From: lyonxx@aol.com (Lyon xx)
Date: 17 Sep 2000 18:43:32 EDT
The night had been a good one so far for Lyon, he had fed early and was now on the hunt just for sport. Then it happened.
The pain exploded from his chest, a searing pain like nothing he had ever experienced, coming from the phoenix tattoo. He fell to the ground snarling in pain with his claws digging into his chest in a futile attempt to bring the pain to an end. And then it was over as quickly as it had begun. Lyon rolled over to his hands and knees, his blood falling to the ground below him with a hiss. He pushed himself to his feet as steam came off his perspiration
soaked body. He knew it before looking down; the phoenix tattoo was gone.
As quickly as he could he made his way toward the Towers, knowing he was already too late. Daegarth was either dead or he had left the realm. He came to the clearing were once the Towers stood and there sat Kemp on the ground, the Towers no where in sight. Lyon made his way to Kemp and sat down beside him. "Who all left with him?" Lyon asked. Kemp handed Lyon a sealed parchment. "All the brothers. Tari. Mel is still here. He wanted you to read that
right away." Lyon broke the seal and read the letter left to him.
My dear friend,
The time has come. We knew it would. I can no longer stay in this realm. Do not worry Lyon, I release you from all service. You have always been my closest friend and I will never forget that. Our paths will cross again as they always do. Till then my friend, be well. One last thing, I have left you a few things in your cave near the glade.
Daegarth
A blood tear made its way down Lyon's face as he just sat there, a blank look on his face. The silence was broken by Kemp. "You have to let the community know he left. He was the Overlord." With savage fury Lyon's arm shot out gripping Kemp by the throat and driving him to the ground. With a face of utter rage Lyon leaned down close to Kemp and in a whisper said "No one will know. I will not allow the vultures to sully his name. They know not why
he had to leave. I will assume his form and stand in his stead. If any find out the truth Kemp, I will drink the blood from your skull." Lyon released the grip and got up from the ground. Kemp gasped in air and rolled to his stomach.
"Get up Kemp. We have much to do to pull this off. I must go into the arena and build alliances. Find Mel and bring him to me. I'll be at the cave." And so the deception has started.
Gone
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From: kempxx@aol.com (Kemp xx)
Date: 20 Sep 2000 20:40:59 EDT
For over an hour he stood, palms steadfast on the edge of the counter. Staring aimlessly into the mirror, as if it were an empty void. His jaws locked in aggression, yet the slightest smile could be seen protruding beyond the stern, dark gaze. This, for him, was a bittersweet event. He now could set his feet where he had originally intended, where they belonged. After all, had the Shadowlord not stepped in the way
it would have been he, not Daegarth, that stood side by side with Lyon. Regardless, the prophecy was left unfulfilled. The Shadowlord had left the realm a living man, his lands, his wealth, his stature all left in tact. Lyon was supposed to dispose of him long ago, yet he hadn't, they grew to be close, gradually squeezing himself further and further to the outskirts of Lyon's life, until he were nothing more than a mere servant to the man. Ludicrous,
but all is for naught now. The Shadowlord may be living, but he is out of the picture nonetheless.
He would back Lyon in his decision to shape shift to the form of the Shadowlord, posing as the newest overlord. His word had been given, he was not to tell a soul about what was happening, yet what did it truly matter? He owed Lyon for what he had done to him, indeed. Lyon had been his creation, he was his warrior, not Daegarth's. He would foil the plan, yet now was not the time. He had many preparations to make, readying the strings
for his masterpiece performance. That all would transpire later, for now he was to find Melgarth, and bring him to Lyon. The family must know of the plan, to them there were no secrets.
Date: 20 Sep 2000 20:40:59 EDT
For over an hour he stood, palms steadfast on the edge of the counter. Staring aimlessly into the mirror, as if it were an empty void. His jaws locked in aggression, yet the slightest smile could be seen protruding beyond the stern, dark gaze. This, for him, was a bittersweet event. He now could set his feet where he had originally intended, where they belonged. After all, had the Shadowlord not stepped in the way
it would have been he, not Daegarth, that stood side by side with Lyon. Regardless, the prophecy was left unfulfilled. The Shadowlord had left the realm a living man, his lands, his wealth, his stature all left in tact. Lyon was supposed to dispose of him long ago, yet he hadn't, they grew to be close, gradually squeezing himself further and further to the outskirts of Lyon's life, until he were nothing more than a mere servant to the man. Ludicrous,
but all is for naught now. The Shadowlord may be living, but he is out of the picture nonetheless.
He would back Lyon in his decision to shape shift to the form of the Shadowlord, posing as the newest overlord. His word had been given, he was not to tell a soul about what was happening, yet what did it truly matter? He owed Lyon for what he had done to him, indeed. Lyon had been his creation, he was his warrior, not Daegarth's. He would foil the plan, yet now was not the time. He had many preparations to make, readying the strings
for his masterpiece performance. That all would transpire later, for now he was to find Melgarth, and bring him to Lyon. The family must know of the plan, to them there were no secrets.
