YanYanGanaffi

The calming splash of waves as they rolled against the German U-boat, gently rocking it with each clash with the bow, was overpowered by the roar of flames on the surface of the Atlantic, two hundred miles East of Portland, Maine. Creaking and the rumbling of water rushing into the breached hull of the US Naval cruiser, USS Tallahassee, the ship cut in half by two well aimed torpedoes. Less the a hundred and fifty meters away, Captain Gunther von Hass watched from the deck of U-725 through a pair of binoculars. His tall, thin form was silhouetted by the glow of the burning fuel. His face was sharply angular, and slightly obscured by three days growth of stubble. That had been how long they had been under the surface following and hunting supply ships. They had lucked up in finding the cruiser. Remarkably, it was alone without a destroyer escorting it. At first, Captain von Hass thought the ship was sub-hunting, for occasionally it would slow it's speed and drop depth charges. The charges were set very deep, for the time between the splashes on the surface and the explosions in the water would put them near or at the ocean floor, far to deep for any known sub to survive. A submarine at that depth would be crushed like a tin can being stomped on by a two hundred pound man. "It's beautiful, no," a voice spoke up. It was von Hass' first mate, Lt. Jorgon, dressed in a black, slick waterproof tunic like the captain wore. He was a chunky man, though more muscle then fat. His eyes were a colder shade of blue then von Hass', though he was not nearly as controlled and steel-nerved as his senior officer. The other man accompanying them was a Nazi war correspondent, a mousy looking man busily taking pictures with a low light camera and writing down details for the propaganda factory back home in the Fatherland. "Only because it's not one of ours, Kristoff," he turned toward the junior officer," Let us not forget that they are men like ourselves; just on the opposite side of a conflict. We bleed and die just like they do." "At least they are the ones dying tonight," Kristoff replied cruelly with a chuckle,"Sgt. Ricther, are you getting enough photos for the papers back home?" There was silence and then the clatter of a camera dropped onto the deck, it's lens cracking. Both men turned just in time to see the journalist's feet going over the rail on the other side of the boat. A splash followed. Lt. Jorgon started to call 'man overboard', but his cry was cut off as a lasso of finely wound filament like pitch black piano wire constricted around his throat. He was caught completely off-guard as he was pulled over the side of the rail and into the murky water below; the seawater enveloping him in a flash. Captain von Hass drew his Ruger officer's pistol. He saw a shadow rippling in the water on the starboard side of the ship, then a flash of white as a javelin made of whalebone shot out and hit him in the dead-center of the chest. He looked down, grabbing the projectile that was buried deep into his chest, a good four inches of the tip jutting from his back. He feel to the deck still clutching his pistol as he was being swiftly dragged over the side. He caught a brief glance of the dark black lanyard that was tied to the end of the barbed javelin. The last image that he saw was the sea rushing up to greet him as he slipped over the side. A few moments later, several strange, frog-like creatures climbed up from the water and onto the deck of the boat. They stood just under five feet tall with skin that was pale with dark stripes across the back, back of the arms, and the fronts of their legs. They had webbed hands and feet. Along their forearms they had fin-like protrusions, ridged and topped with spines that were needle sharp. One of the frog-like creatures had the blood of the journalist dipping from it's arm where it had used the spines to severe the Nazi's stomach open. They made a croaking noise briefly, then one more of their kind climbed the rail onto the deck. All the creatures turned to him. He was slightly larger with a whale skin pouch hanging from across it's shoulder by a leathery strap. In it's language of croaks and gurgles, it said," Kill all the land-walkers. Leave not one alive!" They group bowwed their heads briefly, then began descending down the conning tower and into the boat. A few shrill screams sounded from inside the U-boat, and one gunshot. Soon, it was all calm again upon the Atlantic as the Trik'ah shaman finally descended the ladder of the conning tower, closing the hatch behind him.... Hans Eikson cowered in the small cargo hold of the U-boat with an MG-22 light machine gun cradled in his lap. Cold sweat weeped from his brow while his teeth ached from his grinding of them; fear overriding the pain. Those demons were on the ship, killing everyone in sight. He was just leaving the forward control area when the first of the creatures leap down from above decks, not even needing to use the steel rung ladder. It was just shorter then an adult male and thickly muscled. The skin of the beast; which was a mixture of sickly yellow-white with dark stripes down it's backside. It had what appeared to be a wicked looking sword that was bone-white. Hans knew it was his imagination, but he could have sworn that the meter long jagged blade the frog-man had glowed slightly. The head and face of the monster was shaped like that of a toad; a wide, toothless mouth, two small divots that served as nostril, a pair of dark colored eyes that sat on each side of the top of it's skull. A thin milky membrane blinked over the eyes; those cold, black eyes. The frog-man swung it's blade in an arcing slice, that swept in a complete circle. Blood sprayed from the stump of the sonar operator's neck, coating a panel of gages. The second casualty was one of the senior enlisted, who's hand lay on the deck, twitching slightly from the instant amputation by the blade. Screams of panic sounded within the boat. Pulling out a Ruger pistol, one of the engineers fired several times at the frog-man, hitting it only once in the back. the other three shots had missed their targets; the second shot finding it's way into Hans' upper right thigh. It looked worse then it was, Hans had observed. Nothing but a flesh wound. A second creature had dropped down from the conning tower, armed with a javelin of similar color to the first creature's sword. In a flash, the second frog-man had hurled the javelin into the engineer, piercing the man's heart. He let out a blood curling scream before toppling over a control panel and rolling off of that to the floor. Hans saw one more of the creatures drop down from the conning tower before he dashed through the open hatch that lead to the armory. As he made his way, he shouted," We have been boarded! Arm yourselves!" The storage area that the boat's weapons were located in was open; the ship's mess man (cook) handed out a couple of weapons; the MG-22. Hans slapped in a magazine of ammo and chambered the first round. One of the officers that had made it to the armory first passed Hans on his way out to fight the creatures. The young man prepared to duck through the hatch leading out. Hans saw the lasso of black filament gently drape about the man's head and shoulders before it was drawn taunt, the officer was lefted off the ground by the neck. Hans head automatic gun fire and watched the officer drop to the deck followed by one of the frog-men that had somehow managed to attach itself to the overhead of the boat to lay it's sinister trap. It struggled next to the man it tried to kill, as though the monster was trying to fight off Death himself. I moment later, the German officer was lying next to the frog-man as a curved two bladed dagger imbedded itself deep into his neck. A croaking sound arose on the other side of the hatchway just outside of Hans' eyesight. The mess man lowered his weapon at the opening. Hans froze briefly before bolting for the cargo bay door. The mess man cursed him for a coward, then fired as more of croaking sounded. Hans didn't see what had happened as he closed the hatch behind him. He heard gunfire and swearing in German. The gunfire ceased, replaced by an unholy scream that was quickly silence in a quick and lethal slicing sound. Then the quiet thud of a body dropping to the ground. Hans shivered alone in the dark. His only company the machine gun in his hands that he clung to, but had not the nerve to use earlier. His breathing was about to slow a little when he heard a sound he had dreaded to he. Croak The door to the hatchway slowly opened a crack. Croak Hans thought back on everything he was trained to do while in the Navy. He had scored nearly perfect in the use of the MG-22... Croak The door opened more. Hans sprung from his hiding place and fired into the doorway while yelling a battle cry that would have made any warrior proud. Shells tinkled as the hit the steel floor, rounds screamed and pinged off of the metal walls of the ship. That's when Hans heard the fateful 'click' of an empty magazine. He realized in the excitement of the battle to get more ammunition for his weapon. His heart thumped coldly in his chest. It was hard for him to swallow as the dark forms of the frog-men peered into the door. The smell of sea water filled Hans' nostrils. That infernal croaking sounded infinitely louder as the closest monster flexed it's forearms, causing a pair of ridged fins to unfurl into natural blades. Hans didn't even feel the slice made by the monster's fin sliced across his throat. He tried to swallow, but it was as though he were choking on a bit of food. Mercifully, the quick loss of blood made him light headed. He fell slowly to the ground and closed his eyes for one final sleep. His mind eased as did the rest of his body. He didn't even mind the sound that had frightened him so much earlier.... "So that is were it is," Marc Taylor, a young man dressed in a dark overcoat tied at the waist to protect against the bite of the Maine sea air. His short cut red hair was covered by a pork pie hat of a shade of brown that matched his overcoat. He inhaled on a Pall Mall, the smoke warming his lungs. The cherry from the cigarette shown brightly in contrast to his leather gloved hand. His companion, older then him by twelve years, knelt on the ground. Simply known as 'Doctor Simon", the willowy man with thin blond hair and fair complexion dressed on the attire of a professor; tweed vest and jacket complimented with dark dress slacks looked over a map of the Atlantic Ocean just off the Maine coast that was weighed down on each corner with a small rock. A thin stone tile in the shape of a pentagram with several holes in the design rested in the area near Jewel Island, where the men were standing. Jewel Island was the foremost part of the Sixth Fleet of the United States Navy in Portland, Maine. Several soldiers looked on as well as two men in black trench coats and dark glasses. These two were Marc and Doctor Simon's escorts from the OSS, the US branch of intellegence gathering. It had happened quite by accident, really. The Navy was in the middle of constructing several bunkers on the island when one of the teams found a small buried room. There had been rumors of buried treasure on Jewel Island; which is where it received it's name. what had been discovered was the tome of a strange creature. The burial chamber was sparsely furnished. In the middle of the room was a raised dais with a black stone slab two feet high. Resting on top of that was the skeleton of some abnormal and strange being. As though it were the unholy merging of fish and man. The skeleton was wearing three necklaces, each with a different colored pendent; black, red, and one that was opal-like with a soft, inner glow. Along the walls of the musty smelling crypt were strange glyphs, resembling cuneiform characters. On the far opposite wall was a picture carved into the stone of a octopus like being with rays of light coming down from the creature to a small circle below. In the center of the ball rested the tile Doctor Simon was now applying to the map. "Yes, I believe so," answered to enigmatic Doctor Simon. "I believe that the sunken city of the Trik'ah. According to the data we managed to translate so far, this is the most likely spot for the city to be at." Doctor Simon pointed to a spot the map roughly 200 miles from where they were. One of the OSS officers stepped forward and wrote down the coordinates. "This is the same area as you stated yesterday," Mr. Taylor commented. Doctor Simon nodded," Yes. Have you heard any word from the USS Tallahassee, Commander Stevens?" The other OSS officer took a step closer to the Doctor," Last word we got was they were making a depth charge run on the area indicated by you two days ago. W haven't heard any word from them since last night." Taylor turned toward the OSS man," You mean not even a radio check?" "Nothing," Commander Stevens answered," The last message we received was that they had completed a pass over the area." "We need to know what happened to them, Commander," Doctor Simon stated," I'm fairly sure that the Twik'ah wouldn't be able to overtake a vessel of that size, but you can't be too careful. "

