Active Plots (Alphabetical) - Updated 8/21/2010

Can't I Have Any Time? - (Eruantion Doriath [?], Amonost Doriath [?])

End of Solitude - (Verda Stelo [?])

No More Grape Soda - (Alex Dean [?], Samuel Jorgenson [?], Leon Mecheeto [?])

Questionable Means - (Tawny Black [?], Ishkan Ma'z)

Author	Comment
Tom Fender Member of SG&C Wandered the world like Caine from Kung-Fu and got into adventures Dominion Master 11/22/2014 2:38:37 AM Level: 18 Experience: 26800 Total Posts: 96	Tom Sniffed the Air Tom sniffed the air. He was standing in a grassy, open field, sniffing the air. A butterfly fluttered by, paying as much attention to him as he was to it, which was exactly none. He finished sniffing the air and turned to Chris and John who were kneeling in the grass nearby, holding the noses upon their respective, contorted faces. They were clearly downwind of a paper mill. But the paper mill was not their objective. "Are you going to tell us yet why we're here?" John asked. "No," Tom replied, "Because I don't know yet." "Forget this," John said, exasperated, and stood, "I'm going to get lunch." He trod off to the Jeep which was parked on a dirt road nearby. Chris stood up as well and turned to Tom, placing a reassuring hand upon his shoulder. "Tom," Chris elaborated, "I understand you have powerful psychic dreams of destiny and the like," his eyes were severe, "But it really smells here, and I have to get out of here." With a quick pat of the shoulder, he followed shortly behind John. Tom shrugged and caught up with the other two. They arrived at the parked Jeep wherein Jake was lounging about reading a magazine with his feet kicked up on the dashboard. He peered at them over his magazine. "How'd it go?" he asked. "As well as expected," John said, climbing aboard, "Let's eat." The others piled in. Chris fired up the engine and took off down the road.
John Gibson 2nd In Command of SG&C Out of Work, Apparently Dominion Master 11/22/2014 3:06:27 AM Level: 1 Experience: 0 Total Posts: 39	RE: Tom Sniffed the Air This dusty old freaking road in the driest section of Hirma was a nightmare for John's sensitive lungs when riding in the Jeep with the top down, which they, of course, were. At least they hadn't taken his Jeep, so cleaning it out later wasn't on him. "Where do you guys want to eat?" he choked, feeling road grit wearing at his tooth enamel. "I thought eating was your idea, so you pick," Jake muttered, not looking up from an issue of 'Shots of Shots', a liquor and guns publication that a guest had apparently left at Jake's inn, contributing to a two-foot-high stack of random bathroom reading material-slash-emergency toilet paper. (Glossy magazine paper is woefully ill-fitted for bathroom duty, Jake had discovered, but it might be better than nothing. Maybe.) "The Electric Griddle it is," John announced, "I need me some greasy pancakes and hashbrowns." "It's like four in the afternoon," Jake pointed out. "Stop pushing your archaic food limitations on me," John snapped. A short while later, they had seated themselves at John's favorite booth in the divey open-kitchen eatery known as The Electric Griddle. John ordered some bacon followed by a fat stack of pancakes (cooked in the bacon grease) and hashbrowns with cheese. Jake ordered a cheesesteak wrap and cola, Chris a hamburger and coffee, and Tom ordered the same thing he always ordered. Eight minutes and forty-three seconds later, food was before them, and they began to eat unceremoniously. The moment the rich goodness of syrupy, powdered-sugar-dusted pancake-cinnamon-roll-toast touched Tom's taste buds, he straightened up suddenly and his eyes filled with glowing, blue light. "The druids have the scrolls. Lives will be lost tonight. The paper mill. Only you can stop them!" Tom rambled. John's fork clattered to his plate, causing a scoop of hashbrowns to explode across the table. "This isn't one of your episodes, is it, Tom?" he asked. "Druids and scrolls aren't Tom's style," Chris said, "And I'm fairly sure he's never been able to make his eyes glow." The glow in Tom's eyes faded. With a slack jaw, his gaze slowly descended to his plate of pancake-cinnamon-roll-toast. He barely caught a string of drool before it escaped his mouth. "I'm really hungry," he said and began to devour the food on his plate. Jake continued to eat his hamburger, but the three of them stared at Tom expectatiously, if that were a word. Finally, Chris broke the silence. "Tom, you were saying something?" Tom looked up like a deer in headlights. "Fwuhf?" "Something about druids, scrolls, and lives being lost," Chris prodded. Tom gulped down a bite of food. "That doesn't sound like me," he said. "But you said druids have the scrolls and lives will be lost," Chris said. "Your eyes lit up like Batman's Patriot Act Goggles," Jake said. "Oh, that," Tom said, waving a hand dismissively, then his deer-in-headlights look returned. "Yeah, no, what?" "From the sounds of it, something's going to happen at that paper mill," Chris continued. Tom stood up as much as the booth and table allowed him to, which amounted to an awkward half-wall-sit. "I KNEW IT!" he shouted, pointing intensely at Chris. "I KNEW there was something going on there!" The cook looked over toward them at the sudden shouting, but when he realized it was just Tom, he turned back to troweling some hashbrowns on the griddle.
