From: Jeff Huo (jeff@spundreams.net.nospam)
Subject: Wolves Glen Pub: Finale 
Newsgroups: rec.games.frp.storyteller
Date: 2000-09-25 19:40:27 PST 

It came totally without warning.

From out in the parking lot, to the main floor of the Pub, to the 
back corner, suddenly the air started to dance with magic. One's 
hair would rise on one's skin; the smell of magic, that faint 
electrical smell, like ozone, began to permeate the Pub.

Suddenly, instantly every incarnation of Jakob, Christina and 
Turnberry, froze where they stood, like an electric current had 
been thrown on them...suddenly a bright haze and a swirl of magic 
dust began to flow around them, bright and fierce enough to cause 
real pain to a Kindred. A low hum became a loud roar became a 
thunderclap...and Christina began to scream as all three of the 
Fae clutched themselves in obvious pain.

A psychic scream rolled across the Pub...like the horror of a 
billion souls echoing through the dimentions...like a people face 
to face with the end of their world.

It happened first in the parking lot: massive, blinding flashes 
of Glamour accompanied by the loudest high-pitched tone one had 
ever heard: instantly the Christina out there was gone, vaporized 
in a second; a flash, and Boris was holding only empty air; a 
flash, and Melody the gentle black unicorn was gone. 

A roar and a blinding blaze of light, and Leigh was now alone; 
suddenly Alan and Stalks Hidden were alone with the unknown 
stranger; suddenly every incarnation and split of the three Fae 
blasted right out of existence leaving only a painful afterimage 
and empty space.

Save one.

One last copy of Turnberry and Christina next to the bar, Glamour 
crackling and blazing around them like lightning off of a 
generator, with chimerical fire exploding all around them like a 
tornado, both doubled over with pain, clutching each other hard. 
Yet with a herculean effort, Turnberry straightens himself up, 
pulling Christina up with him; through the magical storm 
surrounding him, he looks up at the Pub patrons.

And, slowly, painfully, smiles gently.

He forces the words out, in a voice cracking:

["I once said that my world lived on borrowed time; that for a 
thousand thousand years we ignored and abused the mortals, and 
that in this age, the bill was soon come due,"] Turnberry says, 
haltingly.

He hugs Christina tight like that grip alone was what kept him 
rooted to the Pub, avoiding the fate of the others, but slowly, 
you can see the blazing blue fire consume and erase them from the 
feet up. 

["It would seem our time has come. It would seem, an end, in some 
form, is here."]

In the dancing flames, one can see flashes and visions of the end 
of a world; cataclysimic explosions; indescribable monsters; 
cities being shattered, mortals and supernaturals of all kinds 
being destroyed by things undescribable, swallowed by earth, 
consumed by flame or things without name, some while fighting, 
some while fleeing. And in the middle is Turnberry, his face 
strained by the pain, but yet able to force out one last 
farewell:

["I have valued your friendship and your time,"] he smiles, even 
as the flames race up past his chest, ["your stories and your 
company. And though I know not what awaits me or you in the days 
to come, I wish you, all of you, the best, and hope that all of 
you all find that which you most seek."]

Christina too looks up. Forces her eyes open, bright with tears. 
She too smiles...gives a wink to someone...to whom, will remain 
unanswered.

One last gentle smile from Turnberry, as the storm around 
Turnberry and Christina reaches it's peak. 

["In this life, or in the next, until we meet again."]

[" Fare thee well. "]

And then, in the middle of the vortex of visions and magic and 
flame, almost oblivious to the consuming fire, Christina looks up 
at Turnberry, and Turnberry looks down at her, reassuringly. They 
close their eyes and embrace fiercely one last time.

One last blinding flash.

And when one's vision clears, there is, on the Pub floor, a black 
flat velvet hat, and a white wool beret, resting side by 
side...with a pair of golden silk roses on top.

And Christina's treasured bear lying beside them. If one looked 
carefully, you might see what looks like somebody in all the 
excitement spilled a bit of water on it's brown furry 
face...almost, almost, just like one solitary tear.