She spent at least an hour sitting at a table, twirling one of those pens with the froofy, feathery tops (in blue, of course) around in her fingers and watching the sparkles from it fall to the table. There was no denying that her idea for the ultimate surprise party was brilliant. The execution for how to obtain such a thing, however, was lacking. How could she get a large number of people to show up at the clubhouse without them knowing where they were going and why they were going there? She had a list before her with several items crossed out and notes next to them:

Kidnapping (too many law suits possible)
Ransom Notes (too time consuming)
Large Elephant (too messy, zoo too hard to break into a second time)
Bribery (we?re above that)
Spaceship Tractor Beam (over budget)

She tapped the froofy top of the pen against her lips before her eyes lit up and she leaped from her seat, ?Zounds! I got it!? Let the devious giggling begin as she retook her seat and started scribbling out notes on the pile of paper besides her.

Later that night, letters (with the same basic message and slightly different instructions) were sent out all over the city to males and females alike:

My dearest,

You do not know me but I know you! I have been watching you for ever so long from afar: wishing, hoping, dreaming that one day we could be together! That day has now arrived! I have recently come into a large fortune and now will no longer have to wait, planning for the day when I may be good enough for you. I am ready to start our future together! Please, my darling, meet me at the intersection of _____ and ____ street at eight o'clock in the evening on _____day. There, a black, unmarked carriage will await you to take you to me.

With all my love and many hugs and kisses!
Your secret admirer

?Now I just need to hire about fifty black carriages and provide them all with nets incase some people don?t come quietly.?

::thumbing through her mail, noting a mysterious note. A quick read, a deep sigh:: Tsk. Another secret admirer....

nori brought the note to him as he sat in his office at the Tower. It was strange, to say the least. Someone willing to watch him - even in secret -would not think to do something like this. Could it be a prank? The crossroad location was literally in the middle of his travels between the tower and the Inn. He placed the note down on the desk and pondered a moment while he ordered his computer to pull up the location.

He stood up, arms folding behind him as the dispalys lit up the intersection. Arrows and highlights began coming up over the buildings that the system recongized. He watched carefully, observing the display. He pondered merchants, operations and other past actions. He picked up the note that rested on his desk.

It could be a trap - He always thought that, its how he survived so long. And if its not, its a sick joke - Either way, its possible to investigate.

Dora handed the letter to Clair Poe and asked,"Read this for me Mr. Poe, I must have someghing important here, they sended me a real letter" Dora handed to the Poe man, where he sat at the doorway to the cemetary and waited.

"Hmm? I am not sure this letter is for you Dorie. But then, maybe it is."Poe scratched his tossled head."I can't read this here language. or any other, for a fact. Here."Clait handed the page back to her and added," Best you ask a scribe or most anyone but me."

"Thanks Poe." Widow clutched the missive to her and hurried along the road where she met Melvin Frye.

"Afternoon, Mister Frye."Dorie smiled and nodded until the ruffle on her cap fluttered; better than fluttering eyelashes. "I wonder, could you do me the favour o reading this letter someone sended to me? My eyes are good, I just cannot read."

"Of courese, Dorie." Mel accepted the letter and gave it a flick to straigten the crumples in the page." It say you got an admirer and when to meet him, in the real life." Then he read it all to her.

"Me? Admirer/ Hain't hardly likely!" There was no question 42 old ladies do not have many admirers, any more.

"Well, I will volunteer to go there along with you, Dor and we se what this about. I will meet you, with the car, if you like." He did no have to wait long for his answer.

"Yes! It sound like a good idea." But part of her doubted anyone nice was going to be there. Admirer, indeedy. If she wanted anyone's attention, why he was already right there; Mister Frye. But that is a secret, right?

::She went to check and see if she received a letter from Raymond, since it has been a month since she last saw him and was begining to wonder if he ran off as well as the last man Michael. No letter from him but a note with the name Secret Admierer was left ,she read it and a smile came to hr lips:: SOunds interesting I think Ill do it .....

A skeletal servant picked up the messages and passed through the portal to the Temple of Asmodeus. One of the letters was addressed to Rhaine, and so the being knocked at the doors of her study.

