Annael

Annael smiled, the butterflies in her hair fluttering their little wings in anticipation. "I would love to dance. It's been...well....a lifetime since I've danced!" Annael took Doomy's hand and let him help her to her feet. They walked out to join the crowd of dancers. Curtysing to DoomGaze, and he bowing to her, they made a striking couple with their wings dipping with them as they danced, the lights reflecting off their beautiful feathers.

I agree. It's alright Gwai No harm done, nothing like that. It's allll good. Is still waiting for Peredhil's speech

Annael bluses as she accepts all the hugs and congratulations, but leans forward to whisper to Gwaihir, who in turn blinks and turns a little red "Yes, well, Annael is a Herald....not a Troubadour....sorry Lady Celes" Hehehe, thanks everyone. And Pered, I would except no less then a speech!!

Annael, taking Saliyne's advice, choose one of the garden rooms. Looking out of her window at said garden, Annael saw a tree that caught her attention and decided that she needed to try out it's branches. Walking out into the garden, Annael closed her eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the smell of the fresh air and the sense of serenity that entered her. Settling in the tree up high in a branch, Annael brought her knees up below her chin and resting her head on her knees. Humming to herself, Annael prepared herself for another sleepless night.

"K, I'll stop being an idiot and gawking at you now." Annael winked and held out her hand. "I'm Annael, as you probably know, I'm infamous around here. If it's not for falling outta trees, my butterflies causing mischeif it's for leaving my feathers behind. Come, sit." Annael, brought her knees up under her chin and patted the bench next to her, nervously covering her toes with the sari. DoomGaze smiled shyly and sat beside Annael. "So...." he started, "you wanted to see me about something?" Annael nodded and pushed a curl behind her ear, unsettling a few butterflies. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you and Zariah. I just wanted to chat, you know? I just haven't seen many of our kind around...and well...I just miss.....so, how are you enjoying the ball?" Annael struggled shocked that she was experiencing these emotions. It had been so long since she'd felt lonely that it was difficult for her to deal with. She ruffled her feathers restlessly. A black feather fluttered down over her shoulder to land softly on her knee. Annael sighed. DoomGaze followed the path of the feather and picked it up softly. "These aren't supposed to come out, you know." Annael nodded and lowered her head. "It's been happening more frequently lately. Gyrfalcon usually lends some assistance, but hasn't had time lately. I've got enough feathers to stuff a pillow now." Annael tried to laugh and failed. "Oh, pooh, enough about that. Come, my fine feathered friend, let's talk of happier things!"

Annael hummed along with the music that the band was playing as she sipped on a glass of water. Her bare feet tucked up beneath the beautiful dress that Celes had conjured up for her. She gazed around the room smiling and winking at those that she made eyecontact with. She saw a flash of red out of the corner of her eye and turned to see what it was. She raised an eyebrow as she DoomGaze flex his wings. She curved one wing forward and checked a black feather before looking at his crimson red feathers. "Hmmm...I wonder how he keeps his feathers so immaculate? Mine keep falling out, the darn things!" Annael shook her head to dislodge a couple of butterflies and nodded her head in the direction of DoomGaze. "Off you go, see if the Crimson Winged One will come and converse, if he's not busy that is. If he is busy, leave him alone. Just let him know that I said hi. And be nice!" Annael frowned at her butterflies to make sure that they knew she wasn't kidding.

