Topic author: Ravenbait Subject: Chronicles VII Posted on: 09/08/2004 15:16:03 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VII Prologue Soundtrack: Fairport Convention - History High up on the downs overlooking the petrified sheep of Fyfield and with the vast conical shape of Silbury glowing gently, warmly effervescent in the distance, three cyclists sit on top of the mound of West Kennet longbarrow with Mr and Mrs Colin supping mead and enjoying the feel of the balmy breeze and the sound of larks singing. Cats' paws ruffles of wind take the edge off the blistering heat and, sitting in the boundaries of A-Time as they are, the tramping tourists do not bother them too much. Ravenbait idly makes a daisy chain while Aeroflash throws dandelion heads at a couple of fat Americans struggling to get between the portal stones. Flying Monkey is meditating, hovering his standard 120mm above the coarse grass that covers the mound, the space between his lotus-positioned body and the ground awash with a faint blue nimbus, as of Hokey Spokes in a mist. A small child scrambles over the mound and comes a complete stop, eyes wide, thumb in mouth. It looks sticky, and of indeterminate sex. Ravenbait rolls languidly onto one elbow and drops her shades down onto the end of her nose to favour the child with a stare. The child bursts into tears and starts screaming. "Wanna go A-TOYLET!!!!" It runs away, little legs hammering, shoes kicking at the grass as if its feet are too much in a hurry to lift enough from the ground to take proper steps. The two fat Americans rush over to it and start soothing and fretting over it and then another adult appears, wiping the child's face with a grubby handkerchief and offering it a sweetie. This last man seems to be typical middle-class English, and tells the Americans not to worry over the boy because he'll be fine in a minute. They seem to know one another. Although they glance up to the top of the mound and appear to be looking right at the small picnic party gathered not ten feet away, they do not see anything, and the small child appears to have been mollified by some Haribo gummy bears. "Was that really necessary?" FM asks with a quiet sigh. "Oh hush," RB responds. "Nasty little snotty sticky thing. Do not see the attraction, myself. If I'd let him be he'd be climbing all over us and pulling Colin's ears. Chuck us that bottle, Colin, there's a sweetie." The large, grey-green, hairless bulk of the Chief Controller rolls slightly at an angle to reach the corked, stoneware bottle of mead that is resting against a tussock of grass. "I think that one is nearly empty, my love," says Mrs Colin. "Best open another." She heaves herself to her feet, smoothing down the floral patterned skirt of the dress she is wearing, and the white apron tied neatly over the top. "Can I get anyone anything else?" she calls as she threads her way through blind tourists back into the longbarrow. "No thank you Mrs C!" Ravenbait responds, her reply echoed by everyone else. "So are those the new glasses?" Aeroflash asks her. "Nah. Got to wait until the end of the month. Wayland said he might have something special for me in by then, but if not then I've to go back anyway and he'll retrofit these ones for me." A pair of weekend Wiccans crawl up the side of the barrow and stand right in the middle of the picnic, arms outstretched and eyes closed, as if tuning into alien television signals. There is one male and one female, both dressed in a variety of gothic colours and fabrics, with enormous silver pentacles dangling about their throats. Each of them has a quartz point in each outstretched hand. The girl starts talking about dragon energies. Ravenbait sighs and makes an exasperated face at Colin. "Have you never considered moving?" she asks him. Colin smiles peaceably, unperturbed. "It's only this bad in the summer. It's quite quiet in winter." Mrs Colin winds her way back up to the small gathering with a fresh jar of mead, and plonks herself down on the gingham blanket spread on the grass, right between the two Wiccans who are completely oblivious to her presence. "Oh come on!" Ravenbait says, irritated. "That's just rude!" "Don't worry, my love. We have a way of gettin' rid o' folks like this," says Mrs Colin. She takes a whistle from her pocket and blows on it sharply. Squinting upwards towards the sky for a few seconds she starts making frantic waving gestures. Ravenbait, Aeroflash and Flying Monkey crane their heads back but can only see the silhouette of a buzzard, which glides off towards the main road. It is not long before the buzzard returns. The Wiccans are now discussing black lines and ley energies and whether they should tap into Swallowhead Springs for the full Goddess in the landscape experience. There is a cry from up above. "Way