Any servant of the Temple knew well enough - when the High Priestess returns from RhyDin, she is usually in most foul mood. Foul enough to ensure worst degree of punishments within the regulations of the Temple.

Rhaine took the letter, and delicate fingers traced the lines, thin pale mist touching the paper.

"Being watched? from a-far? That does not sound likely - I would have sensed being watched after having spent so many years in Knight section. Or someone has a damn serious skill in spying, which makes this sound fun," she murmured, pacing back and forth. Mountain sky was cloudless and deep over the crystal dome atop one of three Triumvirate spires.

"The being seems to consider material wealth a prerequisite for meeting a female. Which sounds like a dumb idea to me, but is quite typical for mortals. And he seems to consider me equally foolish to have a similar set of values," she shuddered, and soft translucent linen folds of summer blouse came to life with the move, like a mist over her shoulders.

"A future together? With all that previous information? Gimme a break!" she laughed finally. "Can a being with such funny value set even compare to Artemus? Even despite his recent manner of being absorbed by this family issue that he considers for some reason too dangerous for me to get into..." she sighed.

The letter crumbled and fell as a thin cloud of white ashes from her fingers

The small brownstone flat was still sparsely furnished. A bed and a dresser, a second-hand couch covered with a patchwork quilt, a rickety table and one chair in the kitchen. Sunshine streamed gold through the windows, sending patches of light and warmth into the apartment, unhindered by curtains or shutters. Beneath the tumble of crisp white sheets and a comforter that had been kicked almost entirely off the bed, there was the sound of a very faint snore.

When a restless turn pushed the sheets away from VeeJay?s face, one of the beams of sunlight landed directly over her eyes. The faint snore stuttered, stopped, and large yellow-green eyes blinked blearily open ? only to wince away from the light. ?What time is it??? Too early, was the silent answer of the bedroom. She didn?t normally wake until the sun was too low to flood the room with so much light.

But awake she was, and she groped for her wire-rimmed glasses. The room snapped into sharp focus when she put them on, blinking. Long fingers with unpolished nails raked through messy waves of black hair while she tumbled out of bed and bounced to her feet. Down the stairs to collect her mail without bothering to change from the baby tee and shorts she slept in ? the mail-carrier eyed her and gave her a lusty wink that she returned with the grin that looked just too wide for her face. She wasn?t often awake when he made deliveries, but they traded the same expressions every time she was.

Just one letter today, and that wasn?t routed from her old home ? who on earth could it be from? Despite the many people she had been meeting lately, none of them to her knowledge would write, or knew where she lived to have a letter delivered. The sound of the envelope ripping open was too loud in the silent apartment ? VeeJay half-danced across the room to turn on her stereo (jury-rigged to run on magic current with a bought spell, a wish and a prayer) while she read the letter.

The sound of ?Insecure Me? by Soft Cell failed to cover the surprised laugh that rang into the kitchen. A secret admirer? That had been watching her? How could she resist? Be-bopping back into the bedroom and directly to her closet, VeeJay started to rifle through her clothes. She had to have something in here that would do!

Never truly a morning person. To be a morning person, Ran believed one had to actually go to bed at night at a decent time instead of falling half-clothed onto your bed. A few other thoughts on this topic as it was far in the afternoon the befuddled red head creaked open the fox-fire of one eye in time to watch a piece of paper slide under her door. That wasn't so unusual here. She could scuff down to the bar to pick up mail for her or on occasion it was delivered right to her door. So it was the flower-girl and dish-girl groaned something unintelligible on her day off and slid a foot with hollow thump to the floor. The rest of her body followed in a tired boneless slither, heaping unceremoniously to the floor.

Thump.

Ah, that's better. A little more awake.

Yawning, Ran stretched to her feet and padded in tired zig zags to the door. A thumb worked open envelope to ease forth letter and began to read. Truly, she had been expecting something else and not what she'd just absorbed. And read twice. And then a third time held up to the light as if to double check she wasn't hallucinating. Finally, she pinched the flesh of her own forearm in disbelief, in case she was still dreaming.

