IC: (Intro) Wolves Glen Pub
Jeff Huo
Faded is the dark of night /
And dawn awaits to rise /
Stars with their enchanted light /
Turn misty in the skies...
A parting glass, a last farewell /
A smile to light my way /
Before the sunlight casts it's spell /
That changes night to day...
Come raise a glass with me, my friend, /
Come raise a glass to dawn; /
Here's wishing that, tomorrow brings you /
Shadows of my song...
-Heather Alexander, "Raise a Glass"
...
Stories end, stories begin. Few stories live alone.
...
The smell of the ocean, the scent of pine, the cry of gulls
carried in on a gentle breeze. The Pub front door opens and
in steps a man...
Tall. Strong and hale, yet not overbuilt; a man conditioned
by years of steady exercise, not steroids and fancy weights.
Moves without a wasted motion, each step and action taking
just the right amount of force and no more, each controlled
expertly, like an instrument tuned perfectly.
And a brightness --not a literal dazzling aura, but a
feeling in your bones of life bursting forth from him, of
nature's power and potential, the spirit of the Wyld ablaze
within him, like twice as much life-force has been packed
pound-for-pound into his sinews and flesh, twice as much as
most other Awakened men (1)...
Awakened, yes -- a Mage he is, as any appropriate Art would
detect. Not an Archmage by any means, but not a novice,
either. Something puzzling, but not threatening, about the
nature of his aura, like a scramble of a thousand fireflies
or a fuzz of primal static. No smell of the Wyrm, no alarm
of Danger Sense: instead the smell of Kinfolk, of a man in
whom Garou blood runs proud and strong, though not Garou
himself. Of strength of Will; an echo of Fae blood. A few
might even feel a nagging familiarity, perhaps, like somehow
in the pit of your stomach you know him, and from that depth
a faint memory of laughter, not a hidden chill of fear. But
most here will not.
Thick, dark brown hair, tied back in a short ponytail by a
leather cord, dark brown hair that wraps his head from crown
to deep full beard. Brown eyes that sparkle, a face that
looks equal parts troubled and sad. Tanned skin, bearing a
few wrinkles of age, over a nose and cheekbones that are
hard to assign a geographic origin, and even harder the more
you look and ponder --you could convince yourself he was
in part from any of a dozen lands from Cordoba to Cathay...
His clothing is English in style --Late-Middle-Ages England
or Western Europe, clothing for a Lord. A black tunic of
fine, heavy cloth. The tunic runs up from turtle-neck-like
collar down to a little above his ankles. Sleeves out to
his heavy leather studded gauntlets, front secured with
golden clasps. Over the tunic a shorter red-brown leather
vest, also opening to the front, that ends at his thighs.
Both fastened at the waist by a sturdy belt. Over that a
heavy dark-forest-green cloak secured by shield-shaped
golden brooches and solid chain, with the cloak's hood
thrown back. Thrown back too is the hood of a chain-mail
shirt which must lie underneath all. The hems and edges of
tunic, vest and cloak alike worked expertly with a line of
embrodiered Celtic knots.
Under the cloak, attached to the belt, most prominently a
heavy sword and scabbard, peace-tied; and a long-knife or
short-sword, sheathed. Both hilts and scabbards black and
simply ornamented with accents and guards in gold; although
if the light is just right you can see a complex design
etched in black on black down the length of the sheaths.
Belt pouches too, a chime of black metal or crystal, and a
case for a pair of flutes or recorders, one long, one short.
Heavy leather gauntlets, as said earlier; heavy black
leather boots, though none can say how high they go under
the tunic's bottom. On his back a large pack of lashed
branches and woolen cloth whose ropes run over both
shoulders; a long case wrapped in more wool hanging from a
separate shoulder strap; and a great broad shield, whose
coat of arms is not yet visible...
The man wears a single heavy gold chain as a loop around the
back of his neck and dropping down front to his flat belly,
on which is no sign of paunch. Also there is a set of charms
on a leather cord, charms of worked jade, obsidian,
bronze and hardwood. On the clasps of his cloak and the
buckle of his belt is etched the same particular coat of
arms: on top, a double design, foreground a pelican,
bleeding itself in the chest; background a laurel wreath; on
bottom, a winged dragon facing left, with forked tongue and
curly tail. The same dragon rests under the center point of
the gold coronet the man wears upon his brow, a gold coronet
with eight strawberry leaves upon its rim. A long, thick
wooden quarter-staff in his hand completes his ensemble.
He walks into the Pub, neither haughty nor wary, but
carefully and politely. His eyes search the surroundings,
taking in the patrons, the sights. The briefest tightening
of expression and flaring of nose as his gaze takes in the
Kindred, but only those watching carefully would have even
caught it before it disappears, leaving the thoughtful,
troubled expression he entered the Pub with.
As he strides in, the coat of arms upon his shield
slung behind becomes visible: the upper third is crimson,
with two golden lions rampant, left-facing, side by side;
the lower two thirds is gold, with a black unicorn rearing
upon it. While the paint-work is unmarred, the dents and
gouges of hard use are visible; the unbroken surface of the
artwork is from repair, not from disuse.
The man looks at the sign, takes in the rules, considers for
a moment, and finally makes his way over to across from
Padraic and Mahri where they are at the bar and introduces
himself.
"M'Lord, M'Lady," he begins, his body language of one
familiar with the ways of the Garou and showing the
deference and respect due from a newcomer to a place's
elders.
"Stephen Fangs-the-Moons MacGowan, Mage," he says,
respectfully, "son of Tara Flies-With-Dragons MacGowan,
Full-Moon, she who rests now with the Mother; grandson of
Ian Songs-of-Dragons MacGowan, Galliard of the Fianna, and
Heals-the-Grass, Dreamspeaker..."
"To whom do I tell my story for the first drink?"
-Stephen MacGowan, Mage
Leeches! But the Pack here clearly tolerates their
presence, and far be it from me to question the wisdom of
the Alpha whose place this is.
(1) [OOC: Literally -- Spark of Life (5 pnt Merit, VtM).
Amongst other effects, his blood will provide twice the
sustenance as any other source, a fact immediately obvious
to every Kindred in the room. :-) ]
--
Jeff Huo | je...@spundreams.net.nospam (remove nospam)
U. Michigan Med | http://www.spundreams.net/~jeff
New to the group? Welcome! Please visit
http://www.pepin.demon.co.uk/wolves/
IC Character sheets at
http://www.spundreams.net/~jeff/wgpatum.html
Ceredwyn 'Silverblue' Ealanta
> "M'Lord, M'Lady," he begins, his body language of one
> familiar with the ways of the Garou and showing the
> deference and respect due from a newcomer to a place's
> elders.
Sissy, at the bar, watches this with barely concealed
amusement.
> "Stephen Fangs-the-Moons MacGowan, Mage," he says,
> respectfully, "son of Tara Flies-With-Dragons MacGowan,
> Full-Moon, she who rests now with the Mother; grandson of
> Ian Songs-of-Dragons MacGowan, Galliard of the Fianna, and
> Heals-the-Grass, Dreamspeaker..."
>
> "To whom do I tell my story for the first drink?"
"Don't tell a story, tell a history," interrupts a very
beautiful woman-girl, the kind of figure and look you
might see in a pre-Raphelite painting attatched to eyes
that are hollow and shifting.
She narrows her eyes "Gaialing...Fianna...now...ah, that's
right. Yes, the singers."
-- Sissy. Ghostbuster.
http://www.gothbunny.net
Marty Gleason Marty Gleason
<je...@spundreams.net.nospam> wrote:
<snips>
> The man looks at the sign, takes in the rules, considers for
> a moment, and finally makes his way over to across from
> Padraic and Mahri where they are at the bar and introduces
> himself.
Paddy looks to Mahri, expecting the young man to talk to her first...
> "M'Lord, M'Lady," he begins, his body language of one
> familiar with the ways of the Garou and showing the
> deference and respect due from a newcomer to a place's
> elders.
"Bah, I'm no one's lord. Padraic or Padraic-rhya if you have to,
gallain."
> "Stephen Fangs-the-Moons MacGowan, Mage," he says,
> respectfully, "son of Tara Flies-With-Dragons MacGowan,
> Full-Moon, she who rests now with the Mother; grandson of
> Ian Songs-of-Dragons MacGowan, Galliard of the Fianna, and
> Heals-the-Grass, Dreamspeaker..."
>
> "To whom do I tell my story for the first drink?"
"Well Stephen Fangs-the-Moons MacGowan, you tell the story to the pub,
but I'll tell you if you need to tell another one. When you're done
with your story, you get a free drink. Sound fair?"
> -Stephen MacGowan, Mage
>
> Leeches! But the Pack here clearly tolerates their
> presence, and far be it from me to question the wisdom of
> the Alpha whose place this is.
Paddy
Someone who isn't going to question something I've said? Gotta be crazy.
--
Americans, while occasionally willing to be serfs, have always been obstinate about being peasantry.
--F.Scott.Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby
Jeff Huo
[OOC: The Michigan usenet servers are broken again,
and so I am forced to post via Google; I sincerely
apologize if I miss your replies or have scrambled
postage. Thanks for your patience! ]
> > "M'Lord, M'Lady," he begins, his body language of one
> > familiar with the ways of the Garou and showing the
> > deference and respect due from a newcomer to a place's
> > elders.
>
> "Bah, I'm no one's lord. Padraic or Padraic-rhya if you have to,
> gallain."
Stephen nods in acknowledgement.
> > "Stephen Fangs-the-Moons MacGowan, Mage," he says,
> > respectfully, "son of Tara Flies-With-Dragons MacGowan,
> > Full-Moon, she who rests now with the Mother; grandson of
> > Ian Songs-of-Dragons MacGowan, Galliard of the Fianna, and
> > Heals-the-Grass, Dreamspeaker..."
> >
> > "To whom do I tell my story for the first drink?"
>
> "Well Stephen Fangs-the-Moons MacGowan, you tell the story to the pub,
> but I'll tell you if you need to tell another one. When you're done
> with your story, you get a free drink. Sound fair?"
Stephen smiles. "More than fair, Padraic-Rhya. And you can
call me Stephen," he says as he shrugs off his pack
and other items to the floor next to his feet.
"His name was Kintaro," Stephen begins, "a good friend of
mine who was a brilliant engineer. Absolutely brilliant.
He came from a line of brilliant engineers, whose genius
had made them a fortune by the 1920's, and Kintaro
was a worthy heir in talent to his forefathers. But not
just in the cerebral parts --he was a skilled tinkerer
and craftsman. Indeed, his prime hobby was restoring
old machinery --cars, motorcycles, the like-- machining
new parts from wood and metal as necessary. And it was
through that hobby that he entangled me..."
"He and I frequented the same soba-ya --noodle shop--
near where I was working, just outside the campus of
Tokyo University where Kintaro was studying. We had
become good friends over the course of the previous
two years, and our lunchtime conversations had broached
all manner of topics, from technology to mythology...
which is perhaps why he sought me out that muggy
August day, with a wild, haunted look upon his
face..."
" 'You know about spirits, right?' he had asked,
almost desperate."
"I guardedly replied I had had an experience or
two; I wasn't quite about to start talking about
the Umbra and Incarna and the other nine yards
with a sleeper, good friend or no. The spirit
world freaks out even other Mages, let alone a
young man whose never claimed to see anything more
supernatural than the movie My_Friend_Totoro!
But Kintaro was claiming he was *now*. Well,
not exactly. He had no idea what it was that
was going on, and it was driving him crazy..."
"It was like this: his family had an estate
up near Lake Kawaguchiko, at the foot of Mt.
Fuji. Beautiful country up there, I have to
say, by the way. It had been in his family
since a little after the Meiji Restoration,
and it's location remote from Tokyo had
meant it had escaped the worst ravages of
the great Kanto earthquake and World War II
nearly intact. But it also meant, obviously,
the place didn't come automatically with the
amenities modern apartments were built with,
like, for example, extra phone lines. It was
in running new lines into the estate that
Kintaro ran into trouble..."
"It had started out simply as his pulling
up tatami mats across the floor of
one of the outer pavillions
so that he could run the cabling underneath
the floorboards. As he pulled up the first
floorboard, his flashlight slipped out of his
pocket and fell into the space under the floor.
Kintaro reached in to palm for the flashlight
in the darkness...and to his surprise plunged
his whole arm, right up to the shoulder, down
without touching bottom."
"That didn't make a lot of sense --the house
had no basement; there shouldn't have been more
than a twenty or thirty centimeter space between
the floor and the foundation. Not only that,
there was an overpowering smell of axle grease,
which also made no sense. Puzzled, Kintaro
went back to the main house, fetched another
flashlight to look into the hole --and discovered
to his total surprise that he had poked his way
into a previously unknown chamber at least a
few meters deep, in which was
something heavily wrapped in canvas and rope..."
"It turned out to be a car."
"A Rolls-Royce Silver Ghost, to be exact."
"To say the family was surprised was putting it
mildly, to say the least. It *had* to belong
to Kintaro's family --the entire estate had
been in their family since before Henry Ford
invented the Model T-- but there were no records
of when or how, or what it was doing buried
underneath the garden tea-house. Whomever put
it there had gone to great lengths to preserve
the vehicle, doing all the things one is
supposed to do to keep a fine automobile in
storage for a very, very long time...and that
being the case, it was certainly possible to
restore the vehicle back to working order."
"This Kintaro set out to do, as he was
home for vacation and the project intrigued
him. A little initial work revealed the car
was one of the earliest Silver Ghosts, the
legendary luxury cars from the automobile
age's earliest days, and that it could command
a fortune for auction. The car was in absolutely
excellent shape, and a minimum of work
would see it once again hit the road. A
little exploration and research revealed
how the car had gotten into the location
in the first place; and some backhoe-work
and a few walls knocked down later, the
car was resting in the estate workshop,
where Kintaro set about with the work of
restoration..."
"...and that's when his trouble began."
"He could come up with no rational explanation.
He had no idea what was happening. But every
time he went to work on the car, he *swore*
he could feel someone watching him --from
around a door, from through a window, from
somewhere-- he swore he could see someone
out the corner of his eye...but when he turned
to look directly at the watcher there was
noone there. Every time. Other people reported
seeing noone. Kintaro tried setting up
video cameras, mirrors, everything he could
think of --nothing. Yet he was *totally*
convinced there was *someone* watching him
every time he set to work on the car...like
the car was haunted."
"The real problem was that the feeling hadn't
stopped when he stopped working on the car.
