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VOLUME EIGHT, ISSUE EIGHT                                       May 1, 2001

                           TABLE OF CONTENTS

                      A Note from the Implementor
                           Calendar of Events
                       NEWS, REPORTS, & UPDATES
                            Recent Updates
                            Q & A Summary
                              A Purpose
                           PKill Newsflash
                            A Promise Made
                           A Witch Betrayed
                    Battling Bunny Bashing in the Bush
                        A Guide to San Fransisky
		            Strike's Tale
                         Sun-drenched Beauties
                          The Call of the Sea
                             The Hunter


                        |A Note from the Implementor|

                     Evil Characters: Not a Jerk of a Player

Playing an evil character is not an easy feat. If you are not careful,
others get wrong impressions about your real life personality. To avoid
having others thinking that you, the player, are a jerk be thorough in
setting up and playing the RP for your character.

People who develop full, robust backstories that can be easily picked up
on have a much easier time portraying an evil character than those who
rationalize it with, "I'm evil, so I can be a jerk and everyone will know
I'm evil. After all, game system says the character's evil, right?"

  Without apparent reason for rude or outrageous behavior, the poorly
  defined, evil-for-the-sake-of-evil character's taunts, actions and
  attitudes are often assumed to be those of the player. When
  developing an evil character, think about what makes quality evil
  characters in your favorite novels and movies. Effective villains
  communicate their motives, character flaws and may even have likeable
  characteristics with which you can identify.

  Evil doesn't have to mean rude; evil characters can be quite socially
  adept. Being a jerk is easy but it is a much harder challenge to be a
  villain. A true villain has to stand out. Why settle for being one of
  the nameless horde, when you can set yourself up as someone to be
  reckoned with and remembered?

    The serial killers, the cruel step-mothers and the Norman Bates of the
    world are... boring... Sorry, but these are overdone. Pick something
    not only more challenging, but something that won't get you confused
    with the people who use this as an excuse to be a jerk. Another problem
    with the serial killer RP is that it tends to feel forced -- I am evil,
    therefore I have to remind myself every third days by being rude to
    someone. If you're set on the insanity motive, be so nuts that no one
    is in doubt and be consistent. (Dashiva x 3 comes to mind).

  Demon/Hellspawn/Fallen Angel:
    Usually evil by their very nature, but establish their place in the
    hierarchy of the evil mythos and they will be much easier to develop
    in an interesting way. They also have a tendency to be boring unless
    done extremely well, where what they are isn't their sole motivation.
    Establishing links with other characters with the same background will
    let you interact with an existing hierarchy and get into things faster,
    whether you are a servant or attempting to overthrow another lord of
    the planes.

    Besides demonic possession a la Exorcist, this also includes things
    like werewolves and Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde where an ordinarily normal
    character occasionally or periodically loses control. The trick here to
    is adequately develop the character that is taken over as a separate
    identity well beforehand to make the radical changes obvious. Also,
    remember that for every condition, there is a cure. You need to make it
    clear how your character can be cured, because if you're successful,
    people will look for the cure. If you don't want to be cured, you need
    to make sure that it is indeed not possible. Also have a plan for what
    will happen when your character is cured.

  Seduced by the Dark Side:
    Being evil holds some greater reward for the character. Vampires gain
    immortality in exchange for giving up their soul and there have been
    countless mages, witches, and politicians who seek to gain more power,
    but end up being controlled by that very power. Aspiring vampires will
    have to be creative with their character's background in order to stand
    out. You will need to establish how the ordinary character gets drawn
    deeper and deeper across the threshold of evil's doorstep and strive
    to find uniqueness.

  Forced to Commit Acts of Evil
    Here, the character is being held hostage and forced to act in an evil
    manner by an agent greater than themselves or perhaps they have to
    resort to evil methods in order to save a loved one or to uphold an
    ideal or protect a place near and dear to their heart. This variety
    requires a lot of work being put into establishing a known RP, because
    people will need to understand that you are being forced, or they'll
    mistake you for just another insane, serial killer.

  The Line Is Crossed Without Realizing It
    Frankenstein and his monster are both examples of this motive. The
    doctor performs outrageous things in the name of science not realizing
    when he crosses the line into evil. The monster, in seeking acceptance
    and not knowing his own strength, commits acts considered evil by the
    society around them. This takes careful planning and practice.


If you're new to the whole villain thing and feel a bit overwhelmed by the
above, try the alternative solution to being a bad guy: Hook up with an
established villain as his or her servant, and work from there. Over time,
your character can rise within the hierarchy, from apprentice to master. You
get a free ride on the other character's established RP, a chance to get
into established cliques and social circles, and all you have to do in
return is to help solidify his or her RP -- a task which is naturally a
part of solidifying your own RP.

Kae has wonderful resources in her "MUD Role-Playing Gamer's Survival Kit"
that can provide inspiration and insight as well as offering a great
chapter on tips and traps.

Next time... Good RP beyond just sweetness and light.