Clean of typos and fixed for your enjoyment Jason turned his head and cracked his neck," You know, there was a time I'd let that little slip up pass, but I'm in a pretty foul mood right now, so I think I'll just go ahead and beat your ass right hear and now." He looked at the vampire who was wearing a Levi jean jacket that went out of style back in the late 80's. The vampire, a young looking man that was probibily around eighteen at the time of his turning, sneered. "What do you think you can do to me. You're nothing but food to me," the vampire challenged as he folded his arms. "You must be a young vamp," Jason commented," Too bad you're not going to get any older." With that, Jason cracked his knuckles and began to walk toward the vampire. "Is that so," the vampire unfolded his arms,"and what makes you think you can do that?" "Well," Jason explained while rolling his shoulders forward a few times to stretch them," given the fact that your powers don't effect me and, to me, you're as brittle as drift wood I can say with confindence that I'm going to rip you in half like a phonebook." "How the hell do you plan on doing that?" "Can you see my aura," Jason countered," most humans give off a nice, bright blood aura so you jackasses can tell normal humans from fey, werewolfs, or the occasional God-seed." The vampire did notice something odd about this human's aura. It was a dark black. "What are you," a tinge of fright edged the vampire's voice. "I'm a God-seed," Jason answered as he picked up a broken two by four. The alley he had tracked the vampire to was a virtual armory of improvised weapons. "Actually, Goddess-seed would be more like it," Jason explained," You see, buddy, I'm the glorious union of a necromancer and a Pagan goddess of death. I know it sounds odd. Hell, truth be known, I didn't believe it when 'Mommy dearest' herself informed me of it." Jason could see the puzzled look in the vampire's eyes. he took a couple of practice swings with the two by four. Anger management had nothing on relieving stress like beating the unholy crap out of someone, especially a parasite like this. Jason smiled at the thought that he was, in a way, doing the public a favor. As Jason walked toward the vampire, it lunged at Jason. The God-seed caught the vampire in the ribs with the board in mid air, breaking it into a thousand splinters. The vampire doubled over in pain, wood fragments and a few rusty nails imbedded into his undead flesh. Jason grabbed him by the hair and slung him five feet into the air one handed, into a far wall. Stunned and shocked, the vampire was helpless with fear as the son of Hecate walked over to the undead creature. "Enjoy final death," Jason said before he ripped off the vampires head. The monster's head and body dissolved into sand where it lay. Turning back toward the street, Jason was headed for the bar. It was definately Miller time... Jason drank his beer quietly, thinking of the events that happened this week. It all started as he sat at the edge of the Matthews Bridge, working up the courage to jump. He'd learned of his soon-to-be wife cheating on him. That was the first blow. The second was getting fired from his job. He had been downsized from his computer programming job. With not much going for him, he drove around Jacksonville, Florida, dwelling on the turn his life had taken. He finally decided to end it. Going to the bridge at night, he knew no one would see him and call for the cops. It would be embarrassing to have his plight broadcast on the eleven o' clock news for all the world to see. So there he sat, looking down at the lights of the city reflecting off of the St. John's River below him. Taking a deep breath, he mentally prepared himself to jump. "You know," a female voice stated beside him suddenly," there are less painful ways of doing yourself in." Startled, Jason looked to where the voice came from. Sitting next to him was a girl with moon-pale skin, dark red hair, and dressed in a black skirt, jacket, and black felt top hat with white dress gloves. She had a warm smile and beautiful grey eyes. Jason went to speak, but the girl placed a finger over his lips. "Shh," the girl began,"it's okay. I know I startled you and I know you're wanting to ask me a billion and a half questions..." Jason simply nodded. The girl turned her head to look out over the river. "If you'd have jumped, it wouldn't have killed you immediately like you'd hoped. You're legs would have been broken and you'd have slowly drown. Not a pretty way to go," she turned back to look at Jason," Besides, what kind of mother would I be if I let my only living son jump off of a bridge?" Jason looked at her in bemusement," What the hell are you talking about?" The girl took a deep breath," My name is Hecate. I'm a goddess of death, magic, and wolves. I know it's hard for you to believe..." "Yeah," Jason laughed," You could say that." "Let's get out of here. You and I know you're not going to jump with someone watching." Jason knew she was right. Getting to his feet, he offered his hand to the girl, who took it. Even through the glove, her hand was cold to the touch. He was suprised at the fact that she seemed to weigh almost nothing as he pulled her to her feet. They climbed over the railing and down the pedistrain walkway along the bridge. The air was warm, carrying a slightly briney smell that Jason so loved. "Now, explain how I'm your son," Jason, despite the depression, was genuinely interested in what she had to say. She did, after all, appear next to him out of the blue it seemed. Maybe he was just distracted and didn't hear her climb the rail. "You know your biological father, right," Hecate asked. Jason nodded, remembering his mother had been very vague on the subject and purposely avoided taking about it. "Your father was a powerful necromancer. That's one reason you're so comfortible in graveyards. Remember the first house you lived in?" "Yeah," Jason remembered. It was haunted by a man who had been murdered in the kitchen. The man, a Jewish rabbi who was killed during a burglery, would sit in the corner of his bed room and read passages out of a ghostly Torah. The ghostly rabbi never scared Jason, who thought the man was nice. "How do you know so much about me, anyway?" Hecate looked at Jason with mock annoyence,"Okay, you're obviously hearing me, just not listening. I told you, you're my son." Strangely, Jason wanted to believe her. "Okay," he asked," If you're my mother, how do you explain that I was born to my mom?" "In order for a Goddess to conceive a mortal child, she needs a human woman to act as a host. She provided me a way to bare a child. Your father thought he was going to raise you as a 'scion' of sorts. However, he crossed a powerful witch and was slain. Turned to ash. Thankfully, few miss him." Hecate and Jason walked by a Starbucks. "Want some coffee," Jason asked. "Sure," Hecate smiled," I could use one right now." Jason and Hecate sat down after getting their coffee. Hecate pulled off the plastic lid and dipped a gloved finger into the creamy dark liquid. As she did, the stream raising from the coffee ceased, the coffee chilled to room tempreature. Hecate withdrew her finger, the glove white was unstained. This didn't go unnoticed by Jason. Hecate simply offered a smile before enjoying the coffee. Jason shook his head as he sipped his drink. "No offence," Jason began," but I'm still having trouble believing you. I mean, yes, there are somethings about you I can't explain. Like how you knew about the haunted house., and that coffeetrick was something David Blaine would be proud of, but what you're saying is far-fetched at best." "What would it take for you to believe me," Hecate asked. "Hmm..." Jason looked around,"I'm not sure." "Mind if I see your hand," she asked. "You're not going to give me frostbite, are you," he joked. Hecate simply smiled and shook her head. Taking his hand, she turned it over to reveal his palm. Bringing it up to her face, she kissed his palm. When she did this, his entire being; mind, body, and soul were flooded with power. Hecate had awakened the God-seed within Jason. It was as if a flood gate within him opened. He was aware of everyone and everything, as if connected to everything around him. The energies around him flickered and blinked. It was as if everything around him were alive. The feeling was profound. He looked at Hecate, whom to him alone, was surrounded by a dark black aura. He saw a few wisps of shadow within the aura. Looking closely, he saw that the wisps had vaguely human faces. "What did you do to me," Jason asked softly. "I awakened the God-seed within you," she explained,"I was even kind enough to activate the power your father passed down to you." "Okay," Jason conceded,"I'm convenced." The next few days passed by in a blur. Jason's 'mother' explained the laws of magic, the different types of magical beings, and how to effectively deal with undead. "You see," she informed," you have special powers in regards to undead." Jason raised an eyebrow as he levitated three feet off of the ground, which was suprisingly easy for him. Hecate taught him a type of transformation called 'wraith form' that allowed him to float and pass through non-metal objects. However, Hecate had warned, he could not touch anything made of iron or steel, or his spiritual form would break apart. "More powers," Jason asked," I'm begining to feel like a superhero." Hecate meerly laughed. "Now pay attention," she instructed," you can control simple undead like skeletons and zombies. All you have to do is send your will into them and mentally command them to do whatever you wish." "And how do you send your will into something," Jason asked. "It's easy," Hecate began,"all you have to do is want to take the creature over. You've been to a football game, right?" Jason nodded. He was a die-hard Jacksonville Jaguars fan. "Okay, when you're wanting a player to catch a pass, or rush the opposing quarterback, you're sending your will into that player. That's why there is so much energy out on the field. You have thousands of people pouring their will into the game. With the right person or, to get technical, magical focus, they could command all that power." "If I remember, a magical focus is someone who uses magical energy to inact a certain change in the universe according to their will?" Hecate smiled,"You're catching on quickly!" "So, all I have to do is focus my will into the zombie, skeleton, or whatever and control it?" "Yes," Hecate affirmed," but it only works