Volume Six Issue Twenty-Four
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.............._______
............./ / THE LEGENDARY TIMES
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..../ /_/..\______/./_____/./__/.../__/./_______/ MUD
.../________________/ running on mud.sig.net 9999
199.1.78.16 9999
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http://mud.sig.net/ ftp://mud.sig.net/pub
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VOLUME SIX, ISSUE TWENTY-FOUR June 12th, 1999
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
- Upcoming Calendar of Events -
ARTICLES
- The Immortal Report -
- Did You Know? -
- Immortal Application Information -
- Why I Left DERT -
LEGENDITES
- A Threat -
- Doors a Civic Investment -
- Marcel's Account -
- A Gift for Mitra -
- Farewell from Hastur -
- Deicide's Travels -
- The Book of Evil Mage Tricks, ch. 32 -
- The Trial of Ronnie Valthalas -- Part I -
- Who? -- CLeo Interviews Alexandria -
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\ |------------------------------------------------------------------| /
/__| UPCOMING CALENDAR OF EVENTS |__\
'------------------------------------------------------------------'
[All times are system time unless otherwise specified]
<-|-> <-|-> <-|-> <-|-> June <-|-> <-|-> <-|-> <-|->
Monday, June 14, 9:30 pm - Trivia! by Ephemera
Tuesday, June 15, 10:00 pm - Flag Hunt!
Thursday, June 17, 7:00 pm - Q & A in the OOC Auditorium
Monday, June 21 Summer Solstice
8:00 pm - Midsummer's Night Casino
(-) (-) (-) (-) July (-) (-) (-) (-)
Thursday, July 1 Immortal applications due!
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/__| NEWS AND REPORTS |__\
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The Immortal Report
Kaige sorted bugs, typos, ideas and assorted other stuff.
ADMIN:
Sandra turned down an appeal, issued some warnings for profanity, and
put a newbie ban on a site because some guy was creating over and over
and spamming the mud with his death messages. She pkenabled a number of
characters, deleted some people by request, unarchived, registered a
description, and did some zip strings. She also dealt with some people
proposing to immort.
Chocorua worked a little more on the new player desc scripts, and put in
some online time. Flagg didn't have much online work or time, but hopes
to do more next week. Seth is having network problems and could not be
very active, so all he managed to do is couple of strings and enable one
person. LadyAce dealt with a harassment complaint, did some pkenables
and warned people for cursing.
Dominic rescued several chars from houses that were still there, but had
been demolished, so there were no exits. He also PKenabled 3 characters,
and spoke to several folks about what he thought appropriate language
was.
BUILDING:
Rufus started taking a look at the object documentation. He also
started reviewing the area review procedure and looking at ways to
streamline it.
Charity didn't get to as much area review as she'd hoped to get done
this week, but has been also reviewing the process of review. She also
set a player's xp down, unarchived a few. She told a number of players
that various things were not buggs, but rather the webpage they were
using for their quest and item information was wrong. She's also working
on various items from the builder todo list. Vannessa has finished her
pet, except for a few acts, and is waiting for Kaige to look at it. She
also got a new version of Linux, so she should have the testmud up and
running on my machine soon.
Cheyla had another extremely busy week at work. She did get a little
done this week, mostly in the way of new mobs, mob descs, and mob acts.
She added in a few new room acts, as well and did a little research on a
couple of things that she needed for clarification. Croaker playtested
Pittsburgh a bit (3-4 hours) and updated Sandra on his progress. Kae
unarchived a player, answered a few player questions, found another
number of small, small interaction suggestions and typos in Crusades.
She also added a number of acts to boost depth, interation, atmosphere,
etc.
Kheldar has busy with work and other for the last few weeks so his time
has been limited. Still, he has done some debugging and typo fixes on
his area and talked with various people regarding ideas of their own for
their areas and fixes for current problems. Rusalka answered more player
questions/requests, talked with players about mob difficulty. She did a
great deal of work on her review of pittsburgh as well. LadyAce didn't
get as much done on Pittsburgh this week as she had hoped, but did some
revisions to Crusades housing. Sandra continued working on Pittsburgh,
fixing things that the testers found. She's also trying to fix a problem
with the ballgame that seems to have creaped in when she wasn't
looking.
Kaige fixed a bunch of typos all over the mud, including spell casters
not casting their spells properly. She added in some exit descriptions
into the medieval seas. She also updated some builder tools to reflect
code updates. Kaige also went through the typo and bug files, and
fixed/added a bunch of the problems/ideas there:
Arabian Nights - Arabia prisoner quest puts reward money in their bank
account now. Petitioners have responses about what time the sultan sees
people. The eunuchs check that they aren't attacking/ talking to
nonhuman males. The magician has a response to powder and won't start
off on the trek into the desert if you don't have enough move to get
there. The camels now spit.
San Francisco - Cleaned up the trans acts. Trudie Casey no longer asks
the Mayor to vote for himself. The bartender should have a bigger
inventory to sell. School should get out at 3pm not am and the bell
rings when school starts and ends.
The OOC - Added the 1998 expies to the trophy room and added some
keywords to look at to be able to get the list of categories easier.
Added invite to the wedding invitation's keywords. Added a table with
chairs to the meeting room.
Tortuga - Fixed a missing exit in the underwater section.
CODING:
Ea! fixed a bunch of bugs, improved the logging that we get with housing
to help aid in (future) reimbursments that we might need to do, and
finished extending friendship so that people can have an enemies list,
Chocorua started looking into a new coding project Ea! gave him.
Snapper fixed a door and did a restring. Kaige fixed ownership in steal,
fixed the messages when using wands on people where it would report your
name back to you instead of you, fixed poison spell messages for cases
where you poison yourself.
PLAYER RELATIONS:
LadyAce helped Ea! fix a whole bunch of housing doors, explained the
changes to interested players. She worked on an update to the prize
machine and started re-examining the OOC expansion project. She
registered various descs, and talked with players about descriptions,
what is acceptable, and what's not, and worked with various people on
their RP reasons for desc changes. She ran the Trial of Ronnie tinyplot
She put together an LT and ran a Q & A. She did strings, restrings,
deletions, unpurges, archives, greeted newbies, set xp down to 0, told
people they were over rent, helped several players having trouble with
teaching acts, ran a game of Medici tag, talked with players about
various issues. She moved some imms to inactive, who we hadn't heard
from in a long time, answered questions about imm applications, and
talked with Nat about a new project.
