Subj:	 [HillionDynasty] [HD] Escape
Date:	4/9/01 7:12:14 PM Central Daylight Time
From:	larathia@mcs.net (Larathia)
Reply-to:	HillionDynasty@yahoogroups.com
To:	HillionDynasty@yahoogroups.com

Damn, it felt good to be free.

Nighthawk had waited for days as Drasandin collected his crystals, hoping 
he'd drop some clue as to their importance, and what he wanted with her. He 
hadn't even bothered torturing her, which was odd.

But then, being confined - indoors, in chains - had not been the most 
pleasant experience. Like all avariel Nighthawk had no love of small 
spaces, and only constant prayer had fended off the madness that lay in 
wait for any avariel which tested that fear. She'd never been more grateful 
for her proxy status in her life.

And then that creature had fought with Drasandin, and the whole thing had 
suddenly become clear. She wasn't a prisoner, she was *bait*. At least, she 
was supposed to be. Her nightly contacts with Aelis-Re had pretty much 
prevented that gambit from ever succeeding. And now, instead of one 
crystal, they had two. She had no idea which one this was, and didn't 
particularly care. All that mattered was that Drasandin didn't have it. 
Perhaps the geomancer that Drasandin feared would be able to identify it. 
It had been child's play to use her priestly powers to take on the 
smoke-shape, and float out while the battle was going on.

Aelis-Re had said that he was heading for the island-continent where Doma 
once had stood, and from there he'd be heading to the Grove of the Fallen. 
Nighthawk took her bearings, and sped off in that direction; unlike 
Aelis-Re, she had a natural talent in navigation born of having a real 
birds' eye view of everything around her. She employed her Tailwind spell 
to speed her along; with any luck she would find Aelis-Re's ship by nightfall.


Larathia


Subj:	 [ffml] [HD] Reunion
Date:	4/11/01 8:50:21 PM Central Daylight Time
From:	larathia@mcs.net (Larathia)
Reply-to:	ffml@yahoogroups.com
To:	hilliondynasty@egroups.com, ffml@yahoogroups.com

If there was something that really, truly sucked about ship travel, it was 
that it took too damn long. On the other hand, if the ship went down he at 
least had a *chance* of surviving, which put it above air travel on Scott's 
list of travel types.

But he'd quickly found that working with the seamen on their little boat 
meant that Aaron would just pop in to chat any old time. Usually when Scott 
was attempting to move something that was either a - extremely heavy, or b- 
extremely dangerous. Or both. Silence was not a deterrent; it was taken as 
receptivity.

So now he was in the crow's nest, because there was only room for one 
watchman at that post. At least this way he'd be the first to spot land, 
and a break. The only times he was safe were when the sword fighting 
lessons were going on, or it was mealtime or bedtime. He had no intention 
of starting all-day sword training lessons. For one thing, he didn't have 
enough CDs of the right tempo. For another, he did consider himself as 
being capable of having a life outside his skills.

Moping thirty or forty feet up in a wooden basket wrapped around a pole 
probably didn't count as having a life, but it did count as being 
relatively quiet. He could understand birdspeech, and was waiting to hear 
gossip among the gulls about land masses. He wasn't going to try replying. 
Explaining bird speech to Aaron would just be...very not good.

He was watching where they were going, of course, more than behind. So one 
moment he looked behind him and saw what he took to be another gull in the 
distance. And the next moment he was wrapped in a fierce hug and flying 
*over open water*.

"Holy shit!" he yelled, grabbing at the arms around him frantically. "God 
*damn*, woman, you want to give me a heart attack?"

Nighthawk's head poked over his shoulder, and she cheerfully said in his 
ear, "I missed you too, lovey. You want me to put you down?"

"Damn straight," gasped Scott. "And you *know* what I mean, so don't even 
think about it."