At night on his futon, he felt eyes watching him
from beyond the door. Hiking around the lake
his family's estate sat upon, he swore there
was someone shadowing him in the trees. The
feeling had gotten so pervasive he had fled
back to Tokyo weeks early --and sought me
out immediately, hoping that, for all the
occult background I seemed to have, I might
have an idea what to do next..."
"You see, Kintaro was a straight arrow.
Honest, bright, precise; if he says he'll
be there in a half hour, he means *exactly*
30 minutes, not 25, not 35. If he says there
were a dozen people at a party, he means
exactly 12. He never exaggerated anything,
never bragged, never made things up --so if
he swore he was being watched, well, I was
apt to give him the benefit of the doubt.
Anyway, what's the harm of my going up
to his family's estate to check things out?
It's a beautiful part of the country.
Worst case I wouldn't find anything; best
case I might even be able to deal with it.
And so I packed my stuff and we took the
Chuo railway to Otsuki and then onwards..."
"He took me to their estate, took me to
the workshop where the Rolls rested,
mostly restored but parts and tools
still laid out from where Kintaro had
halted work a week earlier. I told him
I'd need some privacy, which he readily
gave me, and then I got down to work..."
"Some use chants to get in touch with
the spirits; some dancing or drugs. My
family had always reached the spirits
through the power of music --through
my grandfather and long before, we've
been fiddlers of note for generations,
and through music --and the fiddle--
I learned to reach the spirits as well.
There were a lot of spirits up there
--the Wyld was still strong in the pristine
countryside surrounding Mt. Fuji-- but
I was looking for something more specific."
"And very shortly I found it."
"I came out of that workshop some
hours later. I raised a hand to forestall
Kintaro's questioning, instead asking
a question of my own..."
" 'Kintaro,' I said, 'what do you
know about your grandfather?' "
"Not much, he admitted: that he had
been an engineer of great skill, as
had been the tradition of the line of
his family; that he had been outspoken
in opposing the militarism the Japanese
government adopted in the 1930's and
gotten himself assasinated by ultra-
nationalist radicals for his trouble."
" 'But do you have a picture of him
when he was young? About your age?'
I pressed. Kintaro shook his head no;
he'd never seen one; his
parents barely remembered having ever
seen one. But at my insistence, they
dug into the family archives to see
what they could find..."
"And what they found flabbergasted
them. Kintaro's father at the age of
twenty-two didn't look at all like
Kintaro...but Kintaro's grandfather
at 22 was an absolute dead-ringer
for Kintaro. Swap the 90's threads
for 20's formal wear, and the two
men would be indistinguishable."
"And *that* was the key to it all."
"I explained to Kintaro what I had
discovered. In introducing myself
to the local spirits, I had, after
a while, coaxed out one particularly
shy one --a ghost. A ghost of a young
Japanese woman. Kintaro's ghost."
"The ghost that had been watching
Kintaro go to work on the car the
whole time, and had taken to following
him even when he quit. Kintaro
had been absolutely right on the
money."
"She'd been terribly shy, to the extent
she withdrew at even a glance by Kintaro.
My arts had reassured her that the
going was safe, and in more spirit
conversation I got to know her story
better..."
"She had been the daughter of a local
innkeeper. She was only a few years
younger than Kintaro's grandfather
Seiji, grown up a few miles apart.
One summer's evening they bumped into
each other on the shores of the lake
during the wait for a hanabi --fireworks--
show...and fallen in love."
"Less than two weeks later there was
a freak summer storm, a landslide...and
they never found young Masako Tetsuji's body."
"Seiji had been working on the Silver
Ghost; he had promised her a ride
when it was done. When she died, Kintaro's
grandfather halted the project, unable to go
on. For whatever reason he had decided against
selling or scrapping the vehicle, instead
choosing to lock it away behind a wall...
which in time was covered over and the
once above-ground shop became an underground
chamber. Having told noone what he
had done, the secret of the car went
with Seiji to his grave...until
Kintaro had stumbled across it, years later."
" 'So what do I do?' Kintaro asked."
" 'Well,' I grinned, 'your grandfather
made a promise. I say you keep it.' "
"I had explained to the spirit of Masako
that her watching Kintaro made him
nervous. And so she left him alone as
he went to work. Hesitantly at first,
then with greater speed and confidence
as he realized he was no longer being
watched. Kintaro really didn't have all
that much more to have done, and one
bright September morning, the car was
done, restored to all it's former glory."
Stephen smiles. "The first time Kintaro
started the motor up...the first time
in more than half a century the motor turned
over...Masako the ghost peeked around
the corner."
"She was hesitant, but seeing
me there, paused...long enough for Kintaro
to see her. His eyes grew wide and his mouth
dropped, but it wasn't out of fear or shock..."
" 'She's beautiful,' Kintaro mouthed."
" 'Your Oji-san thought so, too,' I grinned."
"Kintaro opened the passenger side door.
The spirit entered and sat itself down
on the seat; her spectral hand shut
the door. Kintaro backed the Rolls Royce
out into the tree-lined lane and away
they went..."
"They drove and drove. They drove all day.
The countryside around the Fuji Five lakes
is nothing short of spectacular, and the
day was crystal clear. It would have made
for enjoyable touring under any
conditions...and there was something magick
going on there. I could feel it in my
bones. Something wonderful, a magick of a
promise kept, of a love that had crossed,
ever so briefly, the veil of death. While
most other observers would have seen
nothing but a smiling young man touring in
a classic automobile, one gifted would see
the beautiful young woman resting her head
on his shoulder; see the lady Kintaro was
putting his arm around. I certainly did,
as they returned to the estate as the sun
set over the lake..."
"Kintaro hopped out of the car; raced to
the passenger side and opened it for
Masako. Helped her step out of the
vehicle. They then stood there for a
moment, holding each other's hands as the
last light of the sun shined over the mountains..."
"And then Masako stood up on tippy-toes
to kiss Kintaro once on the lips. And
then faded away."
"I didn't need to say that Kintaro's
haunting problems were probably history.
He knew it as well as I. His grandfather
had made a promise and Kintaro had kept it,
more than a lifetime later..."
Stephen smiles. "I've had more than my
share of horror in my lifetime; of formor
slaver and dark-kin bite. But not every
ghost story is a thing of the Wyrm; not
every tale ends in madness or death.
Not even in our world of darkness..."
Stephen then reaches into one of his
belt pouches. Pulls out a wallet. Thumbs
out a photograph of Kintaro and Masako.
But not a picture of a young man and a
spirit, but of a groom and bride in western
clothing, very much in the flesh...
Stephen smiles even more widely as
he shows Padraic and anyone else nearby
the wedding picture. "Her name is Setsuko
Kinohara. Kintaro met her at the Sumida
fireworks just a year later. They fell
in love, were married two years ago, love
each other madly. Just had them over here
in the States last summer. I took 'em to
Lilies War, actually, as my guests. She's
a brilliant engineer, too, gentle, kind,
a wonderful woman with a quiet wit and
a fierce determination...and yes, looks
absolutely like Masako did."
"You know, sometimes, just sometimes, once
in a while, sometimes the protagonists
really do get to live happily ever after,"
he finishes with a quiet smile.
"Good enough for a drink?" Stephen asks.
> Paddy
> Someone who isn't going to question something I've said? Gotta be crazy.
Stephen
Not crazy, just polite. It *is* your bar...
Jeff Huo
> Jeff Huo wrote:
>
> > "Stephen Fangs-the-Moons MacGowan, Mage," he says,
> > respectfully, "son of Tara Flies-With-Dragons MacGowan,
> > Full-Moon, she who rests now with the Mother; grandson of
> > Ian Songs-of-Dragons MacGowan, Galliard of the Fianna, and
> > Heals-the-Grass, Dreamspeaker..."
> >
> > "To whom do I tell my story for the first drink?"
>
>
> "Don't tell a story, tell a history," interrupts a very
> beautiful woman-girl, the kind of figure and look you
> might see in a pre-Raphelite painting attatched to eyes
> that are hollow and shifting.
>
> She narrows her eyes "Gaialing...Fianna...now...ah, that's
> right. Yes, the singers."
Stephen smiles, offering a hand. "And your name is, m'Lady?"
> -- Sissy. Ghostbuster.
- Stephen. Talks with sprits a lot.
Ceredwyn Ealanta
> > "Don't tell a story, tell a history," interrupts a very
> > beautiful woman-girl, the kind of figure and look you
> > might see in a pre-Raphelite painting attatched to eyes
> > that are hollow and shifting.
> > She narrows her eyes "Gaialing...Fianna...now...ah, that's
> > right. Yes, the singers."
> Stephen smiles, offering a hand. "And your name is, m'Lady?"
"Sissy Mnemosyne," she says, and takes his hand, shaking it with
a grip that's not so much firm but unyielding. Her skin is cold, and
slightly repellant, even if it still retains the soft pink of health.
Close up, her pupils float over empty irises, their depths difficult
to plumb without concentration.
> > -- Sissy. Ghostbuster.
> - Stephen. Talks with sprits a lot.
-- Sissy. Ghostbuster.
You and me both.
Malada 2
>much snipage<
>Stephen smiles. "I've had more than my
>share of horror in my lifetime; of formor
>slaver and dark-kin bite. But not every
>ghost story is a thing of the Wyrm; not
>every tale ends in madness or death.
>Not even in our world of darkness..."
At the bar Harry nods his head in solomn agreement.
-Harry
Wildwind
>
> "You know, sometimes, just sometimes, once
> in a while, sometimes the protagonists
> really do get to live happily ever after,"
> he finishes with a quiet smile.
Wildwind sighs " I don't know about the happily, but, the ever after I
can relate to!. I'm Wildwind pleased to meet you" she smiles and
offers her hand.
> Stephen
> Not crazy, just polite. It *is* your bar...
>
>
-Wildwind
*and* he's in charge of the booze....ahem...what a fine fellow he is,
handsome, witty, etc,etc...;)
Jeff Huo
> turnber...@yahoo.com (Jeff Huo) wrote in message news:<2c6cd1e5.02021...@posting.google.com>...
> >
> > "You know, sometimes, just sometimes, once
> > in a while, sometimes the protagonists
> > really do get to live happily ever after,"
> > he finishes with a quiet smile.
>
> Wildwind sighs " I don't know about the happily, but, the ever after I
> can relate to!. I'm Wildwind pleased to meet you" she smiles and
> offers her hand.
Stephen smiles warmly, shaking the hand with enthusiasm.
"Stephen," he says in reply. And then grins as
he turns back to Padraic...
"Padraic-rhya," Stephen says, respectfully,
"if my story was good enough...would you give
Wildwind the drink of her choice? My first
drink to her," he smiles.
> -Wildwind
> *and* he's in charge of the booze....ahem...what a fine fellow he is,
> handsome, witty, etc,etc...;-)
-Stephen
(grin) I'll get you a round for that! :-)
Jeff Huo
Stephen turns to face the elder Garou. He
bows respectfully. "Stephen," he introduces
himself, offering a hand...
"Padraic-rhya," Stephen asks, "if I tell
another story...can I get another drink,
this time for the honored elder?"
> -Harry
-Stephen
I don't drink, but can't let good
liquor go to waste. :-)
Wildwind
>
> Stephen smiles warmly, shaking the hand with enthusiasm.
>
> "Stephen," he says in reply. And then grins as
> he turns back to Padraic...
>
> "Padraic-rhya," Stephen says, respectfully,
> "if my story was good enough...would you give
> Wildwind the drink of her choice? My first
> drink to her," he smiles.
>
malt, large, please."
>
> -Stephen
> (grin) I'll get you a round for that! :-)
-Wildwind
Marty Gleason Marty Gleason
turnber...@yahoo.com (Jeff Huo) wrote:
<snip snip>
> Stephen smiles even more widely as
> he shows Padraic and anyone else nearby
> the wedding picture. "Her name is Setsuko
> Kinohara. Kintaro met her at the Sumida
> fireworks just a year later. They fell
> in love, were married two years ago, love
> each other madly. Just had them over here
> in the States last summer. I took 'em to
> Lilies War, actually, as my guests. She's
> a brilliant engineer, too, gentle, kind,
> a wonderful woman with a quiet wit and
> a fierce determination...and yes, looks
> absolutely like Masako did."
"Sounds like you're friend's blessed by the Spirits."
> "You know, sometimes, just sometimes, once
> in a while, sometimes the protagonists
> really do get to live happily ever after,"
> he finishes with a quiet smile.
"Hrmph." Paddy says, trying not to smile. "Maybe."
> "Good enough for a drink?" Stephen asks.
"good enough for two. Its rarely done, but I've done it before. Now,
what is it you want Stephen?"
> > Paddy
> > Someone who isn't going to question something I've said? Gotta be
> > crazy.
>
> Stephen
> Not crazy, just polite. It *is* your bar...
Paddy
...Watch this guy. he's gotta be evil. He's being nice and following
the rules.
Marty Gleason Marty Gleason
> mal...@aol.com (Malada 2) wrote in message
> news:<20020211100526...@mb-mp.aol.com>...
> > turnber...@yahoo.com (Jeff Huo) writes:
> >
> > >much snipage<
> > >Stephen smiles. "I've had more than my
> > >share of horror in my lifetime; of formor
> > >slaver and dark-kin bite. But not every
> > >ghost story is a thing of the Wyrm; not
> > >every tale ends in madness or death.
> > >Not even in our world of darkness..."
> >
> > At the bar Harry nods his head in solemn agreement.
>
> Stephen turns to face the elder Garou. He
> bows respectfully. "Stephen," he introduces
> himself, offering a hand...
>
> "Padraic-rhya," Stephen asks, "if I tell
> another story...can I get another drink,
> this time for the honored elder?"
"First drink is always free, second drink always costs."
> > -Harry
>
> -Stephen
> I don't drink, but can't let good
> liquor go to waste. :-)
Paddy
Marty Gleason Marty Gleason
wildw...@yahoo.co.uk (Wildwind) wrote:
> > Stephen smiles warmly, shaking the hand with enthusiasm.
> >
> > "Stephen," he says in reply. And then grins as
> > he turns back to Padraic...
> >
> > "Padraic-rhya," Stephen says, respectfully,
> > "if my story was good enough...would you give
> > Wildwind the drink of her choice? My first
> > drink to her," he smiles.
"What, you're not drinkin'?'
> Wildwind bows slightly and says, "You're a gentleman.....whiskey,
> malt, large, please."
Paddy serves her right quick, it is not, however on the rocks..