Chris Storms 1st In Command of SG&C Space Mercenary Dominion Master 11/25/2014 11:31:59 AM Level: 1 Experience: 0 Total Posts: 77	RE: Tom Sniffed the Air Chris sat looking at the end of Tom's finger, which was pointing directly between his eyes, causing Chris to go cross eyed. He shook his head and looked Tom in the face, which was sort of hovering above him, at an awkward angle.    "Sit down," Chris suggested. Tom did so, but his hand stayed directly in Chris' face. Chris finally swatted it away, but it didn't do much to deter Tom. With his other hand, Tom grabbed his fork and began to eat again, but never stopped staring at Chris, or putting his hand down.    "So, what are we going to do?" John asked. Tom's gaze and pointing hand snapped to John with a sudden ferocity that made John jump a little.    "Obfiusfy wurr gon bach to tuh miww. Duh," Tom said around a mouthful of french toast.    "I suppose we don't have much of a choice. I mean, he did say the Druids have the scrolls. Can't be letting that happen," Jake said, rolling his eyes.    Tom attempted to turn his gaze and finger at Jake, but wound up just slapping him in the face with his extended arm.    "Right," Tom agreed, not catching the sarcasm. Jake shoved Tom's arm out of his face.    "It's more the, 'lives will be lost' part that I was concerned with," Chris said, as Tom's finger flew back in his direction.    "Right," Tom said, again.    "Well, then we should get going," John suggested.    "Right," Tom said, and tried standing again, finally putting his arm down, but Jake blocked his way out.    "No, no, no. The last time you guys left in a hurry for a mission, I was stuck paying the bill. So, slap your tape down on the table first, and then we can go," Jake said, taking another bite of his burger. Tom removed a roll of duct tape from his pocket and slammed it down on the table, then proceeded to climb over the back of the booth and run out the door.    "Hey! Are you going to wash those seats?!" The owner in the back yelled out through the window. Chris, John, and Jake all quickly put their tape down on the table and joined Tom outside before the owner brought over the wash bucket.
Tom Fender Member of SG&C Wandered the world like Caine from Kung-Fu and got into adventures Dominion Master 11/25/2014 4:49:33 PM Level: 18 Experience: 26800 Total Posts: 96	RE: Tom Sniffed the Air The sun was low in the sky over the paper mill, casting an orange tint and long shadows across the landscape. The Jeep pulled up to the entrance of the mill and stopped. The chain link gate was wide open and no one was in sight. They drove through, coming to an empty dirt lot, apparently the employee parking lot. Chris parked the Jeep and let the engine idle. "Guess everyone's gone home," John observed, "So, no lives here to get lost." "'Cept ours," Jake offered. "Yeah, that." "All right," Chris said, cutting the engine and climbing out of the Jeep, "Let's check it out." Everyone else followed suit. They made their way to a small shack next to the large structure of the mill itself. A hand-painted sign hung over the door that read, "Office". Chris knocked politely on the door, "Anybo--", the door was unlatched, creaking open slightly with his knocks. His eyebrows shot up. John immediately withdrew his sidearm from its holster on his waistband but kept it hanging by his side. "Anybody else get that sudden feeling of dread?" John asked. Chris shrugged, pushing the door the rest of the way open, "Maybe they just forgot--" he stopped mid-sentence once he got a look inside the office. Every drawer in every desk and filing cabinet had been pulled wide open or thrown on the floor. Papers littered every surface. Someone had clearly been looking for something without regard for cleanliness. Or maybe someone just went on a childish tirade. "Come on, was that really necessary?" Jake asked, his voice tinged with anger. Chris found the light switch and flipped it on. The fluorescent ceiling lights struggled to their full brightness, emitting a constant electric buzz. "Maybe we shouldn't be here," John suggested, "In case anyone catches us and tries to pin this on us. We ain't got nothin' to do with this." An engine was heard starting outside. They rushed to the window to see a Chevy Suburban with tinted windows zipping across the yard from behind the mill, kicking up a huge cloud of dust. It accelerated through the entrance gate out onto the main road that wound into the surrounding forest. "Guess we startled 'em." Jake said. "Should we follow them?" John asked, looking to Chris. Chris looked to Tom. Everyone looked to Tom. Tom shrugged. "I guess." They burst out of the office, running full speed back to the Jeep. The engine roared to life. The Jeep bounced across the yard, adding to the already large dust cloud. It slid out onto the road and accelerated in the direction of the mysterious fleeing vehicle.
