IC Rumors

IC Rumor Archives
NOTE: All posts below are the property of the Staff of RFC, on behalf of their original authors.

Message: 10/1     Monday, April 12, 1999
Purpose of this Bboard
TA DA!
The Tiny Plots Bboard is gone, replaced by the more versatile IC Rumors, which practically everyone IC has access to, unless they're locked up in a cave somewhere. IC Rumors are just that.. stuff one overhears from acquaintances, bar chatter, who knows where. They should lack fine detail, may or may not have basis in fact, and invariably contain one or more distortions due to fifth-hand re-tellings.
This Bboard can be used for RP hooks of a social, criminal, TPish, et cetera context, so long as it's of an IC nature, and something that could reasonably be spread through the general public (ie. publically witnessed). It will not be necessary to change one's name when posting, as all identities will be shielded under the broad term 'Rumor Mill'.
Example: If PC Fred becomes privy to information through tapping a phoneline to a private conversation, he is the sole owner of this information aside from the other two phone persons. Unless he's typically an IC chatterbox about stuff he hears, this information cannot reasonably find its way into the gossip mainstream.
Have fun and happy rumor-mongering.
Cent

Message: 10/2     Monday, April 12, 1999
Lost and Found?
     Well.. I dunno, but it looks like the Councilwoman and her two lovetoys didn't skip town with the city treasury after all. Fenster's sister's blind date Alwin saw them coming in last night, the chick, the quack, the ex-CS, and this really scrawny, looney guy. They were acting pretty chummy, that's what I heard. Then a Tin car came around and took the woman and the weirdo away to the military sector. Maybe that skinny, scruffy guy was some wanted criminal or something...

Message: 10/3     Monday, April 19, 1999
Big Fight
     "I'm telling you, it was crazy. That new bodyguard or boyfriend or whatever that Rooke has, he straight cold-cocked O'Bannon! Whammo! Sent him right to his duff, he did. Good thing there was someone there to break it up, or it could've gotten ugly. Then that O'Bannon guy just up and took off. Guess he knows whens he's beaten. Huh? Of course that's exactly how it happened. I saw it all. Although... I was kinda far away. And I did kinda leave my glasses at home that morning. And I had just started that new medication my doc put me on..."

Message: 10/4     Wednesday, April 21, 1999
Public Opinions
A sampling of the opinions from Tolkeen's citizenry on the subject of the recent Council Shuffle:
     "The Oracle can't be wrong.. or else, what else is it wrong about?"
     "I seen the gunslinger Councilman ranting in The Succ about it.. said the city wuz scroowed now."
     "That guy.. I'll bet he's involved somehow. You seen him smilin' pleased-as-you-can-be in the sidewings? Something smells awful fishy.."
     "I heard that hairy scout guy, friend of Rooke's, even.. he said The Or'cle picked the worst possible people in the whole city for Council. Huh.. figure that."
     "Uh... so what does that leave us with...? A murderer, and a 'borg who's practically at death's door... oh yeah, there's always Paco something-or-other.. but he's pretty ancient, ain't he?"
     "See? It was him, Ash Banana! I /told/ you he was famous... I am -not- being high-peractivate..!"
     "Can just see the friggan' CS comin' over the wall now.. think I might take a trip to Lazlo for a spell.. wanna come along?"
     "Hmmph. She only referred to the Militia troops twice in her speech. Kids today.."
     "It's gonna be so cool.. my friend, he'd be great as the next Council. Who do we talk to about that..?"
     "Eh, who believes in that Tower stuff anyway.. the Militia has a Secret Super Weapon that sent sonic waves at a frequency that only affects only Coalition baddies.."
     "What?"
     "Quitcha-bitchin'.... lazy ungrateful scum.."

Message: 10/5     Saturday, May 1, 1999
Mutant Snail-Being on the Loose!
     "Coarse thing happened the other day -- this guy came in where I work, said he was a native of this metropolis or some crap, but he didn't even know were the hell he was. He was all dripping and slimey, like he just crawled out of the pudding in the sewers. Probably wanted to panhandle everyone inside. Dance class was going on, didn't want to freak the kiddies.. but he left soon enough... freako."
     "...hey.. yeah, I remember something like that, some drippy guy was at the gym 'bout a week ago, he just melted into a puddle right there by the door.. what a stink! I think it was magic contruct thing of that steamy chickie, the masseuse?.. 'cause she was laughing at it like she knew what it was there for. Didn't know she was a mage.. but.. gawd, what hands!"
"My gods..! You know what? I really think there's an overpopulation of horned snails in Tolkeen. Ever heard of a Slime Golem? Nasty, man.. all that snail slime musta... what? I'm serious!"

Message: 10/6     Wednesday, May 5, 1999
Rumors on the Street
     Word on the street is that Estaban's not been seen in a week or more! Ah yes. He's missed several of his 'appointments' in the villages that are left surrounding Tolkeen. If one would check he has missed one scheduled visit to a local village each day since the 28th of Julius.
     Reasons as to why to those who care range from a Coalition Attack that the Healer got caught in by mistake, Demon/Monster attack that he walked into and couldn't get away from, to foul play by the hands of various peoples of ill-repute. But who knows for sure is hard to tell.

Message: 10/7     Wednesday, June 2, 1999
Corruption and Wholesale Paranoia
     The word is out, travelling like a herd of wild turtles...on hovercycles...through the city. What's this? Estaban's not lying face down in a ditch outside town, after all? He's actually locked away in the dungeons of the police headquarters because one of the higher ups in the force happens to hate his guts? What's this city coming to, it's been, what, six months, without sunlight, exercise, conjugal visits, or proper wholesome nutrition from the seven major food groups? Outerlying villages are in an uproar, having lost their regular visits from Mista Psychic Healer Numero Uno! Dropping like flies, don'tcha know. All manner of quacks have moved in, selling their foul snake oil and phony chicken-soup remedies. The young ladies are missing their handsome young spanish healer as well, a real travesty! Is this the end of harmony and freedom as we know it?

Message: 10/8     Sunday, June 6, 1999
Fashion statement?
     "It seems that a small number of people around Tolkeen have taken to wearing identical looking wrist bracelets these days. Them wristbands don't look too attractive, what with their flashing lights and drab grey metal. Maybe its a new secret handshake type of group that has just formed and you need those things to be in the club? My cousin Kareem says that its probably just some new type of Chronometer that Loopy and Sons have put out on the market. I think he's just jawing though because I can't seem to find them anywhere on sale. Funny thing is...You know Sal's boy? The one that held up that Garage last year? I've seen him wearing one."

Message: 10/9     Wednesday, June 9, 1999
Where's a Burster when you need one?
     "There goes my plans to start that diet this week..I swear it must be ordained in the stars that I keep this gut. The gym I signed up at on Drake West..some practical joker set off some sort of explosion or something. Got that big oaf of an owner good, in his office.. yeah, he should keep more fire extinguishers around. Took a bit of man-power to bring down the flames...they didn't call the police or fire squad...so it must have been some sort of prank between friends. Anyway, the place smells like smoke, and the office got wasted...I guess I'll check back in next week or something....meanwhile, pass the corn chips, baby!"

Message: 10/10     Thursday, June 10, 1999
That's what's wrong with him!
     "Yeah.. I was there, this newsguy.. he just comes in and picks a fight with J. It's unbeleivable! The scary part is, he scared that brute stiff!"
     "What? That ain't what happened! Nothin' happened at all! All he said was that his name was 'May' or 'Jay' or something! I wasn't there.. but that's what my sister says. Hey.. you looking for a hot date?"
     "Sheee'it..that freaky newsguy, you know the one with only one eye... yeah, yeah, thats the one... He says to J. "I can do the same thing to you..." and then he picks up the guy... and there were these two /hot/ chicks there man.. thougth they was gonna start a catfight or somethin'! I didn't get to see what happened after cuz my girl.. see she..."
     That twisted bastard! That horrible bent bastard! My shug never hurt nobody! Who? That fairy of a news guy? No! Not him you retahd! That other guy, what's his name.. Vedran or somethin' He froze my shug! I'll never forgive him! As soon as my shug recovers he's gonna whomp that bastards ass! But my shug's such a sweet shug.. he never hurt nobody and then that man comes up and freezes him!...*sob*" "Ah'm gonna stomp iz ass.. dat guy.. wuz iz fu? Sed iz name wuz V-uh-V...Q..no...L...uh.. A... uh neber ben gud wit ledders, but mah gran' she kin ketch a knife en 'er teef like 'dis.."

