From: khanjorah@aol.com (Khan Jorah)
Date: 29 Nov 1998 08:52:27 EST
He had his mission. He knew what needed to be done and was setting about the process of having it completed soon enough. But there was another player to be added, he recently found out, and when questioned if he had aquired the Fourth Child, he responded that he hadn't. Yet.
There were certainly prospects, to be certain. But this one had to be just right. No room to err. He was more than pleased with the previous three choices, and now had to set about finding the next. He already assumed that a Fifth may be forthcoming, but held that thought in the back of his mind. He would deal with that when the time arrived.
For now, he had to concentrate on the task at hand.
The Fourth.
How to find this one? Male or Female? There was one way to find out.
He would have the first three search for him. When they've gone about searching for who the Fourth is, he would select the one he felt was proper for this.
So, he prepared one of his well used notes. Then, casting a minor spell of seeking, sent it out to the nightstands of the Three, to be there when they awaken, to greet them in their morning happiness.
He so hoped they hadn't forgotten him. He'd already made sure Fici hadn't.
Oh, how fun that was, to toy with her mind a slight bit. To let her watch as he simply beheaded one she would call friend with no effort whatsoever. He believed that Fici was shaken with what transpired, his picking the head of Tom Evasion and quoting with the lifeless form, then reattaching the head as if nothing had happened.
No, they would surely remember him,
What fun.
When the three open their letters, they read........
To my Three Dear Friends,
I have a fear. I fear that you have become lax and perhaps have forgotten about me. I made sure to let Fici know of my presense once again, perhaps you should ask her for detailings on just how. I bring tidings of good will, and peace to you. But mostly, a small, perhaps useful tidbit of information.
Of what I seek, there is more. What is needed, is a Four. A simple matter, to seek one out. Of this rhyme, I doth spout.
Alone ye three, ye are not. A Fourth Child. You will spot.
In your group there is another, but who is it, sister or brother?
I leave it to ye to find for me, lest punishment, for free.
Warmest regards,
Khan Jorah Petrovna Illianovich.
Admittedly, he wasn't very good at rhyming, but again, it was amusing to him, and so, the letter was sent to the three, for perhaps something to read while at morning tea.
"And there is a subsitution on the field."
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From: jolafici@aol.com (Jola Fici)
Date: 29 Nov 1998 09:12:15 EST
Jola awoke bleary eyed this morning, and reached absently for the pills strewn on the nightstand. When her hand reached a note instead, she frowned and sat up a bit in bed, dragging the note over to read it. As her first glance let her know it was from Jorah, her frown deepened and again she reached for the pills, taking one to slide down her throat helped by a glass of room-temp water. As the drug started to take it's
hold and bring her addicted system back to some sort of faux stability, she started reading the note again.
She crumbled it and then shredded it in anger as she finished reading, shouting to no-one "I hate you Jorah!" and then tossed the shreds at the wall. She expected Wil to hear her, but then she remembered that she'd slept at home last night instead of on the ship. Suddenly, she really missed Wil.
Jola slipped out of bed and got dressed quickly. She scooped the pills back into the bottle and hid that away in her jacket. Fiddling with the digi-pad, she set it to transport her to Wil's ship. How would she explain her absence last night? What would he do if he discovered her vice?
Whatever. Right now, she needed his help in more ways than one. Maybe the most pressing was trying to determine who this Fourth was, and hopefully save them from Jorah's insanity. There has to be a way to stop this creature.
Date: 29 Nov 1998 09:12:15 EST
Jola awoke bleary eyed this morning, and reached absently for the pills strewn on the nightstand. When her hand reached a note instead, she frowned and sat up a bit in bed, dragging the note over to read it. As her first glance let her know it was from Jorah, her frown deepened and again she reached for the pills, taking one to slide down her throat helped by a glass of room-temp water. As the drug started to take it's
hold and bring her addicted system back to some sort of faux stability, she started reading the note again.
She crumbled it and then shredded it in anger as she finished reading, shouting to no-one "I hate you Jorah!" and then tossed the shreds at the wall. She expected Wil to hear her, but then she remembered that she'd slept at home last night instead of on the ship. Suddenly, she really missed Wil.