Chimera did a lot of descs, strings and restrings, some neat mundane
strings, talked to a lot of people who were 'kicking around the idea of
proposing for some department or other, most of whom decided that they
weren't quite ready to imm yet. He read through about 35 rooms of
Croaker's Greece, proofing acts and room descs for typos, and looked at
the items in there, most of which seemed to be okay (with minor
exceptions). He gave out some warnings, and started work on his area
proposal for the Cheyenne Indian Great Camp in Ancient, talked to Kaige
and LadyAce about various building topics, and gave Rusalka some
feedback on her higher level mobs, and suggested a change or two for her
expansion.
Natalia says this past week has been a busy one in rl. Online, she did
the usual strings and restrings (no colors this week), zip strings, the
odd bit of house decorating, a few character archivals and unarchivals,
and spent a great deal of time talking with people again. Also, she
handled some complaints, yelled at someone, and got to play big bad imm
once or twice.
Stile is going to have to buy a new computer as it seems his motherboard
died. He won't be able to log on until he gets the money to buy a new
computer. He figures he will be gone for about 3 weeks. He also did
some strings and restrings, among others a big multicolor one, and
archived a bunch of characters. He says he'll be back as soon as he
can.
Dominic did about 6 string/restrings, monitored a player-run trivia
game, and awarded the prizes for it. He's working hard at
retrieving/straightening out the database for the stock market
test-game, and hopes to be able to award prizes sometime this week. He
also did a fast & furious 3 hour research on some data LadyAce needed
for the area she's building.
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_____
/ _ \ DID YOU KNOW: Tips and tricks and little-used features
/__/ \ \
/ / A few useful definitions:
/ /
/__/ String: this is a way to change the appearance of an item
__ -- for example, you might change 'a rough tunic' to look like
/ \ 'an embossed leather vest' or 'a frilly silk blouse.'
\__/ Strings are obtained by using a coupon, just drop a tell to a
PR immortal and request on. Be sure to have in mind both a
_____ "short" description -- how it looks when you use it and wear it
/ _ \ and a "long" description -- how it looks if it is lying on
/__/ \ \ the ground.
/ /
/ / Restring: lets you transfer a string from one item to another.
/__/ The original item must have either been strung with a coupon,
__ or won from the prize machine.
/ \
\__/ Zip String: this is a particular type of string, which does
not require a coupon, but which cannot be restrung. Zip
_____ strings are intended to enhance RP by giving you access
/ _ \ to custom items which you can manipulate with socials and pass
/__/ \ \ around to others. For example, if you RP a sorceror, you
/ / might want to carry around a few symbols of arcana or
/ / mysterious relics. A child might carry toys and sweets,
/__/ and an aging warrior might carry memorabilia of past battles.
__
/ \ String Storage: this is a recently-added service, which
\__/ allows you to carry around a legitimate string, created
from a coupon or prize machine item, without it having
_____ any weight or costing you any rent. This is particularly
/ _ \ useful when you no longer want to wear a string, but don't
/__/ \ \ want to waste it, or if you are perma'ing and want to give
/ / away your strings, etc. It differs from a zip string in that
/ / strings put on a storage item can be restrung.
/__/
__ Please don't hesitate to contact a PR imm about any of these
/ \ services.
\__/
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Immortal Application Information
LegendMUD is now accepting applications and proposals for new immortals.
Applications and proposals will only be accepted from level 45+
characters.
A general application must accompany a proposal for a specific department.
Things to note about the application process:
1) It's not a popularity contest. Mortals have no votes.
2) Special consideration is not given for where you live or projects
like MortMUD. People who participated in MortMUD are likely to have
a better idea of what is expected of them in the long run.
3) The general application and proposal are only 2/3 of what counts.
Past history, attitude, and ability to work with others is also
considered.
4) It's a good idea to discuss proposals with the department heads
before spending extraordinary amounts of time on proposals for
those departments.
You can find copies of the application and departmental guidelines at
either:
http://mud.sig.net/proposals/
with links to the individual department guidelines or by anonymous ftp to
mud.sig.net and cd pub/Docs/proposals for the following files:
General_Application
Admin_Proposal_Guide
Builder_Proposal_Guide
Coder_Proposal_Guide
PR_Proposal_Guide
We will be accepting applications and proposals until July 1st.
Announcements will be made approximately 2-3 weeks from then.
{-} {-} {-} {-} {-} {-} {-} {-} {-} {-} {-} {-}
Why I Left DERT
I was shocked and very disappointed to find out that the DERT clan is now
sponsoring Andara's page of LegendMUD cheats. I'm old enough to remember
the original DERTs, Ganelon and Lirra especially, and I was really pleased
that the new clan let me join as a spam augmentor. No other clan, pk or rp,
had interested me but I was excited about being part of the revived DERT
tradition.
Along with many other experienced players, I've always disliked Andara's
page. I don't want to be even indirectly supporting those pages. As much as
I was happy to be a DERT, I'm abandoning the clan because of its decision
to sponsor the cheat pages. There's no reason for a bunch of professional
druids to go into the information-dissemination business, and I don't see
why the clan is doing it. A stupid decision is forcing me out, and I'm mad
about it. To relieve stress, I made this little top 10 list.
-Cyanide, former DERT
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TOP 10 REASONS WHY ANDARA/DERT'S CHEAT PAGES ARE EVIL:
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10. I can't download fonts onto the computer I use most often, and the
animated druid guy runs my system out of memory and crashes IE.
9. Imms are crankier about helping with quests that really are broken,
cause they spend so much time explaining that quests aren't broken
if the cheat page just had the steps wrong.
8. Sharing info about the best herb routes should be a privilege of
DERT membership, not something broadcast to the whole world.
7. People spam chat asking for help getting to skill and word teachers
that are perfectly safe to get to, if they had bothered to explore
instead of reading teacher lists.
6. People spam chat asking for equipment that takes groups of 50s to
get, when they don't even know how to get to a meeting point in the
area the item comes from.
5. It's a checklist for imms of cool stuff to 'fix', like the old WWI
money route.
4. Whoever is sponsoring the cheat page on behalf of DERT didn't ask the
DERT members whether we wanted to be sponsoring it or not.
