http://playlist.yahoo.com/makeplaylist.dll...qtw=640&qth=400

Del Markov leaned back into the comfy chair with his bottle of Saalian Brandy.
He knew that this would cost him his life and his ship.
It's the only way.
Del drank heavily from the bottle before returning to the review of his ship systems. The report was good. The upgrades were in.
Del transfered four million credits from his personal account.
Movement at the otherside of the table drew Del back into reality.
It was Nita Hoffman.
"Did you get them?" Nita nodded and handed over the data blocks.
Del ran them through his ship database. and focused on the moment.
I was right. Del activated the perscom on his flight suit.
"Azardi, prep the Cruisers for jump."
Del looked at Nita.
"Nita. You were there from the beginning. No further."
"What? You can't do that Del."
"The hell I can't." Del pulled the tranqnife and stabbed her with it.
Sedative pumped through Nita's System and she collapsed.
Del moved for his Cruiser.
Sorry kid.

Sean Meaney
s892646@cdu.edu.au

OOC: Hellloooo....

Larra lost count after what she believed to be the 25th shot, when she realized that 24 just might not come after 57. The grinning waitress constantly brought drinks, but still the three patrons chugged them down just as fast. Larra was beginning to suspect that Ta-vora, being unused to drinking but not yet showing signs of being drunk, was vanishing at least every other shot. There was no question about Page, though. He was clearly enjoying every swallow.

Reaching over, she grabbed one of the glasses the Vellosian had reserved for himself, under the excuse that the other two “couldn’t handle it”, and chugged it down.

“Hey, that one was mine!” Page complained, turning to look at her so fast his scarf smacked Kenady in the face as she brought more drinks.

Larra grinned innocently. “Not anymore.”

=================================

It was a beautiful day - the cheap fluorescent lighting was bright, the pirates were grumpy, the smell was atrocious, and Demon couldn’t think of a better day to be alive. Then again, he was running around the black market with an air horn and a paintball gun, alternating between blasting the horn behind unsuspecting victims, and splashing his more well-groomed victims (they were few and far between) with paint.

Boredom hadn’t lasted long, not when you had an arsenal of endless ideas and a whole group of people to terrorize. Halloween day found him running around with a big white sheet over his head, playing “trick or treat” on the doomed population of the Rock. No one had been willing to give the treat, but that was exactly what Demon had hoped for.

The average daily street fight count had doubled after he began sticking rude signs on people’s backs. The price of medical goods skyrocketed. As far as the shapeshifter was concerned, he was a very important part of the economy.

A few hours ago, he had toured the docking bays until he discovered the most expensive ship he could find, excluding those owned by his friends. After painting a big red target on the side, he began chucking overripe fruit against the hull, keeping track of his score and telling everyone he was doing a study on the ‘splatability’ of various types of fruit, then asking whether they prefered watermelons or grapefruits. As if they didn’t think talking dogs were weird enough.

It was all in good fun, until the owner showed up with his crew, and Demon had to make a quick escape into a nearby sewer pipe. Unfortunately he managed to get stuck directly under the sewage dump, but that only presented to opportunity to spread the stuff all across the streets once he escaped.

OOC: sean, you weren’t clear about where your characters are. If they aren’t on the Rock, then everyone can just ignore the rest of my post.

Demon grinned as he ran, remembering all the fun he’d been having. Skidding to a stop at the door of the No Name, the shapeshifter almost slammed headfirst into a stranger leaving. Abandoning all thoughts of visiting Larra, he followed Del for a short distance, then took aim with his paintball gun and gleefully fired several rapid shots.

These people sure can put it away... Kenady thought to herself as she walked back to the bar with an empty tray. At least there's plenty more. They're only about a quarter of the way through all this... and there's twice this much in the back room.

Loading the tray with several tankards of dark stout and an equal number of shots of almost pure alcohol, she balanced the tray expertly as she hurried back to the table. Pulling a lighter from her back pocket, she announced, "Irish Car Bombs, all around!"

She proceeded to pick up a shot, light it on fire, drop it in the pint of stout, and drain it in one go.

Wiping her mouth after spitting the shot glass back into the tankard, she commented. "You guys don't mind if I join in a bit, do you? Bringing you lot drinks is a thirsty job." Not waiting for an answer, she plopped down next to Larra. "Finish these," She lit a shot. "And I'll go get some more." She dropped it in a tankard, and handed it to Larra. "Any requests?"

Markov's Wolves were heading for Kade.

Del focused on the data recording of Emil Mannering.

>Emil Mannering descended the ramp of his craft and stepped onto the surface of Centauri Prime. Emil violated the rules and cracked the seals on his suit and pulled off his helmet. The medallion around his neck bounced into view. His second, Francis Grey, could be heard over comm.
"Damn it Mannering! The bioprotocols are there for a reason."
Emil smiled.<
Grandfather said that smile got Mannering elected President of United Earth.

Del paused the recording and backed up to the medallion. He zoomed in.
Mannering was a follower of Sheppard. The Church of Alan.
Del gripped his own medallion and smiled.

Del thought of Nita collapsed in Del's comfy chair.
I should have told you I love you just once.

One last step, one small leap for mankind.


It was only then that Del noticed the paint!!

The Palm tre chuckled from its seat in he corner, next to the elevated red booth. It looked at the clock, and then to the ususal residents of its booth. It had been maybe 2 hours straight. Even the waitress had joined them.
The palm tree brushed the red leather booth lightly with one of its branches, and began tapping how long would this last?
-------------
"Keep em coming!" Page slurred, lighting the cigarette he put in one of his nostrils because he missed his mouth.
The waitress stood up and staggered over to the bar. There were only 2 bottles of saillian brandy left, so she turned off into the store room, and brought back a case something so strong it could probably strip the bolts off a shuttle.
"They wont be able to get past this," she said to herself quietly.
She re entered the bar and Page was pounding on the table with his mug. Larra's skin had turned paper white and one of her eyes wandered over the bar while the other, seemingly glazed over, just staed straight ahead.
And Ta-vora's projection was cycling through colors.
"See!" Page spat, "Mental projections can get drunk!"
The waitress rolled her eyes and set the case on the table. Page tore at the cardborad freeing a bottle, and began guzzling. Larra slowly followed, At this point she had already drank so much that just about anything tasted like water, and every time Ta-vora's projection eached for a bottle its hand disappeared.
"This is too easy," the waitress whispered.

The Legend of the Voronov
Part IX

Voina Overworld, Voina System, Voinian Grand Empire

The V.I.S. Voronov emerged out of the chaos of hyperspace and was quickly acquired by Voina's defense platforms and the long-range planetary artillery. Even after the VSD had confirmed the ship's identity, the gun crews kept their watch. One never knew if the Earthscum or the Emalghan dogs had tried something.

One never knew. The thought occurred to Zathe ek Daal as well, but it was in a different sense. Sorul, the god he had fought for, killed people for, had never existed. It was all a million-year old illusion designed by his ancestors to evolve with them, so that they would continue to forget. The only reason he knew otherwise was because his ancestors hadn't bothered to clean up all their trash.

Zathe covered his eyes. For what had he done murder?

Behind him, Shek Sunrunner and Lelos Somm were working with the Voronov's engineering chief. The subject of the inquiry, an isolated cluster of Sorucytes--as Shek had named the picocytes--was attempting to escape the confines of a Dur'achi gravity field.

All that they'd found so far was what they'd already known. The Sorucytes repaired the body, with the required materials available. They increased cognitive functioning. And they were responsible for the battletrace ability. They'd figured that out rapidly enough.

At least the confirmation was comforting. The crew suspected the clues they'd find on Voina would not be pleasant.

---------

They landed at a VSD military base. After disembarking, they quickly logged their presence and acquired vehicles. Then they went searching for one of the rarest buildings on the Empire: a library.

Demon giggled girlishly to himself as he watched the man walk away. How could someone not notice being hit several times by with paint pellets? Raising his weapon, the shapeshifter took aim at the nearest bystander, only to find out he was completely out of ammo. Disgusted, Demon trotted away to drop the weapon off in the Kamikaze and make new plans.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“I don’t believe it,” Kenady admitted, staring at the three overly drunk patrons. She, of course, had been smart enough not to get herself too drunk. “But you three just finished off the last of it.” The fake waitress couldn’t help wondering how they were even alive.

Ta-vora’s projection hadn’t moved from where it was ten minutes ago, when Kenady had left to search for any liquor that might possibly be left. It flickered erratically, like a dying light bulb.

“Pay me,” Page slurred, slumped over the back of his chair, his words seemingly directed at the palm tree.

