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Seeing as everyone else is making preparations... Glytch is too. No... It's not a Death Ray...

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Glytch sat very still on his bed, putting his not inconsiderable mind to work. First, he carefully reconstructed the Pillsbury A-mill as he saw it during his recon trip with Al and Billens... Then, he modified the simulation to display the building as it was now - renovations complete. Then, he created a generic wedding scene in the hall... Filling every chair with a person, randomly making them either a civilian, a cop, a vulnerable para, or an invulnerable para.
He placed himself in the middle of the seating arrangement.
Then... He simulated an attack. Remembering Magneto's line in one of the X-Men movies, he sent the pawns first - humans and weak paras, making them harder to disable or more dangerous as the attack went on.
Glytch imagined himself and tried to figure out how he would best survive while still helping - running away was not an option.
Distance was most important. Vulnerables would likely be herded into a safer area deeper in the building. He would guard their rear while simultaneously creating distance between him and the enemies.
Then he would take the time to get ready - don the scale armor (Safyr refused to acknowledge that it was too light to be metal), sling the quiver across his back and tighten the strap, and ready his bow.
He would find high ground near the front of the ceremony, around the altar, no doubt. That would be his vantage point. He would shoot to stop, not to kill... But as the enemies got tougher or more dangerous, the closer they were able to get to Glytch. He tried to imagine himself using an arrow as a melee weapon like Legolas... And it just didn't make sense. All he could do was stab, and he had too short a reach with no means of blocking - trying to block a big weapon with an arrow shaft was rediculous. He didn't want to start using his bow as a club - that was a last resort. So... What to use in close quarters?
Glytch furrowed his brow, sweating slightly from the effort of the simulation, and searched through the piles and piles of seemingly useless knowledge he had accumulated... He wasn't skilled enough to wield a knife. He wasn't strong enough to wield a club. He wasn't fast enough to use a cattle prod, and some of the paranormal enemies would doubtlessly shrug off a shock like it was an annoying fly... But what about...
Aha... Ooh, you cruel, nasty, ingenious bastard, you... That oughta do the trick...

Glytch broke out in a twisted, crazed grin and headed out of his room to search for the parts he needed.

First, he rifled through the contents of the desk in the office. One of the drawers contained a TI-82 calculator... A little big, but he could make due with it. He plugged it into his laptop and wrote a dead simple program - a random number generator with three different outputs based on if the number generated was a 0, a 1, or a 2. He unplugged the calculator and dropped it into his bag.
Next, he searched through the house, eventually going into the basement to find a large, sturdy metal Mag-Lite. He dumped out the contents and dropped the metal case into the bag.
Then he went to the workshop where he had built his horrendous alarm... He found a large box of LED Christmas lights and took out a bundle, dropping the whole thing into his bag. Then he found the old laptop he had cannibalized for his alarm and took the rest of the circuit boards... And the cooling fan. Finally, he found one of those big flashlights with a handle like a suitcase and took the battery.

Everything gathered, he made his way to the workshop table and got out the soldering gun... All the while laughing softly to himself, grinning like a madman.

Quite a while later, the device was finished... the calculator, circuit boards, cooling fan, and battery were all taped together, with a bundle of wires from the Christmas lights leading into the back of the mag-lite, attaching to another circuit board, which powered a disk packed full of LED's... Three colors: red, blue, and green. Glytch turned it on using the button on the mag-lite... The LED's flashed in a rapid strobe pattern, switching colors faster than his eyes could keep up with. The mere reflection of the light off of the rest of the workshop was enough to give him a headache.
He went to a bathroom with the device, lifted the toilet lid, and took a steadying breath.
"Only one way to find out for sure..." Glytch grimaced before pointing the flashlight at his face and pressing the button.

The effect was immediate and intense. Glytch found himself blinded, dizzy, sweating, and...

He leaned over the toilet and hurled his breakfast with gusto. Once he was finished, he flushed and sat against the wall, panting.

"It works!" Glytch grinned weakly as he heard pounding footsteps coming toward the bathroom.

