kislev Companions on our side. I'm going to lead them on a strike from the north and west sides. However, I want you two to strike first and cause a diversion. The weak link to the prison's internals is from the north end so I need you to draw them to the south." Victoria rolled her eyes. "Okay, sounds good," she lied. "What is the time of the operation?" "I want you to strike at 1300. That's an hour after Solaris makes its first invasion so things should be already thrown into chaos by then. I'll come in with reinforcements at 1305. I trust five minutes is plenty for a diversion." "It's enough," Victoria concluded. "Okay, so you'll be in charge of getting the girl." "Yes," Alys replied. "Where will we rendevous?" "I'll beam you coordinates when..." Victoria repeated, louder, "WHERE will we rendevous?" There was a sigh over the comm. "We're going to head toward Nisan after we escape and try to get refuge there. I was going to suggest that we send you the coordinates because things are going to be hectic once we start, but if you MUST insist, let's meet out at minus-fourty and minus-twenty. That's to the northwest of the city, just behind the sand bunkers." Victoria was not amused at Alys' tone. Big shot who wants to play hero, she thought. "If there's a problem with that location, THEN you can give me new ones. Until then that's where we're meeting, so if I don't hear from you, I'm assuming you're dead and Irina and I will move on. Got it?" "Yes, Captain," Alys said in a submissive tone that Victoria rather thought suited the girl. "Anything else?" "No. Alyson out." Victoria shut the comm off. As far as she was concerned, this whole mission was a crock. Sent as some sort of undercover agent -when she wasn't even a spy- to keep an "eye" on things, put under the command of a hot-shot rookie with a high-ranking dad, forced to baby-sit a girl who looked her age but acted half of it, and sent to look for a single girl who managed to lock herself up in prison and could end up dying at any second. She turned the doorknob now and stepped outside, not taking a glance back to see if little Irina followed. "Maybe we should look for Shaina ourselves," Victoria said firmly without turning her shoulder, assuming that Irina was there to listen. "Shaina... missing?" Poor girl, she didn't even know. "Yes. She's somewhere on the surface with these Lambs. They somehow lost track of her when she was here." She stopped suddenly, and Irina stopped just before running into her commander's back. Victoria thought of saying something, but then decided that it was against her better judgement. "Solaris will find her soon, and you can see her again." "Shaina... friend." "She'd be flattered to know," Victoria replied. "Come along this way. There's nothing over that way." "But... I no..." "Don't worry," Victoria stated, tugging on Irina's arm. "We're going to see new places soon enough." -- -- Arcana Deus Ex Machina: http://members.tripod.com/~project_xat/ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ From: "Amber Michelle" Date: Fri, 29 Dec 2000 01:21:30 -0800 Reply-To: "Amber Michelle" Subject: [DeM] "Riptide" (Cyrene, Synclair) (OOG: hopefully the format isn't completely ruined -- conversion from text file to my e-mail display isn't exactly perfect. ^^) "Riptide" (Cyrene, Synclair) ---------------------------------- Shevat Palace, Queen's Study August 15, V-498 -- Morning -- ---------------------------------- Glimpses of a slender, dusky gray tail flashed in and out of Cyrene's vision as she bent over her papers to work, accompanied by a steady, motor-like purr. It was soothing and almost lulling, although it was a little too distracting to be good... and she would need the papers her tiny companion was sprawled over eventually. But disturbing her seemed out of the question. Just why was it that it was the /people/ who always felt bad about disturbing the /cats/, and not the other way around? She scrawled her signature at the bottom of Parliament's most recent proposal and set it aside in a tray without another thought, grateful that it hadn't been related to the Kislev investigation. That seemed to be all that appeared on her desk lately; she was the final authority, and unfortunately, every operation needed word from... the final authority. If she could have trusted her Cabinet, she might have considered /paying/ one of them to take her place for a day... But that would, of course, be suicide. Sadly, Esari had some partial support even among /their/ number, and they simply could not be trusted any longer. Carefully, Cyrene ran a finger over the kitten's fur, trying to stroke its back lightly enough that it wouldn't wake up from its adorable fit of slumber. She'd forgotten how nice it was to have a pet... Human presence could be pleasant sometimes, but it became tiring for her. Yet, a cat... it was comforting just to have it there, even if it insisted on making a bed out of the daily reports. And Mirian - named after a sister she only vaguely remembered - might be demanding, but at least she demanded affection, and not this treaty, or that project, or meetings with arrogant noblemen... "You know... sometimes I think you'd rather be spending your time at leisure, rather than behind that desk." Her gaze snapped up from Mirian, though she kept her hand steady and continued to pet the kitten even as she raised her head to greet her visitor with a nod. Synclair bowed, perfect as always... though it seemed a bit strained, today. "But then I think to myself... no, that couldn't be. Cyrene would never give up tiresome reports and meetings with Esari for a moment to herself. Never..." It was difficult not to laugh or to match that sardonic smile, but she managed, instead leveling a steady -look- at him as he approached her desk. "Are you trying to make a point, old friend? Because if not, I'm sure Alda would appreciate some company down in the kitchens..." He raised a hand in defense, offering a folder with the other. "Ah, no thank you, my Queen... I'm quite comfortable with my current task." "So I thought..." Cyrene offered an amused smile, finally, and reached out to take the folder. It was surprisingly heavy - she nearly dropped it before she could lock her wrists and adjust her hold on it. "What is this...? Reports, or results?" She placed it on the desk, careful to avoid catching Mirian's tale under its weight. "Results, surprisingly enough..." He looked like he was about to say more, but paused for a few moments before continuing. "Look. You might be surprised at what you find, though we did expect this." "Really..." She flipped the folder open, the hand stroking Mirian's fur withdrawing to her lap. It was doubtful there would be anything there to cause a /violent/ sort of surprise, but... Report #48.7.679: Location: Kislev Border Contact with Captain Athena Belford confirmed, reports sent. Exchange