Volume Six Issue Seventeen
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..../ /_/..\______/./_____/./__/.../__/./_______/ MUD
.../________________/ running on mud.sig.net 9999
199.1.78.16 9999
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VOLUME SIX, ISSUE SEVENTEEN April 23rd, 1999
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
ARTICLES
- The Immortal Report -
- So-Called "Info Spam" -
LEGENDITES
- PKill Newsflash! -
- A Gathering of Knights -
- Awooga Corner -
- The Darkness Calls Again -
- Bryn's Departure -
- The Baron and the Baroness: Wanting To Fly -
- Hell Hath No Fury... -
- Who? CLeo interviews Yvonne -
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/__| NEWS AND REPORTS |__\
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The Immortal Report
Kaige sorted bugs and typos, cheered on various departments and
started on some small building fixes.
ADMIN:
Sandra spent more time discussing pkill interference, and nonpkill
interference than anything else. She also helped a player
perma/delete all of his characters per his request, pkenabled one
person, and issued warnings for profanity on chat/clan channels.
Chocorua spent time online, and looked at the description system.
Flagg did some zips, strings, archivals, and enabling. Wraith
says the last few weeks were pretty normal; went through boards,
did descs, retrieved characters from archives, purged, backups,
did strings and what not. He went through the helps for all the
commands he was given and came up with about a dozen that need to
be added or fixed (general helps). Zandy unarchived one character
and pk-enabled another and was a bit of a presence.
BUILDING:
Rufus didn't do a lot of building work, just a few bug fixes. Most
of his efforts went toward code this week.
Cheyla worked more on Alaska - mostly exit descs, almost done with
them, but did think about a few new roomacts she could put in and
did a restring and talked to a couple of players about various
small things. Croaker is looking for an imm playtester for
Greece. Flagg finished up recalltag after another test and got it
cleaned up and ready to go. Kae found the time this week to map
out some things she wants to include.
Rusalka wrote out a list of all the things she's done and what
still needs done for the Tudor update, sketched out the major plot
arcs for three major quests (one of which has some of its acts
in), tested Crusades some more and did online question answering
and reimbing. Vannessa did nothing this week since she's swamped
with exams! Wraith answered some questions about descs a player
wishes to use for his proposal. Sandra did mostly typo fixes in
Pittsburgh from Croaker's notes. She also made some small changes
to Boston & Salem.
CODING:
Ea! finished work on a builder-defined geography section (in
particular, hemispheres), polished off a bunch of small bugs, made
expel require a Y, fixed a few annoying bugs after the code
update, made it part of the way though a function for the owner of
a house to transfer the ownership to someone else and also got
some spell suggestions from a player.
Chocorua did basic code base updates, didn't have time to sit down
and fix anything. Huginn fixed one small bug with shopkeepers
reporting that you couldn't buy anything right after they
displayed their inventory. He also worked on vehicles some
more...discarding some of his previous ideas as unwieldy and
investigating some things that Rufus mentioned. Snapper did a few
restrings. Rufus spent the early part of the week cleaning out as
much as he could from the bug and todo list. He spent the
remainder of the week reorganizing the code files into logical
units.
PLAYER RELATIONS:
LadyAce did the normal stuff, string/restring/description/LT/Q&A,
plus a wedding, reimburses, and helped identify a variety of bugs
after the last code update. She also helped with one mort tinyplot
and talked with players about another one for this week.
Spencer did a string and re-string. He's only able to have a
little on-line time because RL (work & personal) is picking up.
>o<->o<->o<->o<->o<->o<->o<->o<
So-Called "Info Spam"
On using triggers to spam Info
1. Triggers are OOC. They do not add to any char's RP.
2. Such triggers have no place on channels -- their purpose can be fulfilled
on tells.
3. Info is a very useful channel as it can be used to relate important or
otherwise urgent information. To ask people to turn it off is to ask them to
no longer participate in such endeavors.
4. Triggers are spammy. One may not make much of an impact, but without
outlawing one, we are only waiting until it becomes a more serious problem.
Why deal with something after it has become a problem, when it is plain now?
Show some foresight.
5. Congratulations as such are impersonal, and thus rude. I don't want to
be congratulated by a computer -- You have raised a level! is good enough.
To sum it up, there is not one reason why such triggers should be allowed.
They produce meaningless spam on a channel best left untouched unless
urgent. Moreover, without anything to prevent others from following suit,
it will get spammy -- be it a month later or two. By that time, of course,
a lot of people would have already been exposed to useless annoying spam
that they wouldn't have been if people showed foresight.
Wuss
________________________
/ \
o O | Wonder what folks are |
`\|||/ | doing over at LegendMUD?|
(o o) \________________________/
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\ |------------------------------------------------------------------| /
/__| LEGENDITES: Information Regarding the People of Our World |__\
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..Rumors...News...Reports...Rumors...News...Reports...Rumors...News...Reports..
I I I I I I
I I I I I I
I I I I I I
/ | \ / | \ / | \
\ | / \ | / \ | /
\|/ \|/ \|/
* PKILL NEWSFLASH! *
/|\ /|\ /|\
/ | \ / | \ / | \
\ | / \ | / \ | /
I I I I I I
I I I I I I
I I I I I I
..Rumors...News...Reports...Rumors...News...Reports...Rumors...News...Reports..