A lone butterfly flew drunkenly throught the air. The added weight of a crystal on a chain made it too hard for the brightly coloured butterfly to actually keep a straight path. It weaved and faltered, ultimately letting the jewel it carried to fall, straight onto the head of Annael who was rifling through an old chest belonging to the Elders. "Is this even the Elder's Treasurebox? I can't believe...ouch!!" Stoping her mumbling to rub her head, Annael looked around to see what struck her. Not seeing anything Annael once again resumed her search, only this time to see something that wasn't there before. "What's this?"Annael asked as she reached down to pick up a long silver chain. Attached to a chain was the most remarkable looking jewel she had ever seen. It was clear, streaked through with red. As she held the jewel on the palm of her hand, the red streaks began to swirl around. A blinding pain pierced her skull and voices spoke to her. I am Kushel And I Chrissiania Together we live in this jewel For it is the only way that we CAN be together To the bearer of this jewel We impart the knowledge of our history So that our fate may not be repeated Also we grant power, that of healing And that of commanding We will guide you and help you always Just remember that we are here And that we were And now we are...... Another blinding flash and Annael begins to see a story unfold, she a silent spectator in the entire thing...this is the story...... In a remote region of Terra, there is an island. Surrounded by deadly waters and covered in the densest fog ever seen by man, it is an island shrouded in mystery. Very few people know where the island is, and even fewer know that it exists. The island is called Kushel's Tower, because that is all that remains there. On of the greates mages on Terra, Kushel was unknown. He didn't command great armies that crushed their opponents. He commanded the MAGES that command the great armies. And he did this all without anyone knowing that he was doing it, except, for the mages involved of course. Commanding people as easily as one breathes is not something that even the most powerful mages can do. But Kushel didn't abuse his power, he just used it for his own gains. One day he saw a young woman wondering upon his island. By her wet and ragged appearance, he could tell that she came to him by means of a miracle. Surviving the waters was unheard of. Yet this young lady did. Kushel made it his mission to heal the lady and to restore her to her rightful place on Terra. He didn't know that he would only succeed partially in his mission. Kushel learned that his young lady's name was Chrissiania. He became enamoured of her, and she of him. As their love grew, so did the island. the island beagon to sprout trees from amongst jagged rocks. birds began to live in those trees. Life began once more on Kushel's Tower. But as life was beginning on their little island, certain mages in Terra began to lose their kingdoms. Mages before that were unbeatable all of a sudden were having their entire armies slaughtered before their eyes. Then they started to understand: they were no longer being controlled by Kushel during war. Tarr, a once power black mage who was being hit the hardest decided to see exactly what was going on with Kushel. Having been to Kushel's Tower before, Tarr knew the exact location and transported himself there. Upon seeing the island full of greenery and wildlife where there was none before, Tarr recognized the work of a green mage. He set off to find Kushel. So caught up in the playful antics of his beautiful Chrissiania, Kushel failed to notice the arrival of another mage on his island. Nor did he realize that for the first time in over two hundred years that he had begun to age. The deal that he made with the mages that he controlled was thus: he would guarantee their victory in exchange for life. Each time he helped a mage win, they would sacrifice years off their own life to Kushel. Since he had stopped controlling the mages, his body was quickly catching up to his true age. Tarr arrived at Kushel's tower to see Chrissiania playing with some rabbits. Kushel was watching from a window high in the tower, laughing at her. Seeing everything around him and coming to a quick conclusion that the laughing woman was the cause of his losing great armies, Tarr charged into the clearing and ran his sword right through Chrissiania, the point coming out of her chest. Gazing up at Kushel, Chrissiania breathed her last and collapsed. Seeing the horror of his beloved's death threw Kushel into a rage. He commanded Chrissania's soul not to leave her body as he flew out of the tower. As Kushel gathered Chrissiania's body into his arms, he took control of Tarr's mind and calmly walked him off a cliff, right onto the jagged rocks below. After the dispatching of Tarr, Kushel cradled his love's body in his arms. The beautiful crystal jewel that he had placed around her neck that morning was streaked through with her blood. The clear magnificence of it was marred by red. Unable to stand the thought of living without Chrissiania, Kushel stood with her lifeless body in his arms and they both slowly disappeared. All that remained of the two on Kushel's Tower was Chrissiania's jewel. Annael blinked and looked at the attic around her, then down at the crystal in her hand. "Oh my. I hope that this is deserving enough reward for Gwaihir's contest" A sharp pain in her head forewarned the voices again. Fallen One, a warning to you. We know that you will not be the bearer of this jewel See that we do not fall into the wrong hands We can be deadly.... Being careful to hold the jewel by the chain, Annael stood, shook her skirts free of dust and went in search of Gwai. The butterfly that was the bearer of the heavy jewel perched precariously on Annael's halo as she walked, her barefeet leaving tracks in the dust. If someone were watching carefully, they would've noticed the little butterfly wink to the laughing lady in the crystal.