John Gibson 2nd In Command of SG&C Out of Work, Apparently Dominion Master 11/25/2014 9:42:10 PM Level: 1 Experience: 0 Total Posts: 39	RE: Tom Sniffed the Air "Do druids drive Suburbans?" John shouted from the back seat over the roar of the tires on the dirt and gravel. His teeth were gritty again. "There are definitely druids that can drive," Tom said, blinking hard. "Druids, not droids," John corrected. "Oh," Tom said. The SUV was making a pretty good clip despite the dirt road, but fortunately its occupants weren't ready to take it fast enough to lose the Jeep with its inline-six and Chris at the helm. Still, Tom was wishing that they were in his V8 CJ--if only it were in the condition to start at the moment. Jake pulled his folded up UMP from the floorboard and flipped the stock open. "Jake, what do you know about druids?" Chris asked. "They hug trees," Jake threw out, buying time to think, "Uh, they worship the planet and the animals and the energy that connects everything and all that hooey." "They're into the kind of magic that uses scrolls?" "Sure, some of them, but heck, I've met orcs that were into scroll magic." "Would they drive a pollutant vehicle?" Jake shrugged. "I wouldn't rule it out, but it seems kind of out of their lifestyle." The dirt road connected to a paved road up ahead, and the SUV barreled onto it without regard for the traffic signs or apparently for potential oncoming traffic. There was none, of course; it was the Hirma countryside. Regardless, Chris slowed for a moment to check that it was clear to pull out and then slammed on the gas. The SUV was shrinking into the distance. Fast. "They're getting away," Jake said. "I... am... aware," Chris grumbled, shifting furiously through the gear range, trying to squeeze out more acceleration. "If we had my Jeep..." Tom lamented. "Your Jeep doesn't run!" John said. "But if it did..." A few more bends down the road and the Suburban was no longer in sight. Chris didn't let off the accelerator. "Do you see 'em?" John called from the back. Chris didn't respond. "They're long gone," Jake answered in Chris's stead after a moment. Chris gritted his teeth and began to slow down to a safer speed. After some silence and time to compose himself, he spoke up. "Alright, we're going to head back to the mill. Whoever they were, they were there for something," he declared, slowed down, and made a U-turn to head back to the mill, "And they didn't find it in the office." It seemed to take a lot longer to make it back to the mill than it did to get to the road. The sun was nearly invisible below the horizon; the remaining light in the sky was a dull purple, and the mill was a black silhouette against it. The air was getting crisp. The four mercenaries climbed out of the Jeep and produced their flashlights, or, in Jake's case, flicked on his weapon light. Tom sniffed the air. "What is it, Tom?" John asked. "A paper mill," Tom stated. John simply nodded. "Alright, I'll check the office," John said, "You guys should head into the actual factory." The others nodded. "Keep an eye out," Chris said, and they headed across the parking lot to the larger, sturdier-looking structure a short distance away from the corrugated metal office. John headed back into the wrecked office. He stopped and surveyed the ransacked room, still lit in sickly fluorescent glow. His shoulders dropped. "Why did I pick the train wreck?" he asked himself. The inside of the mill was pitch dark; webs of machinery, pipes, and conduits broke up the boys' flashlight beams, confusing their eyes, and if the smell was choking outside, it was downright obscene inside. They checked the walls for a way to turn the lights on, and Jake soon found a long bank of switches. He swept his forearm up across the entire panel and the mill lit up. "Let's find something useful and get out of here, it smells like eight thousand swamp butts," he said. "Agreed," Tom said. He spotted what he guessed was the foreman's office, like a single-wide trailer suspended above the floor, presumably where the foreman could look down upon the worker peons beneath his iron thumb. "I'll take a look up there," he said, pointing. Chris nodded. "Jake, you and me start from opposite ends of the floor and sweep toward the middle." They split up. Tom climbed the steep metal staircase, like something you'd find in a naval vessel, and opened the office door. The blinds were shut and the lights were off. He felt the wall next to the door for a light switch and--bingo. The office was unkempt and smelled of aged butthole, like the rest of the plant. It looked like the group that high-tailed it out of here earlier had only gotten part of