At 04:36 PM 7/25/99 -0400, DB Sommer wrote:

At last, a chance to get to this:

Yay!  

    "A terrible king arose from the ocean.  In one hand, he bore
a spear with seven points.  In his other hand, he held a sword
with seven blades.  A crown with seven points was upon his head,

I see a pattern forming there.

Really?  :)

* * *

    "Where are we going, Professor?"

Professor: We're going to see the Skipper, Gilligan.

Makoto:  My name isn't...

Schtalubaugh:  Quiet!  If I say your name is Gilligan, than it is!

Makoto:  This is getting kinky...

    He licked his lips, and coughed.  "With your ability to
interface with the ancient technologies, I believe you should be
able to... talk to it."

Of course, if it's been down there a long time it's information may be
limited.

Which it turned out to be.

    A face.  Ifurita's face.  It twisted with hate.  He--the
god--hurled his power against her, and she returned it, tenfold,
laughing as she did, and he was falling from the skies,

Ah, an inferior model then.

Inferior to Ifurita, yes.  She was supposed to be the most powerful of the
Demon-Gods.

    "Free?"  Even with all the distortion in the voice, it was
impossible to miss the uncertainty.  Hope, as well.  And
disbelief.

Of course, Makoto is taking a chance since this Mardruk might not be as
benevolent as Ifurita once he's released. But since Makoto seems to be
something of an optimist, I can see him not considering it.

Yup.  He did free Kalia, after all.  Mardruk also isn't technically free at
this point; Makoto hasn't disabled the parts of his memory that keep him
under control.

    A second turn, his hands working with Lemulla's, and the
tiny bolts of lightning became more frequent.  They formed a
corona around him and her and the staff and the altar, and

and...and...and...and.  Four 'and's close together. I'd really change that
around

Deliberate, but will consider changing.

    The third turn.  Black lightning flared.  Lemulla spoke; he
did not hear the words.  His hair stood on end.

    A whisper of voices...

they echoed, 'you look silly with your hair standing on end like that.'

But he'd make them stop laughing.  He'd make them ALL stop laughing!

    The god raised his sixteen arms, which had no hands.  Black
ichor seeped from them.  He spoke; his voice was a peal of
thunder.

    "Serve me and you shall not die."

    And Nahato knew that it was true.  He bowed down before the
god, and awaited his commands.

Bah, one measly little vision and he caves in. What a putz. ^_^

I will note that "Serve me and you shall not die" has a number of
interpretations.  :)

    But it wasn't.  He'd tried wine, beer, hard liquors,
digestive liquers, and anything else he could get.  It all tasted
vile.  It had occured to him that last night's banquet might be
the last time he was ever drunk.

You know, that means unless he gets something to start smoking again,
he'll be at his ultra-powerful level.

<nod>

    Schtalubaugh had surmised that the passage through the
dimensional walls had somehow given them their powers.  That the
powers might change hadn't occured to any of them.  But the
evidence was before him.  And it frightened him; in a way, it was
like having an unknown disease.  There was no telling what it
might do next.

Eh? His powers are changing? That's interesting.

I personally think it's a plausible theory that the powers of the Earthers
could increase, change, or decrease over time, as they 'adapt' to El-Hazard.

    His mouth worked faster than his brain.  "How?"

    "The palace's water supply," she replied.  "I told it to
watch for you."

Heh. Neat way of using her power,

I needed a way to account for her walking in on his 3 AM bath.  ^_^

    "Are you staring at my breasts?"

    "No!"

    A wounded note entered her voice.  "Why not?  Is there
something wrong with them?"

Heh. Saw that one coming.

It was, I will admit, telegraphed from a mile away.  :)

    "It's okay for men to be older.  It makes them dashing."
Miz buried her face in her hands.  "In four years I'll be
thirty!  I'll start to sag, then!"

    "Miz..."

you're starting to sag now.

Tactless, and not even true.  ^_^

    "Women are strange," he said finally, and sank down so that
only his nose and mouth were above the water.  The water wasn't
that cold.

If he's losing skin sensitivity, he's going to start having problems.
Especially if it has to do with something similar to an invulnerability
factor.

Definitely.

    Occasional changes in the direction of the wind would blow
scatterings of raindrops against his face, but he did not care.
His clothing was getting rather wet, but he had more of that.
There was a caste among the Bugrom that did nothing but weave,
all day and all night.  The first few attempts at duplicating the
crisp appearance of his beloved school uniform had been rather
shoddy, but they seemed to have got the hang of it now.

Neat. Never thought of them having a caste system, but again, it makes
sense.

All social insects have it to some degree; the Bugrom, being more advanced,
presumably have a more advanced caste system.

    "Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks; rage, blow," he
murmured.  That brought back a memory.  He had _deserved_ to be
Edmund, damn it.  But no; that role had gone to Makoto.  And he'd
been stuck as Lear, chewing scenery and shouting at the wind.
Damn Makoto!

Heh. A like that .

Cool.  

    Jinnai smiled.  A tiny, secret smile, meant only for
himself.  It truly was from God, then; he knew nothing of the
geography of this land, but he had seen a vision of that place as
clear as day.

Ah, so someone is now inputting information in him, how delightful.

New, programmable Jinnai.  Fun for the whole family.

    As it swam, the debris of three thousand years buried at the
bottom of the sea sloughed off into the water.  Seaweed and muck
fell away from the gleaming, dolphin-quick body.

    A school of sharks decided to try and make a meal of it.

I thought it was swimming faster than anything mortal could. How did they
catch up to it?

More a matter of them being in the way then anything else, I think.

Nice as always. Things are starting to move along at a good pace.

Good.  I'm trying to write at a pace other than 'glacial' these days.  :)

Thanks for the commentary

Ciao,
-Alan Harnum