___                                                                        ___
\  |----------------------------------------------------------------------|  /
/__|  LegendMUD Calendar of Events                                        |__\

           [All times are system time unless otherwise specified]

       <>-<> <>-<> <>-<> <>-<> <>-<> May <>-<> <>-<> <>-<> <>-<> <>-<> 
      Thursday, May  3      7:00 pm         Q & A in the OOC Auditorium 
      Saturday, May  5      3:00 pm         Cinco de Mayo Casino
      Thursday, May 10      7:00 pm         Q & A in the OOC Auditorium 

___                                                                        ___
\  |----------------------------------------------------------------------|  /
/__|  News, Reports, and Updates!                                         |__\

    /\                         RECENT UPDATES
   /  \   
  /    \                        CODE UPDATES
 /_    _\   Misc Changes
   |  |       o cause mages can no longer control as many charmies at a
   |  |         time
   |  |       o preview now includes wear slot
   |__|       o config rejectgives keeps you out of any splits
   /  \     Bug Fixes
  /    \      o GMs can now sell their clan halls to themselves
 /_    _\     o You can no longer roll/unroll items that are on fire
   |  |       o poultices give a better message when decomposing
   |  |       o duplicate messages with waterwalk and sust. breath fixed
   |  |       o empty vials should no longer loose their "empty" keyword
    /\                              AREA UPDATES
   /  \     
  /    \    Legends of the past:
 /_    _\     A riddle for you all:
   |  |       Gaze upwards and ponder the night sky. Turn your gaze toward
   |  |       the earth and ponder your comfort. Look to the heavens and
   |  |       ponder your pain. What was once old is now new. He is
   |__|       protector, he is father, he has changed.
   /  \     1802 Alaska
  /    \      The spellbook for the frost bolt spell is in. Gives Napachee
 /_    _\     something to do with all that whittling he does, fixes
   |  |       Miesha.
   |  |     
   |  |     Various bug/typo fixes in the following areas:
   |__|       Somme, Roman Britain, Greece, Melbourne, Ireland, Nazca,
    /\        Sherwood, and Lima. Sherwood, Klein, Alhambra, Arabia,
   /  \       Bengal, Beowulf, Dreamtime, FI War, Ireland, London, Tortuga,
  /    \      and Viceroyal Lima.
 /_    _\   
   |  |     As always, we ask that if you find any bugs/typos or have ideas
   |  |     for new items, reactions for mobs, quest hints or any other
   |  |     sort of thing in certain area or areas, please use the
   |__|     bug/idea/typo channels.

  _______   ____    _______
 /  ___  \ / __ \  /  ___  \  Logs of Q&A sessions are available on the
 | /   \ | \ \/ /  | /   \ |  web pages for those who are unable to attend
 | |   | |  \  /   | \___/ |  or had to leave early. The most recent ones
 | |   | |  /  \/\ |  ___  |  are listed on the sitemap page or you can
 | | /\| | / /\  / | /   \ |  get a complete list on the Q&A index page
 | \_\ \ | \ \/  \ | \   / |  at the url below.
  \___\/_/  \__/\/ \_/   \_|
                               RECENT TOPICS
o Dagger of Ice                     o Duplicate Spell Messages?
o Frost Bolt HelpFile?              o What were all the crashes?
o Shoot & Stun Bug?                 o Dispel Magic Default to Caster?
o Align & Greater Summon            o Warning when Summons Poof?
o Mind Eq & AC?                     o Longer Reject Timers?
o Why is AC so wacky?               o Progress on Create Healing
o Thanks For Watching Language      o GangWars & Tourneys?
o Accept All Arena?                 o Help Wine/Drunk not fixed
o Gangwars Rankings as Whois?       o Cause Charms Limits
o Cause vs Create Fuzzier           o Twohanded weapon stats?
o Mana costs in helps & cast levels o Upcoming: DSL status
o Missing Weather Messages?         o Spell Failure Rate
o Limn Spell                        o Cause Charm Restrictions?
o The OOC Library                   o More Missing Messages?
o Friendship Lists                  o Next New Area?
o Underwater Logic?                 o Combined or Set Equip?
o IC Clothing for Newbies?          o Aging
o Social Events                     o Limit # of Clans?
o REJECTGIVES/SPLITS?               o Getting Rid of Doppels?


          /                        \
      o O | Wonder what folks are   |
 `\|||/   | doing over at LegendMUD?|
 (o o)    \________________________/

  ___                                                                  ___
  \ |------------------------------------------------------------------| /
  /__|  LEGENDITES: Information Regarding the People of Our World     |__\


Guess what everyone!  Your favorite Rabbi is back, I know what your all
thinking: "Is he still offering those free circumcisions?"  -- the answer is
yes!  Well anyways, now that I'm back, I decided to go back to my home, the
Mercenaries clan.  Hire me for all your killing needs, I'll get the job done
one way or another.  It's time for me to start wrecking shop.

-Rabbi Fuego Inferno


                            A Purpose

     I have no memory of my childhood. I know not where I was born, nor do I
know the names of my father and my mother. No time have I spent trying to
recall memories of times that have been lost to me.

     What I do know is this. At the age of 16, I was on a journey to some
far off land, when I found myself lost within a forest unlike any other that
I had ever come across before (or since, for that matter). The trees were as
tall as mountains and they were covered in runic carvings that I could not
interpret. As I continued to travel through this unusual place, the trees
began to grow taller and started to close in on me until I found myself
stuck in a large circle of enormous trees that seemed to encompass the very
existence of life itself.

     It was then that I heard a voice behind me.  "Welcome", it said.
Startled, I turned around and before me stood a man who, it seemed, was not a
man at all.  "You are correct", he said, "I am not just a man of mere flesh
and blood.  I am Dagda, the god of the Earth. I have chosen you to be my
servant.  You will be given a new name, the ability to use magic, and a gift
that will help you in your travels."

