Operation: Pacifica, Outside the Citadel by DeadLock the Feral (NYAR!), aka CyberPyro (deadlock@one.net) "Aiugh," gurgled the last Lyran as Shardik slammed its flayed corpseinto the floor to silence its protestantations. Blackblood grabbed the ankle of his latest kill and drug it behind him. Slider and Jace clacked their Claws[tm] together, removing bits of thanatin flesh and Lyran bones from them. Nemesis worked on pulling all the barbs out of his hide from that last Saethrian. Why did he always seem to get stuck, quite literally, with taking all the damage? They'd gone ahead of the other three to clear out resistance they knew would be in place to block their approach to Charn'El's citadel. Where, exactly, in the entire Lyran fortress it was still remained somewhat unknown. "Wha?" asked Slider as he spotted Hanover coming around the corner. Behind him walked Windigo and DeadLock, imitating his every step. The Vulpine didn't seem too amused with his companions, but somewhat resigned to it. Jace turned to face DeadLock. He held out his right hand silently. The other approached, unbuckled the Barney Slayer from around his waist, and placed the pommel in Jace's hand. Jace fastened the weapon to his belt, and turned to face everyone. "Ready?" asked Jace. Everyone nodded to agreement and headed towards the best-guess location of the citadel. ... "Ten cases of Jolt this be the place," smirked Nemesis. An unassuming, plain door of obsidian sat flush with the polished, ashen marble wall. A plain iron handle was affixed to the black surface without indication of any sort of lock. "Let's see then," rumbled Shardik as he hooked a Claw[tm] through the handle and pulled. The door ground open with a sound like crushing glass. "Nifty," replied Hanover, finding his nerves just a bit unhappy at the sound. "Foock me." Slider gazed through the door and onto a rolling obsidian plane. Over a mile in the distance, though architecture demanded the room be around 200 feet by 200 feet, jutted a monstrous obsidian citadel stabbing towards a nearly invisible roof. The inside wall of the room swept back from door's edge, logic and physics refuting the room's dimensions. "Not trusting this at all, I am," growled Windigo as she peered through the door to either side to view the defilement of physics. She could not find the edges of the room in any direction. "C'mon, his Yellowness has a promise to keep." DeadLock cackled and starting pushing everyone through the door despite their misgivings. ... The Maenads made their way across the oddly rippled obsidian plain. Giant fissures gaped unexpectedly from time to time, their color and the quality of light making them hard to detect until one was almost on top of them. Each Feral kept their comments to themselves, staying alert for possible dangers. ... "You'll be pleased to know we have an audience," observed DeadLock as he pointed a thumb over his right shoulder. In the distance, a widening strip of nagenta could be seen approaching. "Run!" shouted Shardik. "There's at least a thousand Thanatins in that mass!" Every Maenad broke into a run, no one needing to debate the odds of such a confrontation. "Being herded, like cattle, we are," growled BlackBlood as he kept pace. "Frum a kuple of direckshuns." Slider pointed to their left, another mob approaching from a slightly closer distance. "Citadel it is," grumbled Nemesis. The Maenads pounded across the obsidian landscape as the rapid, undeniable sound of thousands of running feet closed in on them. ... [time: 15 minutes later] The obsidian landscape rolled past as an inky current, features and contours nothing more than a blur. The Maenads ran onwards, the citadel refusing to grow in size, almost as if it to mock the futile action of placing one foot in front of the other. Tension grew in the group as the nagenta horde steadily closed the distance. Jeers, battle cries of pure hatred, and crones of glee issued from it as they drew close enough to throw spears. In the shadowed distance a giant chasm yawned. Its black, gaping maw far too long and wide to ignore. Ironically, the obstacle's growing size served as the only verification of movement in this landscape. Suddenly the edge of the chasm approached. Shardik shifted mid- stride into his daemon form, spread his wings, grabbed Windigo around the waist, and jumped over the edge. The darkness swallowed her gleaming white fur as the duo plummeted downwards. Spears clattered around the Maenads as they skidded to a halt. The lips of the chasm dropped sharply away, darkness obscuring all details. "Fuu--" complained Slider. Nemesis tackled him, their bodies tumbling over the edge. "Bonzai!" laughed Jace, the last half of his graceful swan dive cloaked in