At 11:59 PM 4/29/99 -0700, you wrote:

Commentary welcomed, publicly or privately.  

Been here, done this, doin' it again... addiction is an awful
thing, isn't it?  ;)

I think it really depends on what you're addicted too.  As usual, the
numerous grammar corrections/suggestions snipped (unless I have specific
replies beyond "whoops" :)), so as not to make this reply too large.  :)
 

patchwork cloth.  Those four had been quietly talking apart for
the whole time, discussing the quite radical shift in the 
structure of the Circle Eternal.  But all four were mages, and
had felt the power in Yoko's victory over the Orochi; perhaps, 
all of them thought to one degree or another, it was well past
time the Circle had a supreme leader.

{heh.  I wonder when they'll realize that it isn't a circle any
more...}

Well, yeah, but it's a name with tradition.  You don't go changing your
fourteen-hundred year-old name just because it's grotesquely inappropriate.
 :)

     Over the black leather of her mask, Yamiko's black eyes
glittered.  She hissed, managing to express in that wordless
sound an immense amount of disdain, and turned away to gesture to
the prisoners.  They were brought to their feet and set marching
after Yamiko's lead.  Xande stood up, brushed forest dirt from
the knees of his pants, and frowned as he brought up the rear.

{If Xande has dirt on his knees, should that be "knelt" 2 paras up
rather than "bowed"?}

Hmm... I was thinking of him doing a very servile (he's like that) bow,
head bumping the ground... will rewrite to make this clear.

     "She will love you, brother," Wiyeed said.  "And you will
love her.  And so long as she lives, and you love her, then even
the hand of the World-Hater will never be able to touch you."

{Love is, in the end, the only defense against entropy...}

Not even a defense, really... not at the last.

     Tarou nodded.  "I think so."  The truth was, he was almost
sure of it.  His sneaking suspicion was that everyone was being     
gathered in already.  It gave him a bad feeling.

{You and me both, kiddo.}

Tarou, by being the most widely-dispersed of almost any character in the
series, understands the breadth of everything but the depth of almost
nothing.  :)
 

     "<And three-quarters of the enemy.  Sacrifices,>" Bi Shou 
said smugly as she leaned back in the chair, "<must occasionally 
be made.  The tree must be pruned that it might grow strong.>"

{Sure, and you can't make an omelet without breaking eggs.  *snort*
However, the neat thing about the "pruning" analogy is that, unless
one cuts the tree down, one doesn't kill the tree... but WHICH
branches one cuts determines the future shape of the tree.}

Little things make for big changes in the future.

     Cologne said the worst swear word she could think of.

{Oh, my.  I'll bet flies dropped out of the air in a three-meter
radius.  :)  Seriously, this is a nice example of how to write a
character with more experience than the writer or any of his
readers... which can be quite difficult.}

I just fake it.  :)
      

     He gestured, tapped his power.  Stone flowed like water, and
an oval lump rose from the centre of the table.  He smoothed it,
until a face emerged, short hair framing the strong, solidly
attractive features.  Mei's face.

{Wow.  Now there's an interesting use of the talent.}

Yup.  

     All the sins were coming back.  He didn't want to believe
that Yan had returned, but it seemed he had.  All the old
nightmares.  It took him some time to realize he was laughing, 
and that the stone face on the table had cracked into fragments.

{Yipe.  Now there's an ominous use...}

Yup.  ^_^

     Stirred by wind, the waters of the lake lapped gently at the
banks of the island.  The island itself was small, vaguely
circular and with a circumference of about fifty feet.  The dead,

{50' circumference is 16' diameter... that's pretty small, and it's
also bloody difficult to visualize size from circumference.  Should
that be "diameter of about fifty feet"?}

Yes.  I was never very good at remembering these things... math isn't my
thing.  :)

     He couldn't think of anything to say that wasn't stupid.

{heh.  Ranma's changed, all right.  Before, that wouldn't have
stopped him.  :) }

Yup.  :)

     "Oh, Ranma."  Her hand touched his shoulder, and he felt the
weight of her body press against her back as she embraced him
from behind.  "Is that why... did you think I wouldn't..."

     "Do you?"
     
     He felt her stiffen slightly.  "No," she answered finally, 
in a low whisper.  "No, I don't."

