What follows is the premise for war XI. Two additional posts will follow,
outlining the war rules.
LaCroix once told Nicholas, "We are each other. You will always be mine …
eternally!" He may or may not have been speaking figuratively, but let's take
him literally. What if Forever Knight characters suddenly did start becoming
each other?
PREMISE: When FK characters start displaying personality changes, factions
begin to worry. The worry becomes greater when factions realize that
characters, both mortal and vampire, are actually taking on personality
traits of other characters. But it's more, much more than that. They are
truly on the road to becoming each other, and begin having total identity
switches.
What is causing these changes? Can they be prevented? Are they permanent? How
can the characters be brought back to themselves? These are the challenges
facing factions as they converge on Toronto.
Gwyneth Meirionfa
War XI Warmistress
Following are the War XI rules for using characters and arranging character
switches:
Switches will involve Nick, LaCroix, Natalie, Schanke, Janette, Vachon,
Screed, and Tracy. Characters switch in pairs, only with each other. For
example, Natalie becomes Screed and Screed becomes Natalie.
Secondary characters may be used in stories by announcing to FORKNI-L that a
character is being used in a post. Secondary characters/inanimate objects may
only be switched with characters under special circumstances and by
permission of the Warmistress. Players may not switch with characters.
One pair of character switches (Screed and LaCroix) will be set in motion in
the opening post by the WM and the involved factions.
Factions who schedule characters only control the body of the character
during the war. For example, the Knighties schedule Nick's physical body and
whatever personality is within Nick at the time. Factions may not withhold
agreement to switches unless there is a time conflict, and then should
re-schedule as soon as possible.
Switches may take place gradually, where two characters start displaying each
other's characteristics, but retain at least some self-awareness, or
instantaneously, where two characters totally switch identities, and
immediately become each other. In all cases, gradual switches will eventually
lead to total identity switches.
A character's memory transfers with a character's 'personality', while a
character's physical characteristics and needs remain with the body. For
example, all LC's vampiric powers and vampiric needs remain with his body,
regardless of who is inhabiting it.
Events leading to switches and actual switches have no defined time limit.
However, when planning switches, please take into consideration requests from
other factions.
Control of a character's 'personality' transfers with each switch. For
example, Nick and LC have switched personalities. The Knighties thus control
Nick's body and LC's personality, while the Cousins control LC's body and
Nick's personality. A writer needs to borrow Nick's body or LC's personality.
(and by default borrows LC's personality). She would contact the Knightie
leaders to get permission. Later, the writer needs to use Nick's personality
or LC's body. She would contact the Cousinly Leaders for permission.
Time passes, and Nick and LC revert to normal. At the end of a switch,
characters return to themselves until the next switch they are involved in.
The Knighties would then still control Nick's body, but now they control his
personality again. The Cousins still control LC's body, but now they have
control over his personality, too. Characters who come back to themselves may
remain in their own bodies for a maximum of 24 hours, although there is no
minimum.
Factions writing switches should work together on the resulting storyline,
and cooperate in writing each other's characters.
For informational and scheduling purposes, please inform the WM of all
switches. The WM will keep track of switches. Anyone unsure of who to contact
about using a particular personality or body should ask the WM for
information.
The WM reserves the right to terminate switches for plotline or other
reasons.
The WM may occasionally make posts affecting and directing character
switches. In all cases, she will notify the involved factions prior to doing
so.
General war rules will follow in another post.
Happy warring!
Gwyneth Meirionfa
War XI Warmistress
These are the ground rules for war 11. This is not the war premise. The
premise and rules for character usage have been posted separately. These
rules will be posted again on FORKNI-L and FKFIC-L before the war starts on
July 5. They are also available on the War XI website, from your faction
leader, and from the Warmistress (WM) at FKWarmistress@....
GENERAL: The war will be played in a friendly, courteous matter. The WM has
final authority in all decisions on plot, characters, postings, etc. WM
decisions may not be appealed to the Listowner and/or Listgardener. The
Listowner, Listgardener and/or WM reserve the right to terminate the war
after a warning if there seems to be a problem with keeping the friendly
atmosphere.
FKFIC RULES: All the regular Fkfic-l rules apply to the war. NO talking on
list. Coordination is done offlist. Discussion on the war should be posted to
FORKNI-L with a WAR heading. The Fkfic-l rules are posted each Monday.
PERMISSION SLIPS: All participants must have a permission slip on record with
their faction leader. The deadline for permission slips has passed.
POSTING FORMAT: All war story posts must be posted to FKFIC-L. Posts must
have the following header:
WAR: Faction: Story Title (Example WAR: Urchins: Urs Gets Out)
The colon is VERY IMPORTANT. If your mailer changes colons to something
else, send the story to another list member to post for you.
STORY HEADERS: Please put a date and approximate time at the top of the
story. If the post follows on, is concurrent with, or is set before another
post, please also mention. This is incredibly helpful in archiving the war.
POSTING LIMITS: Posts are limited to three per 24 hours by each individual
player. Factions may drop as many posts as they like, provided the three per
person limit is adhered to. Posts should be 300 lines maximum. If it's
longer, split it in two. Administrative and WM posts are not counted in this
rule.
ATTACKS: In order to return to the spontaneity of the first few wars, sneak
attacks on factions or individuals will be allowed. By filing a permission
slip, you've agreed to be attacked. No further permission is needed. (This
applies to attacks only; players must get permission to use individuals for
other purposes in a story)
Rules for attacks not agreed on in advance:
Individuals must be notified in general terms about the time of an attack, to
ensure no conflicts in the time line. A short note with at least 24 hours
notice to the person stating what time you will be using him/her in an attack
is all that is necessary. If a time line conflict arises, the attacked party
may require the attacker to change the time, but has no say over content.
Attacks not agreed in advance must be wrapped up in one post. Retaliation
must then be accepted without further development unless the attacked faction
or person agrees to continue.
Attacks may not be ignored. During the course of the war, each faction may
dismiss one attack only as a dream.
Any faction or individual who has been attacked more than four times in the
war has a right to refuse further attacks for a period agreed upon between
that faction's leaders and the WM. No one faction/individual may be subjected
to more than one severe attack in any 48 hour period, unless that
faction/individual is willing. When a faction/individual has been
over-attacked, the WM will post to FORKNI-L putting a moratorium on attacks
on that faction/individual until further notice.
OPENING POSTS: Opening/call to arms/getting to Toronto posts are limited to
one per faction, up to three parts. Individual getting to Toronto stories
should be incorporated into faction posts, and should not be posted
individually by faction members.
POST DATED STORIES: Because the war is played in real time, dropping post
dated stories is strongly discouraged. Post dated attacks that do not have
permission are not permitted. If an attack has been agreed on beforehand but
is then post dated, the attacked party has the right to ask the WM to
disallow the attack.
REPLYING TO REQUESTS: Please try to reply to e-mail requests to write you in
a story or asking for information in as timely a manner as possible.
BORROWING CHARACTERS: If you want to use an FK character, permission must be
obtained from the leader(s) of the character's primary faction, who are
responsible for keeping the character's schedule. For this war, primary
factions are as follows: Nick - Knighties; LC - Cousins; Schanke - FoDs;
Natalie - NatPack; Janette - Ravenettes; Screed - RatPack; Vachon - Vaqueros;
Tracy - Dark Perks. Leaders must grant permission unless the time is already
given to someone else. Leaders do not have the right to vet or control
content of posts with borrowed characters. Please see the related rules on
character usage for war XI premise.
SPYING: Joining other faction's lists for spying purposes is not permitted
and is grounds for dismissal from war XI.
NO PERMANENT CHANGES: No killing, maiming or bringing across of players is
permitted.
CROSSOVER CHARACTERS: No crossover characters from other shows are permitted.
Happy warring!
Gwyneth Meirionfa
War XI Warmistress
On 27 Jun 2001, Sunny LaCountess wrote:
> I wanted to ask if there was a War XI website created yet, and if yes,
> whether it had the links to all other faction sites.
There are two:
http://www.geocities.com/athens/7139/fkwar11factions.htm
and
http://www.geocities.com/Athens/7139/war11participants.htm
The first has the list of participating factions with links to the faction pages
and contact information for the faction leaders. The second has the list of
participants including contact information.
Both pages have the rules and premise and some other useful links.
Have fun!
Don ---,-<@
phase3@...
This is a repost of the ground rules for war 11. The opening post will drop
momentarily.
These are the ground rules for war 11. This is not the war premise. The
premise and rules for character usage have been posted separately. These
rules will be posted again on FORKNI-L and FKFIC-L before the war starts on
July 5. They are also available on the War XI website, from your faction
leader, and from the Warmistress (WM) at FKWarmistress@....
GENERAL: The war will be played in a friendly, courteous matter. The WM has
final authority in all decisions on plot, characters, postings, etc. WM
decisions may not be appealed to the Listowner and/or Listgardener. The
Listowner, Listgardener and/or WM reserve the right to terminate the war
after a warning if there seems to be a problem with keeping the friendly
atmosphere.
FKFIC RULES: All the regular Fkfic-l rules apply to the war. NO talking on
list. Coordination is done offlist. Discussion on the war should be posted to
FORKNI-L with a WAR heading. The Fkfic-l rules are posted each Monday.
PERMISSION SLIPS: All participants must have a permission slip on record with
their faction leader. The deadline for permission slips has passed.
POSTING FORMAT: All war story posts must be posted to FKFIC-L. Posts must
have the following header:
WAR: Faction: Story Title (Example WAR: Urchins: Urs Gets Out)
The colon is VERY IMPORTANT. If your mailer changes colons to something
else, send the story to another list member to post for you.
STORY HEADERS: Please put a date and approximate time at the top of the
story. If the post follows on, is concurrent with, or is set before another
post, please also mention. This is incredibly helpful in archiving the war.
POSTING LIMITS: Posts are limited to three per 24 hours by each individual
player. Factions may drop as many posts as they like, provided the three per
person limit is adhered to. Posts should be 300 lines maximum. If it's
longer, split it in two. Administrative and WM posts are not counted in this
rule.
ATTACKS: In order to return to the spontaneity of the first few wars, sneak
attacks on factions or individuals will be allowed. By filing a permission
slip, you've agreed to be attacked. No further permission is needed. (This
applies to attacks only; players must get permission to use individuals for
other purposes in a story)
Rules for attacks not agreed on in advance:
Individuals must be notified in general terms about the time of an attack, to
ensure no conflicts in the time line. A short note with at least 24 hours
notice to the person stating what time you will be using him/her in an attack
is all that is necessary. If a time line conflict arises, the attacked party
may require the attacker to change the time, but has no say over content.
Attacks not agreed in advance must be wrapped up in one post. Retaliation
must then be accepted without further development unless the attacked faction
or person agrees to continue.
Attacks may not be ignored. During the course of the war, each faction may
dismiss one attack only as a dream.
Any faction or individual who has been attacked more than four times in the
war has a right to refuse further attacks for a period agreed upon between
that faction's leaders and the WM. No one faction/individual may be subjected
to more than one severe attack in any 48 hour period, unless that
faction/individual is willing. When a faction/individual has been
over-attacked, the WM will post to FORKNI-L putting a moratorium on attacks
on that faction/individual until further notice.
OPENING POSTS: Opening/call to arms/getting to Toronto posts are limited to
one per faction, up to three parts. Individual getting to Toronto stories
should be incorporated into faction posts, and should not be posted
individually by faction members.
POST DATED STORIES: Because the war is played in real time, dropping post
dated stories is strongly discouraged. Post dated attacks that do not have
permission are not permitted. If an attack has been agreed on beforehand but
is then post dated, the attacked party has the right to ask the WM to
disallow the attack.
REPLYING TO REQUESTS: Please try to reply to e-mail requests to write you in
a story or asking for information in as timely a manner as possible.
BORROWING CHARACTERS: If you want to use an FK character, permission must be
obtained from the leader(s) of the character's primary faction, who are
responsible for keeping the character's schedule. For this war, primary
factions are as follows: Nick - Knighties; LC - Cousins; Schanke - FoDs;
Natalie - NatPack; Janette - Ravenettes; Screed - RatPack; Vachon - Vaqueros;
Tracy - Dark Perks. Leaders must grant permission unless the time is already
given to someone else. Leaders do not have the right to vet or control
content of posts with borrowed characters. Please see the related rules on
character usage for war XI premise.
SPYING: Joining other faction's lists for spying purposes is not permitted
and is grounds for dismissal from war XI.
NO PERMANENT CHANGES: No killing, maiming or bringing across of players is
permitted.
CROSSOVER CHARACTERS: No crossover characters from other shows are permitted.
Happy warring!
Gwyneth Meirionfa
War XI Warmistress
War: Opening Post: WE ARE EACH OTHER (1/1)
The weather clearly hadn't changed for the better during the seven years
she'd been underground. Mary Sue's colleagues had returned to the surface a
few weeks earlier; she had decided to remain behind in the research center
for a bit longer, savouring these last moments of total solitude.
She had a fair amount of trepidation about rejoining the land of the living.
How much had the world changed while she was gone? What had she missed? The
prospect of returning left her personality jumbled. She was excited, yet
forlorn. Eager, yet suspicious. What lay in wait for her outside those
stainless steel doors?
As she exited the dome, she paused for one final look around. The scientific
equipment was already gone; a crew would be in next week to pick up the
team's remaining personal effects. Funny, she had hated that Thai statuette
when Joe had first received it. And she could never understand how Robert
could talk to a balloon, even one with a smiley face and sideburns drawn on.
But now it was like leaving old friends.
Ignoring the growing thunderstorm, she headed into the outside office. Little
remained to show a support crew had been in attendance day and night for the
last seven years, monitoring the team, only a television, VCR, and computer.
After all these years, they looked like foreign objects. She wondered if she
would remember how to work them, or if her mind was as jumbled as her
emotions were.
As she sat down at the computer, she noticed a special delivery package on
the table, addressed to her. There was no return address, although she could
make out a faint Toronto postmark. Someone had remembered! She eagerly ripped
open the box, staring gleefully at the pile of videotapes inside.
Smiling, Mary Sue read the familiar episode names of the one season of her
favorite show: 'Dark Knight,' 'For I Have Sinned,' and 'Last Act,' all the
way through to the final 'Love You To Death.' She'd gone without a 'Forever
Knight' fix for seven years. When the show had been cancelled after that one,
incomparable season, her heart broken, she had signed on to the research
project. Unable to bear a world without Nick, Nat, and LaCroix, she had
re-upped year after year, never once returning to the surface.
The rain continued to fall in buckets as Mary Sue picked up one of the tapes,
intending to revisit her old friends from the series. Her breath caught. What
was this?! Two more layers of tapes waited in the package! Forever Knight
Second Season?! A Third Season, even!
Giddily, she settled in front of the television and began to watch the second
year of 'Forever Knight' unfold. She'd missed so much! It all seemed perfect,
a fitting extension of the older episodes that she remembered. She was
especially thrilled to see LC undead and well in the present. There were so
many excellent stories to choose from: 'A Fate Worse Than Death,' 'Curiouser
and Curiouser,' 'A More Permanent Hell,' 'Be My Valentine,' 'Father's Day,'
'Partners of the Month,' and 'Close Call,' but Mary Sue decided her favorite
was 'The Fix.'
For some reason, that particular episode hit a nerve. Once she'd viewed all
of Season Two, Mary Sue watched the episode where Nick obtains a brief taste
of mortality two more times, lingering over the powerful scene where LaCroix
confronts Nick over his 'cure:' LaCroix's voice as he stood frying in the sun
kept replaying in her mind, 'We are each other. We are each other. We are
each other.'
Overwhelmed with delight - a whole third season to go! - Mary Sue began to
play the final
layer of tapes. She randomly picked up a tape marked simply Season Three and
settled back. Within moments, she was sitting bolt upright in her chair. This
made no sense. Where was Schanke? When had Janette turned the Raven into an
S&M club? Come to think of it, where was Janette? Why was that long haired
dude constantly blinking? And just who was that perky blonde?
She barely recognized the characters she did know. All of the sudden, LaCroix
seemed to have different priorities. 'Let's show our true selves by getting
naked'? Where had *that* come from?!?! It was as if someone had suddenly
decided to alter the master vampire's personality, making him less dangerous
and more human. Nick, too, was behaving strangely; it was like angsting and
brooding had become his entire purpose in life.
And Natalie - Mary Sue couldn't help but notice how unhappy and bitter she
seemed in comparison to the coroner she was used to seeing. What had happened
to the romance? Were Nick and Natalie an item or not? It was all so
confusing! And that scene in 'Let No Man Tear Asunder' - how could Natalie, a
doctor, submit to anaesthesia that she thought unnecessary?! It made no sense!
She was so dazed as she sat through 'The Human Factor' that she didn't even
notice the lightning moving closer and closer. Janette as a mortal? No way!!
Mary Sue fought covering her eyes as these scenes unfolded.
She suddenly remembered the computer sitting on the table. After her years
underground, the Internet seemed like a new-fangled invention, but she was
able to connect easily by following the instructions in 'Internet for Dummies
Underground For Seven Years', conveniently left by the side of the computer.
Connecting, Mary Sue did a frantic search on 'Forever Knight.' Her first hit
was a treasure trove to a desperate fan: www.fkfanfic.com. Without even
pausing to check when the page had last been updated, she plunged into the
wealth of fan fiction, sating years of deprivation, seeking answers for her
confusion.
Now, Mary Sue, being of a scientific rather than a sensible bent, never
stopped to think about the connection between fanfic and reality, as she
scanned story after story. Her confusion deepened and her desperation grew.
Suddenly, the power fluctuated, and she lost her connection.
Unable to reconnect, she turned back to the season three tapes, randomly
choosing another. Halfway through Ashes to Ashes, she felt as though her head
was going to explode. Sure, she'd never heard of this Vachon dude before six
hours ago, but he wasn't bad looking, blinks and all. And suddenly he was
gone! Passed on. No more. Ceased to be. Expired and gone to meet his maker.
Bereft of life. Pushing up the daisies. Run down the curtain and joined the
choir invisible.
She sat through the teaser of the next tape with a mounting dread. When the
opening credits ended, and the title Last Knight appeared on screen, she
suddenly jumped up, shut off the VCR, and grabbed her coat and the keys of
the four wheel drive that had been left behind for her.
The engine started easily. Mary Sue didn't look back. Clearly, she would only
find the explanations she needed in one place. She would head for the big TO.
* * *
Mary Sue smiled as she passed the Welcome to Toronto sign. She leaned
forward, turned on the radio, and, with bated breath, tuned it to CERK.
LaCroix's melodic voice filled the airwaves.
"Who are we really? By what artificial measuring stick do we judge a
characterization? What makes the Nightcrawler, and all you gentle listeners
who we are?"
She breathed a sigh of relief. No matter what was going on, if he was still
around, then hope, like the ancient vampire himself, sprung eternal. She
began to lose herself in that powerful voice.
"Perhaps the impartial firing of neurons in a tangled mass of brain-stuff. Or
something more? A soul, that imaginary moral compass developed by primitive
'uman-beans barraged on all sides by unexplainable phenomena and the
malevolent gods. Wot forms our ideas, opinions, our virtues and vice, our
thoughts an' verbage? Are we born ta whom we are? Or is h'it fate wot shapes
us? Circumcision... Excuse me, circle- n-cisms ... Circuit-fisions...."
Mary Sue's jaw dropped open. The words, in a way, were those of the
Nightcrawler. But she couldn't remember his diction so strange and he'd
certainly never suffered from word confusion in any episodes she'd seen.
"Ah, I've got it … by what circumstances have you tuned into the Nightcrawler
tonight, me droogs? Wot h'is h'it 'bout moi tha' finds perspiration in me
nightly mono- nuke-the-words?
"E'ery night ya tune Ol' Nightsquawker h'in h'on the dial, lost, ponderin'
who ya are, the unknowin' wooly lambchops by which ya put a bit o' the
judgmentation hon' yarselves. Le me 'elp ya let go o' yer tenny-a-cious grip
h'on sew-the- city's model o' the roight an' the mices. Let moi be yar guide
tew yarself fer Oi'm the Nightsquawker."
* * *
Screed leapt into the garbage bin as soon as he heard the tell- tale squeak
and putter about of a rat. "Oooo, now, there's ya a fatsie ratsie. Jest
gnawin' roight ta the bone h'on a bone."
He dug down with his hand, immediately pulling it back out. "Coooo. Wot's
h'all that wetness? Not ta mention this trash is extremely odorous."
Meanwhile, alerted to his invitation to be dinner, the rat scurried away.
"This won't do, at all, me squealer." Screed jumped back out, following a few
steps before pausing. Hunger still gripped him, though he felt a strange urge
to visit Vachon and raid him for a bottle of human vintage. Squeal... Rat
just seemed tacky and low-brow.
Of course he'd have to bathe first. In fact, as soon as possible. Somewhere
back in his abode was at least one bar of soap. Hotel size, secretly
pick-pocketed from Johnsie the last time the Leader o' the Pack had visited,
but unused and still in the wrapper. He'd seen Libs just a few days before,
and perhaps she'd brought a towel or washcloth. Even a clean t-shirt would do
in a pinch.
Then he'd visit Vachon, perhaps. No, Screed decided. "Defective... I mean
Detective Knight. He no doubt has better vintage. Not to mention a better
hairstylist."
- end -
This is a repost of the war rules for characters and switches. The opening
post will drop momentarily.
Switches will involve Nick, LaCroix, Natalie, Schanke, Janette, Vachon,
Screed, and Tracy. Characters switch in pairs, only with each other. For
example, Natalie becomes Screed and Screed becomes Natalie.
Secondary characters may be used in stories by announcing to FORKNI-L that a
character is being used in a post. Secondary characters/inanimate objects may
only be switched with characters under special circumstances and by
permission of the Warmistress. Players may not switch with characters.
One pair of character switches (Screed and LaCroix) will be set in motion in
the opening post by the WM and the involved factions.
Factions who schedule characters only control the body of the character
during the war. For example, the Knighties schedule Nick's physical body and
whatever personality is within Nick at the time. Factions may not withhold
agreement to switches unless there is a time conflict, and then should
re-schedule as soon as possible.
Switches may take place gradually, where two characters start displaying each
other's characteristics, but retain at least some self-awareness, or
instantaneously, where two characters totally switch identities, and
immediately become each other. In all cases, gradual switches will eventually
lead to total identity switches.
A character's memory transfers with a character's 'personality', while a
character's physical characteristics and needs remain with the body. For
example, all LC's vampiric powers and vampiric needs remain with his body,
regardless of who is inhabiting it.
Events leading to switches and actual switches have no defined time limit.
However, when planning switches, please take into consideration requests from
other factions.
Control of a character's 'personality' transfers with each switch. For
example, Nick and LC have switched personalities. The Knighties thus control
Nick's body and LC's personality, while the Cousins control LC's body and
Nick's personality. A writer needs to borrow Nick's body or LC's personality.
(and by default borrows LC's personality). She would contact the Knightie
leaders to get permission. Later, the writer needs to use Nick's personality
or LC's body. She would contact the Cousinly Leaders for permission.
Time passes, and Nick and LC revert to normal. At the end of a switch,
characters return to themselves until the next switch they are involved in.
The Knighties would then still control Nick's body, but now they control his
personality again. The Cousins still control LC's body, but now they have
control over his personality, too. Characters who come back to themselves may
remain in their own bodies for a maximum of 24 hours, although there is no
minimum.
Factions writing switches should work together on the resulting storyline,
and cooperate in writing each other's characters.
For informational and scheduling purposes, please inform the WM of all
switches. The WM will keep track of switches. Anyone unsure of who to contact
about using a particular personality or body should ask the WM for
information.
The WM reserves the right to terminate switches for plotline or other
reasons.
The WM may occasionally make posts affecting and directing character
switches. In all cases, she will notify the involved factions prior to doing
so.
General war rules will follow in another post.
Happy warring!
Gwyneth Meirionfa
War XI Warmistress
WAR: NA: Uncompromising Positions (1/3)
By Patt, Bons, Christy, Cousin Erik, Evil Cousin Tiff, KC and Jules
Bonnie stood on a dais, arms outstretched in supplication as if to
plead, 'Fanfic Fairies, why hast thou forsaken me?!' She was draped in a
white, gauzy fabric embroidered with white rosebuds. Supaige crouched to the
right of her, a nest of stickpins clasped between her teeth as she studiously
adjusted Bonnie's hem. Shele stood to Bonnie's left. She preferred jabbing
pins every which way with one hand while she scribbled in a copy of 'Mad Libs
Horoscopes' with the other.