completed, identification protected; meeting time, estimated thirteen minutes elapsed. Cyrene moved her gaze up to Synclair, her head still bowed over the report. "You found it? I'm surprised, honestly, considering the level of organization in your office..." A slight, embarassed cough escaped his lips, accompanied with a long-suffering frown. "I can hardly be expected to keep up with both the house-keeping code /and/ my command duties, my queen." "Of course, of course..." Report #48.7.679-2, Ilar Quinn -The regiment commander has confirmed possession of the enemy's coordinates, as ordered by the main office. However, upon further discussion with the commander of this squad, a report of unknown origin has come into his hands under the name of the Palace of Shevat. -The contents of this report review classified information on Solarian assualt gears, and their class has been confirmed as "Neo", as they were yet unnamed in our records upon my departure from the Mother City. The agent in question, the bearer of these reports, remains unnamed, but under suspicion; enclosed are visual records captured by the base turret's external camera. Attempts to discover her identity have met with failure... An unnamed agent. There was little doubt as to what that could mean -- she'd already suspected as much, and had asked Synclair only for confirmation. But sometimes she wished she could remain in the dark about such things... if she was lucky, she'd only go to bed with a headache, after this. If not... she wouldn't be able to sleep at all. What ruler could relax, when she knew there might be Solarian spies controlling the information she was giving and receiving? Gingerly, she moved the report to the side, her fingers brushing aside the thin paper shield to examine the photographs that had been sent along with Agent Quinn's report. She almost hoped Synclair would utter some soothing sound of recognition upon sight of it, but she kenw that would never happen -- he'd had time to review these before arriving, she was certain. He knew what the folder contained, from front to back, and every little event that had led it into his hands. That's what he was there for, after all. To /know/. It was a shame her Minister of Intelligence didn't do quite so well... "... I see." Synclair shifted, but made no sound. "You're sure about this?" Placing both shield and report over the photograph again, she folded the binder closed and looked up to examine his face, feeling strangely detached, and calm. Deceptive, the mind could be. "As sure as I am of anything that I do not receive directly. And other reports from our agent in Solaris confirm the identity of the woman in that photograph. We've received others, but the office is still in the process of decoding them; for the moment, they are only available on-screen." She nodded, pushing the folder away from her. She didn't want the thing near her; it was akin to a live viper... "She can't be the same one... that color is rare, even among Solarians, but not so rare that it would merit..." He shook his head, taking the folder as if he could read her thoughts. "I highly doubt it. We may be willing to believe Sophia has been reborn, foolish as that might be, but logically speaking, that would be impossible." "According to current scientific research, you mean." Cyrene took a deep breath, rising from her chair and leaning on her desk, palms flat against the polished wood. "But to be perfectly honest, I'd rather not imagine the consequences... It's foolish to believe that girl is the Mother of Nisan, as well; it's just wishful thinking and the charm of her appearance." A careful shrug answered her. "So, we have a woman with violet hair, meeting with a girl who happens to resemble the founder of Nisan." His lip twitched into his usual, sardonic expression. "We've quite a situation on our hands, don't we?" "Who is she?" Cyrene asked after a moment, nodding to the folder. The expression faded, and he clasped the folder behind his back with a shallow bow. "We believe she is aide to Commander Ariath Dracorte, of the Solaris Military Circle, formerly in the service of Mordon... according to our spy. Surname is Yukari, given name, Myaru. Our database holds no records of her existence before this incident." "So she is either new, or not who she says she is..." It was easy to forge records, as the woman's interference with their intelligence net demonstrated. Yet, she might have simply been too minor to note, until her affiliation with the Commander of Gebler... "Given her resemblence to That Woman... I'm inclined to believe there's more to her than what your agent has found. However..." However... what? Keep an eye on her? Their agent was neck-deep in danger as it was; assigning him to pursue an obviously high-ranking -- or at least high-reaching -- official would likely get him killed. She wanted to assure his safety above all else - he was her subject, he was loyal, and the service he had done his country while residing in Solaris was worthy of a thousand medals. Sending him on a mission like that would be asking him to commit suicide. So, what could they do then? Letting Solaris walk all over them wasn't a solution either. But what could be done, at this distance, with only one reliable agent in Etrenank? "We'll do what we can, Cyrene... I don't like the idea of this Myaru breaking into our operations any more than you do. But keeping track of her will be more difficult than keeping Esari from foisting her influence on Parliament; it will be nearly impossible for our agent in Etrenank." "I know." Cyrene's turned their options over in her mind, fingers tapping sharp rhythym on the desktop. The staccato tap of her nails usually helped her focus her thoughts, but there was just too much to think about, too much to consider... And all of it lead to the same conclusion - nothing. "Do what you can... I can't ask anything else of you. But make sure our contact's life is preserved. We'll get nowhere if we lose our only spy in Solaris." A sharp knock sounded before Synclair could do more than nod, and Cyrene called for the door to open. "My queen." The calm, nearly expressionless voice of her aide preceded her entrance, and she spread her skirts in a formal curtsy. "The Lady Moran has requested a meeting with you, if your schedule allows; she insists that it is important enough to interrupt your appointment with Minister Synclair... my apologies." Straightening, Cyrene nodded and motioned for Medena to rise. "Bring her in, then... and take your time about it. Maybe it will teach her a bit of patience." Smiling faintly, her aide departed, and Synclair raised his eyebrows. "Important? Isn't everything she goes on about just as "important"?" "Oh yes... And if she were not so popular in Parliament right now, I would show her our /appreciation/ of her important matters, but..." Cyrene