> > -Stephen
> > (grin) I'll get you a round for that! :-)
>
> -Wildwind
Paddy
Jeff Huo
4B91A4.170...@netnews.attbi.com>,
officer...@attbi.com says...
> In article <fd8c0077.02021...@posting.google.com>,
> wildw...@yahoo.co.uk (Wildwind) wrote:
>
>
> > > Stephen smiles warmly, shaking the hand with enthusiasm.
> > >
> > > "Stephen," he says in reply. And then grins as
> > > he turns back to Padraic...
> > >
> > > "Padraic-rhya," Stephen says, respectfully,
> > > "if my story was good enough...would you give
> > > Wildwind the drink of her choice? My first
> > > drink to her," he smiles.
>
> "What, you're not drinkin'?'
Stephen smiles. "I'm sure I will eventually..."
> Paddy
-Stephen
In the meantime, one for her. If the point of
a drink is to have fun, then its served its
purpose for me. :-)
Jeff Huo
5E2163.170...@netnews.attbi.com>,
officer...@attbi.com says...
> In article <2c6cd1e5.02021...@posting.google.com>,
> turnber...@yahoo.com (Jeff Huo) wrote:
> <snip snip>
>
> > Stephen smiles even more widely as
> > he shows Padraic and anyone else nearby
> > the wedding picture. "Her name is Setsuko
> > Kinohara. Kintaro met her at the Sumida
> > fireworks just a year later. They fell
> > in love, were married two years ago, love
> > each other madly. Just had them over here
> > in the States last summer. I took 'em to
> > Lilies War, actually, as my guests. She's
> > a brilliant engineer, too, gentle, kind,
> > a wonderful woman with a quiet wit and
> > a fierce determination...and yes, looks
> > absolutely like Masako did."
>
> "Sounds like you're friend's blessed by the Spirits."
Stephen nods fiercely. "That he was --is."
> > "You know, sometimes, just sometimes, once
> > in a while, sometimes the protagonists
> > really do get to live happily ever after,"
> > he finishes with a quiet smile.
>
> "Hrmph." Paddy says, trying not to smile. "Maybe."
>
> > "Good enough for a drink?" Stephen asks.
>
> "good enough for two. Its rarely done, but I've done it before. Now,
> what is it you want Stephen?"
Stephen nods at Harry. "My second for the Elder..."
> "Next drink always costs."
Stephen nods again. "More than fair --how
do you take payment? Gold, cash, services
rendered?"
> Paddy
> ...Watch this guy. he's gotta be evil. He's being nice and following
> the rules.
Stephen
(grin) I learned a long time ago not to
be rude to elder Garou. Comes of being
raised from birth by one...
Malada 2
>> >But not every
>> >ghost story is a thing of the Wyrm; not
>> >every tale ends in madness or death.
>> >Not even in our world of darkness..."
>>
>> At the bar Harry nods his head in solemn agreement.
>
>Stephen turns to face the elder Garou. He
>bows respectfully. "Stephen," he introduces
>himself, offering a hand...
"Harry," the silver haired man replies with a large grin.
>"Padraic-rhya," Stephen asks, "if I tell
>another story...can I get another drink,
>this time for the honored elder?"
"Oooo, I'm an honored elder? Well," the BoneGnawer
straightens his button-down shirt, "It'd be impolite to
turn down another drink." He looks over at Paddy,
"Another Guinness, please?" he says politely.
>-Stephen
> I don't drink, but can't let good
> liquor go to waste. :-)
-Harry
And I ain't gonna waste it!
Wildwind
>
> > Wildwind bows slightly and says, "You're a gentleman.....whiskey,
> > malt, large, please."
>
> Paddy serves her right quick, it is not, however on the rocks..
>
> > > -Stephen
> > > (grin) I'll get you a round for that! :-)
> >
> > -Wildwind
>
> Paddy
[OoC: Phew!, that was close, glad Paddys on the ball, we take the no
ice thing for granted so much that when i'm on holiday anywhere I keep
forgetting and end up with a glass full of ice and a pained
expression...BLECH....Having said that, an old guy who worked in the
Lagavulin distillery on Islay told me that one ice cube or a splash of
water brings out the flavour better in some of the stronger
malts........he's right too!]
-Jon
:)
Jeff Huo
Marty Gleason Marty Gleason wrote:
> In article <fd8c0077.02021...@posting.google.com>,
> wildw...@yahoo.co.uk (Wildwind) wrote:
>
> > > Stephen smiles warmly, shaking the hand with enthusiasm.
> > >
> > > "Stephen," he says in reply. And then grins as
> > > he turns back to Padraic...
> > >
> > > "Padraic-rhya," Stephen says, respectfully,
> > > "if my story was good enough...would you give
> > > Wildwind the drink of her choice? My first
> > > drink to her," he smiles.
>
> > Wildwind bows slightly and says, "You're a gentleman.....whiskey,
> > malt, large, please."
>
> Paddy serves her right quick, it is not, however on the rocks..
"Thank you, Padraic-rhya," Stephen says.
He then turns to Wildwind, thoughtfully, for a moment.
" So, my Lady," Stephen says with a smile, " if it is not too
forward; are you a mage, or they who call themselves the
Immortals? "
> > -Wildwind
-Stephen
OOC: Picking up where Alex left off. :-)
Wildwind
>
> "Thank you, Padraic-rhya," Stephen says.
>
> He then turns to Wildwind, thoughtfully, for a moment.
>
> " So, my Lady," Stephen says with a smile, " if it is not too
> forward; are you a mage, or they who call themselves the
> Immortals? "
She raises an eyebrow, smiles at him and says "Nothing lives
forever......but, for want of a better description I am indeed an
Immortal".
>
> -Stephen
> OOC: Picking up where Alex left off. :-)
-Wildwind
Jeff Huo
<fd8c0077.02021...@posting.google.com>,
wildw...@yahoo.co.uk says...
> Jeff Huo <je...@spundreams.net.nospam> wrote in message news:<3C6B89F7...@spundreams.net.nospam>...
> >
> > "Thank you, Padraic-rhya," Stephen says.
> >
> > He then turns to Wildwind, thoughtfully, for a moment.
> >
> > " So, my Lady," Stephen says with a smile, " if it is not too
> > forward; are you a mage, or they who call themselves the
> > Immortals? "
>
> She raises an eyebrow, smiles at him and says "Nothing lives
> forever......but, for want of a better description I am indeed an
> Immortal".
Stephen smiles gently. "I spend a very large part of my time
looking at the spiritual nature of people," he says,
answering one unspoken question, "and have spent a very
large part of my life learning about what I was seeing.
Including the very distinctive way those with your gift
look, so different from Mages and Fae..."
"Tell me, Lady Wildwind," Stephen asks, carefully, "and
please don't feel obligated to answer..."
Stephen takes a deep breath.
"...tell me, do you believe in the Prize? Prize, with a
capital P?"
> -Wildwind
-Stephen
When you talk to lots and lots and *lots* of spirits,
eventually, you start learning some *very* interesting
things...
Marty Gleason Marty Gleason
Well, Paddy is multicultural....at least, when it comes to the liquor
> -Jon
> :)
Marty Gleason Marty Gleason
mal...@aol.com (Malada 2) wrote:
> "Oooo, I'm an honored elder? Well," the BoneGnawer
> straightens his button-down shirt, "It'd be impolite to
> turn down another drink." He looks over at Paddy,
> "Another Guinness, please?" he says politely.
"Certainly." Paddy pulls off another draught of the good stuff.
> >-Stephen
> > I don't drink, but can't let good
> > liquor go to waste. :-)
>
> -Harry
> And I ain't gonna waste it!
>
Paddy
Honored elder or not, if you waste the good stuff, I'm kicking you out
Marty Gleason Marty Gleason
<je...@spundreams.net.nospam> wrote:
> > > > Stephen smiles warmly, shaking the hand with enthusiasm.
> > > >
> > > > "Stephen," he says in reply. And then grins as
> > > > he turns back to Padraic...
> > > >
> > > > "Padraic-rhya," Stephen says, respectfully,
> > > > "if my story was good enough...would you give
> > > > Wildwind the drink of her choice? My first
> > > > drink to her," he smiles.
> >
> > "What, you're not drinkin'?'
>
> Stephen smiles. "I'm sure I will eventually..."
"Well, its not like we're goin' to run out."
Paddy shrugs his shoulders
"Take your time."
> > Paddy
>
> -Stephen
> In the meantime, one for her. If the point of
> a drink is to have fun, then its served its
> purpose for me. :-)
Paddy
Wildwind
>
> Stephen smiles gently. "I spend a very large part of my time
> looking at the spiritual nature of people," he says,
> answering one unspoken question, "and have spent a very
> large part of my life learning about what I was seeing.
> Including the very distinctive way those with your gift
> look, so different from Mages and Fae..."
She nods.
> "Tell me, Lady Wildwind," Stephen asks, carefully, "and
> please don't feel obligated to answer..."
>
> Stephen takes a deep breath.
>
> "...tell me, do you believe in the Prize? Prize, with a
> capital P?"
"Yes, but, the price that has to be payed to win the Prize is high and
as to whether it is worth it......let's just say i'm doubtful." she
looks Stephen in the eye and he can see great pain in her expression
"I have killed many of my brothers and sisters and it weighs heavily
on my conscience" she says sadly.
> -Stephen
> When you talk to lots and lots and *lots* of spirits,
> eventually, you start learning some *very* interesting
> things...
-Wildwind
Jeff Huo
2E6380.195...@netnews.attbi.com>,
officer...@attbi.com says...
> In article <MPG.16d36ec1f...@news.itd.umich.edu>, Jeff Huo
> <je...@spundreams.net.nospam> wrote:
>
>
> > > > > Stephen smiles warmly, shaking the hand with enthusiasm.
> > > > >
> > > > > "Stephen," he says in reply. And then grins as
> > > > > he turns back to Padraic...
> > > > >
> > > > > "Padraic-rhya," Stephen says, respectfully,
> > > > > "if my story was good enough...would you give
> > > > > Wildwind the drink of her choice? My first
> > > > > drink to her," he smiles.
> > >
> > > "What, you're not drinkin'?'
> >
> > Stephen smiles. "I'm sure I will eventually..."
>
> "Well, its not like we're goin' to run out."
>
> "Take your time."
Stephen nods. "What would be the best way to pay for the
next one?" Stephen asks. "Gold, services rendered, another
tale?"
> Paddy
Stephen
Marty Gleason Marty Gleason
<je...@spundreams.net.nospam> wrote:
> > > > > > Stephen smiles warmly, shaking the hand with enthusiasm.
> > > > > >
> > > > > > "Stephen," he says in reply. And then grins as
> > > > > > he turns back to Padraic...
> > > > > >
> > > > > > "Padraic-rhya," Stephen says, respectfully,
> > > > > > "if my story was good enough...would you give
> > > > > > Wildwind the drink of her choice? My first
> > > > > > drink to her," he smiles.
> > > >
> > > > "What, you're not drinkin'?'
> > >
> > > Stephen smiles. "I'm sure I will eventually..."
> >
> > "Well, its not like we're goin' to run out."
> > Paddy shrugs his shoulders.
> >
> > "Take your time."
>
> Stephen nods. "What would be the best way to pay for the
> next one?" Stephen asks. "Gold, services rendered, another
> tale?"
"Well, Gold, money--somethin' o'value. The tales....well, thats not as
fair. not everyone can spin a good story."
> > Paddy
>
> Stephen
Kylinn
>Stephen nods. "What would be the best way to pay for the
>next one?" Stephen asks. "Gold, services rendered, another
>tale?"
"Buying things for the pooka!"
>Stephen
-Toby
Jeff Huo
kyl...@aol.com says...
Stephen turns to Toby, and as he sees Toby's pooka features,
his eyes widen with delight and he smiles.
"Well, hello there," Stephen says warmly.
"Stephen," he introduces himself, extending a hand. "And you
are..."
> >Stephen
>
> -Toby
-Stephen
How delightful! Another Pooka!
Jeff Huo
> >
> > Stephen smiles gently. "I spend a very large part of my time
> > looking at the spiritual nature of people," he says,
> > answering one unspoken question, "and have spent a very
> > large part of my life learning about what I was seeing.
> > Including the very distinctive way those with your gift
> > look, so different from Mages and Fae..."
>
> She nods.
>
> > "Tell me, Lady Wildwind," Stephen asks, carefully, "and
> > please don't feel obligated to answer..."
> >
> > Stephen takes a deep breath.
> >
> > "...tell me, do you believe in the Prize? Prize, with a
> > capital P?"
>
> "Yes, but, the price that has to be payed to win the Prize is high and
> as to whether it is worth it......let's just say i'm doubtful." she
> looks Stephen in the eye and he can see great pain in her expression
> "I have killed many of my brothers and sisters and it weighs heavily
> on my conscience" she says sadly.
"Then the Gathering?" Stephen asks, quietly. "What will you
do when the call comes? Some say the call is already on the
wind. The Gathering before the last battle, before the end
of the world..."
Stephen looks into Wildwind's eyes. "Do you believe that the
Gathering is here? Do you think this is the beginning of th
end? Some I know say yes, some say not yet, tell me, what do
you think?"
> -Wildwind
-Stephen
Wildwind
> >
> > "Yes, but, the price that has to be payed to win the Prize is high and
> > as to whether it is worth it......let's just say i'm doubtful." she
> > looks Stephen in the eye and he can see great pain in her expression
> > "I have killed many of my brothers and sisters and it weighs heavily
> > on my conscience" she says sadly.
>
> "Then the Gathering?" Stephen asks, quietly. "What will you
> do when the call comes? Some say the call is already on the
> wind. The Gathering before the last battle, before the end
> of the world..."
"When the call comes..........i'll do what has to be done." she says
grimly "There is no choice in the matter."
>
> Stephen looks into Wildwind's eyes. "Do you believe that the
> Gathering is here? Do you think this is the beginning of th
> end? Some I know say yes, some say not yet, tell me, what do
> you think?"
"I think" she says slowly "that the The Sixth Age will be upon us
soon" she nods at Li Chi "_they_ know it's coming, they also say that
some will endure to see the dawning of the Seventh Age.....and I
intend to be one of those people."
>
> > -Wildwind
>
> -Stephen
>
-Wildwind
Kylinn
>Stephen turns to Toby, and as he sees Toby's pooka features,
>his eyes widen with delight and he smiles.
>
>"Well, hello there," Stephen says warmly.
>
>"Stephen," he introduces himself, extending a hand. "And you
>are..."