     "First, however, you must be cleansed. Gone will be your human desires,
your lust, your greed, your pride, your arrogance." He began to chant and
the forces of the Earth began to rise, each passing through me, cleansing my
soul of it's human shortcomings, while filling me with the knowledge and
power that only the servitude of a higher being can impart. This infusion
caused me to lose consciousness and when I awoke, there stood Dagda,
marveling at the being that he had created from me.

     "It is done, and now you will serve me until your life has ended.  Your
name hence forth will be Euclides, and I will allow you the use of magic.  As
you grow stronger, your abilities and your knowledge will increase until you
have learned all the facets of the powers that I have granted you"

     "It is now your responsibility to protect the Earth in any manner, using
any method that you see fit. From time to time, I will call on you to perform
a special task and this is also your responsibility now".

     "In addition to this, I have set aside a special task for you. On the
eve of the new year, you are to help my daughter, Brigit, prepare my home
for the day of the new year, at which time I mate with my wife, Morrigan.
This is of great importance as the fertility of the land is dependent upon
our successful consummation."

     "As promised, I have here a gift for you which will aid you in your
missions.  Guard it well for you will suffer my wrath if you let it fall into
another's hands." He reached into his cauldron of plenty and pulled from it a
cup. He then filled it with water and handed it to me. "This will replenish
your spirit force when you feel it running low. Now be on your way and
fulfill the destiny that I have chosen for you."

     With this, he turned and seemed to almost fade away. I found myself
standing in the forest once again, not knowing what I should do. It was then
that I decided to seek out the others like myself who had been given special
missions and abilities by the gods. Perhaps they will help me, and in turn
perhaps I can help them, to carry out the wishes of our masters.

     This search led me to Cerberus and a band of servants who called
themselves Tuatha De Mannan. They have welcomed me into their ranks and with
their help and guidance I have learned much about these new abilities
bestowed upon me by Dagda, and even more about the true nature of this Earth
and the gods and goddesses who protect it.

                        I I       I I       I I 
                        I I       I I       I I 
                       / | \     / | \     / | \   
                       \ | /     \ | /     \ | / 
                        \|/       \|/       \|/ 
                         *  PKILL NEWSFLASH! *               

Here's this week's column. I'm sure that I'm missing alot of things, but I'm
going from memory.

War seems to be the thing this week, as The Coven and Guardians of Justice
declared it upon each other (see separate article for details), the Mercs
declared it on the Antipaladins, and the Antipaladins declared it on the IRA.
Whew! And none of those clans have been quiet in their wars either.

Ruby, GM of the AP put a bounty on all of the IRA, posting that he'll pay for
the death of each member by a Merc, and challenging them to accept the deal.
Working to recover his health, Ruby later revoked this offer, and stood
forward to challenge them himself.  Apparently, this stems from a battle
between Zeirath, an antipaladin, and Takaya, an IRA member. Vampyr continues
to make known the Dark Lord's work, as he's battled Gaidal once or twice this
week, as well as several others, such as Peanutbutter, Tarquin, Geist,
Jamaciaman, Spite, and Reaper, resulting in mixed victories for either side.

Prior to the Coven/Guardians war, Malia appeared to be upset at Marcel due to
some news regarding her son, Sabu, which resulted in her backstabbing Marcel
in Sherwood. However, when she fled to clear her blindness, Soze jumped into
the fight, taking Malia's place! When Malia returned, Ruby also jumped into
the fray, but an invisible Moonshadow faded in and stunned the antipaladin
who then fled the scene. Soze killed his master, Marcel, taking over the
Seven Circles, but shortly after died to Malia who was angry at him for
interrupting her 'disagreement'. Moonshadow and Malia then went to finish the
fight with Ruby, resulting in Ruby's death. An hour later, Ruby came for
Malia again, and Malia came out the victor.

Marcel got a bit of aid from his Coven friends, who took him in for a brief
time, despite the disagreement he and their high Priestess Malia had which
began this skirmish. Semirhage, Sasha and Moonshadow all took turns attacking
Soze for what he had done.

Marcel gained revenge and his clan again a few days later, when he and
Camaris aided Judah against Soze -- unfortunately for Soze and Judah, the two
had neglected to tell Judah that they were indeed going to do so.

Gaidal jumped Tobias earlier this week, and showed his expertise with his bow
as he instantly killed Victim, who later attempted revenge for the incident
but lost again.

Zar recently returned to activity as well, fighting a number of people this
week to prove it, including Gone-fission, Peanutbutter, Saki, Stratton, Jelly
and Paranoia. The last of which he lost to.

As always, if you've got some news for the pk column, email or mudmail it to


                            A Promise Made

   Summer was coming to an end and soon it would be harvest time. The clan
would start their preparation for winter.  Tusk hurried through a path in the
woods, his shoulder length red hair blowing in the breeze.  Standing at about
6'8", he was just now fully maturing into a man.  He had the sharpest blue
eyes, a trade mark of the Kudasin family.  Still a little wiry on the bones,
definition was starting to show in his arms and shoulders.  

He didn't want to go hunting today.  It was too warm out to waste the day
that way, he wanted to go to his favorite swimming hole instead.  The past
spring had shown an improvement in his hunting skills.  He was fair in spear
throwing, but his real talent lay in his speed and use of his dagger.  This
was why he was chosen as a hunter this year instead of working in the gardens
or with the flocks.  He knew his father would be mad at him once he found out
that he was not with the other hunters, but Tusk didn't care.  

