Back to the main page

Mailing List Logs for ShadowRN

Message no. 1
From: Thunda <Alamos20K@*******.CLEANERS.CX>
Subject: Dandy chompers
Date: Thu, 19 Dec 1996 01:44:30 +0000
*****NOT TO: Humans
*****TO: Metahumans everywhere
>>>>>[Eat this flap ears!


+++++Include: Execution.vcr
+++++Include: Alamos.thm


DEATH TO ALL DANDELION EATERS!


DEATH TO ALL METAHUMAN SCUM!


I hope y'all enjoyed the vid. It was real nice dustin' 12 of you
freaks. You'll find the heads on your fuckin' doorstep. No longer will
you be allowed to roam at will through this city, no more will your
filth be allowed to travel with impunity. You are all meat waiting for
the executioner. And I'm here. Here to cleanse this city of unnatural
freaks like you. Here to prevent you spreading your foul seed further
afield. Pray to your demons Meta's. Judgement has arrived.]<<<<<
-- Thunda <01:36:12/12-19-57>
Message no. 2
From: Benjamin <benjamin@*****.COM>
Subject: Re: Dandy chompers
Date: Wed, 18 Dec 1996 21:47:26 PST
>>>>>[+++++Include:Routing headers for message Thunda/01:36:12/12-19-57

Well, I sure didn't know you could rout based on race. In fact, you
can't. I'm suprised this message got anywhere at all.

Maybe I should move to the Tir.]<<<<<
-- Noid <21:45:04/12-18-57>
Message no. 3
From: Spike <u5a77@*****.CS.KEELE.AC.UK>
Subject: Re: Dandy chompers
Date: Thu, 19 Dec 1996 11:29:26 +0000
>>>>>[Thunda....

You, are an absolute fruitloop.

You are 3 rounds short of a full clip.

You can't target ALL HUMANS or ALL METAHUMANS because most of us don't give
a FRAG what race we are, so most of us don't set up big posters on our nodes
saying "I am an Ork", or "I am a Human....."

People like you are a waste of air, and if I ever do meet you, you'll be
feeling it for a VERY long time.

This is supposed to be the season of good will for most people (not that it
means much anymore.


Merry Christmas everyone....
Except Thunda and his kind.....]<<<<<
-- Running Horse <11:27:45 GMT/19.DEC.57>
Message no. 4
From: "Paul J. Adam" <shadowtk@********.DEMON.CO.UK>
Subject: Re: Dandy chompers
Date: Thu, 19 Dec 1996 22:52:28 +0000
>>>>>[Well, Thunda, chew on this. Turnabout is fair play, as they say.

+++++begin video
The image shudders through static, then settles on an image of a meeting
hall: it looks like a rented facility, the walls covered with posters
advertising everything from a martial-arts class to flower arranging to
the "Reverend Phillips of Operation: Redemption".

There are about sixty cheap plastic chairs set out, and maybe two-thirds
of them are occupied: most of them by your archetypal working-class
Joes, the majority male, and all Human. The camera - at the back of the
hall - watches, as the room lights dim apart from a spotlight on the
lectern.

Six burly humans move quietly into position around the lectern, carrying
some sort of staves: standing on the fringes of the light, they raise
the staves, and in unison they burst into flame. The effect is startling
and dramatic, and as the audience recover you see a robed man standing
at the lectern, appearing as if from nowhere.

"Greetings, Brethren. I am the Reverend Phillips. And I come to bring
you redemption.". Phillips pauses, looking down, then stares at the
crowd.

"God made Man in his own image, pure and beautiful. The Lord created Man
to be a thing of wonder, the only one being He made that could know and
praise the Lord and his works. And the Lord gave Man power to name all
the beasts field and sea and sky, and Man ruled supreme over all the
world.

"And then, in the times of darkness, when good men feared for their
lives and evil stalked the land, when the sinners shook the earth and
rent the skies, then Satan took the work of the Lord, and twisted it and
warped it! The Devil took what was good and beautiful and made it into a
thing of evil-"

Phillips breaks off, staring at something to the side of the camera. The
circle of torches flutters as his escort crane to see into the darkness.

A silhouetted figure steps in front of the camera: slim, feminine,
wearing a long coat cut from fine black leather. The backlighting
clearly shows the delicate points to her ears.

"Tell me more, Reverend, about how I am the personal handiwork of
Satan." A Tarislar accent, perhaps a hint of the South, and decidedly
amused.

"Who are you? What-"

"You invited me, remember, Reverend? I am Elizabeth Christine. How else
would a girl like me get the name 'Easy'?"

