(..more..) A Cross With Wings and Horns

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Alain DeLaCendres
Member

since 1999-07-02

Posts 119
Ohio

0 posted 1999-12-17 04:26 PM

*note: 4906 words this time around...and I have a question. Maybe one of the posters or the board moderator can help me out? I seem to remember when this board first opened up, it had a rule against continually posting peices of longer works..I think the word limit was either 5,000 or 10,000, not sure which..does this ruler still exist, and am I violating it by posting this next part to a previously posted peice? If so, feel free to delete, no problem. Thanks.

It raced through the corridors of the Complex, an unknown intruder in an unknown place.
It was less than a shadow, lost among the walls, bleeding into the blackness around It; no
eyes, even those so keen as those of the vampyres, could see It. Several hall guards,
garbed in the customary body armor, black and light-weight for stealth, a precaution
wasted on the shadow intruder. If It wanted them, It would have them. Yet such was not
Its intent, not at the moment, but the time would come when all the vampyres who think
themselves safe in this fool's haven shall die by Its accord, Its own will, Its own design.
The best of it to be that they will not see It coming, It will taunt them into jumping
head-first into a battle they have not a chance of winning. Its theory of their foolishness
was only proven by the one known as Morth when he sprang into action thinking he had
any chance at survival. Had it been Its will, Morth would have watched as his stringy,
steaming, bloody guts spill to the lush carpeted floor of his beloved room, his sanctuary,
while he gurgled his life away with the blood spouting from his new smile, one stretching
from ear to ear. No sword of this plane of existence can touch the Shadow when It has no
desire to be touched, yet Morth had fooled himself into thinking he could stop the
Shadow. Silly little man, that Morth, for thinking such a sadly mistaken concept. The
Shadow Walker, in that moment, vowed Morth to death.
In the meantime, to sate Its lust for death, the shadow went in search of a victim,
just for sport. A turn down a corridor proved to yield Its wish, a lone guard catching a nap
in a corner, his knees huddled around his chin as he snored his last snore of sanity.
Stopping before the vampyre, the Shadow Walker chuckled to himself. Such creatures
were trained in the art of combat, stealth, and detection, supposedly having razor sharp
senses able to detect even the most quiet of enemies. Yet here It stood, the Shadow
Walker, the greatest enemy of the vampyre race, in front of one of the trained guards of
the vampyres, undetected. Such hopelessness the vampyres would feel once they learned,
provided they ever did, of the monster stalking their ranks, tormenting them at Its leisure.
The Shadow Walker bellowed a laugh out loud and the vampyre at Its feet sprang to life,
drawing his sword as he rose. Watching the comical scene, the Shadow
Walker had to admit the vampyre to be a good fighter with ample reflexes, all wasted in
such a hopeless manner. Determination and discipline burned in the warrior's eyes, but fear
graced his flesh as goosebumps erupted across his arms and neck. The Shadow Walker
laughed once more, the eerie echo unnerving the vampyre all the more. Sweat rolled down
his brow, stinging his eyes with their kiss of salt, but he did not blink, only searched faster
and faster about himself; searching for anything, anyone. Again the Shadow Walker
laughed, knowing the vampyre would gain nothing from his frantic search. Savoring the
looks of fear in the vampyre's eyes, the Shadow Walker seized the foolish vampyre by his
throat, lifting him from his feet so much so that the toes of his boots dangled more than a
foot above the floor.
Its fingers closed, crushing the larynx and esophagus of the pitiful creature; snap,
crackle, pop, as air weezed from the vampyre's lungs, unable to escape his throat to draw
another breath. The eyes of the guard bulged out comically, nearly falling from their
sockets, tears leaking from around the corners and the guard drew less and less air into his
lungs. The world began to swim for the vampyre, blackness closing in on him. The
Shadow Walker released him, the guard crumpling to a heap of flesh at Its feet, the life
still in him, but not for long. Myth stated vampyres to be immortal, but everyone of the
race of vampyres and werewolves knew different. Vampyres could die, as well as
werewolves, but Shadow Walkers cannot.
The entertainment over, the Shadow Walker once again became nothingness and
was gone.

