Doing it right...

[lake_wrangler]

Careful there Glytch- he threatened to quit once before... good help is hard to find, y'know...

Of course, he did... One does not typically threaten to quit twice, after all...

[jwhouk]

Ah, but I can see why they keep him. These biscuits are divine!

"So, yeah, I think Jin can maybe sneak you guys into the Target over in Hudson. Maybe 30 minutes to an hour, go nuts with the scanner."

"But I wanna go get registered at Guitar World!"

"We have to be practical, now, dear."

[GlytchMeister]

Glytch waited impatiently while Sarge ran his errand for Sassafrass... Whoever that was, and wasted no time in re-engaging when the man came back.
"There was a power struggle, ending with shell casings and a crushed face. Get this, all of the trajectories of the recovered bullets were ricochets, and they all came from something head-high. The dead guy's face was crushed by a hand..."
Neil approached from behind Glytch, listening intently.
"...So after everything that's happened, I'm not about to discount the possibility that something paranormal occurred at that warehouse. The chatter I'm picking up online keeps mentioning some guy who is literally [b]untouchable[/b]... Which sounds a bit like Golems, like Atsali's aunts."
Sarge gave Neil a pleading glance, and the ancient general stepped in.
"You think the winner of that power struggle was a Golem?"
"Oh, uh... Hi. Yeah."
"Well, that confirms what Safyr said... This is bad. Thanks for the confirmation, but this isn't good news at all."
"I've got something else for you... I found a connection that we might want to look into. Those vampires, they visited a guy in Chicago a while back... Uh... John Smith. Some former vigilante. They go in, an explosion blows out his roof, they leave empty-handed. He also happened to have been a thorn in our favorite drug ring's side for a while. Considering Lily and Susie were involved, I'm willing to bet this guy wasn't exactly normal. And I have a feeling his connection to the vampire women will make him mighty interesting to the bastards after all of you."
Neil furrowed his brow before calling over Lily and Susie. "Do you two happen to remember a 'John Smith?'"
Lily snorted derisively. "Which one?"
Susie rolled her eyes at her partner. "The weird one, when Tsillah and Bia were with us?"
"Oh. Yeah, that one... He's supposed to be in some weird offshoot of the underworld, or something. Good kid, kinda weird, and apparently too powerful to stay on earth."
Neil was very much interested in that last part. "What do you mean by that?"
"I'm... Not really sure. He got some power that managed to freak out the Library."
Susie took over. "His power was unstable and out of control... Miss Villareal and Director Oduya... I mean, Monica and Brandi, they were apparently supposed to help train him to get his power reigned in."
Neil frowned, thinking. "A heavy hitter tends to come in handy... And someone big and bad enough to make the Library act up is bound to be of use against the worst opponents." He looked around and, failing to see Monica, spoke over the din of the group. "Somebody go get Monica."
Edward, having already heard Monica's name mentioned and seeing she would be needed, arrived at that moment with a supremely disgruntled-looking Monica and Georgette in tow. They hadn't gone to sleep until just a few hours ago, distracted as they were by one another. Edward was also more than a little annoyed... He just had to wake up guests, weather their rather coarse reaction to him, and dodge a pillow.
The second one hit him, ruffling his mustache significantly.

"What?" Monica grunted, eyes still not fully open.
Neil grimaced, knowing he wasn't exactly earning any brownie points with the sub-Titan. "John Smith. I need to know what he is and if he would be of any use to us."
"John is... A salamander who somehow also has the ability to attract dark energy and convert it into regular energy... Namely heat, fire, ash, and lightning."
"A... Salamander?" Sarge and Glytch both raised one eyebrow each at Monica, earning an eyeroll.
"Not the amphibian... A being made from coalesced elemental energy... He was literally made from fire. Last I checked, he was still too dangerous, but a long time has passed for him since then. He might be ready... I'll have to go visit."
"Good... Do tha-" Neil tried to begin, but Monica cut him short.
"AFTER. COFFEE." She turned to Jet. "I'll be back in a while, ok?" She stood on her tiptoes and gave Jet a quick kiss. "Bye."
As the sound of her poit died away, Jet turned her attention to the breakfast table.

[DinkyInky]

Clambering down from the willow, stretching to warm up sleepy muscles, Emerauld checks on her soup. Adding pinches of herbs to season it, she ladles some in a bowl and taking a spoon and some dry biscuits with, brings it to the other camp, and with a wave of her hand, opens the curtain of thorns.
Seeing her sister asleep, she places the bowl, spoon, and biscuits on a stump nearby, and leaves, closing the curtain the same way, and refreshes the protections.

Upon return, she takes out a dry biscuit, places it in the bowl and ladles soup on top, making a sort of stew out of it.
Chewing thoughtfully, she plans what other tricks she could play, whether it can also be seen as helpful, and any real help she could provide the owners of such a healthy land.

"The wind is shifting. That awful smell is returning," thought the elf, wriggling her nose.

