The dreams from the next versing, or serial reincarnation, begin...

"Luke, I am your father." Says Vader.  Then an M&M shoves him aside, says the same line, then Beyonce shoves the candy aside...it continues with the Energizer bunny, John Wayne, some guy you know you've met but can't remember the name of, and then Clark Kent.

You're watching this, and your back is increasingly hurting, and you realize that is the reality.  You're laying on something extraordinarily flat and hard. Concrete has more give to it.

Your eyes are shut. You can smell the tang of iron in the air.  In the distance you hear a sound like a freight train whistling.

"Well, another one." The liquid beauty of the male voice gives the banal comment depths.

"Not to be a traitor to my sex, but she don't look like much." A female voice responds.  Instantly you think. Military. Officer.  "Looks like something from a history book."

"Not my histories." Says the first.

"People." You hear the crisp command in a second female voice, and find yourself wanting to salute.  You hear slacks crinkling, and then the last voice comes through more clearly.

"You can call me Honor. I'd welcome you, but it looks like we're in up to our waste in alligators, so I'm not sure thats appropriate."

You open your eyes to see a lovely, and quite tall Eurasian female in a black uniform with a six legged 'cat' on her shoulder.  She's bending down to shake your hand.

PT

I shake her hand, then get up from this uncomfortable resting position.   It is a pleasure to meet you.  I'm Misty.  I work out the kinks for a moment.  She looks familiar.   Honor....  Blackman played Pussy Galore.  Eurasian female military officer with a wierd cat.  Honor... Harrington?  I look around for my clutch purse.  If it's not too much trouble, I've got a backpack around here someplace.

If this is Honor Harrington, I'm in sooo much trouble.

Its Honor Harrington and Nimitz.  You decide you're definitely in trouble.

Upon standing, you see that the ground is iron. A flat plain surrounding an oases of oak trees and a bubbling spring, and some 'rocks' of iron scattered about the oases in the midst of a huge plain.  Off in the far distance, you see what could be rolling hills.

Your pack is visible not that far away, and the others fall in as you go get it.

The other female is stocky, and has a short haircut, and at best could be described as handsome, if dressed up, and smiling.  Now she looks just out of sorts.

The male is...seven feet tall, one hundred seventy pounds, milk-white skin, hair like melted gold, and eyes that glint green.

"Human, my name is the Lord Glorfindel.  How are you called?"

Oh yeah, his clothes shine, just a bit, and his ears are pointed.

PT

I wish that I'd read more of the books in the series by Weber.  I wasn't doing that well financially as a PI at the time and the used bookstore didn't have all of the series.  I read what they had, bits and pieces of the total collection.  Truth be told, I had no idea who these other two bozos were, but they seemed to be on good terms with HH.  That was enough for me.

I had to say something to Lord Glor-whatsis.  Maybe it was verser-lag or something else, I don't know.  I am called many things, but my name is Misty.  I'm uhhh... not from around here.  I really need to work on my first contact procedures.

Wearing a bloodsoaked evening gown from 1939 and carrying a small clutchpurse, I felt very out of place, but I continued on toward my backpack.  From what I could see, there wasn't a lot of options for places to change into something more appropriate.

"Misty, a fine name. None of us are from around here.  I am from a small wood near Gondor which is held by Westernesse Men, and this lady is..."

"I'm not a lady. I work for a living." Her brassy voice rings out. "Sergeant Lisa Summers, of Saigon on TDY. Detailed to the Phoexix Group for the duration."

"Captain Honor Harrington of the Basilisk System, and the Royal Manticoran Space Navy, and of course, Nimitz, my tree-cat."

"Well, I'm an American. Army, that is."

"I am an archer for my queen Luthien the Beautiful.  But we have no 'army' as it were.  Although I seek not to boast, but I am considered great among the Elvish Host."

You get to the backpack, and then back to the oases.  The 'rocks' offer a scant privacy, but Honor asks all to turn about, and Glorfindel agrees with indifference that hurts, and Lisa shrugs airily...

And so you are changed, and a bit washed off, and refreshed from the taste of the strongly iron-tainted water.

PT

Along with my backpack, I found my second Glock with the loaded spare mag.  I'm glad that I stashed it in the glove compartment of the Dodge.  I'm not so glad that I didn't get to use on some very deserving people.  I gave it a quick once over.  It looked fine to me.  I didn't care if the others looked at me strangely as I did it.  I felt better just having a gun with a useful amount of ammunition in a reasonably efficient combat caliber.

I did feel better once I had washed up and changed back into my jeans, t-shirt, and jacket.  I tucked the Glock into my belt and stashed the spare mag in my front pocket.  There wasn't any need to reveal any of my other toys.  I removed the double derringer from the concealed holster of the dress and placed it in my front jacket pocket before I wrapped the dress around the shoes and stashed them in my pack.

I rejoined my companions.  I've got a few questions, being the new kid on the block.  Do any of you remember how you got here?  Has anyone from this place made contact with you?  Are any of you armed?  How are you fixed for food supplies?  I needed some idea of what my companions had to work with.  It didn't look like they had much, but I still needed to hear what they had.

The water from your solar canteen is plain, but it does the job.  The water from the spring had tempted, but good sense precluded drinking from an unchecked water supply.  Typhoid and all that...

Once they see you load up with weapons, they do so as well.  Honor has a pulse pistol on her waist, and a knife.  She's the lightest armed in a way.  Lisa has a vest with grenades, and an M-16, plus a bayonet, plus a 1911A1 .45 pistol., and a large backpack.  Glorfindel has a longbow, and a quiver of arrows, a knife, and a sword that looks like it might be made of silver.

