Katzaniel

After Billie Jo left the kitchens, Cook slumped over the counter for a moment. It was all getting to be too much. She blamed her helpers for running off, but she did understand why they had. Old Lenny killed one day, and then so soon after, two of the Vault's children, found dead. Who had done it, and why were they so willing to kill youths to make their point? The thing that Cook didn't understand was why they hadn't figured it out yet. There weren't all that many people in the vaults. How come they weren't able to find fingerprints or something, to find the killer? Then Cook realized that it could well be one of the investigators or scientists in charge of that. The thought made her a little afraid, but lunch had to be made, and no one was helping. Getting back to the preparations, Cook resolved to tell someone of her suspicions when she next had the chance. OOC: Vote for Tanuchan / Kyraine

Katzaniel: Pretty random. Came up with the character of the cat shapeshifter, found "Katz" as the translation that was least-obvious without being totally off the original, and added the last part to make it sound more feminine. Inbi Infusco: Again, thought of the character first. If I recall correctly, Inbi means fire and Infusco means mystery, in some languages or other. I chose those particular translations because they sounded cool. Parmeisan: This is from way back when, when I first started chatting on IRC. For a long time I was Mufasa from the Lion King, (I liked the name, and it was hard to find an unused nick) but that's a male character, and I eventually switched to Spaghetti, or probably Spaghetti99 if the former was taken. But I started to get in the habit of changing my nick throughout the conversation, for the fun of it, so I'd go from Spaghetti to Pasta to Fettucini, or cycle through cheeses because I really like pasta and cheese. When I made my yahoo account, I settled with parmesan, but I didn't know how to spell it. Which is just as well because it's not taken anywhere else, and I like the uniqueness it gives me.

Thank you thank you thank you! That answers my questions, indeed. I know you were hesitant to spend time "commenting on comments" as you told me in IRC, but this really makes your previous comment more useful to me. I really appreciate both efforts, Wyv. I'll probably take another look at this particular post soon, and I will certainly keep the thoughts in mind for other stories.

I like having an IC excuse. Usually, in a game like this, my first vote is entirely based on IC reasons. Besides, I was in the process of making a post when you shifted phase.

Links led to links led to links... and I didn't want to start a new thread. I thought this mangled-English-on-signs page was pretty hilarious.

I'm sorry I haven't voted yet, I'm really having trouble finding an IC way for Cook to suspect *anybody*, tucked away in the kitchen as she is. And not liking kids doesn't mean she thinks them capable of murder. So... er... still thinking. I might just not vote this round.

