Date: 4/27/2000 1:47 AM Central Daylight Time
From: Lilly Hyde
Lilly left the Outback with a grin on her lips, whistling a tune older than even her own time, no doubt some minstrel long dead turned in his grave at the lost remembrance of his name. She loved the thrill of something new, the sensation of the gamble set her blood racing with renewed vigor.
She was many things, too long a list to entail on one sitting really, but most importantly, at the present time, she was late. William would not be happy with her, not that he could stay angry with her for very long, he never could.
Ever since the fateful day they met over an accident ... she chuckled at that. It had been no accident but a lark, a dare that she had taken up without balking for a moment.
Her laughter cut off as she realized she had made a wrong turn and stood facing two imposing looking men in what was supposed to be an alley. The way was barely three paces wide, cobbles slick with a recent rain and the stench of sewage thick enough to gag her.
She retreated a step and felt an obstruction, and for a moment she thought she twisted her path to collide with the wall. In the past her reflexes had always displayed a dizzying speed when she was in danger, much like a cornered cat that defended itself knowing it could be a last stand.
This night she felt like she moved through molasses, and before she had even one knife out she was pinned by a pair of massive arms that seemed impossibly large for a human.
Too large for a human ... not for a Hound of the Blood.
She would have screamed if a meaty hand had not muzzled her first, she settled for swinging her feet to strike out as she was lifted from the ground.
"Now, now, little flower, no need to ruffle your petals." The two men had approached in the short time it took for the Hound to neatly bundle her in his arms. The man that spoke had a slurring accent, one Lilly had hoped not to hear for a long time yet; some tabs came up due at the most inconvenient times.
The other man, who stood about six feet tall, was short in the company he kept, with wide shoulders and had a gleam in his eyes that screamed dimwitted, chuckled.
"We only want to ask you a few questions. It's Lilly today, right?"
That told her he knew too much. Cripes! How did they catch up with her so quickly?
"Now, I'm going have your mouth released. If you try to scream, we'll need to muzzle you again until you can see reason." The man had a smile that would do a weasel proud.
The second the hand fell away from her mouth, words poured out, "You two-headed son of a lame warthog, you can bloody well shove your bloody quest-"
That was as far as she got before the hand clamped over her face, blocking off her nose along with her mouth. She felt the sharp pain of a jab to her kidneys and another to her ribs.
Vaguely she heard the words, "We'll have to wash her mouth out by the time we're done, I think... "
Some debts... (Lilly Hyde)
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Re: Some debts... (William Raven)
Date: 5/6/2000 3:31 PM Central Daylight Time
From: WiIliam Raven
The Flowers of Spring
The woman that had been singing softly for the past three hours fell silent, her fingers extracted a few more notes from the lute before setting it aside and climbing down from the makeshift stage.
The silence was what pulled William from his musing to look around. During the days of rest the tavern always had a variety of patrons, but tonight all that was left was him and a few strangers. Most had fallen into their cups hard and were crumpled where they sat, heads lolling at odd angles, one man drooled a puddle and his hair was damp with it.
The owner, Matthew Trade, was busy shining the bar's counter, a ritual for him before closing the tavern every night. William studied the man for a moment, cataloguing the thinning black hair, peppered with gray, the additional wrinkles around the man's mouth and eyes -- eyes that were sharp and calculating. He had known the man for almost thirty years, a comfortable place in an unsure world.
Raven would need to leave the tavern soon, whether Lilly arrived or not. He would have chuckled at his use of the name Raven within his thoughts if he hadn't been so preoccupied with Lilly's no show.
Raven was a rank, as was Lily, William had earned the rank nearly five years ago. The Lily he awaited was more than a Lily, he suspected that was the reason she added the second L... only people listening closely would catch the difference when she gave her name.
The echo of his fist striking the oaken table was as startling to himself as Matthew, it was rare that he allowed his emotions to show.
Lilly had been late before, it was part of her nature, or so he believed.
This ... this was important, important enough that Lilly would not have missed the arranged rendezvous without a more pressing situation.
"Settle the bill later then, William?" Matthew remained behind the bar but his expression was clear enough, this was his establishment and no matters of violence were tolerated.
"As always, Matt. Thanks." He muttered the words as he rose and stalked toward the exit.
It was immature, he realized, to slam the thick ironbound door shut ... it still felt good to him.
Once he was outside the temperature drop that had come with nightfall struck him hard. His breath hung in misty clouds before his face and the air was heavy with moisture as he turned left down an alley.
"I best not catch you gaming, Lilly." He growl with little heat as he began his search.
No matter how many times he told himself that she had been late before, he could not stop the persistent sensation of urgency as he combed the streets for Lilly Hyde.
From: WiIliam Raven
The Flowers of Spring
The woman that had been singing softly for the past three hours fell silent, her fingers extracted a few more notes from the lute before setting it aside and climbing down from the makeshift stage.
The silence was what pulled William from his musing to look around. During the days of rest the tavern always had a variety of patrons, but tonight all that was left was him and a few strangers. Most had fallen into their cups hard and were crumpled where they sat, heads lolling at odd angles, one man drooled a puddle and his hair was damp with it.
The owner, Matthew Trade, was busy shining the bar's counter, a ritual for him before closing the tavern every night. William studied the man for a moment, cataloguing the thinning black hair, peppered with gray, the additional wrinkles around the man's mouth and eyes -- eyes that were sharp and calculating. He had known the man for almost thirty years, a comfortable place in an unsure world.
Raven would need to leave the tavern soon, whether Lilly arrived or not. He would have chuckled at his use of the name Raven within his thoughts if he hadn't been so preoccupied with Lilly's no show.
Raven was a rank, as was Lily, William had earned the rank nearly five years ago. The Lily he awaited was more than a Lily, he suspected that was the reason she added the second L... only people listening closely would catch the difference when she gave her name.
The echo of his fist striking the oaken table was as startling to himself as Matthew, it was rare that he allowed his emotions to show.
Lilly had been late before, it was part of her nature, or so he believed.
This ... this was important, important enough that Lilly would not have missed the arranged rendezvous without a more pressing situation.
"Settle the bill later then, William?" Matthew remained behind the bar but his expression was clear enough, this was his establishment and no matters of violence were tolerated.
"As always, Matt. Thanks." He muttered the words as he rose and stalked toward the exit.
It was immature, he realized, to slam the thick ironbound door shut ... it still felt good to him.
Once he was outside the temperature drop that had come with nightfall struck him hard. His breath hung in misty clouds before his face and the air was heavy with moisture as he turned left down an alley.
"I best not catch you gaming, Lilly." He growl with little heat as he began his search.
No matter how many times he told himself that she had been late before, he could not stop the persistent sensation of urgency as he combed the streets for Lilly Hyde.