"We've been here several hours, so we've been relaxing." Honor says. "I was asleep on my flagship. Woke up here."

"TDY quarters in Saigon. Sleeping." Lisa mutters.

"I was meditating, and one of the Valar asked me if I wanted an adventure."  He shrugs.

"We're very low on food."  Honor says.  "I'd say, three days maximum, and thats if Lisa shares her 'C-rats.'"

PT

I don't want to feel underdressed for this party, so I hit my pack for a full combat load of toys.

First, I shrug out of my jacket and into my shoulder rig.  After a few wriggles, the Glock and the two spare mags settle into place.  I unload the Glock from my belt and place it back in the pack, along with its spare mag.  Next, I reconfigure my weapons harness, replacing the Glock holster and pistol mag pouches with the holster and mag pouches for the H&K MP7A1 Personal Defense Weapon.  The PDW and the three filled long double mag pouches made my harness a lot heavier than normal.  I chalked it up as necessary for the situation.

I noticed Sarge and the others staring as I kitted up.  I can understand why.  There wasn't much else happening.  I slid a twenty round mag into the MP7A1, chambered a round, then reholstered it.  Sarge, this is a subgun.  Range is about two hundred meters.  It fires armor piercing rounds.  It's the next version of the MP5 you are probably used to using.  As to this other stuff, let's just say that it has kept me alive under various circumstances.

I rummaged around in my pack until I found the few cans of food I had purchased from the bodega from two stops earlier.  I dug them out and added several packets of starship combat ration chocolate and instant cocoa to the small pile of goods.  Here is my contribution to the group pantry.  I hope it helps.

The Sergeant examines it very interestedly, and Honor joins in as well, although she takes a more historical perspective.  Glorfindel just stares blankly at it.

"A wizard's weapon?"

"This looks better than my guns.  Are these DARPA weapons, super-secret stuff?" The Sergeant wants to know.  But then she listens to Honor asking what century it was made in, and you can see the realization click in her tired face.

"You're both of you time travellers.  Of course, that doesn't explain the elflord."

Then there's a humming noise, that seems familiar, and you turn to see a sparkle in the air that takes the shape of a man.  Before, he becomes clear, you know, somehow who he is already.

So its no surprise when you see Captain James T. Kirk (the young version) appear out of a transporter beam.

"Well," He pauses to smile at the three lovely ladies with his usual style. "I knew the High Command said this was important, but I didn't know it would be fun too."

PT
OOC: Please don't shoot him....:)

My showing up somewhere is a random event.  This many people in one place isn't anything remotely approaching random.  Someone very powerful is assembling a team.  I step forward to introduce myself.

Hello, Captain James Tiberius Kirk of the UFP starship NCC-1701 or Enterprise.  Welcome to nowhere.  You are among allies, if not yet friends.  May I assume that you carry your usual type one phaser and communicator?  My name is Misty.  I've followed your career.  Well, I had.  Every so often, the Sci-Fi Channel showed the original Star Trek episodes.

This was getting really strange.

"Well, Misty, I didn't realize you were an esper."  He takes your hand, and shakes it for a bit longer than strictly necessary.  But he does have a very nice grin.

"Let me explain as much as I understand.  My ship was drawn through a dimensional gate to here. Here being Karigen which my science officer assures me is a word of some significance in Ancient Vulcan.  Since I don't want a headache after his explanation, I took his word for it."

He pauses, and checks how every is taking things.  Sarge is staring at him a big bug-eyed.  He pats her arm.

"This is where it gets weird. We were approached by energy creatures who informed us that this is the possible, perhaps probably site of the Last Battle Between Good and Evil for the whole Multiverse.  Its skirmishing they said.  Of course, their idea of skirmishing included things like supernovas, so I wondered what our purpose is, but well, there's a role for everyone.  Part of my job is to welcome some of the 'visitors' or 'recruits' to this war."

He checks again.

"Multiverse? But thats theoretically unlikely..." Honor begins.

"Captain? You are one right? Right. I'll let my science officer explain it if you like.  But, yes, there are multiple worldlines."

He says this, and to your shock you see Honor subside.  Kirk's got a forceful personality for sure.

"Well, seeing as the Good Guys chose to recruit you, you can walk away. Join the other side, or just leave. Anyone wants to, just say the word, and you'll be gone."

PT

Sarge's muttering about an elflord stuck in my mind.  Elf Lord...  Lord of the Elves...  Suddenly, I knew where the Elf Lord had been recruited.

I smiled as Kirk explained about the concept of multiple universes.  This was something with which I had some experience.  I spoke up.   There are such things as multiple worldlines.  I have seen them.  They are as different from this place as Rivendell is from Riverside, Iowa.

Maybe I could get the opportunity to gear up a bit.  Captain Kirk, does your Prime Directive allow you to assist the recruits with weaponry?  For example, a phaser and a belt of power packs would make me feel a lot better about walking into the final battle with Evil.  I would be willing to trade a 1930's Colt .25 caliber Model N and a Remmington .41 rimfire double derringer both of which you could use for Sulu's antique firearms collection.  Either way, count me in.

OOC: The episode was "Shore Leave" where Sulu wished for a certain revolver for his collection.

He grins.

"Well, the Prime Directive doesn't really apply here, and there are other regulations that the Beings here have, but you've neatly sidestepped them by making it a trade offer. So yes, Lt. Sulu would love to do that, and so would I."

He takes your guns, and makes a call on the communicator.  A sparkle, and then another sparkle, and you're outfitted with a Mark One Phaser Pistol, and a power belt pack.