The weather around the Pen Keep had been horrible for days. Rain was pouring down in a torrent, and the grounds were growing more and more muddy. Members were making their way about their business slowly, and depression was seeping into the general mood. Some were able to use magic to temporarily aid themselves and friends, but no one was willing or able to work such widespread wonder as an extended weather fix. Mynx, who had replaced Ayshela in the StoryWeaver's Guild, was talking to Inbi Infusco, who was holding Katzaniel's spot until she got back from her mission with the Alliance of Vagabonds and Vanguards. They were inside, away from the rain, but wind and chilly damp were such that Inbi needed her fire-magic to keep them comfortable. "They will help to lighten the mood, that's for certain," Inbi was saying. "But where to put them up? The rain is everywhere." Mynx pondered. "Surely some sort of large tent can be made, to keep the rain off. Fire can help with the cold. What else can we do?" Inbi sighed. "I could probably do that, but... I don't know. I just wish it could be nicer. It's going to be hard enough, running a carnival with four new guildleaders, without having to worry about weather." "That's it! Gryphon! Have you spoken with him?" "Gryphon? Not about this, no. Why?" "Gryphon might be able to do something," Mynx purred, suddenly mysterious. "You set up a tent, okay? About enough to house a few booths and some space in front. I'll talk to Gryphon and see what we can't do." She was already getting on her raincoat and shoes, and in a moment was out the door. Inbi shrugged, then set off to find some canvas and some helpers. ------ The next day, Inbi was putting the finishing touches on a large canvas covering like Mynx had described. She had dismissed most of those who had helped, by now, and was just tying a knot at the edge of the tent. In a moment, Finnius was by her side. "That's their music," he said. "Are we ready? They're here." Inbi listened, and indeed, the music of the carnival caravans was faint in the distance. "Nearly," she replied. "At least I am. Where's Mynx?" "It's gonna be great," Finnius grinned. "Mynx and Gryphon really have it worked out." Before she could ask him more, the little blue man had rushed off. Finally, all the guildleaders were gathered under the canvas, and the caravans pulled up. "This mud's a been terrible," Dain said as he stepped out. "But we made it." He grinned, then looked around more closely. "This area's not big enough," he started, worried. "Just leave that all to us," Mynx interjected. Then she started directing the carnies. She got them to set up a small caravan just in front of the fire, and a booth on either side. One of the booths was facing the outer edge of the tent, away from the fire and the caravan. Then Gryphon stepped up. Using his magic, he created a portal. Finnius grinned. "I've seen where it goes," he whispered to Inbi. "This is going to be the best Carnival yet." Into the portal went the remaining caravans, still laden. Mynx stayed behind to set up a sign, but everyone else went in. It was a beautiful beach setting, the sand smooth and warm. The water was a wonderful shade of blue, stretching as far as the eye could see. Shells and starfish lined the shore. Further from the beach was green grass, perfect for sports and games. And the sun was shining brightly, not a raindrop in sight. "This is great," breathed Inbi to Gryphon. "Thanks," he replied, surveying the area. "I'm glad we found a world that has everything we need. Oh, and when this is all set up, will you help us set up another portal? I've got a world that's always dark, perfect for a campfire... you do remember what you learned about making your magic last?" "Oh, so that it won't need fuel or anything? What a neat idea! Of course I'll help with that." Dain's helpers were already setting everything up on the grass, some booths facing the beach, some facing the grassy area. Some were filled with food, or games of chance. Many were left empty for entrepeneurial Pennites. "I only rec'nize one a ya," Dain said, turning to Finnius. "Been many changes, hey?" "Yeah," Finnius admitted. "This is my new co-guildleader, Mira. Gryphon, the one who made the portal, is now running the AVV along with Sweetcherrie. Ayshela became an Elder, and has been replaced by Mynx, who is helped by Inbi, in Katzaniel's absence. And that's Nyyark, our Event Coordinator." Dain nodded. "Well, lotsa changes. Looks good though. Gonna be a great festival this year."

If you're looking for Wrenwind, she is definitely around here. Something you should know, though.. there's an easier and better way than just starting threads: Go to "My Controls" (top-right-ish), "Compose New Message" (top-left-ish) and you can write a message directly to any member. And as for finding members, scroll way down on the main page, and you can click "Top ten posters" (there's probably an easier way, but I don't know it) and you can change the sorting to "All Members", "By Member Name", "Ascending", and "50", you'll probably find those you want much faster. Good luck! EDIT: Also, turns out there's a search in the same place you can sort members...