"If they didn't poison the wood before taking it to the market, I'd fix those holes in those rooms while they practiced. It's too cold to cure the wood now, even if I found suitable trees," she frowned. "Maybe Glytchie will know where they sell unpoisoned woods."

Inklings of a plan made, she finished her meal, cleaned the bowl and spoon and set it to dry, fetching her pack on the way.
Smiling happily, she decided she was going to be sneaky. Waving her hand in the air in and intricate pattern, she mouthed a single word, and vanished.

[GlytchMeister]

What're you up to, you mischievous elf?

[DinkyInky]

Wouldn't you like to know?

[GlytchMeister]

Monica walked into Tina's makeshift setup in the Library, and immediately scowled. The line was intolerably long. "Great," she muttered under her breath, "Just when I need a good coffee the most."
All of a sudden, a large portion of people suddenly just so happenedto remember they were running too late to stop for coffee.
The long line shrinked significantly, leaving Monica feeling guilty and embarrassed by the time it was her turn to order. "Hey, Tina..."
"Yowza, Sunshine, you aren't looking so bright today! What's up?"
"Late night, early morning, and I just found out I'm going to have to take a trip through Hade's wonderful funland of death."
"Another journey to the pit, huh? Extra shot of espresso it is."
"I hate going there... Hades is nice and all, letting us do this in his place, but still..."
A sly grin crept across Tina's face as she leaned forward against the coffee cart. "Hades didn't get rich by being generous, you know..." She had that one strange tone of voice again... And then, it was gone. "Here's your coffee! Good luck, Sunshine!"

Monica was halfway down Charon's skeletal dock when it hit her. "What will Hades want in return?" She whispered as the eerie green light on the Ferry winked into existence.

[DinkyInky]

Having previously 'borrowed' some of the silverware, and cookware (until she found hers in her pack..."I really need to label my bundles better")and made superior versions with her usual flair to replace them, she decided to see if her luck would hold, and returned to the manor to return the 'borrowed' items.
As luck would have it, they were scrambling to serve breakfast, so setting down the cookware and silverware in the kitchen was easy. She only hoped nobody got in trouble while she had it. She also left a pile of embroidered napkins, and an elaborate tablecloth embroidered with scenes from the massive property.
She turned to leave when she noticed the bell, and grinning, hid in the shadows to sort her wristpouch for...yes! There it was! Drawing out the muffled bell, she quickly refilled and closed her pouch. Creeping stealthily, she muffled the bell hanging on the wall, and quickly switched it out. Thinking this might be an heirloom, she decided to restore it and return it tomorrow. These were such nice folks after all.

Taking notice of the patterns and colours of fabrics on the windows, she turned to leave just as someone walked by, and barely managed to flatten herself against the wall in time to avoid her spell being broken.

"She'll never let me hear the end of it about shadow stepping versus camoflague, so let's not let her find out," she thought with a bit of a grimace.

Scouting ahead, she slips out the door while everyone's attention was on the food.

Waiting until she was in a clearing, she quickly walked to a cluster of trees, dispelled herself, and let out the breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Whew! Well, that was fun!"

[Sgt. Howard]

Neil stepped out to the mayhem that was a normal breakfast at this house only to discover his two Sergeants AWOL as it were- no matter, he had to get up to speed with golems first. Seeking out those who knew about such things, he found Bud and Kevin munching on bacon and flirting with each other.
"If only I could promise that to continue," Neil thought to himself.
"OH! Sir," Kevin tried to get up as Neil approached- Neil shove him back into his seat.
"As you were," he growled, "I am not worried about military courtesies, but I need information- and I believe Miss Bud here is the one to tell me,"
"Thell you whah?" she asked with a mouth half full of bacon.
"What and who makes a golem," Neil answered, "and why,"
She swallowed, with no small discomfort, and looked at Neil with apprehension- "Are you thinking of making them?" she asked nervously.
"No... if anything, I need to know how to destroy them. I've just received intel that the new guy running the show smells of clay (Bud dropped her jaw) and I need to know what I am dealing with,"
Bud looked frantically around the room until she saw Jin- a silent message went from the one to the other and Jin trotted over wearing Alan's robe and nothing else.
"What is it?" she asked Bud. Bud looked at Neil- "Tell her what you told me,"
"We have reason to believe the new leadership of the drug gang is a golem- and I need to know what I am dealing with and how to fight it,"
"Bolethius," Jin muttered, "Nodaki Bolethius- I would bet on it,"
"OK- so who is this Nodaki Bolethius?" Neil asked
"He was the chief priest who saw to our torture... he was fanatic about golems, and actually wanted to become one. He had instructed the other priests to do this to him at some point... he was to kill himself to obtain free will, be cremated, his ashes mixed with clay and the incantation chanted... my Mother taught them how to do it, but she never gave them the whole picture, the incantation was not supposed to work for them,"
"Well, apparently it did- Jin, I need your Mother here. I need to know how to kill this guy,"

[Just Old Al]

Al and Daisy, freshly scrubbed and wearing borrowed pajamas from the staff, emerged into the swing of breakfast being served and eaten. As they emerged, the babble of conversation went silent, and then resumed again with everyone ostentatiously looking in any direction but theirs. Neil was in coversation with Bud and Jin to one side, and Alan and Kevin there as well. The table was a buzz of activity, with folks munching, talking and swilling down great drafts of coffee.

