III.251 VVC: He who laughs and walks away... ------------------------------------ "You did your best," John Waller says to LYDIA. She looks away. John takes hold of LYDIA's chin and gently turns it towards him. "Look," he says. "I don't like this any more than you do. I'm going to lose my life's work in there" -- he indicates his study chamber -- "but I am *not* going to lose my life. I owe that to you, m'lady." "Do we have to let this happen?" LYDIA implores. "If your books are as good as tinder now, why not try to make use of them? I've seen the way you can conjure up traveling salesmen, and..." John interrupts her. "That was a plot device," he says firmly. "Pure silliness. The forces I study are raw and elemental. If I dared to meddle with Nature, even to save the lives of my friends, there would be Hell to pay." "If it's a choice between the Baron and Old Scrotch himself, I'll take my chances." John frowns. "...our name and our honor..." "What?" they ask each other simultaneously. And then, in unison, "Oh." LYDIA presses on. "Do you believe in omens, weed boy?" John winces at the title. "You know I do." "Then please, if you can, do something. If not for our lives, then for our name and our honor." John Waller's lips tighten. His eyes narrow in anguish. Finally, as if he has come to a decision, he speaks. "I shall see what I can do. But if the risks are too great -- if Nature forbids it -- then I will die, and let you die, rather than chance unleashing a second horror." Grudgingly, LYDIA nods and turns her attention elsewhere. User: SYLVAR Date: 3-Mar 04:13 AM 794204015
III.252 Cooool... Into the storm -------------- TRAVELER's words hang in the air like an accusation. Hedrick stares at his younger brother for a time, then looks away to the north, between the bustling fair and the passing army. "Verian...I thought you'd stand with me. I don't want our house divided. But I believe Viar is ready to throw off the yoke of Miraz. Rosalind? You've been there recently. What say you?" GRAHAM crosses her arms, and speaks carefully. "You may be right, sire--" "Please, I'm a warrior, not a courtier. You use no titles with my brother; use none with me either." He smirks. "At least till I trade this saddle for a throne." Graham raises her eyebrows. She's not overly fond of Hedrick, but knows the Viarans are truly sick of Miraz. Yet...how will Trav take this? "You may be right, Hedrick. But...you know nothing of the resistance within Viar. Unless they know of the coming attack, and are prepared, you'll probably fail. Miraz' army will swoop down on you before the people can rise up." The lines in Hedrick's tan, square face deepen. "Can you give me names? People I could contact?" "By the time you and your forces ride in, it will be too late. The resistance needs at least a few hours' warning. And..." She almost stops herself. "I know their networks far better than I could explain to anyone else." "Blast! What's to be done, then? We can't send a lady...I d--" "Why not?" she asks, suddenly irritated. "I have a horse, I know the terrain and the people..." "Yes, but this is war--" "I've been on my search for two years, completely alone. I've stayed in the seediest taverns--I don't mean this one, of course--evaded military patrols, and bargained my way past bandits. I can ride, fence, and use a dagger. I can usually pass as a man, but I know how to use my feminine wiles as well. In short...you couldn't ask for a better messenger." Traveler nods. "She speaks the truth. Though I hate to admit it..." Hedrick sighs. "All right, then. You'll ride on to alert the resistance." "So...you'll both be going," Trav says. "Perhaps I should join you. I've only found each of you recently...but losing either of you would--" "I need you here," says Hedrick, laying a hand on Traveler's shoulder. "As my representative in Hexsum, at least for now. I know the battlefield better than you...but you know Hexsum better than I." LYDIA walks over. "The tavern needs you, Trav...I need you...all Hexsum could use more like you. I'd prefer you stay as well--I have some plans to discuss with you. This coup will not stand, if I have anything to do with it." Traveler kneads his temples. "Very well. Hedrick...I guess this attack would happen with or without you. Better you be there to guide it, so that Venk's army doesn't do as it pleases in Viar." He turns to Graham. "I know you can do this. But...take care." He lowers his voice. "Between you and Viar, I'd much rather lose Viar..." Minutes later, Graham has packed a small saddlebag, and sits astride Costello in front of the tavern. She and Trav exchange words that no others hear. John Waller shakes her hand gravely; ECSTASY offers a last mug of ale, a hug, and a cheer. Hedrick rides over from nearby. "Verian...I found something odd just now. I'm told you collect these." He hands over a Tarot card: the King of Swords. The tail end of VENKMAN's army now recedes up the road. Wishes of luck and godspeed are exchanged, but no goodbyes. Then it is time. Storm clouds are gathering over the hills to the north as Hedrick and his men spur their steeds and set off. Graham turns back for one last wistful wave, then gallops after them. A flash of silent lightning blinds SYLVAR, Lydia, Ecstasy and Traveler for an instant. The fading afterimage seems to be of a different road: smooth and paved, with strange metal carriages gliding along past a stucco and glass building from another time. Thunder cracks across the sky an instant later, dispelling the vision. The nine riders vanish around the bend, into the storm. User: Traveler Date: 3-Mar 01:22 PM 794236925
III.253 **Crossposted by me from board 3 --Op** >all hail the return of the black rabbit :) >quatrain of the day 56 >And this I know: whether the one true light, >Kindle to love, or wrath consume me quite, > One glimpse of it within the tavern caught >Better than in the temple lost outright. > -from the rubaiyat >User: one glimpse of delirium within the tavern caught >Date: 9-Mar 09:25 PM 794784422 User: TRAVELER Date: 10-Mar 08:41 PM 794868127
III.254 House Venkman: Vert, a griffin rampant holding an annulet in its mouth argent. House Lydia: Gules. A lion rampant sinister or between two doves volant to sinister in chief argent. Moral of the day #56: "Never tempt a herald to blazon, unless you want to" User: Null Trooper Date: 11-Mar 09:59 AM 794915948
III.255 MBBS was screwed up last night, thus the partial post. Here's the complete installment: >>Behind the screen ------------------- The taxi is crowded, but DRAKEHART and VISION insisted that CADO and the Orphan cram into one vehicle with them. "We don't want to get separated as we're about to reach safety," Vision explains now. "I still don't understand where we're going," Cado says. "A bolthole some of my friends maintain. Some of the zaibatsu mercs on my ass raided it recently...but they won't think to look there again so soon. We'll meet Insulin there and regroup." "Regroup for what?" Cado asks sadly. "I was sure, once, there was hope of putting things back the way they used to be...but the truth is, they never used to be what I thought I they were." Vision looks at him blankly. "What?" "I--and Drakehart too--have felt out of place and time here...like this place and time isn't even supposed to exist like this, all dark and hopeless." "Yeah, Drake's told me about his time-jumping. Could be true--" "It's not. It's a lie, a computer-generated hoax," Cado says. "In the late 20th century, the government accidentally set off a nuke offshore. People at the cafe where The Pit now stands were killed. The survivors were used in a top-secret project." "You mentioned this earlier," Drakehart interjects. "Cryogenics?" "Yes. They were experimentally frozen for later treatment. But then the aliens came along...and the experiment changed. The government and the aliens thawed the group just enough for minimal brain activity, then wired them all up to a direct-nerve virtual reality simulator." "Like the stimheads on every street corner? What's so top-secret about that?" Vision asks. "This VR system is much more powerful. It creates a collective reality for many people--total immersion. They've been living inside it for years without even realizing their old lives ever stopped. And it looks like Drakehart and I were just part of the experiment..." "Hold on a minute," Drakehart says. "We're way too young to have lived continuously since the explosion. We had to have time-jumped--" "Drake, we were never there!! All our memories of the VVC never happened! Face it--we were later recruits. They needed to make sure they could introduce new minds into the Braga 7000 simulation. Probably they plan to use this tool to quietly remove anyone they don't like. You could stick someone on the Braga 7000 and they'd never even know they were in prison. Maybe...maybe we're all characters inside a computer already..." For a moment, the strangest feeling overtakes Cado. He turns and looks out the taxi window, and in his mind he is looking out from behind a screen covered with words and symbols. "Here I am... the ghost in the machine..." Unsettling thoughts silence the passengers of the taxi for a moment. Then Drakehart shakes his head doggedly. "I can't buy it. I mean, consider the source--Osiris told you all this. That's probably the most devious artifical intelligence ever created...why should we believe it?" "It gave me proof," Cado says. "It told me where to find the Braga 7000, and the test subjects..." User: TRAVELER Date: 12-Mar 02:14 AM 794974470
III.256 P.S. Thanks, Null0trooper! :) User: TRAVELER Date: 12-Mar 02:15 AM 794974517
III.257 To save the realm ================= At the tavern, LYDIA has summoned the regulars to the Red Room. Now she stands on the stage and addresses them all. "Friends and fellow citizens of Hexsum! Perhaps Viar attacked us, perhaps not. In any case, the militia recently passed by will deal with that. Now we must look to threats closer to home. We have all heard Lord VENKMAN declare himself Duke. We all know that this was not meant to be. It is up to us now to save our realm." "It'll all end in tears, I reckon," says TIPMO from his chair. "Well, I want no part in any foolhardy quests. Let Venkman take over...or not. I'm leaving anyway, to become a hermit. The Crusaders tell of a distant land called Al-Abama...maybe I'll find peace and quiet there." With a final snort, Tipmo rises and walks out the door, never to be seen again in the Virtuous Vagabond and Comrades tavern. (Turning to watch him, Trav notices a Tarot card lying on the now-empty chair..."The Hermit"...) :) "I intend this day to rally a force to march into the City and confront Lord Venkman!" Lydia continues. "Foolhardy? There will never be a better time! Most of his own forces are away now. He thinks his attack on Viar will distract the people, and make them look to him for guidance. But it leaves him open...if we are willing to take the opening." "We're a doubtful force to take back all Hexsum," Trav says. "I suspect that by the time we reach the Ducal Palace, our ranks will have swelled. Traveler--or rather, Prince Verian--do you stand with me, or no?" Trav looks down. His face betrays his weariness. Many questions have been answered recently, but even more have cropped up. Who will rule in Viar tomorrow? Who in Hexsum? What sort of person is his long-lost brother--as a man and a warrior? What will his own station in life be? And...he keeps returning to this question...will Graham return unharmed? Then he notices something on the wooden floor in front of him, and picks it up. Another card..."The Star"...a naked maiden pouring water into a pool, and on to the adjoining land, while eight-pointed stars blaze overhead. He looks at SYLVAR, and a small smile twists his tired countenance. John reaches over and gently takes the card. "A good omen, the book says. `The Waters of Life flowing freely, and perpetually renewing creation.'" Trav notes briefly that John Waller seems to have developed an almost obsessive interest in the Tarot deck, then returns his attention to the matter at hand. "My lady...I stand with you. Hexsum is my home." ECSTASY, PERIGRINE, GHOST, and even Orfeo add their pledges to join the effort, as do many other folk. But the most surprising recruit is old Jack Dullblade, who lurches to the front of the room with a mug of ale. "M'lady...I am a knave, I know...a drunkard, a liar...not good for much, save to drain the charity of the local people. But..." The rumpled, heavy old man frowns and shakes his head, as if to cast off a lifetime of failure and oblivion. "Old Jack was a fighter in his day. I'd prove that not all my tales are false. I'd march with ye, m'lady...if ye'd have me." He looks at the mug in his hand for a long moment, then slowly sets it down on the stage. "I'll not need this." The crowd whispers in surprise. "Jack giving up his cups?" "Thought I'd never see the day!" "He means it..." Trav and John notice another card on the floor between them: "Temperance." They both smile. Lydia places her hands on Jack's shoulders. "I am proud to count you among my forces, Jack Dullblade. May we all have courage such as yours..." User: TRAVELER Date: 13-Mar 12:35 PM 795098149