Nodaki finished the last preparations for his vision quest- using the ritualistic magic of a necromancer, he had painted the circle and rünes with innocent blood to summon a reference figure... sacrifices had breached the division between the world of spirit and the world of flesh-

Now it was a matter of who showed up-

A dark haired, blank eyed creature with shoulder spikes emerged from the circle. Her facial markings were that of a demi-goddess, her demeanor that of a seer, an oracle.
"Thymbris!... what a surprise!" his voice cold and humorless, "you can tell me my future, correct?"
"Who takes me from my duties? I cannot see beyond the veil of your circle... aha! You left your signet- Nodaki, what makes you summon me?"
"I have plans to be immortal- will they succeed? I need to know if I am to live forever,"
Thymbris went through her bolt of threads to find the one connected to he who was once supreme ruler of Kings- "... you have been busy... and destructive... my hands are soiled from touching your thread... have you no remorse for those who you destroy?"
"There is only power and those who seek it- all else is nothing... now, will I succeed or not?"
"I have heard that reasoning before, and never has good come of it. You think yourself wiser than the one who made you?"
"ANSWERE MY QUESTION! YOUR ARE BOUND TO DO SO!"
"I am truly bound to help you, to turn you from your path. You seek that which is worse than death for yourself, but are too blind to understand it. Very well, on your head be it-
You will indeed become immortal. You will never cross the Styx with Charon, nor know the company of those departed,"
"GOOD! Your verbal dancing may come to an end- go back from whence you came,"
She disappeared before she could add,
"You shall wish for death before the Winter Solstice, and crave it through eternity..."

GlytchMeister wrote:The effect was immediate and intense. Glytch found himself blinded, dizzy, sweating, and...

He leaned over the toilet and hurled his breakfast with gusto.

Heh! In Panshin's "Rite Of Passage", protagonist Mia comments that the ultimate hand weapon would be a device that you could point at an enemy to totally disrupt his sense of balance. "All that he could do is lie in a puddled heap and puke." It sounds as if Glytch's Bucha zapper would qualify!

Of course, Glytch is taking a terrible risk. I'm not sure even the defenses of the entire Alexander estate and the friendly-paranormal community would be able to stand off a gang of lawyers equipped with heavy-calibre heavy-calibre patent infringement lawsuits!

Dave wrote: Of course, Glytch is taking a terrible risk. I'm not sure even the defenses of the entire Alexander estate and the friendly-paranormal community would be able to stand off a gang of lawyers equipped with heavy-calibre patent infringement lawsuits!

Independent line of development - prove the infringement...

In short, come and get it....

That, and the thing is so ugly the lawyers would be embarrassed to even imply it was a threat to their client's brand... And the fact that Glytch isn't planning on selling it, because he knows it's already been patented.

He discovered the concept from an old episode of Modern Marvels.

{Thanks to Al for helping out with this - he wrote the whole thing, I just did some tiny edits}


Soon after the wedding shower Al was relaxing back in his alcove, looking out on the snow-covered fields. A good bit of work serving the ladies, a bit of breakfast, and he would soon be ready to go back to work.

Bud approached, John in tow. Al was immediately on guard – he did not dislike the young man, but the power he controlled would not let Al forget it for a second. As such, he was on a personal list Al had of things to be on guard of – women’s questions on suitability of clothing, Lanthian artifacts and religious proselytizers being on this list.

“Al, hate to bother you, but we need your help – and we need it now.”, Bud began.

“We have been all over the Twin Cities trying to fit John with suitable clothing for the wedding and that is simply not happening. We need to take him to your tailor – from what Daisy said of what she saw, this is about the only chance we have of getting anything right for the wedding – and I for one do not want to be embarrassed.” With this, Bud shot John a warning look, which he saw and understood.

Al was dismayed. He had no doubt Prescott’s could handle the task, but it would not be inexpensive, and he was concerned about the amount of damage his relationship to Prescott’s would take in the process. Accepting it as a need he remarked “Very well, but let me make some things clear up front. This is a respectable establishment, and you will be treated with respect. You WILL return that respect, understand?”

John, half paying attention, nodded. Bud nodded as well, realizing that they were treading on very personal ground.

“Let me make a phone call – they’re near closing there, and I’ll have to ask them to stay open late. They’re used to doing this and the fact I just bought my clothing there will help.”

Al walked off to make the call and Bud looked up at her tall charge.

“You heard what he said, right? Respect, behave and don’t mess it up. This is important to him and he’s being nice helping. Got it?”

John nodded absently, acknowledging the conversation, adding nothing but a slightly exasperated "yeah."

Al bustled back, coat and hat on. “They’re going to stay open for us – I asked them and to be honest they’ll expect a healthy tip for it, but I don’t see that as a problem. We need to go now. Have you ever been to London, Bud? I can get us there through the Underground and the Library, but that will take time we don’t have.”

“No, I haven’t, Al... At least not recently enough to navigate by memory... but I can get us there. I had a look at Google Maps and found us an alley in a side street – that should do for a landing spot. Bud took the hands of the two men, looking like the short straw in a bundle, and with a POIT! they were gone.

