The Guardian ponders the current state of affairs. “These are grave times we live in. They are on the attack and we have been weakened at one of the major access points. …
He moves fitfully around the room.

Yes, yes, I know, I must choose soon or it will not matter. But the world of humans is fraught with as many possibilities for evil. They are so complex a creature. How do I choose just one?

What? … Hummm, you have a point. Where one has failed, many will succeed. A team, combined to be one, the recipe for success.
There, it is done! They must be worthy or they will be worthless. 

Seven will be gathered together, from places far and wide. To be combined into a team, and if we are lucky we may just survive. This is their story, and our hope for all mankind. We begin with The Gathering. These individuals must be brought together. And together they will become one, the one hope to stem the tide of evil from spreading.

"BEEP - BEEP - BEE..."

Still in bed, Johnny B. reached out and muted the clock with a firm punch. His head was aching like mad and his breath could probably kill off an average sized elephant. Last night had been rather rough, to say the least. It's a popular rumour that doctors can't party to save their lives, but free access to techincal spirit could turn John Kerry into a festive guy.

 Bloody hell, his head hurt. Four hours of sleep didn't really break it, but he guessed he could catch up some on the train. The graduation party was all done with, time to move on from college.

 Standing in his boxers in the more or less empty room, he suddenly realized he was short on time. He swallowed down some aspirin with a glass of water, feeling the god-awful taste of yesterday's tequila in his throat.

 "Damn, I look like a mess," he thought, critically viewing his image in the mirror. Quick shower, on with a rather smashing purple shirt and those cruelly tight leather pants. He tried to pack the most important stuff while munching down a chunk of bread.

 "This is a really important day for you, Johnny," his mother said cheerfully. He had always thought there was something absurd about people smiling in the morning. "You know, moving to LA and everything."

"Yeah, I'm so excited..." he replied sardonically.  LA, yes. Going to study medicine. He had no idea why he was doing it really, but he had to do something he guessed. "I'm kinda in a hurry...you seen my cell?"

 Half an hour later, he was entering the interstate train to California. "Yeah, bye mom...just call me if there is something, okay? Greet dad from me." He noticed her expression growing slightly sterner at that mention, but yeah, that was all behind him now. New place and new life in front of him. He found his seat - of course, he was sitting next to some annoying woman, the slightly overweight, talkative kind. Her tiny dog kept yipping all the time, and some kids were being obnoxiously loud. He sighed, gave the bloody woman an annoyed look, put on his wide-brimmed head and napped off.


 "Chaos." That was all he could think when he was woken aburptly by having been catapulted into the seat in front of him. A loud siren was signalling something - not that anybody had any idea what it meant. The cart moved violently, threatning to send him off balance. "My father's a bloody lawyer.." he thought annoyed, taking hold of the back of a seat. The sound of brakes screeched, and suddenly he felt like he was flying. The noise of steel wheels polishing the tracks were gone. A brief moment later, the massive vehicle was sent crashing sideways into the ground, sending Johnny B. and his fellow passengers sprawling across the cabin. His head struck a window, amplifying the god-damned headache. Black dots were dancing across his vision.

 "Isn't that our guy?" some guy in a black suit commented, indicating Johnny. He was still seated.

 "Yeah. Couldn't just have accepted our invitation, could he?"

 - Fade to black
This message was last edited by the player at 03:03, Mon 19 July 2004.

Inhale... Hold... Exhale... Iain's black T-shirt stretched as his body smoothly shifted through the various positions of the Kata. Slowly, without hurry, he executed the various moves, stopping briefly in each position... His pants, also black, were comfortable enough to allow him freedom of movement without giving up style.

Inhale... Hold... Training had always relaxed him, since he was... Five? Six?

Exhale... Breathing was the thing that had given him most problems... Of course, now that he didn't need to breathe anymore, it had become somewhat easier. He stopped in an offensive position.

Balance is the most important thing. If you don't achieve balance, you will accomplish nothing. Aiko's voice was clear in his mind just as if she was talking to him right now.

Your body and your soul must be one. Without that harmony you will never find your balance. When she executed a kata, it was like she was dancing, or flying. He recalled an image of her to his mind, clear as a picture.

Keep your mind open to the beauty of the world, and help others to see it. Walk on the path of light, and your journey will be safe. That was his step-mother: thin as a blade of grass, sharp as a razor edge...

Iain re-executed the kata, once, at full speed, stopping in the final position. Balance, harmony, clarity.

He looked at the two kanji tattooed on his wrists: Balance and Harmony. Then he raised a hand to touch the back of his neck...

Clarity: he wished he had some.

He sighed and picked up his favorite pair of swords from the nearby table: a katana and a wakizashi, an authentic 17th century daisho, probably his most treasured possessions. He didn't pull them out of their sheaths (Never draw a weapon unless you intend to use it.), but started an armed kata.

It was then that the earth started trembling under his feet.

Ah, California... I really should leave here: I mean, why would I stay in the one big chunk of the planet that's going to fall into the ocean? For the sun? He thought ironically.

The tremor increased. Uh-oh... This looks like it's going to be a big one.

He picked up his black - of course - leather jacket and his wallet, and quickly went upstairs: sure, even if the building had collapsed - and that was most unlikely - he would have survived... Still, being buried under a few tons of concrete is going to ruin your weekend plans.

He opened the door and hesitated: it was morning, so there was a lot of shadow around... Still, it wasn't exactly the safest time of the day for a vampire.

A thunder behind him prompted him to turn: What the...

Before he could complete the thought, a crack appeared in the air, a blinding light filtering through it. He instinctively raised his hand to cover his eyes as the room is filled by the light...

- Fade from white screen to a wide shot of the empty room, and... Fade to black.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:37, Wed 14 July 2004.

Raven shifted the pack on her back as she followed Dren through the passage. She was more tired then she’d ever admit but, if Dren didn’t need a break then she’d be damned before she’d need one. The ancient temple the two of them were trekking through was buried by Egyptian Sages centuries ago. The passage came to a large room with a doorway that was blocked by fallen rock and other debris. Dren slipped off his pack and readjusted the guns strapped to his ribcage while looking around the dark room, "Look's like we beat Draghun 'ere. That's good for us, and bad for 'im." The Irishman smiled back at Raven and found some humor in her tough girl act. He would have offered to help if she wouldn't bark that she could do it herself, so he just slipped the large flashlight from his belt and found the caved in area ahead.

“Draghun is a half-wit who wouldn’t be able to spot the moon in the sky without someone else showing him the way,” Raven said. “I’m sick and tired of him riding our coat-tails.”

"Agreed, all tha' rich Englishman's got is a team of mercs and a bigger bank roll, we're th' ones doin' all th'work. 'E is nothin' more than a thug tryin' to take wha's rightfully ours!"

As Dren cleared away the debris from the area Raven suggested he suddenly discovered several strange markings over what looked like the start of an archway, not being the abstract art type of person he set the rock he was holding down and grabbed Raven's attention.

"I think, I foun' an Egyptian Comic Strip!" he said jokingly as she studdied the markings.

“They tell the story of the battles of Anubis,” Raven said.

"Hmmm, so really t'is an Egyptian comic, eh?"

Raven removed her right glove and gently ran her bare hand over the runes. She carefully traced the markings with her fingers. She didn’t want to risk damaging them but she also needed to make sure that she correctly identified each symbol. It was a technique Dren had seen, literally, a thousand times, but each time she did it, he got chills. “This is it,” she said. “The Orb of Anubis should be behind this door.”

"Sooo close!" Dren, renewed with excitement, began clearing more rocks away to try and reveal the full archway, as he did so Raven returned to her pack. A few rocks later Dren felt the need to fill the dead air with conversation, "So, tell me 'bout th'Orb again?"

“According to legend, they were trying to hide the Orb of Anubis from a group who wanted to use it to summon their dead king. The Sages must’ve succeeded in stopping them because the temple has been lost to time for hundreds of years.” Raven put her glove back on then took her pack off and set it on a large, flat rock that was about the height of a coffee table. “In fact, for the longest time, the orb was believed to just be a myth – like the lost city of Atlantis, Excalibur or the Helm of Hermes. But you and I know for a fact that the Helm exists. I’m using the money we got for that to finish paying for my house.”

"I'm investing m'money." Dren said confidently

“Which means you just made your bookie a richer man.” Raven’s disapproving tone was hard to miss.

"'ay! I still consider tha' a charitable donation!" Dren would have laughed had he not been holding a 60lb. rock at the time.

Raven pulled a big, dusty book out of her pack along with a couple of scroll cases and a notebook. “I’m pretty sure I’m getting close to locating Excalibur. I’m still missing some pieces to that puzzle but, I’m sure, given time I’ll be able to find that as well.” She pushed her Akubra hat off and let it rest against her back, hanging from the chin strap going across her neck. “Anyway, the orb is supposed to be able to give life to that which once was but, now has none. Some scholars think it’s a resurrection kind of thing. Others think we might be talkin’ about Zombies. Raven glanced at Dren who'd stopped working and was just watching her. “What?”

"All tha t'was most informative, but I was just wondering 'ow much this 'ere gem was nettin' us!"

“Oh.” Raven shrugged, “Eighty, maybe even a hundred-thousand. Enough for you to get that sports car you’ve been eyeing.”

“Ye know I love it w'en y'talk like that!” Dren smiled playfully.

“If that’s how you want to waste your money,” Raven muttered to herself as she sat on the floor next to her low “table” and began flipping through the book. Dren looked visibly hurt as he finished clearing the archway and then directed his attention to setting up metal bowls that were laying around as light sources for Raven. Filling them with lamp oil and using makeshift wicks he lit them using his silver Zippo. Once that was done he found a spot to sit and relax a bit.

Raven, having found the page in the book that she wanted, pulled the scrolls out of their cases and unrolled them. She put the two pieces of parchment together, one on top of the other, and then held them up so that the light would shine through both pages. The writings on the second scroll shone through to combine with the markings of the first parchment. When the text of both scrolls were combined in this way, it was clear that they formed the same symbols that were on the archway of the door. Raven compared the scrolls with the pages in the book. “Give me a moment to figure out the correct order,” she said, as she opened her notebook. “The right combination opens the path to Anubis, while the wrong one opens 1 of a 1000 deaths!”

"Dinna these Egyptians think 1 death'd be enough?"

“Apparently, the Egyptians are very thorough when it comes to the whole death thing,” she replied.

Raven would look from the scrolls to the tome, scribble something in her notebook, and then look at the scrolls again to repeat this process several times. Dren, growing impatient, began moving more rocks to try and work off the nervous energy. Finally, she called to Dren, “Ok, I think I’ve got it! Are you ready?” He simply nodded.

Raven called out a series of runes for Dren to push. As he pressed each rune, the brick it was carved on would slide in a few inches and remain recessed in the wall. As he moved the last rune into place, they heard a click. Then all the recessed runes slid forward, returning to their original positions. Suddenly, a wall slid down blocking their exit. The ceiling opened up and water from all four sides of the temple began filling the chamber.

"Somethin' tells me we got 999 more deaths to go."

Raven didn’t even look at the wall that had sealed their fate or the water that was now rushing in. She simply looked at the still closed door and sighed, “No open, says me.”

Dren shrugged, "Dinna know there was a chant too." Then he started to use the large and flatter rock to build a makeshift wall around Raven while she returned to her notes, completely ignoring the water that was pooling around where she sat, soaking her boots and khaki pants.

“Not sunrise to sunset,” Raven said to herself. “But, sunset to sunrise!”

"I'd be 'appy seeing either one right 'bout now." The makeshift damn was clearly pointless by now as the water was coming too fast, Dren instead threw on his pack and started to put everything back in Raven’s, "Pigeon, we need an escape plan! We found it once, we can find it again!" but it was obvious she wasn't listening. Raven was focused on her work, the task at hand, and he dared not pull the books from under her even as one of the lights was snuffed out forcing her to use her, now wet, mini-flashlight. Though the situation was dire, deep down he still trusted her and he could give her until the very last second.

“No! I can do this. Just give me a couple of minutes.”

"Minutes?" Dren didn't think she had more than seconds. In an attempt to buy her time he started throwing rocks toward the two closest waterfalls in an effort to build up makeshift wells. Realizing this was actually slowing the water he doubled his efforts even as the water crashed down over him with the force of a fire hose.

Meanwhile, Raven was flipping pages in the book when something caught her attention. She turned back to a page she had just passed and looked closer at it. Then she turned the book and looked sideways at the text. “Hmm,” she said. “Missed that before.”

“Whatever you do,” Raven yelled to Dren, “don't touch the Rune of Set.”

Dren, now trying to get out from under a waterfall responded, “The W'at?”

Raven yelled even louder, “The Rune of Set!”

“Ok, I pressed it,” Dren answered, now standing by the archway. “Now w'at?!”

From nowhere a wind started to pick up. Dren looked around for any sign of an opening or crack in the structure, but nothing told him where the wind was coming from. Raven closed her book, risking damage to the scrolls still within, but with the threat of loosing them in the wind and with the water now blowing off the floor around her - she would take the risk if it meant saving what she could. Dren pressed on the door and found it wouldn't even give before pulling the leatherman tool from his belt and trying to force the Rune of Set back out... it was worth a try.

Raven clutched the book tightly against her chest as small pieces of debris were being tossed about the chamber. She watched as the wind began to swirl in front of her, spiraling into a circle that was growing darker and wider. “Dren!” she called. “DREN!”

"W'at now!?"

Turning to find out what Raven was yelling about he saw it, floating about half way in the air was... a hole. It looked like the eye of a tornado as it literally pulled the light, water, air and even reality into its dark center. Dren was next to Raven in two steps when he realized why she hadn't moved as far from the vortex as she could. The pull from the center was threatening to take both of them off their feet, and it was getting stronger by the second. Dren barely caught Raven's pack as it flew upward and past them. He forced them against a statue and locked his arm around it keeping Raven between the statue and himself, and himself between the vortex and Raven. But the pull was getting stronger and his grip was slipping, even his pack was now working against him and his feet were starting to slide. It was as if gravity itself was now turning inward and their options were running out fast. "Don' let go, Pigeon," he called to her. Then slipping his arms from around the statue, he wrapped them around Raven and the two were yanked up into the darkness... to Dren, it kind of felt like skydiving... then all light was gone.

The warm glow of sunset filtered though the windows of the warehouse, illuminating the aged, rusting machinery that filled the factory floor.  More importantly, it revealed the footprints tracking through the thick dust that covered the bare concrete.  A door on the far wall creaked open, the screech from reluctant hinges cutting through the thick air like a knife.

A young woman cautiously looked though the doorway, a grimace on her otherwise pretty face.  Her eyes darted over the contents of the abandoned building, alert for signs of movement, or indeed anything that could be suspicious.  A few heartbeats later and she stepped forward, sunlight glinting off the elegant sword she gripped in her right hand.

Reminiscent of a predator stalking its prey, she moved across the room, her gait slow but certain as she followed the footprints.  She paused as the tracks led her to a ladder and looked up to see where its rickety rungs would lead.  A frown creased her brow as she stared at the walkway above her head, unsure as to whether it would support her weight.

You know what they say, Alex.  Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Adjusting the sports bag slung over her shoulder, she took a breath and began to climb the ladder.  A grin spread over her face as she clambered up, her confidence growing with every rung.  She hauled herself up onto the walkway, the grin vanishing from her face when she heard the ominous creak of straining metal.

Alex glanced over to the boarded windows, her mood souring further as she stood watching the last rays of the sun disappear from the sky.  This was going from bad to worse.  Her skin started to prickle with sweat and she stepped forward, wanting this done with as soon as possible.

The gantry groaned with every delicate step she took, and by the time Alex had reached the firmer footing of the concrete floor that supported the second story offices, beads of sweat were running freely from her forehead.  A brief sigh of relief escaped her lips and she wiped her brow with the back of her hand, tightening her grip on the sword.

Carefully, she reached forward and pushed open one of the office doors, thankful for cooling waft of air that played across her nape.  Alex narrowed her eyes, scanning the gloomy room for occupants.  Nothing.  Her heart began to pound as she moved onto the next door, turning into the gentle breeze.  She shifted stance, and nudged the second door open, bringing her sword up to block the inevitable strike.

Again, the room was empty.  Now she was sure that her heartbeat was loud enough to be heard in the still warehouse.  There was only one door left, and now Alex moved towards it on tenterhooks, the hairs on the back of her neck rising.  She paused, lifting her leg to kick the door open.

Hang on a second…  Where the hell is that breeze coming from?

As if in answer to her question, the draught picked up and caused the few strands of loose hair surrounding her face to dance about wildly.

“Foolish child.”

Alex span on the spot, gripping her sword with both hands as she tried to locate the speaker.  The breeze was turning into a veritable gale and the settled dust was now lifting into the air, stinging her eyes.

“Did you really think you could stop me?”

She was having trouble breathing now, the dust choking her lungs.  Her eyes were streaming in defence against the wind-borne dust, and suddenly Alex realised she was having trouble maintaining her footing in the gale.  She turned, and was horrified to see the source of the tempest; it looked as though reality itself had been torn, and in a futile attempt to seal itself, was sucking everything that wasn’t bolted to the ground in.

Including me.  The thought hit her like a ten-ton bus.

Panic ripped through Alex, her sword clattering noisily to the ground as she abandoned all thoughts of hunting, survival now the only thing on her mind.  Even as she leapt for the railing, she could feel her body lifting from the floor, pulled by the fearsome strength of the wind.  Blindly grasping for purchase, her fingers closed around the cool steel tube of the safety rail.

Her relief was short-lived, both the increasing strength of the vortex and her own sweaty palms loosening her grip.  Tears of frustration and fear now mixed with those brought on by the dust, and Alex was pulled off the rail and into the vortex, screaming.

The Naga roared exultantly as it dangled the young Witch Slayer by her throat forty stories above the bustling Nippon streets. A titanic thunderstorm crashed around her, splitting the night as she hung aloft in the demon’s grasp, helpless as a lightning rod. It laughed at her, pitiless, waiting until a million volts of static energy finally satisfied its inhuman lust, discharging its quick-slow agony into her body, cooking her from the inside out…

Pieran woke with a start. Practice stopped him from shouting, betraying his concealment. Not his throbbing joints or burning lungs, not the ravenous mosquitoes, nor the murky bayou’s choking humidity, or again, the oily sweat rolling down his upper body diverted him. Yet against the nightmares he was powerless.

He forced the memory from his mind, stealing a glance at his watch. It was late and time was short. If he wasn’t alert, an innocent would die. The squatters were gathered at their makeshift campsite, naked save for snakeskin loin cloths and garish tattoos. Pieran had been waiting all day for their arrival. By the time he was awake, the ritual was already under way. Savage cannibals all, these mindless idiots were the last of Pier’s concern. He watched as they scattered the entrails of some hapless victim around the camp; part of the ritual for summoning that old life Gaoloth, a foul, Elder demon from the stygian planes. A dozen cultists danced, singing a hideous chant while pipers squealed eerie ululations on their goat-horn pipes. A young girl, kidnapped and robed in white, hung limp and semi-conscious from a grotesque totem carved with lurid faces and crowned with a demon’s skull. She moaned faintly as a High Priest bathed her in blackened animal blood.

The normally yellow firelight quickly became blue. The flames grew high and tall until they settled into a cylinder that rose beyond the tallest trees, beyond even the charcoal clouds veiling the night sky. A gate was opening. It’s what Pieran had come for. Not the girl. Not the cultists. Not even Gaoloth, who though an enemy, was not Pieran’s enemy. Not this night. Besides, he couldn’t kill that demon there, anyway. He needed the gate.

He dropped lightly to the ground and withdrew his bow, hidden in the thick buttonbush at the base of the hawthorn tree that had been his hiding perch. The cicadas, crickets, and whippoorwills had grown deathly quiet at the approach of the capering abhorrence. Even the fireflies stopped flashing. The swamp became little more than oppressive humidity, a magical gate, and the cultists’ hideous shrieking amidst the black gnats and thick dark.