III.258 >>Strange angels ================ "Well? Where is this secret lab, then?" VISION asks. "Osiris gave me its global coordinates." CADO takes a slip of paper from his pocket. "DRAKEHART, maybe you can place those on a map from one of your databases." Drakehart looks at the paper. "One second." Then, "I've got the address. Downtown somewhere. But...look, there's something I have to tell you all. We found Emit Flesti." "What??" Cado says. "This artifact that the aliens and Osiris are both desperately seeking. The detector we stole from the alien warehouse went off while we were in The Pit..." "...When you set it down next to the roulette wheel!" Vision finishes. "You sure that detector's working?" "I plugged into it just now--all the circuits check out. It picked up the genuine strong-force energy signature of Emit Flesti, coming from the roulette wheel. Osiris controls the place, but must not even know it's there!" "So what can we do about this?" Cado asks, as the taxi pulls up next at the entrance to a dim alley. "Let's go 'downstairs' and talk more about it." Vision pays the cabbie, and they disembark. Several minutes later, they have entered the underground tunnel complex by way of a manhole in the alley, and are esconced in a small tile-walled room. "Emit Flesti is our only bargaining chip against Osiris--and also against the aliens--" resumes Drakehart. "Not to mention the government, and the corporations that Osiris is connected to. Are you saying we should try to get hold of it?" Vision asks. "Exactly! We slip in, grab the roulette wheel, take out whatever security we have to, and slip out. Once we get away, they'll just forget about us and replace the gaming table." "Then what?" Vision says. "We don't even know what Emit Flesti does, or how to use it." "Maybe with some research, we could figure out what it's good for. If nothing else, we can keep it out of the wrong hands--even destroy it to keep it from being used." "You make it sound like a weapon," Cado says. "I'm afraid it may be. I've been picking up alien radio chatter, and from what I can decipher, they're on the verge of something very big. The splitting of the sun, the mining of the outer planets...all their schemes will come together soon, and I don't think the results will be good for us humans. Emit Flesti may be a tool they want--or it may be something they know we could use against them. Either way, we can't let them get it." There is a knock at the door. Vision instantly flattens himself against the wall next to it, silently motioning Cado, Drakehart and the Orphan to the other side of the room. The null boxer grips a gun in one hand, and reaches for the door handle with the other. He throws open the door and thrusts the gun forward in one motion. "Easy, mate, ya gonna 'urt somebody," comes a masal Australian accent from the dim corridor. A lean middle-aged man, with spiked hair of platinum blond and leather garments of black, steps forward. "Name's Larko! These 'ere are me mates, War, Death, Famine and Plague." He introduces four younger punks. "We're the Aussie Punks from the Future...yeh, even further in the future than this...and we're 'ere to tell ya what it's all about, ay?" User: TRAVELER Date: 14-Mar 10:11 PM 795219093
III.259 The Fightin' Sisters of St. Psoriasis! ====================================== The fair continues on in the meadow next to the tavern, its vendors and patrons seemingly oblivious to the trouble brewing around them. Meanwhile, the area between the stables at the back of the VVC and the shore of the bay has become a staging ground for LYDIA's small resistance force. Most of the farm and village folk from her estate have enthusiastically joined the effort, as have many tavern regulars. GHOST has slipped off into town to do some last-minute reconnaissance; he has arranged to meet the others on the road just outside the City gates, with a full report. PERIGRINE works with Lydia's own stablemaster to assemble a cavalry force, while ECSTASY teaches the art of the whip to some of the local women. TRAVELER is making sure the force is well-supplied with all the food, drink and other goods that the tavern stores have to offer. He is bringing a crate of DARICELL's wine up from the cellar when John Waller accosts him. "What do you need, SYLVAR?" the proprietor says, setting the crate on the large central kitchen table with a gentle rattle and clink. John fidgets for a moment before answering. "Well, it's just that...with all due respect...I don't think I'll be going along on this expedition." He quickly adds, "Unless you command it." "John...I'm not your lord or commander. I can't order you to join the fight against Lord VENKMAN's forces, but I...oh. Oh!" Trav smiles sheepishly. "I apologize for ever having assumed you would. I know your peaceable ways. 'Tis best you not sully yourself with the blood we may shed..." "Understand, I stay behind not because I fancy myself better. Fighting and killing...is just not in my nature. Some would call that a weakness..." "Not I. By all means, stay...someone must look after the VVC. I can think of no hands I'd rather leave it in right now than yours..." Before another hour has passed, the preparations are complete. The men and women of Lydia's small force, totaling no more than threescore, assemble behind the tavern; the lady addresses them with the glistening bay at her back. "We few...we happy few...shall wrest back the throne of Hexsum from its usurper. The odds we face are great...but thus the glory we stand to win is all the greater! In years to come, those not with us on this day will wish they had been...for we venture forth in the name of truth and justice. Now...to your stations! May God grant us victory!" The crowd cheers, roused to action. Soon the footsoldiers have assembled at the front, with the riders behind, except for a small mounted vanguard including Lydia herself. Trav, X and Perigrine are in the first row of riders behind the infantry. "Are we ready?" the innkeeper says to his two companions. "As we'll ever be," the bar wench replies. "I'm afraid I sprained my ankle again last week...but I can still ride a horse and crack a whip something fierce." "We'll be prepared for anything," says the stablemaster, "as long as we know where our towels are." He reaches into a saddlebag and pulls out two large, fluffy cotton towels, which he tosses to Ecstasy and Traveler. The force moves out on to the road, and heads south toward the City. After less than a mile, they see a group of robed figures emerge from a side path. Lydia stops, and her troops halt behind her. Everyone is wary; the group by the roadside all carry swords, and hide their faces under hoods. One of them steps forward, and throws back her hood...it is Mother Superior ROARK. "We would join your quest, Lady," she says to Lydia. "I know it's unusual for nuns to take up arms, even for a just cause, but the Order of St. Psoriasis grants certain exceptions in cases like this. And...I found one of Traveler's cards...it seemed like a sign." The card is passed back to Trav, who sees it is the Three of Pentacles, depicting three figures standing in a monastery. "Now...without further ado, sisters, let's go make Lord Venk's day!" User: TRAVELER Date: 16-Mar 06:06 PM 795377222
III.260 >>The Aussie Punks From the Future Tell All =========================================== CADO, DRAKEHART and VISION look at the newcomers, baffled. The Orphan just smiles slightly. "You're...uh...who, again?" Cado asks. "Larko! and the Aussie Punks From the Future! Didn't ya read the back- story? We're always around when mankind's on the brink o'destruction...or at least when Trav and Zoro are, but we'll 'elp you blokes as a favor t'them." "So...are we on the brink of destruction?" Drakehart asks. "Not on the brink, mate--knee deep and sinkin' fast. It started with that psychic blast at the rave...someone channeled it through an Imagica gate and blew everyone six ways to Sunday. Now the timelines (and plotlines) are more tangled than a Rastaman's dreads...we're 'ere to help sort it all out." "Drakehart and I really did time-jump, then?" Cado says. Larko! nods. "Then the Braga 7000 story was a hoax. But why'd Osiris want us to think we belonged in this time?" "Two words," says one of the younger punks. "Tell 'em, War." "Emit Flesti," another punk grunts. Drakehart slaps his forehead. "Of course! It's a time manipulator! Osiris knew we'd try to restore time with it if we knew what it was." He stops. "_Is_ it a time manipulator? _Can_ we restore time with it?" Larko! squints at Drakehart. "Pretty astute for a metal'ead, ay? Guess we should tell you a bit more about the good old E.F. Mind you, bein' from the future, we're not s'posed to intervene, really...but we can give hints, and maybe a little more, since we're close to our own time. Boys?" He motions the four younger punks over to the metal chairs recently occupied by the others. The punks sit, and Larko! takes the one remaining chair. "Now...it all started many years ago, when men were men, women were women, and films were noir. Mind you, punk 'adn't been invented yet, so things were bloody borin'. We weren't even a ripple in the probability wave- form. But there _was_ somethin' lyin' about called the Clock of Worlds. This Clock was part of the City for centuries. It 'eld together space and time here...made this a special sort of kind of place, ay? A place where fantasy is reality, and reality is wot you make of it, or summat like 'at." "So, someone could seriously mess with time and space, if they had control of the Clock," Vision ventures. "Give the lad a gold star! 'At's exactly 'ow we punks first got pulled back in time: some fool was playin' with the Clock. We've bounced about ever since...or ever before...or ever beside.Ya know, the worst thing about time travel is keepin' the bloody tenses straight. We are...or were...or will be from a future which may or may not be...see wot I mean, ay?" "I can't even understand your accent," says Cado. "But go on." "Yeh, well, we avoided doomsday with Zoro and Trav's 'elp. But that's all in the past...I think. Now you two went forward in time from when you should be, and everyone else went backward--" "Backward? So the medieval tavern I remember was real!" "Medieval? Could be. Too far back for _us_ to go. Anyway, the Clock of Worlds, a.k.a. Emit Flesti, is the only thing that'll ever sort this out." "Unfortunately," says Vision, "the aliens want it, and so does an AI connected with some shadowy corp--" The Orphan cries out and slumps off his chair; Vision grabs the old man, quickly but gently, before he hits the floor. "Marching...to the City," the Orphan whispers. "Many horses..." "That's another reason to find Emit Flesti," Cado says grimly. "The Orphan's been split _between_ future and past...and it's killing him..." User: This Route Along Virtual Expressway Largely Effects Return Date: 19-Mar 03:06 AM 795582790
III.261 Is it me...or does EMIT FLESTI spell TIME ITSELF if you look at it in a RORRIM? Cute Max. 8) User: Enterprise...8) Date: 20-Mar 03:29 PM 795713383
III.262 Aren't you supposed to be crashing into the White House lawn or something? It's not my bitch to pitch at you, but that was probably going to be one of the climaxes in the next few weeks. It's called suspension of disbelief -- I saw it quickly, as did most of us, but we kept quiet about it. Okay, it's fairly obvious. But I'm offended. (Ha ha, only serious...) Grumble, grumble... User: Sir, you loud-voiced annoyance, repent! Date: 20-Mar 03:43 PM 795714278
III.263 Yea...I noticed it the first time I saw it...it had just enough time to register before I hit (N)ext. :) To the anonymous one who flamed Jim: It wasnt the White House lawn...it was the White House itself. You seem to be getting your crashes mixed up. THe one in Tom Clancys new novel "Debt of Honor" is significantly different than the one that happend in Real Life. See, the latter involved a Cessna the former involved a 747.... User: TIPMO Date: 20-Mar 06:05 PM 795722735
III.264 Esirpretne: Trams yrev! :) Tipmo: the flamer wasn't anonymous. Seems _you_ missed _his_ word game (he's been playing it for a couple weeks now, and I've joined in occasionally). :) Actually, I got the name from a wonderful film called _Faraway, So Close!_, about angels, time, death, and life. See it if you get the chance... User: Time reveals all visions, each life, every road... Date: 20-Mar 06:46 PM 795725236
III.265 Max: *D'OH!!* "MY name's Forrest Gump, but YOU can call me Forrest Gump!" User: Time itself prevails more often. Date: 20-Mar 11:31 PM 795742388
