III.201 VVC>> Into the labyrinth ============================================================================= "Hard to say," says DRAKEHART. "I'm still reading it over in my head... Damn! My memory blocks are still here, some of them! There were names in that file, but in my record of it, they're fuzzed out!" "I'll retrieve the paper--" "No good. Whatever's in my head would block me from reading the names, even off the paper." "I'll read them to you!" says VISION. "I probably can't hear them, either." Drakehart grits his teeth. The identities of his vanished friends would surely come tumbling back...if only he had the names to break the chinks in the wall. Then something gets through. A signal from the mental trauma software indicates it is this program that has done the trick: a few precious bits of data recovered. "Yes! Names...the `Virtual Vax Cafe?'...and...Ahannos. He was the old man in the ship!" He correlates the newly found memories with what he already knows. "Something Ahannos did caused the explosion. Maybe it was an accident--some massive energy source on his ship blew up, and the ravers were all wiped out. Except...no bodies were recovered. Hmmm. And one more name...Orpheus." _This one seems important...could be the key, if I can figure out what it means._ "Maybe Osiris can help you with the memory blocks," Vision says, "but probably not till after we've done this job for it. Come on, let's get in line. The man who gave you the data gave me this." He holds up a blue work assignment card. Drakehart follows Vision to a short, fast-moving queue for people who already have work assignments. The attendant, an acned youth with a cap saying NORRELL, reads a monitor. "You two will be in Section Q, the warehouse. Heh...too bad you weren't here yesterday; they were unloading nice boring optical cable spools. Today it's toxic waste...should be exciting." "I don't need that kind of excitement, thanks," Drakehart says. "Oh, don't worry, it's shielded...fairly well..." Moments later, they have ridden a tram through the vast building, to where a long row of loading docks looks out over the spaceport landing field. Silent black slabs alight and leave, while small crews of men and machines load and unload cargo. A foreman barks orders at them. "You two! See that cart coming off the runway? Move those boxes off it, on to those hoverpads, pronto! The boxes are labeled--take 'em back into the warehouse, to the storerooms on the labels. Your quota is ten loads an hour, or your pay is docked. All right, move!" The cargo cart barely slows before workmen swarm over it, offloading large fiberboard boxes onto flat metal hoverpads. Vision and Drakehart plunge in, muscling a stack of boxes onto their own pad, which they find glides just above the floor and is steered by upright poles at its four corners. "These all say 17-B...that's...row 17, corridor B," Vision says, looking first at the boxes, then at a wall map. "Let's go." The two of them maneuver the boxes up a ramp, and through a doorway, into a gridlike maze of dim hallways. The layout soon proves simple, though they must pass through various automatic security checkpoints with their load; storeroom 17-B is easy to find. Its door opens at their approach, and with Vision's cybernetic strength, the boxes are soon stashed in a corner. "When do we do Osiris' dirty work? When do we look for Emit Flesti?" whispers Drakehart. "The agent gave me this also," Vision says, holding up a slip of paper. "At the top it says 27-J...must be a storeroom address...and there's a code below, probably for the door. I understand now why we're moving toxic waste ...Osiris had to get us into the high security section somehow." "Nice trick. Ok...let's look for Emit Flesti now, before one of these boxes leaks or something..." User: Traveler Date: 12-Jan 05:56 PM 789933417
III.202 VVC: Realization dawned... ============================================================================= After all the tumult of the summer and fall, the pace of things has slowed this winter at the Virutous Vagabond and Comrades tavern. The last events of note took place just before Christmas; one of them was the return of ECSTASY. Inexplicably, Lord VENKMAN released her after a week's captivity, following GHOST's canceled hanging. The bar wench came walking up the road to the VVC one morning before sunrise, so early that almost no one had risen. TRAVELER was still in his room, having just woken from strange dreams--pleasant at the time but now disturbing--featuring GRAHAM. He sat in bed, mulling the dreams over as he pulled on his trousers and tunic. _What is it about him? I find him fascinating...we get along so naturally. But he's full of secrets. He wouldn't tell me anything about this plan of GHOST's to rescue X..._ The innkeeper got up and walked down the hall, noticing Graham's door open just a crack. _I'll peek in and say hello..._ But Graham wasn't there. Trav had inteneded to leave immediately, but items on the bed caught his attention. "What's he doing with a girdle? And-- hey!!" There lay the long-missing riding crop! When Graham returned a moment later with a cup of water from the kitchen, Traveler was waiting behind the door. He slammed it abruptly, and Graham jumped, dropped the cup, then dived for the bed, grabbing a dagger from beneath the pillow. Trav advanced from the shadows, but the chamber was still immersed in gloom. "Who are you?" demanded Graham from the bed, wielding the dagger protectively. "You know who I am..." _...well, not really, but almost no one knows who I _really_ am._ "The question is, my friend, who are you, and what are you doing with this?" He held up the ivory-handled crop in his right hand, and pulled aside the curtain on the window with his left. The dim blue light revealed him to Graham...and vice versa. "I'm a guest in your house, and I must say, I've come to expect better hospitality than this," Graham parried. "I don't normally hid in my guest's room--but they don't normally turn out to possess items stolem from me. Granted, it's been missing since before you got here--" He stopped as realization dawned on his face. Graham broke out with an identical look of amazement. "THAT belongs to YOU??" Graham said, pointing to the riding crop. "THOSE belong to YOU??" Trav said, pointing at the curves beneath the front of Graham's night shirt... User: Avelertray Date: 13-Jan 12:36 PM 790000629
III.203 a rush and a push and the land that we stand on is ours... the smiths i hope this doesn't mean i'm gonna have to give the riding crop back. User: GRAHAM Date: 13-Jan 03:51 PM 790012303
III.204 VVC: Welcome back... ============================================================================== "This is...most remarkable," GRAHAM said after a stunned silence. "I may have found what I've been looking for." She touched the sword-and-rose symbol engraved in the riding crop he held. "Perhaps I as well," TRAVELER said. "Uh...I mean..." The noise of a commotion intruded from downstairs. "What's all that about? I'd better go look. We'll talk soon. Please excuse me, good sir--er, good lady--er..." Graham smiled. "Good friend." "Yes--good friend." He walked to the door of the room, then turned back. "Oh--perhaps you'd prefer I keep your secret?" "Yes, please, for now. But Traveler...your riding crop..." "Why don't you hold on to it for a while?" He tossed it to her, then left, closing the door. In the White Room, a small but growing crowd enthusiastically surrounded the newly returned ECSTASY. She appeared relieved to be back, but also travel- weary. "That damn VENKMAN made me walk the whole way," she grumbled, pushing back her dew-laden hair. "Here's a mug of java for you," said SYLVAR, handing her the steaming cup. "Come, rest by the fire." But then Trav pushed through and took her arm. "Nice to see you back, but we must talk. Five minutes," he said, ushering her into the Red Room. After closing the door, he quietly asked, "He just let you go?" She shrugged. "Yes...I wish I knew why. He said I wasn't needed any more, that he could find what he wanted more easily." Trav frowns at her silently. Then, "Did you...give him any information?" "What information did I have to give? No, I just made myself a general pain and tried to avoid trouble." "All right. Just checking; he can be persuasive. He had GHOST long enough to force your and GRAHAM's names out of him--" "That thief ratted on me!? Why I oughta--" "Look, he was about to be hanged! And if it's any consolation, he was planning a mission to rescue you--till you showed up." The bar wench smiled slightly. "Well...nice to know everyone's still trying to get ahold of me. Though I'm glad I'm out of Lord Venkman's hold, just now..." "We're glad you're back. I guess you'll want to rest before getting back to work?" "Yes, for a while." "Fine, fine. There is one thing, though...I recently found out that you `borrowed' my riding crop some time ago..." "Uhhh...yes. I, uh, can help you in tracking it down--" "No need. I've spoken to Graham already," said Trav. "You have?" "Yes. Many secrets are coming to light..." "Graham has been hiding a lot, no question about it," Ecstasy said wryly. "Just do me a favor. If you need to borrow any more riding gear...just ask." He smiled... User: TRAVELER Date: 13-Jan 06:05 PM 790020340
III.205 VVC: The defection of Norm[tm]! ------------------------------- Caught up in the holiday whirl, TRAVELER and GRAHAM were not able to speak at length for several days after ECSTASY's return. It was shortly after Christmas that the two of them made an appointment to go riding, one fine and cool afternoon. They were in the stables, saddling up with PERIGRINE's help, when a clattering and creaking approached from outside. "What the blazes?" said the stablemaster, throwing open the wide rear doors. Coming to a halt behind the Virtuous Vagabond and Comrades was none other than Sir Guy of NORM, riding a large, semi-decrepit wagon loaded with hay and pulled by two aging brown mares. "You're Lord VENKMAN's chamberlain, aren't you?" Peri said suspiciously. "What do you want round here?" "I am Venkman's chamberlain no longer! He kidnaped my daughter, then told me to start the hay wagon--so that, sir, is what I've done. I came to speak to Ecstasy, actually, to see if she might find me a job here." Traveler walked forward. "You can talk to me; I run this tavern. You say you want work? What can you do?" Norm sighed. "Well, I surely can haul hay." He gestured to the fully loaded wagon. "This is some of Venk's finest. I thought I'd offer it, the wagon, and the horses as a token of goodwill." "How do we know he hasn't sent you here to spy on us?" the stablemaster asked. "I'm sick of his ill treatment! Besides, you know how stingy he is--do you think he'd give up a whole wagonful of hay, even for the sake of deception? Look at these beasts--he doesn't even give his own horses much hay." "Their ribs are showing right through," Perigrine admitted, obviously annoyed at the treatment the animals had received. "But they look like basically strong creatures. Some care and feeding, and they'd make nice additions to our stables." "Perigrine, do you think you could find odd jobs for Norm to do with that wagon?" asked Trav. "If so, I feel sure Lady LYDIA would add him to the payroll." "Hmmm...I suppose so. But he'll have to work hard for his living!" Norm nodded, resigned. "Fine, fine. It's better than Chateau du Venk." "It's settled, then," the tavernkeeper said. "But before you start work here, Norm, I must ask you some questions about your former employer. We know he's up to something, and I have reason to believe his plans could threaten this tavern and some of the people in it." "I suppose this means our ride will have to wait?" said Graham from inside the stables. Traveler looked fondly at the young woman, dressed in men's riding clothes and standing next to her steed, Costello. "Yes, my dashing friend...a brief wait, I hope. But the danger that's afoot is too grave to ignore--I must find out what Norm knows." Graham gave a slightly crestfallen, but understanding half-smile. "Norm, come inside, to my study. Peri will take care of the wagon and horses. Graham--" He stopped in front of her, clasping her hand warmly. "Soon, I promise it." The stablemaster watched the others go inside, then walked over and began unhitching the horses from the wagon. "Sir Guy of Norm working at the VVC... and Traveler taking a fancy to a young lad," he muttered. "Next thing you know, Venkman will declare himself Duke..." User: TRAVELER Date: 16-Jan 08:55 PM 790289765