3. The trans mob outside my house is always dead cause the cheat page
had listed it as a money mob.
2. Most of the wrong info that got people killed when it was Andara's
page is STILL wrong info that will get people killed now that it's
sponsored by DERT.
and, the #1 reason why Andara/DERT's cheat pages are evil....
It's almost totally impossible to sell Pirate's Den equipment because
the cheat pages don't have the stats and nobody has room in their eq
set for anything that is unlisted.
________________________
/ \
o O | Wonder what folks are |
`\|||/ | doing over at LegendMUD?|
(o o) \________________________/
ooO_(_)_Ooo________________________________________________________________
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/__| LEGENDITES: Information Regarding the People of Our World |__\
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A Threat
A lone arrow had struck the door of the evil Ministry of Darkness' house, and
on this arrow was a blood stained note with a very simple message, which read
as follows:
Your monopoly on this realm has disturbed me, from the ruthless killings to
the constant bandwagoning of your members. You have declared war on this
clan or that clan, only to feed your appetite for death, but you've gone too
far. Prepare for the worst, Ministers.. it won't be long until you receive
it...
The note was unsigned, but had a very familiar aura to it.
{+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+}
Doors a Civic Investment
'Tis verily pleasant to see the many dwellings that my fellow Legend citizens
have built. Many are the houses and sacred groves that I marvel in delight
at. Yet there is one small thing that pains me.
Many home owners do not have front doors. Those who have doors often do not
close them. And in consequence, I find myself barging into private residences
several times a day. I do not wish to violate your privacy, nor do I wish to
impose myself as an unwanted guest upon the home-owning public. Moreover, it
is extremely disorienting to find oneself inside a private dwelling after
typing an extra "e" or "n." I do understand that many homeowners and shop
keepers wish to indicate that visitors are welcome, but surely a well placed
sign would be just as effective as an open doorway.
So please, I beg of you, good property owning citizens. Buy doors and close
them.
My thanks in advance.
Orlando
{+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+}
Marcel's Account
At the dawn of time, God created the world, and on the eighth day He laid
down and did nothing at all. From that time and on, it was we angels who
patrolled the heavens and the realms, and us who attempted to guide the
creation of which He was most fond, mankind. As you all probably have heard
to the point of not caring to hear it again, not all of us were overly
pleased with this 'master race'. Oh, they were attractive and interesting -
if they weren't, there'd probably never have been the Nephilim, the children
of angels and mortal women. We liked them. But a fair lot of us saw no reason
to kneel to them and worship them as the masters of creation.
What did they have that we did not? Souls. Why did they and not we gain this
immortality of the spirit, this promise that once our physical bodies
perished we should come to rest with our Father. What else did they get? Free
will. The right to choose for themselves whether to walk with God, or turn
their backs upon him. You all know how the story goes from there - the
archangel Lucifer rebelled, and those of us who supported his belief got a
one way ticket to keep him company in the realm God created for him to be his
prison.
But that is not what Jonathan asked me to tell you all, and yet it has a fair
lot to do with it. Once, Jonathan was an angel in the armies of God - just
like me - and he was quite happy with that job, just like me. And just like
me he was just discovering the more interesting aspects of having physical
bodies, only unlike me, he turned his attention towards a fellow angel,
rather than some pretty village girl.
You all know the story of Noah and his sons, and their rather dull journey
across the seas, pigeons, olive branches and what do I know. Some of you may
have read your Scripture well enough to know that it was the Nephilim God
primarily sought to destroy in flooding his creation. The children of angels
- gifted with the powers of the immortal entities of Heaven, yet with the
free will and the small minds of mortals. Oh, they were dangerous - and
rather annoying, I used to think, flaunting their powers and their freedom in
the faces of we who at that time were busy making Hell at least somewhat of a
place worth staying in. And then they all drowned, and I guess we weren't
entirely sad about that.
God was, obviously, less than pleased with those of his servants who'd gone
about flirting with the village girls and sending these bastard demi-gods
into the world. To put it gently, He was very unhappy. So in His infinite
wisdom He decreed that from the day and on, angels would no longer be able to
create life. Oh, we could participate in the joys of mating if we wanted, but
we'd never again see our own eyes in the face of a newborn child, never again
know that we had helped create something unique. Needless to say, we were
not entirely happy about that.
And this is where my story finally finds its winding way to Jonathan. He was
one of these loyal ones who believed that God probably had a bunch of good
reasons as to why He'd give souls and free wills to the mortals and not to
us. Sure he was. Fine young lad, total bore. But he did manage to pull off
one stunt that made the lot of us grit our teeth in envious rage. He managed,
by some means I'd give my left wing to know, to impregnate another angel. And
as you can probably guess, somebody got so mad the lady in question got
kicked out of Heaven, to wander the Earth as a mortal woman. You know how it
goes.
So there Jonathan was, searching for his lady and his child in what must have
seemed like an eternity to him, and there she was, somewhere concealed from
angelic eyes, raising a kid and wondering how come she never aged.
And that is what I know of Jonathan and Alexandria. I have only heard rumors
of how the angel finally found his lady love again, and the child's name
remains unknown to me. I have no idea whether they intend to live happily
ever after, but I do know that the once angel Jonathan possesses something
which I want: The ability to procreate. And that probably makes him more of a
master of creation than any other of us who followed the Lightbringer into
Hell.
Marcel Alexander, Esquire,
Once Master of the Seventh Circle.
{+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+}
A Gift for Mitra
Mitra, she who once was favored by the Goddess, she who was once the
Shield Maiden of the Hermetics, was in a major funk. Nothing, it seemed,
was going as it ought. Great gifts had been granted her, and she had lost
them all. The Sacred Silly Scarf, the Purple Jellies, the Can of Lavender
Scented Hairspray with which she had smote her enemies, even her daughter
Vashti, who had run away to be Wild Druid with no fashion sense.
Sulkily, she scuffled through the streets of Agrabah, heedless of the dust
that she was kicking up. Whatever would become of her? What meaning could
she find in a life without service to the Goddess, let alone baubles?
Quite suddenly, the dust clouds became slightly lavender. She wiped her
eyes; the sun must be playing tricks on them again. And then the dust
turned a darker shade of lavender, and she felt a Presence that she had
never expected to encounter again.