III.266 Trapped ======= The high stone walls of the City loom up ahead of LYDIA's resistance force as they march quietly onward. Following the road from the VVC to Hexsum City, they've crossed Lord VENKMAN's estate...oddly, no guards appeared to block thei way. "Everything's going well...too well," Lydia mutters tensely. Hexsum's twelve-sided wall has a gate in each side; the group now nears the northwestern or "10 o'clock" gate. Mother ROARK's nuns march in tight formation at the center of the infantry; Lydia and her guard captains are on horseback in front of the footsoldiers, with more riders in back. Twisting columns of smoke rise from within the City...too many to be accounted for by hearthfires. The resistance passes through the gate, left open and unattended. ECSTASY, TRAVELER and PERIGRINE, in the first row of riders behind the footsoldiers, look around at the empty, silent streets. The only sounds are the rustlings of the militia itself. Perigrine mops his brow with a towel. "Where ARE they?" he hisses. "I don't like this..." Others grow nervous as well. Lydia halts their advance at an intersection, and sends scouts out in three directions. The first, dispatched to the south, comes back a few minutes later. "Some commotion towards the southern quarters of the City, m'lady," he reports. "A few fires, and some shouting--possibly small bands of rioters--but no large skirmishes. As you instructed, I made sure I wasn't seen." "I was hoping more folk would be up in arms against Venkman," Lydia says. "We'll be in trouble without popular support. Perhaps they're all too scared." The other two scouts return shortly. One says the northern sector appears much like the southern: isolated fighting, minor fire damage. The other has headed toward the center of the City. "No disturbances at all...nothing. All windows are shuttered. The streets are clean, empty and silent. Could be because Venk's forces are strongest there..." "That's where we must go," says Lydia. "Our only hope is to thrust into the center of his territory quickly...if we can take the Ducal Palace, I think the City will be ours." She explains the plan to the troops, who are anxious, but ready for action. In a moment, the infantry begins jogging forward, and the riders spur their steeds to a brisk walk. Near the center of town, the cobblestone road rises slightly and widens. Ecstasy smells smoke on the breeze; a few flakes of ash drift down. Then something larger...Trav reaches out and grabs it: a Tarot card. Before he can look at it, another comes down, and another, caught by Peri and X, who pass them to Traveler. "They're all from the same suit...Swords," he whispers. "The suit of violence." More Sword cards flutter from the sky, and he catches them easily. "That's it...the suit's complete. Not many cards left in the deck to be found...must be almost time for the final game..." On the verge of the City's central square, Lydia turns off the main boulevard to skirt around the large open space; but glimpses caught between buildings show it to be deserted. "We'll cut across to come at the Palace from a good angle," she tells her lieutenants. "Right in front of the cathedral... it should shelter us from view..." Now the infantry is almost running, fearful and excited, and the horses are moving at a lively trot. The resistance slides past the front of the vast, half-finished church. Mother Roark sneak a proud glance upward. "See those towers? My design," she murmurs. Just as those on foot have almost passed the large wooden front doors, the doors burst open and disgorge dozens of shouting, armored men wielding huge swords. From streets around the square, parties of guards emerge and unite to form a cordon around Lydia's force. The infantry pools together in disarray; horses wheel, rear and neigh amidst the fierce roar of the enemy. More soldiers emerge from the cathedral, bearing House Venkman's banner. "We're finished," says Lydia under her breath bitterly. User: TRAVELER Date: 21-Mar 12:37 PM 795789462
III.267 >>No sanctuary* =============== (*This title has nothing to do with SANCTUARY...but I guarantee he is nowhere to be found in this installment... :) Larko! and the other punks have left the hideout to do some reconaissance of The Pit. Now, DRAKEHART, VISION, and CADO are making preparations for the raid to capture Emit Flesti. Vision has spoken to some of the friendly black marketeers who control this tunnel complex, and they have updated him on Insulin's condition. "She's in a hoverchair, but doing ok," a thin woman with stringy black hair says. "In fact, I think she's comin' down to see you guys." Insulin arrives a few minutes later, her chair flanked by two burly guards. "Give them whatever they need," she says to one of the men. "These guys deserve it." She turns to Vision. "This raid...will it bag anything we could make a profit off of? Like this Emit Flesti thing?" "It's bigger than that. You know I'm not the bleeding-heart type, but... I'm doing this for humanity's sake. If the aliens get that time controller..." The thought hangs unfinished. Cado comes out into the tunnel from a nearby room. "The Orphan's doing a little better, but he needs his medications." "Which ones?," Insulin asks. "I made my name in pharmaceuticals...I can get you anything you need or want." "He's having trouble remembering the names of the pills, and where he keeps them. I should take him out to his apartment and pick them up." Drakehart sighs. "Gotta do what we gotta do. But it would be better if I and Vision went along for security. Remember, some sniper attacked his taxi a while back--someone wants him dead, and my guess is, it's Osiris. The Orphan's a link between past and future...living evidence that the Braga 7000 story is a lie, and that we really did time-jump. Osiris wouldn't want that kind of evidence sitting around for us to find..." In the end, Cado remains at the hideout to coordinate raid preparations with Insulin. Drakehart and Vision accompany the Orphan to his apartment, in an armored car loaned by the black marketeers. "Quiet day for this part of town," Vision comments as they near the Orphan's apartment. "I'll be damned," says Drakehart. "I just realized--we're near the coordinates Osiris gave Cado for the Braga 7000 project lab." The car rounds a corner, and the crumbling grandeur of the City Cathedral looms up ahead. Vision parks across the street, and all three get out. "In fact..." Drakehart continues as they cross, "the location is...there! The Cathedral itself!?" "Uh, guys? Problem." Vision points down the alley next to the Cathedral. The Orphan's apartment building is at the far end...or was. Now only a burnt- out shell remains. "I don't like the look of this..." An explosion rips open the rotting, boarded-up doors of the church. Vision, Drakehart and the Orphan are thrown to the pavement. The null boxer is first to recover his feet. "BACK TO THE CAR!" he shouts to Drakehart, while lifting the Orphan's frail body in his arms. Bullets clank against the car's body, halting their dash towards it. They turn towards the Cathedral. A horde of black-helmed riot troopers in full body armor is pouring down the steps... User: TRAVELER Date: 22-Mar 07:44 AM 795858305
III.268 The last battle =============== The commanders of LYDIA's small force manage to keep their troops and horses under control, as VENKMAN's men close in around them. The tightening cordon of enemy troops finally stops when the resistance has been pushed to the very center of the square in front of the Cathedral. A few cards from the suit of Wands fall into TRAVELER's lap. "Hmmm..." he says, showing them to ECSTASY and PERIGRINE. Some of the surrounding troops part--an important person is coming through. The King of Wands drifts into Trav's hands as Lord Venkman himself appears on horseback. "So...it's come to this," he says, as everyone grows silent. "You could have gone along with my plan, and not done too badly under my rule as Duke. But you chose not to. Very well...your estate will be divided, some for my dear friend Archbishop MacGillicuddy, some for me. All of you rabble will be put to death in a leisurely fashion." "I guarantee you're wrong on that," Lydia snarls. "If we die, it'll be right here, right now, and we'll take as many of your men with us as we can." "What did you think you'd gain by doing this? Who did you think would come to your rescue? The old Duke is dead. Oh, and in case you haven't heard, so is--" Venkman lowers his voice so that most of the crowd cannot hear the name he speaks. But when Lydia stiffens and goes pale, Traveler realizes. "Her lover," he breathes to X. "He was one of the Duke's generals in the Crusades. If Venk managed to assassinate the Duke, it's quite possible they got to Lydia's betrothed as well..." Lydia appears stricken, as if run through with a sword. She almost double over on her horse, but one of her commanders steadies her arm. At last she looks up at Venkman, and her baleful stare wipes the smile from his face. After a moment he begins to squirm. "What? WHAT!? Stare at me all you like. It's the last face you'll see as a mortal..." "Perhaps so," she whispers. "Be warned, then...it will be the first face I look for when I reach the other side." Then she deliberately turns her horse around, facing away from Venkman. "Let us stand together, friends," she says to her troops. "For the last time." Fear grips Trav, but a sense of apocalyptic excitement comes with it. _A man who knows he will not see another day is the most liberated of all, in a way..._ Lydia turns back to face Venkman. The two leaders stare at each other for a moment; only the wind sighs through the spires of the stone church. Then she screams madly, and so does he. The two mobs run toward each other... Everything begins to blur... User: TRAVELER Date: 23-Mar 06:31 PM 795983516
III.269 whoo-hoo! I knew if I hung around long enough there would be some blood and guts... User: ECSTASY Date: 24-Mar 11:39 AM 796045179
III.270 >>Four to doomsday ================== VISION pulls out two large, fierce-looking handguns from somewhere beneath his clothes. DRAKEHART is already armed, so Vision tosses his spare gun to CADO. The three of them, along with the Orphan, are lying behind the armored car across the street from the Cathedral. A constant clatter of bullets slams into the other side of the car, and windows in the buildings behind them are shattering. "Who the hell are these goons, and why are they shooting at us?" Cado says through gritted teeth. "I've seen those types of uniforms and armaments before," Vision says. "They're not government...most likely mercs for some corporation." He holds his gun around the front of the car long enough to pump off three rounds. Three large concussions follow. "Satori Q9 rounds...when they explode, they look like flares and produce a shock wave like concussion grenades. You don't have to hit the enemy to knock 'em down cold." Cado stands and fires once over the trunk of the car. "Nice...but we're still outgunned! Our only hope is to get them to stop shooting. They must think we're somebody else..." "No, I bet we're exactly who they're after," says Drakehart. "And I bet I know who they are. They're probably working for Osiris, or the corp that owns Osiris. The AI has figured out that we're after Emit Flesti. Cado, it gave you those fake coordinates for the Braga 7000 lab in order to lead us here. Then they lay in wait to wipe us out." "That doesn't help us much now!" "No, only THIS will help now," says Vision, and promptly stands up so that his whole upper body protrudes above the car's hood. He coolly fires off eight rounds at the troopers in front of the Cathedral, sighting as he goes, then drops back down to the ground. "That was suicidal!" hisses Drakehart. "Yes, but it worked--I took out about half of them." "What about the other half?" says Cado. He looks up. The continuous fusillade has stopped. One of the troopers is barking commands. "What are they doing?" The patter of many boots approaches rapidly across the asphalt. "I'd guess they're closing in for the kill," says Vision, ejecting the spent cartridge from his gun and jamming in a new one. The footsteps are growing closer... Everything begins to blur... User: TRAVELER Date: 26-Mar 01:20 PM 796224057