The others don't want to trade in their weapons, but they are happy to join in as well, particularly when they hear that if they die, the get sent back home anyways (unless they are really unlucky...Kirk says that doesn't apply to you for some reason he's not aware of).  Honor likes her pulse pistol better.  Says it fires faster.  The Sarge wants to stick to weapons she knows. And Glorfindel....

Well, he nearly disintegrates Honor when he picks up the phaser, and turns it over looking for magic sigils on the side.

PT

Great!  I dumped the two-shooter and the mouse gun in favor of a variable setting, concealable energy pistol and a belt of reloads.  That works for me.  I also gave Kirk the boxes of .41 rimfire and .25 ACP ammo which I had purchased during my last stop, as well.  I certainly didn't need them.

After Lord Glorfindel almost vaporizes Honor, I gently take my phaser from him and ask Kirk to show me the basic operational "Care and Feeding" instructions.  Once that is done, I thank him for making the trade.  ...Also, is there other assistance you can provide while we are here?  For example, are you tasked to replicate food for us?

I don't plan on telling Kirk that I'm a verser.  He might think twice about allowing a phaser to fall into the hands of a person whose ultimate mission is to wander around differing timelines for eternity.

"No, I'm not. Sorry. Let me get to the mission." He points to a far hill, many miles away, you're not sure how far as distance seems strange here.  "You are to travel to that hill, hopefully avoiding any damage from raiders, and then take and hold it for three days, at least, against all comers."

He shrugs.

"I'm thinking its part of some offensive, but I don't really know. Good luck."

He looks around to see if anyone has any questions, and if not, he beams back aboard his starship.

PT

We need to travel to, take, and hold a hill for three days.  It sounds simple enough.  Yeah, right.

I looked at my companions.  From what I had read, Honor Harrington was a wonderful space commander.  The problem was that we were grounded.  The Elf Lord was probably a great ground commander, but I doubted that he was up to speed techwise with our opposition.  Sarge was a veteran soldier, but I was concerned with the wierdness factor which we would be up against.  That left... me.

I emptied the stuff out of my waistpack into my pack and gave the waistpack to Honor to carry her share of the supplies.

All right, people, it's showtime.  For lack of a more qualified candidate, I'm taking charge.  If anyone else wants the job, this is the only time you get a shot at it.  Once we leave here, we're on the clock.  We need to get organized and moving.

First, I need to know how much ammo, food, and water everyone is carrying.  Since we're going to be at this for a while, I need to know what we have available.  Secondly, everyone carries their own share of the supplies.  If you go back when you get killed, I don't want you taking someone else's supplies with you.  Third, until we get to the hill, we need to avoid trouble.  We can't afford to get bogged down in transit.  Fourth, I need to know the ranges of everyone's primary weapon.  Any questions, so far?

"What are your qualifications for this job, Human?" Lord Glorfindel asks you.  You can't tell if he is irritated, or merely inquisitive.

The total sum of water and food is your supplies, plus ten C-rats, plus a double handful of grapes, plus what Honor already listed which wasn't much, a waterskin filled with spring water, a half-full bottle of Jack Daniels, and a small canteen full of some futuristic version of Gatorade.

Honor has 69 shots with her pistol if she forces it to run dry which will damage it, fifty if not.

Glorfindel has forty longbow arrows.

Sarge has two banana clips, and 42 other bullets in a belt, and four grenades (frag).  She also has a full rack in her .45.

Range for the pulse pistol (reasonably effective) is 200 yards.  M-16 is .... ("Well, I didn't usually shoot that much on my missions, so I'm not that great a shot.").  Longbow ..."500 paces, if given time to talk to the arrow.".

PT

I smiled.  Qualifications for being dumped in the middle of somewhere strange and making the best of it?  That's what I do for a living.  I'm not a time traveller.  I'm a dimension hopper.  I know things about each of you which allows me to best judge the ways to use your skills effectively in a group.

I know Honor Harrngton and you, Lord Glorfindel, by the tales told on other worlds of your adventures.  I know that the cat chose Honor, not the other way around.  I know that the effective range of Sarge's M16 is about 300 meters and that her frag grenades are good for a ten meter kill radius.   Mae govannen, mellon! Elen síla lúmenn’ omentielvo.  I think it is Elven for "Well met, friend! A star shall shine upon the hour of our meeting."  Please excuse the terrible accent.

I took a moment to examine my companions, then continued.  As to my personal qualifications, I was in my country's military and also served aboard a starship as a security officer.  I've even been a recon scout on a backwards little planet you've never heard of.  If there's nothing else, we need to divide up the supplies evenly and get moving.  We're a little light on ammo, but maybe we can pick up some additional supplies from the Bad Guys as we go.

I passed out my bottled water, giving each of them two twenty ounce bottles of Deja Blue, keeping the last one for myself.  I also gave the others an emergency space blanket, telling them that it was for warmth at night when we bedded down.  I also offered my spare Glock 17 and two full mags to Sarge for her M1911A1.  Each mag has seventeen rounds of 9mm.  That gives you a bit more to work with than just seven rounds of .45 ACP.  Just for the heck of it, I placed my other two twenty round PDW mags in my jacket pocket.  I figured that this was going to be a busy week.

Honor actually blushes, a slight flush across her cheekbones.  The idea of being known in other worlds as someone special surprises her.

Lord Glorfindel nods in acceptance, but then tries, and can't stop, and starts giggling.

"What?" Sarge asks, slapping him on the back.

"Well met friend, A comet shall fly up your nose."  He says, and then starts laughing again which sets everyone off as they catch what he's saying. A minute later, everyone stops, looks about, and you can see they've all drawn together with you.  They've relaxed, and bonded.

"I shall teach you Elvish, if you like, Lady Commander of the Host." Glorfindel says bowing.