the way through their demolition crew act--about half of the room closest to the door had been ransacked, while the other half looked like it was in some semblance of order... if an angry bull could organize an office. "I," Tom lifted a finger and slowly pointed toward the marginally cleaner end of the room, "Will start over there." Amongst the manufacturing machinery, there was really nothing to see but green painted metal, and lots of it. Jake worked his way along the wall and came across a set of windows and a door to a dark section of the mill. He turned the door handle, but it wouldn't budge; locked. "Hey Chris," he called out. "Hey Jake," Chris replied. "Alright if I bust open a locked door?" "No explosives," was Chris's only specification. Jake braced and kicked like a pro; the poor little latch didn't stand a chance. Even though the smell of the pulp treatment chemicals was overbearing throughout the entire mill, he could tell the smell was different in here. It was a smaller room, with only a small amount of floor space, the rest taken up by a machine. He was no expert on paper machines, but it looked like a considerably downsized version of the behemoth machine taking up most of the factory floor space. The room seemed generally cleaner, and the paint on this machine was definitely a lot newer than the larger one on the main factory floor. In the foreman's office, Tom found a small safe hidden behind a poster of a night-elf woman wearing some kind of vegetation-based lingerie. Sadly, he forgot his safe-cracking drill rig in his other pants, so he moved on to some papers on the desk next to a computer. Trash, trash, trash, trash, trash. In the mini-factory room, Jake still hadn't found a light switch, but working with only the light coming in from the factory floor, something still caught his eye: engravings, packed densely across a flat metal plate welded on one end of the machine, running the width of the machine--about fifteen feet. They were just chicken scratches to him, but it was either an unfamiliar language or sigils. He touched them and ran his finger across them. They glowed under his touch. Sigils. He ran back to the door and leaned out, looking for Chris. "Chris! Take a look!" Jake whisper-yelled. Chris appeared from a catwalk crossing over the behemoth machine and hurried down the stairs to get to Jake. "Dude, there are magic sigils on a mini paper machine in here," Jake explained excitedly, leading the way inside. He pointed at the long plate. Chris leaned in close, shining his flashlight on the symbols. "What makes you think they're magic?" Chris asked. "Touched 'em," Jake said, "They glowed." Chris looked at Jake, eyebrows raised. "I hope it didn't give you cancer or something." "Forgot my portable MRI," Jake said, "Anyway, since this is a paper mill and somebody or something spoke through Tom about druids and scrolls... This place might be printing magic scrolls." "Could be," Chris agreed, shining the flashlight back at the sigils and inspecting them closely.
Chris Storms 1st In Command of SG&C Space Mercenary Dominion Master 11/26/2014 12:37:23 PM Level: 1 Experience: 0 Total Posts: 77	RE: Tom Sniffed the Air    Chris took out his phone and snapped a couple pictures of the printer, and more specifically, the sigils, and sent the pictures to Tom and John along with the message, "Any ideas what this could be? How's it going where you are?"    Chris and Jake looked around the room for any other bits of information, but there wasn't much in the room. It had been cleared out, except for the printer itself. Chris' phone buzzed with a reply a few minutes later. It was from Tom.    "Obviously it's for printing counterfeit scrolls. Who ever heard of printing magic scrolls? I'm only about a quarter of the way through this office. I didn't know there were so many girly magazines in Meeriad."    Jake read over Chris' shoulder. "Counterfeit? I mean, I suppose it makes sense. Perhaps the druids found out about it, and came to put a stop to it? They took all the scrolls they could find, and kidnapped the counterfeiters? It would line up with Tom's prophecy," Jake said. Chris scratched his chin. His phone vibrated again. It was a message from John.    "That's weird. I'm not finding much here. Some newspaper cutouts of articles about druids, but nothing too concrete. There's a reference to Nookiya Forest, but that's about it.    "Aw no. Not that place. It gives me the creeps. Remember what happened the last time we went there? All those orcs? And those two demons?" Jake moaned.    "Quit your whining. Let's head up and see if we can help Tom sort anything out," Chris said, heading for the door.