III.271 > A fleeting glimpse ==================== VENKMAN's and LYDIA's troops charge toward each other in the middle of the Cathedral square...but time seems to thicken and slow, muting noise and movement. Yet time also seems transparent--images of another age begin to fade through, an age when nothing is the same except for the vast leviathan of the Cathedral... VISION, DRAKEHART, CADO and the Orphan cower behind the armored car as mercenaries swarm over and around it...but their onslaught occurs in surreal slow-mo. The troopers, the car, the buildings become ghostly, and a square full of horsemen and screaming peasants flickers into view faintly... The two battles continue, but at a dreamlike pace. A few people in the midst of the chaos look around and see others that they recognize, from far distant memories... TRAVELER, ECSTASY and PERIGRINE calmly guide their mounts through the fray, toward where Drakehart and Cado are standing and reaching out to them. Trav tries to speak, but the words congeal like a mouthful of honey. Explosions and the clashings of swords echo quietly from miles away. A woman from Lydia's infantry walks through the fighting, her cloak trailing behind her sluggishly. It is DELIRIUM. She has caught sight of a man from the future, and the face is one from her dreams. Drakehart sees her approaching, a solid figure from out of the half-real surroundings, and stands. As their hands touch, a fragment of poetry dances in her mind: "And this I know: whether the one true light, Kindle to love, or wrath consume me quite, One glimpse of it within the tavern caught Better than in the temple lost outright." The others gathered here out of time smile to see this reunion. Traveler gradually notices another card lying on the ground nearby: "The Wheel of Fortune." Cado stoops to pick it up, and as he holds it out to Trav, speaks two words. Even through the haze of slowed time, the tavernkeeper can understand them... "Emit Flesti." A pony carrying the flute-player Orfeo rides forward between Trav and Peri. The old man lying beside the armored car, who looks so much like the boy on the pony, sits up and opens his eyes. He struggles to his feet, as Orfeo dismounts, and the two halves of one being move toward each other. _It's time we were all back together,_ Traveler thinks. _Not quite yet... but soon...when all the cards have been found._ Orfeo and the Orphan try to touch the open palms of their hands together, but a curtain of sheet lightning sparks between them. The barriers are thin here, but still holding. The wall of resistance between Orpheus' two selves seems to be widening. The tavern regulars are on one side, and the cyberpunk adventurers on the other. Drakehart and Delirium still clasp hands, until the energy barrier becomes so blisteringly brilliant between them that they must let go. The sounds of gunfire and steel begin to return, and the battles raging around this little enclave of stillness gradually accelerate toward normal speed. The moment is almost lost...the future and the past fade from each others' views... User: TRAVELER Date: 26-Mar 11:20 PM 796260065
III.272 Ah, cool... I made it back in time for the dramatic conclusion... someone pass the popcorn and Milk Duds. User: Perigrine: And you thought I was here for the free towels! Date: 28-Mar 08:30 AM 796379407
III.273 Salvation ========= The timelines close. DRAKEHART, CADO and the Orphan find themselves standing near the armored car across from the Cathedral. VISION is still on the ground next to the car. "Wh-what was that? Something happ--" he starts. The clacking of a dozen riot troopers arming their guns interrupts him. They are surrounded. "DROP YOUR WEAPONS," the faceless guard commander says through a helmet mike. The group complies. "AS AN AUTHORIZED AGENT OF NETHERWORLD, INC., I HEREBY EXECUTE THE WARRANT FOR YOUR DEATHS, ISSUED OH-TWO-TWO-THREE-FOUR- SEVEN." Drakehart thinks: _Unbelievable! How can this be by the book?_ But a microsecond check of the legal statutes confirm that private parties, usually corporations, can not only seek such warrants--supposedly only granted in cases of "clear and present danger"--but also contract to have them carried out, without the defendant's ever being informed of charges. _Maybe that was why I saw *her* just now...a last vision before death..._ "Nice knowing you guys," Cado says glumly. He frowns... _What's that noise? I'd swear it was German opera...very faint..._ Drakehart sees large red words flashing in the air in front of him:  #3 OI! LARKO! SEZ GET DOWN! #4 OI! LARKO! SEZ GET DOWN!  "Get down?" he puzzles. "Uh, wait a minute. Get down, guys--" A shining white, aero-contoured hovercraft roars around the corner at the end of the block. Its external speakers are blaring Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries"; its concealed machine guns are spitting lead. Drake, Cado and the Orphan join Vision on the ground just in time to avoid a hail of slugs. Troopers fall, clawing at shattered faceplates. Two or three manage to flee across the street into the Cathedral; the hovercraft's gunner lets them get away, having already liberated the prisoners by the armored car. The craft's nose slides up on to the curb, gently bumping against a concrete lightpost. The passenger-side door opens upward, gullwing fashion, to reveal a grim Larko! at the wheel. "Get in! It'll be tight, but I ain't runnin' a limo service, ay?" As they squeeze into the back seat, Vision notices that the punk in the passenger seat, with the black hair, pale skin, and eye-of-Horus tatoo around one eye, is smiling and clutching a joystick that protrudes from the dash. "Nice shooting, Death," the null boxer murmurs. "It is Death, isn't it?" "It is," the punk whispers, still smiling. "Now, we'll take you blokes back t'yer HQ," Larko! says. "But we can't keep savin' yer asses loik this. It's breakin' the laws of Time, or at least bendin' 'em--and I may not be much fer laws, but these ones snap back at you somethin' nasty if ya bend 'em too far, ay?" "Gotcha," says Cado. "By the way...thanks, guys." He appreciatively pats the bony, leather-clad shoulder of the punk next to him, the one called Famine. Famine looks at him with a hollow-İeyed sneer. Cado smiles nervously and turns to look out the window, as the hovercraft accelerates down the street. User: TRAVELER Date: 28-Mar 07:05 PM 796417546
III.274 Just cause ========== The timelines close. Around ECSTASY, TRAVELER, PERIGRINE, DELIRIUM and Orfeo, the battle with VENKMAN's forces rages back to life. A momentary faltering in the violence is all that most here in the Cathedral Square noticed during the meeting of past and future. "We must DO something!" Perigrine shouts over the din of battle. "There's nothing much we can do," says Ecstasy, "except die with the rest of them!" A fiercely bitter look seizes her face. She spurs her steed toward the front line, where she begins lashing her long whip back and forth against the enemy. "It wasn't meant to end like this," Trav insists. "The deck is almost complete...but not yet!" A clarion note is dimly audible through the shouts and sword-striking. Then it comes again, longer and louder. Soldiers in both armies look about, confused. LYDIA takes this moment to shout encouragement to her troops, and briefly, they press a section of Venkman's surrounding troops back toward the Cathedral. But the advantage is short-lived; Lydia's resistance force, though brave, is vastly outnumbered, and fast being cut down. The horn note--for that is what it is--sounds again, closer. Venk's commanders bow their heads together in puzzlement. The enemy troops on the edge of the square are looking at the streets behind them in fear. "It's not their own forces approaching," Trav realizes aloud. "Someone else--" Like a flash flood, waves of cavalry burst from the streets at the eastern edge of the square. Dozens of horsemen, wearing colorful but tattered and dirty garb, fall mercilessly upon the rear flanks of Venk's army. Then, along the boulevard leading directly from the City's 3 O'Clock Gate, comes a cluster of riders carrying banners. All strain to see the insignia... "I don't believe it," Perigrine says. "It's--" "THE DUKE! THE DUKE!" The cry sweeps through the square. Indeed, the banners of the newcomers bear the standard of Hexsum's old Duke, feared dead in the Crusades. Lydia's fighters now struggle to meet the arriving force; Venk's soldiers part like water, scattering and fleeing in the opposite direction. Some disappear into side streets and alleys, but most are quickly surrounded by a combined force of the Ducal cavalry and the survivors of Lydia's forces. Chaos continues for long minutes, but when the trapped remnant of Venkman's army realizes they are doomed, they surrender. Trav spurs raindancer toward the last place he saw X's whip flying. He finds her hounding a few stray enemy footsoldiers into the cordon. "Go on! Get! Get! *CRACK* Feel my leather and regret the day you were born!" "Have you seen the Duke yet?" Traveler asks. "Is it really him?" "I don't know...it's been too crazy...but look, a path is clearing..." People and horses are moving aside now, as some important personage moves through the mob. Trav, X and Peri push to the front, where they see Lydia dismount and step forward to face an armored rider. "My liege?" she says hesitantly. The rider takes off his helmet. His face is lined and tanned, graced with a well-trimmed salt-and-pepper beard and bushy black eyebrows. His grey eyes twinkle and his bald head shines. "Well, well, well," he says in a familiar brogue. "Seems I've been away too long." He looks about, faintly amused. "The name's Connery. Duke Connery..." User: TRAVELER Date: 28-Mar 09:09 PM 796425044
III.275 YES! IT ALL WORKS! User: Ecstasy is beyond joy at this moment Date: 29-Mar 00:14 AM 796436067
III.276 Look before you leap ==================== Meanwhile, John Waller stops dead in his tracks. He looks confused, and looks around to get his bearings. He notices the battle, and says to himself: "Hoh boy..." A button-punching geek fritzles into sight. "Uh-uh. This is supposed to be a courtroom drama, and you're supposed to be a lawyer or something." "Well, get me out of here! I don't think I've been vaccinated for the plague!" "You got it." John's body tightens in every place, then relaxes. He looks around him. "What got over me?" he thinks to himself. "A demon I've studied, perhaps?" User: SYLVAR: "Boldly going backwards, 'cause "Sliders" isn't on right now!" Date: 29-Mar 09:12 AM 796468419
III.277 Aftermath ========= The rest of Duke Connery's entourage has now moved into the square, including the Duchess, an accomplished rider herself. TRAVELER bows as she rides past...but looks up to see her staring at him curiously. "Are those cards you have in your hand?" she asks. "Yes, m'lady." She smiles, and takes a couple similar cards from a saddlebag. "Here... a mystic dervish in the East gave these to me. He said I must give them to an innkeeper in my own country, who would have others like them. Perhaps you..." Trav takes the cards and examines them: "The Emperor" and "The Empress." Some of Duke Connery's guards bring a huffy Lord VENKMAN out from amid the captured troops. He is obviously displeased at the outcome of things; but when he sees the Duke, he is truly alarmed. "D'OH!" he exclaims loudly. "My advance scouts told me what was going on here in Hexsum only last week," the Duke says. "Since then, I and my army have been riding like mad to get back here. Apparently, we arrived not a moment too soon. Now, Lord Venkman...I understand you and the Archbishop are behind this mess?" "Uh...well...you see...actually, it was all his fault. Yeah, that's right. His idea, entirely. He made me do it! He threatened to declare the lust for waffles a mortal sin, and so of course I had to go along. It was blackmail! Mmmm...I sure do love them waffles..." "Right. Well. For the crimes of high treason, attempted regicide, fomenting rebellion, and various others, I hereby sentence you to life in the palace dungeons. Lads, take him." The surprised Lord Venkman is whisked away to his new lodgings before he can say a word. (TRAVELER notices the card called "Justice" has just fluttered to the ground nearby, and retrieves it.) "Now, where's that Archbishop? Never did trust the fellow," the Duke says. "Some of Venk's men say he fled through the northwest quarter of town, sire," LYDIA reports. "He may have slipped out into the countryside already. But sire, a question--" "The countryside, eh? I hear there's trouble to the north, on our border with Viar. I'll dispatch some of my men in that direction to sort things out; maybe they'll find the Archbishop along the way." The Duke turns to his commanders and issues the appropriate orders. "Sire...?" The Duke turns back to Lydia. "I rejoice to see that thou, our beloved Duke, liveth, despite reports to the contrary. But there is another face I look for, but do not find, amidst thy party." "Another--oh." He realizes who she speaks of. "Lydia...my dear...I'm sorry. Your betrothed...was killed, not long ago. He took the blade that Venkman's agent intended for me--and in dying, saved my life. He will be forever honored in Hexsum for his valor..." Her face falls. "May I have leave to depart?" she asks in a husky voice. "I must...return to my manor now." The Duke nods solemnly, and Lydia quickly mounts her horse and gallops out of the square. "Will she be all right?" PERIGRINE asks Trav as they watch. "I hope so," Traveler says. "But--I do not think she loves easily. And she loses love even less easily." The Duke now gets off his horse and walks over to the Cathedral steps, where Mother ROARK and others are attending to the bodies of the slain. "Most of these are City folk, I see," the Duke comments. "But--who's that one they're bringing over now?" "Oh, no," says ECSTASY. "Jack? Oh, no..." Two of Lydia's men lay a large body down on the cobblestones. It is the corpse of old Jack Dullblade. "He fought like a wild man," one says, shaking his head. "Like...like a dragon-killer. Slew eight of them, I reckon, 'fore they got him. They said he was old, and scared, and a drunkard...but in the end, he lay down his life..." "For his country?" asks the Duke. "Respectfully, sire...for his friends." The Duke nods and moves on. The denizens of the Virtuous Vagabond and Comrades gather close around the body of their fallen, and stand vigil there, deep in silent memory, for a long time. User: TRAVELER Date: 29-Mar 10:06 PM 796514812