The pinch had hurt and the letter was still in her hand. Auburn brows began a quizzical pull downward. The only man she knew well enough to send her any notes would not leave her such a thing. Also, the hand writing was not at all correct. In addition to that, Ran, ever the delightful pessimist had difficulty believing anyone would spend valueable moments of their life watching her wash dishes or sell flowers.

Another yawn smothered as she toddled back from the door and toward the bathroom, note settled down on rented desk.

She'd show this to Nikolai next time she caught him downstairs, he would know what to do.

Bran the lizardman was sitting in one of the many libraries in the Tower of Fire that was located on Twilight Island.
Reading through a manual on pyrotechnics, he heard a knock at the front door.

"Right in the middle of my sssstudy time! Now who could thisss be?"

Ambling down the steps, he sees that the person had left the note at the base of the Tower and fled. This wasn't such
a good idea, seeing as the Tower was aflame itself, and surrounded by hot magma. Quickly Bran grabbed the note and tried
to blow on it to keep it from disintegrating.

"Now what the . . . " Bran peered intently at the scorched letter, discerning something about a secret love and a midnight
rendevous.

"Now who could be ssssending me a messssage like thissss! I bet it'sss a trick! Sssome cruel meanie toying with my
delicate affectionsss! Or maybe it wasss that cute lizardwoman I ssssaw in the marketplace the other day . . . . "

Bran thought about it some more.

"Well, my primordial inssstinctssss are telling me not to go . . . but curioussssity killed the lizard, they ssssay . . .
Hey! I don't wanna die! But maybe it issss a lizardbabe . . . I'm the Duel of Fissstsss Diamond now! I'm famousss all over
the city! Aw what the heck. I can hide and peek and sssee who it isss firssst! Sssneaky of me, I know, but . . . "

And so Bran decided to go.

Elessaria squeezed her way past the boxes that were piled up around the tiny room that was the MMMM Headquarters. When she found her way to the desk they shared, she found a letter addressed to her. The petite elf swiped Rena's pen and used it to pry open the seal, a soft chuckle escaping as she read the note within.

"A mystery admirer, " she whispered to the Platypus. "After the Ball the other night, I wonder who it could be?" She made a mental note of the time and location, wondering what one wears to something like this.

Cross-legged on the barren floor, black tracks the busy scrambling of a dormouse relocating her litter of three. The hollow where bricks had shifted, creating a nesting place for the rodent, was rapidly mending itself and creating an urgent need for the creature to find a different home. Dust sifts down, golden swirl in a ray of sunlight, and another fraction of the rotten gap in the roof above becomes sound. A scrap of shredded jacket leather, fringed with tiny bells, whispers silver music in a vine-choked window as it twists in creeping tendrils of breeze.

As the dormouse vanishes with the last of her pinkies, into the choked ash-pit beneath the hearth, a harsher jangling of bells tilts his gaze toward the window and a sliver of parchment tucked between vines to interfere with the sway of the leather scrap. Curiosity sparks, and finds ample enough tinder to unfold him from his mid-hall seat and lure near enough to draw the letter the rest of the way through the living bars of vegetation. Fingertips nudge the leather strip, setting it to tingling again as he wanders toward the back of hollow ruin, to sink cross-legged again in the middle of sun-washed marble.

Deeper into Twilight, a crystalline ping heralds another section of window-pane healing as he unfolds the letter. Head tilting to one side, then the other, he eventually comes to the conclusion that he can read. It is, after all, a fairly necessary decision to make before trying to read. Black widens, brow creasing in bewilderment as he picks and sorts his way through the words, before lowering the page. Somewhere between lowering his hand and it coming to rest on a thigh, the letter gets lost.

A whiskered nose peeks out from beneath the hearth and his head turns, gaze settling on the rodent inquiringly.

"But I have not been for very long. How could I have been watched when I wasn't? That doesn't work. At least, I don't think that works. And I do not want to belong to anyone. I don't want this person's money, but I guess I will have to go, so that I can tell them that I don't want them to want me to want them to belong to them. Do you think they will understand?"

