When the beggar rushed by him, a small knife in hand, even Zexus found himself caught by surprise. That lasted only an instant, however. Turning his gaze to the beggar-turned-brawler's arm, Zexus narrowed his eyes. "Enough," his voice bellowed, mainly because it was the first word that came to mind, though partly since he had heard it on one of the glass-fronted radios that people called a 'television'.

In an instant, the beggar's knife hand came to a halt, though momentum carried the rest of his body out from beneath him. As fingers uncurled and the knife dropped, Zexus relaxed his gaze, letting the man's hand move freely again.

"Whoa, Zair!" Karnaj caught the man's arm and spun him sloppily, even though he had dropped his knife. "It's alright, it's...this fellow's pet, I guess you could say." He turned to see Ocy engaging the prairie dogs in mortal combat. Two already were badly hurt or dead, and the other three were sizing up their foe.

"Stand alongside her," Karnaj said to Zair and the stranger. "Don't attack immediately. If they're smart, they'll run."

Karnaj trotted over to Ocy as she faced off with the rodents and stood next to her. "Hi, boys!" he shouted. "Didn't I tell you not to come around here any more?"

Ocy smirked as Karnaj stood next to her - in a display of sheer idiocy, the three remaining prairie dogs ran at the pair. Before they could reach, Ocy had thrown her daggers at the two on either side - they implanted themselves in the throat of one, and the forehead of the other. Karnaj leapt on the remaining one and pounded his face into the ground - Ocy was amazed he still had energy after the beating he'd recieved.

"Well then..." Ocy said as Karnaj finished the last one off, removing her daggers from the bodies of the dead prairie dogs.

"Goddamned things." She muttered, kicking a body, "Gonna have to fix my fucking doorway now... Eh!"

[Bah, go out drinking for a night and miss a lot of shit!]

A stern 'Fuck.' caused Caids eyes to dart open, the smell of some sort of stew and mixture of different drinks filled him. His eyes followed Ocy as she sprinted to and out of the massacered doorway, the door wasn't like that before....was it? He thought to himself. He turned back around to face the bar, a few more people leaving through the doorway.

Caid raised the mug still in his hand, and grinned as he took the last gulp from it. You fell asleep, good job. He grated to himself. Rising from his stool he began towards the mangled doorframe suppose I should see if I can help, they've been rather nice so far. he thought.

Reaching the door he leaned against the frame and watched the spectacle. The barkeep and that Karnaj fella were taking care of a few 'dogs', and he had no idea what was going on in the alley. It didn't seem to be hostile though, so he turned and went back to his seat.

Caid noticed a man enter, finding a seat, the man pulled out a bottle of Stoli from his coats, placing it on the bar. He kept a hand on it and eyed the bar carefully.

Isn't that interesting. Caid thought. I haven't seen a bottle of that since......well I could afford to get it, back in my....fighting days... The slight grin slid away from his face. He'd been jarred back into reality. He needed another drink.

[ 02-29-2004: Message edited by: 5 Fists ]

Rolling off the carcass, Karnaj sat upon the cobbled street, breathing hard.

"Goddamned things," Ocy muttered, kicking a body. "Gonna have to fix my fucking doorway now... Eh!"

"That's the least of your...of our concerns now," Karnaj replied worriedly, looking up at her. "We need to get rid of these bodies. Firstly, though, we have to get them off the street. What say we get them into that alley there for now?"

Karnaj struggled to his feet, and lugged one of the corpses over into the dark alley. An idea came to him. The stranger was still there, as was his beast. He dumped the corpse near the entrance to the alley, and he said to the robed stranger, "Say, friend...that drake of yours still hungry?"

"I suppose we'll just have to ask him," Zexus replied, turning his eyes towards the large creature. "What do you think, room for a few more bites?" Medithen stepped forward slowly, and mouthed the rotund body, before picking lifting the little furball in its jaws. "He's just holding it. That brute was a bit more meat at one shot than he's used to. It may take a few hours before he can eat any more... which leaves us with another problem."

His gaze returned to Karnaj, as he caught the bartender from the corner of his eye, "None of them ran, so that will buy us some time. I'm fairly sure by now those little pests won't be missed, but they may yet have a headcount on the brutes. If or when they notice one missing, they will come looking for him. By that time, we either need to be fortified, or be gone."

"Hmmm," Karnaj said, "That'll do, I guess." He moved the remaining carcasses off the street and stopped by Zexus again.

"I was thinking about what you said...about the fortifying or leaving," Karnaj scratched his head. "I would suggest that we all scatter, but I'm solely culpable for starting this mess, as you probably saw earlier in the day. Much as I would like to lie low for the next couple of weeks, I knew what I was doing then, and I'll see it through. We're all grownups and we can take care of ourselves, I know, but when they come looking for their missing brute, they will find out all who were involved." Karnaj gestured to the Green-bellied Delidgamond down the street.

"They are going to trash that place on principle," Karnaj muttered. "Or, at least, they're going to try. I, for one, am not going to absolve myself of all responsibility. The brutes are going to be merciless, now that one of their own has fallen."

Karnaj stopped, looked up and down the street, and then spoke again. "Now, I'm not going to speak for you all, but right now I think we should make our stand here. I'm sick of these rodents and all the trouble they've caused. We can make Parcelan pay for what he did to--for what he's done to all of us.

"But if I'm the only one who feels that way, I'll shut up."

((I sleep, it goes page two. Whoa.))

Nicole flexed the fingers on her right hand, and, with concentration, felt the dull ache that was painfully usual begin again in the bones, like a low red light that flares in darkness. She stopped that. It was best not to use it where many could see.

The stew was nice and warm and tasted like cooking wine, and she ate it if only on principle. It provided a good backdrop for the alcohol, which she consumed readily and happily. And when the mug was on the table and the stew finished, her heart and her stomach free from it's usual hunger, she eased herself up a little from her usual hunch, taking her vision away from the countertop to the room around her.

People came and people left. As usual. The events had spooked some of the furrier patrons, and a few of them looked genuinely, blessedly spooked. The sight of a squirming prairie dog is one Nicole had learned to savor, and with a grin she twisted herself in her bar seat, resting her forearms against the bar and leaning against it, turning to face the crowd.

"Fuck it," she reasoned, "not like people didn't already notice." She liked to think it was partially because of her that the prairie dogs began trickling out, in resolute twos and threes, some of them drunk and all of them nervous. Perhaps she had drunk too much, perhaps it had affected her more than she had anticipated, but just for this little while, she didn't want to hide. She hadn't been assaulted, not yet. Her narrowed eyes and shark's grin probably helped move them. For a little while, at least, she would enjoy it.