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Re: Some debts... (posted for Matt Trade)
Date: 5/7/2000 11:03 PM Central Daylight Time
From: Lilly Hyde
The Most Bitter of Brews
Posted for Matthew Trade
The echo of the slamming door was still reverberating from the walls when the two men moved out from the kitchen. If it had been twenty years ago things might have gone differently when they had come into the tavern earlier with their threats and insinuations.
Time waited for no one ... except maybe William, Matthew thought. The man appeared as he had when the two of them had first met, Matthew suspected that fey blood ran through the man's veins.
The hulking man that stood behind him breathing ghastly fumes down his neck was not lost but rather ignored for a moment, and for that moment he could believe that he had not become the man he was. Matthew's gaze took in the details of his tavern, he had put his life's energies into the place for almost three decades now. A hand combed through his hair, an action he had long ago picked up, a sure sign he was feeling uncomfortable.
Excuses were never Matt's strong point, he had a directness that most people grew to admire and so it galled him that he had ready lies to tell to himself about his current situation.
The stone hearth was growing cold, the embers giving off little light, certainly not enough to compete with the oil lamps. The skull of a beast, killed in his youth, threw off eerie shadows onto the polished wooden floor from it's perch above the front windows; William had assisted in mounting it there.
"When will he be back?"
Matthew turned to face the man that spoke to him, the man that had kidnapped his wife and child to use as a tool to induce him to betray a friend. The man's nose was crooked with a bad fix or too many breaks, his eyes were too close together and beady like a crows. He towered over Matthew, his shoulders were broader than any Matt had ever seen and his dark hair was matted and in sore need of cleaning; the man in total could have used the dunk in some
water and soap.
"When will he be back?" He punctuated the sentence with a sharp strike to Matt's chest.
"I don't know." Matt licked his lips and shot a furtive glance to the remaining customers, they were still asleep. "I swear I don't." The pleading whimper in his tone caused him to wince inwardly. William would have to understand, they were holding his wife and his child...
The most agonizing aspect of the entire situation would be that William would understand, if it lead to his death he would still accept that Matt had done what he believed he need to do.
The torturous taste of being a traitor stung his pride, but they had his wife and his child; the repetition a mantra to him.
"Tomorrow I can track him down, he always leave me ways to get in touch with him. I can bring up the girl in a casual way and...and discover where she's hiding." The words poured out before he could choke on the bitterness.
The smaller man behind the brute nodded his head and touched the larger man's arm lightly. "We will be generous and give you until the evening. After that," his hands spread out before him, "I cannot guarantee that your women will be safe."
"Please, I swear I don't know where she is! I swear it!"
"Tomorrow night then, Mr. Trade."
Matthew stayed still, grinding his teeth as the men chuckled ... he found nothing humorous about the situation. He would kill them if they so much as harmed his family in the slightest ways, but first he had to get them back.
They left through the back door, and Matthew stood still for long moments before he sank down onto his stool. His thoughts raced down many avenues, concern for his family drew him down dark alleys and he wondered if the bitterness of his deeds would infect him until his death ... he suspected that it would and sighed.
From: Lilly Hyde
The Most Bitter of Brews
Posted for Matthew Trade
The echo of the slamming door was still reverberating from the walls when the two men moved out from the kitchen. If it had been twenty years ago things might have gone differently when they had come into the tavern earlier with their threats and insinuations.
Time waited for no one ... except maybe William, Matthew thought. The man appeared as he had when the two of them had first met, Matthew suspected that fey blood ran through the man's veins.
The hulking man that stood behind him breathing ghastly fumes down his neck was not lost but rather ignored for a moment, and for that moment he could believe that he had not become the man he was. Matthew's gaze took in the details of his tavern, he had put his life's energies into the place for almost three decades now. A hand combed through his hair, an action he had long ago picked up, a sure sign he was feeling uncomfortable.
Excuses were never Matt's strong point, he had a directness that most people grew to admire and so it galled him that he had ready lies to tell to himself about his current situation.
The stone hearth was growing cold, the embers giving off little light, certainly not enough to compete with the oil lamps. The skull of a beast, killed in his youth, threw off eerie shadows onto the polished wooden floor from it's perch above the front windows; William had assisted in mounting it there.
"When will he be back?"
Matthew turned to face the man that spoke to him, the man that had kidnapped his wife and child to use as a tool to induce him to betray a friend. The man's nose was crooked with a bad fix or too many breaks, his eyes were too close together and beady like a crows. He towered over Matthew, his shoulders were broader than any Matt had ever seen and his dark hair was matted and in sore need of cleaning; the man in total could have used the dunk in some
water and soap.
"When will he be back?" He punctuated the sentence with a sharp strike to Matt's chest.
"I don't know." Matt licked his lips and shot a furtive glance to the remaining customers, they were still asleep. "I swear I don't." The pleading whimper in his tone caused him to wince inwardly. William would have to understand, they were holding his wife and his child...
The most agonizing aspect of the entire situation would be that William would understand, if it lead to his death he would still accept that Matt had done what he believed he need to do.
The torturous taste of being a traitor stung his pride, but they had his wife and his child; the repetition a mantra to him.
"Tomorrow I can track him down, he always leave me ways to get in touch with him. I can bring up the girl in a casual way and...and discover where she's hiding." The words poured out before he could choke on the bitterness.
The smaller man behind the brute nodded his head and touched the larger man's arm lightly. "We will be generous and give you until the evening. After that," his hands spread out before him, "I cannot guarantee that your women will be safe."
"Please, I swear I don't know where she is! I swear it!"
"Tomorrow night then, Mr. Trade."
Matthew stayed still, grinding his teeth as the men chuckled ... he found nothing humorous about the situation. He would kill them if they so much as harmed his family in the slightest ways, but first he had to get them back.
They left through the back door, and Matthew stood still for long moments before he sank down onto his stool. His thoughts raced down many avenues, concern for his family drew him down dark alleys and he wondered if the bitterness of his deeds would infect him until his death ... he suspected that it would and sighed.
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Re: Some debts... (Lilly Hyde)
Date: 5/10/2000 2:21 PM Central Daylight Time
From: Lilly Hyde
Cut from Cold Matter
*Lilly Hyde
Lily: Gallery.
Clearance: TS3U.
Primary: Liquidation.
Armament: Flexible.
Qualifications: Tactical 4U; SERE; Secondaries (Appendix B).
Medical: Implants (common); Thought Adjustments (Minimal)*
*Level four interrogation and psycological profiling before cleared for admittance in the program.
- Gallery Internal Memorandum 9304215
She had held back more than they thought she had, it was cold comfort for her now. Taking an inventory of her physical condition she was convinced that every fiber in her body ached.
"Maybe that's just my pride that's stinging," she spoke the words aloud as she transversed the space between the door and the table that supported a porcelain basin and a pitcher of water.