--------------

They landed in the alley, poorly lit and cleared, but quite empty. Bud said, “We’re behind the Burberry store in New Bond Street” Al sniffed disdainfully; it was just Bond Street to him, "and we’re about a block from your tailor.” She led the way out of the alley, took a left and a few steps found them on Bond Street.

Al looked around and oriented himself, then took a right and said “Follow me.” They were a mismatched set walking down the street – the relatively tiny girl, the elderly Brit and the tall, saturnine man.

A block’s walking put them in front of Prescott’s, window sporting a CLOSED sign but the lights still on. Al tried the door, and finding it open ushered them in.

“Good evening. Good to see you again, Mr. Richer – Prescott’s is as always at your service.”

“Good evening. This is Ms. Budur, and the tall gentleman is Mr. Smith – and it is for him we seek your expertise. He will be attending the same function I purchased my tuxedo for – and I fear time is again of the essence.”

The rubicund gentleman looked John over with a critical and measuring eye. John stared back with indifference tinged with a bit of irritation and Al noticed this with concern.

Speaking to John, the clerk said, “I’m afraid we will not have a tuxedo to suit you off the peg, and one could not be prepared in less than two weeks.” Regarding John again, the worthy remarked “I do believe if acceptable we might have one of a number of cuts of very nice linen suits that could be prepared at short notice. With the right accessories, sir would cut a very fine figure if black tie were not required.”

“I don’t care – just give me something and let’s get this over with. I don’t really care what I look like – the less conspicuous the better.”

The clerk was taken aback and a bit flustered. “If the young gentleman feels the need to be nondescript then perhaps he should not be here. This firm has been in business nearly two hundred years dressing the best of British society for their roles in government and the military.”

Damnit, there I go again... I gotta get better at this... John cringed inwardly at the worthy's reaction.

With that, Al stepped forward and asked, “Could we have a moment, please? I do believe your suggestion is a good one – if you could bring out a few in black and suitable accessories and let us have a look that would be very good.” The worthy walked away, glad to be away from John and his brusque manner, and disappeared into the stock area to hunt up suits that might serve.

Al was beyond irritated, he was downright angry at John’s treatment of the clerk.

“Look, you. I have had a half-century relationship with this firm, and I will not have you mucking it up by acting like a prat. These are skilled and learned tradesmen who are here for the express purpose of making people – YOU – look good and feel comfortable.

If you do not understand or do not know what you might like then ASK THEM, or ask ME. There is no embarrassment in that given what you do not remember. These men are professionals at this – I trust them implicitly.

If you persist with this behaviour I will wash my hands of you. I can recommend an Oxfam shop in SoHo that might have clothes to fit you, but I will not extend myself further if this persists. Do I make myself very clear?”

He was clear indeed, John realized.

“Crystal... I...apologize. This is so different from anything I even remember, never mind from what I’m used to...I’ll be good.”

“Do so. Remember what I said about the Oxfam shop.”

When the clerk returned John was much more tractable and stated frankly that he had no idea what would make him look good. Gauntlet picked up the rubicund clerk became almost cheery, having John try on jackets to see what looked good on him. With advice from Al they settled on a black linen suit, white starched shirt and thin conventional tie – emphasizing his stature and broadening his shoulders. With the addition of John’s cloak this would be a striking ensemble and he’d fit in well with the slightly odd dress of the other guests.

The pants were another matter – nothing immediately to hand fitted well at the waist yet left enough pant for properly fitting cuffs. A larger pair was sourced and those fitted, with shoes from the store’s stock added so that the proper break could be set in the pant legs.

With the suit came a bewildering array of accessories – jewelry, shirt, tie, braces, underwear, socks and the shoes.

Fitting completed and an appointment to pick it up the next day set, the clerk asked “Will Mr. Smith be opening an account?” Bud chuckled slightly and said, “No, we’ll be paying now. Please charge it to this.” and handed the clerk the MIB Black charge card. The clerk rang up the purchase, with John blanching slightly at the price of the suit and accessories that went with it.

“Ah, the price of male beauty.” Al quipped, seeing the number. In an aside to Bud he said “Tip at least 20%, and make sure you add a line item of a hundred quid for the late hours.” Bud, bemused by the rituals of what she thought should have been simple, agreed and signed the slip after adding the amounts Al suggested. John, after taking a surreptitious elbow to the ribs from Bud, cleared his throat. "Arg... um... Thanks, uh, for helping me out and staying late."

Transaction finished, the trio headed out into the dark street. On the walk back Bud remarked "I think I need to come back here and do a bit of shopping for myself,” eyeing the fashions, jewelry and perfumes in the lit shop windows they passed.