Message: 10/11     Friday, June 11, 1999
Oh! That's gotta hurt!
     "I barely escaped with my life from that blastfest! Geez, make sure ya don't tell a bad joke at that Tripping Cherub place... like that psychic.. oy! The critics don't throw fruit, they open fire on ya! The guy, he tried to protect that crazy beautiful magic masseuse girl, but someone smashed her anyway. Then the place had more laser beams than the Trimus Museum after hours. They really bagged that psychic guy, Vedran, whatshisname. Lucky he didn't get vaped right on the spot, and someone put him in a white hearse to the T-M-C. That's why it is -so- important to have a sense of humor in these bars, ya know?"

Message: 10/12     Thursday, June 17, 1999
Me know all.
     "Me Grog sit... drink lots. Me not see Non-Non around as much. People think he not around 'cause he crazy. Smoggin in noggin. Grog know why, though. Non-Non have trouble with lumpy man. What? Not called lumpy man? Called 'wo-man'? Ah, yes. Grog forget. Non-Non have trouble dealing with woman. Oh, you notice too? No, not that one. No, not that one. No, not that one, either. Hmm... maybe Non-Non have more trouble with woman than Grog thought..."

Message: 10/13    Thursday, June 24, 1999
Where there's a Will....
     For the longest time, the Militia's Brainy Boy-Wonder Sergeant Will Townsend had been either MIA, IOA, or TTFN, each possibility as good a guess as any. Not enough was known to even put together a good juicy rumor.. but now, lips can safely flap in the comfort of substantiated speculation. So it /wasn't/ just some /other/ wacked-out, redheaded inmate who escaped from that creepy asylum on Wallside North a month ago, hijacked a hovercycle, and tried to run down a few of his best friends! Looks like this time he's out legitimately, though the reasons as to why he was committed in the first place are even shrouded-ier-ed.. in mystery than if that's really where he's been hiding for the last nine months. Seems like the Militia has done a darn good job about keeping mum about their Chief of Technicals, but they can't possibly be thinking of reinstating him... a certified nutcase. Maybe he's found work at the Academy of Magic, since he's always seen around with that old, scar-faced, mage broad... the alternative suggestion being a wee bit too scandalous to build a rumor on... then again, people /will/ talk.
     Incidentally, this new pack of li-... that is, this new information now sort of dispells previous murmurings that other citizens such as Rooke Del Reyhart, Ashley Benson, and Malleus Brandt were seeking therapy at the Memphis Hemingway Asylum, since in all probability they were just visiting their 'sick' friend. This deduction seems to have disappointed some prominent busybodies, who stubbornly maintain that these three, are in fact, rather funny in the head.

Message: 10/14     Thursday, August 12, 1999
The Great Insane Jetpack Collection
     What is with all the tech dealerships buzzing about a sudden wave of sales for the latest in jetpack gear? Apparently there's several individuals combing the city for both new and used backpack units, first trying to gain them as 'donations to a good cause', then up and shelling good money out for them. One sales rep witnessed an old guy making a bulk order today, then driving off in a luxurious convertible aircar, the back seat loaded with a few crates. Now the speculation is that some rich kook knows something the rest of the population doesn't, and the key is jetpacks. One thing is for sure, if it doesn't turn out to be a frightfully boring reason, it's likely to be rather exciting. Or so logic and a few unstable busybodies state...

Message: 10/15     Monday, September 6, 1999
Workers, indeed...
     "Hey, you guys been reading the paper lately?"
     "Me no read!"
     "Yeah, yeah, I know... you hear about that job over at the Academy? I hear the guy in charge is pretty whacked out or demented or something like that. It seems there's confusion over whether he should be doing it or not."
     "You're crazy. There's no way the Academy would let something shady slide. Those mages are bent in the noggin, but they ain't nuts. Er, no offense Tony."
     "Hey, none taken. But for what I hear he's offering, it might be worth the risk."
     "What risk?"
     "Well... I talked to the guy and... doesn't that name sound familiar to any of you?"
     "No. Should it?"
     "Maybe not. It could just be my imagination."
     "Me no read!"
     "Have another beer, Togor..."

Message: 10/16     Friday, November 5, 1999
Crazy Lady
     A young member of the local Militia is overheard speaking to an older member, "Man... did you see that lady the other night? Man... she was looped wrong." He shakes his head, snickering. "Emperors warts, but she was dirty! I ain't never seen no one crawl around in the muck and talk to themselves that way! OOoh weee, but she was a real flipper!"
     The other man shakes a graying head and sighs, "Private, you gotta lot to learn. That dirty vagabond used to be an upstanding citizen of Tolkeen. A good gal, she was. She'd even take food out to the squatters outside the city. Why, she'd even bring hot cocoa to me an ole Tom when we'd stand gate sentry."
     The younger man falls silent, shrugging a little at the rambling of an old man. The older man continues, "Yah, that sweet Rayne was the only good thing came through them thar gates. A cryin' shame what happened to her."
     An uneasy silence falls between the two and they stroll away, the rest of any potential conversation lost in the buzz of the heavy crowd.

Message: 10/17     Tuesday, January 18, 2000
West-side Milkshake
     The ominous talk of opposing forces mixing it up in the west side has reached even as far as the clueless folk above street-level, and the local hangouts are abuzz with stories, catch-phrases and Significant Names that they can't possibly know much anything about. Examples:
     "So, ah, the Green Giant is sweating on this one, eh? That's what 'my source' tells me."
     "I was just walking up to the Java Factory, minding my own business, when these gangers come up and tell me to get the hell off their turf. I woulda kicked their asses, but I saw they were packing a lot of...ermm.. hot stuff. And they looked ready to use 'em, too."
     "My stupid kid brother couldn't stop talking about this apocalypse.. now we can't find him anywhere. Sounds like he's joined a cult."
     "I... think I'm gonna be switching to a gym on the east side. Those guys in the Spot make me feel all funny and stuff."
     "Gaawrrr, is not safe for dog-kin in west no more.. dey think we all know who is dis big black dog... who /is/ dis big black dog?"
     ...and other such odd talk.
     Still, there must be some truth in all the crazy talk, and surely there are folk who could shed some light on the real situation in the west.

Message: 10/18     Tuesday, September 7, 2000
Wow, cold kills!
     "Bwr-r-r-r... gimme some coffee, quick.. I had to walk three blocks for it, damn near died out there... some folks did last night, you know."
     "What.. f'real?"
     "Uh huh. Buncha fools thought they'd camp out in the snow, nothing but a few blankets and a burning trashcan nearby. Their popsicles were found this morning."
     "Whoa.. why didn't they go indoors? This is the worst winter ever.. The Blizzard of '08, man..!"
     "Calm down.. maybe they thought they were invincible or something. One of them had some armor on, didn't seal it though. The other ones didn't stand a chance. Where's my coffee, huh?"

Message: 10/19     Sunday, October 3, 2000
The trouble with doorknobs... and Dogboys
     The lowlifes are still chuckling over a little incident over on the west side at The Naughty Cupid.. or was that The Soaring Devil? Oh. The Fallen Angel. Whatever...anyway, they say some big pooch tried to start a snowball fight in there with that big-headed martian guy. Freaky little tyke.. just when the guns were about to come out to end that little game, Kreep I think his name was, he throws a stick or something and zoom! the monsta-dog goes right after it, and smashes /right/ through the door. Totalled it. And that door must have had some sentimental meaning to the owner of the place, because I think it's open season on that big dum dogboy now. Which? Dunno, one's as good as another, I guess.

Message: 10/20     Friday, January 28, 2001
How's that again?
     Due to the intricate network griping of no more than perhaps five-and-forty jocks, or at least jock wannabes, word of a NW gym's closing down has spread perhaps farther into the general populace than the topic deserves. The gym, whose name is mentioned sometimes with a slight immature giggle, appears from various indignant accounts, to have closed its doors to patrons for an indefinite period of time. By piecing together a few of said accounts, a coherent picture might be formed (but we doubt it):
     "..second time this week.. and this time there weren't anything going kablooie in no changeroom neither. I'm thinking there weren't anything at all, just imaginative cover-up for what's really going on... and what would be bad for business, like bad pipes and.."
     "..a big black rat! Honest swear, when that big unibrow bastard was shovin' me out, I saw this slimey slinky thing crawlin' around their help counter, an' it was makin' noises like a chicken makes... I'm serious, what if they've got an infestation of.."
     "..fine-looking girls that gym has got hanging around the place, one of the biggest things I'll miss. I think it's because of the area, you know? Near the /baad/ sector, know what I mean. There's one who does massages.. man, she can flirt like a house on fire.. but you know, I don't think it really means anything? There's another one, though.. doesn't say boo half the time, but you know, once you get to know her.. I think she could really.."
     "..kick my keister out on the street and stuff, still in my workout clothes and stuff. Don't know why, because they let that war hero FireBoy stay and stuff. I'm lucky they let me get my change of clothes and stuff, but it's so early in the day and stuff that I have to go home to shower and stuff. Else I'd be going into work all sweaty and.."
     "..stuff is going down there ya know even though it's closed for renovations like they say I noticed folks still come an' go when I was getting some coffee across the street an' there's a couple of guys who always hang around the entrance an' they go an' turn a lot of folks away but they let others in an' that's not fair ya know an'... what? What do you mean, 'do I ever breathe'?"
    ...how odd.