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From: lyonxx@aol.com (Lyon xx)
Date: 22 Sep 2000 20:22:36 EDT
At first it wasn't noticeable. Then it was slightly irritating. Then it was mildly uncomfortable. Then it was excruciatingly painful. Lyon let his concentration slip and the bones, sinew and muscle could be heard breaking as they shifted back into their proper position. Lyon wiped the beads of blood from his forehead and glanced at the sand clock. Two hours. He had held
Daegarth's form for two hours before he gave into the pain.
This was proving more difficult a task than he had thought. After all, he stood 3 inches taller than Daegarth and outweighed him by at least 40 pounds. There was no where for that added bulk to go, only to become more dense. And this had its own problems; Lyon was having difficulty adapting to the new center of gravity. And the sword! It seemed ages since Lyon had used a sword. His own style relied on quickness, agility and misdirection. Daegarth's
on the other hand was more meticulous, more calculated and precise. It would prove a hearty task to emulate that style.
He turned the sword over in his hand, inspecting every line. How could any tell the difference? It was, after all, a family sword, an exact replica of the Phoenix Blade, save the powers. He brought the sword up, point held parallel to the ground, and begun the slow steps he had watched his friend do a thousand times. Back and forth he moved, cutting, slashing, slipping in and out of defensive maneuvers, all in an attempt not to look like Daegarth,
but to become Daegarth.
Satisfied with his practice session, Lyon sheathed the sword and dived into the flowing stream to cool his body. When he was finished bathing he made his way into the cave to give the clothes he had decided to wear tonight their final inspection. Yes, tonight would be the first test as he would go into the Arena.
It took only a few moments to shift back into Daegarth's form and as Lyon dressed, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. " I am Daegarth. I am DaeGARTH. I AM DAEGARTH."
Date: 22 Sep 2000 20:22:36 EDT
At first it wasn't noticeable. Then it was slightly irritating. Then it was mildly uncomfortable. Then it was excruciatingly painful. Lyon let his concentration slip and the bones, sinew and muscle could be heard breaking as they shifted back into their proper position. Lyon wiped the beads of blood from his forehead and glanced at the sand clock. Two hours. He had held
Daegarth's form for two hours before he gave into the pain.
This was proving more difficult a task than he had thought. After all, he stood 3 inches taller than Daegarth and outweighed him by at least 40 pounds. There was no where for that added bulk to go, only to become more dense. And this had its own problems; Lyon was having difficulty adapting to the new center of gravity. And the sword! It seemed ages since Lyon had used a sword. His own style relied on quickness, agility and misdirection. Daegarth's
on the other hand was more meticulous, more calculated and precise. It would prove a hearty task to emulate that style.
He turned the sword over in his hand, inspecting every line. How could any tell the difference? It was, after all, a family sword, an exact replica of the Phoenix Blade, save the powers. He brought the sword up, point held parallel to the ground, and begun the slow steps he had watched his friend do a thousand times. Back and forth he moved, cutting, slashing, slipping in and out of defensive maneuvers, all in an attempt not to look like Daegarth,
but to become Daegarth.
Satisfied with his practice session, Lyon sheathed the sword and dived into the flowing stream to cool his body. When he was finished bathing he made his way into the cave to give the clothes he had decided to wear tonight their final inspection. Yes, tonight would be the first test as he would go into the Arena.
It took only a few moments to shift back into Daegarth's form and as Lyon dressed, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. " I am Daegarth. I am DaeGARTH. I AM DAEGARTH."
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From: copperxxx@aol.com (Copper xxx)
Date: 22 Sep 2000 23:14:43 EDT
::After leaving Mel at the Citadel, thoughts of a cold tankard of ale running through her mind, she formed the image of her room in the Towers. Disappearing from the Isle in a flash, she stepped out onto soft grass. A look of confusion raced across her face as she looked around. She turned around in a circle, seeing only the large oak and the wall surrounding the grounds. Blood
draining from her face as the realization sunk in that the Towers were gone. Emotions flooding through her, the transformation started. Legs and arms elongating, claws tearing through her hands, azure blue scales forming all over her body until a large dragon stood in the courtyard. Releasing a roar, she sunk down to the ground staring at the bedrock of the Towers::
Date: 22 Sep 2000 23:14:43 EDT
::After leaving Mel at the Citadel, thoughts of a cold tankard of ale running through her mind, she formed the image of her room in the Towers. Disappearing from the Isle in a flash, she stepped out onto soft grass. A look of confusion raced across her face as she looked around. She turned around in a circle, seeing only the large oak and the wall surrounding the grounds. Blood
draining from her face as the realization sunk in that the Towers were gone. Emotions flooding through her, the transformation started. Legs and arms elongating, claws tearing through her hands, azure blue scales forming all over her body until a large dragon stood in the courtyard. Releasing a roar, she sunk down to the ground staring at the bedrock of the Towers::
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From: melgarth@aol.com (Melgarth)
Date: 22 Sep 2000 23:28:40 EDT
He stepped out of the portal next to the tree and glanced about as he was
about to sit. He drew a sudden breath and fell flat on the soft grass as the
impossible struck him. The Towers, his home... They were gone! He had
noticed a small surge in the amulet enchanted by his father, but as it did
not signal a near death to one of the family, he wrote it off as nothing.