Toby shakes Stephen's hand enthusiastically.
"Toby Scott David."
>-Stephen
> How delightful! Another Pooka!
-Toby, otter pooka
We're gonna have _lots of fun.
Jeff Huo
> > >
> > > "Yes, but, the price that has to be payed to win the Prize is high and
> > > as to whether it is worth it......let's just say i'm doubtful." she
> > > looks Stephen in the eye and he can see great pain in her expression
> > > "I have killed many of my brothers and sisters and it weighs heavily
> > > on my conscience" she says sadly.
> >
> > "Then the Gathering?" Stephen asks, quietly. "What will you
> > do when the call comes? Some say the call is already on the
> > wind. The Gathering before the last battle, before the end
> > of the world..."
>
> "When the call comes..........i'll do what has to be done." she says
> grimly "There is no choice in the matter."
Stephen nods. "What about hiding? What about running to a
deep horizon realm, or the depths of the Dreaming, killing
only when threatened? Or do you fear that in doing so, you
will soon be overpowered by those who *do* eagerly kill, and
in doing so gain strength far in excess of yours?"
"And if so...then what stays your hand from killing to gain
that power *now*?"
> > Stephen looks into Wildwind's eyes. "Do you believe that the
> > Gathering is here? Do you think this is the beginning of th
> > end? Some I know say yes, some say not yet, tell me, what do
> > you think?"
>
> "I think" she says slowly "that the The Sixth Age will be upon us
> soon" she nods at Li Chi "_they_ know it's coming, they also say that
> some will endure to see the dawning of the Seventh Age.....and I
> intend to be one of those people."
"How?" Stephen asks, gently.
Jeff Huo
kyl...@aol.com says...
> Jeff Huo <je...@spundreams.net.nospam> writes:
>
> >Stephen turns to Toby, and as he sees Toby's pooka features,
> >his eyes widen with delight and he smiles.
> >
> >"Well, hello there," Stephen says warmly.
> >
> >"Stephen," he introduces himself, extending a hand. "And you
> >are..."
>
> Toby shakes Stephen's hand enthusiastically.
> "Toby Scott David."
Stephen returns the handshake with equal vigor. You can
almost see the momentary pause as Stephen's brain
reflexively carefully parses the Pooka's reply...
"Well met, Master Toby!" Stephen says warmly, apparently
concluding to run with the name proffered. "From whence do
you hail?"
> >-Stephen
> > How delightful! Another Pooka!
>
> -Toby, otter pooka
> We're gonna have _lots of fun.
-Stephen
(grin) Aye. Life is *never* boring around a Pooka!
Jeff Huo
2892E6.091...@netnews.attbi.com>,
officer...@attbi.com says...
> > Stephen nods. "What would be the best way to pay for the
> > next one?" Stephen asks. "Gold, services rendered, another
> > tale?"
>
> "Well, Gold, money--somethin' o'value. The tales....well, thats not as
> fair. not everyone can spin a good story."
Stephen nods, reaching into one of his belt-pouches. From it
he withdrawals several heavy gold coins and carefully sets
them on the counter before Padraic. Crisply minted, they
appear...yet their designs of those centuries --or even
millenia old: the portrait of Constantine of the Roman
Aureus; the eagles of the Augustalis; Italian florins,
English Crowns and Spanish doubloons.
"How much would that get me?" Stephen asks.
> > Stephen
> Paddy
-Stephen
I'm trusting you not to rip me off, of course. :-)
Wildwind
> >
> > "When the call comes..........i'll do what has to be done." she says
> > grimly "There is no choice in the matter."
>
> Stephen nods. "What about hiding? What about running to a
> deep horizon realm, or the depths of the Dreaming, killing
> only when threatened? Or do you fear that in doing so, you
> will soon be overpowered by those who *do* eagerly kill, and
> in doing so gain strength far in excess of yours?"
"Hah!. Easier said than done. My brothers and sisters do not give up
easily!. In my experience hiding only postpones the inevitable," she
pauses "As long as at least one of us believes we are destined to
destroy each other, then there_will_be_bloodshed!. As for strength..."
she shrugs "there are but a handful" she holds up four fingers "of
those older than I left and I fear none who are younger than
myself.........I took the head of he who had destroyed most of the
Elders -including my master-" she shrugs "He was far too confident in
his power and that lead to his downfall" she flexes her hands, looks
at them, then clenches them into fists.
>
> "And if so...then what stays your hand from killing to gain
> that power *now*?"
She laughs "Like any warrior or soldier I am the greatest advocate of
peace you could imagine, I do my utmost to avoid conflict, but, if I
cannot avoid it, I make sure I win, no half measures, no just wounding
your opponent or subduing them or any of that bullshit.......always
fight like it's going to be your last battle." her eyes glitter.
> >
> > "I think" she says slowly "that the The Sixth Age will be upon us
> > soon" she nods at Li Chi "_they_ know it's coming, they also say that
> > some will endure to see the dawning of the Seventh Age.....and I
> > intend to be one of those people."
>
> "How?" Stephen asks, gently.
"Luck, skill, cunning, intelligence and if that doesn't work brute
force and ignorance will have to do" she chuckles.
> > -Wildwind
>
> -Stephen
>
>
-Wildwind
I am the warrior
I serve the death machine
Losers or conquerors
All flash past on my silver screen
Death is no easy answer
For those who wish to know
Ask those who have been before you
What fate the future holds
It ain't pretty...
I am a messenger
Got a message here, you must know
I am the warrior
I deliver the fatal blow
So fate will have to wait
Till time can heal the scar
My heart is ruled by Venus
And my head is ruled by Mars
Warriors :- Thin Lizzy
Marty Gleason Marty Gleason
<je...@spundreams.net.nospam> wrote:
> > > Stephen nods. "What would be the best way to pay for the
> > > next one?" Stephen asks. "Gold, services rendered, another
> > > tale?"
> >
> > "Well, Gold, money--somethin' o'value. The tales....well, thats not as
> > fair. not everyone can spin a good story."
>
> Stephen nods, reaching into one of his belt-pouches. From it
> he withdrawals several heavy gold coins and carefully sets
> them on the counter before Padraic. Crisply minted, they
> appear...yet their designs of those centuries --or even
> millenia old: the portrait of Constantine of the Roman
> Aureus; the eagles of the Augustalis; Italian florins,
> English Crowns and Spanish doubloons.
>
> "How much would that get me?" Stephen asks.
"Where, might I ask, are you gettin' this much gold?" Paddy looks at
him strangely
"Thats old. Old old. Worth a lot to a collector I'd guess... so I
think one would have you covered for a while."
> > > Stephen
> > Paddy
>
> -Stephen
> I'm trusting you not to rip me off, of course. :-)
Paddy
Please. The only thing I rip off are arms.
Jeff Huo
1BC2E7.215...@netnews.attbi.com>,
officer...@attbi.com says...
> In article <MPG.16dbe82d3...@news.itd.umich.edu>, Jeff Huo
> <je...@spundreams.net.nospam> wrote:
>
> > > > Stephen nods. "What would be the best way to pay for the
> > > > next one?" Stephen asks. "Gold, services rendered, another
> > > > tale?"
> > >
> > > "Well, Gold, money--somethin' o'value. The tales....well, thats not as
> > > fair. not everyone can spin a good story."
> >
> > Stephen nods, reaching into one of his belt-pouches. From it
> > he withdrawals several heavy gold coins and carefully sets
> > them on the counter before Padraic. Crisply minted, they
> > appear...yet their designs of those centuries --or even
> > millenia old: the portrait of Constantine of the Roman
> > Aureus; the eagles of the Augustalis; Italian florins,
> > English Crowns and Spanish doubloons.
> >
> > "How much would that get me?" Stephen asks.
>
> "Where, might I ask, are you gettin' this much gold?" Paddy looks at
"Gold is gold," Stephen points out, "an ordinary material
like steel or lead, not rare like dragonscale hide or
Soulsteel. There are many places I travel where the plastic
and paper of the sleeping world is useless; if I am to
trade, in gold or its cousins I must conduct my business,
no?"
> "Thats old. Old old. Worth a lot to a collector I'd guess... so I
> think one would have you covered for a while."
"They are pure real gold, but worthless to collectors,
Padraic-rhya," Stephen smiles, with his index finger pushing
a large Spanish doubloon across the bar to Padraic. The tip
of his finger clearly indicates where, etched on one face,
in tiny letters along the rim, are the words 'REPRODUCTION -
SotL - 1999'.
"I am a blacksmith --a metalsmith and craftsman by current
trade," Stephen explains. "Gold by itself is obtainable like
any other raw material, and can be worked into convenient
forms; I simply choose to work it into the forms of kingdoms
and ages gone by, in a time when coins were art as well as
money. No point in simply working with plain old lumps or
slabs when it can be beautiful instead, no?"
"But being reproductions, they have no value due to age --
only that which comes from the inherent value of the gold
and any value you might derive from the beauty," he smiles.
> Paddy
> Please. The only thing I rip off are arms.
Stephen
(grin) I like that philosophy!
Marty Gleason Marty Gleason
<je...@spundreams.net.nospam> wrote:
> > "Where, might I ask, are you gettin' this much gold?" Paddy looks at
> > him strangely.
>
> "Gold is gold," Stephen points out, "an ordinary material
> like steel or lead, not rare like dragonscale hide or
> Soulsteel. There are many places I travel where the plastic
> and paper of the sleeping world is useless; if I am to
> trade, in gold or its cousins I must conduct my business,
> no?"
"Gold is rare. Two legs kill for gold. you carry enough Gold that
would, probably, get you hunted. or worse."
> > "Thats old. Old old. Worth a lot to a collector I'd guess... so I
> > think one would have you covered for a while."
>
> "They are pure real gold, but worthless to collectors,
> Padraic-rhya," Stephen smiles, with his index finger pushing
> a large Spanish doubloon across the bar to Padraic. The tip
> of his finger clearly indicates where, etched on one face,
> in tiny letters along the rim, are the words 'REPRODUCTION -
> SotL - 1999'.
"Oh. Well then. "
> "I am a blacksmith --a metalsmith and craftsman by current
> trade," Stephen explains. "Gold by itself is obtainable like
> any other raw material, and can be worked into convenient
> forms; I simply choose to work it into the forms of kingdoms
> and ages gone by, in a time when coins were art as well as
> money. No point in simply working with plain old lumps or
> slabs when it can be beautiful instead, no?"
"I guess. Then, I'm not too big on that anyway..."
> "But being reproductions, they have no value due to age --
> only that which comes from the inherent value of the gold
> and any value you might derive from the beauty," he smiles.
"How do you charge for beauty?"
> > Paddy
> > Please. The only thing I rip off are arms.
>
>
> Stephen
> (grin) I like that philosophy!
Paddy
Ah, we will get along!
Kylinn
>"Well met, Master Toby!" Stephen says warmly, apparently
>concluding to run with the name proffered. "From whence do
>you hail?"
"Oh, I rarely hail. Sometimes I rain a little,
snow lightly, thunder a bit perhaps, but I rarely
hail."
-Toby, otter pooka
Jeff Huo
983F35.203...@netnews.attbi.com>,
officer...@attbi.com says...
> In article <MPG.16ddc962...@news.itd.umich.edu>, Jeff Huo
> <je...@spundreams.net.nospam> wrote:
>
>
> > > "Where, might I ask, are you gettin' this much gold?" Paddy looks at
> > > him strangely.
> >
> > "Gold is gold," Stephen points out, "an ordinary material
> > like steel or lead, not rare like dragonscale hide or
> > Soulsteel. There are many places I travel where the plastic
> > and paper of the sleeping world is useless; if I am to
> > trade, in gold or its cousins I must conduct my business,
> > no?"
>
> "Gold is rare. Two legs kill for gold. you carry enough Gold that
> would, probably, get you hunted. or worse."
Stephen nods, acknowledging Padraic's astute point. "My
blood is more dangerous to me in that regard, however, than
my gold..."
"The blood of a dozen lands runs in my veins," Stephen
explains, not as a boast, but as a simple fact. "Irish,
Scottish, Norse, African, Iroquois, Japanese, Mongol; by
Kinfolk perhaps half the tribes, maybe. All pooled together,
it gave me a strong flame of life --strong enough that I
have been told my blood will give a leech many times more
the power of a normal man's --or even a Garou's-- and from
birth I have been stalked."
Stephen looks grim. "I try to be harder prey than average."
> > "But being reproductions, they have no value due to age --
> > only that which comes from the inherent value of the gold
> > and any value you might derive from the beauty," he smiles.
>
> "How do you charge for beauty?"
"Charge?" Stephen asks, confused.
> > Stephen
> > (grin) I like that philosophy!
>
>
> Paddy
> Ah, we will get along!
Stephen
I hope so. I think I could learn much from you.
Jeff Huo
<e850a8bc.02022...@posting.google.com>,
kyl...@aol.com says...
Stephen grins. "Alright then, from whence do you come?"
> -Toby, otter pooka
-Stephen, good-humored Dreamspeaker
Heather
je...@spundreams.net.nospam wrote on 2/22/02 11:00 PM:
> Stephen nods, acknowledging Padraic's astute point. "My
> blood is more dangerous to me in that regard, however, than
> my gold..."
>
> "The blood of a dozen lands runs in my veins," Stephen
> explains, not as a boast, but as a simple fact. "Irish,
> Scottish, Norse, African, Iroquois, Japanese, Mongol; by
> Kinfolk perhaps half the tribes, maybe. All pooled together,
> it gave me a strong flame of life --strong enough that I
> have been told my blood will give a leech many times more
> the power of a normal man's --or even a Garou's-- and from
> birth I have been stalked."
>
> Stephen looks grim. "I try to be harder prey than average."
>
Mona looks to him and laughs. "That is just so true to form, but you have
more going for you than I do. That has to help."
>
>>> "But being reproductions, they have no value due to age --
>>> only that which comes from the inherent value of the gold
>>> and any value you might derive from the beauty," he smiles.
>>
>> "How do you charge for beauty?"
>
> "Charge?" Stephen asks, confused.
>
>>> Stephen
>>> (grin) I like that philosophy!
>>
>>
>> Paddy
>> Ah, we will get along!
>
> Stephen
> I hope so. I think I could learn much from you.
>
Mona
you are going to continue to pump his ego, aren't you?
Alistair J. R. Young
(Those wondering exactly how a rectangular, wooden door in an ordinary
doorframe can roll aside are invited to contemplate the eye-watering
spatial convulsions required to match the two doors involved, and then
give up and think about something else...)