His head tilts in query, and the dormouse ducks back under the stone. There were pinkies to nurse, and more important things than one large, possibly dangerous creature to worry about - like food. With a sigh, Adam tilts his head back, drinking in sunlight as lids eclipse black. A breeze slips between leafy vines, and sets loose silvery chiming through the healing halls of Twilight.

Jade had been cureld up in bed,dealing witht he kicks of the twins when the kock came to her door. " M'lady?" Jade opened one eye and looked to the door as one of the many maids poked her head in. "Yes Danni?" Jade knew the maid that stood so still in her door way well, the lovely woman was only a few years Jades elder, her short dirty brown hair was always a mess even when up. But she was very sweet and tended to Jade in these hard mothering times. "There is a letter for you." Danni crossed quickly to the bed side to hand the note to Jade.

Jade smiled sitting up slowly taking the note in hand. "Thank you."

Danni then bowed and tookt he silver tray from the end of the bed and left the room. Jade opened the note and read it slwoly, twcie over then again. "A secret admirer?In Rhydin? " She had not been tot he city ina long time,then she looked around the room, perhaps Dark was surpsing her with something? But why in Rhydin, even with Jades prowless as a lupine, the city was no place for a woamn baring children at the moment. But the note made her curious. Perhpas it was some greta surpise. That idea made her smile, perhaps she would go, this one time. Even though the writing on the note did not look like her husbands, he could ahve ahd someone else write it, to keep the sercret.

The location she knew would be easy to find.So tucking the note away .Jade smiled, the idea of a surpise from her love was more than she could bear. What on earth could it be?

Now AJ had recently become a fairly busy woman. Currently she was hounding at the carpenters who were there to build on the extra room for the baby, and quite frankly they were all getting very sick of the french woman. "I told you... I wanted this shade of green." Holding up a little card and pointing to a light shade of green. The walls were obviously not that light, but close enough they though. "Uhh... madame we couldn't find that shade." The one spoke to her softly and she turned red. "My husband is a trader. Merde... find it!" And she turned on her heels and stormed out.

"Are they getting on your nerves love?" Phillipe asked from his spot at the table and AJ nodded. "Well this might raise your spirits a little." And he frowned before handing AJ an envelope. She opened it and read the letter carefully. "Well merde... maybe we should both go." Scratching her head a little before heading towards the bedroom. Phillipe's brows raised. "Uhh... honey? What are you doing?" AJ smiled out of the doorway. "Well I'm getting my purse, getting me a decent dress so we can go in style." Phillipe smiled before standing, already in a black dress suit. "Alright. Let's go."

The barrister didn't turn his attention from the trakehners scattered across the field when Gwyr came up beside him and leaned against the fence. Neither man spoke immediately. They stood in their silence, keeping their peaceful vigil for a few moments longer.

It was Gwyr that broke their silence first, holding out the small stack of papers to Lucien. "I took the liberty tae have the mail sent up here, Gov'nor."

"Thank you." Lucien reached for the small bundle as he watched a colt prance about his mother. He turned with a grin and leaned his back against the fence. "I'll be leaving back to town before sundown to see the Lady Skye and tend to things there." The faithful manservant nodded then ducked between the fence railing and started across the field. Lucien pushed up from his lean and started back to the manor, going through the sealed papers Gwyr had given him.

A brow quirked as he came upon a message addressed from a 'secret admirer'. He flipped the parchment over, then checked the envelope to see if there was a clue as to who the letter was from. The quirked brow knitted into a thoughtful furrow. The letter and message did not come from the Priestess, that much he was certain of. The remaining possibilities of who and why, both benign and otherwise were endless.

His furrow eased as he decided it had to be a joke. Nevertheless, his curiosity was piqued. The barrister noted the time and place for the meeting and prepared to head back into town.

It wasn't often that he received mail. For some reason, no one knocked on that door of his. Couldn't be because it has hanging from its hinges, nor could it be blamed on the nature of the building in general. Hm. The jackal gave a shrug as the letter was yanked from the mailbox, corroded and leaning.

It was little after noon and a miracle that the jackal was on his feet and functioning. It must've been the batman pajama pants, not the tea. In any case, the envelope was ripped open rather unceremoniously with a lengthy claw and the letter pulled from its paper prison.