spread her hands, granting him a bitter smile. Opinion of Esari had never been a matter of contention between them... she doubted it ever would be. The girl made enemies left and right - and few friends. "You know the rules... I'm afraid my hands are tied in this matter, for the moment." "For the moment," he replied, with a glint in his eyes that she wasn't sure she liked. "Just be sure she doesn't chain you in truth, before we can repair the matter." The door clicked open, and he bowed again more formally, the folder containing the reports from Kislev secure in his hand. Then, sparing hardly a glance for Esari and Medena as they passed him, he strode through the door and disappeared. A shame. She would have liked his company for this meeting... but she wasn't sadistic enough to put him through one of the girl's petitions. That, she wouldn't even care to inflict on Mordon. Cyrene sank back into her seat with a sigh, and braced herself for a long, unpleasant discussion; the Fates, it seemed, had a little more torture in store for her today. But at least she wouldn't have to think of the violet-haired spy... (Summary: Cyrene and Synclair discuss his findings and discover Myaru's deception of their Intelligence operations.) ----------------------------------- "Riptide" (Cyrene, Synclair) By: Amber Michelle Stand tall and shake the heavens... Xenogears ----------------------------------- Amber Michelle Insane Master Summoner http://guardian.leamonde.net http://myaru.etherealvoid.net myaru@earthlink.net "On the heights, all paths are paved with daggers." -- Wheel of Time -------------------------- eGroups Sponsor -------------------------~-~> eLerts It's Easy. It's Fun. Best of All, it's Free! http://click.egroups.com/1/9699/0/_/529963/_/978081371/ ---------------------------------------------------------------------_-> Deus Ex Machina: http://members.tripod.com/~project_xat/ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ From: in_my_tree@hotmail.com Date: Sat, 30 Dec 2000 18:17:03 -0000 Subject: [DeM] A manic evening in the desert. Evening rolled into Belvedik, dampening the heat trapped by the city's walls. Tristan looked up at the sky, it was fading from the scorching azure of the daytime into the soft blue purple of dusk. Long thin clouds were coming up over the horizon, tinted with pink from the sunset. The trees in the square glittered in the darkening light, their leaves appearing silver and yellow before falling silent and gray. The first of the torches were being lit for the evening, their light was sliding down walls and streets as it gained power over the fading natural light. This time of day made Tristan feel good, it reminded him of the times he would wonder the world alone, not seeing or killing people for weeks on end. The good times always stopped though. The hunger would return again and again, he would become weak and frail. He always had to return to civilization to feed, to gather his strength anew. "The Hunger!" screamed Tristan aloud, only to himself. Why did it always have to come back? Why did he have to kill? To feast? "Because I must live," he muttered. He had to do what it took to survive, survival was key. He was the last of his people, an ancient forgotten dead people. They had to be survived by someone=85 something. Was he even a person anymore? Tristan reflected on this for a moment. "No, I am a beast. I am nor human nor Wels. A human doesn't have to kill to survive, to keep from falling apart. A Wels has no mind to ponder such questions. I'm not a demi-human either; they don't have to feed to survive. What am I?" "Alone, fully and completely alone." he said calmly. Tristan stood up then and stretched his legs. He had been sitting on a rooftop for hours watching the sky fade from blue to black. After he had walked back from the desert he had felt tired, but energized from his `feeding' as he preferred to call it. He tried to only do it once a week, when he was on the point of madness from the pain and hunger but this had been his third this week, his body was calling out for him to eat. As if some unknown force was driving him to gather his strength. Tristan always felt especially clear headed after `feeding', as if it was some strange drug that could chase out the monsters that lived in his head. He felt bad, but Tristan was actually happy that evening. He could almost remember being alive. A smile tipped the corners of his mouth as he stretched his long insect thin frame on the rooftop. Tristan looped his arms over his head and rotated his neck around and around listening to it crack from years of strain. Then he arced his back, cat-like and hopped around for a little bit to get the blood flowing to his toes. The moonlight glinted silver off the rings Tristan wore over his fingers, eight in all. The rings fit over his entire fingers, with silver bands that slid over the tip of his fingers for strength. The metal (not silver as the bandits had supposed) was actually a steel and platinum alloy. The rings shielded his fingers and the metal was jointed in plates, so Tristan could still move them and use his dexterity to its full extent. Full finger rings weren't uncommon in Belvedik, but Tristan's had a feature that none other had. The rings extended over the tips of his long skinny fingers for a full three inches, which looked short compared to Tristan's already elongated ones, and then came to a sharp point, with serrations on either side. Tristan's rings were more like eight miniature knives than rings, and he could move each with ease and accuracy. Tristan kept his thumbs, which were much, much shorter than his fingers free from restraint and weaponry. Tristan was quite used to the rings because he had been wearing them for over 200 years, but he still got a kick out of the look he would get from people if he happened to scratch an itch. Tristan ran a hand through his long black hair to shake out any sand and leapt off the rooftop to the street a full 20 feet below. He began walking quickly down the middle of the busy nighttime street, watching the people part in front of him like he was a leper, a walking virus. His long cloak caught the nighttime breeze and swirled around his feet, licking at the dust his boots kicked up from the street. `I'm already smiling' he thought as he turned the corner to walk into a smoky bar. Berkley was a calm man. It was in his best interest to be calm, considering the line of work he was involved in. He provided information for people. Not for the sort of people who just wanted to look up building codes, people like thieves and bandits, looking for ways into houses, into palaces, or gear hangers. Not for people like him, the new client. Berkley did his best to remain calm, but his fear took the best of him. The new client was not the sort of person who wanted to hear what Berkley had to tell him. Tristan ducked