Pieran knocked an arrow to his bowstring just as the High Priest raised his dragon’s tooth dagger high above his head, displaying it obscenely before his worshippers. They cried the name of their lord and fell silent.

The High Priest repeated the name of his eldritch master. Its name hurt Pieran’s ears and the fetid stench foreshadowing the Arch Demon’s arrival through the gate assaulted his nostrils, reaching down into the pit of his stomach, threatening to release its contents. Pieran swallowed back the rushing bile, blinked a drop of salt water out of his eye, and steadied his aim.

The Priest faced the tethered girl, his dagger still poised above his head, all set to plunge deep into the heart of their helpless sacrifice. Again he cried the name of his lord. The cultists knelt in breathless anticipation. He was coming!

But at the last instant their ritual was broken by a twung, a whistle, and the messy thump of an arrow piercing heavy human flesh. It bore through the Priest’s flaccid body at greater than 300 feet per second, mincing tissue and cracking bone as it drove through his shoulder blade. A rush of astonishment gasped from the surrounding cultists yet no one understood enough to move. The priest wheeled around slowly, the broad end of an arrow jutting gruesomely from his chest, pieces of his heart dangling from its silver edges.

A second arrow split the air, driving into his solar plexus; a kill shot. The priest staggered backward, dropped to his knees, then face forward into the muck with a sickening plop.

The cultists, retarded from generations of inbreeding, stood confused and uncertain. They looked but could not see into the murky gloom beyond their camp. A third arrow struck another of them in the throat, killing him instantly. That was enough to rouse their animal instincts and in a disarrayed flash, they disappeared noisily into the grisly swamp.

Pieran made his way across the bog as quickly as brambles and muck would allow. He rest his bow on the ground, and drawing a wakizashi from his hip, neatly sliced the ropes holding the girl fast to the grotesque totem. The girl fell, cowering.

“Dost thou know the way?” Pieran asked, his voice soft as breath, his accent favoring England. Or Portugal. Or Argentina. Or Holland. It didn’t matter; she wouldn’t know. She was from the M.TV generation where everyone screamed alike.

“Wh-what?”

Pieran swallowed hard. Those confounding memories were intruding again. “Can you find your way out?” He was firm now.

“Y-Yes, I think so.”

“They shan’t be long. Go hence! Now!”

The girl froze only an instant before escaping to where the strange man had appeared.

Pieran sheathed his short sword and recovered his compound bow, slinging it across his back. He ignored the priest’s dagger as it was too foul an artifact to take on his journey. ‘Pity,’ he mused, ‘carved from a true dragon’s tooth, by Grace!’

He stared into the dimming, yellow-green light. The gate was reversing, moving out now, sweeping Gaoloth away. Pieran didn’t know exactly where the gate led. But it was his gate, now, set to carry him to the final chance he had in life to duel and destroy his real enemy the Arch Lord of Dis, or else perish trying, to waste forever in the anguish of Hades’ embrace.

“Light guide me,” he muttered, “and Elder Things fly hence to doom.” Then, with the deep breath of resolve, Pieran Swift drew his rapier-sword, and stepped into the dying light…

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

It was one of three sounds that could be heard - a foot tapping rhythmically against the high chair's leg. Outside the dark windows, the wind smattered raindrops against the glass. The owner of the foot didn't notice any of this. If you were to move closer, you'd notice the headphones covering her ears, and closer yet you'd hear her humming under her breath:

If I go crazy then will you still
Call me Superman
If I’m alive and well, will you be
There holding my hand

There was a slight smile on her face, humming and tapping as she made another note in her PDA before sweeping her hair away from her eyes and turning back to the microscope. She'd thought it fitting to put on that particular song for studying this particular element.

I’ll keep you by my side with my
Superhuman might
Kryptonite

OK, so it wasn't actually pure krypton she was studying, but krypton difluoride, as it was easier to acquire. Nonetheless, the song was fitting. And she liked it when things fit together. Made them easier to sort and organize.

As usual, Iona was burning the midnight oil - or more accurately, the midnight halogen lamp. This was the only time she could be sure to have undisturbed access to the lab, and she really didn't want to discuss her current project with anybody. At some point she would have to bring in another person, because she didn't think she'd be able to handle a CAT scan unaided, on herself. She'd cross that bridge when she got there. For the moment she was on her own, performing her usual routine: take out a neatly marked sample, place it on a slide and put it under the microscope; study the sample, make an entry into the database in her PDA; take out a vial of her own blood, drop onto the slide and make note of the effect on the sample; rinse and repeat ad infinitum. Her movements had a practised feel to them, so fluid they almost seemed like a dance. But now she was wrapping up this night's session: put the last used sample back into the tiny fridge, put away the boxes and instruments, clean up the work area.

There. Everything back in its place.
No, wait. She straightened the microscope so it was perfectly aligned with the side of the table and took a step back.
Now, there. The music player was now blaring out Hoobastank in her ears, drowning out the sound of... well, something behind her.

So why are you running away?
Why are you running away?

'Cause I have an early class tomorrow, how's that? she answered herself, as she turned off the player and grabbed her purse to tuck the headphones and PDA away.

The 'something' that had been building up behind her was growing faster now. By the time Iona had turned half-way around, it had grown to the size of a watermelon, then a large dog, then larger than an average-sized person. Its center was dead black, with tiny flecks of sickening colors twirling around it. Sparks flared up around the jagged edges, and now the - vortex? How? - thing started to spin, slowly at first, then gaining up speed. That's when Iona registered the sound that would have been her first hint: a muted howl, growing steadily in strength as a wind picked up, ruffling her hair and clothes. Confusion and terror coursed through Iona, blue eyes wide and her knuckles turning white from grasping the purse so fiercely. The forces pulling at her were now inexorably dragging her towards the vortex. She was wimpering but had no idea of it, because the sound was lost in the near deafening thunder now. Only then did she start to fight it, lashing out with her mind and body, desperately trying to escape - but to no avail...

The sky is a covered in fast moving clouds, reddish in hue. It reminds you of the rolling boil of dull fire, as it would crawl across a ceiling. Streaks of lightening flash now and then followed by a low growling thunder, still far away, but foreboding. The ground is hard and dry. Cracks and small fissures run as far as the eye could see. In the distance, sharp peaks of the mountain range can be seen along the horizon. If one would scan slowly around the horizon, the mountains seem to ring your range of vision for about two thirds of the horizon, but tapered off to just flatness in one direction.

Right where you are standing, the ground has a copper color to it, ringed with a perfect circle. Brighter, smaller circles are evenly spaced at the outer edge, seven in all. A larger seven-pointed star shape dominates the center, each point poking at one of the smaller circles. You are standing on one of the smaller circles.

No trees or brush seemed to be in sight, nothing living or dead seemed to stand, except off in the distance, a large lone house stands. It is dark in color, but hard to make out details. Only when the lightening flashes just right, could you see anything but the shadowy structure.  The only other thing of note is that you are not alone! Six strangers stand in the large circle with you, one on each of the smaller circles. They look as bewildered as you feel.

Raven stood in one of the smaller circles as several pieces of paper rained down upon her. Her clothes were half-soaked, her hair had that nice, wind-tunnel look and she had no idea where her hat had gotten to. She still clutched the book in her hands. She knelt on the ground and opened it. The cover was damp and some of the pages were frayed around the edges but, all in all it was intact. Stuffed between the pages of the book was her notebook. It had been hard on the binding of the book to slam it closed on her notes but, she was glad to have them both. She flipped a few pages back and forth, carefully at first and then more quickly. She grabbed one of the pieces of paper that was scattered on the ground around her and looked at it. An Amtrak safety flyer? She dropped it and started frantically searching through the other papers on the ground. All she found were more Amtrak flyers. “Damn it!” she exclaimed.

Dren watched Raven start to go through the papers around her, a quick glance around was all he gave before crouching to help Raven collect papers "Are y'okay? Nothin' broken?" he asked handing a paper to her. That's when he noticed the others and stood slowly closing his arms down just enough to feel the guns still strapped to his sides.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:36, Sun 18 July 2004.

Iain lowered his arm and looked around, whispering: "What the hell was that?"

Only then his mind registered that he was soaking wet. Better soaked than dusted, I guess... My jacket won't like it, though.

When he saw the other "guests" of his unknown hosts, he considered for a second the idea of hiding his swords with the jacket, but the thought of the big katana hidden in the short jacket was pathetic enough to dissuade him.

OK, check: I'm not on fire, which is good, I have no idea where I am, which is bad, and there are six complete strangers who are probably in my same condition, which is... Interesting.

"Um... Hello..." He greeted, almost interrogatively.

[Post edited to past tense... Sorry, I'm used to write at present.]
This message was last edited by the player at 18:24, Sun 18 July 2004.

Johnny B. woke to find himself twisted into one of those muscle-fracturing positions which really belonged atop of the Twister-mat. Suffice to say, his body no longer accomodated for such bizzare angles.
 He could briefly recall the incident on the train, but he was confused as to what had happened. In the back of his brain, behind the mind-numbing fog of pain, instincts were stirring, imploring him to get up, get away. Danger! was all it said, injecting adrenaline into his blood.
 However, his muscles didn't quite agree. He felt sore, was bleeding fiercly from a cut in his forehead...yeah, he was just generally miserable. He assured himself that all limbs were in place and working before he rolled over to his back, to look around himself.

 Had his mind really been working at that point, he might have reacted with shocked surprise. Instead, he observed his surroundings with mild interest, a slight feeling of astonishment at seeing he was everywhere but where he had been as he feinted.
 He slowly removed his wide-brimmed hat, which by some freak coincidence was still atop of his head, and put it on the weird ground beside himself. He was surprised to discover his bag was right beside him, seemingly still in one piece, unlike himself. A positive surprise, anyway.

 Still lying on the ground, he looked around at the others, trying to identify them by various hallmarks. One of them was carrying a monstrous sword - yeah, a katana it was called - another was helping a third to gather some papers. His eyes remained a brief moment at the attractive young woman [Note: Alexis] with the flowing brown hair - Nice! he thought, still a bit groggy - but realized he had to return his attention to the matter at hand.

 The sky was all...well, weird. Kind of like in Final Fantasy IV, that level with the demons... Johnny observed, before he was drawn out of his mental adventures by a voice.
 "Um... Hello..." somebody in a black leather jacket said, his voice sounding somewhat suspicious. The guy was dressed all in black... Lame! he thought, smiling by himself, before he finally got up from the ground.

 "Yeah, whatever - I'm Johnny B. - what in the nine burning hells are we doing here?"

Raven took the paper Dren handed her and looked at it. It was a train schedule. She crumpled it in her hand. “I don’t have…” Raven started to speak but Dren gave her a signal, cutting her off. She followed his gaze and saw that they were not alone. She sighed, “Nothing broken.” She made a slight gesture with her hand, so that Dren would see that she had the book and her notes but, clearly, the scrolls were not with them. She gathered the materials she did have and stood up behind him.

Dren lowered his head, to glance at Raven then past her for danger before moving only his eyes around the group. He simply nodded to Johnny B. responding "I'm Dren, she's Raven. And what I'm wondering is, where is here?" he responded trying to cover a hint of a Eruopean Accent. He shifted his stance as he slowly rolled his head to look over his other shoulder and then his pedatory eyes to everyone around. Reaching back with his right hand he seemed to touch Raven's leg as if checking to see if she were still behind him, then stole a glance back and her and nodded to the ground surrounding them.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:27, Sun 18 July 2004.

"Well, Mr. Bee, my name's Iain Short. Now, as for your question: me, I'm dripping all over the ground, apparently; you, and all of these other nice people... I have absolutely no idea. I think our hosts, whoever they are, will explain everything, when they feel like it."

Iain cautiously left the circle, then looked at his jacket: "And when they do, I have some explaining of my own: I'll need to explain them that leather and water don't mix, and they now owe me a new jacket."

"Iain, is it? Sounds very Scottish...Good thing about velvet," Johhny said, indicating his purple shirt, "is that it mixes well with everything, be it black leather or pouring rain."

 Johnny looked absent for a brief moment, before he got his cell out of his pocket to check whether he's getting any signal.

 "Hosts, you say? Is there a bell to ring as well, or...?

Iain raised an eyebrow seeing Johnny take out the cell phone: "Unless you have an account with Hell Mobile, I wouldn't bother checking for field down here. The closest GSM antenna is probably a good dimension or two away. And, it's just an educated guess, but I'm quite sure our kind hosts are perfectly aware of our presence. They did bring us here, after all."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:10, Sun 18 July 2004.

The howling gale that had ripped Alex from her feet suddenly quieted.  A few seconds later, and she became vaguely aware that she was no longer surrounded by inky darkness, instead the area was lit by a harsh red glare.

Alex groaned softly, wondering exactly how much trouble she had managed to get herself into.  Dust was still stinging her eyes, and she reached up to rub them, blinking rapidly to try and clear her vision.  As she lifted her arm, a sharp pain lanced through her tricep and she grimaced, looking at the cause with newly cleared vision.  A neat, fresh cut ran along her left arm and the water had caused diluted blood to run down to her fingertips, dripping onto the dry ground below.

...water?

Alex froze and looked down at herself.  She was soaked from head to foot, water running down her entire body, pooling at her feet.  Between her feet, her sword was embedded in the earth, a thin line of red along one of its sharp edges.

I guess that's where the cut came from. She thought irritably.

Clinging to her chest like a limpet was a soaked piece of parchment.  Alex gingerly peeled it away from her crimson t-shirt, managing not to tear the delicate document.  She wondered where it had come from, and it was then that she finally noticed the other people nearby.  Like her, they were stood in a circle at the tip of a star point.

Inwardly, Alex groaned.  She knew a magical ritual when she saw one, and this one was hardly subtle.  Sighing, she looked up as the people began to speak, taking note of who her companions were.

“Alexis Taylor.  But call me Alex.”

She held out the soaked piece of parchment.

“Does this belong to anyone?”
This message was last edited by the player at 16:49, Tue 20 July 2004.

 "Hi there, Alex...beautiful name, I actually once had a dog named Alex...he was a boy though, adorable guy, point being, I am just going to shut up now, which it seems somebody else should as well...Hell Mobile? Dimensions? I want whatever shit he's on." Johnny said, nodding towards Iain.

 He then looked down at his cell, surprised to see that he was actually not getting any signal. "Hm, this is weird...we have to be in a canyon or something, you don't always get signal when..." he trailed off, looking around himself.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:58, Mon 19 July 2004.

Raven raised a single eyebrow as she looked at Dren, then she reached up and picked a cattail off the top of his head.“Definitely not in Kansas anymore,” she said quietly, then she tossed the marshy plant onto the ground.“It kind of reminds me of that place we stayed at in Thailand over New Years.”


Raven took off her gloves to make it easier to get into her backpack. She knelt on the ground, unzipped her pack, and started putting her books into it.





Raven glanced at the woman that was holding out the piece of paper, and then she looked at Dren, giving him the slightest nod.

"I just 'ope the food's bet'er, 'ere." he told her taking note of the other plants surrounding his feet.



Dren, raised a hand a smiled in response to Alex, "Ah, thank you. Was lookin' fer that." he told her, the Irish accent resurfacing just a bit, as he casually approached to take back the parchment then just as quickly returned to deliver it to Raven.

Eyes tightly shut, hands even tighter clutching her purse, Iona felt a jolt go through her. The nauseating trip, or whatever it had been, was apparently over.

Breathe Iona, breathe...! Easier thought than done. In some rational corner of her mind, Iona knew she was hyperventilating, but it felt as if no air was getting down to her lungs. Can’t panic, calm down, nothing bad is going to happen, just – don’t – panic. Making an effort, she took a deep calming breath. And immediately started to cough violently, almost choking.

She had inhaled a fine powder that was now covering her in a fine layer, still settling around her. It took Iona few moments to collect herself, straightening up and taking stock of her surroundings.

Strange skies, strange landscapes, a seven pointed star and seven strangers... calmly introducing themselves. Panic was starting to seem like the sensible course of action.

"Where am I? Who are you people? What did you do to me? What’s going on?!?" She hated her voice when she got agitated, all sharp and shrieky; only a part of the reason she always strived to keep her emotions under control.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:00, Mon 19 July 2004.

“Thanks,” Raven smiled at Alex as Dren retrieved the parchment, then she dug into her pack and pulled out one of the scroll cases. “Wait,” she said to Dren, as he held the paper out to her. “You have no idea how damaging the oil from human hands can be.” She quickly slipped her gloves back on and then carefully accepted the parchment from Dren.



“As near as I can tell, we’re in one of several possible Hell Dimensions.” Raven rolled the scroll up and slipped it into its case. “Introductions, so far, have been Johnny B, Iain Short, Alex Taylor, Dren Telarwin and I’m Raven Cantrell.” She pointed at each person as she said their name. “I don’t think anybody here did anything to you.” Raven slipped the scroll case back into her pack. “If I had to venture a guess, I’d figure the creepy House on Haunted Hill over there might provide some answers. There certainly doesn’t seem much left to learn here, except for your name and his.” Raven pointed at the man who was sporting a ponytail and had a compound bow slung on his back. Looking at the group, she said, “At least nobody ‘beamed’ down wearing a red shirt.”

You see a Caucasian male among you. He is without a shirt, his skin moist with sweat. He holds a magnificent Renaissance-era sword in his hand and a compound bow slung over his back. The bow has an affixed 6-arrow rack. A Japanese short sword is sheathed at the small of his back. Bits of broken glass glitter his hair and shoulders and he brushes them away with evident irritation. A backpack and bow case rest near his feet. He wears black jeans with heavy-soled boots. There is mud upon his boots and his brown hair is damp and unkempt. He wears a pair of archer’s gloves, tipless on the left hand, and leather armguards on both forearms. A small, silver cross hangs from his neck. It belongs more on a woman –probably a gift from a loved one.

He surveys around him; it is clear that he is more alarmed by the environment itself than by his being in the environment. His eyes dart to each of you, pausing at the one calling himself ‘Dren.’ He nods slightly toward him, never leaving his eyes, and without any special flair, quietly sheathes his sword upon his left hip. He displays his open palms before the group; pointedly toward Dren. “Peace be with you. I bear no ill.” His voice is calming and soft with a deep resonance that hints gently of England.

The stranger then gives a general nod to everyone else. “Hail and well-met, all. My name is Pieran Swift.”

He observes the odds and ends tagging along with each of you: mud, cattails, printed materials, soaking clothes, etc. He kicks away some of the glass shards at his feet, along with the remains of a crushed microscope. “The gate must have crossed.” He pauses. “You have all been swept here unwilling. There is more to this than mischief,” he adds, pensively.

His closes his blue eyes and sniffs the air with a wolfish snort. “This air carries naught but what we bring to it.” He lowers his eyes, notes that he is not fully dressed. “Grant me pardon,” he says, nodding with almost imperceptible timidity toward the women. He drops to his knee, stripping off his bow and armguards and rummages through his pack until he finds some clothes. He quickly dresses into a white, long sleeve shirt, woven from today but cut to the seventeenth century. “I beg you my speech if it is not your custom.” He slips into a long sleeve leather jacket, marred by age, with a baldric sewn onto the back. He finishes, taking his bow in left hand. “It is only that...”

There is a sudden flash of lightning and Pieran flinches as though he were avoiding a badly pitched baseball. His right hand moves to his short sword as he kneels, looking contemptuously to the broiling sky, his anger masking more than mere anxiety. The chasing thunder rolls to silence and he slips the weapon neatly back in place. He swallows painfully, as if broken glass were lodged in his throat.

Pieran regains his stand, slowly recovering his composure. “Forgive me. The journey was unsettling.” He breathes deeply but clearly the thunder and lightning are making him nervous.

He abruptly changes the subject, speaking with gentle urgency. “Two of you are wounded. Your blood rings here like a church bell and this land doubtless offers little friendship. That may be shelter beyond but we should not disturb it with fresh wounds. We must be quick. I have slight healing arts. Unless any of you are skilled, permit me to tender aid?”
This message was last edited by the player at 19:59, Tue 20 July 2004.