III.206 VVC>> Broken music ------------------ At the Orphan's apartment next to the old cathedral, the ex-DJ puts Future Sound of London's _Lifeforms_ in the old-style CD changer; a dark morass of tribal and organic sounds echoes through the small dwelling. "Tidy little place you have here," Cado says. "Thanks for letting me crash--I was evicted from my place after I left my job at the Pit. I guess...Truth is, I can't remember what's happened to me lately..." "Found Orphan...on the steps," the old man says quietly. "Yes, I found you on the cathedral steps...but before that, it's blurry. I remember the roulette wheel at the Pit, and...further back...hmm..." "Cards...at the tavern..." the Orphan offers hesitantly. "Yes! How did you know? There _was_ a tavern, and a deck of strange cards...but I can't see more than that." "Orphan sees more. Always...Orphan is here, and there." "But where _is_ `there,' Orpheus--I mean, Orphan--and how can you be here and there at the same time?" The Orphan shakes his head and hugs himself. "Torn apart..." He moans, and begins trembling. "Broken...the music, broken..." He falls off his chair, crashing against the CD player; the music is disrupted until the laser finds its track again some seconds later. Cado kneels down by the Orphan, and lays a hand on his shoulder. "Tell me what you see! What does your other half see?" "Ecstasy...returned...and the hay wagon..." The Orphan grits his teeth, as if the visions cause him pain. "Ok, all right! You don't have to tell me any more!" Cado calms the old man, but he himself is worried. _He can't predict or control these attacks...this `separation,' whatever it is, is hurting him, maybe killing him..._ "We've got to find out what's happening to you...and what's happened to me. We're both out of place here--or out of time..." "No one left to ask," murmurs the Orphan. "All alone, for years." "Someone must know. Someone at the Pit! We'll go talk to the owner..." In less than forty minutes, they are standing in the puddle-filled, potholed street outside the Pit. Cado gazes up at the building's blank facade, noting the faint shadows of long-gone lettering. _A "V," another "V," and something else..._ The doorman recognizes and admits them with no trouble. But Cado's request to speak to the owner are met with evasion. Even his friend Fanny the hostess becomes unfriendly. "Look, nobody sees the owner, you should remember that! There's nothin' I can do about it, sweets." Finally Cado confronts the manager on duty. "I demand to speak to the owner! It's a matter of life and death. If you feel reluctant to help me out," he bluffs, "I have friends who can bring this place to the attention of the aliens. I doubt our off-world visitors would approve of all the black market technology flowing through this place." Finally, Cado is ushered, alone, to a door at the back of the X-Ray Room. It opens on to a long hallway. "Go on...you got an audience with the owner," the manager says in a flat voice. "Hope you know what you're doin'..." User: TRAVELER Date: 21-Jan 09:19 PM 790723189
III.207 VVC: Graham's Tale ------------------ It is a frosty afternoon early in the New Year when TRAVELER finds GRAHAM in the White Room, drinking a cup of spiced cider near one of the large fireplaces on opposite sides of the room. "FIREFLYTE is going off with her Andrew soon...she said she'd leave behind that cider recipe, but it won't be the same made by someone else," Trav says, taking a seat. "I wonder, my friend, where your business takes you next...and how it brought you here." Graham looks around the room. "Perhaps we should speak elsewhere." "I'll be needed to authorize receipt of some of DARICELL's wines to be stored in the new cellar today, so a ride is a bad idea. But the Blue Room?" Soon they are seated again behind the locked door of the study. Graham says, "I ask that you tell no one what I say here. Maybe I guessed wrong about you; I suspect not, but I am trusting your discretion. Now, a question: where did you get this from?" She withdraws the riding crop from her cloak. Traveler rubs his chin. "From the Lady LYDIA, on whose estate we sit." "Do you know what this insignia on the handle means?" "The long-stemmed rose twined round an upright sword? 'Tis the sign of the royal house of Viar, the barony to the north of our fair Hexsum." "The former royal house of Viar, you mean--the house of Baron Hedrick, deposed some twenty years ago," Graham fills in. "True. Hedrick was executed by the usurper Miraz." Graham watches his face for any trace of emotion as he speaks, but there is none. "Yes...but Hedrick's two children were spirited away that night by courtiers loyal to the old Baron." "You sound very sure of that." "You swear on your honor that you will keep my secrets?" He nods. "Very well. I know the children were saved, because my father helped save them." "Your father?" "Yes. Renard, chief councillor of Baron Hedrick. He survived the coup and rescued the children. Since then, he and the other loyalists have lain low...but the wind is changing. Miraz has grown more tyrannical; even those who once supported him are wavering. Many Viarans would support an heir of Hedrick's who challenged Miraz for the throne." "What is your part in all this?" "I am my father's eldest child--not the son he perhaps wanted, but he has tried to make of me...the best he knew how to make..." "Your mettle is strong as any man's," Traveler offers. "Whether by blood or upbringing, I know not...but you've obviously been given an unusual charge for a young woman in these times. Traveling alone, disguised as a man?" "The loyalists are few, and my father is old, so he sent me out to search for Hedrick's heirs." Her tone becomes ironic. "He hasn't managed to marry me off yet...so I was free for the task. Oh, I've had offers...but is it wrong to say...I am just not ready?" "I've been a vagabond myself, wandering the earth. I've always known this inn is but a way station. So if a man can be thus restless, why not a woman?" "Indeed! I _am_ pleased to meet an understanding soul..." "Ah, but we haven't really met, have we? We know each other as Graham and Traveler...but there are things we're both still hiding." "True. Let me introduce myself truly, then--I am Rosalind, of Viar. DON'T call me Rosy." She extends a hand, and they shake earnestly. "Now, the question is, who are you?" User: Traveler: Spilling Beans Mix Date: 22-Jan 05:29 PM 790795856
III.208 traveler: did i tell you that rosalind is a name with which i have identified since reading _this side of paradise_ when i was 16? (craig used to call me rosalind.) weird. anyway, good stuff, expecially considering you don't know me. User: GRAHAM Date: 23-Jan 01:28 PM 790867724
III.209 Graham: I took the name from...from...the name of the Shakespeare play escapes me now...but I saw it at the CPA's Black Box with someone remarkably like you, many moons ago. Rosalind is one of the main characters, a woman disguised as a man... :) User: Traveler Date: 23-Jan 05:47 PM 790883232
III.210 Twelfth Night. I love that one. :) User: PYEWACKET Date: 23-Jan 06:06 PM 790884401
III.211 **bzzt** WRONG! _As You Like It_ features Rosalind dressed up as Ganymede in love with the handsome Orlando. "Ganymede" offers to teach the lovesick swain Orlando how to woo Rosalind. _Twelfth Night_ also had some cross dressing, but that was Viola. User: I didn't pick the name Dark Lady for nothing! Date: 23-Jan 11:12 PM 790902803
III.212 VVC>> Cryptic treasure ---------------------- "Here it is...the chamber Osiris wants us to enter." VISION points out the obvious in a flat voice, as he and DRAKEHART approach a cell like hundreds or thousands of others in the huge grid of the alien warehouse. Only their addresses set them apart; this one's door is labeled 27-J. "So we just enter the code? Finding `Emit Flesti,' whatever or whoever it is, can't be that easy," says Drakehart. But apparently it is--the null boxer types a sequence into the keypad by the door with blinding speed, and the door slides away. "Open sesame," Vision says with a faint smile. They enter slowly. The fluorescent-lit room is about nine meters square, and completely empty except for a stack of small fiberboard boxes in the very center of the floor. A standard comm terminal is the only ornament on the blank walls. The two men look at each other. Then Vision steps forward, and picks up one of the boxes. "Can't weigh more than half a kilo," he says. "Shall I open it? Do you want to wait out in the hall? If it's rigged in some way, my augmentations give me a better chance of--" "Look, I may not be Mister Cyberstud, but you don't have to treat me like fine china!" Vision shrugs. "Okay. Hope those aren't famous last words. Here goes." He opens the box. Nothing happens. Drakehart smiles. Vision removes a small black and silver device from the box. It fits more or less into a human hand, but its half-melted, vaguely obscene curves identify it as an alien artifact. Small sunken ovals on one side may be controls, displays, or both. A quick check reveals that the other boxes contain identical objects. "Think this is it? Emit Flesti?" asks Vision. "Should we take all of them? Could be hard to smuggle out. Or maybe just one...but which one?" "Damn! Damn, damn damn..." Drakehart paces. "Wait...I hate to say this, but...I have an idea. If one of those sunken ovals on the thing is a data port...I could jack into it, maybe figure out what it is." "You sure? Alien ice is supposed to be...you know...hexed." "Hey, this is my chance to use all the brand-new goodies in my head. I should be pretty well buffered from anything really weird." He takes a breath. "Give it here." Vision hands him the device. From his jeans pocket, Drakehart takes a short length of insulated wire, with multipronged adaptors on either end. One plug fits into the socket behind his ear...and the other, he holds above one of the device's ovals. "This oval looks deeper and smaller than the other...I bet I can plug into it." "Your call." "I'm going in." He winks at Vision, and plugs the cord into the device... ############################################################################### 0010100010111010010101100100111010010101010110101101010100011101010001010110100 1 1 010011101001010101011010110 000 0 1 010011101001010101011010110 110 xxx q[3456565]: 001111. 110100. 101. 0. 0111. 01... i^1:/\\\\\\\\\\\\\\/////////////////////////||||||||||||////\\\\\\\\\\\\\////\\ \ i^2:////\\\\\\\\\\/////////////////////||||||||||////////\\\\\\\/////////////\\ \ i^3://///////\\\\////////////////////||||||||//////////////\\\\\\\/////////\\\ i^4:///////////\\\//////////////|||||||///////////////////////\\\\\\\/// i^5:... User: traveler: scrambled brains version Date: 25-Jan 08:06 PM 791064385