On this occasion, its opening reveals a vast, dark space beyond, walls
lost in the gloom broken only by the widely spaced lights on a gantry
above, shining down upon a forest of tall, gleaming steel cylinders
from whose tops a thin mist pours. In front of them runs a
safety-railed metal catwalk, with a sign directly opposite the door,
informing those who can read a certain angular script [1] that this
area is in fact:
CARGO 4, LEVEL 7
SECTION 132
BIOLOGICALS CRYOSTORAGE
CLASS 3 PERSHAZ ZONE
centered among what might be workplace safety posters from any
warehouse.
First to enter is a tall, blond man, wearing a space-black coverall,
with its seams picked out in white, a crowned sun and spanner crossed
with lightning-bolt embroidered in gold on the left breast, and a star
surmounting tripled chevrons on his sleeves, shortly followed by
another man, shorter and dark, this one in mid-grey with seams picked
out in green, a stylised tree within a cog accompanied by the triple
knot of the Technocracy rather than the crowned sun, and the tripled
chevrons alone.
"We should report this...", the grey-clad man says to his companion.
"Not so quickly, Alexei," he replies. "Commander Aristede did say that
if this *was* what it appeared to be, we should indulge ourselves a
little."
- ?s
Those members of the SBC or otherwise who are in the habit of looking
out of the door when it opens with, mm, let's see, Prime, Mind,
Spirit, Correspondence, Life, or random sensitivity to the state of
the spirit world, e-mail me...
[1] I don't *think* there are any left in the Pub, but just in case
I'm wrong or there are people with a general gift for languages...
--
e-mail: ava...@panix.com WWW: http://www.arkane.demon.co.uk/
UIN: 111585051 The Laura OS: http://lauraos.sourceforge.net/
"I pissed a lot of people off today. I'm good at that." -- Tim Masterson
Jeff Huo
ava...@panix.com says...
> The door rolls aside.
>
> (Those wondering exactly how a rectangular, wooden door in an ordinary
> doorframe can roll aside are invited to contemplate the eye-watering
> spatial convulsions required to match the two doors involved, and then
> give up and think about something else...)
Imagine what the facial expression of someone trying to
puzzle this through would be. That would be Stephen's
inscrutable expression as he watches the door do just
that...
> On this occasion, its opening reveals a vast, dark space beyond, walls
> lost in the gloom broken only by the widely spaced lights on a gantry
> above, shining down upon a forest of tall, gleaming steel cylinders
> from whose tops a thin mist pours.
Stephen's two eyebrows are arched quite high in surprise.
The look on his face, again, inscrutable. Stephen looks
about as surprised/confused as he might be had Padraic, for
example, suddenly jumped on the bar, shucked off his
clothing, revealed he was wearing underneath a very lacy set
of French-Maid lingerie, and begun singing the part of the
Emcee from _Cabaret_ ...
> "We should report this...", the grey-clad man says to his companion.
>
> "Not so quickly, Alexei," he replies. "Commander Aristede did say that
> if this *was* what it appeared to be, we should indulge ourselves a
> little."
Stephen stands there a moment more, totally stunned.
Then to the nearer man, he asks, confusedly, "Where in
Dana's name are you two *from*?"
-Stephen
*What* just happened?
Jeff Huo
heathe...@hotmail.com says...
> in article MPG.16e0ddd0b...@news.itd.umich.edu, Jeff Huo at
> je...@spundreams.net.nospam wrote on 2/22/02 11:00 PM:
>
> > Stephen nods, acknowledging Padraic's astute point. "My
> > blood is more dangerous to me in that regard, however, than
> > my gold..."
> >
> > "The blood of a dozen lands runs in my veins," Stephen
> > explains, not as a boast, but as a simple fact. "Irish,
> > Scottish, Norse, African, Iroquois, Japanese, Mongol; by
> > Kinfolk perhaps half the tribes, maybe. All pooled together,
> > it gave me a strong flame of life --strong enough that I
> > have been told my blood will give a leech many times more
> > the power of a normal man's --or even a Garou's-- and from
> > birth I have been stalked."
> >
> > Stephen looks grim. "I try to be harder prey than average."
> >
> Mona looks to him and laughs. "That is just so true to form, but you have
> more going for you than I do. That has to help."
Stephen smiles warmly as he turns to Mona.
"Stephen," he says, introducing himself, bowing slightly
over his offered hand. "And, my Lady, you are?"
> Mona
> you are going to continue to pump his ego, aren't you?
Stephen
Er?
Ceredwyn 'Silverblue' Ealanta
> First to enter is a tall, blond man, wearing a space-black coverall,
> with its seams picked out in white, a crowned sun and spanner crossed
> with lightning-bolt embroidered in gold on the left breast, and a star
> surmounting tripled chevrons on his sleeves, shortly followed by
> another man, shorter and dark, this one in mid-grey with seams picked
> out in green, a stylised tree within a cog accompanied by the triple
> knot of the Technocracy rather than the crowned sun, and the tripled
> chevrons alone.
> "We should report this...", the grey-clad man says to his companion.
> "Not so quickly, Alexei," he replies. "Commander Aristede did say that
> if this *was* what it appeared to be, we should indulge ourselves a
> little."
Sissy glances across and frowns lightly - then firmly.
The boy with the violin merely gapes before recovering
himself and attempting to look less suprised. But he
darts the odd look back at the pair.
-- Sissy and the boy.
Ceredwyn Ealanta | "I'll give you dead hereos
gothbunny.net | You are all invited to the show.
lacunae.keenspace.com | I'll give you love and napalm." - Gary Numan
Kylinn
>kyl...@aol.com says...
>> Jeff Huo <je...@spundreams.net.nospam> writes:
>> >"Well met, Master Toby!" Stephen says warmly, apparently
>> >concluding to run with the name proffered. "From whence do
>> >you hail?"
>>
>> "Oh, I rarely hail. Sometimes I rain a little,
>> snow lightly, thunder a bit perhaps, but I rarely
>> hail."
>
>Stephen grins. "Alright then, from whence do you come?"
"Whence? Thence!" Toby points to the door. "What's
behind Door Number One? only The Shadow knows!
Perhaps it's a room with a view, or maybe an apple
tree to climb and swing from. We must all hang
together, or we'll surely hang separately. But
what dreams may come when we have shuffled off
this mortal coil must give us pause. Is this the
pause that refreshes? Your screen display must be
refreshed, but don't touch that dial! We control
the vertical; we control the horizontal. Just
another tale from The Twilight Zone."
>> -Toby, otter pooka
>
>-Stephen, good-humored Dreamspeaker
-Toby, otter pooka
Jeff Huo
> Jeff Huo <je...@spundreams.net.nospam> writes:
> >kyl...@aol.com says...
> >> Jeff Huo <je...@spundreams.net.nospam> writes:
>
> >> >"Well met, Master Toby!" Stephen says warmly, apparently
> >> >concluding to run with the name proffered. "From whence do
> >> >you hail?"
> >>
> >> "Oh, I rarely hail. Sometimes I rain a little,
> >> snow lightly, thunder a bit perhaps, but I rarely
> >> hail."
> >
> >Stephen grins. "Alright then, from whence do you come?"
>
> "Whence? Thence!" Toby points to the door. "What's
> behind Door Number One? only The Shadow knows!
> Perhaps it's a room with a view, or maybe an apple
> tree to climb and swing from. We must all hang
> together, or we'll surely hang separately. But
> what dreams may come when we have shuffled off
> this mortal coil must give us pause. Is this the
> pause that refreshes? Your screen display must be
> refreshed, but don't touch that dial! We control
> the vertical; we control the horizontal. Just
> another tale from The Twilight Zone."
Stephen laughs, shaking his head in mock frustration.
"Master Toby," he mock-sighs, "just how am I going to get a
straight answer from you?"
> -Toby, otter pooka
-Stephen, Gallain Dreamspeaker
Straight Answer? From a Pooka! Ha! ;-)
Kylinn
>"We should report this...", the grey-clad man says to his companion.
>
>"Not so quickly, Alexei," he replies. "Commander Aristede did say
>that if this *was* what it appeared to be, we should indulge ourselves
>a little."
"Oh, dear, you missed the wedding!" A teenage boy calls to
them. "And the bachelor party was such a blast too - did you
misread your invitations? But there's a little cake left if you
want it." Most of The Magnificent Cake is still intact, actually.
>- ?s
-Toby, otter pooka
Marty Gleason Marty Gleason
<je...@spundreams.net.nospam> wrote:
<snip>
> >
> > "Gold is rare. Two legs kill for gold. you carry enough Gold that
> > would, probably, get you hunted. or worse."
>
> Stephen nods, acknowledging Padraic's astute point. "My
> blood is more dangerous to me in that regard, however, than
> my gold..."
>
> "The blood of a dozen lands runs in my veins," Stephen
> explains, not as a boast, but as a simple fact. "Irish,
> Scottish, Norse, African, Iroquois, Japanese, Mongol; by
> Kinfolk perhaps half the tribes, maybe. All pooled together,
> it gave me a strong flame of life --strong enough that I
> have been told my blood will give a leech many times more
> the power of a normal man's --or even a Garou's-- and from
> birth I have been stalked."
>
> Stephen looks grim. "I try to be harder prey than average."
"Good. Fact is, we tend not to use that word 'round here. IT offends
the help, an' makes people agnry. Especially when they use similar
words. "
> > > "But being reproductions, they have no value due to age --
> > > only that which comes from the inherent value of the gold
> > > and any value you might derive from the beauty," he smiles.
> >
> > "How do you charge for beauty?"
>
> "Charge?" Stephen asks, confused.
"You're tryin' to place a value on it--next step is chargin'"
> > > Stephen
> > > (grin) I like that philosophy!
> >
> >
> > Paddy
> > Ah, we will get along!
>
> Stephen
> I hope so. I think I could learn much from you.
Paddy
You want my drinks, don 't you?
Alistair J. R. Young
Jeff Huo <je...@spundreams.net.nospam> praised Shub-Internet thus:
>> "We should report this...", the grey-clad man says to his companion.
>>
>> "Not so quickly, Alexei," he replies. "Commander Aristede did say that
>> if this *was* what it appeared to be, we should indulge ourselves a
>> little."
> Stephen stands there a moment more, totally stunned.
> Then to the nearer man, he asks, confusedly, "Where in
> Dana's name are you two *from*?"
"Perhaps we should introduce ourselves first? I am Coran Timitrios; my
associate here is Alexei Vissarionovich."
"As for where we're from, our ship, as you see, is orbiting the third
rockball of the system in local units around twenty hours eight
minutes right ascension, minus sixty-six degrees and ten minutes
declination as of current epoch, nineteen point nine lights range,
Buttercup-cl-"
"Delta Pavonis Three."
"Thank you. Or to cut a long nomenclature short, Delta Pavonis
Three. And this, I presume, is the Wolves Glen Pub?"
> -Stephen
> *What* just happened?
- Coran Timitrios
Alexei Vissarionovich
--
e-mail: ava...@panix.com WWW: http://www.arkane.demon.co.uk/
UIN: 111585051 The Laura OS: http://lauraos.sourceforge.net/
"Who here is a system administrator?" A forest of hands are raised. "Now,
who of you believes that the end-users on your network have any rights?"
All hands are immediately lowered.
-- paraphrased from a Windows 2000 seminar on Group Policies
Ceredwyn 'Silverblue' Ealanta
> "As for where we're from, our ship, as you see, is orbiting the third
> rockball of the system in local units around twenty hours eight
> minutes right ascension, minus sixty-six degrees and ten minutes
> declination as of current epoch, nineteen point nine lights range,
> Buttercup-cl-"
> "Delta Pavonis Three."
> "Thank you. Or to cut a long nomenclature short, Delta Pavonis
> Three. And this, I presume, is the Wolves Glen Pub?"
Sissy, who was giving the exit a suspicious look blinks suddenly,
and her whorling eyes widen in...something shifting, a susserus
of air pulling inwards, a soft, gentle whistle. They have
borrowed something from that world. Just as they did from Damia's.
"Oh..." says Sissy, indistinctly, a childlike tone of utter
longing in her voice "That's so _beautiful_..."
Her eyes fill up with tiny snowflakes.
-- Sissy Mnemosyne.
Jeff Huo
82A73F.235...@netnews.attbi.com>,
officer...@attbi.com says...
> In article <MPG.16e0ddd0b...@news.itd.umich.edu>, Jeff Huo
> <je...@spundreams.net.nospam> wrote:
> <snip>
>
> the help, an' makes people agnry. Especially when they use similar
> words. "
[OOC: Assumably, this refers to the word 'leech.' ]
Stephen nods, seriously and in acknowledgement.
> > > > "But being reproductions, they have no value due to age --
> > > > only that which comes from the inherent value of the gold
> > > > and any value you might derive from the beauty," he smiles.
> > >
> > > "How do you charge for beauty?"
> >
> > "Charge?" Stephen asks, confused.
>
> "You're tryin' to place a value on it--next step is chargin'"
Stephen smiles. "Some men will give beauty additional value,
yes. I do not. The smile of delight I see when someone
expects an ordinary coin and gets something a little
different is price enough for me."
> Paddy
> You want my drinks, don 't you?
Stephen
I was raised to respect my Elders. :-)
Jeff Huo
"Alistair J. R. Young" wrote:
> On Sun, 24 Feb 2002 02:54:42 -0600, in message <MPG.16e2664df...@news.itd.umich.edu>,
> Jeff Huo <je...@spundreams.net.nospam> praised Shub-Internet thus:
> > In article <c1.2b8.2flH0w$3...@louise.arkane-systems.local>,
> > ava...@panix.com says...
>
> > Stephen stands there a moment more, totally stunned.
>
> > Then to the nearer man, he asks, confusedly, "Where in
> > Dana's name are you two *from*?"
>
> "Perhaps we should introduce ourselves first? I am Coran Timitrios; my
> associate here is Alexei Vissarionovich."
>
> "As for where we're from, our ship, as you see, is orbiting the third
> rockball of the system in local units around twenty hours eight
> minutes right ascension, minus sixty-six degrees and ten minutes
> declination as of current epoch, nineteen point nine lights range,
> Buttercup-cl-"
>
> "Delta Pavonis Three."
>
> "Thank you. Or to cut a long nomenclature short, Delta Pavonis
> Three. And this, I presume, is the Wolves Glen Pub?"
Stephen nods hurriedly. "No, but the door...it
opens into the Dreaming! How did you...."