Dren looked at Alexis' cut when Pieran mentioned blood and healings. Glancing back at Raven he slipped his back pack from his shoulder and quickly produced a first aid kit "'Ealin' arts or none, I at least 'ave a bandage.", as well as a thicker Irish accent. Producing the gauze wrap from the box he held it out to Alexis with a smile, "Dinna figure y'trust me enough t'wrap it for ya."

“Damn it!”
"Are y'okay? Nothin' broken?"
"Um... Hello..."
" what in the nine burning hells are we doing here?"
“Does this belong to anyone?”
"...Hell Mobile? Dimensions?"
"Where am I? Who are you people? What did you do to me? What’s going on?!?"
“ ...we’re in one of several possible Hell Dimensions.”
“Peace be with you. ...”

Suddenly, several of the train flyers burst into flame. The little fires start swirling around within the circle due to the light breeze.

Pieran tosses his bow just off to the side, drawing fresh catch upon his rapier, readying himself for close quarter combat. "By the pricking of my thumbs..."
This message was last edited by the player at 11:29, Tue 20 July 2004.

Iain grimaces. So our hosts have finally decided to introduce themselves.

He wraps the wakizashi in his jacket, ready to toss both aside and unsheath the katana should the need arise. However, he remains in a seemingly relaxed position, looking like he's not worrying too much about whatever is coming.

"Just relax, people... Apparently, they want something from us: we might as well listen to what they offer in return."

“Crap!” Raven exclaimed, since she was sitting near several of the flyers when they burst into flame. She grabbed her pack, brushing a few glowing embers off of it before she put it on. “I think that’s a hint that we’ve stayed too long at this particular spot. It may not look inviting but right now, it’s the only port in a storm we have.” Raven said, indicating the house. “To paraphrase Riff Raff, perhaps we better all get inside.”

Dren shrugged and simply tossed the bandage to Alexis, it was now up to her if she wanted it or not. Dren slipped the strap of his pack on and unholstered one gun into his right hand in a quick and well rehearsed motion "Stay close." he advised Raven while stamping out a fire near her left foot. A final nod latter he started moving toward the house quickly making sure Raven was indeed following.

Iona's gaze followed where the darkhaired woman indicated, automatically evaluting each individual and categorizing them, putting them in tiny boxes on the shelves of her brain for analysis later on. However, this was something that she did on autopilot; Raven's poise and calm answers did nothing to soothe Iona's frayed nerves. Iona wasn't entire unfamiliar with the concept of magic; it didn't take much to realize she was in way over her head now. And she did not deal well with uncertainties.

Hell dimension?!? No no no, hell is Christmas shopping on December 23rd, not this. No no no...



Look who's talking, was Iona's half-hysterical thought. She's like a female Mr Spock. Am I the only one not comfortable here? But out loud she said: "Iona. Is my name. Iona McLean. And you might not be freaked out by this, but I am. I mean, hell dimensions?!?" Again with the piercing note of desperation in her voice. Way to keep calm, Iona.

The weird-speaking man - Peter? - suddenly putting on a floor show momentarily distracted Iona, bringing a deep blush to her pale cheeks. But her anxieties returned with a vengeance with the thunder and lightning that had also startled the would-be Chippendale. More swords? Bows? What is this, BYO weapon?! What's he planning on doing with that thing? The other people in the circle were talking about redressing wounds but Iona couldn't hear them through the roaring in her ears.  Oh good, she was hyperventilating again.

And then tiny fires went off all around them.



"Don't hurt me!" Iona shrieked, taking a step back out of the circle and flinging up her hands for protection.



She peeked from behind her hands, relieved to see the armed men weren't about to slice her into thin litte Iona-slices. Casting an embarrassed glance around her at the ashes swirling around, she brushed them off herself, as well as the dust still clinging to her. She then turned towards Raven as the other woman suggested they leave, an idea that was starting to appeal more and more. Adjusting her head scarf and making sure it was still were it was supposed to be, she spoke up in a tremolous voice: "So none of you had anything to do with us being here? Are you sure you didn't do anything?" The question was directed at the whole group, as they started to make their way towards the house.

"'Cause whatever it was, I don't care. Just do it again and bring us back home. No harm, no foul...?" It wasn't so much a statement as it was a plea.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:44, Tue 20 July 2004.

"Well, let's see... Ah, yes."

He clears his throat:

"Krv drpglr pwlz chkwrt..."

*Cue crescendo music*

"Strplmt dwghzn prqlrzn lffrmtplzt!"


...


...


...



A lot of nothing happens. [Note: Assumption]

In truth, Iain doesn't really look surprised... He simply shrugs and comments to the others: "Sorry, folks, that was my best shot. So... Unless someone remembers a different portal spell they wish to try, we might as well leave, before it starts raining frogs or something."

He tries to find a comfortable way to keep his swords ready for use and carry the still-wet jacket.

Finally he renounces, and just wraps the formers in the latter with a sigh, taking a mental note to check the blades and make sure they didn't get wet.

"Um, yeah, whatever, Mr. Short. Please do protect me from all the hellbeasts and demonhounds." Johnny turned slowly around to face Alexis, smiling wickedly. "Would she be a Succubus then? A beautiful, evil temptress from Hell itself, set on torturing men for their sinful ways?"





"No, Peace be with you, Conan! You strong."



"So, do I get some medieval weaponry as well? My armourer had an urgent crop-harvest to attend."

Handing over the parchment to Dren, Alex returns both his and Raven’s smiles with a quick grin of her own.  A few seconds later, and Iona’s high-pitched shrieks cut through the air, causing Alex to wince.

Dear lord…  I hope she’s not going to do that on a regular basis.

She seems somewhat relieved to hear Raven’s calm response and looked at the woman with respect.  At least there was one person here who had their head screwed on.

Her attention then turned to the Man That Time Forgot, watching him carefully as he made his greetings and observations.  When he seemed to realise his half-clothed state, one corner of her mouth quirked up, turning into a full-blown smile at his choice of shirt.

Alex’s interest was piqued at his sharp reaction to the lightening.  Hrmm… Twitchy fellow.  Wonder what his story is.

She was about to take the offered bandage from Dren when the flyers burst into fire, her mouth opened to say something in response to his offer.  Instead, a look of irritation flashes over her features when Iain speaks.

Wow, who died and made you king?

Smoothly catching the dressing Dren had now elected to throw, Alex followed him and Raven as they headed toward the ominous-looking house.  She glanced across at Iona, feeling a little sorry for the nervous woman.  Unravelling the bandage, Alex proceeded to tend to her wounds, studiously ignoring Johnny as he jabbered on.

That finished, she decided it was time to ask a few questions of her own.

“I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m somewhat curious as to why we’ve been summoned here.  Perhaps it has something to do with who we are, or what we can do.  Anyone feel like sharing?”
This message was last edited by the player at 17:29, Wed 21 July 2004.

Raven looked at Iain. “Hey Merlin, you want to ease up on the magic mojo until we know exactly what we’re dealing with here? Ever see The Fly, or The Philadelphia Experiment, or any episode of Star Trek where they had a transporter accident? Trying to activate the magic teleporter without an instruction manual doesn’t seem too wise. Could lead to… unintended consequences.” Raven continued to follow Dren to the house.



Raven shrugged, “I’m just an archeologist.”

"An archeologist with intimate knowledge of the working of magic portals, that is? Whatever, guys, I'm getting tired of squatting around here...particularily with this ragtag circustroupé," Johnny B. commented, rolling his eyes the slightest. "So, yeah, let's go visit this house...you know, Conan, this is when you go all - CHAAARGE!

 Johnny looked uncomfortably around himself for a while, feeling the first silent moment in quite a while marking its prescense. "My, aren't you just a jolly bunch? Weapons? Check! Lunacy? Check! Sense of humour... Yeah, we'd better just leave that one hanging in the air, won't we?"

 Johnny shook his head, sighing audibly as he started walking towards the house on the horizont. "Yeah, that's right, just follow me guys...at least, you'll know there's danger afoot if I suddenly am nowhere to be seen."

 Bag hanging from his shoulder, containing nothing by far as strange as his companions had brought, he smiled wickedly, muttering by himself: "I knew I should never have left NY..."

“It’s amazing the things you learn from reading books,” Raven said dryly. “You really should try it sometime.”

Dren glanced stole a glance back at Raven to make sure she was still following, then turned and risked walking backwards just to observe the group for a bit, "Well Johnny-Boy, y'care to tell us 'ow you ended up 'ere considerin' yer the only guy not armed t'is teeth?" Dren waved his .45 for effect before making a note of Alexis bandaging as she walked, Th'Lass has a fighter's spirit!, then turned back around to continue the trek toward the house keeping one ear open for stories and one open for trouble.

"Last time I read a book, I lost 1300$ to Chris Moneymaker and spent the rest of the weekend scrubbing toilets at McDonald's, which was also the place where I ate breakfast, lunch and dinner. Monday, my computer was struck by lightning - died at the spot - and to nail my coffin, my girlfriend left me for a French guy with the gayest mustache since Jacques bloody Henry, the man who owns a pink Ford and is proud of it. What a bloody faggot.
 "Second last time I read a book, I started studying medicine; I wonder who got the worst deal, me or my poor patients..."

 Johnny trailed off, looking interested up at Dren as he adressed him. As he spoke, his face melted in amusement. He smiled broadly. "But bloody hell, lad, that's what I've been asking ever since I came here. One moment, I was..." he said, lifting a finger to underline his point, "...I was sitting at what was probably the most uncomfortable seat in the whole Interstate Transports number four thirty-three - to which I did not bring any 5 foot claymores - trying to not think of the unsavory taste of old cognac and techincal spirit in my mouth...
 "When I woke, a blink of an eye later, I was the new bruised at battered member of Anardo Travelling circus. If I didn't know better, I'd say I was still asleep, but heck, I don't have a quite this lively - freaked - imagination."
 "There are plus sides to the whole thing, though - I won't be getting any obscene threats of mutilation and murder from my bookie any time soon. Chances are my internet bill won't reach me either..."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:57, Wed 21 July 2004.

"Well, maybe... It was worth a try, nevertheless. The place I was aiming to is in many ways a lot more comfortable than this, and it has recently become much more human-friendly - something to do with a cow who turned into a princess, but don't ask me about the details because I'm not clear on those."

His hand slipped slightly on his jacket and touched something that wasn't there before -- or maybe he just didn't notice? Strange...

"Um... You know, I think maybe I have something that belongs to you."

He carefully spreaded the jacket, showing a wet parchment on its back, still intact despite the recent abuses.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:55, Wed 21 July 2004.

Iona McLean typed:

“Don’t hurt me!”

“Don’t be afraid,” Pieran says, his voice embracing her like a soft quilt. “I’ve no cause to harm you, M’Lady.” He smiles gently at her, offering a faint bow of deference.

Satisfied that another gate was not suddenly opening upon them, Pieran sheathes his sword into the baldric and moves to recover his bow.

Johnny B. Hope typed:

"Conan, this is when you go all - CHAAARGE!"

As Pieran takes up his bow, he glances sidewise toward Johnny Hope with subdued irritation. It lasts but a second, his annoyance broken by a withdrawn smile.

He swaps his scabbard for a loaded quiver and, gathering the last of his belongings, heads off toward the distant house, following as the last in line.

Alexis Taylor typed:

“I’m curious as to why we’ve been summoned here....Anyone feel like sharing?”

Iona McLean typed:

"What did you do to me? What’s going on?!?"

“My tale is long in the telling, Alex, defender of mankind.” he smiles ahead at Alexis, a blush of embarrassment turning his cheek. “Forgive my clumsy speech. I sometimes forget myself.” He exhales heavily. “I don’t know exactly where we are, but I have not been summoned like you. I am bound by quest to be here –whether by fair or by foul I do not know. I...must kill a man. Or perhaps it is a beast. I won’t know until I find it. Until then, I follow where my sense leads me.”

He readdresses his voice, indicating a change in attention. “And to you, Lady Iona, whose name upon Santorini is ‘violet flower;’ my regrets. For the gate was not my making, neither your summoning my design. Something else draws us together which we may discover as our tale unfolds.”
This message was last edited by the player at 08:54, Wed 21 July 2004.

Dren turned and walked back to Iain to help remove the not-that-wet parchment from his shirt and carry it back to Raven, while handing it to her he pulled a scoll case from her back pack and opened it for her so she could focus on neatly rolling it with her gloved hands.

"Well, we were in a Tomb and Raven-"

“Temple. It was a temple, not a tomb.” Raven corrected. Dren turned to her ignoring the growing reactions from those around them, "Oh well last I'd checked t'was about to become our tomb."

“I would’ve corrected that in plenty of time if you hadn’t pressed the wrong stone and gotten us sucked, quite literally, into hell!”

"Oh, I don't recall anyone else in that Tomb, tellin' me to go mess with The Rune of Set!" challenged Dren.

“I did not! You never listen to me.”

"An' now we know why!" returning to the group he restarted his story "So we were in an Egyptian temple w'en a portal opened and swallow'd us up." Dren rolled his eyes and added "Bet'er?"

“Oh yeah, everything’s just peachy now.”

Dren just seemed to shrug off her last comment venomously laced with sarcasm as he slid the scroll case back into her pack and zipped it closed before returning to Point in the marching order.

Raven turned to Iain, “Thanks. You have no idea how difficult that particular piece of paper was to acquire. Sorry about your jacket.”

The man with the leather jacket started making odd noises at Iona’s request. She looked at him with an alarmed expression on her face, but relaxed slightly as nothing seemed to happen.

Casting a weary look up to the sky – nope, no frogs yet – she kept on walking along with the rest of the group as they chatted away. She felt a bit better now, because they had a plan. Sure, a short-sighted plan, “Hey, let’s check out the creepy-looking house”, but a plan nonetheless. And a plan entailed a list of things to do; a to-do-list could be sorted, prioritizing items, alphabetizing them – although that was rarely the most efficient way to do things – and finally things could be crossed off the list. Order and organization, that's all she wanted.

And so, Iona made her own little mental list of things to do.

1. Make self presentable. She rummaged through her purse and brought out her little mirror and basic make-up, quickly touching up with efficient movements. In a flash, she as done, tucking it all back into her purse, replacing them with a little brush in her hand. There, hair done too. The whole thing took less than a minute.
2. Get a grip of group. Right. From the shelves in her brain Iona took out the little boxes she’d previously stored. Despite being in panic mode, she had managed to register some details:
    • Johnny B: med student, probably wealthy parents, compulsive gambler, obnoxious wise-ass, making cracks with every breath he took. There’s always a class clown, no escaping that. Horrible taste in clothes. Velvet. Puh-lease. Unarmed though, that was a redeeming quality.
    • Alex Taylor: armed with a sword. Clearly not a common accessory for a young woman, though it seemed to be the popular choice with these people.  Iona couldn’t quite get a grip of her. Something was… odd. She frowned slightly, looking over at the slender woman. What was it about her?
    • Iain Short: Favoured black, leather and sharp edged weapons. Definitely a mystery, needed more studying.
    • Raven Cantrell: archaeologist,  level-headed. The take-charge type. But there was more to her than met the eye. Iona wondered what it was.
    • Dren Telarwin: Favoured more modern firearms. Irish? Iona wasn’t very good at dialects.  Raven’s partner, the two clearly belonged together. Though if they were romantically involved was too soon to be determined. He was flirtatious enough with Alex to make that unlikely. On the other hand, they did bicker like an old married couple.
    • Pieran Swift: Another swordsman, fine specimen of a man this one was. Wary of this place, in a way the rest didn’t seem to be. Seems to know more about this place than the others too. Old-fashioned, both in attire and speech. There was a sense of age about him, despite his young appearance.

Pay attention, he’s talking to you! She turned back towards the handsome man.



She blushed slightly at that. ‘Lady’ indeed. A girl could get used to that. And noone had ever bothered to find out what her name meant. 

”On a quest, you say? For how long have you been questing? … if you’ll pardon my asking?” she added. His courteous manners were contagious and his speech quite appealing. The flowery language had always been one of the reasons Iona liked Shakespeare. That, and the clever puns. Pretty soon she’d start spouting ‘thees’ and ‘thous’ if she didn’t watch it.

Iain smiled: "You are welcome... You know, maybe the jacket is not lost, after all." He thinks aloud, looking critically at the wet leather. "Anyway, it's not like it's an irreplaceable item - like, say, an ancient egyptian scroll."


Deviating from a straight path toward the house to walk closer to Johnny, Iain pat him on his shoulder - taking the chance to check if he had inadvertentenly found some of Raven's possessions: "Come on, Mr. Bee, don't be blue: I, for one, can appreciate a man able to find the good side in a bad situation. We clearly are a... Colorful group, I'll admit that. And yet, somehow, I'm confident you could find the good side in that, too."

"Well, yeah, I guess we should try to find solution rather than problems - while the latter might be far more frequent. Oh my God, I hate my psychology lecturer - Students! Strength lies in teamwork, he quoted, doing an impression of his teacher's barritone voice. Only through cooperation can we succeed...the wolf preys on the lone animals, who stick their heads out from the group... I have rarely seen an idiot with such a love for his work.

 "But, well, teamwork has its virtues...it's not like as if I want to be stuck with you guys any longer than strictly necessary, after all..." Johnny did one of his playful smiles, but it soon faded as he clutched his head in pain. "Bloody hells, my head hurts...

Alex grins to herself as people begin to talk to each other, ears alert for interesting pieces of information.  Wherever they were, at least no-one from the group seemed to have any dubious intentions.



Alex looks a little surprised at the title, but smiles with amusement at Pieran.  Not summoned here, he said?  Interesting.  Making a mental note to remember that nugget of information, she swung the sports bag off her shoulder, unzipping it and examining the contents.  Nothing appeared to be missing, although there was nothing terribly useful either.

Ah well, never mind.

She slipped the sword inside the bag, leaving the hilt peeking out and easily accessible.  With that, she continued walking, content for the moment to listen and observe.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:38, Thu 22 July 2004.

“Hangover? Or concussion?” Raven said, as she looked at Johnny’s head.

“Hey, Don Juan with the gauze,” she called to Dren. “Maybe you can spare a bandage for Johnny, too.” Raven gave Dren a sideways grin.

"How about train impacting with alien object at 100MPH? But, yeah, there was some alcohol involved the day before - and by some alcohol, I mean bottomless buckets of adult soda. And don't forget an aspirin overdose in the morning, my mother trying to talk my head off wihle playing Anastacia at my brother's hi-fi...add that to being teleported to an alien dimension...is that all?" Johnny said, catching his breath and doing a dramatic pause.

 "Of course it isn't," he said, smiling like he had just gotten a direct injection of caffine, "I slept less than four hours tonight and have to catch a train in exactly twenty minutes, else I've just wasted $200. But enough about my miserable life and my mind-splitting migraine, how are you feeling?"

 Johhnny B. finally stopped talking, looking slightly thoughtful as blood trickled down his forhead and dripped onto his bag where the smallest little pool had assembled. "Did you mention bandages? I could use a few bandages..." he admitted, looking a bit embarrased, before his face melted back into the mischievous smile. "Or alternately, just a bullet up here..." he said, indicating his open mouth with the index finger, "to just end all my pain."

 "Nice shirt, by the way."

"Since Breakfast." He smiles at his joke but his eyes gaze through an inner kaleidoscope. "A long time."

He smiles again, shrugs. "Perhaps chance is kind and sets before us an International House of Pancakes." He laughs lightly, enjoying his own sense of humor.

"And you, M'Lady?" He picks an obstinate shard of glass from his hair. "Was this your glass? What was your quest before fortune carried you away?" He flicks it aside.

At the mention of an IHOP, Iona's stomach grumbled. She had no idea how long had passed since her last meal (When was dinner? What time is it here? Where is frikkin' here?), but she was starving now. The initial confusion and emotional turmoil had masked that sensation, but now it was back, tenfold in strength. She thought longingly about the granola bar she had in her purse, but wasn't sure she ought to bring it up right now. What if the others were hungry too? It would be cruel to munch away right in front of them, if they didn't have anything to eat...