{This is confusing to me, with its negative-positive-negative.
The first "..." isn't "forgive you" or "love you"; "understand
you", maybe?  At any rate, I puzzled over that for too long.}

I think I deliberately intended it to be confusing for the reader... to
imply that Ranma and Akane's communication is on such a fundamental level
that it doesn't need to be verbally expressed.  
 

     Akane let out a soft, breathy cry, and stared in shock at
the pale, tiny scar where the wound had been.  Ranma began to 
take a step back from her, and then a sudden surge of dizziness 
overtook him.  His hip bumped against the low railing, and he
might well have gone over the side if Akane hadn't grabbed his
sleeve and steadied him.

{Whoopsie.  Good thing you still need the characters.  :) }

For now.  :)

     Perhaps, he thought, it will always come back to her, no 
matter how far I may go, no matter what I may do.  Whatever 
destiny hangs over me, she is the light that will bring me home.

{Ranma's humanity is hanging by a thread.  Fortunately, it's
a strong thread.  Nice.}

Thanks.  

     The weight of age came back with all the force of a hammer.
Skin wrinkled, senses dulled, and her body shrunk and twisted 
into the tiny mockery of her former beauty it had once been.  
She'd forgotten how hard it was, how she always had to fight the 
stiffness of her limbs and the ravages that time had done to be 
so strong in this diminutive form.  

{Eek!  She's been pruned!  :) }

Yeah, but you just need to add water to restore her.  :)
     

     Oh, he had not beaten her easily.  She'd given him a good
fight.  But he was ten years older, stronger and more skilled,
and he'd won in the end.  No one had liked it, but it was the 
law.  And so she'd moved into her new home, with her new husband,
and the four years of hell had begun--

{Aiya.  The dark side of the Kiss of Marriage law.  I always
wondered how a Joketsuzoku was supposed to assert dominance over
a man who could defeat her... I guess sometimes she can't.}

Nope.

     The voice was subtle and persistent.  It had begun to be
audible an hour ago, soft at first, but now it was almost a 
shout.  He recognized it, of course; it was his own voice, 
calling out to him from the bottom, down in pit.

     Yanyanyanyanyanyanyan.

{Who among us hasn't heard the voices in the night?  Nice.}

Most of the voices you hear in the night are your own, unless they belong
to drunks.  :)
     

     "Xanovere," the figure said, in a voice of utmost hate.  "So 
long, old friend.  So very, very long."

{"So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye..."  (sorry) }

No singing.  This ain't WUE - The Musical.

     With one hand, he turned her head back to look at Cologne.
She did not resist.  He held out the staff again, as offering.
Shampoo's eyes went to the sheathed sword at her side.

     "I think it yours now," she said.
     
     Ranma nodded once, and turned away.

{Ranma's flipping back and forth between states of mundanity and
transcendence, and the swings are getting wider...}

"Curly.  Straight.  Curly.  Straight.  Curly.  Straight." (sorry)

     "My brother."  One finger idly traced a circle on his neck, 
and Herd discovered how hard it could be to draw breath at a 
simple touch.  "Mother told me.  When I was young.  I had 
forgotten it, it was so long ago.  There was another girl, a
half-hour older than I was, but she only lived for a few hours
after she was born; she was too small, much smaller than I was."

{I knew a young woman once, well enough for her to tell me that
this had happened to her.  I thought then, and I think now, that
her twin's absence bothered her more than she cared to admit.
It was... spooky, then.  It's spooky now...}

I believe there was an episode of the X-Files several years back that made
use of this concept - the absent twin.

     The heat of the air stung her face, and she longed for
water.  To drink, to pour over head.  She would have given
almost anything for water right now.  Even money.

{Whoa, she's serious.  :)  Nice.}

In the end, one can neither drink nor eat money.  

     Shouzin was grinning.  He was loving this, Ranma realized.
Never had he wanted to kill anyone more than he wanted to kill
the Undying in that moment.  But he couldn't; the first time he
had really and truly wanted to kill without hesitation since 
Denkoko's death, and he couldn't.

{Fortunately Ranma's control has grown with his powers.  He's
still right to worry about it, of course; it's when he stops
worrying that he'll be in real danger of losing himself.}

Yup.  Once it becomes easy, he's lost.

