ItIsJustMe

"To Wear the Throne"

Melody was surprised and, to be honest, a bit disappointed to learn that only 3 of the Sedents had volunteered to make the trek to the Capital with Clan Yalla. She had dismissed the idea of selling the attack's survivors into slavery, of course, but still she would have preferred to have a more realistic number of barbarians to present at the slave market.

Scouts were sent north from the still smoking remnants of Kengetar's village to look for other tribal dangers, and an hour later, the caravan began to pull out; half of the mounted warriors led the procession; behind them were a half of the footbound warriors; then came the women, children, injured, and aged (some on foot, some on wagons or carts); and taking the rear were the rest of the warriors on foot.

Melody had explained to Kengatar that, as was the custom for slaves on the way to market, he and his two volunteers would be on foot, surrounded by the first Company of warriors on foot. "You will have bindings on your wrists but not your feet, and those bindings will be loose ... to allow you to discard them if we come into danger. Kengetar, it is important to me that you appear to be a captive and yet know without doubt that you are not!"

The last thing Melody did before she mounted her horse was have her servant, Haanya, sling a worn, dirty cape around Kengetar's shoulders and tie the leather thong under his chin. Melody explained, "I know you are accustomed to the weather of your own land and likely don't need this..."

Then, stepping closer, Melody gestured to Broon for a Sedent dagger and slipped it into the bound waist band of Kengetar's loincloth. She suddenly felt her face blushing and turned her head in the hopes of preventing him from seeing it; Melody had had a sudden recollection of the barbarian's impressive manhood from the night before, and knowing that it was well within her easy reach should she decide to partake of it caused her no end of frustration and embarrassment.

"The cape is to hide this," she explained, no longer facing Kengetar as she moved to her horse. She didn't look to him again until she thought she'd gain control of her complexion, telling him, "My Kapiten things arming you is a grave error. I am hoping otherwise."

She was about to turn to get the procession moving when suddenly there was a great deal of excitement coming from the direction of the Sedents who were remaining behind. As she watched, a group of hurrying survivors with bags over their shoulders or in their arms hurried toward Melody; they included three women, one older but seemingly spry male, and a teenage boy and similarly aged girl.

They were calling out in a combination of their own Dialect and Common, and Melody very quickly deduced that they intended to join and support Kengetar, who Melody was coming to understand had made quite an impression on the tribe with his heroic sacrifice. When the group got closer, Melody realized that one of the women was the one who'd drawn blood from her bosom with a knife earlier this morning. She make eye contact with the woman, smiled, and made a familiar gesture of welcome before asking, "Why have you chosen to accompany us?"

The woman pulled the top flap of her backpack open just enough to reveal the blade that could very well have killed Melody the night before and explained in her broken Common, "No seek revenge if not with you." Melody's smile widened; the woman donned the pack and added before joining the other Sedents, "If seek revenge."

Melody gave the woman a respectful nod, looked about herself for sign that they were ready to set out, and gave Broon a familiar look. The Captain called out loudly, "North!"

And with that, the caravan was underway...

Just short of noon:

The procession followed a trail in a northeasterly direction throughout the morning; it might have been a road once upon a time, but in many places Mother Nature had done it damage with the runoff of rain, the growth of plant life, and the falling of trees. Often the procession had to be halted to clear the way or aid the carts over collapsed, uneven, or simply rough ground.

At times, Melody had contemplated turning back to the road that had taken her to Kengetar's village; it was entirely suitable for the carts and much easier for those on foot. But that direction would have added another five or six days to the mission to the Capital.

Just before high sun, though, the scouts backtracked to inform their Lady that a very recent, rain-driven landslide had obliterated the road entirely; there would be no going this way with the wheeled vehicles. Melody ordered camp struck for the night and scouts sent out to look for dangers. She told Broon to raise only four of the many tents: hers for herself and the Sedent women and children, a smaller one for the Sedent men, a similarly sized one for Broon himself and his Yallan Juniors, and -- because the sky was threatening to pour more rain upon them -- a fourth one, just a lean-to, for setting up a kitchen for the group as a whole.