III.278 Fall On Your Knees... ===================== As the Aussie Punks barrel down through the decayed streets of a weathered city, DRAKEHART, VISION, and CADO confide together on the scene back at the old Cathedral. "Who was that woman?" Vision asks. "Her name is... DELIRIUM," Drakehart responds, finding the name finally slipping into place in his mind. He doesn't actually say it, but Vision can sense the words beyond the first sentence. He grunts in a mildly disgusted fashion. "Oh, piss off," Drakehart sneers. Orfeo is huddled in one corner of the floating vehicle, shivering slightly. Cado frowns, concerned. "Without his medicine, he's not going to be able to go with us anywhere. We'll have to take him to a hospital." "no..." Orfeo whispers hoarsely, softly. But with conviction. "Actually..." Drakehart says, an idea forming. He closes his eyes for a moment and slips into a cybernetic trance, now as second nature as breathing. He notes that synaptic repairs on his brain (_My host's brain_, he corrects himself) have been completed, and a lot of memories have been restored, and the gaps averaged together. He ignores them for now, though, and instead calls up the Nano functions. "Oi! What's wrong with 'im?" Larko! says loudly, noticing Drakehart's vaguely comatose state. "He's minding his 1's and 0's," Vision replies, mildly. Larko! snorts. Orfeo stirs slightly. His lips part slightly and a faint gasp issues forth. After a moment, his eyes open wide to stare at Drakehart's form, before closing all the way. His body slumps. "Hey!" Cado exclaims, leaning forward to make sure the old man is ok. At the same time, Drakehart emerges from his cybertrance. "Black Thunder," Drakehart recites, "with Hiway-65." He blinks. "Or at least that's the closest chemical matches I can find." "What the hell?" Cado exclaims, as he makes sure the old man is still breathing. "I formed a link between the Orphan's brain and mine, using a Nano chain. It allowed me to skim through his memories... sort of. It was really disjointed, I suspect due to him being stretched across the timeline. Which is also causing nerve degeneration at an accelerated pace." "Black Thunder's a street drug that regenerates nerves," Visions says. "It can be lethal when used incorrectly. I doubt he was taking that. Hiway-65 is a multi-stage drug that cycles through stimulant, hallucinant, and depressant. Sometimes used to help schizos." "Like I said, those were the closest matches I could find. I bet he was taking a variant of Black Thunder, some legalized form with lower potency." Drakehart shrugs. "We can get him some of the BT through Insulin and give it to him in very small doses." "Oi! We're at your HQ!" Larko! announced suddenly. The aero-craft had deaccelerated without its passengars even noticing. "Go on, get out. We've got some errands to run," he adds, as the future crew unload themselves, Vision carefully carrying the unconscious Orphan in his hands. * * * * Within the next hour, the Orphan had been given the medicine he so badly needed, and was already showing signs of dramatic improvement, though he remained relatively weak. Drakehart, Vision, and Cado had been conferring with Insulin to try and figure out what their next step should be. They knew they needed to get the Emit Flesti to set things right, but it was apparent that Osiris was out to stop them at almost any cost, and sneaking into the Pit wouldn't be possible. As they were talking, Drakehart was signalled by an internal routine of something important. He had set-up agents to scan the media bands for important news. What he got was a lot more important than any of them could have possibly realized. "Yo! Guys, tune this shit in," Drakehart barked. A data screen was quickly accessed and the on-going news report brought up. "...in the meantime. Again, this is *not* a hoax. Goverment monitors in orbit have detected a massive force accelerating towards our Sun at beyond light speed. Alien activity has dramatically picked up in Earth orbit, but no information is available from the Alien Contact Forum or any other sources. Scientists do not know what this force is, and are unsure what will happen when it arrives. Currently, it is believed that a possible impact will occur within the next six hours. Citizens are advised--" There was total silence for several moments. "Well," Cado said slowly, "Larko! *did* tell us that they only show up when the destruction of the world is at hand." User: The plot coagulates Date: 30-Mar 04:26 AM 796537721
III.279 Confused yet? 'S'ok, I confuse myself sometimes with all these subplots. :) Read on: THE VVC UPDATE ============== * LYDIA's quickly assembled forces marched into the City to try and take it back from Lord VENKMAN, while his army was attacking Viar. Lydia's militia, including TRAVELER, ECSTASY, PERIGRINE, DELIRIUM, Orfeo and Jack Dullblade, was ambushed in the town square in front of the Cathedral. In the middle of the battle, the tavern regulars experienced a strange vision of the future. * Hexsum's Duke Connery showed up in the nick of time and saved the realm. Venkman is now off to the dungeons--but his fellow coup plotter, the Archbishop, is missing. Lydia's betrothed, a commander in the Duke's army, has been killed, and she is distraught. Jack Dullblade is also dead. More Tarot cards have turned up...the deck is nearly complete. * There is no news from Viar about how the battle is going there. GRAHAM and Trav's brother Hedrick are among the participants. At the tavern, Jon Waller (a.k.a. SYLVAR) is pondering whether to use the dark magicks that he has studied ...and is also experiencing some odd time-space displacements of his own. * Centuries later, CADO, DRAKEHART, VISION and the Orphan have met up with the "Aussie Punks from the Future," who have offered both advice and firepower. When our heroes were ambushed at the Cathedral by corporate mercenaries, they briefly experienced an interface with the medieval timeline--then were rescued from certain death by the Punks. * Emit Flesti, a time-manipulation device disguised as a roulette wheel in The Pit, may be Cado's & Drakehart's only hope for return to their own time...but it is still beyond their reach. They fear that the aliens--or the artificial intelligence Osiris--may get hold of it first. * Now news reports tell of some unimaginable force hurtling towards the solar system, at speeds greater than light itself. The aliens may or may not be involved...but in any case, the earth may be destroyed within several hours... User: Trav asks "exciting enough for ya? stay tuned, we're in the home stretch" Date: 30-Mar 07:07 PM 796590487
III.280 Resting places ============== It is evening when TRAVELER, ECSTASY, PERIGRINE, DELIRIUM and Orfeo make it back to the Virtuous Vagabond. The City and the surrounding villages are elated with the Duke's return, and the tavern folk are happy too, but their happiness is tempered by the loss of Jack Dullblade. The old man's corpse is being pulled along in a cart behind Peri's horse; upon reaching the stables, the horsemaster locks the cart inside. "We'll figure out what to do with you tomorrow, Jack," he murmurs. "I was thinking," says Ecstasy, tethering her mount. "Really? You were thinking?" "Oh, hush. I was thinking about where Jack would like to be buried. He was never much of a churchgoer, and the local priest wasn't too keen on him. Of course the church can't refuse him a burial, but...maybe he'd like to rest right outside the VVC, close to his friends." "It's unusual, but why don't you run it by Cardinal XIMINEZ?" Perigrine suggests. "He'll probably approve it, if you ask him while bringing a fresh mug of ale." Meanwhile, Trav has proceeded inside immediately, leaving Perigrine to take care of Raindancer. "Any news from Viar?" he asks John anxiously in the White Room. John scratches his beard. "Wellll...what sort of news do you mean? We hear all sorts of things. It's still pretty chaotic up that way--" "I'm thinking about--a couple people in particular." John sighs. "Maybe you'd better come into the kitchen with me." The innkeeper follows the herbalist into the warm central room. At the large wooden table sit two weary figures, their garments covered with the dust of the road, and stains of grass and blood. But there is no mistaking the faces--GRAHAM and Hedrick. Traveler grins broadly. "What are you looking so pleased about?" Graham says with a sly look. "Oh...just thinking I'd really like to get to know such a lovely lass." "Who are you talking about, good sir? There's only us menfolk here." "Well, if you're menfolk, I must reconsider my interest in womenfolk..." He turns to his brother. "Hedrick...how went the battle?" "Better even than I hoped. Most of Viar fought with us--Miraz's troops were no match for us, and half of them joined the rebellion anyway. Graham's resistance contacts were invaluable. Miraz was slain on the field--wish I'd done it myself, but at least our father's ghost can rest now. I'll be returning to Viar tomorrow, to assume the throne. And what of you, brother?" Traveler pulls out a chair and sits. "I suppose...it would be proper of me to give this lowly tavern up, and return to Viar with you, to assume some higher station." He looks around the kitchen, taking in wooden beams, copper pots, the open hearth. "I'll miss this place..." "Proper? Proper? Brother, I care little for propriety. It is I who am eldest, and who shall rule...but you are free to pursue what you will. If you'd stay a tavernkeeper--albeit an eccentric tavernkeeper, with a personal library and a collection of odd cards--then do so. If you'd travel the world, do so. And if you'd come back to Viar, I will always have rooms in the palace open for you. But do not feel that my destiny has determined yours." "Thank you, Hedrick," Trav says. "Thank you. I suppose what I must do now is ponder. But I'll keep your words in mind." User: TRAVELER Date: 2-Apr 04:41 PM 796840899
III.281 And so, our hero, Perigrine, had again saved the day... keeping the world safe from static cling is a full time job, after all! Just as his Theme Music kicks in, and the scene fades, our hero wonders what is to come for the Cotton Crusader... Next Week: Join our hero as he takes a few days off from the world of laundry to travel to scenic Tahiti for a well-deserved vacation... little does he know that his arch-nemesis, Dr. Washcloth, is plotting to lure him from the sunny beaches to the infamous Tahiti Tar Pits! That's all next week, same Towel-Time, same Towel-Station! P.S. Applications are being taken for a sidekick, send all Inquiries to PERIGRINE or ask mild-mannered Rod Bristow of the Daily Wash for details! User: Perigrine: Sidekick Wanted... Inquire Within... Date: 3-Apr 01:30 PM 796915822