Larra remained stationary for about a minute, before mumbling a dull “Woohoo,” and promptly passing out cold on the table, her head making a loud clunking sound as it connected with the solid surface.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

There was only one big problem with Demon’s plan of attack. He had entered the bar as stealthily as possible, planning to have a little fun with his invisible, quick-drying crazy glue, but his targets were in no state to even notice. Holding back laughter, he transformed himself into a tiny little gecko, and climbed the wall on the opposite side of the bar.

Working his way across the ceiling, the shapeshifter positioned himself above his friends’ table, blending in with the shadows. Watching with amusement, Demon had only one regret - he didn’t have a video camera.

OOC: I'm not going to post as Ta-vora anymore, as the site keeps forgetting my passwords if I switch the user.

Ta-vora's shape vanished in a flash of colorful light.
He felt kind of strange when he awoke in the regeneration chamber. He tried to stand but his knees were weak and he collapsed to the ground.
Eryss! That was too much!
The last minutes in the bar had been painful. The others were wrong, he was not drunk. How should he be, none of the alcohol had actually entered his body. His psionic energies had been depleted, thus he had drawn physical energy directly from his body. Now he felt like he had not slept or regenerated for weeks.
Drawing energy from the pulsing crystals around him, he slowly refilled his body's energy reserves, careful not to touch his psionic reserves. They would refill soon enough by themselves.
As unpleasant as the experience was, however, it would keep the threshold syndrome away for some time.

After an hour or so, Ta-vora felt like he could stand again. He left the chamber and headed for the sickbay.
“I need something against hangovers.” he told the physican.
“Hangovers? You don't seem drunk, Kre.”
“No, but I know somebody who probably needs it.”
The physican nodded and handed him an ampule containing white pills. Ta-vora nodded, he knew them from his medical training.

Before the Ka-nuth left the ship, he armed himself with his Crescent Sword and his lightning matrix. Right now he had no psionic energies left and although he still had his training and experience, he was more vulnerable than usual, something that could prove fatal in a place like this.

Upon entering the bar, Ta-vora saw Page and Larra where he had left them. Both were apparently out cold.
“If you want anything to drink, you have to go to a different bar.” the waitress said without turning around to face him, “We're out of alcohol.”
“I know.” the Ka-nuth answered.
She turned around, looking at him with a confused expression but didn't say anything. He sat down at an empty table. Now that he smelled the strong scent of alcohol, he felt disgusted.
Now he waited. From time to time, the waitress directed glances at him and he kept her on the edge of his awareness. There was something strange about her. For a waitress she behaved quite unusual.
Looking up, he noticed Demon sitting on the ceiling. He grinned slightly.
Out of tricks? he thought.

OOC: I used to frequent the Albatross bar, way back in the day. Then I got involved in the Hypergate (which is now, apparently, dead - I miss it, although I didn't post there as often as I should have), and then I found this, where I've been hanging out since. Anyway recently I came to ask a question relating to Nova, and in passing I saw this, and thought; "hmmm". And so I decided, why the heck not? I've read the first few pages, and the last few pages, but not the entirety of the thread, I'm afraid ... here goes nothing!
IC:

Coincidence is fickle. It cares nothing for what might be going on, for circumstances or for the wants of the people whom is strikes. In this case, it means a ship dropping into real-space not far from the Rock...

The entity known as Shade (and also as Khar Kasine, and Arkhinat, and "I want my money back you bastard!") hummed quietly to itself, carefully polishing it's boots. One must mantain one's appearance, after all.

There was a noise, from somewhere else in the cluttered quarters of Shade's vessel, but then there were always noises. The Morrigan was cobbled together out of many different vessels, after all, and the parts fit poorly.

The noise repeated itself, resolving into a high-pitched ping.

"Voi dteh?" Shade looked up in suprise, to see a small grey kitten sitting atop a stack of books. "Oh, it's you. We're out of hyperspace already? I wasn't expecting it to be so soon. That mass we dropped last system must have helped."

"That mass" had been part of an Igadzra warship, disconnected once it had been stripped of all useful items.

"Yes, we're out of hyperspace," the kitten replied, and pinged again. "Now approaching the Rock. You remember the Rock? Renegade hangout?"

"Cha, Morrigan, I remember the Rock. I wonder if they'll have anything decent this time?"

Ping. The little AI avatar yawned, and pronounced; "Upon our last visit, you pronounced the bar "a fermented hellhole", the market "entirely lacking in anything resembling culture", and the station in general "inefficient". This coming from someone who liked Freeport..."

"Freeport had that collection of old Gaiman novels. The Rock had ... what was it? "The Collected Works of Beatrix Potter"? Abhorrent, Morrigan. Simply abhorrent. Still, interesting things tend to end up in places like this..."

"Good luck."

"Thankyou, Morrigan. I may need it."

Shade finished lacing it's boots, and stood, examining itself in the mirror; a humanoid of indeterminate gender clad in black trousers, white shirt, and what it thought of as a "tastefully cultural coat"; a red-and-tan trenchcoat embroidered with ripple patterns at hem, collar and cuffs.

A long grey scarf, black beret, and fingerless gloves rounded out the apparel. The square-rimmed glasses perched on Shade's nose were not so much necessary as they were, in Shade's words, "a necessary label of my lifestyle and occupation"; dealers in antiquities, even dealers in antiquities which were in some cases older than the human race, had glasses.

"There. Will you be coming, Morrigan?"

"One of me." There were, at Shade's last count, several dozen different avatars of Morrigan's AI, with this one being a recent addition, purchased at North Tip Station from a fellow dealer in antiquities.

"Very well, then. Bring us in to dock, and then I think I shall be going for a drink. You can watch, I suppose. There may be people of interest."

"Already done. If you'd spend more time on the bridge..."

"There was an interesting annotated translation of Kehezhamet's Thoughts Upon the Universe. I was reading."

Morrigan said nothing, but the little kitten-avatar hopped up to ride upon Shade's shoulder.

"Ready?"

"Ready. Shall we go?"

The Rock was just as noisy, smelly, and generally "inefficient" (a word Shade used to mean "wasted space", i.e. areas not filled with archaeological relics) as it had been the last time the collector had been through. For now, Shade ignored the markets thronging the chambers of the Rock, heading rather for the bar. They hadn't had a decent tomato juice the last time round, but they might by now. One never knew, after all.

As it had been last time, the bar was redolent with the scent of fermented products; Shade wrinkled it's nose delicately in disgust. Approaching the bar, it fished a credit chip from one voluminous pocket, and placed it carefully on the bartop.

"A tomato juice, please, if you have such a thing. Spiced."

Kenady staggered up to the bar, keeping up her appearance of both being highly intoxicated and a barmaid.

"A... a t'mato juice?"

The antiquities dealer merely nodded, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the stench of alcohol on Kenady. He didn't realize that she'd dumped more on herself than she'd consumed.

Kenady poured the non-alcoholic drink for the, she assumed, man. Setting the glass rather roughly in front of him, she headed back to the table, jug of tomato juice still in hand.

"I found some more! I think it's been sitting out, it's got a bit of a bite!"

Shade sniffed in distaste at the quality of the service. But then, what could one expect, really? The only good service in Renegade space were in bars controlled by the Azdgari mafia, and they had had a falling-out with Shade not so long ago.

The tomato juice tasted just as foul as it had last time Shade had been here, several years back, and the intoxicated barmaid had neglected to add the proper seasonings. But one didn't hold out much hope, really.

Presumably bored, Morrigan's kitten-avatar hopped down from Shade's shoulder and strolled over to Ta-vora (although the AI didn't know his name, of course). Ping! Morrigan might not be your normal sort of AI, being far more independent than most, but an entity almost fifty thousand years old was allowed to be a little odd.

OOC: Shade is a herm; I've been reading too much Lois McMaster Bujold. The correct pronoun is "it".

Demon grinned wickedly as he remembered one very important fact. Ta-vora wasn’t a hologram any more. His grin widened when Shade entered. This was someone who cared quite a bit about his appearance. Even better.

After spending time enough time with the shapeshifter, you might begin to think that his sense of timing was completely infallible. It wasn’t. He was about to set off enough chaos for Kenady to do almost anything she wanted unnoticed.

Unseen, he crawled down the wall and took refuge under and empty table, transforming back into a large black dog. Grinning wickedly, Demon retrieved his bowl of chocolate pudding and giant soup ladle from where he had left them, scooped out a big spoonful, and took aim.

SPLAT!

The gooey brown blob hit Ta-vora smack in the face, sticking to his fur and whiskers and becoming very difficult to rub off.