Battle for the Known World -- A tabletop story of magic, monsters, and mayhem

OOC

Map of The Known World

Sovereign Realms:

The Republic of Yalla

Key locations within the Republic of Yalla

Town of Riverbank

Places of Interest in Riverbank

• The Boarshead Inn: introduced here

Fantasy story for 1 writer (3-6 characters); VERY simplistic dice rolling game/story

Seeking 1 player to write multiple characters, perhaps a wizard, a warrior, an archer, a thief, yadda yadda yadda; perhaps you begin with a human or two, gain an elf, maybe a gnome and a fairy?

Replies can be moderately long and descriptive OR short and to the point, little more than a melee round's rolls/results.

This is a VERY simplified D&D-style game: 1 or maybe 2 abilities, a BARE minimum of modifiers, very few melee steps (with most fights begun and concluded in just 2 posts), etc.

The goal here is to tell a rapidly moving story, not get bogged down in 40 or 50 round melee fights.

If you want to see more, go to this link

"To Wear the Throne"

"I will sleep here, of course," Melody told her Captain when sometime later he asked her the same question Kengetar had been thinking. "I will be safe, Kapiten. They are just children."

"How old were you when you took your first life, m'lady?" Broon asked, his tone respectful. She didn't answer. He said, "I'll post guards in the tent to ensure--"

"You will not," Melody cut in. She smiled to her Captain: "I will be fine."

Broon left with several end-of-day orders, and Melody made her way about her tent, reassuring the children and the women watching over them that all would be well. Some returned her kindness; others did not, their faces showing their fear, hatred, or both.

Eventually, with torches extinguished and only candles lighting its interior, the tent fell into near silence as its occupants fell asleep. Melody had given up her own bed to several children orphaned by the morning's attack. She herself laid down in a corner with Haanya and one of the Healers; she rested her head on a pile of clothes and -- having distributed all of the bedding -- wrapped herself in her cloak, which was insufficient against the cold that would deepen through the night.

Melody's last memory of the evening was hearing a soothing lullaby being sung by one of the Sedent females. Hours later, she awoke with a start to Haanya shaking her at the shoulder. In the low light, Melody eventually focused her eyes on the issue: a Sedent woman pointing a knife at her chest.

The woman growled in her Tribe's dialect, and while she didn't understand all the words, Melody understood that she was being blamed for the death of the woman's mother in yesterday's attack. Melody slowly rose to a sitting position.

"Please ... before you kill me ... will you let me give my cloak to one of the children?" Melody asked softly. "I do not want it to be soiled with my blood as they sleep in it ... for warmth."

The knife wielding woman looked confused. Melody pulled the cloak from where she'd been using it as a blanket and handed it to a second Sedent. Melody continued, "My mother, too, was murdered. I want revenge on the woman responsible for my mother's death ... just as you want revenge on the woman responsible for your mother's death ... revenge on me."

Melody was fully sitting up now; the blade's tip had made physical contact with the flesh of one of her breasts. "I will not stop you from getting your revenge ... here, now." Melody glanced toward Haanya, then the healer, directing, "No one will try to stop you, and no one will harm you for doing this. It is justice. Do you know this word...?"

A Sedent woman who was watching the drama unfold translated, "drejtësia."

"Yes, drejtësia," Melody repeated. "You may have your justice now, here. Or ... You can let me live long enough for me to get my own revenge first. And then ... you may kill me without any harm coming to you or your people."

The knife-wielding woman glanced downward to find a slow rivulet of blood running from the point of the knife down the Yalla Lady's bosom. She pulled the knife back, and after a moment, she turned it, offering the hand end to Melody; the Yallan moved slowly to take control of the weapon, then handed it to the second Sedent, who hid it in her own bedding.

Haanya pressed a cloth to the wound on her Lady's bosom as Melody herself was telling the Sedent, "You will have your justice, and no one will harm you for taking it ... if you will allow me to get mine, too. I promise."

The former would-be-assassin broke down in tears and sobbed. Melody took her into her arms, and after a long moment they laid down together; the second Sedent covered them both with Melody's cloak, and after some time had passed, the tent returned to its calm as if nothing untoward had occurred.

Somewhere in the near darkness, a southern lullaby was again being sung softly...