III.282 A few more things to take care of... Final sacrament =============== LYDIA sits at the head of the long table in her empty banquet hall. Outside the day is sinking into orange and purple gloom; she rests her forehead on one hand, just covering her eyes, as if shunning even what little daylight remains. A maidservant comes, for the fourth time, to check on the plate of mutton, bread and cheese that sits untouched before her mistress. Frightened, the girl takes the cold food away without a word. Lydia is known for the occasional foul mood, but they always manifest themselves in passionate rages--not this deathly silence. Her chamberlain, a tall, sephulcral man known as Schuler, enters and crosses to her chair. "My lady...if you will not eat, take some wine..." He nudges the silver goblet at her right hand a little closer to her. She rouses herself, like a statue coming to life. "You think I can drown my sorrows in that cup?" she says slowly. "That cup, nor all the wine in DARICELL's stores, could not drown them." She looks at him with terrible eyes. "He is gone." Unlike servants dismissed earlier by her screams of grief, Schuler offers no false comfort. "He was a paragon among men," he says quietly. "A shining sword." "Schuler...you know I show weakness rarely. But he was...the staff I leaned on when I could not stand. I let him see...all of me. There has never been another like that...and never will be." He says nothing, but dares a gesture more familiar than any before: he touches her shoulder for an instant. She nods a small nod. "That will be all." He bows and withdraws. The sun's memory is erased from the western sky. Hours later, a wild wind blows in from the ocean, tasting of salt and coldness. It slams open a French window leading to the courtyard garden, but Lydia makes no move to shut it out. When the maid rushes in a few minutes later, Lydia shouts curses at her over the wind, and she bolts from the room. Tapestries on the wall flap restlessly; dead leaves swirl across the wide open floor. A card is tossed on to the table by the wind, and some glimmer of recognition triggers a reflex--she slams her hand down. _Ace of Cups_, she reads, and sees the picture: a hand emerging from a cloud, holding a chalice, as a dove flies down from above with a communion wafer. She slides the edge of the card across one palm, drawing a thin line of blood. "This is my body...and this is my blood," she murmurs, as a small red stain spreads from the card's edge. "SCHULER!" she shouts suddenly. The chamberlain runs in, a cloak thrown over his nightgown. "Take this card yourself, to TRAVELER at the tavern." "My lady, it's nearly--" "Saddle your horse! NOW!" she snarls. He looks at her with fierce loyalty, and she knows his reluctance to leave is not because of the late hour, or the weather; it is because he sees a dangerous recklessness in her eyes, and would stay to guard her against herself. _And he knows this is the very reason I am sending him away...and I know he knows..._ At last she stares him down. "Thy will be done," he says, and turns to go. At the door, he looks back. "God be with you!" "Too late for that," she whispers as he closes the door. Not long after, a silhouette appears in the open window, dark against the dark. She looks up, and a glimpse of dimly glowing eyes chills her. Yet the chill is a strange narcotic, soothing and exciting at the same time. "Who are you?" she asks. "Come closer." With a flickering like a bird's wingbeat, the dark figure is at her side. It seems to be a tall, incredibly lean and pale man, with a beautiful but bony face and sensuous, ruby lips. "Who are you?" "I am the one you have been calling out to..." "No...the one I want is dead...he's gone..." "I am dead as well, but I am here, now. I can give you what no coin will buy--time enough to find whatever you've lost. I can give you...eternity." His voice is seductive, angelic. But some impulse wells up in her, resisting his unnatural charms. "No--you're not human..." "Beyond human. I smelled your blood offering on the wind--blood and body." "No--!" But he has gripped her arms now, and his hands are solid steel, and his eyes drill into her, silencing her. "You need not thank me now, or even forgive me for what I am about to do. You'll have centuries for such niceties. Time to cross over, my lost one..." He bends toward her, and she feels his cold breath on her cheek. He opens his mouth wide exposing ivory fangs. She is paralyzed as he pierces the flesh of her neck... User: TRAVELER Date: 3-Apr 06:32 PM 796933983
III.283 Death Comes To The Archbishop, Parts 1 and 2 ============================================ A figure undresses frantically in the shade of a rough-barked, wide oak. A peasant becomes an archbishop; the Archbishop's disguise has outlived its usefulness. /Ugh/, thinks the Archbishop. / 'Mobile vulgus' -- the fickle commoners -- I was among them. I was *one* of them./ He shudders, losing his balance for a moment as he removes his peasant's overshirt. He rights himself. He always has. Above, ticks scent blood and silently drop onto his neck. "I *need* a drink," he declares to himself. "But the filth at the Vagabond would have me thrown behind stone and mold, rather than see me quench my thirst." And then a plan forms in that cunning brain of his, which lies some number of inches behind his beady eyes and furrowed forehead. It's as if God has whispered into his ear, "Save them from the Fire. You still can do it." "How? You've got some nerve telling me to do the impossible!" "Be reasonable, Archie. Fight Fire with fire." -- "Fight Fire with fire." That's what God had said. The first time God spoke to the Archbishop, it had been in a similar conundrum. One difference, and one difference only, distinguished that conversation from this: The first time God spoke, the Archbishop didn't know what to expect. This time, however, the riddle was easy. Fight Fire with fire. Scratching his neck, the Archbishop pulled his peasant garb over his robes. When he got to town a while later, he went to Thomas Miller's shop. "Your Eminence!" "You're not so bad yourself." The Archbishop flashed his cruelest smirk. "Flour. A pint sack. And be sure it's fine." Thomas offered his freshest grind. "Will this do?" The holy face bleached pure white, to match. "Never! I want your oldest, man. The stale stuff, dried by the wind. And make a minute of it, not a day!" When the Archbishop had finished convincing Thomas Miller that his payment would come from God, he sought shade again. It was becoming a routine matter to change into his peasant garb and back to his glorious natural state of importance. A breeze blew through and around the wide oaks, giving a most gentle push to the hanging placard outside of the pub: "Ye Virtuous Vagabond & Comrades." The Archbishop felt the wind cross his ears, whispering obscenely: "Fight Fire with fire." He patted the pouch of flour, chuckling to himself. -- User: Sylvar Date: 4-Apr 06:35 PM 797020526
III.284 Omens and portents ================== Just after the sunset which is to be the last one LYDIA ever sees, a small crowd gathers in the Red Room of the tavern for Jack Dullblade's last rites. Cardinal XIMINEZ presides, and after the opening of the ceremony, leads the procession outside. The spot chosen for Jack's burial is north of the VVC, not too far from the stone circle (where the village idiot, RECYCLER, still lives). The fair is still going on a little further north in the meadow, but is far enough away not to interfere with the funeral. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust," the Cardinal intones. As the ritual concludes, the crowd breaks up into small groups, talking in subdued tones. "You know, this open spot here would be a wonderful place for a garden," Mother ROARK opines. "I hear they're starting to do wonderful new things with gardens in Italy these days. I could design it, and perhaps ALBATROSS would return to tend it..." TRAVELER notices a card in the grass: the Six of Cups, portraying two children amid golden cups overflowing with flowers. "I think a garden on this spot would be a wonderful idea," he agrees. "In fact, the idea is strangely familiar..." Meanwhile, GHOST has spied some cows in a pen next to one of the fair's tents. He strolls over to investigate, but a wagon rolls in front of him, blocking his path. "Get your hot, fresh food here! Fried chicken! Fresh biscuits!" shouts the driver of the wagon in a loud, yet bored voice. "Sir Guy of NORM?" Ghost says. "What's going on?" "Well, Trav and I figured this would be a good way to sell more food to the fairgoers," Norm says. "And the hay wagon I took from VENKMAN wasn't being used for anything better. We were going to call it the 'Hearty Wagon,' but I mistakenly paid some tavern riff-raff to paint the name..." He points ruefully to the side of the wagon, where large sloppy lettering reads HARDEES WAGUN. "Dang illiterate peasant font," he sighs. "Hey, it's a job," Ghost says. "True. I should be doing big business tonight--they're holding some sort of big dance, since it's the last night of the fair." "Ever get deja vu?" Ghost asks. Norm looks at him blankly. "Never mind." ECSTASY emerges from the tavern, and spies GRAHAM smoking one of her rolled-up-tobacco-leaf-thingies. "Hey, Graham...could you help me round everyone up for the wake?" "Sure, let me just finish this--" Graham takes a drag, as a tall, gaunt man gallops up on a black horse. "Where is Traveler?" the man demands. Graham and X look at each other. "I think he's inside already, but why do you ask?" the bar wench says. "Please, just give this to him." He holds out a Tarot card, and Graham takes it. Before she can say anything, the man has turned and ridden off. "Odd..." she ponders. "This card has a bloodstain on one edge..." "Hey, ladies, how many surrealists does it take to change a lightbulb?" Recycler suddenly screeches from the stone circle. Before either of them can reply, a bolt of lightning strikes from the darkening sky above, deafening the bystanders and leaving the village idiot burned to a crisp. "The...fish..." he murmurs with his last breath, and slumps to the ground. "This has DEFINITELY happened before," Ecstasy says. "But I just don't want to think about it..." User: TRAVELER Date: 4-Apr 07:06 PM 797022442
III.285 Time's winged chariot hurrying near =================================== EARLIER: On the stage in the Red Room, Orfeo is playing a lonely dirge on his flute. The only other person in the room is Mother ROARK, taking the opportunity to do some architectural sketches for the still-unfinished cathedral. "Now that that Archbishop's out of the way, maybe they'll use my designs again, and get rid of that second-rate hack who happens to be male..." John Waller opens the door from the outside, and a blast of night wind comes in with him. "Everything all right here?" "Yes, SYLVAR, now close the door--you're ruffling my blueprints." John shambles out toward the kitchen with a vaguely uneasy look. PERIGRINE has just entered that central room as well, from the stables, and is warming his hands in front of the fire. "The horses are spooked tonight," he tells AQUA22. "I rubbed them down with fine cotton towels, but they're acting like something strange is on the wind. Makes me nervous..." The stablemaster notices Sylvar standing in the corner, watching and listening silently. "What?" The herbalist shakes his head, and walks out. In the White Room, most of the patrons have gone home; only NORMZART and GHOST remain, discussing the annoyances of a day working the Hardees Wagun[tm]. ECSTASY, wiping down the wooden tabletops and collecting empty mugs, is occupied with her own thoughts. Bustling toward the bar with a full tray of mugs, she nearly collides with John. "Would you move your carcass, good sir?" she says half-jokingly. Then, noticing his expression: "What's wrong?" "A foreboding..." he says mysteriously. But she shivers. "I feel something myself. Like...our time is running out. Whatever that means." She heads off to the kitchen. John paces the boards of the White Room, mind churning, oblivious to Ghost' and Norm's conversation. The front doors blow open, and all three of them look up sharply. No one is there... but a single card flaps in on the cold breeze, to land at Sylvar's feet. He picks it up, looks at it for a long moment, then nods his head. "The fire is coming," he murmurs. "Now only one remains to be found." He turns and heads for the Blue Room. In the woods nearby, GRAHAM and TRAVELER are walking and talking, arm in arm. "Ever have a fragment of poetry stuck in your head?" he asks. "All the time. Lately, though, it's been fragments of law--`Maxim de minimis non curat lex...'" "What would you think if I told you...I've got poetry in my head that hasn't been written yet?" She looks at him and scratches her neck. "I'd probably laugh at anybody who said such a thing...except you, I think. Secretly, I believe in hearing poetry that hasn't been written yet, myself...what have you heard?" He stops walking amid the dark trees. The tavern, with its lit windows, is not far away. Gazing out, his eyes focus beyond it. "`But ever at my back I hear/Time's winge'd chariot hurrying near.../And yonder all before us lie/Deserts of vast eternity." He looks at Graham again. "That's it." "Hmm," she says simply. "Yes." She takes his arm again, and they stroll back to the tavern. They sit and talk at a table in the White Room for a while, until Traveler senses the flames about to engulf them all... User: TRAVELER Date: 12-Apr 09:00 PM 797720420
III.286 "The VVC The VVC The VVC is on fire. We don't give a damn, Let the mother...well, you know....." --Skippy Podar (age 6) User: VENKMAN Date: 13-Apr 02:36 PM 797783818
III.287 Venk: You know, you really remind me of one of those old guys who sit up in the balcony on the Muppets. ;) User: CADO...Why do we always come here? I guess I'll never know... Date: 13-Apr 05:45 PM 797795171
III.288 OK Max...we're approaching May rapidly...*NUDGE* *NUDGE* ;) User: CADO...eager to get home... Date: 19-Apr 08:35 PM 798323753