"Mitra!" hollered the lavender dust, "Mitra!"
"Ah...yes?" she quavered.
"I call you to do My bidding!"
Mitra gulped. "Are you sure, Ma'am," she asked..."I mean, it's not like I
was so good at it before.."
The lavender dust vibrated angrily "What do you mean by that?"
"I failed you...I lost all the gifts that you had given me, all that was
granted me to advance your Name." She flung herself down, waiting for the
dust to smite her.
The dust swirled faster and faster into a rolling laugh. "Mortal Child,
you see too dimly Those things did not make you my servant, they were only
the outward signs. And there is still much that I demand of you."
Suddenly a couple of objects dropped down from the sky. They bounced off
of Mitra's head and onto the ground.
"But take these as a token of my renewed Charge upon you! I know you
cannot fail me."
And the lavender dust suddenly dissipated, and Mitra was left gazing in
wonder at the pair of Purple Jellies.
{+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+}
Farewell from Hastur
It is with a tear in my eye, and a heavy heart that I must write this. I,
Hastur McDougan, have now withdrawn from the world that is LegendMUD. There
were good times, and there were bad times, but I wish I had someone to share
them with, as most everyone I was close to has long since left. I can
truthfully say Legend is not the mud it is today, than when I came to it.
The world expanded, the playerbase enlarged, alot of code changed. The mud
itself improved many times over, and will always be remembered by me as the
very best mud I've ever been on. But, to counter the good there is always
bad, and I personaly have seen a decrease in Role-play over the years.
Before everyone would make a big production out of a death or a farewell, but
now it appears I shall just fade away, only remembered by the small handfull
of oldbies you might have glimpsed my name. Even when I announced my
leaving, most people didn't recognize me and I had a few request for items,
instead of remorse or wishes to stay. To any McDougan clan member still
alive, or to any of my old friends that have just stayed hidden, I shall
remain contactable as [email protected].
"Oldbie" and NPH,
Hastur McDougan
@@@@-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=Deicide's Travels=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-@@@@
Walking into the mysty hovel, a set of chimes above the door sounded sweetly.
An odious stench reels from the back of the room, and as I approach closer, I
was forced to beckpedal from the mysterious smell. From no apparent location,
a raspy, voice booms, "Can I help you?" To my utter suprise, the soothsayer
Satyrus appears behind a tiny wooden desk. As we make eye contact, he peers
down and belts, "You bear the mark! The mark of the Celts!" I raise my
eyebrow in confusion.
"And what mark is this, soothsayer?" I reply in disbelief. Satyrus goes off
on a tangent, speaking of potions and wands. "Answer me, soothsayer, what
mark do you speak of?" I proclaim, sounding full of demand. Satyrus says,
"Ah, the mark. From the birth of Cian, son of Diancecht, Ard-righ of Tara,
the royal were branded with the sign of the Dun, the crow's feather. Notice
the mark on your left knuckle." Appalled by the news, I look down at my
knuckle and scrutinize the burn-mark. It's fuzzy crescent shape now appears
to me as the feather. Aloud, I ponder "I am of the Diancecht bloodline?
Yes, I must be! I owe it to my ancestors to learn the lore of the druids. I
must set sail and head to Eire, I thank you Satyrus."
Upon reaching the rugged coasts of Eireland, the air was fresh and wholesome.
A road I have traveled many times, this is the first time I may call it home.
Walking through the town, I tip my hat in Tika's direction. Tika is a fine
woman. She has spent most of her day caring for the people of the realm. She
fed the rich, the poor and the drunk. Heading down the path to the Dun, a
warrior guarding the door asks me for the toll, "Two coins milord, one for
myself and one for the Lord," he declares. I reply, "Not today my good sire,
not today," and I flourish my knuckle towards the man. He gasps, bows his
head and I continue on my way to find Cian. As usual, the aging man was found
to be in his study.
I knock on the door and cautiously ask, "Lord?" The Ard-righ replies, "Come
in, young one." Hesitating slightly, I enter the chamber. I tell him, "Lord,
I have seen the fortune teller Satyrus and he informs me that I bear the mark
of the royal bloodline of Eireland." Showing him the mark, "Is it true, Lord?
Did you father me?" I ask.
Shaking his head gently, Cian replies, "No doubt you are a descendant of the
royalty, however after so many years I'm not sure I can tell you who your
father is. I can show you the whereabouts of the secret druid compound. It is
here you should learn of our past and our valuable traditions."
Led by a party of elite guardsmen and Cian, we come upon an oak tree of
unnatural proportions. Cian knocks on the bark and a door in the tree appears
and opens. I am taken inside the the party quickly scurries out. Taking a
good look around me, I see walls of natural oak, some covered in patchwork
quilts that appear to be made of roots, twigs and leaves. An uncountable
amount of large dusty books of assorted colors lie about the room, some on
shelves, some on tables. A large man with a thick silver beard approaches me
in his deep forest green robe. "Come with me son, class will begin soon,"
he informs me.
The man leads me into what appears to be a seminar room and seats me behind a
small table. Each other apprentice also sits at his own workstation. Each
table has various supplies upon it. Assorted berries, leaves and twigs lie
spread across the station. At the end of each table is a large roll of
cloth. The man addresses the class, "As the Archdruid of Eireland, I feel it
is appropriate you learn one of our most valuable traditions, the art of
poultice making from me, rather than one of the other druids."
Looking up from my station, "Archdruid? Diancecht?" I ask. He nods his head
swiftly and continues with his lecture. "Students, select the barberries
from the table and lay them upon the cloth." Already confused and slightly
embarassed, I ask him, "Uhh uhmm which are they?" Diancecht sighs and comes
over to point out the small multicolored berries.
He instructs the class, "Next you must grind the berries using the pestle and
mortar you were provided with." Faster than anyone else, I utilize my brute
strength and grind the berries into a fine paste. "This part is a breeze," I
brag. Next we were instructed to wrap the paste in the cloth, creating the
finished product. One by one, the apprentices finish their poultices and
raise the perfect oval-shaped bandage in the air. When comes my turn, I lift
my hastily packed poultice in the air to find it fall apart and create a
sticky mess.