Slit pupils scanned the parchment and a thrice pierced brow slowly elevated. "Is tha' so...." Gaze flattened before lifting to the overcast heavens. "All righ', all righ'... Bu' no' 'til m' done wiff me tea. Yer no' tha' impor'an'." He grumbled to his vacant side. It was then that he returned to the staircase alongside his building to find decent clothes before heading to the specified location.

The instructions that Bran had received told him to wait for a carriage that would come by the Armory in Battlefield Park. The Armory was his Baronial manor that he had won in Duel of Swords. Bran put on a tuxedo and a blue tie with little claw marks, and his blue, scaly tail stuck out of his pants. He was standing by the foyer in the doorway, looking out into the dusky twilight.

?Gee, I wonder who it could be? I hope she?ssss cute! You know, my reptilian charisssma can be too much for sssome lizardwomen to handle, heh heh heh . . . . ?

Suddenly, a black carriage came rolling down the road, and the driver reigned in the horses with a clatter in front of Bran. Bran adjusted his tie and was about to move towards the carriage, but he paused in mid-step. Instead of a doorman appearing to open the carriage for him, a man in a tuxedo and holding a microphone appeared through the roof of the carriage.

?Ladies and Gentlemen! We are PROOOOOOUD to be here in the WOOOOONDERFUL Barony of Battlefield Park! Now let me introduce to you . . . direct from three straight sold-out weeks at the Thorny Rose Theater in Dragon?s Gate! PUT YOUR CLAAAAAAWS TOGETHER . . . for the BROAD! WAY! NIIIIIIINJAAAAAAAAAAAAAS!!!!!!!!!!!?

Music began to emit from the carriage, and it sounded something like this:

Bum . . . . . Bum . . . . . Bum . . . . . Bum Dah Bum Bum . . . . Bum . . . . Bum . . . . Bum Dah Bum . . . .

The door flew open, and one by one, a troupe of ninjas stepped out. Each of them were wearing the trademark black ninja suit, black masks covering their faces except for their eyes, and sporting various (and theatrically large) throwing stars and katanas strapped on their bodies. Each of them were snapping their fingers and bouncing their shoulders up and down to the music. As they filed out of the carriage and began to form a semi-circle around Bran, they sang this chorus over and over again:

?We are the Ninjas! We are the Ninjaaaas! We are the Ninjas! We are the Ninjaaaaaaas!?

Bran stood gaping at the sight and was in too much shock to speak at first. The last ninja stepped in front of the semi-circle of snapping ninjas and pointed his finger at Bran, threw his head back imperiously, and began to sing:

?Greetings Baron Bran, of the Battlefield Paaaaark! It?s time to take you to your rendezvous in the daaaaark! The Ninjas are here and we will all be your guiiiiiide! To take you on your journey to your possible briiiiiiide! We?ll clear a path so you can meet with your destin-yyyyy! And we?ll smash the opposition like ?The Dragon?, Bruce Leeeeeee!?


Here the ninjas stopped their snapping and broke into a series of karate chops, aerial kicks, pirouettes, and backflips.

Bran blinked rapidly at the theatrical ninjas, and his instincts for self-preservation kicked in. ?Ummmm . . . you know what? I changed my mind. I?ve got all thisssss paperwork I have to do, and . . . . um . . . . I?m sssuddenly not feeling well . . . and . . . um . . . my ssskin issss sssstarting to shed. It?sss that time of the ssseassson, you know, ssso I?ll jussst be . . . . . ?


?Don?t try to argue and don?t try to fiiiiiight! You?re outnumbered greatly, it?s a terrible pliiiiiight! The Ninjas have you covered there is nowhere to fleeeeee! You?re better off surrendering to us quiet-lyyyyy! And if you?re thinking of retreat or something else you might doooooooo! There?s a Ninja that is poised to strike . . .?

Here all the Ninjas point simultaneously in Bran?s direction.

?*******RIGHT BEHIND ?YOOOOOOUUUUU!*******?