SPLAT!

A second vat of pudding hit the strange kitten with enough force to nearly knock it right over. Demon turned to his last target, aiming his primitive catapult with careful precision.

Three clumps of chocolate pudding struck the back of Shade’s jacket, and a fourth landed right in his glass of tomato juice, splattering what was left all over his white shirt.

Filling his ladle with more pudding, Demon took aim again.

OOC: Welcome shade, Antique dealer eh... lets see what we can do with this.

"PING!!"
Page, who's thin frame had been draped on his chair like a filthy rag, snapped to attention. His quick motion made Ta-vora jump, even his tuned sences couldnt notice the twitch that came before the sudden movement.
Page let out a blood curdling scream and whipped his arm over his head in a throwing motion. The red brick he heaved shattered on the bar's far wall.
The whole bar jumped and fixed their eyes on Page.
the Vellosian breathed heavily for a few momnts and then looked around.
"Uhhh sorry, force of habit," he said softly. Page stood up and stretched his back. the antique salesman made a note of Page's appearance. It wasnt every day that you saw someone stand 5' 2" with a waist that made even the skinnyest models look meaty, wearing black skintight jeans, short beatup cowbot boots and skin white as paper. Not to mention the several nasty looking metal rings sticking out of his face.
"Where'd you get the brick?" Ta-vora asked slightly amused.
"Brick? Ohhh... well whenever I pass out drunk I usualy end up in a med bay, and somehow whenever I wake up the entire staff ends up bleeding on the floor, with red bricks imbedded in their faces. That might have something to do with it."
Ta-vora's ear twitched. "Oh.."
"I just feel like I got mauled by a drop bear," Page whined lighting a cigarette.
"Drop bear?" Ta-vora asked again.
"Oh... Something we have back home."
The small kitten lurked around the table, It began pawing at the burlap roll next to page's chair. Page knelt down and eyed the kitten suspiciously. It hit the burlap so the sword's handle came into plain view.
Shade raised it's eyebrows, maybe there is something valuable on this rock. Shade choked down the rest of the tomato juice and chose to investigate.

OOC: play along if you like

OOC: I know Shade's an it. Kenady doesn't, though, and she's not really used to gender-neutral races. She's assuming Shade's a pretty-looking man. I'd write, but I am le tired.

OOC: I should have seen that one coming, Synesthesia. TrikkiSixx, I may do something with it, but not exactly like that - Morrigan, for one, is not quite in character. The avatar may look like a kitten but the mind running it is older than the modern human race. TheGreenFile; righto.
Now for some IC stuff!
IC:

With an indignant ping! Morrigan's avatar fell rump over forepaws, coming to rest as a pudding-covered furball in a pudding-coloured puddle on the floor. Blink. One bright (glowing, to be precise) green eye opened, then another. Blink. The kitten shook itself vigorously, splatters of pudding flying over the nearby area (and onto Ta-vora's trouser-leg).

Those green eyes tracked velocity and trajectory back to their source, and noted the large black dogs. This avatar was ill-suited to dealing with dogs ... but dogs, in Morrigan's experience, did not throw pudding at people.

Ping! "That," the avatar said, glowering, "Was most rude."

Shade heard Morrigan's alarmed ping and twisted in it's seat, hand going incongruously to it's right ear. The three rapidly flung projectiles impacted on the back of it's coat (Ai, Lady! Shade thought, I've been hit! We're under attack!) and Shade turned the other way - just in time to be hit by splatters of low-quality tomato juice.

Like Morrigan, Shade turned to regard the source of this unprovoked assault upon it's fashion sense, spluttering in an alien tongue; "Ke!-a!-ahn!-ki!-akheterokaha!"

It's hand returned to it's ear, retrieving what appeared to be a small black needle tucked behind it's ear. Grow, Shade thought, and true to the rudimentary telepathic circuitry installed in it, the needle grew, expanding into a staff of black iron as tall as Shade itself.

Shade tapped the foot of the Magic Wishing Staff* against the toe of it's boot, and said, in a more understandable language; "To whom does this table belong, and for what reason has it launched this malicious attack upon my person?"

Shade's speech was quite fluent, and it spoke with the precision of someone who had come late to the language - never mind the fact that it's manner of speaking it might be over two hundred years out of date.

OOC: *Magic Wishing Staff; Basically, it's a handy resizeable stick for whacking things. I stole it, and the name, from a Chinese folktale.

OOC: Uhm, Syn, Ta-vora neither has fur nor whiskers.
BTW, Shade, if you want to see what Ta-vora looks like, here is an image of him. On the back of his cloak he has this emblem.

I take that as a “no” then. But you're not the only one who can play tricks. I remember you enjoy this.
Using the lightning matrix, he sent a small shock towards Demon. It was not strong enough to be visible or cause any harm, but it shook the shapeshifter good.
He wiped the pudding from his face and tasted some of it.
“Hm… at least it's not the worst stuff that has ever been thrown at me.”
He then stepped over to Page and looked down at Larra, who was still unconscious.
“I don't know, that's not the place where I want to be drunk. You may want one of those.”
He offered Page the ampule.
“What's that?”
“Helps against hangovers. Makes the effects wear off and burns the alcohol in your system.”

Page scratched his boney chin and breathed out the smoke from his stale cigarettes.
"Well, if I remember correctly My blood is almost completely alcohol... Will that have an effect on anything?"
Page turned to look at the very feminine figure for the man at the bar. Demon had worked his magic, and from the looks of it he was about to be beaten with a large iron staff. Page whisped his weaves over the newcomer and crossed his arms.
Well the gender issue had been solved, but that ws about it. Aside from an overall feeling of disgust Page hadn't senced anything at all.
Strange. Page inhaled the last bit of his cigarette and flicked it across the bar. he rifled through his bag for a moment and removed a pair of sunglasses and a pack of cigarettes that looked older than the first one.
He stood up and strode over to the big comfy looking red booth in the corner. He lay down on one of the seats and patted the trunk of the potted palm tree behind the booth.
"So Ta-vora, your crew find anything out yet?"

OOC: For Shade, Page is a telepath, A vell-os from the Nova universe, if you decide to stick around you'll find out alot more about him, In short, he drinks too much, smokes too much, and curses a bit more than acceptable. And if you chose to proceed there's far more to his sword than meets the eye.

OOC: Arion: Weird ears. Neat symbol, though. TrikkiSixx: Yes, I gathered that from what I read. Despite the fact that the Magic Wishing Staff has telepathic circuitry in order to resize itself as needed, Shade is entirely mundane when it comes to telepathy. I'd post IC stuff, but I think I'm waiting on Synesthesia.

OOC: Gah, sorry, I was thinking cat and was a little out of it yesterday...
Shade: This will be chaotic , but it’s only one dog. And didn’t you write briefly in the Nova bars? I think I remember you....sorry for making you wait. Not much time today, let’s see how far I get.


With his fur staticy and sticking straight out as a result of Ta-vora’s electric shock, Demon looked almost like a giant black marshmellow. Snickering to himself, the shapeshifter sized up Shade and his stick. Larra was still happily sound asleep, so he wouldn’t be able to get help from her...but....oh well. He liked to live on the edge.

Merrily ignoring Shade’s question, Demon dunked his spoon in the bowl and let another glob of pudding fly. Laughing as it hit it’s mark, the shapeshifter reached out for another spoonful of the brown gunk, only to discover his bowl was empty.

“Aww crap,” Demon muttered, but as he was mere seconds away from being whacked with the Magic Wishing Staff, he had time for little else. Putting the bowl on his head as a makeshift helmet, the shapeshifter dropped the ladle and ran for the questionable safety of another table.

Shade felt the wet squelch of pudding impacting upon it's shirt once again and glared in anger at the rapidly retreating doglike creature.

"Most rude," it hisses through clenched teeth, echoing Morrigan.

Calm. Calm. This serves nothing.

The Magic Wishing Staff, unlike it's namesake belonging to Meihou Weng, did not weigh thirteen thousand pounds (for that matter, nor could it expand to fill the Universe), but it still had a decent amount of heft to it, and Shade jabbed it angrily at Demon, hiding under the table.

At this point the shapeshifter might attempt to retreat further, but from behind it, very close under the table, came a ping! as Morrigan approached. The AI appreciated assault upon it's avatars about as much as Shade appreciated assault upon it's clothing.

OOC: I believe I might have, but the bars go so fast in Nova ... waaay back I used to post on the Boozerama boards, but as I've seen the new crop of posters there can hardly be called roleplayers.