Realization dawns.
"The Pub front door is a portal, isn't it?"
Stephen remarks to noone in particular.
"Then how did you," he asks the Eldrae,
"find your way here?"
> > -Stephen
> > *What* just happened?
>
> - Coran Timitrios
> Alexei Vissarionovich
-Stephen Macgowan
Alistair J. R. Young
Jeff Huo <je...@spundreams.net.nospam> praised Shub-Internet thus:
>> "As for where we're from, our ship, as you see, is orbiting the third
>> rockball of the system in local units around twenty hours eight
>> minutes right ascension, minus sixty-six degrees and ten minutes
>> declination as of current epoch, nineteen point nine lights range,
>> Buttercup-cl-"
>>
>> "Delta Pavonis Three."
>>
>> "Thank you. Or to cut a long nomenclature short, Delta Pavonis
>> Three. And this, I presume, is the Wolves Glen Pub?"
> Stephen nods hurriedly. "No, but the door...it
> opens into the Dreaming! How did you...."
"Not ours it doesn't, it opens into cargo hold four, level seven,
subsect one-three-two. And sleeping in it's against regs."
> Realization dawns.
> "The Pub front door is a portal, isn't it?"
> Stephen remarks to noone in particular.
> "Then how did you," he asks the Eldrae,
(ooc: Er, no. Both human to six decimal places, not that that should
stop members of the SBC from e-mailing me if they really feel like
checking. Also, note the difference in uniforms.)
> "find your way here?"
"There were five personnel doors on level seven this morning. Not a
great cause for conternation, except that yesterday, there were four
such doors. Such an odd phenomenon naturally calls for a few daring
souls to investigate it, and boldly go where no man has been able to
go before..."
"...but they were all busy, so we got the job."
> -Stephen Macgowan
- Coran Timitrios
--
e-mail: ava...@panix.com WWW: http://www.arkane.demon.co.uk/
UIN: 111585051 The Laura OS: http://lauraos.sourceforge.net/
"I'm sick and tired of being called evil by pompous elven tree-huggers and
others of their ilk, just because a few of my spells are not suitable for
small children and pets. And while we're on the subject, how come white
gets to be on top?" -- from a r.g.deckmaster discussion about black spells.
Alistair J. R. Young
Ceredwyn 'Silverblue' Ealanta <silve...@gothbunny.net> praised Shub-Internet thus:
> Alistair J. R. Young wrote:
>> "As for where we're from, our ship, as you see, is orbiting the third
>> rockball of the system in local units around twenty hours eight
>> minutes right ascension, minus sixty-six degrees and ten minutes
>> declination as of current epoch, nineteen point nine lights range,
>> Buttercup-cl-"
>> "Delta Pavonis Three."
>> "Thank you. Or to cut a long nomenclature short, Delta Pavonis
>> Three. And this, I presume, is the Wolves Glen Pub?"
> Sissy, who was giving the exit a suspicious look blinks suddenly,
> and her whorling eyes widen in...something shifting, a susserus
> of air pulling inwards, a soft, gentle whistle. They have
> borrowed something from that world. Just as they did from Damia's.
> "Oh..." says Sissy, indistinctly, a childlike tone of utter
> longing in her voice "That's so _beautiful_..."
> Her eyes fill up with tiny snowflakes.
This stops the leading man in his tracks.
"Well, we quite like it. As cryostorage holds go?"
> -- Sissy Mnemosyne.
- Coran Timitrios
Er?
--
e-mail: ava...@panix.com WWW: http://www.arkane.demon.co.uk/
UIN: 111585051 The Laura OS: http://lauraos.sourceforge.net/
"Help! Help! Come see the violence inherent in the sysadmin!"
-- Mike Sphar <mi...@matches.com>
Becka
wrote:
>> "The Pub front door is a portal, isn't it?"
>> Stephen remarks to noone in particular.
"Oh yes," says Lindara.
<snip>
>"There were five personnel doors on level seven this morning. Not a
>great cause for conternation, except that yesterday, there were four
>such doors. Such an odd phenomenon naturally calls for a few daring
>souls to investigate it, and boldly go where no man has been able to
>go before..."
>
>"...but they were all busy, so we got the job."
"The crazy Wolves Glen Pub, you've just got to love it. It just keeps
you guessing." Lindara says wryly.
Lindara
who's is wondering just how long it is going to be before someone
decides if the door can open anywhere they're going to confuse the
hell out of everyone by bringing in someone from the time before.
ooc: don't look at me. I may have succumbed to weakness and purchased
Exalted (8,6,4!) but I don't have the guts. It would almost be worth
it just to see the look on the fae when they found out they were sent
by the Wyld to destroy creation (you see all the big three are at it)
or the vampires when they find out they didn't build the first city...
there were loads of cities that sort of vanished or the werewolves
when they find out that by the time the instituted the Impergium the
human population had already gone through at least two major crashes.
(well one actually but I'm guessing there'll be a second)
--
Rebecca Sutton
tama...@tiscali.co.uk
"It's actually safe to create a universe in your basement"
quote by a physicist Alan Guth in Horizon Documentary 14/02/02
Just in case you don't believe me -- there's a transcript on the BBCs Horizon site.
Ceredwyn Ealanta
> > longing in her voice "That's so _beautiful_..."
> > Her eyes fill up with tiny snowflakes.
> This stops the leading man in his tracks.
> "Well, we quite like it. As cryostorage holds go?"
Her eyes - pupils present, but the iris hollow, are now swirling with tiny
crystalline structures. That's possibly less peculiar than the bloody hole
that's somewhat covered up by duct tape in her chest, opened for inspection
by the Magi she's standing near.
"They're wonderful," she continues in a somewhat dazed voice, her Australian
accent broad and heavy "Please...can I talk to them?"
> - Coran Timitrios
> Er?
-- Sissy Mnemosyne. Ghostbuster.
Geoffrey Brent
> Lindara
> who's is wondering just how long it is going to be before someone
> decides if the door can open anywhere they're going to confuse the
> hell out of everyone by bringing in someone from the time before.
OOC: We've used it before to bring in earlier versions of the same
characters, ranging from twenty years to about a thousand years in
the past IIRC.
Geoffrey
--
NOTE: Because of the volume of illegal/malicious material
I have been receiving from AOL, and their unwillingness
to act on such use, I no longer accept email from AOL
accounts. Sorry for the inconvenience.
Jeff Huo
ava...@panix.com says...
> On Tue, 26 Feb 2002 09:27:09 -0500, in message <3C7B9B3D...@spundreams.net.nospam>,
> Jeff Huo <je...@spundreams.net.nospam> praised Shub-Internet thus:
> > "Alistair J. R. Young" wrote:
>
> > Realization dawns.
>
> > "The Pub front door is a portal, isn't it?"
> > Stephen remarks to noone in particular.
>
> > "find your way here?"
>
> "There were five personnel doors on level seven this morning. Not a
> great cause for conternation, except that yesterday, there were four
> such doors. Such an odd phenomenon naturally calls for a few daring
> souls to investigate it, and boldly go where no man has been able to
> go before..."
>
> "...but they were all busy, so we got the job."
Stephen nods.
"What year?" he asks.
> - Coran Timitrios
-Stephen MacGowan
Alistair J. R. Young
Jeff Huo <je...@spundreams.net.nospam> praised Shub-Internet thus:
> ava...@panix.com says...
>> "There were five personnel doors on level seven this morning. Not a
>> great cause for conternation, except that yesterday, there were four
>> such doors. Such an odd phenomenon naturally calls for a few daring
>> souls to investigate it, and boldly go where no man has been able to
>> go before..."
>>
>> "...but they were all busy, so we got the job."
> Stephen nods.
> "What year?" he asks.
"7924," Coran replies, before Alexei calls back "2003, just ending, to
you."
> -Stephen MacGowan
- Coran & Alexei
--
e-mail: ava...@panix.com WWW: http://www.arkane.demon.co.uk/
UIN: 111585051 The Laura OS: http://lauraos.sourceforge.net/
"I said it was an upgrade. I didn't say it was better."
Alistair J. R. Young
Ceredwyn Ealanta <silve...@gothbunny.net> praised Shub-Internet thus:
> "Alistair J. R. Young" <ava...@panix.com> wrote:
>> > "Oh..." says Sissy, indistinctly, a childlike tone of utter
>> > longing in her voice "That's so _beautiful_..."
>> > Her eyes fill up with tiny snowflakes.
>> This stops the leading man in his tracks.
>> "Well, we quite like it. As cryostorage holds go?"
> Her eyes - pupils present, but the iris hollow, are now swirling with tiny
> crystalline structures. That's possibly less peculiar than the bloody hole
> that's somewhat covered up by duct tape in her chest, opened for inspection
> by the Magi she's standing near.
Coran does seem to have noticed that, but has the look of someone
running through possible ways to mention it and throwing most of them
away before completing the sentence.
Eventually (below), he settles for the obvious line.
> "They're wonderful," she continues in a somewhat dazed voice, her Australian
> accent broad and heavy "Please...can I talk to them?"
"Talk to who?," he asks, half-turning. "Oh! Them - well, I don't see
why not, if you'd like to."
"Presumably," he adds delicately, "you are aware that there's a large
hole in your chest?"
> -- Sissy Mnemosyne. Ghostbuster.
- Coran Timitrios
Now, it's not that I haven't seen people with those before, but they
were all lying very still and decomposing at the time.
--
e-mail: ava...@panix.com WWW: http://www.arkane.demon.co.uk/
UIN: 111585051 The Laura OS: http://lauraos.sourceforge.net/
milliHamlet: the average coherency of prose created by a single monkey typing
randomly on a keyboard. Usenet postings may be rated in mHl.
Alistair J. R. Young
Becka <tama...@tiscali.co.uknospam> praised Shub-Internet thus:
>> such doors. Such an odd phenomenon naturally calls for a few daring
>> souls to investigate it, and boldly go where no man has been able to
>> go before..."
>>
>> "...but they were all busy, so we got the job."
> "The crazy Wolves Glen Pub, you've just got to love it. It just keeps
> you guessing." Lindara says wryly.
"I'm quite looking forward to seeing it," he says. "There's a lot
about this place in the files, of course, but being here is something
else."
> Lindara
> who's is wondering just how long it is going to be before someone
> decides if the door can open anywhere they're going to confuse the
> hell out of everyone by bringing in someone from the time before.
- Coran
Oh, now that *would* be interesting.
--
e-mail: ava...@panix.com WWW: http://www.arkane.demon.co.uk/
UIN: 111585051 The Laura OS: http://lauraos.sourceforge.net/
"Coding is easy: All you do is sit staring at a terminal until the drops of
blood form on your forehead."
-- Simon Cozens <pemb...@sable.ox.ac.uk>
Alistair J. R. Young
Kylinn <kyl...@aol.com> praised Shub-Internet thus:
"Well, that's awfully kind of you, thanks. Are the happy couple still
here?"
> -Toby, otter pooka
- Coran
--
e-mail: ava...@panix.com WWW: http://www.arkane.demon.co.uk/
UIN: 111585051 The Laura OS: http://lauraos.sourceforge.net/
"The aggressor is a man of peace. He wants nothing more than to march into
a neighbouring country unresisted."
-- Clausewitz
Becka
wrote:
<snip>
>>> such doors. Such an odd phenomenon naturally calls for a few daring
>>> souls to investigate it, and boldly go where no man has been able to
>>> go before..."
>>>
>>> "...but they were all busy, so we got the job."
>
>> "The crazy Wolves Glen Pub, you've just got to love it. It just keeps
>> you guessing." Lindara says wryly.
>
>"I'm quite looking forward to seeing it," he says. "There's a lot
>about this place in the files, of course, but being here is something
>else."
"Just be prepared for anything from the sublime to the ridiculous.
Couldn't you send a probe or something? I mean if it hadn't been the
Glen you could have been in the shit."
>> Lindara
>> who's is wondering just how long it is going to be before someone
>> decides if the door can open anywhere they're going to confuse the
>> hell out of everyone by bringing in someone from the time before.
>
>- Coran
> Oh, now that *would* be interesting.
Lindara
No doubt the Pub could do it but I don't have the courage ... yet. I
only got the book at the weekend and while Brynhild (the character I
created and yes I did name her after a valkyrie) is already fairly
well formed in my head I'm not sure I could deal with the immediate
reaction she'd have to the Glen yet. (Okay well it would be what the
...!) but after that.
Becka
<g.b...@student.unsw.edu.NOS.PAM.au> wrote:
>Becka wrote:
>
>
>> Lindara
>> who's is wondering just how long it is going to be before someone
>> decides if the door can open anywhere they're going to confuse the
>> hell out of everyone by bringing in someone from the time before.
>
>OOC: We've used it before to bring in earlier versions of the same
>characters, ranging from twenty years to about a thousand years in
>the past IIRC.
ooc: yep but those characters were still part of the WoD. This would
be different.
Kylinn
>> "Oh, dear, you missed the wedding!" A teenage boy calls to
>> them. "And the bachelor party was such a blast too - did you
>> misread your invitations? But there's a little cake left if you
>> want it." Most of The Magnificent Cake is still intact, actually.
>
>"Well, that's awfully kind of you, thanks. Are the happy couple still
>here?"
"Yes, but the bride and groom aren't." Toby snickers. "You just
missed them. You'll have to practice your aim a bit, I guess. I
mean, I hit them both directly - wham! - with big sacks of rice,
so I don't know why anyone else would miss them. Though Alan's a
lot to miss. It's infinitely quieter in here without him talking
- chatter, chatter, chatter - all the time. And reciting that
soppy poetry he writes - he's even mushier than Paddy; and that's
pretty mushy. But Pearl likes that, I guess because she's so shy
she likes to have someone else to talk for her."
"You want some popcorn?"
>> -Toby, otter pooka
>
>- Coran
-Toby, otter pooka
Alistair J. R. Young
Becka <tama...@tiscali.co.uknospam> praised Shub-Internet thus:
>> "I'm quite looking forward to seeing it," he says. "There's a lot
>> about this place in the files, of course, but being here is something
>> else."
> "Just be prepared for anything from the sublime to the ridiculous.
> Couldn't you send a probe or something? I mean if it hadn't been the
> Glen you could have been in the shit."
"Well, we had a fair idea of the where beforehand, and if there had
been a problem we could just have shut the door again. And moved the
ship - although that hopefully won't be too much of a problem once we
leave."