Shele and Supaige were fitting Bonnie for a very special gown. It was
the Coronation Gown for the future Nunkies Anonymous High Priestess.
Theoretically, this was a solemn occasion, filled with decorum and respect.
"Give me an adjective," Shele ordered, poking Bonnie between the ribs.
Supaige rotated the redhead slightly so she had access to a new expanse
of unpinned fabric. Bonnie whimpered in self-pity. "Unfair."
Scribble. Scribble. "Give me another adjective," Shele instructed.
Bonnie crossed her arms. "Not-gonna-do-it."
Shele became very careless with one of the stickpins.
Bonnie jumped. "Ow!" She scowled as she rubbed her sore arm. "Bad candy,
Shele!"
"Yuh-huh." Shele lifted her Sacred Quill Pen. "I didn't like your
suggestion. Try again. An adjective?"
"Despicable," Bonnie mumbled.
"Now a noun."
Bonnie sighed dramatically. "Tragedy."
"Mmm-hmm." Shele consulted her list. "A verb ending with '-ing'."
Supaige shifted on her heels. Her spine made creaky noises. She winced.
"Torturing. As in, 'all this work on a dress Bonnie doesn't appreciate is
torturing my back.'"
"Ooooh. 'Torturing.'" Shele was pleased. "Good word. One more. A
person's name?"
Supaige suddenly straightened, swiped the pins from her mouth, and shook
one finger sternly at the Scribe. "Bonnie!"
Shele nodded and entered that into her 'Mad Libs Horoscope.'
"Bonnie!" Supaige repeated. "Are you bleeding on the Coronation Gown?
Shameful!"
"But Shele stabbed me!"
"Excuses, excuses," Supaige said dismissively. "Do you realize how hard
it is to get stains out of a white dress?!?!"
Bonnie zoned out Supaige's complaint. Pouting at Shele, who taunted her
with another stickpin, took precedence.
Supaige looked up just in time to catch Bonnie sticking out her tongue
to blow a raspberry. "Oh, honestly! As much as I'd say LaCroix knows best, if
he thinks you're 'mature' enough to become the new High Priestess, he can't
be in his right mind!"
"As much as I blame LaCroix - and it *is* LaCroix's fault," Bonnie
declared. "Jules deserves censure, too. She put the idea into his head..."
~~~~~~Fuzzy Flashback to War 10~~~~~~~
"Bonnie!" Jules said, jumping up and brushing past LaCroix. "I'm glad
you arrived before I left. Do you have any questions about the job?"
"One question, Jules," Bons said, looking at Jules like a tiny, helpless
animal.
"Yes?"
"How in the *expletive-deleted* could you do this to me???!!!"
"Perhaps she can explain to both of us," LaCroix said, turning to Jules.
"For starters, I don't recall granting you permission to leave."
"You don't?" Jules asked. She set down her briefcase, opened it, and
produced a document that had the words 'High Priestess Contract' spelled
across the top in big, bold letters. "Let's turn to Section 3, paragraph 2,
entitled, 'Jules' Oh-So-Important Provisos.'" She added with bravado, "I
haven't worked around lawyers for 13 years for nothing!" She then quoted:
"'Whenever she wants, Jules can run off and appoint someone to assume her
CERK and Shrine duties.' How's that for legal mumbo jumbo?"
"Not enough jumbo, I'd say," Bons volunteered.
LaCroix, in response, deposited a large file in Bonnie's hands.
"Huh. What's this?" asked the Scribe.
"Payroll," replied the ancient. "Even the immortal can't escape
paperwork. Be sure to have that completed by the time you come to work
tomorrow evening."
"Tomorrow evening?"
"I'll expect you before midnight, Bonnie. With the *completed* product,"
LaCroix warned her then turned on his heel. "I almost forgot..." The vampire
paused in the doorway briefly. "We need pencils. Recycled. Don't come back
empty-handed."
"No, sir," Bons replied dutifully, even as she imagined making Jules eat
her rotten provisos with a nice coating of Marmite slathered on top.
Normally, Bons wouldn't be caught dead doing accounting. Considering
LaCroix's attitude toward insubordination, if she didn't do accounting, she'd
be caught dead.
~~~~~~End of Fuzzy Flashback~~~~~~~
"Now I'm trapped! Doomed to light incense, balance ledgers and sort
letters from dead people for the rest of my existence!" Bons wailed.
"Now, don't be speciesest. Vampires need mail, too," Supaige warned. She
began to tap one foot impatiently. "You know, for a future High Priestess,
you're mighty ungrateful. Some people would kill to be in your shoes!"
"I know," Bonnie nodded. "And Christy knows I know. I had new locks put
on my Non-Sensible Shoe Closet to foil her heel-happy greed."
"Where's your grace? Your dignity? Your poise? Jules had poise. You?
You're too perky for poise!" Supaige shuddered. "You kiss *Spaniards,* for
Nunkies' sake!"
"Hey!" Bonnie objected. "I didn't write that! I'm not taking
responsibility for any slacker snogging! Besides, Vachon was mortal. I was
barefoot. Obviously things got a little weird; people weren't
themselves...Besides, what are the odds of that ever happening again?
Impossible! Really, I'd have to be dead, or worse - kidnapped! - to ever go
sans my non-sensibles again. Huh! And nothing freaky-cosmic could conceivably
happen that would render Vachon less of a vamp a second time! So let's just
pretend no lip-smacking happened between me and the glorious - uh, I mean
*greasy* - Spaniard. Like, it's been almost two years! I've forgotten about
it completely! Yes! A mental eclipse! Nothing between my ears! Wait a
minute...err...oh, you know what I meant!"
Shele and Supaige both nodded their heads in understanding, making it
perfectly clear that each knew Bonnie was a self-delusional wacko. "Uh-huh."
Supaige added another accusatory brainstorm. "Did you spare a second
appreciating how much work the Addicts have put into preparing for this
induction??? Hmm?"
"I didn't ask for it! I don't wanna be High Priestess! It's an actual
*job*! Waahh!!"
"Enough of Bonnie's whining and protestations of lust," Shele announced.
"Listen to this 'Mad Libs Horoscope': 'Addicts snorkel as party confusion
transforms into unfair despicable tragedy torturing Bonnie.' Hear that,
Supaige? I get to snorkel again, this time without the body cast! That's good
candy!"
"Yo! What about the 'unfair despicable tragedy' torturing ME???" Bonnie
demanded. "Bad, BAD candy!"
"Don't worry, Fiber Girl," Shele said, patting Bons on the shoulder. "No
matter how you may be embarrassed or abused in the future, I'll always be
there to laugh at your misfortune and mock your pain. Consider it my gift to
you."
Bonnie stomped her heel. Stomp. She suspected no one listened, so she
stomped some more for emphasis. Stomp. Stomp. "Nothing doing! I don't care
how LaCroix tortures me. So what if the wardrobe's great? I'm not going to be
Nunkies' glorified secretary! If the job's so wonderful, why did Jules
leave?!? She's got a brain! She said, 'No! I quit!' Well, so do I!!!" After
shaking a triumphant fist in the air, Bonnie struggled out of the Coronation
Gown, tossing it high overhead before she stalked toward the Lab/Kitchen.
Supaige leapt to catch the honorary garment before it touched the floor,
taking care to not perforate her fingers on the pins booby-trapping the
fabric. "That was interesting."
"Yes," Shele agreed. "Now we know Bonnie wears 'Powerpuff Girls'
underwear. Personally, I could have done without that information."
"Precisely." Supaige considered the Coronation Gown thoughtfully. "So I
guess she's telling the other leaders she's not going to become High
Priestess about now."
"Yep."
"Think it'll matter?"
"Not a chance."
**************************************************************
Erik had received the invitation to Bonnie's coronation several days ago
and had eagerly RSVP'd. He'd packed his bag with some formal wear, his
signature mask, a few off-white togas with various sashes, and his assorted
weapons and tools, just in case. He still remembered the *last* few times he
was in Toronto, after all. He'd booked the first possible flight to Toronto
for himself and his dog, a 3-year-old mix named Dusk. Dusk was around 50
pounds, but only about 18 inches at the shoulder, solid black, with thick fur.
Now, comfortably settled in his usual haunt; the mostly disused
Ratpacker tunnels beneath the Nunkies Shrine, Erik stared down at the tarot
spread before him in disbelief. He had dealt a simple Celtic cross spread,
just to keep in practice. However, the cards showed a brewing storm, and
himself right in the middle.
The first card, the King of Cups, referred to the essence of the
problem. The card was usually interpreted as a calm man from a mystical
background. Being in Toronto, that card could only refer to LaCroix. That
card was crossed by the Queen of Cups, reversed, which meant a woman with a
lack of self-esteem was causing a conflict with the first card. The 2 of
Pentacles showed the cause of the conflict: fear of embarrassment. The
position denoting overriding factors, was taken by the Wheel of Fortune,
indicating destiny was in control.
The 4 of Swords sat in the "recent past" position, and indicated that a
time of rest was coming to an end. The near future was represented by the 5
of Wands, a card of conflict and competitiveness. This was exacerbated by
the card representing the attitudes of others, Temperance, reversed -- an
image of hostility and extremism.
The card representing Erik himself in this spread was the Ace of Swords.
The card usually referred to determination or strength of will, but also
could be interpreted as "engagement in battle." The final card, showing the
probable outcome, was the 6 of Wands; victory.
There was really only one thing that Erik could say.
"Aw, crap."
"Oh, Erikkkkkkkkkkk," Christy's melodious voice rang through the
Ratpacker tunnel, piped in from one of the many open closet doors which led
to the Nunkamale's den, and beyond. "We could use some help up here . . .
and bring your muscles, please."
**************************************************************
End of Part One
WAR: NA: Uncompromising Positions (3/3)
By Patt, Bons, Christy, Cousin Erik, Evil Cousin Tiff, KC, Beverley and Jules
The sound of a very large conveyance device interrupted Patt's thoughts.
She turned toward the door to see a large flat dolly, pulled and pushed by
three men, including the muscular deliveryman, Mike. On the bed of the dolly
was one very large wooden crate, marked with what appeared to be Syrian
symbols.
"Okay, lady, sign here please," the original delivery person said,
sticking a wide, electronic receipt device toward the Third Cousin.
"Okay," Patt said absently, her eyes focused on the large crate being
forced into her domain. The deliverymen puffed and grunted as they tried to
wedge it into the room. "Hey, easy with that. If it ends up broken, so will
I."
With one last move of male exertion, the deliverymen got the carton
inside. Then, signature in hand, they all departed...
...leaving the women with the load.
"I suddenly have a bad feeling about this," Patt mumbled. Caren, Anne
and Laura, all curious, began to circle the crate, looking for identifying
marks.
"It doesn't match any of my numbers," Caren finally announced, looking
from clipboard to shipping label, and back again. "I don't know where to send
it."
"I have a suggestion..." Patt began, but was silenced by six glowering
eyes. "Where's my fairy?"
"I get a Laurie MercBardic headache every time she calls for that
fairy," Caren confessed to Laura.
"The difference is, my fairy is good," Patt retorted. "And hard-working
and not prone to mischief. You're just jealous that LaCroix said I could have
one."
"You're just lucky that *your* fairy isn't interested in non-sensible
shoes, or you'd never have been able to employ him," Caren retorted. She
shook her head. "Whoever heard of a fairy that got high over eating crawdad
heads." The dark-haired addict shivered.
Patt grinned to see Boet fly back into the room then frowned as she
noticed that he hadn't returned with additional bodies, as ordered. Then, she
smiled again as Jayne and KC entered the room. Her smile broadened when she
saw that both the addicts were being prodded into activity by the pointed end
of Paul Thomas' broadsword.
"Where'd you find them, son?" Caren laughed.
"They were hiding in the closet," Paul said, re-sheathing his prized
Claymore. "I had to move them out so I could put that box inside."
"We weren't hiding . . . we were . . . practicing," Jayne protested.
"Practicing what - slacking?" Patt demanded.
"Dirty word!" KC flinched. "Actually, we were practicing our *night
vision expertise.*" The Kissing Cousin held up an odd pair of binocular-type
goggles. "Fresh from the new Snixco catalogue insert."
"Nice," Patt said dryly. "But your eyes can wait until later. Right now,
I need your backs. We have to push this thing into one of the other anterooms
until we can determine where it goes."
The women gathered around the large crate, looking at it skeptically.
"This looks like man's work," Jayne commented. "Where's Erik?"
"Christy commandeered him this morning for heavy lifting and hanging in
the decorating department," Patt replied. "With the coronation taking place
tomorrow, she has to work fast to complete things."
"Hey, wouldn't it be easier to just open this up and look inside?" KC
suggested. "It may be a big box with a lot of manageable boxes inside."
"That's an idea," Patt nodded. "Anyone got a crowbar?"
"How about the kid's big sword?" KC suggested. Paul fell back,
protectively grabbing the shaft of his Claymore.
"Not necessary," Laura said, fetching a real iron crowbar from a nearby
toolbox. "We came prepared. Old Nunkies Scout habit. After all, we've been
doing this for nearly a month."
"Wait a minute," Anne said, hastily rising and coming toward the crate.
"Something just caught my eye. I thought these markings were Syrian, at
first, but I think they're..." she paused, reading the stencils carefully.
"Well?" Caren, Laura, Paul, Patt, KC and Jayne chorused. Fairy Boetie
Gaan chirped.
Anne reached out and touched one of the black letterings, then jumped
back in shocked surprise. In fact, all of those present jumped back as the
four panels of the crate timbered, spilling a shower of bright pastel pink
and green foam peanuts on the floor.
Paul sighed. "I'll get the broom," the teen said, knowing that he'd be
selected for clean up duty.
"Wait, son," Caren said, catching his upper arm. "You gotta see this."
The pellets continued to fall until the addicts were ankle deep in them.
KC made a mental note to pilfer them from Paul to cut Snixco shipping
expenses.
When the final peanut fell, the addicts' mouths were gaping. Before them
was a extremely large, rectangular, almost box-shaped Sarcophagus. It was of
a sand-colored base material, and, except for some small inscriptions on the
sides, it was basically bare of decoration. The most noticeable feature was
the relief of the sun god, Re'-Atum, on the lid.
"That's gotta be cursed," Patt noted, matter-of-factly. "LaCroix
wouldn't have shipped it here unless it was cursed."
"Think it has a mummy inside?" KC said, ribbing Jayne sharply. "Let's
look!"
"No," Patt commanded. "Not until I get someone in here who can read the
writing on that thing." She looked pointedly at Anne.
"Not me," Anne confirmed with a nod. "I couldn't even make out *touch
here to release panels* until it was too late."
"It's just a coffin and we just want a peek," Jayne cajoled. "What can
that hurt?"
"It's probably just full of beetle doodoo," Paul pointed out. KC and
Jayne withdrew their hands, making loud, rude noises.
"I'm gonna go find Chris," Patt said. "If I remember right, she's our
resident expert in Egyptology. I'll let her have a look-see and get her
opinion." Patt withdrew the now squirming newt from her pocket and placed him
inside a nearby wire cage, labeled *Sparky.* "All this excitement and
yelling has got the little guy restless...best to put him in his cage for
awhile."
"PAATTTTTT!!" The Third Cousin flinched as the sound of her loudly
shouted name bounced off the marble panels of the rather small, but echoing
anteroom. She quickly ducked behind the ornate Egyptian casket holder and hid.
Christy flew into the Kitchen/Lab and started rifling through the goodies
LaCroix had shipped from his latest trip abroad. "Patt!! Quick! Where are
those Egyptian cotton terry robes?"
The Third Cousin's curly head appeared over the lid of the sarcophagus.
"Hey! Don't mess with that stuff! I haven't finished cataloging it all yet!"
She shot the redhead one of her Very Stern Looks to no avail. The mouse-eared
one continued her frenzied search.
As Christy was shouting frantic orders about the need for swimwear
cover-ups, Bonnie stomped into the room and faced the crowd of addicts. "I
don't wanna be
High Priestess," the petite Scribe announced. "And, I'm not gonna be High
Priestess and LaCroix can just go..."
Completely ignoring the new arrival, Christy continued her frantic
search, throwing bubble wrap and tissue paper around randomly.
"Hey, that's good popping stuff," Caren cried, grabbing some of the
clear plastic shipping matter. She proceeded to pop three of the bubbles in
fast succession, before Paul grabbed them away.
"Did you all hear me? The ceremony is OFF!" Bons began stamping a
non-sensible covered foot with determination. "There will be no coronation,
no ordination, no consolation because there'll be no Scribing Priestess
taking office. And, how come you're way down at this entrance, rather than
the kitchen/lab receiving area?"
"Chris is in there," Caren, Laura, Ann, KC and Jayne announced in unison.
"*That* part you listen to!" Bonnie groaned. "Everyone stop everything!
You have to listen to me! I'M NOT YOUR LEADER!!"
Christy ignored this announcement. "Just tell me where the robes are,
Patt." Spotting the elusive items near her mature mentor, she pointed
wildly. "There they are! Grab six and follow me!" The Nunketeer ran from the
room, followed by most of the Addicts, leaving Bonnie behind, alone with the
crates and sputtering with indignation.
Strictly to satisfy her own curiosity and definitely *not* because she'd
been *told* to do so, Patt plucked the requisite number of robes from the
kitchen counter and followed Christy toward the door. "Why, exactly, do you
need robes?"
"The Buff Slave Boys were wearing their white linen loincloths when they
fell into the canal."
"And...???"
"What usually happens to white linen when it gets wet, Patt?"
Eyes wide as she realized the nature of the emergency, Patt shoved past
Christy into the room beyond, hurrying to save the post's PG rating. She
opened the door and found herself...
...in Bedlam.
In the new canal, the beautifully carved, enameled and gilded Sacred
Barge of the High Priestess listed to one side, half-submerged. The Buff
Slave Boys in charge of poling the craft down the canal had abandoned ship
only to find themselves unable to leave the water due to the uncanny ability
of wet white linen to become both clinging and translucent.
Gathered around the canal were giggling, whooping Addicts of every shape,
size and species. Every now and then, a woman would approach as if to jump
into the water with the well-muscled, blushing Slave Boys. Erik, the
ever-diligent Nunkamale, would dash over and snatch said woman away from the
edge. Sure, the Buff Ones probably only had a dozen brain cells between them,
and that was being generous, but he was duty-bound to protect the dignity of
the male gender. As usual, the Addicts never made it an easy job. Glennis,
Dee and Beverley rushed toward the water as one. He shifted his weight,
crouching with feet spread shoulder width apart to prepare for the onslaught.
*He has about as much chance as a tackling dummy against those three,*
thought Christy. *Maybe KC would care to take bets on the outcome.*
Unfortunately, there would be no betting. Patt had seen enough.
"STOP THIS RIGHT NOW!!!" she thundered over the cacophony.
Addicts froze in mid-stride, and silence reigned supreme as all heads
whipped toward the mature one.
"Not bad. You been taking lessons from Jules since the last War?"
Christy mumbled in her direction.
"Haven't seen Jules since the last War - I guess I just rose to the
occasion. Actually, it's not much different from training dogs for agility
trials," Patt mumbled back. "You just don't have to *yell* at the dogs."
Stalking toward the canal, she tossed the robes to Erik. "Give these to
the guys, will ya? Glennis - aren't you supposed to be doing something
artsy? Laura - this is Toronto. It's on a lake. Surely there's someplace that
repairs boats. Find one in the phone book and call them. The rest of you -
get back to work!"
Addicts scattered like tree branches in a hurricane.
Aside from the nearly-sunken Sacred Barge, the decorating had progressed
rather nicely. Glennis studiously put the finishing touches on a canvas
backdrop which featured a painstaking recreation of the Valley of the Kings.
Beverley and Dee were busy draping a dais in white silk bunting and white
roses(Although to be honest, with respect to Beverley, having finally come
out of lurkdom to celebrate this auspicious occasion with her fellow Addicts
and thus, it being her first visit to the NA Headquarters, she was actually
spending most of her time lost in
wonderment at the size and splendor of the Shrine and particularly in Nunkies
reverie.). The dais itself rested on the paws of a gilded scale model of the
Sphinx, which stood at the foot of the canal. On the dais was a high-backed,
throne-like chair carved with a giant ibis. To either side of the chair were
columns bearing hieroglyphics. Jan reverently dusted the busts of Nunkies
wearing Egyptian collars that lined the walls. Yards of cream-colored tulle
with a golden celestial motif hung from the ceiling and pooled gently on the
floor against the walls. The huge fireplace dripped white roses, ivy and
baby's breath, and graceful candelabra stationed throughout the room held
aloft hundreds of candles that would bathe the room in their soft, golden
glow during the impending ceremony.
Erik grabbed a rope from the Sacred Barge and began dragging it back to
its dock. Soon, a rich baritone voice filled the air with the haunting
strains of 'Old Man River.'
*******************************************
End of Part Three
To Be Continued...
WAR: NA: Uncompromising Positions (2/3)
By Patt, Bons, Christy, Cousin Erik, Evil Cousin Tiff, KC and Jules
At the little-used side entrance of the Shrine proper, near the stable
area, Patt stood beside the open delivery door watching a very sweaty
delivery person push yet another dolly full of boxes into Nunkies Anonymous
headquarters.
"That's the third shipment this week," Patt noted with a grin. "LaCroix
and AnnieBug must have had a LOT of fun on this little spree."
"Good for them," the deliveryman puffed sarcastically, his face red from
exertion. He rumbled past the Third Cousin and dropped his load with a loud
metallic *clompf.*
"Careful!" Laura scolded. "You're delivering real treasures, not canned
goods."
"It's just weight to me, lady," the man replied. He turned to Patt and
gave the Mature Addict a scowl. "Inventory check out?"
"All but one item," Patt replied merrily, her grin widening. "And,
judging from this manifest, it's a big 'un."
"How sweet," the deliveryman snorted. "Must be on the truck that Mike's
driving over here. You gonna sign for this stuff?"
"Not until the additional merchandise arrives, sir," Patt responded.
"I'm LaCroix's appointed receiving agent, and I ain't gonna agent until
everything's received." She smiled as the muttering man ducked back out the
open doorway into the shaded alley, its air fragrant with the smell of new
hay and droppings.
"Mom," a husky young male voice noted, "don't you think Patt is
unusually cheerful, considering all this work?"
Caren looked at her teenage son and smiled. "Patt's usual nature is
happy, Paul, but you're right. That happiness is usually tied into being in
Louisiana, carefree and at least 2000 miles from anything related to Lucius
LaCroix." Caren glanced to where Patt examined a shipping label, noting how
the Third Cousin whistled. "This *is* odd behavior for her when in residence
at the Shrine."
Patt made notations on her clipboard as she walked from carton to carton.
"Last week, it was Byzantine mosaics from Turkey."
"Priceless mosaics!" Anne reminded the group. She sat on the floor,
carefully opening a small package with a utility blade. "Commissioned by
Theodosius, they depicted the constellations in cobalt, silver and gold. You
know, they were removed and hidden in case Attila breached the city walls
during the siege of the Huns..." Anne's voice tapered off as the young addict
became lost in her private thoughts and fantasies.
"Yesterday, the stuff came from Israel...a copy of Q," Patt continued,
never missing a beat.
Anne opened her mouth to elaborate, but Caren and Laura interceded with
the description they'd committed to memory the previous day. "The volume
used to verify ancient text from the 1st c. AD, known only to Ali Ahkmed
Salim, the evil curator of the museum of antiquities in Old Jerusalem."
"And," Patt grinned, "let us not forget the veils."
"Salome's 7 veils," Caren and Laura laughed, beginning to gyrate their
hips and twist their bodies playfully. Paul rolled his eyes and grabbed a
box, intent on carrying it into the Shrine.
"I've seen that dance before, haven't I?" Patt noted, tilting her head
at a memory she just couldn't quite place. She saw Paul moving away and
added, "Wait up, Paulo. This stuff has to stay put until the last carton
arrives and the invoice is signed. Then
it will be ours to disperse accordingly."
Paul sighed and put the box down. Watching his mother and her *older*
friends engaging in Nunkies-related antics sometimes became unnerving for the
teenager. Still, he was very proud that his mother still sported the body and
frame of mind that would have allowed her to wear those 7 veils gracefully.
Patt returned her attention to her chores. She removed her glasses and
peered closely at one of the shipping labels, "EGYPT." Patt's forehead
wrinkled. "Doesn't Annie know it's not safe to be in the Middle East right
now?"
"Well, up until a couple of days ago, LaCroix was with her," Laura noted.