OOC: I want to join in, but Matt's still involved with Yume and Jacey and they've taken an extended leave of absence. I don't have time to create a new character and I wanted to bring Kaski in with Matt. Curses! Good writing all anyway. I'm enjoying the lighter mood after the massive amount of melodrama a while back (not that melodrama is bad, it's all I write). I look forward to much more.

Kenady watched the chaos unfolding around her. This bunch destroyed a station? "With what, pudding?" She mumbled to herself. Then again, they could be hiding something much bigger behind this facade of mischief...

She settled into her seat, slouching. Her eyes nearly closed, she slowly eased her pistol out of its holster. From the hip, she fired a shot on extremely low power. It winged Demon, evoking a yelp. Page's eyes immediately opened at the sound of blaster fire.

More than meets the eye.

“Well, we received some kind of…” Ta-vora began to answer to Page's question when he heard the blaster.
His eyes unfolded completely. He scanned the bar but couldn't discover the source. His gaze fell onto Demon, but the shapeshifter seemed alright. Now he realized how much he missed his psionic abilities.
I understand. This was no attack, it was a test. But who's testing who?

Larra woke up very slowly, shoved into full consciousness by the rhythmetic pounding in her head. She sat up, hair falling into her face, and suddenly remembered where she was. Page, sitting across from her, raised an eyebrow and grinned. “I bet you feel just great.”

“Lovely,” Larra grumbled sarcastically, dropping her forehead on the table. She jumped about a mile as Ta-vora’s hand touched her shoulder.

“This might help,” he offered, holding something towards her.

Larra blinked. “I’m good,” she promised him, moving a hand up to finger comb her hair back into place. A squeal of “Aaggh!” suddenly caused nearly the entire bar to glance in their direction. “What’s in my hair?!”

“Probably pudding,” Page commented lazily, lighting a cigarette.

“Yuck,” Larra complained, frowning. “Well, I’m off to take a shower. See you guys later.” Standing unsteadily, she made her way out of the bar.

======================================

With ‘attackers’ both behind him and in front of him, Demon could only see one way out. Whirling around, he leapt onto a chair to his right, shrinking slightly so he could fit between the seat and the table, then returned to normal size and bounced over the back of the chair and away. His timing was so good that Shade, planning to whack the dog, had instead smacked the avatar in the face with its stick.

But no longer was the shapeshifter going to limit himself just running around.. Not after being shot in the hind end. Demon had absolutely no idea who had done it, but he had to punish someone.

Racing across the room, he stopped suddenly and stamped around in the pile of chocolate pudding that had once contained a very irritated ‘kitten’. Shapeshifting into a cat, Demon’s next move was to leap up on Kenady’s lap, claw his way up onto her shoulder, and jump back to the ground, leaving a trail of little brown paw prints in his wake.

Now searching for cover, Demon ran over to the safest table in the bar, settled himself on Page’s head, and began licking the pudding off his paws, grinning at Shade the whole time.

Ping-bzzzt! The Magic Wishing Staff struck Morrigan's avatar in the face, knocking it backwards again.

"Voi dtaneh?" the avatar rowled, righting itself and glowering at Shade. One green eye was mazed with fracture marks and flashing intermittently. What the hell?

"Voi kteno!" Shade replied hurriedly. Wasn't me! "Akashenat, akashenat - voi kteinat!" Accident, accident - was that!. Pointing at the grinning Demon, now residing atop Page's head. The avatar switched it's glare to Demon. The shapeshifter was lucky Morrigan's military avatars had remained aboard the ship.

Shade picked up the avatar and walked over to Page.

"Excuse me, sir," it said, "But you happen to have a small, malignant creature upon your head. Does it by any chance belong to you?"

The Legend of the Voronov
Part X

Great Barrier Desert, Voina Overworld

The library was easier to find than they’d dared hope. Shek and Lelos Somm imagined it was because Zathe had chosen to look where there were no people. After all, why look for a library in a technological paradise like the Voinian capital?

So they’d trudged through the Great Barrier for two days, walking, for all appearances, aimlessly. Yet they all felt a strange tug, a curious pull on them even as they walked into the Voinian nothingness. They’d long since left the cracked, dry ground outside the polluted cityscape, the dried-up riverbeds of the great streams that had once been such fertile water for Voinian mythology. They’d even crossed the Borb Mountains that marked the border of the Barrier. And then they’d walked across endless rock and soil and sand.

And so they had arrived at the library.

The only problem was, the library wasn’t a library. There were endless bookshelves, but no books. Towering scroll racks, but no scrolls. There was nothing.

“Zathe, the Prophets lied to us again.”

“No Shek,” laughed Somm before Zathe could respond, “they just read the trash wrong.”

Zathe ignored them. He was too occupied looking at the northern wall of the structure.

It was completely bare. So it appeared to his eyes, and so it appeared to his touch. And the Sorucytes confirmed it; the surface was frictionless. He moved his hand across the wall, searching for any roughness, any marking at all.

There was nothing.

“What is it, Zathe?”

Again he did not respond. He walked across the hall to the southern wall, and repeated his test. Again nothing. And nothing again on the eastern wall. And on the western wall...

“What is it?”

There was a mark. Ever so slight, but it was noticeable. The one mark of roughness on the otherwise completely smooth surface. Zathe fell into a Dur’achi thought trance, communing with the Sorucytes.

Show me its essence, he asked them.

An image appeared in his mind: a glyph, at first unknown and then abundantly clear as to its origin.

“What is it, Zathe?”

He sent a surge of Sorucytes pulsing through his hand into the glyph. The “wall” dissolved, as if being decomposed on the molecular level by the millions of Sorucytes Zathe had sent at it. Soon the useful devices returned to his body through his outstretched hand. Before him lay an enormous hall.

On the floor, in a darkened corner in the hall, lay a single, green book.

OOC: Hi, guys. Sorry that I haven't been here but I can't post until Jackey does. I'm going to try to get in contact with him to see what we can do about this and so Matt can go about his business so that he won't be too involved with Yume and Jackey anymore. Please be patient and I'll try to resolve this problem paranoid as soon as possible

Jackey?

My, my, it has been a while, hasn't it, Seraphim?

For the sake of random chat I thought it would be worth telling you that Jacey will be back very soon.

Until then, keep up your grades, ace your finals, play more video games, go jog outside, learn to swing dance, or do whatever else seems most appropriate for your life until he gets back.

Affectionately,
Mark

Whatever happened to Yume anyway?

OOC: Where is everybody??

“BELONG?” Demon yowled, digging his claws into Page’s scalp and cutting off any answer he might have given. “I’m not a pet; I don’t BELONG to ANYONE!”

“Just get off my head!” Page yelled, grabbing Demon by the neck and throwing him across the room. The shapeshifter landed on a wall and dug in with his claws, hissing loudly. Shade and the kitten followed, the former raising his giant stick to swat the cat right off the wall.

“STOP!!” the creature screamed, causing Shade to stop his swing inches from the little black nose. “Do you have any idea what day it is?” Demon asked the confused pair, sounding as if he was on the edge of a panic attack. Without another word, he vaulted off the wall and raced out the door.

Across the bar, Ta-vora frowned. “That’s strange...even for him...”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Combing the last of the tangles out of her wet hair, Larra sighed contentedly. She was in the type of mood to just stay in one place and relax. Music would be good as well, but nothing loud and violent.

Wearing a red spaghetti strap shirt and worn stretch jeans, Larra made her way out of her small rooms, and opened the door leading to the only other area in her small ship, the control room. She barely had time to register that the exit door was open, when a little black blur caught her in the stomach, knocking her straight backwards.

“Do you have any idea what -” Demon began, but interrupted himself by stopping to sniff Larra’s hair. “New shampoo?”

She laughed. “Yes. You like?”

The cat nodded. “Yup...but...what was I about to say?”

“You were asking me if I have any idea-”

“Oh yeah! Do you have any idea what day it is?”

Larra rolled her eyes. “Obviously not, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me....”

“Well, it’s not exactly that day, but....,” Demon bounced up and down on her stomach in sheer excitement. “It’s almost Christmas!”

“Really?” Larra frowned. “Yeah, I guess it is...”

“We gotta get a tree, Larra,” the cat whined, showing his more extreme childish side, “We just gotta.”

The young Acaran smiled faintly. “Okay, well go find one. But only if you get off me!”

Still bouncing, Demon moved to the floor and waited, jumping around Larra’s feet as she got up and walked to her pilot’s chair. His actions resembled a little puppy so much he turned himself into one, and started barking excitedly.

“Holiday fever,” Larra muttered under her breath as she booted up the rarely-used computer and began searching the Override data for nearby forested planets. “Be patient!”