?AAAAAIIIIEEEEEEEEE!? Bran screamed and jumped three feet into the air. Unfortunately for him, that meant right into the frame of the doorway, and he bonked his scaly head. He then collapsed into a heap on the ground. The ninjas ran up, executing more pirouettes and karate chops, and surrounded the fallen lizardman.

?Put ?im in the carriage!? said a nearby ninja, putting his left hand on his hip and jabbing his thumb over his shoulder at a ninja behind him.
?Put ?im in the carriage!? said that ninja, mimicking the same movements.
?Put ?im in the carriage!? the third ninja said.
The fourth ninja winked overdramatically, and all four grab Bran and lift him in the air.
Carrying him towards the carriage, the other ninjas fell into formation, the ones following on the sides snapping their fingers menacingly, while the ninjas in front and back kept up their shadowbox karate chops and kicks.

Bran painfully became aware of his surroundings again and cries out. ?Aaaaah! No! I don?t want to go in the scary black carriage! Put me down!?

?Don?t try to struggle and don?t try to waaaaail! Or we?ll gouge out your eyeballs and cut off your taaaaaail! In this Carriage of Destruction you will go for a Riiiiide! Or we will break your knees and toes and skin your lizard-y hiiiiiide!?

One of the ninjas opens the door to the black carriage, and the four holding the screaming Bran launched him feet first into the carriage like a lawn dart. The ninjas then marched one by one into the carriage, snapping and humming their chorus. Once they were all in, the carriage flew off down the road towards its undisclosed location. Bran could be seen in the back window with his face and claws pressed up against the glass, yowling.


The carriage stopped in front of its destination, and Bran was jettisoned from the door like an empty shell from a shotgun. Standing up, Bran turned to see the ninjas sticking their heads out of the windows, and they began to sing once more:

?We brought you to the meeting place, just like we saaaaid! And we didn?t harm a scale on your rep-til-i-an heaaaaaaad! We hope you have enjoyed your trip, our work here is dooooone! We hope you found our Ninja games a whole lot of fuuuuuun! And now - its time - the Ninjas have to vanish from siiiiiight! Fade away back into the RhyDinian niiiiiiight! And if you ever meet us by the light of the moooon! Then you can bet your bottom dollar we?ll be KILLING YOU SOOOOOON!? The ninjas do the ?jazz hands? thing, waving their hands next to their face and slowly pulling their heads back into the shadowy recesses of the carriage while singing their chorus line ?We are the Ninjas! We are the Ninjaaaaaas!? The carriage then lurched off down the road.

Bran groggily watched the ninjas drive off in the carriage, turned to take a few wobbly steps, and pitched face first into the dirt, kicking up a cloud of dust around him.

Bran Bale had arrived.

The day marked on the invitation arrived. Finally! VeeJay had gone back and forth trying to decide on an appropriate outfit for days. Something that might impress a secret admirer ? but then again, he?d been watching for a long time. So he wouldn?t care what she wore, would he? Still, that much planning deserved something at least a little special. But there were warnings that had put a slight damper on her enthusiasm. Maybe something that would be sure to let her move? And she had to have room for her notebook and a pencil.

Most of the contents of her closet were tossed helter-skelter around the bedroom by the time the church-bell down the street was tolling six o?clock. ?Oh, no, nonono! It can?t be that late already?!? The song on her radio was no help ? ?Too Many Broken Hearts? by Jason Donovan. If the letter was right, she would probably be breaking somebody?s heart tonight. Or getting slaughtered by an insane psychopath, as an alternative. That rather morbid thought brought a bright laugh into the room, as another flicker of conversation surfaced. Finally a decision on wardrobe was reached.

VeeJay clattered down her apartment stairs in leather boots that laced almost to the knee over skinny black jeans that had enough stretch in the fabric to allow motion. A neon green t-shirt with a four-leaf clover outlined in black on the front and a leather jacket that had more straps and buckles than could possibly be useful ? she slung the jacket over her shoulder instead of putting it on. Makeup that turned her eyes smoky and brought out shimmer-gold laughter completed the outfit.