Jola slipped out of bed and got dressed quickly. She scooped the pills back into the bottle and hid that away in her jacket. Fiddling with the digi-pad, she set it to transport her to Wil's ship. How would she explain her absence last night? What would he do if he discovered her vice?
Whatever. Right now, she needed his help in more ways than one. Maybe the most pressing was trying to determine who this Fourth was, and hopefully save them from Jorah's insanity. There has to be a way to stop this creature.
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From: xjaycyndax@aol.com (XJaycyndaX)
Date: 01 Dec 1998 05:50:05 EST
No.
She had received the note a few days before, lying in wait upon her dresser. She had been enjoying the quiet, lazy mornings, allowing herself to sleep late, but this day.. this day was different. She had woken early, but not too early, as the sun cast its intrusive rays upon her spacious, yet empty bed. Apparently Rix had woken early, for he was not there, which she was used to. Stretching lazily, she smiled to herself, then spared a glance
around. There, waiting for her, there it was. The letter. She didn't think much of it at first, assuming it was a note from her love. With a private smile, she allowed herself to think of him a moment before reaching for the note.
Opening it slowly, she shivered in anticipation of what it might say... but as she pulled away the last fold, her heart stopped, knowing the writing well.. all too well. Khan. He was back. No, she hadn't forgotten... not really. She had just been too busy to care. Growling, she clenched the note tight in her fist as she pulled back the covers, swiftly removing herself from the blanket's warm embrace.
Her steps, though small, were quick as she stormed through the palace, not even bothering to dress first. In little time, she arrived before her destination; a small room in the corner, nestled on the first floor, near the garden. She slipped inside, her mood softening as she stepped into the Goddess's sanctuary, anger disappearing to be replaced by awe, respect, and perhaps most importantly, love.
Bowing her head, she kneeled before the altar, the simple bracelet at her wrist beginning to glow as she spoke her thoughts. It was a long affair, the gypsy in need of much advice. A few hours later, she emerged from the holy place, her gaze downcast. She had asked for answers, and she had received them. She didn't like them, but she was running out of options.
* * *
It was a matter of minutes before she returned downstairs, taking a deep breath before she moved out the door. She called to her friend, Skyler, to take her to the Arena so she could get business settled. Skyler's rainbow scales glittered in the morning light as he spread his wings, stretching them before the short flight. A soft tune, and the dragon nodded, crouching a moment before leaping high into the air, wings snapping
out.
He much resembled a rainbow jewel, sparkling in the light as he banked, turning toward Jaycy's main place of work. The Arena wasn't far for the dragon, and he brought Jaycy to the door of the Red Dragon Inn quickly. She slid off, and hurried inside, casting a cursory glance over the Arena, as was her usual.
Stopping short, she gasped, seeing the three heads. Swallowing, she closed her eyes, fighting back the tears. After a long pause, she ran toward the offices to finish her chores, then ran out, not daring to look upon the heads once more, more than able to see Iain's head in her mind. So distraught was she, she ran past the dragon, making her own way home, and only there did she allow herself to cry, hidden deep in the corner of her room, where
none would enter.
* * *
She spent the next few days in her office, rarely leaving, as she worked with Joel at a furious pace. She had much.. so much to do. Refusing to eat, or to sleep, or to see those she loved most, she worked. Joel was afraid for his lady, but the hard gleam in her eyes silently warned him against speaking out, so he merely accepted her odd behavior. He learned much those few days... he had to. She trained him in the ways of the
Duels, and how to correspond with the Council, making sure no detail was overlooked. It was hard on him, and they both knew it, but yet they pressed on.
* * *
Finally, all was ready. Her movements were lazy, as if she had all the time in the world. Perhaps she did.. who was to know? She strolled through the garden, idly picking at the herbs growing there, and took them to the kitchen.
"I want a special meal, please." She outlined what she wished for to the cooks, who nodded, unsuspecting as to her real plans. With a pleasant smile, she left them to make her way to her room, where she set out hundreds of candles, covering the room with them. One by one, she lit each candle with a small prayer, until the silver was shining brightly in the soft but bright illumination.