The Mighty Pen Debate!! Depending on the number of signups, this may be 1 vs 1 or 2 vs 2. You will not get to pick your partner, opponent(s), or topic, but you can indicate a preference for some topics via PM. I'll try to accomodate everyone, but that probably won't be possible. Topics are innocuous things like "Be it resolved that blue is better than red." What to know: The resolution is the topic. In this case, your are resolving that Blue is better than red. Your stance is either for (Affirmative) or against (Negative) the resolutions. If you are assigned Affirmative, you need to convince the audience/judges that blue is indeed better than red. If you are assigned Negative, you can convince them that red is better than blue, or simply that blue is not better than red (ie, blue and red are equal, or both have advantages, or some such). Or, you can simply attack the Affirmative's arguements: By default, if the Affirmative cannot convince the audience/judges, the Negative debaters win. Because it is harder to argue For the resolution, the Affirmative gets to speak both first and last. What will happen: You will be assigned a topic and possibly a partner. You will not be told yet whether you are arguing for or against. If you have a partner, you will be allowed to discuss the topic and your strategy. Try to prepare as much as possible at this point. You will have to figure out what to say from either perspective, but that's all right: it's easier to argue something when you have an idea what your opponent might say. Your opponent and stance will be revealed. The format (It's not important that you know the names, just the information listed under them): Affirmative Constructive - Argue for the resolution. In this post, you must define your terms. (More on this later). Then make your points. Negative Constructive - Argue against the resolution. If you have a problem with the definitions, you must say so now. Affirmative Constructive - A second chance to argue for the resolution, countering points made by the Negative. Negative Rebuttal - Make your conclusions, reiterate your important points and why the Affirmative is wrong. I recommend you bring up very few, if any, new points. Affirmative Rebuttal - No new points are allowed to be made here. Make your conclusions and reiterate the important points why the resolution is true. Terms: These are usually simply straightforward, as neither team really wants to end up arguing definitions instead of the resolution. But they can also be tricky, and it's very important to make sure both teams are on the same page. I lost a debate once because we didn't listen to the terms being defined, and then couldn't argue; the way they had defined it, they were absolutely right! Also, in my experience, many everyday arguments come down to a misunderstanding of terms. "Blue is the wavelengths between...", or "Blue is the colour of the sky.", or "Blue is when someone is sad." This last would probably be unexpected. Here's an example that should show why: "Be it resolved that blue is better than red. For the purposes of this argument, we shall assume that blue is the colour around 475 nanometres in wavelength, whilst red is closer to 650 nanometers. "Blue light is closer to X-ray light, a very useful thing in our society..... (goes on for a moment about that) "But as technical as all that sounds, ladies and gentlemen of the audience, colours have more everyday meanings in our society. When you hear the word "Blue", you think sadness. When you hear "Red", you think anger...." (et cetera) (Negative might go on to talk about red light being softer on the eyes, and closer to micro-waves which are also very useful, and red also being the colour of love...) This is opposed to someone who tried to argue that the definition of blue was sadness and the definition of red was anger, in which case you'd have a hard time bringing up any arguments you had relating to wavelengths or even to red being likened to love. Anger is not likened to love, but the colour you see at 650nm is, despite being a technical definition, still the colour red. Judging can be done by one or more people, so if anyone wants to help with judging, post here or PM me. If not, I'll do that on my own. I'll try to get everyone debating both Affirmative and Negative, and hopefully with a different opponent, but all that will depend on how many we have. So sign up quick! And indicate whether you'd like a demo, as I'm trying to organize one, but am not sure how long it will take. Winners from each debate get 30 geld, the other team gets 20. Each. And again, I'm hoping you both play twice.

Cook didn't leave the kitchens when the scream was heard, she just kept pounding the dough for the garlic bread. Screams were not uncommon with so many kids around. This one sounded different, older, but Cook couldn't just leave her post. That kid Mary was a good one, too. She looked as if she wanted to go, but saw how none of the other helpers budged, and so stayed where she was. Nevertheless, within half an hour everyone in the kitchens, probably everyone in the vaults, knew what had happened. A murder! Writing in blood! They want the door opened! No one in the vault had to question what door. The Door. The only Door on everyone's mind, in these vaults. The Door to Outside. "I don't brook with such foolishness," Cook muttered. "Wanting to go Outside. We live for forty years underground and they want to go up again, put all that effort to waste, before we can certain we'll live through it. Nonsense!"

So the Lovers know each other, and can communicate about the game? And if a Wolf is Lover to some non-Wolf, s/he can't say anything about it to the other Wolf? Other than, "I think we should kill X instead of Y... no good reason, but that's what I think"? And cupid gets only the 1 opportunity, right? Just 2 Lovers and that's it? If one of the Lovers dies, we'll know that because two people die, right? But we won't know either of their roles?