on simple undead." "Could you clarify that a bit," Jason requested as he returned to human form after landing back on the ground. "Of course," she granted," you have a few different types of undead; simple, mindful, and complex. You already know what simple undead are. Mindful undead have an actual intellegence of their own. They can fight off attempts to control them. Examples of mindful undead are ghouls, wraithes, and ghost. If you come across an undead creature that has no physical form, you can go into wraith form to fight it. Remember, to you, undead are serverely weak, but if you can't hit it, you can't defeat it. You can use iron and steel to hit a ghost while in physical form, but it'll most likely turn into an orb and be nearly impossible to hit.' "How do I fight a ghost in wraith form?" "Like you would anything else," Hecate explained," but be careful. Ghosts sometimes have items they treasured in life that they took with them spiritually when they died. These items can function as they did in life to anything spiritual. So, if you encounter a ghost of a long dead samuri while in wraith form, be mindful for he can hurt you with his sword." Jason nodded in understanding. "Complex undead are vampires, zombie lords, and 'puppet mages'," Hecate continued,"The most common are vampires and puppet mages. I know you're familure with the basic concept of a vampire. You can beat vampires easily with physical force. Puppet mages, on the otherhand, are dangerous." "Puppet mage," Jason asked. "Puppet mages are those who fool around with things much more powerful then themselves. They open gates to other realms and are taken over by what they summon up. These other-world beings can range in power from weak demons to dark gods." "Can I treat demons like undead," Jason inquired. Hecate shook her head,"No. You will have to use magic to defeat a demon or a puppet mage. Demons in 'raw' form, or without a host, can't do as much physical harm as one that possesses a puppet mage. However, if the demon is powerful enough, it can interact with the physical world. If you try to fight one in wraith form, you stand a very slim chance." "Okay," Jason asked," What about zombie lords?" "Zombie lords,"Hecate instructed," are like you without the God-seed. They are powerful necromancers and the like that can raise zombies and use both death and blood magic. Death magic has no effect on you because you are born of the energy of death itself. All death magic will do is give you more energy. Blood magic can give you problems. Blood magic uses a corrupt form of the energy of life brought about with pain. Someone using blood magic can use the energy against you, unless the source they are using for the blood magic dies. If that happens, you can use the energy of death to convert the blood magic to death magic by using will. Understand?" Jason nodded. It was a lot to learn, but he seemed to be getting it fairly well. He yawned wide. Hecate tilted her head and smiled. "You need rest," she observed, "follow me." "Where are we going," Jason wondered. "To the Old City Cemetary," Hecate answered," it's quiet, peaceful, and the dead rest well there." In the Old City Cemetary, Jason leaned up against a tree enjoying the peacefulness of the area. Hecate sat on top of an above ground crypt. Jason occasionally caught a shimmery form of a curious ghost. One of them, a young woman dressed in Victorian attire with a small straw hat and dainty parasial, smiled bashfully at him. Jason returned the smile and wave. The ghost giggled before turning into a small orb the size of a baseball and floated behind a tree. "That's the third ghostly socialite that's flirted with you tonight," Hecate remarked. She laid down on the lid of the crypt. Weaving her fingers in the air, she created a small ball of ghostly green energy in her hands. Green tracers followed the ball as she tossed it up into the air and catching it. On the third toss, Jason reached out his hand and drew the energy ball to him right before Hecate could catch it. He willed the energy into himself, feeling a bit of a boost. Hecate glared playfully,"You think that's funny?" Jason nodded," A little." The Goddess smirked," Very well. Lets see how funny you think this is." she snapped her fingers after hopping off of the crypt. Inside the tomb, russling noises could be heard. Jason could sense death energy awakening inside the crypt. Hecate flipped the lid off of the tomb with one hand as easily as you would open a car door. A skeletal hand grasped the edge of the crypt's wall. Pulling itself out of the tomb, a skeleton in Civil War attire; the clothing nothing more then rags now, swayed in the night air. The skeleton turned it's head toward Jason, an eire green light flickering in each of the empty eye sockets. Slowly, it lumbered toward him. Hecate smiled as she saw Jason panic a little. "Okay," Jason muttered to himself," I have to focus my will into the skeleton." Concentrating, he stared hard at the skeleton, forcing his mind to reach the being. He suddenly felt a rushing sensation in his mind. It stopped as suddenly as it stared. In the far reaches of his mind, he saw himself from the skeleton's point of view. The undead stopped in it's tracks, swaying a little as it stood. Jason mentally commanded the skeleton to raise it's right arm, which it did in obedience. Smiling at his success, he ordered it with his mind to drop it's arm down. With a mischievious gleam in his eyes, Jason made the skeleton do the 'Robot". The skeleton obeyed to the best of it's ability until it's left arm fell off. Hecate began laughing at the skeleton's mechanical dance in the graveyard. When Jason was finished, he ordered the skeleton back into it's grave. Still laughing, Hecate replaced the lip of the crypt. "On second thought," Jason mused aloud," I should have made him do the 'Macarana." After their laughter subsided, Jason began asking Hecate about other types of magical beings. "What different type of magical creatures are there?" "Many," Hecate answered," you have shapechangers, fey, demons, animuas spirits..." "Animuas spirits?" "Um," Hecate tried to explain,"Kind of like angels." "Okay." "Then you have God-seeds like yourself," Hecate finished. "How many of those are there," Jason asked. "Aside from you, three others that I know of," Hecate replied," One is of Brigid, one of Ra, and one of Tsuki-yomi-no-mikoto; a Japanese lunar goddess." "Can you tell me anything about the other three," Jason requested. "Sure," Hecate nodded," Brigid's son isn't aware of his God-seed. The son of Ra is a megalomanic cult leader in Southern France. He knows what he is, but was driven partially mad from Ra's constant interference in his mind. He no longer sees himself as the son of a god, but a god himself. Tsuki's daughter is very adept at using elemental magic and the energies of the night. She's very distrustful of any who use death energy, so watch yourself around her. She lives in Osaka, Japan last time I checked. She is very powerful. You remember that recent earthquake in Kobi, Japan a few years ago? That was her." "Wow," Jason asked," How can I tell all these creatures apart?" "You see the dark aura around me,"Hecate explained. Jason nodded. "All things cast an aura. Those that deal in death energy have a black tinged aura. Undead have a dark blue aura that ripples as they move. The stronger the aura on an undead, the faster it will ripple as they move. Shapechangers have a bright yellow aura. Fey have a light green aura with golden flecks floating around them. A demon's aura and those that they control are a blood red color. Anyone with a pure white aura is either a animaus spirit or one of their prophets." "Prophets," Jason interrupted. "All gods and goddesses have followers. It is the power of their belief from which we are born. We sometimes have to take different names as humanity changes. Sometimes, a god or goddess will shine favor on one of their followers, granting them special powers for a time. Unfortunately, the extreme fanaticism of the prophet can crack their psyche. I've seen more then a few go mad and out of control. Prophets differ from God-seeds in that a God-seed receives their powers perminately, a prophet's is only temperary." "Okay," Jason replied,"That answers that question." Jason was on his third Corona (with lime) when he sensed an odd presense enter the bar. Looking at the door over his shoulder, he saw a woman in a light blue blouse, tight black leather skirt, and expensive dark pumps. Her red, curly hair cascaded around her almost-feline face like a shimmering crimson waterfall. He was admiring her cream-colored skin when he noticed a flaring red aura about her. Frowning, he turned back to the bar, he continued his beer, watching ESPN Sports Break on the television over the bar. Angel looked about the bar. It was a favored hunting ground of this particular succubus; namely due to the old Creek Indian ritual cave the bar was built on top of in an ancient limestone cavern 25 feet underground. The cave radiated power from the centuries of use in fertility rituals and, long before the Creek Indians, a tribe of cannablistic fey who's name is long lost in the sands of time that used it for sacrifices. Angel was hungry, but not in the same way as a normal human. She required spiritual energy. The stronger the better. Scanning the establishment, she was pleasently suprised to see a very vibrient aura surrounding a man sitting at the bar. He looked to be in his upper twenties, dressed in a black T-shirt, blue jeans, and military-style jungle boots. Drinking an imported beer, he ran his hand through short, jet-black hair. 'What a delicious little meal', she thought as she made her approach. She figured she'd have him back at her motel room dining on his soul within the hour. The weekly highlight reel was on the screen when Jason caught the smell of freshly ground cloves and frankensence. The empty chair next to him was soon occupied by the form of the lovely woman he had seen enter the bar. He glanced briefly at her, long enough for her to display a dazzling smile. "I've never seen you here before," she asked. Though her voice was pleasent, Jason could feel a carnivorous undertone in it; she wasn't hooking, she was hunting. "Mind if I by you a drink?" Sighing, Jason faced the woman."No," Jason declined,"I appreciate the offer, but I'm not interested." The succubus looked puzzled briefly. She wasn't used to meals turning her down. See started to say something, but the God-seed cut her off,"Before you even start; I know what you are." "What do you mean 'what I am'," she huffed. "Let's just say my mother warned me about women like you and leave it at that," he answered and went back to drinking his beer. Undetoured, the succubus withdrew a small card from a pocket on her blouse. On the card was a hotel room number along with a phone number. Jason could sense that the card was boobytrapped with a lust spell. He crumpled up the card as the succubus left. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the card at the garbage can behind the bar, missing by a few inches. 'Oh well,' he thought,' that's why I don't play in the NBA.' "You handled that really well," an all too familure voice said. "Hi, mom," Jason greeted. The chair that the succubus exited was now filled with the form of Hecate. She smiled at her son, who was finishing his beer. "What's going on?" "Not a lot," Hecate answered as she waved to get the bartender's attention. The bartender; a middle aged balding man with dull black hair and a promanent gut, waddled over to her. "I'll have an Irish Carbomb with a vodka chaser, please." The bartender smiled and nodded. Jason looked at the Goddess next to him in suprise."I have two questions," Jason implored,"How come the bartender didn't card you and did I get my alcohal resistence from you?" The bartender came back with Hecate's two shots. She thanked the man, then downed both shots, one right after the other. The bartender was about to ask for payment for the drinks when Hecate pointed a thumb toward Jason. With a groan, he pulled out a ten dollar bill and handed it to the man. Jason looked at Hecate, whom had a very satisfied look on her face. She mouthed a 'thank you' to him before leaning over and kissing his cheek. "To answer your first question," she began," It's all a matter of perception. What you see is the form I'm projecting for you. To the barkeep, I look to be in my early thirties. In actuality, I'm more or less a hazy cloud of energy. However, the same is true for everything in exitence. All everything is is bonded energy masses. It's kind of simple to understand on the surface, but the cosmic complexities that it intails boogle even the greatest of human minds. It raises questions not only of physics, but mysticism, mathmatics, and causality; both physical and spiritual. To answer your second question, yes." Hecate's answer to his first question made his brain twitch a little. He ordered another beer while Hecate ordered another Irish Carbomb with Goldschlogger chaser. Jason could see that this was going to be an expensive visit from his mother. "So," Hecate asked,"Find a new job yet?" "Not one that's looking for a really powerful necromancer that can tear vampires apart like a phone book," Jason answered," I saw a couple of ads for computer programmers, so I might look into that.' Hecate shook her head. She took off the felt top hat, releasing beautiful shoulder length curly locks. She ran her fingures through her hair to straighten it a little. "I've got something a little better," she said as she produced a peice of folded paper. She handed it to Jason after unfolding it. He read it quickly. He looked up at her from the paper with a puzzled look. "Shadow Strike Inc." Jason asked," What the hell do they do?" "It's a specialized 'recovery team' of sorts that operate out New Zealand, LA, and now Jacksonville They just opened an office here." "And they would be interested in me because...?" Hecate sighed," Because you are a very powerful necromancer and they utilize people with talents like yours.Interested?" "Well," Jason thought for a moment, then downed the rest of his beer,"It's better then slowly going broke." *********************************** Meanwhile, literaterally half way around the world in New Zealand, four individuals stand on a secluded stretch of beach. They are dressed in tiger stripe jungle camoflague. The instructor, a mercanary survival instructor from the United States, taught his three students the finer aspects of field expediant explosives. " You have to be careful with ammonium nitrate," former Staff Sargent Samual Torres informed the group," it's highly combustable. You don't really need a detonator, just a fuse. Will, could you get those three five gallon buckets out of the back of the landrover, please?" Will Cane nodded, then trotted to the back of the only vehicle at the edge of the beach. At Torres' feet was a bottle of brake fluid. They had choosen the location for bomb practice. The local police turned a blind eye due to the fact that the group, known as Shadow Strike Incorperated, acted as a freelance paramilitary unit and specail weapons and tactics team. For three years since Sam Torres immagrated to New Zealand, he had trained this team for almost any situation. Will and Amy Cane helped Sam get situated after his move to the country. Rainer Swift, a.k.a 'Rainy', had worked with Sam at Wilfort Industrial as an assistant demolishions tech. Both Sam and Rainy were volenteers for the Aukland Bomb Squad, if the need ever arrived. Torres loved New Zealand for two reasons; the first was becuase it wasn't as restriced as the United States. The second was because New Zealand had such diverse geographic terrian that allowed for many different types of training in extreme climate and conditions. Shadow Strike Inc. was Amy's idea. She had reasoned that since they spend so much time and effort on the training, why not make money off of their hard work? It turned out to be a multi-million dollar cash cow. After a successful three months in the Ivory Coast saving the asses of French Peacekeepers that were being captured by warring factions, they had come back to New Zealand for some much needed rest and relaxation. Now, there were rumors of a possible revolt in progress in Mayalsia. They were asking for military advisers and special operations recovery teams. Shadow Strike did both. So, in the face of a new job oppertunity, the four began the two months of intellegence gathering and training. For a fee, they utilized a freelance intelligence service that offered fair rates for information. Sometimes, Shadow Strike simply used reports from civilian news sources. But except for scant smatterings, the major news groups stayed away from the Mayalsian conflict. It was just as well. The Islamic insurgents drew too much media coverage now a days anyway. As Will was getting the buckets of fertilizer he and Amy collected for the ammonium nitrate when Torres' cell phone rang. Answering it, he listened for a few moments. he hung up and picked up the jar of brake fluid. "Looks like a change of plans, kids,"he replied as he saw Rainy and Amy's puzzled looks,"something's come up in Whitford. Some nutcase attempted to rob a bank and killed a few people. Auckland's finest sent in the SWAT unit, who got waxed by the suspect. They want us to go in and take care of the situation." "He took down a SWAT team," Rainy remarked," How the hell did he do that?" "They didn't say," Torres answered," Let's get back to the office and get ready." "I'm going to call the Whitford police to see if they can fax us any information while we get ready," Amy informed as she pulled out a cell phone. They were going to need to know as much as possible before they tried to take this guy down. Even though time was a factor, the team wasn't willing to die because they didn't prepare properly. Will went to dump out the buckets of fertilizer as the others got into the landrover. Rainy shouldered the Remington 700 heavy barrelled sniper rifle. He adjusted the optics focus ring on the scope. The crosshairs of the rifle were sighted in on the suspect's chest. The man had entered the bank in a trench coat concealing a sword. Rainy could see the man's face, which was narrow and sharp featured. The bodies of the SWAT team lay about the man's feet as blood dripped off of the sword in his hand. In his other hand was a phone. The negotiators were attempting to stall for time as the other three members of Shadow Strike Inc.entered the building, sweeping and clearing the lower floor. Over the comm unit's microphone, Rainy reported,"I have a visual on the target. I'm taking my shot." The team had just made it up a flight of stairs to the area where the safety deposit boxes were kept. Torres answered,"Roger that, we're at the enterence to the room. Will and Amy are ready to sweep and clear after your shot." "Copy that," Rainy responded," Taking my shot now. Rainy took a couple of breaths before readying himslef for the shot. Slowly, he squeezed the trigger as he inhaled. After the end of his exhale, in that brief moment between breaths, he pulled the trigger. The crosshairs had still been sighted on the man's chest. The projectile rocketed from the barrel of the .308 rifle at a sound shattering velocity. In less then a second, it was across the street, through the full length glass pane of the second story window, and through the target's chest cavity. Knocked off of his feet, the man had a look of suprise as he fell. Rainy could see it in his eyes, through the scope. "Tango dow-," Rainy was saying when the man got back the his feet,"What the hell?" "What happened," Torres asked. "He's still up," Rainy exclaimed," Did you guys pack the teflons?" Teflons were coated rounds that could go through body armor. They were easy to make. All you had to do was melt teflon packaging tape in a small pot and dip the round tips into the melted tape. "Did you hit him," Will asked. "No," Rainy retorted," I knocked him on his arse with a warning shot. Of course I hit him, Will. I'm the best shooter on our team." "Calm down, Rainy," Amy ordered," and take another shot." "Alright," Rainy shouldered the rifle once more and sighted in. He knew he had hit and it was a vital spot. This time he would make sure. The man was scanning the roof tops for the sniper. However, he hadn't picked up one of the SWAT team's guns. He still had that damned sword. Rainy steadied his aim on the head of his target. The crosshairs were on the man's right eye. Rainy could see their bright eye shine. The last thing Rainy saw through the scope was the glare the man was giving him. He saw Rainy. "Smile for your close-up, wanker." Thunder rumbled once more from the barrel of the sniper rifle. The imact of the .308 round to the target's right eye spun him around in a collapsing spiral. "He's down!" Rainy exclaimed as he took the rifle out of his shoulder. Using a silent count, Torres signaled for the door to be breached. Will pulled the pin on a stun grenade