Reclining on her couch, some time later the servants brought her the tray, laden with the delicious smelling foods created by the masterful culinary artists. Leaving the tray, she changed to a soft silk nightgown, of a deep forest green, lined with silver ribbon, and lay upon her bed.
And there, not long after... Jaycynda Ashleana died.
Date: 01 Dec 1998 05:50:05 EST
No.
She had received the note a few days before, lying in wait upon her dresser. She had been enjoying the quiet, lazy mornings, allowing herself to sleep late, but this day.. this day was different. She had woken early, but not too early, as the sun cast its intrusive rays upon her spacious, yet empty bed. Apparently Rix had woken early, for he was not there, which she was used to. Stretching lazily, she smiled to herself, then spared a glance
around. There, waiting for her, there it was. The letter. She didn't think much of it at first, assuming it was a note from her love. With a private smile, she allowed herself to think of him a moment before reaching for the note.
Opening it slowly, she shivered in anticipation of what it might say... but as she pulled away the last fold, her heart stopped, knowing the writing well.. all too well. Khan. He was back. No, she hadn't forgotten... not really. She had just been too busy to care. Growling, she clenched the note tight in her fist as she pulled back the covers, swiftly removing herself from the blanket's warm embrace.
Her steps, though small, were quick as she stormed through the palace, not even bothering to dress first. In little time, she arrived before her destination; a small room in the corner, nestled on the first floor, near the garden. She slipped inside, her mood softening as she stepped into the Goddess's sanctuary, anger disappearing to be replaced by awe, respect, and perhaps most importantly, love.
Bowing her head, she kneeled before the altar, the simple bracelet at her wrist beginning to glow as she spoke her thoughts. It was a long affair, the gypsy in need of much advice. A few hours later, she emerged from the holy place, her gaze downcast. She had asked for answers, and she had received them. She didn't like them, but she was running out of options.
* * *
It was a matter of minutes before she returned downstairs, taking a deep breath before she moved out the door. She called to her friend, Skyler, to take her to the Arena so she could get business settled. Skyler's rainbow scales glittered in the morning light as he spread his wings, stretching them before the short flight. A soft tune, and the dragon nodded, crouching a moment before leaping high into the air, wings snapping
out.
He much resembled a rainbow jewel, sparkling in the light as he banked, turning toward Jaycy's main place of work. The Arena wasn't far for the dragon, and he brought Jaycy to the door of the Red Dragon Inn quickly. She slid off, and hurried inside, casting a cursory glance over the Arena, as was her usual.
Stopping short, she gasped, seeing the three heads. Swallowing, she closed her eyes, fighting back the tears. After a long pause, she ran toward the offices to finish her chores, then ran out, not daring to look upon the heads once more, more than able to see Iain's head in her mind. So distraught was she, she ran past the dragon, making her own way home, and only there did she allow herself to cry, hidden deep in the corner of her room, where
none would enter.
* * *
She spent the next few days in her office, rarely leaving, as she worked with Joel at a furious pace. She had much.. so much to do. Refusing to eat, or to sleep, or to see those she loved most, she worked. Joel was afraid for his lady, but the hard gleam in her eyes silently warned him against speaking out, so he merely accepted her odd behavior. He learned much those few days... he had to. She trained him in the ways of the
Duels, and how to correspond with the Council, making sure no detail was overlooked. It was hard on him, and they both knew it, but yet they pressed on.
* * *
Finally, all was ready. Her movements were lazy, as if she had all the time in the world. Perhaps she did.. who was to know? She strolled through the garden, idly picking at the herbs growing there, and took them to the kitchen.
"I want a special meal, please." She outlined what she wished for to the cooks, who nodded, unsuspecting as to her real plans. With a pleasant smile, she left them to make her way to her room, where she set out hundreds of candles, covering the room with them. One by one, she lit each candle with a small prayer, until the silver was shining brightly in the soft but bright illumination.
Reclining on her couch, some time later the servants brought her the tray, laden with the delicious smelling foods created by the masterful culinary artists. Leaving the tray, she changed to a soft silk nightgown, of a deep forest green, lined with silver ribbon, and lay upon her bed.