With everything passed out, and made ready, you and the rest start hiking. And Glorfindel starts singing an Elvish walking song, while Sarge gripes at the beyond rock hardness of the surface.

There's something odd about the horizon, you decide after a while.

PT

That went better than I could have hoped.  I got everyone organized in a diamond formation for travelling.  I put the Elf Lord out in front, hoping that his elven senses and skills will help us find the baddies before they find us.  I loaned him my binos and showed him how to use them, just to give us a better edge.  I put Sarge on the left, while I took the right to cover our flanks and provide fire support for Lord Gee.  Honor, with her limited ammo supply, is covering our six.

I made sure that everyone drank as much water as possible from the pool before we left.  That way, our limited supplies might last a bit longer.  I wasn't worried about water.  My solar canteen would take care of me.  Given that there was freestanding water in the area, there should be enough water vapor in the area to take care of my needs.

I had no idea what Lord Gee was singing, but it made me feel better to hear it.    I tried to pick out a chorus from the song and learn it as we walked.  It was a lot better than spending all my time wondering if I was going to get everyone killed because I screwed up somehow by missing something.

OOC: GE roll time to check on raiders..."BIG 30, BIG 30..." PT Mutters..."14" argh.  Slightly on the good side.

IC: You begin to join in the Elvish chorus, as does Nimitz, and you find yourself drifting into a strange state of mind. At once, you are hyper-aware, but at the same time dreamily appreciative of the way, and the miles just melt away beneath your feet...

And then you look up.  A monoplane with an Iron Cross of Black on both wings crosses over your path, and then loops in an Immelman loop.

"Stuka!" Sarge screams.

PT

OOC:  A German WW-2 dive bomber is a slightly good result?  Riiiight...

BIC:  Scatter and engage!  Not being one to take my own advice, I stood my ground.  According to the Military Channel, Stuka pilots used a deep dive to aim their planes at the target, then released their bomb just as they were pulling up.  (It was a really very slow day and I was sooooo bored.)  Maybe, there was a way to hit this guy...

I clicked the stock out and dropped the foregrip down on my PDW.  The only good thing about being a Stuka target is that I didn't have to worry much about deflection angles or leading my target.  I tucked the stock into my shoulder and began to squeeze off three and four round aimed bursts.  I really hoped that these rounds were as armor piercing as advertised.

OOC: A single Stuka, that with one lucky shot you could take down, and you have longbows, pulse pistols, and a phaser, and autoweapons.  Plus, you don't see a bomb mounted underneath it....which just means a strafing attack...

"Guard my body." Sarge says, and lays down behind you.  You can hear her hyper-ventilating.

The other two scatter.  Glorfindel has his bow out, and is whispering to his arrow.  Honor is taking a ranging shot.

Honor fires again. Comes close. Glorfindel misses wildly.  He sounds stressed about it, as he yanks out another arrow.  You shoot, and see fuel stream from the plane's right wing.

And then you hear behind you.

"I am the Phoenix."  And a bird of flame, perhaps ten feet wide, rockets up into the air toward the Stuka.

It suddenly occured to me that a bird of fire streaking toward a plane leaking aviation gasoline as it flew toward me is not the place where I want to be.  I grabbed Sarge by the combat webbing and began to drag her away from the probable impact site as quickly as I could.

The Stuka fires, and its bullets richochet off the ground, one whizzing between your knees.  The bird lunges at it, but it misjudges the angle, and fly's over it.  Then as you keep dragging the rather heavy Sarge, you hear an exultant cry in Elvish, followed by a hum, and boom with a fierce yell from Honor.

You look up, once you're clear.

An arrow seems to be stuck in the aileron on the right side, and the tail fin seems to be missing.  And then the diving bird catches up with it, wraps its talons into the wings...

BOOM!

A ball of fire, and chunks of Stuka scatter down around everyone.

The Sarge coughs.

"Give me my Jack." She moans.

PT

I snagged the half-full bottle of Jack Daniels and held Sarge up so that she could take a pull.  She had earned it.  Is everyone all right?  We need to get moving as soon as we can.  The smoke is going to draw attention that we really don't need.

I took a few moments to top off my magazine from the spare rounds in my pack, then colspaed the stock, folded the foregrip, and reholstered the MP7A1.  I liked this subgun.  The recoil kicked like a .22, but seemed to hit a lot harder.

I had hoped for something salvagable, but at least we won.

Sarge takes a swig, and relaxes a bit.

"Yeah, now and forever, hoo-rah." She staggers to her feet, takes another swig, and then regrettfully puts the bottle up.

Glorfindel and Honor are even quicker ready to go.

About an hour later, Glorfindel stops, and points backwards.

You look in your binocs.

There's people in dust coloured dune buggies circling and darting between the chunks of still smoking Stuka.

"I can feel the wrongness of their presence.  The land moans where they ride over it in those strange carts. Plus, Commander, it is perhaps not my place, but the 'Sarge' as you call her, she is in pain.  Her spirit shrieks at her."

PT

Dune buggies...  Great.  At least they were still circling the crashed Stuka.  I looked at the Elf Lord and handed him back my binos.  We each deal with our inner demons in our own ways.  I will speak with her, though, and see if I can help her in some way.  I looked at Sarge.  She appeared to be dealing with it well enough.  About the dune buggies, Elf Lord, none of us belong here, good guys and bad.  Our job is not to worry about anything except holding a hilltop for three days.

I passed around some starship chocolate to eat while on the move.  As I handed it to the each person, I told them that they did a good job with the Stuka.  I wasn't just saying that.  They all really did great.

I handed Sarge her chocolate last.  What you did really cost you, didn't it.  I wanted to thank you for what you did.  If I can help you in some way...