Message: 10/21     Tuesday, February 15, 2001
Coffee Shortage..? Don't Panic!!
The best damned coffeehouse in town has regretfully adopted a policy of shutting its doors after night falls, which really puts a damper on the lives of many high-strung students, not to mention numerous other addicted lovers of fresh techno-brewed java, excellent pastries, and scrumptious deli products. Speculation as to the new hours has understandably been wild and accusatory, given the shakey state of the babbling public.
Blame the Militia - "So what if a few boxes of unclaimed guns are found in the damn truck.. they don't have to confiscate the whole damn truckload of beans! Some grizzly-faced, buck-toothed soldier somewhere is slurping Special House Blend right now, while the Factory closes up from a shortage of coffee! It's not fair!"
Blame the Competition - "A wee little cafe has opened north of the academy, and they're offering their icky Mississippi Mud, two cups for the price of one... filthy little Mom'n'Pop franchise.. they're drawing the hordes away with their cheap little amazing bargains... forcing my favo hangout outta business..."
Blame the Prudes - "I don't think that snooty Dawn likes the femme guitar player who entertains us poor students every other night. It wasn't like she was a topless performer or.. uh, well. But closing up earlier because of she's jealous doesn't help things. I might flunk Fall Finals because of this."
Blame the Media - "For the last time, Chi-Choice is not controversial! ...s'kinda fruity, actually.."
Blame the Ruffians! - "My friends dragged me out, and I had to leave my books behind.. darn gang fighting amongst themselves, thought that firestarter guy was gonna light the place up.. wasn't he supposed to be some sort of good guy once upon a time? They've got some rabid canine mutant with them now, too... why can't that big guy just keep his riff-raff out of respectable places, anyway? I've a good mind to report this to the cops. Heck no, I'm not.. you know what those types do to talking witnesses?"
No one is safe from the pointing (and twitching) finger, it seems...

Message: 10/22     Friday, February 11, 2001
Juicy rumors
     Seems to be some rampant rumors running around the northwest quadrant about an incident that happened yesterday morning.
     "Apparently, some detective..a little guy with a big mouth...arrested that hot little number who worked as a masseuse at that G's Spot place. Pretty sure she's the same woman who got assaulted by more than one member of the Police Force when it was just starting out. Well, sounds like this detective was getting kind of up close and personal with her. I heard, like, he was feeling her up while slapping the cuffs on."
     The whole rumor becomes more juicy the more it is passed around.
     "She seems to be a real magnet for trouble when it comes to the cops in particular though. But I don't know whether she goes looking for trouble or it just comes to her."
     "That woman is a real sexpot. She is always friendly with the boys. Hell, I only went to that Gym to get in line for a massage. I wouldn't be surprised if that cop did come on to her. Why the hell not?"
     "Men! They're always thinking with their genitals! They should hang him upside down and..."
     "I heard from a friend, his cousin was on that very same street. He says that she was pawing at the detective and was trying to offer some 'favors' if you know what I mean. Then he just up and arrested her. Hmmm, maybe he swings...differently."
     "It is all just a big fib or something. It was that other big guy that was nudging up against the detective!"
     "Let me tell you something. I saw her get whisked away with that big guy in a police car and they were back on the street in less than an hour. It can't be that serious or there would have been news on the TV or in the paper about another police scandal. Believe me...there'd be hells to pay if there was something really bad going down again...especially if it involves that woman again. Of course, coverups are possible. Hey, did I ever tell you my theory on the water supply?"

Message: 10/23     Monday, April 10, 2001
Guest Disappearances
     More than halfway through the costume ball, and outrageous rumors have already seemed to consume people.. literally..
     Much-Travelled Merchant and Pre-Rifts Enthusiast Qezzashraede Ap Vorl set down with his entourage sometime this week, with the intent to join in on the festivities and show off his much touted (in the scholarly world at any rate) T.E.Lawrence costume, complete with authentic duds. Not a surprising coincidence that his new line of fashion textiles have 'exotic hues and designs based on fascinating legendary Arabia! Be mysterious and unforgettable in our 'Thousand and One Nights' QAV Originals!'
     At any rate, the man is gone, disappeared right from under their noses, his personal assistants say. Hiding out in some Tolkeen specialty flophouse with a floozy willing to be called Scheherazade, his rival designers say. Dragged down into the jealous wormy underbelly of fashion intrigue that is Tolkeen, his adoring fans say. Conveniently vanishing five days before industrial tax collection, his ex-financial officers say. Too cool for an open-invite ball so he's holding his own in a penthouse suite and has only invited notable scholar friends and artifacts dealers... because a bunch of /those/ types seem to be gone too, angry researchers who obviously weren't invited say.
     Still too early to know which opinion is truth, one supposes. Or indeed, if anyone cares.

Message: 10/24     Tuesday, May 23, 2001
Caldwell promoted hastily
     Word travels quickly regarding Colonel Caldwell's televised promotion being cancelled. Apparently, word is that he was promoted rather hastily to deal with some big emergency. This turn of events has dissident tongues wagging, calling the lack of a public ceremony suspicious and pointing out that this is just another example of the Militia withholding information that citizens want to know about. The public is looking towards the Militia for an official, or even unofficial, explanation regarding this most disturbing event.

Message: 10/25     Sunday, July 30, 2001
First comes love, then comes marriage..
     At the popular downtown tearoom 'The Rose of the Oracle', the community's prominent matrons and various other cronies gather for their weekly gab. Over biscuits and beverages, they ruminate over one topic of social interest or another, until the Head Yak sits back in her chair and declares:
     "Ah, in the spring, a young man's fancy! Well, some of them are, anyway, but it seems a lot of them are thinking about romance, too."
     Bonus! Yet again, Hedda Kobhler has come up with a topic that all can speak of from their vast stores of 'knowledge'. Delhia Moreau, determined to share her news first, puts in eagerly, "Indeed they are, Hedda! Why, just yesterday I accidentally ran into the butcher's wife at the Emerald Garden.. and do you know who she was with?"
     "I was talking about /young/ love, Del," Hedda interjects impatiently, and steers the conversation back on course with, "My nephew works at the garage on Freedom and Tarn.. he's told me that their young lady mechanic is carrying on with a reporter gentleman from Channel One." She lowers her voice conspiratorially. "She can't be more than fifteen.. same as my Genie." Then she sits back again, nodding in a smug sort of way.
     "It's always trouble when a girl gets into operating," sighs Dominique Frenski, fanning herself with a napkin as if from the 'scandal', though really just to show off her flashy new ruby ring, "..or politics. I was dining at the Coeur De Lion... as usual.. when there was this terrible commotion. A bit of a lover's quarrel between Miss Del Reyhart..." She draws out her pause to increase the suspense, "..and that gargantuan man who owns that horrible gym!" She fans herself with indignant speed. "I'm sure you've seen the commercials!"
     Delhia Moreau has since gotten over being corrected by Hedda, and gasps loudly. "Him, in the Lion? My, the standards /have/ gone down," she snickers gently, earning her a cross look. "Whatever did they fight about?"
     "I don't know," mutters Dominique peevishly, "I couldn't hear above the crashing of cutlery. Andre was beside himself.. how was he to know that man has been in trouble with the Police?"
     One of the younger initiates to the circle, Tandi Mindellin decides to shock the ladies further, leaping into the small gap to hazard, "News flash, girls.. the Police is currently 'in bed' with the Militia.." Oh, she's just terrible! The others look at her a bit coldly.. has she no 'finesse'? Tandi continues on relentlessly, "It's true.. my George says he saw the young detective Hiro What'shisname in the park the other day, walking hand in hand with a pretty young woman... in Militia dress. And you said the two groups couldn't get along," she ends in a self-satisfied purr.
     Dehlia blinks, then not to be outdone, chides, "Now, Tandi dear.. don't be catty. And speaking of which," she grins Cheshire-like at her clever segueway, "You remember that young Militiaman, the television-prone one with that silly cowboy hat, that Victoria's daughter is all smitten with?"
     "Oh yes," Dominique nods archly along with the others, particularly interested in this tale since Victoria herself is not present.
     "Well," intimates Delhia after a sip of tea. "I have some very reliable sources who have seen him nuzzling up to a D-Bee." She nods once, firmly, as if she'd been hit with a hail of denials. "It looks like a cat."
     Utter Silence reigns for a few moments.
     "Gods have mercy," mutters Dominique, fiddling with her big diamond ring. Yes, rubies and diamonds. How gauche. "That's taking the concept of 'Freedom' too far, if you ask me."
     Tandi smirks, rolling her eyes at the judgment, then lifts her hand over her mouth. "Me-OW."
     There's a pause, and the table erupts in giggles and laughter. Oh, but they do have fun at The Rose of the Oracle...