> Lindara
- Coran
--
e-mail: ava...@panix.com WWW: http://www.arkane.demon.co.uk/
UIN: 111585051 The Laura OS: http://lauraos.sourceforge.net/
"Stand back everyone. This is the first stage of the metamorphosis which
eventually converts a moderately pleasant personality into an evil, nasty,
mean, mad, and power crazy system administrator. You have my sympathy. It can
happen to the best of us." -- Jeff Liebermann in a.t-s.r
Ceredwyn 'Silverblue' Ealanta
> "Talk to who?," he asks, half-turning. "Oh! Them - well, I don't see
> why not, if you'd like to."
"Really?" she says longingly, then pauses and looks a
little embarassed "But I really want to get fixed up
first. Do you think they'd mind?"
She says this shyly, a tone which seems to be rather
unaccustomed for her.
"I'd rather wait until I didn't look so unfinished."
> "Presumably," he adds delicately, "you are aware that there's a large
> hole in your chest?"
"Yes," she says distractedly "A God bit me. Kronos and
Stephen and Li Chi are going to fix me."
> - Coran Timitrios
> Now, it's not that I haven't seen people with those before, but they
> were all lying very still and decomposing at the time.
-- Sissy Mnemosyne. Ghostbuster.
They lacked ambition, damnit.
Wildwind
>
> > "Presumably," he adds delicately, "you are aware that there's a large
> > hole in your chest?"
>
>
> "Yes," she says distractedly "A God bit me. Kronos and
> Stephen and Li Chi are going to fix me."
A small Oriental gent with a large, once white coat with many pockets
and huge feet, looks up at Coran through a magnifying glass and grins
as well as anyone with one tooth can.
>
>
> > - Coran Timitrios
> > Now, it's not that I haven't seen people with those before, but they
> > were all lying very still and decomposing at the time.
>
>
> -- Sissy Mnemosyne. Ghostbuster.
> They lacked ambition, damnit.
-Li Chi
Loi chào hoi ai
Alistair J. R. Young
Ceredwyn 'Silverblue' Ealanta <silve...@gothbunny.net> praised Shub-Internet thus:
> Alistair J. R. Young wrote:
>> "Talk to who?," he asks, half-turning. "Oh! Them - well, I don't see
>> why not, if you'd like to."
> "Really?" she says longingly, then pauses and looks a
> little embarassed "But I really want to get fixed up
> first. Do you think they'd mind?"
> She says this shyly, a tone which seems to be rather
> unaccustomed for her.
> "I'd rather wait until I didn't look so unfinished."
"No, I don't think they'd mind. They'd probably appreciate it,
actually, being what they are."
>> "Presumably," he adds delicately, "you are aware that there's a large
>> hole in your chest?"
> "Yes," she says distractedly "A God bit me. Kronos and
> Stephen and Li Chi are going to fix me."
Whatever Coran was about to say is effaced by a burst of sudden
realisation - well, of putting two and two together to make
*something*, anyway - and a low bow.
"Forgive me for not recognising you immediately, Divine One."
> -- Sissy Mnemosyne. Ghostbuster.
> They lacked ambition, damnit.
- Coran Timitrios
Presence of incarnate deities not mentioned in file. Those buggers
at Central are going to owe me drinks for the next fifty years.
--
e-mail: ava...@panix.com WWW: http://www.arkane.demon.co.uk/
UIN: 111585051 The Laura OS: http://lauraos.sourceforge.net/
"Umm... Excuse me. I think the network's down...?"
"A communications disruption can only mean one thing... invasion."
-- Lee Maguire, in the SDM, teaching us how to make people go away
Alistair J. R. Young
Kylinn <kyl...@aol.com> praised Shub-Internet thus:
> "Yes, but the bride and groom aren't." Toby snickers. "You just
> missed them. You'll have to practice your aim a bit, I guess. I
> mean, I hit them both directly - wham! - with big sacks of rice,
> so I don't know why anyone else would miss them. Though Alan's a
> lot to miss. It's infinitely quieter in here without him talking
> - chatter, chatter, chatter - all the time. And reciting that
> soppy poetry he writes - he's even mushier than Paddy; and that's
> pretty mushy. But Pearl likes that, I guess because she's so shy
> she likes to have someone else to talk for her."
Coran gets the same brief abstracted look that Cordelia used to
specialise in.
"That's probably for the best. If it's the same people of those names
and we'd arrived before they left it might have caused a rather nasty
temporal plication, and then when would we have been?"
> "You want some popcorn?"
"I won't, thank you, I've just had lunch."
> -Toby, otter pooka
- Coran
Algiprote soup, followed by a nice algiprote steak with algiprote
salad, followed by a *delicious* algiprote crumble.
--
e-mail: ava...@panix.com WWW: http://www.arkane.demon.co.uk/
UIN: 111585051 The Laura OS: http://lauraos.sourceforge.net/
"I looked at it, agreed that it wasn't in her job description, borrowed one
of her pens, wrote it in, dated and initialed the change, and handed the
updated job description to her, saying 'Now it is.'"
-- Mike Andrews, in the scary devil monastery
Kylinn
>Kylinn <kyl...@aol.com> praised Shub-Internet thus:
>
>> "Yes, but the bride and groom aren't." Toby snickers. "You just
>> missed them. You'll have to practice your aim a bit, I guess. I
>> mean, I hit them both directly - wham! - with big sacks of rice,
>> so I don't know why anyone else would miss them. Though Alan's a
>> lot to miss. It's infinitely quieter in here without him talking
>> - chatter, chatter, chatter - all the time. And reciting that
>> soppy poetry he writes - he's even mushier than Paddy; and that's
>> pretty mushy. But Pearl likes that, I guess because she's so shy
>> she likes to have someone else to talk for her."
>
>Coran gets the same brief abstracted look that Cordelia used to
>specialise in.
>
>"That's probably for the best. If it's the same people of those names
>and we'd arrived before they left it might have caused a rather nasty
>temporal plication, and then when would we have been?"
"Schnectedy?"
>> "You want some popcorn?"
>
>"I won't, thank you, I've just had lunch."
"Oh, then you'll certainly want some of that
beautiful cake for dessert!"
>- Coran
> Algiprote soup, followed by a nice algiprote steak with algiprote
> salad, followed by a *delicious* algiprote crumble.
-Toby, otter pooka
*dubious look*
Ceredwyn 'Silverblue' Ealanta
>>She says this shyly, a tone which seems to be rather
>>unaccustomed for her.
>>"I'd rather wait until I didn't look so unfinished."
> "No, I don't think they'd mind. They'd probably appreciate it,
> actually, being what they are."
"I remember," she says, a little sadly.
>>>"Presumably," he adds delicately, "you are aware that there's a large
>>>hole in your chest?"
>>"Yes," she says distractedly "A God bit me. Kronos and
>>Stephen and Li Chi are going to fix me."
> Whatever Coran was about to say is effaced by a burst of sudden
> realisation - well, of putting two and two together to make
> *something*, anyway - and a low bow.
Sissy blinks, her whirlpool eyes making the slightest of 'shick'
noises as she does so.
> "Forgive me for not recognising you immediately, Divine One."
"Please...I'm not Klio anymore. She's gone - I'm what remains.
I'm not a God now."
But she seems pleased, none the less. Her lovely skin has taken
on a soft glow, shedding light slightly against her hair.
> - Coran Timitrios
> Presence of incarnate deities not mentioned in file. Those buggers
> at Central are going to owe me drinks for the next fifty years.
-- Sissy Mnemosyne, Ghostbuster.
I'm only a very _minor_ incarnate deity.
Alistair J. R. Young
Kylinn <kyl...@aol.com> praised Shub-Internet thus:
> Alistair J. R. Young <ava...@panix.com> writes:
>> Coran gets the same brief abstracted look that Cordelia used to
>> specialise in.
>>
>> "That's probably for the best. If it's the same people of those names
>> and we'd arrived before they left it might have caused a rather nasty
>> temporal plication, and then when would we have been?"
> "Schnectedy?"
"Ah, but *when* is the question. Wherever Schnectedy is, it would be a
lot less pleasant if one were to arrive there to find a dinosaur
warning you off his nice patch of Jurassic rain-forest, or some such
thing."
>> "I won't, thank you, I've just had lunch."
> "Oh, then you'll certainly want some of that
> beautiful cake for dessert!"
"It would be a shame to spoil such a magnificent structure. Besides,
even now we get a three-course lunch. Granted, nearly all of it is
algiprote, but they've got quite good at disguising it."
>> - Coran
>> Algiprote soup, followed by a nice algiprote steak with algiprote
>> salad, followed by a *delicious* algiprote crumble.
> -Toby, otter pooka
> *dubious look*
- Coran
Ah, you've spotted the common factor.
--
e-mail: ava...@panix.com WWW: http://www.arkane.demon.co.uk/
UIN: 111585051 The Laura OS: http://lauraos.sourceforge.net/
"My son wanted a cowboy outfit for Christmas. So I bought him a PC dealership."
cd skogsberg
>Realization dawns.
>"The Pub front door is a portal, isn't it?"
>Stephen remarks to noone in particular.
[OOC: One can hardly leave such a straight line floating in the void,
as it were, can one?]
Two cars pull up in the parking lot outside the Pub... or rather, one
car and one rather battered small all-terrain truck, its tarp-covered
flatbed suggesting the shapes of a number of boxes, crates, and
barrels; it's impossible to make out the truck's original colour
beyond "grayish-brown-green".
The truck cabin's driver-side door opens, and a tall, rather rangy
figure steps out, walks over to the car and leans forward as if
talking to someone in it, whereupon the car pulls out of the lot and
drives off. The person walks up to the door, opens it and steps in...
She's somewhere between twenty and twenty-five, though at first look
you'd think she was older - perhaps due to the distant look in her icy
blue right eye, the thousand-yard stare of one who has "seen the
elephant", and the eyepatch over her left, where a large scar runs
from her temple down to mid-cheek, pulling her mouth into a permanent
half-sneer. Five foot eleven, maybe six feet in height, wiry but with
visible muscles, close-cropped black hair over an angular face with
pronounced cheekbones and a hatchet-sharp nose. She's wearing sturdy
boots, gray-brown speckled arctic camouflage BDU pants, an open jacket
of some unidentifiable material with numerous pockets, and a Winter-
kälte t-shirt. Mahri may recognize her, though the scar is new.
She throws a quick glance over the pub, and walks up to the bar...
/...And I'm back
Kylinn
>Kylinn <kyl...@aol.com> praised Shub-Internet thus:
>> Alistair J. R. Young <ava...@panix.com> writes:
>>> Coran gets the same brief abstracted look that Cordelia used to
>>> specialise in.
>>>
>>> "That's probably for the best. If it's the same people of those names
>>> and we'd arrived before they left it might have caused a rather nasty
>>> temporal plication, and then when would we have been?"
>
>> "Schnectedy?"
>
>"Ah, but *when* is the question. Wherever Schnectedy is, it would be a
>lot less pleasant if one were to arrive there to find a dinosaur
>warning you off his nice patch of Jurassic rain-forest, or some such
>thing."
"I don't think that happens around here," Toby says
earnestly. "Though it would be a lot of fun if it did."
>>> "I won't, thank you, I've just had lunch."
>
>> "Oh, then you'll certainly want some of that
>> beautiful cake for dessert!"
>
>"It would be a shame to spoil such a magnificent structure.
"I don't think that's possible."
>Besides, even now we get a three-course lunch. Granted, nearly all of it
>is algiprote, but they've got quite good at disguising it."
"What's algiprote? It sounds like something fish an'
whales an' seamonsters would eat."
>>> - Coran
>>> Algiprote soup, followed by a nice algiprote steak with algiprote
>>> salad, followed by a *delicious* algiprote crumble.
>
>> -Toby, otter pooka
>> *dubious look*
>
>- Coran
> Ah, you've spotted the common factor.
-Toby, otter pooka
Greens are what food eats.
Ceredwyn Ealanta
> The truck cabin's driver-side door opens, and a tall, rather rangy
> figure steps out, walks over to the car and leans forward as if
> talking to someone in it, whereupon the car pulls out of the lot and
> drives off. The person walks up to the door, opens it and steps in...
A boy (http://www.wgp.org/adesc.shtml for details) at the bar looks up
at her briefly, and curiously, then returns to...pulling faces at a somewhat
older boy.
Literally, apparently.
-- Peregrine William Rodan, Tzimisce.
Kylinn
>The truck cabin's driver-side door opens, and a tall, rather rangy
>figure steps out, walks over to the car and leans forward as if
>talking to someone in it, whereupon the car pulls out of the lot and
>drives off. The person walks up to the door, opens it and steps in...
<snip>
>Mahri may recognize her, though the scar is new.
[ooc: Too bad Crys just bowed out for a while due to Real
Life being excessively busy. :-( ... Might any other
characters here might recognize her? Paddy, Rowen, Shane?)
>She throws a quick glance over the pub, and walks up to the bar...
"Hi!" A teenage boy in shorts and t-shirt bats a balloon
toward the newcomer.
>/...And I'm back
-Toby, otter pooka
(Further description at http://www.parlorcity.net/wgp/)
[ooc: Unfortunately, things seem to be a bit dead around
here at the moment, and I'm not talking about the vampires.
But that should change sooner or later, as these things do.
Welcome back! --Ky]
cd skogsberg
>d97...@dtek.chalmers.se (cd skogsberg) writes:
>
>>The truck cabin's driver-side door opens, and a tall, rather rangy
>>figure steps out, walks over to the car and leans forward as if
>>talking to someone in it, whereupon the car pulls out of the lot and
>>drives off. The person walks up to the door, opens it and steps in...
><snip>
>>Mahri may recognize her, though the scar is new.
>[ooc: Too bad Crys just bowed out for a while due to Real
>Life being excessively busy. :-( ... Might any other
>characters here might recognize her? Paddy, Rowen, Shane?)
[OOC: she spent a while chatting with Mahri last fall, but that's
about it.]
>>She throws a quick glance over the pub, and walks up to the bar...
>"Hi!" A teenage boy in shorts and t-shirt bats a balloon
>toward the newcomer.
She turns towards him, and catches the balloon with her forehead,
butting it back towards him.
"And a good afternoon to you too."
>>/...And I'm back
>-Toby, otter pooka
> (Further description at http://www.parlorcity.net/wgp/)
/the blow-in (or is that -up?)
Kylinn
>Kylinn <kyl...@aol.com> wrote:
>>d97...@dtek.chalmers.se (cd skogsberg) writes:
>><snip>
>>>Mahri may recognize her, though the scar is new.