She turned her gaze to the piece of glass as it twirled across the air. "Umm, yes. I think it was." It had been a beaker at the lab. Maybe. Or a vial. Seemed she was lucky not to be covered in scratches. "And I suppose I was on a quest. Am. But it's nothing big, really." She shrugged. "I was just doing some lab work. Part of a project I'm working on. Nothing dangerous, just studying how different elements react in special circumstances." Mixed with my blood, she added mentally, but kept that bit to herself.

He smiled back at Raven before casting a tell-tale glance back at Alex. Though he didn't understand how handing a girl gauze could be considered hitting on her at the same time it was pointless to deny and attraction to the swordswoman, especially to Raven, who at time knew him better than he knew himself... if he was fliting, he'd have to take Raven's word for it and leave it at that.


Dren switched the gun from his right hand to his left as he fished a small plastic tube from one of the leg pockets in his cargo pants, once again turning and walking he backwards he held up both hands to Johnny saying "Well today's yer lucky day. Got both a .45 an' Advil, choice is yers!" he smiled wickedly as he stopped walking to let Johnny close the distance all the while untwisting the top to the Advil with his finger tips.


Dren took note of Iona's statement, she sounded like a researcher, like Raven and he couldn't help but observe how the team seemed balanced in the area of weapons as well as lack there of. 3 swords, 1 gun, 3 unarmed, was there a pattern to it? Too soon to tell, but the circle, the area, the house, the group... there was certainly a plan.
"If it 'elps, Iona, y'can say we're all differnt elements reactin' to special ciercumstances." he offered with a smile and a shrug.

And maybe some of ours, as well? Iain thought ironically, but he didn't comment.

Pieran's comment about the IHOP had raised a concern Iain had preferred not to think about until that moment: there didn't seem to be many chances of a meal, for a person on a liquid diet.

In fact, he could count them precisely: six.

Well, we'll burn that bridge when we come to it, I guess...


"So you are a scientist? Interesting... What is your field of expertise?" Small talk aside, Iain looked genuinely interested in knowing about his new fellow travellers.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:33, Thu 22 July 2004.

Iona grinned back: "That's just what I was thinking!" She beamed back at him, the smile lighting up her features, revealing a dimple in her left cheek.



"Well, some chemistry, some physics, some engineering - you know, electrical, computers, robotics, the fun stuff..." She trailed off there, seeing his quizzical look. "Er... I... couldn't really bring myself to pick a major in just one field." She looked slightly embarrassed. Anxious to shift their attention elsewhere, Iona quickly moved on: "So... um... Dren? Are you an archaeologist too, like Raven?"

Turning to Iain: "And what about you... Ian, was it? What do you do?"

Raven glanced at her standard, khaki work shirt that she wore over a white tank top. It was a little on the dirty and disheveled side after that E-Ticket ride through the vortex. “Um, thanks, I guess,” she said.



“And what’s with all the swords. Were you three pulled out of some Xena/Hercules fan club convention, or what?”

Iain chuckled: "Well, picture the scene: I am home, busy in a daisho training session - which would be a martial arts session where you use a long sword and a short one: usually a katana" he raises the long sword so that Iona and Raven can see it "and a wakizashi. He raises the shorter weapon as well. "I am halfway through the second kata, when the ground starts shaking under my feet: living in California, you kinda get used to it, after a while... Anyway, I take my jacket and my wallet - and the swords, of course - and go upstairs, in case I have to leave the house. All of a sudden, I hear this noise behind me, like something is breaking. I think it's the quake, you know, maybe something has fallen, or the walls have finally decided to demonstrate that the house was built with crappy materials and designed by an even crappier architect... Anyway, the last thing I expect is a freaking crack in mid-air: like a neon tube, only without the tube. Then I remember a huge blast of cold light, a long fall... And when I can see again, I find myself soaking wet, and... here."

He shrugged: "It could have been worse... I'm in Hell, alright, but so far I've met three hotties and no demons: it's a nice kind of hell, if you ask me." Iain grinned widely to Iona and Raven, and turned to Alex: "One of whom carries a big sharp piece of metal... And looks like she knows how to use it, too."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:55, Thu 22 July 2004.

   Johnny suddenly looked up, somewhat interested as he turned towards Iona. "Computers, you say? Interesting. You wouldn't perchance have heard of the W32.HenPeck.Exe then? Just curious," he said with a mighty big smile on his face.

   "Say, where did those bandages go?"
This message was last edited by the player at 21:49, Thu 22 July 2004.

Dren shrugged as he put his gun in his belt line so as to free up a hand for dispensing Johnny's pills while he answered Iona, "Nah, you can say that she's the brains... I'm jus' th' muscle." sending a sly look to Raven he smiles adding "An' I think she 'as a lit'le crush on me, too!"



Dren rolls his eyes as Iain explains his style, "Dinna worry, Raven's been to Japan, she knows all about Musashi." he quips.


"An' if I'd known I'd end up at the RenFest, I'd brought m'swords too."

Iain turns to look at her: "Really? Well, that's good to know. Then I'm sure you can appreciate a fine blade when you see it..." He hands both swords to her, one at a time, so that she can have a good look.

Alex chuckled to herself at Raven’s comment, then shot Dren a cheeky grin before picking up her pace, ponytail bobbing as she strode along.  She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans, and was pleased to notice that they seemed to be drying out quite nicely.

She listened to Iain as he describes the moments that led up to his arrival; apparently his journey was as unexpected as her own.  When he shows the daisho to Raven and Iona, an expression that could almost be described as longing crosses her features.



Alex shrugged, hands still resting in her pockets.

“Do I?” Though spoken as a question, she sounds utterly uninterested in any answer, apathy written on her face.  The change in her mood is brief, however, and she quickly looks to Iain, the apathy replaced by amusement.

“Should we ever get home, I’ll be sure to convey your compliments to my tutor, the old bastard.”

The air smells and tastes flat, lifeless without fragrance or odor. The breeze freshens and grows stronger into a short gust of wind. It catches the dust your feet have disturbed and swirls it into a small Dust Devil. It spins and dances about for a short distance and then blows apart, becoming nothing more then part of the trailing cloud, settling back down onto the ground.

Pieran keeps his pace, the last in a broken line trudging toward destiny. He listens to the conversations that shatter the unwholesome stillness around them. The experience brings him some measure of calm and even delight. But though he watches astutely Iain hand off his swords, he thinks better of voicing his apprehension.

He attends to the dance, allowing his eyes to flit back and forth between the furtive passing of smiles, winks, and smirks, the forging friendships, the bold show of swords, the cylinders of medicine and rolls of gauze, the roiling sky, the horizon and the approaching house, a bobbing ponytail, the footprints they are leaving behind. He smiles within, content to listen, and watch, and occasionally taste the air.

He adds nothing to the conversation, now watching warily the taunting dust devils.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:48, Fri 23 July 2004.

“Oh yeah, most days it’s all I can do to hold myself back.” Raven’s tone was so matter-of-fact that she could’ve been discussing the weather.



There must be something in the air, Raven thought to herself. The male hormones seemed to be raging even more than usual. She glanced at each of the men. Or maybe it’s just a lot of competitive posturing that is so common among the testosterone crowd. She caught Iona looking all moon-eyed at Pieran. Ok, the men aren’t the only ones being affected. At least Alex appeared to be keeping her wits about her. It was nice to know that somebody else could remain clear-headed in extreme situations.



“Well, I’m no martial artist and I certainly don’t know how to do battle with swords. That’s more Dren’s department. But as a student of history, yes, I know of the samurai sword master and The Book of Five Rings.



And the competition between the men continues. If Dren had brought his swords, the guys could’ve all pranced around like peacocks trying to see whose was the prettiest.



Raven stopped walking so she could examine the weapons. She took the first sword in her hands, turned it slowly, studying the blade and the hilt. “Very impressive,” she said, a hint of awe in her voice. “Seventeenth Century? It is indeed a finely crafted weapon and I can see that you keep it very well maintained.” Ok, maybe there wouldn’t be much of a contest about whose was the prettiest.

No sooner had Raven appraised the weapon was Dren standing next to Iain and Raven watching her study the blade, he even went so far as to pull a mini-LED flashlight to examine the grain of the blade, all without touching it.
Okay, now he's realy showing off. Dren thought to himself, but he also couldn't blame the guy at the same time, to own a weapon of this nature and not display it would be like sticking a Monet in your closet because it was a conversation piece. "Iain, I feel tis only fair t'warn ya... I'll be the first one pryin' them from yer cold, dead, 'ands!" Dren added a smile to his statement before returning his attention to dispensing Johnny's Advil.

“Simply magnificent.” Raven smiled as she returned both of the swords to Iain. “Are they a family heirloom?”


Raven once again started heading towards the house. It wasn’t looking anymore inviting the closer they got to it but, she was incredibly curious what artifacts might be found in an ancient house located in a hell dimension. They may have lost the Orb of Anubis – at least temporarily but, perhaps this adventure could still prove to be worthwhile for them. She wasn’t concerned about finding a way out of here – not yet anyway. She and Dren had found themselves in sticky situations before and they’d always managed to escape.

“So Pieran, if you don’t know who or what you’re supposed to kill – how will you know when you find it? And, what makes you think it’s here?”

Iain nodded a hint of a bow at the woman's compliments: "Actually, yes. They have been passed on from father to son in my step-mother's family for generations. When her father dies without any male children, the blades became hers. She and my father haven't had children of their own, so she gave the swords to me."


Iain grinned widely: "You wouldn't be the first one to try... Would-be buyers so far have found that these swords are like an arm or a leg to me: some of them were eager enough to acquire the blades to try the chainsaw approach."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:42, Fri 23 July 2004.

While the other talked swords, Iona and Johnny delved into the finer points of hacking:



"Henpeck, you say?" Iona exlaimed, somewhat surprised. "Did you make that virus?"

"Now, now, let's not get carried away. I wouldn't call it a virus - admittedly, that is what it is, per se, but... More of an experiment, I would say."

"An experiment? Iona said sceptically. "So you actually formulated the hypothesis: 'I betcha I can crack this code'?"

"Again, let us get our definitions straight. I didn't do it -- unlike what most virus-programmers do -- just to prove I could, or to chuckle evilly when I had outsmarted some poor thirteen year old." Johnny paused a bit, smiling at the thought of that.
"I wanted to show why not only the current systems used to protect again worms and trojan horses are outdated, but also that the whole copy-protection system that is currently in use needs to be revised... completely!"

"So, you made a slight point that's already been hashed to pieces ages ago, and just happened to make $100,000 in the process... never mind the code owners' hard work and copyright." Sarcasm laced her comment.

"What you are forgetting is that the CD-keys I -- stealing is such a harsh term, I prefer surprise lending -- have no inherit value. First when they are put to use will the original owner take any actual harm. Geez," Johnny said, smiling yet more outrageously than usual, "had I wanted to make money, I would have set up a browser hijack to snap up their credit card numbers. I prefer more honest work, though... money is no fun if you haven't earned it."

Iona raised one eyebrow. "Since when did gambling become honest work, Mr. B?" She made the slightest pause before she resumed. "So, how do you propose to solve the problems of modern electronical security, then?"

"I say, firewalls, routers, anti-virus software? Forget all of that crap, it won't do any good when any hobby programmer like myself can make idiots search out and download my virus to their computer, and actually run it! The virus-protection cannot possibly be updated fast enough, as it is; the process must be automated and general solutions to the problems must be found!"

Iona listened incredulously, not really expecting this jokester to get all riled up over this particular subject. "I agree with some of your observations, but I fail to see how you suppose to achieve these goals."

"So does everyone else, for some or other reason. Imagine, no sooner than I had anonymously informed Symantec of the wormhole, than I was given a job offer. I say, we need an online list of valid applications -- including sizes, to be on the safe side -- with which any program must be verified by the system before being allowed to run. Only the few programs which need write-access to system files will be given this, according to the list. It's simple and effcient." Johnny extended his hands, as if to ask why hasn't anybody else thought of this?

She looked thoughtful for a few seconds, moistening her lips while she processed his suggestion. Then she shot off her list of objections, marking each post off with a finger.
"One: who will control the list? Bill Gates? Linux Torvalds? Kofi Annan? Two: how will you keep someone from hacking the list? Three: what about the Big Brother aspect? "

"Well, without getting to deeply involved in the tedious details, I would say these slight up-hills are cakewalk compared to the Chinese Walls people are climbing nowadays.....Say, isn't that house over there getting mighty close?" Johnny said, examining the building more closely from a distance.

"The mother sea turtle lays her clutch of eggs on the same beach within inches of the very patch of sand she herself crawled from twenty years before. How does she know to find that precise spot? She knows. It is born in her.

"I am like the sea turtle. The knowledge is born in me and it compels me just as a compass is compelled to point North. But I am not a compass, neither a sea turtle. I’m a man. So if you like, just call it my ‘spidey sense.’ But I beg you please don’t. I am not a spider, either.

"As to your second question, I do not know that my quarry is here. I know only that my quest has led me here. There may yet be more lands to see before I am finished…before we are finished."

Dren stared at Pieran as he walked by focused on reclaiming Point, in the march to the house "So, Mr. Miyagi, w'en ya gonna teach us to clip bonsai?" he said in passing.

The walk to the building is not difficult, but it was a lot further then you initial thought. As you approach the structure, you realize it is a large mansion. As you pass through the gate in the metal spiked fence that completely surrounds the building, you see your first signs of life. The grounds are still filled with flowering bushes and small trees. All are withered and dying.

The mansion’s tall walls are capped with even taller peaked spires on the corners. The entryway has a definite gated castle feel to it. The large arched double doors give the feeling that you are looking into the maw of a huge resting creature. The windows above the door are lit with flickering light, perhaps candlelight or maybe there is a fireplace in the room above. They only add to the appearance that “creature’s glowing eyes” are looking at you as you approach. High atop the entrance wall, a large winged Gargoyle sits guarding the mansion. The flashes in the sky momentarily illuminate it and give the appearance of movement, however slight, to the house guardian.

The slightly serpentine path leads to the steps at the base of the large double doors.  They are sturdy wooden doors reinforced with metal bands. Heavy round knockers hang in the center of each door.

"Wow, what knockers!" Pieran suddenly becomes self- conscious in the presence of ladies. "I mean, -er- I was just...saying....that the...  Never mind," he blushes.

   Johnny chuckled softly as he turned towards the sophisticated savage. "But Mr. Swift...have you remembered to calculate the slight offset between the geographical northpole and the one which your compass indicicates? If you follow magnetism blindly, you will find your pole-expedition to be sharing tents with Inuits on the Canadian tundra... Taken into consideration the fact that you are not planning a pole-expedition after all, I am starting to feel yet more uneasy around those butterknives of yours."
   Johnny paused momentarily, catching his breath both mentally and physically while sizing up the house, in particular noticing the Gargoyles on top of the entrance walls. "However, interesting as that analogy might have been, I am more keen to hear if you even know why you kill."

   "I bet those Gargoyles are going to soar from their pedestals and eat our brains out by the end of the day," Johnny B. commented, starting to move towards the entrancedoors. He stopped momentarily beside Pieran to say "Your sense of humour - and lack thereof - never ceases to amaze me, Mr. Swift...even your name..." Johnny left the statement in the air and moved to take hold of one of the knockers. "Somebody keep an eye on those Gargoyles," he commented, his voice slightly sardonical.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:33, Sat 24 July 2004.

“Looks like somebody left the light on for us, just like a Gothic Motel 6.”

Raven was surprised to see any sign of life in the mansion since everything else in this area seemed to have either died out or left long ago.



“Not a problem,” Raven said. She had already begun to study the carved figure and was wishing she could get a closer look at it. “Technically, it’s called a grotesque,” she said. “Gargoyles are designed to direct water away from the corners of buildings. Stone carvings that have the face of a creature but do not carry water are called a grotesque. This one is clearly decorative because of its positioning centered over the door.”

It is quite obvious to any onlooker that the conversation between Johnny and Iona has Alex bored to tears.

Quite the pair of bods.

A faint smile jumped to her lips at her use of one of Peter’s favourite expressions.  The man’s speech had been littered with slang, and quite indecipherable to anyone not up to date with the current phrases in use.  An expansive vocabulary of youth argot wouldn’t have been her choice of things to remember him by, but since it was all she had, it would make do.

She was startled out of her reverie by Pieran’s rather loud exclamation regarding the large doorknockers, and she suppressed a snort of laughter at his obvious embarrassment.  Her amusement is short-lived, and as Alex looked up at the house, she could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rising.  Unconsciously, her hand drifted towards the hilt of the long sword, and she could feel her body tensing in anticipation.



“Attractive fellow, don’t you think?” She remarked dryly, looking up at the grotesque.  “Quite the ladykiller, I'm sure.”

   "A what?" Johnny exclaimed. "Grotesque? Much can be said about me - attractive, cheerful, humourous, among other things - but I know my Gargoyles when I see them, and I'm talking about the mythological beast, not the bloody garden gnome!"



   Johnny curiously examined the Gargoyle this time, while still holding the knocker. "A ladykiller, yes, I can assure you - in the most literal sense. Kills more or less anything with a discernable head, though. Angelo di pietra in Italian - quite poetic, for a monster of it's qualities - translates Angels of Stone."

   Johnny's lips twisted in a crooked smile. "A ladykiller, yes, in the most literal sense - unlike me," he thought by himself.

Wide-eyed and silent, Iona trailed after the others as they (more or less) cautiously stepped through the gates. She cast a curious glance at the stone thingies, but was more interested in the actual manor. And if there was any food to be had there. And if there was a way to get home from there...

Even though it is quite high on the wall, the Gargoyle is large. It looks like a stone sculpture, carved from a single boulder. The long, sharp bird-like head glared down at the group as they approached. With a roughly humanoid body, it sits on its hunches leaning over the edge as if ready to leap off the roof. The chest is heavily muscled as are the forearms leading to the fingers that end in talons. The great hawk wings are high in its back, partly spread, poised for a swift and sudden dive. A bright flash of lightning casts eerie shadows onto the path before you.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:02, Sun 25 July 2004.

“Grotesque, Mr. Hope,” Pieran says, his voice soft and even. His eyes rove the walls, windows and turrets of the mansion. “Gargoyle: from the Latin gargarizare –to gargle, and from Old French gargouille –throat. Hence gargoyle, an objet d’art, spouting or ‘gargling’ water, wine, or blood. Crafted not thus, grotesque.”

Pieran knocks an arrow to his bowstring and offers Raven an obeisant salaam.

Noting Alexis’ voice and the grip upon her sword, he sidles near her and whispers a prayer, “Angels fly your stroke unerring. Chicaneries and malice, wait. En garde.”

He flinches back at the sudden burst of lightning. “Curse thee, I say,” he shouts to the sky. “We are here! Open then up the gates. Your keys of ancient days are gone to rust and I will play your games of old no more.”
This message was last edited by the player at 21:35, Sun 25 July 2004.

   Johnny B. stepped up beside Pieran, fists pointed to the sky. "To strong man; listen! Like Yoda, he speakest." he burst out just as loudly, with a flare of dramatics derived from the lightning.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:50, Sun 25 July 2004.

Dren, unable to hold back his own commentary, smiled adding "Darmok and Jelad at Tenagra!"
This message was last edited by the player at 04:34, Sun 25 July 2004.

   "Did I miss something pop-cultural!?" Johnny said, turning to Dren with a surprised look on his face.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 04:46, Sun 25 July 2004.

Iain chuckled at Dren's comment: "So you cast us all as Darmok and Jalad and our demon-looking friend up there in the role of the beast? Too bad I didn't bring my phaser..."

Then he turned to Johnny: "It's a Star Trek thing, Mr. Bee... While I haven't seen many episodes of that particular series, I had the venture..." He stopped, wondering if Pieran was contagious in some way... "I happened to catch that one on TV: it is said to be among the best ones in the series. Darmok and Jalad were two strangers - or possibly two enemies - who joined together to fight a common peril. That event became part of the language of a people whose only way to communicate was through references to their own folklore - pretty hard for outsiders to understand... For instance, they wouldn't say 'we come in peace', or 'let's be friends', they'd say 'Darmok and Jalad at Tenagra'."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:17, Sun 25 July 2004.