At least until they started to come back. And this time, armed.

Azrael watched with some interest as the men and woman returned, yet the prairie dogs did not. They might need this bottle more so than he had first thought. But as his eyes followed them back to the semi-ruined door, his mind was going back to the many prairie dogs that were surely slain when he set fire to his looted warehouse. Though much of the burrowers were of normal size, he could swear he saw at least four brutes there as well.

Suddenly, a thought came to him. "Now how did they discover what the warehouse held, and moreover, how did they get in?" He had placed that padlock on the door every day, double and triple-checking it before he was ready to leave. What's more, you needed the key on his keychain to unlock it, and prairie dogs were not dextrous enough to pick a lock sober, which they rarely were. And the door wasn't smashed in, so the brutes probably hadn't let themselves in. Hillodania wouldn't have done so, even though she had the skill, for her paycheck depended on Azrael having money to pay her, and that depended on having booze to sell.

Though it locked...he remembered that the end of the clasp looked...melted, as if someone had taken a acetylene torch to it. A suspicion was growing in his mind, but it was too early to assume the worst. Much better that he get what he came for, find the only one of his friends still left in this town, then get the hell outta Dodge.

He heard snatches of conversation coming from the door, something about a last stand, and standing up to Parcelan. Smirking, he realized how the heady aroma of victory may have clouded their minds, but standing up to the chief of the rodents was not something to be attempted lightly. He knew that much from sparring with the now-dicator ages ago. He had a feeling that even back then, Parce had been letting him off easy.

Picking up the bottle, he moved forwards to meet them, and told them, "You may not even need to make a last stand, if you've got this," hefting the vodka.

"Your sentiments are noble," Zexus responded to Karnaj, "but sentiments should never make this sort of choice. Remember, these creatures attack by mob. If we fortify here, then we have familiar territory, but other tactical advantages are lost." As he spoke, he led the others back inside the Green-Bellied Delidgamond, leaving the wyvern in the alley. "For the moment, they still only know about you. They may know about Ocy's involvement soon, if anyone saw the foray just now. Given the options, I would rather retain the element of surprise. I've lived too long for last stands."

Meeting the strange man with the liquor bottle at the distorted tavern doorway, Zexus caught the line, "You may not even need to make a last stand, if you've got this." "Perhaps," Zexus replied, "but just because we have something to bargain with does not mean these creatures will bargain rather than try to take it."

[ 03-01-2004: Message edited by: Zexus Alverhas ]

"Did you ever hear of someone trying to negotiate with Drysart after they killed one of his Dark Elf warriors?" Karnaj said, sitting at the bar. "Did you ever hear of anyone trying to negotiate with Bloodsage, period? No; we have three choices: fight, disappear, or be at the wrong end of a noose.

"If you haven't gotten involved directly yet, then I suggest you get while the getting's good, if you want. Tomorrow or the day after, when word reaches Parcelan about what happened here, there will be brutes all over this neighborhood. And at that point no one will be able to leave."

Ocy sighed, listening to Karnaj and Zexus talk, realizing the inevitable; she'd have to fight more.

"Just when I was starting to get settled..." She grumbled - she'd had more then her share of 'adventures' in her lifetime.

Then she noticed Azreal - she smiled at her old friend and supplier, going to him. Daggers still in hand, she embraced him tightly, rapping his back in a hard, friendly way. smirking as he coughed. She'd already noticed the single bottle of Stoli in his hand - she felt the bad news coming as she stood back to look him over, noting the presence of Hillodania.

"I take it there's some particular reason you're here other then that alcohol, judging by the look on your face, friend." She said with a good-natured smile.

Somehow she managed to maintain her calm, even presented with the possibility of abandoning her livelihood for however long.

"Well, we'll all discuss it inside, over this fine vodka, hm? I'm feeling I'll need a drink very soon." She said, muttering as she went through her totalled doorway.

Sighing she threw her blood-stained daggers into the wall behind the bar - a habit she picked up a long time ago from a friend who was killed in the days of the Bloodsage regime. Her customers eyed her fearfully, as if expecting an outburst of anger, and Mikah, Rena and Jaren frowned at the look on her face. Ocy just forced a smile and slipped into a seat at a clear table, awaiting the others.

Caid listened to everything around him carefully, but tried to appear uninterested. He had no business offering his help to these people, and was quite sure he would make no difference when the brutes came looking for answers...or blood. He just couldn't get the idea out of his head though, perhaps it was time he did something for someone else and stopped wallowing in his own pity. If nothing else he could die among noble people, fighting a tyrant for the good of Evercrest.

He realized he had made up his mind awhile ago, and was just trying to convince himself. Caid rose from his bar seat, not moving immediatly, instead he raised his hands and clenched his fists. Closing his eyes he whispered something under his breath, it is time I used these for something other than my own benefit. 5 Fists will fight again.

Caid '5 Fists' Berrit walked over to the table Ocy sat at. 'May I sit Ocy? If you'll permit me to call you that..' He wore a genuinely warm smile, his first in many, many years.

Once again entering the Green-Bellied Delidgamond through its once-sturdy doorway, Zexus moved to a table in the corner, and sat with his back to the wall. He closed his eyes, and began to weigh in his mind the choices that recent events had thrust upon so many. To stay would mean perhaps a day of preparation, followed by an assault the likes of which few could withstand. To leave would mean failure, but survival, presuming he could coax Medithen away from the never-ending food supply. Then there was the third option, the one he had not considered since the disappearance of his quarry. Its odds of success were hardly better than staying, but if he could raise enough support...

Karnaj sat to Ocy's right, the last twinges of the brandy evaporating from his mind. Instead of more liquor, he had opted for a simple stein of water and sipped it evenly. He would need all his faculties for the upcoming discussion, tempting as that vodka was. It took some time for people to gather themselves, but eventually all who cared to join were settled. Taking the initiative, he jumped right to it.

"Okay," he began, "I think that, if we want to do this right, we need to lay everything out on the table. Who we are, what we know about Parcelan...everything. We need as many options that may avail themselves to us via our collective knowledge and abilities. Only then should we discuss strategy. Agreed?"

Not waiting for a response, Karnaj continued in a lower tone. "You may call me Karnaj. As for a last name, I haven't got one. I've been in Evercrest for a long time, since the days of Drysart. Back then, I was fairly unobtrustive, just living day to day, like most of us. Then, I chanced to meet Bloodsage. He was just a private citizen then, living up in his estate in the hills. So many before me had been dismissed outright, but for some reason, he let me hang around him. I wouldn't say we were buddies, but when a fire-breathing man-hound like him doesn't automatically rip your spine out your ass when you disagree with him...well, that's gotta count for something.