But this! Attempting to take it all in, he finally noticed Copper in dragon
form behind him, staring where the Towers once stood. She seemed in a daze,
which made him realize he was still sprawled on the ground. Standing and
trying to organize his thoughts, he started to move towards her when he heard
a voice from behind the tree. Glancing back, his gaze fell upon Kemp, that
distasteful follower that always seemed to follow Lyon wherever he went.
"Melgarth, it's about time you showed up. I figured you would be here
sooner considering what has transpired. Ah well, no matter, Lyon needs to
see you immediately in his cave."
Frowning, Melgarth gave the man a dark stare, how Kemp always managed to wear that slimy grin he would never know, "I will join him momentarily,
however I must speak with Copper first over another matter." The truth of
the matter was he was ready to make a portal directly in front of Lyon and be
there this instant to find out what had occurred, but he would hardly give this self-important upstart the
satisfaction of giving him a message and watching him jump at it. He moved
close to the blue dragon and started to speak a few quiet words...
Date: 22 Sep 2000 23:28:40 EDT
He stepped out of the portal next to the tree and glanced about as he was
about to sit. He drew a sudden breath and fell flat on the soft grass as the
impossible struck him. The Towers, his home... They were gone! He had
noticed a small surge in the amulet enchanted by his father, but as it did
not signal a near death to one of the family, he wrote it off as nothing.
But this! Attempting to take it all in, he finally noticed Copper in dragon
form behind him, staring where the Towers once stood. She seemed in a daze,
which made him realize he was still sprawled on the ground. Standing and
trying to organize his thoughts, he started to move towards her when he heard
a voice from behind the tree. Glancing back, his gaze fell upon Kemp, that
distasteful follower that always seemed to follow Lyon wherever he went.
"Melgarth, it's about time you showed up. I figured you would be here
sooner considering what has transpired. Ah well, no matter, Lyon needs to
see you immediately in his cave."
Frowning, Melgarth gave the man a dark stare, how Kemp always managed to wear that slimy grin he would never know, "I will join him momentarily,
however I must speak with Copper first over another matter." The truth of
the matter was he was ready to make a portal directly in front of Lyon and be
there this instant to find out what had occurred, but he would hardly give this self-important upstart the
satisfaction of giving him a message and watching him jump at it. He moved
close to the blue dragon and started to speak a few quiet words...
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From: copperxxx@aol.com (Copper xxx)
Date: 23 Sep 2000 00:00:02 EDT
Hearing a voice, she snaps out of her daze, furious that she had allowed someone to get that close, and almost swipes out with a claw before she realizes that it is Mel. Drawing her claw back, the confusion plain on her facial features, she drops back to a crouch as Mel begins to speak quietly.
"Lyon wishes for us to meet him in his cave. Apparently he has more information as to what is going on."
A single nod is given as she transforms back into her half-elven form, as she knows she can not go in her present state. Her missing grin and lack of unending questions showing her worry. Quietly she says, "Whenever ya are ready then…."
With a nod Mel wove another shadowy portal to the cave, leaving Kemp still standing with his slimy grin.
Date: 23 Sep 2000 00:00:02 EDT
Hearing a voice, she snaps out of her daze, furious that she had allowed someone to get that close, and almost swipes out with a claw before she realizes that it is Mel. Drawing her claw back, the confusion plain on her facial features, she drops back to a crouch as Mel begins to speak quietly.
"Lyon wishes for us to meet him in his cave. Apparently he has more information as to what is going on."
A single nod is given as she transforms back into her half-elven form, as she knows she can not go in her present state. Her missing grin and lack of unending questions showing her worry. Quietly she says, "Whenever ya are ready then…."
With a nod Mel wove another shadowy portal to the cave, leaving Kemp still standing with his slimy grin.
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From: kalamere@aol.com (Kalamere)
Date: 23 Sep 2000 14:03:51 EDT
Wiping the sweat from his brow with an already moistened cloth, Kalamere sat back in the voluminous leather chair. He glanced out the window of his study to see the crescent moon high overhead, signifying he'd already spent half a day on this project. Another six hours, he told himself, unless exhaustion overtook him first.