*

"What will we say to The Elders, Morth? We both know we cannot simply charge
into the meeting chambers and put forth the accusation of a Shadow Walker being lose,"
Aglyus peered askance at Morth, making sure he was grasping everything, and indeed he
was, then continued, "because if our assumption turns out false and we raise an alarm over
nothing, both us will be put to death, no questions asked, no trial needed nor given."
Morth did not seem to want to reply, contemplating his options in his mind. The
unadorned walls of the Complex slid past them, smearing into Morth's vision as nothing
worth consideration as their feet carried them at a rapid speed through the corridors of the
Complex. Vampyres always look about themselves, an ingrained talent nurtured in them
since birth, much as their fighting skills and other such senses. Morth, brushing a lock of
his black hair from his sloping forehead with a muscular hand covered with multiple scars,
finally spoke.
"I know what I saw, Aglyus. I did not ask you to accompany me to The Elders. If
you are not sure of me, then turn back now and there will be no hard feelings between the
two of us. I am so sure of what I saw and more importantly, what I felt, that I will lay my
life on the line should I be wrong," imitating Aglyus, Morth now peered side ways at
Aglyus to catch his full attention, "but I not believe I am wrong."
Stale air grew silent, containing only the clicks of their boots...but Aglyus' ears
picked up another sound. A rasping...so low as to be almost unable for even a vampyre to
hear, just barely audible. Aglyus laid a firm hand in the center of Morth's massive chest,
halting him. Raising his hand to his ear to signal Morth to listen, the sound became more
clear without the mask of their boot clicks. Aglyus bent to one knee, placing his hands
upon the cold concrete floor much as Morth had not so long ago. He closed his eyes,
tuning in to his senses of hearing and touch. Aglyus felt for vibrations, hopefully emitted
from the origin of the rasping. Aglyus honed in on a set of vibrations, again barely
perceptible...the vibrations came from a fellow vampyre, Aglyus could determine. The
vampyre stood around six and a half feet or slightly taller, curled into a fetal ball around
the corner from where Aglyus and Morth stood. The vampyre's hands were froze around
his throat...but why Aglyus could only guess. Then, realizing the rasping sound for what is
was, ragged and labored breathing, Aglyus understood. He sprang to his feet, drawing his
two-handed sword from its sheath strapped across his back as he began motion. Morth
likewise drew his katana from its hip sheath and followed. Turning the corner without
hesitation, Aglyus trained his vampyre eyes around the scene. It was a dark corridor, a
rather unused one which led down to the storage area. About twenty feet from the start of
the corridor, a shape lay crumpled against the wall. Aglyus' senses had not failed him.
"Morth, scan the area. I have to see if I can save him. Do not let anything attack
me, I may or may not be able to do anything."
Aglyus needed no words of compliance from Morth, he knew he had not even
needed to issue to order. Having been partners with Morth for nearly two hundred years,
they knew each other's routines and action inside and out. Aglyus had more knowledge of
medicines, medical practices, and how to revive a person near death; Morth was the
superior fighter of the pair, yet Aglyus was by no means an amateur himself. Nearly two
centuries of battles had sharpened their skills and coordination beyond imagination, hence
when they went into a fight or dangerous situation, one did not worry about the other,
they took care of themselves and one another at the same time.
Moving like lightning, Morth disappeared down the dark corridor. Aglyus
crouched protectively over the fallen figure. His garments told Aglyus he was of the night
guard, most likely the last shift or someone else would have either found him or set off an
alarm by now. The poor vampyre was blue from lack of oxygen, his hands clamped around
his throat in futile desperation for life. His eyes were closed, yet he clung to life still.
Aglyus placed his fingers on the neck of the poor creature and felt a faint pulse. Such
suffering was one of the disadvantages of being of the vampyre race. Humans would have
suffocated many times over by the time the vampyre finally expelled his last breath. There
was no way for Aglyus to tell how long the guard had been lying upon the floor, but his
guess was at least two hours. A chill gripped Aglyus' heart as he made a connection: it had
been around two hours since Morth's experience with the Shadow Walker..and this poor
soul was between Aglyus' room and the exit of the Complex, the Shadow Walker's most