as Amy turned from the wall she was up against, leveling her Bennelli combat semi auto shotgun at the door lock. Firing, the lock slintered from the blast. Amy kicked the door open as Will tossed in the stun grenade. They waited as the grenade went off, charging into the room weapons scanning for any standing targets. The body of the target lay on the floor face down along with those of the SWAT team strewn around haphazardly with deep gashes from the sword.. "Rainy," Torres congradulated over the comm," Good job. Where did you hit him." "It was a head shot," Rainy answered," The bastard saw me so I put it in his eye." The three in the room looked down at the body on the floor, noting a severe lack of blood from the target. A head shot with a high caliber weapon like a .308 would have left the back of the guy's head a mess of bloody confetti on the floor and a nice puddle of AB positive on the tile. Instead, the man's head was completely intact. They exchanged worried glances at each other before Torres kicked the body, turning it over. The face of the man was untouched. He opened his eyes wide, snarling. Amy and Will fired into the creature at the same time. Except for the impacts from the rounds jolting the body a bit, the man got up without any damage. Speaking in Gaelic, the Elven Lord Rivac spoke," Ye mere mortals continue to annoy me. I want to know where the Jewel of Purity is now!" Torres stepped in and slammed the buttstock of his CAR-15 assault rifle to the side of the elf's face. His head jerked with the force of the blow. Glaring, he backhanded Torres, knocking him into the air. Torres landed hard on the tile floor, out cold from the man's slap. With a quick kick to her chest, the Prince sent Amy flying back into a marble wall. She felt stabbing pain in her chest as she tried to inhale. If it wasn't for the body armor she wore (which was class four minus the steel trauma plates), she would have died from massive internal bleeding as her sternum would have been kicked into her chest cavity. Will struck the elf with an elbow strike in rage at Amy being hit. A spray of blood and a chip of a tooth exited out of the fairy's mouth. Rivac straggered back a step, feeling his busted lip. The man's face had a look of suprise on it. He didn't have time to brace himself for the .308 round Rainy sent through his back. The tinkling of glass accompanied the thud of the Rivac's body. Before he could get up, Will rushed over and kicked him square in the ribs. "You son of a bitch," he yelled. The mercenary dropped a knee onto the elf's chest, then landed an unmerciful barrage of punches. Rivac tried vainly to put up a defence against the punishment Will was dealing him. In a burst of strength, Rivac threw Will off of him, rolling over and crawling away from the beating. Will got to his feet quickly. He ran over to the downed elf, delivering a soccer style kick to the Prince's nose with the edge of his combat boot. Rivac grabbed his broken nose with both hands, rolling over on his back. Will kicked him again, this time in the ribs. The fairy curled up into the fetal position, whimpering in pain. "Not so much of a badass now, huh?" Will spat on the downed creature. Amy had regained her breath, getting up slowly. She took a few steps before falling down to her knees. Taking a moment, she went to try again. "What's going on over there," Rainy asked franticly. "The target kicked the crap out of me and Torres," Amy watched as Will countinued to kick the foe into submission,"Will's beating the hell out of the guy." Will shot a glance at Amy,"Check on Torres. I got this covered." The elf was a bloody mess. With cracked ribs, a crushed nose, and countless other minor injuries, he simply had no more fight left in him. "Alright, pal," Will address the Elven Lord," start talking and it better be in English." "No...more...please," Rivac pleaded. Will let him speak."I am...Prince Rivac. I am searching for..," he was interrupted by a painful cough. It took a couple of seconds to subside. When it did, he continued."I am searching for the Jewel of Purity." The elf sat up. Will stayed ready to stop him if he made a move to attack him by suprise."I knew not that you're of fairy blood...I may not have attack you if I had known..." "Fairy blooded," Will asked," What the hell are you babbling about?" The Prince looked at him with a weak smile," You don't know, do you?" "Know what?" "That you are of my kind," Rivac said,"You have fairy and moral blood. Why do you think you could defeat me with force?" "So, what you're saying is that I'm a damned fairy," Will asked coldly. Rivac nodded. "Yes. Why is that so hard to understand?" "It's not something you hear everyday,"Will answered. He then noticed a necklace around the elf's neck. Before Rivac could protest, Will snatched the necklace off. There was a small bottle with a shiney white liquid inside. The necklace was finely woven silver chain. The bottle had small silver designs etched onto it. The cap was a strange type of cork that fit snuggly into the bottle. "What's this?" "It's Elven tears,"Rivac explained," They can heal." "Really? Why didn't you use them a moment ago?" "Because I had no time to," Rivac explained," If you spare me, I will teach you the ways of the Fair Folk. Let me heal a little." Rivac reached for the bottle dangling from the chain. Will angrily slapped his hand away. " I have a better idea," Will said," Why don't we you out of here and then beat the information out of you instead?" ******************** "By the way," Hecate warned,"you're out of Capt. Morgan." Jason gave her a slightly annoyed look. "You know, if you were human, you'd have alcohol poisoning and a rotten liver by now." "Ah, another advantage to being a divine being," she observed. "Why do you drink so much liquor anyway," he asked. "Aside from the fact that I enjoy the hell out of it," she began," I can use the energy of the liquid as a form of 'food', so to speak. It is the physical nurishment of the Gods. That's why priests and priestesses offer wine, beer, and such to us for millenia. In spiritual form, we can only partake of the energy essence of the offering. In physical form, we can actually enjoy it just like a human without the bad side effects." "I'll pick you up some more tomorrow," Jason said," I need to study a little more. I still need to get a better understanding of my powers." Hecate smiled lovingly at her son."You know," she said,"you're not my first God-seed." He turned toward her,"I kind of figured. Can you tell me about the others?" "The first was named Cintashi," Hecate told Jason. "She was born to a high priestess of mine during the God war. It was dark times indeed. A dark god known as Jehov, later Jehovah, declared war on all that opposed or resisted him. He wanted to unify all people and powers under his rule. It almost worked in Egypt.The Egyptians had taken in a large number of nomadic people during a horrid famine and offered them food for servitude. This lasted for almost four hundred years until the nomads became very numerous. They were fanatical in their belief in Jehov. This gave him great power since the Egyptian paid only 'lip service' to the gods and goddesses of their land. This mistake proved almost the complete undoing of the Egyptian panthion. He used two prophets and a score of blood sacrifices committed through the use of evil animaus spirits, or high demons as you know them. Jehov drew seventy-two dark spirits under his command and had them slaughter the first born of each Egyptian house hold. This was too much for the Egyptians to bare and they literally paid the nomads to leave rather then chance angering Jehov. Many of the people converted to worshipping Jehov out of fear. As the faith of the people waivered, Ra drew a handful of followers to him and left the others to fend for themselves." "A few centuries later, I gained a small following as a local deity of crossroads and wolves. I controlled a large pack of lycanthopes that served as soldiers to protect my followers from any rival powers. Luthile, my high priestess, underwent the ritual to recieve the Goddess-seed. The father was leader of my lycanthope pack. I should have known better then to allow this. Cintashi was infected with lycanthopy. It lay dormant for most of her life. " One day, my realm came under siege by a demon, Beelz. He loved plagues and used them as a weapon to destory. Unlike me, he didn't use death energy, but feed off of the power of suffering. Just as reverence or strong emotional belief can give 'birth' to a god or goddess, extreme pain, suffering, and woe can give rise to something darker. The God War was reaching a stalemate at the time, and had yet to reach Italy and the newly created 'Roman' panthion; which was nothing more then the Greek one given new Roman names. On the other provinces of my lands, a strange sickness began to kill off a few people. My clergy tried to heal the sick to no avail. Then, despite my protection, they began to get sick too. That's when I knew it was some one, not something, making them sick." "Cintashi was old enough to understand her powers. I awakened her God-seed, revealing myself to her in a dream. Faith was easier to bring out in a person in those days unlike now. Commanding my soldiers to combat the demon, she didn't know her fate was sealed before she left my temple. As they arrived at the lair of Beelz, he met them, showing little resistence. Taking the form of a leper, he smiled as Cintashi ordered him to leave or be destoried. I didn't know that he had the power to control disease as well as spread it. Using the lycanthope virus inside each of them, he mutated it to control their minds along with their shapeshifting." Hecate closed her eyes and shuddered," he had them rip each other apart as he stood there, laughing. As a personal insult to me, he had the last remaining soldier return carrying Cintashi's head in his hands." "How did you get rid of Beelz," Jason asked. "I didn't. From what I understand, Beelz had not only attacked me, but Athena, then called Minerva, too. She killed off all those that he was using as sustainence. This was bloody, but effective. He was weaken enough for a cabal of priests and priestesses to shred his spirit with magic." "Wow," Jason said, enthralled with the story. "I didn't have another Goddess-seed until the late ninteenth century. He is a wicked man." "Wait," Jason interrupted," what do you mean 'is'? As in still alive?" Hecate shook her head."He isn't alive, merely existing in a castle basement