Back to the corner, down, into the alley and again linking hands the trio disappeared, a POIT! lingering on the wind for a second or two to mark their passing.

Just Old Al wrote:Independent line of development - prove the infringement...

Patent infringement (or not) doesn't depend on whether the line of development was different or similar or identical. It depends only on whether the details of the (allegedly infringing) device match the claims in the patent.

Of course, proving the infringement would require that the lawyers get their hands on Glytch's flashy-thingy to study it, and see if it actually incorporates all of the elements covered by the patent claims. I agree that's unlikely to happen, under the circumstances.

If Glytch managed to avoid using even one of the elements required by all of the claims in the patent, he'd be on safe ground... safe from the lawyers, at least. All he'd have to worry about is a psychopathic golem cutting off his head and sticking it up on a pike.

Thanks Dave, he feels SO much better now

It'd be one thing to commit patent fraud, if the item in question was probably going to last long enough to be reproduced...

EDIT: By the way - if we were to start on the wedding and battle today, we would probably still go over 300 pages in book format...

Tolkien, Pratchett, Martin and Gygax would be proud...

jwhouk wrote:It'd be one thing to commit patent fraud, if the item in question was probably going to last long enough to be reproduced...

And as a practical matter, the patent lawyers very seldom go after someone who is not producing the item for sale or trade . . . partly because they don't even know about it.

jwhouk wrote:EDIT: By the way - if we were to start on the wedding and battle today, we would probably still go over 300 pages in book format...

Tolkien, Pratchett, Martin and Gygax would be proud...

Not to mention David "It takes me 500 words to clear my throat" Eddings . . .

--FreeFlier

jwhouk wrote:EDIT: By the way - if we were to start on the wedding and battle today, we would probably still go over 300 pages in book format...

Tolkien, Pratchett, Martin and Gygax would be proud...

Holy crap - I'm a better liar than I thought...

WOO!

I am definitely getting a copy of this printed and bound to go with my other publications.

THANK YOU JH for your work collecting it. I appreciate your diligence.

---
Sarah returned from the impromptu wedding shower that afternoon. I was too busy sleeping away the entire week. I'd had to work more double shifts since November 1st than I had in my entire career prior to this – much to the chagrin of Suzie, Lily and Billens.

Billens had quietly stated after he'd tagged along with me for the one double shift that he'd rather face off against Bolethius than deal with the kids I had to deal with.

"Welcome to my world," had been my response. At least he'd been the one to drive the LTD that day, so I could try and rest on the drive home.

I had been out and about that afternoon, and decided to swing by church – not to see if anyone was there for anything, but for the other purpose. I figured I'd maybe try getting a chai latte at Tina's cart on my way back.

Entering, I made my way to the lobby. I'd made a habit of touching Joan of Arc's hand as I went into the stacks to the Great Hall. It was a silly thing, but I found the concept of having the statue here, in "The Library", comforting.

What wasn't comforting, though, was what I'd been hearing from Neil and the refugees of Club Alexander. This Bolethius guy was bad news. He was older than the hills – from what I'd gleaned of the scripts that Nicodeums reluctantly allowed me to see, the whole ordeal with Lanthis had happened well before the Deluge.

"Moses left out a great deal of information in the time between Adam and Noah," was his only response to my queries. "He was only intent on showing the family line of Jacob."

I reached the Great Hall quickly – the Library always knew when the stacks were superfluous – and immediately sought out Phix.

"She's at the Alexander household," Tsillah said, emerging from the shadows behind me. "So is Neil. She's been spending a lot of time down there, in the time leading up to Shelly's wedding."

"She keeps it up, she'll forget how to be a Librarian when she gets back," I joked.

"I doubt that," she said somewhat flatly. "But everything with this golem threat has her a bit spooked."

"That was what I'd wanted to talk to her about, honestly," I said, looking at the shadow girl. "I'm a bit hesitant to show up at the wedding, knowing it's probably going to be a war zone before the end of the day." I took a deep breath. "I'd rather spend 16 hours at work."

"I can't tell you no one will get hurt," she said in response. "Nothing is completely certain. I learned that watching the Calendar Machine reset 56 times. I do know, however, that Bolethius is not going to succeed."

"How do you know that?" I asked.

"The Library is more powerful than you could ever understand," she stated. "He would not succeed if he ever tried to dominate this universe."

"Easy for you to say," I replied. "Which way to the Alexander portal again?" Tsillah waved her hand, and the schematics of the Library projected into the air.