Several clans grew in membership this week, most notably the Dark
Enforcers, following the breakup of Banzai and the reabsorbtion of much
of its membership back into the DE. Other clans boasting a high level
of activity this week include the Knights, Grendels, Mercenaries, and
the Ministry.
With the exception of the Knights, it seems that the forces of
darkness are dominating the current pk scene -- but for how long? Clan
membership and clan power continue to shift, with violent clashes
between the OTS and the Ministry, and between Diamond and the
Grendels/Mercs. So far, however, these skirmishes do not seem likely
to lead to sufficient upheaval to break the established order.
{*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*}
A Gathering of Knights
The night's twinkling twilight slowly grow clearer even as men and
women delve deeper into their sleep. Even with the night's chilly air
and silence, many still walk the lands attempting to muster more work
out of the day than the hours permit. Deep into the center of the town,
the streets sleep with only darkness and silence as its companion. Yet
on this night, a few men brush by waking none along the way as they
head toward a small house. With the turn of a key, the door opens wide,
giving the world a glimpse of its contents. The men hurry in and
suddenly, the door closes again, melting the house into the surrounding
as if nothing had ever occurred.
Although it appears to be no different than any other house along the
street, the burning fire inside lights the house brightly in the sea of
darkness. As the men hang up their cloaks, their weapons glitter
unevenly, growing and fading as the fire leap and recede. Of the two
younger men, one removes his sheath and places it on the oaken table
and drops into the rocking chair. With a thump, his feet are already on
the table and his hands behind his head with a wide smile across his
face. The eldest of the three men, stands quietly before the fire
staring deep and beyond the red glowing wood as if in deep thought. The
youngest of the three, draws a white cloth out of his bag and begins to
wipe his trusted sword. With a single motion, the white cloth glides
across the blade yielding itself to the grim and stains.
Sir Ganymede strides across the room to a small platform within the
house, which seems to have been converted into a sort of makeshift
altar, and looks the area over. Deciding that all is in order, he turns
around to face the room, his back to the rough wooden wall.
'Sir West, come stand aside of me, if ye will?' Sir Ganymede says
fluently.
The young man withdraws his feet from the oaken table and quickly
stands up. With a joyous delight on his face, he quickly walks over and
stands to the right of Sir Ganymede. With a smile, Sir Ganymede
proceeds with the ceremony.
'This gathering of Knights has convened this even in order to describe
the fate of a squire, who has in good faith come before us in order to
see Knighthood bestowed upon him,' Sir Ganymede declares in a courtly
fashion.
Sir Ganymede says fluently, 'Geber, come stand before us and face me,
please.'
An immeasurable delight can be read from his face and without another
pause, Geber walks over and stands proudly before Sir Ganymede. Sir
Ganymede says, in a voice smooth and courtly, 'Geber, ye have been
invited here to-night because ye have, for quite some considerable
length of time I might add, sought out a Knighthood among us.'
Geber nods his agreement with Sir Ganymede. Sir Ganymede says in a
courtly fashion, 'Ye have completed our requirements, these being a
term of Ritterum under the Knights of Kleinstadt and a term as squire
under one of us, and in these ye have proven yourself one of honor and
courage.'
Sir Ganymede says, in a voice smooth and courtly, 'Knighthood is not to
be undertaken lightly, however, and the Knights must have your vow that
ye will uphold its values strictly and to the letter, or as a clan we
are no better than rogues.'
Suddenly the door swings open and a girl in with electric blue hair
saunters in. The men turn their heads slightly, but return to the
ceremony when the girl quickly realizes that her tardiness had
interrupted the ceremony.
'Is it then your promise to uphold the Code of the Knights, in every
word and action, at all times and through to the end of your days as a
Knight of Legend upon the earth?' Sir Ganymede says, in a voice smooth
and courtly, to Geber.
Sir Ganymede says, in a voice smooth and courtly, to a new age girl,
'Ye are right in time, sai.'
'Come stand aside of me to the left, if ye would?' Sir Ganymede says in
a courtly fashion to a new age girl. A new age girl straightens and
smiles warmly, gliding gracefully across the floor to Sir Ganymede's
left.
Sir Ganymede says, in a voice smooth and courtly, to Geber, 'What then
be your answer, sir?'
Geber says with respect, 'Aye Sir, it is.'
'And do ye then pledge to act with honor and respect to all upon this
earth, to both friend and foe, to always come to the aid of those who
need it, and to always come to the dispatchment of those who would do
ye and the good people of Legend harm?' Sir Ganymede says, in a voice
smooth and courtly, to Geber.
Geber says with respect, 'Aye Sir.'
'Then are there any Knights present who object to this man's becoming a
Knight?' Sir Ganymede says in a courtly fashion to Geber. 'Say it now or
your reservation must remain a silent one always.'
Sir Ganymede takes a moment, turning his head slightly from one side,
to the next, and back to center again.
'So is it done, and so shall it be then,' Sir Ganymede says fluently.
'By recommendation of Sir Rictor Belmont, Geber, the Knights would
request that ye accept our offer of Knighthood and wear the title well.
Please kneel.'