That was it, she thought, not the bruises she could feel forming just beneath her skin, but the awareness that she should not have been caught off guard by only a weasel and his hound. The cleansing process was painful, her right wrist felt unwilling to handle normal weights, she would have to brace it for a couple of days.
She took stock of the situation and came up with a bleak outlook. She would have to consult with Quinn and postpone the project until her wrist was up to par, there would be no room for a ninety percent effort; Quinn would not be a happy camper, she would need to throw more money at him.
There was also William to deal with, that thought gave her pause. No amount of money would dent the problem there, the whole situation lent credence to her belief about love ... specifically that she didn't believe in it.
"That was a bit harsh, don't you think, Lilly?"
They had left the bar together, just after the event she could easily classify as a fiasco. She was only as harsh as she needed to be, she couldn't allow Tiernan to hold even a sliver of hope that she would relent to his desire.
"You of all people should know better to ask that question," her tone was cold, her eyes held glacier winds, "You of all people."
Perhaps she should have taken Tiernan someplace private to discuss things, but she needed for everyone to witness the event; she wasn't sure what she felt for him but she was keenly aware of a desire to protect him from her swiftly growing list of enemies.
With her back to William she thought, there were things he didn't need to know, things she would be damned before telling him anyway.
"What happened with him, Lilly?" He didn't move from his place on the bed, didn't bother to follow her, he knew the futility of that.
That was exactly what he didn't need to know, cripes she didn't even know herself. She raked her fingers through her hair and stared out the window at the street below; a few children were racing around, playing a game of some sorts, she could almost hear their laughter. Laughter had been a slim commodity when she was growing up ... her mother had "unloaded" her onto the Gallery when she was barely older than those children down below.
Sometimes she thought that was the reason she was emotionally stunted, or part of it.
"A small part, if anything. What happened?"
The words startled her, she hadn't realized she had spoken the thoughts aloud, she would have to watch her tongue more closely. "It wasn't him, William," the use of his full name was a sure indicator that she was about to get bullish, "You can't have a life and our profession. He demanded that I choose, he rolled the dice and he lost, nothing else to it. But you know that well enough, what with wearing that ring to fend off any advances. Tell me
William, does your "wife" serve all your desires? Is she stunning with long dark hair, blue eyes and curves to make wolf drool? Does she wait at home with dinner no matter that you rarely go there?"
On the whole, the tirade was uncalled for and overly vicious. She knew damned well why he wore the ring, he could tell others that he was married to his career but she knew the truth of the matter. The truth of the matter was naked in his gaze, his expression was a mask but his eyes always told her his heart.
"When you're in the mood to discuss business, let me know." Each clipped syllable struck her hard as he shot them, rising from the bed he made his way to the door. "Until then, I don't think we have much to discuss."
That week had been a hell for her, a private one that was of her own construction. She had stayed in her room for seven days before reemerging, no traces of anything, no remnants of the twisting emotional knots she had unraveled remained to be seen. She still had Tiernan's ring, one he had pressed intoj her hand, nestled it in her fist before she could argue, she'd been unable to toss it back at him. It was fairly plain, and old, she could
sense the history ingrained in the family crest that had been artfully portrayed in silver.
"Why am I thinking of that?" She cursed softly to herself and crossed over to a chest. It held her small possessions, mostly medical supplies and weapons. "My life in a box." It wasn't a pleasant thought, but she had made the bed she choose to lay in.
"I don't believe in love." That was what comprised her apology to William. He had accepted it and they moved on with their relationship... a difficult one to define, if she had to she would name him her closest (perhaps only) friend.
"I don't believe in love."
The fog of memories evaporated as the sound of someone working the lock of her door began. "Well, someone to release my aggressions upon, I'll have to remember to say my thanks before I go to sleep tonight..." she whispered and prepared to greet her "guest".
*Copyright 2000
From: Lilly Hyde
Cut from Cold Matter
*Lilly Hyde
Lily: Gallery.
Clearance: TS3U.
Primary: Liquidation.
Armament: Flexible.
Qualifications: Tactical 4U; SERE; Secondaries (Appendix B).
Medical: Implants (common); Thought Adjustments (Minimal)*
*Level four interrogation and psycological profiling before cleared for admittance in the program.
- Gallery Internal Memorandum 9304215
She had held back more than they thought she had, it was cold comfort for her now. Taking an inventory of her physical condition she was convinced that every fiber in her body ached.
"Maybe that's just my pride that's stinging," she spoke the words aloud as she transversed the space between the door and the table that supported a porcelain basin and a pitcher of water.
That was it, she thought, not the bruises she could feel forming just beneath her skin, but the awareness that she should not have been caught off guard by only a weasel and his hound. The cleansing process was painful, her right wrist felt unwilling to handle normal weights, she would have to brace it for a couple of days.
She took stock of the situation and came up with a bleak outlook. She would have to consult with Quinn and postpone the project until her wrist was up to par, there would be no room for a ninety percent effort; Quinn would not be a happy camper, she would need to throw more money at him.
There was also William to deal with, that thought gave her pause. No amount of money would dent the problem there, the whole situation lent credence to her belief about love ... specifically that she didn't believe in it.
"That was a bit harsh, don't you think, Lilly?"
They had left the bar together, just after the event she could easily classify as a fiasco. She was only as harsh as she needed to be, she couldn't allow Tiernan to hold even a sliver of hope that she would relent to his desire.
"You of all people should know better to ask that question," her tone was cold, her eyes held glacier winds, "You of all people."
Perhaps she should have taken Tiernan someplace private to discuss things, but she needed for everyone to witness the event; she wasn't sure what she felt for him but she was keenly aware of a desire to protect him from her swiftly growing list of enemies.
With her back to William she thought, there were things he didn't need to know, things she would be damned before telling him anyway.
"What happened with him, Lilly?" He didn't move from his place on the bed, didn't bother to follow her, he knew the futility of that.
That was exactly what he didn't need to know, cripes she didn't even know herself. She raked her fingers through her hair and stared out the window at the street below; a few children were racing around, playing a game of some sorts, she could almost hear their laughter. Laughter had been a slim commodity when she was growing up ... her mother had "unloaded" her onto the Gallery when she was barely older than those children down below.
Sometimes she thought that was the reason she was emotionally stunted, or part of it.
"A small part, if anything. What happened?"
The words startled her, she hadn't realized she had spoken the thoughts aloud, she would have to watch her tongue more closely. "It wasn't him, William," the use of his full name was a sure indicator that she was about to get bullish, "You can't have a life and our profession. He demanded that I choose, he rolled the dice and he lost, nothing else to it. But you know that well enough, what with wearing that ring to fend off any advances. Tell me
William, does your "wife" serve all your desires? Is she stunning with long dark hair, blue eyes and curves to make wolf drool? Does she wait at home with dinner no matter that you rarely go there?"
On the whole, the tirade was uncalled for and overly vicious. She knew damned well why he wore the ring, he could tell others that he was married to his career but she knew the truth of the matter. The truth of the matter was naked in his gaze, his expression was a mask but his eyes always told her his heart.