Twenty minutes to cover the distance to the South corner of the Market, the appointed meeting place ? she pelted through the street calling apologies to the people she ricocheted around, laughing breathlessly as she skidded to a halt a block or two away. Deep breath, in, out ? and there, she tossed her head, setting chaotic black curls to swinging, and slung the jacket to her other shoulder. Yellow-green gaze was almost drowning in shimmer-gold as she looked around. She didn?t see anyone watching her ? that didn?t mean they weren?t there. After all, apparently this man had been watching her for some time without her ever spying him.

With a bouncy stride, she covered the final distance to the meeting point ? and sure enough, there was a black carriage. The driver was sitting almost motionless, patiently waiting. He was also muffled from head to toe on black ? black hat, a black scarf that covered all of his face but his eyes, black gloves. VeeJay frowned, her bouncy stride slowing to something more cautious; her nose wrinkled sharply when the wind shifted to come from the direction of the coach. Unwashed bodies? And then, abruptly, her eyes widened. Because as sharp as her sense of smell was, her hearing was much, much better. And there were at least three people trying to move quietly in the vehicle, one of them muttering to the others.

That was not part of the bargain. Trust can only go so far, after all ? less than ten feet from the coach, she spun on her heel, about to just walk away. This was not a good situation. Shifted wind betrayed her ? it had carried away scent and sound of the four very large men in black ninja suits who had managed to get much closer than ten feet. She didn?t freeze ? she hurled her jacket at the closest of the quartet with all her strength; all her strength was much stronger than most would expect, given her small stature. She was rewarded by a solid thunk from one of the buckles taking the man on the nose and breaking it ? he staggered back and fell, trying to paw off the leather to grab at the abused nose.

Self-defense classes had taught her a few things ? among them, to raise as much fuss as possible if someone was trying to grab her. So she was screeching, hollering, kicking, and clawing (literally ? fingers had contorted, stiffened, and claws had taken the place of fingernails while her eyes turned reflective green) as the three remaining men in ninja suits grabbed her. The trio from the coach piled out to help sling her in, one of them very wisely ? or unwisely ? snatching off his mask to use as a gag. The piercing scream she could muster up when inspired was choked to a halt on none-too-clean fabric.

The man with the broken nose stumbled into the coach after his companions, leaving the bloodied leather jacket on the street, along with splashes of the blood that VeeJay had managed to draw with her claws. With a shout, the driver whipped up the horses, and the coach rattled off at full speed down the streets. At one point another, similar carriage crossed their paths. Then a third tore off in another direction. It had taken less than two minutes from start of the abduction to finish before they were lost into the maze of streets that made up the city.

When VeeJay was dumped out into the clearing, the coach took off as hellfire was after it. Her eyes were reflective green and feral, and she still had the claws while she spat out the filthy cloth. ?What the bloody hells just happened?!?

VeeJay was there. She just wasn?t happy about it.

The shadows were clawing their way across cobbles when Adam wandered into the intersection. It was an intended goal, yet he paused, puzzled, to study the passage of wagons, bicycles, and a rusty hovercraft before tilting his head back. Oh. Of course. Early.

The fountain he chose as a seat had long since run dry, clogged by litter and what may have been an effort at stuffing something that had died to long ago to identify accurately down the drain. Balanced on the edge, he studied a margoylesque statue that had, once, urinated water down into the basin. Now thickly limed by bird and graffiti leavings.

Beyond, a flicker of shabby black lures his gaze, and he watches the horses whirl the carriage to a halt at the curb. A slow blink ensues as he props an elbow on his knee, chin on palm. A trio in ramshackle costumes peer out, staring around at the ebbing tide of passing bodies doubtfully. Apparently, they didn't know who it was they were supposed to be looking for - indeed, as he folded himself to his feet, one of them made a snatch at a young prostitute who'd crept near enough to offer his services.

Two more sets of hands shoot out of the carriage's interior, grappling the poor boy inside, before Adam meanders up. Curious, he studies the three thugees, busily engaged in binding and gagging their prize, before climbing in to settle cross-legged on a seat. Leaning over to study the process, inquiringly perplexed, he catches the startled stare of one of the attackers, and offers up a polite, if puzzled, smile. Somewhere, the letter had forgotten to still be.

