Chapter 1

It was snowing outside, and thunder shook the windowpanes as David finished typing the last few words of the draft for the statement of claim. Just looking outside made him shudder, an icy feeling on his skin. It did not take much effort to decide that he might as well spend another hour or two working. For lawyers there was always more work, and much of it fell upon the shoulder of the junior attornies. Fortunately, most of it was rather interesting, or he would have found another line of work by now, David smiled to himself. The time passed fairly quickly in the empty, spacious office, for it was a Christian holiday of some sort. Though raised as a nominal jew, David had never much cared for religion, preferring the crisper, seductive logic of atheism. Faith to him was a crutch for those who did not have confidence in their own selves... and working through the holidays had certain financial benefits, too, he smiled softly. Bored with work for the moment, he looked outside, deciding that he had little interest in traveling through the eighth layer of hell, the abode of frozen souls, to get home. Might as well park here, on the couch. The only problem was, he was not in the least bit tired, nervous energy coursing through his thin frame. He'd never manage to fall asleep like this, and he'd decided, very deliberately, not to bring any book or dvd to work. Might as well check his personal e-mail, to see if there was a new turn in any of the play-by-email games he enjoyed. A minute's fiddling on his laptop, and the disappointing 'no new messages' greeted him. On the verge of closing the mail program, he paused, opening up the new pbem webpage from his favorites folder with a pair of clicks.

"Hmmmph," he raised a brow in surprise as he read the newest ad for players. "The one you've always been waiting for, the campaign of a lifetime," it read. "Send your dream character to sizzlyn@kent.goldmail and you shall be astonished by the quality, imagination and danger. Full character sheet for a high level campaign, no background required. Time limit of eight hours from posting minute," was the part that surprised him. "Eight hours?" he muttered. That was ridiculous. Still... he didn't really have anything better to do. And what did high level mean? What rpg system, for that matter? There was no website mentioned, just an e-mail address. What the hell. He'd just send one of his favorite characters, after spending an hour or so buffing up the stats. It was difficult to find a truly fun pbem, with congenial and witty e-partners, but creating a character was always fun. So much fun that the slow pace of most games was frustrating. Ah, but which character? Frowning as he looked at the filenames, he tried to match them to 'dream character'. Dwarven war cleric? Nah, he smiled broadly, not exactly my idea of a dream. Same for that sneaky halfling backstabber, Stevie Nicklepate, or the gnomish professor and loremaster, Ereken Bearpolisher. Playing a great warrior would be fun, mowing through foes was always good, but this gm was looking for a dream character. That definitely meant a female. A beautiful female. An enchantress. Ahem, he rubbed his neat beard, there's nothing lovelier than an angel, and no more magical a class than the high sorcerer. Can't even open a door without resorting to telekinesis. So, an angelic type, crossed with human, and his fingers were typing with practiced efficiency and speed, filling the excel sheet with numbers and words. "So be it, dream lady. Now how shall we call you? So many choices. Let's use that randomizer I picked off that site... Leia? No thank you, I'll save that for Star Wars. Another L, I think. Lyralis?", he rolled the name on his tongue a few times, grinning. "Lyralis it is, dream lady, living enchantment."

A minute more, and the file was whisked away, fluttering across servers and fiber-optic lines to its destination. A news junky, he wanted to look at the CNN site, but an increasing (and up till now, ignored) pressure upon his bladder sent him running to the bathroom. Upon his return, a message was waiting, the header reading 'Accepted'. David blinked and opened it, wanting a look at the attachment. Wonder what, he had time to muse, and the screen went black, the world blacker, cutting him away in mid-thought.

Kim was elated, floating through cloud nine. Whatever that meant. Her application to Inha university in South Korea been accepted, and so quickly! Actually, she wan't levitating, she was running. Running full out, pushing herself to the utmost, pumping endorphins into her bloodstream, the ground truly seeming to float somewhere beneath her short legs. When she reached home, she was huffing and puffing enough to blow up a hurricane, for she'd not bothered to pace herself. A gymnast, martial artist and something of an acrobat, she was in great shape, but the heat within and the heavy clothes she wore combined with her exertions left her gasping.

She tumbled into the shower, taking a quick cool one rather than the usual long, hot shower she preferred, for she wanted her head and heart to cool down. Enthusiasm was all very fine, but it was time to determine her future, and she took that very seriously indeed. Booting up her computer, she quickly connected and began looking up the courses, what electives she had best take, and the requirements for a faster way to doctoral thesis. It was a matter of family honour, in a way. She'd read that, Hollywood movies and lotteries aside, it usually took a family five generations to rise on the socio-economic scale, and there was some sense to that. Finding out the exact average would a fascinating subject for a doctoral thesis, in fact, she grinned, were it not for the fact that she was interested in marine biology. Such is life, for we are all at sea, she giggled at her own pun. Here she was, the first of her family to enter a university, ever! And for that matter, on scholarship. It sent a tingle of accomplishment through her, before she returned to the material at hand, so to speak. With breaks for a meal and necessities, it took her a full four hours to look at everything she wanted, saving the data. A hesitant hand on the mouse finally turned to her favorites folder. I'll have some time for games now, with the finals over, she argued with herself. It was a losing proposition, naturally. She always lost those arguments.