As he rounded a corner, he could see the sun sparkle off the water, and he
ran faster.  He felt the cool water hit is face and chest as he ran into the
swallow river.  After diving under the surface, he laid on his back looking
up into the sky.  He pictured the rest of the hunters wandering around
looking for tracks of deer, the women back in the garden, children running
in and out of the doors of the brughs.  

A slow smile crept across his face.  He had gotten out of his chores again.
Father would understand, there aren't that many warm days where a young lad
can go swimming. After another good swim, Tusk dragged himself unto the
bank of the river to let the sun dry him off. Laying on his back, Tusk put
his hands under his head for a pillow. Again a smile came across his face,
just before his eyes slid shut.

It didn't seem that he had slept that long, but it was true.  The sun was
just going down, looking like a big, blood red eye.  Tusk jumped up, and
started to run back the way he had came.  The thoughts of his father grilling
him on where he had been crept into his mind.  As always when Tusk got in
trouble, his father reminded him that someday he would be ceannard of the
clan.  He would tell him, Tusk, when I am gone, you will be ceannard of the
clan.  You have to be more responsible.  When he took over the clan.  That
wasn't going to happen anytime soon, so why should he care.  

This was all running through his mind when the smell of burning wood caught
his nose.  It was overly strong today, but it must be the wind.  He could
smell the freshly hunted deer roasting, and he wasn't out of the woods yet.
The smell got to his stomach and  it began rumbling.

Tusk broke out of the woods and the sight almost dropped him to his knees.
Everything was ablaze.  He ran closer, the heat hitting him like a wave.  The
soot burned at his eyes and clogged his throat and nose.  He could see bodies
strewn about like mounds of black coal.  He wondered how the clan could let
the fire get away like this.  Eyes burning with tears and soot, Tusk sank to
his knees amongst the charred bodies.  He kept blinking thinking he was still
dreaming on the side of the bank back at the river, but still he saw the

Slowing he got to his feet and wandered toward his fathers brugh.  He could
barely make out the forms, but the gold torc laying on the ground told him it
was his fathers body.  He noticed the spear in the hand.  It then hit him,
the clan was attacked, but why hadn't they fought back.  With about 75 good
warriors in the clan it would have taken a big tribe to do this, but there
weren't any other clans around this part.  Even if another tribe had traveled
this far, he would see their tracks.  Yet there were none.

After what seemed like eternity, he stood from his fathers body, fists
clenched and tears streaming down his now black face. The tears left trails
of muddy black streaks, that ran down his cheeks and chin.  He turned and
walked back to the entrance of the woods.  Once reaching it he turned back
toward what used to be his home, he slowly dropped to the ground.  The sun
had slid from the sky, leaving the only light from the moon and the still
smoldering flames.  He sat there staring into the flames, finally his eyes
shut, sobs shaking his whole body.

It was midmorning when Tusk opened his eyes.  He blinked, he had never seen
such a creature in all his life.  He blinked again, just to make sure he
want sleeping.  It was sitting like a large red boulder.  He sat completely
motionless, watching this thing.  It was pushing over the burnt out structure
of the remaining brughs.  At that moment Tusk knew that this was what had
destroyed his family, friends, his clan.  

The anger swelled inside of him; he wanted to kill this thing.  He wanted
revenge for himself, for his father, for his family, for his clan.  Something
wouldn't let him get up though.  He tried to move his legs but they wouldn't
move.  He tried to scream, but nothing would come out.  Suddenly the beast
turned flapped its wings and flew into the sky with a loud shirk.  Tusk sat
there fists balled up with tears swelling in his eyes.  He would have his
revenge someday.  He would seek out all these beasts, these dearcs.  He would
avenge his clans slaughtering.

Tusk stood up, he walked over to the remains of his home.  He bent down
picked up the gold torc. Raising the torc above his head he screamed with all
his mite, COIMHDE, may I bring honor back to my cineal.  Turning around, Tusk
started walking away.  Winter would be upon him soon.  He would have to find
shelter if he hoped to survive the cold winter.  He wasn't worried though,
because he was Tusk Kudasin, ceannard of the White Wolf clan!  He would start
his clan over!  He would have his revenge!  And yes, revenge would be sweet.


                            A Witch Betrayed

Laughter came from the Inn, breaking the soft whistle of the night-time air
as it was pierced by the trees of the nearby forest. The laughter drew a
small crowd, mostly of Coven witches and their Guardians of Justice friends,
though others came and went as well.

'There isn't an ounce of fat on my body,' an austere swordswoman says matter
of factly to a small framed, tanned woman sitting across from her. The
serious look on the swordswoman's face didn't budge.

'Well, I didn't ask that!' laughed the tanned one, 'I asked if you were
afraid of it.'

'I keep in shape,' an austere swordswoman returned, just as serious as ever.
'It will not happen.'

'I keep in shape too,' the tanned beauty grinned then turned to the darkly
dressed man sitting beside her, 'Right?'

'In spite of all the Pepsi,' a bladesman interrupted.

She giggled and winked her response.

The tall Asha'man said as he turned his attention to the woman next to him,
'We exercise daily.'

'Or something like that,' she jokingly agreed.

The group began discussing the value of a good armwrestling match, as the
swordswoman challenged everyone at the table to beat her.

'Zafira has done excellently in her time with me,' the bladesman with an
intense gaze said as he looked at her. 'I'm very proud of her.' She stopped
her match with one of the men in the room and peered over at her guildmaster
as he spoke.

'Armwrestling has never been my strong suit,' the tanned one proclaimed, 'But
I could set clothing on fire with the flick of my wrist!'