I needed to have Lord Gee keep an eye on the dune buggies.  Taking out those raiders could make our journey to the hill easier by suppling us with needed transportation, weapons, and ammo, but I didn't want to risk anyone unless absolutely necessary.

Sarge sighs.  "Not much you can do.  It-it wakes the memories.  I remember all the way back to my great-grandmother's childhood.  Learning she was a mutant. Meeting great-granddad, Scott Summers.  And then grandma Rachel, growing up a mutant-hunter for killer robots, and time-jumping.  And my mother, another time-jumper who made it back to 1905, and died in 1962 of cancer.  I remember everything they ever did."

She stops, readjusts her M-16, and looks away.

"Most of all, I remember Jean Gray, great-grandma, going nuts, and killing five billion aliens by causing a supernova. The worst part is she was laughing as she did it."

She pulls out her bottle of Jack.

"I can remember better who I am when I'm a little buzzed.  The voices shut up."

PT

I don't know if it helps much, but your family are also known as heros in my original timeline.  The names of Cyclops, Storm, Wolverine, Jean Grey, and the others known as the X-Men are deeply rooted in the mythos of my culture.  I am proud to know you and honored to be able to work with you, Sergeant Summers.

As we walked, I couldn't help but wonder what in the world I was doing here.  I'm just an ex-military cop turned private detective with some special gunk in my blood.  OK, I admit that I wanted to be Batgirl when I was a lot younger, but I did grow out of it, mostly.  I'm not in these people's leagues.  I'm not a legendary starship commander or a comic book superhero or anything remotely resembling an Elf.

A random thought occured to me.  If these people are characters in stories, maybe I'm only another character in someone else's mind, my thoughts flowing from their mind through their fingertips to a word processer's screen.  Someone could be sitting at home reading these words as I supposedly am thinking them.

Get a grip, Mist. You're just going to make yourself crazy thinking like that.

"The crazy lady thanks you." Sarge says with a twisted smile.  "You've heard of all of us from your world. Makes one think.  I know, intimately, oh I know, how one's deeds echo down the corridors of time, but perhaps they also echo across time.  And then storytellers in other worlds hear those echoes, and make up tales based on them?"

She shrugs.

You walk on, and the elflord seeing your thougtful expression, and perhaps seeing Sarge shifts to a contemplative tune, one that aids in thought, and heals by its rhythmns.

The dune buggies don't follow.

Hours later, you see a man, in your path.  He seems to be standing there, waiting for your group.  He glints in the light.

A quick check with your binocs, and all you can tell is that he is covered in bright metal.

PT

This doesn't look good...

I pass the binos around so everyone can get a view of this guy.  I dig out my Multivisor, put it on, and run through the settings to see what I can learn about this being.

They look.  Honor creases her mouth, and checks again with harder eyes.

"Seems familiar for some reason."

Your Multivisor does not pick up high-energy sources, nor does the heat profile look unusual for a human.

Looks to be 5 ft. 2 inches tall, the radar reports.  Partial metallic armor.

Looking beyond with your Multivisor, you think you are getting pretty close to the targetted hill.  You can see some heat sources on the top which look to be campfires.  Its too far to properly make out figures in the heated smoke, and against the fires.

PT

Familiar good?  Or familiar bad?

I gave everyone a turn with the MultiVisor as I ran it through the settings for them.  I wanted them to know what I knew.  This guy is between us and where we need to go.  This could get interesting in a hurry.  At this point, I'm waaay open to suggestions.

It looked like he could be wearing a powersuit, kind of like a silver version of Iron Man, but with a wierd shaped head.  He looks like he's holding some type of a glittering staff with a really reflective thing on top in his right hand.  Could he be a technomage of some type?

They look, they shrug.  Although it looks more golden perhaps...

PT
OOC:Heheehehehe...

I sighed.  There was only one way to do this.  OK, folks.  Spread out on a line.  Move forward evenly with weapons ready.  We might have allies here.  We might not.  Stay ready.  I swapped out my twenty round mag for a forty round mag, lowered the foregrip, extended the stock, and clicked the selector off of safe to full.  It was time to go to work.  Let's move.

You advance, and decide its not a guy in power armor.  After getting closer, you decide it is definitely armor though.  Still closer, and you can see that it, or he, is a Roman legionairre, holding up a metal plated staff with a golden eagle standard on it.

"Mithras and the Earthshaker bless you.  I am watch stander, and standardbearer Gaius Cornellius of Legion Twenty-Second.  My centurion sent me out to greet you."

He takes off his plumed helmet, and shakes his head.

"We are to hold that hill, but we're running real short on water, and hoped that you might have some to spare."  He points to a hill two hills to the left of yours.

PT

I looked at the standardbearer.  I am Misty Reynolds and these are my friends.  We don't have much, but I think we can find a bit to spare.

I turn to Lord Gee.  Some of the Elves I know about have special abilities to alter nature in magical ways which I do not understand.  Can you help them?  If not, can I give you my bottle of water and you give them your waterskin?  Dune buggies, Roman Legionares, Stukas...  This was turning into a real party.

After we do what we can for the Romans, I ask...  Standardbearer, the four of us are to hold the hill over there.  Can you tell us if you have seen any activity in that direction?  Intel is good and they owe us.

The Elflord looks into the sky, and speaks a few words, beseechingly.  And then you can smell rain in the air.

"An hour, or two, and it will fall, but be ready, warrior for it will not fall long."

Gaius claps his hand to his breast in a salute.