She smiled with hidden meaning. "I'll bet you that the NunkMommy wasn't
worrying one bit about her personal safety while she was with Nunkies." Patt
giggled. Paul rolled his eyes again.
"Here, son," Caren said, handing Paul one of the boxes and a large ring
of keys. "This is ear-marked *special* for High Priestess' eyes only. Why not
put it into that little closet in the left anteroom?" She gave Patt a quick
look. "I'll remember it when we look over the final inventory list again."
Thankfully, the young addict-not took the carton from his mother and
strode from the room. As she watched him leave, a touch of pride glowed all
over Caren's face.
"I envy you, Cae," Laura sighed, also watching Paul's departure. "This
is the first year that John-Travis isn't with me in Toronto, and I miss him.
And, I could use his support..."
Caren went over and placed an arm around Laura's shoulder. "I know this
has been hard for you, Laura. Leaving the Dark Perks behind and rejoining us
in admiring the many manly traits of our Nunkies." Caren winked at Patt,
because both of them knew that the statement was for Laura's benefit. Caren
only had eyes for Mel Gibbers and Paul's dad; LaCroix adoring was just a fun,
leisure activity.
At that moment, a not-so sweaty male walked through the door. He was
compactly built and sported excellent muscle tone. Patt replaced her glasses
for a better view.
"Stop salivating," Caren admonished, thrusting a playful elbow into the
older woman's ribs. "You're acting worse than you do around Mounties."
Patt's shining eyes dimmed, taking on the luster of pain that comes with
the intake of sour food. "I swore off the RCMP after my interlude with the
Pectin chap, remember? Set my whole fantasy world back a lifetime in just
two quick weeks."
"I'm Mike," the new male introduced himself. He eyed the cartons
cramming the floor. "You're looking a little cramped in here. Where you want
the crate?"
"Crate," Patt said, her forehead wrinkling. "Just how big is it? The
gondola isn't due yet, and it's coming by private rig."
"Big enough," the man replied, handing the Third Cousin a yellow
statement, obviously noting special information about this new item. "Nine
feet by six feet by four feet, according to this."
"That *is* a nice size," Patt admitted, watching Mike's backside with
interest as he left the Shrine. "I think we may need some help moving this
stuff around to make room." Patt whistled sharply. A sudden blur of activity
materialized from around the corner; a fluttering shape suspended before the
Third Cousin's face. "We need additional bodies, Boet. Go fetch."
The tiny Fanfic Fairy chirped and zoomed away, eager to do his mistress'
bidding. Patt smiled with contentment.
"Liking your new job a lot, I see," Laura noted. "You've come a long way."
Patt continued to smile. Yes, she was happy. Very happy. Unlike Bons,
who harbored hidden Slacker tendencies and no desire for the position of
abuse...ahem, power that Nunkies had appointed her to, Patt was enjoying her
current duties.
FLASHBACK (You'd think we were a bunch of Knighties...)
"As you know, it has been almost two years since Jules abdicated her
duties,"
LaCroix was saying as he poured dark red, almost brown, liquid into two wine
glasses. He turned from the wet bar of his private suite and offered one of
the containers to an obviously very distressed Patt. "It appears I am now
forced to take certain steps to retain my NA allegiance in its correct form.
After all, I spent considerable funds renovating the Shrine, and I have no
intention of allowing the building to fall into ruin due to disuse, or
disorganized pandemonium."
Patt nodded. She accepted the goblet and stared at the thick liquid
inside.
"Prune juice," LaCroix informed her. "I acquired a taste for the
refreshment when I had occasion to be in the presence of a Klingon Mercenary
at one of your NA picnics. It is only an occasional folly, but a strong one."
He quaffed the drink and looked sternly at the Mature Addict. "Drink up,
woman. I need you healthy."
Patt swallowed the juice in one gulp and continued to stare at LaCroix.
"I have decided that, due to her recently acquired chronological
maturity, Bonnie shall be installed as the new High Priestess," he said. Patt
exhaled heavily in relief, but caught her breath again when she realized the
elder vampire glowered at her reaction. "Normally," LaCroix continued, "I
would leave Ann Raper in charge of seeing to Bonnie's coronation, but I have
decided that Ann deserves a vacation. I have business on the Continent, and
plan to take her with me on extended holiday."
"She'll like that," Patt said, nodding in agreement.
"I need someone to make sure that the Scribe's induction takes place
smoothly."
Patt stopped nodding.
"You'll be able to select a staff, of course," LaCroix continued. "You
may give yourself an official faction title and occupy one of the official
leader suites. I believe the Scout Mistress' rooms are available."
"It still means I have to do grunt work," Patt minced. "I'm tired of
grunt work."
"Then, don't do it," LaCroix responded, his tone tart. "Give yourself a
personal Fanfic Fairy for the incidental tasks. I want you there to guide,
instruct and carry out my orders..."
"...So you'll have a target to trounce if those orders aren't followed,
complied with and completed," Patt finished.
"Exactly," LaCroix smiled.
END OF FLASHBACK
As it turned out, the assignment hadn't been that bad. In fact, some
elements had been downright fun for the mature one. She'd been dubbed with
her new official NA moniker when she'd notified Christy that the Nunketeer
was now her second-in command regarding Shrine day-to-day activities.
"Why me?" Christy had whined.
"You were close, you write, and you're reachable on AIM."
"Wahhhhh," Christy had replied.
"You get to spend LaCroix's money and decorate," Patt informed the
Floridian.
Christy's outward signs of anxiety turned to a few sniffs.
"Considering she's not thrilled about her new job, Bons is sure to throw
a few shoes at you in frustration."
Christy's face had positively radiated happiness. "And, you're going to
be the new
NunkMommy, right?"
"Heck no," Patt had growled. "Annie's just going on sabbatical, not
leaving for good. Besides, I'm not the nurturing type. I'm more into herding
the addicts, if anything.
"Oh, more like a NunkWrangler," Christy suggested.
"Yeah...I like that," Patt said. "NunkWrangler."
Still smiling at the memories, Patt touched her pocket and stroked the
small form within. A tiny lizard, his neck bound with gold cord pinned to the
inside of the pocket, popped his head out and glared at the Third Cousin.
Yep, life could be good.
**********************************************************
End of Part Two
> Ravenettes Faction, First Post, FK War 11
>
> Thursday, July 5, 2001
>
> by Kimmer, Jason, Alex, Mindi, Teresa, Leeann, Claudia, Molly & Kaiya
>
> July 4, 2001
>
> Kimmer opened her front door to see a blinking light on
> her answering machine. Setting the groceries down on the
> couch, she quickly tapped the button to retrieve the message.
>
> "So, you are out. I wanted to speak with you, but i guess this
> silly machine will have to do. You need to come back to Toronto,
> Kimmer, you and the rest of my Ravenettes. We will have a lovely
> party and catch up. Bring some amusing, unique item with you".
>
> Kimmer was grinning from ear-to-ear as she put the groceries she
> wouldn't be needing away. It was so good to hear Janette's voice
> again. It had been way too long. Kimmer finished her chore, opened
> a bottle of wine to celebrate, and pouring herself a large glass,
> picked up the phone to start making a few calls.
>
> The doorbell rang before she could make the first call. Setting
> her wine glass and phone down, Kimmer hurried to the door. She
> opened it to find a courier with a package for her to sign. It
> was from Toronto.
>
> Inside were tickets to fly from Seattle to Toronto. Janette wanted
> Kimmer to go to Washington state, join Lorna there, and then they
> were to fly to Toronto with Ravenettes Chanda and Time. Janette was
> taking care of getting Chanda and Time to Seattle--all Kimmer had to
> do was make sure they all arrived together.
>
> Kimmer settled back in to call Lorna. "Great, I'm herding cats before
> I even get to Toronto," she muttered to herself, as she heard her
> friend's voice answering the telephone.
>
> Lorna was happy to hear they were headed to Toronto again, although
> she had some bad news for Kimmer. She had broken her hip, and would
> be needing equipment and physical therapy during the war. Kimmer
> did not know if Janette knew this or not, but suddenly she was very
> grateful that Chanda and Time were joining her in Seattle. Their
> friend needed help and support.
>
> July 5, 2001
>
> Kimmer, Lorna, Chanda and Time were settled into the limo quite
> comfortably, with Miklos driving straight for the Raven. Kimmer
> stole a quick glance at Lorna, seeing that the trip was indeed taking
> a toll. She smiled appreciatively at Chanda and Time, grateful
> for their assistance in getting Lorna to Toronto safely.
>
> Miklos pulled the limo around the back, and got out quickly to
> help with Lorna. Soon, the Ravenettes were at the bar, having
> a drink and visiting with Miklos and Alma. Lorna had a couple
> of pain pills and a glass of wine and was feeling much better.
> With the long trip behind them, the Ravenettes relaxed and partied.
>
> Miklos and Alma got very quiet, and Kimmer followed their gaze.
> Janette was entering the room, dressed exquistely in a black
> sleeveless gown. Ruby drop earrings and matching necklace gleamed
> in the pale light of the Raven. Her smile was dazzling.
>
> All the Ravenettes waited in respectful silence as their Hostess
> greeted each one of them. Miklos quickly got Janette a glass of
> the House Special, which she took from him as she joined him behind
> the bar. Drinking deeply, she smiled coyly at Alma, who raised
> her own glass. The partying began.......
>
> * * * * * * * * * * * * *
>
> "Immigration Police. How may I help you?"
>
> "Well, you can start by packing your bags and getting on a plane to
> Toronto. Pronto."
>
> <><><><><><>
>
> Claudia had received the call two days ago and now she was impatiently
> waiting for her luggage by the carousel at the Toronto International
> Airport.
>
> She watched as one by one her fellow passengers picked up their
> luggage and wondered what was keeping her bags. If the airline had
> misplaced her stuff, she'd make a royal scene. She needed everything
> she'd brought with her; no self-respecting Ravenette could allow
> herself to be seen wearing the same jeans and t-shirt for the whole
> duration of the upcoming war. It was simply out of the question.
> Unthinkable. A major no-no. A catastrophe the size of a --
>
> Just as Claudia had rallied herself close to a hurricane state, her
> luggage arrived. Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, she quickly
> picked up her suitcases and headed for the doors.
>
> Now, if she could just find a cab, she would *finally* be on her way
> to the Raven.
>
> * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
>
> "Dang! This feels empty," the skycap exclaimed, staggering from
> over-compensating for weight that wasn't in the large bag he lifted,
> the third suitcase out of the trunk.
>
> "Oh, it is," Teresa responded. "Got shopping plans in Toronto.
> What's a vacation without new clothes? Besides, I might want to
> bring home a Mountie. Ya never know!".
>
> Getting no response from the skycap, Teresa paid off the taxi and
> checked in through Premier Class. Settling in her comfy first class
> seat for the flight to Toronto, she thought to herself, "Gotta
> thank Janette for the tickets, for promising to send Miklos to pick
> me up and for just generally injecting some style into my life. It's
> good to be a Ravenette".
>
> * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
>
> Stepping out of the taxi with a look of relief on his face at the
> sight of the Raven entrance, Alex stretched and allowed himself
> to finally relax. He paid the driver and took the bags handed to
> him. Alex was so very glad that the long trip was over.
>
> Walking into the dark night club, he smiled when he saw some of
> the Ravenettes had already arrived. Miklos greeted Alex warmly
> and placed a glass of single malt Scotch on the bar in front of
> where Alex was sitting. Alma blew him a kiss in passing as she
> slinked off into the back room. After that long trip from Aus-
> tralia, it was the warm welcome that Alex needed. He finished his
> drink and Miklos poured another one immediately. Alex raised his
> glass in a salute, Miklos raised his back, and the other Ravenettes
> took turns to come over and greet Alex properly. He was home and
> ready for anything.
>
> * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
>
> Stepping into the dark coolness of the air-conditioned Raven, LeeAnn
> closed her eyes in bliss. Toronto definitely had its' share of
> killer smog and hot days, quite unlike the foggy coastal town of
> Santa Cruz that she had left just this morning. Letting her bags
> drop from both shoulders with a shrug, she opened her eyes and
> caught sight of the rest of the Ravenettes at the bar. Grinning,
> LeeAnn headed over to join the group she hadn't seen for much too
> long.
>
> <><><><><><><><><>
>
> fini chapter 1
> Ravenettes Faction, Second Post, FK War 11
>
> Thursday, July 5, 2001
>
> by Kimmer, Jason, Alex, Mindi, Teresa, LeeAnn, Claudia, Molly & Kaiya
>
> July 5, 2001
>
> Kaiya sighed and glanced irritably at her slim silver wristwatch.
> Although she loved flying, and flying first class - courtesy of
> Janette, (which was definately the best way to fly), nothing could
> keep the long flight from England to Toronto from being anything
> but boring. She was relieved to hear the pilot begin his landing
> spiel and she was one of the first off of the plane.
>
> Stretching lightly, she soon found her assigned chauffeur, directing
> him to collect her luggage as she slipped away to freshen up. Kaiya
> regarded her reflection in the mirror, thinking that Janette would be
> pleased with what she saw.
>
> A short black skirt hugged the tops of her legs, knee-high boots
> hugging her calves. She straightened her black halter top and twitched
> her black leather jacket into place. Her blonde hair was half-twisted
> up into a complicated-looking -- but simple to do -- concoction, wild
> ringlets cascading down around her face, the rest falling down her back.
> Kaiya rejoined her chauffeur, who quickly opened the back door to the
> limo. Settling back in her seat for the short journey to the Raven,
> she couldn't help but wonder why Janette was summoning her faction now.
> "Something important must be up," she thought to herself.
>
> The door was opened for her and she flashed the driver a quick smile,
> grabbing her bags and hurrying into the Raven. Her smile broadened
> as she joined the group of people she'd been looking forward to meeting,
> and of course, her Mistress. Janette came around the bar, surveying
> the newest arrival, up-and-down quickly. Her approval shone in her eyes.
> "Very nice, ma chere," she purred.
>
> Kaiya smiled gratefully at Janette. Oh yes, this would be fun!
>
> * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
>
> Jason shifted uncomfortably in his seat, just waking up from a short
> and fitfull sleep. "I hate sleeping in planes", he mumbled to himself.
>
> He'd been terribly excited, only a few days before, at the opportunity
> to come to Toronto. Then the reality of the long flight from Melbourne,
> almost 24 hours, had dawned on him. To make matters worse, the plane
> had not served any Australian beer. "And I don't suppose there'll be
> any to be found, anywhere at all in Canada", he thought gloomily.
>
> After what seemed an eternity, the plane finally landed in Toronto.
> Jason stood to get off the plane, his neck was sore from the un-
> comfortable position he'd been sleeping in. He was so tired and
> jet-lagged.
>
> After picking up his baggage, he hailed a cab and headed to the Raven.
> When he got there, he found Janette in the process of welcoming her
> guests. She smiled and said, "Welcome, Jason. I've had a selection
> of Australian beers specially imported for your stay with us".
>
> Jason smiled appreciatively and thought to himself, "This might not
> be so bad". He sat down at the bar, and Miklos came over with a
> coaster in hand. "I don't suppose you have any Toohey's Blue, do
> you?" he asked, daring to hope for his favorite. Miklos nodded and
> said, "Yes, we certainly do!". Jason watched with a satisfied look
> as the long stream of amber liquid flowed into the glass. Taking
> the offered glass, he took a sip, refreshing and cold, just right.
> "This is going to be good," he thought to himself, as he turned to
> meet the Ravenettes gathered around the newest arrival.
>
> <><><><><><><><><><><><>
>
> fini chapter 2
Knighties: A CALL TO ARMS, 2001 [1/2]
By: the Knighties
Place: Hither and Yon: the Knighties' homes
Time: July 5, 2001 after initial war post drops
Nancy set the receiver back in the cradle and stared for several
minutes at the phone. She hadn't planned to do this. She hadn't
meant to get sucked into another FK war. But Nick needed her. If
Nick needed her, she'd go. What a wimp. I can't resist those
beautiful blue eyes, she thought.
As if on cue, her latest set of blue eyes appeared in the
doorway. "You're leaving? Jim said he heard you talking to
someone about going to Toronto?" Full lips turned down in a fair
imitation of a pout.
"I have to," Nancy said. "There's a war brewing in Toronto, and I
have to go help lead the Knighties and take care of Nick."
"But who's going to take care of us?" the young man asked.
"Well, you have Jim, and Jim has you," Nancy answered reasonably.
She ruffled the long mahogany curls and kissed the young man on
the cheek. "I'll miss you, but I can keep in contact with you and
the family through email. I'll only be gone two weeks."
"You won't forget us?"
"Never." Her heart skipped a beat. Being torn between new loves
and old was not an easy thing.
"Here," the young man said, handing her a CD-R disk. "So you can
keep us with you always."
"What's this?" Nancy asked, taking the gift with a puzzled look.
"Fanfic." Blue eyes sparkled with mischief.
"Okay . . . okay, already!" Nancy laughed. "I gotta go, and
crossovers aren't allowed in the FK wars, so get out of here
and let me pack."
The figure paused momentarily in the doorway, looking back at the
harried older woman.
"Shoo! And try not to get kidnapped, shot or molested while I'm
gone, okay?" Nancy turned to fetch her suitcase. "You could go
visit Eowyn, in Texas . . . and take Jim with you, his brooding
is starting to get on my nerves."
"Love you."
"Love you, too, Blair." She watched the young man leave. It was
going to be a long two weeks--or not. FK wars tended to get
interesting in a hurry, especially when you volunteered to be a
co-leader.
When I get home, I'd better check myself in to the local
nuthouse. With that thought, Nancy turned her attention to the
task at hand. Nick, here I come . . . she smiled.
-----------
Nancy A. Taylor <nat1228@...>
War 11 -- Knightie Faction Co-Leader
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~
"What's wrong? Why are you here?" Eowyn asked with uncertainty
and a worried look on her face. "Is Nancy okay?"
"She's fine. She's off to Toronto to help Nick." The deep blue
eyes clouded just the tiniest bit. "She sent us down here so we
wouldn't be lonely."
"She went WHERE to do WHAT?" Eowyn's voice went up several
notches. "Darn that woman! She told me she couldn't go to
Toronto this time!"
Eowyn tore around the bedroom, yanking open the closet and
throwing out some T-shirts, pulling drawers open and pitching the
rest of her needed clothing into an open suitcase.
Socks and assorted underwear flew around the room in what looked
like a dance between Eowyn and her lingerie. One lacy garment
ended up decorating the mahogany curls of the man standing, with
a bemused expression, in her doorway.
"Uh, you might need this." He innocently handed it to her as she
danced up to him, pecked him on the cheek and said, "Thanks." It
would be hours later before she would realize exactly what the
man had taken off his head.
"I have to go to Toronto! We're a team! Hey, could you and Jim
stick around and watch after my furry family? Thanks! Gotta go!"
Planting on quick kiss on sensuous lips caused her to pause for
half a second, during which she almost melted into a puddle while
gazing at the brilliant smile that lit that handsome face. She
recovered quickly because she knew what she had to do. Throwing
her suitcase in the back, Eowyn gunned her truck out of the
driveway. Waving furiously at two very dear and startled faces,
she turned her vehicle north and sped down the highway.
-----------
Terri
eowyn3@..., eowyn@...
GWDFC, G-IV Attendee, Knighties Listowner, TKD,
FK X-Stitcher, Proud Survivor of Fk-fic Wars 8-10, I don't know
about War 11.
She can be taught! But only in little bytes!
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~
Mindy dragged herself in the door after a day of shopping with
her mother and aunt. She made a mental note not to do that again
soon, before seeing the light flashing on her answering machine.
"Hmm I wonder..." Her thought was cut off as she heard Knightie
co-leader Nancy's voice.
"There's a war brewing, come ASAP. Nick needs us!"
Staring at the phone a moment, Mindy smiled slightly. "I'm coming
Nick!" Then, grin growing bigger she added mentally, 'I'll even
*try* not to get arrested this time.'
After a brief closet avalanche mishap, she gathered what she
thought she would need for a couple weeks at the loft a carefully
packed a suitcase, crammed a few things in a carry on and left a
message for her family not to worry, she was off to the airport
and Toronto bound.
-----------
Mindy
knightfawkes@...
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~
Ah, summertime! Brooksie laid back on the lounge chair in the
screened porch of the cottage in the Thousand Islands. Her
Golder Retriever, Ginger, stretched out on the cool slate floor,
snored slightly. "I love this time of year," she said to her
sister who was also enjoying the soft summer breezes, "It's so
restful."
'You've got mail' said her computer. Brooksie turned to the
laptop and read the newest electronic transmission.
'NICK NEEDS YOU!' the message screamed. "Ack!" she shrieked in
response, "Where- who- what? Another WAR? NOW? Oh, my."
Quickly, Brooksie disconnected her laptop and dialed Nancy's
number. There was no answer. Then she dialed Eowyn's number. A
male voice answered. "Eowyn and Nancy are in Toronto on
business." Brooksie could not get anything more specific out of
the voice - he didn't know who she was. Brooksie tried Chris'
number.
"Hello?" Chris answered.
"Chris? Hi, this is Brooksie..."
"Who?"
"Brooksie...Julia B, with the Knighties - I'm the *other* Julia.
LCA. Remember?"
"Oh, yes, Brooksie. Hello. Are you calling about the war?"
"Ah, so there is a war. I got the 'call-to-arms' email and
called Nancy and Eowyn, but they were not at home. I'm a
leader-in-training this year and I'm not sure what I need to do.
Help?"
"Well," said Chris patiently, "The first thing you need to do is
go to Toronto. To Nick's loft. Do you know where that is?"
"Toronto?" asked the newbie leader-trainee.
Chris sighed. "No, Nick's loft!"
"Oh. I think so."
"OK then," Chris said. "Get there as soon as you can. Everything
will be explained when you get there. Understood?"
"Yes ma'am."
When Chris hung up, Brooksie turned to her sister. "Um, Barb. I
have to go to Toronto for two weeks, on, um, Knight business."
Barbara rolled her eyes.
She just did not understand her sister's fascination for the
Knight.
"What are you going to do with Ginger?" she asked.
"I'm going to take her with me. She'll love all the attention,"
Brooksie said as she ran upstairs to pack. "Besides, Ginger's a
dead ringer for Perry!"
A short hour later Brooksie was ready. "Wanna go for a ride in
the car, Ginger?" Ginger bounced up and down. "OK, then. Let's
go to Toronto!"
And that's how Brooksie and Ginger came to be in her Explorer and
headed towards the bridge to Canada and Toronto.
-----------
Julia B. (aka Brooksie) and Allie's Brook
forever Knightie crusader, Les Chevaliers de la Nuit
*************************************************
"And a screaming fine ride [he] is, too."
*************************************************
with Ginger (Woofpack) and Dusty (FoSiL)
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~
Nancy A. Taylor <nat1228@...>
War 11 -- Knightie Faction Co-Leader
Knightie Diplomat
Knighties: A CALL TO ARMS, 2001 [2/2]
By: the Knighties
Place: Hither and Yon: the Knighties' homes
Time: July 5, 2001 after initial war post drops
War, the call from Eowyn had shocked Katrinka. It had been so
long since there had been a war, she was sure that the threat of
war was long gone.
How wrong she had been.
Katrinka had spent most of the afternoon packing and making
flight arrangements. She thanked the stars for her rich uncle. He
had given her round trip tickets to anywhere in North America, to
be used any time.
When Katrinka told her husband the news. He panicked. "Who would
take care of Lex? I can't work and take care of our son!"
"I've called my nephew Bray. He's been chomping at the bits to
earn the money for a car." Katrinka said with a smile. "He
arrives this afternoon. You know he's the best babysitter we've
got."
"But a seventeen year old boy?" Jeff said warily. "He'll be up
all night talking to his girlfriends on the phone."
"Don't tell me you never called girls when you were seventeen."
"He's got long hair…" Jeff said trying to fish for any excuse to
make his wife stay. "And a tattoo."
"He'll be fine Lex adores him."
"Are you sure you have to go?"
"I must. Nick needs every Knightie had can get." Katrinka grabbed
her bags. "Got to get going, my flight leaves in two hours."
-----------
Katrinka@...
NICK NEEDS YOU!