Morning:

Outside her tent, Melody found Kengetar and told him to pick those who would be feigning enslavement for our mission. She could see the confusion in his eyes and clarified: only those willing to volunteer to pretend to be captured would be going to the Capital, while the rest of the tribe would remain here. She explained that most of the captured stock animals -- the ones not killed, roasted, and eaten last night by the hungry Clan Yallans, obviously -- were being returned to the Tribe; she also tossed Kengetar a small purse of mostly silver, telling him with a solemn tone, "It cannot make up for what happened here yesterday, but ... nothing ever will.

"I want to be moving within the hour," Melody told Broon. She looked to Kengetar, asking, "Are you ready?"

Battle for the Known World -- A tabletop story of magic, monsters, and mayhem

Usually people post interest checks.

@Dark Cloud

I haven't yet decided whether to open it or not; I have a potential writer for a 1x1, but I would prefer to run it as a Small Group RP.

Battle for the Known World -- A tabletop story of magic, monsters, and mayhem

Battle for the Known World

A tabletop story

of

magic, monsters, and mayhem

The Known World is anything but known to you. It is little more than incredible stories of magic, monsters, and mayhem. Your entire world can be found within a couple of miles of the Town of Riverbank, where you have lived your entire life.

Today, however, you will get your first peek at all that the Known World might be.

A wanderer enters the Boarshead Inn and takes a seat against the wall at a corner table; you work here as an indentured servant, paying off your deceased parents' debt.

She doesn't speak but only snatches a flagon of beer from you as you pass and gestures toward the hog roasting over the fire, implying she wants food.

She eats and drinks in silence.

However, the tavern is not silent; a trio of men in the far corner are being obnoxious. The only other patrons in the tavern at the moment, they make lewd comments to the woman: "You can sit with us, honey"; "I have room for you on my lap and in my bed upstairs"; "You're so quiet, but I can fix that upstairs ... leave you screaming in pleasure, pain, or both ... your choice".

The three men -- members of the local Lord's armed forces and, therefore, no one with whom you want to tangle -- stand and make their way toward the wanderer's table. They hover over her, continuing their obnoxious ways; they make it clear to her that she can either ascend their stairs to join them in their room or enjoy them each, one after the other, right here at her table ... or more specifically, bent face down over it.

Suddenly, a bright white flash explodes over the table, directly before the wanderer; the three men are blown away through the air, crashing onto other tables or against the wall. Upon inspection of them, it is not hard to see that they are all three dead.

The wanderer picks her empty flagon up from the floor and waves it at you for a refill. By the time you arrive, the woman has spread a intricately drawn and labeled Map of the Known World upon the table. As you look down upon it, the wanderer pulls back her cloak's hood to reveal her face more clearly.

"Pick a place ... any place," she invites, "and I will tell you what is there ... and how you can make your fame and fortune there as well."

Then she presses her fingertip to a little black triangle near the very bottom of the map, saying, "You are here now."

"To Wear the Throne"

As ordered, Broon reported to his Lady's tent to make his report; Melody had ordered that the Sedents be giving freedom of movement between it and other locations of need, such as the now-destroyed village's well or the shit pit, and the four guards stationed outside the tent and conspicuously watching these comings and goings had been giving the Captain frequent reports on what they saw.

But it was a mix of men, women, and children not officially on guard duty but who were inconspicuously keeping an eye on the barbarians who provided Broon -- and through him Melody -- with the best intelligence on the group.

"There are reports of a great deal of secretive chatting between Kengetar's people," Broon told her, "and on a couple of occasions, the perimeter guards have had to turn back Sedents who were ambling toward the forest."

"Were they trying to escape, Kapiten?" Melody asked, looking for clarification. "Or were they simply wishing to hunt fresh food ... or, perhaps, find a private place to take a shit?"

Broon smile and even chuckled a bit. There were, in fact, two Shtëpi muti ... 'shit houses' on the perimeter of the former village, away from the residential buildings such that the smell didn't wash over the town during high winds. The nearest of them had caught fire, though; the other was now off limits as it was on the other side of the community's ruins and, therefore, out of sight of the Yallan Guards.