Message: 10/26     Sunday, July 30, 2001
She's Gone Squirrel1y!
     They said that it 'had to happen someday'. Other 'they's cashed in on that tip, made their bets, and are now painting the town red with their winnings. The day has come; Rooke has finally gone off the deep end.
     Some would argue that it was an amazingly short drop.
     In the past week or so, she's taken to falling off benches to embarrass the poor elf Tathrenil with her green panties; walking out on poor Gareth in the Couer de Lion and leaving him holding the enormous bill; using poor nervous Upir as an olympic springboard; getting into a vicious staring match with poor stranger Tenrai; haranguing at poor brave Melissa at the Java Factory; freaking out with poor Doctor Ash, who had to drag her sorry butt to the hospital.. not to mention giving poor.. er, rich Blaze Kinkaid a couple of dirty looks, too! And now this... this swan dive from the upper stories of her business, Random Acts, totalling some poor guy's car, all to impress poor confused William? He was impressed all right. He was so impressed, he ran off and never looked back.
     Only poor good ol' JT Frazier seems to understand her. He hardly even batted an eyelash while she went on and on about some guy trying to get her with his coffee and his briefcase. Sort of like that Poor Rayne Syndrome, except the guy was a Beast, and everyone else was a 'Crawlie'. Like that, but even worse. Rooke always was the competitive type.
     The point being, JT is obviously crazy as well.
     It's Tolkeen. You live here long enough, and things start happening to your head. Strange things. Scary things.
     Look at Rooke, and be warned. -You- may be next.

Message: 10/27     Tuesday, August 1, 2001
More Spring Madness?
     "I'm telling you, that guy O'Bannon's formin' his own gang, man. He's gettin' 'em young and everything."
     "You're kidding. Last I heard, he wasn't too fond of gangs."
     "Well, maybe he just wised up or somethin'. He had 'em all at the park one day. They was wearin' the same colors, and he was showin' 'em how to beat up people with a stick. Kept talkin' about knees and shoulders or somethin'..."
     "You must've been drinking that funny water again."
     "Nah, I'm /tellin'/ you man. They were even workin' on gang signs to boot. Then he made 'em all run around and other stuff'. That guy's got some weird initiation rituals, that's for sure."
     "You're crazy, man. Next you'll be sayin' you saw him smiling."
     "Well, he was. Sort of. I can't be sure, because I was trying not to make any eye contact. But I know he got pretty POed after he heard somethin' about a roof and a briefcase."
     "What's that supposed to mean?"
     "I don't know, but judgin' by the way he stalked off, I don't think I'll let him catch me in the streets with my briefcase. Better safe than sorry."
     "Tone... you ain't got no briefcase."
     "Then I won't steal no more briefcases for a while. Yeesh. Ain't you never heard of creative planning?"

Message: 10/28     Monday, August 7, 2001
I always knew he was a Drunk..
     "Well, now we know why he's been missing from the TV set, Gloria..."
     "No... why? Who?"
     "You mean you haven't heard? Well, that young reporter, you know the one Melindra keeps saying is winking at her on the Television screen? Well, you know how crazy she can be some times, but she said to me the other day that she looked outside her kitchen window that very morning... you know how she likes to get up early sometimes and see the sunrise...and guess what she saw?"
     "No.."
     "Yeeeesss! She saw that Walter Reily lying out in her front lawn! Can you believe it? She says that he left the biggest mess in her front lawn, too! Apparently, she had to beat him away with a broom, and she says he made a pass at her! Well, if I were her, I would have beaten him so hard... but Melindra, no... She was so flattered she asked him in for some coffee..."
     "You don't say, Sandra, well, what did he do?"
     "Oh you wouldn't believe it if I told you... okay, here goes... He vomited on her house slippers! She had to beat him off for apologizing about them too!"
     "Oh my, oh my..."
     "And you know what else I heard? I heard that the owners of the station are pulling him off the air! Don't look at me like that, Gloria! You know I can't tell you my sources. Besides, you wouldn't believe me if I told you who I heard it from!"
     "Oh fine, fine, go on! Tell me more! I know that look in your eye!"
     "I also heard that his friends from the station, you know that uppity little debaucherous rakehell, Jhartha Fjekkat; she had to pick him up off the street herself..."
<Overheard at the weekly meeting of the Northern Wallside Bridge Club>

Message: 10/29     Monday, September 4, 2001
Now that just ain't right...
     ...the further adventures of Rooke del Reyhart have taken a decidedly strange turn.
     Notable people-watchers claim to have spotted her on the southern half of Freedom Way after more than a week's absence from the public eye. They almost didn't recognize her, it was so... so... bizarre. Has she run off and joined a nunnery, like several disgruntled men have predicted? Or did she just have a terrible, ghastly accident with a summer barbeque pit and a tank of lighter fluid? Perhaps (and this is the more popular theory) she's just got a major case of The Cooties?
     Notice that no one has actually said what's wrong with her (this specific instance, anyway). That's because it's just too embarassing. Or they're afraid for their very lives.
     Quick, find her and stop her for Christ D-Bee's sake, before she gets her hands on someone's makeup kit, and makes things even worse!

Message: 10/30     Wednesday, September 6, 2001
Nine, ten, never sleep again...
     The observant will have noticed now that a good quarter of Tolkeen's population has been exhibiting signs of the strange disease Zombieism. The symptoms are said to vary from individual to individual, making this mysterious illness all the more difficult to pinpoint. Popular Faith Healer and Local Blowhard, Richard Flockhouse has written a quick list that he has been trying to publish in the reputable mags and Tolkeen-net sites, but has thus far only managed a few speculatory panel discussions on late-night public access televid. His much vaunted index of symptoms of Zombieism are as follows:
1) Subject stumbles around in a daze, mumbling incoherently to themselves. They tend not to notice friendly greetings below 30 decibels, and when in conversation they tend to woolgather and often cover for inattention by saying: "Hmmm." or "Yes, dear." NOTE: Not to be mistaken for the naturally occuring marital habit.
2) Subject salivates helplessly and cannot be persuaded to leave the house for any reason. This symptom, strangely enough, is similar to the behavior of most agoraphobic Dogboys.
3) Subject constantly complains of sleeplessness and bad dreams. In spite of this, they seem extremely reluctant to sleep when the opportunity arises. NOTE: Subject might just be a cranky whiner looking for attention. Approach with caution.
4) Subject shows extremely nervous tendencies, is suspicious of strangers, and appears to consume twice their weight in caffeinated beverages each day. Not only is this not condusive to calming down, it also tends to result in five trips to the restrooms every hour.
5) Subject tends to exhibit erratic and rather socially unacceptable behavior, including: numerous iffy finger gestures at random passing individuals; extended bouts of staring (especially without blinking - particularly odd and painful to watch!); nervous laughter at inappropriate moments; asking strangers if they 'had the dream'; and/or imposing psychic powers on others without first obtaining permission. In some cases, 'psychic powers' can be replaced by 'wicked-sharp daggers'.
     Are you, or a loved one, suffering from one or more of these symptoms? 'Doctor Flockhouse' claims to be working on a cure, but needs further funding to get laboratory space and a team of specialists. He can usually be found at the Tolkeen Zoo, holding loud debates with the animal psychologist (then, purportedly, trying unsuccessfully to ask her out to dinner).

Message: 10/31     Sunday, September 24, 2001
Import Woes
     "I hear things got a little hairy over at the main gates the other day. What do I mean? I think this transport got stopped just inside the gates for a routine check. This guy in these fancy schmancy clothes comes pulling up to the guards talking about how he's got clearance and all to bypass inspection. Well, the head guard doesn't buy it, or was just in one of those moods or something, so he cracked the truck open anyway and guess what he found?
     "Sand. Plain old ordinary sand. Or maybe not so ordinary. That guy kept going on and on about how it would get contamigrated...constipated... something or other, but they wouldn't let him leave until they let a few of those canines sniff around it. I thought that suit guy was gonna go ballistic for sure, but he just packed up and left with his dirt. No harm, no foul, I guess. Now the guy after that, the one they busted with those illegal guns... now he had a real fit when they tried to take him in..."