"Ah, my Centurion thought you might ask that. He said to tell you ..."  And his voice shifts as he quotes from memory. "Let our allies know that from the farthest left to the farthest right what our knowledge of the enemy of the gods of Rome is. We see a small horde of monsters drawn up, wielding weapons that whine so that your teeth ache, guided in their actions by an Kraken which walks on land.  Facing them is a group of brethren from the cold island of Briton, who claim to have a coughing gun which shoots metal birds down. In front of us is a small group of metal things which seek to kill with flashes of light, and a couple dozen barbarians, and I fear we face ghosts for the day before all our water was poured out on the ground while we kept guard.  To our immediate right is a hill that was guarded by a giant, but he was slain, and sent back to his homeland. And then there is your hill which is held by those called Eaters, led by a man in a black robe.

But what I fear is that far behind these groups is a large army of things, not men.  It is guided by a being of hideous face. Even I, a Centurion of twenty years fear to look on it. What I see happening is the enemy seeks to find a path large enough to send his army through.  If he were to destroy my force, and yours, then I fear he would have enough space to send his army through.  May Mithras strengthen your arm."

PT

Listening to this guy was making my head hurt.  Still, he knew things that I didn't, so I focused on making sense from his words.  Let's see...  the Brits have the Kraken...  the Romans face laserbots and barbarians....  our hill has something called Eaters led by a guy in a black robe...  and the big baddies are on the move.  This just keeps on getting better.

Standardbearer, please tell your Centurion that we thank him for the information.  We'll look you up after this battle is over.  I gave him the hand over breast salute.

OK folks...  Eaters don't sound as they are weapon heavy, they probably attack in a group and try to overwhelm their opponents.  Elf Lord, I'd like you behind us as we move up on line.  You've got our rear guard in case they have more tactics than just charge.  Honor, you've got the right flank.  Sarge, the left.  Since I've got the most ammo, I'll go up the middle.

I offered Honor my phaser and power pack belt, showing her how to use it.  It was only fair since I had already given a Glock to Sarge as a backup weapon.

Let's take it nice and easy until we're spotted, then let them have it.  Also, if you get a shot at a guy in a black robe... take it.  Let's go.

The standardbearer salutes you back, and then turns and begins to hike rapidly away.  Honor takes your phaser, and puts it in her off-hand.

She looks, not calm, but eager in a repressed way.

You and the rest begin to walk up to the hill, and you can see smokefires rising up from it, and the smell of some unfamiliar meat being cooked.  It makes your stomach rumble.

Halfway up the hill, and you see your first person. She's gnawing on a bone, about two feet long.  Wearing a Pittsburgh Steelers t-shirt, and a pair of cut-offs, and at her right hand lies a tire iron.  Her hair is ratty, tangled, and her eyes are wild, feral.

Nimitz pads over to you, and once Honor's got your attention, the treecat comes back.  Honor points at the bone, and then at her own thighbone in her right leg.  They seem to be similiar size.

PT

I reached into a pouch on my weapon harness and get the snap on suppressor for the PDW.  I snap the long tube in place, then slowly click the selector to single shot.  I take careful aim at the Eater woman's head and squeeze off a shot as my stomach rolls at the thought of what she is eating.

One down.

Twenty to go. You see a wave of madness crest the edge of the hill. A man with a rib cage and a ketchup bottle; another holding a steel car bumper like its an axe; a woman in a torn business suit with a garbage can shield and a spiked bat and wearing a cloak of sewn together skins; a man with a putting iron in one hand, and a tennis racket adorned with scalps in the other.

Then you see a man in a nice suit of black behind them.  He's well-dressed, groomed, and yet looking at him makes the hair go up on the back of your neck and arms in a way that these cannibals didn't.

"Everyone come on. Get in the fight."  He waves for more to join in. "What are you waitng for. Charge!"

And yes, he's well protected by the bodies of the Eaters from a clean shot.

PT

So much for suppressors.  I flip the selector to full and begin to touch off three and four round bursts, one burst per Eater head.  Acquire and fire.  Acquire and fire.  If I don't have time to swap out mags in the PDW, I'll draw and use the Glock to buy enough space to reload.

Honor is holding her own.  Two shots with the pulse pistol, and then a dual shot with phaser and pulse, and then recycle... Nimitz is keeping things clear in front of her of anyone who gets too close.  But then it gets whacked by a tire iron and skids off to the side.

Sarge is not so skillful, but she's fending them off while burning through her ammunition. And then she falls.

The ones in front of you keep dying, replaced by others, and finally they are all down, and you have a knee that aches badly although you're not sure why.

You thought you saw the black suited man disappear.

You hear more coming.

Sarge is laying on the ground, shivering coated with a thin film of ice.

"Their leader is a teleporter. I almost got him when he breathed on the Sergeant, but he is very fast." Glorfindel says.

PT

I swap out the partial PDW mag for a full forty stick.  Sarge, fight this.  Channel your Phoenix power.  You can beat this.  You're a Summers.  X-Men don't ever quit.

Honor, change the phaser setting to four and zap that rock for five seconds.  You should be able to heat it enough to help Sarge warm up.  Hurry up.  We have more company on its way.  Elf Lord, do what you can to protect Sarge.  This wasn't looking good.

Shiver. "I'm not an X-man.  I'm the weakest of my brothers and sisters in Phoenix Command.  A touch of TK, and a small flaming astral bird.  I've seen my eldest brother Michael flip a tank with a wave of his hand.  Veronica, my sis, can fly her whole body to the Moon. I can barely yank a gun from someone's hand. Why am I here, instead of them, or even one of the real Phoenixes. Jean or Rachel could stomp these people by herself."

Honor does as you say, and it helps.

"Very flexible tool. A bit slow, but nice." She says.

 The Elflord nods grimly.