III.213 VVC>> Cryptic treasure, cont'd. ------------------------------- 17i^654^283://///////\\\////|||//////\\\\||| 0 |||||||\\///////////////\\\ 17i^654^284://////\\\\\\\////////|||\\\||| 0 |||||||||\\//////////\\\\ 17i^654^285:///\\\\\\\\\\\\///////\\\\|||||| 0 |||||||||||\\/////\\\\\\ The contours of the alien programming language thrash like eels in DRAKEHART's synapses. He is aware of signals shooting down random pathways, causing muscles in his face to twitch; software designed for a human mind would know to stay away from motor nerves. He prays that the program won't make him do something embarassing, like lose control of certain sphincter muscles...or worse, interfere with his heart. But, though the effort gives him a headache and a nervous sweat, he finds he can roughly navigate the simple program inside the device. And in only a few moments, he understands...and disconnects. 17i^655^286:\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\///\\\\\\\\\\|| + |||||||||||||||///////\\ -==_=+-[\[\{{{{ @#@@#*(01011) ]/] 1000101111001001101000101101001001010111010101001010110101001011101010101011010 ############################################################################### "I know what it is." "Well...what?" asks Vision, poorly concealing his tension. "A strong force detector." "WHAT?" "You know, four basic forces of the universe...well, one basic force, with Rob Smith's transcendent quantum gravity unification theory." _How did I know about that? Oh...subliminal database._ "But usually it appears as four forces: electromagnetism--you know, light, radio waves--" "I may be Mister Cyberstud, but I'm not illiterate." "Sorry...anyway, the other three are gravity, the weak force, and the strong force. As you many know, the strong force keeps atomic nuclei bonded together...so unlike gravity or light, it only operates at very short range." "So...Emit Flesti is just a strong force detector? Why doesn't Osiris build its own? Even without nanotech, it ain't that hard..." "I don't think Osiris knows that the strong force has anything to do with Emit Flesti. And, I don't think this is Emit Flesti. In fact...I don't think the aliens _have_ Emit Flesti. But I think they know it's got something to do with the strong force. My math coprocessors are trying to make sense of some of the data I downloaded just now--hard stuff to hack. But...wait a minute..." Vision waits impassively. After a moment, Drakehart's eyes light up again. "The detector's memory contains a strong-force signature identified with Emit Flesti. Only problem is, I've seen the signature before..." "Where?" "In the snow..." User: TRAVELER Date: 28-Jan 03:35 PM 791307366
III.214 VVC: "I swear that this is royal blood/Running through my veins" ---------------------------------------------------------------- GRAHAM has revealed her identity and mission to TRAVELER; but her question to him hangs in the air. At last he speaks. "Who am I, you ask? I--" A quiet rumble interrupts, and grows louder. Thunder from an evening storm? No, the pounding of many hooves...Trav stands up and looks out the window of the Blue Room which faces the road. "I don't see anything." "Look! Black riders..." Graham points out the rear window. Traveler looks, then runs for the door, and she follows. They dash out through the stable, in time to see a dozen or so cloaked figures on dark steeds come out of the forest south of the Tavern, and disappear across the meadow to the north. "Who are they!?" says PERIGRINE, running up. "They had no marks or insignia," says Traveler. "But I don't think they are supposed to be here. I must report this to the Lady LYDIA." "Wait a moment, Traveler...can't you send someone else?" asks Graham. "We were right in the middle of something. You're not trying to wriggle out on me, are you?" The proprietor smiles. "All right. Perigrine, can you ride to Lydia's manor, with word of the horsemen?" The stablemaster looks slowly between the other two. "You were in the middle of something, eh? Oh, very well. I don't want to break up anything you and your...friend...were doing." He walks off to saddle a horse, shaking his head and mumbling. "In the middle of something...I don't want to know..." As he rides away into the blue twilight, Trav stares after him, avoiding Graham's gaze. "He still thinks you're a man. I suppose everyone does--" "Mmm...I think ECSTASY knows, or suspects. Traveler...shall we go back inside, or talk here?" He turns to face in the direction of the bay, kicking at the grass absently. "Can't avoid it any longer, can I? I've told a few friends the truth over the years--Lydia, SYLVAR, CADO--but no one else knows exactly where I come from. And even telling those few trusted people didn't change my world. But now you're here...a searcher, looking for lost royalty...and you've changed everything. I had grown comfortable here...and this kind of change shakes it all up..." "Is that all you feel?" "No. No, I--" He looks at her. "I am learning that some surprises can be good, Graham...or should I say, Rosalind?" She raises her eyebrows. "We have spoken around the subject long enough. That bottle of DARICELL's wine we drank back inside doesn't seem to have loosened your lips. So I must ask you directly. Please...tell me." "I remember...when I was a child, my brother and I would play in the courtyards at my father's house. There was a girl I played with sometimes-- secretly, I liked her better than the other children. She looked like you... in fact, her name was Rosalind. Her father was a friend of my father's. I didn't know her father's name at the time...but my father's name was Hedrick. Hedrick, Baron of Viar. My name was...and is...Verian...Prince Verian of Viar." User: Traveler Date: 29-Jan 06:47 PM 791405281
III.215 *whoops* the secret has been revealed.... "Drinks on the house for all," screams ECSTASY. User: ECSTASY Date: 29-Jan 07:32 PM 791407946
III.216 GRAHAM blinks, pushes a bit of hair from her eyes and says, "Well, Prince TRAVELER of Viar, when I was a child I spake as a child and thought as a child, but when I became a man, I put away childish things." :) User: GRAHAM Date: 30-Jan 01:59 AM 791431191
III.217 Pale. Blink. Awake-jolt. Jon Waller sits buck upright at the oak table. The cards make sense. The cards make SENSE! In a tumbling chaos, the regulars at the Vagabond shriek with joy and surprise. "I've got great news!", Jon shouts. The party stops. Wide-eyed, a tumult of patrons waits for his announcement. "I figured out the puzzle of the cards!" "...and?" asks Graham, blankly. "Well, isn't it exciting?" HRH figures out what's going on: Jon has been in his cozy arcane world of candlewax and tomes. He's completely missed the preceding announcement. Flimmerlight and smoke have kept him away from reality. Gently, the Prince lays a hand on his subject's shoulder -- not as a better would, but with an understanding patience, born of fellowship. "Jon, I'm a prince." "Nu? A mensch, sure. A little lacking in humility, maybe, but who am I to judge? But I guess so, sure. You're a prince." "I mean it. I'm a prince. A *prince*. Of Viar." "Huh?" "You know -- cabbages are to kings as brussels sprouts are to princes? A prince. Crown, birthright, feudalism, quest, chivalry. Ring any bells?" "Uhh... yeah. A prince." Jon decides to humor him. "So then why...?" ...And then, somewhere in the cobwebbed clockwork of his brain, a gear makes contact with another. "Oh. My. God." User: Jon Waller Date: 30-Jan 09:36 AM 791458615
III.218 SANCTUARY, asleep in the corner for the last fifteen or so years, awakens with a start. "Free drinks? Now thats what I like to here..." User: SANCTUARY Date: 30-Jan 12:43 PM 791469819
III.219 A new deal... ------------- "Uh, John, just keep this between us for now," TRAVELER says quietly. "ECSTASY found out rather quickly--it's hard to hide anything from her around here--but otherwise, only you and GRAHAM know." "Yes, sire, I--" "Now, now, I'm a prince of Viar, and you're a subject of Hexsum--no need to pay homage. But I _would_ like to talk to you about those cards...you've been messing with them a lot lately, and seem to have gained some considerable knowledge." "Well, the underlying patterns are becoming clear to me now," SYLVAR says, gesturing at the layout on the table. "But perhaps we shouldn't discuss this here in the kitchen. I only used this table because it allows a large spread ...but it is rather public, and I think AQUA22 would like to chop some of my exotic vegetables." :) They retire to the Blue Room, along with Graham. "Your scriptural jest was appreciated," Trav comments to her. "My father was a stickler about having me memorize Holy Writ," she says ruefully. "But the exercise sharpened my mind. Incidentally, here's another card--I found it in my pocket after telling you of my identity." She hands Traveler the Queen of Swords, and he passes it to John Waller. "Odd...here's one in _my_ pocket," the innkeeper says, drawing out the card called Justice. "Perhaps it bodes well for me and my family. Now, perhaps we can continue an exercise I began a while back--laying out all the cards found up till now, and figuring out what persons and events they linked with. I had dealt with the Minor Arcana--the four suits of Cups, Wands, Coins and Swords. But the mysterious Major Arcana are yet to be assessed." "Sounds like a good idea," says John. "Perhaps I should also tell you of strange things I've seen lately--things which the cards may be connected to. Dreams...and what can only be called waking dreams...or visions..." User: Traveler says "the game's afoot!" Date: 30-Jan 06:06 PM 791489211