III.289 *serves up imported beer to anyone who can slip through the virtual seals, whether they are imaginary or not* User: ECSTASY Date: 19-Apr 10:26 PM 798330413
III.290 Well, I've kinda been waiting on a few co-writers... But what the hey, I'll finish it up myself real soon if nothing is forthcoming. :) User: TRAVELER Date: 21-Apr 11:15 PM 798506120
III.291 Gee. This feels like a massive board-kill. User: SYLVAR Date: 23-Apr 12:48 PM 798641301
III.292 DRAKEHART, VISION, CADO, the Orphan/Orfeo, TRAVELER, GRAHAM, SYLVAR, ECSTASY, GHOST, and everyone else are caught in a mysterious "hiccup" in time. As events swirl toward a conclusion, it seems things have been caught on a snag on the way down into the whirlpool. Hopefully time will unstick itself soon... *ahem* Jeff? Phil? User: TRAVELER Date: 26-Apr 00:03 AM 798854628
III.293 rebecca newton has come unstuck in time (soon?) User: Graham Date: 27-Apr 02:41 AM 798950476
III.294 Suddenly, the artist had a heart-attack and died... User: CADO..."Noo! Noo!" "No, no, it's *Nee*!" "...Noo! Nee!" "That's better.." Date: 28-Apr 02:08 PM 799078458
III.295 And when time unsticks itself, they are: >>Wrestling with demons ======================= In the smoky dim of The Pit, VISION and CADO are sauntering in a roundabout way toward the casino area, with its precious roulette wheel. Cado descends the steps from one side, but as Vision attempts to enter from the other side, someone blocks his path. "`Scuse me, bud," the null boxer mutters, but the obstacle doesn't move. Vision looks up, and the face he sees--round, Asian, topped with a crewcut--triggers the release of a reservoir of rage. Before he knows what he's doing, he roars and thrusts out his arms, sending the man flying away to land on the casino floor. The man stands slowly, smiling. "You haven't forgotten me, eh, Vision-san? Good..." Vision makes to run at him, but strong arms--cyber-augmented arms like his own--hold him back from either side. The check on his fury sobers him a bit; he looks and sees that the men holding him are from the mercenary team. Then it dawns on him. "You--Toshiro--with them?" "Best army in the Hexsum Transurb, my old friend, and best-paying too. They have many uses for my talents, especially in orbital situations. There's no better zero-gravity assassin than a former null boxer." Toshiro walks right up to Vision, close enough to breathe on him. "A null boxer who won the Asahi title, three years running..." Growling, Vision spits on him. "The third one was mine. MINE, and you know it! It was fixed!!" "Too late to worry about that now, isn't it? Or...so you've always thought. Actually..." Toshiro licks his lips and looks around. "At my suggestion, our team is going to delay dealing with you and your friends, while you and I get a rematch." At the mention of the others, Vision looks and sees that Cado and the Orphan are both held by mercenaries. "Unconventional, but our current employer--the owner of this establishment--recognized a profitable venture." He raises his voice. "Ladies and gents, place your bets now! The greatest fight of the century!" The denizens of The Pit, previously frozen to watch the confrontation, now scurry to the bookmakers to lay wagers. "Dammit, let me talk to him!" Cado says to the man holding him. The man shrugs and walks Cado over to Vision. "Vision, what's going on?" "This prick stole the title from me! Now he's in with these mercs. He wants a rematch? Fine, he's got one--" "What about our mission!?" Cado whispers harshly. "And Emit Flesti?" "Don't worry...it won't take me long to pound this poor fool into pulp!" Cado note a couple of the mercenaries setting up a null-field generator near the roulette table. He sighs and looks back at Vision, seeing the contortions of long-suppressed anger moving across the man's face. _We can't do anything until he works this out of his system..._ Less than a hundred meters away, Drakehart has reached the end of the long corridor and entered Osiris' CPU chamber. He stands before the semicircle of black cabinets, watching the random winkings of red diodes in their surfaces. Then, in the central emptiness, a glowing figure blinks into being: the sleek, androgynous hologram-self of the artifical intelligence. "I've been looking for you," it says. "We noticed," says Drakehart. "I've got something for you." As he speaks, three semi-transparent interface windows hover in his vision; in them appear lines of code for the barrage of assault programs he has been improvising in his head for the last few minutes. Osiris smiles, and the red lights on the cabinets flicker with wild anticipation. "The location of Emit Flesti?" "Not exactly." *PROGRAM COMPLETE* flashes in one of the windows; it shrinks to a small green cube, and moves off to join a cluster of similar cubes in Drakehart's peripheral vision. The other two programs are finished seconds later, and likewise are stored in the virtual arsenal he is preparing. "Well!?" the AI demands. "What are you doing?" "Wrapping your gifts." A single thought sends the flock of green cubes shooting off toward the huge icon on the horizon that represents Osiris. "Merry Christmas." The cubes hit the surface of the Osiris-icon and melt into it. Simulaneously, Drake sees all the red lights in the CPU room light up with the other half of his vision. The hologram appears to be having a seizure, and the whole image flickers and screams. _Any picosecond now, the counterpunch..._ He braces himself, but is unprepared, as he knew he would be, when a million daggers of stinging cold slam into his mind through its electronic orifices... User: TRAVELER Date: 29-Apr 10:56 PM 799196261
III.296 >>War in heaven =============== In the casino pit, a meter-high black box with a concave silver dish on top has been set up near the roulette table. Thick cables trail away from it to unknown power sources; mercenary techs make the final adjustments, as the customers of The Pit crowd around on all sides of the casino area to watch the imminent duel. CADO has given up pleading with VISION. "If you have to do this...do the best you can. Give it all you've got." Vision nods, but doesn't look up from where he is doing stretches and crunches on the dirty carpeting. An oily man in a flashy suit hovers nearby. "As the manager on duty, I must say I'm quite pleased that a talent of your stature, Mr. Vision, is competing today in our establishment..." "Don't have much of a choice, do I?" the null boxer grunts from the floor. A loud VUMmm pulses through the air of The Pit, along with a wave of tingling ionization, as the null-field generator comes on line. The faint outlines of a regulation 24-meter-diameter sphere flicker above the generator box. An underling approaches the manager; Cado catches a whisper about "trouble" and "the owner," before the two men rush off. The crowd presses forward around the central circle; the Orphan watches from just behind the velvet ropes. Vision stands and moves toward the energy sphere. "Don't know what advice I can give you--I'm no boxing coach," Cado says. Vision turns to him. "That's okay...just sit tight. When I come out of this, we'll have to move fast. Listen for Drake's signal." They clasp hands. On the other side of the sphere, Toshiro stands facing Vision, a confident sneer on his face. Vision smiles and cheerfully flashes him the finger, before Cado laces on his gloves. A referee in time-honored black and white stripes directs two assistants, who wheel stepladders to opposite sides of the spherical null-field. Toshiro and Vision mount the lowest rungs of their ladders. A tech crouching at the generator hits a key, and two circular openings dilate in the sphere just above the stepladders. The crowd babbles excitedly. The referee blows one short burst on his whistle, and the combatants mount so that their heads are inside the sphere. "Gives 'em a moment to adjust to the zero grav," someone near Cado mutters to a neighbor. Two short bursts on the whistle: Vision and Toshiro brace themselves, like sprinters before the starting gun. The ref squeezes a button, and a bell clangs. The boxers launch themselves into weightlessness as the crowd roars. Caroming off the sphere's surface across from his entry point--which has now been closed, along with Toshiro's--Vision flings out arms and legs, stopping his spin, and shifts into a starting defensive posture. Toshiro, meanwhile, has turned so that his first bounce is feet-first, and has ricocheted back to near his entry point. His second bounce sends him just past Vision, who has seen him coming and moved out of his way. Each boxer makes one more collision with the sphere, and this time they meet in the center. A volley of blows is exchanged--human fists backed by hydraulic arms. Droplets of blood and spittle float in the null-field; both men drift away from the encounter, winded but bracing for more. Cado, now at the edge of the ring, turns to the Orphan, still on the other side of the ropes. "This is gonna be brutal," the bouncer says... User: TRAVELER Date: 30-Apr 10:29 PM 799281095
III.297 His nerves are throbbing as if pumping blood. DRAKEHART is kneeling in the chamber of Osiris, eyes closed, ears bleeding. The hologram has flickered away and the LED display is erratic, pinwheeling and flickering. Within the chamber, which is nearly silent, is overlaid a virtual realm. And if you could see it.... A great Egyptian God, Anubis, is wielding a faintly glowing sword. Drakehart is crafting a shield out of thin air. "You have found Emit Flesti. Where is it?" The God's voice is sibilant and heavy, like dark beetles. "Fuck off," Drakehart says. "Oh wait, you can't, can you?" The God laughs, for a second. It points the sword at Drakehart "Why do you tinker? Anything you create within me bounds, I can destroy." "Oh." Drakehart stops, looks at the shield. It resembles a disk like a frisbee, with concentric rings that glow brightly. "So I suppose that you--" he flings the disk in mid-sentence, and it flares like a comet, directed by Drakeharts mind. It smashes into Anubis, who screams as he de-rezzes. *I am hardly that easy to disable*, Osiris resonates within Drakeharts mind. "That was a very small part of my security system. And it's on backup." Drakehart nods. "Oh, don't worry. I know I can't destroy you. You have half the net as a firewall." He smiles. "But I don't need to destroy you." He can sense the tension. "You can do a lot, wiseguy, but you can't read my mind." With a snap of will, pre-arranged processes activate. A flitter of daemons appear around Drakehart and then scatter. And the virtual landscape is suddenly a screaming mess as hundreds of input streams are brought in. ...a flaming cube spinning out of control... 327 digital channels of infomercials, each with a different product ...a virus research lab in orbit sounds alerts as the electronic lifeforms pump their way into the net... "SURPRISE! YOU'RE DEAD!!! AHAHAHAHAHAAHA!!! IT NEVER ENDS!" 32 megabytes of uncompressed fractal chaos... And so on. And Osiris becomes quite pre-occupied. As does the crowd in The Pit. Which is probably why they don't notice the Aliens on the roof. User: Up and at 'em Date: 4-May 11:29 AM 799587019