"Anyway, when Drysart kicked off, I knew that Bloodsage would fill his spot. So, I supported him. Right hand of the devil, and all that." He sipped some water. "Not that it was an especially bloody coup, mind you. We pretty much marched right in and took over. It wasn't like after a war, you see. The infrastructure was all there.

"So, Bloodsage ruled, as I'm sure you all remember, and I learned. We would hold discussions on various topics, from logic and reasoning to happenings near and far. I was fairly far removed from the mechanisms of government. I hate that politicky stuff." Karnaj paused, and took a sip of water.

"I only saw Parcelan a few times, but I never saw him out of Bloodsage's presence. He was always there, giving advice, reporting on the state of Evercrest, always polite, and always had the right answer. I thought nothing of it at the time--just another sycophant--but now I can see Parcelan's motivations clear as the bandage on my hand.

"When I heard Bloodsage had disappeared, I was quick to see the shifting tides. I even briefly entertained the notion of assuming power in lieu of my mentor, but I lacked the force to back up a claim. I can't roast people alive or kill them with a thought; I'm just a man.

"Parcelan let me hang around for a while, but there were tense times between us. As more and more prairie dogs began to arrive, I became convinced that I was being trailed wherever I went. Eventually, I gathered up all the money I had set aside and left, vanishing into the streets. I've pretty much been living inside liquor bottles since then. Parcelan liked it that way, I think, and so did I. Well..." Karnaj took another drink of water, "...that ends today. I'm ready to take him on and knock him off his seat. And that's all I aim to do. I don't want to rule, or select a new ruler, or anything of the sort. I want to take Parcelan out and rid Evercrest of these rodents for good. The rest is just window dressing, as far as I'm concerned."

Karnaj leaned back and waited for the next person to speak.

Oh, bloody hell.

[ 03-01-2004: Message edited by: Neeecole ]

Brutes. Wonderful. Nicole sighed and leaned her head back just slightly, enough to work out a crick, drumming her fingers and thinking.

The Gothic condition is, in it's basest form, an absence, a human being minus something vital. It is partially a condition and partially a choice, but it exists nontheless and the resulting being both benefits from it and suffers with it. The most common manifestation, the one that seems to define the group as a whole, is the lingering joyless pain that is both alien and nevertheless a new part of the being as a whole. A few things ease it, others stop it up completely, but in the end the only way to make it disappear, if only temporarily, is to steal it.

Nicole, for a long time, had been trying to ignore that part of herself. If not to absolve herself of it, to subdue it. Friends helped ease it. Alcohol. Companionship. She found too few of these things anywhere anymore, and when she couldn't suppress it anymore, The Green-Bellied Delidgamond was the best place to find what she needed. Without it, desperation set in, and that was a bad thing for someone like her. The Red Mage Massacre. She didn't get out often...

Somehow, a cigarette found itself in her hand, and then in her mouth, and then lit. She couldn't help chewing lightly on the filtered end, and her lips, when she first pulled it away, began to mouth words, and then speak.

"I don't want to see this place go...", she said, to no one in particular. Her home was a dark place, even with others, and she didn't get out that much anymore. Her eyes were on the ceiling but they might as well have been anywhere else; she imagined she could feel the light sinking into her skin. It was welcome. "Few other places want me there..."

Something inside her mind fit together, burst through like her exhalation of smoke. She slid off her stool, her hair sliding to it's usual place in tendrils over her eyes. She adjusted her skirt, took a breath, and stepped forward, her boots dully clomping on the wooden floor, walking until she stood like a shadow at the side of the table Ocy and the others sat or stood at, softly trailing smoke.

"I know this is probably very unwise, but mind if I throw my hand in with this lot?" she said. She hoped she could be heard. "I've got a stake in this, too."

Ocy nodded to Caid and motioned for him to sit beside her.

"Ocy's good." She said, and looked to the back of the bar.

"Rena? Glasses? And my drink." She shouted. Knowing better then to question, Rena disappeared and returned with six glasses and a small flask.

Ocy took it and poured most of the contents into her glass - it was a thin liquid with a sickly blue color and smelled of turpentine. She poured some vodka to distill the taste and a bit of the smell. She poured drinks for the rest and leaned back in her seat as Karnaj told his tale.

Nicole had appeared, speaking softly as she normally did - she wasn't sure if anyone except her had heard.

"I know this is probably very unwise, but mind if I throw my hand in with this lot?" She said, "I've got a stake in this, too."

Smiling, Ocy nodded.

"I'm sure your help will be needed, Nicole. Come, sit. Or stand, whichever you prefer." She said, and then began her own story.

"Well, I've been around since... Good gods, I don't even know. I'm old. I've been here since the beginning, I guess you could say... Even before Drysart. I remember his rise to power well, back when I was still relatively young. It amazed me at the time to see someone with such drive, such charisma... He stopped the constant gang wars. Something I'd never really taken sides in... I kept to myself, did my own thing, took care of my family." She started, taking a long drink of her drink - wincing visibly at the taste.

"That's when this place first came to be." She continued, gesturing to the bar. "This place has been my pride and joy since the old days. I've fought before to keep it, and I will now. When Drys was found dead... It took me off guard. I was shocked, angry, ready to kill... But I got over it. People I've supported and loved have died before... I'm a bit jaded to it now."

"When Bloodsage came into power, I just kept running my business, helping those who need it -" She looked over her shoulder at Rena, Jaren and Mikah, who had congregated behind her and smiled "- Took these three in at different times. Rena when she was a little girl, begging on the streets, Jaren who just kind of showed up one day, and Mikah when he was little as well. To me, they're my children. I kept serving whoever wanted to be served. I don't discriminate who I give my alcohol to - rich, poor, furry, goth, human, elf, dwarf, et cetera... Doesn't matter to me."

"Bloodsage was bothered by this, though, apparently - his people raided my bar several times, dragged people he called 'dissentors' out kicking and screaming. I took to locking the doors in a... special way, after a while." She said with a short smirk, "They gave up after a while, amazingly. Can't say I wasn't thrilled when he was 'taken out' of office... But I'd rather deal with him again then this rodent we have now."

"I didn't care at first - didn't really notice the prairie dogs before their numbers started to grow. I began to get concerned before a lot of people, though - particularly because they'd run a lot of other places out of business with their rowdiness... But this place is special, made of tougher stuff then most things. It's held up, despite quite a few repairs I've had to make..."

Ocy leaned in close.

"Those five out there weren't the first ones I've done away with. I know their fighting style - know that they don't have a definative one. I've managed to avoid notice - haven't taken out terribly many of them, and when I have, they aren't found." She said, sighing and pausing again to take a long drink.