"Floor 553, Aisle 59," Tsillah said. "Transporters are right over there." She pointed over to the one side of the Hall.

---

Incidentally, this is the statue in question:

WD (Wedding Day) minus 20- 0830hrs- Independence, Minnesota
Janet's Bridal Specialties.

For the fifth time, Shelly was completely unimpressed. THIS ensemble required somebody built like Monica, not her. Yes, they could take in the bust line to fit, but then you really couldn't tell the front from the back on the stupid thing.
"No... I really don't think so... let's try the Edwardian thing, see how that works," she said without enthusiasm.
"Miss, the sleeves on that will not fit your arms- we've already established that," commented the rather irritated clerk.
"Hmmm... you have nothing else? Blarge! Justin, why are we doing this ceremony thing? I forget..."
"So your Dad can walk you down the aisle, and that was your idea,"
"What was I thinking? And yet, I doubt the Twin Cities have anything better... "
"Miss, that last one could easily fit with just..." interjected the clerk.
"That LAST one looks like a tube top with ruffles!" Shelly burst out, "why are my biceps so damned intimidating to everybody?"
The clerk had also reached his limit- "Because between your skinny torso and massive arms, it's like trying to find a gown for Popeye the Sailor..."

"I DON'T CARE! HE INSULTED ME!" Shelly screamed as she got back in the car.
"OK! OK! But just let me check and see if he's still alive- damn, girl- I'm pretty sure you broke something on him..." Justin muttered as he slipped back into the shop.
Shell collapsed in the passenger seat and broke down into tears... and a slender hand reached over and tipped up her face.
"Indulging in self pity are we? THAT'S hardly anything new... and some fellow 'tells it like it is' and you erupt! There are Improvised Explosive Devices more stable than you! YOU need to get back in there and beg forgiveness before the lawyers descend upon you! THEN you need to choke down the biggest 'chill pill' you can manage! MOVE IT YOUNG LADY!!!"
Connie watched Shelly droop back into the shop... "For someone who spend all those ages in the time forest, you would think she might know something about patience... oh well, the selection here sucked anyway," she muttered to herself.

WD -20 0945hrs- Independence, Minnesota
Janet's Bridal Specialties

MIB people were on the situation as soon as the clerk regained consciousness. Neil applied his elixir and healed the man's jaw and teeth. His memory was scrubbed clean of Shelly Wahnee's visit. Meanwhile, a few miles down the road, Grandma Phix was delivering a high-octane sermon regarding controlling one's temper to a rather penitent young sphinx while several others tried to find a wedding shop that could accommodate a svelte twenty-something with Schwarzenegger biceps.
Annie was at her wit's end- "Everybody is BEYOND booked! Why the hell weren't you looking for this earlier?"
"GEE, I DON'T KNOW... MIGHT BE SOMEBODY TRYING TO KILL US WAS A LITTLE DISTRACTING, YA THINK?" Bellowed Shell.
"TUCK IT IN RIGHT THERE, LITTLE GIRL," Phix bellowed right back, "We're trying to help here, remember?"
Annie's phone fired off with a klaxon and a voice yelling, 'It's the HUSBAND!'
She picked it up- "Yes, handsome?... oh, nothing much, 'Miss Manners' here cleaned a clerk's clock with one punch... well yea, MIB is all over it... well, he did get a bit rude there, regarding Shelly's physique... <not here>.... her arms! Dear, her arms are bigger around than yours!... yes, Edwardian 'mutton chop' sleeves would hide them nicely, but nobody makes them big enough,"
There was a moment where Annie silently absorbed information from the other end. "Gotcha," she finally said and hung up," head back to the nearest portal- we're going to Idaho,"
"What's in Idaho?" asked Shelly.
"The Amazing Miss Debbie- proprietor of "Stitch in Time"... she is in her slack season right now,"
"She does Weddings?"
"In five different Centuries... she does re-enactment wardrobe. Edwardian gowns are always popular,"

Please refer back to here if the following confuses you. The Library is more than what it seems...
---
The transporter took me right to the floor and stack. I emerged, somewhat surprised I wasn't immediately in front of the portal exit lobby. I found the aisle, and began the trek down to the exit.

The walk gave me some time to think. Since returning to work, I'd been stuck working longer than I'd ever wanted to, in the twenty-plus years I'd worked the job. The little two week "vacation" had not helped. Returning to work had proved especially tough, since we were already incredibly short-staffed. I came back and worked five shifts in three days.

I'd been a bit snippy with some of the group on Friday night. Everyone was on edge as it was, and this new threat was more than that idiot Tempelhoffer had ever been.