likely path of flight. No doubt existed in Aglyus' mind any longer as to the existence of the
Shadow Walker, he was now convinced Morth was right.
For the corner of his eye, Aglyus saw Morth streak past him as he secured the rest
of the corridor. Aglyus reached down to pry the guard's fingers from about his neck, but
when he seized the cold fingers to pull them away, the guard attempted to voice his
protest, which only came out as a louder rasp. Aglyus withdrew his grip, realizing there
was apparently injury to the guard's neck, most likely his windpipe had been crushed. If
such was true, the best thing Aglyus could do for the vampyre was kill him and end his
suffering. Yet Aglyus knew he could do no such thing...his mind raced in attempt to find
another solution. His thoughts twisted and turned in contemplation until finally an idea
leapt forth. Such a technique would be terribly risky and by no means guaranteed to
succeed, but it was the other option other than death. Placing his massive two-handed
sword upon the floor, Aglyus withdrew his dagger from his boot. With his right hand he
gripped the dagger's tip between thumb and forefinger, with his left he pried the guard's
hands from his throat despite the louder rasps. "You will die if I do not help you, be still
please and have faith in me," Aglyus whispered to the fallen creature. It seemed to be
adequate consolation, for he stopped fighting Aglyus and yielded his hands. Murmuring
his thanks, Aglyus placed his left hand behind the guard's neck and exercised a firm grip,
but not a crushing one. With the dagger clasped in his two fingers, Aglyus placed the tip
to the skin upon the guard's neck. The guard flinched, as if realizing Aglyus' intent. He
shifted his weight so as not to be disturbed by balance, then readied his hand. Blood
spurted from the holes as Aglyus pushed his dagger into the guard's neck, making new air
holes in his windpipe. Aglyus withdrew his dagger, then inserted it again. Warm fluid
flowed across the blade of his dagger and down his hands, splashing the floor. "Such a
waste," Aglyus said aloud. Again and again he carefully poked his dagger into the neck of
the fallen guard until there were five holes in victim's neck, five new air holes which,
Aglyus hoped, would serve to keep the guard alive until he could be taken to the proper
installation to be treated and operated on. Vampyre healing ability only went so far, and
healing windpipes was evidently not their game, making it necessary to operate and fix the
windpipe, then allow the healing factor to kick itself into play and heal the skin and replace
any lost blood. No doubt the guard would need to venture above
ground as soon as he healed to feed, for such a healing feet would take most of his energy.
"Do not try to speak, just lie still. I must go retrieve Morth and then we will carry
you to the proper vampyres who will care for you, okay?"
The guard, his facing regaining a little color, nodded ever so slightly. Aglyus
slipped his dagger back into his boot and scooped up his two-handed sword as he stood.
He was taking no chances, for all he knew the Shadow Walker was still lingering around
somewhere. He replaced his two-hander back into the sheath strapped to his back with his
right hand, his left drawing his own katana from at his hip. Indeed, taking no chances. The
corridor had no lights on, but neither Aglyus nor Morth needed them. Aglyus saw no sign
of Morth, but could hear his frantic footfalls as he raced down the corridor ahead of him.
He did not want to yell, lest the Shadow Walker still be around, simply waiting for them to
reveal themselves. Instead, he pumped his legs harder and harder, gaining speed as only a
vampyre can. Soon enough Morth's silhouette came into his sight, a solitary shape up
ahead, sword in hand and eye aware. Morth caught sight of Aglyus as soon as Aglyus
spotted Morth, and Morth came to a halt, turning to face Aglyus.
"Well? Could you do anything for him?" Sweat rolled from Morth's broad
forehead, down his nose, and dripped from his flaming cheeks. Obviously, Morth was
exerting every ounce of energy he could in his search, keeping his sense at their utmost
height. His fingers were like a vice on the hilt of his katana, the knuckles a gleaming
blaring snowy white. Silence greeted them both, the Shadow Walker possibly hiding in
that silence somewhere.
"I think he will live. I had to...adapt his breathing method."
Morth caught the hint of disgust in Aglyus' voice, recognizing it instantly. He has
always viewed Aglyus as the type to do what needed to be done when it was needed, but
only absolutely when he had no other option. Often afterward, Morth noticed Aglyus'
conscience bothered him, as if he questioned his every actions, thinking there had to of
been some other solution. Now was definitely not the time for Aglyus' conscience to kick