III.220 C o m i n g S o o n t o B o a r d 6 : "it's not the beginning of the end it's the return to yourself the return to innocence" The Virtual Vax Cafe is about to go "back to the future"...the original Cafe format, the way it used to be! And to celebrate, we'll be re-running... #3 -= The Best of the V V C =- #4 -= The Best of the V V C =- A special selection of highlights from 1.3 years of adventures: *1m SEE0m the intrigue unfold as "Farrah" plots sabotage against the VVC! *1m LAUGH0m as TV's Norm[tm] drives the Taco Bus right into your heart! (Ouch...) *1m SHIVER0m as the Man in Black stalks Zoroaster, P.I. and his killer cat Maharet! *1m WATCH0m as our heroes' very souls fall into Ahannos' hands (of fate)! *1m BOOGIE0m with the VVC crew into a "rave new world" of techno music & ancient magic! *1m LEAP0m into alternate time-streams: the medieval past and the cyberpunk future! ...plus much more! It's a chance to revisit the most inspired moments of this crazy mess called the Virtual Vax Cafe...and it's coming exclusively to Board 6! So mark your calendars and keep your secret decoder rings handy, for "The Best of the VVC!" #6 -= F E B R U A R Y 1 9 9 5 =- User: ...same VVChannel as always!... ;) Date: 30-Jan 06:14 PM 791489778
III.221 oh, no.... we're already into reruns... great...i get to relive past relationships while getting bonked over the head by Sean Connery again...the things we do for art. *sharpens fangs* User: Ecstasy ;> Date: 30-Jan 10:09 PM 791503802
III.222 And on the 130th or so day, GRAHAM created cigarettes... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- ....Meanwhile, GRAHAM had been spending her free time in a secret, underground laboratory, growing tropical plants of the nightshade family. Columbus had given some seeds to her father when he returned from his first voyage to the New World. She had managed, somehow, in the darkness below the surface of the city, to cultivate a small garden. The plants, though ugly, _did_ flower, but Graham recently discovered they served a higher purpose when dried, wrapped in fine, thin paper, and smoked. "I call them tobacrettes," she told ECSTASY, as the two stood near the stables and smoked them. "My father said Columbus called the plant 'tobacco.'" "Why don't you just called them cigarettes?" Ecstasy asked. "Much catchier, much more hip." "Good idea," Graham said. "I gave some to the thief GHOST and he showed me how to blow smoke rings like this." She tried to blow one, but big, shapeless smoke-clouds came out of her mouth instead. "No, dummy, like this," Ghost said, suddenly appearing from around the corner of the building. He blew five or six perfect rings & then walked off shaking his head. The women were practicing when TRAVELER walked up. "What's going on here?" he said, frowning a little. "I've just invented cigarettes," Graham said, "and Ecstasy has helped me name them." She smiled. "I would offer to give you one, but I suspect they aren't really your thing." Traveler smiled back. "I suspect they aren't either," he said, and walked off. "What's going on between you two?" Ecstasy asked. "We're just friends," Graham said. Then they practiced blowing smoke rings some more. User: GRAHAM Date: 31-Jan 04:53 PM 791571215
III.223 Until the end of the world... ----------------------------- "I knew GRAHAM had been up to something odd in the cellar recently," TRAVELER mutters to himself. "But what I don't understand is who this `Columbus' fellow is...never heard of him. I feel like I _should_ know... or maybe _will_ know someday...hmmm. Probably this `tobacco' is just another odd plant from that old sailor that SYLVAR ran into..." :) Just as the tavernkeeper feels that the continuity of the universe has been safely restored, he glances at NORM's hay wagon parked near the well, across the the road from the Virtuous Vagabond & Comrades tavern. The wagon begins to shimmer oddly...and before his eyes, it becomes a long, tall, narrow vehicle, apparently made of metal and glass. Trav reads the sign on its side. "What on earth is a TACO BUS?" Promptly, the wagon becomes a wagon again, and he is left scratching his head. But then a lone horseman comes into view, riding out of the evening from the south. The rider slows as he approaches. "Who goes there?" asks Traveler. "It is I, Sir ZOROASTER, returned from the Holy War in the East," says the rider. Though his face is hidden by a metal visor, his voice is recognizable--and he has a calico cat perched tenaciously on one shoulder. "I come from the ends of the earth, bringing tidings of the end of the world. This is the end, my only friend...the end...apocalypse...NOW!" There is a crash of thunder, and the rider vanishes like a phantom. "Not with a whimper," murmurs Traveler, "but a bang..." Then he returns inside, beset by a creeping suspicion that reality is wearing thin... User: TRAVELER Date: 31-Jan 07:57 PM 791582339
III.224 Oh, and speaking of reality wearing thin...get a load of this: >> Life is but a dream? ----------------------- CADO's footsteps echo along the dark, shiny-floored corridor that leads to Osiris' underground lair behind The Pit. At the hallway's end, a door slides open, admitting him to the room where the artificial intelligence's CPU is housed in chilled repose. Black matte cabinets, surfaces broken by occasional red diodes, line the walls; the central area is empty. The emptiness is filled by a glowing hologram as the door hums closed behind Cado. The computer's self-image is feminine, bronze-skinned and slender. "Why have you come here?" it asks in a throaty, surround-sound voice. "To...to learn the truth. To make sense of the memories..." Cado now feels vaguely foolish--_These recollections of the Middle Ages...maybe I'm just cracking up._ "Tell me about your memories," the AI says, arms gesturing slowly like some dancing deity out of India. And Cado does tell: of the pictures of a tavern on this very spot, amid meadows and forests; of his life as a knight in the service of the Duke of Hexsum; of his friends, the Proprietor, the Herbalist, the Dancing Girl, the Bar Wench, the Stable Hand, whose faces are vivid but whose names are lost. When he stops speaking, the red lights scattered around the dim-lit room seem to twinkle like stars on a cloudy night, just for a second. Osiris morphs from female to sleek, hard-muscled male, but it has the same saturating, velvet voice as before. "I can explain everything. I can tell you where you were, and who these people are you remember. I have been asked recently to inquire into these matters...and now I have the truth." Cado's stomach churns in anticipation. "Well?" "To put it briefly...it was all a dream." "No!" "Yes. Decades ago, before the coming of the aliens, a cafe existed on the site of what is now The Pit. In the last years of the twentieth century, an accident occurred there...a tactical nuclear warhead was accidentally detonated offshore during a military exercise. A large outdoor party was being held at the cafe; hundreds were killed or seriously wounded by the blast." "This all sounds...very familiar. But are you sure it was a warhead?" "Declassified government records are clear. The military paid for the best possible medical treatment for the victims of the blast. Some could not be saved...but a few were selected for a radical experiment, in a last-ditch attempt to save them." "What was this experiment?" "Whatever remained of their bodies were put on ice, using new cryogenic techniques. The plan was to slow down life processes till there was medicine advanced enough to heal them. Then the aliens arrived...with their microscopic machinery..." "And?" "Direct neural stimulation was now easily possible. The brains of the frozen survivors were hooked up to a computer--the Braga 7000--which fed them an artificial reality. That is the reality you remember: an idyllic medieval version of this place, which never really existed..." "But...how could I remember this? I wasn't one of the explosion survivors ...I wasn't even born when that happened, was I?" "No. You were recently employed here; but after a drug overdose nearly killed you, the government, together with their alien collaborators, tried to make you part of their experiment. For some reason, they could not integrate you into the simulation, and you were released after a short time. The others ...the ones you remember as your `friends'...are still dreaming on, bodies frozen, unaware of the truth..." User: Traveler: Mindfuck Mix Date: 31-Jan 08:03 PM 791582726
III.225 Max doesn't like me. He forgot: THRILL to the musical court trial of DARICELL, featuring her lawyer SYLVAR ! The final chapter: ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ TRAV is seated in the Blue Room, staring into the beaux yeux of GRAHAM, when a rider gallops up to the VVC. "Urgent telegram for Mr. Traveler!" ECSTASY, after taking in the sight of the wild-eyed rider with the oddly foreign rags, takes the telegram. "I don't know why I should tell GRAHAM if this is for TRAVELER, but what the hey." She takes the grubby piece of paper and carries it to the Blue Room. "Hey, message for you," ECSTASY tells the boss, and then hands the paper to GRAHAM. "What-- why-- why'd you hand it to her--- I meant, him?" "Well, the rider told me to telegram...." TRAVELER frowns. "That's strange. All the same..." he unfolds the paper and smooths it open on the table, then reads in wonder: My dear TRAVELER: Forgive me, my letters have been few and far between. life here in the desert is difficult at best, but I would not trade it. I have found a position as scribe for an Arab chieftain. Sir ZOROASTER doesn't like it, but hey, employment is employment. This is the last letter you will receive from me. Our lines of communication are being cut. The Christians are facing heavy odds, and excellent fighters here, but I am sure that Right will prevail. Just don't ask me who "right" is. Charles is doing fine. He sends his love. Oh, yes, there was a reason for this letter... remember to watch over the wines. They need constant supervision. In the worng hands.... well, you know what could happen. While I was still encamped with the Crusaders, there was a man who continually asked about my past, and about my vintages. I think he knows part of my secret. I told him nothing, but he still believes in his suspicions. Beware him! His name is Hans... Enough, I must not say more, lest this fall into the wrong hands. Watch my vintages well. Fare thee well along the paths you travel... Daricelle du Vin Zoroaster User: Dark Lady Date: 31-Jan 11:13 PM 791594073
III.226 No! Wait! ...damn. And just when I had started making an ad for Guilt Addictions. *snif* Aw, jeez. It's gonna suck wihout you guys... you guys... guys... User: SYLVAR: ...sincerest sadness. *sigh* *sob* Date: 1-Feb 09:59 AM 791632795