21C of the Knighties in charge of Mayhem :)
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~
Perchance to Dream
by Knightie Gemsong
time: as the call to war is heard
Knightie Mindy used with permission
Knightie Gemsong was enjoying the summer. She sat now, watching
Ladyhawke and daydreaming about her 30th birthday, when she and
Nick watched this special DVD along with the other Knighties. A
twinge of guilt gave her pause, as she remembered how melancholy
Nick had been that night. Surely he was thinking of his own
circumstance and how that kept him from his love. Gemsong
wondered how the knighites were doing and decided to call a few
of them up, as soon as Ladyhawke was over. The ringing phone
jolted her back to reality. "Hello," Gem said as she picked up
the receiver. She was surprised to hear Mindy's voice on the
other end and was about to tell her friend what a wonderful
coincidence it was that she called, but Mindy was talking so fast
Gem had a hard time keeping up. "Slow down, I can't understand
what you are saying" Gem said. Mindy took a breath and tried
again, "Sorry Gem, but what I was trying to tell you is that
there is another war going on and we need to get to Toronto,
ASAP." "Pack your stuff, get to the airport and I will see you at
the loft. I think Nick took care of the plane tickets. Can't wait
to see you again, you still a redhead?" Mindy added as an
afterthought. "Of course I am," Gem replied. "Proud member of
Club Red, two years running. I'm dying to see you too. I have
missed you guys so much. See ya soon, gotta go pack." Gem
hung up the phone and turned to her family. "Gotta go guys, Nick
needs me." After packing at a pace that made her head spin, Gem
headed to the airport for the long flight to Toronto.
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~
As the answering machine finished playing it's message, Beth
turned to her husband. "I can't believe it's happening again,"
she sighed.
"What's that?" came the response.
"I've got to go to Toronto. Now. That was Chris. There's
another war brewing, and the Knighties need me."
"You mean you're going to leave me here alone with the kids?
Again? Do you have to?" <Whine, whine>
"I think you and the kids will survive without me. You've done
it before and you can do it again. Besides, they're getting
older, *they* can probably take care of *you*. Don't worry, I'll
take the computer, I've got work I can do, but I can't help the
Knighties from here. I need to call Sue, book a flight...."
He wasn't sure what else she was saying after that, as the sounds
were muffled from the closet where she was tossing out clothes to
be packed.
-----------
Beth
bkbva@...
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~
Ring, ring…..ring, ring, Tracey's eyes flew open, 5 am, read the
bedside clock. Who was cruel enough to call at this time of the
morning she wondered. As a rule, when it was –8 degrees outside,
and she was living in a house with no central heating, she
refused to get out of bed before 9am, especially when she was on
holiday. But whoever was calling was certainly persistent.
"Hello" she heard Matt answer the phone sounding particularly
perky. Silently she sent up a prayer thanking anyone who might
be listening for giving her flatmates who were morning people.
She snuggled back down into her warm bed, already drifting off to
sleep when Matt pounded on the door to tell her the phone was for
her. `%*(^$)#' she swore as she stumbled into the hallway,
dragging her blankets with her. "I hate mornings, I hate winter,
and chances are that it's my mother on the phone asking me if I'm
eating my veges." She muttered.
`Someone had better be dead' Tracey growled into the phone.
`Gee, you're cheerful today' said a female voice. `It's 5am,
it's snowing outside, and I haven't had any coffee yet' replied
Tracey, trying to place the familiar voice. Then came the words
that made her heart jump. "Nick needs us." Said her mystery
caller. "Huh, Nick needs us for what?" Tracey asked, finally
beginning to wake up.
"There's a war brewing in Toronto, all the knighties need to get
here ASAP, including you." She was told. "But that is 23 hours
of flying, New Zealand is not that close to Canada, I'm not good
with flying". Said Tracey, with a hint of a tremor in her voice.
"But Nick wouldn't have asked if it wasn't important" replied her
caller. "Hold on a minute" Tracey said with excitement in her
voice. "It's summer in Toronto at the moment isn't it?" "yes,
why?" asked her caller, sounding slightly confused. "Fantastic"
Tracey said with a huge grin on her face, "I'll be there as soon
as possible, I'm still on holiday, and missing a couple of weeks
of lectures shouldn't put me too far behind, I'll see you in a
couple of days, bye".
Tracey hung up before she realized she still had no idea who she
had been talking to. Shrugging her shoulders she decided it
didn't matter, she would find out eventually. After dumping her
blankets back on the bed, she started to ransack her closet,
looking for summer clothes.
-----------
Tracey
trayner@...
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~
Departure
by Sandra Gray
Place: Weyers Cave, VA airport
Time: Thursday, July 5, 2001
Sandra settled into her aisle plane seat. But while the plane
was still on the ground, she looked out the window, trying to get
a glimpse of her husband and daughter. She couldn't see them.
Neither of them had been thrilled that she was going to Toronto.
*Nick needs my help,* she told herself.
At least her daughter was old enough to stay home alone while her
father worked. Which still didn't mean she wouldn't worry about
them. She sighed. Maybe she wouldn't be needed for long. Maybe
she'd even be able to get back for the Shore Leave convention
next weekend.
The plane started to move. She took a paperback from her purse
and opened it, wishing she wasn't afraid of heights.
--Sandra Gray, forever Knightie
--sandragray@...
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~
Nancy A. Taylor <nat1228@...>
War 11 -- Knightie Faction Co-Leader
Knightie Diplomat
CHEESEY RATS-TIONALIZATIONS
by Johnsie Ewan, Libs Singleton, Lisa McDavid
"Whadda ya mean yar throwin' me h'out?" Libby protested as the two 'obviously
out of work actors' dragged her out the door. She tried to catch one hand on
each side of the doorframe, but they'd gotten wise to that trick the first
twenty-three times they'd thrown her out of The Theatre Bookstore.
"Listen, we think you are absolutely adorable," Actor No. 1 said.
"We do," Actor No. 2 assured her. "But you maxed out your credit cards last
week and we just can't keep locking you in every night."
Libby didn't bother to tell them it wasn't like she was really locked in. After
all, The Theatre Bookstore had five separate Ratpack Tunnel <tm> entrances.
What she did do was start wailing at the top of her lungs. "H'all Oi'm doin'
h'iz readin' the scripts. And me musical type o' teacher wants me ta pick h'up
some show tunes fer me wot to Audrey-Murphy wit'. Oi' 'ave a 2-n'-a half octive
range! Jest found tha’ h’out!"
The two actors oohed and ahhed for a moment.
"You can read the scripts some more tomorrow," Actor No. 1 said. "Then I can
help you pick out some music."
"We promise," Actor No. 2 assured her. "Even if you did max out your credit
cards last week. Maybe you can call and they'll give you an increase."
That calmed Libby down a little. "'Kay."
As soon as they went back into the building, she dove behind the shrubbery
outside the old building and entered the tunnel. All the lil' ratsies scurried
about her in welcome, and followed her back to Screed's place. When Johnsie had
heard she was in Toronto,
he decided a lil' Ratpackery vacation was in order. He was expected within the
year (Ratpackers never are very punctual except when you don't want them to be).
To her surprise, though, before she reached Screed's abode, an unconscious
McLisa dropped through a manhole cover and nearly creamed her. Or maybe she
wasn't unconscious until Libs hit her with a rat in self-defense thinking it was
yet another crazed
Toronto-ian wanting her "Pursemonger" t-shirt.
"Oooooo," McLisa moaned. "Libs! What are you doing here?"
"The question h'is wot h'are YA doin' 'ere? Ya h'ain't a narcy-leptic Argentian
singer/tango dancer wot h'iz gonna be followed 'ere by a drawf wantin' me wot ta
pitch a Spectacular Spectacular h'at the Mew-lin Rouge?"
McLisa looked puzzled. "No. I just feel funny. I've had the strangest craving
for cheese... And to visit all night swap meets."
"Now THA'S h'on the weird side, ta be sure o' things."
* * * *
"Oi 'ave harrived!!" Johnsie cried as he strolled through the door. Libster's
jawsie dropped roight ta the floor!
"Jo-Johnsie?!? Wot... 'appened to ya?" She asked in dismay as she stared at his
clean shaven face, short hair and.... and... *khaki slacks*!
"Ho, yew noted moi gnu happearance!" He responded with a smile, "The honline
company Oi worked for 'ad hits stock get ta heleven cents and Oi got laid hoff.
Figgered Oi best shave and git a 'aircut ta himprove me chances hat jobseekin'.
The barberdroog
said me 'air wuz the longerst 'ed cut in thrity-six years of barberin'biz!"
Johnsie put some parcels down upon the table, "Oi'm workin' hat a deli in a
soopermarket now, and the buttondown white shirt and slacks iz me huneeform!
Kinda spiff, hunh?"
Libster gagged and hugged the Ratsie Wot Kilt Screed tightly ta 'er bosom (kin
we mention bosoms in a War, she pondered) and shrugged, "Wothever, ye jest look
sew .... 'mundane'." She shuddered then looked at the stuff on the table,
glistening plastic wrap catching her eye. "Wots in the packages? Thissuns
mine."
Johnsie smiled, as he struggled to get the largest plastic wrapped thingee outta
the Libster patented Grasp O' Greedeeness. "This stuff wuz 'bout ta go off date
so I sliced it hupand brung hit along! We gots Hamerican, yella hand white, sum
chedder, 'avarti, proveelonee, muen..."
McLisa shook her head as the 'Packspeech translated itself in her brain,
"Did...did you say you have...Havarti?" she asked, leaving forward. Her
thoughts that were not on the cheese pondered why
things she liked translated easier than ordinary stuff.
"Eh?" Johsnie queried, "Yupper, Oi did hindeedlydew say that! But,
hunfortunately, these pro-vizzee-ons his fer RatPackers honly!"
McL's eyes went wide and then fell back to the sorta carefully wrapped package
and she sighed. She saw that Libster and Johnsie would be ripping through the
plastic wrapping any second so she stood, took a deep breath and said quietly,
"M-my name is McLisa and I am... I am a RatPacker."
Libster and Johnsie actually paused in their grabbing and pulling of stuff.
They looked at each other, the normally befuddled expressions deepened by sheer
shock.
"Da Keep o' the Roolz?"
"Da Mutha o' Hall 'Paperthwapperz?"
In unision their voices rose, "Ha RatPACKER?!?" and they fell to the floor in
laughter!
McLisa was a bit ticked, her mouth screwed to the side, but she sighed and
reached for the cheese. Suddenly, four hands came from under the table and it
was REALLY quiet.
"Dun't touch R cheese."
"Show hus the funny."
McLisa was puzzled yet again, "The... what?"
RatPacker Leadership heads peered just above the table top, the eyes having a
very feral look in them.
"The funny, show us the funny. We talks funny, we hacts silly..." Libster
began, Johnsie interjected, "...with no other recourses but R own resources with
firm application hand DE-termination we
makes fools o' R-selves!"
Libster looked at Johnsie, puzzled; Johnsie responded, "Guess tha movie that
line wuz frum an' Oi give 'ooever a "Hit's Hall Johnsie's Fault" card!"
"Cor," Libster began pondering as greed lit her eyes, McLisa shook her head and
said LOUDLY, "I AM a..." and she noted the pair yawning, McL cleared her throat,
spit, and said, "Oi ham...."
her eyes closed to keep the tears back, "...uh RatPacker."
It was as if a weight had lifted from her shoulders, as the cheers of ratsie
voices echoed through out the room. McL blinked, in violation of the Vachon
characterization quirk, and she realized that she didn't *care* that she had
just broken that rule! She
thought over more of the rules that had been her bastion, her demese, and found
that while they were just as lovable and reassuring as they had always been it
was not the solidity of them, but their very... cheesiness, especially the
similarity to a fine
imported Swiss. <<This might... moight b fun hafter hall.>> she thought, as
she tore open the plastic and sunk her teeth into the 'avarti!
"Coo!" Libs managed to cry out despite being out of breath from laughing. "Oi
gotta call the Bonnie P. h'on this h'un."
"From NA?" McLisa asked.
"Nah, the UDDER Bonnie! She's stayin' wit' a friend. She
h'ain't gonna believe this 'un."
"What is the racket out here?"
"Huh?" Johnsie and Libs said simultaneously. McLisa just gasped.
Screed stepped out from behind a curtain. Except for an
expensive looking towel around his waist, he was naked. In one hand was a scrub
brush. In the other a bar of soap.
"ARGH!" Libs and Johnsie wailed simultaneously.
"Screed actually pretty clean except when hunting," McLisa said, puzzled at
their reaction. "Even in the series...."
"Ya donut h'unnerstand," Johnsie said.
"'E's hack-tually usin' SOAP!" Libs yelled, fainting into Johnsie arms. (Or she
would have, if Johnsie hadn't been distracted by the shock of it all and missed
catching her).
Continued in SCRAMBLED SCREED WITH MCLISA
SCRAMBLED SCREED WITH MCLISA
by Lisa McDavid, Libby Singleton, Johnsie Ewan
Johnsie fanned Libs frantically with McLisa's hand. Screed stepped out of where
he'd been changing clothes. "Coo," Johnsie said. "Oi thought me new
duds were spiff. Yar dressed loik a carouche version of tha' LaCrow
vamp-na-a-tramp."
"Indeed." Screed's expression was neutral, with a hint of annoyance in his eyes.
"The proper suit can work miracles, as you obviously can observe to my admitted
surprise."
Libs sat up, lower lip out in a point. "Ya sound jest loik tha' Mr. Murphy
droog from Once a Thief an' Oi don't loik h'it."
"Frankly, my dear, I do not give a damn," Screed said in as low a tone as his
voice could go, sounding uncharacteristically dangerous. "There is a situation
at hand in this city. As much as I despise admitting it, I need your
assistance. I am NOT Screed."
"Wasn't tha' a book by that pointed ear droog?" Johnsie whispered to Libs.
"Nyah, tha' wuz tha' baby doctor," Libby explained. "H'only 'e wuz nah Spock."
"SILENCE!" Screed barked. He drew in a deep, audible breath, then smoothed his
clothing. "I am LaCroix,"
Johnsie yanked Libs to her feet, and they both approached Screed cautiously,
audibly sniffing. All the lil' ratsies began to scurry out of the walls, from
under boxes and other items, and from beneath the floor. They also were
sniffing suspiciously.
In unison, all the lil' ratsies screamed (an ear piercing sound, to be sure) and
ran back into hiding. Libby and Johnsie looked at each other, then, in unison,
screamed. They would have ran into hiding, only collided with each other.
McLisa stepped over her fellow fallen Ratpackers, approaching Screed. Or at
least Screed's body. "What's going on?"
"That is what I'd like to determine. If I'm in Screed's body, I'm deducing that
Screed's mentality, if you can call it that, is in my body. That is nearly an
unbearable thought, even for me," Screed admitted. "Is there not a rule of some
sort about this unthinkable ... mingling?"
"No," McLisa said.
"See to it there is by next weekend! Or this, too, will go on my list of
travesties you have committed right above the glowing pink rodents in my radio
station," Screed growled. "Or have the Ratpackers brainwashed you into their
bizarre sense of so-called humor?"
"I haven't been brainwashed," McLisa said, smiling. "Ever since I started my
vacation a few weeks ago, I've had this strange urge to roam the tunnels and
eat cheese...."
"Libs! Wakey-n-wakey! Ol' Mac-Lipsa h'iz about ta 'ave a flashback!" Johnsie
said, slapping Libby across the face repeatedly with a thin slice of swiss
cheese.
**FLASHBACK**
Mortal life as a sailor followed by more than three hundred years with Vachon's
crew had given Screed a lot of experience with drunks, from the mildly squiffed
to those who actually tried to ride their pink elephants. When fate -- or a
malevolent air line computer -- placed him next to McLisa on his Chicago
connection back to Toronto from his latest Vegas foray where he'd actually won
the airline tickets so could travel in bargain seat style, he was not in the
least put off by her exuberant greeting. He only wondered where she'd found a
bar tender at O'Hare who knew how to make a zombie beachcomber.
Trouble didn't arrive until snack time. Screed naturally didn't eat his
pre-packed deli sack, but McLisa finished hers. Then she looked over at him
with the beatific smile that had made strong men climb trees to get out of her
way. "Do you want your cheese?" she asked.
Screed's acquisitive instincts jumped to attention. "What''ll yew gimme for
hit?"
McLisa reached down for her purse. "This--" she started to say, when the plane
hit an air pocket. Before she could complete the sentence or the thought, her
head hit the window frame. The last thing she saw before taking an unexpected
nap was the pretty, _shiny_ silver wing of the plane in the moonlight, and her
last thought was wanting cheese. The last thing she
heard was, "McLisa, droog, 'ey, yew, fight attendant, get over 'ere and tyke
care a' moi droog!"
She came to just in time to refuse medical treatment -- in her condition a whack
on the head made little difference to her mental processes -- and make
her way through immigration and customs. Everything was, in fact, normal, until
she paid off the taxi, lifted the manhole cover which was always artfully
loose, and descended the ladder.
McLisa quickly discovered a Toronto vacation Ratpack style had its advantages.
Lots of riding on the subway system, no high hotel rooms, and entry into every
building via the Ratpack tunnels. Of course getting back out of the tunnels via
man holes proved difficult until she got the hang of it. Little did she ever
dream her one big fall would be getting back INTO the tunnels via the manhole.
Good thing Libs happened to be there....
**FLASHBACK OVER**
"She h'used big words!" Johnsie said, impressed. "Loik male-e-vole-ants!"
"An' bee-a-ti-nifty!" Libs cried. "Teach h'uz sum more o' them
so-fish-tea-n-cakes verbages!"
"An' phrasology!" Johnsie added.
"After you help repair whatever...." Screed started to say.
"Ooo cares 'bout YA iffen ya ain't the Screedmeister," Johnsie said.
In less than a blink of the eye, Johnsie found himself pinned by the neck
against a wall. He stared into eyes that were Screeds, yet weren't. "Eeee.
Eeee."
Johnsie meekly tried to chuckle. "Oi guess ya h'ain't h'our Screed, h'are ya?
Wot say we conductive the h'other fractions an' see iffen the udder vamp types
h'ain't fractured too-see-too, eh?"
"An' maybe we kin visit h'in personage n' co-lick some o' their shiney
pretties!" Libs suggested.
Screed let Johnsie drop to the floor. Johnsie squealed in delight despite
hitting the floor on his backside. "Tha's the truth o' h'it, we could!"
The two began bouncing up and down with glee (after Johnsie stood back up, of
course). McLisa shrugged figuring if she was going to be a Ratpacker, she
might as well REALLY be a Ratpacker. She started bouncing right along with
them. If anything, at least it was good exercise. She'd need it with all the
cheese she'd been eating. The trio clasped hands on each other shoulders,
bouncing in unison, at least as close to unison as Ratpackers ever managed.
"I am going for a walk," Screed announced, knowing he wouldn't be heard. He
needed something to distract him from any thoughts of what the carouche's
personality was doing if, indeed, in LaCroix's rightful body.
--END FOR NOW--
War: The FoDs are Afoot.
By: Kathy,Cindy,Senara, Spifff, Ron and Leah
Time: July 5, 2001
Cindy Brewer arrived home from her internship one afternoon and turned on her
computer to check her email.
After AOL finally connected Cindy began to sift through the mail. One subject
line made her smile.
"A War? Already?"Cindy exclaimed outloud as she excitedly called up a travel
website. "I so need an excuse to get out of town and have some fun."
The travel site came up and Cindy plugged in Toronto as her destination and
cringed slightly at the ticket prices. Her credit card didn't have much space
left on it so it was a good thing she didn't have to pay for hotel as well.
With the schedule of this war she'd have to do some overtime to make up her
hours at the internship but it was worth it.
*******
Kathy dragged the overfilled scuba bag through the Milwaukee airport. She
was still upset she couldn't actually scuba to Toronto again but time was not
her best friend lately. Anyway, she was sure she would get a few dives in
during the Toronto visit. Cindy always enjoyed a good adventure and Kathy
absentmindedly tapped the new fins and mask for Cindy she had bought as a
gift tucked in her carryon with a bag of Camel Chow for Spifff. Well,
actually it wasn't for Spiff directly but her pets, at least Kathy hoped
Spiff wasn't eating Camel Chow.
She kissed her new, but very confused hubby, good-bye with the promise of
going to Toronto again in September, together. The FODs needed her. Several
hours later she was crawling into a cab at the Toronto airport, only to a see
a confused but happy Cindy already inside. Confusion seem to be the FODs
battle cry during War. Oh the fun of it all!
*********
The gathered FODs looked outside as a loud,dark-pink-and-chrome PT Cruiser
(with stuffed bunny heads in the back) pulled up. A man came out, looked
around, and nodded his head, then bent to speak to someone whose identity
remained hidden behind thedarkened windows.
"What's this? An attack this early in the war?"
"Wasn't he a Dark Perk in the last war or two?"someone said as he walked
around the car and opened the door to help someone out.
"Yep," said Cindy, noticing who else was in the car,"But she's not."
Eric helped Leah get her walker together, and opened the door. "Hi guys!"
"Leah! What happened?"
"Well, it turns out that some of the problems I was having earlier were the
beginnings of M.S." She pulled out her backup cane and shook it at the
FODs."But don't you even start to think I'm slowing down,or going to miss
this war!"
"Dear, I've got to check in at the mansion," Eric said. "You going to be OK
here?"
She smiled and gave him a quick kiss. "Go ahead and check in with them, hon.
After all, I'm here with the FODs. What could go wrong?"
*******
After Eric pulled away Cindy turned to the small group. "Now that we're all
here we can get this show on the road."
Kathy turned and looked at the slightly desolate area and then back at Cindy.
"Why did you have us meet here instead of the Deli?"
Cindy grinned as she motioned to a small stable several yards away. "Because
we had to pick something up."
"What could we possible have to pick up *here*?"Senara asked.
"We have to take the camels back to the Moose lodge."Cindy replied as she
looked at Leah with concern, "Leah, I didn't know about your MS when I
arranged this. Are you going to be okay with riding one or we can call a cab
to take you back?"
Leah nodded. "You should problably call me a cab."
The group of FoDs started laughing, and said in unison "You're a cab!"
"I think I started something."
Cindy pulled out her cell phone to call a cab.
As she was doing so one of the camels emerged from the stable and moved into
the small coral.
Kathy's eyes grew wide. "They're still pink! Cindy, you want us to ride pink
camels into Toronto?"
Cindy finished her conversation with the cab company and turned to Kathy with
a grin. "We have to get them back to the moose lodge and try to get them back
to their normal color. It's the least we can do."
********
The Moose Lodge, Toronto
A blurry shape swam before her eyes before gradually resolving into a large
and very close pink head. The camel batted its big brown eyes. "Please let
this be a dream and why are you in the living room ... ?", moaned Spifff as
she began wiping camel drool out of her hair. The camel ignored her and
began chewing on the nearest houseplant.
Spifff tossed a cushion in the camel's direction and sat up. A wrinkled
envelope was sitting on the coffee table.
Spifff,
Didn't want to wake you but there's another war starting soon. We picked up
the camels and dropped them off. I have a feeling we may need them.
Cindy
Spifff sprinted for the door.
Once again, it was time to open the FoD Deli. War was afoot.
end
We Have Arrived or, This Gets the NatPack To Toronto 1/1
- By Debra Ann, Meg, Robyn, and Judy
Summary: After a distress call from Natalie, the NatPack converge on Toronto
and assemble in Nats apartment.
Pennsylvania
3 AM on the morning of July 5.
The phone rang. For Debra Ann, a phone call at 3 AM on a workday morning
(heck, on any morning) was a sign of one of two things. Either it's that
drunk guy who keeps misdialing the last three digits and asking for the bar
or it's a War. Debra was hoping for the drunk guy.
"Hello and this is NOT a bar," Debra Ann said sleepily.
Dr. Natalie Lambert's voice came through over the line, "Too bad. I can use
a drink right about now."
"Natalie, is that you?" Debra asked sleepily.
"Yeah, it's me and I need the Pack to get here pronto.....please."
"Get to Toronto? Why? What's wrong?" Debra asked, suddenly very awake.
"How can I put this coherently?" Natalie asked out loud. "It's hard to
explain really. It's just that something very odd is happening and may I
stress the words *Very Odd*?"
"Oh my goodness," Debra replied. "We are on our way."
As soon as Natalie hung up, Debra Ann hit speed dial #7. As Jill said the
NatPack may be prone to getting lost in large cities and have a distressing
tendency to bounce, but at least they're technologically organized.
Within a few minutes, the NatPack was packing...pardon the pun and on the
road to Vegas (no, they wished they were on the road to Vegas). They were on
the road to Toronto.
***
The call beckoning her to Toronto couldn't have come at a better time for
Debra Ann. She was burned out from too much work, too many classes, and the
aftershocks of the master's thesis from hell. She needed a vacation and this
wasn't going to be a vacation but it was going to be a much-needed change of
pace.