"Hello. I think that maybe you thought that he thought that he would be me, but if you did, I don't think he realized that he was supposed to be thinking that he might be me. I think he just wanted money. I don't, really, but I think that whoever wrote the letter that I found thought that I was somebody else, who is not me. May we go there now so that I can tell them that I am me, and not the person they didn't know that I am not?"

Taking the dead silence that answers him as agreement, as the thugees glance from the bound and gagged hooker to himself, he gently closes the carriage door and taps on the roof to let the driver know all were in. Two pair of startled eyes, and one pair crazed by the yellow stain of a failing junky, all framed in the cobbled together scraps of ninja costumes, meet the curious wonder of empty black. Steel glints in the dying rays of sunlight, but all is quiet within the carriage.

The horses halt, just long enough to disgorge a pair of passengers, before moving off again. Adam wanders forward absently, wide eyes lingering on a few other bodies that seem similarly uncertain. The prostitute just staggers off toward the road again, mumbling incoherently and rubbing his head.

The appointed time had arrived and Azjah made her way to the corner where she had been told, presumably by Wil, to await the carriage.

She was quite shocked to discover however that instead of Wil stepping out of the black carriage, four males dresses as Ninja warriors made their egress.

Azjah stopped all forward movement. This was definitely NOT something Wil would do to her and she immediately began to back pedal away from the carriage, reaching for the DW .50 in her shoulder holster.

Unfortunately, she'd missed the fifth ninja who had apparently been in the shrubs as he grabbed her and tossed her unceremoniously into the carriage.

They were soon off toward their unknown destination.

Abduction was something she'd lived through once, and for the moment, her only vocation was plotting her escape.

The appointed day and time had arrived. Mira headed out for the corner at which a black carriage was supposed to meet her. She half expected to have to wait; few things in Rhydin happened on time, especially when carriages were involved.

But a black carriage already stood there, waiting. As Mira approached it to check with the driver if this was indeed the carriage sent for her by a secret admirer, a few men spilled from within. They all wore the same kind of clothes, all black, and each also wore a black mask.

?Good evening, Sirs.? She offered a greeting to them before she turned to the driver. ?Excuse me, Sir. Have you been sent to pick up Mira or Mirabelle??

The driver nodded.

?That would be me.? Mira smiled and then moved over to enter the carriage. One of the black clad men was kind enough to help her up the steps, and she thanked him.

Then the carriage was off.

Well, it had been quite a long walk, but Skid had arrived at the predetermined meeting place, and was busy carving a winking image of his masked face into a street lamp when the carriage came a-bustling down the street. He continued to pay it no mind, until several large, black-clad ninjas flew forth from its windows, and surrounded him.

And yet, he continued to carve. It was looking quite good, and he had decided now would be the perfect time to add dimples. He'd always wondered what he'd look like with dimples. Apparently, he looked dashing, because he began to snicker.

The first ninja stepped up, and spoke in a voice that was SO ninja-y that he was probably a ninja pretending to be a regular guy that got hired to pretend to be a ninja. "Now, you will come with us to meet your destiny, or stand and face your doom!" Skid, for his part, ignored the ninja. He turned to his companions, and received shrugs for advice. Upon approaching Skid with his hands in some utterly ridiculous fighting position, the scaley Jester's arm snapped out and locked around the ninja's neck, crushing him against his side and forcing him to look at the little etching.

"D'you think it's me? Or is it missing something?" The ninja blinked, and realized he hadn't taken a breath in over five minutes. He began to flail violently, and the mask drooped in a frown. "You're right. The dimples are a little too much, I guess. Oh well." The one real ninja was released, to land in a heap upon the curb. Skid scrambled up into the carriage while the others were tending to their companion, and threw an empty can at the back of the driver's head. "CHARGE~! While they're not looking!" The driver, never one to challenge a loud, enthusiastic voice coming from behind, snapped the reigns and the horse thundered off, leaving the faux ninjas scratching at their heads.

The real ninja quit ninja-ing after the incident, and now runs a small health food store in the Marketplace called 'Kung-food'. But that's a story for another day.

Skid was dropped at the final destination, where he quickly took to carving a winking image of his masked face into a tree.