   "Oh, I see. They were aliens - on Star-Trek. But how do you excuse speaking gibberish?" Johnny snorted, speaking to nobody in particular: "Pop-cultural, yes. When did Star-Trek become pop-culture? Well, these days metal is mainstream, Gargoyles are called Grotesques and I suddenly find myself in a Hellish dimension. Next thing, the US are going to get a black president - and the Devil help me, she might be female as well. Days of doom are upon us, I say, and melodramatics is my expertise."

Raven winced at the comparison of such a classic piece of sculpture to a cheap lawn ornament. “Played a little too much Dungeon and Dragons in your youth, didn’t you, Mr. Hope?”



Raven smiled at Pieran, pleased that someone knew what she was talking about. “It’s nice to know I’m not the only one with an appreciation for historic architecture.”

Raven only half-listened as Johnny, Dren and Iain played conversational ping-pong. “Are we going to continue to stand around while Mr. Hope fondles the door knockers? If none of you heavily armed souls are brave enough to rap on the door, I’ll do it.” Raven started walking towards the door.

"Oh, fer the love of..."

Dren skipped over all the steps and was at the door, next to Johnny, in one motion. His left hand still near the gun in his belt he reached up to the alternate knocker with his right and knocked three times as loudly as he could before stepping back with his left leg should the need for a quick cross draw arise.

Raising the knocker and letting it drop three times resulted in loud, hollow booming that seemed to echo within. As the echo fades, the door that was knocked on slowly and quietly swung open, allowing all to enter. Light spilled onto the group, somewhat bright after the walk in the semidarkness of the overcast sky.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:04, Sun 25 July 2004.

"How nice: a hell mansion with automatic door openers. Well, I'll assume that this means we are welcome..."

He walked to the door, peeking inside, and turned to face the others: "I'm going inside: if I'm struck dead by a lightning bolt right after I walk through the door, it will probably mean I'm wrong and we are not that welcome after all. Cross your fingers for me, will you?"

And, with that, Iain walked through the door, not worrying too much about what could be waiting inside.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:52, Sun 25 July 2004.

Pieran swallows hard, as if choking down a bitter pill. "Damn you, i wish you hadn't said that."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:37, Sun 25 July 2004.

Iona turned back towards the grotesque once more, wondering what all the etymological fuss was all about. Then the sudden burst of lightning sent her anxiety levels way up once more. And Pieran's odd behavior didn't help one bit:







She flinched. It was hard to know which one was the most annoying: the drama queen or the mocking bird. But Dren's comment almost brought a smile back to Iona's face. Almost, but not quite.

And then, before she knew it, the door was swinging open and Iain strolled inside. Adrenaline started to pump in her veins, as the momentary feeling of safeness in the known factor - the banter and bickering of the people around her - disappeared like one of those flashes in the sky. On a reflex, her hand dove into her ample purse once more, this time grabbing the can of pepperspray lying in the side pocket she'd sewn into the handbag for easy access. She wasn't actually scared, yet. But this time, Iona wasn't going to get caught off guard.

The Entryway is clean and neatly furnished. A couple of mirrors with ornate wood frames are mounted near the entrance, one on each side of the hall. The floor appears to be white marble and there are six other doorways, three on each side of the hall, all with closed doors. Spaced neatly between the other doorframes are pairs of small benches, two of light colored carved wooden frames, two of dark mahogany with ornate carvings, two of dark red granite, all are upholstered with fine linen and intricate patterns. They seem to be museum pieces, but not frail with age. A basketball-sized crystal gives off the glow that illuminates the room. It appears suspended in midair, too high to reach. In the center of the hall a large staircase, easily 4 persons wide, rises up to the floor above.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:38, Mon 26 July 2004.

   "Truth to tell, Miss...some-or-other-thing...I did a little to much of everything in my youth. However, my knowledge of the Gargoyles is actually derived from poetry and mythology, in which winged monsters of stone which turn animate are referred to as Gargoyles, regardless of whether they fancy sprouting water."

   As the doors opened, Johnny B. entered at a safe distance behind Iain, to be sure that potential spring traps and charging rhineroceruses would hit him rather than his own pretty face. He looked carefully around himself, conscious about not touching anything at all. For a moment, he surveyed the hallway, trying to determine whether the place was inhabited or not - going by cobwebs in corners or kneedeep layers of dust. He also spent a moment trying to listen for any noise out of the ordinary. Finally satisfied with his semi-paranoid observation, he admired himself for a moment in the mirror and returned to his more ususal self.
   "Yeah guys, entering this house is the very action we will regret for hours to come. If somebody as much as thinks of saying the words Let's split up! I'll gut you slowly with rusty butterknife, after which I will eat your entrails and dance happily on your grave... With that established; where are our bloody hosts?" Johnny asked, questionally, before remembering the door which opened entirely on its own accord. He turns around to try to find any mechanism which could have done it, while still taking care not to touch anything.

This message was deleted by the player at 05:58, Mon 26 July 2004.

Pieran entered quickly after Johnny, and took up the best tactical position possible from the right side of the main door, allowing him first aim at the stairs or the hall. He drew his bow string taught as he eyed the room, readied to raise and shoot if the need arose.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:37, Mon 26 July 2004.

   Johnny eyed Pieran doubtfully, trying to see what he was aiming at. "But if we do spilt up, I want to be with that guy," he said, indicating the heavily armed madman with a drawn bow.

Raven watched the door swing open and the others enter one by one. “I’m disappointed. I was kind of hoping Lurch would answer the door.”

She followed the others in and took stock of the room. “All we need is a devilish Monty Hall asking us if we want to trade our soul for what’s behind door number one, number two, or number three.”



“Anyone else notice how there are seven of us and seven doors, if you count the one we just came through? Or, if you want to count just the remaining doors, perhaps Dren and I are supposed to pick a door together, since we came in together.” Raven glanced at Johnny, “Not that I’m suggesting that we split up.” Raven was speaking with that same unconcerned, matter-of-fact tone that was probably becoming all too familiar to the group. “I’m not looking to get my entrails spread on Mr. Hope’s butter knife. I’m just thinking out loud.”

She walked around the room, examining the furnishings. “There are some nice pieces in here.” Raven ran her hand along one of the benches. “No dust. Everything looks like it’s still being well maintained.”

   Johnny grinned shamelessly. "Good to see somebody is taking me seriously," he said in a voice that didn't quite reveal what he actually meant.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:11, Mon 26 July 2004.

Dren stepped between Johnny and Raven, "'E would ne'er get the chance." Dren stated more factly then threateningly.

Glancing back at Pieran taking aim the looked straight up to cover an area that had yet to be inspected in detail. Johnny could have the doors, Pieran could have the stairs, everyone else could have the room and it's door... he was taking the ceiling. Doing so he slowly drew the gun from his belt and transfered it to his right hand.

Alex followed Raven and Dren inside, hand still firmly wrapped around the hilt of her sword.  Silently, she examined her surroundings, quietly noting the observations of her companions.

“Well, if not hosts, there must be someone here.  This place doesn’t clean itself.”  A thought crossed her mind and she smirked. “Probably.”
This message was last edited by the player at 00:15, Tue 27 July 2004.

The group entered the entryway and took up defensive positions, covering the stairs and doorways. Raven moved into the room and inspected the furnishings. Nothing seemed to come and greet you, but you have the feeling you have been invited in. You all proceeded into the room, ready for any attack.

Curiously, the sounds of chirping birds were heard coming from up the stairs.

The entrance had quietly closed behind you. There does not seem to be a separation between the two doors anymore. It is as if the door is now one solid door, banded by metal. The hinges are on the inside, but they seem more like mounting hardware then hinges. Without proper tools, it does not look like fiddling with them will do any good.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:15, Mon 26 July 2004.

Pieran took detached note of the doors that threatened to seal them inside the foyer. "Jonah 1:17," he said softly and to no one in particular. His main interest lay before him, inside the gothic mansion. He sniffed the air, searching for hidden or masked scents and though he could hear the chirping sounds drift down from above and into the main room, his face registered nothing that might satisfy his host(s). His eyes narrowed, focussing all available light into coherent targets and he pricked up his ears for other than the upstairs chirping and his henpecking companions.

But his eyes covered his companions as well, hawkishly watching their every move, step, and gesture. He needed them and he knew it. 'Fanfarons,' he thought to himself. 'Si fervents et naifs. Ils ne tarderont pas a se calmer.' He smiled the barest flicker of cheek and chin. He was surprised to remember that much French! He laughed to himself. 'Probably not even close.' "Courage mounteth with occasion," he said in his definingly passive and unaimed sotto voce. It reinforced his vigilence.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:12, Tue 27 July 2004.

“As cool as a self cleaning house might be, I don’t think that’s the kind of thing we’d find in hell. I’m sure this place must have some kind of caretaker.” Raven shrugged, “What’s a mansion without an elderly butler?”



Raven watched the door close and seal up. “That can’t be good,” she said. “I’m going to take a closer look at these other doors. I want to try and see if there is any oddness about them before we open any of them.” She moved to the first door on the right and started examining it. “Can’t be any harder than looking for traps on ancient crypts.”
This message was last edited by the player at 02:16, Tue 27 July 2004.

Iain kept staring at the mirrors, showing the reflected images of seven people brought together by fate. The background generated by the twin mirrors made the room, and the group, look unreal.

Knowing what he knew, he found the image even more bizarre, and couldn't bring himself to look away from his own image, reflected in a mirror for the first time in years.



He only half-turned to talk to Raven: "Umm... Isn't a trap in an ancient crypt what brought you here in the first place? Well, maybe the crypt was in fact a temple, but that's not really the point, is it?"

Dren, who'd been watching Iain watch himself, said "Dinna worry, S'long as she keeps from touchin' th'Rune of Set we should all be fine." all the while he keep his eyes fixed on Iain adding "Th' say if ye stare in a mirror too long, y'sees the Devil!"

Raven finished checking the first door and moved onto the second. “That was,” she glanced at Dren. “That was a miscommunication. Besides, I have no intention of pressing anything. That’s the point, to check before we activate something. You know, look before we leap.” Raven moved on to the third door.



“No tricky Egyptian runes here.” Raven studied the door and its mechanisms. She’d occasionally lightly touch parts of it, but she wouldn’t use enough pressure to push or turn anything. She sighed as she turned to look at Dren. “The only thing I’m finding is, that they’re all locked.” She walked to the other side of the room. “Let me check the three on this side. It will only take me a moment.” Raven suspected she was just going to find more of the same with the second trio of doors but, all those years trekking through various tombs and temples had taught her to leave no stone unturned.

Dren holstered his gun and approached the first door that Raven had examined, looking it over he quietly pulled a small tool kit and mini led flashlight from one of his many pant pockets, then dropping chest first to the floor he lay down to see if he could look under the doors.

After satisfied with that exercise he got up to one knee and checked the lock with the same light and shook his head. Standing he replaced all his tools and turned to Raven as if she was the only person in the room "Dinna bring m'tools fer this kinna work."

“Well, these aren’t exactly the kind of locks we were expecting to find in an Egyptian temple.” Raven finished checking the other three doors and looked at Dren. “Exactly the same as the first three. Nothing but locked doors.”

Dren just looked at Raven for a long moment, then turned his eyes to stair. As if remebering there were other's in the room he looked around at everyone present still weighing thier options.

When it became apparent there was no immediate danger, Alex released her grip on the long sword.  She watched Raven check the doors, paying close attention the conversation between her and Dren.



She frowned at the news, crossing her arms over her chest. “Then I suggest we try upstairs.  If there is anyone else here, I wouldn’t want to upset them by booting their interior doors in.” 

As no danger materialized, Iona calmed down once more and put away the can in her purse.



Iona glided over to where Iain was staring into the reflective glass. She automatically adjusted the scarf on her head and smoothed her hair. Then she went over to one of the benches, sat down and brought out her notebook and a pen.

So. Magic. Iona hadn't really wanted to get this close in touch with the stuff. She'd  known she would eventually have to deal with it, but had chosen to focus on the science bit for starters. But now, stuck in a Hell Dimension with six strangers and staring at a glowing sphere suspended in mid-air right in front of her -- Talk about 'no strings attached' -- she couldn't really keep on ignoring it.

But she damn well could try. And getting organized is the first step, she thought. Maybe the key to getting home was here in this mansion. But while they were waiting to see what their next would be, she might as well start documenting the details of their odd adventure thus far, before she forgot about it.

With few strokes, she had sketched the seven-pointed star the had all 'landed' in at their arrival to this weird place and marked who had stood where in the diagram. That task done, she jotted down the facts she'd already assembled on her fellow cast-aways. While she wrote, she could feel the knots in her back begin to loosen up.

By the time she was done with this task, Raven had finished checking the doors.



"I agree," Iona said. "Clearly we've been invited in by our absent hosts, and are not expected to leave quite yet. All other options for proceeding have been eliminated. We either wait here for God knows how long or go up. I vote for up." Great. Now I'm Mrs Spock.

"They do, don't they?" Iain commented to himself, still looking in the mirror. A faint glow shimmered for a brief instant in his eyes as he concentrated on the inner demon he had never seen. He considered for an instant the idea of releasing it, have a look at the demon just for once, but he discarded the idea.

Then he sighed turned to face Dren: "They are probably right, my friend... They probably are."



"You know what? Unless someone has a good reason to stay here and starve to death, I'll go pay a visit to our unseen hosts. Keep your heads down and watch out for the fireball..."

With that, Iain started walking to the staircase, talking loudly to the air: "And when you drag someone in a hell dimension, it is considered polite to show up and say hello. I mean, just because you are a demon, doesn't mean you have to be rude!"

Dren watched Iain start up the stars, he didn't see any logic behind everyone going up and wasn't about the let Raven follow, nor leave her alone.

"B'careful, I dinna 'ave any w'ere to keep yer swords at th' moment." advised Dren, turning to Pieran he added "At least ye should go wit' 'im, may make n'sense fer all of us to follow, but t'is still yer quest after all."

Iain turned to Dren and grinned widely, thinking about Dren's face if he really happened to be dusted, taking the swords with him to whatever waited an ensouled vampire after his death: "You better hope nothing bad happens to me, Dren my friend... For the swords' sake, if not for mine or yours."

The stairs were carpeted, and show some wear due to use and age but in good condition. At the top of the stairs, there is a second set of stairs that lead to the third floor. Hallways head off to the left and right, and continue past the second set of stairs in front of you. All those ways are darkened to the point of inky blackness. Down the hallways, additional closed doors can be seen until it is too dark to see any further. There is a walkway protected by railing that heads back toward the front of the building, overlooking the entryway. This leads to the room that is above the main doors. Flickering light can be seen dancing from the open door.  The sounds of chirping birds drifted to you and come from the room.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:41, Tue 27 July 2004.

   Johnny looked a bit dubiously towards the stairs, reluctant to venture into the unknown, yet aware that nothing would happen if they just stood around here. "Well, I'm for going up, but if so, let's all go. I've seen to many horror movies too start splitting up already, besides I don't really see the purpose of staying down here. Even granted we do manage to get the doors open - not that I doubt you, not at all...no, really - what are we going to do - go back out again?" Johnny stopped a bit up, realizing he was actually making a bit sense for once. Not a good sign, for certain.
   He walked over to the stairs, trying to figure out the architecture of the house. "If anybody wants my guess - chances are not, but so be it - I would say we will find more stairs and more doors up there. The customary place to greet a guest is, after all, at the front doors. We could try a few of the doors down here instead - I, for one, wouldn't mind finding a bathroom."

"Y'seen too many movies, Mr. Bee. Reality and logic stand, if somethin' lethal were t'appen t'ya, t'would 'appen t'us all. Tha's why th' entire SWAT team dinna try to defuse 1 bomb... 'cause there aint no sense in blowin' up th'lot of us. Cold as it may be, someone 'as to be alive to try door number 2." With that Dren gave Johnny a Good-Luck nod and wave, combo before finding a spot on the bench next to Iona.

This message was deleted by the player at 21:09, Tue 27 July 2004.

Pieran was only slightly satisfied that the ground floor had been shown secure.





“Our quest, Mr. Dren,” Pieran said, his speech astonishingly ordinary. “Anyway, you read my mind. I’m going up but keep wary down here. I know these houses; there is almost certainly a basement. I have seen basements where things have learned to walk that ought to crawl. Our backs are not yet safe. In that sense, Mr. Hope is correct. Let Iain and I call you up in a moment.”



Pieran advanced up the stairs with tiptoed grace. He sidled next to Iain. “I’ll give you the strength of my bow,” he said. “It would be a devilish shame to lose those swords.” And with that he flashed Iain a warm, becoming smile.



“Tactics dictate that we clear the flanking halls before assaulting the lighted room,” Pieran whispered, his speech still remarkably ordinary. “But logic suggests that that we ignore the halls and move directly toward the room. Clearly, we are being led there. Thus we have little to fear –for now. Besides, I believe what you believe: our host(s) know we are here and I am tired of being a fish on a line. I say we summon the rest and make a good showing. Say ye so?” he asked, unexpectedly returning to his antique vocabulary.

Iain blinks and lets go a sincere laughter: "It surely would! Very well, then, I'll surely feel more safe knowing that you watch my six."



"Okay, but let me check the room, first, just in case."

Expecting to find a huge demon with a bird's head, Iain walked slowly into the room, ready to unsheath both swords and cut to pieces whatever was inside at the slightest hint of an attack.

Iain entered the room and confirmed your ears were working. Seven birdcages were scattered about the room. Several dozen birds resembling canaries - green, yellow, blue, and red in color, flittered around, some in the cages, some about the room. They gave the room life and color, like when sunlight hits a crystal and the room is splashed with rainbows.  There were no doors on the cages, so they could come and go as they wish. A large fireplace was centered on the wall next to the door Iain came in. The heat it gave off was warm but not stifling. The room was furnished with items one would find in a rich person’s private study or library.  Only the cages and a couple of assorted bird stands seemed out of place. Seated in a large leather wingback chair behind a fair sized desk sat a gray haired person. You might have called him a man, if it weren’t for his long nose and the pointed tips of his ears peaking out of the shoulder length hair. He was stroking one of the birds as he watched Iain’s entrance.

“Sit” he commanded “I am sure you are tired from your journey to here” He indicated the one loveseat and five chairs situated around the room.

Walking a safe distance behind the two armed men up the stairs, Iona soon enough followed suite into the chirping room, but waited with taking a seat for a moment, trying to evaluate the situation.

Raven went and stood by the foot of the stairs, watching and listening for any signs of trouble from those who had gone up. When she heard none, she turned and looked at Dren, with her head tilted to one side and her hands on her hips.

Pieran spoke in the hallway, his usual soft accent replaced by something more firm. "Iain, you okay? Call me when you want me."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:42, Wed 28 July 2004.

Dren knew Raven's expression could only mean one thing, with a shrug he stood and drew a gun with his left hand, filling his right with the mag-light that had been stored at his belt. Finger off the trigger and flash light unlit he walked past her only to glance back with a nod.

Pieran paused but was unwilling to wait for a reply. He hadn't come through the ages and the haunts of Hades to be a hall monitor. "Never mind," he said, as he stepped into the room, his bow taut and primed to fire. He stared unmoved at the humanoid figure before him. "I'm sorry, should I have knocked?"
This message was last edited by the player at 07:23, Wed 28 July 2004.

Raven fell in step behind Dren and shadowed him as he went up the stairs.

Johnny leaned himself up against the banister of the stairs and clumsily dug through the contents of his bag to reveal a short, ornamental knife - the folding kind, with a blade approximately as long as his hand. It was rather decorative, the hilt shining in silver. "I said not to split up," he thought by himself. "Why does nobody listen to me? Okay, stupid question, chances are they didn't even notice me talking. Guess it's about time to show my true self to this ragtag bunch."
   He heaved the bag back up to his shoulder and tried springing the knife once, before safely placing it in the pockets of his pants. Then he looked towards Alexis, ready to escort her up the stairs. Meanwhile, he put his wide-brimmed hat. "These shades," he commented by himself, holding up his pair of RayBans, "make the difference between Johnny B. Hope -" he made a slight pause to put on the sunglasses, " - and Superstud! Underwear going over the jeans is kinda last year's fashion..."