Within four hours, she was at Lester B. Pierson Airport being grilled by the
woman in customs. After an half-hour of explaining what a War was, that she
wasn't a terrorist and the she was (relatively) sane, she made it through
customs and headed to the taxi line. Suddenly she heard her name being
called. Looking up, Debra waved frantically to Jen and Judy.
"How did you guys get here so fast?" Debra Ann asked as the NatPackers
hugged each other, moving together like a big ball of frenetic bouncing
energy.
Luckily, I only live in New Jersey as you know, Jen said, so on such short
notice the best way for me to get to Toronto was by air. I waded through the
possibilities on the internet then called for a seat. Amazingly, they had one
left! Gotta love that Discover card in a pinch.
Debra smiled. "Imagine that! Lucky break that is, since Nat seems to really
need us."
Judy took a deep breath, Well, after you called Meg, she called me and told
me that Nat's acting odd. I checked my calendar and bank balance...
Debra Ann and Jen nodded in sympathy.
... and see that I can squeeze out a trip to Toronto. I packed, grabbed my
passport, let my family know where I'm going - I just told them a friend's
in trouble and needs my help. They dropped me off at the airport and before
long I was on my way.
Well, its great you were able to make it. From how Nat sounded on the
phone, she might need all the help she can get, Debra Ann said.
I wonder what's going on and have a slight suspicion that there's more to
it than it seems, maybe another war, Judy theorized.
"Well, wed batter get to her then. Let's take this cab," Jen suggested and
the NatPack piled in.
Then came the inevitable negotiating with the cabby. "We need to go to
Natalie Lambert's apartment. Where? Oh you know - it's in the
Apartment Building of the Damned. Do you know where that is? Oh, good!" --
and so, Debra Ann, Jen, and Judy made it to NatPack HQ.
********
Ah, summer in the South.
The forsythia is in full bloom, the hydrangeas and azaleas bursting at the
seams awaiting their chance to blossom into the showcase of gardens
everywhere. Luscious white blooms on the Bradford pear trees have given way
to startling green leaves that sway in the wind ... ivy and kudzu are once
more trailing along porch rails and up trellises, while tulips and irises and
lilies are coming up left, right and center and the grass is a vibrant shade
of green with scattered patches of gold. The dogwoods, crepe myrtles,
magnolias and crabapples have blossomed and the full burst of summer is
completed each morning as the roses slowly, languorously stretch out their
petals in the warm, moist air that hangs like a thick smothering blanket over
the region. Cool, dry air conditioning has replaced the yards upon yards of
mosquito bar and fans that were once used to repel the season's most
insidious torments, yet the marvels of the modern age have estranged an
entire generation from the wonders and glory of a southern summer.
Something for which Robyn (a.k.a., allergy sufferer extraordinaire,
NatPacker, writer of fiction, Witch, and student par excellence), cocooned in
a large comfortable bed of soft cotton, linen, feathers and down, was
extremely grateful.
Well, grateful until the phone rang one time too many.
A curly head of hair emerged from beneath a pile of fluffy pillows and duvets
as a pale hand snaked towards the cordless *thing* that everyone insisted she
had to have. "This is NOT grand central station," she growled after pressing
the blinking red button.
Five minutes and two short telephone calls later the aforementioned *thing*
crashed against the wall across from the bed, and an irritated Robyn climbed
out of her sanctuary and grumbled as she opened the closet and started
tossing clothing and shoes into a large black suitcase. Fifteen minutes
after that, freshly scrubbed and dressed, lotions, sunscreen, body sprays and
other assorted toiletries added to the rapidly expanding black hole, she
stepped back and surveyed her domain carefully. It never failed that she
would forget something; unlike many of her fellow NatPackers, getting lost
was not her specialty -- getting things together to go somewhere was.
[Ahem.]
Robyn glanced about until her eyes alighted on the black and gold tabby
sitting regally on the back of the rocking chair and taking in the action
with a detached, yet resigned manner. "Oh, Grace, what am I going to do
about you?"
[You could take me with you, seeing as how I am the most important being in
your life.]
"I suppose I could take you along," she mused. "It isn't as if you didn't go
last time, and I'm sure Nat wouldn't mind."
[Of course I'm going. I've taken care of you for fourteen years and I have
no intention of stopping now, especially if you're going into what could turn
out to be a Warzone.]
"Okay, let me find your carrier," Robyn decided. "Then we'll be
Toronto-bound -- "
[Wonderful. Toronto.]
"By way of Pittsburgh, and then maybe we'll find out what's got Nat so riled
up."
[A plane change. Lovely. And?]
"I guess we'll catch a taxi once we arrive, or maybe we'll run into some of
the Pack who might be flying in," Robyn mused, adding specially cut blankets
to the cat carrier. "And you can visit with Sydney again."
Grace elegantly swiped a paw across her nose. [Sydney. Hmmph. I simply do
not trust that cat.
********
"So, where are you headed?" The middle-aged cab driver smiled at Meg, who
was visibly frazzled. The smile somehow managed to calm her enough to smile
back.
"Um, I'm not sure, exactly." It was true. The young Natpacker had been up
since 6 AM, and on top of minimal sleep and large amounts of caffeine, she'd
almost missed her flight and had left Nat's address and phone number on her
dresser.
A year is a long time to have to remember directions. Let alone road
names.After several minutes of quiet bouncing verging on vibration in the
back seat, she pointed to her left and said, "Can you go that way, please?"
The amazing part was that it only took about 45 minutes to find Nat's place,
amazing because it was normally about a 20-minute drive.
This put Meg in a much better mood as she lugged her suitcase and backpack up
the stairs to Nat's apartment.
********
Every vehicle in the Greater Toronto area that contained a NatPacker seemed
to arrive at the same second in front of Natalie's apartment on Maitland
Avenue. When Debra Ann, Judy, and Jen tumbled out of their cab, they found
Meg and Robyn climbing out of the cabs behind them. Several seconds of
hugging and bouncing then ensued. Finally they managed to get their things
together and go inside. From the sounds of bouncing coming from above, it was
clear that any other nearby NatPackers were already inside.
****
Debra Ann
natpack Co-Leader
Guenvier@...
War: NA: War's My Mummy?! (3/3)
By Patt, Bons, Christy, Cousin Erik, Evil Cousin Tiff, KC and Jules
Takes Place After: Uncompromising Positions
At the main entrance of the Shrine, a small woman crawled in, looking
tired, dirty, and
not at all pleased. Patt walked up to her and asked, "Tiff, what happened?"
"It's the 21st century. We were promised flying cars. Where are the flying
cars? I
WANT MY FLYING CARS!!!" Evil Cousin Tiff replied, promptly collapsing on the
floor in a show
of exhaustion.
After a moment or two Patt asked her question again. Apparently, Tiff had
found out
about the High Priestess Coronation ceremony a little later than was probably
wise, got in
her car and drove to Toronto nonstop from Idaho for two days. Somewhere on the
trip, the evil
cousin got it in her brain that if there were flying cars, it wouldn't have
taken so long.
"I personally think Tiff just stalled because she didn't want to be put to
work," Shele
noted. "I'd say the Evil Cousin definitely has some Slacker in her."
"That's Bons' department," Tiff said, her voice still weary. "My heart is
blood red, not
greasy black." Tiff looked around. "Where is her Highly-Unlikely-Priestess,
anyway? I
figured she'd be cracking the whip, making sure that all this was done right."
"Bonnie has expressed some objections to her coronation," Patt said. "She's
probably off
pouting."
At that moment, Chris stomped into the room, followed by a strolling Caren.
"Where's my sarcophagus?" Chris demanded. "There was no sarcophagus in the
ante-room.
Were you playing a joke on me, trying to get rid of me, because you knew Od was
supposed to
arrive soon?"
Patt looked at Caren, who nodded. "The big stone box is gone," Caren said.
"But, we did
find this." The Louisiana woman held up a platform mule in dark blue denim, left
foot.
"That's a Bons shoe," Patt said, confirming aloud what every addict knew.
"Exactly where
did you find it, Caren?" The addicts gathered around to hear the answer.
"On the floor, near where the sarcophagus was, before it wasn't there
anymore."
"Bons wouldn't go off shoeless willingly," Christy said. The other addicts
nodded in
agreement.
"She's been kidnapped!" KC announced loudly. "It's all a subversive plot to
glean me of
my worshippers."
"Errr, Bons didn't worship you, KC," Dee pointed out. "If anything, we were
supposed to
venerate Bons."
"Then, why would anyone want to shanghai her?" KC asked, truly not
understanding a motive
for such an action.
"I'll bet it was the Vaqueras," Jan spoke up. "They've been in a snit ever
since Vachon
seduced Bons." Tiff and Beverley nodded.
"That was no *seduction,*" Patt pointed out. "Vachon simply administered a
little mouth
to mouth to silence the perkish Scribe. I was there...I know the facts."
"Then I bet it was the Knighties," Jayne announced. "Nick has been trying
to put Bons in
jail since NA Fanfic began, and his faction followers would love to make points
with the
angsty one by helping him do it." Anne and several other addicts murmured in
agreement.
"I can't argue with what you all are saying," Patt replied, noting the
rising passion of
the Nunkies Addicts. "But, let's be practical. If Bons *was* kidnapped, and I
really don't
think she was, she'll be back soon. Anyone ever read THE RANSOM OF RED CHIEF?"
"It was probably the NatPack," Shele spoke up, adding to the growing frenzy.
"To make
points with Nick and to pry information from Bons' scientific mind."
"Bons hasn't thought scientific in three years," Patt said.
"How about the Ravenettes? They'd love to get their hands on a High
Priestess' new
wardrobe," Christy offered. Patt shot her second-in-command a withering look.
"Okay...calm down everyone," Patt ordered above the sea of mumbling.
"Before we get all
bent out of shape about this, I have a phone call to make. Maybe Bons just went
off to make a
final plea of her case to LaCroix."
"Ooooohhhhh." The Addicts fell silent as Patt withdrew the cell phone with
the special
Armani-designed case from her jeans pocket. The Third Cousin punched a button
and placed the
mechanism to her ear.
"I hate these things," Patt muttered. The Addicts leaned forward, eager to
catch a hint
of LaCroix's masculine tones.
"Sir," Patt began when she heard the familiar deep voice at the other end
of the
airwaves. "Have you seen Bonnie Rutledge today? We thought she might have come
over to visit
you, and we need to speak with her a moment."
The audience could pick up the stream of gibberish that came over the line.
Patt,
uncharacteristically, never uttered another word.
Conversation complete, the Third Cousin withdrew the cell from her ear and
pushed the
*end* button.
"Well?" Christy asked.
"Bons is definitely not with LaCroix," Patt replied, her expression strange.
"Heck, I'm
not even sure that LaCroix was with LaCroix - that was the ODDEST conversation
I've ever had
with him. He sounded...off."
"Oooooooooo," the addicts chorused.
"That's it then," Glennis announced. "Bons had to have been kidnapped, and
I'll bet it
was the UF. Have they ever attacked us? It's about time they did something
dastardly."
"It was the RATPACK!!" Jayne announced. All eyes turned to glare at the
strawberry-challenged addict. "Maybe not," she recanted sheepishly.
"We all know who it was," a low female voice said calmly. "And, we all know
the reason."
Everyone turned to look at Laura. "It had to have been the Dark Perks," the
Californian
said. "They want revenge on NA, and especially Bonnie, for allowing me to come
back to my
rightful faction. Because of their anger with me, our Scribe/High
Priestess-to-be is probably
being tortured right now..."
Standing slightly away from the crowd, Erik had been listening to the
kidnap
conversation with interest. On hearing Laura's declaration, Erik nodded in
agreement. "That
makes sense," the Nunkamale thought to himself and, unnoticed, he turned and
headed toward
the Kitchen/Lab, his dog, Dusk, at his heels. Donning his reconnaissance gear
(cape,
half-mask, appropriate communications devices and weapons), Erik slipped into
one of the
Ratpack Tunnel entrances leading from the Shrine. Dusk, smart dog that he was,
sniffed the
burrow and hesitated.
"Come on, Dusk. There is information to gather and ladies to protect."
Dusk whined slightly, then followed Erik into the darkness.
"It's all because of me." Laura was still very upset, despite the other
addicts' efforts
to comfort her. "And I have to do something about it." Before the other addicts
could react,
Laura stormed out of the room.
"Laura," Patt cried after the woman. "Don't go off getting into trouble.
Come back
here."
"I still think it was the Vaqs," Jan announced. "I'm going to go find out
if I'm right."
Several other addicts shouted in agreement and soon everyone was headed out of
the Shrine.
"Guys! Come back!" Patt's voice wavered between a plead and a command.
"Disorganized
mayhem isn't going to get us the Scribe back. Let's wait and see if something
happens - a
ransom note, a phone call, a bribe offer to take her back..."
But, Patt was basically chatting to an empty room. Only three addicts
remained with Patt -
Christy, Chris and Caren,
"Thanks for the backup," Patt scolded Christy.
"They might just be right," the Nunketeer challenged back. "I have an
awfully odd feeling
right now."
"Boat's fixed." Christy nearly jumped at the sound of the low voice at her
ears. She
turned around to find the Dock-Or Repair person staring at her intently.
"That was fast," Patt noted, offering the man her LaCroix-approved credit
card.
"I charge by the job, not by the hour," the workman said, never taking his
eyes off the
mouse-eared addict. "And, I do excellent work."
"I bet you do," Caren nodded pleasantly.
Paid, the workman started to approach the Jeweled Peach entrance/exit.
"Errrrr, sir," Patt called after him. "Could you please use the delivery
entrance...through the hallway. We don't want to upset Monsieur Cabon again,
okay?"
The repairman gave the Third Cousin a sharp look, then headed toward the
anteroom
hallway. As he did, Paul Thomas exited the hallway into the Shrine proper,
brushing against
the workman's shoulder as the two males passed each other. Almost the same
height, Paul and
*Dock* stared at each other.
Then, the repairman's eyes dropped to Paul's sword and widened slightly.
Without further
vacillation, the older man strode swiftly away.
Paul touched the hilt of his Claymore and smiled smugly.
"Enjoyed that little testosterone triumph, didn't you, son?" Caren asked
her son
playfully. Then, she turned to Patt. "I guess we need to do something to stop
our addict
sisters from doing something unwise."
"Like that is possible," Patt said tartly. "But, we can try and do some
damage control
and get them back with bribery. Grab a bagful of Nunkies pops and go after the
crew that went
toward Nick's Loft."
"Okay," Caren said, heading toward the kitchen. "Come with me, Paul, and
bring that big
sword with you."
Patt turned to Christy. "You stay here and guard the fort. I'm going after
the others
and try to bring them back. If anything strange happens, call me."
"Normal strange, or abnormal strange?" Christy queried.
Patt rolled her eyes. "Strange...just strange."
A dramatic cough caught Patt's attention. She turned around to find an
agitated Chris
waiting semi-patiently. The young addict looked rather perturbed.
"What?" Patt said.
"Where is my sarcophagus?" the Egypt-fond addict demanded. "Was there ever
one delivered
in the first place, or was this all an elaborate plan to remove me from the
kitchen/lab
because you knew Od was going to arrive soon? Do you plan to write my love life
as some kind
of dream-fantasy again?"
"Not at the moment," Patt grinned, then grew serious again. "And there was
a
sarcophagus which appears to be missing now and this may all tie in with Bons'
disappearance.
But, we have to address first things first, which is to get our addicts back to
decorating
the Shrine instead of seeking to decorate their faces with black and blue
bruises. You with
me, kid?"
Still slightly irked, Chris nodded that she agreed with the older woman.
"Good. Now, let's go round up those ladies, and I use the term loosely,
before they get
hurt. Grab some of your Whammy Juice and come with me." Patt and Chris went
through the
swinging doors and were gone.
Leaving Christy very much alone, and still having an odd feeling that she
was being
observed.
*************************************************
End of Part Three
To Be Continued...
> Ravenettes Faction, Third Post, FK War 11
>
> Thursday, July 5, 2001
>
> by Kimmer, Jason, Alex, Mindi, Teresa, LeeAnn, Claudia, Molly & Kaiya
>
> July 4, 2001
>
> Mindi paused as she stood by the small marble-topped table, her
> fingers reaching for the phone. As she turned, she caught a glimpse
> of herself in the beveled-edge, etched-glass antique mirror which
> hung on the wall....
>
> Knee-high boots of the finest Italian calfskin covered her legs, the
> small silver glint of her spurs sparkling in the dim light of the
> entry-room. Breeches of the deepest shade of cranberry were fastened
> around her slender waist with a narrow belt of black leather, which
> matched her boots. A blazingly white shirt covered her upper body,
> concealing a small but well-muscled, compact physique. The top buttons
> were undone, the stiff collar she had to wear when she was showing her
> horses had hurriedly been ripped off and flung into one of the many
> voluminous closets. Her coat of fitted black linen had been abandoned
> as she entered her house, lying carelessly flung over a chair. Long
> raven-black hair, with a slightly purplish cast, was tightly plaited
> but still hung down well past her waist in a braid as soon as it had
> been released from the black velvet helmet that sat on the chair with
> her jacket.
>
> "Hmmmm" she murmured to herself, "considering the high exchange rate
> in our favor, the quality of horses, and the fact that Spruce Meadows
> is coming up....." she paused again. Amber eyes narrowed slightly as
> she thought. Suddenly, she slapped her palm firmly against the table,
> causing an echoing sound in the otherwise silent room as she picked up
> the phone. "That's it! I'm going to Canada!". Hurriedly she dialed...
>
> July 5, 2001
>
> "Ahhh" Mindi purred as she quickly disembarked. "I'm so glad Janette
> has such wonderful taste!". She stretched quickly, thankful to be
> off the plane after such a long trip. Her limo driver, Henri, was at
> the gate to greet her. He was loading her luggage, already customs-
> cleared, onto a wheeled carrier for the trip to the car. Henri opened
> the back door for Mindi, put her luggage in the trunk, and climbed
> in behind the driver's wheel.
>
> The sun was already down when they pulled into Toronto evening traffic.
> Mindi wanted to go to the stables and check on her horses, but it would
> have to wait until the morning. She knew they were being taken very
> good care of, and she was anxious to meet Janette and her Ravenette
> companions. Using the phone in the car, she called the stables just
> to ease her mind about the horses, and then settled back comfortably
> in her seat for the duration of the ride.
>
> Mindi opened the door to the Raven, to be greeted by sounds of great
> mirth. Kimmer looked up from where she sat at the bar, and seeing
> the new Ravenette, hurried to greet her.
>
> "Hi, Mindi, isn't it?" Kimmer asked, as Mindi nodded. "Well, come
> on in, glad to have you here! This is great, how it all worked out,
> the faction getting together at a time of year when you had a horse
> show. You're going to be the busy one, no doubt!". Kimmer took
> Mindi by the arm, and steered her to the bar.
>
> * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
>
> Molly opened the priority package that had just arrived, then replayed
> the voice mail message again. " 'Bring something strange'? Hmmmm..."
> she looked around the room. Other than her wardrobe and make-up, she
> didn't really possess anything strange...except...
>
> With a soft screeching noise, Molly called to her newest pet, which
> happily rolled over and uncoiled with an answering screech. "Guess
> what, Bill? We're going to Toronto!".
>
> <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
>
> Over two hours had passed since Janette had sent Miklos out again.
> Kimmer took yet another head count and bit her lip, glancing anxiously
> at Janette. The femme fatale of Toronto's vampire community was
> looking more and more irritated as time passed. The rest of the Raven-
> ettes had long since arrived and were happily swapping stories over
> drinks. Just then the front door swung open and the last of the Raven-
> ettes to arrive sauntered in, followed at a careful distance by Miklos,
> who was keeping a wary eye on Molly's carry-on bag, which appeared
> to be wriggling. Wriggling?!
>
> For the moment, Janette ignored the bag and looked Molly up and down.
> Knee-high, flat-soled black boots, black fishnets, sleveless turtleneck
> black mini-dress, and an underbust corset in black PVC printed with
> computer circuitry and buckled in front with three straps. "Very nice,"
> she purred in approval, "but you're late".
>
> "Thank you, Mademoiselle. I'm sorry, but --" Molly held up a pack
> of cigarettes and shrugged. "I had to trade in the non-stop ticket
> you sent for something more accomodating".
>
> "What's in the bag?" "Did you bring your lizard?" the other
> Ravenettes wanted to know.
>
> "Yup!" Molly unzipped the bag and hauled out three feet of armor
> plating. "Say 'hi' to the gang, Bill". The four-petaled snout
> opened in a screech, revealing rows of tiny sharp teeth.
>
> <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
>
> fini chapter 3
> end arc
>
> the gang's all here!!!:-)
War: NNP
Title: Something’s Amoose! (3/3)
By: Susan B., Soulseeker, & the Nick&Natpack
Time: Thursday July 5th, Approx. 12:30PM-5:30PM
Place: Nick&Natpack Theatre and TO Airport
---------------------------------
Several minutes of incessant chatter went by before the crowd began to
disperse to unload the vehicles. Everyone had their arms full and was
heading towards the theatre entrance when the ominous sound of a helicopter
was heard coming towards them. As it neared the theatre, it slowly descended
towards the roof.
“What the....” Ang’s words caught in her throat.
“And what are....” Floribunda’s did too.
“They look like...moose!” Cecilia managed to squeak out.
“There’s two of them, it’s meese!” Jenice declared.
“Mooses!” Emily corrected her.
“Moosium!” Lisa corrected them both.
“The correct term is Moose!” Carla shouted with authority. “It doesn’t
matter how many there are!”
“They look like they’re wearing clothes,” Kevin added.
“It can’t be an attack already,” Kelly muttered, “we just got here.”
Many of those who were carrying luggage suddenly dropped it to the
ground and stared up in awe at the unusual site. Ground litter rose to the
air in a whirlwind as the huge red and white chopper descended. Everyone was
gawking up at the impressive flying machine with its unusual cargo
precariously hovering over the roof. No one noticed the multi-coloured
school bus that pulled up in front of Ang’s car, or the crush of people that
piled out to join in the stare-fest. Soon, the entire mob was looking up.
“They -are- moose!” Marci exclaimed.
“They’re just like the ones that were all over Toronto last summer!”
Anne shouted. “The clothes are painted on!”
“Look at that one there,” Michelle yelled out, pointing to the moose
that had no antlers. “It looks like it’s wearing a red dress - and the hair
looks just like Nat’s!”
“And the one with the white skin and brown antlers is wearing black!”
Idalia yelled.
“Like black pyjamas!” Lex added, “with small yellow things on the hind
quarters!”
“There’s a big yellow dog in the chopper!” someone else shouted.
“That’s Carrie’s dog, Bruce!” Jeanine screamed. “The one they rescued
from the swimming pool!”
Soulseeker stared up at the scene as the moose were gently lowered to
the roof of the theatre. “Wow, they’ve even got blue eyes,” she muttered
knowingly.
“Someone’s waving a cane out the other window!” Boomer yelled.
“It looks like Mary’s!” Barbara cried out. She waved her arm wildly and
shouted, “Hey! Mary! Is that you!”
The noise from the chopper was so loud that no one heard the motorcycle
pulling up on the sidewalk behind them. No had even noticed Jenice as she
got off the bike, took off her helmet, and joined the crowd to stare at the
theatre’s roof. She watched in utter disbelief as the pair of life-size
fibreglass moose settled with a thump on the flat roof. A cable snapped, and
the chopper, less its load, immediately took flight.
Eva and Karen, who had just arrived back from Union Station, drifted up
behind Jenice. “That helicopter looks like its heading down to the Island
Airport,” Eva remarked as she turned her head and watched the noisy machine
disappear to the south.
One by one, the curious gazes drifted from the roof of their theatre to
their Faction Leader.
“That’s Nicky and Natty,” Soulseeker informed the stunned N&Ners.
“Carrie’s been working on them for a long time. They just happened to be
ready for this... gathering.” She paused for a moment and then spoke with
great enthusiasm, “They look great up there, don’t they?”
Everyone started to nod and smile, even laugh. Some joined in the
camaraderie a bit more reluctantly than others, but before long everyone was
thrilled with the idea of having their very own Nick and Nat moose.
Kevin set aside his apprehension over the bus incident and ambled over
to Soul. “You know we’re going to have to be careful,” he said quietly. “I
was just talking with Eva and she told me that even the moose at Toronto’s
police headquarters had its antlers stolen last summer. Not to mention the
FoDS. What are they going to think?”
“They can get their own Schanke moose,” Soul declared. “Nicky and Natty
are ours!” She vaguely scanned the crowd and turned to Kevin. “Kevin, can
you please pass the word around for everyone to get settled in and meet in
the auditorium in one hour. And can you have that stairwell to the roof
cleared out?”