III.227 Major mysteries... ------------------ Returning to the Blue Room, TRAVELER finds SYLVAR poring over the Tarot cards, consulting a leather-bound book and a sheaf of notes on the cards written a while back by Trav himself. With quill and ink, John Waller is now adding to the notes. "What progress?" the tavernkeeper asks. "I'm working out possible meanings for the Major Arcana. Have a look." MAJOR ARCANA CARDS FOUND PERSON OR EVENT CORRESPONDENCE =========== =============== ============== The Fool Orfeo Found when mob chased him here The Magician SYLVAR Found near my person The High Priestess ... Found... "Why the ellipses?" Traveler asks. "This was the first card you found, wasn't it?" Trav nods. "Yet I can't recall much about when you found it--it's as if my memory stops at that point. What do you remember?" Traveler thinks back. Somehow he associates the card with a particular woman--a person of magical strength, learned in the ways of far-off lands. It seems as if this woman is partly responsible for things being the way they are now...but isn't this the way things have always been? He sees dim images of a different tavern, called the Cafe, and an enormous gathering, like the full moon dances held behind the tavern but different, larger, wilder. "Some great magic befell us all...and threw us into a dream...or perhaps out of one," he murmurs. "And this woman was part of it, but not in a bad way. What she did saved us from being utterly destroyed." "Yes, my feeling too. But her name eludes me...something like `indigo' or `in-law' or `cholera'..." "INLERAH!" exclaims Traveler. And John knows he is right. "But I can't remember who she is, or what she did. Still, put her name down." The High Priestess ...INLERAH Found...In The Beginning "Good enough. Now, let me see what else you've written here..." The Hierophant Cardinal XIMINEZ Found when he visited "Yes, his `visit' has lasted quite a while," mutters Trav. "As an esteemed member of the clergy, he's been given a nice room...which I don't mind so much, but his bar tab is really getting large..." Strength Orfeo again? Found when he calmed tavern crowd by playing music after VENKMAN's thugs rioted The Sun The Christ Child? Found on Christmas morn Death CADO Found upon his disappearance The Hanged Man GHOST Found when he faced hanging The Chariot Sir Guy of Norm Found when he arrived with hay wagon The Devil The old sailor Found when evil stone marked with trident found in cellar Justice Prince Verian Found when Trav revealed his true identity to a few of us User: (cont'd) Date: 1-Feb 07:44 PM 791667855
III.228 "Oh, and there's one more," Sylvar adds, picking up his pen and writing. The Lovers Traveler & Graham "Now hold on, what makes you say that?" Trav asks. "We're just--" "Friends, I know, I know. But ECSTASY has told me a little about what `Mister' Graham has been concealing from us...and I've noticed those walks in the woods you two like to take. In any case, I _did_ find this card right when you and, uh, `he' walked in the door yesterday." "Well, think what you like." Traveler waves his hand dismissively. "So, do these notes and the ones I made before account for all the cards found?" "Almost. A few Minor Arcana have turned up sinced you catalogued them. But much of the deck has not yet been found." "Well, let's add the new Minor Arcana to my old notes." Now Traveler takes the pen. MINOR ARCANA CARDS FOUND PERSON OR EVENT CORRESPONDENCE =========== =============== ============== Queen of Swords Graham Found when she revealed her identity to me VII of Cups ... "The book says the seven of Cups is associated with fantastic dreams and visions," he says. "I found it upon glimpsing Norm's wagon transform into something else, and then seeing Sir ZOROASTER briefly appear. All I can think to write is..." VII of Cups ...The Other World Found after strange visions IV of Coins Lord VENKMAN Found when Norm complained of his stinginess "Hmmm," says John, noting the picture on the card--a nobleman clutching a large coin, balancing one on his head, and standing on top of two more. IX, X of Coins Mistress DARICELL? Found when her wines arrived III of Coins Mother ROARK's convent Found on a visit there V, II, VI of Coins The attempt to shut Found during that time, in this down the Tavern order "I see," John says. The five of Coins shows two people left desolate in the snow outsde a well-lit window. The two of Coins portrays a man doing a juggling act, and the six of Coins pictures a wealthy individual giving alms to the unfortunate. "The Official Ministry of Taverns tried to lock us out of the VVC, but through sleight-of-hand and LYDIA's generosity, we remain here." "Yes. Well, that's all the cards, so far. But I wonder how long it will take the rest to show up...and what will happen when the deck is complete..." User: Trav says "there'll be time enough for counting, when the dealing's done" Date: 1-Feb 07:45 PM 791667979
III.229 >> Cryptic treasure, pt. 3 -------------------------- "We shouldn't talk about this here," says DRAKEHART. "Besides, we've been away from work too long...they'll start looking for us." VISION sighs. "Agreed...but you better 'fess up once we get outta here. You're not making much sense...I'm afraid that alien ice got to your head." "Look, do you want to tell the foreman we're leaving work early? We'll forfeit our day's pay, but if I'm right, time is of the essence. The aliens may be about to find Emit Flesti..." They agree to quit for the day. The foreman is angry, but new tramloads of dreary-looking workers are being driven in constantly to replace those who leave. Drakehart and Vision hitch a ride on a tram back to the entrance of the complex; outside, they hail a taxi. "Now talk," says Vision as the spaceport dwindles in the rearview mirror. "Okay. Emit Flesti is some piece of technology beyond even the aliens' power...something that's been here in this City for a long time. They found out about it, and are looking for it--who knows, it could be the whole reason they came to Earth..." "But what _is_ it?" "I don't know...but it must be able to manipulate the basic forces of the universe in powerful ways. The aliens know it gives off certain kinds of strong-force radiation. That's what this is programmed to pick up." Drakehart holds up the detector they stole from the warehouse. "But like you said, the strong force can only be detected at very short distances. They'd have to go over every inch of the City with those things..." "Remember that grey snowfall we drove through on the way there? Those `snowflakes' were artificial...and now I know what they were." "Shit...don't tell me. Miniature strong-force detectors?" "Yes! Made with alien nanotech. When they dissolved, they were giving off radio noise. If a flake got close to Emit Flesti, no doubt it would give off a special signal that the aliens would pick up." "They must have dropped trillions of those things on the City," Vision says. "If they didn't find this...artifact...I'm sure they'll try again soon." "Another `blizzard'," Drakehart agrees. "And if they find it, what will they do with our planet? With our sun?" He glances out the taxi window. The daystar is only dimly visible through the smog, but as every Earthman knows, some massive project of the aliens' has been gradually splitting Sol into two blobby halves over the last several years. So far, the radiation effects have been "minimal" by official estimates, and the bulletins all say that no lasting damage will be inflicted...but who really knows? "Question: who do you think Osiris is working for?" Drakehart looks over at Vision. "Hm? Oh...I wonder too. Some group of Earth interests trying to keep Emit Flesti away from the aliens? I _would_ feel more comfortable having it in our hands...human hands..." "Osiris isn't human. And do you trust the corporates, or the governments, or whoever Osiris is working for, or with, to take control of this thing? Maybe we should think about this. Maybe nobody should have Emit Flesti..." User: TRAVELER Date: 2-Feb 05:42 PM 791746937
III.230 It's been a busy couple of weeks... THE VVC UPDATE -------------- * TRAVELER discovered that GRAHAM is actually a woman--and that she had his engraved riding crop. Later, she disclosed to him that she is Rosalind, the daughter of the chief councillor of the former Baron of Viar... * After a host of dark horsemen rode past the VVC, Traveler admitted to Graham that he is the son of the former Baron. The word is spreading: ECSTASY and SYLVAR now know the truth as well. * After farewell messages from ZOROASTER and DARICELL, Trav helped Sylvar interpret the Tarot cards found thus far. Dreams and visions of some "other world" are breaking through with increasing frequency. Meanwhile, Graham and Ecstasy have invented (and started smoking) cigarettes... * In the future, DRAKEHART and VISION have infiltrated the alien compound at Osiris' request. The only key to "Emit Flesti" that they found there was a room containing strong-force detectors. Drakehart has realized that the detectors, and the mysterious grey snowfall earlier, are part of an alien plan to find Emit Flesti, apparently some powerful piece of technology hidden in the City. * CADO has been granted an audience with Osiris, who has told him that his memories of the medieval VVC are computer-induced hallucinations. Osiris claims that the VVC regulars, nearly killed by the explosion after the rave, were put in cryogenic storage, and later fed the medieval computer simulation as an experiment sponsored by the human government and the aliens. User: TRAVELER Date: 4-Feb 05:13 PM 791917996
III.231 Dark tidings ------------ It is morning at the Virtuous Vagabond and Comrades tavern. The weather has been cold lately, but nothing too extraordinary for winter in these parts. The usual routines continue: feeding of the horses in the stable, drawing water from the well, people preparing and eating breakfast in the front room, etcetera. This goes on till several hours after sunrise, when TRAVELER steps outside for a breath of the brisk air...only to notice a faint hubbub from the southeast. "Something's going on in town," he mutters, and listens. It sounds like crowds shouting, and the occasional whinnying of agitated horses. Gazing over the trees and hills, he sees the few tall buildings of the duchy's only large metropolis: the ducal palace, the partly-finished gothic cathedral designed by Mother Superior ROARK. Smoke from cooking fires smudges the horizon as always, but several other conflagrations are creating large black plumes as well. "Trouble in the City...wonder if it's got anything to do with those riders last night." Approaching hoofbeats distract him. Coming north along the road is a lone horseman, wearing the livery of a ducal messenger. As he draws near, Traveler sees that he looks tired, excited, and scared at the same time. "Hear ye, hear ye!" he shouts in a ragged voice, drawing a few others out of the tavern. "News from Hexsum City! News from the Duke's palace! Lord VENKMAN bids all the subjects of the realm heed this message!" "What's Venkman doing issuing messages from the Duke's palace?" asks GRAHAM suspiciously, between swallows from a steaming mug. "The message explains all, good...sir," says the rider, looking at Graham (recently clad in a style which is more relaxed, but still conceals much) uncertainly. "`Tis in four parts..." "Read it then!" snaps ECSTASY. "I want to know what the fiend has been up to since he released me." "Ahem. The noble, glorious and beloved Lord Venkman addresses this message to all subjects of the duchy of Hexsum. His lordship bids you all health and safety in these perilous times, and proclaims these urgent tidings: "PART THE FIRST: we have recently received the grievous news that our beloved kinsman, the Duke of Hexsum, is dead. He was slain in battle against the infidel, fighting for truth and righteousness in the holy lands of the east. We join all Hexsum in sorrow for this loss..." A stunned whisper sweeps across the growing crowd in front of the VVC. "Can it be?" says John Waller. "Sir CADO told us the Duke was alive and well only weeks ago..." "And I swear I saw Sir ZOROASTER right on this spot not a week ago...and he said nothing about the Duke's death," Trav says. "It must have happened quite recently...He was a good man...." "Wait, Cado said something else as well," SYLVAR adds. "He said the Duke had heard of a plot to kill him..." "Would you kindly let me continue?" the messenger sneers. Sylvar gives him a haughty look in return, but falls silent. "PART THE SECOND: On hearing of the loss of our beloved leader, the despicable usurper, Baron Miraz of Viar, yesterday moved against Hexsum with the force of arms, attacking our northern border without warning..." User: Traveler brings you more medieval bang for the buck Date: 8-Feb 07:10 PM 792270657
