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.