"Ah, Pieran, glad you could make it. Please allow me to introduce our host, Mr... I'm sorry, sir, I didn't quite get your name." Iain commented, without seating, but without a hostile tone.

“All of you, come in and sit," he replied. "Warm yourselves by my fire. When all are present, I will answer, for I do not enjoy repeating myself, like some mockingbird."

Although appearing very old, he was not frail. He followed each one as they entered with sharp eyes and every movement was scrutinized. He continued to gently stroke the bird resting on his other hand.

Dren leaned around to see where the voice was comming from before turning back to Raven and whispering "Found yer butler."

Alex shot Johnny a grin as he slid on the Raybans.

“Nice sunnies, Neo.”   Gesturing up the stairs, she asked; “Shall we?”

  Shocked at the postive response, Johnny B. lost his sleazy attitude for a moment, spending a few seconds of eh and uhms to recapurate, before resuming his grin - a bit wider this time. "Why, of course, Alex. Let's find out where's hip nowadays."
   With that, Johnny took lead up the stairs, looking keenly around himself for the rest of the circus, potental threats, and valuables which could fit in a bag. Ming vases, golden chandeliers, stuff like that. He soon noticed the still open door, but couldn't hear any voices. "So, did you all get killed already?" he shouted in a dissappointed voice, moving to the doorway to peak in. Upon seeing nothing he regarded as an immediate threat - at least, everybody else seemed to be comfortable around the stranger - he relaxed his shoulders and entered with a careless stroll. Figuring the loveseat was for more or less anybody but him, Johnny sat down in a chair, studying the elvish ears of the man in front of him. He concidered making a Lord of the Rings reference, but decided the audience wasn't quite favourable. The man seemed more of a talker than a listener - more of a stern gazer than hearty laugher, for that matter.

“Not exactly Mr. Belvedere, is he,” Raven whispered back to Dren. She stepped just inside the room and stood near the door.

The old man watched each as they entered; some took seats while others remained ready for fight or flight. “Stand if you must, sit if you wish,”   he stated. When all had entered, he drew a deep breath.

“I am Gardiano, the Lord Guardian Gatekeeper,” he said in a strong, deep voice. “Ruler of these lands whose name I fear you can not pronounce. It is a realm that exists at the fringe of all existence. It completes all worlds, not unlike a matte to a picture frame. You do not notice it, but without it, the picture seems to be lacking, - to be somewhat less.  For simplistic sake, call me Matt, for that is who and what I am.” He continued to pet the bird on his hand, while it chirped occasionally.

“You all have been gathered together for a reason,”   he continued. “You and your combined “talents” are required to mend what has been torn asunder. Together you must toil, sweat, and yes, some of your precious life fluids, whatever it may be, maybe spilled. With hard work, cunning, skill, and some luck, you may be successful; nay, you MUST be successful. For if you are not, all that you know, love and care for will be naught. It will end, not unlike the creatures of Old, their bones are all that remain.”

He drew a long breath and then looked at each in the room. He locked his eyes with each person for a short span of seconds as if to search through the windows to the souls within.  “Speak, if you must, and ask your questions. I may answer if I find value in doing so. Other answers must be learned and can not be told to you.”

   Johnny glanced critically at this man in front of him - Matt. His expressions were hidden behind sunglasses and the shadows from his hat, a perfect gambler's outfit. He briefly cleared his throat before adressing the elder one. "Questions, you say. I like questions - asking them, that is. You seem to be a straightforward man, so allow me to be frank with you."
   B. Hope made sure he had the attention of his host before resuming. "First and foremost, I'd be interested in hearing exactly what we are supposd to do, but also how we can trust what you are saying - that you are not just setting us up against some or other enemy of yours. It would also be of interest to hear what talents I can provide to duct-tape together pictures and worlds. Lastly, I'd like to mention that over in our dimension, it is common courtesy to ask before you send people sprawling through interdimensional gateways..."

"What do you mean, 'mend what has been torn asunder'?" Iona asked as she finally took one of the seats in front of the old man.

Iain scratched his head, sighed and commented: "Feel free to correct me if my analysis is wrong... You summoned seven people. At least two of them where completely unaware of the very possibility that a place like this could exist. At least four of them only show minimal combat training. And, while once you mix and match all the various talents you end up with a very skilled group, I'd like to attract your attention on the distinct lack of serious supernatural powers in it... I mean, why not just go with, dunno, a Slayer? I mean, why pick six plain, normal humans?"

He stopped for a second glancing at his companions "Okay, maybe 'normal' is too strong a word..."
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:01, Wed 28 July 2004.

Settling herself onto the loveseat, legs crossed, Alex listened to the strange old man speak.  When he locked eyes with her, she felt a chill run down her spine and she gave an involuntary shiver.

Deciding to remain silent for the time being, she listened to the questions that the rest of the group were asking.

“What you are suppose to do is simple, Johnny,” Matt said. “One who was a Guardian, is now under guard. She must be set free to then right what is wrong. Trust is another matter. It must be earned, as you should well know. People learn to trust you and it is then that you take your advantage.”



“This realm is what is being torn,”   Matt answered. “Did you not notice the dire condition it is in, Iona? One must open their mind, their heart, and their eyes if one is to truly see.”



“As you say, Iain, you are not a normal group. Separately, you would manage a meager life. Some may even make a mark in it, but together you can be more. Much more, if you can set aside your differences and focus on the “Big Picture.” Matt smiled slightly at his pun.

Speak your mind Alexis, you need not fear me,” Matt said. He turned and looked intently at her as he spoke. “It is those you may face later that will warrant that response, not I.”
This message was last updated by the GM at 22:11, Thu 29 July 2004.

Dren, now slumped in a chair, raised his hand, "I 'ave a question. You have Guinness an' crips 'iden any w'ere 'round 'ere?"

Raven remained standing, folding her arms in front of her. “Rescuing a damsel in distress is not what I do. I procure rare items. If there’s a special trinket that you need acquired, then maybe we can negotiate some terms. If you just need somebody to slay the dragon and save the princess, then why don’t you send the fencing club over there,” Raven indicated Iain, Pieran and Alex.

   Johnny B. glared a bit at Dren - making inappropriate, not-really-all-that-funny comments was his thing - but chuckled lightly as he heard Raven's comment. He turned towards her. "Hey, come on - damsels, guardians, items, what difference does it make? Guess either would fetch a nice cookie and a pat on the cheek." Still wondering whatever special talent he could possess himself, he spoke to Matt: "You did say you wanted each and every one of us for our unique qualities...guess without Raven we'll find ourselves..." he said, with a mischevious smile, "setting off the alarm at the front doors."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:57, Thu 29 July 2004.

"Hey, it's my first visit, I don't know what passes for normal around here." Iona frowned at the old man, or whatever. Everyone was bringing up valid points, including Dren's food issue, but none of it was what really interested Iona.

"And what happens if we don't learn to play along and jump through your hoops? Would it be too much to hope for a speedy and safe trip back home?"

Pieran eased his grip on the bowstring. "Seven to one, and our host is not at all concerned," he thought to himself. "He is either a fool or he is quite confident in his safety." Pieran studied the gentleman for a moment. "He does not look the fool." Pieran relaxed his stance and bowed his head in a nod of deference to the man who called himself Matt. "We are clearly on his turf," Pieran thought. "If he meant us harm, we would have felt if by now." Pieran knew this was just another step leading him towards his destiny. He would freely do whatever was required of him.

“Dren, if it is food you asking for, you will find plenty where you are going. Although, they are not going to have your Guinness, you will be well fed.”



“Because Dr. Cantrell, might is not all that is required here. I have managed to locate a place and a time, but the cause is still somewhat of a mystery to me. Consider this a test. If you succeed, they you are indeed worthy of the handsome reward I have planned for you and your group. You will become heroes in all worlds. There is only so much I can do from here and I need to hold this realm together, and as a result, this world keeps the rest of them together. Any trinkets and bobbles you gather that are of value to you are yours to keep. They mean little to me.”



“That would be most unfortunate, Iona. Fail this test and become lost in a void of time and space, never dieing, never escaping a rip in the fabric that is the Universe, forever alone.”

"Yeah, yeah, yeah! 'ero, victim, time and space... Le's go back t'th'Reward part! I'd like to 'ear more 'bout tha'! 'ow much o'Reward we talkin'bout?"

"So this is a 'do or never die' kind of deal, huh? Well, I do find death overrated, but I'm not exactly thrilled at the other option. I kinda agree with Dren about the reward part..."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:39, Thu 29 July 2004.

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to cram the seven of us into a Winnebago, with bull horns on its grill, to travel from dimension to dimension facing stupid challenges.” Raven glanced at the rest of the group. “Do we get to vote each other off, too?”



“So, you’ve basically made us an offer we can’t refuse.” Raven sighed. “Ok then. I want more info. You know all our names, and probably more than that since we’ve all been specially selected for our “talents”. If you have detailed files on each of us, how about giving us the specifics of this “mission” you’re sending us on. You said this realm is being torn and that’s why it’s in this condition but, this devastation didn’t happen recently. It’s been like this for decades. What happened 40 years ago to kill everything off, and why did you wait until now to do anything about it?”

Matt shook his head and sighed. He turned and looked at the bird on his hand, “You see, little one. They have before them a noble and desperate cause, yet in the end what will motivate some of them will still be greed. I question it as a reason, but then time and time again, these humans have made great advancing strides for their desire to gather and horde bits of metal and stone.”

He paused as the bird chirped pleasantly. Matt’s eyes gazed at Dren and Iain. Should you succeed, you will want for nothing, for all your needs will be taken care of. You will be sent to your home, and there you will be rewarded. I can make this happen if you can solve this puzzlement before you and free the entrapped one.”



Dr. Cantrell, have you lost your sense of adventure? You should be well aware that time is relative and things change with time. A vase is merely a molding of river mud, dried in the afternoon sun. But bury it for hundreds of years and even its broken bits will have value.

Time passed before the rift was known. Time passed before the chain of events could be traced. Time passed as others made attempts to discover the cause, but failed in those attempts. You should be commended, for you collectively have learned more then those that have come before you. Together, you will succeed, or together we will all cease to exist. The reward is great because it is fitting to the task. I have divined that one of my Guardians is unable to act; therefore I know that she has become trapped. Locate her and set her free. She will be able to seal the rift from her end. Save her, thus saving us all. I have been able to determine a time and a place for your task to begin. I have your transportation ready. Look for the Elder Priest. He is helpful and wise. He will know where Orean is. All you need do is follow the light as you did to find me, and it will begin.

Matt shrugged his shoulders. “As for hopping dimensions to tend to tasks, I think it should not come to that. Once this is complete, one dimension is where you shall reside. Besides, I would think a Winnebago would not be a bad way to travel. Perhaps you would prefer a wooden broom?” Matt smiled wide, his pointy white teeth showed briefly.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:42, Fri 30 July 2004.

Iain grinned slightly: "You know perfectly well I have little interest in precious metals... And that only the only kind of stone that was relevant to me has been destroyed years ago."

Oooh, puzzles. Iona had already brought up her pen and pad. "OK, let me see if I’ve got this straight. You and this Orean person are Guardians of this realm. Then something made a rift in it, but you don’t know how or why, only when and where." She was writing as she talked. "And Orean was supposed to either prevent it or fix it, but she didn’t because she got trapped, somehow. And you know where she is, but can’t go after her yourself, because you’ve got your hands full keeping stuff together here as it is. Is that the chain of events you're talking about? And now you want us to set Orean free. Am I right so far?" Iona stopped writing at this point.

“See, here’s what’s bugging me. You said others have tried to discover the cause of the rift, but failed. Failed how? What did they find? And haven’t there been attempts at setting this Guardian free before us? Aren’t there more of you Guardian types around here?”

"Nearly perfect Iona. There are other Guardians, but they care for their realms. I am Lord Guardian since all realms connect to this one. I complete theirs and together, we complete the civilized worlds. Other Guardians are still watching their realms and can not assist, for it would mean leaving theirs unwatched. Other champions have attempted, one at a time, but must have failed for Orean has not corrected things on her end. Why they failed, I fear I do not know. You as a team however, will succeed."

   Idly drumming the rhythm of some obscure metal song against his chair, Johnny at last considered the weird situation he was in. It seemed he was, after all, located in some strange hell-dimension. Alltogether, that wasn't all too bad - bad was deciphering your unreadable economics notes the day before an exam, or being at a dull party with loads of people you didn't know - and were perfectly happy to not get to know any better.
   In science-fiction movies, time tends to move differently in different dimensions - so, when I get back, maybe mere seconds have passed...on the other hand, maybe my new RayBans are last season already, and the third World War is just something they teach is school...
   He was lost in his own thoughts for a few seconds, weighing some pro and con's. Things could've been much worse - he could still have been on Interstate's four thirty-three. Whatever happened to that train, anyway? The details were fading a bit away even for him - he had always had the uncanny ability to remember scenes and events in full-detail graphic. Seemingly, the train had collided with something, but after all, a seat in third cart wasn't exactly the optimal vantage point. He might have died - could explain a lot, being in a hell dimension would make much more sense...he would have to ask about that sometime soon
   You've always been thinking too much, he critisized himself. Not to mention talking too much.

   Whatever might be the truth, he didn't have the necessary data to figure it out. For now, it would be interesting to take a look at what this Matt was talking about. Seemed to be a properly challenging task - more so than showing he could add two and four and solve some second degree functions. Might get to show that pompous swordsman that he had a joker or two up his sleeve as well - well, a pair of three's to be honest, but details are no fun.

   Johnny B. waited until Matt and Iona were done conversing. "As far as I am concerned," he said, feeling a bit refreshened - even that god-be-damned headache was gone - "only two questions remain. Where do we start - and, you wouldn't perchance bathroom where I could - ah, let's call it powder my nose."

Pieran bowed his head reverently, his right hand saluting from his heart. “Lord Guardian,” he said. “That you hold us to a standard which could repair these realms is honor beyond reward.” His voice was mellow even while his tone was formal, as if he were speaking to a king. Yet a drift in his voice lent a faint fragrance of umbrage to the air. He resented the Guardian’s generalities and he felt certain the ancient watchman got the message. “Alone I have but pitiable strength,” he went on, more conciliatory that time. “and I do not know how our paths intersect, but I swear to the range of my lives that Orean will be freed. Do not doubt us, for the newness of our acquaintance yet makes strangers of us all. We will convene in harmony.” He nodded again, respectfully, yet almost as an equal. He never blinked an eye.

“Thank you Pieran. Our paths have finally twined. I am sure you will do your best. Johnny, you asked what it is you contribute. Your name and your passion lend to your contribution. Even though humans should have not been able to survive, given their lack of toughness, fang and claw, they have. When things were dire, they did not give up. They always have that intangible quality of Hope and Luck. You are skilled in luck and you hope to surprise me. That intangible is what you bring.” Shifting in his chair, Matt tossed the bird lightly into flight. The red bird flew in a circle above Matt’s head and landed on the back of the chair.

“Go now, your way will be clear if you follow the light. Follow the light” and then with a dismissive wave of his hand, he beaconed them to depart.

Your motley crew entered the upper hall and headed toward the stairs. The hallway to the left at the head of the stairs is now lit while the other passageways remain darkened. Proceeding down the hall, pairs of doors are visible lining the hallway. At the first set of doors, the left one was locked, but the right one is unlocked.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:31, Sat 31 July 2004.

   "The way will be clear if you follow the light," Johnny B. quoted, throwing a somewhat dubious glance up the hallway. He had not expected to be adventuring within this very house, but it was probably a good thing. Long walks had always tended to be a bore. "Guess we don't want to find out what the way will be if we don't follow the light."

   Johnny casually observed his surroundings, his eyes pausing a bit on Pieran. "You seem to be the most knowledgeable one around here," he said, surpressing the urge to attach a comment on him being pompous - wouldn't help very much, after all. "Really, you almost seem to belong in here, with all the long-winded people and velvet tounges. I'd say you take the lead - and we others cower behind your - admittedly very broad - back."
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:28, Sat 31 July 2004.

Iona silently agreed with Johnny. She tucked away her notes and tried to remain in the middle of the huddle -- that seemed to be the smartest thing to do for the moment. God, she couldn't wait to get back to more familiar environments.

‘“We others cower?’” A tinge of anger flared in his voice. “I see sureness in some eyes here, Mr. Hope.”

Pieran turned and spoke to the group. “I am no leader,” he said, his voice solid but gentle, almost pleading. “But if, like me, there is even one among you who would rather die on his feet than live on his knees, then, I ask you, join me. I seek no followers. I seek co-workers and companions, and I most heartily welcome you.”

He returned his attention to Johnny. “Companion’s, Mr. Hope; literally, ‘to share bread.’ And I can think of no better place to begin companionship than through that door,” he said, pointing to one of the hallway portals. “I think you’ll be safe enough inside and satisfied, too.”

He then addressed toward the women. “M’ladies, Mr. Hope has graciously agreed to take us…to dinner. Come up,” he smiled, “and break bread with us.” He cocked his head toward the fellow with the hip shades, his smile firmly in place and gestured toward the door with a graceful sweep of his hand. “Would you be such a gentleman, Mr. Hope, as to lead the way?”
This message was last edited by the player at 09:45, Tue 10 Aug 2004.

   Johnny met Pieran's glance, his face covered in the shadows from his hat. The somewhat short hair was hanging down the sides of his head, tangled and unkempt. His lips curled in an amused smile as he replied, the least bit taken aback.



   "Why such sudden hostility, Mr. Swift? To hide behind you was merely part of my suggestion - and notably, not a very serious such. All you can see in my eyes - or rather my RayBans - is yourself." Johnny B. considered the situation for a moment, and decided that any tension in the group was entirely unnecessarry - he would rather treat this man on his terms. "If I worded myself wrongly, you have my sincere apologies."



   Johnny considered the words, but kept his silence. It didn't look good to answer a rhetoric question with disagreement - he was an opportunist, not a martyr, after all - and he didn't have much clever to say anyway. It wasn't directly adressed for him, though he seemed to be hinting to something.



   "Being unable to think of a better place for companionship than through that door," Johnny said, back turned to Pieran as he examined the illuminated doorway, "must be a fault of your imagination. But I'll have a look before I list you the places that spring to my mind - most of which are not located in a hell dimension."



   The gambler hesitated for a moment before he replied. He wasn't particularly keen on walking through some glowing doorway, nor was he that reluctant to lose a bit of face. He didn't mind showing off a bit though - if somebody was planning to end his excistence, they really needed to get their efficiency rater up. "Why, of course - Ladies first, but in times of war, or so Oscar Wilde said." Johnny shook his head slowly, gently scratching his neck. "Oh, bloody, now I am starting to make obscure quotations as well."


   With that, he started pacing rather casually towards the beacon, listening to what the others might have to say.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:40, Sun 01 Aug 2004.

"Oh, fer th'love o'th'Tir..." making a quick religous gesture, commonly used by a various range of Christianic sects, Dren opened the door and walked through.

You all noticed the next door down the hall on the left had a glowing 7-pointed star embossed on it as Dren opened the door in front of him and are sure it was not there before.

The smell of fresh food drifted out as the door is opened. On one side of the room, a smorgasbord is set before you. A ham, Bangers and roast beef (extra rare), are displayed on shiny warming trays. Mashed potatoes with beef gravy, small red potatoes garnished with fresh parsley are next. Lasagna and chili graced the table, as did marinated herring and smoked salmon. Fresh broccoli and green beans added color, as did the bowl of fruit. Several pastries are on the far end of the table. They were covered in icing, some with fruit. In the center of the room is a cloth-covered table with place setting for seven, a basket of warmed bread and pitchers of iced water. A sheet of paper set on the head of the table will read: “Eat well, but not too hardy. It is the fat hero that does not come home.”
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:02, Sun 01 Aug 2004.