to walk in the door of the bar, which was called `the squatting iguana'. He had a spring in his step and was practically grinning like a maniac when he walked into the bar. Upon seeing this, the rest of the patronage tried very, very hard to avoid him. He waved like a madman and grinned a grin that seemed to split his long blue head into two warring halves when he saw Berkley. He sat down awkwardly, like an adult trying to sit in a child's chair, with its miniature dimensions that were unfit for such a large frame. He hunched and leaned over in order to look Berkley in the eyes. Berkley didn't like it. "Hello!" He said in an almost singsong voice. Berkley couldn't help but think that for a monster, he had a nice voice, decent and mellow, like that of a young man. "So" Tristan continued, "what do you have to tell me Berkley? I hope it's something interesting." Tristan began to lace his long fingers together, steepling and unsteepleing them. Berkley watched in horror as he expected the serrated edges of the rings the sink into the thin blue flesh, instead they only dented the skin, filling in places where there were already deep scars. "Well=85 you see=85" He tried to begin. This wasn't working at all. Berkley started to sigh and rub his temples. The best way to say something like this was just to get it all out. Maybe he could slink away quietly afterwards=85 "I can't find out where the gate is, my connections are not so advanced, but I have grave news!" Berkley paused to take a quick breath, without looking at Tristan. "Solaris is planning something, something big and bad! They're going to do something to Belvedik=85" Berkley sputtered as he tried to get it all out as quickly as possible. A variety of expressions fought for control of Tristan's face. First mild annoyance crossed his face, but was intercepted at nose level with deep frustration. Frustration thinking it had won got cocky then was quickly pounced on by sheer anger at the eyebrows. In an effort to calm things down, delight came in, had a chat with everyone, and stayed for good. After a few strange facial contortions Tristan looked at Berkley and said in what Berkley regarded as a very scary voice, "That's wonderful!" Summary: Um... we see what a nut Tristan is, and the plot finally gets going. Deus Ex Machina: http://members.tripod.com/~project_xat/ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ From: "Kathleen De Vere" Date: Sun, 31 Dec 2000 05:20:32 -0000 Subject: [DeM] Some corresponding events The date: Aug 22, early evening Hume walked slowly down the dusty street in Belvedik as night was closing in. The same cool breeze Tristan was enjoying on the rooftops chilled her to her center. She shivered and walked faster down the deserted back alley, desperate to get to her brother's house. Everything in her body hurt. She couldn't remember feeling lower, or more afraid. Something was out to get the bandits in the area, something very nasty, and Hume, as jovial as she normally was, just wasn't in the mood to explore the situation. Theoteat had been the third one this week, all killed in roughly the same fashion. What was worse, even than Theoteat's death was that she had been the scout, it was her job to make sure stuff like that didn't happen. The attack, Hume thought, had some strange aspects to it. It wasn't just a simple justice-fighting vigilante doing it. "I'll never know anything if I can't get a first hand account!" Hume fumed. The information that had come from the bandits that had actually seen the attack was totally useless. Hume remembered their babblings when they had gotten back to camp. "He was 20 feet tall! And he looked like a giant grasshopper!" "He was made of glass, I swear it; he must have been a vengeful spirit! He could dodge bullets!" Hume sighed upon remembering the shit, and clasped her head in her hands. It hurt. Suffice to say she had quit the business after hearing about that. `I don't need these sorts of problems in my life. Perhaps I'll become a housewife=85' Hume thought to herself. `First things first though', she thought. `First we'll see Descar and borrow some money off him to get the hell out of here. After all, what are brothers for?' One thing still bothered her though. When the two others took Hume, and some of the gang leaders to the spot of the attack, they found a neat grave, marked with a simple wooden triangle. A stick of incense had been lit and stuck into the sand beside the cross and strange symbols had been drawn in the sand. It was just like the other two. What sort of thing murders you but performs funeral rites for your body? Thinking about it just made Hume's head hurt more. She turned a corner and came up a rickety flight of stairs. She knocked lightly on a thin wooden door, which open just a crack, in response to her touch. She could see a thin blue eye staring out from the inside of the apartment. "Descar, open up=85 it's me, your sister!" She said while pushing her way inside. "What do you want?" Descar asked. He was put out that his sister had invaded his privacy; after all he was trying to cultivate an air of mystery about his person. Hume was too straightforward to appreciate its subtleties, or it's uses to him. "Money." Hume said while pocking around Descar's room for spare change. "What?" Said Descar, slightly taken aback=85 "Uh, no", he continued after recovering from the sock of Hume's first remark., "You know I haven't finished this job yet. "I know your good for it." "No Hume, your not cleaning me out, besides you haven't told me what you need it for. I did get you a job with the boss as a scout. I know they pay you well." "I'm quitting, and getting the hell out of here. Something is killing the desert bandits. You think your safe because your working in the city, but I'm not. Hence, I'm getting the hell out of here. NOW." She added the last bit while crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes defiantly. "No!" Descar said for the third time, aggravation was starting to rise in his voice. "You jerk! You'd leave your little sister to get killed out there? Do you know what's been going on?!!" Hume yelled at her brother. "I need to be protected, and where else would I be better protected than REALLY FAR AWAY!" Descar narrowed his eyes. "Hume, I don't have the money, and you know it. I can get you as far as Nissan=85 will that do?" "You're just cheap and you know it!" Hume retorted, but the smug look of satifaction was beginning to cross her features. She thought she had won. "This caravan leaves in two days=85 just make sure you go with them." Descar said. "Don't pull any bullshit!" "Dear brother, you distrust me?" Hume asked, in mock upset. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be your brother." Descar said and smiled. Hume thanked him and bounded out the door; happy to see she had gotten her way. Descar sat at the edge of his bed and thought. `Never have I met someone so selfish and immature! She hardly acts 16 and she's going to be 20 soon!' His private stash heavily lightened, Descar leaned back and tried to think. Hume's problem was she thought she could do whatever she wanted. The spoiled brat had been able to until now, Descar thought, but you just don't walk away from the boss, knowing all his secrets. She would have to go, and go before the caravan left for Nissan. Descar closed his eyes and began to think about how he would have to go about getting rid of his sister before she became a problem. "I'm outta here in two days!" giggled Hume to herself. "I can keep low for two days=85 anyone can do that." She was sitting on the balcony of a rented room. When renting it, she made sure to make the owner think that she was going to stay for a while, to try and get the discounted rate=85The room was a nice one, the carpets were in good condition, and the furniture while worn, was comfortable and broken in. The balcony was the best feature of all, it had a beautiful view of almost half of Belvedik, and it was high above the city streets below. The only obscurement to her view was a little shack on the corner of the opposite street. It looked like it had once been a storage shed for the restaurant beside it, but now it was clear someone lived there, a dark piece of fabric had been nailed across the window, and the door looked securely bolted shut. Naturally inquisitive Hume added the shack to the list of mysteries she would casually investigate during the next two days to fill her time. Descar would have hold her to stay inside and lay low, but that was too boring. "So what if there's a whole bunch of people after me cause I quit the bandit syndicate. Fuck `em!" Hume went inside to get her coat, the wind blowing across the town was starting to get cold, an omen of bad times to come. As she was picking it up she heard some light tapping noises on the roof. As Hume looked up to see what was going on, the tapping turned into footsteps. `The footsteps seemed to be walking across the roof, down towards the balcony', Hume thought as she followed them, running to keep up. She reached the balcony and looked out over the edge; nothing was there. "That's, strange=85" She said as she turned around to go back inside. As she was doing so she heard a sudden whooshing noise come from behind her. Her coat flapped and fluttered as a strong gust of air came past the balcony. Hume turned around quickly enough to see a figure falling from the roof above. "A suicide!" she burst out without thinking... But then the figure didn't flail or scream. He simply dropped straight down and landed on his feet. Hume's mouth hung open in amazement as the man simply walked away. That had been a good 30 feet; you don't just walk away so easily from something like that. "Well, I guess I know what I can do for the next two days," Hume said in amazement. "I'm going to follow him." Deus Ex Machina: http://members.tripod.com/~project_xat/ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ From: Dan Clark Date: Sun, 31 Dec 2000 21:54:19 -0800 (PST) Subject: [DeM] Adin's Big Day (Adin-16) (OOG: Hey. I thought I'd write this post as a kind of "in-betweener" between Adin and Myaru's meeting until when Adin arrives in Bldavick, which I already began working on. This post only took me about an hour or two to write, and it's not the best one around, but it helps keep Adin's timeline organized. Well I hope you all enjoy it) Adin=92s Big Day By Dan Clark ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ August 24, v-498 Gebler Desert Base 7:29am ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The room was blanketed in Darkness. All was silent except for the faint huff of someone breathing. In and out went the air through their lips, causing somewhat of a growl as in went in. The only light penetrating the black air was a dull blue luminescence in the form of numbers. It read "7:29" The breathing continued for a moment longer and suddenly the glowing number= s shifted. "7:29=857:30". The room lit up instantly as a loud beeping commenced. In the room was a bed and a nightstand, some boxes, a few lamps on the wall, and a small desk. On the bed was a huddled mass of sheets, which shifted once the alarm went off. A muddled grumble emitted from the pile. "Mmmph=85" A hand writhed from under the sheets and knocked the alarm clock off the nightstand, and a tired, groggy-eyed Adin lifted himself from underneath. His blonde hair was separated into messy clumps on his head an= d his hand rested on a pool of saliva that drooled out of his mouth from the night. He lifted his hand quickly, looking down at the clock now facing downwards on the floor. His bare feet swung around and rested on the carpeted floor. Reaching down= , he swiped the clock so he could read the time. His tired eyes fixed onto the clock and for a moment their was no reaction. "7:30" Adin said to himself. He dropped the clock again and tumbled backward onto his bed again, a clutching hand wiping the sleep from his eyes. The door to his room slid open and one of his attendants entered. "Captain Senka, it=92s time to prepare yourself" said the somewhat short attendant. "The soldiers are all awake now and preparing their gears. Shall I tell the mobilization crew to pull out the tanks for final preparations now or shall I wait until after your breakfast?" Adin stared blankly at the ceiling. Soldiers? Tanks? He sat up, looking sleepily at the attendant. "It=92s the 24th, isn=92t it?" he said. The attendant nodded. "Yes sir, it=92s the day of the attack." Adin jumped to his feet and barreled towards the door. "Well why didn=92t = you tell me sooner I have to get ready!". He stormed past the attendant and down the hall. The man called out to him. "Captain Senka! Captain!" Adin turned and saw the Attendant still standing by his doorway. "You need to get dressed Captain Senka=85you=92re still in your Pajamas!" ******* Adin sat at the table pushing forkfuls of griddle pie in his mouth. The manager of the mobilization team stood next to him. Adin spoke quickly in between mouthfuls. "Group all White Knight gears outside the loading bay door." He said, swallowing. "Double check all thruster units on them." "Double and triple checked sir" said the manager. "Good, good. Ready five munitions trucks with bullets and shells for the firing gears. Ready three cargo trucks with Repair tools and Bring along the comm truck just incase" "Right away, Sir." "Upload the battle plans A, B, and C onto all participating gears and vehicles. Test all Comm units too. When all tests are done tell Keddy to record it all for my report to the capital by tomorrow." "Aye, sir." Adin dismissed the manager and finished his breakfast. Something about griddle pies made Adin really energetic. He needed the energy for