darkness. BlackBlood paused, seeming to listen to the Lyran corpse he was still dragging. "Talk too much do you!" he suddenly snapped, tossed it into the chasm, then simply stepped over the edge and into nothingness. "I am *NOT*... paws off!" yelled Hanover as DeadLock grabbed two fistfuls of fur and muttered a quick incantation. DL pivoted on his heels, using all his momentum from falling to hurl the Vulpine horizontally over the fissure like a giant lemon cannonball. DL landed face down and rolled over to see a crowd of Thanatins gathered around him, weapons raised. Weapons struck downwards with a collective howl of triumph. Living fire exploded between the monsters, carbonizing their flesh and armor. Blackened skeletons wobbled unsteadily as flames roared through them and scorched down the chasm wall. Spears, mated with screams of insane rage, showered into the darkness. ... [place: other side of the chasm] [time: a few moments later] Hanover shook his head, rose to all four paws, and glanced around. His fur was helplessly wind-blown. Yellow fur puffed up all over his body making him appear like a giant koosh ball. Somehow DeadLock had thrown him at some impossibly high velocity across the chasm where he'd landed rather ungracefully. In the distance: the faint angry screams murmured. "So, how long do you think they're gonna throw spears before they realize we're not at the bottom?" Slider smirked. "Not willing to wait around for an answer, I am," grumbled Windigo. The group moved without any more comments. ... A short time later the Maenads came to the edge of the Citadel's plaza. Monolithic slabs of obsidian polished to mirrored smoothness, larger than a city block, held the base of the tower in a tight grid. Impressions of trees sprouted from the landscape at regular, geometric patterns. Delicately carved glass branches swayed in a soundless, unfelt breeze. Millions of obsidian leaves bumped gently into one another, giving off an ethereal chiming. The ghostly rhythm pulsed across the Maenads, its cadence rising and falling seemingly at random. The walls of the Citadel were built on a scale of inhumanity. Hundred foot cubed blocks of mirror-polished marble were set almost seamlessly against one another. Evenly spaced black bonfires roared softly in their basins around the circumference of great citadel. No crevice or crack presented itself for inspection. Dark light, black on black, illuminated little in this mystical landscape. With little choice, the Maenads began to walk along the great curve of this structure. ... [time: several hours later] "Dis id da plaze," pointed Slider. Even from the distance it was easy to make out the massive structure of the main gates. An arch soared over a thousand feet above the plaza, it's crest lost in a dark cloud. "And here I thought it was the Shirley Temple Gift Shop," quipped Jace. "I'm getting tired of this... game." Hanover erfed, crossed his arms in annoyance. "Of course I've just loved being chased by murderous armies. Makes for a great weekend," growled DeadLock. "No more of this, will I have!" Windigo hissed, patience wearing thin. Everyone had been on their guard for hours, ready to react to a lethal attack from any direction. None had come. In fact, nothing but raw silence had assaulted them since the chasm. They'd have welcomed a straight-out fight, but it seemed Charn'El had no intention of giving it to them. Shardik sighed. He could feel the anger smoldering in DeadLock, in Blackblood. The annoyance of Jace was slowly turning in on itself, fermenting to a raw rage. Slider and Nemesis ground their teeth in silence, holding their words lest their carefully controlled emotions slip their binds. "We're not going to get anywhere clawing into each other's hides, people," rumbled Shardik. Too late, he realized he'd made a mistake. The gazes of DL and BB raked across his face, so harsh it felt as though they'd draw blood. "Don't even..." bit out the two Maenads in unison. "My choice of words sucks. I'm sorry. I.." "Will you all just shut up!" bellowed Jace. Anger contorted his face, threatening to take over. "I've.." A deafening howl knocked their words from the air. Windigo stood regarding her people, Claws[tm] fully extended on the verge of Warp Spasm. "No more! Not here to kill each other, we are! None of this! Kill the High Mage we must! We are all dead, if this thing, we do not accomplish!" Her guttural words acted as a catalyst, burning away the seeds of conflict. "And how correct, to say completely without error, is my most astute, lilial atshen!" quipped a smoothly polished British voice, sounding as though it were created for nothing but to speak rhetoric in the halls of Cambridge. "M.E.N.S.A.n!" grumbled