The project was a v'relin, an old Erandish word meaning "escape." A heavily enchanted piece of hardened parchment with an image on either face. Raven had refered to similiar artifacts as "trumps". Kal assumed because the appearance was comparable to that of a playing card and being in possession of one could turn the tide of a bad situation.
Of course, the v'relin were never intended to contain more than one spell. Perhaps he should have bought some that could. Little good to think of that now however. He'd bought a score of the blank cards nearly 10 years ago from the only adept enchanter in the city, making what use of the man he could before carrying out his contract. Since he couldn't purchase new ones now, he was forced to manipulate his own magics so that five spells would seem
as one to the v'relin. No easy task, to be sure.
"What is Lyon up to?", he though to himself. Dropping the ragged cloth and reaching for the brandy. Sipping the warmed liqueur, he thought on his friend and the request he'd made.
There had been rumors of the team dueling league starting up again, so Kal hadn't given it much thought when he received word that Lyon wished to meet him at the arena. Perhaps it was a little odd to meet there rather than at the Towers, but either way he had been sure it was about his continued association with Team Phoenix. The subject never came up.
Lyon had called on him for a favor. He wanted "one of those teleportation cards." Asking why would have been a violation of protocol. One assassin never asks another why they need a favor, you don't talk about a contract until it's complete. This had been a rare case where Kal had been tempted to violate that protocol. More from concern than curiosity. Lyon had looked like hell.
It wasn't the stress of a job, the two had spoken about their work dozens of times and when it came to the trade, Lyon was as cold as any. He still was, but there was a tinge of something else. Lyon looked tired and there was something in his voice, something no one of the profession should ever have. Kal had no real way to explain it, no concrete slip-up to point to, but somehow he knew. This job was personal.
"You'll have your escape, my friend. Just stay alive long enough to use it." The words spoken softly as Kal reached for the v'relin to continue his work. One sleepless night was little price if he could keep Lyon from being caught.
Date: 23 Sep 2000 14:03:51 EDT
Wiping the sweat from his brow with an already moistened cloth, Kalamere sat back in the voluminous leather chair. He glanced out the window of his study to see the crescent moon high overhead, signifying he'd already spent half a day on this project. Another six hours, he told himself, unless exhaustion overtook him first.
The project was a v'relin, an old Erandish word meaning "escape." A heavily enchanted piece of hardened parchment with an image on either face. Raven had refered to similiar artifacts as "trumps". Kal assumed because the appearance was comparable to that of a playing card and being in possession of one could turn the tide of a bad situation.
Of course, the v'relin were never intended to contain more than one spell. Perhaps he should have bought some that could. Little good to think of that now however. He'd bought a score of the blank cards nearly 10 years ago from the only adept enchanter in the city, making what use of the man he could before carrying out his contract. Since he couldn't purchase new ones now, he was forced to manipulate his own magics so that five spells would seem
as one to the v'relin. No easy task, to be sure.
"What is Lyon up to?", he though to himself. Dropping the ragged cloth and reaching for the brandy. Sipping the warmed liqueur, he thought on his friend and the request he'd made.
There had been rumors of the team dueling league starting up again, so Kal hadn't given it much thought when he received word that Lyon wished to meet him at the arena. Perhaps it was a little odd to meet there rather than at the Towers, but either way he had been sure it was about his continued association with Team Phoenix. The subject never came up.
Lyon had called on him for a favor. He wanted "one of those teleportation cards." Asking why would have been a violation of protocol. One assassin never asks another why they need a favor, you don't talk about a contract until it's complete. This had been a rare case where Kal had been tempted to violate that protocol. More from concern than curiosity. Lyon had looked like hell.
It wasn't the stress of a job, the two had spoken about their work dozens of times and when it came to the trade, Lyon was as cold as any. He still was, but there was a tinge of something else. Lyon looked tired and there was something in his voice, something no one of the profession should ever have. Kal had no real way to explain it, no concrete slip-up to point to, but somehow he knew. This job was personal.
"You'll have your escape, my friend. Just stay alive long enough to use it." The words spoken softly as Kal reached for the v'relin to continue his work. One sleepless night was little price if he could keep Lyon from being caught.
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From: jadeddeath@aol.com (JadedDeath)
Date: 24 Sep 2000 00:12:17 EDT
Call it a carry over from her earlier days, when times were hard and coin was scarce, or the miserly habits she had adopted with her wealth since, but when there was free ale for the drinking, Janella was certainly accepting. The warrioress was almost grateful to Jonalyn, for Jonalyn had reminded her and everyone else in the Arena the night of Deluthan's challenge that it was customary for the winning
Baron to buy drinks for all during his first titled week. That juicy tidbit was enough to draw Janella back to the dueling cavern several times over the following nights. Al, Marcus and Hubie were more than happy to continue serving and adding on to the growing tab under the Dragonsblade name.