Tom Fender Member of SG&C Wandered the world like Caine from Kung-Fu and got into adventures Dominion Master 12/5/2014 3:31:45 AM Level: 18 Experience: 26800 Total Posts: 96	RE: Tom Sniffed the Air Chris and Jake climbed the rudimentary steel steps to the foreman's office above. As they entered, Tom was finishing up rifling through one of many thick stacks of paper on a desk. "If there are any clues here," he said, "They're probably in that safe." "Well, we can't exactly go busting open their safe. We're trespassing enough as it is," Chris said, "Let's head down to see if John's found anything." They all left the office. In the outside office, John was halfheartedly searching through papers that had been strewn across the floor. They were mostly invoices and packing lists. He paused abruptly, listening. He heard two car doors shut. Cautiously, he moved closer to a window to take a look outside. He saw two men armed with handguns, flannel button-up shirts, and looks of severe displeasure as they disembarked a Toyota sedan parked next to the Jeep. They headed his way. "Dang," he muttered, dodging out of sight. As the two men approached the office, Chris, Jake, and Tom came strolling out of the mill. They froze like startled animals. The two men trained their Glocks on them. "Hold it," one of them ordered, "What the slag are you doing here?" "Umm," Chris offered. "Awk-waaard..." Jake whispered out of the corner of his mouth. "We heard some druids have scrolls," Chris explained, "And someone might die here tonight." "And only we can stop them," Tom added. "Right," Chris confirmed, "So we came to check it out." The two men cast quick, bewildered glances at each other. "Well, you're trespassin'," the first one said. "And you best not reach for those weapons," the other suggested. "We're definitely not looking for a fight," Chris assured them, making sure to keep his hands visible. The others followed suit, though Jake was visibly unhappy about being caught off-guard like this. "You need to beat it," the first one said, "Is anyone else here?" "Someone is in the office over there," Chris motioned with his head, "That's all." "Tell your buddy to come out of there," the man ordered. Chris yelled for John to come out peacefully. He did so, keeping his hands in sight. "All right," the man began, "Drop anything you got here, get in your Jeep over there, and get out of here." "Sure thing," Chris said as nonchalantly as he could, "But first you might want to know someone was here before us--some shadowy types in a Chevy Suburban. They took off when we showed up. They really made a mess of the place." "Uh-huh," the man said, obviously unconvinced, "Why should I believe you?" "We're SG&C?" Chris hoped, flashing a weak grin. "Who?" the man raised an eyebrow, "Just get out of here." "Sure thing," Chris said. They all walked to the Jeep and climbed in. Chris started the engine and began backing out of the parking lot under the suspicious eyes of the two men. They accelerated out onto the main road and broke line of sight with the men and the paper mill. Dusk was on the verge of night as the Jeep bounced and jolted down the road. Grit and dust collected in their wind-whipped hair. The air was cooling down. "Dang," Chris said, "Why'd those guys show up, guns in-hand?" "Maybe we or the 'visitors' before us tripped an alarm," Jake surmised, "How do we know those guys were even legit?" "Well, we weren't exactly in a position to demand they prove who they are," Chris countered. Jake grunted. "Well, now what?" "Well," John started, "I found a recent invoice for 'SCROLLS, MAGIC' billed to someone in Nookiya. I snapped a picture of it while you guys were being shook down." John pulled his phone out of his pocket and accessed his recent photos. He squinted, reading the invoice on the tiny screen, "Billed to a 'LEAFYGREEN, PHILLIP T'." "Sounds like a druid name," Jake commented. "The bill's for four million lom," John continued. Jake's eyes glazed over. Chris nearly swerved off the road, correcting himself quickly. "Holy slag," Tom reasoned. There was a moment of silence. "Maybe we should go see Mr. Leafygreen," Chris suggested, "Perhaps he knows what's going on." "Well, his GPS coordinates are right here," John said. "Punch it in." John entered the coordinates into the dash-mounted GPS. It calculated a route to a destination in Nookiya Forest twenty miles away. --- Deep within Nookiya Forest, the Jeep traveled along a winding, washboard road, closed in on both sides with thick foliage. Finally the foliage opened up a bit, and their GPS announced in a robotic, pseudo-female voice, "You have arrived at your destination on the right." The Jeep slowed to a crawl as they took in what little they could see in the black woods. Night had long since set in, and the forest was alive with the deafening sounds of insects and animals desperate for attention. Jake flicked on the spotlight on the passenger-side mirror and