   "Oh, look, it's the vegetarians' torture chamber!" B. Hope commented grinning, spending a moment to enjoy the various smells of well-cooked food. After quickly munching down a few pieces of roast beef, he dissappeared into the restroom. Always good to be earlier than the others, he thought, making use of the pissoir. Circumvents those embarrasing moments of staring straight into the wall, enduring the painful silence while trying to think of an appropriate topic for conversation...

   When Johnny returned to the feast, he was a new man. Dried blood was no longer randomly scattered randomly across his face, nor did his look as if he had spent the last three months exploring African jungle. The purple velvet shirt was more neatly arranged, a few embarrasing stains almost gone. In short, he made a rather good figure as he first served his fellows water, then himself. He raised his glass in salute. "To companionship," he cheered. "Isn't this just about when somebody says It's poisoned - we can't eat it?"

Alex noted the star symbol on the nearby door, before heading into the dining room and taking a seat.  She served herself a decent sized portion of lasagne, then reclined in the chair, waiting for the others.



She lifted her glass to join the toast, smiling faintly with amusement.

“Indeed Johnny.  And might I add, to getting the hell out of here.”

Iain helped himself with a small portion of meat, choosing from the underdone parts, and poured himself a glass of water, commenting: "Second that, Alexis."

He stopped halfway through the toast, commenting: "Don't they say that a toast with water invites bad luck? Granted, fighting half-drunk could be worse..."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:00, Sun 01 Aug 2004.

“According to rules of etiquette it is better to toast with water, or even an empty glass, than not to join in with the toast at all. But, if you’re feeling superstitious Iain, we could all clink our glasses together. It’s said that the sound will ward off the devil.”

Raven ate modestly and then freshened up in the restroom.

Dren mearly stood near the food and at several small servings, inbetween bites he would pick up an apple or orange and squirrel it away in his back pack. Conent but not full he finally approached the table near Raven eating sugar coated starch, but didn't sit down.

When Raven left to freshen up he approached her on her way back to the table to have a quick word with her.

Raven speaks quietly to Dren for a moment. “We should check our water supply, too,” she said.

Pieran raised his glass in the toast, nodding to each of the companions with reverance. He ate quietly for a man whose last meal was 24 hours overdue.  ‘You’ll feel better once you leave this place,’ he reminded to himself. ‘The next land will differ greatly from this; you know it. Then, you can get to the business at hand.’

He settled back and visibly relaxed for the first time since his arrival to the Nexus though he looked a little sad that no sushi had been at the table. He shrugged away the minor loss.

Sated, Pieran rose from the table, softly excusing his self, and made a hasty disappearance into the washroom where he could finally clean the swamp grime that had been his bedding for an afternoon.

He returned clean and smelling fresh but he averted his eyes from the others, hiding personal embarrassment. He gathered the last of his things and again, made his exit with a soft apology, this time entering the main hall outside.

He walked past the glyphed door and to the end of the hall, where a small window looked out over the crimson landscape. For though he was happy to leave, the Nexus sung to him a peculiar melancholic dirge which he felt he must listen to now that he was departing.

‘Relax and be merry upon war’s eve,’ he remembered. He withdrew his maple wood pipe, stuffing it with Black Russian tobacco. A silver Colibri® ignited the small pot and soon the air nearest him was thick with blue-grey smoke and the aroma of maple and bittersweet tobacco. He stared beyond the window, sighing in soft repose as he leaned against the wall, becoming lost in the clouds that swirled and danced around him like ghostly dervishes, mirroring the turbulent dust devils skittering across the landscape. These moments would become rare and he indulged it with luxurious abandon, embellishing with a quiet song which he hummed with his sonorous, hypnotic voice. As the words came to his tortured memory, he sang sotto voce:

“At midnight
I fought the battle, oh humanity, oh your sorrows.
I could not resolve it with my might,
at midnight.
At midnight I yielded all might into your hand,
Lord over death and life.
You stand guard at midnight.
Now I come again and be friend.
At midnight.”
This message was last edited by the player at 21:10, Sun 01 Aug 2004.

The group finished their final meal in this realm and steeled themselves for what lay ahead. Gathering their belongings, they fearlessly strode across the hallway. At the third set of doors, the left one had the 7-pointed star glowing on it. The handle turned easily and the door swung open. It revealed a well-lit room that was bare of any furnishings. The floor was white and black marble tile and the large 7-pointed star with a circle at each point was inlayed in the tile in a golden color. It pulses slightly as the group entered and moved about the room. As each person took a place on a circle, the star brightens slightly with each pulse. The pulses become more rapid as more people take their place.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:47, Sun 01 Aug 2004.

Stepping into a circle, Alex looked down at the pulsing light and grinned.

"There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home?"

Raven used her hand to shield one of her eyes, as she turned her face away from the pulsing light. She reached into a pocket with her other hand and fished out a pair of dark sunglasses. “He could’ve mentioned the disco lighting,” she muttered to herself, as she put the glasses on. She stepped onto one of the circles and said, “Let’s get this over with before somebody starts dancing like John Travolta.”

Pieran packed his belongings and stowed his bow in its case. He slipped his short sword into his pack and slipped the great pack over his shoulders. It was a bit bulky, especially with the greatly magnified toothpick still sheathed in his baldric, but the arrangement was built for travel, not fashion. He looked like a European on holiday in the Americas, albeit a heavily armed, socially inept tourist.

Once geared for travel he stepped matter-of-factly upon the magical portal. He glanced casually at his fellow travelers and then, to no one in particular, he said one word.

“Energize.”

Making sure he still had everything with him, Johnny silently stepped into one of the vacant circles.

Iain wore his now-dry (well, reasonably dry, anyway) jacket, and casually held the sheathed swords as if he were walking back home from the shop or something.

He took his place in one of the circles and commented: "OK, folks, last-minute promemoria: keep in mind that we are supposed to work as a team, all on the same side." And staking your teammates is strictly prohibited...

Once all took their place, one on each circle, the seven-pointed star glowed steady and bright. A tingling, like your foot awakening after it had fallen asleep, covered your bodies. In a few seconds, it passed and you were outside in a different land. The group appeared in the center of the town square, or what was left of it. Rough cobblestone covered in moss and tall brown grasses stood in patches throughout the square. You could see a 7-pointed star, crudely made with contrasting darker stones, in the cobblestone grounds upon which you stood. There were no circles at the points of this design. The ruin of a city was before you. Most of the buildings were but shells, evidence of a great fire that long ago claimed this town. The partial walls and chimneys that remained were constructed of flat stone and mortar. It appeared to be daytime. No storm was brewing, but heavy clouds blocked the sun. These had the look of normal clouds, gray in color, not the reddish ones of Matt’s realm.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:59, Mon 02 Aug 2004.

Dren sniffed the air before producing a pack of Gudang Garam clove cigarettes and lighting one up. He took a moment to enjoy the sweet taste, the thick yet stimulating sensation in his chest and the tingle at the tip of his tounge. His back eased up just a bit as he took another long drag from the clove waiting for his finger tips to dance with realxation. A quick head tilt and neck pop later he start looking around the ruins only moving to make sure he protecting Raven staying as alert a hawk looking for prey.

Alex looked around, slowly turning on the spot as she examined her new surroundings.  She wrinkled her nose as the scent of cigarette smoke drifted her way, and turned to look at Dren.

"You know, those will kill you one day."

Dren smiled back at her after taking another drag from the clove, "Yer talkin' to a guy wit' .45's straped t'is chest, wanderin' around alternate dimensions wit' 'alf the cast o'Lord o'th'Rings, and y'expect me t'be worried about th'risks of smokin' Indonesian cigarettes?" Dren shrugged "Wait till y'see me drink, then we'll talk." then returned to feeding his addiction.

Alex grinned in response.

"Fine, but you're buying."

With that, she crossed her arms, still smiling, and returned her attention to their surroundings.

"Anyone got any bright ideas?"

Raven stood for a moment, trying to get her bearings. Of the two teleportations they had experienced today, she definitely preferred getting sucked up by a giant vacuum to the laser light show. Now she knew why Dr. McCoy had always complained about the transporter. She was not a fan of having her molecules spread all over the cosmos, either. She spotted a low, partial wall. Probably what was left of the foundation to some building. She walked over and sat on the wall. She took off her sunglasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose between her eyes.

"Accepted!" Dren continued to watch the area but his words were clearly direct toward Alex, all the while he took Raven's sunglasses, an almost unconsious action, and hooked them carefully and protectivly on the front of his shirt.

Iain sniffed the air, mentally taking note of any unusual scents, then raised his eyes and looked at the sky with a slight scowl: "Well, it seems reasonable that whoever - whatever? - is holding our damsel-in-distress Guardian, they are keeping her inside some sort of building..."

“Bright ideas?” Pieran asked, as he dashed near Raven’s low wall perch, kneeling below its edge. “Try taking some cover,” he answered. “Our arrival has not gone unnoticed.”

He dropped the pack from his shoulders, and rifled through it angrily. A canteen-sized flask he drew first and from it and a cap of water he emptied into his mouth. The wakizashi he drew second and affixed to his right rear hip. A set of binoculars third and a telescopic rifle sight fourth he procured and set to the side.

It was evident from the way he busied himself that he’d done these things before, either through long practice or actual experience. He withdrew the bow again and repacked its soft case deep within the great pack before resealing it. He cursed sharply under his breath but his language was peculiar and for the moment, only those who were nearest to him could hear it. “Hena?haanehe!”.  Whatever his utterance, it clearly expressed anger.

He stopped, began deep breathing, or long smelling of the air, sniffing like a wolf for any defining odors. He swapped back and forth between his binoculars and gunsight, slowly scanning the above the wall line all visible lines of sight. “I suggest that those with weapons draw them,” he said, as he spied their new world. "You thought we were in a hell-dimension before. Now welcome to the real thing.”

His fury calmed a bit as he continued scanning the environment and again, in sotto voce, he whispered, "Tosa?a? ne. Tosa?a? ne."

Iain, not having any "spider-sense" kind of warning, looked at Pieran a bit surprised: "Pieran, far be it from me to question your judgement, but... Are you sure we are about to be attacked? It looks pretty dead around here."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:49, Mon 02 Aug 2004.

“Perhaps we should look for a tower. We could ask her to let down her long hair. Prince Charming can climb up and rescue her.” Raven smiled as she pointed her thumb at Pieran.



Raven gave the Renaissance man a puzzled look, “Pieran, these ruins aren’t the result of a recent attack. What we’re looking at happened years ago.”

Dren glanced around again and produced a map compass from a zippered pocket mid way down his left leg then checked it. Though he shared Iain's attitude he gave Pieran benefit of the doubt by putting himself between Raven and the direction Pieran was indicating while checking his compass once more.

As you looked around the square and buildings next to it, they revealed no creatures and less shelter. Partial walls and fire hearths seemed to be all that remain. Shattered bits of wooden furniture, more charred and weathered wood beams and doors, were strewn about the debris. Shattered pots and other items that one would find in a home from the times long past were visible as well. Grasses and brush were growing out of what was once a home or shop floor.

From the town square, four stone and dirt roads headed away from it like the points of a compass. The roads were not straight, but seemed to follow the terrain, going around small mounds rather then plowing through the earth. They were the width of two animal drawn carts. The town seemed to have been built on small, rolling hilly land, limiting your ability to see the edge of town. The tall grasses would bend and swayed in the gentle northerly breeze. The air was fresh and alive, unlike the realm you just departed, but the hint of charred wood scented the air.
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:55, Mon 02 Aug 2004.

Iain took a deep breath and commented: "Well, unless someone has a better idea, I propose we go that way." He pointed to the south, to nothing in particular.

"Call it a hunch, but I think there's something that way..."

Alex watched Pieran with a bemused expression, then looked up again at her surroundings, wondering what exactly had set him off.  Thinking about it, however, she realised that this place made her feel uneasy, even moreso than their previous locale.



Slowly she nodded in agreement, rearranging the bag across her shoulders so that its contents were easily accessible.

"It seems as good a place as any to start."

With that, she walked over to Iain, taking up a position near him.

Having once more freshened up in the restrooms and partaken of the food from the smörgåsbord (and secured some fruit for later use), Iona soon found herself in the middle of a strange new place. Still huddling in the center of the group, clinging to the relative safety of their relative familiarity, she took note of the symbol that kept appearing wherever they went. The connection between the seven-pointed star and their own little group of seven people wasn't lost on her - it seemed to be some kind of transporting device. She wondered what would happen if only six people stepped on board. How was it activated? Did they have fixed destinations or was that an adjustable setting? And the thing that most unsettled her - aside from the lack of rings on the points of the star here, which implicated this had been a one-way trip - was this: seven persons, seven-pointed star... Was it just a coincidence? They might just consider seven to be a lucky number. Or maybe they just liked prime numbers. Or maybe their being here was something that had been planned for a very long time, considering the apparent age of the markings in cobblestone...

Pieran's odd behaviour only added to her nervosity, but she did her best to ignore him, focusing instead on their new surroundings. She relaxed a little when she saw that whatever had happened to this place had happened a long time ago. Walking after Alexis and Iain, she piped up once more. "The Guardian Guy said we were to look up the Elder Priest. Maybe we should find a church, or some other holy place."

   Johnny looked around himself, feeling rather uneasy but taking care not to show. Now he was either positively mad - a hunch both himself, family and others had shared - or the world had been turned all upside down. No time for denial, though - Pieran seemed to be on an edge, and the man did inspire confidence, despite his strange manners and behaviour.



   "Weapons, you said?" He dubiously eyed his surroundings, assuring himself that his springknife was still in his pocket. "I do have my butterknife in place, but quite honestly - my melee skills are more of a last resort than the wasp's sting."



   "I wouldn't put it beyound this place for the dead to come to life to put the living to death, if you can excuse my abuse of the English language. Then again, I am far from an authority on this point."





   Johnny looked down the southern direction, rather recultant to take any action at all with Pieran packing out his arsenal and everything. "Well, yeah, guess that direction is as good as any of the other three - I can't smell the cheese, anyway. Only thing I am advocating here is sticking together. Can't say I am all that eager to join Mr. Swift in making a last stand over here though - can't really see the point in defending some square feet of concrete and asphalt. Take the front, Iain, and I'll, um, cover our back," Johnny joked, grinning shamelessly.
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:56, Tue 03 Aug 2004.

Folding his compass Dren sprang up like a curious cat onto a broken area of wall then stood as if trying and gain more visibility to the south.


"I'll 'ave t'dissagree wit'that. I dinna think Pieran's fond o'th'North, an' personally I dinna like th'West." unfolding the compass he checked it one more time before putting it away, "Anyone 'ave a bad feelin' about th'East?" still perched on the broken area of wall Dren seemed to secure his stance before returning to his clove.

Iain raised an eyebrow at Dren's comment. Well, now, that complicates the equation...

Turning his back to the others for a few seconds, Iain morphed into his full-vamp face for a couple of seconds, to smell the air again. Unable to perceive anything more specific, he reacquired his human form and turned to face the group again: "You think maybe we are supposed to meet the Wicked Witch of the East?"

Dren shrugged "'Ave no idea, t'be honest. Just tryin' t'apply a process o'elimination."

   Johnny threw Dren an annoyed glance. "Bloody hell, guys. I frankly don't give a damn about your spider-senses, intuitions or gut-feelings. Not to be rude or anything, but just decide on a bloody direction already, seeing how none of you can provide any reason why to pick one way over the other." He circled for a moment, casually considering the different directions. "As Matt said, I was brought here for the sake of my luck, and I say we go...that...way" he said, pointing down a random road.

Raven stood up and spoke to Dren. “I’m going to take a quick look around some of these burned out structures but, I’m ready to go when you are. Just say the word and I’ll follow you.”

Johnny indicated the only direction that was not of interest to any members of the group and that was the easterly direction. He looked around at the faces before him and waited for either an objection or someone to take the lead.

Dren shrugged and walked toward Raven as she looked around, "Pieran has fear o'th'North, I 'ave issues wit'West, an'Iain 'as a feelin' about South... Mr. Be-Lucky points East without so much as looin' at a the 'orizon. I think we should find out 'ow lucky Mr. might Be. 'Sides, who's t'say Iain's hunch is a good hunch."

"Oh for the love of god, will somebody just go already?" Iona muttered, though still staying safely within the group.

"Alright, guess we're off to see the Witch, then."


"I for one didn't: I just know that there is something on the south, and that it's something bad. Now, since we are supposed to be looking for the bad things, I was willing to give it a try... However, since pretty much everyone here seems to have issues with a direction or another, I say we follow Mr. Luck here, and proceed right to the east. Agreed?"

Alex nods, turning to look down the eastern road.

"Fine by me."

Pieran listened patiently to the debate of his fellows. He understood their uncertainty.

Iain R. Short typed:

"Pieran, far be it from me to question your judgment, but... Are you sure we are about to be attacked? It looks pretty dead around here."

“The army was primed and fit to ten thousand strong. The watch was motivated and alert,” Pieran said. His voice remained strong but eerily withdrawn and his fair blue eyes gazed inward as he looked upon things no one else could see. “They’d heard the rumbling of war, seen the decimation of their allies, and they knew the Barbarians were set against them. But August 19 was quiet for the city and her people, and as the evening cool settled upon Mycenae, her people started to feel that everything would be okay. The guards remained alert and the dark kept its confidences. The animals were quiet, the breezes blew sweet, and the people slept in peace and freedom from fear.”

He paused, smiling sadly. “Dawn greeted Mycenae with cockling roosters, bleating sheep, and the changing of the guard. They looked with fresh eyes to the limits of their sight…then let loose the first horn of alarm. The Barbarians had come in the night like ghosts, silent and unseen. They held the horizon with strength beyond count; with horse drawn vehicles and terrible slashing swords honed with a new and devastating edge. They charged and the earth shook. From behind the illusory safety of Mycenae's walls, shelves fell from their hooks, doors buckled in their frames, and the people cried in a great, unholy wail of terror and despair.

“By the return of evening Mycenae was gone and with her, nearly all her people. The year was twelve-hundred before the arrival of the Christian god.

"I was there.”

His eyes returned to the present and he looked at Iain with a calm and eccentric compassion. “I did not say we were about to be attacked, Sir Iain. But we are right to be on alert; I promise you, our arrival is no secret.”

He craned his head toward Johnny. “Do not underestimate the wasp, friend Hope. Even the smallest insects carry stings sufficient to extinguish continents.”

Pieran surveyed the surrounding terrain. “These damned hills." He exhaled wearily yet unfatigued. "If you don’t know which direction to go, assess your mission. We barely know that. But we haven't far to the ruins. Our first clues wait there. When on a forced march, try to move with the sun at your back. Your vision will sharpen, the light will dazzle your opponents, and your shadows -marching before you- will make your numbers seem greater.”

Pieran squinted in the direction of the sun as it peered through wavering veils of sky. He withdrew a compass from his jacket pocket. “It is high noon and our sun will set in the west.” He replaced his compass and faced the east. “That is our road,” he said, pointing before him. "Our first clues lie that way." And pulling down upon his jacket, he set off East.

"A good choice, Master Hope. A lucky choice. Long may it guide us. For luck is the residue of design...and nothing here is by mistake."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:49, Thu 12 Aug 2004.

   "I can't promise a good choice, but if nothing else I am a man of action - that said, I guess it is about time to get moving," Johnny said, pacing quickly to catch up with Pieran on his right hand.
   "All this suspense - bet we'll see some really hairy things anytime soon. The higher you climb - the harder you fall; the more you shout - the fewer heed your call. The higher the speed - the harder the stop; the brighter the flame - the sooner burnt up." Johnny snapped out of it, shrugging. "Just providing some healthy sceptisism, never mind."

After listening to Pieran’s monologue, Raven turned to Dren, “And you think I prattle on too much about history.” She watched as Johnny and Pieran started walking. “East then?” She asked, returning her focus to Dren.