"When you're in the mood to discuss business, let me know." Each clipped syllable struck her hard as he shot them, rising from the bed he made his way to the door. "Until then, I don't think we have much to discuss."
That week had been a hell for her, a private one that was of her own construction. She had stayed in her room for seven days before reemerging, no traces of anything, no remnants of the twisting emotional knots she had unraveled remained to be seen. She still had Tiernan's ring, one he had pressed intoj her hand, nestled it in her fist before she could argue, she'd been unable to toss it back at him. It was fairly plain, and old, she could
sense the history ingrained in the family crest that had been artfully portrayed in silver.
"Why am I thinking of that?" She cursed softly to herself and crossed over to a chest. It held her small possessions, mostly medical supplies and weapons. "My life in a box." It wasn't a pleasant thought, but she had made the bed she choose to lay in.
"I don't believe in love." That was what comprised her apology to William. He had accepted it and they moved on with their relationship... a difficult one to define, if she had to she would name him her closest (perhaps only) friend.
"I don't believe in love."
The fog of memories evaporated as the sound of someone working the lock of her door began. "Well, someone to release my aggressions upon, I'll have to remember to say my thanks before I go to sleep tonight..." she whispered and prepared to greet her "guest".
*Copyright 2000
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Re: Some debts...
Date: 5/15/2000 10:10 AM Central Daylight Time
From: Lilly Hyde
To the Matter
Lily-
Common name for the family Liliaceae, perennial plants having showy flowers and erect clusters of narrow, grasslike leaves. The lily family is distributed upon many inhabited worlds but is particularly abundant in warm temperate and tropical regions. Most species grow from bulbs or other forms of enlarged underground stems. Common wildflowers in the family are asphodel, dogtooth violet, lily of the valley, and trillium.
Ornamentals of commercial importance include lilies, hyacinths, meadow saffron, squill, and tulips.
One of the rarest known Liliaceae is commonly called the shrouded sickle, discovered recently on the planet Omicron IV. This is the only venomous variety of this genus and is considered one of the most virulent of any vegetation. Made more deadly by the insidious nature of the almost-sentient manner in which it conceals itself until it senses motion nearby, upon which time it shoots forth ten to twenty "darts" to immobilize it's prey...
--Excerpt from the twenty-first volume of
Scientific Almanac based on Almach
"What do you mean they were found?" The man that spoke clasped the handle of his walking cane tighter. It was an old make, an heirloom of sorts, he supposed, with a grip that was made of silver in the shape of a fox's head. He was seated in a sturdy chair, one that verged on throne-like, it was up on a dais which lent weight to the image of a King looking down upon servants who had displeased
him.
"From what Garret said before he died," the man swallowed before continuing, Garret had been a Hound in their employ, "He said that she somehow dismissed the effects of the mixture early. She definitely left him there as a warning, that much was clear. He died almost as soon as the dagger was removed." Lucius shuddered as he recanted the tale, the woman had left Garret in the midst of a grisly scape of death ... there
had been so much blood.
Ultan drew in a deep breath as he watched Lucius, the man was obviously shaken by his experience. Damnable rodents were too skittish, he would never understand why the Gallery didn't do away with them, or do away with some of them, as he recalled his one meeting with a rat.
"Did he say anything about the diadem?" Patience never was his strong suit, but there would be no advantage to frightening Lucius past his breaking point.
Lucius shuffled his feet, there were advantages to being the rank he was, few people dared to scream at him -- there had been a few loose cannons early on and the memory still remained. He drew a breath before he answered, "He was fairly incoherent at the end, he just kept mentioning that she spelled her name with two L's. I'm unsure what significance if any that has in relation to the Gallery." That was a lie, he realized the moment Garret said it
what it meant, but he wasn't particularly enthralled with his recent assignment and that bit of information might make the difference between a new assignment or not.
Ultan mistook the man's grim smile as a sign that Lucius' thoughts were lingering on the bloody site of Garretts' death and snorted in disgust. "Leave me, I need to think."
Lucius bowed and quickly exited the room, leaving Ultan alone with his thoughts. "She couldn't know about the plan."
He murmured to the empty room, he couldn't even convince himself of that. The Gallery had assured him that she was not among the "Lily" rank and yet he couldn't help but doubt their word.
"What you hear is not always what was said." A good thing to remember, he couldn't conceive of the Gallery allowing someone to claim to be a member if they weren't...
From: Lilly Hyde
To the Matter
Lily-
Common name for the family Liliaceae, perennial plants having showy flowers and erect clusters of narrow, grasslike leaves. The lily family is distributed upon many inhabited worlds but is particularly abundant in warm temperate and tropical regions. Most species grow from bulbs or other forms of enlarged underground stems. Common wildflowers in the family are asphodel, dogtooth violet, lily of the valley, and trillium.
Ornamentals of commercial importance include lilies, hyacinths, meadow saffron, squill, and tulips.
One of the rarest known Liliaceae is commonly called the shrouded sickle, discovered recently on the planet Omicron IV. This is the only venomous variety of this genus and is considered one of the most virulent of any vegetation. Made more deadly by the insidious nature of the almost-sentient manner in which it conceals itself until it senses motion nearby, upon which time it shoots forth ten to twenty "darts" to immobilize it's prey...
--Excerpt from the twenty-first volume of
Scientific Almanac based on Almach
"What do you mean they were found?" The man that spoke clasped the handle of his walking cane tighter. It was an old make, an heirloom of sorts, he supposed, with a grip that was made of silver in the shape of a fox's head. He was seated in a sturdy chair, one that verged on throne-like, it was up on a dais which lent weight to the image of a King looking down upon servants who had displeased
him.
"From what Garret said before he died," the man swallowed before continuing, Garret had been a Hound in their employ, "He said that she somehow dismissed the effects of the mixture early. She definitely left him there as a warning, that much was clear. He died almost as soon as the dagger was removed." Lucius shuddered as he recanted the tale, the woman had left Garret in the midst of a grisly scape of death ... there
had been so much blood.
Ultan drew in a deep breath as he watched Lucius, the man was obviously shaken by his experience. Damnable rodents were too skittish, he would never understand why the Gallery didn't do away with them, or do away with some of them, as he recalled his one meeting with a rat.
"Did he say anything about the diadem?" Patience never was his strong suit, but there would be no advantage to frightening Lucius past his breaking point.
Lucius shuffled his feet, there were advantages to being the rank he was, few people dared to scream at him -- there had been a few loose cannons early on and the memory still remained. He drew a breath before he answered, "He was fairly incoherent at the end, he just kept mentioning that she spelled her name with two L's. I'm unsure what significance if any that has in relation to the Gallery." That was a lie, he realized the moment Garret said it
what it meant, but he wasn't particularly enthralled with his recent assignment and that bit of information might make the difference between a new assignment or not.