III.232 As DRAKEHART and VISION ride back to their starting point, and even as Drakehart contemplates the Earth's oddly deformed star, the Aliens begin their second phase... Incomprehensible machinery using bizarre forces has torn the Sun in two. And inbetween the two halves is nestled a tightly orbiting ball of angry singul- arities, exposed for the first time to the open eyes of the universe. New machinery drifts slowly into place. Alien ships manuever into new config- urations, aligning themselves with the altered Sun in an odd, yet familiar pattern. Insubstanial fields flower out slowly, forming a great cup around the cluster of black holes that give off an angry radio frequency buzz. They prepare for an arrival, which started its journey unimaginable ages ago for the Aliens great purpose. And they are nearly ready... ------ Meanwhile ------ *spin spin spin* *spin* *spin spin spin spin* *spin spinspin* *spin * * spin spin* *spin...* User: Psychosis Paradigm (didn't get the Braga 7000 ref. either) Date: 9-Feb 04:48 AM 792305856
III.233 Brannon Braga is the evil author of those "time-travel mindfuck" episodes of new (post-TOS) Star Trek episodes. User: SYLVAR Date: 9-Feb 01:06 PM 792335169
III.234 Best of the VVC?! 8) Cool! "Martha, better start warmin' up that (N)ext key!" - Jebediah Podar (Age 6) So...by BEST of the VVC...are you going to post some of the "better written" paragraphs from VVC? Seeing as the story never really ended, how can we tell where the BEST ends and the mediocre-stuff begins? Inquiring minds want to know. 8) Hmmm...maybe we could write the names of all the characters from VVC on individual slips of paper, put them in a hat, pull them out at random, run the names through a "Random Story Generator", take the output to the nearest crematorium, burn it, then moisten the ashes and use the mixture as a loofa-type body rub? Nah...it'll probably cause an incurable rash, and I'll have to spin my "Wheel-O-Drugs" to find a suitable pain killer that won't cause side-effects like blindness, hives, ringing in the ears, instant death, et cetera, et cetera. Oh well, 'twas a thought. 8) Oh well...y'all have fun. 'Cause hey! What would February be without VVC?! User: ASCII Brother #90210...8) Date: 13-Feb 11:59 AM 792676823
III.235 I wont knock the VVC because it is about ten times more creative than most of the drivel on MBBS (yeah, I know this doesnt exactly say much...) User: Sanctuary Date: 13-Feb 02:52 PM 792687142
III.236 .--------------------------------------------------------------. | | | And now...a word from the management: | | | | T H I S I S V V C | | "Yow!" | | S U C K M Y D _ _ _ / "Hey, they had | / / it coming | "Can he SAY that!?" __ ~~ ^ ^ ...no pun | \ / \ / ~ )###) intended." | \ / < ] (~~\ / | `------------------------------- ||= ----- > / --- ~~~||------' / \ /====\ /~ ~\ ~\ /~~~~~~~~\ /~~~~~~~~\ /~~~~~~~~\ /~~~~~~~~\ /~~~~~~~~\ /~~~~~~~~\ User: Trav sez "kindly remain seated until the board comes to a complete stop" Date: 13-Feb 11:23 PM 792717854
III.237 Thanx for nixing my post Op-boy. User: TIPMO Date: 14-Feb 00:48 AM 792722929
III.238 Tipmo: I know the feeling. Can't take the criticism Op-boy? User: Evilgreg: why have aon this board? Date: 14-Feb 04:59 PM 792781209
III.239 No, Evil-boy. I can take it...even when certain folx post nothing but flames, day after day. But you see... I don't HAVE to. MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA....... :) (And in case anyone failed to notice, I not only sliced Tipmo's and Evilgreg's posts, but about 800 lines worth of other stuff too, including my own material. We ops have to do this every so often, you know...) User: Traveler says "It's called absolute power...kneel before it! We now return you to your regularly scheduled program, and remember, Board 6 is NEVER interrupted for O.J. Simpson trial updates!" Date: 15-Feb 00:25 AM 792808017
III.240 Dark tidings, cont'd -------------------- "PART THE SECOND: On hearing of the loss of our beloved leader, the despicable usurper, Baron Miraz of Viar, yesterday moved against Hexsum with the force of arms, attacking our northern border without warning..." "What?" Traveler exclaims. "As I said: Viar has attacked our northern border," the messenger repeats. "But LYDIA's estate touches the border--Viar is less than ten miles that way," Trav says, pointing north. "Why haven't we heard about this yet?" "It was felt best not to alarm the people too quickly." "It was felt by whom?" asks John Waller. "Ah yes...that brings me to the next part of my message." He looks down at his scroll, and resumes an official style of declamation toward all those gathered outside the VVC. "PART THE THIRD: In the wake of these two tragedies--the Duke's death and the Viaran attack--it is clear that Hexsum needs a leader. Regrettably, our noble and much-missed Duke left no clear instructions about the line of succession, in case of his death..." The crowd rumbles discontentedly. While the Duke never made an official declaration on who would inherit the throne if he and the Duchess had no children, many at the tavern know that his young nephew was the clear favorite. The nephew is the closest blood relation, and much doted on by the Duke. Neighbors in the crowd remind each other of this common knowledge...and then grow quiet, waiting for the messenger to continue. He looks around at the ominously calm group, then reads on. "...And thus it is our sad duty to fill the breach so tragically torn in the heart of Hexsum. His Eminence, Archbishop MacGillicuddy, has insisted that, for the good of the realm, we assume the mantle of the dukedom as speedily as possible. Our coronation, by the Archbishop's authority, will be in two days, at which time we will move from Chateau du Venk to the Ducal Palace, and assume all the privileges and responsibilities of our new office." A few angry shouts of disbelief have punctuated the messenger's last pronouncement, but most of those gathered outside the tavern are now stunned into silence. "Zoro was right...this is the end," Traveler says to himself. "You said there were four parts to the message," ECSTASY says grimly to the herald. "What's the fourth part about? Plague? Famine?" "You confuse me with other horsemen, milady. No, here is the rest of it: "PART THE FOURTH: We have gathered the generals of our army together, and are determined to repel the vicious attacks of Viar. All able-bodied men are hereby conscripted, and should report to the lord or lady of their estate with arms and horse, if they possess same. A charge shall be led against Viar at dawn tomorrow. Riding with us will be the rightful heir to the Viaran throne, recently appeared in these parts and now pledged to fight beside us for the restoration of a fair peace between our two realms." "The rightful heir to the Viaran throne?" says GRAHAM, looking at Traveler. "Isn't that you? What in the name of the devil's banana is going on?" User: Traveler Date: 15-Feb 00:27 AM 792808116
III.241 A Bit of Retrospect: =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- In recess, CADO takes a moment to reflect...as much as he can. His memory seems to be sliced in many places, and *none* of them seem to be their proper place. There are many familiar faces that wander through his mind...but he does not know who they are...and here, in his rightful time...if it is his rightful time...there are so many faces and things that he recognizes...but they are not the least bit familiar to him. Something is terribly wrong, and no matter how he puts the pieces together, the picture eludes him. One vision seems to linger in his mind, when all others come and go...a strong, intense feeling...a feeling that there is something he left behind... something important to him and close to his heart... but what? And where? Will he ever know what it means? User: CADO...ok, Max...where am I? :) Date: 16-Feb 00:11 AM 792893541
III.242 Oh, and this post should answer your query about what you're up to... :) >>Paths cross ------------- The door of Osiris' CPU chamber slides shut behind CADO. He turns and begins walking back up the dim, cool hallway, reeling from what the artifical intelligence has just told him. _All my memories of the medieval tavern...and the dimmer memories before that, of a twentieth-century cafe...all delusions? The people I remember as friends--long-frozen victims of an explosion, now hooked up to a computer simulation? That means the only reality is the wretched bar above me...the rest was a dream all along..._ He ascends the steps at the end of the corridor, and emerges at the back of the X-Ray Room. Stepping over the sprawled bodies of the drugged-out and the plugged-in, his mouth tightens. _It was all as false as the trips they're on right now._ At the center of the building, The Pit's ex-bouncer steps down into the sunken circle of the casino. He sees, somewhat to his surprise, that the Orphan is playing roulette. _They never used to let him get near the tables... the old man was too good. Some say he counted cards, but that doesn't explain his luck at the wheel, or with the dice..._ Cado sees that the roulette dealer is new, and obviously unfamiliar with the Orphan. But the ex-DJ has quietly accumulated a sizable pile of chips, and the dealer is beginning to get suspicious. "Doin' good there, partner," Cado says. "Probably shouldn't force your luck for too much longer, though. Lucky streaks never last...I should know." Out of the corner of his eye, he sees two men come through the front door--one of them looks familiar. Very familiar... His brow clouded, Cado steps out of the gaming pit and walks forward into the Grey Room, where the newcomers are looking about warily. After a moment of awkward eye contact, he says to the man with the ponytail, "I...know you." "Who's this joker, DRAKEHART?" the other man, clearly a cyborg, mutters. The one called Drakehart stares at Cado. "I'll be damned if I know his name...but I've met him before." He slips into the glassy look of someone consulting a neural database, then snaps back. "You're from the Cafe! The Virtual Vax Cafe! What this place used to be..." "But it isn't what it used to be, is it? If it ever was," says Cado. "Still...yes, that name is familiar. And I know I've seen you. Were you... part of the Braga 7000 experiment?" Drakehart gives him a blank look, obviously not getting the reference. "The virtual simulation, you know--well, maybe you're still confused. We'd better talk about it." Meanwhile, the roulette dealer has flashed a signal to one of the house "hospitality representatives." This man, a very large man in fact, has come over to the Orphan, and is speaking to him in quiet, soothing tones. "The management of The Pit is pleased to see that you're doing so well at our tables," the man says. "However, we're concerned for your safety--it's not wise to carry much more cash than that on your person, and of course, casino tokens are not redeemable for electronic funds, but for cash only. Perhaps you'd let me assist you in cashing those chips right now..." User: TRAVELER Date: 17-Feb 05:50 PM 793043423