I was in the hospital when it happened. Fever and nausea and crazy delusions had put me there, and I was burning up and clinging to my pillow when the nurse came in. She gently rolled me over, put her hand on my forehead. I blinked and she was a man, a male nurse, holding a needle the size of a paper-towel roll. I think I screamed, squeezed my eyes shut and screamed for all I was worth. When I opened them, the man no longer had a nurse's outfit; his head was closely shaved, and he was wearing a leather jacket and holding a knife and grinning at me. That's when the building shook, and who can blame me that I thought this was part of the vision, too? The buiding shook and the man ran off, so I wiped my forehead and rolled over and went back to sleep. I must have lain there for some time, getting sicker because I wasn't getting any food, or medicine, or care. Finally I realized that I hadn't imagined it: everyone was gone. Part of my brain still said, "You're hallucinating. Of course nothing has happened. You'll get out of bed, and a nurse will drag you back in, admonishing your silliness." Even when I stood, my brain told me that I was imagining the fact I was even standing. "You're sick. You can't trust your senses. You think you're standing up, you think you've been alone for days and days. But you'll wake up and you'll still be in bed and it will only have been a few hours." I didn't like not being able to trust my senses, but I knew I had to keep a corner of my mind sane. Sure, I was still asleep. It was the only explanation that made sense. But it didn't make sense to keep lying there, either, in my fever-dream. If I was dreaming, I couldn't get hurt by standing up and moving around. And if I wasn't, I would either be discovered and moved back to my bed by the nurses, or I would not... and if I was not, it meant that I really was all alone, and had to get food. Of course I was really asleep, still fine, probably in the process of getting over whatever I had. But at the same time I had to assume that I was not, that everyone was dead, and that I needed food. I made my way down the corridors, leaning on walls to catch my breath. Six times I saw a dark shape dart from one doorway to another, or from one shadow to another. Four times a doctor came up to me, tried to lead me back to my room, and abruptly disappeared. And once, the bald, knife-wielding lunatic chased me down the hallway, before I landed on my face, rolled over, and found no one there at all. Naturally, when I saw the angels, I thought that they, too, were simply my imagination.

And less than 24 hours later, there are only 2 spots left! Wow. You were smart to limit it, Ven.

Oh... Falcon... the underlying question in "How far away is it?" was not "Would you have to move?" but "How often would you be able to visit this 'friend' of yours if you didn't move?"

I love how his grammar and spelling suddenly became very good at the end there. I'm kind of confused about just what the rest of us do, but I'll sign up anyway, with Inbi Infusco. PS. Do we get bonus points for figuring out who the "two friends" are?

Deep in vault 22, a clatter arises. Metal scraping on metal, something being repeatedly thrust against wood, shouts and raised voices. Three children huddle against a doorway, chattering. "Sounds like a robot!" "Pre-eeetty scary." "I bet she's beating them up!" One bravely peeks into the room. Of course, they all know that the noises are only supper being prepared, but they are equally aware of the inherent risk of hanging out around the kitchens, and do so for the thrill of it. Cook turns around and sees the child's face framed in the door. She lets out a noise much like a shriek, and waddles as fast as she can toward it. "You get ooouuut of here, you interfering little children! This is your last chance!" They are already scrambling out of her way, but she chases them a few metres down the corridor, surprisingly quick on her feet, and slaps one of them with her spatula. They run off, shouting and giggling, and she returns to supervising her food and the other cooks, muttering about disrespectful children and how she'd give them some nasty spices in their alfredo tonight.

How much time have you put into your current degree? How much left? How much time involved in getting a degree from Western? And how far away is Western from your current location?