Diancecht dismisses the class and comes to my station. He says to me in a
gentle voice, "Perhaps the healing arts of the druid are not for you. Unlike
the other students, you lack years of training. In these years they have
learned the lore of the herbs, they have perfected their flavoring, brewing
and poultice making skills. You have mastered none. From watching you grind
the herbs, your aggressive nature shows that you are a warrior. Your
physique is immense, your movements swift and nimble and your mind strong and
devoted. You, Deicide, will be trained by Tara's finest in the ways that
young Cuchullain was trained when he was in the realm of the living. You are
to work with the hero of the land, Lugh. He will teach you the ways and you
will be known as the Defender of Tara from here and henceforth."
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The Book of Evil Mage Tricks, ch. 32
Riding the waves off the coast of Hispaniola, with the ease gained by years
on the sea, the Portuguese galleon, "The Drunken Maiden", raise her pirate
colors as she bore down upon the sparsely manned pinnace flying an
unrecognized flag, which seemed to be a badly-drawn bottle of rum on a bit of
yellowed canvas. Suddenly a toga-clad old man sprang from beneath decks and
lost his balance, nearly pitching himself into the roiling waves before
regaining his composure. He began spouting insults at the galleon, loaded
down with cannon.
"Avast ye varlots, batten down the hatches, heave to! Heave fro! Prepare
yerselves to be boarded! Throw down yer arms and I'll spare yer mangy hides!
D'ye hear me ya low-down louts!?!"
The swarthy Portuguese men responded by ramming the small craft and smashing
it to bits under the bow of the ship. An alarm was cried when the crew
noticed an aged gent in a freshly-moistened toga clawing his way over the
side of the ship, onto the deck, a bottle of rum grasped tightly in one
hand. Almost instantaneously after he had placed his feet on the deck, the
old man was cought fast in the strong arms of the pirates. "Que ns faremos
com este, capito?" one of his captors asked of the bearded man sporting an
eyepatch and a fancy captain's-hat.
"Pendure-o do yardarm." He responded after a moment of thought. "I'll give
ye one last chance to throw down yer arms, 'else ye'll suffer mightily!" The
Portuguese men looked at the old man in confusion. "Aww spit. Umm... Eu
dar-lhe-ei uma ultima possibilidade jogar suas armas, se nao voce sofrera
poderosa!" The pirates burst into laughter at the wrinkled old man's botched
Portuguese, and proceeded to drag him up the mast to the yardarm, a noose
ready for an unwilling neck.
"That does it!" the old man shouted at the top of his lungs, the sound of it
so loud that it burst the eardrums of the men nearby, and in response, the
men dropped the toga-clad imp and clapped their hands to their ears. The
suprisingly lithe old man staggered to his feet and glared at the captain,
who dropped to the deck, stone dead. "Um diabo!" shrieked the men, most of
which promptly jumped overboard rather than face the wrath of the
considerably dangerous old man. Soon there was no one left on deck, they had
all fled to the relative safety of the waves. The old man leaned over the
railing, looking down at the frantically swimming pirates, which were faring
badly against the sharks.
"Kill, be killed, eh, gives me some help." muttered the mage as he began
chanting under his breath, motes of power flickering through the air like
fiery sprites. Soon most of the crew was re-assembled on the main deck, the
whole drooling, rotting lot of them. "Avast ye mateys! We make sail for
Harold's island!" shouted the old mage in a hoarse voice. The undead simply
drooled and blinked at their master. Iggy smacked his forehead in
frustration. "Ns fazemos o sail para o console de Harold! Onde est o rum?"
cackled the old mage as he charged below decks. The undead sailors lurched
into action, some readying the rigging, others manning the lookout, and some
just standing there drooling.
Soon the ghastly ship was within eyeshot of the tiny island populated by the
retired crew of the Dread Pirate Harold, who had previously pillaged much of
the carribean, causing much pain to the inhabitants. 'Aghmmmphhhmoaa,"
moaned the lookout as the island broke the horizon. "Men! To your guns!
Prepare for attack!"
Again the zombies simply drooled and blinked at their master. Growling, the
old mage barked out "Homens! brao voc mesmo! Ns preparamo-nos para a
batalha!" The crew slowly lumbered below decks to retrieve their weapons, a
horde of sabers, flintlocks, and the odd small hand cannon.
The main port drew near, Harold's villa a shining white beacon at the center
of the town.
"Traga-nos ao redor ao tiro!" The helmsman swung the ship to it's side,
baring the thirty-odd cannon on the side of the galleon.
The old man mustered up his strength and shouted with all his might, "FOGO!"
After a short pause the boom of cannon shook the ship, ball after ball
whizzed towards it's target, smashing houses and buildings as they went.
Again the mage barked orders to the crew, "Prosiga o ataque! No pare at o
ltimo homem!", before he himself made himself as light as air and took flight
for the villa.
Very quickly he heard the boom of returning cannon fire, the shout of men
rushing out in longboats to massacre their enemies.
Once inside the now-unguarded villa, Iggy cast a cloak of sneakiness around
himself, and begain searching the rooms. "Where is it, where is the damned
thing?" he grumbled underneath his breath as he fumbled through Harold's sock
drawer. Soon he had made his way into the main feast hall. Frantically
searching through various chests lining the hallways, each filled with
spanish gold, he almost didn't notice the old man sneaking up behind him.
Whirling around with unreal speed, the mage still didn't evade the blow from
his aged assailant, and he took a slice to the forearm. His blood ran red
down his toga.
"Aye! Ye dares rob the dread pirate Harold! Ye won't live ta see tomorrer,
not while's I'm around to see to it!"
"Why, hello Harold." The aged imp delivered a swift kick to the old
pirate's belly, sending him sprawling. Snatching a hideously ugly old branch
from underneath his toga, he made to do battle.
"It's yer cutlass I be wanting, Harold, hand it over and ye'll live, but I
can't guarantee for how long."
"Hah! A day without it and I'll be dead for sure. Ye'll pry it from my
cold dead hands ye will!"
The cutlass of which the old men spoke was a gift to a powerful viceroy of
Jamaica, it is said to be imbued with the power to give its wielder the
strength of ten men, and the drinking ability of forty. It was nearly four
feet long, and sported a jewelled pommel, words of power inscribed up and
down the length of the blade.