that day= s attack. He took the elevator up to the gear docks to make one last maintenance check on Gungnir. The giant gear stood predominant over the other gears. Maybe it was becaus= e Adin=92s was the only gear that wasn=92t white=85or maybe because it was ju= st the most fabulous gear in all of Gebler - well, to Adin atleast. The wings on Gungnir=92s back we spread out to their fullest and the armor gleamed. Adi= n had spent a lot of time on Gungnir over the last couple of days, and although he knew the shine on the armor wouldn=92t last long in battle, it = was important to him that his gear look good when going into battle. The captain took a lift up to the cockpit and sat inside. There he initiated all diagnostic systems. A checklist appeared on the screen and one by one all of the checkpoints were marked off satisfactory. The checklist was then overlapped by another image. Alloysius=92 face appeared= . "Captain Senka" said the grim looking man. No matter what the situation, Mr. Kal=92Ahaz always looked grim. "The attack is to commence in 4 hours= =85I assume your preparing?" Adin smiled "You know it, sir. I=92ll show the whole world today what it means to be a Gebler" "Don=92t let your guard down." Responded the General. "I=92ll be with you = the whole battle watching you. Your skills will be put to the test" Adin nodded. This was the chance he=92d been waiting for for a long time n= ow, and he=92s be damned if he didn=92t give his all. The vision of his superi= or faded and Adin leaned back. The true endeavor was about to begin. (OOG: Ok well it isn't THAT important of a post but it kept me busy until everyone's ready for the attack. Colin and Sere, when your ready to begin working on our post just e-mail me and everything should go fine from there.) Jya na. -=3DDan=3D- _______________________________________________ "Hans! Look alive, take the helm. We'll show them how real men of the sea retreat!" -Thames Captain _______________________________________________________ Send a cool gift with your E-Card http://www.bluemountain.com/giftcenter/ -------------------------- eGroups Sponsor -------------------------~-~> eGroups eLerts It's Easy. It's Fun. Best of All, it's Free! http://click.egroups.com/1/9698/0/_/529963/_/978328460/ ---------------------------------------------------------------------_-> Deus Ex Machina: http://members.tripod.com/~project_xat/ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ From: "Kathleen De Vere" Date: Mon, 01 Jan 2001 21:13:10 -0000 Subject: [DeM] A melancholy song. Aug 23rd 2:00 p.m Tristan groaned and twisted under the sheets. It was too hot to sleep, even with the shades drawn, and only the thinnest of cotton sheets on the bed. A layer of sweat coated Tristan and made him stick to the sheets as he tried to roll over. "Damn it, I can't sleep, it's too hot and I'm too excited." He mumbled while stuffing his head under the pillow. Tristan loved to sleep. He could spend all day in bed, locked into his dream world. Things were different there; he was still a farmer, everyone in his village was still alive, their voices and faces fresh in his mind. As soon as he woke up the familiar scenes would slip away, what once was clear now became fuzzy and indistinct, his family and friends faces merging into a single blurry memory. It was his duty to keep that memory alive, to honor and avenge their deaths. "Avenge? Solaris!" Tristan said as he remembered the conversations from the night before. He sat bolt upright in bed and flung the sweaty sheets off himself. "Soon, Solaris will be here. Then I can finally set my plan in motion." Naked and sweaty, Tristan walked over to a pitcher of water and dumped the whole thing on his head. The water flowed down the long black locks, twisted and matted as they were, and fell onto his chest, long and hollow looking. He rubbed the water around a little, to try and make himself somewhat cleaner, but only succeeded in smearing the dirt on his body around in dark muddy circles. "When was the last time I had a bath?" Tristan muttered to himself. He was still feeling unusually clear headed that afternoon. Usually such a feeling would last only a few hours, and then he would slip again into a strange nonsensical world of insanity. `Perhaps I should take advantage of this,' Tristan thought. `After all, when do I get the chance to take care of myself. Tomorrow I could die. I should die without being dirty and smelly.' Tristan's thoughts made a smile come to his thin, blue lips. Dying, what pleasure that would be to be free of this life, prolonged and wretched, and yet I still have a trace of my old vanity. Tristan dug for a thread of his memories, he could remember being young, and brushing his long hair, washing his face, wanting to look nice. He had thought it was all behind him, but perhaps not. The sudden thought of achieving his goal had cleared his head, made him regain some of his mind. Tristan quickly dressed, and headed outside to find a bathhouse, one where he could wash his clothes and body in privacy. Meanwhile=85 "ARGH!" Hume screamed as she took another lap around the city. "How hard can it be to find a freakin' guy with blue skin? They don't exactly blend in!" She sat down and pouted for a while, to think out her plan again. She thought it would have been simple. Just ask around town for a huge mutant with blue skin=85 she'd get pointed straight to him. She had talked to many people who had seen him, but they were all too afraid to tell her anything. Hume lamented about how out of the loop she was since she had been spending so much time in the desert. As she was sitting, Hume noticed a bad smell coming to meet her nose. "What is that?" She asked, her lips turning up as if to hide from the offensive odor. "Shit!" She suddenly realized, "it's me! When did I last have a bath?" Renewed of purpose, Hume got up and walked to find the nearest bathhouse. Tristan sat in the deep bathtub, his knees sticking out of it, like it was meant for a child and started to sing. =09 "5 gold just to have a bath? And extra to wash your clothes?" Hume fumed, "What a rip!" Then she thought to herself, but what choice do I have? The caravan to Nissan leaves tomorrow morning, and I can't go smelling like this. She handed over the gold pieces, and proceeded to the ladies side of the baths. She got into a tub, filled with cold water she noted, and proceeded to strip weeks of hiding out in the desert off her body. She thought she was clever, after she had a bath; she washed her clothes in the water, and was going to hang around until they dried. Half an hour later, Hume found herself sitting, dripping wet on a bench, but much cleaner and less smelly. "Maybe if I walk around a little, my clothes would dry faster=85" She pondered to herself. Hume got up and tried to find some sun to sit in, and walked past the men's bath area. As