It was one such evening in the Arena when Janella was keeping the boys busy behind the counter: she had them draw small amounts of every single kind of brew the Arena stocked (both domestic and import) and she was tasting them, arguing with whomever cared to join her over which one was the best. Hubie pointed out the most expensive ales while Al continued to look for any other kegs they might've missed. When Janella grew tired of the pale, yellow
ale tasting, she supplemented them with her old favorite, Skullsplitter ale. That infamous stout always seemed to cheer her up (one way or another), and, renewed thus, the group's efforts persisted.
Janella was reaching for a new tankard when someone was heard on the stairs. Turning, about to sniff at this next taste test, Janella put the container down when she saw who it was. Lyon, Daegarth's lackey. Janella was convinced he was a fiend, a spawn of the Abyss. The last time she had seen him in a ring was against Jesse a few weeks before; she had watched with revulsion as he licked blood from his fingertips. Her disgust deepened as she
realized that no one else seemed to take notice of his grotesque, inhuman behavior. Was everyone in this pathetic land blind? Or, did Lyon affect such admiration that they didn't even care? Neither reason offered Janella any satisfaction. Upon seeing her, Lyon started towards the bar. Forgetting the ale, Janella reached for something on her belt. Hubie, Marcus and Al scattered to the kitchen.
Lyon gave her a disarming smile and said, "Janella, you never joined me at the Towers. I'm hurt, you ignored my invitation." He paused, as if unsure whether to approach closer as Janella held up a dagger. Lyon immediately sensed its magic. Funny, didn't Janella despise sorcery?
"I don't socialize with blood-sucking scum like you. You may've fooled some others around here, but take another step and I will kill you--- "
"Janella!" Lyon cried in mock pain.
"I will carve out your unbeating heart, set the rest of you to burn, and I will send the bloody ashes to your master Daegarth, with regrets that his pet wagged its tail at the wrong girl one too many times. Keep your damn invitation, and stay away from me."
Lyon laughed, deciding he might still have a little bit of fun with her yet. He hopped back, deftly stealing a mug from the counter, making a face at the contents then replacing it, making a show of putting his hands up innocently. "I guess that means you wouldn't consider joining Team Phoenix either?"
Janella flushed red and leaped onto the bar, her dagger flashing dangerously into her left hand as she let out a curse, drew Vendetta, and growled, "Once you're sizzling on the floor, I'll spear your tongue for Daegarth. He can use that as his second if he's challenged... "
Grinning, Lyon edged for the stairs, thoroughly enjoying the scene but knowing better than to stick around much longer, especially with Janella pulling her sword now as well. Lyon wasn't sure which weapon could be more dangerous - he could almost see more than feel the power emanating from the two blades. "Don't fret, Janella. I have a journey to make. You won't be seeing me for awhile, there's no need to get so upset!"
This seemed to hold her, at least for the moment. Janella remained where she was, on the bar, her longsword poised to strike as she glared at Lyon's retreating form. "You're to abandon your precious master?" she sneered.
"Melgarth isn't far away, " Lyon answered, almost thoughtful. Then he said, "I'm sorry things can't be different between us, Janella." Lyon laughed again as he stole up the stairs like a shadow. He blew her a kiss, then disappeared.
Janella snorted and looked from her sword to the dozens of tankards beside her feet. She jumped from the counter, Al, Hubie and Marcus venturing forth from the kitchen with tentative steps. Smirking, Janella waved them away and muttered something about cleaning up the mess. Suddenly she wasn't in the mood to drink anymore.
"She got awfully mad, " Al whispered. Hubie gulped. Marcus nodded his agreement as the three watched the warrioress stalk out. "I wonder what an unbeating heart looks like?" No one answered as they traded frightened looks.
Date: 24 Sep 2000 00:12:17 EDT
Call it a carry over from her earlier days, when times were hard and coin was scarce, or the miserly habits she had adopted with her wealth since, but when there was free ale for the drinking, Janella was certainly accepting. The warrioress was almost grateful to Jonalyn, for Jonalyn had reminded her and everyone else in the Arena the night of Deluthan's challenge that it was customary for the winning
Baron to buy drinks for all during his first titled week. That juicy tidbit was enough to draw Janella back to the dueling cavern several times over the following nights. Al, Marcus and Hubie were more than happy to continue serving and adding on to the growing tab under the Dragonsblade name.
It was one such evening in the Arena when Janella was keeping the boys busy behind the counter: she had them draw small amounts of every single kind of brew the Arena stocked (both domestic and import) and she was tasting them, arguing with whomever cared to join her over which one was the best. Hubie pointed out the most expensive ales while Al continued to look for any other kegs they might've missed. When Janella grew tired of the pale, yellow
ale tasting, she supplemented them with her old favorite, Skullsplitter ale. That infamous stout always seemed to cheer her up (one way or another), and, renewed thus, the group's efforts persisted.