in, it might serve to dull his senses when they needed them most. "Do you know what
caused the injuries?" Morth inquired, hoping to keep Aglyus' mind in order.
"Well...not absolutely...but I think you were right Morth, the Shadow Walker lives
again. There is no evidence of a struggle about the guard, but his windpipe was quite
effectively crushed and he was slowly suffocating. I used my dagger to open his windpipe
in the hopes of keeping him alive in such a fashion until we can get him to someone who
can properly operate on him and fix him up right." Aglyus solidly stated. Hearing the
steady tone of Aglyus' voice, any fear Morth had of him having second thoughts was
banished.
"Let's move then, we've not a second to waste."
Morth took the lead, racing as fast as he possibly could considering the extra
energy he was exerting to sharpen his senses. Aglyus kept pace behind Morth rather easily,
both holding the katanas at their sides in precaution. Salty sweat burned Morth's eyes, but
he afforded no time to wipe it away, the guard they had found might need such precious
time. Darkness raced around them, silhouettes becoming closer to actual shapes as they
drew near to where to guard lay, crumpled still in a fetal position.
Morth bent down near the guard's head with Aglyus near his feet, no instructions
needed between the two of them. Morth nodded to Aglyus, and they lifted the quickly
fading guard into the air. Morth paid close attention to his neck, trying not to place any
pressure on it whatsoever as he and Aglyus carried the guard to the main corridor. Morth
stole a glance to the guard's neck, taking in Aglyus' handiwork; quite a wonderful idea,
Morth had to admit he would have never thought of such salvation for the lost guard. As
luck would have it, more guards were making their rounds, coming toward Morth,
Aglyus, and the fallen guard just as they emerged into the main corridor. Immediately
sighting the situation was a trouble, the other guards drew their swords and broke into
runs toward Aglyus and Morth. They carefully set the guard upon the floor, allowing the
other guards to evaluate the situation.
As they came near enough, the guard who was in charge of the squad spoke.
"What happened here? Aglyus and Morth, I know the both of you and do not believe for
one moment that either of you would do such a thing, but I need an explanation!" He was
General Darken, a prominent vampyre close to becoming eligible to be one of The Elders,
a friend to both Morth and Aglyus. His voice was bordering on frantic, the sight of one of
his men dilapidated so made him nervous, cracking the veneer of safety maintained at the
Complex.
They exchanged glances, the same question in both of their minds. Would he
believe them? Aglyus nodded, indicating that he would speak.
"General, this man needs help immediately. I ask you to have some of your men
present get this fallen guard to the infirmary while the rest of you accompany Morth and I
to the Meeting Chamber of The Elders." Aglyus kept his voice solid and kindly imperious,
his eyes aflame and his face set.
"Aglyus, my boy, I am going to trust you...do not make me regret it. All right men,
you all heard the man. Bornif, Kilmned, Jidlo, Servius, and Wetlek; you five get this fallen
companion to the nearest medical facility. I hold the five of you responsible for him, if he
dies before you get him to help, all of you will die the same death as he. Now move!"
The five selected men hesitated not, quickly but carefully sweeping the injured
guard into their collectively protective hands. In less than two seconds, they had situated
themselves in such a manner to carry to guard effectively and swiftly. As they scampered
down the corridor, General Darken spoke again.
"All right. The other five of you. Hilmder, Inglious, and Fachet, I want the three
of you to scan the area and secure it. Leave no spot unchecked. Find anything you can as a
clue to what transpired here. Move! You last two, Reelig and Corbin, you two shall
accompany Aglyus, Morth, and myself to the Meeting Chamber. Once there, you two will
be responsible for guarding the door while we are inside. If you need assistance, which I
suspect you will if the same villain should attack as the one who got that poor guard, you
will pound the door twice and we will come to assist you. Understood?" The two
remaining guards, vampyres of goodly size, dark hair, and fair intelligence, nodded their
comprehension. General Darken threw a glance to Aglyus and Morth, projecting the same
question of understanding to them also. Both nodded. Morth had to smile at the General's
command of such situations, it was a wonder he had not risen to the rank of Elder yet.
Morth certainly thought he deserved it.
"Good. Let's go! Aglyus and Morth, start talking."