The shouts woke the King's sons. They were tall youths, both with green eyes, light brown hair, and boyish faces. "Oh no," murmured Charles. "Maybe we can still save him," said Kevin, the elder by only an hour. The boys were twins, only sixteen on this fateful day, and neither was ready for kingship. They rushed into the corridor and skidded into a halt when they ran into their mother, the Queen. "Thank God you two were not harmed," she said, tears running down her cheeks. She led them to their dead father, and the family mourned. But the same thought was running through the minds of all three: Who would go to the trouble of murdering the King, and leave two healthy heirs behind?

Okay. Y'all know me simply as "Cook". My father was a world-famous chef, my mother a collector of recipes and grower of herbs. I've inherited her recipes collection and herb pots, and both their skills in this area. I am overweight, as is to be expected, and will brook no skimpy eating in my kitchen! I am also an avid gossiper, spatula-wielder, and busybody. Track no dirt in my kitchen, eat everything on your plate, treat me with respect, and you'll be considered a friend. Do otherwise, and you'll never see cooked-to-perfection steak or eggs again.

He was still puzzling over it when Nathan returned home at lunch, though he had long ago packed away the shoebox again. The bracelet itself lay, closed, atop the kitchen table, and he was frying sausages over the stove, trying to figure out what he was missing. The bracelet, he had determined, was not like anything he'd ever seen. He had figured out how to open and close it, but he could still not figure out how so solid an object could change from a circle to a long arc. He had done it multiple times, watching, and it seemed to flow from one shape to the next. Nathan tossed his keys on the table, already monologuing about his horrible day. "A man came in today, and he was yelling at me about wanting a refund. For bread! I told him I'm only a cashier, I mean gee whiz, what did the guy expect from me? But he just started in about how no one takes any responsibility, and how did I expect to earn a living if I never took responsibility? Man, what an idiot. If he's going to buy bread, he should check the expiry date... seriously, I think he was lying about how long ago he bought it, too. And then my manager came, and she started yelling, and... what's this?" "It's, uh.. well, it was my mother's bracelet. I had a weird dream, that's all." Nathan was already trying to fit it over hand. "Your mom must sure have had small hands. Gee whiz, I can't even fit it over my fingers, man." Spik turned down the sausage and came over. He ran his finger along the edge to open it, laughing to himself about his odd friend. Nathan always had to try everything, do everything. Listening to his friend go on about how strange the bracelet was, Spik put it around Nathan's wrist, intending to take it off again right away. Instead, he stepped back, a sound between a gasp and a giggle escaping his lips. "What, dude? You look like you've seen a ghost! Oh, you're still pale from last night. Man, you drank so much, you're probably still hung over. It sucks that I have to work the morning shifts now, I mean gee whiz, how much longer do they expect me to get up early? It totally ruins the parties.... Dude?" "You're... oh wow, that's so weird. You're wearing her necklace. And the earrings. You put on the bracelet, and there they are." Spik found himself rambling a little himself, because he suddenly discovered he was very afraid.

The sheet was obviously old, though not so much as to be yellowed, or even torn. It had been folded over many times, and had hardened like that. Spik carefully pulled it out of the curved bar, then unfolded it. On it was sketched, in tight lines, a pair of fancy earrings and a necklace. Spik let out a low whistle. Unless he was mistaken, this was a drawing of the jewellery his mother had worn in most of the photographs he had of her. And something else. It tickled the back of Spik's mind, something about that jewellery. They had never found it, had they? And Uncle Vincent had wondered aloud more than once whether those earrings, and that necklace, had been any part of a motive in the crime. But if so, why had the bracelet not been stolen as well? Perhaps they hadn't been able to open it up? But that didn't explain the sketch at all. Why, why? What was his mother doing with a drawing of two pieces of jewellery, hidden inside a bracelet that seemed to be all one piece? Whether or not the rest was stolen, it didn't seem to make much sense. Spik returned to the closet and grabbed the rest of that shoebox, then laid everything in front of him. It was certainly a puzzle, regardless of whether the dream meant anything or not, and Spik liked a challenging puzzle. First he confirmed that the sketch was indeed of the jewellery his mother wore, in more than one photograph. Then he set to work scanning the old articles, trying to find mention of anything useful.