Janella was reaching for a new tankard when someone was heard on the stairs. Turning, about to sniff at this next taste test, Janella put the container down when she saw who it was. Lyon, Daegarth's lackey. Janella was convinced he was a fiend, a spawn of the Abyss. The last time she had seen him in a ring was against Jesse a few weeks before; she had watched with revulsion as he licked blood from his fingertips. Her disgust deepened as she
realized that no one else seemed to take notice of his grotesque, inhuman behavior. Was everyone in this pathetic land blind? Or, did Lyon affect such admiration that they didn't even care? Neither reason offered Janella any satisfaction. Upon seeing her, Lyon started towards the bar. Forgetting the ale, Janella reached for something on her belt. Hubie, Marcus and Al scattered to the kitchen.
Lyon gave her a disarming smile and said, "Janella, you never joined me at the Towers. I'm hurt, you ignored my invitation." He paused, as if unsure whether to approach closer as Janella held up a dagger. Lyon immediately sensed its magic. Funny, didn't Janella despise sorcery?
"I don't socialize with blood-sucking scum like you. You may've fooled some others around here, but take another step and I will kill you--- "
"Janella!" Lyon cried in mock pain.
"I will carve out your unbeating heart, set the rest of you to burn, and I will send the bloody ashes to your master Daegarth, with regrets that his pet wagged its tail at the wrong girl one too many times. Keep your damn invitation, and stay away from me."
Lyon laughed, deciding he might still have a little bit of fun with her yet. He hopped back, deftly stealing a mug from the counter, making a face at the contents then replacing it, making a show of putting his hands up innocently. "I guess that means you wouldn't consider joining Team Phoenix either?"
Janella flushed red and leaped onto the bar, her dagger flashing dangerously into her left hand as she let out a curse, drew Vendetta, and growled, "Once you're sizzling on the floor, I'll spear your tongue for Daegarth. He can use that as his second if he's challenged... "
Grinning, Lyon edged for the stairs, thoroughly enjoying the scene but knowing better than to stick around much longer, especially with Janella pulling her sword now as well. Lyon wasn't sure which weapon could be more dangerous - he could almost see more than feel the power emanating from the two blades. "Don't fret, Janella. I have a journey to make. You won't be seeing me for awhile, there's no need to get so upset!"
This seemed to hold her, at least for the moment. Janella remained where she was, on the bar, her longsword poised to strike as she glared at Lyon's retreating form. "You're to abandon your precious master?" she sneered.
"Melgarth isn't far away, " Lyon answered, almost thoughtful. Then he said, "I'm sorry things can't be different between us, Janella." Lyon laughed again as he stole up the stairs like a shadow. He blew her a kiss, then disappeared.
Janella snorted and looked from her sword to the dozens of tankards beside her feet. She jumped from the counter, Al, Hubie and Marcus venturing forth from the kitchen with tentative steps. Smirking, Janella waved them away and muttered something about cleaning up the mess. Suddenly she wasn't in the mood to drink anymore.
"She got awfully mad, " Al whispered. Hubie gulped. Marcus nodded his agreement as the three watched the warrioress stalk out. "I wonder what an unbeating heart looks like?" No one answered as they traded frightened looks.
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From: ianmackenzie@aol.com (Ian MacKenzie)
Date: 24 Sep 2000 06:04:07 EDT
He didn't come down to the basement much anymore, at least not during business hours. There were too many things for him to do as monarch of New Caithness or as league commissioner, and most of the people he actually enjoyed socializing with didn't seem to be inclined to drop in either. Add to that his dislike - or, more properly perhaps, his simple lack of like
- for many of the "newer breed," and it all added up quite neatly to an iron-clad excuse not to drop by. His visits, almost invariably, would be in the wee hours of the morning, when nobody else was around, and only for the purpose of tacking a message to the cork.
However, on this night, he made an exception. He was slighly bored, which was a factor, but there was the matter of the realignment, also. Once in awhile, when he really got bothered by the impact of an interpretation on the community, there was only one thing to do: go talk to people.
So it was that Ian MacKenzie came to be in the basement one evening when the long-haired retainer of the Overlord marched in. Something unsettled the Scotsman, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. As he bantered with the usual suspects at the bar, he devoted some processing time to trying to figure out just what it was.
It hit him right about the time that T'gar gestured to him, indicating he'd like a word. They slipped off to the side, and Lyon spoke to him quietly. "Can you block out this conversation?"
Ian arched a brow and nodded, only a twitch if his eyelid betraying the cone ot telepathic silence which descended over the two. "What's on your mind?" he asked conversationally.
"There's something... which I think it would be prudent to tell you about, rather than have you find out on your own, if you catch my meaning. Plus, I may need your help to carry it out."