Iain raised a worried look to the clouds: "Yes, um... Let's leave the sun alone, shall we? I'm kind of allergic to sunlight."

And, with that, he began walking with a quick pace on the eastern road.

Finally, the group started walking the selected path, and soon enough the square was out of sight behind them. Iona kept casting uneasy glances all about. She didn't care one bit for this place. She was used to the bustle of a living thriving modern city, not the silence of a dead medieval town. This... this just gave her the chills.

But even this unease had begun to lessen after a while, when her breath suddenly caught in her chest. She blindly grabbed the arm of the nearest of her companions, Dren. "Umm, guys?" Iona said in a wavering voice as she raised her arm. She was pointing off to the side at some charred and weathered bits sticking out of a pile of debris. "That's not just wood. Those are bones..."

   Johnny looked at the pale man, somewhat incredulously - yet still in his familiar, laid-back not-that-I-really-care way. "Allergic to sunlight, you say? Is that even possible - mere clouds doesn't block it all, but maybe you just have a soft variant...and I thought my pollen-allergy was harsh..." He paused momentarily, looking a bit embarassed as he thought he understood something. "Oh, you're joking...that was stupid, allright."


   He listened to what Iona had to say, sharing her general disgust. He was a doctor - well, let's be anal retentive; med-student - and could handle some blood and general gore. Bones and corpses though - not his department. The morgue was way down in the basement. "Well, they aren't human bones though...I guess, feeling rather comfortable with not examining further."

Alex looked sharply at Iain as he made the comment about the sun allergy.  Her brow furrowed as she thought about it, fingers tapping on her thigh as she considered her options.

There's one way to tell... Well, two, but one is considerably unpleasant, and presumably he's here for a reason.

She glanced around at the motely crew.

Apparantly we all are.

With a sigh, she reached up to run a hand through her hair, irritated when she found it was still in a ponytail.  With a quick tug on the hairband, she pulled it free, shaking her head and running her fingers through her brown locks.  It felt better loose, even if it was somewhat less practical.

Dear lord, you're over-reacting, girl.  Not everyone in this world is a demon in disguise. She smiled faintly at her own paranoia, deciding to let it rest for the moment.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:34, Thu 05 Aug 2004.

"Come on, Doc - didn't you say you were a med student? Never heard about, say, Porphyria? Or Xeroderma Pigmentosum? There is a whole lot of people out there with some variant os sulnight allergy. A few of them would die if exposed to sunlight for more than a few minutes..." And many of then don't even get the cool superpowers in return.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:28, Thu 05 Aug 2004.

"And don't forget the ever forgettable 'Photic Sneeze Reflex' which causes sneezing and sometimes, wheezing, coughing, and watery eyes in the presence of sunlight or even entrance into a brightly lit room. It's considered an allergy but no one really understands the mechanism behind it. It's apparently bad ju-ju for theater actors, not that I'd really know. There's even a rare variant of PSR where the person sneezes in a darkened room or at night. Sometimes they sneeze at the full moon. Some howl. And others are just lunatics. Not that I'd really know," Pieran added, sniffing the air with singular sharpness.

   "Yes, I am a medical student, and obscure allergies is extra-curricular topics for general practice doctors. But when you mention it, I seem to rceall this Xeroderma Pigmentosum...from TV, actually." Johnny paused, seemingly lost in his own thoughts for a moment as he mentally replayed the video. "If I recall correctly - and my memory is indeed rather accurate - the rare few afflicted suffered extreme skin-damage from minimal exposure, and had to wear Nasa-produced spacesuits to venture outdoors. It was, of course, not per se sunlight they were allergic to - they weren't trolls or vampires or anything, after all - but rather a few specific wavefrenquencies, which exist in more or less all light sources not specificially designed to avoid these."
   "Also, they tended to die from Polyperifer Cancer before they reached twentyfive...you aren't joking then? Because Bernard Hope's Syndrom...yeah, that's some nice shit, always wanted to have a potentially deadly disease named after me. As for Porphiria, it is really just a general and non-deadly light-allergy, isn't it? Everybody is light-allergic, after all, but most bodies deal with it without much problems."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:18, Thu 05 Aug 2004.

As Dren walked, perfectly paced and quite content between Raven and Iona, he found himself growing bored with the direction the conversation was going. He never was one for things like science or words with more than 2 syllables. Turning to the woman hanging onto his arm he figured he'd make take her mind of what was clearly disturbing her "So, Iona, w'ere do y'call 'ome?"
This message was last edited by the player at 14:27, Thu 05 Aug 2004.

Raven moved off the path to take a closer look at the skeletons that Iona had spotted. She cleared some of the debris to get a better view. “The bones are definitely humanoid,” she said. “They’re so badly damaged, I’d probably need a lab to see if they’re true human.” A glint of gold caught her eye as she examined the charred bones. “What do we have here,” she said. A rather dirty lump of what was once part of a fancy gold necklace was lying near the ribcage. Raven picked it up. The chain was gone. The medallion was about the size of her palm. She picked through the skeletal remains but found nothing more. Raven reached into her pocket and pulled out a small brush and started to clean the piece of jewelry. A green gem stone, possibly an emerald, was imbedded in the center. The metal surrounding it was mostly melted, a testament to the heat of the fire that had claimed its last owner.

Iain nodded: "Unfortunately, my allergy is quite on the deadly side: a winter early-morning sun isn't too dangerous, but I'd probably last less than a couple of minutes if I were caught outside by the sun of a summer midday." Not to mention, I'd be on fire after the first thirty seconds, but let's not mention it just yet... "Uhm, see, does anyone have a string or something? If I carry the swords like this, I can only unsheathe one at a time."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:28, Thu 05 Aug 2004.

Alex looked over at Iain, trying to ignore the discussion about sunlight and its negative effects on him.

"I might have something in my bag... How were you thinking of rigging it up?"

Iain considered his options: "Thanks... I was thinking either the katana on my left side and the wakizashi on the right, or both on the left side. The former should be more practical to have them quickly ready, but maybe I could balance them better if they were on the same side."

Alex considered the options, rooting around inside her sportsbag for something suitable.  Sounds of metal clinking against metal, and metal against glass can be heard from inside the bag as she looks.  A short while later she produces a belt and a length of blue cord, holding them out for Iain's inspection.

"This would probably work, want a hand fixing it up?"

Iain smiled to her: "Yes, thank you, I could use some help."

As Alexis approached him, Iain could smell her scent, even under the acrid smell of old smoke that permeated the air.

Then when she shook her hair aside, and he saw her beautiful neck, he sighed unhappily, knowing that half of him could have easily fallen in love with this young, strong, independent woman... And, if it ever had a chance, the other half could have used her as a snack with the same ease.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:33, Thu 05 Aug 2004.

The sky was so overcast that Raven reached for her mini-flashlight to get a better look at the jewel in her hand. She clicked on the light but nothing happened. Then she remembered it had gotten soaked in the temple. “Dren,” she called out. “Can you give me a little light over here?”

“Whatever wiped out this town happened about 40-50 years ago. About the same time as when everything died out in Matt’s dimension. It could be a coincidence or time may not move the same in both dimensions but, I think it’s worth taking note of that little fact. The fire was hot and fast moving but, if they’d have had weapons, we would’ve found something of them. Either these were a peaceful people who’d never needed weapons before, or they were caught completely off-guard. Or both.” Raven looked at Dren, “I tend to believe both.”

Dren from Iona's presence and he walked back and pulled the mini-led that he used to check under the door, mostly because it was less cumberson than the ultra large maglight still hooked to his hip. Flipping on the powerfull LED he made sure he held onto it, as if it were safer in his hands than hers, and simply heald it aimed straight down like an over head lap for Raven to examine her finding. "Y'Dinna break another one, did ya? Yer th'only person I know's life time warrantys only last a week."



Dren paused and seemed to study the object for a moment, then shrugged "So th'question is, who'd want to burn down a villiage of civilized people an' w'y?"
This message was last edited by the player at 22:15, Thu 05 Aug 2004.

“You’ve never seen an ancient artifact fall apart in my hands, have you? Is it my fault most modern creations are cheap crap built to self-destruct so you’ll just keep buying more?” Raven reached over and took her sunglasses from the front of Dren’s shirt. “I’ve managed to keep these more than a week,” she said, as she slipped the glasses back into their case and once again returned them to her pocket.



“And if whatever it was that destroyed this town is still around and in a bad mood.”

Iona looked away from the grisly sight to face the Irishman, then blushed as she realized her hand was still on his arm. Discretely removing it, she answered his question. "Umm, well, I don't know if I'd call it home... I only just recently moved to Mercer County in New Jersey--"

Raven's voice cut her off:


Suppressing her feelings of apprehension, Iona drifted along to where the female archaeologist was clinically studying the recent finds. She peeked around Dren to look at the medallion while the other two talked.



An unexpected bout of pragmatism overtook Iona: "Well, if it is, we're probably as unequipped to defend outselves as this poor guy, weapons or no weapons. So we might as well just get on with finding that Elder Priest so we can finish this task and go home." Yep, keep the eye on the ball, have a clear goal and don't get sidetracked. That's the ticket.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:03, Thu 05 Aug 2004.

Dren was glad to know, Iona was at least from the same planet and at least similar century as he and Raven. So far he didn't know what to make of Pieran and figured Mr. Bee was from the early 80's... or just a fashion victim. It all helped a little bit.


Dren looked at Iona over his shoulder and smiled devlishly "Y'Want to be leavin' already? But I thought we were all jus' startin' to get to know each other!?

   Johnny just listened to the conversations for a while, still a bit off-balance from the light-allergy talk - it still made no sense, but he had gotten used to that as of late. "I'll have to second Iona; let's get over with this - not-all-that-historical battlefields isn't exactly my thing. From what I'm hearing, it sounds as if we're planning to run if we stumble over something above us in the food-chain? Remember, when you're fleeing from sharks, you don't have to swim faster than it - just than the guy you're with," he said, smiling playfully. Humour was a good thing - kept your mind off all the terrible things that could happen to you any minute.

She couldn't help but grin back at Dren, blue eyes sparkling once more. "I have a feeling we'll get to know each other whether we want to or not... How about you tell us a little something about yourself, Dren?"



Funny guy. Hacker Boy apparently had some flexible moral guidelines. Hope that doesn't mean he'd throw any of us to the sharks, Iona thought as they rejoined the group on the road and prepared to resume their march, sticking close to Dren and Raven.
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:49, Fri 06 Aug 2004.

Alex smiled at Iain, and soon she was helping him improvise a rig for his daisho.  The task certainly seemed to have caught her imagination; she is so focused as she works that sometimes it seems that her touch lingers a little longer on Iain's body than it should.

A workable solution is created in a matter of minutes, Iain's katana and wakizashi hanging at his waist in a suitable position for a quick draw.  Alex stepped back, looked at the daisho and nodded.

"It'll do."  She spoke quietly, her gaze fixed on the weapons at his waist.  Slowly, her eyes travelled up his torso, eventually locking with Iain's own.  Although she said nothing, those grey orbs spoke volumes.

She knew.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:47, Fri 06 Aug 2004.

"I see w'at y'mean." Dren leans into Raven an mutters something to her before focusing on Iona again "Well, I'm Irish, but there's nothin' little 'bout me!" he winked at the scientist before putting away his led-light.

Iain stood there for a few seconds, not knowing exactly what he was reading in Alex's eyes. Then he realized, and the ghost of a sad smile appeared on his lips: "Thank you, you've been... Most helpful. Very clever indeed."

It was clear, albeit only to the two of them, that he wasn't talking about the rig. "Well, folks, I guess it's time to go. Sorry about the delay."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:42, Fri 06 Aug 2004.

"Oh, nah, dinna let us interupt!" Dren said with his soon-to-be trademarked Devlish smile.

The group had gathered back on the road after Raven’s find in the debris. The breeze had taken a sudden shift to the west-southwest. The blanket of clouds above moved and undulated, the sky constantly changed, but never broke open into sunshine.

"Oh, nah, dinna let us interupt!" Dren said with a devilish smile. The group gathered up their gear and prepared to continue their trek.

Iain turned to Dren and opened his mouth to reply, but then suddenly looked south: "Guys? Heads up: something's coming. Something big and stinky. I think we'd better leave very quickly, or prepare to fight."

Dren glanced over his right shoulder holding his hand up as if he were trying to touch Raven, his left hand was hovering near his gun and he paused.

Alex felt an unfamiliar feeling rise up inside, something she hadn't felt in a very long time.  She was ashamed of herself.  She had invaded his privacy and...

Now you just hold your horses right there.  Remember what he is.  What he's capable of.  Is a creature like that really deserving of of any rights at all?

She reached up and rubbed her temples, feeling the beginnings of headache.  This was all getting very complicated.

Before her thoughts could continue on, something caught her attention and she looked up, turning sharply to the south.



"Its moving quickly.  And its laughing like a madman."

Swiftly she readied her own sword, unwilling to be caught off-guard by the creature, regardless of whether they fought or ran.

Raven slipped the medallion into her pocket and positioned herself so she could watch both Dren and the direction he was gazing in. She tried to process the information she’d heard. Big, stinky, moving quickly… lots of things fit that description. Laughing like a madman. That’s kind of different.

Iona turned towards the south like the rest of the group. Her hand had automatically reached into her purse and grabbed the can of pepper spray; not that she really thought it would work against anything larger than your average New York mugger, but again - the familiarity of the object, the normality in this chaotic day, was soothing. And Iona's nerves needed soothing.

Laughing like a madman? Are ALL of them crazy here?!

   Johnny B. didn't miss Iain's heads up. He looked quickly around himself, trying to figure out what would be the best direction of running. "Ehm - while I'm always very favourable about running away as quickly as possible, I'm getting the slighest bit tired of stumbling around here blindly - either all of us stay, or we run together, is my opinion. All for one, one for all, blah, blah."

Four “men” scampered toward your group. They moved in, one from the south, one from the west and two from the southwest in an arc. They looked like men except for their faces, which were distorted by enlarged eyebrow ridges, yellowish eyes, and a salivating mouth with fangs. Their hands ended in long sharp and jagged points, more like talons then fingernails. They reached out for you as they came. They wore cloth tunics and baggy pants that were so filth incrusted; they appeared almost like loose blackened leather. Obviously, these “gents” had not washed in months. 

They circled in from the ruins, scrambled over debris toward your group. “Finally, Fresh food! It has been a long time since I have tasted anything but rodent,” said the first. He was tall and lean.

“Bianey wants a virgin. Is one of you a virgin? Bianey not taste a virgin for a long time. They are very tasty” Bianey cackled. He looked quickly from woman to woman for an answer, then looked at the men each in turn.

“I just want it warm and screaming,” said the third one who was short and pudgy.

With a half crazed laugh, the last one cried, “Dinner is ready!”
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:03, Sat 07 Aug 2004.

Dren smiled at this one and nodded, "Come get some!" then stepping forward he drew both guns and opened fire.

Iain unsheathed his katana - noting that the improptu belt Alexis helped him prepare worked pretty well - and wielded it two-handed: "Bianey is seriously out of luck, today."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:58, Sat 07 Aug 2004.

Raven was afraid Iona would panic and get in the way of the fray that was about to occur. She grabbed Iona by the arm and tried to pull her a safer distance from the vampires and all the heavily armed members of their own group. They’re bold, attacking in the daylight like this. Raven thought as she glanced at the sky. Even if it is overcast. Those clouds shift and these guys will be a pile of dust. They must really be hungry.

"There just isn't enough ick in the world." She murmered, an expression of disgust plain on her face.

Alex reached inside the sports bag, and fished out a short piece of pointed wood.  She tucked it into her jeans at the small of her back and shrugged the bag off her shoulder, letting it fall the short distance to the ground.  It would only be in the way, and besides, the unarmed members of the party could find something useful in it.

Eying the short, pudgy goon, Alex took a step forward, facing off against him, sword at the ready.  Calmly, she stood there, waiting for him to make the first move.

Pieran appraised the force surging against them. He took aim at the vampires to the southwest, and without pause for breath, he fired his bow first at one, and after knocking a second arrow, at the other of the two. Even though he could kill neither of them, he could diminish their collective strength and thereby, amplify his party’s overall might. And if that failed, well hell, at least he’d demoralize them a bit. ‘Anger, then strike at error,’ he remembered. “Ho?etova,” he replied, his voice a faint whisper. Sometimes.

Iona didn't put up much of a fight when Raven bundled her off to the side. She was too busy trying to maintain some sort of control over her fear. Reading about demons in moldy old books was one thing, but four real live -- er, undead -- vampires riding straight towards them was a whole nother matter.

Meanwhile, the scientific part of Iona's brain stated dryly, Oh, so that's what a vampire looks like. They were different from what she'd imagined.
OK: sunlight, decapitation, holy water, wood through the heart. Sunlight? She mirrored Raven's look up at the sky.
Nope, not that. Decapitation? Alex and Iain had some sharp-looking swords, that might do the trick. Iona didn't know what material Pieran's arrows were, but she supposed hitting the heart of a moving target might be harder than Kevin Costner made it seem in "Robin Hood - Prince of Thieves". Dren's bullets would probably just slow them down some, but not stop them.
How about holy water? Didn't look like it, not unless Hacker Boy had a secret wish to become Preacher Man.
All right then, what about wood? Her eyes darted from side to side, desperately trying to spot anything wooden and/or pointy that might serve amongst the debris.

As the hunters circled in on the prey, the prey struck out with deadly fury. Iain drew his sword and charged forward as Dren blasted away with volley after volley. Pieran let loose his arrows with a smooth, practiced draw and release. Alex calmly switched from her sword to something a bit smaller and challenged them with a confident, steely glare. Raven, Iona, and Johnny moved back a bit and let the armed members have plenty of swinging room.

Stung by the rapid fire of Dren’s barrage, the laughing one slowed his advance and called out. ”Bianey, these Solrites hurt! He was a few paces away from Dren; stepped back a couple of steps and then started to advance again.

Iain slashed upward across Bianey’s body as the vamp jumped back. A sprig of feathers suddenly appeared on Bianey’s chest as Pieran’s arrow struck home. Seizing the opportunity, Iain drew back, across Bianey’s form. The vampire looked confused as the blade bit deep into his neck. “Broth…?” was the last sound Bianey uttered as his head, followed rapidly by his body, crumbled into dust and fell swirling to Iain’s feet.

Iain, lunged at the pudgy one as it ran past, but missed him by scant inches. For a fat fellow, he was rather nimble. There was a soft “thud” as the point of an arrow protruded from the portly ones back. He lumbered on toward Alex. “You look like a screamer, pretty one. Scream for me”, as he leaped for Alex, arms wide and reaching.

“They are not Solrites, you fool. Kill them quickly, feast later,” the tall one retorted as he swung his clawed hand at Pieran.

Dren holstered both weapons as he closed the distance between himself and his target. Confirmed the Vampires. The others were doing find and it looks as if Iain was going to end the part early, so it was time to size this guy up and make sure the women folk were safe. And Mr. Bee, too.He thought as he planned his next actions on the fly. He knew a sword or wooden stake would help him in this situtation, these things were already dead and his .45 ammo was too valuable at this time to unload for minimal effect - it was time to get Irish!
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:44, Sun 08 Aug 2004.

Iain considered his options...

Slashing at Pudgy was too risky: had he missed, he would have probably hit Alex.

Still, letting him grab her was even riskier: a vampire's bite can kill most humans in just a few seconds.

He quickly approached the vampire from behind, loosely wielding the katana with only his left hand.

   After having spent the initial seconds trying to get a grip on the situation - not to mention, himself - Johnny B. unsheated his knife and sprung its blade. It was time to make himself worth his dime, but seeing all the sword-wielding maniacs around himself, he didn't feel this was quite his league.
   Seeing Alexis fight one of the beasts - they were certainly not men, after all, despite their very humanoid features - Johnny attacked towards Alex' asailant, cautiously stabbing just to distract it. "Stay back," he suggested to the two girls - Iona and Raven - while fighting shoulder to shoulder with Alex himself. We really should have run, he thought by himself, watching the madly strong creature in fear.