"Ah, you're no fun," she laughed, and slowly circled around for a gentle 
landing on the deck. She was enjoying the reaction she'd gotten from the 
sailors, he could tell. She *did* present an unusual picture, with her 
waist-length blue-black hair, blue-black wings, black leather pants tucked 
into high, polished black leather boots, and a loose black silk blouse. She 
looked like an exotic dominatrix on holiday, despite the fact that she was 
completely covered from neck to toe. Still bursting with good cheer, she 
said, "So, where's your new pet?"

Scott sighed. "He's not my pet, Nighthawk, he's more like payback for all 
those pirated programs I got hold of in college. He's around, I'm sure. 
He'll probably have a lot to tell you."

Nighthawk eyed him sympathetically. "That bad, hm? Just remember, it could 
be worse."

Scott thought about the whole 'cult of Scott' thing he'd had to put up with 
a few years ago, and nodded. "You wouldn't be willing to cast a few fly 
spells later on maybe?" he asked quietly.

"For you, always," Nighthawk said with a gleam in her dark green eyes. 
"So...what do you want to do?"

"*I* want to get reacquainted with my wife, if you don't mind," said Scott, 
pretending hurt. "There's my cabin...or you could always cast darkness and 
silence on the crow's nest..."

"Crow's nest it is," she said. "You're sure your pet wouldn't climb up to 
see why it's dark and quiet?"

Scott growled. "Never mind," he said heavily. "That just really killed the 
mood."

"There's all the wide ocean, love," said Nighthawk. "Just remember that 
lovely walk in the park..."

Scott smiled, remembering. Then lost it again as he remembered where he 
*was*. "I'm going back up to the crow's nest," he said seriously. "He's 
just gotten seriously on my nerves today and I'm trying not to damage him. 
You want to do me a favor, *you* deal with him a while, okay? He's been 
itching to talk to you anyway."

Nighthawk squeezed his arm. "I take it you don't want me to kill him, 
then," she said casually.

"No," said Scott slowly. "If being a pain in the ass were a death-penalty 
offense, there'd be a *lot* fewer people in the world. Good luck." And he 
started climbing back up the mast to the crow's nest.

The moment he left her side, Nighthawk's whole demeanor changed. The 
sailors took an involuntary step back. No longer the playful happy lover, 
Nighthawk was radiating a clear aura that said 'get within three feet of me 
and I'll gut you like a fish.'

She waded through the sailors and they parted before her as she passed, 
careful not to touch her. Something about the way she moved gave clear 
signals that said she would make them regret even a casual brush.

Now...where would this new pet be?


Larathia


Subj:	 [ffml] [HD] Life Imitates Art
Date:	4/15/01 10:19:07 PM Central Daylight Time
From:	raumkatze2@aol.com
Reply-to:	ffml@yahoogroups.com
To:	ffml@yahoogroups.com, hilliondynasty@egroups.com