That was enough for Ian to do away with any verbal conversation. "Alright, I'm intrigued. Don't talk, just think," Ian sent. Lyon nodded and Ian gathered the projected thoughts, sorting them out. So, Mithmellon was missing, and Lyon had a ruse in mind.
"In other words, what you need is for me to keep nosy people out of your head," Ian sent with a wry expression.
"Exactly," Lyon responded verbally, with a nod.
MacKenzie grinned. "We can do that," he said, and he adjusted the dead zone into a mobile shield . Not only did he craft the defense to prevent Lyon's thoughts from being read by anyone not at his level of psionic ability, but in order to throw off the trail of those who might actually be able to get past his shield, he overlaid a surface impression of Daegarth. That would suffice against casual surface scans quite adequately; obviating suspicion
was the first line of defense anyway.
Ian stepped back and nodded, and Lyon returned the gesture. "He asked that you be there for the challenge, if you could," Lyon said.
Another nod. "Alright. I'll do my best to be there. Take care." Ian waved and casually wandered back to the bar, as if nothing strange was happening at all. For all anyone knew, Mithmellon had merely sent Lyon to ask a favor...
Date: 24 Sep 2000 06:04:07 EDT
He didn't come down to the basement much anymore, at least not during business hours. There were too many things for him to do as monarch of New Caithness or as league commissioner, and most of the people he actually enjoyed socializing with didn't seem to be inclined to drop in either. Add to that his dislike - or, more properly perhaps, his simple lack of like
- for many of the "newer breed," and it all added up quite neatly to an iron-clad excuse not to drop by. His visits, almost invariably, would be in the wee hours of the morning, when nobody else was around, and only for the purpose of tacking a message to the cork.
However, on this night, he made an exception. He was slighly bored, which was a factor, but there was the matter of the realignment, also. Once in awhile, when he really got bothered by the impact of an interpretation on the community, there was only one thing to do: go talk to people.
So it was that Ian MacKenzie came to be in the basement one evening when the long-haired retainer of the Overlord marched in. Something unsettled the Scotsman, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. As he bantered with the usual suspects at the bar, he devoted some processing time to trying to figure out just what it was.
It hit him right about the time that T'gar gestured to him, indicating he'd like a word. They slipped off to the side, and Lyon spoke to him quietly. "Can you block out this conversation?"
Ian arched a brow and nodded, only a twitch if his eyelid betraying the cone ot telepathic silence which descended over the two. "What's on your mind?" he asked conversationally.
"There's something... which I think it would be prudent to tell you about, rather than have you find out on your own, if you catch my meaning. Plus, I may need your help to carry it out."
That was enough for Ian to do away with any verbal conversation. "Alright, I'm intrigued. Don't talk, just think," Ian sent. Lyon nodded and Ian gathered the projected thoughts, sorting them out. So, Mithmellon was missing, and Lyon had a ruse in mind.
"In other words, what you need is for me to keep nosy people out of your head," Ian sent with a wry expression.
"Exactly," Lyon responded verbally, with a nod.
MacKenzie grinned. "We can do that," he said, and he adjusted the dead zone into a mobile shield . Not only did he craft the defense to prevent Lyon's thoughts from being read by anyone not at his level of psionic ability, but in order to throw off the trail of those who might actually be able to get past his shield, he overlaid a surface impression of Daegarth. That would suffice against casual surface scans quite adequately; obviating suspicion
was the first line of defense anyway.
Ian stepped back and nodded, and Lyon returned the gesture. "He asked that you be there for the challenge, if you could," Lyon said.
Another nod. "Alright. I'll do my best to be there. Take care." Ian waved and casually wandered back to the bar, as if nothing strange was happening at all. For all anyone knew, Mithmellon had merely sent Lyon to ask a favor...
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From: kempxx@aol.com (Kemp xx)
Date: 27 Sep 2000 15:13:33 EDT
There he sat, raking at the hanging skin which began to form just below his eye sockets with his palms. Upon removing his hands he stood, his eyes bloodshot from the lack of sleep he had been receiving as of late. The effort to make the potion just right was extensive and time consuming, yet it had to be precise, error was not an option. Only when he returned to his lab did he realize the work had been finished.
It began as a soft chuckle, growing into a deep fit of hysteria. The wicked laughter found its way to the deepest corners of his thatched hut. At first he had little knowledge of the cause, yet the uncontrollable cackle persisted. Thoughts of every sort shot through his mind, yet he felt no remorse for what he was to do. Perhaps that was the cause of the hysteria: the realization of what he intended to play against his own son.