The audience is looking from Phillips to Easy in alarm, some at the
fringes rising from their seats and sidling towards the nearest exit.

"Begone, spawn of Beelzebub!!!! Phillips raises the crucifix that hangs
at his neck. "I banish thee in the name of the Lord!"

"Talismans and charms. How sweet. And how useless. Anyone who doesn't
want to die, had better get on out of here."

Most of the room rises in what is almost a stampede. The Reverend is
shouting, something about standing and showing the courage of the Lord,
but only a handful of his audience pay heed. Two of Phillips' escort
force their way through the escaping crowd, as Easy walks forward: one
is still reaching for a weapon when the Elven girl reaches out and
flicks fingertips across his throat: he staggers back, an amazing gout
of crimson pumping from the slashes in his neck.

The other has time to draw his pistol before he spasms and falls, a slim
throwing spike jutting from his forehead.

The other four have guns out, as does one of the audience, but as the
last escaping stragglers clear their line of fire the room is lit by a
strobelight flash, the compensated Ingram's muzzle blast enormous in the
dark, confined room. Two escorts go down at once and Easy throws herself
sideways in a confusion of flying chairs and shadows and flapping
leather coat, and several shots crack through air to no effect before
the last two of Phillips' honour guard die. The armed audience member -
the other three who had initially stuck around racing for the fire door
- is shaking like a leaf, pulling the trigger on his Light Fire
automatic with no effect as the Elf walks slowly up to him.

"Works better if you take the safety off." she advises, reaching out and
snapping his neck.

Dropping the body, she turns to face Phillips, who is still standing in
the spotlight and at the lectern.

"Any last words, Reverend?"

"May God forgive you and have mercy on you, for you are an abomination
in His sight." replies Phillips calmly, and Easy is suddenly lit almost
from within by a soundless, shatteringly bright pulse of energy.

She staggers back, clutching herself in agony: smoke rising from her
body and the Ingram falling to the ground, discharging a few rounds into
the wall when it lands.

"The Lord protects His servants, Elizabeth. And fire from the heavens
smote the enemies of the Lord, and they wept and gnashed their teeth."
Phillips smiles beatifically. "And the sinners were cast down from the
high places-"

The Elven samurai raises her hand, and there's a Colt Manhunter in it,
and she fires half-a-dozen wild shots at Phillips. One blows splinters
out of the lectern and another spins him half around, gasping in pain.
He falls to his knees.

"God has... a sense of humour." Easy lurches forwards, seizes the edge
of the lectern for support and fires twice more, missing Phillips as he
crawls for the door. "Or maybe Satan likes us both." Another few shots
blow holes in the floor and one bullet zips and ricochets, buzzing like
a furious wasp: Phillips looks back, and a crackling barrier seals off
the hall between him and the samurai. Easy empties the Manhunter into
it, bright flashes her only reward.

"We will meet again, abomination." Phillips groans.
"Looking forward to it, dickhead." Easy replies, fumbling for a spare
clip. Phillips hauls himself to his feet on the grab-bar of the fire
escape and staggers through it: Easy swears in Sperethiel and lurches
back towards the camera. After perhaps thirty seconds, the barrier
disappears.

A few minutes later, Easy comes back in, already moving a little more
easily, and picks up her dropped Ingram, then searches the six dead
honour guardsmen; removing weapons and identification. Walking back
towards the door, she pauses by the camera and the view goes black.
+++++end video

The news haven't picked it up in any particular way, presumably because
it got overshadowed by bigger and better noises.

And speaking of presumption, that'll teach me not to consider that maybe
he might be a magician, and I should shoot him _first_ instead of
showing off? I admit, I'm lucky to be alive, screwing up that badly.

Maybe he was doing some sort of mind control magic on his audience or
something? They seemed really still and quiet during his spiel.

Anyway, that's my contribution to Seattle's crime rate for today, I
think I need to rest and reflect and learn from my mistakes on that
one.]<<<<<
-- Easy <22:50:59/12-19-57>
Message no. 5
From: Dave Gladding <D.T.M.Gladding@*****.AC.UK>
Subject: Re: Dandy chompers
Date: Fri, 20 Dec 1996 10:18:37 GMT
>>>>>[As bad as I used to be]<<<<<
-- JayCee <10:12:06/12-20-57>

Disclaimer

These messages were posted a long time ago on a mailing list far, far away. The copyright to their contents probably lies with the original authors of the individual messages, but since they were published in an electronic forum that anyone could subscribe to, and the logs were available to subscribers and most likely non-subscribers as well, it's felt that re-publishing them here is a kind of public service.

Thwap!