in Austria. Though he stirs, he is not much of a threat for now. But he is gaining strength and this worries me greatly. He has all the same powers as you, only a bit more experianced." The Goddess gave a brief, bitter laugh," He even made a name for himself in Germany during the ninteen thirties and forties. But his side ultimately lost that great war and he fiegned death to go into hiding. Creating him is the only thing I've ever been ashamed of." Hecate bowwed her head slightly. A single silvery tear ran from her eye, down to her cheek, and then onto the floor. Jason's eyes got wide as his mind searched fanticly. This was a shocking revelation to him. In his heart, he felt he knew the answer, but he had to hear it for himself. "Who was it," he asked,"Stalin? Hitler?" "No," Hecate answered sadly," much worse. Heinrich Himmler, the Dark Prophet of the Black Eagle." "Himmler," Jason asked," so I'm the sibling of Hitler's number two guy?" "Yeah," Hecate replied,"I know that you're going to ask me this sooner or later." She steepled her fingers and closed her eyes." I awakened you to fight Heinrich if he ever retrieved his powers. I am unable to destroy him myself because he had the entire castle he is in blessed by Jehov. He made a sinister pact with the dark god; protection from me for the knowledge of my powers. Just before you were born, a coven of my followers were attacked by a rogue Jesuit priest. The man was a prophet of Jehov, but had a death-taint in his aura. He was able to use death energy against my own followers when they tried to use sigils of power against him." "So," Jason interrupted," did they use a different form of energy to defeat him?" "No, one of my priests was paraniod and had a gun on him," Hecate smiled,"blew the Jesuit's stomach out through his back with a .357 Ruger Blackhawk revolver. Unless you are fey blooded, undead, or a shape changer, bullets will kill a mortal." "Hmm...The guy was able to use death magic?" "Sort of. The energy he was using had a death taint to it, but otherwise it was just ambient magical energy." Jason had learned from both Hecate and his father's grimoures that magic came in many different forms. The most common was ambient energy. This was free-floating energy that radiates from all things. Anyone that can use magic can utilize this type of magical energy for minor magic workings and rights. Next was elemental energy. This could get tricky to use if you are of a different spiritual element then the energy you are trying to use. Except in rare cases, most people have an elemental tinge to their spirit. You have the elemnet of fire, but aren't really adept at using this type of energy because you are not training in elemental magic. An elementalist can use energy from their element to perform magic. There is a type of elementalist that can use all four elemental energies. They are called void mages. Their spirits contain all four elements in perfect balance within themselves, which allows them to do this. Tsuki's dauther, Mikito, is a void mage. Then you have the magic of the Fey. Fairies generate an interesting form of energy easily seen by the magically adept. Anyone with aura sight can see a fairy. Instead of taking in energy from an outside source, like humans, the energy they use is from within themselves. They can't use anything other then fey energy, otherwise, they shrivel up and are severely weakened. Totem magic is what is used by shamans, witch doctors, and medicine men. This form of energy comes from a spiritual archtype in the form of an animal spirit. Totem magic is very versitile in magic, but is of limited strength. Master shamans can use the energy to heal, hex, and even shapeshift. Unlike lycanthopy, magical shapeshifting is controllible and painless. Lycanthopes can only change during highly emotional states or during lunar phases. Temporal magic, or 'themed' magic, is energy that comes from a specific source, like death energy. Strong emotional events that create a huge psychic imprint on a place or item can be used in temporal magic. However, this type of magic; though extremely powerful, is severely limited. Those using temporal magic often combine it with divine magic from a diety that is a spiritual representation (i.e. the God of War or Saint of Healing) of that energy type that is used by a temporal mage. Divine magic is energy granted by a specific diety. Prophets, holy warriors, and God-seeds have a very strong talent for using divine magic. Depending on the measure of faith of an individual, anyone can use divine magic. The draw back is that those that aren't trained in magical arts have their spiritual energy sapped once the need is finished. Diabolic energy is the polar opposite of divine energy. Those that use diabolic energy are usually consumed by it. It's powerful, easy to use, but costly and seldom worth the price. "What do you think allowed him to do so," Jason inquired. As they talked, he walked into the small kitchen area his one bedroom apartment had to make some tea. Green tea was his favorite, but he made some Earl Grey instead. Opening the small cardboard box, he took out three tea bags and put them into the coffee resevoir of his coffee maker. His step dad make tea and coffee the same way. Jason knew he'd have to run a pot full of water through the coffee maker later to get the tea taste out before he made a pot of coffee the next morning. "I believe Heinrich allowed some of Jehov's high priests to do tests on him," Hecate replied. She had regained her composure for the most part. She took off her hat that she usually wore, placing it on the floor next to her chair. Her delicate looking, slinder fingers slowly ran through her hair as she sighed heavily. Jason could see that she was stressed. Even though her face didn't show it nearly as much, her aura was flaring, covering the apartment in a transparent shadow. Sadness was tinged with fear and sorrow. Jason looked at his spiritual mother, then shut off his coffee maker. He opened up the cabinet above the stove and got out two shot glasses and a bottle of French vodka, one of the smoothest on the market. It had been a birthday present from his step dad a few months ago. 'Double K', as his friends had called him, Kenneth Kent was a contractor for a large construction company. Jason hadn't spent nearly as much time as he had wished with Kenneth lately. He made a mental note to call him later as he poured up the shots for Hecate and himself. He turned around to see Hecate smiling at him. Her aura settled down a bit more, now just pulsing a bit around her. Jason handed her one of the shot glasses of vodka before getting a chair from his kitchen, setting it down next to Hecate's. "I don't know the story between you and Heinrich. I only know him from what I've seen on the Discovery Channel and the little bit I heard in history class," Jason said,"but if you want to talk about it, I'm here." Hecate smiled, relaxing a bit. He could see the tention drain from her as she looked into his eyes. Silently, she held up her glass in a brief toast, then downed the shot in a quick gulp. Jason did the same, feeling the burn of the liquid as it flowwed down his throat. "That was good," he commented," Want another?" With the promise of more alcohol, Hecate beamed,"Always." Jason got up and retieved the bottle, then sat back down in his chair. Removing the cap, he carefully poured Hecate another shot, soon filling his own glass. After two more shots, Hecate was in a much better mood. Jason was feeling a little hazy from the alcohol intake. Though the vodka was mellow, it did have a kick to it. Finally, Jason handed her the bottle to do with as she felt. She began drinking straight from the bottle. Even though sadness edged her voice silghtly, she began telling Jason about his older 'brother'. In her beautifully light voice, Hecate spoke,"Even at a young age, Heinrich had a flair for magic. He became aware of his God-seed at fifteen. I didn't even awaken it. He was born to one of my followers in the same rite that was used for your birth. He was to be the one that would lead my worshippers into a new century. People were secretly looking to the old gods and goddesses; turning away from Jehov's imperial religion. Many gods and goddesses had influenced Jehov's followers to adopt them as saints of Jehov's religion, which gave them new life and strength. You see, Jehov had successfully converted most of Europe during the time of the Holy Roman Empire. Unfortuantely for him, Eris, Goddess of discord, planted the idea in Constantine the Great's head that what is known as Turkey would be great for setting up his new empire. Without a centralized empire to maintain total control over the people, the old Roman panthion stepped in as saints, taking their place as minor dieties to aviod obliteration. I maintained many cults of devoted worshippers in the mountains of southern Italy and Gaul.' "But back to the main story," the goddess said as she took another big swig from the vodka,"Jehov had my servent killed off before Heinrich was born. Somehow, Jehov had learned of my God-seed. He had a follower of his marry the woman bearing my child. The man was cruel, strict, and tempered Heinrich to hate. As you know, just because you dwell in and with darkness, doesn't mean you're evil. It takes fear, hate, or greed to make someone evil. Heinrich embraced all three eventually. When Hitler came to power, he made your brother his right hand man. Heinrich, though hating the Jews, wasn't quite as interested in them as he was the few clusters of pagans that still dwelled in Germany. He really hated the Gypsies. The reason for this is because some of them worshipped me. Jehov made sure to have Heinrich attack and destroy them at every turn. My followers never made it to the concentration camps. They were gunned down on sight. " "As his powers grow along with his knowledge of how to use them, he started an occultic society. It was called the Order of the Black Eagle. He became it's black prophet. In a Bavarian castle deep in Germany, his group of priests performed dark rites. They invoked such evil..." Hecate shuddered slightly,"After the war was over, he commited suicide, but not before he made a pact with Jehov to use the power born to him to raise him from the dead after he did himself in. Amazingly, Jehov held up his end of the bargin. Now Heinrich sits in his castle teaching Jehov's priest how to fight against my followers." "Why does Jehov hate you so much?" "He hates everyone equally," She answered.