Al, oblivious as usual, headed for the buffet as Daisy tried rather unsuccessfully to hide, alternating between utter chagrin and pride in their mishap this morning. Obviously, Al's words about having "Shagged our way through two stories of the house" and "That's my story and I'm sticking to it" resonated well with her. She, as was her wont, went for non-meat items, filling her plate with potatoes and pancakes and promising herself a good graze later when Al was otherwise occupied.

Both sat down, Al next to Glytch and Daisy next to him. As he'd done constantly of late, Al slid over a bit to be in contact with Daisy - even if it was just a leg pressed against hers.

"Glytch, my lad - good morning to you again!" Al said heartily. Obviously, he was not going to let the morning's escapades slow him down in the slightest. "Lovely day, despite the morning's activities."

"Good morning again - good to see you two in one piece after that fall. I'm not sure how that area survived at all with the rot..OW!" GLytch subsided in his analysis of the damage, settled by both the warning glance Al gave him and the well-placed kick in the shins applied at the same time.

"I've a question or two for you, if you don't mind me being a trencherman while we chat. " Al started shoveling in his breakfast from the overladen plate in front of him.

"First off, who was the elf in the leathers? Secondly - where did you get the bow and quiver? Exquisite work from what I saw of it and can see now." Al pointed with his fork at the bow and its arsenal, resting on a sideboard safely out of harm's way.

"Well, the answer to both of your questions is Emerauld - she is the elf you saw this morning, and she made the bow and the arrows stocked with it." Glytch went on to tell the story of meeting Emerauld yesterday while walking through the forest, and her making of the gifts she'd bestowed upon him while he watched.

Al and those in earshot were truly impressed at his tale - all of them having met Safyr earlier in the conference while Glytch was working on the encrypted hard drive.

"If you have the time this morning and this early afternoon, I have a task for you and a favor to ask" Al said, speaking fairly softly. Daisy to his right was absorbed in her plate and her thoughts, something Al had noted but for the moment set aside. He'd deal with it momentarily...in a rather spectacular fashion.

"The task is simple - I need you to get me whatever you can on the Pillsbury A-mills renovation. I need floor plans, elevations, architectural renderings...whatever you can get. I need to be able to see the building and its approaches for ...planning." Glytch, being no fool realized what Al needed and why - this was his military side scouting the terrain ahead of a potential battle.

"What's the second thing?"

"I need an introduction to your friend Emerauld. As you describe her skills and the magic she controls..I have a boon to ask from her."

Glytch was alarmed - what could this be all about? He had a feeling this would not end well, and didn't want to compromise his friendship with the elf. "Well, Al, I'm not sure I could do that..."

Al, seeing the look of alarm on his face said rapidly "I need to ask her for a very big favor. I will make it very clear that I asked you to introduce us, and that this is noting in any way your fault if she turns me down. I'm after her help."

Glytch, none too certain of the whole thing, reluctantly agreed to a meeting when Al was ready to do so. "I can't guarantee she would even talk to you, but I can try. Do realize she is nobody to mess with - there is a lot of power there."

"I know - I am hoping for it. Thank you, my boy."

All this time Al's plate had been emptying, and he'd finally reached the point where he was going to deal with the whispers and odd looks he and Daisy were getting. Pride trumps all, and he was going to smother the mortification of this morning's adventure in a six-foot-thick blanket of it - wrapped tightly around his love.

"ROSALITA! ROSALITA, DEAR! CAN I SEE YOU FOR A MINUTE!" Al bellowed, stunning small animals in the trees outside with sheer trained volume. The effect on the beings at the table was notable - the conversations stopped like the flipping of a switch.

Rosalita came practically running from the kitchen, galvanized into action byt the bellow.

"What would you like, Senor Al? I heard you all the way at the back!" Her accent, normally almost unnoticeable was out in force.

"Rosalita dear, I need oysters! I am absolutely craving them, for some reason! I have NO idea why!" Al, facing her, slowly winked one eye, which Rosalita picked up on immediately. "Certainly, Senor. They will sadly be canned, but I can put them on a bed of crushed ice with pepper sauce. Best I can do for you I'm afraid!"

"Oh, that will be divine - thank you. I must keep up my strength!"

With a giggle and a blush, Rosalita departed for the kitchen.

"With the way my life's been the past day or so I need all the help I can get. I have spent the past day in love with the most wonderful woman on this planet with ANY number of legs - and she is sitting next to me here right now. Yes, we had a little misaventure this morning. Yes, we managed to collapse two floors because of our ardor."

Shocked looks from some of the folks, blushes from others and sheer incomprehension from a few.

"I thought you said it was because the amulet failed..." whispers from a few people...quickly stilled by Al's look.

"Yes, there was a bit of an issue with the amulet - I must have hooked it and pulled it free. Nonetheless, how many of you can say you shagged your way literally THROUGH two stories of a house?"