she approached the `luxury' area, with the big baths and hot water, Hume heard some singing coming from one of them. It sounded like a young man was doing the singing; his voice was pleasing to the ears, yet held a melancholy air in it. Hume found herself smiling as she drew closer to the sound. She could almost make out the words. "I'll keep digging, till I feel something=85" wafted over to her, as the young man's voice rose, she lost the melody as his voice dropped to return to it's former level. As she got closer she could begin to make it out again. "I'd trade everything, I'd trade it all, for a little piece of mind=85" The last word was drawn out into a clear and crisp note that rang out with sadness. Hume crept over to a door, the singing seemed to be coming from behind it. She gently pushed it open and gasped in surprise, the beautiful singing had been coming from the blue skinned man, the mutant she had wanted to find. Suddenly he turned to look at her, and fixed his large black eyes on her face. She turned and ran, not stopping until she had left the bathhouse, the sound of his melody still ringing in her ears. (author's note, Tristan's song is actually a mishmashe of Tool lyrics, from my fav. album of all time, Aenema!) Deus Ex Machina: http://members.tripod.com/~project_xat/ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ From: "Kathleen De Vere" Date: Tue, 02 Jan 2001 08:56:05 -0000 Subject: [DeM] careful prepartions Aug 23 11.00 pm. Descar sat in the corner of the `Squatting Iguana' and waited for the others to show up. After what seemed like an eternity of silence in the smoky bar, two members of the bandit gang came over to sit with him. Descar noticed immediately that they were two higher up members of the gang whose rank far exceeded his own. "Good evening sirs." He said with respect. They exchanged glances between themselves. The bigger one, a woman named Laral spoke first. "Descar," she hissed, drawing out his name=85 "your sister has run off. You know we cannot allow that." Descar looked at the table, sweat beading onto his forehead. "I know, I have made arrangements, to deal with the situation." The way that Descar drew out the word arrangements let Laral an her partner know exactly what he meant. "I have given her money, so she could convince a caravan of merchants to let her travel with them. They are leaving for Nissan tomorrow morning at sunrise." "Thank you, Descar." Laral hissed. "It is good to know where your loyalty lies." As quickly as they had come in, Laral and her silent partner exited the bar, and left Descar to his thoughts. 'This will be the big one,' he thought. That mutant that hired him to gather information was a fool, but a rich fool. One more time seeing him, and he would have stolen enough gold to buy his way out of the bandit gang. How does a mutant get that sort of money anyhow? He doesn't even spend it, just hides it with his clothes=85he probably doesn't even notice it's gone.' Descar took another drink, and then vowed, "tomorrow will be the last time I see him." =09 Meanwhile=85 Tristan slowly looked about his room; he sighed as he glanced at the window and the fabric nailed to the frame so no light or breeze could enter the room. In once quick motion he tore it off, so the night air could fill the stuffy room. He could tell something was about to happen soon, and he had to be prepared for it. He reached under the bed and took out a worn black case, the metal hinges tarnished with age. Carefully he opened the case, and removed the contents, placing them on the bed. Next he slid off his eight rings, lining them up neatly in a row inside the case. He picked up the first of the objects he had taken from the box. It was a pair of leather gloves, neatly wrapped up and bound with string. Tristan carefully unwound the string and unfolded the gloves. They had been made for him a long time ago. They had no fingers, but reached up past his elbows when he put them on. After carefully sliding each one up his arm he lifted up one of the other objects he had taken out of the old case. It was a vambrace, made of the same steel and platinum alloy his rings were made of. He carefully fastened the metal guard around his wrist. After he had finished adjusting both the vambraces over his leather gloves, he lifted up the last object he had removed from the case. It was a memento necklace, and he fastened it around his neck. It was a simple silver chain, and a small white charm hung off it. Tristan touched it gently, remembering the faces of his village. Most of all he remembered Miela's face when he touched it. Tristan closed his eyes and tried to remember her touch, the feel of her lips and the happiness that she brought him. Instead he remembered her half crazed face, the wild empty look in her eyes after they had finished testing her, and found her unfit for their purposes. He remembered having to kill her empty shell, after her soul had gone, just to put her out of her misery. Tristan clenched the charm tightly in his large blue hand, as a single tear slid down his shining porcelain face. He vowed to avenge her again and again, and to join her once more in death. Quickly Tristan slid his rings back on and replaced the case under the bed. He sat down slowly on the chair in the corner, closed his eyes and started to wait for the Solarians to arrive. Deus Ex Machina: http://members.tripod.com/~project_xat/ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ From: "Obed Caballero" Date: Tue, 02 Jan 2001 19:42:18 -0000 Subject: [DeM] Tears of a Shattered Soul ...part 2... August V-498 Aquvy Islands Region Jacinth could feel the warmth of the sun on her cheek. Her other cheek was cold and wet. She opened her eyes and saw the long stretch of the coast greeting the awakening sun. She was rather confused. Why was she on the beach? She tried to get up, but her body was thoroughly fatigued. She couldn't remember how she ended up on the beach or why she was so tired. She did manage to lift herself and sit up on the moist sand of the beach. Her head spun with the sudden rush, and with a hand to her aching head she looked up towards her house. She suddenly gasped, and the horrible memories of the night before returned to her. The remains of the Wel she destroyed were scattered all over the sand of the beach, the blood staining the tawny sand. The Wel's appendages, so mangled and deformed as they were, were now indistinguishable as nothing more than bloody masses of twisted flesh spread over the beach. Frightened, Jacinth brought her hand to her mouth, and that's when she noticed the creature's blood on her hands, spattered all over her when it exploded. She realized that she was the one that killed it, with her ether blast. She had never focused so much energy before. The results both frightened and disgusted her. Then Thular came to her mind. "Thular!" she