     As he and Scott waited for the ferry to arrive, it occured to Aaron that 
now would be a good time to clear up what happened at the end of MW3.  "Oh, 
Scott!" he said, "There's something I've been meaning to tell you.  At the 
end of the third Moogle War, when, uh..." he trailed off after Scott shot him 
a look that seemed to say, 'leave me alone.'
     Until the ferry arrived, Aaron made no conversation or eye contact with 
Scott.  He wondered if he didn't want to hear about MW3 because it was a bad 
time for him, or if he was too concerned about his wife to want to talk with 
him, or maybe if he was just tired of having the burden of having to 
basically take care of him.
     Once the ship got there, and Aaron and Scott boarded it, Aaron was shown 
to what would be his room on the ship.   Aaron took notice of the crewman's 
clothing.  He looked like your basic antiquated pirate/sailor stereotype, and 
talked the part too, to a certain extent.  But one thing stood out about the 
man.  Onto his belt was clipped a pager.  The man looked like an embodiment 
of the whole setting of the Moogle War stories: Mostly old-fashioned, but 
with a touch of the modern.
     Aaron sat in his room for a while, until he started to feel nature's 
call again.  He left the room and asked a member of the crew where the toilet 
was.  He was directed to a small room in the ship with a hole in the floor, 
and nothing else.  He was thankful that again he only had to urinate.
     On the way back to his own room, he spotted Scott, helping the sailors 
move some boxes.  He wondered why Scott was doing this.  Was he just trying 
to be helpful?  Did he have some personal interest in these boxes being 
moved?  Or did he have some sort of obligation as a passenger to assist the 
crew.  Not wanting to be impolite to the sailors, Aaron worked up the courage 
to ask Scott whether or not they were expected to help out the crew.  Scott's 
answer was a non-verbal one.  He motioned to Aaron to help him move the 
boxes.  Aaron complied even though he was still not sure why they needed to 
be moved.
     "Thank you, Scott," said Aaron as he assisted him, "I really appreciate 
you training me and helping me out with all this."
     Scott nodded in acknoledgement.
     "After I get this sword, I'll hopefully be able to return the favor, 
helping you to find your wife.  Well, it looks like these are the last of the 
boxes."
     After a short pause, Scott said, "I'm going up the the crow's nest now."
     "Oh, okay," said Aaron.
     After that, Aaron wandered around on the deck of the ship, observing the 
crew, enjoying the ocean air, and trying not too hard to think about whether 
or not he would ever get back to his own world in one piece.  He was 
interrupted from his introspection by something very unexpected.  He was 
approached by a person who could not be anybody but Nighthawk.  She looked 
just like the picture by Bobbi Logsdon that was on the Moogle War homepage.
     "Oh, Nighthawk!" he said, with a touch of fear and confusion in his 
voice.  Fear, because he remembered Nighthawk's enthusiasm about killing 
humans, and confusion because her showing up now was the last thing he had 
expected to happen.
     "So, you're Scott's new follower?"
     "Uh, sorta.  He's helping me out.  I'm from... well, I don't know how 
much he told you about me, but I got here accidentally from another world and 
Scott is helping me find something that might help me survive here."
     "Oh, he is, is he?" said Nighthawk.
     Aaron chuckled at the similarity between Nighthawk's manner of speaking 
and Shalom's, and then replied, "Yeah.  Oh, and by the way, I'm glad that you 
were able to get away from that guy who was holding you captive.  What 
happened, I mean, how did you get away."
     Nighthawk just snidely chuckled at Aaron's doubt of her abilities and 
said, "I'll talk to you later.  Right now, I'm going to go get reaquianted 
with my hubby."  She turned and walked away.
     "Wait!" Aaron said.  Nighthawk turned her head an shot Aaron a nasty 
look that filled him with apprehension.  But despite this, he continued, with 
as much confidence in his voice as he could muster, "I have something very 
important to tell you.  At the end of the third Moogle War, you were not 
betrayed by Tim and the Domans.  The information about the Avariels' weakness 
was leaked to the moogles by Shadow, the assasin.  He found out about it when 
he was shadowing you and you assumed he was one of Tim's men."
     "And how do you know all this?" She said.
     "Well, I don't know if Scott told you this or not, but in the world that 
I am from, there is a story that you are characters in."
     "Interesting," she said, and then turned away again, off to see Scott.  
Aaron just stood there wondering whether she believed him or not, wondering 
if Scott's plans would change now that Nighthawk had returned, wondering how 
she got away from Arc's bad guy, wondering what that guy was planning anyway.

--------------------


Subj:	 [ffml] [HD] The Price of Pride
Date:	4/15/01 10:20:23 PM Central Daylight Time
From:	larathia@mcs.net (Larathia)
Reply-to:	ffml@yahoogroups.com
To:	hilliondynasty@egroups.com, ffml@yahoogroups.com

Nighthawk took care to show none of her true feelings to her husband's new 
pet. She didn't think it would be that hard - when Scott acquired a 
protege, they usually concentrated on him almost exclusively. But this 
one...this one was quite unusual.

He had already preconcieved ideas of how she would be, and noticed 
absolutely nothing that didn't fit that image. It was eerie in that he 
*almost* knew her. Like he was used to a reflection of her, perhaps, the 
attitudes similar but not quite the same.