Geber kneels down on the ground.
Sir Ganymede unsheathes his silver blade with a high ringing of steel.
The rays of light that filter in through the shuttered windows dance
upon the fine blade's surface, casting garish shapes of light upon the
walls.
Sir Ganymede extends the silver blade, and taps Geber lightly once upon
each shoulder.
Sir Ganymede says, in a voice smooth and courtly, to Geber, 'Then, even
as ye sank to the ground an ordinary man, arise now a Knight of
Legend.'
Cheers from Knights fill the room as they welcome Sir Geber to the
Knights. Ecstatic, the group cheers and drags out the cask of rum that
Sir Tempus has been hiding in the cellar to celebrate through the
night.
{*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*}
The Darkness Calls Again
The dreams come again. How much I loathe them now.
They begin as usual, in the darkness of my reverie. The lights go on
one after another, klieg by klieg, like the unveiling of the great
stage. Except like some harmless comedy of 'Arsenic and Old Lace',
the set is more along the lines of 'The Cabinet of Dr Caligari'.
The lights eventually show me what I least want to see in this world.
The old funeral home where my most notable encounter with a vampire's
true death occurred. The blazing crematorium fires warm me even in a
dream, and I can feel their heat as I did that day. If this was just
a simple reliving of that day, I might welcome my sleep. But this is
much more.
Each seat facing the belt the coffins roll by on holds another relic
of my past. Past friends, past enemies. Past lovers and rivals. Each
telling me they're role in my life, over and over again.
Worse of all, the mirror. Damned creation, showing me as I must be,
for dreams don't ever lie, and never had to me when I sought their
messages. Again, as always, I'm drawn to the reflection. A slump
shouldered man, once raven wing bluish-black hair now showing
multiplying strands of gray. Skin fading from bone white to a papery
grey, along with the ancient tattoos of old regulator parties fading
on his hand. Fading, fading, into nothing more than a pitiful memory.
Foolish old vampire, failed old wretch. What was I thinking, that the
Light could hold someone like me? What does the Light hold that I
haven't seen and done countless times while wrapped in the Shadow? What
more is there for me?
This dream will have a different ending, I know. No more force draws
me to anything, but it goes on. Unsteady legs take me towards the
belt as shaking arms help lay me immortal body down on it. I can
finish what someone tried to start before, someone who is so much
dust in a wooden box.
The flames draw closer, warming my feet. If I'm lucky, there is no
afterlife and just soothing Darkness.
A pushing on my side awakens me from my lapse, sending my feet back
into the coldness of the room. Just when I was starting to enjoy
this. A new face appears in the room, a column of shadow draining the
energy from the room.
"Alright, what's the deal?" I hear my mouth say, even though I don't
care enough anymore to do anything of my own free will, "I am trying
to kill myself here, go away."
"You have quite a lot left to you, Ronnie Valthalas," the shadow
replies, in a voice much colder than this room. "You haven't seen it
all."
"Oh, and what am I missing? The new season of 'Cheers'?"
"No, my return. Come back to my service, and anything you could
desire will be yours when my return comes. I could even wipe your
memory so you could live things again, without the ennui I know
feasts upon your mind."
"Interesting offer..." the only words I manage to get in edgewise before
the dream shatters into pieces, ending for once on a high note. Maybe
he is right, maybe not. But I can't resist missing this.
{*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*}
Awooga Corner
If you're like me, you've wondered, at times, who the Awooga are? I
don't mean the overall entity of the family, but the individuals that
make up this family. I have set it upon myself to find out who makes
this family up. A guide some may call it, to knowing the names of the
Awooga.
I have decided to start my log of the family names with Duncan Awooga
I, and his wife Deirdre, a good start for the Awooga we know today.
These two had two sons, Iain and Craig. Time passed and the sons grew
to men, married and moved into their own lives. Iain, the eldest, wed
to a woman by the name of Kaitlyn. Craig wed to a happy woman named
Rhianna.
Rhianna and Craig had a nice life; they tended to a small cottage, and
a small family of two children. The eldest child Jen-Jen, and her
brother Duncan.
It was discovered some time later that the two, now deceased, parents
of Jen-Jen had at least one other child, Ailea, quite the years younger
than Jen-Jen.
Kaitlyn and Iain found themselves wandering some; they had a child,
Deqitosv, near Jen-Jen's birth home. However they had a daughter in the
city of Agrabah, by the name of AnaStejia. They died while both
children were quite young.
As time moved on, each of these children moved onto their own lives.
Duncan died a death of honor to the sea serpent. Jen-Jen found herself
married to FireHorse after time. Unfortunately, after some time
together, Jen-Jen became a widow. Not long after Jen-Jen was widowed
she adopted a son, SandTiger.
As Jen-Jen lived her life, it intertwined with Deqitosv, her cousin, in
many ways. He wed to Gwendolyn McIntyre; together they had a daughter,
Cenja.
Unfortunately as we pass to Deqitosv's sister, I don't know much. I do
know that AnaStejia was lost in the Agrabah streets not long after her
parents deaths, and had a daughter, Denstra, at a rather young age
thanks to an aggressive guard in that area.
Denstra, unfortunately died this past year, but not before having a
daughter in secrecy. Only one person knows the name of the daughter,
and her whereabouts -- Denstra's very own Granddaughter, Mertjai is
that person.