OOC: Remember last year’s chaotic Christmas festivities, Valence? (If you haven’t died, that is...)

OOC: The Great Day, eh? They don't have that one in Shade's culture. Work sucks your brains out, kids. IC:

"Then you have full responsibility for your actions, you malicious little wretch!" Shade yelled back. "Do I know what day it is?" it asked, once the shapeshifter had caromed out of the bar. "Kebet of Azh, I suppose..."

It sat down next to Page and extended a hand in greeting. "Does this sort of thing happen to you often?"

OOC: Couldn't think of anything more to add. And I have no idea whatsoever what the closest world to the Rock with forests is.

OOC: Nope, not dead, just got out of the bottomless pit I fell into last month, this time i'm back..

Page raised an eyebrow, and glanced to his left. He drew in a deep breat when he was about to startd and paused for a seccond.
"Come to think of it, Yes," He said finally, putting out his cigarette. "You have no idea..."
"So this isnt the craziest?" Shade asked eyeing the Palm Tree behind Page's motions carefully.
"###### no, where I come fro-" Page paused again, lowering his sunglasses. "You're not from around here either, Are you?"

"No, I'm afraid not," Shade replied, "I'm from Kaireigh, a goodly distance down south of here - South of the Proxima nebula, in fact. Name of Arkhinat. You can call me Shade."

OOC: Whoa, they keep getting shorter and shorter! Sorry about that. Each day of work kills off more brain cells, so I have less and less to write with ...

The Legend of the Voronov
Part XI

"We must leave immediately."

"Zathe! Why?"

The Ship Commander First Rank gave no answer and kept walking out of the Library, green book in hand.

Shek and Somm followed, wearing puzzled looks and whispering anxiously to one another.

"What the Modd is it?"

"Of this, I have no idea."

It would take at least two days to exit the Barrier Desert. Perhaps Zathe would say at least two words during the journey. Shek and Somm doubted it.


Isled Naval Research Institute, Isled System

Grand Admiral Arakev had returned, and Vice Admiral Irayev had good news for him.

"The shadowshields are ready?"

"Aye sir."

"How many fleets have yet to be refitted?"

"Perhaps...twenty seven."

"This is good. Emperor Zorokov shall sleep content tonight."

"Sir, is the timetable the same?"

"Yes. We launch Shadowstorm in one month. You shall lead the left wing of the assault."


Hall of the Light, Dur'ach

The revelation of Sorul's nonexistence had shaken Dur'achi society. It would take time for the people to realize that their enormous feats had been due to their own inherent abilities—as augmented by the Sorucytes—instead of due to the favor of a benevolent god.

There were signs that the people were adjusting. Already the five main research universities on Dur'ach had shifted their primary foci to a singular emphasis on understanding the Sorucytes. Even without the finds they knew to be forthcoming from the Voronov's research expedition, they were making great progress.

Only two new archaeological finds had been located since the initial revelation, and only one of them was related to the Sorucytes. The other one...the Prophets didn't know what to make of it.

It seems to be of our ancestors' technology.

Yes. But it dates even older than the Soru find. And yet the technology is more advanced.

This is most alarming. It would seem that we were doomed to spiral down into ever-increasing technological stupidity. What could have led the Ancients to condemn us to such a fate?

Perhaps the answer is before us, my friends. Are we, indeed, descendents of the Ancients? Or are we something else?

What are you suggesting?

I am suggesting that the Sorucytes are not a part of us. I am suggesting, instead, that we are a part of the Sorucytes.

OOC: **sighs** Me? Write? Why??
Shade: My chars don’t either, but you can easily guess why Demon wants to celebrate Christmas if you look at the holiday from the point of view of a childish prankster...
Solel: Interesting....

The doors to the No-Name suddenly crashed open with a resounding bang. A large evergreen tree floated in and propped itself up in one corner, closely followed by a very excited Demon. He was pushing several boxes and still bouncing around like a manic in between shoves.

Larra entered after the shapeshifter, looking exasperated and wearing several pine needles in her hair. “Hi Page, Hi Ta-vora,” she muttered, half-collapsing at the table and patting the palm tree behind her. “Never, ever, take Demon tree shopping. It’ll cost you much-needed sanity.”

“Is that....thing...yours?” Shade questioned her, glaring in the shapeshifter’s direction. He was now decorating his tree with the contents of the boxes he had dragged in.

Judging by all the pudding it was wearing, Larra could guess why Shade was asking. “What he does is his problem,” she answered immediately, sending the blame back to where it belonged. “But I do have some tips for all three of you... around this time of year, keep one eye on the sky and be very suspicious of anything wrapped up and pretty.”

“Eye on the sky?” Page repeated, confused.

Larra winked. “Demon likes to hang mistletoe over innocent bystanders’ heads. You don’t want to get caught, do you?”

OOC: Sorry guys, I just...can’t...write....anymore....

Ta-vora grinned while watching Demon decorating the tree.
“Is that an Acaran tradition?” he asked.
“No, a human one. Don't you know Christmas?”
“I don't know any human traditions. The humans don't know that Karee or Ka-nuth exist.”
This made Shade chuckly.
“Looks like nobody in this bar is actually from 'around'.”
The Ka-nuth shrugged. “Probably. By the way, what is a mistle-toe and why does it catch people?”

Page brushed his hand through his mass of thick black hair.
Demon unfurled his evergreen tree and began festooning it with all soirts of useless ornaments. Page got up to go to the bar, brushing passed a very large heavyset woman, she must've stood 5 foot 3", and probably had the same sized girth.
Larra began laughing at the table.
"why are you laughing?" Ta-vora asked.
"When you walk under missletoe with another person you have to kiss them."
Ta-vora twisted his face, "so. Page has to kiss that behemoth?"
Page tuned his head and froze. He looked up and let out a shirll shriek.
"NO! NO! NO! NO!" Demon was rolling around on the floor laughing.
"Demon, once I get this over with I'm going to #####ing kill you."
Page turned on his heels, his head hung low and trudged over to the large woman's table.
She had just started eating a 2 foot hero, egg salad with onions and artichokes. Page whimpered slightly as the woman took a missive bite, small bits of egg spillin out of her mouth down her chin onto her leg.
"excuse me miss, We um walked under the missletoe and-" Page was cut off as the woman knocked Page in the jaw with a swift uppercut.
"You pig," She said in her deep voice, bits of egg and bread flying out of her mouth. Page hit the ground and stayed there.
"Demon," he said through clenched teeth, "You have 15 secconds before I break all of your legs."

OOC: Ugh! Haha!

Back at the table, Larra was laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe, and fell out of her chair as a result.

“He’s brave,” Ta-vora noted between chuckles.

Shade shook it’s head. “Just doesn’t seem all that smart to me.”

“And she....thought.....he was.....hitting.....on her,” Larra gasped from the floor, during the times when she could manage to speak. “Demon...don’t...even try.” At the mention of his name, the shapeshifter (in the form of a little monkey) growled from his spot on the roof, where he was attempting to hang mistletoe above her head.

Ta-vora glanced up. “I’d run if I were you,” he advised.

The monkey flicked it’s tail and hissed. “Larra will protect me.”

“As funny as that was,” the young Acaran admitted, having finally recovered to the point where she could talk, “I think you’re on your own for this one.”

Demon only grinned. “Then I’ll have to get you back later. Watch yourself...”

“DEMON!” Page screamed suddenly. The shapeshifter winked at the three. “I think my fifteen seconds are up.” With a quick movement, he leapt to the ground and raced for the door. The monkey was halfway there when suddenly he realized that, though his feet were moving, they were no longer touching the ground.

Checking carefully for any trick mistletoe, Page made his way towards the helpless shapeshifter, trapped hovering about two feet above the floor. “LARRA!!” Demon screeched, morphing into a variety of forms in a pathetic attempt to get away.

Receiving no answer, he immediately changed tactics. “I’m really, really sorry,” he insisted as Page walked closer. “Besides, you didn’t have to kiss her in the end! Don’t hurt me...I won’t play any tricks on you for the rest of the day....okay, week! Page! I’ll get anyone for you! Anyone!! Even Larra, since she won’t help me! Just don’t hurt me!”

Pathetic, yes, but when you’re Demon, perfectly acceptable.

OOC: Muahaha...

Humans sure have weird traditons… Ta-vora thought, A celebration where one has to decorate a tree and lay kiss traps in order to get knocked out? No, I'm not going to ask, I'm not going to ask!!!
He grinned.
But at least I understand why Demon likes it. Somehow these humans give him perfect possibilities to play tricks.