Well, looks like my muse returns and brought friends. I have started writing again in the scarlet pen. It's mostly horror right now, but I hope you guys like it. Yan Yan

Due to lack of creativity....Ah hell, lack of writing ability, period...I'm taking a leave of absence. I was thinking about writing something interesting, but more then likely the typos I constently throw into my stories would disrupt the flow and irritate those who felt like reading. With two busted quill quests, a large number of unfinished/abandoned/just plain crappy stories, maybe it would be better if I took a bit of a leave. I'll be back eventually. If you need me, my e-mail is YanYanGanaffi@hotmail.com and I'll peek into the IRC every so often. See ya! Yan Yan Ganaffi.

Yay! I beat Crypt in brutal!!! *does happy dance*

Smartass You are 71% Rational, 85% Extroverted, 100% Brutal, and 57% Arrogant. You are the Smartass! You are rational, extroverted, brutal, and arrogant. You probably consider people who are emotional and gentle to be big pussies who are obviously in lesser stature than you. You have many flaws, despite your seeming intelligence and cool-headedness. For instance, you aren't very nice. In fact, you're probably an asshole. And you are conceited and self-centered. Not only that, but you are very loud and vocal about all this, seeing as how you are extroverted. There is no better way to describe you than as a "smartass", I'm afraid. Perhaps just "ass" would do, too. But that's a little less literary and descriptive. At any rate, your main personality defect is the fact that you are self-centered, mean, uncaring, and brutally logical. To put it less negatively: 1. You are more RATIONAL than intuitive. 2. You are more EXTROVERTED than introverted. 3. You are more BRUTAL than gentle. 4. You are more ARROGANT than humble. Compatibility: Your exact opposite is the Emo Kid. Other personalities you would probably get along with are the Capitalist Pig, the Braggart, and the Sociopath. * * If you scored near fifty percent for a certain trait (42%-58%), you could very well go either way. For example, someone with 42% Extroversion is slightly leaning towards being an introvert, but is close enough to being an extrovert to be classified that way as well. Below is a list of the other personality types so that you can determine which other possible categories you may fill if you scored near fifty percent for certain traits. The other personality types: The Emo Kid: Intuitive, Introverted, Gentle, Humble. The Starving Artist: Intuitive, Introverted, Gentle, Arrogant. The Bitch-Slap: Intuitive, Introverted, Brutal, Humble. The Brute: Intuitive, Introverted, Brutal, Arrogant. The Hippie: Intuitive, Extroverted, Gentle, Humble. The Televangelist: Intuitive, Extroverted, Gentle, Arrogant. The Schoolyard Bully: Intuitive, Extroverted, Brutal, Humble. The Class Clown: Intuitive, Extroverted, Brutal, Arrogant. The Robot: Rational, Introverted, Gentle, Humble. The Haughty Intellectual: Rational, Introverted, Gentle, Arrogant. The Spiteful Loner: Rational, Introverted, Brutal, Humble. The Sociopath: Rational, Introverted, Brutal, Arrogant. The Hand-Raiser: Rational, Extroverted, Gentle, Humble. The Braggart: Rational, Extroverted, Gentle, Arrogant. The Capitalist Pig: Rational, Extroverted, Brutal, Humble. The Smartass: Rational, Extroverted, Brutal, Arrogant.

I don't know the author, but this is a cadence we used to sing while running. Hope you like it. "Well, I live up North where it's nice and cold," "I ain't got no money and I got no gold." "You may ask how I make my living," "I'm just killing the baby seals." "You take a sharp ax and whack them in the throat," "Then you toss their little headless bodies in the boat." "Sure it's cruel, but it's a living," "Just killing the baby seals." "My wife and kids, they both hate me," "That's okay cause they don't pay me." "So I'll keep making my living," "Just killing the baby seals."

1. A Pen member - Tzimfemme 2. Animal (plural) - Ninja Howler Monkeys 3. Verb that signifies moving - Stalking 4. A Pen member - Pillow 5. Animal - Mako Shark 6. Verb - launch 7. Place - Parris Island, South Carolina 8. An event - Marine Corps Birthday 9. Verb - Shout 10. Verb - Assualt 11. Noun - Grenade 12. Verb - Overrun 13. Adjective - Vicious 14. Noun - ZSU 23-4 Anti-air Vehicle Let's see what you do with that one.

*scans list of names then shrugs* Nice job on the madlibs. Several look interesting. I may have to do one sometime. Yan Yan

Just got back from seeing it. I like how it ties the originals with the prequals. It is definately worth seeing again.

QUOTE I must admit that i do not quite understand what your last post was about. What have these shards got to do with the poker tournament? And who is this beaseley fellow ad where is he? Is he at the table with us? Are those the cards (2 aces & 6) that we play off? Sorry but I am totally lost as to where this is going or what is happening *confused look* Parm Okay, here is what is going on; I was informed that i had to do more of the writing on the QQ. So, I went from RPing to story mode. Sorry about the sudden gear-change. The Beasley guy is me. And I'm about to get pulled into the world of the Pen, then all the Pennites and me that are there are getting sucked into a magical vortex that will transport us to another time and place. The goal is to find our way back while not getting killed.