"Ye'll not stick me with that pole!" Shouted the mage, incredibly loudly,
so loudly in fact it made the ground shake and the slaves underneath held
their ears in pain. Harold winced slightly, but kept up his guard.
Growling, the mage took the offensive. Dodging and whirling, the drunken imp
made sport of Harold's best attempts to skewer him with his enchanted
cutlass, all the while swiping at the old pirate with his own club, but never
connecting.
Suddenly, with a quick burst of speed the pirate soundly impaled the imp
through the chest. "Hah!" yelled the victor as he watched his opponent's
death throes, the cutlass still embedded deep in his chest.
"Oh lord, oh please, I'm dying," the imp thrashed about melodramatically,
flailing his limbs and rolling his eyes, "why Myra, oh why Ted? I'm.. I'm
too young to die, too young I tell you!" With this the bloody imp fell to
the floor, limp. Grinning, the old pirate looked over his kill, and was
quite suprised to see the prone figure pop like a soap bubble. He was even
more suprised when he was clocked in the head from behind with a piece of
fire-wood.
"Chump." cackled the old mage as he snatched the cutlass from the ground
where it had clattered after the illusion popped. The imp sauntered over to
a handy window to see the goings-on outside, and how his ship of the dead was
faring. When the actual nature of the denizens of "The Drunken Maiden" was
discovered, many of the attacking pirates fled to their homes, those that
weren't demolished in the initial volley of cannonballs. A few hardy souls
remained to battle the undead Portuguese, dismayed at the fact that their
daggers and lead balls did not phase the zombies in the least. Finally
someone set fire to the ship, and it was burned into the sea, along with it's
crew.
Iggy finally chartered a ship to bring him back to England, and ended up
slaughtering half the crew as they tried to steal his cutlass during the
night. Eventually he made it back to the Isle of Wight where he then sold
the cutlass, but that is another tale entirely.
{+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+} {+}
The Trial of Ronnie Valthalas -- Part I
The Opening to the Second Circle
The opening you are standing in, marking the beginning of the four circles
of incontinence, is surrounded by craggy rocks, but looks safe enough. Up
above you can see the path above the rocks that leads into this miserable
place, and to the east you can see nothing but darkness, and hear nothing but
loud howling noises. There is also a huge chair in the middle of the rock
walls here that looks like it was once an old throne.
An immense and ponderous witness stand sits here, drawing your attention. A
crowd is assembled, sitting in the rows of chairs in front of the witness
stand. You can see a young reporter, Groth, Alexandria, Flea, a knight of the
darkness, The Juggernaut, Chimera, Xena, Aeris, Toilet, Default, Ungeheuer,
Larnoc, Dragonreborn, Daedulas, Diego, STR, Ephemera, Sir Ganymede, Minako,
Abut Therat, and Tia Romenscu, all assembled.
A demonic prosecutor paces back and forth, her hands behind her back.
Three Minions of Minos stand here, awaiting their master's call.
Minos, the judge of souls, is sitting here.
Ronnie Valthalas smiles at Alexandria.
The Prosecuting Demon says, 'Ronnie Valthalas, you have been accused of the
following crimes: 235 counts of grant larceny, 753,245 charges of petty
theft, 52,199 counts of manslaughter...'
The Prosecuting Demon pants.
The Juggernaut says, 'Seven hundred thousand?'
he Prosecuting Demon says, '9,654, 235 counts of first degree murder, 2,406
counts of high treason, 367 counts of embezzlement, 242 counts of
impersonating an officer of the court, 73 counts of heresy...'
The Prosecuting Demon says, '3,985 charges of indecent exposure, 2,483 counts
of cruel and inhuman punishment, and 521 counts of public drunkenness.'
'Nine million murders?' The Juggernaut says. 'Jeesh. the The Third Reich had
less sins than that.'
Alexandria glances at Ronnie Valthalas nervously.
Minos says, 'How does the defense plead?'
Ronnie Valthalas says dramatically, 'I plead self defense,' and grins
evilly. A confident Hispanic chuckles politely. Groth grips Ronnie
Valthalas in a huge bearhug that leaves him gasping for air.
Minos growls at Ronnie Valthalas. 'Do you wish to be found in contempt of
court?' Ronnie's grin falters for a second.
Ronnie Valthalas says, declaiming dramatically, 'Alright...I wish to change
my plea to temporary insanity.'
Minos says, 'Temporary insanity? We know everything about you, including your
mental state.'
Ronnie Valthalas sighs. 'Well, I'm going to plead not guilty then,' Ronnie
Valthalas say, gesturing broadly and exaggerating every word. 'Always worked
on Matlock,' he adds.
'Not guilty?' a confident Hispanic says, looking amused. 'This should be good.'
The Juggernaut whispers to Ronnie Valthalas, 'I promise to visit you and your
weight-watchers group push the gigantic weight every now and then.'
'Thank you kindly,' Ronnie Valthalas say, gesturing broadly and exaggerating
every word, to The Juggernaut.
Minos says, 'Plea accepted. But you will find that your tricks will not serve
you here.'
'Oh no? Then watch carefully, and note that my arm never leaves my
shoulders...' Ronnie Valthalas says dramatically. Ronnie pulls a asphyxiated
dove from his sleeve.
The Minion of Minos says, 'This trial is to determine whether you are just a
hyena in a man's skin, or a truly heartless deviant.'
Minos says, 'The dead tell tales, and your victims tell mostly the same. How
their lives were ripped from purposeful existence, to satisfy your whim or
rages. I have grown quite weary, listening to their tales as they pass before
me for judgement, whining that you yourself go unpunished. Your crimes do
not add up in your favor under ideal circumstances, but there are particular
gems that shine out in this field. People you have murdered, whether by your
hand or by driving them to their deaths. I have heard from so many.'
Minos continues, 'But only a few shall speak.' The judge of the dead turns to
the demon to his right. 'Prosecutor, call the first witness.'
The Prosecuting Demon says, 'Prosecution calls Tia Romenscu.'
Tia Romenscu stands up. Ronnie looks slightly puzzled. Tia Romenscu says,
'Do you not remember me?'
'A little reminder?' Ronnie says.
Tia Romenscu says tearfully, 'Of course. We had been engaged for only a short
time, before the battle which took his humanity.'
Ronnie says in a tranquil voice, '..oh.. yes, you...'