"I believe they were likely testing the perimeter established by my warriors, m'lady," Broon said. Then he smiled, adding, "Or perhaps looking for a private place to shit." He donned a more serious expression as he continued, "We dug a pit and put a tent around it to replace the Shtëpi muti. I will make sure that the Sedents are informed that they, too, may use it."

"I will go with you, Kapiten," Melody said. "I have other business with Kengetar and his people."

She rose from the pillow bed on the tent's carpeted floor where she'd been resting to step into her boots and donned a heavy cloak; a chill was becoming ever worse with each passing hour that was uncommon for this far southern region. The two of them headed for the biggest of the Yallan tents, and upon reaching it, Melody immediately noticed several unfortunate things about it:

First, it was far too small for the number of Sedent survivors. There was virtually no walking room between the clusters of people, who she presumed were grouping of families or friends.

Second, there was only one fire -- below the smoke hole in the center, of course -- and it simply wasn't sufficient to keep warm all of the tent's inhabitants. Melody knew it was only going to get colder, too, and she feared that those sleeping near the tent's wall might become too cold during the night and, quite possibly, die from hypothermia.

Third, despite having supplied food and water to the Sedents, Melody saw none of either now; the group had already devoured and drank all that her troops had delivered to them.

And finally, throughout the tent, Melody could see and in some cases hear the suffering of those who had been injured during the attack. Broon had reported earlier that an old man and a young woman had already perished from wounds inflicted during the fight, and less than 10 hours had passed since the first blood had spilled.

She turned to her Captain and the two men with him, Broon's Oficerë më të vegjël; there was no real Common Tongue translation for the Old Language phrase, with the closest meaning being Lesser or Junior Officers, sometimes simply called Juniors. After some quickly dictated orders, the Juniors immediately hurried off.

"M'lady, please," Broon said softly but with obvious concern when Melody began to enter the tent. When she looked to him for clarification, he glanced at the Sedents -- some of whom were looking at Melody with dagger eyes -- and said in whisper, "I'm not sure you should be here without more security."

Melody looked to those crowded throughout the tent and wondered if perhaps Broon wasn't correct; Kengetar hadn't broken her neck when he'd been alone with her, but he'd had a reason for not doing so, which had been to learn if maybe there wasn't a good reason for delaying such revenge until later. He had delayed, of course, but would his people have the same restraint?

She caught sight of a squatting woman clutching an obviously cold toddler in her arms, and she knew she couldn't simply turn and leave the tent without making some sort of attempt to help the situation. She unhooked the chain that held together the collar of her cloak, peeled it from her shoulders, moved to the woman, and -- after asking, "May I?" -- draped the thick, war, fur-lined cloak over her. Melody tucked the garment around the woman, smiling as she said, "You keep this as long as you need it. It is now yours."

One of the Juniors who'd rushed off returned now, leading two slaves who carried a goat carcass between them on a pole; it still smoked from having just come off from over a roasting fire, and while it was missing one entire hind quarter, the rest of the meat was there for the consuming. The slaves jammed the ends of the pole into the dome-shaped tent's supports, letting the animal dangle over the dirt floor at about chest high.

Melody gestured to the Junior for his knife, and after slicing off a hand-sized chunk of the remaining rear leg, she offered it out to the nearest child. "I uritur?" she asked the boy, and then unsure if she was using his Tribe's language correctly, expanded on her question in Common, "Are you hungery? Eat. Please."

The boy took the meat and eagerly sunk his teeth into it. Melody cut free another chunk of goat and offered it to a little girl who hurried up to her with a smile and outstretched hands. Melody laughed at the child's eagerness, warning, "Është e nxehtë ... it is hot."

It only took a moment for a line of hungry Sedents to begin forming. Melody had other tasks she wished to pursue, so she offered the knife out to one of Kengetar's female neighbors. She hesitated, uncertain; Melody used it to partially cut another chunk of meat but left the blade in the animal's carcass, gesturing to the woman while telling her, "You cut."

As Melody backed away, the woman moved in, and soon she was cutting slices of delicious, red meat. The Clan Yalla leader turned to the Junior and ordered, "Bring me chickens, ducks, and geese ... five each. And bread. And water.." When the young officer gave her a look that she interpreted as For them, the enemy, the prisoner? Melody growled, "Do it ... or I'll feed you to them instead."