Mertjai, the daughter of the unknown Awooga woman, is now running the
United Surgeons of Legend, having a wife who is in the clan, Nadya, and
an adopted daughter from the USL as well, Minako. She as well at one
time had a blood daughter, Xaqu, who is also now deceased.
I hope you find this information as interesting as I do, perhaps when
you next see an Awooga, you'll greet them, knowing them better
already.
Signed,
A historian of current facts.
{*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*}
Bryn's Departure
Losing the favor of a Goddess is a hard thing to stomach.
She meant everything to me. She was my light, and my life. Take all
the love you've experienced and channel it into one person, and you'll know
my love for the Goddess. Although even then I doubt you'd truly understand.
She was to me a mother, a sister, a lover, a friend...all those things at
once and at the same time more.
I do not know what I did to be cast from her light. Perhaps she no
longer cares to speak to me. Perhaps I no longer know how to listen. I
searched my soul, looking for some answer, some spark of the sacred fire
that once burned within me and found only ashes. I searched the world for
wise men who might understand my problem, and found only fools. There is no
answer. Things fall apart. The center cannot hold.
In the final accounting, I hope I'm remembered well. Perhaps I
wasn't the most accomplished warrior, but I was proud, and I believe
courageous.
To my enemies-- Ronnie: I hear you've reformed your ways. I'll
believe it when I see it, but I hope it's so. In any case, if ere we meet,
I believe I owe you some money.
Leatherface: It's a shame we couldn't cross sword and chainsaw more
than we did. Fight well, and honorably, as ever.
To my friends-- You all know who you are. Thank you for everything.
To my former sisters-- I have loved you well, but all things must
pass, and so too must I. May you serve the Goddess better than I ever
could, and ever bask in her love. My love and best wishes will be with you
always.
I don't know what I'll do next. Perhaps I'll travel a bit. The
world is a big place, and we're only little parts of it, after all. We
can't hope to see it all, but we can try. And I'm still young yet.
Bryn.
{*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*}
The Baron and the Baroness: Wanting To Fly
The brilliant rays sweep slowly across the fishing huts as the
sun gradually marches across the boundless blue sky. Beneath the white
cotton clouds, villagers crowd into the market bumping into neighbors,
friends, and vendors that they have known for years. Small children
muddy themselves in a moment's notice as their mothers turn their heads
to pick up the produce. As the sun begins its journey downward,
fishermen begin to gather on the beaches as they return from a hard
day's toil on the seas. Hauling the catch back into the village, some
head irresistibly towards the tavern for the saucy wench and
occasionally a drink that the tavern also offers.
The fading sunlight colors the world with a deep golden touch
as the sun sets for another night. The curtains of the fishing hut near
the edge of the village fails to protect its contents from the light as
the sun gives its final breath to beam the rays directly pass the
windows. Unlike the soft morning rays, the light of dusk infuses not
life, but unforetold despair and sadness as it graces the emerald green
eyes of the figurine still standing on the oak table. His eyes twinkle
in the light as though a tear is held from falling, forever lost in the
days of the past.
Stretching his arms high into the air, the young man finally
wakes as the day comes to an end. Rubbing his half-closed eye lids, he
sighs and says to himself, 'Have I slept the day away again?'
Casually picking up his cloak on the chairs, he swings it
around his neck and secures it place. He picks up his sword on the
oaken table and heads for the door. Just as he begins to walk out the
door, he turns slightly and glances at the Baron. After a moment's
hesitation, he shuts the door and head down the street deciding that
the Baron is safer in his house than traveling alongside him.
The dirt road now sits quietly as the inhabitants of the
village returns to their respective homes preparing for an evening's
rest and another day's travail. Walking down the dark path he produces
a jar of fireflies to light his way. Although it is not as bright as a
lantern nor even a torch, it is enough for him to see the figures in
the blackness and the waves of the ocean as it stretches its arms
grabbing the gravel on the beach back into its limitless body. After
settling into a small fishing boat, he pushes the transport off the
beach and drift into the moonlit night.
It would be until sunrise before the fishing boat finally
reaches it destination, the beaches of Eire. Although the journey
itself is quite short and can be completed in a mere few hours, the
young man often lie in the boat looking up the sky watching the bright
jewels of the nighttime display its unworldly beauty wondering if this
is all but a intricate play toy of a greater being.
Tying the fishing boat to a large rock on the beach, West
carefully climb over the rocks as the waves begin to pound the shores
hungry for any lose stones or an unsuspecting soul. The path to the
town is worn and poorly kept as undergrowth are beginning to reclaim
the land. Not far from the rocky beach, a camp has been set up off the
path. Judging from its appearance, it appears to be the camp of the
Fomori warriors. The scattered equipment and left over food creates a
perfect home for mice to roam freely.
Suddenly, out of the edge of the forest, a figure leaps out and
pounces on a mouse as it was trying to sneak across the camp with a bit
of meat in its mouth. But with lightning quickness, the mouse drops its
breakfast and runs into a small burrow in the ground. On a closer
examination of the figure, the figure stands about as tall as any man
or woman in the land yet the features do not fully match that of anyone
that he has seen before.