     Parts of the wings had been torn off, leaving them ragged
and bloody, and the ever-bright dark eyes were gaping sockets. 
But it was recognizably the messenger raven.  And he was alive; 
his movements were slow, and obviously caused him immense pain, 
but he lived.

{Oh, MAAAAAN...  guess my groveling way back when didn't do any
good.  *sniff*}

Well, he's not DEAD... 

distances, as the red clouds came rolling in above her head.  As
long as she didn't look down - except the quick glances to ensure
herself she was moving in the right direction - she was fine.  It
was a temptation those times to gaze longer, to try and number 

{Suggest}  to try to number  {because then it's the first of
three "try to"s, and I likes threes.}

Hey, who doesn't?  ^_^

rotting flesh.  But she was close enough also to see Kuno's eyes,
looking up imploringly, begging for release.  And she could hear
his voice now, distinct amidst the wailing of the dead.  Even as

{Hey!  Not only is his hood off, but his eyes and tongue are back!
I can't wait to find out where they really are...}

All will be revealed in time...

     "Oh no," something hissed.  "Oh no, that will not do at 
all."

     And Nabiki's throat closed up tight as a vise when a corpse
with her mother's face rose up, worms spilling from its mouth.  

{EEEEEEK!}

Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse...

     They had the faces of her dead.  Her mother.  Her 
grandmother on her father's side, who had died when she was six.
Her friend from the sixth grade who'd been killed by a drunk
driver that they never caught.  A hundred faceless others, 

{Aiya.  Good thing she hasn't been responsible for anyone's death,
not really (has she?), or this'd be a lot worse...}

Yup.  Fortunately, she hasn't got that guilt (or the perception of it)
weighing her down.

     Nabiki opened her mouth to scream, and it filled up with the
scent of rotting flesh and blood, and the damp, damp stench of
death.  Then they were down, the both of them, and the dead hands
were tearing her clothes off, and they were down among the dead,
too deep to move.

{And she thought it would be easy...  I reiterate my admiration for
this bit of psychological adventure.}

It's surreal-icious!
 

     "You are the first person I have met in four thousand years
who I am not sure I could kill," Ritter replied.  "In fact, I
wonder if you could kill me.  Can you draw a blade of light?"

     "Never tried."

{heh.  Pure, distilled Ranma.  Nice.}

Ritter is aware that Ranma quite possibly could kill him.  He's simply
surprised to discover it doesn't really bother him.  
    

     Ritter suddenly looked very tired, so tired that a tiny part
of Ranma pitied him.  No one should have to look that weary.  "He 
lied to me.  To _me_."  The sense of betrayal was thick in his 
voice.

     "And I care because?"

{Because the ONLY chance you have of coming out of this with your
humanity intact is to never stop caring, even for your enemies,
baka!  Jeez!}

What one feels and what one says are different things.

     He threw back his head, and laughed.  Baazel, the Ravager of 
Wurdsenlin, was free again on the earth.  Let all things tremble 
at his might. 

{Oh, my goodness.  Or something.}

How about "Oh s***"?
 

     On the ledge, the setting sun burned scarlet in the single
cracked lense of Genma Saotome's glasses.  The wind blew over it, 
slowly wearing down the rock.  A single black feather was caught
on the updraft, and whirled away into the sky.  Now, the ledge 
was empty of everything except the glasses.

{uh... Shiso?  gibber, wobble, thud...}

Uh-oh.  I broke Vince's brain.

Yeah, it was long, but I think it had to be, and it was worth it.
The dominant feeling is tension building again; the players are
moving between battles.  But, gods, I don't think I'm ever going
to trust these characters again.  

"Trust no one."

Samofere's showing the

same old weakness;

He's not so much showing weakness as going completely off the deep end,
actually.  :)

 Ranma's mind's been booby-trapped; and even

Ritter's acting squirrely.  Who else is going to break cover as
things come apart?  Lougui?

That would be telling.  

Next chapter or the one after that, the big one, yes?  Next one,
I think... but I've been wrong here too often to be sure.

Next one will probably be the big one, yes.  :)

Thanks for writing and sharing.  Now go finish Eidolons!  :)

I hear you.  :)

Thanks as always for excellent, extensive commentary, Vince.  Much
appreciated.  

Ciao,
-Alan Harnum