“Is that it?”
Soulseeker nodded in the affirmative, and Kevin disappeared into the
crowd.
*****
Exactly one hour later, the Nick&Natpack met in the theatre auditorium.
Soul stood in front of the stage with a sheet of paper in her hand. She
started to call out names and was greeted by a chorus of “Heres, Ayes, Yups,
and Heys,” all the while trying desperately to ignore Marci’s arm that was
waving frantically in the air. Finally, she relented.
“Yes, Marci?”
“Uh.... Soul, what happened to Luscious in Repose?” she asked
innocently.
“That’s Lucius,” Susan whispered, “Pasty White’ll never be luscious.”
Marci stuck her tongue out at Susan.
“Enough!” Soul shouted. “I’m not going through this nonsense again. Let
’s concentrate on Nick and Nat. We no longer have ‘Lucius in Repose’. This
is the Nick&Nat HQ, and we have Nick&Nat.” She and the rest of the room
turned their eyes to gaze at the beautiful tapestry of Nick kissing Nat in
front of the fireplace.
Sitting a few rows back, Alyce discreetly whispered to Amber, “Lucius
in Repose - sounds interesting - I would have liked to have seen that.”
“Me too,” Amber replied.
Soulseeker carried on with the roll call and continued to get positive
results. But when she shouted, “KARIN!” there was silence. She called again.
Silence.
“ANJA”
Silence.
“JENNIFER!”
“She’s supposed to be bringing Karin and Anja from the airport!” Idalia
shouted from one side of the room.
“I thought Jennifer was driving,” Laila yelled back from the other side
of the room.
“I did drive and I’m here!” Jennifer called out as she stepped into the
auditorium from the Lobby.
“Then where are Karin and Anja!” Michelle blurted out, with even more
concern than Barbara had expressed at the airport. “They’re coming all the
way from Germany!”
“Should we hire a chopper and look for them?” Carrie asked innocently.
One of Carla’s ‘Chocolate the Moose’ beanie babies instantly landed on
Carrie’s head.
Soulseeker stared at Idalia. “Well?”
“Jennifer told me that she’d bring Karin and Anja in. That’s all I
know.”
“Do Karin and Anja know where the theatre is?”
Idalia shrugged and looked down at the floor. The auditorium was
silent.
“Do we at least know what time their plane was supposed to land?”
Soulseeker asked, slightly irritated.
“Uh... about three hours ago,” Idalia quietly admitted. Relief washed
over her seconds later when a female voice with a German accent was heard
calling out from the Lobby, “Hello! Hello! Anybody home! Nick&Natpack?”
Kevin, who had been sitting in the back row, immediately sprang up and
guided two women into the auditorium. “Sorry, he said. There seems to have
been a mix-up.”
Soulseeker and the entire group started pouring up the centre aisle
towards the new arrivals. Soulseeker apologized to the pair, “I’m
Soulseeker,” she said, “and I’m terribly sorry. You were supposed to be met
and I only now discovered that you were missing.”
The auburn haired woman spoke first. “I’m Karin,” she said, “and this
is Anja.” She gestured towards her much taller, blue eyed blonde companion.
“How did you ever find the place?” Jenice asked curiously.
“We hired a taxi,” Anja offered, “and asked him to drive us by many
theatres, to look for one without a play.”
Karin grinned. “We were a little fearful of ending up at the wrong
faction headquarters,” she admitted.
Sue stepped forward. “So, you’ve been out riding around in a cab for
the last three hours, eh?”
“I think this is the only theatre in Toronto with no play,” Anja
replied. All of the theatres, small and large, are busy.”
“Of course!” Eva suddenly realized, “the Fringe Festival!”
“But when we saw this one,” Anja continued, “we were pretty sure we had
the right place.” She gestured upwards with her index finger, “The moose.”
“They just arrived today,” Soulseeker proudly announced, “and, now that
we’re all here, let’s go up and welcome them home!” Soul led the way through
the Lobby, up the right-hand staircase, and towards the stairwell that led
to the roof. The rest followed her in single file. One by one, they emerged
on the rooftop and took a place to form a circle around Nicky and Natty.
Something about Natty moose suddenly caught Carla’s attention and she
bent down to get a closer look. She wiped her hand over the leg, examined
her hand, and then shrieked, “Eewwww! Bug guts! Eewwww! Carrie! You could
have put a tarp over them!” Carla spun around and raced towards the
stairwell. “Eewwww! I’m going to wash my hands!” she screamed. The rest of
the mob watched after her, laughing hysterically.
“Any volunteers for clean-up detail?” Soul asked.
“I’ll do it!” Grace immediately offered, “I’m always cleaning up after
things. My two young children think of me as a walking napkin!”
“Napkin?” Laila queried rhetorically. “I’ll think you’re going to need
a power-washer.”
“I think everyone should pitch in!” Cecilia exclaimed enthusiastically.
“I’ll go get some buckets and scrub brushes!” She twirled around and headed
for the stairs. Eva, Jennifer, Karen, and Angi followed after her, and a few
minutes later they all arrived back on the roof with buckets of water and
cleaning supplies. Everyone scooped up soap, rags and brushes and went to
work. Jenice disappeared for a few minutes and reappeared with a bottle of
shampoo and a wooden stool. She climbed up on the stool and dumped a bucket
of water over Natty’s head. Working around the two ears that poked up from
the top of Natty’s head, Jenice carefully washed the long, wavy, light
auburn hair. When that was done, she poured water over Nicky’s dirty blond
locks and repeated the process.
Within minutes, both moose were sparkling clean. The ruby red paint
used for Natty’s dress gave it a shimmering, satiny quality. Her hooves were
painted in a similar colour, but the sheen was more subdued. The bare legs
and head were a light flesh tone. A slight tinge of pink graced her cheeks
and her big blue eyes were framed in lush, lifelike lashes. In contrast,
Nicky’s skin was a chalky white, and his muted black painted-on attire
covered all but his head and part of his neck and ears, and a tiny space
above his black hooves. Impressive reddish-brown antlers sprung up from
either side of his head, just above his eyes, which were finished in a deep
blue hue and surrounded by thick brown lashes.
“They’re stars!” Lex exclaimed, now realizing what the small yellow
“things” were that she had noticed earlier. Various sizes of stars in
yellows and whites adorned the front and hind quarters of Nicky’s pyjamas.
All of the Nick&Natpackers then stood quietly admiring their sparkling
clean and second most prized possessions. Soul, feeling the need to make
some sort of announcement, overtly cleared her throat. “Okay, everyone,” she
started, “I believe it would be appropriate now for us to dedicate these
moose.” She paused in a thought for a few moments. “I hereby dedicate these
moose to all Nick&Natpack warriors - those who are with us now and those
who will be with us in the future. Most importantly, to those who, over the
years, whether gradually or without warning, were mercilessly taken from us
by that most insidious of evils - Real Life.”
Cheers rang out and the crowd started to clap.
“May I?” Sue asked as she stepped forward. She wrangled a big knapsack
off her back, held it to her chest, and started to pound on it.
“Saluting all before and yet to come
I bang upon my makeshift drum
To scheming and plotting!
To battling foes!
To conquering our idols’ woes!”
Another loud cheer went up. The Nick&Natpack were all together again in
Toronto and ready to do whatever might need to be done, whatever might need
to be done for Nick and Nat.
----End----
Susan B.
freestyle@...
War: NNP
Title: Something’s Amoose! (2/3)
By: Susan B., Soulseeker, & the Nick&Natpack
Time: Thursday July 5th, Approx. 12:30PM-5:30PM
Place: Nick&Natpack Theatre and TO Airport
---------------------------------
Emily glanced out the airplane window at the vast city looming beneath
her. It had been a smooth and speedy flight from Minnesota. Thanks to the
good read she got from Stephen King’s latest novel, it had felt like only 20
minutes had passed since she boarded the plane. Throughout the flight, her
face had shown no sign of the concern she felt for the bags she'd checked;
but if anything happened to them, she was not going to be happy. Her
treasured coffee maker was stuffed into one of the bags. Emily made a
mental note to make a quick trip to the grocery store later on for coffee.
Moments later, the plane landed. Looking forward to being involved in her
first War with both anticipation and trepidation, Emily worked her way
through customs and over to the baggage carousel. She checked one of her
bags to ensure her trusty coffee maker had come through in one piece and
then, luggage in tow, she headed through the swinging doors and found a
group of three Nick&Natpackers waiting to greet her on the other side.
Marci easily recognized her from the description Soul had given. Marci
introduced herself, “I’m Marci,” she said, “Keeper of the Satin Sheets.”
“Not likely we’ll be needing them during this War,” Idalia mumbled
before flashing Emily a welcoming smile. “I’m Idalia, Chief Defender of
Love.”
“That sounds like an important position,” Emily responded, clearly
impressed. “What kind of title do you suppose a War newbie like myself might
merit?”
Barbara glanced down at Emily’s partially open bag and asked in a
meticulously serious tone, “How about ‘Keeper of the Coffee Pot’ for now?”
Emily grinned, slightly embarrassed.
“I’m Barbara, by the way. And we do have a fully equipped kitchen at
the theatre - coffee pots and everything.”
“I’m so addicted, I carry it with me whenever I travel,” Emily offered.
She deftly reached down and zipped up the open suitcase.
Another woman suddenly joined the group. “The New Jersey flight should
be arriving now,” she announced before focusing on Emily. “You must be
Emily,” she said. “I’m Alexis... Lex for short.”
“Nice to meet you,” Emily replied as the two shook hands.
Gathering up their assorted bags and luggage carts, the entourage
headed down the terminal to meet Jeanine’s flight. When they arrived at the
gate they were surprised to discover that Sue Clark, Michelle, and Jeanette
were already waiting to meet Jeanine. While the lengthy introductions were
being made, Jeanine suddenly appeared before them carrying one suitcase and
a cat sized pet carrier.
“Nurse Jeanine reporting for duty,” she said with a smile. “Oddly
enough, my flight was a few minutes early.”
Idalia chuckled. “Soul will be so happy to see you. She’s probably
already got a headache coming on!”
Michelle bent over to peek into the cat carrier. “Oh, I love cats!” she
squealed.
“That’s Paco, my Chihuahua!” Jeanine told her.
Idalia immediately pulled a crumpled sheet of pink paper from her pants
pocket. “Only 3 more to go,” she announced. “Lisa, Boomer, and Angi.”
“What about Karin and Anja?” Barbara asked with concern.. “They’re
coming all the way from Germany!”
“Jennifer’s plane gets in around the same time as theirs,” Idalia
replied, “about a half hour from now. Jenn told me that she’d rent a car and
bring them down.”
“And what about Carrie and Mary?” Barbara then asked. “Mary told me she
was flying.”
“We have everything under control,” Idalia consoled her. “Don’t worry.
Carrie told me that she and Mary were flying in together and that they’ll
make their own way to the theatre.”
Emily made a covert hand signal to Jeanette and the two casually
wandered a few paces away from the rest. “You’re a war newbie too, aren’t
you?” Emily asked. “Did they give you a title yet?”
“Keeper of the Scooby Snacks,” Jeanette replied proudly.
“I’m Keeper of the Coffee Pot,” Emily immediately offered. Suddenly,
her own title didn’t really seem too bad after all.
Several planeloads of people started pouring out from the same doors
that Jeanine had recently come through and everyone turned to look. Lisa,
Boomer, and Angi had obviously met up somewhere between customs and baggage
and came out as a trio. Boomer and Angi were deeply engrossed in a
conversation about the latest season of X-Files, while Lisa was tagging
along behind them, trying to manage her suitcase while skimming through the
latest edition of a pro wrestling magazine.
Boomer glanced up and immediately noticed the mob of N&Ners. “Wow! This
is some welcoming committee!” she said.
Idalia nodded her agreement. “Soul’s picking us all up in one shot,”
she said.
Boomer and Lisa introduced their new friend, Angi, to the rest of the
gang; and were in turn introduced to the people they’d never met before.
Idalia had just finished counting heads when she noticed Soulseeker
coming up behind the crowd. “Everyone here?” Soul asked.
“Yup, they’re all there!” Idalia replied.
“OK, people, head ‘em up and move ‘em out!”
*****
Idalia broke into laughter at the sight of the multi-coloured bus and
tugged at her faction leader’s arm. “This is more discreet than five black
minivans?” she taunted. “We’ll have groupies following us all over town
thinking we’re a rock band!”
Soul just looked at her and said one simple word, “Kevin”. She climbed
aboard the bus, and the rest followed her in and took their seats.
The drive down the 427 was going well - for about 5 minutes. Then the
bus slowed to a crawl in the wake of rush hour traffic, an exasperating
condition in itself now amplified by road construction here and lane
closures on the distant eastbound QEW.
Michelle, who was sitting beside Sue in a seat halfway down the bus,
sighed heavily. “This reminds me of Vegas,” she moaned. “Construction,
construction, construction.” She reached down into the tote bag at her feet
and pulled out her latest cross-stitching composition.
“Who’s that supposed to be, eh?” Sue asked, eyeing the vague outline of
a grey-haired head.
Michelle glanced at her work, “Oops, wrong series,” she confessed. She
stuffed it back into her bag and pulled out a more suitable project.
The bus finally eased onto the QEW, and once past the construction
zone, picked up speed. It was at that point that Marci, two rows up, let out
a loud whoop. “What the hell is that?!” she yelled.
Everyone strained to look out the windows, but whatever it was had
already disappeared.
“What? I don’t see anything!” Jennifer said.
“It was a helicopter carrying two big statues or something!” Marci
replied.
“Yeah, right,” Lex muttered.
Marci scowled at her and then addressed everyone. “Didn’t anyone else
see it?” She looked towards the front of the bus. “You must have seen it,
Soul!”
“I heard a helicopter,” Soul replied. I didn’t see anything. But at
this time of day there are always traffic helicopters flying over the city,
and we’re not far from the Island Airport.”
“A helicopter carrying two big statues,” Lisa murmured, poking her
elbow into Boomer who was sitting beside her.
*****
Back at the theatre, Floribunda was strolling across the marble lobby
when she spotted Ang racing through the front door. "Ang!" she shouted as
she ran over to greet her friend.
"So there _is_ something wrong!" Ang exclaimed. "I knew it. I felt a
sensation of impending doom. It was horrible." She nodded her head solemly.
"I had to follow my instincts," she murmured. "I had to come."
Floribunda gave her a brief hug. "Where's your stuff?" Floribunda asked.
"Out in the car... and the trailer."
"Trailer?"
Ang chuckled. It’s just a small U-Haul. I had to bring all the
accessories for Thomas and Attitude.
Floribunda took a step back. “A cat I can understand,” she said, “but
you brought that -thing- with you?” She had never “met” Attitude, only knew
that it was white with red eyes and close to 7 feet long. That was about
6-1/2 feet too long in her opinion.
“Attitude’s not a ‘thing’, he’s a snow corn snake,” Ang insisted. She
gently pressed her fingers into Floribunda’s forearm. “And I fed him before
we left so you certainly won’t have to worry about being eaten!” she teased.
“Besides, I also brought along a surprise for you - Tillamook cheese!”
Floribunda instantly forgot about the snake. “What a sweetie!” she
exclaimed, “I love cheese!”
“I buy it in bulk from a grocer I know,” Ang professed, as the two
finally headed outside towards the trailer that was hitched to Ang’s Toyota
Starlet. Ang opened the trailer doors. “Enough to stock the kitchen -and-
keep you happy!” she announced gleefully.
Floribunda peered inside. “What’s all this other stuff?”
“My cosmetology paraphernalia and henna tattooing gear. You never know
what might come in handy during these... uncertain times.”
The two women were about to start unloading when a Concord pulled up
fast behind the trailer and slammed on the brakes. Loud music was blaring
out the window. Another vehicle immediately pulled in behind the car. “That
must be Kelly,” Floribunda said, “but I don’t know who that is behind her.”
The Concord was suddenly silent, and Kelly jumped out. “Hi! I’m Kelly!”
she exclaimed.
Floribunda and Ang approached her and introduced themselves.
“Is Kevin here yet?” Kelly asked. “When I talked to Soul on the phone,
she told me he would be coming. I haven’t been here in years and I’d love to
see him again.”
“He’s here,” Floribunda told her. “He’s been running around all
afternoon testing and retesting the security systems.”
Kelly laughed. “Yup, that’s Kevin!”
A woman from the second vehicle now approached them. She was dressed
entirely in black and carrying a can of Dr. Pepper. “Hi all,” she greeted
the group eagerly. “I’m Cecilia!”
While everyone was introducing themselves, Anne, Susan, and Kevin
emerged from the theatre and joined in the introductions. Moments later, two
more vehicles approached. Kevin’s face lit up at the sight of Carla’s
beat-up Astro Van. He eagerly started walking towards it. If there was ever
a vehicle in dire need of a paint job - this was it! Unfortunately, the
Grand Caravan behind it looked in pretty good shape. The rest of the group
followed Kevin to meet Carla and Grace, and their respective passengers.
Floribunda stood next to Carla and shook her head at the sight of the
snowmobile trailer hitched to the Astro. “Pulling a snowmobile trailer here
in the middle of summer - with American plates? You know that’s only going
to further convince us Canucks that you Americans think it snows here all
year round!”
Carla laughed. “I borrowed it from a friend,” she declared. “It’s fully
stocked with everything I’ll need to keep the gang up to their eyeballs in
chocolate chip cookie dough!”
(Cont’d. in 3/3)
Susan B.
freestyle@...
War: NA: War's My Mummy?! (2/3)
By Patt, Bons, Christy, Cousin Erik, Evil Cousin Tiff, KC and Jules
"Let's be fair...War can be bad, too," Laura offered. "It can make you
do crazy things, go astray, be led to ruin . . ."
"We get the message, Laur." Glennis, Dee and Jayne surrounded the
newly-returned addict and all three women engaged in a group hug. "Take a
deep breath, count to three and say 'There's no place like home...there's no
place like home...'"
"Dark Perks agitate,
Causing strife among the good,
true Nunkies Addicts." Shele quoted, sheathing her quill.
Laura looked around, thankfully, at the sea of friendly faces. "Thanks,
all of you, for being so kind and generous to me. You won't be sorry."
"We're not even worried about that, Laura," Jayne smiled. Then she
almost laughed aloud. "At least you had a faction to back you up these past
two years. The very first War I ever participated in was the War where a
"rift" in the "space-time continuum" was depositing duplicates of the FK
characters all over the place." Nay and Anne's eyes widened at the disclosure
of this information and the images that began dancing in their heads.
"This was before I realized my true lust for LaCroix, so I wasn't
affiliated--a bad, bad thing, because non-affiliation meant no backup." Jayne
continued. " Anyway, the memory that sticks out most from that War was the
happy, happy evening I spent handcuffed to the steering wheel of the
Caddy...ahhh, the Caddy...the seats that squeaked whenever I moved...the
oh-so-mysterious color...the fins... "
Noting that most of the addicts were staring at her with very strange
expressions (Chrome speciesists, I guess. Non-metallurgists! Boo!), Jayne
collected her thoughts and continued her narrative. "*Ahem.* Anyway, that
was My First War. My only other War featured the infamous chariot race down
Queen Street - and a few other roads, but who has time to read street signs
when you're hurtling past in a five hundred pound chariot, in hot pursuit of
a delusional Addict, yelling at the top of your lungs? *sigh* Just like in
Ben Hur... "
Having finally lifted herself from her prone position on the marble
floor, KC, (aka Kissing Cousin Susan, aka Rhubarbarella, Goddess of Pez and
Rollerskates, aka Hambone McGee) sipped from a Jolt-filled champagne flute
and looked around at her friends and fellow soldiers, recalling all the grand
times she had in the name of His Peachiness. It seemed like only three years
ago she was yanking the revered Vaqmommy, Tracy Sue, down the disease-ridden
sewers of Toronto.
She couldn't help but chuckle as she recalled her oh-so-tasty revenge
against the Spaniard Lackey. Selling her into slavery to the Ratpack had been
one of her finest moments, and had established her as one bad mutha...
"Shut yo' mouth!" Jayne broke into KC's reverie.
"I'm just havin' a flashback!" KC retorted.
"I can dig it!"
KC chuckled at the inane pop culture reference. "Hey Jan, remember that
time I lured ol' Leatherpants--"
"Vachon?" The NA Guardian's brow wrinkled. Jan was a sworn protector of
the Shrine, and only vaguely remembered KC's deeds.
"Close. Tracy Sue." KC replied. "Anyhoo, as I was saying before I was
so RUDELY interrupted..." KC leveled her best "Mistress KC" look on the
interrupter. "As I was saying, I lured TS to the Jeweled Peach with the
promise of a be-toga-ed Ted, only to put her in Mouse ears, roller skates and
a French maid outfit and sell her to the feelthy Ratpackers!" KC cackled in
pure evil.
"What's the matter with Mouse ears?" Christy said, touching her headgear
protectively. Dee shrugged.
"Um...but didn't you do that only *after* Tracy Sue kidnapped *you*,
dyed your hair, glued you into a leather outfit, and dangled you upside down
from the CN Tower?" Caren added helpfully.
KC's face clouded up like the Seattle skyline. "That's in no way
interesting to you," KC mumbled.
"Well, all this strolling down memory lane is nice," Patt said, deciding
that the post was getting too lengthy. (Gasp! No!) "But, if we plan to
coronate the Scribe tomorrow, we better get cracking on the decorating. I
need to go talk with Chris-she still in the Kitchen/Lab?"
Several addicts nodded.
"Kewl," Patt noted, heading toward the swinging doors. "I could use some
lunch anyway. Kill two birds . . ."
As the Mature Addict pushed the door open, a noxious green smoke slid
into the room, permeating everything in its wake. Several addicts quickly
donned gas masks while others hid under divans and inside urns.
Fanfic Fairy Boetie Gaan, who had been hovering above Patt's head, began
choking and wheezing out green-tainted glitter. Unable to breathe, the little
fairy fled quickly out of the Shrine proper and back down the hallway leading
to the anterooms.
"Chris," Patt called out, waving smoke away with her hand. "I need to
talk with you. What the heck are you cooking in there???"
"Cheese balls," Chris suddenly appeared through the fetid green mist,
bearing a tray of cheddar-colored orbs. "Want a sample?"
"Errrr, I'm on a diet," Patt offered. She turned and glared when
several of the addicts, who knew her very, very, very well, snickered. "Hey,
newbie," she pointed at Nay, "come here and play tester."
Nay, eyes wide, considered the invitation, then turned and fled.
"She'll make an excellent addict," Glennis noted, while Christy nodded
in agreement. "Uncanny instincts."
********************************************************
Still gasping for breath, Boetie Gaan flew into the anteroom, seeking
fresh air. He didn't find it.
Something was very wrong - not going as the plot had been planned. Boet
glared inside the hard drive, wondering if THAT interloper had returned.
Satisfied that Slacker-interference was not the source of his
discomfort, Boet began darting around. He was sure something was awry.
Something smelled wrong - and it wasn't just the clinging residue of the
potent cheese balls. The room seemed strangely empty, despite the many boxes
stacked around. Boetie sniffed again. The small tendrils on the back of his
neck pricked sharply and his natural reaction was to flee.
In his agitated hurry to leave the room, Boet flew against the wire cage
holding the newt, Sparky. The vampiric lizard hissed and displayed its tiny
fangs. Boet offered the reptile a raspberry, and quickly flew from the
anteroom and out into the hallway. In his haste, Boetie failed to notice the
residue of rotting cloth that stretched, like a slug trail, from the center
of the room to one of the closets doors that hid a Ratpacker tunnel entrance.
Not to mention the single non-sensible shoe.
******************************************************
Back in the Shrine proper, Chris gave the addicts her best *Oh, well*
expression.
"Your loss, my gain," the NA inventor admonished the skeptical crowd
gathered around her. She popped one of the cheese balls into her mouth and
smacked with dramatic appreciation. "Fit for a High Priestess," she
announced. "Just the right touch of beer."
"Beer?" Patt noted, suddenly interested. The Third Cousin snatched one
of the cheddary bites from the tray which Chris held and placed the tidbit
onto her palate. Patt's eyes widened in surprise.
"It tastes sweet," the Mature Addict declared.
"That's because Ancient Egyptian beer was sweet," Chris said. "It was
almost like wine. Good though, right?"
"Not too shabby," Patt agreed, causing the other addicts to surge
forward and help themselves to the treats. "Kind of grainy, almost hickory
tasting, with just a hint of sweet date, hops and B.C. barley."