'What is your name my friend?' says West as he offers his arm
for assistance.
Running down the path, a lady in armor screams loudly at the
pair, 'There you ARE!'
The young man turns his body and is surprised to find that he
recognizes the lady. 'Lady Flower?' says the young man clearly
puzzled.
'We'll skip for the formalities for now,' the girl with the
blue electric hair says.
The blue hair girl grabs the mouse pouncing figure in her arms
and squeeze with all her might.
'Now, don't run off without me like that again!' says Lady Flower.
Turning to Sir West, she says, 'By the way, this is my sister
Cloud Kitten, but we call her CK for short.'
Pouncing on the young man, the girl almost knocks him over as
she catches him by surprise. Sir West says with a smile, 'Nice to meet
you too.'
'Would you help to take care of her while I'm away?' says Lady
Flower, 'She's more than I can handle sometimes and I can't be here at
all times either.'
'Of course,' says Sir West, 'It would be my pleasure.'
The uncanny similarity between the figurine that stands in his
hut and the Lady Flower's sister is shocking. Though there is no fur
covering the entire body, the facial features immediately brings an
image of what the Baroness might look like.
'Perhaps she will give us a clue to the whereabouts of the
Baroness,' West says, as his thoughts slip and materialize into words.
{*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*} {*}
Hell Hath No Fury...
Shadows formed and twirled around them to finally reveal the dark shade of
an empty graveyard which seemed to exist outside of time. It was here, and
there, and neverwhere. The air was stale but had a faint scent of sulphur
and ozone to it. A voice, unearthly and deep like church bells, called out
across the mists: 'Marcel, we have much to discuss.'
The once angel blinked in surprise, both at the transportation
and by the summons. Around him figured formed and dissolved in the
mist, some quite tangible, others fleeting like shadows of a long
forgotten memory. The angel tipped his hat against the most solid form
in the shadow, presuming that that was that of his master. 'I'll be
there shortly?' he said, still off guard.
'I am Associate Lord of the Nether Hells. That makes me your
supervisor, Marcel,' said the darkest shadow, probably chiefly to impress
the audience. 'I am quite aware of that,' said Marcel Alexander. 'So what
can I do for you today?'
'Then it is to me you must make account of your actions - or
IN-action, as the case may be,' the shadow proceeded in stating the already
known.
'Well, that's not a very good beginning,' said the angel, trying to
find his usual control of the situation. 'How about starting over and
trying, 'Hello, Marcel, old chap, how's it going?'.'
The shadow ignored him. 'Why have you failed in the tasks we have
set before you? Are they so difficult?' And at that, another shade,
resembling a master thief who once lived on Earth, snorted spitefully. The
shadow proceeded, 'I will not exchange pleasantries with you until I'm
satisfied with your answers.'
The angel maintained at least some of his calm. 'I beg your pardon?
I have failed?' The shadow sneered back, 'Are you so ignorant of your own
deeds, Marcel?'
'No. But I'm beginning to wonder whether my secretary bothers to
pass on my weekly reports or not,' the angel said dismissively. The huge
shadow sneered. 'Your weekly reports? Did you not think Hell could see
through the lies of its servants?'
'I'd be embarrassed on it's behalf if it couldn't,' Marcel
Alexander replied dryly. 'It figures that Hell would have weekly reports,'
said a shadow of less substance resembling Cyanide. 'Ahm, yes, well,
they're rather boring,' said Sterling Silver, speaking for the first time.
'I thought it was part of the torture.'
The huge shadow of Therasluribhehoriel snarled, 'Let us make an
account of your actions, Marcel. What have you done for us lately?'
The angel ignored him, to answer his servant's question. 'I always
considered it part of the torture myself.' Then he turned to his master and
said, 'Everything required of me and everything it pleased me to do.' At
his words, the shade of a thief snorted again, spitefully.
'We sent you among the sisters of the Coven, to turn them to our
will. And though they are weakened, none have turned!' the great shade
stated dramatically. The fog was getting denser.
'They were weak to begin with, Marcel didn't do anything,' inserted
a shadow curiously resembling the vampire, Ronnie Valthalas. 'Things take
time,' sneered the angel. 'And with that one, things take forever,' the
shade of the master thief hurried to insert.
'Marcel! Answer me!' the Therasluribhehoriel shadow cried. 'Your
continued existence depends on it, not your wit!'
'So what is this?' the target of his answer replied. 'A public
flogging due to some task you not believe I have performed satisfactorily
with? - Oh, now we're talking continued existence. How assuring.'
'It is an accounting, so all may hear, and bring forth what
information they might hold,' the great shade of a Lord of the 9th Circle
stated self-satisfactorily. 'How much are you offering for information?'
the shade of Cyanide inquired, gaining an odd look from Marcel in return.
'I think it safe to say that I have done everything I could and should for
the sisterhood,' Marcel said flatly. 'If I have failed, then so I have.'
'Why do evil people always see the urge to disgorge their plans in
public?' asked a shadow resembling Gaston curiously. 'The Coven is nothing
but a group of pitiful women doing nothing more than wishing they had the
power they claim,' the Ronnie shadow sneered.