Shade struggled to contain laughter - such things were funny, when they happened to somebody else. Human culture was certainly odd.

"So what is all this?" it asked Larra, hopelessly intrigued. "Did some strange annual conjunction of moons around Earth cause strange tidal effects during their evolution, causing humans to become insane for one day a year? Is it some kind of political event?"

OOC: Merry Christmas, all! Because of the time zones and whatnot, that's today here. Tomorrow for those of you in America; I hope you have fun!

OOC: **crawls out of big hole** Hmm...

Larra laughed. Not only at Shade's question, but the silly grin Ta-vora was wearing. Those two had no idea what they had been missing. "No, I think it's a holiday in the human religion. I don't really know what it's about, though. Demon just likes it, and he's insane all year round." Smiling, she pulled out her deck of cards and began absently shuffling them. "Anybody up for a game?"

Across the bar, Demon kept up his wimpering and whining until Page got close enough, then shapeshifted into a little elephant and blasted the Vellosian in the face with water from his trunk. Using the distraction, he became his usual big dog and raced out of the bar.

"NOT SO FAST!" Page boomed, his weaves flaring.
Demon, a mere 2 steps from the exit was flung into the air, and surrounded by a glowing blue shell. He looked around quickly, trying to find a way out of his prison, but much to his dislike he found the sphere was getting smaller.
Page's shrill meniacale laughter rang throughout the bar. Demon shifted to smaller and smaller animals to accomadate his quickly diminishing space.
Soon he was a small black gerbil in a pod with enough room so he could run up the walls and move like he was in a hamster wheel.
Page leapt up and grabbed the floating ball. he hurled it down to the ground and it bounced up back into the air. Page dribbled Demons prison a bit before tossing it into the air narrowly missing the worn basket ball hoop.
As demon bounced to a stop on the floor across the bar Page stomped and pouted.
"Damn, I could have sworn I had game!" Demon scurried across the floor still trapped in his inhumane prison.
-------------
The pale face frowned.
"I dont like him," He said as harsh as his soft voice would allow.
"What's to like?" the woman draped over his shoulder replied, "All he's done since he got here is ruin our worlds and satter the balance."
"What should we do about him?" The man said, even softer than before.
"Why not go say hello, tell him who we are?"
The man's wrinkle less face pouted, "I dont want to tell him anything, I want to hurt him."
"Well, lets go then, The woman replied running her fingers through the mans stark white hair.
"Yes, Let's go."

Larra snickered from her seat at the table. “Page,” she called in a too-cheerful tone, “That was pathetic!” Since neither Ta-vora nor Shade actually knew what the cards were, she pocketed them and stood up. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

Crawling under the tables on the opposite side of the bar, she finally found the ball-encased shapeshifter and brought him back to stand where Page had been when he shot. Carefully, Larra took aim and launched the bar into the air, Demon howling for mercy all the way. The blue orb spun slightly as it flew, hitting the rim and ricocheting across the bar. It smacked a patron in the back of the head, knocking him face-first into a plate of spaghetti.

The little gerbil laughing hysterically from where his prison had fallen. “Oops,” Larra laughed, hiding behind Page as the pasta-covered patron looked around for the culprit.

“Good idea, Larra, you can show me how to miss by more,” he joked.

She didn’t laugh. “Page...do you...” she seemed a little lost for words. “sense anything? Anything coming?”

“No,” the Vellosian answered hesitantly, mentally scanning as far as he could. “Are you saying I should?”

Larra shrugged, looking extremely nervous. “No...I don’t know...I mean I’m not picking up anything either, but...”

Page frowned impatiently. “But what? Spit it out.”

“Something’s going to happen,” she said quietly, looking up into his amber eyes. “And I don’t know what or when. The instinct I live by...it’s screaming at me to get out of here.”

By now Ta-vora had stood up and walked over to Larra and Page.
“I agree,” he said, “I have a distinct feeling of danger. My instinct tells me that we should leave.”
He grinned slightly, “How do they like to say – 'Something wicked this way comes'.”

The three stood together, scanning the bar slowly. Page couldnt see what was coming, because he had no idea what to look for. His breathing slowed, the cigarette hung in his mouth, burning slowly towards the end with no help from his lungs.
He felt it, something he hadnt felt for a long time, but after a few secconds of it, he knew that it was coming for Larra Ta-vora and even him. A telepathic mind that could ruin the lives of anyone and everyone in the bar in a heart beat.
"GET THE ###### OUT OF HERE!!" Page screamed stomping the ground with his worn cowboy boots. All the hardened patrons in the bar turned to look at Page, and began chuckling.
The blaster on Page's side, long since unused, came to life, Page's hand firing at will into the air.
What patrons didnt turn and run, drew their blasters and began firing. Page leapt a cross the bar, heaving the stragglers out of the door, and barricaded it with all the tables within arms reach.
Larra and Ta-vora still stood there awestruck. There was a long silence, and only Page's panting was heard.
The antique sales man sat at its table unsure of what to think of its new accomplaces, it took a swig of its sour tomato juice.
Larra's fear was proved instantly as a slight breeze blew through everyones hair. There was a thundercrack and a portal screamed open, the wind in the bar howling.
Page waited in anticipation for what would come out, blaster pointed forward. Larra's swords were drawn, and she stood on the balls of her feet anticipating the worst. Ta-vora stood ready, his sword handle in hand, and buzzing mind at rest.
And then Page felt it, he made a dash for his corner table, holstering his gun, arm outstretched for Antaries. He was stopped with a sharp blow to his stomach, and went sailing backwards into the bars far wall.
Larra sprang into action but soon even she was disarmed by the invisible foe. She felt a boot to her back and fell face first to the floor.
And Ta-vora too met the same fate.
Their attacker landed ontop a table and stood straight. He was as tall and as thin as Page, garbed in stranger clothes. His short blonde hair splayed out messily, with a small braid winding down his neck and over his shoulder under his left ear. His face was a stark white, hooded eyes surrounded with red paint, and a black symbol on his forehead. He wore all black bringing out the demonic air he had about him tenfold.
Page got to his feet, and cracked his neck, this was definately not over. And then a pair of white gloved hands clamped down on his shoulders and he was wrapped in the arms of another person Page began to reach for his blaster.
"No you dont," The woman said in Page's ear with her soft monotonous voice. Page nearly jumped when he saw the man who kicked him in the stomach not an inch away from him, a knife in his white teeth.
"Who the hell are you?" Page asked, staring down his attacker, and beginning to accept the womans arms draped over his shoulders.
"My name is Gaile, and I am the Meistro of this region," she replied.
Another set of arms, stronger ones, wrapped themselves over Page's broad shoulders, and a mans voice, soft and monotone, spoke in Page's other ear.
"And I am Myre, her older brother."
Larra got to her feet, her swords answered her call, and flew up into her hands. The Man with the knife in his mouth before Page smiled, and then dissappeared in a flurry of cartwheels. He popped up into the air, and struck Larra in the face, kicking both of her swords out of her hands. She fell agan, and he landed not far off on the bar.
Page's heart began beating faster, he decided this wouldnt go on for much longer. Larra moaned, and sat up only to be knocked down again by the man in black. He landed on the floor, sliding to a stop. There was something elegant about the way he moved, he almost danced around his enemies, like he was in a balet. Topped with his twisted smile, and strange make up he was indeed not from this universe.
"Who'se freakshow over there," Page asked, trying to stay calm.
The man laughed, taking his arms off Page and dancing into view. His makeup was similar but his eyes wre surrounded by a tan yellow and there were a few other marks The man in black lacked. He wore the same strange clothes, but in white, and there was the same elegance about him.
"That's my pet," the woman began, "Savage."
Savage leapt from the bar flipping into Myre, The two began sparring playfully, flipping over each other, and enjoying the dance of combat.
"What do you want?" Page asked spitting out his cigarette butt.
"Why we want you," She whispered.
"And her too," Myre mused, arms wrapped around a genuinely confused, sitting Larra.
Ta-vora spat out the blood in his mouth and stood. He calmly retracted his swords blade and stood there.
"And why?"
"Because I want more pets," she replied.
Page had enough of this. He slipped out from under the womans arms, and took to the air. He sailed over an expectant Savage, kicking off his shoulder, and landed lightly next to the potted palm tree. Antaries flipped into the air, freeing itself from its burlap prison, and into Page's hand. Savage was upon Page shortly there after, and the two began to dance in combat themselves. Savage blocked Page's furried attacks from Antaries with his small knife. Savage kicked one of Larra's swords ino his hands, and it became an all out sword fight. Page's speed was something neither Shade or Ta-vora had witnessed before. The two men flipped over eachother, wound around tables, always pushing for the kill. Neither took a hit, their bodies ducking away from the sharp blades. Suddenly Antaries went spinning into the air and landed point first into the steel tiled floor. Page threw Savage into the wall, and headbutted him, his skull bouncing off the steel wall behind him. Page grabbed his enemy by the throat and brought up his arm, dark energies swirling about it.
"Stop!" Page heard Myre say.
Page turned his head to see the man holing Larra's hair in his strong grip with a knife to her neck. She struggled, but this man had been hiding his own skills, eveidenly as capable as the freakshow, and the sharp knife he held at her neck made Page's advantage disappear.
Savage grabbed Page's arm , and threw his shoulder into the vellosian's stomach, Page had to move to the defensive, his weakest side, and slowly began losing steam.
-------------
OOC: Larra and Ta-vora's turn! Savage is an even match with Page, with the exception of being a better rounded fighter. Myre is near his match. The Gaile, is basically untouchable, she herself cant put up much of a fight, but both Myre and Savage will grab you before you even have a chance to do anything.
-------------
Edited because of too many typo's