Ultan mistook the man's grim smile as a sign that Lucius' thoughts were lingering on the bloody site of Garretts' death and snorted in disgust. "Leave me, I need to think."
Lucius bowed and quickly exited the room, leaving Ultan alone with his thoughts. "She couldn't know about the plan."
He murmured to the empty room, he couldn't even convince himself of that. The Gallery had assured him that she was not among the "Lily" rank and yet he couldn't help but doubt their word.
"What you hear is not always what was said." A good thing to remember, he couldn't conceive of the Gallery allowing someone to claim to be a member if they weren't...
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Re: Some debts...
Date: 5/29/2000 12:13 AM Central Daylight Time
From: Lilly Hyde
Cut From Colder Stuff (Part II)
*Lilly Hyde
She had the situation analyzed by the time the man had the door lock opened. She had not remembered to light the oil lamps in the room, it was unnecessary illumination for her, and that must have been what gave the would-be thief the courage to break into the room, an especially sloppy thief at that.
The door creaked open, the man hadn't even snuffed out the lamps in the hallway so his body was shadowed clearly by the back lighting.
Lilly almost "tsked" aloud. She had started off in the Gallery as a thief, it was her quick reflexes that boosted her success and her mentality that garnered her eventual promotion; there was actually little difference between a thief and an assassin, a little known fact.
From the outlined shadow, Lilly knew the man was crouching from his height of less than six feet and he carried a dagger in his right hand. She waited until he took the step that crossed the threshold before she acted.
He led with his armed hand and she caught both his right leg and right arm as she slammed into the door, shutting it upon his extremities. Lips that he couldn't see yet quirked to a predatory grin, this was just the medicine she needed to ease her wounded pride ... the satisfying -crunch- and -snap- of bones shattering upon impaction.
Lilly gave him points for not crying out at the sudden mauling of half his available extremities, but that didn't mean she was willing to give him time to reassess the situation either. She swung the door open just enough to drag the man in by his useless arm, twisting counterclockwise and down to force him to drop and roll or suffer a shoulder dislocation.
He chose poorly.
The man went over easily and by the time his breath had completed expelling all the air forcibly from his lungs as he struck the floor her foot was already snug against his throat. With no second thoughts she crushed the man's larynx and waited until his body went slack before releasing.
With that done there was little else to do except calmly shut the door and search the man for a reason. Few people choose to burglarize customers staying at an Inn, there was a higher risk factor and unless you knew for a fact that the customer was a rich, fat, and lazy merchant, you were more likely to steal some jail time in the local lockup than gold.
She kicked the man's shoulder with a toe, the corpse rocked and landed on his back, his face staring up blankly. To commence a more thorough search, Lilly moved toward the table and lit one of the oil lamps, it's flickering light was enough to show her the tattoo on his cheek.
"Cripes!" She muttered the curse softly, "Now let me guess, you have another just like it across your lowest rib." She spoke to herself as she lifted the man's jacket and shirt to reveal the matching mark on the man's ribs.
Her breath exhaled as a hiss, a grim thought intruding upon the fading exaltation of the kill ... she had stepped into something much deeper than she had at first suspected.
After a moment, she gathered her sparse belongings and climbed, not without some acute pain as her wrist was still screaming for more support, out the window. "Time to roll the dice," the catch phrase echoed with layers of irony, lost on the uncaring night.
From: Lilly Hyde
Cut From Colder Stuff (Part II)
*Lilly Hyde
She had the situation analyzed by the time the man had the door lock opened. She had not remembered to light the oil lamps in the room, it was unnecessary illumination for her, and that must have been what gave the would-be thief the courage to break into the room, an especially sloppy thief at that.
The door creaked open, the man hadn't even snuffed out the lamps in the hallway so his body was shadowed clearly by the back lighting.
Lilly almost "tsked" aloud. She had started off in the Gallery as a thief, it was her quick reflexes that boosted her success and her mentality that garnered her eventual promotion; there was actually little difference between a thief and an assassin, a little known fact.
From the outlined shadow, Lilly knew the man was crouching from his height of less than six feet and he carried a dagger in his right hand. She waited until he took the step that crossed the threshold before she acted.
He led with his armed hand and she caught both his right leg and right arm as she slammed into the door, shutting it upon his extremities. Lips that he couldn't see yet quirked to a predatory grin, this was just the medicine she needed to ease her wounded pride ... the satisfying -crunch- and -snap- of bones shattering upon impaction.
Lilly gave him points for not crying out at the sudden mauling of half his available extremities, but that didn't mean she was willing to give him time to reassess the situation either. She swung the door open just enough to drag the man in by his useless arm, twisting counterclockwise and down to force him to drop and roll or suffer a shoulder dislocation.
He chose poorly.
The man went over easily and by the time his breath had completed expelling all the air forcibly from his lungs as he struck the floor her foot was already snug against his throat. With no second thoughts she crushed the man's larynx and waited until his body went slack before releasing.
With that done there was little else to do except calmly shut the door and search the man for a reason. Few people choose to burglarize customers staying at an Inn, there was a higher risk factor and unless you knew for a fact that the customer was a rich, fat, and lazy merchant, you were more likely to steal some jail time in the local lockup than gold.
She kicked the man's shoulder with a toe, the corpse rocked and landed on his back, his face staring up blankly. To commence a more thorough search, Lilly moved toward the table and lit one of the oil lamps, it's flickering light was enough to show her the tattoo on his cheek.
"Cripes!" She muttered the curse softly, "Now let me guess, you have another just like it across your lowest rib." She spoke to herself as she lifted the man's jacket and shirt to reveal the matching mark on the man's ribs.
Her breath exhaled as a hiss, a grim thought intruding upon the fading exaltation of the kill ... she had stepped into something much deeper than she had at first suspected.
After a moment, she gathered her sparse belongings and climbed, not without some acute pain as her wrist was still screaming for more support, out the window. "Time to roll the dice," the catch phrase echoed with layers of irony, lost on the uncaring night.
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Re: Some debts... (William Raven)
Date: 5/31/2000 1:24 AM Central Daylight Time
From: WiIliam Raven
No Redemption
William Raven
He kicked off his boots as he landed on the bed that consisted of a hard frame with a sheet on top of it. He muttered something indistinct as he set up his laptop and booted the system up.
William shifted as he tried to avoid the sharper springs, "I need to remember to thank my OPS manager for sending me on this particular job." It was a familiar chant of late, he had nearly botched his last assignment and this was his punishment.
Thankfully his current assignment had placed him at a convenient place to assist Lilly with her freelance, that was of course if he could find Lilly. He had missed her by no more than an hour at her room at the Inn, he could still smell the coppery aroma of bitter blood in the air; he could only hope it hadn't been hers.
He shook his head and thought it was unlikely that Lilly had come to harm, but that didn't stop some part of him from worrying about her well being.