Of course, when he said he was from a world where all she had lived was a 
story...well...that explained things a bit. Living on the mutant Earth for 
some years, she had gained much experience with the concept of alternate 
realities.

But...this idea that she had not been betrayed by Tim and Cyan. That she 
had been utterly mistaken in her judgement - and therefore had taken the 
life of an innocent, and an ally, without cause. This was serious. She made 
sure to leave before she communicated any of that to the half-grown boy her 
husband had 'adopted'. She flew for the crow's nest.

Scott heard her, this time. Knowing she was around, he now listened for the 
sound of wings. He turned when she landed on the crow's nest. "Found him, 
did you?" he asked.

Nighthawk nodded. "How true are his words, Aelis?" she asked quietly. "How 
congruent are our realities?"

Scott shrugged. "Like I would have any way to know that. So far he's said 
nothing I can prove to be dead wrong though. I'd say he's probably told you 
the truth as he sees it. What did he say, that's bothering you so much? 
Offer to go to bed with you or something?"

Nighthawk shot him an evil look. "I imagine he'd ask *you* before he'd ask 
me," she said slyly. "You're *much* cuter than I am." When her husband 
rolled his eyes, she said, "He told me that one of the humans was a spy for 
the moogles, and I wrongly assumed him to be one of Tim's men. That neither 
Tim nor Cyan betrayed us, in the war."

Scott leaned back against the mast and crossed his arms over his chest. "We 
covered that ground already, Lara," he said, but not unsympathetically. "I 
already told you I don't think they did. If Aaron backs me up, I'd say that 
it's probably the truth. I never said either of them were *nice* men, but 
honorable...that I'll give them."

Nighthawk's proud bearing seemed to wilt, her wings drooping slightly as 
she bowed her head, wisps of blue-black hair blowing across her face. "I 
have to know, Aelis," she said sadly. "I have to know whether it is true. I 
can't just guess. I am enjoined by Aerdrie's law to deal fairly with those 
who deal fairly with me, and to spare the lives of goodly people who have 
done me no harm nor pose a threat. A lot of humans aren't good...but if 
this is true, then Cyan *was*." She raised her head, contemplating the sky. 
"Scott, I will need the crow's nest tonight. Keep Aaron away from it - and 
everyone else - no matter what you see or think you see going on up here. I 
am Aerdrie's proxy. She will tell me the truth, if I ask. And...if this is 
true...she may tell me what I must do to right the wrong that I have done."

Scott shook his head - as if to himself - and blew out a long breath. "You 
just can't do things the easy way, can you," he said flatly, as though 
repeating an argument they'd had many times.

"No more than you can, my love," replied Nighthawk, but she wasn't looking 
at him. Her eyes were fixed on Aerdrie's skies, already beginning to seek 
that communion with her deity.

Scott began climbing down the mast again. Given what he believed to be 
true, he figured Nighthawk was in for no easy time tonight; deities didn't 
look kindly on their personal servants' mistakes. Quite possibly there'd be 
some lightning, wind, and rain tonight, and he'd have to make sure the 
sailors didn't panic. And that Aaron kept his goddamned mouth shut about 
Nighthawk until they were safely ashore. The last thing he needed was to 
have to swim for shore using a half-ton bike as a non-floating-device. 
Sailors were always a superstitious bunch. Having a black-winged woman on 
board right before a major storm was going to take explaining.

He headed for his cabin; he'd need all of Zephyr's persuasive power tonight.


Larathia


Subj:	 [HillionDynasty] On the Wings of Prayer
Date:	5/3/01 7:51:53 PM Central Daylight Time
From:	larathia@mcs.net (Larathia)
Reply-to:	HillionDynasty@yahoogroups.com
To:	HillionDynasty@yahoogroups.com, ffml@egroups.com

Scott saw what was happening before anyone else, but only because he was 
looking for it.