Annael yawned and curled up into a tighter ball on her branch, her black wings draping over her to keep her warm. Something soft bounced off her nose, causing her to wrinkle it. Then again, another bounce. And another. Suddenly, her face was being attacked by little bouncing things!! Opening her eyes to see what was going on, Annael saw her butterflies swarming in front of her face. Startled, she moved a little too far and gave a small squeak as she fell off her branch and dropped to the ground below. Wincing at the knowledge of some more damaged feathers, she stood up and glared at her butterflies. "What??? That's the first time I've slept in days and you guys start doing the hooky pooky on my face! What???" The butterflies started to make formations in the sky causing Annael to slap her forehead. "The ball! I'm late again!!" Taking off at a dead run for the Keep, Annael left her butterflies fluttering in dismay as they tried to keep up with the figure of their ragged looking mistress. Reaching the doors of the Keep's Ballroom, Annael slid to a stop before the guards. "Hi there. Sorry I'm late. I fell asleep you see and I haven't slept for days...and gaa...that doesn't matter. Let me in!" The guards looked at eachother, and the ragged fallen angel before them and opened the doors with a florish, making sure that everyone inside would turn at the commotion to see who was coming through the doors. Annael frowned at the guards. "Thanks guys, like I don't feel like an idiot already, now everyone is staring at me." Annael continued to grumble as she entered the ballroom, her butterfliles having decided that her outfit needed a little spicing up so they settled themselves in her curls. The multicoloured butterflies amongst the black curls gave Annael a rather cheery look, except for the ragged dress, the tarnished halo, bare feet and the look of sorrow in Annael's eyes. Annael approached her hostess sadly "I'm so sorry that I'm late. There's nothing that I can do to really make up for my inexcusable rudeness, but please, accept this as a token of my apology...." Annael closed her eyes for a moment, smiled a little, then opened them. When she did, it was to see thousands of little butterflies hovering in the room, each of them wearing a little bell. Every movement of the little beasties causing a sweet tinkling to echo through the air. Smiling at Ayshela, Annael dipped her brightly adorned head and started to make her way to a window that caught her fancy. Butterflies following in her wake, a few black feathers drifted down to settle on the ground at Ayshela's feet.

Annael clicks her heels, salutes and marches off to the treasurebox with her butterflies marching on air behind her

Annael quickly looked at the time before marking her place in her novel and standing up. Smoothing her hair back and pinnning it on top of her head, she picked up the slim case that sits in the corner of her room and runs downstairs. Shouting out a farwell to her parents, she jumps in her little car and drives much to fast, listening to loud music much to loudly, a cigarette glowing in the dark. Arriving at her destination, Annael lets her favourite song play out, flicks her cigarette butt off into the night and gets out of her car. Walking across the darkened lot, she slips the slim case higher onto her shoulder with the strap and starts down the stairs. Letting her eyes adjust to the lighting and the smokey atmosphere, she smiles and starts to weave her way amongst the patrons. Stopping to shake hands and give out hugs, she finally ends up at her table. Giving the customary kisses to the people there, she unzips the slim case and takes out the two pieces of wood and begins to screw them together. Setting a piece of chalk on the railing, she sights down the shaft before letting the butt of it rest on the toe of her boot. A young man walks up next to her and wraps his arm around her shoulders. Leaning into Andrew, Annael looks at the gathered group. "So what's the game tonight. 8 Ball, 9 Ball?"

Don Cherry talked about Dan last night on Coaches Corner during the leaf game. You know, statistically, he would've been a 20 goal scorer? It's a shame what happened. My prayers go out to family and friends of Dan. Also a great loss to the hockey world.

sooo...when's the party? I didn't get an invitation yet..... Annael looks at her butterflies playing with some confetti in the air.... on the other hand, I might have gotten it. Heh. I'll come of course I love parties!!!

www.theinterviewwithgod.com A little something for everyone to read. For believers and non-believers alike, the message rings true for everyone. Have a good day!!! Annael dances off with her butterflies

Annael paces along the branch of her oak tree, directing her butterflies after specific people, who need not be named, since as soon as they read this, the butterflies will be swarming around them, and then there'll be heck to pay!! So yes, the reason for this post. As stated, Attack of the Butterflies. Their targets? The Elders who told me that yes, they would "get back to me" with my quill quest. Annael looks at the date That was three months ago. Yeah....here I am thinking, dang, they're thinking up this HUGE unbelievable quest for me to do. When no, in fact, they've forgotten all about me. And now I see that we can pick our own. Hmph. You guys..... Annael gives the command for her butterflies to start their torture I love being forgotten, really, I do. Shows how much I'm appreciated eh?