"Answer?"
His computer chimed at him and he keyed in the proper response, a few minutes later he was accessing the main frame computers at home.
"Security override pattern?"
William had long since meant to change the imprinted voice that bleated from the speakers but there had never been time for so menial a task and ... the thought was abruptly severed as the information loaded.
Open CipherLock Transmission
1045.06.01:3.23STD
CipherLock: >><<
Operation SQ76RAV99:A Status: Aborted
Reversion to Beta:2ACoda Contingency Effective Upon Receipt
Factor: 2 Renegade Flowers Unaccounted For
Consequence: Contact Renegade Flowers and face High Treason
Codes of War: High Command Articles 1208; 1210; 1345
Security TSU4 Engaged Effective Upon Receipt
New Structure Enacted 1045.06.04:10.00STD
Operatives not Acknowledging Receipt on or Before
10045.06.02:10.00STD Reclassed: Expendable
No Redemption Considered Once Reclassed
Close CipherLock Transmission
"Flames and ashes!" The expletive rolled off his tongue as he quickly keyed a response and sent it off in duplicate, a missed transmission on this one would be too serious to contemplate.
The order could only mean that someone had attempted to sabotage the Gallery, whether they believed the Government had gone soft or they were a complete lunatic was irrelevant and paled beside the words "No redemption" issued by the Government.
Anyone that got in the way of the Gallery's current mission would be exterminated on sight ... that meant there were traitor's around and he had little evidence to refute that at least one of the "flowers" was the Lilly he knew.
William cursed again as he slammed the laptop shut and grabbed his jacket on his way to the door. He needed to find Lilly hours ago and if she had gone into complete stealth mode he would need assistance to do that, "Woman steps into trouble more often than a..." the words trailed off as he slammed the door behind him and went searching again.
((*Copyright 2000 of concept and setting, all rights reserved. ))
From: WiIliam Raven
No Redemption
William Raven
He kicked off his boots as he landed on the bed that consisted of a hard frame with a sheet on top of it. He muttered something indistinct as he set up his laptop and booted the system up.
William shifted as he tried to avoid the sharper springs, "I need to remember to thank my OPS manager for sending me on this particular job." It was a familiar chant of late, he had nearly botched his last assignment and this was his punishment.
Thankfully his current assignment had placed him at a convenient place to assist Lilly with her freelance, that was of course if he could find Lilly. He had missed her by no more than an hour at her room at the Inn, he could still smell the coppery aroma of bitter blood in the air; he could only hope it hadn't been hers.
He shook his head and thought it was unlikely that Lilly had come to harm, but that didn't stop some part of him from worrying about her well being.
"Answer?"
His computer chimed at him and he keyed in the proper response, a few minutes later he was accessing the main frame computers at home.
"Security override pattern?"
William had long since meant to change the imprinted voice that bleated from the speakers but there had never been time for so menial a task and ... the thought was abruptly severed as the information loaded.
Open CipherLock Transmission
1045.06.01:3.23STD
CipherLock: >><<
Operation SQ76RAV99:A Status: Aborted
Reversion to Beta:2ACoda Contingency Effective Upon Receipt
Factor: 2 Renegade Flowers Unaccounted For
Consequence: Contact Renegade Flowers and face High Treason
Codes of War: High Command Articles 1208; 1210; 1345
Security TSU4 Engaged Effective Upon Receipt
New Structure Enacted 1045.06.04:10.00STD
Operatives not Acknowledging Receipt on or Before
10045.06.02:10.00STD Reclassed: Expendable
No Redemption Considered Once Reclassed
Close CipherLock Transmission
"Flames and ashes!" The expletive rolled off his tongue as he quickly keyed a response and sent it off in duplicate, a missed transmission on this one would be too serious to contemplate.
The order could only mean that someone had attempted to sabotage the Gallery, whether they believed the Government had gone soft or they were a complete lunatic was irrelevant and paled beside the words "No redemption" issued by the Government.
Anyone that got in the way of the Gallery's current mission would be exterminated on sight ... that meant there were traitor's around and he had little evidence to refute that at least one of the "flowers" was the Lilly he knew.
William cursed again as he slammed the laptop shut and grabbed his jacket on his way to the door. He needed to find Lilly hours ago and if she had gone into complete stealth mode he would need assistance to do that, "Woman steps into trouble more often than a..." the words trailed off as he slammed the door behind him and went searching again.
((*Copyright 2000 of concept and setting, all rights reserved. ))
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Re: Some debts... (Johnathan Quinn)
Date: 6/2/2000 12:43 PM Central Daylight Time
From: Johnathan Quinn
Life's Little Ironies
Part I
John Quinn
John carried no books, readily seen gadgets nor readily noticed weapons and the guards had chosen not to frisk him before allowing him access. It was a slipshod operation and John wondered how a man such as the one he was on his way to meet could have retained the services of the Gallery.
Two men escorted John toward the audience chamber, two men that were more muscle than mind and that was often a sloppy mistake that brought more than one man down before his time.
John's thoughts were caustic as they passed a side room, obviously the security center by the monitor set ups, the man behind the screens was half-asleep. It was a wonder that this man wasn't dead already.
It was out of shear curiosity that John found himself in this dump of a fortress, the man that owned the property was listed as dead some ten years ago and yet he had summoned John as though he were some errant child to be reigned in and given a good "talking to".
John had checked the background, the man's name was Ultan Riversford III. The information given was outdated but it gave John enough to piece together most of the story.
Fourteen years ago Ultan had been an affluent member of society on a planet named Stragos and he was sixth in line for the throne. Apparently that wasn't good enough for Ultan and he had systematically gone about arranging "accidents" for his higher ranked family members. King Tybalt IV took poorly to his cousins' aspirations and banished Ultan on pains of death.
The rest of the background was choppy bits here and there, ultimately Ultan had faked his own death to avoid retribution that his less forgiving familial ties had unleashed.
Two years ago Ultan had petitioned the Gallery for assistance and was summarily refused. John's government realized long ago that taking anyone's money wasn't the wisest course in the business they were setting up and thus the applications for acquisitions were rigorously scrutinized and analyzed for more angles, both political and success ratio, than John cared to think about.
The odd thing was the summons that Ultan issued was one that sounded like a man that thought he had the Gallery's resources at his beck and call and that what was what brought John to the double doors before him; it was a challenge he simply couldn't refuse, he thought as he swung the doors open and entered.
From: Johnathan Quinn
Life's Little Ironies
Part I
John Quinn
John carried no books, readily seen gadgets nor readily noticed weapons and the guards had chosen not to frisk him before allowing him access. It was a slipshod operation and John wondered how a man such as the one he was on his way to meet could have retained the services of the Gallery.
Two men escorted John toward the audience chamber, two men that were more muscle than mind and that was often a sloppy mistake that brought more than one man down before his time.