Message: 10/32     Sunday, October 8, 2001
That museum thing...
    "That museum break-in was pretty wild, man. Who'd do something like that?"
    "Wasn't no, gang, that's for sure."
    "You kiddin'? 'Course it was a gang. Taking that wacky stuff."
    "Even for a n'itiation, you think a gang'd leave behind the valuable stuff? What kind of gang you know of that operates like that?"
    "All's I'm sayin' is, if it ain't one 'a them, I don't know who it could be."
    "Dat's right. And you better keep not knowin'."
    "What's that supposed to mean?"
    "It means what it means, pallyboy. It means what it means."
    "Whatever, man. I don't care what you say. I'm keepin' an extra eye on my Sally Sue Superstar doll collection, just in case. Hey, what are you looking at me like that for...? "

Message: 10/33     Wednesday, October 18, 2001
Summer Summary
     The popular downtown tearoom 'The Rose of the Oracle' had its full complement of ladies over for hot beverages and a good chinwag. It's been a very pleasant summer, filled with social events, the occasional local scandal, and even a few acts of spotless virtue that they can try to pick apart for traces of deceit - As usual, Hedda Kobhler convenes the tea party with a well-prepared shocker:
     "The Ice Queen has melted."
     A sugar spoon clatters noisily in the sudden silence after that ominous declaration. Obviously it means something significant, as the klatch leans forward with anticipation. "Impossible," mutters Dominique Frenski, "After she shaved her head, I was sure the next step was the Convent."
     "Not so," says Hedda, savoring her moment. "The next step was frolicking poolside with an absolutely stunning young man..."
     GASP!
     "...who also happens to be a member of those monk-types who seem to be pestering folks lately. Don't get me wrong, the two made an adorable couple."
     Double gasp! "..Maybe.. it's an initiation ceremony," suggests Delhia Moreau, as if she simply didn't -care- for juicy scandal. "You know, a baptism of sorts." But everybody knows her better; she's just pushing for more details.
     "To a baptism one does -not- wear such impudently skimpy trunks, Delhia dear."
     There is a pause while everyone considers that information in morbidly indignant silence. Finally, Dominique speaks up, fiddling conspicuously with her permed hair to call attention to her new pearl earrings. "I'm sure it's because of that scoundrel Elf, the one with the Militia, who's been toying with all those poor women's affections. Why, I saw him and Miss Del Reyhart arguing in the church a month ago, and then next thing you know, she's gone off and come back in cloister garb with those monks, with all her hair gone."
     The tearoom is like the interior of a chicken coop as the ladies almost simultaneously burst into flying speculations and announcements:
     "He even tried to hook that poor mad widow Rayne..."
     "His Militia chum's D-Bee lover, too...!"
     "Oh, those monks! One of them actually had the audacity to berate me on my choice of jewellry.. right there in public!"
     "Rayne's a lovely woman, but she really must stop screaming outside my window at night... for her little daughter's sake."
     "Where do you suppose that rogue is now? I do hope his people have given him a stern walloping for treating humans in such an unseemly regard.."
     "My dear Victoria, are you sure you should be the one to give that opinion? After all, your own daughter Maybeth has her cap set for one of the worst womanizers in town.. that lech, Walter Reily."
     "Well! At least he's successful."
     "At what, being hit over the head with a Figaro's shopping bag for loitering in the lingerie department?"
     Tandi Mindellin stands up with a sigh. "I'm afraid it's time to take Dana to his League.. I don't know why George insisted on him joining that ragtag ball club."
     "Oh dear," says Hedda disapprovingly. "That man O'Bannon who manages the youth league... he's got a bit of a serial-killer look to him, doesn't he? But I don't mean to worry you, Tandi darling. Even if the church /did/ appoint him.. can a man so attached to his armor /really/ be that good at croquet?"
     "Baseball, Hedda darling. And he's gotten better about the armor."
     Dehlia starts up the conversation again after Tandi leaves in a huff. "Oh don't mind her.. Did you hear that Latin healer Estaban was back in town? Well, Tandi couldn't arrange for a session with him this time.. George strictly forbade it!"
     Victoria says starchly, "You don't think he's jealous..? He simply doesn't want one of those horrid Psychics fooling with his wife, that's all. They've simply become like -wild animals- nowadays, honestly..."
     And so on. The good ladies of The Rose do so pride themselves on brilliant social commentary of the season's big issues!

Message: 10/34     Friday, January 12, 2002
Westside Wobble
     Residents are yakking about a minor tremor that worked its way around the Wallside West and Drake block last night. Aside from a few smashed glasses, no damages have been noticed or reported, and the general consensus is that some mage must have mucked up their chant to conjure a small milkshake, and got an earthquake instead. Oh, those wacky warlocks!

Message: 10/35     Wednesday, February 7, 2002
Finally, the Rooke has come back..
     ...to Random Acts.. only to leave it again. She must be all managed out, because the word is that she's up and signed the building over to some buyer person, and promoted some old guy to run the five-year-old arts and entertainment center in her stead.
     There's nothing concrete on whether she'll continue to live in one of the apartments above, but there has been idle mention from workers of her leaving the building two weeks prior, with two loaded bags. And up until yesterday, she'd been seen hanging out mostly around the northwest gym, it seemed. Must be the reason for all those cuts and bruises remarked upon.. a punching bag that punched back, more than a few times. Anyway, when she finally showed her face in the Acts again, she didn't have any bags with her at all.
     Well.. she'd been known as quite the odd-jobs gal back in the day: barmaid, coroner's aid, government-girl... it had seemed that the life of a director was her most permanent career choice. There goes that notion; maybe after spending so much time at the gym and with those monk fellows, her next venture will be a martial-arts monastery?

Message: 10/36     Wednesday, February 21, 2002
Camping Out with The Oracle!
     Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the mountains...
     The traditional last pilgrimage of worshippers to the Shrine of The Oracle was a couple of weeks ago, scheduled to beat the frost of the late fall season. But 'lo, word is that they're going back up there again. A whole -bunch- of them. More than a thousand, marvel the theologians. They'll be swarming the mountainside like wild hillbillies if this keeps up, surely. The Oracle simply must stop handing out free coupons to Ollie Treats with every ominous foretelling.
     The alleged instigator of the religious furor has been very scarce indeed, with only vague sightings and glimpses as told by gibbering witnesses, as proof that she's still lurking around the city. At least those two monk fellows are said to have departed just recently, Bon Voyage (and don't come back) and all that. Pressure was just too great, one supposes.. and high time they moved on to peddle their crazy notions of proactive spiritual intellectualism elsewhere. Hmpf.

Message: 10/37     Monday, February 26, 2002
Mountain Romp Over...Back to Work
     Just when you thought the wilderness was getting more annoying than the city...
     The traffic inflow into the city was clogged all day on Norand 29th, as the good little Followers of The Oracle of Delphi came scampering back down from the mountains en masse...all through with their little prayer meeting up there, one assumes. It apparently went very well - campfire songs, all the baked beans and Uncle Bennie's Nutrient Pap you could eat, line dancing, and lots and lots of simultaneous beseeching to their patron god. The Shrine is just lovely, they say, especially with that new statue added to the collection. Those armchair economists out there grump and speculate on the hundreds of thousands of credits in lost city revenues that resulted from this impromptu, 3-day holiday by so many citizens...though wilderness outfitters are probably chuckling all the way to the bank.
     The attitude of the faithful seems to be on the upswing, strangely enough. Perhaps also noticeable at this point is the absence of Rooke-sightings about town, except by the confirmed Damn Fools, who still insist that she works the pumps at the local Lynn Fuel Depot every Moon Day and Woden's Day evening, without fail. More reliable word is, she's already up and gone, days ago.