I was going for the prayer

I will tell you a joke, but I will also use this opportunity to smother you in huggles and kisses cause I miss you so!!!!!!!! Now for the joke: There's a man riding a bicycle on the side of the road. There's a sparrow flying on the same path, directly at him. The man and bird collide, the bird being knocked unconscious from the impact. The biker gets off his bike, picks up the poor little bird and takes him home with him. At the house, the biker puts the birdie in a little cage with some bread and some water then rushes off to work. The bird wakes up after the biker had left and looks around. He sees the cage, he sees the bread, and he sees the water. The bird says..... "Oh no! I killed the biker!!"

oh oh oh!!! When's my turn? When's my turn?? *jumps around some*

"Ahhhhhh!" forewarned the room that someone was in trouble, or at least, wanted everyone to think that way. Annael ran in, her butterflies chasing after her, picking at her wings and skirts. Annael tried to stop running, but ended up tripping over a sleeping Daryl in his werefox form and was sent flying, head over heels onto the floor and came to a stop against something, or someone. Slowly looking up the furry legs, Annael realised that it was on of Peredhil's giant Guinea Pig body guards. "Hi there. Thanks so much for stopping my tumble..." Annael stopped and tried to look around the giant rodent. "Pered? Any idea why my butterflies decided to attack me?"

Annael landed outside the hostle and shook out the skirts of her dress. Once a lovely blue and white blend, it was now marred with great black streaks, where it wasn't charred at least. Wiping a smoke streaked hand across her face, she noticed the injured mage wasn't on the ground anymore. Figuring that he had been brought into the hostle, Annael made her way inside. "Hey Annael, you look a little singed around the edges there. Not that I don't mind what it did to your dress..." Annael turned to give Daryl a warning look. "Stop staring at my legs!" "You know what, I just noticed that you walk around barefoot! Your dresses are usually so long that I didn't notice. Awww, what cute little toes!" Annael glared at the werefox and shook a finger in his direction. The cloud of butterflies above her head started to flutter over in his direction. "Oh heck, Annael, you know I was just teasing you!" Daryl stumbled back away from the mass of butterflies getting nearer. Annael gave a little giggle and turned to look around the hostle. Glass was all over the floor, people rushing around trying to help the injured. Spotting Ozymandias and Gyrfalcon, Annael started in their direction. A arm shot out in front of her, stopping her but not touching her. "Careful there Lady Annael, there's glass." Annael turned to look at the shadow. "So I noticed Tamaranis." Annael looked down pointedly at her feet, which weren't touching the ground. "Ah yes, your wings." Tamaranis nodded and turned, fading even father into the shadows. Annael blinked, then continued on her way, her feet staying just above the ground, her wings shifting softly. Annael stopped just away from the group which had grown to increase Salinye, who was hovering over the injured mage from outside. Ozymandias turned his head a little, recognized that she was there and turned back to the mage. Stiffening, Ozymandias turned completely around to look at Annael. "Starting a new fashion sense?" Salinye, Gyrfalcon and the unknown mage all turned to look at her at Ozymandias' question, shock, humor and confusion showing on their faces. "I ran into a little fire south of here." "Little? If little did that to you, I wouldn't want to see big!" Gyrfalcon exclaimed, eyeing her wings, many feathers of which were damaged. Just then, Daryl came running up and collasped at Annael's feet, wrapping his arms around her legs. "Please! Call them off!! I'm sorry, I won't comment on your cute little toes any more!!" Daryl curled his body into her legs, clutching her tightly. Annael looked at the others and gave a little smile. "The butterflies...." The chorus of "Ahhhs" said enough. Just then the injured young mage gave a little cough, drawing the attention of the gathered group. "Well sir, I believe that you are the cause of the fire that I did some battle with. That was quite a blaze you had going there. Not to mention the remains of what was once another mage. I'd say that you won this battle, and it appears that you're going to survive." "Hey, you've got wings!" "He's a smart one there, isn't he?" Ozymandias said, rolling his eyes. "Let's just see how smart. So, who are you, and why are you in my hostle?" Salinye asked, staring at the mage in question.