III.243 >>Paths cross, cont'd. ---------------------- The cyborg next to DRAKEHART notices the man talking to the Orphan. "Drake, is CADO here a friend of yours?" "Yeah, sort of, VISION. That's why I'm trying to have a conversation with him." "Well, Cado, is that thin old guy at the table a friend of _yours_?" "Yes...wh--" "Any friend of a friend of a friend of mine is a friend of mine," says Vision. "And I think my friend over there is in trouble." The null boxer walks toward the roulette table, leaving Cado and Drakehart to catch up. "Is there a problem?" he says, approaching the casino rep. "Nothing to do with you," the man says bluffly to Vision. "Now, sir-- you're the one called the Orphan, aren't you?--let's go cash those chips..." "I'm not sure he's finished here," Vision says. The Orphan shoves his hands in his pockets and studies the rug nervously. "Who do you think you are, anyway, bud?" "Uh, we don't mean to cause any trouble," Drakehart interjects. "And who the hell are YOU?" the casino rep says, increasingly angered. "Vision, let's not worry about this--" Drakehart says. "Look, I want Osiris to know that just because we're working for it doesn't mean it owns us, the way it owns this place and everyone in it," the null boxer says. "I'm sick of being someone's property." "Maybe I can help," says Cado. "You remember me, Jack, I used to work here--" "Hey, this is between me and the old man!" the casino rep nearly shouts. Heads turn. Drakehart sets the small box he's been holding down on the edge of the roulette table. "Fine. Fine. Take care of it. Vision, dammit, we're here to see Os--" He stops, listening to a faint beeping. "What's that?" asks Cado. The casino rep is backing away, obviously suspecting a bomb or something equally dangerous. Drakehart opens the box lid and looks inside. Then he smiles and shakes his head. "It's a big fat retirement check...or it's a bullet with our name on it. Let's get out of here." "I really don't understand--" protests Cado. But Vision has whispered a question to Drakehart, who is nodding in reply. "He's right. We need to get out of here. You'd best come with us...and bring the Orphan," Vision says. "Come on, Orphy. I don't know what's going on...but these guys must know something important..." The four of them leave, abandoning the chips stacked on the green felt table. User: TRAVELER Date: 17-Feb 07:10 PM 793048239
III.244 Parsely, sage, rosemary and thyme... ------------------------------------ The messenger from the City has turned and ridden off in a cloud of dust. ECSTASY asks TRAVELER again. "What did he mean about the rightful heir to the Viaran throne being allied with Lord VENKMAN? Aren't you the heir?" "Perhaps. But there is another..." Trav says. GRAHAM looks at him. "Yes...that could be." Before there is time for further explanation, sounds of animals and people intrude from the north. The crowd outside the VVC turn in that direction, and see a small horde coming round the bend in the road. Old Jack Dullblade lurches forward, slopping his mug of ale. "'Tish the army of Viar! To armsh, comradesh!" "No...wait," John Waller cautions, squinting toward the host coming down the road. "It's about the right time of year for--yes!" He looks back. "It's the fair!" The patrons of the tavern smile. No one has forgotten Venkman's declaration of himself as the new Duke, nor his pledge to make war against Viar, but for the moment, everyone is cheered to see the return of this seasonal institution. The caravan of animals for trade, wagons full of wares, artisans, merchants, entertainers and gypsies slowly makes its way into the rolling meadow next to the Virtuous Vagabond and Comrades. Carts are unhitched, horses are watered and fed, stakes are hammered into earth and tents are erected. Meanwhile, ECSTASY has found an occasional patron of the VVC in a very interesting situation. "Mistress PYEWACKET?" the bar wench asks. "What are you doing standing in that large tub of water?" "Well, dear, I could explain it, but maybe you should just watch." A few passers-by approach, jingling coins in their hands. Pyewacket tugs on the laces of her bodice, and thus reinforces a certain effect on her physique that the already tight garment produces. "I think I understand," X says, raising her eyebrows. Suddenly, GHOST dashes up, carrying a cloth sack holding something long and narrow. "Quick! Find me a hiding place!" "What? Uh, all right, how about under that wagon?" Ghost nods and scrambles into concealment. A moment later, a thin man with longish dark hair and an elaborate costume walks down the path, peering around suspiciously. He moves on without detecting Ghost. When he has vanished, X sidles over to the wagon. "Psst! Coast is clear." "Are you sure?" "Yes...this one fellow came by, sort of...eh, roguish-looking. But he's gone. Now come out and tell me what you stole from him." "Steal? Me?" Ghost says, standing up and brushing hay off his clothes. "That nice sword was just lying there. Anyway, he didn't look like much of a fighter...I doubt he'd have any use for it." "From his outfit, I think he was participating in the human chess game. It's about to start...are you going?" "Yes...oh, yes, I'm going," Ghost says, smiling. "I hear that SIREN gets thoroughly trounced, several times. This will be entertaining..." User: Traveler: Scarborough Fair Mix Date: 19-Feb 12:08 PM 793195769
III.245 Generations ----------- Wandering through the fair, TRAVELER speaks with some of the tradesmen he knows from years past, shaking hands and renewing acquaintances. "So you've come from the north?" "Aye," a gnarled old tinker replies. "Traded last week in the capital of Viar, then worked through the countryside." "Isn't there trouble up there? We hear rumors of war." "Trouble? Nothing I've heard of. Everything was peaceful...Miraz rules with an iron hand, but the people endure. And war? Heh...the army's mostly in the northern marches, skirmishing with the barbarians of the forests. They're nowhere near the border with Hexsum." "Odd..." The tavernkeeper wanders on, stopping at a booth selling woodcut prints and rubbings of brass and stone carvings. He leafs through the sheets of onionskin and parchment, covered with images of saints, demons, palaces, and mythic stories. He selects a round rubbing of a ship's multi-pointed compass. "This would look nice in the Blue Room..." "Yes, it would," says John Waller, walking up. "We've acquired some nice navigational charts from seafarers, and some maps from Crusaders...this could go on the same wall." Trav picks up another picture, of a mother and child, and gazes at it. It resembles the universally known tableaux of Mary and the Christ child, but in this case, the child is female. "Saint Anne and the infant Virgin," he murmurs, making the identification. "Is that icon significant to you in some way?" SYLVAR asks. "You could say deeply significant." He pays the vendor for the two pictures. "I've just been pondering...the mystery of what passes between the generations." "Hmmm?" "Well...how do we inherit the qualities of our parents? Perhaps it's like the Tarot. Two stacks of cards are shuffled together. Then there's a deal... and our fate is held therein." "Hmmm. I'd hope we have a bit more freedom than that. Certainly we inherit much...but what of free will?" John stops, and looks at Traveler. "I know what you're thinking about...your highness. Your newly revealed destiny, no?" "Yes, that's part of it." Traveler gazes between two tents, toward the sea. "I'd found a nice life here...but I can no longer go on the way I have. Events have overtaken me. War with Viar, VENKMAN's coup...and this talk of the `rightful heir.'" "What DID that mean in Venkman's proclamation, anyway?" "Well...when Miraz overthrew my father, I was rescued by the loyalists. But I've never been sure what happened to my brother..." "Your BROTHER?" Trav smiles. "Hedrick the younger. Guess I neglected to mention him..." User: TRAVELER Date: 20-Feb 01:07 PM 793285680
III.246 The griffin and the lion ------------------------ The fair is in full swing in the meadow next to the Virtuous Vagabond and Comrades tavern, but TRAVELER has grown tired of its amusements, and returns inside. Business in the White Room is brisk; fairgoers and merchants especially like John Waller's "java" (and some have offered great fortunes for the secret of its making, but he prefers to hold on to it for now). The innkeeper looks in on the Red Room, normally reserved only for guests of a higher class. One or two well-to-do merchants are dining there now; in a corner near a window sits GRAHAM, poring over large, dusty volumes and making notes with quill, ink and parchment. She looks up when Trav approaches. "SYLVAR said it would be all right if I borrowed a couple books from your study. And some of these I brought myself..." Traveler glances at the subject material. Some of it is in ecclesiastical Latin, but he is well-educated enough to decipher its general subject. "Law?" Graham quirks one corner of her pursed lips. "Yes...my father, being your father's chief councillor, always touted the benefit of a thorough knowledge of law. I know some hold that a woman should not even be allowed to fill her head with book learning, but...I'd like to put it to use, perhaps in ways my father never thought of." "If any woman can, 'tis you. Alas, knowing the way of things, it may only be from the shadows, in aid of some more visible man of power..." She turns a slightly narrowed gaze on him. "There appear to be many potential new men of power about. There's Lord VENKMAN, soon to be Duke if he has his way, and there's you. Now Sylvar tells me you mentioned your brother." "Yes. You said you knew nothing about where he'd been taken when our father was killed--it was another emmissary's task to find him. But Venkman's proclamation mentioned that when he attacks Viar, it will be with the support of its `rightful heir.' It's not me...who else could it be but Hedrick the younger, my elder brother?" "I suppose we will find out soon," Graham says. "LYDIA and some of the other nobles have refused to honor Venk's order of conscription, but the news is that he's still put together a sizable force to attack Viar. And he'll have to ride across Lydia's estate, right past this tavern, to do it." No sooner has she spoken than a grim rumble is heard, distinct from the din of the fair. Traveler and Graham look at each other, neither daring speak. But when the approaching thunder is distinguishable into myriad hoofbeats, they bolt simultaneously for the door. Coming up the road from the south is a vast, chaotic assembly of horsemen and footsoldiers, armed and armored in patchwork fashion. Some are former Crusaders, restless again for battle; many are farmers and peasants, impressed from Venkman's estate and those of the few nobles sympathetic to him; a few are minor nobility, carrying the standards of their houses and attempting to exert command over their untrained legions. The small company at the front, though, lofts the banner of House Venkman: a silver griffin rampant dexter, with doughnut in its mouth, on a green background.