Tia Romenscu says, 'He was gone for a long time...and when he returned, I
tried to accept him as he was...' Ronnie looks down, intent on his shoes,
nails digging into his palms. Tia Romenscu continues, 'But he killed my
family, my friends, everyone I cared about.' The Juggernaut frowns at
Ronnie.
The Prosecuting Demon says, 'The first of many.' Alexandria glances from
Ronnie to Tia nervously. The Prosecuting Demon goes on, 'He betrayed his own
tribe, to feed his need, and drove his fiancee to suicide.'
Tia Romenscu nods sadly. Alexandria says, stuttering, 'Fiancee'?' Ronnie
sighs deeply, bringing his head back up. Tia Romenscu says, 'Now I must
endure in hell, for all eternity.'
Her face twists slightly with rage. Tia Romenscu says, redfaced with anger,
'I suffer eternally, and he yet wanders the earth, with friends and family?
He does everything he wishes, yet I suffer.'
The Prosecuting Demon says, 'Does the defense wish to cross-examine this
witness?'
'N-n-n-no,' Ronnie says, in a soft tone.
'How did you die?' Alexandria says, glancing around nervously, to Tia
Romenscu. 'Over Ronnie?'
Tia Romenscu says sadly, 'I was miserable at the death of my entire
tribe...at the hands of my beloved...I met my end at my own hands.'
Alexandria sniffs sadly. Tia Romenscu sighs, and returns to her seat.
'This was my past darling, I didnt know what I was yet myself when I came
back to my village,' Ronnie whispers, declaiming dramatically, to Alexandria.
'At least I thought it was in my past, and I wish above all that it wasnt
there at all.' Alexandria ponders her own life.
The Prosecuting Demon says, 'The next witness is Abut Therat.'
Abut Therat stands up. 'Ratty Abut?' Ronnie says, gesturing broadly and
exaggerating every word. 'Well, theres a face I havnt seen in some time.'
Abut Therat spits in Ronnie's face.
Abut Therat says, 'The traitorous slime.' Ronnie says, declaiming
dramatically, to Abut Therat, 'Well, I was going to ask how you were doing
lately, but it's moot I suppose.'
Abut Therat says, 'I found him nearly dead in the desert.'
'I was fakin it,' Ronnie says. 'Vultures make a nice snack.' The Juggernaut
looks sick.
Abut Therat says, 'I rescued the young stripling neonate from a sure death.
I gave him shelter, I gave him the knowledge he would need to survive. He
was one of us, how could I refuse him?'
A pale beauty floating in purple mists says to Abut Therat, 'You're killing
our father. I hope ye happy.'
Abut Therat says, 'I awoke in time to see his teeth diblerizing me as I
slept, draining me of my blood. After all I had done for him, his repayment
was pure treason.'
Abut Therat says to a pale beauty floating in purple mists, 'He deserves
justice.'
The Prosecuting Demon says, 'Do you see? This man is a traitor to his own
kindred.'
Young Groth bursts out, 'He's never betway me!!!'
Minos says, 'Does the defense wish to cross-examine this witness?'
Ronnie says dramatically, 'Again, I decline.'
Abut Therat says to Groth, 'If he were hungry, or bored, he'd drink your
blood or cut off your arms and make you dance.'
Groth says to Abut Therat, 'No he wouldn't!' Groth growls at Abut Therat.
Alexandria frowns at Abut Therat. 'Maybe because yous deserved it!!' Groth
says to Abut Therat. Groth sniffs sadly.
Abut Therat says, 'I saved his life, he took mine.' Abut Therat returns to
his seat.
Minos says, 'Have those assembled, anything to say in his defense? Or
accusations to make? I have heard from the dead, and their voice says he is
guilty. What say the living?'
The group clamors for the judge's attention, and Minos works to restore
order. Alexandria quietly sits back in her seat, pondering implications.
Minos says, 'Larnoc, do you wish to speak?'
Larnoc says to a pale beauty floating in purple mists, 'I have to, hun,' and
sits down on the witness stand.
She glares icily at him.
Larnoc says to Minos, 'May I ?'
Minos says to Larnoc, 'Identify yourself, and speak.'
'Please, if this is the last time I have to see you, forgive me for my angry
words,' Ronnie whispers, cooing, to Alexandria. 'I deserve hell if only for
breaking my oath to never hurt you, but with everyone's rumors about me and
you overwhelmed me.'
Minos says, 'The truth will be told.'
'I am Larnoc of the Hermetic order,' Larnoc says.
Larnoc says, 'I would like to state that the defendant, has participated in
attacks both unprovoked, unfair and with numbers against.' Alexandria looks
at Ronnie, the pain of her heart echo'd in her eyes. Sir Ganymede observes
the proceedings with a look of subdued bemusement.
Larnoc says, 'He also attacked me once while I was out of equipment and when
I pointed this out to him he said "all the better". The defendant
participated in breaking into my wife's home and intending to murder me in
her living room.'
'I do not deny that I was his enemy,' Ronnie says, gesturing broadly and
exaggerating every word, to Minos.
'Also the defendant threatened to kill and loot a harmless old lady who
unfortunately is not with us today,' Larnoc says. 'Objection,' Ronnie says,
gesturing broadly and exaggerating every word.
Minos says to Ronnie, 'Yes?'
Ronnie says, gesturing broadly and exaggerating every word, 'The harmless old
lady had attacked me quite a few times while I was simply relaxing
peacefully, and many times when I was already wounded form other fights. She
had also attacked Alexandria for no other crime than wishing to defend her
love. At least at the time.'
Alexandria says, barely audible, to Ronnie, 'Oh Ronnie... please tell me you
did not attack the elderly...'
'Who was this woman?' Alexandria says, almost a whisper, to Ronnie.
Ronnie says dramatically, 'BabaYaga.'
Shino_Kage hugs a pale beauty floating in purple mists. A pale beauty
floating in purple mists cries on Shino_Kage's shoulder.
Larnoc says to Minos, 'A harmless old woman from Russia.'
I object!' Alexandria says quietly. 'He did such in defense of me, your
honor!'
Minos says, 'I see.'
'A witch, hardly harmless,' Ronnie says, declaiming dramatically.
Minos says, 'BabaYaga is not present, thus testimony about her is invalid.'