And there, not long after... Jaycynda Ashleana died.
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From: sidarthae@aol.com (Sidartha E)
Date: 06 Dec 1998 20:47:07 EST
Sidartha sat behind a mound of papers in her office, going over the daily happenings of her duchy, but something nagged at her mind. Where was Khan Jorah? She searched him out as best she could without alerting him to what she was doing, but she found nothing. Were they finally rid of him?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a light mental knock on her shielding. Setting the parchment in her hand down on the desk, she looked up. Vrael, her Head of Security, made his way to her and bowed deeply, his flowing, elven silk tunic and pants whispering.
"Vrael, how many times must I ask you not to bow to me like that?" Sidartha sighed.
The Head of Security rose, kohl rimmed gold eyes regarding his friend and employer affectionately. "You could ask me a thousand times, Your Grace," he replied, "and I would still refuse. I'll not disgrace my people by showing bad manners to my superiors."
"Great good gods, Vrael, if we were in the elven lands, I'd be bowing to *you*. Your Queen Iluen's brother."
"We're not in the elven lands, Sidartha."
The duchess threw her hands in the air, "Elves! Gah...you're right. Anyway, anything to report?"
He nodded in reply and took a seat accross the desk from her. "Court is still convened in regards to Lord Xenograg kathu-Darelir's request and there's been an odd silence has come from Bane, as if the very mountian is lying in wait. The weather worsens, the clouds seeming to stretch out over the Inner Realms from Mount Bane. I have sensed a deep, long pull on the lines of magic coming from that place, even more than usual. What does Your Grace
suggest? Shall I have the Secret Police move on Bane and investigate?"
Sidartha took a long moment to ponder this, then shook her head. "No, it's not necessary. Mydin informed me that he means no harm to me or to Mountainside. In his own way," she said in response to the elf's raised brow. "If you feel it necessary, take some of your investigators north along the border to search for indications of wrongdoing. I assure you, however, that you will find none."
"Yes, Your Grace," Vrael said, smoothly rising to his feet, his features slowly falling into a mask of concern as he slid a piece of parchment from his tunic. "This missive was left for you, Sidartha, and I sense the touch of that beast, Khan Jorah, upon it."
She took it from him and opened it. Her friend was right, it was from Khan Jorah. "So, you've finally returned to play, eh Khan?" she murmured and read the missive.
To my Three Dear Friends,
I have a fear. I fear that you have become lax and perhaps have forgotten about me. I made sure to let Fici know of my presense once again, perhaps you should ask her for detailings on just how. I bring tidings of good will, and peace to you. But mostly, a small, perhaps useful tidbit of information.
Of what I seek, there is more. What is needed, is a Four. A simple matter, to seek one out. Of this rhyme, I doth spout.
Alone ye three, ye are not. A Fourth Child. You will spot.
In your group there is another, but who is it, sister or brother?
I leave it to ye to find for me, lest punishment, for free.
Warmest regards,
Khan Jorah Petrovna Illianovich.
She would have laughed if it wasn't so horrid. He wanted a fourth person to torture and he made a poem about it, as if it were some child's game. And he wanted *them* to search for one for him. Sidartha would sooner leap from the tower window than have another go through this hell. He would punish her if she refused, but how could she *not* refuse such a vile task?
With purpose, she stood and strode to the glass door leading out to the balcony. Vrael made a move to stand behind her, but she turned to face him and shook her head. "No, my friend, I need to be alone." He opened his mouth to protest, but at the stubborn look from her, he bit his words back and bowed, striding out of the office.
The rain came down in sheets over the land, drenching Sidartha from head to toe almost immediately as she stepped out onto the balcony. Paying no mind to the weather, she placed her hands on the cold stone banister, slipping into a semi-trancelike state, her breathing slowed and her Senses focused inward. Without a care to the threat of her personal safety, she eased her menal shielding down and spread her mental fingers out to grasp ahold of
whatever small trace of Khan Jorah that she could find. She found a weak shadow of whatever was used to send the missive to her and tapped into it, sending a message of her own to it's originator.
