From: phyllis@amc.com (Phyllis Rostykus)
Newsgroups: rec.games.frp
Subject: STORY : Much Ado About Nothing / Saraquael (part 6 of 6)
Summary: Shadowrun Writeup
Date: 10 May 91 00:36:24 GMT
Reply-To: phyllis@eld.amc.com (Phyllis Rostykus)
Organization: Applied Microsystems, Redmond, WA


    The next afternoon everyone met at Hachiman's place.  

    Sara was a little worried about Ben.  He had stayed up all night
pouring magic through the apartment until it was dense with it.  The
armoring was now readily evident to anyone that even looked at him, and
his eyes had gone wide and wild.  His movements were hasty and blurred
with speed.  She hoped that he would be O.K., but she also didn't really
want to ride with him the way he was looking.

    When everyone started getting into the cars, Miller did not.

    "Aren't you going to come with us?" asked Renowyn.

    "No," Miller met his eyes with a smile, "I've seen what I came to see."

    Hachiman, Kilroy, and Saraquael rode in the armored patrol car.  The
other three were in a Ford Americar, following them.  They went to an
address that Sabre gave them and met a team of razorfolk with the box
between them.  They put the box in the middle of the front seat of the
armored car.

    The rain was drumming on the roofs of the cars as they pulled out
of the driveway. It was a hard, driving rain that flooded the windows of
the cars and turned the glass into fun house mirrors for the outside
world.  Saraquael was curled up on the back seat of the big patrol car,
nervous and quiet as they drove.

    Sara sighed and tried to relax.  Kilroy looked back at her sigh, 
saw her smile at him nervously, and then winked and grinned.   She smiled
back at him and felt a little better for it.  Gradually, Sara relaxed
enough to listen to the song the wind and the rain gave to her.  She
hummed softly under her breath back to them. The engine and road noise
would muffle any physical aspect of the song.  Saraquael happily made idle
chat with the rain and gave it back some of her pleasure in its presense,
just for the fun of it.

    After a long while the rain laughed a final drumbeat on their roof 
and settled down to the lighter, almost random droplet pattern that was
the trademark of a true Seattle rain. They were more than halfway to
their destination.  Sara looked around, again.  This time, when she
sighed, there was more boredom to it than anxiety.  Kilroy's grin at her
was amused.

    The grin disappeared, "Four bikers to the rear.  Armored 'n comin'
after us." Kilroy's voice was flat, hard.  Sara popped up to look when the
whole car was picked up and shaken by a giant hand.  The car behind them
looked like it was suddenly kicked and then kicked hard again, pieces flew
>from the structure.  Their car shuddered under another impact and Sara
wailed.  A wave of magic rolled over the car, and she put her fear and
need behind her voice.

    Desperately, she threw all she had into her wailing scream of
defense, asking with all her heart to shield her friends and herself from
the wave of power.  Then the power touched the defenses of the quiet
Japanese.  The wave curled over him and then crashed back on itself
against the walls of his will.  Sara stared with wide eyes at Hachiman,
and he looked at her and raised one eyebrow in question.

    Then there was arms fire and he turned back to the job at hand.  Both
he and Kilroy fired a number of shots out the car.  The car was kicked
again by another explosion.  "The Americar can't take any more of this..."
Hachiman said grimly and opened the door.

    Saraquael was knocked onto the floor by a blast from Hachiman's door.
Sprawled on the floor, she heard both of the men get out of the car and go
off firing at the motorcycle riders behind them.  She carefully pulled
herself off the floor, staying well below the armored doors to the car,
and watched the battle.

    A prickling at the back of her neck was her first warning.  A cold
wind blew about her, bone-chilling and knife-sharp.  Something shimmered
at the top of the car and coalesced into a grey mass of swirling mist,
right above the brass bound box.  Her ears started to hurt and she
squalled in protest at the pressure on her even as the windows burst
outward.  Glass from the sunroof rained back into the car.

    A huge, booming voice laughed and laughed, "I HAVE it!!  The fools!!
The diversion worked to perfection, my Mistress, I HAVE the box!"