'You have indeed failed,' the great shadow stated. 'It was in
the charter,' said the Ronnie shadow. 'Oh, more than one turn you down,
is that it, Ronnie?' asked Sterling Silver of the shadows. 'Power
enough to fight against your best effort, we cannot be so weak,' said
Aisha Said to the shadow of the vampire.
'When have I ever wanted one of those pitiful wretches, besides
one little incident?' asked the vampire's shadow scornfully. 'What efforts?
I've never really concerned myself with any of you.'
'Your memory is short, then,' said Aisha said very flatly.
'Refresh it, unless you are once again lacking in any valid proof,'
said the vampire's otherworldly image. Meanwhile, the great shadow of the
Hell prince loomed overhead. 'And beyond your failures with the Coven, what
of your servant, Sterling?' it boomed. 'What of him?', said Marcel.
'Ronnie, you did try to kill me, that much has been established.
And you did fail,' said Aisha to her once lover's shadow.
'Sterling is a suitable lapdog, but has always been it seems,' said
the vampire shadow. 'He does the barest of minimum of work, Marcel,' said
the great shade Therasluribhehoriel. 'You were not made master of the 8th
Circle so that you might let your thieves flee from thievery.'
'I have struck the balance your life is so centered around, Aisha,'
the vampire's shadow proceeded. 'Perhaps not to my exact likings, but it
has been done.'
'Then have done, Ronnie, and trouble me no more,' Aisha shrugged.
'I was made master of the circle, then, to get questioned on my competence
in public?' Marcel asked coldly.
The great demon prince said, equally sharply, 'You will answer for
your deeds, wherever I ask you to do so, whenever I ask you to do so.'
'Why did you grant Aisha - whom you were supposed to have turned to
OUR will - any level of control of Sterling?' the great shadow boomed. 'I
do not believe I have done so,' replied the angel.
'Then you are ignorant as well as incompetent,' was the reply.
'You might want want to take into consideration the chance of your
unholy highness just being misinformed,' said Marcel. 'Our communication
lines are hellish, after all.'
'Instead of destroying the Coven, it remains, and now one of its
members has turned the head of your own servant!' the great creature
snarled. 'Turned his head? He's grumbling at the mere mention of his name!'
the angel snarled back.
'Did you hold hands at her father's court?' the master thief's
shadow suggested helpfully, gaining a number of icy looks in response.
'Erm,' said Sterling.
'You are too slow to give account, Sterling. Your guilt increases
by the minute - and your master's as well,' said the great shadow. 'Tell
the story fully.'
'My, you make a wonderful failed demon, Marcel,' said the Ronnie
shadow. 'Almost as good as the rest of your failed accomplishments.'
'I am what I am, and I believe I am rather good at being that. I
have never claimed to be a bard, a vampire, or whatever other jackets you
have worn over time, Ronnie,' replied Marcel coolly.
'She wanted a servant,' said Sterling, chuckling. 'Though I said I
dislike to clean, and I won't cook.'
'Sterling?' the princely shadow demanded. 'I have ordered you to
give account. Must I rip the tale from your brain?' Marcel said very
sharply, 'You will most certainly not.' Sterling said, 'Ahm, no. That would
be painful.'
'You know the powers we hold, Sterling. We could send you BACK to
the 8th Circle, with the least motion of our fingers.' The shadow wiggled a
finger rather meaningfully.
'You'd remove me from office first,' said Marcel. 'I'll run my own
damned circle as I damned well please, thank you.' Sterling said more
nervously, 'All right, I don't want to go back there.'
The Cyanide shadow suggested, 'Okay, what say we trounce good ole
Threepio there for annoying our fellows?' The great shadow ignored her.
'Remember the serpents, Sterling. Tell the tale.' Sterling winced.
'I wish you wouldn't, Cyanide,' said Marcel to her shadow. 'I'd
hate to have to fight you.'
'Can't take apart a simple group of pathetic women, can't keep a
servant in rein, can't even capture the heart of a long defeated woman,'
Ronnie's shadow listed. 'What good are you, Marcel, besides taking up
space?'
'So you let this guy push you around and be snide about the job
you're doing?' Cyanide's image asked. 'Your choice, I guess.'
Another anonymous shadow suggested, 'Can't you like banish him by
saying God's secret name three times or something.'
Marcel chuckled at the vampire image. 'At least I am not the
laughing stock of the modern world,' then added to Cyanide's image: 'I
didn't say anything about letting anyone push me around.'
'I suppose you could say I find the princess a bit... intriguing,'
said Sterling. 'You have to admit, she is just that. Does that answer your
question?'
'Intriguing?' asked Therasluribhehoriel.
'Intriguing?' asked Aisha.
'Intriguing?' asked Marcel.
'My, it echoes in here, doesn't it,' said Sterling.
'Marcel, you are just another nobody, trying to fill a position he
was never meant for,' said the vampire's shadow. 'I'm glad to see you have
some sense, Ronnie,' said the greater devil. 'Marcel is most disappointing,
as is the pitiful mortal we have given him control over.'
'Ronnie, my blossom,' said Marcel, annoyed. 'If your opinion of me
mattered to me I think I would correct you. As it is, though, I just find
you rather amusing in your own sweet way.'
'Oh, come now,' said Sterling. 'I've done my work.'