"I'm impressed," Caren said, noting Chris' nod of agreement. "The
NunkWrangler does know her beer."
"Speaking of things Egyptian," Patt said, turning to the lab-fixated
addict. "Chris...we got in a shipment today which might interest you."
Chris' eyes narrowed. "Oh? Does this involve doing dirty work that you
don't want to do and that will keep me away from my Od?"
"Not this time," the Third Cousin assured her friend and sometime rival.
"We got in a sarcophagus from..."
At the mention of the word *sarcophagus,* Chris thrust the cheese tray
at a startled Jayne and fled from the main altar room down the hall toward
the anteroom.
"Gee," Jayne noted dryly. "I know I mentioned wanting to have dealings
with the Ratpack, but scoring Limburger wasn't exactly what I had in mind."
"No problem," Patt smiled, grabbing yet another of the tasty milk
byproduct creations. "I'll take those off your hands." The NunkWrangler
turned to Caren and said, "Could you please go and check on Chris and see
what she can initially determine about that old vault? She'll probably get
down there and get so absorbed in it that she'll forget to report. And, make
sure that she doesn't open the darn thing, okay?"
Caren grinned. "You got it. Come on, Paul. Let's go play Chris'
*mummy.*"
The young addict-not made an *Okay, Mom* face and followed Caren out of
the main Shrine.
There was a flurry of activity at the open doorway that led from the
Shrine proper into the restaurant known as the Jeweled Peach.
"Thees dirty man says he was called to come here!" Monsieur Cabon,
restaurant proprietor/owner/manager cried out as he burst into the room.
Following Cabon was a tall, lean figure wearing rough-hewn clothing that
indeed appeared to be rather worn. It was the traditional look of an
un-uniformed ocean front worker-- faded denim jeans, a dark T-shirt, a
nautical pea-coat and a navy blue knit cap pulled tightly down on his head.
"I'm from Doc-Or Repair," the stranger said, looking around the room
with incredibly sharp eyes. He paused briefly in his searching when his eyes
fell on Christy. "I'm here to fix a leaky boat."
"Actually, it's a barge." Erik moved forward. "Come this way and I'll
show you." The two men moved off toward the slightly sunken vessel.
"What's the matter?" Glennis asked Christy when she noticed a tremor
course through her long-time friend.
"I'm not sure," the Nunketeer replied, reaching up to touch her Mouse
ears. "But, I just had the oddest feeling of someone looking up under my
toga, checking to see if I had a tail."
"Better stay off the cheese," Dee advised.
"Yeah," Christy agreed. She threw her half-eaten, third cheese ball into
a potted fern, which promptly turned yellow. "We better get back to the
decorating."
At that moment, Boetie Gaan flew back into the Shrine, making a beeline
for his mistress. His course of flight took him by the boat repairman, who
glared at the passing fairy with a furious expression. Boet squeaked in
dismay and vanished with a *poof.* Underneath the knit cap, the repairman
smiled wickedly.
Patt never noticed her fairy's arrival or sudden disappearance. She was
too busy studying the area surrounding Bons' coronation throne, especially
what appeared to be a stone table with grooved insets.
"What's that?" the Third Cousin asked, pointing at the flat surfaced
object.
"That's our sacrificial altar," newbie Beverley smiled sweetly.
"And why, pray tell, do we need a sacrificial altar?" Patt asked, her
eyebrow rising slightly.
"Aside from the obvious symbolism of our new High Priestess sacrificing
herself for the adoration of Nunkies," Beverley said, "we thought it might be
nice to have a Buff Slave Boy tied there during the ceremony - for
entertainment purposes."
"Bons' investiture is not entertainment," Patt responded coldly. "It is
a solemn occasion which demands our respect and most proper behavior. The
altar can stay, but only if it doubles as a buffet bar."
********************************************************
End of Part Two
War: NA: War's My Mummy?! (1/3)
By Patt, Bons, Christy, Cousin Erik, Evil Cousin Tiff, KC and Jules
Bonnie looked around the addict-less anteroom, tapping her foot
impatiently. Disregard her denial to serve, would they? Huh! She'd show
them!
The Scribe-Refusing-To-Be-High-Priestess scanned the room's
contents, her eyes alighting on the sarcophagus. "Hmm..." Bonnie shuffled
through the ruins, finding the fallen, blush-colored shipping label Patt
& Co. had overlooked during the earlier excitement marked 'URGENT:
Forward To CERK.' She clutched the paper in a clenched fist, sneaky
thoughts tangoing in her head. "A High Priestess can't be inaugurated if
she's not here..."
Bonnie moved to search through her pockets for her bottle of
Pink-Out<tm>. Huh. Bonnie noticed she was stomping around the Shrine in
her underwear. Oops. (Bad for fanfic rating, but justifiable through
third-season-cable-network-peep-and-pant tactics.) Still, feeling the
burden of the tasteful 'Forever Knight' consumer and a growing chill up
her 'Buttercup' briefs, she grabbed one of the comfy looking Egyptian
terry cloth robes and slipped out into the alley.
Her course took her through the Sacred Stables and barn, where she
paused briefly to pet Tracy Camel's nose. The Scribe warily walked
through the open area of the Sacred Barn and Hayloft, careful not to
arouse the interest of the pigeons perched on the rafters above. Bons
turned the alley corner, hugging close to the wall and entered by way of
the Lab/Kitchen. She tiptoed past Chris' Scientific Bakery and into the
Sacred Laundry Room.
Tossing clothes left and right from the precisely folded 'Clean'
basket (thereby re-dirtying them in mad fit of domestic sabotage), Bonnie
hunted through her fellow addicts' garments in search of her own.
"Beverley's jeans...Nope." Toss! "Anne's peach stretch camisole...hmm,
Victoria's Secret...no, I shouldn't steal. Lying will be sufficient
morally ambiguous activity for today...hmm..." Fling! "KC's red
jumpsuit...Some things *are* sacred." Lob and volley! "Speedo...Ah! My
Speedo! And a beach towel! Mine, mine, mine!"
And so, behind a conveniently-placed mound of tablecloths waiting for
Louis Cabon's ironing skills, Bonnie traded her 'Powerpuff Girls' undies
for her swimwear. Infinitely more practical. She tiptoed back through the
Lab/Kitchen, again around Chris' scientific bakery - the scent of barley
teased her nostrils (mmm) - slipped her hand into the utility drawer,
silently fished out three small items and returned via the alley to the
sarcophagus with waiting shipping label.
Using Item-Fetched-From-The-Lab/Kitchen-#1, a bottle of
Pink-Out<tm>(Rather like White-Out, but on another wavelength. Fumes
known to make Evil Cousin Tiff dance naughty jig at parties. A handy
tool.), Bonnie crossed out the letters 'CERK' from the intended
sarcophagus destination. Using Item-Fetched-From-The-Lab/Kitchen-#2, a
black permanent marker (The only thing in the Shrine remotely as
permanent as LaCroix. Actually clocked more hours on the premises, at
that. Hmm. Maybe the faction should rededicate itself as Sharpies
Anonymous. Distinct concept, but what to wear as organization uniform?
Ink-soaked felt? Hmm...), Bonnie replaced the name of the radio station
with 'The Spa Experience.'
Humming 'I Wanna Be A Lifeguard' under her breath, Bonnie placed the
shipping label prominently by the casket. Next, she picked up the crowbar
the addicts had left on the floor. Prying at the lid of the sarcophagus,
the seal gave way with a moan-like rush of air. Stone scraping against
stone, Bonnie pushed the lid aside. As the opening widened, a specter of
dust rushed free, darting from wall to wall of the anteroom in a rush of
grit and ashes in a tiny, contained cyclone. As it flew with seeming
deliberation toward Bonnie's head, the Scribe waved her hands in the air
in front of her face and sneezed. The cloud dispersed in a whoosh.
Bonnie coughed slightly as she continued to wave her hands in front
of her face. "Dopey antiquities with their grit bombs..." she muttered.
"But what does LaCroix care?!" she complained aloud. "He doesn't have
allergies. Everyone else can wheeze and suffer and do his silly payroll
reports. Doesn't matter, as long as *he* isn't inconvenienced. Now,
wouldn't that be lovely? LaCroix trapped in an unpleasant predicament
where he can't just arch his eyebrows and have his way...? I wish. Yes,
yes. Boo-hiss on LaCroix."
So grumbled, Bonnie produced Item-Fetched-From-The-Lab/Kitchen-#3,
her swim goggles, and fitted them on her head to protect from further
dusty bits that might fling into her eyes.
Bonnie's vision narrowed through the blue-tinted lenses as another
eerie moan echoed through the anteroom. She swiftly glanced around to see
if anyone had entered while her back was turned, but she remained alone,
discounting Sparky, the vampiric newt. (Noise no doubt merely Ratpackers
using Shrine plumbing as jungle gym. Nothing intrinsically ominous in
that unless ratters harvesting the copper joints for swap meet profits.
Discount that suspicion on basis of hypothetical theory of concise plot
advancement. Apologize to readers belatedly for continued wordiness of
explanatory prose.)
Attention on the sarcophagus once more, Bonnie heaved the lid fully
aside (Weight training benefit of bench-pressing luggage in and out of a
Suburban during travelicious Arizonan foray with Road Sister Posse.
Ahoy!) Leaning over the rim to peer inside, Bonnie found it already
contained a distinctly ripe occupant.
"Ick! Old dead thing! What would LaCroix want with that?!" (Old dead
thing - rather a description of the Nunkster, himself, if one was feeling
uncharitable.) Clapping her hands together in a business-like manner,
Bonnie announced, "Alrighty then, Mr. Mummy! Naptime's over! Rise and
shine! Chop! Chop!"
Lifting the sarcophagus' guest, Bonnie cringed at the feel of
desiccated flesh and dusty linen under her hands. "Right," she mumbled to
herself. "Fellow just needs a bit of lotion and some mouthwash. You've
dated worse. Nothing to squirm about." She lifted and pulled the ancient
corpse from his resting place and padded slowly backwards toward the
nearest Ratpacker closet (Most addicts with strongly developed senses of
preservation avoided these like plague or tax forms.), dragging the
wrapped remains with her. With applied yoga techniques and a few
well-placed shoves, Mr. Mummy was soon stocked behind a shiny aluminum
door between a nest of chewing gum wrappers and a stack of duct tape.
Skipping back to the now-empty sarcophagus, Bonnie began to hum the
melody to 'I Wanna Be A Lifeguard' anew, this time substituting 'I Wanna
Be A Mummy' for the original lyrics. She climbed over the rim (Clinging
skills developed on suspiciously narrow rim trails of the Grand Canyon
during aforementioned Arizona foray with Road Sister Posse. Ahoy!). As
she fell into the sarcophagus, one of her non-sensible denim mules (left
foot) slipped off and skittered to the floor, several feet below.
Slightly perturbed, but not willing to attempt to crawl back out of the
casket to fetch the fallen footwear, Bons sighed deeply and dragged the
vault's lid back into place, settling inside the musty interior with her
beach towel wrapped around her legs, breathing exercises on her mind.
Minutes after Bonnie sequestered herself within the sarcophagus, a
knock came at the door, swiftly followed by the reappearance of the
deliveryman, Mike, with two assistants. "I made a mistake with the
invoice," he called, gesturing to a small crate that fit under his arm.
"This was the package meant for -" Mike broke off as he realized the
once-bustling anteroom was now empty. "Hello?" he called again. "Anybody
around?"
When there was no answer, the deliveryman shrugged, then looked to
his peers. "Go ahead and pack the sarcophagus back into its crate. This
one's urgent. I'll leave a note explaining the mistake."
The pink shipping label on the floor caught Mike's eye. Swiping it
up in one hand, he noted the delivery address and stacked the smallish
replacement crate among the other cartons with a quickly scribbled
account of the switch.
After a few more seconds of bustle, the deliverymen left, taking
the re-boxed sarcophagus with them, leaving behind only a single
non-sensible shoe littering the floor in its place.
*****************************************************
Patt looked around the canal, slightly irritated. "What happened to
the Roman motif we decided on? The paintings of rolling Italian hills and
the scale model of the Coliseum? Why do we have a barge, instead of the
gondola we ordered? How did we get off on this
Egypt kick, anyway? Too much movie watching?"
Christy shrugged and beckoned to Glennis and Dee. "Explain," she
ordered.
"Well, my hands just went south," Glennis grinned. "With Nunkies
sending in all the goodies from the Middle East, and Rome having a
history with Egypt . . ."
"Think Cleopatra," Dee interjected.
"We just thought we'd break from the traditional Jules/Roman stuff
and give Bons a unique style of her own." Glennis finished.
"But, Bons is a Barbarian," Patt countered. "If you wanted this
coronation to have her style, then you should have Viking ships and
Teutonic forests everywhere."
"They got burned last year," Beverley said, joining the group.
"Egypt is *in* now."
"Why don't we let Bons decide?" Caren said helpfully. "Maybe taking
part in the planning will make this coronation more palatable for her."
The dark-haired woman looked around. "Where is she, anyway?"
"Probably still in the anteroom, bemoaning her fate," Patt noted.
"She'll be along soon enough, when she decides that wet clingy linen is
more interesting than complaining. I just hope she grabs one of those
robes for herself - those panties of hers were pretty loud."
Patt returned her attention to the busy scene in front of her. She
smiled. "It actually DOES look pretty nice," the NunkWrangler admitted.
Christy smiled, then shooed
Glennis and Dee back to work. Seeing some chores that interested them,
the addicts who had been receiving shipments decided to give the
decorators a hand.
"It's nice to see everyone working, smiling and having fun," Patt
admitted.
"Doing away with grout duty and hiring a professional cleaning crew
was a very good decision," Christy agreed. She looked at Patt and smiled.
"Sure did make a difference in the number of addicts who showed up for
Bons investiture, especially after we all lost touch for so long."
"Yes," Patt agreed. "We haven't had this many folk in residence
since the last War."
At the mention of the word *WAR,* all activity ceased and the
addicts turned to stare at the Third Cousin.
"What's a WAR?" Anne whispered to Glennis.
The older addict hushed the teen then shivered. "War is bad. It
means wardrobe havoc, Shrine desecration and disharmony in the universe."
"But, let's be fair," Eric commented. "War can also bring like
minds together and encourage friendships that last a lifetime, based on
similar goals, likes and values." The Nunkamale ducked agilely as a large
cushion was thrown at his head. "Hey, I wouldn't be here today if KC and
company hadn't been crawling through my tunnels."
KC didn't duck fast enough. The large pillow thwapped her in the
face, sending the Arkansas addict stumbling backwards. She collided with
a column draped in netting, and promptly became entangled in the mesh.
Plaintively, the Kissing Cousin lifted an arm, extended a hand and cried
"TAG TEAM PARTNER!"
"I have some fond memories of past Wars," Supaige offered. "It was
during a previous War that I discovered my passion for camel racing and
hay rides."
"Uhhh, huhh." Patt looked at the blonde addict skeptically.
"Supaige is right," Caren added. "It was during one of our War
excursions, I recall, that I had one of the most delicious moments of my
life. We were trekking through the tunnels and we came out to see "Him."
Sweet, delicious, and yummy, all rolled into one." Caren sighed deeply.
"I wonder if there will be another movie shoot in Toronto anytime soon?"
(Are there stars in Hollywood? Does the sun rise in the east? Do
Ratpackers collect pretty, shiny things???)
Paul looked over at his mother, wondering what she was thinking
about, but then he decided not to ask. He'd learned that his mother
would honestly tell him what's was on her mind, and sometimes he just
didn't want to know.
********************************************************
End of Part One
________________________________________________________________
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War: NNP
Title: Something’s Amoose! (1/3)
By: Susan B., Soulseeker, & the Nick&Natpack
Time: Thursday July 5th, Approx. 12:30PM-5:30PM
Place: Nick&Natpack Theatre and TO Airport
---------------------------------
Soulseeker sat behind her desk in her soundproof office in the
Nick&Natpack theatre, reflecting on the events that had once again brought
her here.
..............................
It was a dream, it was a nightmare… it was Lacroix in a dress. It had
started out as most dreams do. The sky was painted in brilliant colours -
flashes of red, green, purple, and yellow filled the darkness. The sound of
thunder filled the night, and smokey clouds floated past. The music of Kim
Mitchell drowned out the chattering of people. Soulseeker glanced to her
right and smiled in amusement at Tracy. It was the Canada Day celebration
and Tracy had decided that she needed to be extra patriotic in her choice of
clothing so she’d put on a white knee-length sundress with bright red
Canadian flags printed on it. She had also decided to don a matching hat and
wave a mini flag. Tracy definitely stood out in the crowd.
Soulseeker quickly glanced back up at the sky as another series of
bangs sounded. Local fireworks always seemed to bring out half the city, all
of them chattering like magpies in competition with the music that blared in
the background. A moment later, she turned back to Tracy to crack a joke
about all the noise the mob ahead of them were making. The words died on her
lips as she realized Lacroix was now standing beside her, dressed in the
exact same clothing that Tracy had worn. After an abrupt pinch to her right
arm, she did a quick crowd search, but could find no sign of Tracy. The
entire time Lacroix just stood there, looking rather awkward in a dress
several sizes too small, smiling cheerfully at her. Soulseeker suddenly woke
up with a horror filled scream hovering on her lips. She cautiously glanced
around the room and then let out a relieved sigh when she realized she was
in her own bed. After assuring herself that no one wearing a Canadian flag
dress lurked in her room, she closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep with
only one thought on her mind, ‘red really wasn’t his colour’.
The next scene began with Soulseeker sitting on Nat’s desk sipping on a
Pina Colada and munching on fries. A grimacing Nick sat across from her, he
was attempting to sip on one of Natalie’s famous shakes. Natalie stood in
front of the autopsy table that had begun to resemble a pharmacy. Soul tried
to contain a chuckle as she watched Nick stare at Natalie in horror as she
tossed item after item into a blender. The sound of the blender starting up
triggered Nick’s gagging and a subsequent giggle from Nat. Soulseeker,
shaking her head at their playfulness, turned her attention back to her
fries. After a few enjoyable bites, she glanced up to tease Nick about Nat’s
latest experiment, but could only stare speechless at the person in front of
her. Nick was no longer Nick, but rather Natalie; and a quick glance at
where Natalie had been only a moment before confirmed that Nick was in her
place. She watched helplessly as Natalie drank the experimental shake while
Nick added a few more ingredients to the blender. She had to admit that Nat
didn’t look too bad in Nick’s clothes, but Nick didn’t really do justice to
the burgundy business suit Natalie had been wearing, and he looked about to
tip over in the high heels. Soulseeker woke for the second time that night
in a sweat. It was definitely time to get up.
She had had a long day, filled with fun, food, Pina Coladas and the
company
of two local N&NPackers. Briefly she wondered if all those things combined
had somehow triggered the strange dreams, but she couldn’t dismiss the
unease she felt. A quick glance at the clock confirmed it was early, 3am,
but she knew she’d have to call Susan. Susan answered on the third ring and
it was a quick conversation. One that was both shocking and gratifying - she
was not alone. Susan had had a dream involving Janette and Schanke. Briefly
she told Soul about it, about how she had seen Janette slip off a black
robe and step into a shower stall. It was a glass shower stall, but nothing
could be seen behind the camouflage of steam. Apart from the sound of water
hitting the floor, it was silent for a very long time. Then, suddenly,
Janette’s sultry voice had filled the air with song. Susan said she couldn’t
recognize the tune at first - only knew that it was out of place. She had
crept closer, and finally the lyrics became clear. Janette was singing the
‘Beer Barrel Polka’. It went on for what seemed an eternity; but finally the
singing stopped, the water stopped, and Janette stepped out of the shower
with an odd, crooked smile on her lips. She slipped back into her robe, and
quickly made the sign of the cross on her body, yelping in pain with every
motion, “Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!”
That was when Soulseeker knew it was time to call in the N&NPack…when
she knew that something unusual was happening in Toronto.
......................
Shaking off her reverie and coming back to the present, Soul was about
to speak to Susan and Anne when the office door suddenly flew open and Eva
rushed in. Her short brown hair was sticking out everywhere, and the long
white tee-shirt she wore was rumpled. A small dark blue knapsack was
dangling from one arm.
“Karen’s train should be arriving in 15 minutes,” Soul said. “Why aren’
t you down there waiting for her?”
“Sorry,” Eva whimpered apologetically. “I fell asleep.”
Soul stood up. “Fell asleep?”
Eva then glared at Anne, “Well, if this one didn’t wake me up at 7:30
this morning by banging on the front doors, I wouldn’t have fallen asleep to
begin with!”
Anne simply smiled and plucked more black and white dog hair off the
bright summer dress she wore. “Soulseeker said she needs me here,” Anne said
quietly, “that she needs everyone here. I took the first GO Train out of
Richmond Hill!”
“I’m supposed to be on vacation,” Eva grumbled. “You took early
retirement. You can sleep in whenever you want to.” Eva took off her glasses
and wiped the remaining sleep from her eyes before putting them back on.
“Enough!” Soul snapped, suddenly feeling a headache coming on. She took
a few menacing steps towards Eva and stood in front of her. “You could take
a lesson from Anne,” she said sternly. “Something’s wrong in this City, and
that means Nick and Nat could be at risk. Now you get your butt down to that
train station to meet Karen. Now!”
“Right away!” Eva said. She quickly rummaged through her knapsack and
whipped out her Metropass. Tossing the sack onto the couch, she continued,
“but I’m not lugging this thing any further than I have to. What train was
it again? And what is she wearing?”
“She was flying to Toledo and then taking Via Rail from Windsor,” Soul
replied. “She’ll be wearing a teal blue shirt and jeans.”
Eva turned around and nearly bumped into Floribunda who was just on her
way in the door.
“There you are!” Soul exclaimed. I’ve been trying to reach you for
hours!”
“So there -is- something going on!” Floribunda said. “I’ve been in
Toronto for three days visiting my father. I was just across the street from
the theatre and noticed the doors were open. I thought something was up!”
“Something’s up indeed,” Soul muttered.
Floribunda glanced at Anne. “Who all is here and where did Eva rush off
to in such a hurry?” she asked.
“Just who you see plus Kevin,” Anne replied. “Eva went down to Union
Station to meet Karen, and Kevin’s checking out the security system.”
Soul glanced at her watch. “I’ll be leaving myself in a minute,” she
informed them. She walked over to the door and shouted, “KEVIN!! Moments
later, he arrived at the door with a guilty look on his face and Bear, his
lovable German Shepard/mutt pooch, jumping at his feet.
“Bring the bus around to the front will you?”
Kevin nodded and quickly raced way.
“Bus?” Floribunda whispered.
Soul grinned. “I borrowed an old school bus from a friend of mine,” she
said.”Very discreet form of transportation, and great for hauling a crowd
around.”
“School’s out for the summer,” Susan reminded her.
“Nonetheless, there are still plenty of them on the road - day camps,
group outings, budget minded tour groups. We’ll blend right in!” Hearing
Kevin now revving the motor out front, she left the room.
Susan, Anne, and Floribunda moved to peek out the window. “Oh my God,
she’s gonna kill him,” Susan whispered. Floribunda and Anne just stared out
at the street, stunned. Kevin, he who boasted that he could shoot a moving
target at 100 feet with his paintball gun, had obviously chosen the wrong
vehicle for target practice. Flourescent pinks, greens and yellows bled into
reds and blacks. Even the windows had not been spared. The women quickly
scurried out of the office and out the front doors of the theatre for a
better look, but were careful to maintain a safe distance.
Soul stormed towards the bus. She banged on the front doors and started
shouting at Kevin. A split second later, the rear doors of the bus flew open
and Kevin tore out, muttering something about checking the security system
as he raced past the onlookers into the relative safety of the theatre.
Soul appeared about to give chase, but threw her hands up in the air in
defeat. She climbed up into the bus and drove off down the street.
*****
“So, how did you like the Cave of the Winds?” Carla asked Amber as they
exited the Niagara Falls tourist attraction.
“It was great!” Amber replied, tamping her blood red hair back into
place. “Very windy.”
Carla glanced at her watch. “Alyce and Grace should be here soon. I
think they was going to stop in Philly to pick up Laila.” No sooner had the
words left her mouth when a Dodge Caravan pulled into the parking lot. “That
’s probably them!” Carla exclaimed. As she and Amber were making their way
over to the arriving vehicle, three auburn haired women emerged from it.
“They could be sisters!” Amber exclaimed. “Two of them could even be
twins!”
“Laila!”Carla cried out.