Of course, what I'd heard Friday morning when I'd left work was less than encouraging: there'd been some sort of incident down at RYOC. Tempelhoffer (the younger) had been involved. He was injured – badly. I hadn't heard anything about his father, but I suspected he wasn't going to take it very well.

I was getting tired of all of this. Working constantly, the threat of reprisals that still hung over all of us on that "list" – and now a guy hell-bent on…

"Enough, Joseph."

I stopped in my tracks.

"Your anger and frustration isn't why I did what I did for you," the voice said. "It saddens me to see you hurting yourself – and others – the way you are."

"You do realize I'm facing possible death, here, right, Lord?" I replied. "This isn't me having to work 16 hours every night and day…"

"I am aware of that, Joseph," came the reply. "'For your sake I face death; I am considered as sheep to be slaughtered.' Nicodemus could tell you the truth in that statement."

"Am I going to have to wait as long as David did for peace?" I retorted. "Maybe I don't have Saul chasing me, wanting me dead…"

"Saul was defeated. This arrogant one will be defeated. On earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world."

I was spinning around, expecting to see the source of the voice. Nothing.

"You're looking in the wrong place, Joseph." I stopped in my tracks. "I'm with you always. I will never leave you, forsake you, forget you."

"So… what am I supposed to do?"

"Go to the wedding. What harm can they do? They may take your body, but can they do anything to your soul?"

I looked around for a moment, and found myself at the exit to the Library.

"Oh, and Joseph? Let Cornelius know – I forgave him. He needs to forgive himself."

I stopped for a moment. I suddenly realized my face was drenched with tears. I did my best to wipe up with my hankie in my back pocket before stepping through the door and into the Alexander household.

Cavin's hasty retreat from the dining room led him out to the front vestibule. Pausing for a moment, he thought he saw a figure walking away from the Centaur quarters – one that was most definitely not a centaur.

And, since she did not look anything like that other Drow he'd seen last night, it must be Emereauld.

He grabbed his coat from one of the hooks – even Fae couldn't stand the seemingly eternal Minnesota winters – and dashed out into the courtyard.

From his days of drug running – and avoiding police – he knew better than to try and simply run after her. She'd put on her afterburners, or use whatever spells she had to avoid him.

No, he knew what he needed to do: avoid being seen by her until he had found wherever she was basing herself from.

He had no doubt it was somewhere on the Alexander estate. He knew for a fact that the dark elvish activity he'd heard about had been centered here – something that others wouldn't know of, because only the Fae and the Drow understood the tell-tale signs.

He sniffed for a moment. The pair had obviously laid some magical snares – those would be no problem to avoid or evade. But there was something else that didn't quite make sense.

It was something human made, but it was about three shades closer to supernatural tech than he'd ever seen before. Curious, he pulled out his bag of carrying from the pocket of his coat. The people at Rochester had made him empty it when he got there, but he'd gotten most of the stuff that was in it back.

Including the multimeter and infrared scanner he'd filked from a supply store in Hudson.

He'd rigged the scanner to not only read out temperature of a surface, but to lead in to the multimeter – essentially, to be able to see if there were electric wires or cables underground. It was the kind of setup that electric companies like Xcel Energy used to mark underground power lines; except the way he had it set up, he could literally "see" where electric current flowed.

His "good" antennae shot up when he realized that there was a rather passive group of "trip sensors" set up around the perimeter of the house. Whoever set these up had made something that was easy to put together, simple to trigger, and – if the wi-fi strength signal he was getting was any indication – easy to notify via short-range alarm.

He looked around for a moment. There was some sort of small device set up by one of the end corners of the stables. Line of sight, it appeared. He thought about it for a bit – then, after considering his options, he came up with a plan.

He knew he'd be able to find Emerauld – Drow had a scent that was unmistakable to the Fae – but getting around the sensors…

…would require him to be something a bit smaller.

He dropped to his small, 18" height. He'd learned how to make the clothes shrink with him long before his accident, so that was no issue.

What he'd have to do next was going to prove even more difficult, though. Fortunately, a squirrel that had appeared on one of the trees edging the estate provide him a template.

In short order he'd figured the pattern to the sensors – there was a gap that led to a small clearing in the woods, away from the main estate.

And it reeked of Drow.

Bingo.

Stanley was lounging briefly at Mucho Mocha, happy to see his "girl" back in her element as she took orders for coffee and made small talk with her regulars – all who were telling her how much they'd missed her while her shop was closed.