Melody looked for Kengetar; when she found him, she found herself taking in his once-again scantily clad body, reminiscing on the view he'd offered her in her own tent earlier in the day. When they were together again, she said, "My tent is warm and dry with a carpet floor. I want all of the children moved there, where they will be protected from the cold. Send which ever women feel they need to go as well.

"And my Healer and my Kirurg are both on their way here to tend to the wounded." She didn't know if the man knew the Old Language word for surgeon, so she translated it for him. She continued, "I am having a floor and a second layer of tarp put over another tent to make it warmer and cleaner ... for the injured. They should not be here, Kengetar."

She gave him an opportunity to respond to what she'd done so far and to either accept or refuse what he offered before finishing, "My Kapiten tells me that survivors have been seen by our scouts in the woods. Sedents, I mean, of course ... your people. You are welcome to invite them into the camp if you wish. Or, if this frightens them ... if they won't trust me like you do--"

Melody looked for Kengetar's reaction to her presumption that he trusted her but continued without waiting for a response, "--you may feel free to venture to the forest's edge to speak with them ... to make whatever arrangements you wish for them. They may stay in the forest ... join us ... built a camp of their own on the other side of the village. I will provide them with food if they need it."

She smiled to the man, hoping that what he had to say after all of this would only strengthen what she thought was becoming a bond of sorts between them.

"To Wear the Throne"

Melody hadn't expected Kengetar to actually clutch his hand, even if the moment had been short. Again, as she had when first she'd seen his impressive manhood dangling before him, Melody found her mind overwhelmed by lewd thoughts of things she could be doing with him other than eating, drinking, and telling stories. But their hands separated, and Melody forced the lustful thoughts out of her brain.

"Yes, I will do this for you,"

She smiled slightly, responding only, "Good."

Melody stood and moved to the tent's door flap, speaking to someone beyond it. She returned, and a moment later Broon entered. She told him, "Kapiten, please escort our guest to one of the Sedent tents." She looked to the officer, asking, "How many are erected?"

Broon's face filled with an expression of confusion. "They are all erected, m'lady ... for your people."

"I think we can spare one tent, can't we Kapiten?" Melody asked; of course, she really wasn't asking. Broon nodded.

Melody turned to Kengetar again. She studied him a moment, during which she found herself thinking This is either the greatest idea I have ever had or the worse ... and if it's the latter ... I have not long to live.

"You are free to return to your people, Kengetar," Melody said, adding with emphasis, "Without shackles." She looked to her Captain; he once again sported that confused expression. She ordered, "You will remove the bindings on the Sedent, Kapiten ... now."

As expected, Broon didn't immediately react, but after a long moment, he dutifully nodded and saluted, saying before he turned and left, "Yes, m'lady."

Melody looked to the barbarian again, turned sideways to him, and gestured a hand politely toward the tent's exit.

"To Wear the Throne"

Melody watched the squatting Kengetar eagerly dig into the platter. She sat on the stool again, sitting more near the man than away from him. Her Captain would have pitched a fit to see her so exposed and vulnerable to the man to whose people her people had done so much harm today, but Melody wasn't concerned; she had confidence that Kengetar was more interested in hearing her tale than in breaking her neck ... for the moment, at least.

"All my life, I've been told that my mother was a very special child..." she began, adding, "...and a beautiful one at that. When she was but 10 years old, she caught the eye of a very powerful man. This man essentially stole my mother away her parents and her people, none of whom would ever see her again.

"She was, of course, far too young to join him in his bed at that time, even for a man of such power. He sent her to the Holy House of Tella-Un, where -- for the next eight years -- she was guarded by and educated by the Priestesses of the Fire. She was taught Mathematics, Letters, Art ... Politics, Finance, History.

"For eight years, she didn't again see the man who'd ripped her from her mother's arms ... nor any other man for that matter.

"Six years after she'd been taken, when that little stick of a girl had grown tall and curvy as most women do at by that age, my mother's education as a Consort began. Oh, don't misunderstand me; it would be almost another three years before the man who had taken her or, again, any other man would touch her.