Larnoc nods his agreement with The Minion of Minos. 'Outward appearances are
deceiving when they wield the powers of arcana,' Ronnie says dramatically.
Ronnie says, declaiming dramatically, 'The witness is attempting to garner
sympathy with his tales of harmless old ladies with no power at all.'
Minos says, 'Larnoc, you have shown us how blood-thirsty this man is, even
towards those who care for him and aid him, and his disrespect for the home
and family.'
The Prosecuting Demon chuckles politely at The Juggernaut's feeble
witticism. Ronnie says, declaiming dramatically, 'I wish to cross-examine
the witness if the prosecution is done.'
Minos says, 'Go ahead.' Ronnie straightens his dusty battered suit, hate and
disgust smouldering in his eyes.
Larnoc glares icily at Ronnie. Ronnie says dramatically to Larnoc, 'Is it
not true that you had insulted me for arguing a decision that hurt
Alexandria?'
Larnoc says to Ronnie, 'Err refresh my memory on that one ?'
'She had lost her belongings to a horrible accident, and you had the gall to
insult me and Craven when we tried to complain about it,' Ronnie says,
declaiming dramatically, to Larnoc.
Alexandria frowns at Larnoc. Ronnie says dramatically to Larnoc, 'Furthmore,
do you deny that you and your clan have always had quite apparent hate for my
Enforcers?'
Larnoc says to Ronnie, 'I hate you, I make no secret of it.'
'Then would your testimony is biased,' Ronnie says, gesturing broadly and
exaggerating every word, to Larnoc. Will you not relate as to how you have
attacked my friends in groups of your own?'
Minos says, 'If you have acted to earn his hate, and he speaks the truth, it
does not matter how he feels about you. Your question is invalid. Larnoc's
deeds are not on trial.
Ronnie says, declaiming dramatically, 'No further questioning.'
Minos says, 'Larnoc has not murdered nine million people.'
'Pah!' Ronnie says, looking annoyed by something. 'Next witness.'
The Prosecuting Demon says, 'Yes, nine million. And still he has so decieved
some few people that they still defend him.'
Larnoc says to Minos, 'May I step down ?'
The Minion of Minos says, 'Who shall speak next?'
To be continued...
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Hello Legenders :)
For you this week, Alexandria. A great mother and guild mistress!
I hope you will enjoy reading, just as I did. Have a good day!
Name: Alexandria, the arc-angel
Occupation: Guild mistress of the Order of the Scroll
and mother to Miaka and Groth .
Q - 'What would you say is priceless to you?'
A - 'Life and love. Love, be it so fleeting at times, is also a staple
in good friendships, in relationships. My children and my friends mean
the world to me for they are all I truly have. And life I enjoy with
every breath, every stroll along the ocean's edge, every bit of music
and mirth I participate in. I am but a bard at heart, so it is fitting
that such things are of importance to me *smile*'
Q - 'If you could compare yourself to a kitchen utensil, what would it
be?'
A - 'A common kitchen knife. Useful, blunt, sometimes sharp-edged,
dangerous at times, and sometimes pretty dull. :) *laughs*'
Q - 'What is your favorite type of music?'
A - 'That of the lute, and perhaps the harp. The lute can be both
playful and serious at the same time. And the harp... Ah, the harp. An
instrument of passion, of emotion! A good harp can stroke the soul in
even the darkest of hours. Its notes can fill a room with joy,
intrigue, and bemusement. It plays upon one's essence of being.'
Q - 'If you could go anywhere in the world right now, where would you
go?'
A - '*sigh* What a worthy question... I DO need a vacation *ponder* I
hear the Galapagos islands are nice this time of year... My old,
dear friend, you should come too- Quickly, go pack a bag and we'll be
off! *tugs CLeo*'
Q - 'You suddenly realize you have a new, strange, power. What would it
be and what would you do with it?'
A - 'The power of understanding. Mayhap to be a soothsayer like
Xatreka? The ability to 'know' things would save me the great deal of
time I spend wondering why people say or do certain things... Act
certain ways... It would also aid me in understanding myself and my
surroundings a bit more. *sighs* I certainly would love to use such
ability to see inside the heart and mind of a few people... *looks
thoughtful*'
Q - 'If you could go in the past, what would you change? Why?'
A - 'My knowledge of such things. I know not for sure who I was before I
fell, my life amongst the stars. Jonathan says he was my mate and that
Miaka and Groth are our children. I have recently found there to be
proof that Miaka may indeed be mine. Being able to touch the past would
show me who I am... Thrash, my brother, is my only true link to who I am
and I desperately wish to know more.'
Q - 'What do you think of the Dark Lord?'
A - 'He seems to have quite a hold on my fiancee, Ronnie, it seems...
*sigh* Although I have seen someone who has a filet of the Dark Lord so
I am not overly impressed with him *chuckle* So much violence seems to
be done in his name. It is easy to kill -- true power is not in taking a
life, but in giving a life.*whispered* Is it true he is just a big
guppy???'
Q - 'If you could build yourself a big estate, what would it look like?'
A - 'Ooh you have NO idea how much I would love a home! Right now I
have a bedroom in the Order of the Scroll clanhall, but I would one day
like to have a large home with my family and mayhap a friend or two...
A library, a garden, a beautiful butterfly-filled atrium like the one I
so vaguely remember from years ago. I would greatly enjoy such stability
in my life. Mayhap stables, a basement with a wine cellar, an attic with
chests full of memories. I am quite open to suggestions if you have
any?'
Q - 'If I could grant you a wish, what would it be?'
A - 'The ability to be able to grant wishes. :) I try often to help
others but at times there are things I can not help to control. It is
those moments I have often wished I could have a hand in fate to change
things. I was sent to these lands years ago as a judge, to determine
the worth of the inhabitants and their fate. With my wings vanished and
my halo gone, I have no choice but to walk amongst this world beside you
all. Until the Gods grace me once again my abilities, I remain punished
and stripped. Hmm, mayhap it is that which I should be wishing for
instead? Though I hope to soon have completed what was asked of me and
once again return to my position under the Gods, graced with my ability
to aid others once again.'
Q - 'A few words of advice for our readers?'
A - 'Advice? Nay... I haven't any advice per say. I do welcome most
people to feel free to speak with myself, my family, or OTS whether it
be to chat, befriend, or ask assistance.'
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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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