There are 2 messages in this issue.
Topics in this digest:
1. [WEB] Wicked Ways
From: Christopher Ackney <christopher.ackney@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>
2. [DL-W] Settling in
From: Allen Veazey <veazeyae@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>
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Message: 1
Date: Fri, 24 Sep 2004 10:37:40 -0700
From: Christopher Ackney <christopher.ackney@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>
Subject: [WEB] Wicked Ways
Scene: April 21, early evening
Marco lazily flicked through the channels. "Boring!" he called out to
no
one, as he was alone in his apartment. He changed channels again and
paused.
His own gaze looked back out at him from the television screen,
haughty and
aloof, and so damn hunky. Marco emulated the look that he used in this
latest denim commercial. All too quickly, though, the commercial
ended, and
some boring legal drama came back on.
He thought about going clubbing, maybe even calling up Blaze. But then
he
squashed the idea. Blaze called him up, not the other way around. Ah
well,
she was connected, rich, beautiful and built just right, and hey, it
was a
free ride for as long as it lasted. He certainly couldn't complain.
Maybe he
would just pop around her place and see if she was up to some
skinny-dipping
.... that always seemed to get her interest.
He turned off the tv with another click of the remote, then tossed it
on the
couch beside him. He had just gottn to his feet when the doorbell
rang. He
rushed to the door, hoping something would break the monotony of the
day,
then paused at the mirror. He primped his hair, making sure that his
'messy'
look was well in place. The doorbell rang again, and he scowled at the
door.
"Just a minute." he called back. He hated being rushed, but decided
that he
looked good enough for sudden visitors.
He peered through the eyehole. He had been expecting that it would be
Blaze
.... or more precisely, her driver, who always came up to get him while
Blaze
waited downstairs in the limo. Instead, he was pleasantly surprised by
the
face of a young woman. He had never seen her before, but she was
certainly
young and pretty, and was smiling as she waited outside. Marco reached
for
the door handle, then paused. He quickly undid the top couple of
buttons to
his shirt. Whatever the girl wanted, he was sure he could convince her
to
stay for a little while longer.
Putting on his best smile, he opened the door. "Why, hello there." He
said
in what he thought was a smooth voice. Though a pretty face, the girl
seemed
to have no fashion sense at all, wearing only a drab brown getup that
looked
like it was out of last century.
The girl smiled up at him. "Why, hello Marco, it is such a pleasure to
finally meet you." She replied with a sweet and honeyed voice. Marco's
grin
widened.
A gloved hand reached up to her face, and she seemed to grow taller
until
she all but loomed over him. She pulled at her face, and the skin came
off
in one fluid motion. A wicked, more sharp-toothed face grinned at him.
"Oh
yes, a pleasure indeed."
Scene: A few minutes later.
The phone rang three times before he answered.
"Yes?"
A pause while the person on the other end spoke to him.
A grin appeared on his face. "How wonderful! Of course I would like to
come
to this charity event. Where was it again?" Another pause. "Ah, the
Isis
Corporation. Excellent. I have so been looking forward to going for
days
now."
"No, no. Nothing's wrong." He glanced at Marco, splayed spread-eagle
on the
bed, the once white sheets now soaked red. "Everything's just fine."
Marco looked up at his tormentor, eyes filled with agony and madness.
"Six o'clock. This Friday. Oh, I'll definitely be here, waiting with
anticipation. See you then."
He put the phone down, once again marvelling at the advances in
technology
these human insects had made since he last walked the earth.
He turned back to Marco, smiled, and continued his skinning work.
NRPG: Just a little wicked idea I came up with. Looks like there'll be
an
extra-special guest at the upcoming party. Blaze might have more than
she
bargained for with 'Marco' now. ;)
Chris, aka Hau-hra, of the Backward Face
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Message: 2
Date: Fri, 24 Sep 2004 20:31:09 -0500
From: Allen Veazey <veazeyae@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
>
Subject: [DL-W] Settling in
Day 12
Mid-Morning
Quartermaster's office
>"... so, if you could find a room that would allow Ash to walk up in
case his dragon is unable to fly, should her condition worsen, but
would
allow him some privacy." Merissa explained to the older man.
>Pav'lo nodded, and replied, "I believe I have a few for you to choose
from." Using his good, left hand, he pulled a map of the warren out
from under a pile of requisitions and reports. His right arm hung
uselessly at his side as he began to straighten out the map.
>Merissa set a book down on the corner of the map and replied, "Good,
then I'll leave you to it." She turned to gaze once more at the
enigma
of a man that had appeared in her warren. "I hope that Wyndamenth's
condition is improved quickly. I know that our dragonhealers, Dalmar
and Arideregh, will do all they can to help her," she told him in all
sincerity before she returned to her office.
"My thanks," Ash said as Merissa turned to leave. He could have
sworn she hesitated, just a second, but then she left.
That could have gone far better, he thought...
then again, I suppose, it also could have gone far worse.
He turned around to find Pav'lo looking at him intently, sizing him
up. Their eyes met a moment, then the older man busied himself
with the map.
"I can put you here, though that's a little high," he said, pointing.