"I for one am amazed with the turn in my life in the past 48 hours. I have found a companion, a lover, a friend and the most gorgeous woman bar none that has ever crossed my sight."

Daisy blushed deep crimson - partly horrified by his tactic and bluntness, and partly with a tremendous sense of love for the madman she'd let into her life.

She stood - wrapped her arm around Al and pulled him close. "THIS absolute madman has been a force for chaos. He's not only broken my house with his insatiability, he's also been a rogue and stolen my heart. I can't ever let him get away - I'll never find another - and I love him."

Al proudly said "I love you, too".

They kissed - deeply, passionately and completely unashamedly. With that, their family - the folks around the table - erupted in cheers, wolf whistles, ribald catcalls and applause for the couple.

After this, Al and Daisy sat down, and breakfast resumed. Rosalita brought out a tray of oysters prepared as she described, and Al took great pleasure in consuming every one, with lacivious glances at the blushing lady beside him.

Business could wait for a bit - right now he was going to enjoy the public admiration of his lady love.

[Sgt. Howard]

May's morning was cheerful and tipsy, having enlisted the services of Jose Cuervo to inspire her efforts amongst the plants in her greenhouse. Watering was a rather haphazard affair, with much of the water on the floor. She didn't care, she would be a bit sober that afternoon and could correct the situation as needed... but her lubricated mornings would not be denied.
With a 'poit', Bud and Jin appeared in the greenhouse just as May was freshing her coffee cup... with tequila.
"WHAH!" she shouted in surprise, "OH! You scared me!- almost made me spill my coffee,"
"Mother, that's not... never mind... Mother, we need to know about golems... specifically about if Nodaki turned himself into one,"
May froze- "Why do you need to know that?" she finally asked.
"We think he's here- In the twin cities. We think he's running the gang now that their leadership has been disrupted," Bud replied.
May stood there, then with a wave of her hand she stood up straight and belched loudly.
"Bleack!... and that was a lovely drunk, too... OK, I'm sober... and I think I need to get to where you two are so we can discuss this in detail. These are the same turdpiles that tried to kill you and what's-his-name...? Alan, right? Well, girls, let's get going,"

[Dave]

May stood there, then with a wave of her hand she stood up straight and belched loudly.
"Bleack!... and that was a lovely drunk, too... OK, I'm sober..."

Hardly seems fair. Bud gets smashed, and when it wears off she ends up suffering just as bad a hangover as a mortal does.

I suppose that resistance to The Wrath of Grapes is another element to the Golem formula that Mayahuel neglected to tell the priests...

[Sgt. Howard]

Non story, but appropriate-

Pretty complication, not in my plans, I had no intention of changing what I am
ruining my thinking, messing with my schemes, shredding and replacing every last one of my dreams
with a soft touch and a delicious smile, never knew nobody who had quite your style
you were a diversion, simple one-night-stand, but then again an accident is something that you don't plan

Sticky situation, ruining my life- was looking for a lover didn't need me no wife
seems like I'm cornered, can't get away- I'm not sure I want to, anyway

pretty complication not playing fair who would have seen it coming from a simple affair
caught me unprotected, got no place to hide
you stole my heart the rest of me is coming along for the ride...

Copyright 1985 G.F. Howard

[Sgt. Howard]

May stood there, then with a wave of her hand she stood up straight and belched loudly.
"Bleack!... and that was a lovely drunk, too... OK, I'm sober..."

Hardly seems fair. Bud gets smashed, and when it wears off she ends up suffering just as bad a hangover as a mortal does.

I suppose that resistance to The Wrath of Grapes is another element to the Golem formula that Mayahuel neglected to tell the priests...

May has spent quite a bit of adult life before being turned to clay- PLUS, she rid herself of the ETOH BEFORE it ran it's full course...

[Just Old Al]

Al caught up with Buck as he was pulling his car out of the garage to head off to the plant. With the short distance to the plant and the security at both ends he'd given up working remotely and had started to go to the plant on occasion - never on a schedule and always at random times.

"What's up?" Buck asked, rolling down the window and turning down the stereo.

"Need a favor, and it involves the facilities over at the plant - got a second to talk?"

Buck put the car in park, shut it down and waved to the passenger's door in invitation.

Al climbed in, a little wistful at the thought of his lost Bentley. "Nice car", he said, running an appreciative hand over the rubbed walnut dashboard and burgundy leather trim.

"If the damn thing ran reliably I'd agree with you - it's a garage queen half the time - some silly glitches er malfunctions that the dealerhips can't figure out."

"Wish I could help - but this one is a bit beyond me without the testbook computer to handle the errors. Could take a shot later, though."

"So, what can I do for you? You mentioned a favor."

"I didn't want to mention this in front of your Mum, but we're going to need to be prepared for every eventuality. That wedding is going to be the one place where all the targets are together - and I have every belief that the slime will take advantage of it. We'll need to get the rifles, ammunition and such to the venue without attracting undue notice - and that's where my old bus over there fits in."