>>Khan Jorah, I will not condemn anyone else to the fate you have given me. If you wish to meet out your punishment, COME AND GET ME!<<
Date: 06 Dec 1998 20:47:07 EST
Sidartha sat behind a mound of papers in her office, going over the daily happenings of her duchy, but something nagged at her mind. Where was Khan Jorah? She searched him out as best she could without alerting him to what she was doing, but she found nothing. Were they finally rid of him?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a light mental knock on her shielding. Setting the parchment in her hand down on the desk, she looked up. Vrael, her Head of Security, made his way to her and bowed deeply, his flowing, elven silk tunic and pants whispering.
"Vrael, how many times must I ask you not to bow to me like that?" Sidartha sighed.
The Head of Security rose, kohl rimmed gold eyes regarding his friend and employer affectionately. "You could ask me a thousand times, Your Grace," he replied, "and I would still refuse. I'll not disgrace my people by showing bad manners to my superiors."
"Great good gods, Vrael, if we were in the elven lands, I'd be bowing to *you*. Your Queen Iluen's brother."
"We're not in the elven lands, Sidartha."
The duchess threw her hands in the air, "Elves! Gah...you're right. Anyway, anything to report?"
He nodded in reply and took a seat accross the desk from her. "Court is still convened in regards to Lord Xenograg kathu-Darelir's request and there's been an odd silence has come from Bane, as if the very mountian is lying in wait. The weather worsens, the clouds seeming to stretch out over the Inner Realms from Mount Bane. I have sensed a deep, long pull on the lines of magic coming from that place, even more than usual. What does Your Grace
suggest? Shall I have the Secret Police move on Bane and investigate?"
Sidartha took a long moment to ponder this, then shook her head. "No, it's not necessary. Mydin informed me that he means no harm to me or to Mountainside. In his own way," she said in response to the elf's raised brow. "If you feel it necessary, take some of your investigators north along the border to search for indications of wrongdoing. I assure you, however, that you will find none."
"Yes, Your Grace," Vrael said, smoothly rising to his feet, his features slowly falling into a mask of concern as he slid a piece of parchment from his tunic. "This missive was left for you, Sidartha, and I sense the touch of that beast, Khan Jorah, upon it."
She took it from him and opened it. Her friend was right, it was from Khan Jorah. "So, you've finally returned to play, eh Khan?" she murmured and read the missive.
To my Three Dear Friends,
I have a fear. I fear that you have become lax and perhaps have forgotten about me. I made sure to let Fici know of my presense once again, perhaps you should ask her for detailings on just how. I bring tidings of good will, and peace to you. But mostly, a small, perhaps useful tidbit of information.
Of what I seek, there is more. What is needed, is a Four. A simple matter, to seek one out. Of this rhyme, I doth spout.
Alone ye three, ye are not. A Fourth Child. You will spot.
In your group there is another, but who is it, sister or brother?
I leave it to ye to find for me, lest punishment, for free.
Warmest regards,
Khan Jorah Petrovna Illianovich.
She would have laughed if it wasn't so horrid. He wanted a fourth person to torture and he made a poem about it, as if it were some child's game. And he wanted *them* to search for one for him. Sidartha would sooner leap from the tower window than have another go through this hell. He would punish her if she refused, but how could she *not* refuse such a vile task?
With purpose, she stood and strode to the glass door leading out to the balcony. Vrael made a move to stand behind her, but she turned to face him and shook her head. "No, my friend, I need to be alone." He opened his mouth to protest, but at the stubborn look from her, he bit his words back and bowed, striding out of the office.
The rain came down in sheets over the land, drenching Sidartha from head to toe almost immediately as she stepped out onto the balcony. Paying no mind to the weather, she placed her hands on the cold stone banister, slipping into a semi-trancelike state, her breathing slowed and her Senses focused inward. Without a care to the threat of her personal safety, she eased her menal shielding down and spread her mental fingers out to grasp ahold of
whatever small trace of Khan Jorah that she could find. She found a weak shadow of whatever was used to send the missive to her and tapped into it, sending a message of her own to it's originator.
>>Khan Jorah, I will not condemn anyone else to the fate you have given me. If you wish to meet out your punishment, COME AND GET ME!<<