flashed it off to the right. He spotted a lone mail box that looked to be made out of a hollowed-out stump. On the side in brushed-on white paint was the word "LEAFYGREEN". "Well, I guess this is it," Jake declared. Chris stopped the Jeep and cut the engine. The sounds of the forest became even more deafening without the rumble of the engine competing with them. They all climbed out, readying their flashlights. John inspected the mail box; opened it up and glanced inside. It was empty. He shut it again. "I bet this guy doesn't live anywhere near his mail box," he said. They all spread out a few feet into the wilderness, searching for signs of life. Small blue LED spotlights flashed across the night. None of them ventured very far from the reassuring glow of the Jeep's incandescent headlights. "Mr. Leafygreen?" Chris called out, "We need to talk to you." After a few more minutes of searching the area without finding any trace of sentient life, with the exception of the mail box by the road, they returned to the Jeep. Much to their surprise, a slender man--no, an elf--was lounging in the back seat of the Jeep, his hands laced lazily behind his salt-and-pepper head. He met Chris's gaze, his eyes reflecting the glow from Chris's flashlight just like a nocturnal animal's. "Did you call?" the elf asked. "You're Phillip Leafygreen?" Chris asked. "Sure am. Who might you be?" "Chris Storms. These are my associates John Gibson, Jake Conner, and Tom Fender. We're SG&C, adventurers for hire." Phillip nodded at each in turn. "What can I do for you?" "We're investigating the cause for a strange, erm, prophecy Tom here," he gestured to Tom, "shared with us earlier. Something about druids having scrolls, lives will be lost tonight, the paper mill, and only we can stop 'them'. We just came from the paper mill having found your name there." The elf stroked his chin in concentration for a moment. "Is that normal for him?" he asked. "Err, no," Chris replied, "He tends to have 'episodes', but his eyes don't glow then, and they're far from prophetic." "Interesting, interesting," Phillip muttered, climbing out of the Jeep. To Chris's surprise, Phillip was several inches shorter than him. And barefoot. He wore a rough tunic undoubtedly made from materials harvested from the forest. "What are these scrolls?" Jake asked. "Well, if you mean scrolls from the mill, just some typical, run-of-the-mill magic scrolls," Phillip explained, "You know, druidy stuff." "That makes Tom prophetic?" Chris demanded. "That is curious," Phillip replied, "Perhaps there was a fault in the manufacturing process. This is a new process we're trying after all. Normally it takes a council of powerful druids a hundred years to draw up some new scrolls, but this new process takes only days." "When we got to the mill, there were some shadowy types ransacking the place, apparently looking for something. They took off after we showed up," John elaborated, "Who were they?" Phillip's eyebrows shot up. "Did they take anything?" he asked with a slight air of alarm. "It's hard to say," Chris replied. Phillip paced more urgently now, muttering "oh my" repeatedly. He stopped abruptly and turned to Chris. "Meet me at the paper mill," he said and turned to march off into the woods. "Hey, wait," John called, "Do you know who the ransackers are?" The elf turned back, "My best guess is a particular band of former druids." "'Former'?" John repeated, "Is that why they drive a Chevy Suburban?" "You got it." "They're after the scrolls?" "Yes," Phillip said, "Or the scroll machine itself." He bounded off into the night. They heard a whistle and the breathing of a large animal. Then the sound faded into the woodland ambience. SG&C exchanged glances, climbed into the Jeep, turned it around, and headed back to the paper mill. --- SG&C finally arrived at the paper mill for the third time that night. The Toyota sedan from earlier was still parked there. Standing next to it was a large, horse-like animal. It wasn't tethered to anything; it just stood there obediently. Chris parked the Jeep on the other side of the Toyota. Lights were on inside the mill, so they got out and headed toward it. Phillip appeared from inside and waved them in. They followed him inside and up to the raised office. Inside were the two men from earlier who chased them off. They were gathered around the safe that was now wide open... and empty. "What's going on?" Chris asked. "Looks like the former druids--your 'shadowy types' from earlier--got the scrolls after all," Phillip observed. "You mean you didn't have them?" John asked. "No," Phillip replied, "I was to pick them up in the morning." "What'd they do, come back after we left?" Jake said. "No," one of the men from earlier said, "We've been here since chasing you out." "So clearly they had stolen it earlier," Phillip said, trailing off. "Or these jokers took them," the other man said, shooting the team a nasty look. The first man turned