She laughed aloud as the others around her chuckled, wondering if she was
going to show her trick, and on who she would show it.

The group continued their discussions, laughing, joking and enjoying the
small gathering they'd become. 'Excuse me a minute would you?' Dashiva
requested as he turned to look at Malia, 'I have to check on some herbs.' He
kissed her cheek as he stood.  'Sure!' she smiled, and watched as he walked
out the door.

Their laughter was broken as the door to the inn swung open with a loud bang
as it hit against the wall. Semirhage rushed in, panting as though out of
breath, and like an arrow shot straight towards Malia.

'Malia! Malia!' the coven witch called out, panting as though she'd run full
speed from the ends of the earth to find her Priestess.

Malia sat up, and inquired, 'What's wrong?'

'I've just come from one of the other Coven's horrible,'
Semirhage blurted out, still trying to catch her breath.

Ganymede sat up, listening intently as his friend spoke.

Semirhage shuddered, the fear in her voice pronounced as she continued, 'The
stench of death....everywhere....could barely breathe...' She shook her head,
trying to rid herself of the images in her mind, 'Burning flesh....'

'Ugh,' the sound came from Ganymede as his face wrinkled in disgust.  Others
joined in with looks of surprise at the story they were hearing.

Semirhage calmed somewhat, continued, 'We were under seige before we knew
what had happened.'

'Seige?' Malia stood, interrupting her sister, readying herself to go fight.
'What? Who?'

'They had us surrounded and the building was instantly ablaze....I was near
the rear entrance and managed to escape,' Semirhage continued her story, but
then stopped suddenly.  A sad look came over her as she looked back towards
Malia. 'Their leader was....'

'He was.....' the pain in her eyes was obvious to all around her.  'It was
Dashiva...' she admitted finally, after struggling with her words.

Zafira sat up at this news and gasped in astonishment, while Ganymede's eyes
flew open wide as he loudly questioned, 'WHAT?'

'Impossible!' he continued, obviously surprised.

'He tried to kill me himself...' Semirhage stated, as she tried to hold back
tears. 'He looked at me as though he recognized me and drove straight towards

'Dashiva is a Guardian. He would never do such a thing.' Zafira could not
believe what she was hearing.

'Maybe you're mistaken. I mean... with all the panic..' Malia pleaded with
her sister, unsure of what to think of what she'd just heard.

Semirhage shook her head sadly as she looked into Malia's eyes. 'I threw
up a magical wall and ran...'

'It cannot be, he would never! You saw someone else,' Ganymede pleaded with
the witch, hoping this was all a big mistake.

Malia walked to the door, and as loud as she could called out, 'DASHIVA!'
'Come here.'

A response came from not too far away, 'okies.'

'This is madness,' Ganymede said, as he shook his head in disbelief. 'It
cannot be as you say.'

Just then, Dashiva returned, and looked about the room as it's contents stared
back at him, eyes wide, and faces pale.

'I can't believe this,' Malia said sadly, as she turned to look at the newly
arrived Dashiva. 'But I know my sister wouldn't lie. It has to be something.'

'I am as bewildered as you...' Semirhage admitted. 'I don't know if any of
the other escaped. We were incredibly outnumbered...'

A long pause tensed the room, only to be broken finally by Malia as she
brought her eyes to meet Dashiva's, and spoke to him in a soft, sad voice, 'I
have a question for you.'

The tall man returned, unaware of what had been discussed prior to his
arrival, 'Sure!'

'Did you attack my sister, Semirhage?'

Dashiva blinked in surprise, not sure why this question was asked of him.
'Not that I can recall. Why?' he answered, obviously confused.

Semhirage looked at him, staring for a moment, and suddenly backed away
with fear in her eyes. 'You did too!' she cried out.

Lanfear spoke up in her sister's defense, 'My sister wouldn't lie.' And the
other coven members sitting about nodded in agreement.

'I knew it. He is innocent of this charge,' Ganymede sighed, relieved.

But Semirhage ignored the words and glared back towards Dashiva,
'You looked straight at me and mouthed the word "die"' 

'I wouldn't attack coven,' he explained as Malia sunk into her chair and 

He turned his attention back to Semirhage, who was being comforted by her
sister Lanfear, 'Those are filthy lies.' His clanmates stood beside him,
nodding at his words.

'She saw you.'

'I know you didn't just call my sister a liar,' Yvonne spoke up, in a cold

'You would believe a witch over your lover?' Zafira turned to Malia, who was
now sitting with her head in her hands, not sure what to make of all of this.
Without lifting her head to look at the woman speaking to her, she said
quietly, 'They are my sisters.'

Tension was high, and getting moreso by the second. As each coven sister
stood next to Semirhage, and glared towards Dashiva, just waiting to see what
Malia would do about this. Malia didn't look, though. She kept her head down,
and above all the shouting between the two clans, the word 'ENOUGH!' rang

Finally, Malia raised herself slowly from her chair and walked towards her
lover. 'You believe me, don't you?' he begged. She ignored his question
and returned one of her own. 'Please, tell me where you were just before.'

'Getting herbs! Like I said,' he cried out, hoping she would believe him.
I need to restock once in a while to keep up my supply.'


'In Salem,' he answered.

'That's where I came from!' the witch Semirhage cried out. Malia's face
grew pale, and her eyes filled with sadness as she looked up to meet
Dashiva's eyes with her own.