Message: 10/38     Wednesday, April 11, 2002
Public Sentiments
     The still-popular downtown tearoom 'The Rose of the Oracle' was the site of a rather more philosophical debate than its regulars were prepared for, the other day. Hedda Kobhler, the undisputed leader of the afternoon gatherings and, she insists, prepared for anything, never-the-less had nothing to say for at least half a minute, when a small flock of -strangers- sitting at the next table, suddenly began to loudly (enough) state opinions that went against the political and religious leanings of the tearoom.
     "Did you hear that," Dehlia Moreau takes the reins presumptuously, sitting up very straight and rearranging the biscuit plate to hide her nervousness. "That.. woman over there, she just said that the tearoom should have its name changed so that it isn't associated with The Oracle anymore!"
     "I never heard of such a thing," says Dominique Frenski, staring across the aisle at the offending table. "The Rose is perfectly respectable." ..or else she wouldn't be caught dead in it!
     Turning a little in her seat, the persnickety young woman fixes a glare on the good ladies' table, saying loudly, "But The Oracle isn't! Don't you watch the news? The god she serves had that woman Rooke -killed- just because she wanted to leave Tolkeen!"
     Figurative feathers ruffling, Dehlia refuses to turn around, keeping her grip tight on the cookie plate while retorting, "Of course we watch the news.. but only fools believe everything they hear!" She shouldn't have said that; their entire gossip network is based on assumption of absolute truth.
     "Especially when it's seditious criticism of The Oracle by heretic troublemakers," Victoria Grisbane makes the save. "Who do they think they're fooling? I must say I'm disappointed in Walter Riely for not seeing through such an obvious hoax.."
     "Stop being ignorant," snaps the stranger, gaining an indignant gasp of reaction. "In case you haven't realized the deeper meaning of what's happened, I'll tell you! In destroying his own luminary for acting with free will, Apollo has made a mockery of the very city that -supposedly- -personifies- freedom and tolerance! What do you suppose that means for Tolkeen? You want more evidence of bad omens, how about those dreams of corruption and doom for the-..." She raises her voice over the wave of quibbling that ensues, but is battered down by the compelling tones of Hedda Kobhler, who has finally risen to dominate the discussion.
     "That's quite enough, Miss," she says with perfect civil restraint. Her ladies look to her with sheeplike admiration. "Just listen to what you're saying.. you should be ashamed for trying to stir up such utter nonsense. Why would the Radiant God do any such thing to Tolkeen, to whom he has shown time and again, his benevolence and good will."
     "The claim of ghostly assassins doesn't even -sound- like his style," nods the youngest member of the afternoon tea sitting, Tandi Mindellin. "The White Tower.. -that-'s his style," she adds, looking well satisfied with herself.
     "..As I was saying," Hedda continues coldly, after giving Tandi a disapproving glare, "the testimony is obviously a fake. The 'witness' didn't even have the strength of conviction to step forward out of the shadows.
     "Because he knew that something similar would be visited upon him if he let his identity be known," insists the stranger, looking as though she wished she hadn't started up this discussion while surrounded by 'zealous' Followers. This always happens.
     "As if he could really hide from /spirits/ if they wanted to find him," interjects Dominique, who in a later retelling would admit to her husband that she -had- felt some strange misgivings from the expose', before being set straight by her teatime chums.
     "That's right," Hedda says with a chilly smile. "Hiding served no purpose, other than to protect the speaker from scrutiny over his fraudulent account.. in fact.. -I- heard that the testimony came with a suspiciously hefty price tag, from the speaker."
     BAM! Any further protest is squelched by that powerful last nail in the coffin of the afternoon debate. Muttering to herself, the stranger calls for the bill, while the good ladies of The Rose of The Oracle cluck amongst themselves over the sheer audacity of some people.
     Their triumph over another faithless unbeliever is dwelled over lengthily through the week, comparing notes with other Followers, and bolstering confidence once more. What remarkable women! Little did they dream that they would become intellectual and spiritual soldiers, fighting to enlighten a jaded populace to the cowardly forces seeking to profit from the city's darker days.

Message: 10/39     Saturday, May 19, 2002
Homecoming
     Advance word comes through the gates by way of speculating mouths, of an old friend of Tolkeen returning to the city at long last. The Militia has sent out ground troops and air support to escort the convoy the rest of the way in. So the web of tales spread from several sources, like that loudmouthed gym owner, and that other loudmouthed scholar, were true after all. How exactly they knew, and what part they did play in such an epic quest, remains to be seen. The Skyrunner, Tolkeen's pride and joy, her swiftest and boldest; the tragic, legendary airship, has been raised from the bowels of the Duluth Hive, and is coming home.

Message: 10/40     Tuesday, May 22, 2002
Ray of what?
A conversation held near an abandoned warehouse, near the southwest area of town:
     "Where in blue blazes have you been, Doomer?" says an ancient looking man with ragged and few teeth. His clothing is dirty and sparse and he shivers a bit in the cold evening air.
     The man called Doomer, a wild-eyed man perhaps in his 30's and wearing a similar ensemble as the old man says, "Ain't know nothin', you. Was warmin' up, me, whut wif a meal and all."
     "Your gear is smoked," exclaims the older man. "You got about as much money as you got looks. Where you getting a meal around here? You rob someone?" The man offering the accusation offers it more at not getting a cut of the booty than out of disapproval of the crime.
     Doomer grumbles, "Naw. Ain't like that. Ray o' Hope, that's whut I done. Free. Ever free." He rubs his hands together then shoves them in what's left of his pocket as he adds, "Alls welcome there. Even 'fugees like you whut don't clean up good." He snickers to himself, happy to get a dig in on the other man for once.
     After a moment of letting this news digest, the old man ponders aloud, "Ray of Hope, you say? I remember back in the day there was a Ray of Hope outside the city near the refugee camps. T'weren't more than a tent, then. Ain't nothin' but a cemetery there now. Ray of Hope. Well, Doomer, guess we're having lunch tomorrow, eh, boy?"
     Talk of this "Ray of Hope" spreads quickly among other homeless people who have overheard this conversation. Free food? Impossible. It must be some kind of work camp or something. Still, it might be worth checking out. Something to do besides steering clear of the authorities.

Message: 10/41     Sunday, June 3, 2002
In trouble with the law, again!
     Sample conversation of a rumor that can be heard pretty much anywhere:
     "You know what -I- saw yesterday?" says the thin slightly effeminate fellow as he stirs another milky creamer into his cup of Java Factory Shu-Bang. Elmer begins talking excitedly again when his friend doesn't appear interested or knowledgeable on the subject. "More trouble over there, near that gym run by the big black man Garth. It was him, and that hot bundle mage in white, who comes in here a lot. They were practically in each other's pants." He giggles. "And you know who marches right up to them? The T.P.D Captain, that's who. There were one or two other officers and some short guy.. Probably a stoolie, even though Red, you remember Red? He says that the guy's a science kook honker." Elmer sits back and sits back as he lets that delicious bit of news sink in.
     His companion shrugs his shoulders and tries to look uncaring, although he does straighten in his chair.
     Elmer wriggles in his seat, very pleased with himself and possibly also the sugar-laden Shu-Bang. "And you know what else? They arrested him! Mr. Garth, I mean... They had to pry the girl offa him and dragged him over to a car and rushed off! And this was all right in front of me, well, from that seat over there. Can you imagine? Head of the Force, coming all the way over here to nab Big G. You know what that means...We won't be seeing him for a looooong time. Weird stuff, eh Clark?....Clark?"
     Clark blinks and reanimates. He shakes his head to clear it of the small white motes traveling across his vision from the infusion of caffeine. He puts a shaky hand towards the mug and pushes it away.
     Elmer folds his arms across his chest. "You're supposed to put more sugar an' milk in there to dilute it. Sometimes I wonder if you'll just up and die one of these days. Hey...know what -I- saw yesterday?"

Message: 10/42     Tuesday, June 5, 2002
Sausages inna Buun!
     "You'll never believe what happened today."
     "What? What happened today? Did that honker catch it yet?"
     "No no no.. This guy, this stupid vendor, in this honky white getup.. He saved this guy's life!"
     "Really? What happened?"
     "Well, you see.. I was out rakin' the lawn like I been doing every morning for the last week, you know what I'm talking about... and all of the sudden this sweet, well lets just say I wouldn't mind breaking out and taking her for a test-drive.. if you know what I mean... runs over this guy. Plam.. just like that, and he's down... just like you know who..."
     "I hear ya'... S.s.s.so, what happened then?"
     "Well, there were red streaks and brains and guts everywhere, and then the vendor saved him!"
     "B.b.b.but how? How'd he save him?"
     "How in the bloody Sunshine should I know? I ain't no doc! He caught one.. and then he just sat up and was allright! That white suited vendor said so too! Held his hands up and everythin' and he was as good as new!"
     "W.wow! So whats the vendor sell?"
     "Sunshine if I know, he went around in that white getup and all shoutin' Sawsuchjizz-inner-bunny! Never did get to try one.. Ol' Durram's always the: Back ta' work! Bread-in-Watah's all you get! kinda guy..."
     "I hear yah... so... w.w.what're you doing tommorow?"
     "Same thing I done all week, Stinky... rake leaves, knuckle-head."
--Overheard Conversation in Ollie's Treats

Message: 10/43     Wednesday, June 6, 2002
Crazy Lady!
     It's official. That crazy woman, what's her name... the one that works in the Hanged Man and calls herself Madame Rayne has not only gone crazy (She's been that way for as long as most folks that know her can remember), but she's gone and burst through to the other side.
     It seems, as far as rumor can make out, that she was seen in front of the entrance to the Tap and Barrel tearing down posters off the far wall with that freaky white cabbie.
     The woman was screaming things like: "What do you want!?" while the Dbee.. the dbee was just screaming, period. It nigh on ruined the lunch service at the Tap and Barrel...
     What's really strange is that the woman revealed a mural that must have been covered up for at least a couple years...