Clouds were gathering, coming from all directions to focus on the ship. 
Very unfriendly clouds; the sort that could throw lightning before rain, or 
throw hail or anything at all. He didn't have a lot of time, so he ran to 
get Aaron.

Who was looking a bit spooked, staring at the sky. *Wonderful*. Scott 
grabbed his shoulder and thrust the katana into his hands. When Aaron 
looked at him like he'd gone crazy, he said, "You told Nighthawk something 
you probably should have waited until we were on land to say. She's 
communing with her goddess - that's the storm. *You* are going to help me 
guard the crow's nest from these sailors. And if you argue I'll skewer you 
myself. Now *move*!"

Aaron nodded uncertainly - there was unquestionably plenty for him to be 
uncertain about - but he followed Scott to the deck around the mast and did 
his best to look competent and menacing. Scott was careful not to say anything.

There was already a crowd beginning to form, and Scott didn't waste any 
time on pleasantries. He drew Zephyr and began swinging it - nicking a few 
sailors until they got the hint.

"What's that witch up there doing?" demanded one.

"Nothing that'll concern you," said Scott calmly. "It's flashy but it won't 
do a damn thing to the ship. Now get back to your job before I get the 
captain on you."

"I'm right here," said another man. "And you *will* say what she's doing or 
we'll pitch the lot of you over the side, no matter how much it takes. A 
gun will take care of you swordsmen quick enough."

Scott didn't bother explaining the concept of a gunblade. He demonstrated 
instead, sending a bullet-charge just past the captain's ear. "You're 
assuming you'll get time to shoot one," he said matter-of-factly. "I'm 
telling you the truth - she's not doing anything that will threaten the 
ship. It just *looks* bad. On the other hand, if you lay a hand on me, my 
companion here, or that mast - you *will* have trouble. One's a chance, the 
other's a sure bet. You gamble much, captain?"

* * * * * * * * *

Nighthawk didn't pay attention to what was going on below. She knew her 
husband could take down the entire ship's worth of sailors alone if need 
be. No - her entire attention was focused on her prayer, on opening her 
soul to her goddess, speaking the words of the prayer of communion.

A breeze circled around her, and a white dove settled on the edge of the 
crow's nest as storm clouds gathered. - We are the messengers of Aerdrie - 
came a thought in her mind. - Ask your question, servant. -

"I am told I took a life in error, Lady," said Nighthawk. "I must know - 
was I wrong to execute King Cyan? What is the truth?"

Storm clouds swirled as the dove's eyes glowed blue. - You were told the 
truth. He was guiltless of the crime you accused him of. Now that you know 
this, you are in defiance of the Lady's law. You must atone, to again stand 
in the Goddess' favor. -

"How?" cried Nighthawk frantically. "He is dead, many thousands of years 
dead. How can I atone to a corpse gone to dust?"

- He is not dead.  Your charge has found him already. Find him and let him 
name his penance; so long as it is not your life we will honor it as though 
it were our own command. -

Nighthawk's jaw dropped. "He *lives*?" she asked incredulously. "But he was 
human! How could he live now, when even the grandchildren of the elves who 
came with me have died?"

- We did not say it would be *easy*, servant. Ask yourself what the Lady's 
favor means to you. -

The bird took off, and the clouds slowly cleared to show a brilliant starry 
night. Nighthawk didn't notice. Cyan lived? And he was to set her 
atonement? She could feel the absence of divine favor within her - no more 
healing spells or priestly magic would come at her call, until she did as 
Aerdrie's messenger had bidden her. She still had her mage powers, but it 
couldn't help but sting a bit.

She had to get into the Grove of the Fallen without the favor of Aerdrie. 
Oh, *boy* was this going to be fun.

She stepped out of the nest and flew gently to the ground, heedless of the 
sailors who inexplicably parted at her approach. Scott immediately sheathed 
Zephyr and moved to support her; the communion had taken all of her energy. 
She gave them the gist of what the messenger of Aerdrie had said, and then 
let herself lapse into unconsciousness, Scott supporting her entire weight.


Larathia