Friday means I have to go to work tomorrow. lol Hope you have a good time, Zariah. You deserve it! Rev. J. K. Beasley

Sweet finally returns from what she thought was the rest room. All on the table was waiting on her. She took one more peek at her cards before sighing. "I fold. I guess the cards just don't lik-" Her sentence was cut off by a rapidly rising hum coming from the 'marble' she had discovered in the basement. Soon, the shard that Mynx now wore around hear neck began to hum as well. With a jolt, the necklace lunged forward, pulled by some unseen force, carrying the upper half of Mynx's body with it. At the same time, the glowing red marble forced it's way out of Sweet's pocket, meeting it's sybling in mid-air. The platnium charm that carried Mynx's shard shattered, releasing Mynx and letting her fall onto the table holding the back of her neck. "Agh," the feline huntress exclaimed," that burns!" Umbra held Mynx's paw away rom the wound. There was scorced fur with a red burn line on her skin. "Sweet," Yan Yan asked," where did you get that?" "In the wine celler," she responded. A rumbling began in the floor of the Temple, causing the partons and players to go intoa state of alarm. That's when the first of the shards that remained in the foundation of the Temple shot from under them to join it's mates. Quick as a flash, the rest began shooting up through the ground with high-pitched whines, like bottle rockets. One shot up right where Regel's chair was, shattering it. A splitner about 3 inches long sliced into Regel's calf. It happened so quick, Regel didn't know he was hit until he looked down and saw the blood soaked splinter jutting out of his leg. With a wince, he removed it. All 23 ruby shards assembled themselves in the air infront of them, forming a large, double-fisted ruby. Even though fear was riding his mind high, Wyvern couldn't help but wonder how much the floating magical ruby was worth. The cracks in the ruby where the shards assembled fused together, leaving a smooth finish, as though the jewel had never been broken. The ruby pulsed with an inner light of it's own. "Well," Yan Yan said as he looked over at Mynx," Looks like your 'crystal problems' aren't over after all." Mynx gave him a slightly dirty look. The jewel started pulsing int shades of red, dark red, and black. Shafts of red light strobed from it. One shaft hit Yan Yan directly in the chest and stayed. Yan Yan felt the energy of the jewel cause him to freeze. A red glow surrounded him. As the force of the jewel increased, he felt a burning pain all around his body, causing him to release a horrendous scream.... Reverend J. K. Beasley was sitting at his computer typing up his Quill Quest for the Pen. He worked on the story between hands of video poker while listening to George Straight on his MP3 player. Looking at a pair of aces on the board with a six of clubs as the flop, his king-six in his hand didn't look that bad, but those two aces worried him. He grabbed his copy of Phil Hellmuth Jr.'s Play Poker Like The Pros, reading a section on video poker strategy when his computer started to make a high-pitched whine. "Not again, damn it," he exclaimed. This was the second replacement computer in a year. Both of the previous ones had been taken out by freak lightning storms. If this kept up, Hewlett-Packard would be sending him Chirstmas cards thanking him for all the business. The screen went fuzzy and then pulsed a deep red. He looked at the screen curiously. He didn't have long to look before he was drawn into the computer monitor. He tried to push against the sides of the monitor to stop from being sucked in, but to now avail. Just as he had been completely drawn in, his girlfriend Sarah walked into the room. She sighed as she saw the computer left on. "I swear that man is going to make me hurt him one of these days," she huffed as she turned off the computer.

Well, this is where the game ends and my actual Quill Quest begins. Thanks for participating, but as the Elders said, I have to do the majority of the writing, which was my intent all along. Hope you guys enjoy the story.... Rev. J. K. Beasley

Note: Due to work and family stuff, the game will be delayed until Teusday for those that are still playing.

Thanks Peredhil!

There was this blacksmith who was working on a set of horse shoes. A cowboy goes over and picks one up that was still hot from being in the fire. Needless to say, the cowboy dropped the horse shoe. The blacksmith smiled and turned to the cowboy. "Did you burn yourself," the Blacksmith asked. "No," the cowboy replied," It just doesn't take me long to look at a horse shoe." Hope you liked that one. Yan Yan

Okay, to call means to match the current bet. If you already have the amount of the current bet *such as if you are the blind or at the start of the Flop betting round, you don't feel like betting, but don't want to fold, you can check. Simply put, if the turn falls on you, and you don't have to bet to stay in, you can check. You can use any 5 cards on the table and/or in your hand to build your hand from. The only way to trade cards is to cheat. If you get caught cheating, you are disqualified.

By the way, even if you are folded, you can still interact with the saloon patrons and each other. You an even leave the table until the next round of play.

Okay, the flop has been posted.

As the player look at their cards, there is a quiet tention in the air....sort of. Sweet, while enjoying her drink looks at Yan Yan and says "Hit me!" Everyone takes a look and her with bemused grins, Even Mynx's stone-faced expression cracked a little with a smile. Tzimfemme, who was still having problems with the enchantments if the costume, leaned over to Sweet to inform her kindly that they were playing Texas Hold'em, not blackjack. Blushing a little, Sweet apologised. Before Tzimfemme was about to leve, Yan Yan stopped her," Here," he snapped his fingers and dispelled the enchantment. "By the way, could I get a rum and coke," he asked. She nodded as several of the rowdier saloon patrons gave Tzimfemme whoops and hollers. Letting out an annoyed sigh, Yan Yan out of his chair, drawing both guns from his gunbelt. The jeering stopped abruptly. "It would be a good idea if ya'll left the lovely lady alone. Believe me, rile her up too much and she'll put two in your mangy hide!" One of the cowboys said," With what? She ain't got no guns!" Yan Yan tossed one of his to Tzimfemme, who was balancing a tray with one hand. She caught the Peacemaker and pointed it at the group. Cocking the hammer back, she smiled coldly. "I do now," she said. With the situation now well in hand, Yan Yan went back to his dealing chair. The action was on Wyvern. The Almost Dragon figgetted with his cards, flicked his tongue repeatedly, Then finally took a look at his cards. It seemed as though his entire body paused as he slid his cards face down to the dealer. Patrick took a look at his cards and repeated (with a little less drama) Wyvern's decision to fold. Umbra glanced at his cards, shook his head, and slid his cards to the dealer. "Wow, that was a lousy hand," he said. Regained her control on her poker face, she reached over to a stack of $100 chips. She looked around to see who else might have be going in the hand with herPicking up $1000 in chips, she let them neatly fall, one by one, into a stack of $500, returning the extra chips to her pile. "I call," she announces as she slides the chip to the center of the table. Parmenion immediately calls while watching the cat next to him for any hidden tells that may clue him in to the strength of her hand, but nothing could be gleaned from her expressionless face. "I call." Guido covers his cards with one massive paw and uses a claw on the other to bend the cards up just enough to peer at their values. When the bidding comes round to him, he tossed in $20 with a toothy grin and leans his bulk back in his chair. "Yo! Barmaid!" he called, " An Absinthe P'eas." As she prepared the pale-green liquior, he looked around the table. "Dat dere is twenty smackers. It's been a while since I gots ta taste blood." The drink arrived and was placed on the table with the spoon and sugar. With a light playful swat on her bustle he told her to run a tab for him, giving her five heavy gold coins (at which Wyvern's nose began to twitch). Placing the slotted spoon over the absinthe, he placed the sugar cube on it, and slowly poured the water over the sugar. The pale green liquor swirls as the water mixed, turning a milky opalescent. "Da louche! Good stuff." With that, Guildo sat back to watch the others with his large chocolate eyes... "Uh, Guido?" "Yeah?" Yan Yan smiled," The minimum bet is $500." Being taken off guard, Guido fumbles with his chips a bit before throwing $1500 in. Realizing he's error, he knocks over his stack of chips while trying to pull out $1000. Sweet giggles as a few Pennites shake their heads while watching the chaos. After a good 3 minutes, Guido is restacking his chips, his minimum bet out in the center of the table. Regel leans back in his chair after seeing his cards. With a slight grin, he splashed the pot with $500 in chips. Katz looks around to see that it is finally her turn. She picks up a stack of $100 chips, splitting the stack into two stacks of $500. "I raise." Sweet, who was the blind, wrinkles her brow,"That wasn't nice, Katz. You're making me put more money in!" With a pout, Sweet slides in another $500. Mynx and Pmenion call Katz raise without question. Guido rubs his chin for a moment before saying," This is still the practice round, right?" Yan Yan nodded. "Alright, I call." Guido tosses in $500 carelessly into the pot. Regel smiled," Guido, those were $500 chips you just throw in." Guidp looked alarmed and ready to jump onto the table when Katz said between laughs at Guido's comical expression," Regel was only kidding. Those we $100 chips you threw in." Checking just to make sure, Guido sat down and sighed in relief. Regel grinned widely as he tossed $500 into the pot," Sorry, I couldn't resist. and by the way, I call." With the bet called and Sweet, Mynx, Parmenion, Guido, Regel, and Katz still in the hand, they played for a pot of $6,000. All eyes were on the dealer as the flop came...2 of spades, 8 of clubs, and the Jack of clubs...

Sorry about the delay in posting, but RL waylaid me a little today. I will have the post up sometime tomorrow afternoon. Again, sorry for the delay. Yan Yan

If anyone raises the bet, It will be posted. You can also give multiple options say "I want to call, but if anyone raises, I'll re-raise" That would help keep things going s little quickly. Yan Yan. *BTW: Aside from a slight kink here and there that is getting ironed out, how does everyone like the consept?

Well, went I said Western, I meant Old West sherriff-shooting, bank robbing, horse stealing Western theme. And yes, you are more then welcome to be a cocktail waitress, Quincunx.

Here is where you can talk about the game outside of the Poker Tourney. Unfortunately, Deg just informed me that he won't be able to play. I will deal with that in the game. Also, any comments on the game and it's set-up or questions, post them here or PM me. Thanks. Yan Yan