Nemesis. Claws[tm] slid out to their full lengths as the Ferals prepared for a fight. "Surely you would not shred an unarmed Saurian such as myself. That's clearly of barbarous nature, hardly befitting such fine warriors as yourselves." The octet of Maenads closed on the M.E.N.S.A.n. "I do believe that introductions are in order. How rude of me! To address a group of visitors as though we were intimate friends! Quite common in the crude, day-to-day world of the lay people, but almost unheard of in the elegant circles of refinement of which I, the Gate Keeper, of this otherwise impassable Citadel, do make my daily habitations." The Nagenta Saurian's words gave pause to the Maenads. Gate Keeper? "Quite correct my illustrious fellows! I am the only one capable of opening this fortress to you, and thereby, through my direct, excellent, wonderful, and need I say, world-class guidance techniques of considerable refinement and finesse, though not to mince words, guide you to appointed and ordained meeting with Charn'El. "Oh, I see the doubt in your dull-witted faces! 'Guide *us* to the High Mage?!' 'Surely he must be joking!' You can rest assured, my cerebrally lacking companions, that I, Reginald Percival Octavius Julien the Fifth am your sole, and need I say only, point of access to this magnificent structure. "Here, let me demonstrate." The M.E.N.S.A.n, though professed to be unarmed, produced a large assault rifle from seemingly nowhere. He pointed the weapon at the gate and pulled the trigger. A blinding flash of energy struck the stone, sending molten shards flying in all directions, only to have the marble reappear perfectly cool and smooth a split second later. "As you can see, it is impregnable. You cannot get in regardless of how much destructive force is unleashed." "Oh no..." moaned Hanover, not liking the drift of this conversation, such as it was. "So, my companions, shall we discuss cases? I am neither going to charge you for my services, nor require anything from you. Save one single thing." "Which is..." asked DeadLock, his dread rising. "Such negativity! Surely your species can benefit from the company of enlightened being such as myself. Why, your farthest descendants might be able to climb a rung on the evolutionary ladder because of your conversation with the dazzling presence before you: yours truly, myself." "You can't be serious," breathed Nemesis, the horror rising in him. "Perfectly, my simplistic Imp! My goals are neither direct nor simple. A mind such as yours could benefit from my expert tutelage." "Yoo want to come wit uz into da Sitadil, dontcha?" Slider frowned, very unhappy. "But of course! Who else to guide you through the unending labyrinth of the Citadel than yours truly? Every passage and room is known to me like the introductory eighty five thousand pages of our greatest poet's shortest piece! Why, any school child would be happy to recite it to you! Just as I am joyfully willing, without reservation of hidden agenda, to guide your simple souls through the Citadel. "You see, I desire conversation, however boring and mundane it may be, for I have no visitors here. It's months and months before one of those snobbish Lyrans -- and to think *THEY'RE* the superior life form! HA! -- comes by to visit. They're always dull and rude, too concerned with their own short-sighted world to talk at any length. "I do promise, in all gravity, to wit the utmost of sincerity, the truest of intentions, the..." "Let us think it over. Please." cut in Jace. The other Maenads looked at him, shocked, then headed off to a "conference" because it would at least get them away from the M.E.N.S.A.n for a short time. ... Shoulders slumped all around the huddle. What choice did they have. An quarrel broke out almost immediately about who would make the announcement. ... "Ok, Percivus.." winced Nemesis. DeadLock held his left arm behind his back, BlackBlood the other. "Reginald Percival Octavius Julien the Fifth," chimed in the chipper M.E.N.S.A.n, its eyes gleaming. "What we need to say is... *ouch*... that... *ow*" "Yes?" asked the Nagenta Saurian, bending down so its toothy smile hovered a few feet from Nemesis' face. "We'd lo.. *OW* ... we'd love for you to guide us into the Citadel." "Wonderful! Simply magnificent! You couldn't have made a wiser decision!" beamed the M.E.N.S.A.n. It did a small, earth pounding dance of glee as the news worked through its mind. The Nagenta creature contorted its body into a strange position, uttered a cryptic word. The gargantuan gates ground loudly upwards, stopping after rising a hundred feet. ... The group, regaled by humor and thoughts of their guide, passed underneath the massive gate and into the High Mage's stronghold. - DLtF(NYAR!)