The slightly taller one of the three spun around and waved
enthusiastically. “Carla! Long time no see!”
Moments later, the two groups merged and Carla introduced her
passenger.“This is Amber,” she explained. “It’s her first War.”
“Meet Alyce and Grace,” Laila resopnded. “It’s their first time too.”
Amber immediately heard some faint sounds coming from the back of Grace
’s van. “Do you have someone else in there?” she asked.
“Only Chibi and Yoshi,” she replied. “My cats.”
“Don’t let Copper and Puck know they’re here,” Carla warned her,
referring to her dogs that were napping in the back of her own van.
Amber peaked through the rear window and noticed the cat carriers in
the back seat, along with some big bulky thing loosely concealed by a bright
orange tarp.
“Did you have any trouble finding this place?” Carla asked.
“No,” replied Grace, “Laila’s a great navigator!”
Carla once again checked the time. “Well, I suggest we get a move on.
It’s going to take about an hour and a half to get to the theatre, and we’ll
have plenty of time for chitchat then.”
(Cont’d. in 2/3)
Susan B.
freestyle@...
Natmare
by Sandra Gray
Place: The Loft
Time: Thursday, July 5, 2001, late afternoon
Nancy pulled back the elevator door and stepped into the loft.
Nick had his back to her, but soon turned a startled gaze on her.
"Hi, Nick. Anyone else here yet?"
Nick's eyes bugged a bit and his nostrils flared. "No." He
looked around the room in some confusion, then stalked over to
the refrigerator and opened it. He grabbed a bottle of blood
and fastened his teeth on the cork. Then he abruptly released
the cork from his grip and looked at the bottle.
"You okay, Nick?" asked Nancy.
"Yes. No! God, how does he stand this?!"
Nancy frowned and started toward him.
Nick's eyes widened. "Stay back!" He sped to the fireplace and
stood there, panting.
Nancy stood still. "Nick, what's the matter?"
"Don't call me that! I'm not Nick!" Tears filled his eyes and he
looked at the fireplace. "I'm...not...Nick," he continued in a
small voice.
Nancy heard the elevator moving. *Good, more Knighties,* she
thought. The situation was worse than she thought. She watched
as a crusade of Knighties spilled out of the elevator and into
the loft. As they dropped their luggage and surged toward their
vampire leader, all of them were surprised when Nick snarled at
them, his eyes gold, and flew up to the second floor landing.
The mortal women looked at Nancy.
Nancy shrugged. "Don't ask me," she said.
Katrinka and the others walked over to Nancy. "What's going on?"
asked Katrinka softly. "Has someone attacked already?"
"I flew," said Nick in a wondering tone of voice.
Nancy responded in a low voice, "I don't know. Maybe. All I can
say is...Nick isn't himself."
The vampire on the landing shouted, "I'm not Nick!!"
"He must have been attacked," continued Katrinka.
Nick swooped down to land near them. "I'm not Nick! I'm Nat!"
The assembled Knighties all did a great impression of Nick's deer
in headlights expression.
Nick's eyes took on a reddish hue and his nostrils flared again.
Some of the newer Knighties trembled at seeing his demeanor getting
more vampirish and...hungry. He growled. Everyone stood rooted to
their spots, hearts pounding. No one paid any attention to the sound
of the elevator opening.
"Hi, folks," said Sandra, stepping into the loft. Nick turned
his red gaze on the new arrival and growled louder, baring his
fangs. Sandra froze.
Nick looked back at the assembled women, fangs still bared, his
expression becoming even more predatory. Then he flew...for the
refrigerator. He tore the door open, grabbed a bottle of blood, and
tore out the cork with his teeth. Sandra put down her suitcase and
approached the others, her heart pounding.
The Knighties watched as he drained the bottle hungrily and messily.
He grabbed another bottle and downed it, then slid to the floor in
tears. He threw the empty bottle in his hand aside and wiped his
hands on his shirt. "Oh God, how does he stand this? I didn't know
it was like this. I didn't know. I didn't know. I didn't know."
The mortal women looked at each other, then cautiously approached
Nick. "Something is very wrong here," said Nancy.
"LaCroix has attacked Nick," said Sandra.
Nick turned his eyes on them. They were blue again. "I'm not Nick!
I'm Nat!" he wailed.
"Say what?" asked Sandra.
"That's what he keeps insisting," said Nancy.
"Oh, boy," said Katrinka. "Looks like we've got a big time delusion
on our hands here."
"And whoever is responsible is going to pay," said Nancy.
"It's a nightmare--Natmare!" said Nick. He giggled. "That's what it
is--a Natmare!" He giggled again.
--Sandra Gray, forever Knightie
--sandragray@...
TITLE: "Who Are You?"
AUTHOR: Bonnie Kate <callalily@...>
Follows: "Scrambled Screed With McLisa"
DATE/TIME: July 5 - not long after sunset
PLACE: Downtown TO, not far from the university
Bonnie exited the little downtown market with four full bags of groceries.
She had been in town for nearly a week now, though this was the first chance
she'd had to get to the market -- she and Alan had been living on take-out
from the Happy Souvlaki Deli since her arrival. He, of course, led a
bachelor's life in her absence and was so busy between teaching physics
classes and doing his research at the university that he rarely got around
to stocking his own cabinets. Not that she was any better when she was back
at her place in California -- her own work synthesizing DNA kept her pretty
well occupied -- so she could hardly fault Alan.
As she strolled down the street, slightly swinging the plastic bags in
rhythm with the tune rolling around inside her head -- "Aaaaaaaa very merry
unbirthday to me! To who? To me! Oh, you!" -- she spotted a somewhat
familiar figure. Only somewhat because she'd never seen the man dressed
quite so formally.
"GREG!" she shouted, like the ugly American every Canadian knew she was but
was too polite to say so. "KRAMER!!" Surprisingly, the man ignored her, so
she rushed up to him, the momentum of her swinging grocery bags propelling
her forward, finally causing her to collide with her friend.
"Greg! I didn't know you were in town! Are you doing another play? Please
say yes!" she asked excitedly as he simply glared down at her from his
towering five-feet ten-inches -- well, eleven and a half, if you counted the
heels on his shoes.
She felt hands on her shoulders firmly placing her on her feet, a good arm's
length away. "Do NOT wrinkle the suit."
It was an order and oddly held a rather snooty, upper-crust accent. "Ah, Greg?"
The man continued to glare at her, finally frowning. "Do I know you?"
"It's me, Bonnie! You know, Bonns -- double n...."
He quirked a reddish eyebrow at her. "The only Bonnie I know is a
*Rutledge* and you are not her. Then again, I'm not exactly myself. Hmm."
"Oh, yeah, I know Bons, but how do you know her?"
"My dear woman, she has been a Cousin for years."
"A Cousin? And how do you know any Cousins, Greg?"
"Greg? Woman, I may not be myself today but I am certainly NOT anyone
called 'Greg'. What a pedestrian name if I've ever heard one."
Bonnie frowned at the man. What looks like Greg but isn't Greg? she asked
herself. Screed, of course! "But you can't be Screed. You're looking far
too dapper and I can actually *understand* what you're saying!"
"I may, for the moment, resemble that lowly creature but I can assure you
that I am NOT him. I am Lucien LaCroix."
"LaCroix? Darn, and me without my number two pencil!" Bonnie cursed under
her breath.
"And I do NOT give autographs," the Nightcrawler said, making the wrong
assumption about Bonnie's intended use of the *wooden* writing implement.
"Like I'd want one. Do I *look* like fan-girl to you? I think not."
The Screedian LaCroix glared at her again.
"So, ah, what's with the body make-over? Finally realize Screed has it all
over you in the looks department?" she asked, irreverent as always.
"Hardly," he replied, narrowing his piercing *green* eyes at her.
"Well, might finally give you a fighting chance with Natalie ... nudge,
nudge. Wink, wink. Know what I mean? Know what I mean?"
"The, ah, good doctor is no concern of mine -- as long as she does not
betray the community with her knowledge."
"Well, now I KNOW you're not Screed. But, are you sure you're not, maybe,
Nick? 'Cuz he'd at least help me carry my groceries home."
"Yes, he would now, wouldn't he?" he drolled, a moment before his stomach
growled.
"Hungry, huh?"
"It would appear so. Do you, by chance, know where I could find a lovely
little rat?" he asked, his eyes flashing yellow for the briefest of instants.
Bonnie frowned. What looks like Greg, sounds like LaCroix, but feeds on
rats? Or, more importantly, WHEN might a question like this not sound
utterly absurd? War time. Not again! Bonnie sighed at the realization,
but then turned her attention back to Screed, er, LaCroix, er, whatever.
She smiled, though the emotion never reached her eyes. "Why don't you try
the dumpster out behind the medical research lab? I hear there's some
mighty fine pickin's there."
Then she turned on her heels and continued her walk home. She'd have to see
if she could get in touch with Libby -- something was up and it had to do
with Screed, which meant the second-in-uncommand of the Ratpack either might
know something or, at the very least, might need to be informed. If only
she knew HOW to get to Ratpack HQ! She had directions from Johnsie, he'd
been kind enough to e-mail her, but, unfortunately, he was as incoherent in
print as he was in speech. What had he written? Oh yeah, "Make a roight
hat the first busted pipe an' straight hon till mornin'." Why didn't it
surprise her that the Ratpack thought they lived in Never Land?
-END-
@-->-->---- @-->-->---- @-->-->---- @-->-->----
"Who are you?" said the Caterpillar.
Alice replied, rather shyly, "I--I hardly know, Sir, just at present -- at
least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have
been changed several times since then."
-- Alice's Adventures in Wonderland/ Chapter V (Lewis Carroll)
@-->-->---- @-->-->---- @-->-->---- @-->-->----
Bonnie Kate
<callalily@...>
War: Rat: Loose McMoose 1/1
by Lisa McDavid
July 5th, after 5.
First Note: When my old office had the first edition of
Wordperfect, it always balked at my first name. "Loose"
was its second suggestion. The first, which doesn't
alliterate here, was "louse." -- McLisa
Second Note: This is not an official Rat Pack post.
I just decided to throw it in.
McLisa, having found a port wine cheeseball among some of the
Rat Pack supplies, was feeling rather sorry for herself by the
time she had finished half of it. "Not funny, huh? Rule-bound,
am I? Ok, let's go break some rules. Break 'em _good." And the
headcase (in several senses) cousin moved off through the Rat
Packer tunnels.
The Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library at the University of Toronto
is known to the students as the Thomas Booker Rare Fish Library.
(True. A friend of mine used to work there.) McLisa, however,
although definitely fishy, was not in search of sushi. Instead
she emerged into the cataloging section and checked the backlog.
The Abarat was right where she had left it many wars ago, at the
far end of the backlog. There's always a backlog, especially for
items in arcane languages. Humming, "We're Off to See the
Wizard," McLisa returned to the tunnels with the Sanscrit
grimoire under her arm.
A few turns and a long slide later, McLisa emerged in front of
CERK. At least, it was supposed to be CERK. Because McLisa has
no sense of direction (also true) it was actually a small park
across from Nick's police station. Great. Now how was she going
to get into CERK in time to climb up to LaCroix's penthouse and
kidnap Spike? A thrill passed along her spine at the thought of
the General's beloved goldfish. Pretty, shiny, goldfish! She
was going to hate to have to hand him back to LaScreed or
whatever the right term was as a ransom to make him go home and
behave himself.
McLisa turned to retrace her steps and was shocked completely
sober. LaCroix himself, on all fours in a shiny silver mask, was
looking over her shoulder. She quickly realized that "LaCroix"
was, in fact, one of the decorated moose figures from last
year's exhibit. Cerk had sponsored it, calling it "The Night
Moose." Silver stars shone all over the shiny, reflective black
surface, and a silver microphone hung around the neck. The face
was a silver mask deliberately molded to resemble The
Nightcrawler. Nick supposedly had required six Enforcers and a
dose of curare from Nat last fall when it was anonymously
purchased to benefit the de Brabant Foundation and installed
across from the police station as a gift to the city.
Break rules, thought McLisa. Ok. She wasn't a sorceress, but she
did have the Abarat. She had made some interesting discoveries
with the aid of Larry Merlin's translation software along about
war 3. She found the page, placed one hand on the Night Moose,
and began to chant in Sanscrit.
According to the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle, the spell had
approximately the same chance of working as a snow flake on the
fender of hell. Everybody gets lucky sometime. Or unlucky. The
moose shook itself, stepped forward, and walked over the McLisa.
Then it knelt, allowing her to climb aboard before it stood up.
"Home," said McLisa and rode off into the night. Not
surprisingly, the creature had more directional sense than the
Rat Packer librarian. It was doing fine until the police car
showed up.
************
Temporary end. I don't know where this thing is going, either.
Lisa McDavid
aka McLisa
mclisa@...
__________________________________________________
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War: Knighties: The Sweet Smell of Cookies
Time: An Hour after "It's A Natmare!"
By Knightie katrinka
Synopsis: The Knighties arrive at the loft, and find things very different.
Nick and Knighties used with permission
"GEMSONG!" Katrinka yelled in greeting. The woman ran to the
Leader-in-training and gave her a hug. The woman standing beside Gemsong
looked at her with amazement.
"Kat!"
"Can you believe it?"
"I know, a war! You think we'll get arrested?"
Katrinka began to laugh. "Sure hope not."
Maria stuck her hand out. "Maria."
"Katrinka."
"Why aren't you in the loft?" Maria asked.
"We needed to talk." Katrinka said seriously. "Something's happened to Nick."
Just then a mass transient bus stopped in front of the loft. What seemed
like an endless amount of Knighties got out. All carrying luggage. The
Knighties as a group rushed into the loft.
The Knighties were shocked by the smell of cookies. Nick Knight took
another rack out of the stove. He placed them on a cooling rack. He then
picked up a bar of chocolate, and began to munch on it.
"Nick? Why are you eating chocolate?" Lisa asked.
"I was hungry." Nick shrugged. "I adore chocolate."
"Vampires don't eat chocolate."
"I'm not a vampire." Nick said firmly. "Now what are you strange people
doing in my apartment?"
"Oh gods, it's happening again." Sandra sighed.
"We're the Knighties." Eowyn pushed the shocked Katrinka forward.
"Katrinka, your the acting leader. *You* talk to him."
The vampire looked Katrinka; his eyes flickered in recognition. "You're the
one that got arrested during the last war! You stole Nick's caddy."
"Nick's caddy?"
"Are you deaf? You stole Nick's caddy. I can't believe he would name you as
acting leader!" Nick seemed to be very impatient. "You're going to have to
go. I'm waiting for my faction to arrive."
"Nick, we are your faction." Nancy said. "The Knighties."
"My faction's the Natpack!" Nick swayed. Then he looked around the loft. In
a small voice, he asked. "Why am I in the loft? How did I get here?"
"Because you live here?" Eowyn asked.
"You've all gone crazy!" Nick sighed and try to run his hand through his
hair. "All right! Who cut my hair?"
"Your hair has always been short."
"*I* have long hair!"
"I think you better look in the mirror." Nancy looked around the loft.
"Anyone have a mirror?"
"I do," Tracey took a pocket mirror out of her backpack. She handed it to
Nick.
Nick looked in the mirror and screamed. "Your tricking me! I don't look
like this!"
"Anyone else have a mirror?"
Maria tentivily took the mirror out of her handbag and gave it to Nick. He
looked at it with horror. He seemed to faint for a moment. "Oh my god!"
Maria caught the falling Nick. She was quickly helped by Tracey. "Let's get
you to the couch."
Nick let himself be guided to the couch. Maria and Tracey sat by him. The
vampire looked them over. "What's your names."
"I'm Tracey," Tracey pointed to herself. "This is Maria."
"Why do I look like Nick?"
"I have no idea." She looked at Katrinka. "What should we tell him?"
"The truth." Katrinka said simply. "We don't know what happened, and why."
"I think I'm going to need more chocolate." Nick said.
Three Knighties scrambled for chocolate. They handed her a plate of fresh
cookies.
Nick smiled at them. "I'm being a terrible hostess, why don't you guys have
some too."
Each Knightie took a cookie. They waited for Nick to take the first bite.
Nick began to munch on a cookie.
Nick put the cookie down. "This tastes horrible."
"Do you want us to get you something else?" Maria asked.
"Yeah, something's wrong with my mouth." Nick touched his fingers to his
mouth. He cut one on his fang. "Oh my god!"
"Nick's a vampire," Tracey reminded him.
"I'm hungry! Oh god I'm hungry." Nick gasped.
"You've already drank blood today," Nancy tried to reason. "You even flew!"
"I don't remember doing that." Nick said puzzled. "Are you sure it was me?"
"We saw you," Katrinka said.
"I'm so confused." The vampire muttered. "What can I do?"
"Get him something to drink." Nancy ordered.
Katrinka rushed to the refrigerator and took out a wine bottle. She brought
it to Nick. "You better drink this."
"Vamperism is a state of mind." Nick said, as his eyes turned red.
"Not for you it isn't!" The Knightie said firmly. "If you don't drink, you
might attack one of us."
Nick nodded, he let Katrinka pour him a glass of blood. Then he turned away
from the Knighties and drank it. He handed the glass back to the Knightie.
"I'll never force Nick to go off blood again. I didn't know how bad the
hunger was."
"Nick..."
"Please, call me Natalie." Nick said firmly. "I'm not Nick Knight."
Katrinka@...
NICK NEEDS YOU!
Acting Leader of the Knighties
Don slammed a hand down on the alarm clock even before he looked to see the
time. Yes, it really was time to get up, but a small voice in the back of his
head kept insisting that another ten minutes would be ok. Or maybe even another
half hour. He couldn't listen though. Not with hundreds of miles still to
cover. He groaned as he got out of bed. The motel bed had done nothing to
soothe the stiffness left by the 600 miles he'd covered the day before. The
Beast (as he called his 1976 GL1000 Goldwing) was a smooth riding motorcycle,
but that was a lot of miles.
Steak and eggs helped, but what really opened his eyes was the e-mail from Die
Hard HQ. He'd been on his way to Toronto to help with the Forever Knight Prop
Museum inventory (and inevitable post inventory party), but now there was even
more urgency. According to the message the inventory had turned up some
problems with the script library. So far they didn't think any scripts were
missing, but something wasn't right. The scripts were out of order and had been
crammed willie-nillie into the cabinets. He hoped this didn't mean the security
of Die Hard HQ had been compromised. Probably just that temp they'd hired to
help around the Museum last year. "Still," he thought as he mounted the bike,
"Better hurry and try to make the rest of the trip in one day, instead of two as
planned."
--Several hours and hundreds of miles later...
"Sure is nice being able to borrow a notebook and wireless modem from work." Don
thought as he checked his e-mail while waiting for lunch to be served. Minutes
later he wasn't so sure. There was another message from HQ with unsettling
news. LaCroix, that most constant of vampires, was behaving strangely. He was
even reported to have lapsed into a strange dialect during his radio broadcast.
Don wolfed down his food and headed for the black and chrome bike, "Really need
to move now. I need to get to Toronto...and fast!"
--------------------------------
Stealth Mom stared stupidly at the list in her hand. The call to arms had gone
out. She was due in Toronto. For the first time she'd declared her loyalties
to the Die Hards--basically taken a stand to side with no one, to take up the
cry, "Can't we all just get along?" That was a noble calling. Surely her
family couldn't blame her for abandoning them for two weeks to pursue it--if
only she'd had the guts to tell them that's why she'd be away.
At least she had to leave them provided for. Had she done everything? Washed
and folded six loads of laundry. Flea-bathed the pooch. Cooked and frozen
everything in the frig that would otherwise
rot during the two weeks she'd be gone. Arranged transportation for her three
lovely daughters to gymnastics, summer ceramics classes, and swimming lessons.
Lied her way out of work and out of two weeks of motherly/wifely
responsibilities. Packed everything that could possibly essential to her duties
as a diehard. What had she left out?
"Momma, I went poo."
"That's nice, kitten. Muffie, tell your sister that was nice. Toilet training
needs all the praise it can get."
"She went poo in her diaper, Momma, not in the potty."
"Mmm. Princess, tell Daddy he'll have to change it. I'm running late for the
airport." She ignored the groan from her better half. What had she forgotten
to pack?
"Momma, why did you put a soldering iron in the suitcase?"
"Have to be prepared."
"To go to a public administrators' conference?" Her husband asked suspiciously.
"One never knows."
"And why did you pack your slinky, red-sequined evening gown?" he asked, even
more suspiciously.
"There's always a cocktail party the first evening. You know that. Once Kitten
learns to poo--in the potty--you'll all be able to come on these trips with me."
At least, the trips that really were to public administrators' conferences that
didn't include opening night cocktail parties at the Raven. "Uh, there's the
airporter. Gotta run. I have the cell phone. Love you all."
Several hours later, as the plane circled Toronto's International Airport,
Stealth Mom again stared at her list. Her crucifix. She'd forgotten to pack
her crucifix. With all the strange things Stealth Mom had heard were going on,
she wouldn't be able to tell whom to be on her guard about. She just hoped
she'd return to Hubby, Princess, Muffie and Kitten as their same old Mom.
--------------------------------
The Vampbear Arrives
(written by the Vampbear)
Remind me NEVER to trust anything Brenda's Dad says...
Here I am, stuck in a cardboard box, in some depot, as near as I can tell. I'm
hungry. The tag says to deliver me to the Fiendish Glow superspeedy -- by
heyteyyem today. I packed enough of the bottled stuff to last for a week-long
trip -- but it's already gone. Finished. Down the gullet. And I'm famished. Come
on, delivery guy, come on SOMEBEARDY. GETMEOUTTAHEREIMHUNGRY!!!!!!!
---flashback---
"No, I'm *not* going up to Toronto," Brenda said. "I'm too busy with work."
"But I gotta go! I gotta taste Cactus Lady again, and check up on Lay-Us Boy(1)
..."
"From what I've heard, Pen's off on a shoot, and Roy's back with Sukh down in...
wherever it is she normally lives."
"But I *gotta* go, I *gotta*! I haven't seen Lora's honey farm yet, or tasted
Megan-Mead..." I whined.
"Tough. I'm not going, which means *you're* not going. Period."
I did what any self-respecting Vampbear would: I bared my fangs and started to
chomp down.
"Draining me won't get you there, Nicolas." She *dares* to contradict me?! She
even pulled me from her neck! %$#(*&#~!!
"#$&%^$*#$*%((#@##$@@@!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"Neither will cussing like a sailor. I'm not going, and that's that."
---end flashback---
A vampbear is nothing if not inventive -- and HUNGRY!!! HELP ME!!!
GETMEOUTTAHERE!!!!!!!
Anyway, I needed to come up with some way to get to Toronto. Once I'm up,
Brenda's sure to follow, no? Especially if someone slanders me and tells her I'm
getting into trouble or something. (Look, I'm a vampbear. I don't *get* into
Trouble -- unless she looks like Barbi Benton and smells of cactus honey or
something, or unless I'M HUNGRY!!!...)
Brenda's Dad had said something about having some of *his* stuff shipped up
somewhere before he went on vacation, so I figured why not? Unfortunately, he
wasn't going to Toronto, so I couldn't try to hop into his boxes. On the other
paw, I do know how to get in touch with the Fair Eye Bearnians(2), so I e-mailed
them when Brenda wasn't looking, typed up a packing label, and had them come to
pick me up and deliver. (Only they haven't delivered yet.) They said the trip
might take a day or two extra because of the customization or something.
Grrrrrrrr. Well, I tried to be resourceful. I packed lots of extra bottles. Lots
and lots of extra bottles. Well, they did pick me up on time -- but where's the
delivery? I mean, I'm hungry. REALLY HUNGRY. And where's Brenda? and MacHeather?
and Sukh? And yeah, even shloshed Chris and Lay-Us Boy?????
I'M HUNGRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(1) "Cactus Lady" is the Vampbear's nickname for Pen, who is the Fiendish Glow's
owner and general manager. AFAIK, she is not playing this War. "Lay-Us Boy" is
the Vampbear's nickname for "Roy, Roy, the Buff Slave Boy", who is Cousin Sukh's
Wartime companion. AFAIK, Sukh isn't playing this War, either.
(2) The Faer Hibernean Foundation. This is the organization that bankrolled the
Fiendish Glow and set forth the rules and regulations for its establishment. The
fictional FHF started in the mid-nineteenth Century as a fraternal fellowship
organization for Irish immigrants to Canada, and has expanded its suite of
services ever since. Its composition and agenda remain somewhat mysterious to
the GlowWorms and Tequila Fiends.
--------------------------------
Don Fasig - Die Hard
phase3@...
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