"They're at their most violent when drunk, of course... They fight in groups. Always, always go for the legs of their foe... Once they get them off their feet, it's over. They swarm their victim, do everything they can to incapacitate them. They have weak points though, like everyone else - their fat little bellies are always exposed, and when they fight, they often crane their necks to better see their opponent..." She said, and finished off her glass.

"I want them gone. I want Parcelan gone. I have no desire to be a leader - I want to run my bar in peace, protect my patrons and kids. And I will do whatever it takes." She said seriously, filling her glass again.

"True," Azrael remarked while Ocy described the prairie dogs' fighting style, as he carefully sipped his shot, careful not to take too much, as if they had to give the bottle away to avoid a fight, it'd be taken straight to Parcelan himself, and he'd be upset if there wasn't enough left of the fifth for him to sufficiently enjoy it, which meant most of it.

"But that's not the biggest problem. While most prairie dogs can be disposed of by anyone with basic strength and a level head, the brutes aren't that easy to get rid of," he explained, placing the shot glass back down on the table. He pulled out his piece and laid it down on the table beside his drink. "Those monsters' hides are pretty tough, but they'll still go down if you shoot 'em where there isn't much blubber or skin...right in the head. Only...you guys probably don't have guns of your own, do you?" he asked, replacing the gun to avoid notice.

He continued, "I was originally planning to get out of town while the getting's good, get some back-up, and come back in full force. My...employee, Drakana, has arms connections, she could probably get some decent hardware if we asked. That's only the first step though. While you guys could hold out for a short while with what I could get for you, the problem is at the source. Parcelan has the only semblance of control over this vermin, and if he's gone, well..."

He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. "In the end, Parcelan isn't much different from his cousins...He is a hell of a fighter when sober, but drunk...you'd have a chance. I've fought him before, practice of course, but I know some of his strategies...Not much to help of course if he's changed them since then. But then again, given a chance, I'd still like to take him on, just for old times' sake. I'm younger than some of you guys, but my prime is passing. I'm not a kid anymore, but hey, I'm not a geezer yet. I'm not much older than the dictator himself, but maybe someone younger than even me might have a better chance."

Azrael then looked over his shoulder at the door to the back room again for the fifth time. He muttered as he stared at the door, "If only I could get my weapon back, I'd risk it." Clearing his throat, and speaking louder, he asked Ocy, gesturing at the door, "I'll discuss this with you guys some more, but I'd feel better if I could retrieve what I've been 'storing' here...Ocy, if I may?"

She stepped out of the theatre in her costume, a red dress covered in sequins, with a plunging neckline. Her diamond necklace sparkled in the streetlights. Her mascara streaked down her cheeks, her big brown eyes watery from crying.

Spotting a bar down the road, she figured a drink couldn't hurt, and started limping down the road, muttering.

"Damn broken heels..."

Entering the establishment, she makes a beeline for the stools next to the liquor stock, and calls over the Bartender.

*A shot. Anything. Please."

The Barkeep nods and moves to pour the drink. She notices that there are a few other silent drinkers like her, nursing beers and other assorted clear liquids.

She just keeps staring at her hands until the barkeep heads over to bring her the shot.

Caid leaned in to listen close, as the others around the table told their stories. Once his turn arrived, he swallowed hard and stared at the table as he began.

'I'm Caid "5 Fists" Berrit, or was. I guess it all started when I first joined an underground wrestling league. I was nothing special to begin with, just some random guy getting beat on, but as I fought more and started training...I started winning. I was good, really good.'Caid paused and took a breath, quickly glancing at the others, then back to the table.

'I never followed politics back in those days, but I remember the day Bloodsage disappeared...and Parcelan took his place. Parcelan knew about the wrestling, I'd even seen him at some of the events, but once he took control....it was a massacare. He forced us to fight not only those little bastards, but those brutes too. It's a brute that gave me this limp.' He motioned to his left leg. Caid paused to take another breath.

'If I hadn't disappeared from the league, I'd of died along with the other wrestlers. After that I....got addicted to a lot of things, did a lot of things. Let's just say I've been living under a bridge on the south side town, stealing from wino's. It's time for me to repay some debts, and maybe gain a little self respect back.' Caid took a long blink, then sat back and folded his arms across his chest...avoiding eye contact where possible.

"Thanks," she muttered, and then more thoughtfully said the word again before slipping down into a chair. She still felt conflicted. She always felt conflicted, when on the edge of something like this. When on the edge of doing something, affecting something, coming out into a place more open than she was used to. "I guess it's my turn, mm? Heh."

She flicked a fingerful of ash away, taking no notice as she leaned in. She took a pause, short and soft, before she spoke, as if giving herself time to make up her mind. "I've been here longer than people give me credit for. I have a long memory... I remember the roots of things. When I came to EverCrest originally, I was very young and very foolish. I was impulsive and cocky and... and this is going to sound very, very odd but you have to believe me here. I wasn't myself. I wore a different skin, I was a different person. A few, if I remember right - first an elf, for a little bit, then a pixie, for a little while, then, after a few identity crises, myself. The process was... well, I'd rather not mention it. Suffice it to say that, though I look relatively young now, I'm a lot older than I look. My memory's still intact. I remember the roots of things."

"They used to call me Solstyce, but that was a long time ago. I've still got that skeleton hanging in a closet somewhere, if I need a place to hide. I guess that's what I do best - all my incarnations and following crises has made me very good at getting away from things. My name right now is Nicole. I'm, well, I'm probably one of the only Goths left in EverCrest who can wander the streets right now without being immediately assaulted. I guess that counts for something. And I'm probably the only Goth left in EverCrest who even dares walking around in daylight anymore. After what happened to Red Mage, the rest of us all sort of... scattered." She pauses a second, as if running over some part of her internal machinery, turning a thought over in her head before expelling it. "I don't think anyone knows where Trent is right now. Zeke, well... he caught a lot of hostility. And me... well..."

"When Drysart was around I enjoyed an actual measure of prosperity. There was tolerance. There was acceptance. Yeah, I still had to be careful - I've always had to be careful, once I was myself, but not as much back then. I got out often and had a good amount of ready friends. He was a dictator, yeah, but he kept things in order and kept people in check, people who, otherwise, might have come down and began seriously hunting us if he wasn't there. And when he disappeared, well... I made some very wise decisions, very fast."

"Before Bloodsage assumed control, I moved underground. I had never been interested in politics before and after that, I avoided them with a passion born out of self-preservation. Whenever fire started flying, there was a good chance bystanders could be hurt, and I didn't want to expose myself to immolation because I said something. I learned to keep quiet, I learned to walk quiet and unseen when I needed to stay hidden, and bold and calm, like I belonged, when I was in public. I learned a lot of things, very fast, which served and continue to serve me in this new era."