'Dashiva is my brother in arms,' the Guardian swordswoman spoke, insisting,
'If he says he did not do this, then he did not.' Ganymede nodded, agreeing
with his clanmate and friend. 'I believe my brother Guardian He would not do
this thing, and he would not lie. Dashiva is innocent as surely as I stand
here,' he continued, 'Semirhage, ye must be mistaken. Twas some other man ye

Lanfear growled at Dashiva as she held her sister, Semirhage.

'It wasn't me!' he begged her to believe him. 

'I was not mistaken,' Semirhage said quietly back.

'How can ye be sure?' Ganymede turned to Semirhage just as she pulled her
dagger from it's sheath. She glanced at the tip of her weapon and gasped as a
bit of black velvety cloth hung from it.

Malia glanced at the dagger, then at Dashiva as he pleaded with her, 'You
have to believe me, please.' Semirhage took the cloth from her weapon, and
handed it to Malia who watched it intently as it passed towards her.

'I'm sorry...' Semirhage spoke sadly to her priestess and friend.

'That could be any black cloth!' Ganymede yelled. 'This is nonsense.' 

'Dashi...' the once confident voice of Malia was now quiet, almost a whisper
as her sadness overcame her. 'It wasn't me...' he said, almost as quiet.

Malia stepped back and tried her best to straighten her composure. She looked
about the room as though she had just awoken from a bad dream, and then her
eyes met those of her lover. She placed her hands on either side of his face
and leaned towards him, kissing him passionately.  As she pulled away from
him, ending the kiss, he whispered to her, 'You believe me, don't you?' Her
eyes changed in an instant from sadness to fury as she stepped backwards to
her sisters, not letting her stare leave Dashiva's face. 'I'll never kiss you
like that again.' Her voice cold, and empty. She turned before she could see
the look on his face, and said plainly to her coven sisters, 'Kill him! Kill
them all.'

Ganymede jumped from his chair in shock at what he heard, just as Semirhage
used her magic to close off the exit of the inn, trapping everyone within its
walls. Moonshadow glared at Dashiva as if waiting for the moment and took her
chance to attack. Before one could think, the two clans were engaged in a
massive battle, tearing apart the inn as well as each other. Ganymede fell
first, then Moonshadow, Dashiva and Zafira lastly. Malia glared around the
room, her anger at heights none had seen before.

Ganymede cried out, 'What is the meaning of this???' Malia looked down at the
injured man with a dangerous glare then turned her head towards Dashiva, 'You
killed my sisters, Dashiva. You and your clan will pay.'

'Malia, I swear, we didn't do it. You have to believe me!' he pleaded, but
she would hear none of it.

Semirhage stepped in front of Malia, interrupting the fierce stare she had
fixed on Dashiva, 'I saw you with my own eyes.'

'When we next meet again, it won't be on lovers terms,' Dashiva said to Malia
as he looked around Semirhage to meet Malia's stare. 'I can't believe this.'
he continued.  Malia stepped back, giving distance between her and the
injured Guardians in the room. 'I will hunt you down until time ends,' her
eyes narrowed, and her voice changed to reflect her anger. 'There is nowhere
you can hide that is safe from me.'

Lanfear jumped up and screamed at the injured Dashiva, 'Get out of here,
murderer!' As X'z pushed him towards the door, caring little about his
injuries. He turned, trying to avoid X'z's forcefulness and spoke to Malia,
'Malia, please. Lots of people have black cloaks. You have to believe me.'

Without looking, she spat, 'You betrayed me. You'll pay.' He sighed and
turned towards the door. 'I loved you, Malia.' The words 'Why.. oh, why won't
you believe me,' trailed off as he exited the inn.  Malia shouted angrily at
him, as he walked away, 'And I loved you, but look at what you've done!'

'The Coven will not get away with this. This is madness! Ye have all been
touched.' Ganymede rose to his feet, 'I know not what madness has set upon ye
sisters. But ye shall pay for it. Your entire clan. From this moment on the
bonds between our clans are dissolved, and we are at war.'

'So be it,' she shouted. 'You will die like your mate. Consider your fates

Moonshadow knelt down in front of a pool of blood and placed her hand in it.
She turned to the wall and wrote 'And so wrote the Goddess: the streets will
run red with the blood of the defilers, their bodies stacked like cordwood on
the sidewalks.'

'I need some air,' Malia sighed, as she looked at Moonshadow's work.


                      Battling Bunny Bashing in the Bush

Mabel Mater, Guardian of Sherwood Forest, and member of Fields of Albion
clan, staged a one woman protest on Tuesday, December 9, circa 1200 AD.
Mabel is protesting the senseless slaughter of Bunnies in Sherwood Forest.
Hedge Farwood, another member of the Fields of Albion, join Mabel later in
the day.

As a member of the Fields of Albion Clan, Mabel has pledged to protect
Sherwood Forest and all plantlife and creatures in it.

"I wouldn't mind so much if they were only kill the old and sick bunnies,"
says Mabel, "But they're killing all the bunnies in sight, what will happen
when they become extinct?"

Mabel spent hours marching back and forth in the Sherwood Forest waving a
sign reading "Stop the Senseless Slaughter of Bunnies" as well as chanting at
the top of her voice "Save the Bunnies" and "Stop Splitting Hares".

Overall it was a peaceful protest, with only a few verbal skirmishes with
Luceria. Although at one point, Hedge did try to rescue a Bunny that was
about to be slaughtered. He didn't succeed and the Bunny was killed. All
protectors mourned the loss of one more Bunny.