'Opinion, yes. But it holds more than a moderate amount of truth to
it,' the vampire's shadow argued. Marcel ignored it. 'Let me get this
straight. In essence, I am accused of leniency because my servant finds a
mortal woman, what, intriguing?'
'Looking for a replacement, yet, Thera?' Ronnie's shadow asked
opportunistically. The greater shadow ignored him. 'Oh, Sterling - you do
your duty to the barest of minimums. You are pitiful, to do so little with
so much power, Sterling Silver.'
Marcel sneered, 'Might I remind your greatness, then, that
aforementioned servant was pushed on me quite outside of standard
procedure, with no accompanying information but a note reading 'classified,
do not discuss.''
The greater shadow turned to the angel again. 'Yes indeed, Marcel.
We entrusted him to you as a special case and you have squandered him.'
'I beg to differ,' said Marcel. 'I was given Sterling so that I
might ascertain that his existence would be as painful as it could be. It
is that.'
'To him there is no greater grief than to long for that which he
cannot have, a life and a love to fill it,' Marcel stated. He was ignored.
'Sterling? Tell us, is your existence as painful as it might be?'
'I believe I dislike most of it,' said Sterling. 'Does that count?'
'Are you devoid of all joy, then? Has Marcel truly done his duty,
if you tryst with a lady numbered among our enemies?'
The vampire's shadow sneered. 'He wants what he can't have. Tsk.
that's a large waste of time.'
'If he trysts with a lady numbered among my enemies I have
neglected to discover,' said Marcel. 'I do not count Aisha an enemy,
however.' The vampire proceeded, 'I can still sense a tad bit of self
esteem and kindness about him. Easily taken away, if Marcel knew how to do
such things.'
'Hear that, Marcel?' called the superior devil. 'He DISLIKES most
of it. Oh, the misery you inflict. Your incompetence screams louder than
ever.'
'I seem to be doing fairly good at making you miserable at the time
being,' the angel sneered. 'Most is a fairly large area to cover!' Sterling
inserted. An invisible voice said, 'Without light, there is no dark;
without knowledge of joy, there is no pain.'
'I feel no misery, Marcel,' the great shadow boomed. 'Only anger,
and anger that will be exercised on your being.' The master thief's shadow
snorted. 'Bah. They're just slacking off on some restaurant somewhere,
drinking daiquiris and whistling at girls. And that's supposed to be HELL?'
Marcel peered at it. 'Ok, that does it. You're fired.' The thief
retorted, 'I doubt it.'
Therasluribhehoriel inquired, 'You have enjoyed your little
"vacation" then, Marcel?' The angel nodded consent. 'I have. Am I to assume
it is over?' Sterling muttered, 'I've not had a daiquiri in weeks. Months,
perhaps.'
'It is indeed. Return to us. Dwell deep within Hell, beyond the
Great Barrier, where we might watch you more closely.'
Marcel snorted. 'Much harm I'll do from there.'
'It could not be less than nothing, and nothing is the level of
harm you do upon Earth,' his superior sneered. 'Hrm, I could always go
scare the snakes, of course,' Marcel said with great sarcasm. 'Or play
poker with Charon. I think you want to reconsider that order.'
'Just be sure to leave the snakes there though, friend,' said Sterling.
A shadow of a malicious thief once alive asked, 'Hey, if he comes
home, can't we just fire him?' The other thief's shade applauded wildly.
'Your incompetence is practically an embarrassment, Marcel,' his
superior said. 'Return to the Abyss, and we shall determine what will be
done with you.' Marcel scowled, only to be told, 'Your willfulness is most
unbecoming.'
'So is your obvious ignorance,' he replied. 'But I shall do as you
say.'
Therasluribhehoriel said, 'You wander the Earth, with children and
a fiancee at your heels, and a servant on a mission of affection and mercy.
You're a practical saint, and frankly, you disgust me.'
'Make up your mind fast, though, I have a wedding to attend to
shortly,' said Marcel, as if on cue. 'The army of darkness has to have a
good homelife though?' the shadow of Gaston suggested.
'You'll be marrying no one at all if I've my way,' the great shadow
boomed, confident in its power.
'Then you won't', said Marcel. 'I quit.'
'You quit? not likely.'
'Can I quit too?' Sterling asked.
'Try me,' said Marcel.
'No one quits Hell. You'll find your will is quite insubstantial
and insignificant compared to our power,' said the greater shadow.
'I distinctly remember having heard that before somewhere,' said
Marcel with ice in his voice. 'Was it Heaven?'
Therasluribhehoriel growled. 'You'll find us far more willing to be
cruel than Heaven was. You cannot fall from Hell, only into it.'
Marcel shrugged. 'I stepped down from my place in Michael's holy
legions for my freedom to do as I choose. I will not give up that freedom
now.'
'You have nothing unless we give it to you,' his superior snarled.
'Your freedom to choose will be stripped. Return to us, and face your
deeds.'
Marcel said flatly, 'No.'
'Do you need help in taking him by force?' the shadow of Ronnie
offered helpfully. 'Or with punishing him?'
'You were not granted a choice. You will do as you are told,' the
great shadow said ominously, and added to the vampire shadow, 'We do not
need help.'