shhhhhhh! Vlad, you're making me look bad! lol. Wyv just finished asking me to do my quill quest!! And here you go doing your own. *sigh* I think that this sounds like a grand plan darlin I'll show my support of course. Every story needs a messed up angel in it, ne? heh

hehe, found this on another forum i'm on and thought it would be good for sheits and giggles The Top 100 Things I'd Do If I Ever Became An Evil Overlord My Legions of Terror will have helmets with clear plexiglass visors, not face-concealing ones. My ventilation ducts will be too small to crawl through. My noble half-brother whose throne I usurped will be killed, not kept anonymously imprisoned in a forgotten cell of my dungeon. Shooting is not too good for my enemies. The artifact which is the source of my power will not be kept on the Mountain of Despair beyond the River of Fire guarded by the Dragons of Eternity. It will be in my safe-deposit box. The same applies to the object which is my one weakness. I will not gloat over my enemies' predicament before killing them. When I've captured my adversary and he says, "Look, before you kill me, will you at least tell me what this is all about?" I'll say, "No." and shoot him. No, on second thought I'll shoot him then say "No." After I kidnap the beautiful princess, we will be married immediately in a quiet civil ceremony, not a lavish spectacle in three weeks' time during which the final phase of my plan will be carried out. I will not include a self-destruct mechanism unless absolutely necessary. If it is necessary, it will not be a large red button labelled "Danger: Do Not Push". The big red button marked "Do Not Push" will instead trigger a spray of bullets on anyone stupid enough to disregard it. Similarly, the ON/OFF switch will not clearly be labelled as such. I will not interrogate my enemies in the inner sanctum -- a small hotel well outside my borders will work just as well. I will be secure in my superiority. Therefore, I will feel no need to prove it by leaving clues in the form of riddles or leaving my weaker enemies alive to show they pose no threat. One of my advisors will be an average five-year-old child. Any flaws in my plan that he is able to spot will be corrected before implementation. All slain enemies will be cremated, or at least have several rounds of ammunition emptied into them, not left for dead at the bottom of the cliff. The announcement of their deaths, as well as any accompanying celebration, will be deferred until after the aforementioned disposal. The hero is not entitled to a last kiss, a last cigarette, or any other form of last request. I will never employ any device with a digital countdown. If I find that such a device is absolutely unavoidable, I will set it to activate when the counter reaches 117 and the hero is just putting his plan into operation. I will never utter the sentence "But before I kill you, there's just one thing I want to know." When I employ people as advisors, I will occasionally listen to their advice. I will not have a son. Although his laughably under-planned attempt to usurp power would easily fail, it would provide a fatal distraction at a crucial point in time. I will not have a daughter. She would be as beautiful as she was evil, but one look at the hero's rugged countenance and she'd betray her own father. Despite its proven stress-relieving effect, I will not indulge in maniacal laughter. When so occupied, it's too easy to miss unexpected developments that a more attentive individual could adjust to accordingly. I will hire a talented fashion designer to create original uniforms for my Legions of Terror, as opposed to some cheap knock-offs that make them look like Nazi stormtroopers, Roman footsoldiers, or savage Mongol hordes. All were eventually defeated and I want my troops to have a more positive mind-set. No matter how tempted I am with the prospect of unlimited power, I will not consume any energy field bigger than my head. I will keep a special cache of low-tech weapons and train my troops in their use. That way -- even if the heroes manage to neutralize my power generator and/or render the standard-issue energy weapons useless -- my troops will not be overrun by a handful of savages armed with spears and rocks. I will maintain a realistic assessment of my strengths and weaknesses. Even though this takes some of the fun out of the job, at least I will never utter the line "No, this cannot be! I AM INVINCIBLE!!!" (After that, death is usually instantaneous.) No matter how well it would perform, I will never construct any sort of machinery which is completely indestructible except for one small and virtually inaccessible vulnerable spot. No matter how attractive certain members of the rebellion are, there is probably someone just as attractive who is not desperate to kill me. Therefore, I will think twice before ordering a prisoner sent to my bedchamber. I will never build only one of anything important. All important systems will have redundant control panels and power supplies. For the same reason I will always carry at least two fully loaded weapons at all times. My pet monster will be kept in a secure cage from which it cannot escape and into which I could not accidentally stumble. I will dress in bright and cheery colors, and so throw my enemies into confusion. All bumbling conjurers, clumsy squires, no-talent bards, and cowardly thieves in the land will be preemptively put to death. My foes will surely give up and abandon their quest if they have no source of comic relief. All naive, busty tavern wenches in my realm will be replaced with surly, world-weary waitresses who will provide no unexpected reinforcement and/or romantic subplot for the hero or his sidekick. I will not fly into a rage and kill a messenger who brings me bad news just to illustrate how evil I really am. Good messengers are hard to come by. I won't require high-ranking female members of my organization to wear a