Finding herself failing to fight the powers holding her, Larra could only try to remain calm and logical. Carefully probing the strengths and weaknesses of the unknown type of telepathy, she attempted to find a weakness in it’s makeup, something that could be used to get away. She seemed to be quietly watched the fight between Page and Savage, all too aware of the knife at her neck. Retren’s voice whispered in the back of her mind, and Larra made a point of heeding his words.

Savage still had her sword, and was using it to his full advantage, keeping Page
on the defensive and away from Antaries. Larra watched the blade carefully, more aware of it’s presence than anything, other than it’s twin. The air around her thickened slightly, as Larra called her telepath advisor’s idea into action, setting off a chain reaction she had not predicted.

By now, Savage had Page’s defenses nearly worn down, when the sword immediately stopped, anchored to the spot. Violet lightning glowed at the tip, crackling as it raced swiftly down the length of the weapon, Savage releasing it just in time. The distraction was all Page needed, punching him hard in the face. Before he could recover and attack, the Vellosian once again had Antaries in his hands and was on the assault. That was where her plan ended.

“You should not have done that,” Myre said softly, breath tickling Larra’s ear. Slowly, he dragged the knife across her throat, barely deep enough to draw blood. She kept her composure with a mental picture of killing him slowly.

Hiding under a table across the bar, Demon, previously ignored or forgotten but now provoked, focused his eyes on Myre’s white clothing, easily igniting them in a burst of flame. Larra wasted no time in shattering his hold on her, wrenching his knife arm away, and escaping from the unwelcome embrace. Both her swords flew across the room to her grasp, but Myre left her no time to recover.

Then Ta-vora appeared out of almost nowhere, sword out and racing towards Gaile, who seemed unable to stop him. Sans-flames but looking a little scorched, Myre was forced to turn back immediately from his retaliation on Larra and go after the Ka-nuth, putting himself between the attacker and The Gaile.

Demon vanished from the bar as Larra swiftly opened a portal underneath him, and then closed it just as quickly, sending the terrified shapeshfiter to safety. She doubted her action had been caught. Making a silent promise not to be used as leverage again, Larra turned just as Ta-vora’s Crescent Sword went flying by her head, and immediately launched her attack on Myre.

The two fought quickly, not quite as fast as the Page/Savage match, but still much faster than Larra’s friends had expected of her. Myre seemed to be far under armed with only his knife, but he skillfully used it and his slightly superior speed to keep her swords from slashing him to pieces.

Larra made up her weaknesses by simply fighting with as many dirty tricks as she could. When Myre could get around her swords to attack, most times she would block telepathically and move around the barrier for a counter attack. Those little barriers always were showing up in Myre’s way; just where he wanted to dodge or attack.

But it was slowly wearing her down, and the freakish humanoid was relentless. Larra began planning an escape route.

OCC: Gah, I really wish I had time to write a little more. BTW.

“You better command your friends to stop!” Ta-vora said as he held his sword in front of Gaile.
The blade glowed slightly and left a blue trail in the air when it moved.
“Anything else?” she answered, grinning, “Do you really think you could defeat me?”
“Easily!”
“If you stand in our way, we'll kill you!”
“Then I'll return, stronger than ever. It happened before. Now stop talking and do what I told you!”
The air around her started to shimmer slightly and she felt an invisible force tighten around her.

OOC: LOOK WHAT I FOUND!!!! MY OLD ACCOUNT!
-----------------
Antaries shimmered a radient blue-black, Page's eyes went blank, and anyone with any telepathic sence felt his power rising above normal. Page exploded in black flame's. black lightning skipping across the floors. He began to lose what little color he wore, and soon he was a magnificant sillouhette. Page had ascended. The fight between Page and Savage soon becme hard to follow. Accented by whisps of dark flame with every strike the fight wa slowly becoming a spectacle.
And then quickly and suddenly, Page sank Antarie's tail blade's into savage's chest. Blood sputed from the wound, and Page tore up, the main blade swinging up to cut savage cleanly in half.
The shadows around Page quickly dispursed, and the yellow in Page's bandanna slowly followed. The vellosian's eye's rolled back into focus, and there he stood panting. dros of blood pitterpattered on the floor.
The Meistro began to clap. Myre twirled to a stop, and smiled at Larra.
"You were right Sister, we should have brought Savage all along," he said in his eeie tone.
"What the ###### are you talking about," Page panted, staring down the woman.
The meistro's eyes followed a drop of blood down Page's hand, and to the floor.
"Maybe Titus wasn't so innefective, yes? He did get a hit on him."
Myre smiled, and brushed back a strand of hair.
"WHO THE ###### IS TITUS!" Page roared, knuckles white under his torn gloves.
"Oh, sorry for the deception, but that was Titus, Savage's younger brother," Myre replied.
"SO WHERE THE ###### IS SAVAGE THEN?!"
As if on que Page senced something behind him. Before he had time to react, a knife whas at his neck, and the calm breathing of Savage was felt on his neck.
"You better come with us girl, or he's cut his throat," the Meistro mused. wrappeng her arms around Larra's shoulders.
She stared at Savage, he and his brother looked exactly the same, the only differance being that Savage looked twice as menacing.
And then suddenly, Savage and Page disappeared.
That's when Larra felt herself go under.
------------------
The room was well lit and covered in white cloth. Larra shook her had a few times, and blinked to accustom her eyes to the light. She looked over herself for wounds, but found none. She wasn't wearing her standard clothes but instead dressed in a soft white fabric. Long folds of fabric hung off her shoulders, that ended about elbow length, and underneath she wore a sort of dress.
"You're awake?" Ta-vora asked from across the room. They had put him in the same clothes. He sat on a stool onlooking a small pond between them. several small bright colored fish swam in schools beneath the glassy surface, and ducked around and under the many piles of smooth flat obsidian at the bottom.
Larra stood up and looked around. The room was collorless with the exception of the fish. White cloth covered the walls like an elegant curtain, and the marble floor shimmered. There were several peices of bizzarre comfortable looking furnature all over the strange room.
"Yeah," Larra replied, eyes still wandering. "You wouldn't happen to know where we are would you?"
Ta-vora shook his head.
The curtains parted on one side of the room and Page came sailing in. he landed in the small pool, sending the water into the air, and the fish scattering to what shelter he could find. Larra ran to the pool and knelt over Page, Ta-vora did the same. He was still in his normal clothes, though they were abit more torn than usual. His face was covered in dried blood and his eyes stared up at the ceiling. His normal amber faded to something grey.
"PAGE!" Lara yelped, "What did they do to you?"
"Oh nothing," The Meistro's voice replied. Larra turned to see Gaile standing in the parted curtain, Savage's head bent low over hers and shoulders towering behind her.
"Have him dressed for dinner soon," She said setting down a pile of black fabric, undoubtaedly the same style garb as what Larra wore.
"What did you do to him!" she yelled standing.
The meistro smiled and stepped backwards. The curtain closed before her.
"Page are you okay?" Ta-vora asked helping him to his feet.
"I'm okay," he said quietly, nursing his sore stomache.
He pulled his bandanna out from his back pocket and began wiping off the blood.
--------------
OOC: Somethings off eh? Page's drugged so he'll seem a little weird, we've got some time for dialogue and escape plans. The real Savage can and did whoop Page's ass so everyone should be a little hesitant around him. I'll post dinner later

OOC: **curses loudly about midterms** Ahh! ‘Valence’ is back! To celebrate, here’s a little man with a moustache and a funny hat! @:})

Head bowed slightly and eyes darker than usual, Larra stared at the spot where Gaile had disappeared. For a few moments, a wicked grin passed across her face, leaving a strong resemblance to Nevell. The look vanished into one of true concern as she turned back to her friends.

