Operation: Pacifica, Ethereal Spitballs by DeadLock the Feral (NYAR!), deadlock@one.net "Ooh! And here you will see the post-feminist, neo-industrial, dualistically done fresco complimented dramatically by the pseudo-romantic floor tiling..." A large gooey wad flew past the M.E.N.S.A.n's left shoulder unnoticed. It covered the left half of some obscure architect's bust with a dull splat. "And this! This is a one-of-a-kind carving! Done in Rococo Ironism..." The Maenads' guide spun around, thrilled to be educating his audience so thoroughly. Ah, broad smiles on all their faces! Maybe they weren't such an unpromising bunch after all. On and on the neo-allosaur chattered about architecture, artwork, and sculpture of the Citadel. It seemed as though the giant saurian barely paused to draw breath before finding a new, ultimately fascinating item for lecturing his pupils. Windigo smiled mischievously and curled her Claws[tm] around something crumpled and white. Her muscles flexed, compacting it. She opened her claw and silently dropped it into Shardik's cupped hand a split second before he deftly pocketed the lump. "Who is this jerk?" Hanover erfed, his voice only loud enough for those next to him to hear. "He's stealing my limelight." "...And THIS!" The saurian beamed, almost in rapture over an ordinary door. DeadLock raised a large tube to his mouth and aimed at the giant purple target. Nemesis and BlackBlood likewise took aim. "Why does this jerk get all the lines?" grumbled Hanover a little too loudly. Percival spun around without warning, his tail nearly slapping into the tour group. His announcement faultered as he regarded them. "Something wrong?" he smiled, rows of teeth gleaming in the dim light. "No, everything's fine." DeadLock smiled and stepped in front of Shardik. The daemon prince crouched down, using DL's large frame to obscure partially the chewing motions of his jaw. "Holding something behind your back, my simpleton pupil?" DL shifted on his feet. Shardik took his cue. "No, why?" smiled DeadLock. He held up both his hands. Empty. "Shall we continue? I enjoy showing off my gratuitous abode but your dullard company, I must admit, is a bit trying." Percival resumed his stride and lecture as though he had never stopped. Slider rolled his eyes, smirked, and followed behind Jace who mocked their nagenta guide's every gesture and expression. DL retrieved his tube from Shardik and took aim. "Will you children *please* stop?!" asked an exasperated Percival. He shook his back violently for a few seconds in an attempt to dislodge what looked to be three giant spitballs. "What?" smiled DeadLock, handing the tube to Shardik yet again. "Yeah, what?" BlackBlood non-chalantly dropped his launcher into a small rift to the shadow realm. Nemesis made a visible effort to swallow something, then smiled broadly at the accusing eyes of the M.E.N.S.A.n. "Hmm.. well, let's continue with our tour, shall we?" The M.E.N.S.A.n smiled thinly, then picked up its monologue as though nothing had happened. A few minutes later, a large wad of paper streaked towards its back and stuck between its shoulders with a satisfying splat. ... The group came to a halt in a massive, domed antechamber dominated by an ornately engraved onyx gate. Easily fifty feet tall, the slabs were the only thing of note in the room. "Well, simpletons, we are at the termination of our companionship. After I open this gate for you, we shall part company. Going our separate ways, so to speak. Your company, though dull and half-witted, has been somewhat of a balm on my boredom in this horrid place. "For that I'll thank you. Now, I must be on my way." The nagenta Saurian raised his small arms and clapped his hands together. The gate rumbled open, several smaller noises masked by its movement. "Looks like you're coming with us," observed Jace, pointing at the freshly sealed exits from the room. A visibly shaken M.E.N.S.A.n swallowed hard as it struggled to find words. "Or not," smirked DeadLock. The Maenads strode forward, cautiously advancing down the wide corridor. An anxious nagenta allosaur trudged after his companions, muttering to himself. ... "Alive, this is." Windigo sniffed at the oddly-scented air, her Claws[tm] flexing. The other Maenads looked around the murky, amorphous passage. Unlike the areas they'd passed through, light had almost become an unknown quantity. Faint, small splotches gave off an eerie bioluminescent glow at increasingly large intervals. "This is more of a disadvantage than is wise to accept," grumbled DeadLock, not liking the idea of encasement in a servant creature of the Lyrans. His Claws[tm] extended as he regarded the walls. The tip of a talon dug into the rock-like wall, causing a cascade of tiny fragments to litter the floor. The claw retracted, leaving a small crater to fill with a dark gray, lumpy ooze. Stone around the wound scrunched up slightly then pushed the