Al pointed at the 110 ambulance, leaking quetly onto a gravel patch off to the side of the garage. Edward had categorically refused it entrance to the vehicle garage over Daisy's vigorous protests, stating "he'd never be able to get the floor clean again."

"I'd love to help and the plant's facilities are available, but this seems to me like a non-starter. Why can't we just get Monica and the other ladies to just 'poit' the stuff over - that's what they did with the furniture out of Justin and Shelley's place when this started."

"Lad I wish it were that simple. One of their own is marrying - and the very last thing on their minds is going to be the conflict. They are going to spend the entire day getting primped and puffed, and the stylist you Mum's engaged will be working on all of them including yer Mum and your sister Cinnamon. There will be lots of SQUEEing and drinking of mimosas and that is what they NEED to be doing - anything else just makes a mockery of what the young couple should be doing. I want to leave them to their lives unless things hit the fan - but there are those of us who need to PLAN."

"Al, that's the most words I have ever heard come out of you at one time. OK, I see your point. What do you need from me?"
-------------------------------
Later at the plant's prototype shop, Al rolled out a set of prints on a worktable, hand-drawn on quarto sheets. Three other men were there - a portly black gentleman incogruously named McAdams, a craftsman named Juan and Buck. McAdams, as shop foreman, was there to ensure as Buck had told him "That this job is done, done right and ready on time".

"OK, this is what I need. On the lower stretcher supports I need channels on both sides - approximately this size. These need to be rubber-lined - belting or some such would do nicely. Further up the walls I need padded clamps - a dozen to each side. They won't all be used but they're handy to have for securing other items. The clamps need to be lockable - not with a key but to prevent the contents moving when the vehicle is in motion.

Note that one set of 4 of the clamps is double-sized, and has a further clamp up about 5 feet up the wall. These are for some special rifles that we'll be holding. Other than them, the rest are pretty-much the same all along.

In front of the channels I need a grid of angle iron or aluminium to take ammunition cans. The ends of the grid need strap loops so the cans can be tied down. How fast can I get this?"

McAdams, with a rumbling voice and a Texas accent asked "Does this have something to do with what's going on with the boss and his family?"

Al looked at Buck, a question on his face. Buck said "Tell him the truth - it won't leave this room."

"Yes, it does. Let me tell you what I need this for." In a few sentences Al detailed the purpose of the modifications, and Juan spoke up.

"Look, this is great, but there's an easier way to do this. Mr. Alexander, can I hit stores for a few items?" Buck nooded, and Juan continued.

"We do an occasional military contract - there are always leftovers. There are quick-release racks in stores from some APC mods we did right here in the prototype shop - I can have those in and done in a few hours if you'll let me use them. While those are going in we can get the TIG guys out back to weld up alloy racks - those can be ready in a few hours too."

"What can you do with the large racks I need? The items that are going in them will need at least three inches of width, and the overall length of the weapons is 66 inches or thereabouts. Item weight per is about 20 pounds."

Juan nodded, following Al's point. "No problem - the way the racks are made they're essentially modular. We can stretch them, add a stretcher to the clamp body and a third support easily. We'll need to set them further out from the wall but there's room."

Al nooded, quite pleased. "Do it - I'm fine with it. Any road up - this is not a restoration. I hate to do it to the old crackerbox, but needs must and all that. I do have one other thing you need to do - she needs paint."

Juan looked over at the ambulance, placidly soiling the floor it was parked on. "Paint it? I think it looks great as it is."

Looking at it with a sad expression, Al said "I completely agree - that's her original livery when she was in MOD service. However, she needs to become a Q-ship. The bad guys know this truck if they have any intelligence at all - and they're not all that stupid. I need it white - from the side steps up she needs to be a bright shiny white. Wheels need to go grey to match the detailing. And on the doors and sides I need this." Al pulled another drawing out of the stack, and plopped it down. In overly-ornate script the words SNOBBY WINERY in black were emblazoned over a bunch of grapes and a wine bottle in grey.

"I need this on the side of the box and on the door - both sides. You have a decal shop here?" Nods responded, and then Al said "Good. These can be CNC cut in vinyl and applied in minutes. This doesn't need to be perfect - essentially worse to worst it's a one-way trip for the old bus. She's the last of my collection, but I'd sacrifice a hundred of her to keep your boss' family and friends safe."

Lastly, if you could get one of your Diesel mechanics to lift the bonnet and service the injectors and filters that would be great. You have the filters in stock - I use the same ones your Diesels use on the harvesters. That's where I used to buy them."

McAdams rumbled "Don't worry, sir. We'll take good care of the old girl for you."

Al let the stack of drawings roll back up. He shook hands and then looked sadly over at the ambulance, wondering if he'd eveer see it that way again.

[Hansontoons]

Interesting happenstance. I was thinking about Q-ships just the other day. The reason escapes me but it is a subject that isn't a normal topic for conversation in most circles.

[jwhouk]

Billens showed up at the estate, a bit irritated from having to use the Library portal to get there. He never particularly cared to use the shortcut, but the LTD wasn't built like the one from the movies.