Page seemed to be having difficulty standing on his own, and was still leaning against Ta-vora. He was rubbing the same spots on his face over and over again, missing most of the blood. Wordlessly, Larra took the now red and yellow bandana from him and finished the job as gently as she could. Page didn’t suddenly flinch away in pain, so she assumed she did all right.

“What are you thinking?” Ta-vora asked quietly.

===============================

He was like a spot of black paint on an otherwise green canvas. Demon stood out among the leafy foliage like a sore thumb, but he wasn’t exactly trying to hide. Larra hadn’t picked a good world to send him to. It wasn’t exactly dangerous (yet), but it was wet and rainy, and Demon despised water. The large leaves of the most common plants seemed were like scoops, catching moisture from the recent rains and dumping it on his head whenever the shapeshifter accidentally brushed against one.

Fur slicked back and giving off the distinct scent of wet dog, Demon figured, wrongly, that most anywhere would be better than this. He was starting to think Larra had forgotten about him. Surely it wouldn’t have taken this long to deal with the freaky attackers. But he knew well that she wouldn't’ forget...The shapeshifter opened his jaws wide. “Pom-pom!” he screamed at the sky. “Here Pom-pom! C’mere boy!”

A pair of yellow eyes watched him from a tree, considering how much of a snack he would make. Then again, lunatics did tend to taste funny. The eyes went away, looking for more succulent prey.

===============================

“I don’t know,” Larra answered, her tone holding back most of her annoyance, but not all. “But I think we should do as that fiqui(**) Gaile says and get Page ready for this “dinner” crap. If we don’t, it’ll probably only cause him more pain.”

“No way,” Page insisted. “I’m not doing anything they want.”

“Hey, at least you get to wear black,” Larra countered as she went to retrieve the clothes the Meistro had left. “I’m in a white dress here. Last time I was in a white dress, it was a nightmare about a wedding.”

Ta-vora chuckled despite the situation, remembering that quite clearly. Page had made the drinking bet almost immediately after.

The strange black garments had been left, folded neatly, on top of a white pillow. Larra stared at it in disgust for a moment before picking it up. “White again.” Returning, she threw the pillow into the fish pond, hoping it would ruin.

Page just stared at her. “No #####in’ way.”

“I’ll think I’d better take care of this,” Ta-vora commented, seeing that Page clearly did not want to change clothes, and Larra, confronted with the situation, wasn’t exactly comfortable with making him.

“Thanks,” she said, relief showing on her face as she tossed the outfit to Ta-vora. Mind flying a mile a minute, Larra wandered off to check out the different kinds of seating arrangements. They were all white, of course. She would have almost paid Demon to start a paint fight here.

This was an interesting position she was in. Larra had decided not to mention her exact sentiments to her friends. They did not find life to be as much as a game as she did. She loved the thrill of escape, getting away with something when it was deemed impossible. Sometimes, Larra would get captured for that very reason.

Many times, she wouldn’t have been able come close to killing her captors in battle, but she always got away. Maybe not immediately, and sometimes after quite a while, but she always made it.

The Meistro and her followers had done an excellent job of making them think they had some freedom where they really had none. The room looked as though they could easily walk out, but she knew that wasn’t true. Many powerful barriers were erected around the area. No doubt they would only leave without permission.

Despite having so many points in the Override dimension to which her mind was easily and powerfully drawn to, like the blades on her sword and the pieces of the same metal embedded in Kamikaze’s hull, Larra could not locate any of them, nor use them to tell her location in the galaxy.

Aside from that, her connection with the dimensional makeup was blurred as well. She would have some serious barrier-breaking to do in order to leave, for sure. An exciting challenge.

As far as Larra was concerned, though, there was only one problem. She was not alone here. Her actions could very well cause her friends more pain instead of her. It was the only thing that would keep her from totally disobeying. It wasn’t a game to them. She needed to find a way to get out quickly.

Larra expanded her thoughts to new things, like her newfound connection with the telepaths in her head. Surely there was something she could access now that she couldn’t before, like the lighting trick she had tried on the man she now knew as Titus. Loosing Nevell on them would be fun, at least until she wanted control back.

The only thoughts Larra received from the voices in her head was a lewd comment from Desrin about what Gaile, Myre, and Savage probably liked to do together in their spare time. She was relieved that the huggy-touchy-feely thing was bothering someone other than her, but the nasty mental picture that came along with Desrin’s words was about ten times worse. Larra shoved both the thought and the sick-minded telepath to the back of her mind.

Surprisingly, one of the bland chairs caught her eye. It was shaped like a stretched-out sideways “S”, with no back or arms. Larra flung herself on it, sliding down into the lowest part and letting her legs dangle off the edge.

She remembered sitting on a chair just like it, though one with color. Larra ran a had gently down the chair, smiling faintly. There was one just like it in her favorite spot, across infinite dimensional barriers, barred away in the safety of Darbain’s fortress.

There was an idea. A message through the dimensional barriers would turn Darbain’s attention to her for sure. If she could break through to send the message. Larra chewed on her lower lip. She didn’t really like the idea of asking for help, but it might end up being her only option. But she couldn’t even mention it to Page and Ta-vora. They had no inkling that the place and it’s inhabitants existed, and Larra was required to keep it that way.

One thing was for sure. Gaile and co. were not going to find her to be a very polite dinner guest.

======================================

“Pom-pom!” Demon squealed in excitement, bouncing up and down. How the creature had heard his call was a new source of confusion, but the shapeshifter wasn’t about to complain.

A small sphere made completely of orange light hovered a few feet away, rays of light spread out around it like spikes, each rotating around the center in patterns that seemed completely unrelated to those of the others.

This was the infamous dimensional wormhole, Pom-pom. Larra despised it, for it showed affection by transporting people randomly through the dimensions. Even it’s touch would warp her perception of the dimensions, leaving her without her traveling abilities for at least a week, unless she could get help in straightening them out. Demon adored it. He wanted to keep it as a pet, and had given the wormhole it’s name. Pom-pom loved Demon, and even listened to him, to some degree.

“Listen carefully,” the shapeshifter explained, attempting to make himself seem calm and authorative. “I need to you take me to the dimension where you trapped me in a few months ago. You remember, where the big purple ship attacked you and Larra had to come save me?”

Some of the spikes reversed pattern, and the light gave off a disgustingly cute squeaky noise. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Demon whined, hesitating before leaping into the light.

His vision flashed, suddenly the dog found himself sitting in the middle of a clearing of a large, dark forest. Scantily clad natives danced around in a circle, chanting some eerie spell. Some had stopped to gawk at the creature that had suddenly appeared in their midst. “NOT HERE!” Demon howled. They looked aggressive. And hungry. “GET ME OUT OF H-” he was cut off as the orange light flashed blindingly bright, and he was sitting on the floor in the No Name bar.

“ERE...ere...ere”. The last bit of his yell echoed across the near-empty bar. Shade, confused about the latest events, started and glared at the source of the noise. “You again...” he reached for his staff.

“No!” Demon squealed, hiding under a table. Pom-pom hovered nearby. “Peace! Peace! What happened here, anyway?” He poked his head out into the open, glancing inquisitively at Shade, hoping he wasn’t about to get whacked in the head.

===========================

“Umm...Larra?”

Larra blinked and stared up at Ta-vora. “I don’t think it’s a good time to take a nap, as comfortable as that chair looks.”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” she insisted, “just thinking.”

“Think of anything, then?” Page asked, pacing impatiently. He was wearing the black robes.

“Not really. They’ve got the place pretty barred up. I guess you’re back to normal?”

“Somewhat,” Ta-vora broke in, settling into the chair beside Larra’s.

Page stopped walking looked confused. “You mean I wasn’t?”

“They must have done something to you. You were acting weird for awhile there.”

He frowned. “Oh yeah...really?”

“Back to escaping...”Ta-vora mentioned impatiently.

Larra reached behind her, grabbed the white cloth hanging there, and yanked hard. It came down, showing the wall behind. It was white. She exhaled heavily. “There are some damn good barriers around here, but with some work I can probably unravel or break them down. I don’t know it they’ll give me that much time, though. You guys have any ideas?”


OOC: Grrr, I’m done for now. So much work, so little time. **sighs**

Oh yeah, almost forgot:

** fiqui - Degrading Acaran name, usually used referring to someone female that the user has little or no respect for.