    "No." she said too softly to be heard above the Wind.  But she knew
that she had said it and that was enough of a start for her heart.  She
sang to the Wind, sang to it the snarling sing-song of a warrior, a
challenger. Saraquael's spirit mask appeared, white eyed and snarling,
needle sharp teeth gleaming, fur on end.  In the depth of sound that
was the Wind she knew that the young spirit of her song felt more like a
frightened cat wailing and spitting at a wolf than that of the song of the
old temple warriors of Bast.  But sing she did and she sang the song of
the building swaying, unbroken, the song of the hard, hard blacktop
warming under the sun, and the song of a woman bent into the wind as she
went where she pleased.  She felt the magic flow through the song, finding
and filling her true desire.

    And then Saraquael screamed in rage as a piece of her magic was ripped
>from her.  Her sense of the True World wavered as if underwater.  The
Elemental solidified, laughing as it reached to rip more of her magic from
her.  And she knew that what she had really asked for had been given to
her, even as she snarled at the pain of the price for her gift.

    A blast of force seared the air.  Ben's fear for her drove the 'gator
snap of raw power that hurtled into the elemental.  The Wind engulfed it,
flowed around it, consumed it utterly.  But it stopped laughing.

    Stopped laughing entirely as a blurringly fast figure leaped at it
with a shining blade of steel.  The blade travelled an arc of brightness
that was achingly graceful and backed by every trained muscle in the body
that bore it; it shone with a single-mindeness of intent that could only
belong to a madman or a martyr.

    The brightness fell on the Wind like a crack of thunder.  The Wind
burst and fell away, thinly wailing its sorrow as it was sucked away from 
the world of men.

    Saraquael was left staring up into the black eyes of Hachiman.  He 
gravely saluted her with his bright soul.  In a quiet echo of the strike,
he sheathed the sword with a single movement as clean and crisp as the
new-washed Seattle air.

------

    They pulled into the driveway a scant ten minutes later, all of them
crowded into the patrol car.  They pulled into the garage to face the six
tall, graceful beings with faces hidden by masks and long coats that hung
a bit too heavily, with bulges and odd shapes underneath them.  Sara
jumped when the security doors to the garage clanged shut behind her.

    Deciduous, in an armored coat, came through the doors, the blank
faced one following behind her.  The seven and she bowed to them with a
movement as coordinated and graceful as a wave falling.  The 'runners
bowed tiredly back.  Two of the masked warriors stepped forward for the
box.  Hachiman and Kilroy handed it over and Saraquael felt herself
relax.  Both lines of people bowed again and one of the masked people
gracefully approached Hachiman.

    It passed its hands over Hachiman's hands and then bowed.  Hachiman 
bowed back.  Another quiet exchange of bows and the eight of them
disappeared up the elevator.  The security doors slowly lifted to show the
Seattle rain.  As they went out, Hachiman handed each of them a stick.

    Saraquael sighed as she accepted the 'stick.  Ben was already on his 
phone, sounding like he was making a business deal with Sabre.  Kilroy got
into a cab and disappeared.  Hachiman strode quietly to his battered
patrol car and drove away with Renowyn so that Renowyn could pick up his
car from Hachiman's.  For a second Sara looked blankly at the back of the
car.  Then she shook her head and started, half-heartedly, to walk in the
direction of the nearest underground bus station.  She was feeling tired,
dirty and somewhat out of sorts for having to walk.  It didn't do to get
used to being chauffeured around as she was when on a job.

	She turned the corner and pulled up short to avoid running over
Catskill.  Catskill's leathers looked as torn and battered as Saraquael
felt, but Cat grinned fit to burst as she waved the bright, bonded
creditstick as if it were a child's toy wand.  "Hey, I know this WONDERFUL
Japanese bath house that has its own restaurant right next to it, and 
THAT's got the freshest sushi this side of the Pacific..."

    "Yes." was all Saraquael needed to say, and the look on her face sent
Catskill into a fit of giggles.  The two of them started laughing fit to
burst, and set off to the bus station, arm in arm.

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Well.. that's as far as that game went.  Again... much thanks to Carl
Rigney for running the game.  I'm as anxious as anyone to see more of what
happens to the Box and/or Saraquael.

Also, I forgot to say a very big Thank You to Mary Kuhner and Catalina for
helping Sara and I get a handle on how Magic *feels* for a shaman in
Shadowrun.  It was a *tremendous* help.

Thanks for sticking with this and reading it through.

-----
Phyllis Rostykus     | "Looking down on empty streets, all she can see are 
..!sumax!polari!li   |  the dreams all made solid, are the dreams made real."
phyllis@eld.amc.com  |  - "Mercy Street" by Peter Gabriel