"But men she did see. During this period of her education, the Priestesses brought men to the Holy House to lay with some of the servants who had surrounded my mother all those years. They did things with each other ... for each other ... to each other ... than man husbands and wives never imagined. My mother watched ... listened ... learned ... and remembered.

"When she was nearly to her 19th Winter, the man came for her. He took her away to the City that would be her home for the next six years. There, she revealed to him just how well she'd been educated in those final years of her education ... revealed how well she'd paid attention and how eager she was to share that education with him, despite how she'd come to be in his service.

"This man quickly became enamored with my mother. He began spending more time at her City, in and out of her bed. She had become so much more to him that simply a warm, energetic body that served his carnal urges and needs. He had traded lust for love.

"He nearly ceased his travels to the other Cities under his rule ... and to the beds of the other Consorts under his rule as well. He had little use for those other women. She and the City she ruled in his absence soon became the focal point of his life.

"And she gave him a child..." Melody continued, a slight smile appearing on her lips as she added, "...a daughter ... who many said then and still say today was as beautiful as her mother ever had been. And this man loved his daughter ... professed his love publicly ... something for which he hadn't done for any of his previously born daughters or even many of his sons.

"And this was the beginning of my mother's downfall," Melody said with a tone that was more solemn at this point. "Others ... other Consorts ... became jealous of the attention, support, and power my mother was being given. One in particular, Lady Gwenneth of the House of Youln, became determined to ... correct what she felt was a mistake on her Master's part ... on my father's part. She conspired with others to see that my mother fell from her lofty position of power. And she succeeded."

Melody paused, unsure if she wanted to explain the details of how her mother's second life had been torn away from her. She decided this wasn't the time and instead continued with, "Lady Gwenneth of the House of Youln has been in the Capital City of Yalla for several months. She is in talks with the Republic's Prime Minister regarding control of the waters and coastline of the Dead Coast..."

Her tone and expressions became conspicuously harsher as she told Kengetar, "She is serving as the Imperial Ambassador for her Master ... Emperor Frenk the Hearty ... my father."

Melody studied the barbarian's reaction, wondering whether or not he'd already picked up on the clues she'd dropped and concluded that it was indeed the ruler of the Frenkish Empire about whom she'd been speaking all this time. Was Kengetar fluent in world politics such that he even knew who Frenk the Hearty was? Most of the world's population had heard of the Emperor, but most of those couldn't tell you his name, let alone anything about him other than the fact that in less than 40 years, he and his brutal and ever growing army had taken over nearly a fifth of the world's landmass, including at least four major, walled cities.

"This is the woman I want you to kill, Kengetar ... lady Gwenneth," Melody went on, spelling out the details that would matter to him if he took the mission. "I cannot get to her, but you can. She has a ... fondness for men such as yourself ... men who are -- and please, do not think that I offend you intentionally -- men who are wild ... men who are barbaric ... animals--"

She let her gaze fall toward his now-thankfully hidden crotch before she added, "--and endowed enough to bring out the barbaric animal in her, too. You can get to her as few men can ... and once you have gotten to her ... once you have served her ... once she is sated and off her guard ... vulnerable ... you can kill her and escape ... and lead your people back to the mountains with more silver and gold than you and they have ever imagined."

For the first time since they'd met, Melody reached out and touched Kengetar, laying her hand atop his as it rest on the edge of the tiny dining table. Would he withdraw it in surprise...? In anger...? In hate? Or would he allow it to sit there while she squeezed it softly in an attempt to show him that she was being entirely sincere in her offer?

Either way, Melody would finish with, "Will you do this for me, Kengetar? Will you do this for your people?"

"Only Time Will Tell"

"Only Time Will Tell"

NOTE

Seeking a writer, male or female.
PM me first; don't just jump in.
(FYI: I began using male pronouns for the character,
but I can change them if the writing partner
I choose is female.)

Rachel was dizzy, disoriented, and wracked with pain; her brain couldn't make heads nor tails of her surroundings -- couldn't determine whether the jump had worked or not -- despite her fully functioning eyes taking in the sights about her. Finally, after God only knew how long, her mental and physical faculties began to return to her. Ironically, it was only now that she fell into a heap on the floor, her previously locked joints and tensed muscles now freed and unwilling to support her.