The young man stretched, his emerald green pupils glistening against the dawn's light. He flinched against it, though, holding his hands to his temple and seeking shade. "Some party, last night," he murmured, remembering only bits and pieces of the drunken sprawl. He lumbered over to the window, drawing the blinds, then flopped back onto the messed up bed. He sat for a while, trying not to move his head, and trying to remember whether anything interesting had happened with Samantha. He sighed when he finally recalled himself getting up the nerve to ask her to dance, and been sympathetically shown her ring. "Man, all the best girls are taken!" Spik cursed, then slowly made his way to the cupboard for breakfast. On his way there, Spik's green eyes fell upon the newspaper. Nathan, his roommate, must have brought it in before heading off to work that morning. He fixed himself some cereal, and brushing his red hair out of the way, slid into his chair. He scanned the headlines. Nothing interesting, except... what was that? "Local man saves life of friend". Something, something. Spik shook his head, trying to figure out why that looked familiar, then wished he hadn't. Trying to stay very still, the youth set down his spoon, and for the second time that morning, tried to force rememberance. A dream. That was it, just a dream. But the oddest he'd ever had. A woman, all in white, had come to him. You are destined. she had said. Spik recalled laughing, even in the dream. "What, to save the world?" You are destined, she had repeated. Destined to save the life of the one who must save the world. His dream self had laughed again. "Why don't you save this hero yourself?" he had queried. "For that matter, why don't you save the world yourself?" She had not answered him, only kept on. Five times, you are destined. Five times you will save the life of your friend, Spik. Do not waver from your destiny. Still grinning, he'd answered her with questions. "When will this be, then? Tomorrow, right? I bet tomorrow I save him from a burning house, then from being hit by a car, then, what? I'm running out of disasters. And how will I save him, hrm? How?" Five times, before the year closes. Look to the bracelet for help. Do not waver. And she had disappeared. Spik wanted to ignore the dream, but curiosity drove him. The bracelet? If it meant anything, it meant the golden bracelet he had been given by the authorities, seventeen years ago, from his mother's body after the police had finished examining it. At the age of five, he hadn't known either of his parents much, and although it had wounded him deeply at the time, he hadn't been permanently scarred by the murders. He had moved in with his Uncle Vincent, had watched the news reports religiously until the killer had been caught, convincted, sentenced, and a couple of years later committed suicide in prison. Spik had gotten over it, but he still had her bracelet. He finished his breakfast, then went into the storage closet. Old drawings; school reports; there! The young man pulled out a shoebox with the few things he had about his parents. Photographs, news clippings, and the golden bracelet. Putting the rest away, he trotted over to the ugly orange couch Nathan had scored them for ten bucks at a garage sale. He sat down, rubbed his forehead absentmindedly, at stared at the circle of gold. He twisted it around in his hands, thinking of his parents. After all these years, was this really a dream about them? They fell away from his mind immediately, though, when without warning the bracelet clicked open in his wandering hands. There's no catch, he thought, wracking his memory for understanding. This was a solid golden ring just one moment ago, and now... Now it was a nearly straight rod, still smooth to his fingertips, still solid, but hollow. And there was paper inside.

I know someone who was struck by lightning (he described it as a "warm" feeling before he passed out) and suffered no permanent effects. If we can assume no permanent effects whatsoever, lightning is probably cooler, because I think it's less common, plus for someone such as myself who studies electronics, it's a very fascinating idea. The sky, grounding. Though I still think the coolest thing would be having your car hit by lightning and getting out and getting the door closed, without ever having any parts of you touching the car and the ground at the same time. Of course, then you have a high-voltage car on your hands. Not sure how long it takes for the current to leak through the tires.