"Might be better, here, or... here." Ash's mouth snapped shut
as the last room was indicated, and looked up at Pav'lo's
face. Was the man intentionally baiting him?
If he was, he hid it well. "What is it?"
"My old rooms," Ash replied, after a moment. "Before I lost
Solaris... before I spent all that time in the medical center."
Pav'lo withdrew his finger from the map. "There are others
to choose from..."
"No... no," Ash said. "They will do. I remember them. Lots of
room. Are the plants still there?"
The other rider made a face. "-You- were growing those?
All those weird plants from the wastelands and the other
warrens? They started growing wild... covered more than
just one wall of the big room, I'll tell you. We had to cut
most of them out. One or two are left... that foul-smelling
one in the back, for instance, that got frosty."
"I was hoping that one made it." Ash nodded. "It's
practical." He hesitated. And...
Solaris? The little lake to the west?"
"His bones still lie there," Pav'lo said. "Everything is the way
it was."
"Not everything," Ash said. "I heard Mnepath died."
"He did." The quartermaster nodded. "Not long after the
battle of... Geode."
Ash looked away, looked back. His eyes betrayed nothing.
"Right," he said. "Well. On to business. Getting the basics...
I haven't lived in a warren in a long time. I'll need almost
everything..."
---
Late Morning
Quartermaster's office
>As they were discussing the linens and other items that Ash might
need
delivered to his apartment, Gob popped his head into Pav'lo's office,
in
answer to his mentor's summons. His eyes were as big and round as
saucers as he stared at the infamous man before him.
>"Oh, wow, so you're HIM... the monster everyone's been
talking...about...er, um, I mean..."
Ash'chenon turned to regard the young rider, his brows
drawn together, one eye white as snow, the other holding a
pitiless gaze. "Yes, that's me," he said. "The monster everyone's
been talking about." After a moment, the corners of his
mouth turned upward; it was the first smile he had had since
arriving at Whiteriver. "And you are the rider who needs to
learn how to be diplomatic."
>Pav'lo glared at Gob, "This is Ash'chenon, rider of Wyndamenth, and
you
will be respectful, young man!"
>Gob nodded and then grinned, "So... what's it like living in the
wastes?
I bet you got to see all sorts of weird things!"
>"Gobaith!" Pav'lo growled in warning...
"It's a fair question," Ash said. He paused a moment. "It's
wilderness,"
he started. "You're alone, and there's nothing but space and free
sky and all the flora and fauna that magic has touched. No one
to rely on but yourself and your dragon. It's dangerous. But,
if you risk it, there are sights that you won't see anywhere else."
____
> 20 minutes later, Tatiana limped out of her quarters and headed to the
quartermaster's office, her stride obviously painful and lopsided, but
none
slower for it. She was a fearsome sight, standing tall, her gray hair
and
lined face in sharp contrast to the bright piercing eyes and clearly
functional armor and long sword she wore as casually as most people
wore
trousers.
> Walking into the shop, she saw him immediately, his back to her as he
and
Pav'lo talked about sheets and other necessaries of apartment
furnishings.
Tatiana could care less about such things, or about whether or not
Merissa
gave this villain sanctuary. "Ash'chenon," Tatiana called out in a
forceful
tone. "You should not have come."
"I had no choice, you see," Ash said, then turned. His brow
furrowed; his eyes grew distant.
"I... remember you," he said. "Yes." Another moment's hesitation,
as he communicated with Wyn; down in the dragonhealer's cave,
his dragon suddenly looked up and around.
"Your name is Tatiana," he said. "Geode... yes. You flew the red...
the
one that 'ported close to... the hellspawn." Ash refused to equate the
creature with himself. "He was riding that black dragon, Yothick.
They stopped you." He turned to face her more fully; his sword was
at his back, but he made no move towards it.
"My dragon is sick," he said. "What do you want from me?"
"I want you to leave," the woman said. She ignored the look that
Pav'lo gave her. "You don't belong here."
"Well, then," Ash replied, "We have a problem. I'm not leaving
until Wyndamenth has been cared for. Merissa, your warrenlady,
has allowed this." He looked Tatiana up and down, focusing on her
injuries, her brace.
"Just what do you think you're going to do with those?" he
asked, tilting his head. "The sword, the armor. You going
to force me to go?" He spread his hands. "I plan to stay,
for Wyn's sake. You'd have to kill me... or I, you. Are you so
ready to have the death of a rider and a dragon on your
conscience? I'm not."
He paused, looking her over again. "I suppose you could make
a case for revenge. But before you draw that sword, you'd
might want to remember that that hellspawn is long gone. Dead,
was what I'd heard. Incinerated. I am not your enemy." He
sighed. "You have the tone and the stance. You've come with
sword and armor and murder in your eyes. You've pushed me
against a wall, of sorts, for I will not leave. But before there's
some kind of pointless fight, ask yourself what honor you would
take from such a thing."
NRPG: tags to Andrew and Edward, and whomever...
Allen Veazey
veazeyae@[EMAIL PROTECTED]
'chenon and Wyndamenth
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