hole's edges together over the oozing liquid. In a matter of moments, no trace of the hole remained except a rough spot in an otherwise smooth and lumpy surface. "Wut duz theez ul meen?" asked Slider. "It means, my intellectually insufficient redcap, that we are walking *inside* of a living creature on our way to meet the owner of this Citadel." Percival shook his head slightly, then lapsed into a melancholy silence. Thankfully, he'd been that way since events had forced him to accompany the Maenads further. "Yuu'd make a guud snak, if yuu azk me." Slider snarled and advanced on the M.E.N.S.A.ns, Claws[tm] extended. Windigo shook her head. Slider paused, their end goal and its importance reestablishing itself in his mind. He turned and walked deeper into the creature. His comrades followed immediately. The saurian lingered for a bit, debating his options, then trotted after the group. ... Hot, moist air curled around the Maenads as they tentatively crept into a large aorta. Thin, drifting fog seemed to entice them to enter farther. Nemesis breathed in through his mouth and frowned. "Bitter." Multiple passages split off from the atrium, their sheer numbers leaving the Maenads without a clear choice of path. "This way, simpletons," chirped Percival, pointing towards a far curve in the atrium. ... Windigo and DeadLock walked slower as the gap between them and the group widened. They slipped into a side passage for their work to be unnoticed. "Kewrual, nuucha zchii..." chanted Windigo. "Tanigi, masachu ho..." replied DeadLock in his own cadence. ... In the ethereal plane, Charn'El's citadel appeared as a roiling black mass of corruption distorting everything around it. The lands of Pacifica curved into its domain, funneling everyone within reach to a dark fate. Multitudes of silvery threads, one end attached to the luminous soul of every creature on Pacifica, were slowly pulled towards its inky surface. As a thread's free end made contact, an oily tentacle wrapped itself around the proffered food and quickly drew it into the swirling folds. Clusters of luminous forms, as helium balloons on a string, pulled away from the mass in all directions despite its relentless draw. Many souls hovered above the surface, almost within grasp of the tentacles, though their owner's bodies may have been ten miles out to sea aboard the _Freedom_. Dark forms, souls converted to Charn'El's service, occasionally erupted from the mass, mere ripples in the darkness. A soul dimmed, enveloped by a servant, and drew closer to the Citadel's surface. Unexpectedly, the surface constricted as a small spot turned dark gray. The servants faltered, uncertain as the spot became light gray. The patch turned off-white, then ruptured. A shockwave ripped through the ethers, scattering shadowy ripples and swaying the luminous forms. A few threads pulled loose from the surface and snapped about wildly. Once free, some wrapped around their fellows and yanked them free to intertwine and draw the two closer together. A glowing pearl of energy rose from the dark, churning surface and grew brighter. It flashed, then released its intent in a shimmering, expanding sphere. ... Captain 'Bazooka Bill' Williams sat in the command chair of the _Iowa_ watching the sunset. The land battle had been going well despite heavy casualties. Epiphany surfaced in his mind, leaving him stricken. What was he to do? It defied reason. For what reason should he act, his intuition alone? Command didn't look highly on this, nor could he risk Jihaddi's lives on his personal belief. Captain Williams forced the thought down, but it slipped out from under the crushing weight of logic and rationalism to bare its teeth in his face, growling for attention. "Sir?" asked his XO. "Could you repeat that order?" Williams recoiled; he'd spoken without knowing it. An alien resolve welled up in the Captain as he stiffened. "I said," replied the Captain as he sat rigidly upright, "evacuate Pacifica. Double time." "Sir..." "Tell the landing forces they have until 0300 hours, then they swim home," ordered the Captain, his tone leaving no room for argument. His XO relayed the orders. Across the fleet, ships began pulling up anchor in preparation for arriving comrades. ... "Sir! Orders from the fleet!" Commander Galt rushed up to Rear Admiral Korth. He offered a vidphone containing the messages. "We're leaving. Full retreat," ordered Korth as he closed down the vidlink. It felt right, though he could not explain why. TRES, DE, and Chosen forces across the front began a rapid, well disciplined march for the coast and its awaiting transports. Surprisingly, they met little organized resistance. ... A legion of Thanatins, less than two hours' march outside the Citadel halted from an unheard command. They turned in unison to regard their home, doubt seeping into their baleful eyes. -- DLtF(NYAR!) Copyright, Pyrokinetic Productions, Inc. (1997)