>
>>[ooc: Too bad Crys just bowed out for a while due to Real
>>Life being excessively busy. :-( ... Might any other
>>characters here might recognize her? Paddy, Rowen, Shane?)
>
>[OOC: she spent a while chatting with Mahri last fall, but that's
>about it.]
[ooc: Ah, that character; the one who was here briefly while
Blaze and the Sibyl and so on were, yes? One of the two of
yours who came in wearing winter gear just perfectly timed to
make us all the more paranoid. <g> ... So Toby might have seen
her but I know he didn't speak with her before.]
>>>She throws a quick glance over the pub, and walks up to the bar...
>
>>"Hi!" A teenage boy in shorts and t-shirt bats a balloon
>>toward the newcomer.
>
>She turns towards him, and catches the balloon with her forehead,
>butting it back towards him.
>
>"And a good afternoon to you too."
"Why, thank you!" He beams and bats the balloon back.
"So few people have ever gifted me with a portion of
time before!"
>/the blow-in (or is that -up?)
-Toby, otter pooka
cd skogsberg
She grins at him. "But you must remember to use it wisely!"
>>/the blow-in (or is that -up?)
>-Toby, otter pooka
/the blow-in
Kylinn
unused balloons for the impromptu wet-teeshirt contest
he and Perry are plotting^W discussing.
On the way, he'll pocket some of the firecrackers that
Marvin so thoughtfully provided, and which ended up not
being used.
-Toby, otter pooka
Waste not, want not!
Kylinn
>Kylinn <kyl...@aol.com> wrote:
>>d97...@dtek.chalmers.se (cd skogsberg) writes:
>>>"And a good afternoon to you too."
>
>>"Why, thank you!" He beams and bats the balloon back.
>>"So few people have ever gifted me with a portion of
>>time before!"
>
>She grins at him. "But you must remember to use it wisely!"
"Oh, but that's how I do everything," he says cheerfully.
"Never do a thing without carefully considering all the
angles and possible consequences."
"Besides, that's just what I bought my new watch for,
to keep careful track of time and keep me organized."
He displays the magical hourglass wristwatch the Sibyl
gave him, watching to see how the sands react when
extended toward her. *
>/the blow-in
-Toby, otter pooka
*Anyone whose character(s) Toby extends his watch toward,
please let Ceredwyn know if there's anything time-funky
about your character, such as time travel or long life,
or if there's nothing funky, so she can describe the watch's
reactions properly. (Or if you have something that would
prevent the watch's magic from working on you, of course.)
Thanks!
Kylinn
> "Originally, I am from Persia, but I've never been there.
"Wow!" Toby's eyes widen. "Being from a place you've
never been - that's sure a neat trick!"
> I was born in Iraq, grew up near Garner - it's a small
> town in New England - and I study in Arkham. And yourself?"
"Yes, exactly the same!" Toby looks astonished
and excited. "Maybe you're my long-lost sister!"
> Zim
-Toby, otter pooka
Geoffrey Brent
>>"Originally, I am from Persia, but I've never been there.
>>
>
> "Wow!" Toby's eyes widen. "Being from a place you've
> never been - that's sure a neat trick!"
An indulgent smile. "My parents both came from Persia.
Or Iran, as it's called now. So I come from Persia, but
I was born after they left it."
>>I was born in Iraq, grew up near Garner - it's a small
>>town in New England - and I study in Arkham. And yourself?"
>>
>
> "Yes, exactly the same!" Toby looks astonished
> and excited. "Maybe you're my long-lost sister!"
Zim looks at him sceptically. "And where are you _really_
from?"
Zim
Kylinn
>Kylinn wrote:
>> Geoffrey writes:
>>>"Originally, I am from Persia, but I've never been there.
>>
>> "Wow!" Toby's eyes widen. "Being from a place you've
>> never been - that's sure a neat trick!"
>
>An indulgent smile. "My parents both came from Persia.
>Or Iran, as it's called now. So I come from Persia, but
>I was born after they left it."
"Oh, well, do it the _easy way."
>>>I was born in Iraq, grew up near Garner - it's a small
>>>town in New England - and I study in Arkham. And yourself?"
>>
>> "Yes, exactly the same!" Toby looks astonished
>> and excited. "Maybe you're my long-lost sister!"
>
>Zim looks at him sceptically. "And where are you _really_
>from?"
He smirks and says in a Maxwell Smart accent, "Would
you believe... A castle in Tir Na N'og?"
He tilts his head. "How about a mansion in Cold Spring
Harbor?"
Shrug. "A split-level in South Jersey?"
"Anyway," he adds, "I don't know why you don't believe
I'm your long-lost brother. Isn't it obvious that we
could be twins?" (Well, they're about the same height,
anyway.)
"I knew as soon as you walked in that there was something
special about you; what else could it be? Unless perhaps
... could it be love at first sight?" He puts a hand to
his forehead as if swooning.
>Zim
-Toby, otter pooka
Go ahead, try to get a straight answer.
Geoffrey Brent
> >>>I was born in Iraq, grew up near Garner - it's a small
> >>>town in New England - and I study in Arkham. And yourself?"
> >>
> >> "Yes, exactly the same!" Toby looks astonished
> >> and excited. "Maybe you're my long-lost sister!"
> >
> >Zim looks at him sceptically. "And where are you _really_
> >from?"
>
> He smirks and says in a Maxwell Smart accent, "Would
> you believe... A castle in Tir Na N'og?"
She looks at him sceptically.
> He tilts his head. "How about a mansion in Cold Spring
> Harbor?"
A raised eyebrow.
> Shrug. "A split-level in South Jersey?"
"That sounds more likely."
> "Anyway," he adds, "I don't know why you don't believe
> I'm your long-lost brother. Isn't it obvious that we
> could be twins?" (Well, they're about the same height,
> anyway.)
"I'll take that as a compliment."
> "I knew as soon as you walked in that there was something
> special about you; what else could it be? Unless perhaps
> ... could it be love at first sight?" He puts a hand to
> his forehead as if swooning.
"I thought that was a myth?"
Zim
--
NOTE: Because of the volume of illegal/malicious material
I have been receiving from AOL, and their unwillingness
to act on such use, I no longer accept email from AOL
accounts. Sorry for the inconvenience.
Wildwind
>
> "I knew as soon as you walked in that there was something
> special about you; what else could it be? Unless perhaps
> ... could it be love at first sight?" He puts a hand to
> his forehead as if swooning.
Wildwind splutters into her Guiness and says "Clark Gable eat your
heart out" she winks at Zim and carries on in her best Penelope
Pitstop accent "Why when little ol' me first met young Master Toby my
little ol' heart was all aflutter" she clasps her hands, giggles and
flutters her eyelids dramatically.
[OoC:Where'd everyone go!, looks like they've all had a bad case of
Real Life at the same time :)]
> -Toby, otter pooka
> Go ahead, try to get a straight answer.
-Wildwind
You mean you haven't been telling the truth!......i'm
shocked!.....NOT! ;)
cd skogsberg
>Literally, apparently.
She grins at him, and says "Hasn't anyone told you that your face
might get stuck that way? Mind you, you're very talented."
> -- Peregrine William Rodan, Tzimisce.
/the blow-in
cd skogsberg
>d97...@dtek.chalmers.se (cd skogsberg) writes:
>>Kylinn <kyl...@aol.com> wrote:
>>>d97...@dtek.chalmers.se (cd skogsberg) writes:
>>>>"And a good afternoon to you too."
>>>"Why, thank you!" He beams and bats the balloon back. "So few
>>>people have ever gifted me with a portion of time before!"
>>She grins at him. "But you must remember to use it wisely!"
>"Oh, but that's how I do everything," he says cheerfully. "Never do
>a thing without carefully considering all the angles and possible
>consequences."
"Good to hear. Far too many people are extremely reckless. Jumping
headfirst down a garbage disposal chute to catch a shirt, stuff like
that."
[OOC: yes, that actually happened here a while ago. He got stuck.]
>"Besides, that's just what I bought my new watch for, to keep careful
>track of time and keep me organized."
"Ooh, *very* nifty. Sort of Dali-esque, wouldn't you say?"
>He displays the magical hourglass wristwatch the Sibyl gave him,
>watching to see how the sands react when extended toward her. *
>>/the blow-in
>-Toby, otter pooka
/the blow-in
>*Anyone whose character(s) Toby extends his watch toward, please let
>Ceredwyn know if there's anything time-funky about your character,
>such as time travel or long life, or if there's nothing funky [...]
[OOC: No funky things here.]
Kylinn
>[OoC:Where'd everyone go!, looks like they've all had a bad case of
>Real Life at the same time :)]
Dunno about some of them, but Jeff got buried by med school
(as happens periodically) and Alistair's computer just went
south (something about the upper drive on his server being hot
enough to cook on). And Marty mentioned in email a few days
ago that he was about to be AFK off on a trip. And Laurence's
characters are all upstairs (except Boris? but it/he tends to be
pretty quiet).
And Ceredwyn and everyone else are obviously just being Mean.
-Ky
Kylinn
>kyl...@aol.com (Kylinn) wrote
>> "I knew as soon as you walked in that there was something
>> special about you; what else could it be? Unless perhaps
>> ... could it be love at first sight?" He puts a hand to
>> his forehead as if swooning.
>
>Wildwind splutters into her Guiness and says "Clark Gable eat your
>heart out" she winks at Zim and carries on in her best Penelope
>Pitstop accent "Why when little ol' me first met young Master Toby
>my little ol' heart was all aflutter" she clasps her hands, giggles
>and flutters her eyelids dramatically.
Toby grins broadly. "Aha! my little pumpkin. Let me carry
you away from all this. We shall travel the world together,
and I will show you marvels such as no woman has ever seen."
He leers dramatically.
"And some fine people and places as well," he adds aside in
a Groucho Marx accent.
-Toby, otter pooka
Come with me to the Casbah!
Kylinn
> Kylinn wrote:
> >Geoffrey Brent wrote:
> > >Zim looks at him sceptically. "And where are you _really_
> > >from?"
> >
> > He smirks and says in a Maxwell Smart accent, "Would
> > you believe... A castle in Tir Na N'og?"
>
> She looks at him sceptically.
>
> > He tilts his head. "How about a mansion in Cold Spring
> > Harbor?"
>
> A raised eyebrow.
>
> > Shrug. "A split-level in South Jersey?"
>
> "That sounds more likely."
Toby gives a long-suffering sigh. "Why does no one ever
believe me?"
> > "Anyway," he adds, "I don't know why you don't believe
> > I'm your long-lost brother. Isn't it obvious that we
> > could be twins?" (Well, they're about the same height,
> > anyway.)
>
> "I'll take that as a compliment."
"But that's just how I meant it!"
> > "I knew as soon as you walked in that there was something
> > special about you; what else could it be? Unless perhaps
> > ... could it be love at first sight?" He puts a hand to
> > his forehead as if swooning.
>
> "I thought that was a myth?"
"But of course it's a myth; how else could it be true?"
> Zim
-Toby, otter pooka
Read your Joseph Campbell!
Kylinn
>Kylinn <kyl...@aol.com> wrote:
>>d97...@dtek.chalmers.se (cd skogsberg) writes:
>>>She grins at him. "But you must remember to use it wisely!"
>
>>"Oh, but that's how I do everything," he says cheerfully. "Never do
>>a thing without carefully considering all the angles and possible
>>consequences."
>
>"Good to hear. Far too many people are extremely reckless. Jumping
>headfirst down a garbage disposal chute to catch a shirt, stuff like
>that."
Toby laughs at the image. "Whoom! Foop! Bet that took
no time at all to clean up."
>[OOC: yes, that actually happened here a while ago. He got stuck.]
[ooc: <wince>]
>>"Besides, that's just what I bought my new watch for, to keep careful
>>track of time and keep me organized."
>
>"Ooh, *very* nifty. Sort of Dali-esque, wouldn't you say?"
"Nooo," Toby considers, "that would be if it had more
arms and legs." He puts the fingers of his other hand
across his wrist and lets them dangle below the watch
like a pair of legs. Then starts kicking them as if
bored.
"Anyway," he adds rightously, "I'm too old to play with
dollies."
Laurence
Kylinn <kyl...@aol.com> wrote:
> Laurence's characters are all upstairs (except
> Boris? but it/he tends to be pretty quiet).
Boris is officially upstairs, but if a thread
gets his/my attention he could drop down from
the rafters or something. :)
Laurence
--
... Feet Smell? Nose Run? Hey, you're upside down!
__ __ __ __ __ ___
|__||__)/ __/ \|\ ||_ | And isn't your life extremely flat
| || \\__/\__/| \||__ | with nothing whatever to grumble at.
...Running the RISC... lbATargonetDOTcoDOTuk
Geoffrey Brent
>>>He tilts his head. "How about a mansion in Cold Spring
>>>Harbor?"
>>>
>>A raised eyebrow.
>>
>>
>>>Shrug. "A split-level in South Jersey?"
>>>
>>"That sounds more likely."
>>
>
> Toby gives a long-suffering sigh. "Why does no one ever
> believe me?"
"I bet people _do_ believe you."
>>>"I knew as soon as you walked in that there was something
>>>special about you; what else could it be? Unless perhaps
>>>... could it be love at first sight?" He puts a hand to
>>>his forehead as if swooning.
>>>
>>"I thought that was a myth?"
>>
> "But of course it's a myth; how else could it be true?"
"True is true, and false is false. Except for the Axiom of
Choice and its friends, of course."
Zim
Kylinn
>Kylinn wrote:
>> Toby gives a long-suffering sigh. "Why does no one ever
>> believe me?"
>
>"I bet people _do_ believe you."
He contrives to look Innocent.
>>>>... could it be love at first sight?" He puts a hand to
>>>>his forehead as if swooning.
>>>>
>>>"I thought that was a myth?"
>>>
>> "But of course it's a myth; how else could it be true?"
>
>"True is true, and false is false. Except for the Axiom of
>Choice and its friends, of course."
Toby's thrown off course. "The what?"
>Zim
-Toby, otter pooka
Like, huh?
Kylinn
>Toby skips over to the wedding table to pick up some
>unused balloons for the impromptu wet-teeshirt contest
>he and Perry are plotting^W discussing.
>
>On the way, he'll pocket some of the firecrackers that
>Marvin so thoughtfully provided, and which ended up not
>being used.
After which, he rummages in the wagon for one of
the empty bags from the wedding shopping trip and
saunters ever-so-casually toward the bathroom.
-Toby, otter pooka
<innocent whistle>