Summer comes, and Angel_A tells him that she's going on a vacation. Italy, she says excitedly. She's especially looking forward to seeing Venice and riding a gondola. She'll be gone for a month, and won't have access to a computer, but she will miss him, and will be online to tell him about her vacation as soon as she returns. She laughs about what her mother will say about that, but promises it nonetheless. Cyberman briefly considers finding out her address and sending her an internet-capable laptop, but realizes immediately it's a stupid idea. First, Angel_A isn't going to appreciate a gift that makes her wonder where it came from, or realize that he had gotten her address somehow. Second, he wants her to enjoy her vacation, not spend all her time updating him. He vows not to begrudge her the time alone, in which he succeeds, but also to put her out of his mind for a time, in which he fails. One evening, Cyberman is hanging out in a chatline and simultaneously playing online Tetris when he gets a dull, creepy feeling in the back of his consciousness. He ignores it, and very soon he's forgotten about it. He keeps talking to his internet buddies, who at the moment happen to include Jeff, and keeps absentmindedly guiding the blocks to the bottom. He had gotten the game to over level two hundred, because he can control it at even the fastest speeds, and filled up the high-scores with his name. It isn't very exciting anymore, though, so after a while he stops. Jeff is avidly describing himself on a lion, prancing around the room after a virtual rabbit, and everyone is laughing and joining in the chase. Someone describes it running into a hole; someone else pretends to follow, and get their head stuck. Soon there are ten rabbits, and getting into all sorts of trouble. Cyberman wishes Angel_A were there, but succeeds in having some fun without her anyway.

For a while, Anthony keeps up a routine of sleeping for a few hours and eating a portion of food each day before disappearing into the computer. With the ease of control over his computer that Cyberman has, the web site only takes a few days to start up, and soon he is doing what would otherwise take twenty employees, in only four or five hours of work. Customers come, spend money, and leave satisfied. Cyberman enjoys the work, but spends as much time on chatlines, working over timezones so as to not appear to be online too much, and talking to Angel_A whenever he can. Cyberman soon divulges to her that much of his description is not true. By this time, he regrets ever lying in it, but he tells her as much, and she forgives him. She's not exactly a sports-nut anyway, and is herself a bit of a loner. It turns out that she is herself an avid video-gamer, and likes things like roleplaying, and had been afraid to admit it. She's nearly done a degree in Chemistry, she says, though she isn't sure what she's going to do with it. With the encouragement of Cyberman, Angel_A pulls together a few of her friends and starts a weekly online gaming session. Anthony finds himself looking forward to this time nearly as much as he does chatting with Angel_A alone, because he relates to these people, and they genuinely like him. Ted, a self-described big man who enjoys playing ogres, and loves to shout "Smash!" at things before flattening them. Especially things that annoy the other characters, though the players themselves enjoy Ted's character as much as they enjoy pretending to be annoyed with him. Damon, who plays a weak-kneed cleric who always runs away, but then lives in order to heal the others. Jessica, whose favourite is a tough female monk, the scourge of the party's enemies. Jeff, who plays anything from a gnomish fighter to a female ogre to a bard with amnesia. His characters are always creative and fun, but never manage to survive long. And Angela herself, as she lets Anthony know her name is, who prefers magical characters, and leads the party off to find unicorns and other fanciful goals when it is her turn to DM. Cyberman feels right at home with these people, and laughs and jokes right along with them. It is not long before the young man is spending nearly all of his time in the computer. He rarely reflects anymore how strange it is, or regrets not seeing his other friends. He runs his new business as if he had forty employees, fifty, as he tires of other pasttimes. And always there is Angel_A. He resists spying on her computer, but he keeps a database of anything she tells him, afraid to forget. He learns to sense when she comes online, from anywhere on the internet, but of course he can't appear to spend every moment waiting for her, so he hangs back occasionally, tensely pretending to be elsewhere.