He adjusted his glasses, nodded to the butler, and saw the reason for his trip was still seated at the breakfast table.

"Just the man I was looking for," he said, walking up to Joe and his wife. "Got some news for you. Your boss has cleared you to return to work, as of Monday night."

"Nice of them to at least let me have the weekend off," Joe replied. So I'm back to the grind on the 16th, hm?" Billens nodded.

"Unfortunately, Miss Oduya and Miss Budur both think it prudent if you have an agent with you while at work," he continued. "So we're going to return to the original plan of having Miss McBride shadowing you at work."

"Uh, why does it have to be her?" Sarah piped up.

"Miss Pratt has her daughter here, and is also trying to help round up some of the bad ones that didn't get Tempelhoffer's memo," Billens explained. "And I'm going to be assisting Sergeant-Major Richer with recon over at the A-Mill site." He looked over the top of his glasses. "That leaves only Miss McBride."

"Don't worry, Sarah," Joe calmly told his wife. "She does any nibbling on me and she'll likely explode like an overripe fruit."

"Is that before or after I get my hands on her?" she replied.

[DinkyInky]

CLANG! CLUNK!

Wincing, Emerauld got to work. One side of the bell was thicker--most likely from an improper repair.
Sketching the shape and design on one sheet, and rubbing impressions of all the details on another, she then traced the clapper, and dismantled it for 'repair'.
Pulling out the tinkers clockwork smithy and number sixteen bell mould, she gathered tinder and a drew a pouch of crystal dust, putting it inside and lighting it with a conjured fireball.
Donning goggles, she began her next task, and gathered a large basin of water, checked the furnace, using the bellows to puff air into it as needed.
While that grew to temperature, she fetched her tinkers clockwork grinder, and pulverized the bell and clapper, then poured the metal bits into a crucible, and using tongs, placed it into the fire when it was ready.
As it melted, she frowned, noting the massive amounts of impurities, which she skimmed out.
Reaching into her pack, she drew another pack, which contained a pan scale, weights, and many small pouches.
Setting weights on one side, she then scooped out small amounts from each, which had the appearance of crystal dust and metal glitter, and when they balanced, poured it into a long handled cup and packed all the pouches and scale and returned it to the pack.
She then took the cup and gently poured it into the crucible, then stirred it in until it turned the desired blinding vermilion colour. Next, she chanted softly over the molten metal until it turned blinding white.
Removing the crucible with tongs, she carefully poured it's contents into the bell mould. Once finished, she quickly grabbed it with tongs and plunged it into the basin of water.

While it cooled, she set about cooling the smithy with a bit of magic, then emptied the contents into a bucket, and wiped it down.

"I love these clockwork tools. It makes everything so easy," she thought, collapsing it and putting it away.

Next, she removed the bell mould, and tapped it gently, opening it, and removing bell and clapper. Setting these down, she wiped down the mould, and put it back in it's case.
Sitting down on a stump, she began to polish the burrs out with a black sandcloth until it was smooth. Taking a bit of polish out of a container, she used a bit of silk to buff it to a nice shine. Finally, she took the paper rubbing, wrapped the bell, chanted over it, then removed the now blank paper. Looking at the markings, she pulled out a case of tools, and began to engrave the designs drawn there by her spell. When finished, another application of polish, then the clapper.
Smirking, she began engraving tiny runes all over it until covered, and finishing it with a coat polish, she reattached it, said, 'Llentol', and rang the bell, hearing it gently ring, as though the volume were turned down.
"Vel'drav ssrig'luin zhah zhennu, anth oubran ji jal xal nym'uer!" she sang over the bell, then replaced the muffle, and wrapped it as carefully as it were glass. Opening her wrist pouch, she set it inside, and closed it securely.

Cleaning up the rest of the items, she laid cloth to dry, and packed away all the remaining gear. Quickly cleaning herself and the clothing, she hung the damp ones in the place where her other ones, now dry, were previously.

"Shall I be sneaky, or not...hmm?" she thought, giggling.

[TazManiac]

Entering the forested part of the Estate with a pack full of items, Stan was quick to fall back into silent-walk-the-woods mode from his earliest days.

He'd spent some times in conference with the few folks left in the kitchen, finishing breakfast, and having gained agreement & consent, was now deploying some of his perimeter equipment.

He'd been a bit concerned about it being too homogeneous and therefore easily detected & circumvented or being too frail and susceptible to damage, so he'd designed it to overlap with differing ways and means and to use not only line-of-sight optics but also passive receptors and a burst mode w/ distributed transmission.

It was envisioned from the beginning to spend most of it's time in a 'laying in wait' type state, and to blend into the surroundings: it made no sense to advertise one's presence; tipping your hand usually only worked if that's what you intended after all, and he didn't want to mar the countryside with bits of silicon and plastic and man-made 'improvements' to Nature.

When triggered, he anticipated even those with enhanced senses would not be able to fixate on any one device but rather experience a sort of 'Flashbulbs at the Sporting Event' type effect, spreading the inevitable emissions over a wide net of interconnected devices.