stainless-steel bustier. Morale is better with a more casual dress-code. Similarly, outfits made entirely from black leather will be reserved for formal occasions. I will not turn into a snake. It never helps. I will not grow a goatee. In the old days they made you look diabolic. Now they just make you look like a disaffected member of Generation X. I will not imprison members of the same party in the same cell block, let alone the same cell. If they are important prisoners, I will keep the only key to the cell door on my person instead of handing out copies to every bottom-rung guard in the prison. If my trusted lieutenant tells me my Legions of Terror are losing a battle, I will believe him. After all, he's my trusted lieutenant. If an enemy I have just killed has a younger sibling or offspring anywhere, I will find them and have them killed immediately, instead of waiting for them to grow up harboring feelings of vengeance towards me in my old age. If I absolutely must ride into battle, I will certainly not ride at the forefront of my Legions of Terror, nor will I seek out my opposite number among his army. I will be neither chivalrous nor sporting. If I have an unstoppable superweapon, I will use it as early and as often as possible instead of keeping it in reserve. Once my power is secure, I will destroy all those pesky time-travel devices. When I capture the hero, I will make sure I also get his dog, monkey, ferret, or whatever sickeningly cute little animal capable of untying ropes and filching keys happens to follow him around. I will maintain a healthy amount of skepticism when I capture the beautiful rebel and she claims she is attracted to my power and good looks and will gladly betray her companions if I just let her in on my plans. I will only employ bounty hunters who work for money. Those who work for the pleasure of the hunt tend to do dumb things like even the odds to give the other guy a sporting chance. I will make sure I have a clear understanding of who is responsible for what in my organization. For example, if my general screws up I will not draw my weapon, point it at him, say "And here is the price for failure," then suddenly turn and kill some random underling. If an advisor says to me "My liege, he is but one man. What can one man possibly do?", I will reply "This." and kill the advisor. If I learn that a callow youth has begun a quest to destroy me, I will slay him while he is still a callow youth instead of waiting for him to mature. I will treat any beast which I control through magic or technology with respect and kindness. Thus if the control is ever broken, it will not immediately come after me for revenge. If I learn the whereabouts of the one artifact which can destroy me, I will not send all my troops out to seize it. Instead I will send them out to seize something else and quietly put a Want-Ad in the local paper. My main computers will have their own special operating system that will be completely incompatible with standard IBM and Macintosh powerbooks. If one of my dungeon guards begins expressing concern over the conditions in the beautiful princess' cell, I will immediately transfer him to a less people-oriented position. I will hire a team of board-certified architects and surveyors to examine my castle and inform me of any secret passages and abandoned tunnels that I might not know about. If the beautiful princess that I capture says "I'll never marry you! Never, do you hear me, NEVER!!!", I will say "Oh well" and kill her. I will not strike a bargain with a demonic being then attempt to double-cross it simply because I feel like being contrary. The deformed mutants and odd-ball psychotics will have their place in my Legions of Terror. However before I send them out on important covert missions that require tact and subtlety, I will first see if there is anyone else equally qualified who would attract less attention. My Legions of Terror will be trained in basic marksmanship. Any who cannot learn to hit a man-sized target at 10 meters will be used for target practice. Before employing any captured artifacts or machinery, I will carefully read the owner's manual. If it becomes necessary to escape, I will never stop to pose dramatically and toss off a one-liner. I will never build a sentient computer smarter than I am. My five-year-old child advisor will also be asked to decipher any code I am thinking of using. If he breaks the code in under 30 seconds, it will not be used. Note: this also applies to passwords. If my advisors ask "Why are you risking everything on such a mad scheme?", I will not proceed until I have a response that satisfies them. I will design fortress hallways with no alcoves or protruding structural supports which intruders could use for cover in a firefight. Bulk trash will be disposed of in incinerators, not compactors. And they will be kept hot, with none of that nonsense about flames going through accessible tunnels at predictable intervals. I will see a competent psychiatrist and get cured of all extremely unusual phobias and bizarre compulsive habits which could prove to be a disadvantage. If I must have computer systems with publically available terminals, the maps they display of my complex will have a room clearly marked as the Main Control Room. That room will be the Execution Chamber. The actual main control room will be marked as Sewage Overflow Containment. My security keypad will actually be a fingerprint scanner. Anyone who watches someone press a sequence of buttons or dusts the pad for fingerprints then subsequently tries to enter by repeating that sequence will trigger the alarm system. No matter how many shorts we have in the system, my guards will be instructed to treat every surveillance camera malfunction as a full-scale emergency. I will spare someone who saved my life sometime in the past. This is only reasonable as it encourages others to do so. However, the offer is good one time only. If