"Bloodsage's disappearance and Parcelan's rise to power was quick, but the news came to me some few days later. The effects on myself and my way of life came even slower. Parcelan's prairie dogs didn't care who or what you were - they took what they wanted no matter who you were. It's the brutes who I can't stand. It's the brutes who bear hostility towards me, and it's the brutes who don't care and don't seem to be affected by what I do, virtuous or nonchalant, in public - to them, I have no name. I am just a Goth and I am lower than everyone else. I am to be ridiculed and singled out; I am to be driven off and destroyed if possible. At least with Drysart, if you caught hell, you deserved it."

Another pause. A chunk of ash, like nicotine snow, fell from her outstretched cigarette onto the ground; she didn't notice at all. "I've spent too long thinking about just myself. My own problems, my own needs. I've let things deteriorate around me. I've learned how to keep a decent life for myself, and I guess that's something - but I've let the people, things and places I love fall into almost unrecognizeable ruin. This is barely EverCrest now."

"I want it back."

"I... I'm not on the same level as Drysart or Bloodsage. I can't kill with my will, I can't spew fire, I don't have the strategy Parcelan obviously has. But I've learned to refine what I am. What I am afflicted with." Her eyes close, she looks down, the shadow over her face lengthening to almost cover her lips. And then she whips her head back, flinging the hair from her eyes, revealing her features with a sort of angry pride. "I figure I might as well put it on the table."

"We Goths are parasites. We are an absence, a hunger, and our touch and our presence is draining. But in a weird way. Where a vampire would be absent of and drain blood, I am absent of and drain joy. Happiness. It is the one thing that is not native to me, and the one thing I either have to synthesize or steal." She gulps down, her eyes scanning the room, a little wider now, a little more open. "I'm not proud. But it's what I am. And while the drawbacks are painful and severe, my condition has advantages."

"I am in constant pain. It's... less pronounced at times. When I am with others. When I am outside. When my good alcohol provider here," she tilts her head at Ocy, with a wry grin "gets me inebriated enough to forget. But it's there. In an unsubtle or unwise Goth, this pain builds up and up to a point where it would be unbearable. When this happens, their very presence is draining - but only a little bit. When they are around others, they take the fun, the joy away, and a severely in pain Goth can cause, in this manner, such irritation as to inflict blinding rages. This often ends in dismemberment, but it can be an advantage, if used right."

"There is also another method to get what we need. We find someone. A target. And we target only them with our need. Through speech, touch, any contact we can get, we can leach the joy away from them. Misery loves company, and all. This has the unfortunate effect on the target of inflicting a version of our pain on them. Well, either that, or enraging them worse than with our presence, usually ending in dismemberment and burning."

"It's not much. It's not noble. It's barely worth it. But it's the lot I have to own, and the cards I have to play; I lay them down." Her cigarette, little more than a butt, lifts up to her lips again, both in the desire for smoke and the subconscious need to shield herself. Her eyes now are wider, wilder, her posture straighter, as if she's ready to jump up, to slip down, away, at the smallest sign of resentment.

Zair had been silent since returning to the tavern. After being saved from a potentially lethal and unnecessary encounter with a wyvern, he had been confused enough to just shut up and let others take over. He listened to their talks of revolution and heroism with a pessimistic silence. When they all sat down to explain who they were, Zair didn't want to listen. He didn't think it was wise to get to know people who would likely soon be dead.

He sat there sipping some water he had asked for and trying to clear his head. After some past-his-prime brawler and the chain-smoking goth told their stories, he spoke up. "What exactly do you all hope to accomplish? Do you think this is some action flick where the motley band of heroes fights off the army and saves the day? Do you think Parcelan himself would be stupid enough to come down here and put himself in harms way to get at you? I don't think he got where he is by charging heard first into battle. You aren't going to save Evercrest by hiding out in a bar till you are overwhelmed and ripped to shreds."

"Hell, those crazy cultists who wear the green robes and dye their hair blonde, preaching about the "return of Drysart", make more sense than you guys. I thought I had hit the bottom, going from a comfortable middle class lifestyle to having to living off mouldy bread and cheap beer. But I'm not ready to throw away what excuse for a life I have left for some hokey last stand."

He got up and turned towards Karnaj and Ocy. "Thanks to both of you for your kindness. I hope you have the good sense to leave before they return."

He turned back to his place at the bar and shamelessly stuffed his pockets with what bread and meat was left on his plate from dinner. Without looking at any of them, he departed through the doorway to the street outside. He had a moment of pity for those within, followed by a moment of regret. He wished he had thought up a more impressive speech.

[ 03-02-2004: Message edited by: Zair ]

Watching Zair leave, Karnaj looked like he was going to call after him, but decided against it. The table was silent as each person pondered the information dispensed.

"Asymmetrical," Karnaj muttered suddenly. "It's all too lopsided. There have got to be what, a hundred thousand prairie dogs in the city? Two? Three? Who knows? Every man, woman, and child in Evercrest would have to kill five or ten apiece to eradicate them...not to say anything of the brutes.

"But," there was a faint glint in his eye as he spoke, "That would be fighting on their terms, which we mustn't do. They've got a pretty good thing going here, these rodents. They don't want to screw things up too much. They don't want the water mains to break, or the power grid to be disrupted, or mana nodes to be neutralized. Much as they like having their run of the place, they don't want to have to pour time and effort keeping basic services running.

"Consider! How many prairie dogs does it take to repair a power substation or re-energize a mana node? Now, I know it sounds like a bad joke, but honestly, how many? Do any of them know? I'm willing to bet that, instead of learning or actually doing the work themselves, they're going to lean on Evercresters who do know, and make them work doubly hard to fix it. What was once a minor inconvenience in Joe Evercrest's life becomes a major source of discontent. People start protesting. Things get violent. Parcelan orders a crack down, and the anger builds. And, like a tinder box...poof."

Karnaj sat up, and looked around the table. "Of course, these are just some of many, many options we have. The point I was trying to make is this: we mustn't allow them to dictate terms of battle. We fight as we wish, using whatever means we wish. And moreover, we must not underestimate Parcelan. The minute we do otherwise, we'll be fucked, right and proper. And he won't break out the lube for the likes of us."

Caid sat back and considered Karnaj's words carefully before speaking. Not looking at anyone inparticular, he began.

'A lot of what you say makes sense, but there are hundreds of ways we could sit here and discuss until they come back. What we need is to do something right now, so that we'll be around to kick whatever major plans we have into action.' He glanced at Karnaj, then around the table to the others.