John's thoughts were caustic as they passed a side room, obviously the security center by the monitor set ups, the man behind the screens was half-asleep. It was a wonder that this man wasn't dead already.
It was out of shear curiosity that John found himself in this dump of a fortress, the man that owned the property was listed as dead some ten years ago and yet he had summoned John as though he were some errant child to be reigned in and given a good "talking to".
John had checked the background, the man's name was Ultan Riversford III. The information given was outdated but it gave John enough to piece together most of the story.
Fourteen years ago Ultan had been an affluent member of society on a planet named Stragos and he was sixth in line for the throne. Apparently that wasn't good enough for Ultan and he had systematically gone about arranging "accidents" for his higher ranked family members. King Tybalt IV took poorly to his cousins' aspirations and banished Ultan on pains of death.
The rest of the background was choppy bits here and there, ultimately Ultan had faked his own death to avoid retribution that his less forgiving familial ties had unleashed.
Two years ago Ultan had petitioned the Gallery for assistance and was summarily refused. John's government realized long ago that taking anyone's money wasn't the wisest course in the business they were setting up and thus the applications for acquisitions were rigorously scrutinized and analyzed for more angles, both political and success ratio, than John cared to think about.
The odd thing was the summons that Ultan issued was one that sounded like a man that thought he had the Gallery's resources at his beck and call and that what was what brought John to the double doors before him; it was a challenge he simply couldn't refuse, he thought as he swung the doors open and entered.
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Re: Some debts... (posted for Matt Trade)
Date: 5/12/2000 7:26 PM Central Daylight Time
From: Johnathan Quinn
Enter Stage Right
*Johnathan Quinn
"Which way did she exit?"
Johnathan recognized the voice before he got a visual confirmation and sank back against the brick wall. The alley he was occupying was small and crowded with heaps of garbage, for a town that boasted of it's magic they did little byways of refuse control John thought wryly.
"I don't know, she left the sport ring and out into the night. She didn't seem like she needed a baby-sitter, Raven." The man that stood facing William Raven obviously was unaware of the danger that lurked in the man, a mistake many people made concerning himself.
"Do you know of anyone else that may have noticed where she headed?"
The Ravens' voice held a gruff edge to it, unusual for the rank as they were usually noted for an unrelenting straight face and cold tone. It wasn't coincidence that the stalker was here, John didn't believe in such things as random encounters, he must have dealings with his employer as well.
For most in the Gallery there were few rules that dictated their free time, the only important one was never implicate the Gallery in -anything-. Politicians and law officers alike fervently denied the existence of the organization, words can't dissipate reality, however.
"Look, even at that time, it was heavy traffic. The girl you describe was likely not to have drawn a single eye for me to point you too."
From his angle he could only see the Ravens' back, but, from the expression on the pigeons face, something dire must have flashed across his face. The color drained from the pigeons face, his expression changed from one of arrogance to that of obsequiousness. Words must have passed but they were too low to be heard, and John barely had time to sink into the shadows before William broke off and stormed down the main street toward the Inn, or so it
appeared.
It was ill timing for an encounter with any one of the Gallery, it was worse that it was William Raven. It was time to dig up Lilly Hyde and get some answers before he continued with the plan.
From: Johnathan Quinn
Enter Stage Right
*Johnathan Quinn
"Which way did she exit?"
Johnathan recognized the voice before he got a visual confirmation and sank back against the brick wall. The alley he was occupying was small and crowded with heaps of garbage, for a town that boasted of it's magic they did little byways of refuse control John thought wryly.
"I don't know, she left the sport ring and out into the night. She didn't seem like she needed a baby-sitter, Raven." The man that stood facing William Raven obviously was unaware of the danger that lurked in the man, a mistake many people made concerning himself.
"Do you know of anyone else that may have noticed where she headed?"
The Ravens' voice held a gruff edge to it, unusual for the rank as they were usually noted for an unrelenting straight face and cold tone. It wasn't coincidence that the stalker was here, John didn't believe in such things as random encounters, he must have dealings with his employer as well.
For most in the Gallery there were few rules that dictated their free time, the only important one was never implicate the Gallery in -anything-. Politicians and law officers alike fervently denied the existence of the organization, words can't dissipate reality, however.
"Look, even at that time, it was heavy traffic. The girl you describe was likely not to have drawn a single eye for me to point you too."
From his angle he could only see the Ravens' back, but, from the expression on the pigeons face, something dire must have flashed across his face. The color drained from the pigeons face, his expression changed from one of arrogance to that of obsequiousness. Words must have passed but they were too low to be heard, and John barely had time to sink into the shadows before William broke off and stormed down the main street toward the Inn, or so it
appeared.
It was ill timing for an encounter with any one of the Gallery, it was worse that it was William Raven. It was time to dig up Lilly Hyde and get some answers before he continued with the plan.
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Re: Some debts... (John Quinn)
Date: 6/9/2000 6:33 PM Central Daylight Time
From: Johnathan Quinn
Lifes' Little Ironies
(Part II)
The room that John walked into was one of pretentious poor taste, dominated by gold-plated pieces of questionable artwork; it was, all in all, an art connoisseur's nightmare.
Ultan was seated on his "throne", his expression bore a sickly smirk and an air of condescension, he had two guards behind him and a smallish man hovered by the side of the man's oversized chair.
"My sources," Ultan began secure in the knowledge that his resources were equal to the man in front of him, after all, this man was a mere grunt in the Gallery without even having a tag name, "Identified you as a member of the Gallery and so I summoned you to take my compliant directly to your superiors."
Ultan paused to allow the stranger to stew in fear and apprehension, he could almost smell the anxiety. "You're operatives have failed me."
John was aware that Ultan was still speaking as he finished his scan of the room and the occupants, but that wasn't something that concerned him. Lucius met his unremitting gaze long enough for him to get a good ID on him; a low-classed rodent was his initial assessment and he trusted his instincts enough to file him in that manner.
The problem was he wasn't wearing the proper ring, in fact the man wore no rings at all. No one in the Gallery could know every member, it was impossible, few people knew anyone outside their own task force.
The security reasons of that were evident even to fools, and yet it left a margin of room for impostors to work in to claim to be an operative of the Gallery. More likely, the fellow that was retreating from John's gaze was a freelancer, in which case he just violated several military articles that held high penalties and punishments.
Under the weight of silence Ultan began grinding his teeth, the muscles along his jaw clenched and ached as he waited for the man in front of him to reply. He had the meeting all worked out in his mind; the accusation, the evidence in his favor and the demand for more operatives at no cost. Why was this peon standing there silently?
The next few moments answered Ultan's thoughts more thoroughly than he could have imagined, and he could imagine that he wished he could have snatched back time to escape the consequences of what the man said ... unfortunately, Johnathan Quinn didn't deal in half measures.