they want me to spare them again, they'd better save my life again. All midwives will be banned from the realm. All babies will be delivered at state-approved hospitals. Orphans will be placed in foster-homes, not abandoned in the woods to be raised by creatures of the wild. When my guards split up to search for intruders, they will always travel in groups of at least two. They will be trained so that if one of them disappears mysteriously while on patrol, the other will immediately initiate an alert and call for backup, instead of quizzically peering around a corner. If I decide to test a lieutenant's loyalty and see if he/she should be made a trusted lieutenant, I will have a crack squad of marksmen standing by in case the answer is no. If all the heroes are standing together around a strange device and begin to taunt me, I will pull out a conventional weapon instead of using my unstoppable superweapon on them. I will not agree to let the heroes go free if they win a rigged contest, even though my advisors assure me it is impossible for them to win. When I create a multimedia presentation of my plan designed so that my five-year-old advisor can easily understand the details, I will not label the disk "Project Overlord" and leave it lying on top of my desk. I will instruct my Legions of Terror to attack the hero en masse, instead of standing around waiting while members break off and attack one or two at a time. If the hero runs up to my roof, I will not run up after him and struggle with him in an attempt to push him over the edge. I will also not engage him at the edge of a cliff. (In the middle of a rope-bridge over a river of molten lava is not even worth considering.) If I have a fit of temporary insanity and decide to give the hero the chance to reject a job as my trusted lieutentant, I will retain enough sanity to wait until my current trusted lieutenant is out of earshot before making the offer. I will not tell my Legions of Terror "And he must be taken alive!" The command will be "And try to take him alive if it is reasonably practical." If my doomsday device happens to come with a reverse switch, as soon as it has been employed it will be melted down and made into limited-edition commemorative coins. If my weakest troops fail to eliminate a hero, I will send out my best troops instead of wasting time with progressively stronger ones as he gets closer and closer to my fortress. If I am fighting with the hero atop a moving platform, have disarmed him, and am about to finish him off and he glances behind me and drops flat, I too will drop flat instead of quizzically turning around to find out what he saw. I will not shoot at any of my enemies if they are standing in front of the crucial support beam to a heavy, dangerous, unbalanced structure. If I'm eating dinner with the hero, put poison in his goblet, then have to leave the table for any reason, I will order new drinks for both of us instead of trying to decide whether or not to switch with him. I will not have captives of one sex guarded by members of the opposite sex. I will not use any plan in which the final step is horribly complicated, e.g. "Align the 12 Stones of Power on the sacred altar then activate the medallion at the moment of total eclipse." Instead it will be more along the lines of "Push the button." I will make sure that my doomsday device is up to code and properly grounded. My vats of hazardous chemicals will be covered when not in use. Also, I will not construct walkways above them. If a group of henchmen fail miserably at a task, I will not berate them for incompetence then send the same group out to try the task again. After I captures the hero's superweapon, I will not immediately disband my legions and relax my guard because I believe whoever holds the weapon is unstoppable. After all, the hero held the weapon and I took it from him. I will not design my Main Control Room so that every workstation is facing away from the door. I will not ignore the messenger that stumbles in exhausted and obviously agitated until my personal grooming or current entertainment is finished. It might actually be important. If I ever talk to the hero on the phone, I will not taunt him. Instead I will say this his dogged perseverance has given me new insight on the futility of my evil ways and that if he leaves me alone for a few months of quiet contemplation I will likely return to the path of righteousness. (Heroes are incredibly gullible in this regard.) If I decide to hold a double execution of the hero and an underling who failed or betrayed me, I will see to it that the hero is scheduled to go first. When arresting prisoners, my guards will not allow them to stop and grab a useless trinket of purely sentimental value. My dungeon will have its own qualified medical staff complete with bodyguards. That way if a prisoner becomes sick and his cellmate tells the guard it's an emergency, the guard will fetch a trauma team instead of opening up the cell for a look. My door mechanisms will be designed so that blasting the control panel on the outside seals the door and blasting the control panel on the inside opens the door, not vice versa. My dungeon cells will not be furnished with objects that contain reflective surfaces or anything that can be unravelled. If an attractive young couple enters my realm, I will carefully monitor their activities. If I find they are happy and affectionate, I will ignore them. However if circumstance have forced them together against their will and they spend all their time bickering and criticizing each other except during the intermittent occasions when they are saving each others' lives at which point there are hints of sexual tension, I will immediately order their execution. Any data file of crucial importance will be padded to 1.45Mb in size. Finally, to keep my subjects permanently locked in a mindless trance, I will provide each of them with free unlimited Internet access.