Mabel claims she had no choice but to hold this protest. "As guardian of
Sherwood forest it is my responsibility to protect all living things there,"
she claims, " Sherwood forest used to be full of Bunnies, but with all this
senseless slaughter, the Bunnies have come dangerously close to extinction."

When asked if she felt this protest was successful Mabel says, "Well, I
reached my goal of bringing this problem to the public's attention. I may not
have saved many Bunnies, but the issue was aired."

Finally, after hours of pacing back and forth, Mabel stated, "I'll be back,"
then abandoned the protest and went home to sleep.


                           A Guide to San Fransisky
                                Willy Carter

Well, I reckon yer here for the gold, but Dagnabbit, that ain't all we have
here!  The friendly townsfolk'll help yer out, 'ceptin the claimjumpers, and
yer'll be well looked after.  Joe Thompson'll let yer sample his famous dill
pickles soon as yer walk in his door, I reckon, and the gunslingers ain't
really gonna cause yer much harm, as they ain't much good.  They reckon the
mayoral elections ain't quite fair, but I cain't say we've got a bad sort
who's winnin 'em.  We ain't got all the comforts those eastern-folk are used
to, but we get by perty well!  Now, we do get the occassional fight in the
seeloons, such as the one that broke up mine perty badly, but I ain't heard
of noone yet dyin' who dint show up soon after, bit beat up, perhaps, but not
dead, anyway, so I reckon we ain't as dangerous as we're rumoured, dagnabbit!
So, hop yerself on the next stage to San Fransisky, I reckon!  Yer ain't
gonna be displeased!


			      Strike's Tale

Born in London many years ago William "Strike" Felmore grew up on baseball.
He would sometimes play hooky from school with some of his friends and go
down to the old field where they would play baseball for most of the day.  On
his 15th Birthday he was recruited to play for his hometown's team. It was a
failing team and hadn't won a game in almost 4 years.  Yet William was
determined to make something out of what he now called "his" Team.  And he
did just that.  

In the team's first game of the season, he struck out every player that dared
to try and hit his pitches, thus earning him the nickname "Strike".  He
proved equally well if not better when he was at bat.  In there second game
of the season he amazed his team and his coach with 6 homeruns.  The rest of
the season turned out just as good for Strike and "his" team.  But during the
last game of the season terror struck.

The pitcher threw a fast ball straight down the middle.  Strike felt his bat
jolt with energy as he put all his weight into the swing.  He started running
for first base, when he saw that everyone was running towards the pitcher.
Strike looked at the pitcher and all he saw was blood all over th e place.

He knew at that very minute that the pitcher was dead.  Killed by the
baseball that had left his bat at full force.  Strike stood there for a few
minutes not moving.  This was the first person he had ever killed and he
didn't know how to take it.  Later that night, still in shock over what had
happened, he walked down to a tavern not too far from his house.  

On his way down there he was attacked by some drunken members of the team
that they had played that day. When the fight was over two people were dead
and Strike was bleeding all over. He knew at that moment he could not go back
home  -- he knew he had now killed and could not face his family or his
friends. He left town that night.  His greatest fear was being caught and
hanged for murder.  

After almost a year of being on the run he met an old man who took him in and
taught him the tricks of the warrior.  Strike had found his second calling in
life and he knew he had no choice but to take it.  When he told the old man
of his wishes the old man looked at him. "So be it," he said to Strike.  

After a moment of silence the old man pulled a wicked little knife out of a
pouch on his belt and stabbed Strike straight through the heart.  Strike fell
to the floor and passed out.  When he awoke he was in what looked like an
enchanted garden of some sort and the wound over his chest was completely
healed. After wandering around for a few minutes he came upon a little old
witch. Who had explained to him that he was now in Celtic Ireland near a
little town called Tara. Thus Strike had found his calling and set out on an
adventure that he would remember forever.


                       Sun-drenched Beauties

Imagine two young, attractive women sprawling on the sun terrace of an
ancient stone temple. The light of the desert sun overhead is setting the
skin of their near-naked bodies on fire as they apply scented lotions to each
other's backs. It would be a scene that a photographer would sell his camera
to get at. After he'd gotten at it, of course.

Imagine the deep purring voice of the raven-haired woman, bringing a drowsy
lioness to mind, as she breaks the silence: "We have to talk, still."

Imagine the brief flicker of concern in the silvery gray eyes of the other
woman as she flinches. "As long as Marcel is Mitra's husband, be kind to
your sister and leave him to her," the Arabian lioness proceeds.

The moonlight-eyed one, graceful and flighty like a half-forgotten dream,
raises her eyebrow in surprise. "I should not have played checkers with him,
Malia?" And the raven-tressed one, Malia, replies, "If it was only checkers,
then nothing to worry about."

Flightily, dreamily the other woman says, "Well, we had some wine and played
checkers... I think that was it." With a knowing smile and a small laugh
Malia replies, "Let's hope, Moonshadow."

The sunlight settles lower as evening comes on, the distant star causing the
eyes of the ancient statues to seem strangely alive. "If your memory of that
evening is gone, then who knows!" Malia says abruptly. "But I don't want
Mitra upset. You know how Mit can be, sometimes."

Slowly, thoughtfully Moonshadow says, "I hope he did not enspell me. I
remember a comfortable bed by the fire, but I am most sure that I was alone
in it."

And the lioness smiles. "Where was Marcel?"

"I don't... know?" The frown on Moonshadow's pale, marble features is
reflected on the visage of Malia. "You've got to keep an eye on him better
than that!"