*

"The Elders do not wish an audience with you."
He was too pale, even for a vampyre, dressed in lavishly ornamental clothes, a
smug grin smeared upon his face and his nose pointed naturally skyward. Muscle lacked
on his bony biceps, a prime victim for the Shadow Walker. Having been informed to the
events which transpired in Morth's room with the moving shadow and in the corridor with
the fallen guard, even though most of the information was assumed and amply subject to
skepticism, General Darken employed his imperious voice once more, backed with his
experience of nearly a thousand years.
"Listen to me closely. Take my exact words to The Elders and tell them who
spoke them. I am General Darken of the Day Guard, understood?" Without even waiting
for a reply, he continued. "Good. Now, Listen and mark every word. One of my men is
dead and Morth, this fine vampyre," here he laid his hand upon Morth's shoulder, "was
attacked in his own personal quarters. The creature responsible for both of these events is
most certainly a Shadow Walker of the Werewolf Race."
At the very mention of the Shadow Walker, the young valet's eyes threatened to
erupt from his head, all of his nerve and smug demeanor suddenly evaporated into vapor.
he opened his thin lips ever so slightly and spoke one word, laboring through every letter,
"Impossible." General Darken, hearing the doubt, set about righting the young vampyre,
or in other words, scaring him into belief.
"Impossible, you say? Then I challenge you to wander every corridor of the
Complex alone, without even a weapon, and return here alive. Keep in mind the guard,
one of my best men by the way, who was found with is windpipe crushed like a dry leaf,
despite being fully armored as normal with two katanas, four daggers, a morning star, and
no less than fifteen throwing stars. Had Aglyus not found him, my guard would have
suffered one of the most horrible deaths possible to a vampyre." General Darken began
tapping his foot, as of in invitation to the foolish young vampyre to rise to the challenge.
The valet showed no signs of accepting, though if he had, he would have won the deal, the
Shadow Walker had vacated the Complex after attacking the guard. yet all were working
under the automatic assumption that the Shadow Walker remained near, which was just as
well. had the valet accepted the challenge and came back alive and well, able to attest to
the falsity of the claims of the existence of a Shadow Walker, any chance of The Elders
listening to Aglyus, Morth, or even General Darken would have disappeared.
As it was however, General Darken had expertly applied his command and
intelligence, aptly destroying the foundation of the valet's disbelief. He believed General
Darken completely, his shaking knees and trembling hands clear testimony of he fact.
Nodding his head like a mad mental patient, his styled short cut blond hair losing its
elegant form, its air of "royalty." retreating step after step, the valet kept his eyes locked
on General Darken, ignoring Morth and Aglyus, his shaking fingers feeling behind him for
the massive door to the Elders' inner meeting room, the Inside Sanctuary, so it was called.
Bumping the door with his back, the young vampyre started, a strangled moan emitting
from his throat as if he expected the Shadow Walker to grasp him and devour him whole.
Several minutes spread themselves thin as the three waited. Silence from within the
Inside Sanctuary betrayed nothing to them, despite their acute vampyre senses. Morth
grew visibly anxious and unnerved with every passing moment, soon tapping the heel of
his black boot against the floor filling the dead air with sharp clicks of displeasure,
screaming the magnifying feeling of being a sitting duck waiting for the Shadow Walker to
return. General Darken occupied himself by fiddling with his weapon belt; his morning star
chain clanked as he manipulated it with his fingers, various daggers tucked into the belt
slid in and out of their well oiled leather slot-sheaths, the swords at his hips being lifted
minutely then dropped back into place. Aglyus, however, grew not impatient. He was lost
within himself, wondering what might happen to the three of them should The Elders
decide not to honor their request of audience; but yet not only what should happen to
them alone, but to the entire Vampyre Race. Should the Shadow Walker eliminate the
vampyres, Aglyus feared It would take such a monumental accomplishment as an omen of
superiority and perhaps decide to eliminate the rest of the Mythical Races. Perhaps the
Shadow Walker would start with the vampyres, then move on to the Seraphs, the
Shape-Shifters, the Wizards, or maybe even the Angels then on up to the Gods. In light of
the fact of a Shadow Walker having no soul, it might very well eliminate all the Mythical
Races then move on to the Humans. Humans would not even have so much as a beginning
clue as to what a Shadow Walker even was, considering the fact Humans had been kept
unaware of the existence of all the Mythical Races since the beginning of time. Many
Mythical Races existed, humans only vaguely noting less that half of the existent Races.
Most humans did not even entertain the possibility of the Mythical Races, so caught up
were they in themselves. Thus, the Shadow Walker could very well wipe out every
Mythical Race in existence, a task which would take an unimaginable length of time, when
the Shadow Walker moved on to humans, they would never have even been aware of the
existence of the many Mythical Races, let alone how they were eliminated. Nearly every
factor imaginable resided on the Shadow Walker's side, nothing of benefit had Aglyus
uncovered in his thoughts. Ending the raging feud between vampyre and werewolf was
now a cause he put on perhaps permanent hold, or as long as it took to end the threat of
the menace, the Shadow Walker. But yet, Aglyus believed the Shadow Walker to have
been "born" of the Werewolf Race, and if such were true, he would have no choice but to
assist in the eradication of every werewolf. Not one werewolf would be spared, in
precaution of the appearance of yet another raging Shadow Walker. Nearly every Mythical
Race had had a Shadow Walker "born" to them at one time or another, but never were
two Shadow Walkers "born" in overlapping periods; only one existed at a time. Such a
fact made it possible for any Shadow Walker to reign free without opposition, but yet
none ever had. It was a sort of unspoken agreement of the Mythical Races that should a
Shadow Walker be "born" to them, it would reasonably controlled and not allowed to
strive for dictatorship of the other Races. Shadow Walkers were not the only such
potentially dangerous creature of rarity to exist among the Races, yet a Shadow Walker
was one of the worst.
Only one other such creature, know as a dieu de guerre, had ever attempted to
overcome any of the other Races. The first, and last dieu de guerre was "born" of the
Shape-Shifter Race. The dieu de guerre was a creature of unlimited abilities, able to have
even stamped out a Shadow Walker without a second thought. Even those of the
Shape-Shifter Race joined with the other Races to stop the dieu de guerre. Vampyres and
Werewolves had fought side by side in the Secret War, all of the Mythical Races banning
together as one, a time in which every feud was put aside, the differences forgotten in light
of the new, more powerful threat. Not much information remained of the Secret War, as it
had taken place in a time when time was not a factor, before the Human Race had begun
to trod the Earth, the time of the Mythical Races. Written languages had not been used
then, not having been believed necessary. Aglyus felt a pang in his heart, wishing so sort of
documentary had been written of those times, if not just so the legacy would not die, but
also because he was sure someone of those times had know how to stop a Shadow
Walker, a thing not known any more due to the lengthening periods between the
appearances of Shadow Walkers. Then, a Shadow Walker had been "born" nearly every
generation, never to the same Races consecutively. Now, Shadow Walkers had come to
be "born" no more often than every three or more often four generations, and the powers
of the creature had been declining with each successive Shadow Walker "born." Now, it
seemed, one of the most powerful Shadow Walkers to ever been graced with "birth"
walked the Earth, intent of the destruction of the Vampyre Race. Such a task could very
well be accomplished should the Shadow Walker attain enough power. To attain such
power required only training, not some difficult process. One of the unique abilities of
Shadow Walkers over the other rarities of the Races, one only experienced before in the
lone dieu de guerre, was the unlimited level of power able to be reached. Most rarities
reached a certain level of power and were able to rise no higher. Shadow Walkers,
however, were under no such restriction, making them all the more dangerous...
The massive door of the Inside Sanctuary flew open, the valet stumbling out of it
as the Seven Elders of the Vampyre Race emerged behind him, shattering Aglyus'
thoughts.