congrats to all

being alone

Annael shifted uncomfortable in the saddle, sighing as it suddenly touched a particularly raw spot. Tilting her head to the side, she listening intently as a slight sound caught her attention. "Gyrfalcon, did you hear that?" Annael asked as she spurred her horse forward to draw up next to Gyrfalcon and Daryl. "Sorry Annael, I was lost in thought. I didn't hear anything. What did you hear?" "I'm not sure, it was very faint and like you, I wasn't really paying attention. But it sounded like shattering glass." "Shattering glass? If you can hear glass that's breaking at the Hostle, then you have amazing hearing, Annael." Ozymandias said as he turned to look back at her. Annael nodded her head slightly in acknowledgement. "Gentlemen, if you don't mind, I think I'm going to fly on ahead and see what I can find out. I travel much faster that way. Besides, I don't think my rear can take much more of this saddle." Annael dismounted her horse to a laughing yip from Daryl. "No more comments from you, my werefox..." Annael threatened as she spread her wings and sped high into the air. "Hmm, I wonder what I can do to get myself a pair of those. Would definetly make travelling easier," Ozymandias said as he watched Annael fly off, her black wings shinning in the sun. "Well, come on then, let's not just sit here. Let's follow her!" Ozymandias lend forward and kicked his horse into a hard gallop, Gyrfalcon and Daryl not far behind. -------- Annael slowed down to hover above the Hostle, her sharp eyes scanning the surrounding area. Shocked to see someone laying on the ground, Annael quickly flew down to land softly beside the body. Kneeling, she felt for a pulse and breathed a quick sigh of relief as she felt it, feathering ever so softly against her finger tips. "Is he alive?" Annael looked up to see Gyrfalcon, Ozymandias and Daryl dismounting. Annael nodded in response to Gyrfalcon. "Barely though, his pulse is very faint. From the looks of him, he's been in a fight." "More like a mini war I'd say," Daryl said, once more in human form. "I'm surprised that no one from the Hostle has come out to investigate the noise. If you heard the sound of the broken window from so far away, why didn't they hear the noise from inside?" Daryl stopped talking as he realised that Annael wasn't paying attention, her focus concentrated on the skies. "We should get him inside. We can work on helping him once we get him in a bed and his wounds washed. Ozymandias, Daryl, help me bring him inside please. Annael? What is it?" Gyrfalcon stood up and looked at Annael with a slight frown. "I'm not sure. Something's not right, but I can't figure it out. Bring the wounded one inside and see what you can do for him. I'm going to scout the area to see if I can find the one who did this to him." Annael took off into the air, flying quickly off over the forest to the west. Daryl watched a black feather float down and held out his hand for it to settle softly on his palm. "That was odd, even for Annael." Putting the feather into a pocket for safe keeping, Daryl bent over to grab hold of the unconscious man's legs. "Come on Gyr, we've got to get him inside." Ozymandias lifted the man's shoulders and with Daryl's help, carried the man inside, Gyrfalcon holding the door open. With a final look over his shoulder in the direction that Annael had gone, Gyrfalcon follwed the men inside.

may your dreams always lead you to new heights