'We need to either run, finding a decently safe place to hole-up, or fortify the fuck out of this place. Whatever we come up with to combat Parcelan and his mutts, we're going to need time. So does anyone have any ideas?' Caid once again, looked to each of the others around the table. He couldn't help think that they would all die in this mess, but he couldn't suppress that feeling he'd been denied for a long time either. He felt like a man again, a man that was needed. If not to overthrow a goverment...then to die trying.

'Hungry' he thought, sniffing the air slightly. The soft glow from various taverns, brothels and bars gave the street just enough light for him to see it was empty. 'So hungry!' The man muttered some incoherent babble under his breath and stood up slowly in the dark alley. Bits of trash and flecks of dirt slid off of his bent back as he came to his accustomed hunched-over stance. He smiled as the soft squeeks rose up to his ears, his children were waking up with him. He stalked across the littered alleyway quickly, darting his head right and left in a nervous flinch. The creature stopped suddenly, his head snapping upwards with a series of short sniffs. His halting gave time for the squeeking to catch up with him, small furry bodies crawled under and over the refuse, weaving their way through frantically to keep up with the man. Soon the mob swarmed around the creatures legs, the squeekings combining to create a loud cacophony of sound, projected by the gleaming-eyed choir.

"HuGarr!" The man whispered, furrowing his brows as he sniffed the air again. The vermin quieted quickly and burrowed themselves into the torn and crumbled bits of newspaper underfoot. 'Food, hungry!' he thought again, wincing as some shards of broken glass dug into his filthy feet. The creature jerked forward quickly, the swarm behind him moving quieter after their rebuke. The man had smelled blood, blood from up the street where the tall ones would walk. The smell drew him towards the scene like a moth to the flame.

The man crept low along the sidewalk, his naked body shivered with the chill the night brought. His rats followed close behind him now, unimpeded by the trash they had to scurry through before. Soon they had traveled the length of the street as he ducked into another series of alleyways. His nose was right again, and his smile showed cracked and yellowing teeth in the dim light of the stars overhead.

It was a feast before him! A pile of the furry ones lay there, the flies just starting to discover the feast as well. The frantic squeeking around him let him know his pets were as excited as he was about their find. Quickly diving to his knees and pulling the nearest corpse to him, the man began biting hungrily into the tough fur. Chittering and gnawing, the rats began their revelry as well. This was looking to be a good night for the man as his teeth broke through the tough skin and into the stringy meat under it.

"You seem to have forgotten one important option," Zexus interrupted, making his presence known. He had been listening for some time, and slowly approached the table, until he stood exactly opposite from Ocyrrhoe. "Though time limits our options, to fortify here, or anywhere, would leave the fight on our terrain, but on Parcelan's terms; the fighting would come to many against few, and far away from him."

Pulling a chair over from a nearby table, Zexus settled into the seat, leaning forward very slightly. His deep voice spoke slowly and quietly, "Let your enemies fortify, then overrun them, or simply starve them out. That is what a devious mind anticipates. And that is why we must do the opposite. We must take the fight to the fortress. We must turn the tables, bring surprise to our side."

Zexus passed his gaze cautiously across the faces around him. "For those of you whom I have not yet met, I have long been known as Zexus. Though I am older than many, my time here has been short. I came on the bidding of an old wizard in the city of Gucomia, to strike down the firebeast known as Bloodsage, and return with his carcass. This I could have done, as Bloodsage dealt directly with any incursion, and in confrontation I would have rivaled him."

"When I arrived, however, the tyrant ruler had already vanished. The hoards of rodents came before I had assessed the situation, and with their numbers, their leader became unapproachable. My powers come from an ancient strain. Their limits are set by different boundaries than the marvels of the modern age. I can cause any object to bend to my will, with no more than a thought and a gaze. To raise a tower, or level a mountain, takes no more strength of will than to leave them as they are. Yet power of any sort comes at a price. I can see neither light nor darkness, and though I can rival any force of the modern world, I must first oppose that force, face to face. I have bided my time until now, because until this moment, I could not afford to expose my back."

"I must ask you all, and each of you must decide, how far are you willing to go? Because if we do choose this path, if we seek to root out the rodents at their source, we will have no second chances. Once we go, we cannot turn back."

Nicole let the cold and empty butt roll to a stop on the table before leaning her arms on it; time for her full attention to be placed where it should be. She listened quietly, punctuating with only a nod and a murmured half-grunt of recognition to points she agreed with or liked, and finally, when time came around again, she leaned in to speak.

"I don't like the idea of leaving the bar. But that's a personal thing more than anything. I know if we leave it, if only for revenge, when we come back... IF we come back, it won't be here anymore. The 'dogs are impulsive when they're angry, and we made them angry. If they come back to find the people of mettle gone, well... what's left won't live very long."

"But we're not going to get anything done by hunkering down in here. We can gather strength, sure, maybe we can even withstand, but eventually we're either going to be waited out, starved out, or just ignored. But we can't just go and storm the castle. Not like this. Not even if we did wait a while, giving ourselves a chance to build up strength. There's more of them, and we'd be fighting on their ground, on their terms. Not only that, while the 'dogs and the brutes are about as unsubtle as can be imagined, Parcelan himself is not. If only by observing how he attained power, we can see that he works in quiet, subtle ways - and his mind is not something to be underestimated. Right now, he has resources and manpower. A siege won't do much good, and I don't know how good any of us is at sieging."

She lets out a sigh, a full-body sigh, taking a few moments, before she resumes speaking. "If we really want to do this, if we're really going to throw our all into this, we're going to have to make sacrifices. Obviously, ourselves. Depending on what we choose to do, this bar. If we assault, it's gone; if we hold out, we might possibly live, but nothing will get done. We have to fight smart. We have to find ways to build our strengths while leaching away that of the enemy. And eventually, if we want to get anything done - we're going to have to assault."

"I agree with Karnaj. Eventually, we're going to need the populace on our side - every EverCrester who is too angry to be complacent and too bold to wait. We're going to have to get them organized and give them both a target and a means to take it. But right now, assault would be suicide. We are spiders against dragons. We steal their supplies, torch their alcohol, liberate their harems, and cut off their minor leaders and sever their lesser heads in secret, away from their hordes. And when, and IF, we manage to put ours against theirs, it will hopefully be on terms we have helped create, with thorns in their feed and poison in their blood, with their bellies empty and their eyes blinded by smoke."

"Until then, though, well... I do believe it's good to have a base of operations. If we are serious, if we want to do this, it will either take a long time or a very short one. As the only other option, other than sabotage and siege, is to cut the dragon's head - sneak past their armor and destroy Parcelan himself. But that is very likely to be far more risky than anything else."