* The ragtag army is poised to sweep past the VVC and the fair. Pedestrians and riders dash out of its way. But just as it reaches the tavern, trumpets ring out from the north, and a small group of horsemen gallops around the bend to confront the troops. The newcomers carry Lydia's standard: a golden roaring lion, rampant sinister, with white doves on either side, all on a red field.*+ Lydia herself rides to the front. "Where is Lord Venkman?" she shouts. "He is detained in the capital. I speak for him," says a man that Trav recognizes as the commander of Venkman's guard. "Couldn't join the battle himself, eh?" Lydia says. "Well, I have only one thing to say to you all..." She draws her sword, as do the riders with her. "...GET OFF MY LAND!" *Anyone who can improve my heraldric notation, feel free to do so. +Lydia's crest is of her own design... :) User: Traveler Date: 23-Feb 01:55 PM 793547805
III.247 The sword and the rose, again ----------------------------- The commander of Lord VENKMAN's guard stares at LYDIA for a long moment. Then he begins laughing. The other members of the guard laugh as well, and the mocking sound spreads through the entire ragtag army, stretching south along the road from the VVC. Lydia and her men stand their ground, swords drawn. The guard commander raises his hand for silence, and those behind him comply. "Look...we outnumber you two hundred to one at least. If you _want_ to be slaughtered in the name of land and honor, go ahead and stand right there. Otherwise, step aside." Lydia still does not move. "We have ample cause for crossing your estate to attack Viar! Whether or not you like Venkman's accession to Duke, you must see that all Hexsum is in danger. You do know about the Viaran attack? It happened on your land." At last Lydia speaks. "There was a skirmish the other night, I'll admit. But we don't know the details! The men were all wearing black, not Viaran colors..." "Of course not! It was a night raiding party...they didn't want to be seen." "Why did they attack, then, knowing we'd go to war?" TRAVELER and GRAHAM have been whispering for a moment on the sidelines. Now the tavernkeeper steps over to Lydia. Quietly he tells her of the mysterious company of dark horsemen that thundered by the VVC a few nights ago. Her expression hardens, and she turns back to the guard commander. "It was all a trick, wasn't it? Those weren't Viarans attacking, they were Ve--" "THAT'S ENOUGH!! We will not waste further time. Yield, and we will traverse your estate peacefully. Stand fast, and we'll cut our way to the other side--and destroy the tavern, the fair, your manor house and everything else!" With a look of black fury, Lydia lowers her sword, but does not sheath it. She walks to the side of the road, and her small contingent follows. Venkman's army begins shuffling forward. John Waller approaches Lydia discreetly. "Thank you, m'lady," he murmurs. She looks at him sharply. "For what?" "For what you did. In my judgement, you did not lose honor, but gained it by stepping aside. You saved all our lives. This war is theirs to fight, not ours. Who live by the sword, shall die by it, so saith Holy Writ." Lydia nods slightly, but her countenance does not brighten. Trav's eyes scan the passing multitude aimlessly. Suddenly he snaps to attention. Before anyone can ask him what he sees, he dives into the throng and disappears. Moments later, he emerges, followed by a man on horseback wearing gleaming armor and carrying a large shield. "Wh-?" Graham begins to ask, but then sees the design on the shield: an upright sword with a long-stemmed rose twined round its blade. "Ladies, gentlemen," says Traveler, "I have the pleasure of introducing my brother, Prince Hedrick of Viar..." User: TRAVELER Date: 1-Mar 03:14 PM 794070861
III.248 Merv Griffin and the Ion King ----------------------------- The fair is in full swing in the meadow next to Madame Fong's House of Really-Big-Panties and Sneaker Barn, but TRAVELER has grown tired of its amusements, and returns inside. Business in the Lard Room is brisk; fairgoers and merchants especially like Skippy Podar's "waffles" (and some have offered great fortunes for the secret of its making, but he prefers to hold on to it for now). The zookeeper looks in on the Guava Room, normally reserved only for guests with large feet. One or two well-to-do merchants are dining there now; in a corner near a window sits GRAHAM, scrounging through large, dusty boxes of Wheat Thins and making monkey noises with her hands. She looks up when Trav approaches. "SYLVAR said it would be all right if I borrowed a couple of snacks from your study. And some of these I brought myself..." Traveler glances at the boxes. Some of the labeling is in ecclesiastical Pig Latin, but he is well-educated enough to decipher its general contents. "Nabisco?!" Graham quirks one corner of her pursed lips. "Yes...my father, being your father's chief taste-tester, always touted the benefit of a thorough sampling of Nabisco Brand Products. I know some hold that a woman should not even be allowed to fill her belly with such nutritious bounty, but...I'd like to give it a try, perhaps in ways my father never thought of. Heh-heh." "If any woman can, 'tis you. Alas, knowing the way of things, it may only be in the pantry, in aid of some more visible man of power..." She turns a slightly narrowed gaze on him. "What the heck are you talking about? Can't you see Lord VENKMAN, soon to be Duke if he has his way, is making cow-eyes at my boxes of Wheat Thins? Now Sylvar tells me you mentioned your brother." "Yes. You said you knew nothing about where he'd been taken when our father was killed by that band of rogue Sandy Duncan Impersonators--it was another emmissary's task to find him. But Venkman's proclamation mentioned that when he attacks The Shaq, it will be with the support of its `rightful heir.' It's not me...who else could it be but ASCII the younger, my elder brother?" 8) - Originally written by - TRAVELER - Adaptation for BOARD #12 - ENTERPRISE User: Enterprise...8) Date: 1-Mar 12:22 PM 794060579
III.249 Previously on Board 6: > C o m i n g S o o n t o B o a r d 6 : ... >The Virtual Vax Cafe is about to go "back to the future"...the original Cafe >format, the way it used to be! And to celebrate, we'll be re-running... >#3 -= The Best of the V V C =- >#4 -= The Best of the V V C =- ... >#6 -= F E B R U A R Y 1 9 9 5 =- Ok...so February's come and gone, and we're still in the Middle Ages. So I lied. Sue me! Even use theext key if you want, but I promise... We _will_ return to the twentieth century this month! :) User: TRAVELER Date: 2-Mar 03:39 PM 794158770
III.250 Reunion ------- LYDIA and SYLVAR are still talking quietly in front of the VVC as VENKMAN's army marches by on its way to attack Viar. But TRAVELER and GRAHAM are now speaking with Hedrick, Trav's older brother and the true heir to the Viaran throne. A few men loyal to Hedrick are nearby; the rest of his force is up near the front of the army. The tavernkeeper and the knight-at-arms have embraced, and now are indulging in the awkward but happy dialogue of reunion. Breathlessly, they tell each other the brief details of two lives separated since childhood. "Not a bad place here, Verian," says Hedrick, "but far different from where my path has taken me. For a while I was sheltered in Wakefield to the south, by distant kin of our father. But I never felt at home there. I was determined to grow strong and clever enough to win back our kingdom. That meant freebooting, and time in the Crusades..." "I suppose I was too young when the revolution happened to have understood what was going on," Trav says. "It was a night of shouts, and chaos, and dark corridors. Later, I realized what had occurred, and hated Miraz for usurping the throne. But I never felt I had the power, alone at least, to do anything." "I sought you, brother...but the only one who knew exactly where the heirs of Hedrick the elder had been hidden was his chief minister, Renard." "Yes...this is his daughter. She found me here not long ago--" "And haven't managed to leave," Graham says with a faint smile. "Pleased to meet you. My `real' name is Rosalind." "Hmmm...why yes, I remember little Rosalind, playing in the corner of the courtyard! Never saw much of you, though...but when you were ill, I remember you'd tend the violets in your mother's windowbox." Hedrick's chiseled face relaxes into a smile, briefly. "But that was long ago. Time has blown us all in different directions, like the petals of those flowers." "But the petals of the rose of Hedrick have been regathered, miraculous as it seems," Traveler says. "Still, we meet strangely. You are riding against Viar with Lord Venkman's militia? Why??" "I am fairly new to Hexsum, but I think I know what you're going to tell me...that he can't be trusted, that he's an opportunist. I see these things. But when his spies chanced upon me traveling in these parts, and told me that he'd aid me in a venture to regain Viar--it was the culmination of my life!" "At what cost? His attack on Viar is inseparable from his coup here in Hexsum. You may accomplish Miraz' overthrow--or not--but with the help of another usurper. I have lived in Hexsum a long time, Hedrick...I like this place, and its people. The true royal family of Viar cannot ignore the plight of our friends here." "I am the heir!" Hedrick says with some sharpness. "I ride to restore our name and our honor, and to liberate our people! Aren't you happy for this day?" "Not if the price is watching the place that's been my home go to pieces," Traveler says heavily. "You are the elder, Hedrick--you don't need my leave-- but I don't like this. All of it--the Duke's death, the coup, the attack on Viar--reeks of treachery..." User: TRAVELER Date: 2-Mar 11:15 PM 794186115