Another long moment passed before she was able to stand. She took in her surroundings with a long sweeping glance; she had jumped to almost the exact spot intended, a passageway of the Martindale Science Museum that was closed to the General Public. She looked herself over for injuries, finding none; she smoothed her jump suit to her fit frame and checked her weapon to see if it had maintained its charge, something the Facility's Techs had told her had a 1 in 4 chance.

"Damn," she grumbled, finding it not only discharged but also non-funtional. Rachel holstered the weapon on her thigh, drawing a few deep breaths in an attempt to steady her lightly trembling body. It didn't work. She chanted quietly, "Relax ... just relax ... relax ... it's all ... going ... as ... planned ... just relax--"

When a door unexpectedly opened just yards before her, Rachel instinctively drew the pulse weapon from its holster and aimed it at the head of the alien about to attack her.

"Whoa, whoa!" the creature said to her in slightly accented English. The man pulled his costume's headdress off, looked Rachel up and down, and complimented, "Nice ... suit! Did you make that yourself? Who are you supposed to be? I don't recognize the show. Or is it from a graphic novel?"

Relax, relax ... put it away, Rachel chastised herself, holstering the defunct weapon. She recalled her cover, as well as the reason they'd picked Seattle ComiCon'24 as her jump landing: "I'm, uh ... it's from ... FutureGirl." She could see the lack of recognition in his face and added quickly, "It's an Indie comic ... graphic novel. Not well known; only one issue so far."

As the man began making inquiries about the costume, her character, where he could get a copy and more, Rachel hurried past him for the door and the conference hall beyond him, giving him only her backside and no answers. She stopped on the edge of the milling-about crowd, suddenly realizing just how hard her heart was pounding. She'd never seen anything like this before in her 24 years of life in what these people would call the 23rd century. There were so many people, and they were all doing something Rachel couldn't recall ever having done in her life: enjoying themselves.

The alien passed by her, making more inquiries, giving her more compliments, and -- after she asked where it was -- pointing her to the Information Center. She headed through the crowd, giving the mostly costumed attendees the same glances of curiosity as they were giving her. (Some of the glances, mostly from males, seemed to be taking in her delicious womanly curves more than the costume that fit them so wonderfully.)

After a few wrong turns and pauses at booths or displays that she simply didn't understand, Rachel found her destination. She asked a young woman costumed as a bikini wearing, pink furred, anthropomorphic cat, "Where do I find the Captain Harbinger display?"

"Which one? There's four of them," she informed Rachel. The latest superhero to not come from one of the major studios was the newest big thing at this year's ComiCon. She drew circles on a map side of a flyer and oriented it on the table before her. "I'd start that direction. It's the closest."

Rachel studied the map but left it where it was as she headed off into the crowd. She found the first booth but not the person for whom she was looking; same at the second booth in the next Hall over. Finally, at the far side of the second hall from the last exhibit, Rachel's heart skipped a beat at the sight of her target. She froze for a long moment, searching for the courage to take this huge step. Finally, after drawing a few more steadying breaths, she walked up to the man, catching his attention after a moment and smiling wide.

"Hi," she said, hesitating not so much to allow him to respond but because she still wasn't ready for this. Finally, she continued, "I know this is going to sound strange when I say it, even for a place like this with..."

Rachel hesitated as a three-operator -- and thus six-legged -- brightly colored creature pushed its way through the crowd; from its fang-filled mouth, faux-fire streamers flapped frantically, driven by a fan hidden somewhere inside the costume. Suddenly but accidentally, the creature bumped Rachal, pushing her into the man's arms. She blushed when she realized that her curvy, leather-and-latex sheathed body was pressed firmly against his own. She chuckled nervously, backed away, and both apologized and asked for clarification, "Sorry about that. Dragon, right? The ... those guys?"

She looked about at another ruckus nearby, then spoke in a volume meant only for him. "As I was saying, this is going to sound strange, but ... I'm from the future ... the 23rd century ... 2266 to be exact ... and I need your help in this time to save the world of the future ... a world that is mine now but will be the world of your descendants soon enough."