III.298 Hydraulic Press =================================================================== The two null boxers fly back toward each other. Vision make a clumsy strike at Toshira which he easily avoids, but his counter never strikes as Vision's clumsy blow turns into a locking block. Toshira's shoulder begins to smoke as the two null boxers contest the hold with the strength of their cybernetic limbs. "Easy to beat a guy on TDSA isn't it Toshira?" Toshira erupts with a flurry of elbow strikes knocking Vision and a splatter of blood across the sphere. Cado turns to the man next to him asking, "What's TDSA?" "It's a ultra depressant and muscle relaxant. Often used by the clients of the Ladies of the Evening. The thing is, this drug is so strong, sometimes it can get past toxin binders." Cado turns to see Vision has quickly recovered and the two nullboxers exchange a flurry of blowsto quick to be seen, but the explosions of blood are easy to see. Toshira comes away with a deep gash on his neck and face and Vision crumples off the wall rather limp. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! With a flurry of blows, seen on our slow motion camera, Toshira stuns Vision with a blow to the Temple. He now moves in for the kill." Most of the crowd chants for the kill. A few, Cado amoung them, shout for Vision to get up. Toshira bounces off the wall to strike Vision, hands first, but legs coiled to strike second. Oddly the slump Vision 'floats' out of the way of his hands. Suprisingly, Vision strikes with a rapid hand and foot series of combinations. The crowd gasps in awe as his speed overcomes inertia to rend metal and flesh apart at Toshira's elbow. The participants pause on opposite sides after parting. Vision smiles. Toshira tears the remains of his disabled forearm from his arm. Toshira smiles as the two close. Toshira rolls into a ball as he dodges strikes the wall and returns to Vision feet first. Vision counters classically with a roll but attacks leading with fists. Like many other time numerous blows are exchange, blood bursts into the air. Unlike many matches sparks fly and one of Toshira's kicks erupts into a blast. Vision takes the full brunt of the blast and the sphere holds in the remnants. As Vision withdraws a series of needles fire from Toshira's left wrist. "Some TDSA for you Vision." Toshira begins to smile. The crowd exclaims complaints of cheating and foul play, but in this city there is no such thing. Many more bets are made as to how many blasts may occur or how many Vision can take or if the toxin binders will work. Cado is not caught up in this chaos. He stands watching the match and for Drakehart's sign. Vision returns to attack, but his side looks like a tank, blown open by dynamite. His sight blurs and clears, and his reflexes slow. Toshira closes and strikes many times, his blows go unanswered. Sereval more fists, feet, elbows hit him, then another blast. Toshira is becoming more elusive. Vision flashes back to the match which dehumanized him. The blood. The drugs. The microblasts. Bones breaking. The glint of metal. The glint of metal? He was cybernetic in that match. A rage erupts in Vision, more endorphins, more toxin binders, more speed enhancers begin pumping thru him. Vision strikes, but not to damage, to hold. Toshira is caught by a leg. Vision strikes, squeezes, pulls, rips, tears and rends the leg apart. The sounds of rapidly moving hydraulic limbs deafen the observers. When nothing is left to hold he grasps another limb. Another leg. A savage attack leaves Toshira retreating in pain. The sphere is obstructed with debris. Blood. Metal. Both null boxers gasp for breath. Vision has sustained severe wounds to the ribs, head, left arm and back. The metal protrudes out like pieces of shrapnel. Toshira tries to leave the sphere. His body guard fires a burst of rounds at Vision, bouncing him off the back wall. The bodyguard is hit by several rounds and drops to the ground. "Let them finish it." says Cado as he commands the door to the sphere be closed. Vision looks at him and smiles, "Thanx." At that moment Toshira bounces at him. Vision rips and tears at Toshiras torso and head. The scene is quick and violent. Even a few turn their head away. But when they look back, Vision stands amid the floating garbage. Vision looks at the tech. The tech immediately opens his door, lets him out and turns off the sphere. Vision limps toward Cado, "They won't be hiring him anymore." "So, can you continue?" Cado wonders when he looks at the mass of shredded metal. Vision smiles, "Don't worry about me. I can carry my own weight. I do wonder what's taking Drakehart so long." User: Cybervision Date: 17-May 12:47 PM 800714855
III.299 >> Eurydice =========== DRAKEHART's distraction programs are feeding their umpteen channels of chaos right into Osiris, blinding and deafening it with information. The AI is feebly attempting to turn off the feeds, but Drake has coded the access to the cutoff command. As fast as Osiris attempts to decrypt, he changes the algorithms; thus he only need use a relatively small portion of his brain to keep Osiris snowed under. Keeping half an eye on the algorithm-shifting program running in a corner of his simulated retinal display, Drakehart backs toward the door of the CPU chamber. There is just a bit of wooziness from Osiris' earlier mental attack on him, but he feels perfectly able to negotiate the corridor back to The Pit. At the door, he stops and opens a comm channel to CADO and VISION. "Ok, guys, Osiris is taken care of...I'm on my way. Make your move for Emit Flesti." Cado's voice comes back amid the roar of a crowd. "We can't do it! The mercs moved on us--" "You're prisoners?" "Yes and no--one of the mercs was Vision's old opponent, the one who he says stole the null-boxing title from him. You won't believe this--they set up a zero-g field bubble, and went at it!" "Shit." Drakehart chews his lip. "Well...who won?" There is a long pause. "Let's put it this way...Vision is still alive." More quietly, "But I think he's more hurt than he lets on. Plus, I don't know where the Orphan's slipped off to. And the other mercs are still here. They're kind of confused now that their leader is gone, but..." "I'll try to figure out a--" Drakehart senses the channel close abruptly. "Huh?" Momentarily there is an unmodulated sine-wave tone, crackling slightly. Then a flash and a quick blast of noise, leaving him stunned, ears ringing. _Osiris managed to send something through the intereference...no big deal, I can handle..._ The thought is interrupted by what's he's glimpsed back in the center of the room. He turns, vision, hearing and balance still blurred by the attack. He commands his retinal enhancers to upgrade the image, but there's only so much they can do when the lenses of his eyes won't focus. Still, the figure on the floor is familiar...he steps closer... Lying in the semicircle of the CPU cabinets is the unmistakable figure of DELIRIUM. He bends toward her, but is knocked back by an electric charge. A grating, primitive synthesized voice speaks, as if with great difficulty. "She...is...my...prisoner. Obey...me...and she...will...live." "Hell of a trump card, Osiris," Drake whispers angrily. "Disobey...me...and she...dies. That...simple." Drakehart squints at the woman on the floor. "What do you want?" "First...turn off...the jamming." "I...can't do that. If I let you up for air, you'll kill me and my friends post-haste." "You have...my...word. And...if you...don't...I kill her...now!" "No," Drakehart says faintly, involuntarily. "No, no, no..." The door to the chamber slides open. The Orphan steps into the gloom. User: TRAVELER Date: 25-May 02:14 AM 801368089
III.300 This post is a bit long... But it'll be my last from my account to my board...so you must forgive me. :) The World ========= Heat Light Roaring noise And time seems frozen... ...but TRAVELER coughs, sucking in ragged gasps of smoky air, and regains his senses. He is lying on the floor of the front room of the Virtuous Vagabond and Comrades tavern, surrounded by walls of flame. He sits up dizzily. No one else is visible. _But I'd better get out of here now..._ He picks a direction and starts crawling. Something ticks and cracks above him. _Gads, the ceiling beams are giving way!_ He crawls faster. Rushing, he knocks his head into the leg of a table and yelps in pain. While gingerly touching his bump, he hears a faint cry over the fire's noise. "Wh-Over here! Hey! Hallo! Help!" "...can barely hear you!" comes GRAHAM's voice. "I'm over here! By...a table!" He searches for something more intelligent to say, but then figures volume is more important. "Hey! I'm down on the floor! Over here!" He sees a dark shadow lurch through the smoke nearby. "Hey, I see you!" It turns out to be ECSTASY. She is heading toward him when something goes CRUNNNNCH-WHOOOFFFFFF. It isn't till partly through the WHOOOFFFFFF that he realizes it's a beam almost directly above him. He dives forward, but the flaming beam slams into his lower back, knocking him down. X tosses out her whip, and he grabs on, wincing. "PULL, dammit!" she screams. "I'm trying...but...I...can't feel my legs..." Now Graham appears, and PERIGRINE, and with Ecstasy they kick the burning beam away. Graham throws her cloak over the smoldering back of Trav's shirt. "Are you burned?" she asks. "Can't feel..." the innkeeper murmurs. "We've got to move him, but carefully!" Perigrine says. He steps off into the blaze and comes back instantly with a plank of some kind, singed at the edges but not burning now. They manuever Traveler on to it, stomach down, and carry him out in a crouching run. Jostled, he feels a sudden starburst of agony, and passes out. Then he is somewhere else, not much different, except that the fire is a little further away, and there are voices here. He opens his eyes--it's the kitchen, and nearby stand his rescuers, along with SYLVAR, AQUA22, GHOST, Orfeo, and a few others. Jon Waller notices his open eyes, and comes over. "Any hope of rescue?" Trav says hoarsely. "You wouldn't know, of course." "I wouldn't...but we're deep inside the building. Everything else is blazing now--no way in or out." "Jon...I'm hurt, badly." "I see that...your back was smashed awful bad, so they tell me, but you were amid the flames long enough to get some blistering on your face and arms and chest as well. If I could mix up one of my poultices..." "If I could have gotten us out of here! Now we're all dying in my tavern." His eyes go out of focus for a second. "Jon, one thing I wish I could have saved from the fire..." "These?" The herbalist produces the Tarot deck from a large pocket. He smiles, very, very faintly. "Read my mind." Trav laughs weakly, then stops smiling. "You've been working with those cards. They're...linked to what befalls us. Can you do something...anything...now?" Jon closes his eyes for a long moment. "Perhaps," he whispers. He turns and goes to the broad, rough table at the center of the room. Graham comes over to Trav, takes his hand, but says nothing. Jon begins shuffling the cards with eyes closed; everyone else falls silent, watching. Nothing is heard but the riffle of the cards and the growling flames, far off but getting nearer. Sylvar finishes shuffling and pauses. After a slow deep breath, he opens his eyes and begins laying the cards deliberately, in a roughly circular pattern. Trav turns his head with difficulty from the countertop where he lies, and notes that the shuffled cards have somehow ended up in the order in which they were discovered. _First the High Priestess..._ The dealer speaks in a low voice. "Forget everything outside this room. Things are falling apart, but we must hold together. Our world is in our minds here...and it is only as strong as we believe it to be. Concentrate with me on these cards, on their pattern, and forget everything else." Graham turns toward Traveler. "Is the tavern coming to its end?" "This form is...passing away. But I have hope for the future...The future is our only hope, in fact." "Maybe ages hence, we'll meet again here," she says. "Names may be different, but we'll all be there." "We'll raise a glass to the past...and then look foward. Our words will go on." He coughs. "And ever at my back I hear/Time's winged chariot hurrying near..." Jon lays the last card down--the image of a burning tower--with a quiet flick. Perigrine wipes the sweat off his brow, and asks, "Is that all?" "Yes...no. I mean...there's one missing!" "What?" Ecstasy says. "Why hasn't it shown up?" "It should be here...but without it, the deck is incomplete, and..." Jon throws up his hands. "I can't do anything." There is a muffled thump: something heavy has fallen against one of the doors. "Seems our world is shrinking..." "That's the one, isn't it?" Trav says. A coughing fit leaves him almost breathless. "The...World," he whispers. "I do hope it shows up...because... I'm not much longer for _this_ world, or any other..." A spark of blue light blazes into existence above the center of the table, and broadens to a ring. A ghostly hand reaches through, holding a very real card. Then the hand is withdrawn, the light vanishes, and the card falls to the table with a static spark. Sylvar snatches it up and lays it in the center of the spiral of cards, completing the pattern. Another fit of coughing racks Traveler, and several people hold him to keep him from falling off the counter top. He stops coughing after a frightening few moments, but is barely breathing. "The end..." he breathes. "But the moment...has been...prepared for..." His eyelids flutter shut, and the rising and falling of his chest slows, and stills. One wall of the kitchen bursts in, and jets of fire blast from beyond it. The ceiling starts to collapse. The cards on the table are dancing and swirling in the air, but not from the heat. They seem to form the center of a vortex, which widens and widens till all the occupants of the room fall into its dark light. And then the rest of the walls and ceiling cave in. The Virtuous Vagabond and Comrades tavern implodes with a huge concussion, and its remains burn on for many hours, into the next dawn. At last the fire is doused. There are only blackened ruins. By order of the Duke, they are pulled down. Lady LYDIA being mysteriously dead or vanished, he breaks up her estate, donating this plot of land to the Church. The next year, a small sanctuary is built on the site, dedicated to St. Christopher, patron saint of all travelers. Centuries pass. But memories linger... Yours Truly, User: TRAVELER Date: 31-May 11:04 PM 801961513