Having the central collector at elevation was beneficial in keeping things lower in power consumption and simpler in execution, but he was also aware of it's cobbled together nature and the expedient laying on of what had previously only been a few far flung ideas and possibilities.

Making another trip back to the Crow's Nest atop the Turret, he calibrated and sync'd up the sector he'd just finished and presently set out in another direction.

On this next trip out, he took along the second set of practice sticks he and Tina had been working with, frayed and worn though their ends had become.

They'd originally been intended as temporary and would eventually end up either in the compost or the wood pile, but now he had other ideas. And a few organic offerings from his home garden as an offering-in-kind...

[Just Old Al]

{AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was written by GlytchMeister, DinkyInky and myself as an exercise in cooperative writing of a single piece. All I did really was tie it all togehter with Elmer's Dialogue Glue... -Alan}

Al tracked Glytch down at lunch. As they dawdled over sandwiches - Al worrying about his increasingly tight clothing - Al detailed what he wanted and why.

"Glytch my lad, I'm not what I used to be. This is an honest assessment. My hands are shakier, my wits a trifle slower and I'm not the crack shot I was at thirty years of age. We are going into a potential situation where folks could lose their lives because I'm too slow or inaccurate - and that's not acceptable."

"Al, I'm sorry you think so - but I'm not the one to evaluate it. My question is - what's Emerauld got that could possibly help you out with this? I just don't understand."

"As you described Emerauld, she is a maker of things - and a very, very good one. My old .303 is a marvelous weapon for what it is, but it's designed for anyone to pick up and use. We just finished training the Twin Cities Irregulars to use it and the Russian and German versions of it quite successfully - they are very very good. I need to stack the deck - from the look of the work she did making that beautiful bow and shafts of yours she could help me fit the weapon to me better - and take out that little bit of slop between it and me that I've compensated for all these years."

"In short, a warrior always takes every advantage he can and compensation for his weakness. This could stack the deck a tiny bit in our favor."

"Now that you say it, I understand what you mean. That bow fits me like it was made for me...well, actually it was, come to think of it." Glytch stretched back, plate empty but for crumbs, and thought about the situation for a moment.

If he took Al to Emerauld and she told him to go away, it hurt nothing but Al's plans and he could proceed with what he had. If he did not, there was no chance that she could help him. If they went and Emerauld was willing to help, then that was the best solution all the way around. It was a risk, but helping those who needed it was not only necessary but was the only course of action.

"OK, let's go. I can't guarantee anything, but we can try. Worst case you end up back here as you started."

"Lad, that's all I can ask. To quote the immortal Raffles, "It's all in the laps of the gods, dear Bunny!""

They left the dining room, Al stopping to collect his rifle and pistol belt on the way along with a clip of ammunition. Glytch viewed this with deep misgivings - Al wasn't dumb enough to take a shot at Emerauld, was he? Shaking his head to dispel such ridiculous notions, they headed off into the wood.

Wandering to the area where Emerauld had built the shooting range, then circling outward from there they found no signs of the elf.

Wandering into the wood, however, her presence was keenly felt in very short order, Where Glytch walked on flat ground, Al found his boots tangling with roots. Where Glytch walked in clear air, Al was having to push his way through branches that suddenly dipped to bar his path. In short order, the going became rougher and rougher. Finally, Al's hat was knocked off his head, and a gust of wind blew it up into the air, just past his scrabbling fingers.

"WHAT IN THE DUNG OF THE AUGEAN STABLES IS GOING ON HERE? THIS IS JUST NOT ON - NOT ON AT ALL! Glytch, what in Hades is going on here?" Al cursed, dodging tripping roots while trying to recover his beloved fedora. The wind suddenly abated, dropping his fedora jauntily on the top of a thornbush. Al recovered it, setting it back on his head with nothing the worse for wear other than his patience.

Glytch was simultaneously greatly amused and horrified. This was not a good start to the discussion - Emerauld was firing a warning shot across Al's course and trying to get him to go away. He decided that a preliminary discussion might be in order before trying to get the two together.

"Look, Al - seems to me that Emerauld may not be too happy to see you here. Do me a favor and just go sit by the target bales and I'll see if I can find her. She's likely not wandered far, but it's better if I see her first and explain."

With good grace Al reclined against a hay bale, slid his fedora down over his eyes and settled back to rest.

Glytch wandered back into the wood, worrying that this simply wasn't going to work at all. Just as he despaired of finding her at all, she appeared on an overhead branch, saying "Hi, Glytchie!"

"Emerauld, there you are. I need to speak to you."

"Does this have anything to do with the old man who was following you about? There is a strong aura of death around this one - he has seen and done much that is not correct for a being to do. What does he want?"

"He wants your help. You know the fight we are in - he will be one of the leaders - a Sergeant - of those who defend those unable to defend themselves. But he knows he is old - and desires that you help him modify his weapon to fit him properly. In this way he can do what he must when he must."