gasped, choking from her tears. She crawled up the beach and around the remains of the Wel. She had no energy left, only enough to drag herself slowly to her husband. She saw him stretched out peacefully on the ground, a wound on his neck, from which the blood had poured freely. She could feel nothing else but the deep pit of despair sink in her stomach. The tears streamed from her eyes, and her lower lip quivered uncontrollably. It was now that she could contemplate his death, now that she understood that he was gone. Before, she was utterly shocked, and reacted with her anger. But now, she had lost all desire and merely sank deep into herself, deep into that dark, depressing despair. Her fingers clawed into the hot sand, and dragged her painfully towards his body. Her voice had left her, so she cried silently. She wished to call out his name, but she couldn't. She was deprived of the satisfaction of screaming his name, of hearing something other than the peaceful crashing of the waves. Her fingers felt the fabric of his clothing, and instantly clutched them. She pulled herself closer, until she was close enough to embrace him. She held on, searching for reassurance, for security, for his heartbeat. He was cold, still, and unresponsive. He wasn't there anymore. She knew that. But she couldn't let go of him. She didn't want to leave him. She was so close=85just a little bit longer. She knew, in the back of her mind, that she would have to leave him eventually. She stayed there for a long time. She didn't know how long. The seconds melted into minutes, and the hours passed unknowingly to her. She felt a soft sensation on her face, and then she opened her eyes. Maylis's white face was there, sniffing her and mewing softly. In her worry she had forgotten about her cat. How long had the poor thing gone without eating? She then realized her own hunger. With great effort she removed herself from Thular's body. She shut her eyes tightly. The living must continue, she thought. Still very tired, she was able to stand now. She slowly made it to her house, Maylis not far behind. She entered her home and fed her cat. She drifted to the bathroom, and removed her bloodstained clothing. She took a long, cold shower. Although it revitalized her body, her spirit still felt broken and left tossed on the beach. The guilt pierced her as well. Although the Wel had killed her husband, she was the one who killed it. It was still a creature. She had never wanted to use her power to harm another creature, even a Wel. What scared her the most is that she was able to summon so much power in her anger. She was afraid of herself the most, of what she was capable of. When she had cleaned herself up and dressed, she sullenly gave herself some dry wheat cereal to eat. Normally she loved to cook elegant food, but there was no way she would do anything pleasurable today. As time passed, the dreaded thought kept coming to her. She couldn't leave his body there for the scavengers to come and pick at. She would have to bury him soon. Shortly before sunset, she went to their shed and took a shovel. She dug a grave in the grassy part behind the house. It caused her much pain and effort to cover his body in some sheets and drag him to the grave she had dug. She cried through the whole process. She almost gave up, feeling that it was too much for her to bear. But she couldn't stop. She continued on, and buried him. She knelt before his grave, crying and praying for his soul to find peace. She prayed for herself, for strength, and for courage to continue living. She felt like she wanted to die. She didn't want to continue. Then why did she feel like she had to? She had to continue for others. The Wel, the demon, had come in the night and shattered her world into a million shards. She had never before thought of those wretched demons. It was now that she realized that she wasn't the first of their victims. She knew they swarmed all over the Aquvy Islands. If her powers were enough to kill one, then she couldn't allow another to destroy some innocent person's life. There, before her husband's grave, she vowed to avenge Thular. Deus Ex Machina: http://members.tripod.com/~project_xat/ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ From: Dies Irae Date: 2 Jan 01 20:18:05 MST Subject: [DeM] Intro post: Dies Irae Dies Irae Wandering, desert area /The sky rained fire over Elru and she stood powerless there, watching that brilliant red Gear, the destroyer of the others, as it turned even on its own side.../ Teal eyes snapped open, staring into slit-pupiled gold. A soft chirring noise came from the beak beneath the golden eyes as a rather large white falcon, perched on the young woman's chest, announced the fact that he was awake and hungry. "I had that dream again, Icewind," she stated sleepily, donning her flight suit and a thick leather pad on the left wrist. Icewind, now on the ground, said nothing, but fluffed his feathers and preened a little, unconcerned with the nightmares of his human friend. "Come on, bird. Let's go hunting." She gave a soft whistle and the falcon flapped to her wrist. And with that she stepped from the shelter of beneath the down-folded 'wings' of her kneeling Gear, out into the early morning. Small birds chirruped here and there, something disturbed a patch of scrub, and the falcon fidgeted from foot to foot, eager to kill. "Go get it." The falcon soared upward, his white wings brilliant in the early light. Dies sighed, letting the pretense that she was happy fly with the bird. "What am I doing today?" she asked herself. And then was reminded in that persistent way the mind has: Looking for work. A lonely pilot who'd spent all to acquire and maintain her Gear, she was an unlikely candidate for a job, but many people were more unlikely...weren't they? Thoughts of angst could not last long with a fresh kill to supplement breakfast. She set about fixing some dried food, and by the time the falcon returned with a small form limp in his beak, she had a knife and fire ready. The bird ate his share raw while she prepared her own breakfast, and soon she was ready to go again. Icewind shrilled at her as she packed up the small supplies and she said, absent-mindedly, "Yeah, we're moving on. Maybe I'll find some work today. Get you some new jesses when I've got the cash." /And refuel,/ she added silently. /Heaven knows I need it./ A short while later the Gear stood, its massive wings moving in a test pattern, then folding back to take off. Dies Irae moved toward Bledavik, hoping for the best and expecting nothing more than the usual. ____________________________________________________________________ Get free email and a permanent address at http://www.netaddress.com/?N=1 Deus Ex Machina: http://members.tripod.com/~project_xat/ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~END Archive 52~~