Tout s'en va, tout passe, l'eau coule, et le couer oublie.

Dusk Treader

Moderator

Senior Member

since 1999-06-18

Posts 1187
St. Paul, MN

1 posted 1999-12-17 05:45 PM

It's been a little while since you posted the last one, and I must say this was great! I'm very much intrigued, I want to find out more! Very nice job

And as for you question's, I'm not quite sure, I'm sure Christopher will help you though.

In flames I shall not be consumed, but reborn.

Christopher

Moderator

Member Rara Avis

since 1999-08-02

Posts 8296
Purgatorial Incarceration

2 posted 1999-12-18 03:41 AM

I'm sure he will!

Awesome story BTW! It grabbed me and wouldn't let go!!!
(I'll find out for you, because to tell the truth,-shh- I don't know!)

Marilyn
Member Elite

since 1999-09-26

Posts 2621
Ontario, Canada

3 posted 1999-12-18 09:55 AM

I agree with the others...awsome story!

I can answer your question....Yes there is a 5000 word limit to pieces posted in this forum. I wouldn't worry about it this time but I would not post more parts of this epic. I would suggest letting people know that more will be available and if they wish to read it, to e-mail you. Great writing and I hope to see more from you in the future.

Terrina Kethryveris
Member

since 1999-12-06

Posts 53
USA

4 posted 1999-12-19 10:20 PM

Great work indeed. Very interesting story.

Terri

Truth be known, fantasy is much more appealing than reality.

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