Message: 10/44     Sunday, July 29, 2002
That strange man from channel one
     Some talk can be heard in the social establishments around town about a DBee and his interpretation of a news reporter from channel one named Walter. This is a faximilation of that interpretation.
     "It was the strangest thing. This man comes into the Java factory and he is screaming into a rectangular piece of plastic. Intrigued I chose to observe him and his mood closely. As the yelling comtinued the man's focus reached a more personal level. Touching with special words like "Naked", "Nuts" and "Chocolat" apparently he referred to the plastic as Jhartha. Anyways the conversation with the peice of plastic ended shortly there after, and he actually approached me. He asked if I had seen anything interesting. Well I must say now that I have, the man seems to have a veryaffectionate relationship with the peice of plastic, right down to the lovers quarrel. It was at that time where he joined me that I learned he was a newsman, although for someone who's supposed to relay the facts he seemed most interested in creating an illusionary perfect image. That is about all I percieved on the newsman who called himself "Walter". Could any of you patrons care to define the encounter?"
     The bar bursts into a chorus of gawfas as the patrons laugh and shake their heads to the DBee, gesturing that somethings are better left a mystery.

Message: 10/45     Tuesday, August 14, 2002
DB offends Rayne!
     "Man did you see that? That long nosed alien just told off Rayne right in front of her own store. He said that she was a bad influence on Lisse, and Rayne ran back into the store crying."
     "Why the nerve of the disgusting DB, how dare he take advantage of that poor woman in her current condition. Who knows what effect He'll have on poor lil' Lisse. We all know that Rayne is probably the best thing to happen to that child, and now this stranger barges in, throwing everything they've accomplished to the wind. Well mark my words that DB will regret those actions, I'll make sure of it."

Message: 10/46     Tuesday, August 28, 2002
Right as Rayne?
     Many a Tolkeenite still remembers the incidents of Spring Madness that gripped the locals last year. It was never clinically confirmed by true professionals, but of course that's what made it all the more insidious. Wellup, it's happenin' a-gain, sez the Tolkeen rumor mill, a resource network which is collectively responsible for more blind speculation and bloody noses through the years than, well, a honkers' convention at Dirksen.
     Another piece of the big puzzle is being tossed about, stemming from an incident in the Fallen Angel that occured just recently. Apparently, nouveaux celebrity Gareth Vaughn and a scary spear-maiden whom he addressed as 'Legra or somesuch, had a small row in the shady bar. The big guy, drunk as a bog skunk, was flapping his habitually incoherent gums about his imminent flight from Tolkeen, away from 'orrible things. Such as what that loony doomspeaker Rayne has been spreading around: The End Of The World. The word is that Gareth is planning on taking off in a rocket ship with a collection of 'presh-oos eggies' to repopulate the world after the Big Boom.
     This admittedly nutso gossip is further supported by a number of female citizens who claim that yes, they have been approached by a big black galoot eyeing their procreational potential and yabbering about a Purple Goblin 'whut comes an' mysteri-oosly turns eggies into bebbies'. He is apparently only /half/-successful with this strange tale. A more solid piece of evidence comes from those who say they've seen Gareth and Rayne whispering together on several occasions, sometimes in the company of Alejandra, who, it is argued, is either a mage, a masseuse, or a very unsuccessful therapist.
     The 'Orrible Thing that is coming to Tolkeen was not expounded upon that night in the Angel, as the giant of a man was soon dragged out by 'Legra before he could elaborate. But in these troubled times, it's not hard to imagine what he, along with Rayne, might be on about. Y'know how ignorance is the mother-in-law of all invention. S'truth, indeed.

Message: 10/47     Friday, September 7, 2002
Hate crime on Brimstone
     As overheard on the streets and at the bar...
     "...Yeah, I heard what happened. Got a friend who works in the quarry that Doctor Rock, or whatever his name is, is in charge of. Says that this Rock guy was just hangin' out with that his girlfriend - you know, that two headed chick - and that psychic nutjob. Rain, or something. Yeah, you know who I'm talking about. Well, they're hangin' out, probably tryin' to score some drugs from that Sinkler guy. Isn't that his name? Well, that's the name my friend gave me, jus' lemme tell the damn story! Thank you.
     "So anyway, these four are hangin' on Brimstone - damn stupid place to be at night, you know. Some car comes by, loaded with a gang, and this dude leans out the window and cracks Rock-guy's girl in the head - I don't know which one - with a bat. Guess she's banged up real bad, in the hospital right now. Be six feet under if it hadn't been for that crazy psychic on hand.
     "My friend says this Rock guy is out for blood. Says that this was a hate crime, you know, that it was a pro-human gang, maybe even a CS group. Now, I don't know about that myself, but I guess Doc Rock just found out that his own brother..."

Message: 10/48     Thursday, October 18, 2002
Charbroiled Boots, Yum!
     Two electricians on the city payroll jaw over the details they've heard concerning some weirdness that occured the other day. The more talkative of the two pulls out a ham on rye and begins to messily devour it while attempting to re-hash to his buddy:
     "It was pretty weird...not that this city isn't full of it. Duncan was sent down there to climb a pole, and you know what people were telling him? They say they saw some monster-big black guy get zapped just outside The Hanged Man...by a lamppost, a dog, a passing car, a little girl with wings, and a whiskey flask. Got knocked right out of his boots and shot across the street into a little restaurant. A regular human missile. Can you believe that junk? Ridiculous. I believe the part about him going through the window of course... Duncan saw the mess with his own eyes. Something went through there at least. An ambulance was pulling away, too. And even though it was a veggie eatery, Duncan said that he could smell burnt meat. They should have called a hearse instead."
     The other electrician starts to suck on some nutrient pap and chuckles. He mumbles, "What do /you/ think it was then?"
     "Awww shut up and pass me the java."

Message: 10/49     Wednesday, November 14, 2002
Meanwhile, back at the Lodge...
     "So... that Knight's Lodge down on Wallside got mobbed the other day. Did you hear about that?
     "Someone up and spread the word that a murderer was living there.. none other than one of those Shrine-desecrating bastiches. Yeah, those punks killed a whole bunch of caretakers at the Shrine, and got that priest and some folks turned to stone. Tortured some lady, too, yeah. Anyway, they found out that the cyber-knights were letting one of them live at that nice compound that the Council gave 'em on tax-payers' credits. Ain't that bumf?
     "So, a bunch of people rushed it, protest-like. And one of the knights, big tough guy I hear, umm.. Danny Stamina Ruddy.. something cute like that.. he actually tried to stop them? Said it was none of their business, ain't that bumf? Someone set a fire, and then the department and Militia were all over the place. Took the murdering sumbitch away. Mission completed, right?
     "Strange thing, though.. the folks who were in on it.. some of them were talking like it was some sort of dream.. like they're not sure why they went along with it. Riight. And guess who the Militia went easy on? Kee-rect."

Message: 10/50     Wednesday, November 28, 2002
Crazy Perverts Walking The Streets
     A conversation held between two shop keepers as they chat over their sidewalk displays to each other one lazy afternoon.
     "Mmm... girl, I'll not be lyin' to ya. Der she was plain as day with no britches on. I always tell dat girl she gotta stay away from the likes o' dat Gareth Vaughn," the first shop keeper says, putting her hands on her overly wide hips, her cocoa skin gleaming with sweat. "I knowed he was gonna try sumtin, I tole ya days ago."
     The second shop keeper's already bug-eyed expression, grows even more cartoonish as she leans forward, "NO pants at all? What? He just pulled them off right there in front of the Hanged Man? I don't believe it, Netty. I just can't. I mean, the guy is a womanizing creep but..." she trails off as she's interrupted by the woman called Netty.
     Netty looks irritated at the insinuation that she might not be telling the full truth. "I tole ya! I'll not be lying! I saw it wid my own two eyes and that man was attacking her! Poor girl. Not right in da head since her husband died, but no excuse for a mangy dog ta be takin advantage like dat." She shakes her huge head and wipes at the sweat on her brow.
     "He died? I thought he left her when she started going loony?" The second shop keeper shrugs as if it really doesn't matter anyhow. "A girl like that without a man. No wonder she's keeping such bad company. She should settle down with a nice boy and have babies. Beelzebub's breath but it's hot, isn't it Netty?"
     "Too damn hot, if ya asks me." And with that the two fall silent, finishing up their work outside before hurrying inside and out of the direct afternoon sun.