He had created Lyon as his own, genetically altering the genes with in the surrogate mother to create the superhuman powers he now possessed. When Lyon was born, he immediately disposed of the child bearer, not about to let her pollute his mind with flawed emotions such as love, or pity. He was his ultimate masterpiece, yet Lyon grew to be more powerful than intended, eventually growing out of control. He had hoped it was simply a phase, yet Lyon
never grew beyond it. Ironically, this was to be his downfall. The potion Lyon had requested was complex enough, he had wanted something to ease his mind and body in the transformation, giving him the ability to hold onto the form of Daegarth, as well as his superhuman abilities for a long period of time. And so he created what he was asked, yet he left out the key herb, altering the potion with the greatest care so as to cover up the traces of the
missing ingredient. With these alterations the potion would no longer extend the period of Lyon's shape shift, rather it would intensify the mental squeeze hindering Lyon's ability to hold the form under any form of stress. This stress was the key, yet it was the most simplistic string of the threads he had woven. The strain of the overlord match itself would suffice, the transformation would be inevitable as the match persisted. He would then have
his sweet revenge against his son, the humiliation would be short-lived for Lyon, however. The patrons gathered would tear at him as a pack of wolves, ending his ultimate creation's life.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Was he mad? He pondered upon this within his thoughts as the event raced closer. In a nut shell he considered himself a head case, though I suppose that we are all such in some manner of perspective. That is who he was, and what made him who he was: an original normality in the endless spiral of time
Date: 27 Sep 2000 15:13:33 EDT
There he sat, raking at the hanging skin which began to form just below his eye sockets with his palms. Upon removing his hands he stood, his eyes bloodshot from the lack of sleep he had been receiving as of late. The effort to make the potion just right was extensive and time consuming, yet it had to be precise, error was not an option. Only when he returned to his lab did he realize the work had been finished.
It began as a soft chuckle, growing into a deep fit of hysteria. The wicked laughter found its way to the deepest corners of his thatched hut. At first he had little knowledge of the cause, yet the uncontrollable cackle persisted. Thoughts of every sort shot through his mind, yet he felt no remorse for what he was to do. Perhaps that was the cause of the hysteria: the realization of what he intended to play against his own son.
He had created Lyon as his own, genetically altering the genes with in the surrogate mother to create the superhuman powers he now possessed. When Lyon was born, he immediately disposed of the child bearer, not about to let her pollute his mind with flawed emotions such as love, or pity. He was his ultimate masterpiece, yet Lyon grew to be more powerful than intended, eventually growing out of control. He had hoped it was simply a phase, yet Lyon
never grew beyond it. Ironically, this was to be his downfall. The potion Lyon had requested was complex enough, he had wanted something to ease his mind and body in the transformation, giving him the ability to hold onto the form of Daegarth, as well as his superhuman abilities for a long period of time. And so he created what he was asked, yet he left out the key herb, altering the potion with the greatest care so as to cover up the traces of the
missing ingredient. With these alterations the potion would no longer extend the period of Lyon's shape shift, rather it would intensify the mental squeeze hindering Lyon's ability to hold the form under any form of stress. This stress was the key, yet it was the most simplistic string of the threads he had woven. The strain of the overlord match itself would suffice, the transformation would be inevitable as the match persisted. He would then have
his sweet revenge against his son, the humiliation would be short-lived for Lyon, however. The patrons gathered would tear at him as a pack of wolves, ending his ultimate creation's life.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Was he mad? He pondered upon this within his thoughts as the event raced closer. In a nut shell he considered himself a head case, though I suppose that we are all such in some manner of perspective. That is who he was, and what made him who he was: an original normality in the endless spiral of time
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From: melgarth@aol.com (Melgarth)
Date: 02 Oct 2000 01:11:56 EDT
Mel locked himself in his newly acquired Citadel for three days following his meeting with Lyon and Copper, attempting to put together enough information to do what he felt he had to do. The Towers were gone, along with Daegarth and his two uncles. No one would know for a while, but eventually word would leak out and questions would be asked. For Lyon to be able to continue his charade this could not
be allowed to happen. Mel knew the East Tower almost as well as his father had, but the West Tower was another story. Of course, almost no one was allowed inside, except for family and then only to certain parts, so only the exterior was important for now. He gathered a few more materials and placed them into the two large bags he was going to carry with him. He then made the portal to the Phoenix grounds, and with a deep breath shouldered the
bags and strode through...
Date: 02 Oct 2000 01:11:56 EDT
Mel locked himself in his newly acquired Citadel for three days following his meeting with Lyon and Copper, attempting to put together enough information to do what he felt he had to do. The Towers were gone, along with Daegarth and his two uncles. No one would know for a while, but eventually word would leak out and questions would be asked. For Lyon to be able to continue his charade this could not
be allowed to happen. Mel knew the East Tower almost as well as his father had, but the West Tower was another story. Of course, almost no one was allowed inside, except for family and then only to certain parts, so only the exterior was important for now. He gathered a few more materials and placed them into the two large bags he was going to carry with him. He then made the portal to the Phoenix grounds, and with a deep breath shouldered the
bags and strode through...