to Phillip, "How do we even know these guys are telling the truth about the formers being here? No one saw them but them, supposedly." Phillip raised a hand as if to calm the men, "No," he said, "It makes sense for the formers to be here. Plus he," pointing to John, "nailed what they drive. I think they're telling the truth." Phillip started for the door, "Come on, let's go check something." They all exited the office and followed Phillip down to the ground floor. He led them over to the side room in which Jake had found the smaller enchanted mill. As he stepped through the threshold, he tapped the broken door latch, not stopping, "Hm, bad form." "I didn't do it," Jake said defensively. Chris and John gave him looks of disapproval. Inside, the elf ('kiefan' as they were more properly known) proceeded to inspect the enchanted machine closely. The others watched as he circled it, muttering to himself and nodding vacantly. "Mm-hm," he said at last, "I can sense they were in here. I think they wanted to steal this machine." "These guys?" one of the mill workers or security or whatever he was pointed an accusing finger at SG&C. "You know," Jake said, an edge to his voice, "I'm getting tired of your constant accusations." "What do you expect? We caught you trespassing!" "He's got a point," John whispered to Jake. "My good man," Phillip said to Jake, his voice soothing, "Calm yourself. These are the Barnham Brothers, John and Jason. They run this shop. John, Jason, these are the fine folks of SG&C, adventurers for hire." "Pleased to meet you," Jake said through clenched teeth. The brothers smiled back fakely. "OK," Chris said, to change the subject, "What's the next step? Do we need to find these former druids and get these scrolls back?" Phillip nodded, "Yes, that is a fairly high priority."
John Gibson 2nd In Command of SG&C Out of Work, Apparently Dominion Master 12/7/2014 8:50:40 PM Level: 1 Experience: 0 Total Posts: 39	RE: Tom Sniffed the Air "Mr. Leafygreen," John Barnham began, "I think it's about time you told us what these scrolls do." "You milled magic scrolls that you don't even know what they do?" John Gibson asked incredulously. "Phillip and I go way back. As far as we were concerned, it was a cool experiment to see if this process would even work," Jason explained, "The rest wasn't our business." "And you didn't think it was important to know whether you were printing the song that ends the world or some slag?" John continued. "Gentlemen, gentlemen," Phillip said, "Nothing so serious. The scrolls featured a variety of charms and incantations for the naturalist--the autonomous raising of live fences, plant enhancements, treehomery; all quite innocuous." "Treehomery?" Chris asked. "Yes," Phillip smiled, "That was a bit of an experiment of my own, to coax living trees into growing natural living space. That is, growing a home inside a live tree--treehomery." The Barnham brothers turned to each other. "Any of that sound even useful to the 'formers'?" John asked. "They don't live like that anymore, so..." Jason agreed. A loud rumble-whine from the distance, swiftly growing louder, began to shake the metal roof. "What now?" Jason grumbled, putting a hand on his holstered pistol. "That should be Jango," Jake said, checking his watch, "Our pilot. I told him he ought to get over here with my plane a little while ago. I'll go get him." Jake turned and disappeared out of the office, footsteps clanging on the metal staircase. Phillip was holding a finger to his lip thoughtfully. "Druid scrolls aren't entirely strict," Phillip said, returning to the subject at hand, "The magic inscribed on them is loose enough that someone with the right knowledge could modify or expand on the spells." "So we really don't know what they could do," Chris suggested, "Or how to find them." Phillip brightened. "That, I may be able to help you with. Magic is an increasingly rare commodity in this world, so the power of a fresh set of druid scrolls stands out." "You can home in on them?" Chris asked. "'Home in', no. Track, yes. We pick up on the trail and I can smell it out. Not literally, of course." "Our very own magic bloodhound," John said with a grin. Jake reentered the office with Jango in tow. They exchanged quick greetings. "OK, great. With Jango and the Sky Wolf, that should make this go that much faster. Let's get going," Chris said. "I take it the Sky Wolf is what made that horrible racket a minute ago?" Phillip asked. "Yeah, it's our air transport." Phillip looked uncertain, "I'm sorry, but I would prefer my own ride." "The horsey thing out there?" Tom asked. "A carbal, yes," Phillip corrected, "His name is Stubert. I've only recently accepted the use of this mill and its machinery; I'm afraid I'm still quite uncomfortable with your smog-belching flying machines." Jake and Jango exchanged offended glances. "Smog-belching?" Jango repeated indignantly. "Sure, ride your poop factory. The smell and