Marcel said matter-of-factly, 'If I have served unsatisfactorily, I
will accept correction. But I will not subject myself to the whims of a
Lord who seems to have been listening too much to my pathetic subjects. I
was granted a choice the instant I abandoned Heaven.'
'Pathetic?' the master thief's shadow echoed. 'I say let's sic
Ronnie on him.' The shade of the malicious thief cheered. 'Ronnie! Ronnie!
Ronnie!'
The greater shadow said, 'This is no whim. If correction is all
that is needed, then that is all we shall impose.'
A ghostly voice out of nowhere asked, 'Is the guy with the funky
name a fallen angel too?' Marcel replied, 'Yes.'
'Astariaserakephiothiel, return,' the greater shadow called,
confident in its own power. 'And we shall speak of these things and many
others.'
'You dare hold my true name against me?' Marcel winced. 'Never
could say that name...,' Sterling muttered.
Marcel peered around. 'Where's a knight when you need one..'
'In bed with a.. oh, nevermind, it's too easy,' the shadow of
Cyanide offered.
'You are summoned. Invited. Wear black tie, and be on time. You
know the place,' the Lord of the 9th Circle stated.
'I will attend,' Marcel promised. 'Maybe I'll stay.'
'We shall see. Indeed, we shall see,' his superior said.
'Now return to your circle before you make even more of a complete
idiot of us both,' Marcel added. 'I think I'll wait here,' Sterling said,
but the angel added, 'Oh, no, you will not.'
Therasluribhehoriel snarled. 'I've never liked you, Marcel. You'll
get what's coming to you soon enough.' Marcel said flatly, 'The pleasure is
mutual.'
'What the Hell is Therasluribehoriel?' asked a shadow that
resembled QuacK. 'My occasionally rather self-absorbed superior officer,'
said Marcel. Sterling chuckled.
The great shadow leered, 'Oh, and while I'm here - a plague upon
your companions, particularly that wench you seem to chase after so often.
I hope you enjoy her suffering as you should.'
Marcel shrugged, hiding his feelings. 'I'm sure I will. Suffering I
have always enjoyed.'
His superior called out smugly, 'Farewell, Marcel. Until the
appointed time.'
Marcel called after him, 'I'm also quite certain you'll find you've
bitten off more than you can chew if you truly wish to sic a curse on
Abigail.'
The greater devil paused in dematerialization. 'We shall see. The
fairest of flesh is yet mortal.'
Marcel said, turning away, 'And the most horrid smell of Hell
cannot mask incompetence however fair a title it wears. Goodbye.'
The shadows leapt and danced and formed odd figures as some of them
vanished and other took upon themselves physical form again. The air itself
turned fresh, losing the stench of sulphur and ozone and gaining the scents
of spring leaves and fresh flowers. The real world had taken on shape
again, and it was all but as if a dream.
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=-=-= \________/ /_/ /_/ /_____/ -=-=?= by CLeo of the -=-=-=
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Good day/evening everyone!
Here is my interview with Lady Yvonne! I hope you will enjoy it!
Name: Lady Yvonne
Occupation: Inactive grouch
Q - 'What is your favorite meal?'
A - 'Knightburgers, with a side of Knightfries.'
Q - 'What would you say irritates you the most?'
A - 'Knights, and their silly little helmets. And their silly armor!
Silly, silly, silly!'
Q - 'To what animal, or plant, would you compare yourself to?'
A - 'One of those really old turtles, because I'm old and grumpy.'
Q - 'If you could build yourself the house of your dreams, what would
it be like?'
A - 'Dark, with lots of killer booby traps, Knight-Sensing alarms, and
killer tigers.'
Q - 'What is the most wonderful dream you ever had?'
A - 'One where I thought I was completely covered in gold lame' and I
had a personal servant to polish my forehead. Then I woke up and
realized it was true.'
Q - 'If you could invent a word, what would it be?' you say.
A - 'Yvonnicity! Because lets face it... Everyone really wishes they
could be like me.'
Q - 'If you could go back in time to talk to someone, who would it
be?'
A - 'Nostradamus, so I could see if he actually said everything that
people think he said, or if it's just all a load of bull, like I think
it is.'
Q - 'If you could change something in the world today, what would it
be?'
A - 'I wish all the annoying people would age about 5 years and gain
about 50 IQ points.'
Q - 'If I could grant you a wish, what would it be?'
A - 'Gold lame' for everyone.'
Q - 'A few words of advice for our readers?'
A - 'Take a bite out of Knights.'
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That concludes another edition of "WHO?". I would like to remind you
that most of the people interviewed were picked randomly.
I am open to interviewing people on requests as long as there is a
good reason (example: the person is well known, is a GM, is an old
legend player, is a person who achieved something extraordinary or
other valuable reasons). I do give myself the right to decline
requests if be needed, but doubt I will decline any.
Do not forget that you may send in some questions that you would like
me to ask to my guest. Just take a piece of paper, write them down,
and mud mail it to me.
Until next time... May luck be on your path forever!
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Legendary Times is published by the immortals of LegendMUD. Please send
all replies, additions, or corrections to our address at [email protected]
for inclusion in the next edition. We, however, reserve the right to
moderate this discussion, and may object to some submissions.
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