PT

Summers, you're the closest being that we have in the superhero range.  We need you.  Can you fight?  It was iffy with all of us fighting.  With Sarge down, I wasn't liking the odds much.  If we could pare down the scum, I had an idea of how to neutralize the teleporter.

It's showtime!

Summers staggers to her feet,and slings her gun to ready.

"Yes, ma'am."  And then she rolls you a pair of frag grenades.

And then thirty of the Eaters came screaming over the hilltop, in a full-out charge.  Sarge opens up with a grenade tearing a small hole in the line of madness.

PT

I snag the frags, hooking them to my weapon harness, then look up.  Crap.  There's not much time for slow, aimed fire.  I begin to spray short bursts into the attacking Eaters.

In a blizzard of fighting, with bodies falling right and left, the Eaters charge your line.  By the time, they reach it, over half of them are dead.  You got one chance to use a grenade to good if not great effect as it went a little too far behind the line for maximum damage.

But thats still, ten people on three people in hand to hand combat.  Ok, ten on four including the tree-cat.

And Glorfindel is not shooting arrows anymore you notice with the side of your brain.

Summers goes Phoenix which torches one guy, and leaves her body vulnerable.  Honor is doing well with her four.

You have three on you.

PT

I drop the PDW and draw my stunwand and my snapstick, setting the snapstick to "club" length as I hear the faint crackle of the stunwand on its highest setting.  It's playtime.  Snapstick to strike and block...  Stunwand to take out attackers...  It's a good system.  Let's hope that the Eaters are vulnerable to electric shocks.

Oh, yes, they are, but they're nuts too which means their pain endurance is up.

You clip one on the shoulder with  your snapstick.  He hardly feels it, except to anger him. The one to your right, you tag the back of his neck with the stunwand, and drop him like a birdcaged newspaper.

Your angry one swings, and you slip his wild punch with a simple flex of your knees, and the last steps over, no on his fallen companion, and ignores the pickaxe in his hand to bite your right bicep with his yellowing teeth.

He hangs on, growling, and beginning to eat...their unwashed stench mixed with blood, and smells of bloodlust clogs the air you breathe...

PT

Crap!  That hurts!  I drop the snapstick from my left hand and draw the blaster.  I point it at the Eater's chest and pull the trigger.

He takes another big bite, even bigger, and you see black spots in your vision as you scream.

You jerk the gun up, but the round goes into the hillside.

The other one tries to punch you in the gut, but he slips on someone's blood, and lands with a grunt on his bottom.

PT
OOC: Punch boy botched.  Be grateful.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:57, Mon 13 Mar 2006.

This...  isn't...  good...  I try to adjust my aim and fire the blaster into the Eater once again.  I angle the shot upward so the cone effect of the weapon's energy blast won't hit my friends.

You shoot him in the left shoulder, and he staggers back, letting you go. And then a bolt of pain slams up your leg as the guy on the ground slams into your knee, and pops it out of joint.

Things go black.

You wake up, on top of the hill.  Your knee is bandaged, and back in joint.

Honor looks the best. Nimitz looks fine, if ragged exhausted.  That blitzing speed of his takes it out of such a small creature.  He needs food and rest.

Sarge is shivering, and looks ill.

"Your arm and knee are injured badly. After you went down, we were able to finish them off.  But in truth, I think the teleporter let us live.  He's been playing games with us, taunting us. Teleporting near the camp, tossing a rock at our heads, and then gone.."

Its night now.

PT

I took stock of our situation.  I feel like crap.  Sarge is out for a while, if not for good.  Honor looks to be in better condition than her sand-cat.  And then, there's the Elf Lord.  Uhhh...  Where is Elf Lord?

During the lull, I refill PDW mags from the spare ammo in my pack.  I also reload the Glock mags which Sarge used during the battle.  I can use my right hand to hold the mags as I load with my left.  It's not easy, but it's working.  I also take the time to swallow a couple of ibuprofin, washing them down with a swig of water from my canteen.

As I work, I ask Honor.  How is the phaser holding up?  I go on to explain as much of how the phaser operates as I can remember.  ... so you have three settings for stun, two for thermal, and three for disrupt.  The higher the setting, the more damage it does.  Any questions?

"He saw me fall, and someone about to kill my body, and he rushed to defend me.  But, he had to know he was making himself vulnerable to the teleporter.  He did it anyways."  Sarge says between shivers.

"He fell, and a bright light surrounded him, and he was gone." Honor says.

She takes your instructions on the phaser use, and asks several more questions, a couple of which you can't answer because they deal with concepts of energy usage you're not familiar with.

"Its holding up well. I like it. Its a weapon to be used by a thoughtful warrior.  Great flexibility, and power, but you have to choose the moment."

And then suddenly the teleporter is there. He drops a paper, and vanishes before Honor can draw a bead on him.

The paper says very simply..."Lets make a deal."

PT

Honor read me what the note said.  I really wasn't up to going to get it myself.  Do you want to make a deal with this guy?

As the pain medication began to kick in, I had a random thought.  When I verse out, I'm going to need to do some serious shopping.  I'll need a new set of binoculars, more food and water, a second Glock, and of course, I'll need to pick up a new phaser at the local Starfleet Supply Depot.  I shook my head to clear it.  I recognized my lightheadness as blood loss.

I took out the vial of instant blood pills from my starship first aid kit and read the directions for use by using a shielded Mini-Mag Light.  I know that the Doc wouldn't have given them to me without there being a way to use them in the kit.  I explain to Honor what I'm doing as I try to get some blood back into me.

Sarge staggers to her feet, flames licking around her body, and fury transfiguring her face.

"I want to kill the pschyo."