the mess and the flies are obviously superior because they're 'natural'," Jake barked. Phillip smiled genuinely at Chris. Chris forced a half-smile back while he imagined straight-kicking Jake in the solar plexus. ---- The SG&C crew along with the Barnham Brothers drifted through the air a considerable distance above Mr. Leafygreen and his carbal. Jake had configured the missile targeting computer to lock on to Stubert's heat signature to make him easier to track in the darkness--a move about which Chris was very tense. The animal was travelling at a surprisingly brisk pace, though still quite slow for the Sky Wolf, which was essentially struggling along in hover mode. Phillip followed the trail of residual magic energy from where the scrolls had been carried, starting from the manager's office in the paper mill and following it up the road to the pavement, where the adventurers had lost the trail of the formers and their SUV earlier in the day. He stayed off the shoulder of the road, keeping his ride's feet in the dirt, which was far more comfortable for the animal. "If he'd just get over himself, this could be a lot faster," Jake said, watching Phillip's vague shape on the targeting screen, face in his hands. "Jake," Chris grumbled. "He has a point," John said, "Tom's premonition thing said lives would be lost tonight. Well, it's tonight now." "Where is Tom, anyway?" Jango asked, turned to look around the cockpit. "Must be in the hold," John said, "But I'll go check." John opened the rear hatch and stepped down into the dark cargo bay. The lights were off, but there was a pale blue glow lighting up the inside of the Jeep stored there. With eyebrows scrunched up curiously, John moved in closer. Tom was lying across the back seat of the Jeep with glowing blue eyes. The instant he noticed John, he shot bolt upright and grabbed John by the collar. "The councilor is coming!" he shouted, panicked, "The councilor is coming for the scrolls! Stop him!" He slammed back into the Jeep seat, blinked, and the eye-lights went out instantly, plunging the cargo bay into darkness until John and Tom's eyes were able to adjust to the light coming from the cockpit. "Oh, hey, John," Tom said, noticing John standing just a few feet away. He sat up. "'Sup Tom," John replied, "You just had another... vision... thing." "Oh. What'd I say?" Tom asked nonchalantly. "'The councilor is coming for the scrolls, stop him,'" John recited. Tom's brow furrowed. "Nope, still don't remember saying that. Weird." "Come on, we should tell the guys," John said, offering a hand to help Tom up. ---- "The councilor?" Jake asked after John and Tom entered the cockpit and filled them in on the happening in the cargo hold. "Didn't Greenleaf say something about a druid council drawing up magic scrolls?" Tom suggested. "Leafygreen," Chris corrected, "And yes, he said it would take them hundreds of years or a hundred years or something to make new scrolls." "So maybe they're jealous and want to take the printed scrolls," Jango said, "Sounds like it would save them a lot of time." "So, what, we've got two groups of no-goods after these scrolls?" Jason asked. "Possibly," Tom said absent-mindedly, staring intently at nothing in particular. "Remind me not to do any more favors for old druid friends," Jason grumbled. "Guys, hang on," Jake called back, "He stopped. Intersection in town." Everybody crowded toward the viewscreen. They could see that they were now hovering over a small town, dotted with dim, orange street lights here and there and the occasional lit shop, but the town seemed to mostly be asleep. On the targeting computer, the fuzzy shape that was Phillip still wasn't moving. Finally, the big fuzzy shape separated into two fuzzy shapes--he had dismounted his steed--and the smaller blur seemed to be waving its arms up at them. "Set it down," Jake said. Jango took the craft down and landed in the middle of the empty street. Chris, John, Jake, and Tom headed out the rear ramp to see what was going on. Jake grabbed an extra walkie talkie to see if the stubborn elf would take it this time. Leafygreen held his hands up in frustration. "There's magic all over the darn place," he said, "I think they must've criss-crossed all over town. Maybe they figured I'd be able to track it if they didn't just take it everywhere. There's even stuff that doesn't feel the same--like a cover scent." Chris looked at Jake. "What do you think?" "I'm betting they're in town. If the 'cover scent' wasn't on the original trail, they had to have come back with it, which means they didn't go much farther," Jake answered. Phillip nodded in agreement. John noticed Tom looking curiously into the distance. John followed his gaze; down the road, a river crossed underneath the road, and beyond it was an open, grassy field; beyond that, what looked to be a residential area. "I wanna go over there," Tom declared.

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