Message: 10/51     Monday, February 11, 2002
Wall: 1, Gareth: 0
     The officer on the scene decided to bring out the data-pad for this one. Before him, an upper-middle-class witness choked down another finger of brandy, while the bartender and various other patrons of the Tap and Barrel gathered around curiously. The officer grimaced, then said, "You want to run that by me again, Mister Tremblay?"
     Tremblay let out a big shaky sigh. "Again? Very well...Right, so...I was coming down the alley to meet some friends here, but before I can get to the door, I see that huge black man standing near that odd mural. He's the fellow in those crazy commercials.. The G'-whatever ads. Anyway, he was acting very strangely, sort of swaying back and forth, flapping his arms, almost tipping right over...like he was drunk or something. But he was making these frightful little screaming noises in his throat at the same time." The man took another gulp of liquor from his glass, and sighed heavily. "And then he crouched down very quick, and wrapped his arms over his head. And that's when the wall fell on him." The gentleman gave an involuntary shudder.
     The officer chuckled slightly. "Ah...You mean he fell against the wall."
     "No...no no, he never touched the wall. The wall fell on /him/. The whole section that was covered with the mural, it practically leaped on him, like a...well, like a ton of bricks." A nervous ripple of laughter moved through the small gathering at the double-entendre, but Tremblay ignored it, taking another drink from his glass.
     "And that's when you ran in here to call for help?"
     "Yeah. He was completely buried. And I wasn't going to hang around in a place where the walls were just falling over. Would you?"
     There was a moment of silence. Then the officer finished up the witness report with one last question. "Had you been drinking at all /prior/ to the incident, Mister Tremblay?"

Message: 10/52     Monday, April 29, 2002
Police Got Their Mojo On
     "So.
     "If there's one thing all this personal weapons furor has brought about, citizens can now bask in the security of seeing the Police force crawling the streets like never before, looking for answers. The daily entertainment of witnessing some poor slob or other being hauled kicking and cursing into a patrol car is good for community morale! And they're probably even guilty of something, to boot.
     "Maybe it's just the public pressure to make an example of someone before the Spring Budget, when the TPD's value comes under assessment. Or just maybe, the order came down from higher powers, who would probably like to avoid looking weak in front of a guy representing Chi-Town.
     "And so the Great Round-Up began, the cops apparently making arrests on any little charge they could cook up. Take that big lug Gareth Vaughn. Who would have *ever* thought 'Mister Intrepid' himself was mixed up in the bad stuff...? They picked the guy right off the street, it's said the poor guy was so upset he was barking up his dinner. Slapped five good charges on his head, and bundled him off. But apparently they've been trying to get him for ages now. That patrol car smash-up at the Java Factory last week? Near Gareth's gym, so...yeah, add it up yourself. Some other guy took the fall though...he was shipped off into exile with the rest o' them.
     "Speaking of which, ever wonder just what becomes of the hundred-odd killers and miscreants dumped in the Xit deadlands each year? There hasn't been any of those bugs around Duluth since the war, the televid documentary proved as much. So it's kinda pointless to keep up this policy, don'tcha think...?"
Excerpt from the vocal stylings of local jaded yap, 'Loudmouth' McGee

Message: 10/53     Friday, June 7, 2002
Unusual menu item.
Did you here what happened to Nancy the other day?
No, how did her chef's exams go?
Well she had the lamb in the oven and was starting to prepare a turnip and some potatoes. But when she went to cut into the turnip it suddenly turned into that strange Mr. Laboa.
Oh my goodness what happened then?
Well Mr. Laboa flatly inquired 'And just what are your intentions with that knife miss?' and to make things even stranger he had a bra strapped to his head.
Well I always knew that alien was a pervert, anyone with a nose that big can't be straight as an arrow.
Well then Mr. Laboa removed the bra, held it out to Nancy and said 'Here I believe this belongs to you.' Then he walked out without another word.
Oh my I never knew Nancy was interested in cross species intimacy.

Message: 10/54     Monday, June 10, 2002
Dude.. Where's my car!?
Overheard on Freedom Way, Woden's Day Afternoon, Decrembe 29th 110 PA
     "...He's got it in for me, I'm telling you. So, anyway I snag my pop's keys and head outside around noon, cuz I thought... hey why not just cut class and cruise.. Cuz I said, Hey, they ain't gonna have class after that big storm anyway... and my pop's car is /gone/... and not just his, every single one up and down the street is gone. Like they just came up and impounded the lot." The chatting youths mill around the soy-burger joint until the proprietor shoos them off. They move down three tables and sit before the Wok-n-Roll just a ways down the food court. The speaker excuses himself for a moment to grab an egg roll and returns while the rest of the crowd goes on about how crazy all these storms have been this past week.
     "...and you know what!? They believed us! Those stooges up there can be such honkers... don't they know anything?"
     The original youth chimes in, "This about how you and Alfons got all the security on snob-hill chasing each other's shadows?"
     "You bet your ass, the boys never knew what hit 'em!"
     "But hey, listen to this you guys, so Pops goes to the impound like: "Hey, where's my car!?" and they say, "It's been here three days, you stoopid bastiche you owe us for three days of holding it here for you or you're not getting it back!" "But like, you see... I drove it yesterday, man, how in the hell'd it get in the lot for three days?" Anyway, my pops.. he's such a honker, he's making me pay for the three days it's been in impound cuz he doesn't believe that I didn't have somethin' to do with this... how twisted is that?"
     "Well... there was tha' one time you snagged'is car an' parked it next ta' that fire-hydran' an' then tol' 'im his car got stolt so's you woodn't havtah pay tha' fine, you know?"
     "That's still Bumf... So what the hell is with these damn storms?"
     "Pops says it's cuz'a the Flouride they put in tha' water... 'actin with those new sena' thingie-ma'ams. Said tha' Tolkeen "Sinnick" tol't him so."
     "Yeah... didn't they have a storm when they tested those things?"

Message: 10/55     Thursday, July 18, 2002
Oy, what a mess is this.
     Originating amongst the hunting-tracking circles and villagers' market stalls in the Plaza, the new year's hot topic concerns the grisly kill-sites that have been found around Tolkeen territory, typically within five or six miles of the walls themselves.
     "Wait.. how many's that?" asks Joe Citizen, happening by.
     "OH... four'r five, wuzzit? Ebben? Five, you reckon?"
     "Five." Ebben seems not much for talking, but damn, that monosyllable is convincing.
     "Ayup. Ebben knows. He'sa been to 'em all.. sortofa.. tour-guide t'the... the 'circuit macabre'." Fella's pretty clever for a chicken farmer. "He finds 'em by lookin' fer the carrion birds, who flocks t'those dreadful places in grrreat numbers. Mostof those places look t'be them cabins you thought wuz deserted, but turns out t'have folk there after all. Ain't that just so, Ebben?"
     "Ayup."
     "So wait," persists the citizen, skeptically, in the fine tradition of wariness for yokel pranks. "You're sayin' that people travelin' out there are just being slaughtered.. and nobody cares?"
     "Nope, ain't sayin' that atall. Sumat were travelers, I reckon, who fell int'bad company, like dark faes, or them bedeviled necromancers. But sumat /weren't/ travelers, but them exile folk, prob'ly hunted up by the local bloodhounds. Not that you kin tell, what with how all three o' them types fancy grabbin' the /eyes/ right outta yer /head/."
     "Ah.. riiight.." The poor citizen seems convinced that he's being had, and starts to step back.
     "And one wuzzn't /even/ people! One place on the tour is just a giant marsh sow. Her whole head dragged clean away by some city psycho who likes takin' trophies, but don't mind wastin' good pork. Just so, you reckon, Ebben?"
     "Reckon."
     "I see." The citizen grimaces but maintains some dignity as he extricates himself from the morbid conversation. "Well thanks, uh, yeah. Bye."
     The chicken farmer watches their would-be customer scurry off through the market. "Strange man, eh Ebben?"
     "I concur. These slickers just don't know how safe they have it."

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