Honor is a little calmer, but her eyes are cold.

"I'm a bit of an empath. He'...blackness, darkness, a ravening desire, pain and shadows...worse really despite his good manners than the Eaters."

Then as you follow the really simple instructions in large print (designed for soldiers in pain who can't concentrate that well.) she adds.

"If he wants to deal, it may be that he is afraid of us."

PT

I feel a lot better in a minute.  That instant blood stuff works better than I had hoped.  I replace the stuff in my first aid kit.  I have a bad feeling that I will need it more sooner than later.

We all want to kill him.  The only question is how.  Do we want to see what he has to say?

There's some arguement back and forth.  But in the end, Honor points out that while they almost certainly don't want to agree, but that its a good ploy to waste time.

Sarge, who seems better, now that she's angry, strides back and forth, and offers to be used as a grenade holder...she can pretend she's injured...which won't be hard, and when he ports up to her to finish her off...pull pin under her stomach, and wait...

Honor suggests that Nimitz might be fast enough, once he recovers to slash Black Suit's throat.

"Less final for our side." Honor says.  You can see that they are both coming into their own in different ways. Honor looks like the pressure is merely making her tougher. Sarge...you see flames appear around her now and then, and she seems stronger.  And she's not reaching for the bottle.

PT

The teleporter bothers me.  Come on, Mist.  You're such a hotshot detective.  Figure it out.  All right.  Let's see...

One.  He blips in and out very quickly.  I can't help but think that he is too quick for it to be any machine that I know, considering that he would have to operate it on the bounce.  Of course, there are lots of things out there which I haven't seen yet...

Two.  He would have has to have the teleportation device on him when he got shifted here.  Anything big and bulky wouldn't have made the journey.

So...  He is using some type of psionic means to jump around on this world.  I've seen psionics used to jump between realities, so jumping around in this one seems possible.

I smiled.  I have an idea of how to stop him long enough to get a shot at him...  I went on to explain my plan.  So... if he uses psionics to travel, what do you think would happen if he ran into a psi-barrier?

You talk with him through the night, and his first offers are traditional. Wealth, or fame, or power in exchange for your soul.  After that gets roundly rejected, he moves on to offers for one of the above in exchange for your moving out of the way, and 'letting the inevitable advance go on through...you do know you're going to lose right?'.

You and the others say no again.  Irritated, he snarls.

"Well, then, kiss your existence here goodbye."

He t-ports into your psi barrier, and something goes drastically wrong...you see him catching on fire, burning away, and yet being drawn back into another realm, and you to your horror seem to be drawn with him...

Your barrier seems to have become more of a sticky net with spikes which rip into your back, and tie you to him as Hell reclaims its own.

You hurtle toward flames, and ....

Then with utmost relief, you feel the chains binding you to him release.

You're standing on iron inside a room of iron facing a quiet man with a long scarf...

"Jellybean, my dear?"  He holds out his hand.

PT

I take a deep breath and slowly let it out.  That didn't work out quite as planned.  I smiled.  No, thank you.  I looked around.  The place could really use an interior decorator, but even those guys from "Queer Eye" might find this a bit too challenging.  I know this sounds trite, but where am I and who are you?

"I'm sorry, jellybelly?" He fishes in his pocket in a kind of abstracted manner, and produces another piece of candy.  Then he looks at you wondering what you said, and then said most calmly and definitively says.

"Well, I believe I'm the Doctor, but I have been mistaken before. This is, of course, the Debriefing Room, after you've been err, killed, on the Warplain.  You come here, get anything cleared up, and then sent on your merry way, or not so merry way, or..."

His voice trails off in the middle of his sentence, and he begins to rather determinedly fish in his suit jacket pocket muttering about licorice.

PT

Who is this guy?  Give me a minute, all right?  I check to make sure that I have my backpack and weapons.  I'm not expecting to find my binos, my other Glock, or the phaser, since I gave them away.  Once I verify that I have the rest of my stuff...  What kind of a debriefing are you looking to get?

I ran through the different Doctors which I knew about.  Casey...  Kimble... McCoy...  Savage...  Welby...  Doogie Hauser...  Hawkeye and Trapper John...  Bashir...  I just wasn't coming up with a name.  I'd better ask.  And you are Doctor...  who?

"Excellent. You're very bright for a slightly modified Terran."

He looks forlornly at the jellybelly you're still not eating, and then shrugs, and pops it into his mouth.

"Well, if you don't have any questions, then just proceed through the door.  I will say that if you're willing, we will call on you again, well actually the Powers Above will call on you either way, but its up to you to answer, and ...where was I? Oh, yes, the door."

He steps aside, and you see a normal wooden door behind him.

No, you don't have your given away stuff.

PT

Fine!  If he doesn't want to tell me his name, I don't care.  It's not that I'm staying here all that long anyway.  I look at this guy and shrug.  Whatever works for you, I guess...  I started toward the door, then turned.  I do have a question, after all.  Was sending four people up against all those enemies supposed to be anything even closely resembling a fair fight?

Once I get an answer, I walk through the wooden door.

"Well, you had ranged weapons, and you did win despite closing to short range. You actually have two of the original still there, and you've held for at least one day. Ideally we hoped that the Phoenix-bearer would become unafraid of her power, and embrace it. Which may happen yet. We can hope.  If she does, she could be as great a force for good as her grandmother Rachel Summers was or is.  But, to answer your question, I don't know. Sometimes the Powers Above do send out warriors in a hopeless fight.  Perhaps its for the benefit of the warriors, or perhaps its because they don't have anyone better to send."

He pauses, and grins.

"All is not lost."

And you grit your teeth, and step through the door, and fallllllll.....

PT