He was in mid-sip when his phone activated. It was a message from the intruder system he'd set up around the Alexander Estate. He swiped and tapped so quick he nearly spilled his precious caffeination on the phone.

The reading presented wasn't a warning alarm. Some of the squirrels that frequented the trees lining the estate had become enamored with his temporary contraptions, and had tripped them several times since that last little incident with… Well, he still wasn't entirely sure what it was, though that Safyr lady had called it a "wan-tee" or something.

He brought up a video feed of one of the passive trail cameras. It showed a squirrel, moving about and making a mad dash for a tree.

Yep, doesn't appear to be anything, he thought. And if it is anything, it appears to be heading for Safyr's camp. She has her own defenses in place.

He put the phone down and happily sipped on his cup of coffee.

(I know I'm using the characters of others, but for the purposes of this little side story - which is why we're at OVER 300 PAGES and counting - I think I've got the spirit of it down. Dinky can yell at me where I screwed up. Blame that Drow translator for any textual issues, though...
EDIT: Okay, she didn't yell at me, but she did help with some of Eme's brain function... )
---
Emerauld heard a commotion outside the camp. The various animals that populated the woods in the estate were usually active at night, but some took advantage of the morning sun to gather and hunt as best they could.

She stepped out of the hut for a moment. Some gray squirrels were running around, going from tree to tree in what appeared a slightly haphazard manner. She found this odd, then smiled as she realized what this meant.

"Fae Foxglove, enter in peace. Your glamours give you away," she called out.

"You ain't the one I wuz worried 'bout, kid," Cavin said as he emerged from behind a tree. "Looks like one of tha humans has a nice surveillance system set up 'round the estate."

"It has served them well, from what the one called 'Stan-li' speaks," she replied, a smirk forming. Kid? she thought, thoroughly amused. "You have aged much since last I saw you."

"Well, life's kinda thrown me a curveball or two, Eme," he replied. "Kinda thought I'd stop by an' say hello, formally."

Emerauld raised an eyebrow at the Fae. "What do you mean, 'curveball'?" She wasn't familiar with some of the idioms in common.

"Usstan inbalus biu accident p'luin udos vaen tha (I had an accident after we last met)," he told her. "Usstan noamuth biu antennae (I lost an antennae)."

Emerauld's eyes widened – not only at his speaking in Drow, but in the very information he gave.

"Dos inbal xunor al yol l'ust vreza ji verve ish'o. Ves al xunor. Uriu dosst dalninil fared 'zil al xuil ol? Conversing orn'la tlu ji jivvin, 'zil F'sarn k'jakr unboius doeb d'draeval ghil, lu'haska nindol i'dol, Usstan shlu'ta screa sel 'common'...nau, English ol zhah ghil, 'zil dos gumash 'bgualyiz xor deive nindol i'dol. Zighen nindel, younglings zao'n uns'aa mzil sel klezn... (You have done well since the first lesson so long ago. Very well done. Has your sister fared as well with it? Conversing would be so fun, as I'm still stepped out of time here, and talking this way, I can learn new 'common'...no, English it is here, as you could correct or instruct this way. Imagine that, younglings teaching me many new things...)"

She paused for a moment, realizing what the Fae had just told her.

"Usstan ssiggrin nindel resulted wun kristass aphyon whol natha Fae? (I thought that resulted in instant death for a Fae?)" she replied, her hand rising to her mouth in astonishment.

"Ol xunus naut ulu nindol uss (It did not to this one)," he explained. He then coughed a bit. "Damn fricatives. How you Drow came up with that language, I'll never understand."

Emerauld could not help but laugh. Only in this world is she considered Drow, and not a dreaded "half elf" with a spit in her general direction.

"I dunno what all your sister told you," he continued. "But I spent a good chunk of the time since we last met either in jails or other 'rehabilitation centers' – yeah, you don't want to know," he said, recognizing her confused look at the term. "I jus' now got out – mostly coz I was helpin' the MIB and the paras find out about the guy who put the bounties on everyone."

"You always had an odd accent, Fae Cavin," she smiled. "It sounded much cuter when you were younger."

"Yeah, well, you were cuter when you were younger, too," Cavin retorted with a bit of a smirk. Emerauld giggled; he KNEW she's much, much older than he.

"Hey, Calista reminded me before she headed home…"

"Calista was here?"

"Yeah, we ate dinner at the house last night."

"Not a bit fair!" she wailed. "Safyr was supposed to bring her here with her Mentor and Friends, and I was supposed to... entertain the 'cute little stinkweed' as her sister calls her, while all was explained.

"Then there would be tea and seedcake! I made seedcake! I am hoping you both still like seedcake.