"Good points," Karnaj said, rubbing his five o'clock shadow. "All good points. We're in a tenuous position right now; we can talk big, but our immediate capabilities are limited. Nicole's probably had the best idea for our next step: secure a base.

"I have a few one-room apartments around the city, left over from both my pre- and post-Bloodsage days. Don't know how useful they'll be, but the rent's been paid on all three of them for the next year, and though it's been abandoned for some time, I can get us into Bloodsage's former estate. But...location, location, location. That thing's up in the hills.

"This place has been brought up several times, but it's not ours to volunteer. What's done...or what is not done at this bar is Ocy's sole discretion." Karnaj looked at Ocy, who had been quiet for a bit.

"What do you say, Ocy? Gonna let a bunch of freaks and outcasts plot to overthrow the government in your place?" Karnaj couldn't help but smile as he spoke. Just getting those words out felt liberating in their own right.

"Actually," Zexus interrupted, looking over at Karnaj, "I think I have a way to draw their attention away from the tavern. There's a good bit of risk involved, particularly to you. However, it's something we can set up quickly, and if we pull it off, longer-term plans may yet be an option."

Moving his gaze across the group again, he continued, "So far, all anyone knows about are Karnaj, and possibly Ocy. They aren't aware of my friend out there, nor of myself or any of you others. If anyone did see our fight out there, they'll know Ocy was involved, but they'll also believe that you," he looked at Karnaj, "bested a brute with your bare hands. Even if no one saw the fight, they'll know that a brute came after you, and didn't return. They know you by name, and they'll soon be after you for that, which makes you the ultimate lure. It also means they have no idea how powerful you are. For what they can tell, you could punch through a wall, shoot fire from your nose, or even fly. And under the right circumstances, some of these could be arranged."

---

Outside, a pair of large beady eyes reflected the moonlight from the darkness of the deep alley, but did nothing more.

---

[EDIT] << D'oh. Tense flip eliminated. >>

[ 03-03-2004: Message edited by: Zexus Alverhas ]

Ocy kept her silence for a long time as the others spoke, weighing her options. To leave the bar would be to risk losing it - losing her life's work. Staying would risk a great number of other things... But it was a decision she had to make quickly.

"Ok," She said as Zexus finished up, "As far as a base of operations goes... Ok. We can use my bar. There are things I can do to protect it other then the obvious..."

She held up her hand and closed her eyes. After a moment, a bright blue spark appeared in the palm of her hand, growing larger until it devoured her hand. She opened her eyes and placed her hand on the glass in front of her until it, too, was covered in the flame. She took her hand away, and after a moment, the light faded.

"Now," She said, and picked it back up, handing it to Jaren, the giant who stood behind her.

"Throw it at the wall." She instructed, and he did so - the glass hit the wall and fell harmlessly to the ground, completely intact.

"Yeah - I know it isn't legal anymore, but well, neither is killing prairie dogs and I do that anyways. I can use that, and other things, to fortify this place... They won't be able to touch the building if I do that to it for a while. A day, about, maybe more, depending on certain things." She said, taking the small flask that still sat close to her and swigging the contents.

"Isn't much, but it'll help. I haven't done magic in a long time, but everything I learned way back when is still embedded in my mind." She said, leaning back, "So, what's the decision? I'm volunteering my bar to be used as needed."

[ 03-03-2004: Message edited by: Ocyrrhoe Trazere ]

"Hmm, if we want to rely on magical means of opposition, then we need to drop the mana nodes from our saboteurs' list. Especially if I manage to get reinforcements from outside. Then again, I have...a magic weapon stored here, if I can get into the back room and retrieve it," Azrael replied after watching Ocy's display, impressed that there were still people here who remembered how to perform magic.

Thinking deeper, he snapped his fingers as he came across an idea. Excitedly, he leaned forwards, and told the group, "I just remembered something from way back when that could help us! The (_|_) line! It was a secret transport tunnel leading directly into Drysart's chambers, in order to smuggle dark elven women in without attracting notice from...*ahem*...certain parties. There's still an entrance to the tunnel on the west side, underneath an old repair shop, which should still be standing, though it may have been ransacked by prairie dogs by now."

He went on, "If you guys could start eliminating the power and water stations around town, I could make it to Gucomia and gather up allies, and then, in the confusion, we use the (_|_) line to head directly in to the dictator's citadel. Of course, that leaves the question of whether or not I can actually get out of the city in the first place..."

Ocy smirked at how insistant Azreal was about getting his weapon, which she'd stored for him a long time ago.

"All right, all right, c'mon." She said, lifting herself from her seat - a bit shakily as the alcohol was taking effect finally.

She walked to the back room without waiting for a reply - the place was still a mess from the preparation of dinner earlier. She shook her head at the mess and made a mental note to scold the three later. She went to a small door hidden behind a freezer and produced keys from seemingly out of nowhere, unlocking the door.

"In here." She called behind her, walking into the cramped space and searching around for something.

She found it in form of a box with several locks on it, and hefted it into her arms, placing it on the counter in the kitchen, unlocking them with ease and stepping back for Azreal to look it over.

"Getting out of the city, eh?" Karnaj finished the glass of water off thoughtfully. "Well, your best bet would be to head up into the hills. There are enough people still living in the estates up there that you could pass as a common delivery boy or some such, but it's sparsely populated enough that you could slip through the woods and get out of the city limits."

Standing up, Karnaj stretched. "As for the (_|_) line, we might be able to use that, if Parcelan doesn't know about it. Bloodsage did know, and he booby trapped it. But that was at least a year ago, and without maintenence, they would've triggered themselves. It's chancey, but quite appealing. Quite appealing indeed."

"I wonder, though," he said, walking over to Zexus. "Would it be better to just let them think I'm this titan of...whatever? If they think I can kill a brute, it would stand to reason that they'd want to avoid me. Brutes are many things, but they aren't remarkably brave. If they can't kill you in a punch or two, they don't want anything to do with you. It's like the berserker story." Karnaj stopped. "What, you never heard that?"

"OK, the short of it is this: there was this guy, and one day, he flips a shit and kills a bunch of people. Everyone gives him a wide berth from then on, because they heard what he can do. Eventually, he gets conscripted into the army. Just the sight of him will make people run, because even though they know that ten of them can take him down, he's pretty much guaranteed to take two or three down with them. And none of them want to be among those he kills. In the end, the berserker never even has to fight. He grows so famous and legendary in public opinion that he becomes a king without ever having to fight.

"I know, it's not a perfect analogy to our situation. But perhaps we can do the same thing without having to...augment me. You and I could on wrecking some things around the city. Maybe we could leave a calling card. Heh, 'Karnaj was here.' right? News like that spreads like wildfire. People eat that kind of junk up."