"Eight hours limit?!? No real details?", she frowned at the screen and the pbem page. Might as well try it, she shrugged, and picking my dream character is simple, at least, she smiled. She'd always felt a strong affinity for the martial artist, so the monk was ideal. But an ordinary monk... perhaps not. Searching through the folder where she kept her role playing 'stuff', she looked for a template or variant she might want to include. Toward the end, 'The Vampire Lord' verily leaped from the list. A wicked grin crossed her lips, exposing pearly teeth in a vaguely threatening manner. Powerful, naughty, deadly and well nigh indestructible. It would certainly do.

Typing up the character sheet took quite a bit longer than she'd expected, but there were three more hours before the deadline expired. Wonder how serious he or she are about that time limit, she mused, as she looked at her bookshelf. Maia. One of the thickest books, by the author of Watership Down, one of her favorite books when she first learned English. Maia it is, she decided, but what will she look like? Like Maia? White-blond hair and all those charms? She looked at herself in the mirror, a small, pretty eurasian girl, pale and dark haired. Why not, she shrugged at herself. White-blond hair, but not all the charms. She had no particular interest in breasts that drooped, jiggled or otherwise restricted movement, however much the boys drooled over such things. With a flourish, she completed the character description and sent the file, before she left to take care of the small garden at the back of the house.

She returned to the computer, interested in spending the couple of hours before her parents returned from work on Ragnarok Online, when she noted that there was new mail for her. 'Accepted', it read, with an attachment. She scanned the sender address to ensure that it really was the gm, and not another annoying virus, and pressed enter. A hammer hit her, and the world went away.

Bill was bored. All his friends were busy, and the damnable storm kept him pent up. It was raining cats and dogs, though it sometime sounded as though the skies were vomiting the occasional elephant. The rp get-together was cancelled, as three of the guys were miserable sacks of snot and sneeze. No baseball, soccer meet, basketball or anything else worthwhile with such dreadful weather. No good, but maybe there'd be something new on the net, the great book of relics was supposed to come out soon, or already had. Turning on the computer, he groaned as the 'error reading drive C' message appeared. Only just restraining himself from kicking the recalcitrant machine, for fear that he might damage his foot, he rebooted. "Come on, you damned piece of junk, you can do it!", he stared at the blank screen in suspense. Great, the stupid thing was loading Windows. It took so much time that he stepped out for a coke, returning to find a very unwelcome message from his antivirus - the system was definitely tainted, bugged, viralled, junked. Seeing as it didn't work all that well normally, he wasn't especially discomfitted. There was obviously some sort of curse on him and his family line, probably because of that witch, grandfather's sister. The ugliest creature in creation, her cruelly hooked fingernails left your cheek bleeding for a week or three. The curse was upon the whole family, as his brother and parents didn't seem to have much luck with computers, either. Connecting, he immediately began to download the appropriate virus cleanser, having carefully written down the name of the bug, hoping there'd be some improvement after a deviralment. Or whatever you called it. While the program crept from two to three percent downloaded, he opened a new window, checking to see if there was anything interesting on the pbem page. Eight hours, his bushy black eyebrows rose in an inadvertent salute, what the fuck? Well, he had twenty more minutes, so he'd have to use a prepared character. The only suitable one was that neat albino drow elf he'd written up last month, Evanthe. A real nasty bitch of a killer, absolutely lethal, and a pity that dm thought she was somewhat too powerful... even if he was right, Bill grimaced. He'd really liked writing that background, amusing that it wasn't even needed here. Send, he pressed, and belched loudly. He went downstairs, heating up some leftover pizza, and the antivirus was at only 80%. On the other hand, he smiled, there was a mail titled 'Accepted', from the game master. Lovely! He opened the message so he could see the attachment, and darkness descended.

Mellanie sighed, staring at the grey, slushy street outside. It sometimes seemed as though winter in London was all rain and dreary greyness. Sunday morning and nothing to do, not even homework. Please god don't let mother start about diet, or father about exercise. Jumping to conclusions was more than enough strain for her. It was obvious - life was horrid and god hated her, or she wouldn't be so fat. Not to mention lonely. Thank heavens for computers! Without them, she'd have to read books for entertainment, and the books her parents considered proper for a teenager were beyond dull. They made Milton's Paradise Lost resemble the bible of the bored. Gaaah! She pulled on her dirty-blond hair, and sighed tragically again. It just wasn't fair. Well, no use crying about stuff. Should try to find Something to fill the Void of Nothingness of which her world consisted. Might as well gab a bit on the net and check her usual sites. Connection was quickly established, and two hours of mostly mindless 'conversation' passed in a flash. The newest post on the pbem page caught her attention, and she pursed her lips, narrowing her gray eyes in an attempt to understand what exactly she was supposed to send. Finally she shrugged, and sent along the most powerful version of her favorite character, the fire haired sun priestess Kylavria Turvar, cartoonish drawing attached. The reply knocked her out.