"Oh, what may have happened... I would never.. I mean... I..." Moonshadow's
timber voice drifts off, reflecting her confusion. And Malia, knowingly,
long familiar, breaks in: "What's done is done. Say nothing of it to anyone,
and leave it in the past." Then she laughs, like a timber brass bell, and
adds, "He's from Hell. And he enjoys women."

A fleet smile dances across Moonshadow's pale lips as she smirks, "So do I,
on occasion." The smile proceeds to Malia's ruby lips. "Well, don't we all."

"Would he really have done that?" Moonshadow asks, stretching a long, smooth
leg, cat-like. "Sure, if you were willing," Malia consents. "He wouldn't
force himself, though. He's got this thing about being invited, everywhere."

Moonshadow puckers her lips as she reaches for the scented oil; the sunlight
flashes in the emerald of the bottle. "What if he used roofies? Or the spell

Malia applies peach oil to her tanned arm. "No, not his style. That's more
our style!"

"Or... or... prodigious amounts of Chateau Petrus?"

The lioness giggles. "Now that he might do. But, if you invite, he'll go."

And the moonlight's daughter giggles too: "Well, if he inebriates, I may

Now imagine the smug smiles on the two women's faces as they stretch
themselves out on the roof, disturbed only by the call of a macaw in the
distance. We will listen in no more on their idle gossip of male
acquaintances. Let us just focus on the scenery, the smells, the sounds, and
the dream that we were there with them for just a moment. 


                            The Call of the Sea

Sitting on a cliffy rock, facing the ocean, you watch as the sun sets into
the sea.  You inhale deeply on the salty vapors.  The sea looks so calm, a
seagull flies overhead almost lazily.  Somehow, it all seems familiar.  A
nostalgic feeling sweeps through you as you suddenly wish you are part of the

Straining to remember what it is that makes you feel this way, you manage to
achieve a headache.  "Why can't I remember?" you question yourself fiercely.
Staring into the ocean sadly, you watch a few fishes swim by as you come to
realize that your efforts are futile.

The ocean warmth eventually makes you sleepy.  You shut your eyes momentarily
and jump in fright!  You're wide awake now, thoughts hastily streaming
through your head.  Do you dare to close your eyes again?

Slowly and reluctantly, you allow your eyelids to inch lower.  Was that what
you think it was?  Your eyelids are half closed.  If so, how can it be?
Lower goes the eyelids.  What will you do?  Your eyes shut completely.

The dim reddish sunlight disappears completely.  And there it is in front of
you, an archway of magnificent beauty.  Solidly constructed of marble, the
archway is embedded with emeralds, topaz and agates the size of your palms.
Pure gold line the edges. Poseidon, raising his spear in the midst of
vanquishing a sea serpent, is carved skillfully on the top of the arch.
Finally, two sea nymphs stand on both side of the lower arch respectively.
The flawless archway lures you closer, but an unfamiliar voice brings you out
of the vision.

A middle-aged English gentleman repeats softly "It's out there."  He stares
off into the ocean dreamily "Help us find it please."  His voice so sad and
desperate, but at the same time so understandable.  You probably long for
Atlantis as much as he.


                                The Hunter

The frail youth who rested against the trunk of the ancient maple tree did
not seem bothered by the loneliness of the deep forest at all; rather did it
seem to comfort and embrace him, like a mother comforts a prodigal child.
The small, winged creature slouching not very gracefully on his shoulder
slurped on a vanilla shake, producing the only sound to break the woodland

Sprite fiddled with Lawrence's silver hair, wrapping a few strands around and
around her tiny fingers idly. "So your chick dumped you," the small air
creature said, pausing to slurp. "So what? I mean, Decchie is one hot broad,
she'll find another in no time!"

The youth failed to respond, though he did wipe a drop of milkshake off his
worn leather jacket where the sprite had spilled. She slurped on,
unperturbed. "Whatcha think, Maple? Larry's too cute to be all hung up tight
like dat."

"Not everyone would agree to that," the old maple tree replied, its voice a
fleeting sound of leaves rustling on the night breeze. "Most living things
abhor the undead."

The sprite spat. "Larry ain't no vampire, he's just sorta, yanno, quit
breathin'. Okay, so he drinks blood. What's the big deal? Hunters hunt
animals for their furs and stuff, yanno."

The elf looked skywards, up the branches of the maple tree. "Do you abhor me
too, Mother Earth?" His voice was silent to the human ear, but apparently not
to the earth herself, nor to small elemental creatures sipping milkshake. And

"You have changed much, Lawrence," the maple tree replied, rustling,

"Yes, I know, mother." The young man hung his head, in regret or in shame.

"He plays kick-ass guitar though," the sprite slurped.

"You have always been a hunter at heart," the ancient maple rustled, its
branches forming a gentle canopy overhead. "A hunter of freedom in the
streets of New York. A hunter of glory, seeking to become a knight of ancient
times. Then a hunter of vampires when they assaulted you. A hunter seems to
be what you will always be."

"Yes, mother," the elf replied.

"He gots spiffy legs too," Sprite interjected. "Beats me how any chick can
let him walk away."

The maple tree shook with laughter, a few silver-rimmed leaves falling down
to land in the lap and hair of the youth and his tiny (slurping) companion.
"Yes, a hunter. And I still love you, Lawrence, as long as you love me."

The elf smiled. Light gleamed in unusually sharp eye teeth. "Always, mother,

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