He watched Ocy and Azrael disappear into the back. It was late, and the place was nearly deserted. Patting his pockets, he found his notepad and a pen. Flipping to a blank page, he started scribbling things down. Karnaj worked dilligently, sometimes scratching things out, muttering to himself. Finally, he thought he had something, and wrote down a fresh copy.

"OK," he said after some time. "I think I may have something figured out. All we need to do is figure out a timeframe."

"Thank you, Ocy. I don't wanna see this place go... but I hope we won't need to stay long!" She grinned at Ocy and looked down a bit, listening and thinking. She drummed two fingers on the table, looking down at it while running over a thought, an old memory, in her head. She thoguht, she hoped she left that part of herself locked away, but if everyone was offering so much...

There was the little body, eyes closed, unmoving, locked away. She barely remembered the directions anymore. She had the vague outline of the tower, the woods, someplace she could safely stow herself, but it had been so long. She found herself speaking, talking without realizing it. "I'm not much for battle prowess... that's not the strength of this shape. But if it comes down to it, if I can have some time, I might be able to muster something that does." She looked up, her face soft and expressionless. "Just to say. Ocy remembers my old self, I think, and what I could do, and I'm sure... I'm sure we could use some air support." At this, she stopped speaking, and shook her head slightly. It had been a long time, and she found her memories were buried in more dust than she thought.

"Time? Heh. If we manage to avoid, or withstand, an initial onslaught, and if we manage to keep both secret and inconspicuous, we could have as much time as we require, I think. Both are hard enough as it is, but with the fact that our honored enemy knows, at least, we are prone to resistance, we'll have to be very, very careful. Good thing is, if we are, we'll have time, at least."

The sword lay exactly as he had left it...the metal intricately folded and etched, emeralds inlaid at the point and at the hilt. The sword of the Champions didn't glow as it used to when he picked it up, but then again, it had been a long time since he last held it, and it would take a while for the magic to get used to him again. He did a few test swings with the two-handed sword, it was light as ever, and cut the air with a clean hiss on each pass. Satisfied, he picked up the scabbard from the bottom of the box and slid the long sword into it, and buckled the strap to hold it in, then belted it to his back. Wearing a sword in town was risky, but what he and the others were going to do was very risky indeed.

Closing the box, he handed it back to Ocy and walked back into the main room. "I'm going after I hear of what you're planning to start on...I have a friend I'm picking up a short way from here, then my employees and I are taking her out of the city with us. We shall return though, with nearly a dozen more. With their help, we may have a fairly decent chance at this," he explained, as his screwed the cap back on the vodka bottle, pleased that it was still 7/8ths full.

"I think I'll leave it here..." he thought, knowing what the others suspected but didn't trust, that though the prairie dogs loved vodka, especially Stoli, such a rare find would have to be taken immediately to Parcelan, only the most foolish 'dog would try and snatch it for himself. Shaking his sword experimentally in its sheath to test the binding, he settled one knee on his chair as he waited for the planning to conclude.

Caid sat and listened as everything happened around him, and at the first chance he got, spoke up.

'You can plan whatever you wish, I can fight and that's what I'll do. Tell me where to be and what to do. I'll need about an hour to prepare, Ocy, may I use a room?'

5 Fists stood as he waited for Ocy's answer, he unconsiously cracked each knuckle individualy as he stood. Wearing a scowl on his face, a gleam was visible in his eyes, which was not there before.

"Here's what I think," Karnaj said, now that everyone had returned. Consulting his notes, he said: "Nicole and 5 Fists should stay behind with Ocy to help her defend her bar. Azrael, you get out of the city and prepare for your assault via the (_|_) line. Zexus and I will, in the interim, create so much havoc in this city that these 'dogs won't be able to tell up from down.

"The idea will be that Ocy and company weather an initial attack. Zexus and myself will then divert attention by screwing up as much stuff as we can think of. It's not like any of this stuff is particularly guarded at the moment. Anyway, we take the heat off Ocy long enough for Azrael to return, and then it gets a bit fuzzy."

Karnaj flexed his bandaged hand. "Azrael, how long Zexus and I wreak havoc is contingent upon your timeframe. How long are you going to need to call out the cavalry? Moreover, will you need us to help you directly once you get back in the city?

"Anyway, that's the short of my plan. If anyone wants to do anything else, or can suggest alternate means, now's the time to speak up. Once we get started, there's no going back."

As he slipped into the sewer system, MorbId drew on his innate abilities, slipping into the shadows. Though he was still there, still technically visible, he had become unobtrusive enough to escape casual detection. His large, tattered coat rustled as MorbId moved through the tunnels, pausing every so often at the sounds of fights and carousing on the streets overhead.

By moving through a service tunnel, he eventually reached a subway platform. In the days of Drysart, his private dark elf line had been one of many; subways rattled through their dark tunnels at all hours. They had brought new blood to the city. MorbId, himself, had arrived in Evercrest city on one of those subway cars. It was only natural that he should return there once things broke down, MorbId mused.

The station was quiet and still, now. The subsequent rulers had been less interested in revitalizing their city, and the transport system had fallen into disrepair. Parcelan sent a team of brutes through the stations every so often, to clean out any drifters and dissenters, but had no other interest in the subway. The brutes weren't especially enthusiastic about the job, and they'd never noticed MorbId.

A discarded newspaper had blown into the station from the street above. MorbId snatched it up and slumped onto the remaining bench. Tedious, all of it. Stories of prairie dog oppression and scattered, ineffectual resistance. After scanning the articles, MorbId stuffed the paper into one of his many pockets. It would make good kindling, later. A knife emerged from another pocket, and the subterreanean lurker distractedly cleaned his fingernails with the blade, considering his options. It was looking like he would have to go above, once more. It was not an appealing prospect.

[ 03-03-2004: Message edited by: MorbId ]

As Morbid was deep in thought he heard a familiar voice. "I finally found you" A mass of black and red emerged from the ground and reformed into a young man with golden shades, short spikey hair, and glaring crimson eyes. Not waiting for a response he contines. "Its been along time. I am surpirsed you were the first of our shadey brethen to be founed." He grins "Could you be getting soft?"

After a few secounds he continues. "I am sure you have heard, but many on the surface are forming a resistant."I figured we could lend our....unique talents to the cause. Our trinity of shadows could be complete if we find Cysa, assuming we ever firgure out what alias is using right now. With a littitle persuasion our warriors of Law and Chaos, Alaan and Janus, could be added to the cause. And maybe if we are lucky, on our two of our distant allies would join us. Well what do you say?"