"Safyr was afraid you would fear me after that night in the Willows. And that you would be upset she feared you right into a buncha 'lousy coppers' who would 'throw da book atcha and dump ya into the 'Grey bar Motel'. I told her to talk to your sister, and that she would help explain things. One never expected you to figure all so quickly."

Cavin waved his hands in front of him, dismissively. "No, it's nothin' like that. I figger thing out pretty quick. Even wit' my lost antenna, I kept my wits about me. An' I remembered everything." He raised an eyebrow - and antennae - at her. "Everything."

Emerauld realized exactly what he meant by that.

"Neil – the Centurion – wanted me to stay over the weekend an' ask me a few questions about things. Anyways – Calista wanted me to ask you about those herbs an' plants you'd promised her?"

"I have never forgotten. Of course." She ducked back into the hut briefly and pulled out her sack. Opening it, she drew out two satchels – one was for the herbs, one for the plants.

"You gots one o' dem too, huh?" He motioned at the sack, then drew his own out – slightly smaller than hers, but obviously of the same material. "Bag o' Holding. Lot bigger inside than out. I personally love it."

"They are infinitely easier for you to acquire than I, Friend Foxglove, but as they say in Common, 'Challenge accepted.' But… would it not get you in trouble having one in... jail? It's not an ideal bag for one who has been convicted of crime to carry," Emerauld said as she handed the two satchels over to Cavin, who promptly fit them in his bag.

"Yeah, well, they did make me clean it out at Rochester, 'fore I came in. They were a bit more aware of 'magical' things like this – but they let me keep it."

Emerauld did not recognize the place name, but decided it not to be important.

"I am truly sorry for what happened to you, Fae Cavin," she said quietly. "Though I am surprised you are still among the living."

"I'm surprised about it too, at times," he said, stowing the bag back in his coat. "But I'm sure you've heard about my family's 'doctors' and their progressiveness in paranormal science."

"I believe the term Safyr uses is 'experimenting'."

"Well, it gave me a new antennae – and it also gave me back my sanity." He paused a moment. "Usstan zhahus wun natha ushdui k'lar, au jal l'draeval, Emerauld (I was in a crazy place, near all the time, Emerauld)."

"Orn'la nindel Usstan zhahen gaer ulu xxizz. (Would that I were there to help)," she whispered. "Perhaps these," she showed him the runes glittering, completely covering her hands and up past her wrists, "would not have taken root so firm in hand and heart."

Cavin looked in wonder, as he remembered it as a single rune on the back of each hand.

"L'jiv'undus z'klaen inbal tlus hanfir (The pain must have been horrible)," she stated. He only nodded.

"Now – if I may be so bold as to ask: how do I get out of here and back to the main house?"

She giggled.

"Leave that to me," she said, taking his hand. "But before you go, are you and your sister still fond of seedcake? I have some here that could use a home."

The two walked into the woods back to the house, as a lone squirrel looked at the pair with disinterest.

---
I emerged from the portal door into an empty dining room. I had heard that all were supposed to be out and about today; Shelly's dress was proving more difficult than anticipated to find. And knowing what I did of her temperament...

I went over and poked my head in the kitchen, seeing Rosalita putting away some dishes from the previous meal.

"Senora Rosalita," I interrupted, making myself known. "Do you know where Neil may..."

As soon as she turned, her eyes widened - and in a flash she was down on her knees.

"...Uh, Rosalita?" I asked briefly. "Are you all right?"

"...Dios te salve, Maria, Llena eres de gracia, El Seńor es contigo..." She mumbled to herself, reaching down to hold her necklace.

Not this again, I thought. "Rosalita, it's all right - it's just me, Joseph Houk... I was just at the Library, I'm sorry if you..." I looked around, even as she continued to recite the Ave Maria. I grabbed a dishtowel that was hanging over the handle of the main stove and put it over my face, like a veil.

"Rosalita, it's okay, I have my face covered," I said, reaching down to touch her shoulder. She looked up with a start.

"Mister Joseph! What... what was that?"

"Something between me and the Library," I replied, holding the towel over my face. "Where is Neil?"

"Oh... Uh, I believe he is in the front parlor - his 'war room', as he calls..." Her eyes were still wide. "Senor Joseph - why is your face glowing behind the towel?"

"I think it's something similar to what happened with Moses," I replied. "Thank you for your help - I'm going to borrow this for a bit, if you don't mind?"

She looked down and waved. "Vaya con Dios," she said - quite literally, from the sounds of it.

I exited back to the dining room - and I don't think she got up off the floor for a while.