From: Johnathan Quinn
Lifes' Little Ironies
(Part II)
The room that John walked into was one of pretentious poor taste, dominated by gold-plated pieces of questionable artwork; it was, all in all, an art connoisseur's nightmare.
Ultan was seated on his "throne", his expression bore a sickly smirk and an air of condescension, he had two guards behind him and a smallish man hovered by the side of the man's oversized chair.
"My sources," Ultan began secure in the knowledge that his resources were equal to the man in front of him, after all, this man was a mere grunt in the Gallery without even having a tag name, "Identified you as a member of the Gallery and so I summoned you to take my compliant directly to your superiors."
Ultan paused to allow the stranger to stew in fear and apprehension, he could almost smell the anxiety. "You're operatives have failed me."
John was aware that Ultan was still speaking as he finished his scan of the room and the occupants, but that wasn't something that concerned him. Lucius met his unremitting gaze long enough for him to get a good ID on him; a low-classed rodent was his initial assessment and he trusted his instincts enough to file him in that manner.
The problem was he wasn't wearing the proper ring, in fact the man wore no rings at all. No one in the Gallery could know every member, it was impossible, few people knew anyone outside their own task force.
The security reasons of that were evident even to fools, and yet it left a margin of room for impostors to work in to claim to be an operative of the Gallery. More likely, the fellow that was retreating from John's gaze was a freelancer, in which case he just violated several military articles that held high penalties and punishments.
Under the weight of silence Ultan began grinding his teeth, the muscles along his jaw clenched and ached as he waited for the man in front of him to reply. He had the meeting all worked out in his mind; the accusation, the evidence in his favor and the demand for more operatives at no cost. Why was this peon standing there silently?
The next few moments answered Ultan's thoughts more thoroughly than he could have imagined, and he could imagine that he wished he could have snatched back time to escape the consequences of what the man said ... unfortunately, Johnathan Quinn didn't deal in half measures.
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Re: Some debts... (Will Raven)
Date: 6/19/2000 5:29 PM Central Daylight Time
From: WiIliam Raven
Terror of Ravens
(Part I)
*William Raven
In Norse mythology, Odin's two ravens, Hugin and Munin, Thought and Memory, flew around the world every day to learn of the day's news and then returned to Odin to report to him. In Tibetan legend the raven is the messenger of the Supreme Being, and the Irish felt the bird to be omniscient, using phrases like “raven's knowledge” to mean seeing all and knowing all. There are examples from Germany,
India, Siberia, Iceland, and elswhere where people are advantaged by speaking with these birds or eavesdropping over the conversation of ravens.
Beyond any doubt, the raven is considered first and foremost a bird of evil. Its resonant “kaw” has signaled pending doom throughout history in societies north of the equator. We speak admiringly of a pride of lions, or kindly of a charm of finches, but a terror of ravens and a murder of crows?
--Excerpt from
Dr. Loran Yelstin, the Workings of Mysticism.
There were few people that cared to work with a Raven, fewer still that a Raven would consider working alongside. William was still unsure as to the reason he elected to remain close to Lilly, he likened her to his polar opposite.
The reasons left aside, he took his job with a serious intensity that is seen in few of the other ranks, and this was the first time that he began to feel over his head. He had managed to track Lilly down in the dive that she was staying at now, and totally failed to impress upon her the severity of events unfolding.
At least he had completed the data research required of him, the transmission would reach home in approximately thirty-six hours. He ran his fingers through his short dark hair and sighed, leaning his back against the chair.
It was the waiting that was bothering him. Lilly had asked him to stay put, to lay low and to trust her. She asked an awful lot this time around, he thought. If there was anyone he would trust it was her, but she made things so difficult, twisted straight lines of logic into a chaotic ball of emotions that didn't mix well with his wiring.
As if things weren't peachy enough, he had also gleaned another tidbit of information that day, there were three other Ravens in this town alone. Something bigger and badder than he could conceive was about to hit the fan and he wanted nothing more than to scoop Lilly up and evacuate the area.
That plan was unlikely at best as Lilly was dead set on completing the task she had set for herself, solving the mystery of the loose hounds, and dicing her nights away with some small Italian punk. William shook the tale end of that train of thought away, he had no bones to pick with any man over Lilly, even if she would allow it.
He chuckled softly, "Time to roll the dice, or get out of the game." It was one of Lilly's favorite sayings, and now it rang all too true. It was time to accomplish things and go, hopefully he could break free before he was forced to join the terror of Ravens.
From: WiIliam Raven
Terror of Ravens
(Part I)
*William Raven
In Norse mythology, Odin's two ravens, Hugin and Munin, Thought and Memory, flew around the world every day to learn of the day's news and then returned to Odin to report to him. In Tibetan legend the raven is the messenger of the Supreme Being, and the Irish felt the bird to be omniscient, using phrases like “raven's knowledge” to mean seeing all and knowing all. There are examples from Germany,
India, Siberia, Iceland, and elswhere where people are advantaged by speaking with these birds or eavesdropping over the conversation of ravens.
Beyond any doubt, the raven is considered first and foremost a bird of evil. Its resonant “kaw” has signaled pending doom throughout history in societies north of the equator. We speak admiringly of a pride of lions, or kindly of a charm of finches, but a terror of ravens and a murder of crows?
--Excerpt from
Dr. Loran Yelstin, the Workings of Mysticism.
There were few people that cared to work with a Raven, fewer still that a Raven would consider working alongside. William was still unsure as to the reason he elected to remain close to Lilly, he likened her to his polar opposite.
The reasons left aside, he took his job with a serious intensity that is seen in few of the other ranks, and this was the first time that he began to feel over his head. He had managed to track Lilly down in the dive that she was staying at now, and totally failed to impress upon her the severity of events unfolding.
At least he had completed the data research required of him, the transmission would reach home in approximately thirty-six hours. He ran his fingers through his short dark hair and sighed, leaning his back against the chair.
It was the waiting that was bothering him. Lilly had asked him to stay put, to lay low and to trust her. She asked an awful lot this time around, he thought. If there was anyone he would trust it was her, but she made things so difficult, twisted straight lines of logic into a chaotic ball of emotions that didn't mix well with his wiring.
As if things weren't peachy enough, he had also gleaned another tidbit of information that day, there were three other Ravens in this town alone. Something bigger and badder than he could conceive was about to hit the fan and he wanted nothing more than to scoop Lilly up and evacuate the area.
That plan was unlikely at best as Lilly was dead set on completing the task she had set for herself, solving the mystery of the loose hounds, and dicing her nights away with some small Italian punk. William shook the tale end of that train of thought away, he had no bones to pick with any man over Lilly, even if she would allow it.
He chuckled softly, "Time to roll the dice, or get out of the game." It was one of Lilly's favorite sayings, and now it rang all too true. It was time to accomplish things and go, hopefully he could break free before he was forced to join the terror of Ravens.