"But he is Velg'larn! He has hunted his own kind and killed them. Why would I help such a creature?" Emerauld looked horrified at the prospect.

"Please, just speak to him. He has been told that the decision is yours and yours alone - and that no means no. He just asks for your help."

"Do you swear him to be a man of honor? Villains can agree to all sorts of things that sound reasonable but when things do not go their way they fight and destroy. Do you swear he is not such?"

Glytch thought hard. He didn't know Al that well - he'd only known him for a day or so. From the stories he'd heard, though, he and Sarge had been instrumental in saving the lives of at least four of the group and getting therm here.

"Yes, I do swear that he is a man of honor." There - now he'd done it. If this went bad he lost the closest thing to a friend he'd had here. This better damn well be worh it, Al, he thought.

"Very well - I will speak to him. I will not enjoy it, but I will speak to him. Bring him to the edge of the wood - I will meet you there." She disappeared like a breath of wind in the trees, and Glytch walked back out to the field.

Al was waiting - he'd heard footsteps and had sat up and returned his hat to his head.

"Well?"

"It's not good. She'll talk to you, but I doubt it's going to work. She knows you were a soldier, and this is a serious problem in her book."

"Why?"

"She knows you killed other men - and that in her book is intolerable. However, she has agreed to speak to you. I'm just not holdin' out a lot of hope here."

"That's the definition of a soldier, Glytch. We do what we must to defend those who can't defend themselves. It is a job that no one wants to do but it's a necessary one."

"I understand - you need to make her understand. With luck you'll be able to - but I'm not holding out a lot of hope."

With that, the two men walked to the edge of the wood. With no visible motion Emerauld appeared, looking up at the men.

"Glytch has asked me to speak to you. What do you want?"

In a few sentences Al detailed what he needed - a custom stock for the old .303 so that he could fire it with more precision. Al held out the .303, bolt locked open and clip empty, to show her what he meant.


"What's a gunstock?" she asked while looking at the obvious weapon.

Al pointed to the hand-rubbed wood above and below the barrel and to the back. "This is the gunstock - it holds the receiver, trigger and the barrel and lets the person using the weapon aim and fire it.

"Do you hunt with it?"

"No, I do not. I feel no need to kill for the sake of killing."

"Then why do you own this weapon?"

"I was long ago a soldier - one who defended the land he lived in from people who would take it away or hurt the people living there. I did this for many years."

"You killed other men?"

"Yes. I am not proud of it and did not enjoy it."

"You were Velg'larn?" she asked with an expression of horror. "Why would you do something so horrible?"

"I did it because, in the world of men there is much evil and hatred. Your sister Safyr can tell you this. There were many who would kill those who had no way to defend themselves - I was one of the ones who stood between the helpless and the evil. I had to kill to stop others being killed. I do this no longer - this weapon and the others have not been used fo rthat purpose for many years. Now, it is only if I or those I love are threatened - I would never kill or hurt for no purpose."

"So you did, but not anymore...yet you ask me to fix this? Why?" she demanded, her eyes changing from calm green to icy pale blue, and expression matching.

"Why? The why is simple. Through no fault of my own or of those I love and care for we are put in danger from evil. This evil must be stopped if they are to live, and it is my honor to be able to stand between the light and the dark - to stop the evil from harming those I love. However, because I am old, my skills are not as strong as they once were. This is why I come to you - for your help to fit my weapon to me so that my age is not an issue. I want no one to die because my hand shakes or my eye is not as sharp as it was."

"Swear to me that you are a S'argt. Swear to me on something precious that I will believe. Glytch swears you to be a man of honour, so make his belief in you worth something."

"I swear. I swear on my love for all of these people,and for the woman you helped this morning in the coal cellar - she is my mate. I swear on my own life - if you find me untrue you have the right to kill me - and I will stand and accept my punishment because I will deserve the pits of Hades for my misdeeds."

Emerauld stared at him, at the old soldier standing firmly at attention, at the implicit pleading in the steady gaze he focused on her.

"I will do this, but should you break faith, this will fail you, S'argt. Remember it."

Al's knees nearly buckled from relief. This was wonderful - if Emerauld could fit the stock to him as he was, then he'd get back the precision he needed. Collateral damage was not going to be acceptable in this fight - if it happened it would make them as bad as the drug scum. Every shot needed to be true - and this made it possible if his nerve and heart was true.

"I will not fail in your trust. Thank you, Emerauld."

"I require one more thing of you. Show me how to dismantle it and return it to form."

With that, Al kneeled on the forest floor. Emerauld reached into her pack and extracted a large square of the patchwork leather. Using the tools he had in his pockets, Al disassembled and reassembled the old Lee-Enfield, showing the elf how things came apart and went together. After that, she asked him to hold it up as if to fire, and with a string from her pouch she made measurements - arm length, shoulder to eye height, angles for hand-eye relationship and so on.

She said "Come back here in two days - I will do what I can in that time. Remember - if you fail in your oath - it will fail you. Mark my words and take them to heart."

With that, she, the Lee-Enfield and the tools were gone.