hey hey! Doon wi' yar fannies!" Mrs Colin shuffles backwards a couple of feet and a rotten, disintegrating, stinking rabbit corpse is dropped from the sky onto the heads of the Wiccans. It still has tyre tracks in its head. They don't stay long after that. Ravenbait and Aeroflash are breathless and panting with laughter, falling about all over each other and hooting helplessly. Even FM is forced to settle back on the ground because he can't quite keep the mental focus to remain the calm state of Zen repose. "Gods!" RB says breathlessly. "I didn't know you knew the Nac Mac Feegles. Hi Hamish!" She waves up to the little blue man saluting from the buzzard, which is even now spiralling off away over the downs. "Oh yes, my love," says Mrs Colin. "My Aunt Jemima's second cousin's daughter-in- law is the niece of the Kelda for the Stone Sheep Clan. So how come you know them then?" "RB seems to know everyone," Aeroflash replies with a wry smirk. "I heard they were fending them off with sticks on the Dun Run." "Don't be silly," RB tells him, poking him in the ribs and making him flinch, yelping. "Got a good, healthy ancestral line that's mostly Viking and Pict. How could I not know the Nac Mac Feegles?" A pair of black shapes appear in the sky and tumble down towards them. "Boss is after you, er...boss," Thought says as they land on the grass. Memory's attention is immediately caught by the rabbit corpse that has broken into pieces in the grass and he stalks over to it, eyes glinting. "Afternoon Squire, Mrs Squire," Thought says to Mr and Mrs Colin. "Is that bunny taken?" "No no, my little lamb," Mrs Colin says. "You go ahead." RB drains the cup of mead that Mrs Colin had poured for her and pulls a face as the alcoholic warmth spreads down the back of her throat. Max is waiting, leaning up against the fence, crud catchers still brown from the trip across the Ridgeway from Wayland's Smithy and Camelback MULE dangling from the bars. There's still that nasty big scratch that he seemed to have picked up when they were last in Scotland, but he's a tough little cookie and nowhere near in need of a re-spray just yet. "I'll see you two back at the Cake Stop then?" she says to Aeroflash and Flying Monkey, frowning in annoyance at a tourist who walks straight through her without so much as a by-your-leave. The other two cyclists nod. "Right then. Thanks again Colin, Mrs Colin. I'll stop by soon, ok?" "Always a pleasure, my love, " says Mrs Colin as Mr Colin starts filling his pipe. "Bit early for this sort of thing, isn't it?" Aeroflash says to Flying Monkey. FM shrugs. "Who knows?" he says. "Better than arguing the same old things in Campaign, anyway, and now we've got Spen back as well." "Ah," Aeroflash nods sagely. "There, sir, you do have a point." Sam http://www.ravenfamily.org "You'd think we could just attract ants, like normal people." Replies: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Kathy Pike Replied on: 09/08/2004 16:37:40 Message: Ravenbait? Doing something as girlie as making a daisy chain -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Shane Replied on: 09/08/2004 16:41:08 Message: ... can't wait for the zombie buffalo with frikkin lazer beams ... __________________________ It's a long way to Tipperary... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: hairyhippy Replied on: 09/08/2004 17:38:38 Message: Crivens, mistress You've heard of Ali Baba, 40 thieves had he... Out for what we all want, lots of L/S/D. He also had a camel, stole it form a zoo. How he loved the camel and the camel loved him too. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Flying_Monkey Replied on: 09/08/2004 17:43:22 Message: Mmm... nice to be relaxing at West Kennet again - but does this mean my sudden 9and of course totally deserved) reappearance as a Major Character or am I the going to be the Surplus Ensign who gets vapourized by the first load of zombie buffalo with frikkin lazer beams...? ----- the nature of monkey was... irrepressible! ----- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 09/08/2004 17:45:33 Message: 'A variety of gothic colours....'? How can you have a variety of black?? Strange.... I like the little mischief at the expense of the wiccans. Reminds me of fun and games in the Vale of Pewsey's cornfields a few years ago - especially in the Barge Inn at Honeystreet, with the crop circle chasers in one bar, and the makers in the other...! What fun! What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Pingu Replied on: 09/08/2004 17:49:02 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Flying_Monkey Mmm... nice to be relaxing at West Kennet again - but does this mean my sudden 9and of course totally deserved) reappearance as a Major Character or am I the going to be the Surplus Ensign who gets vapourized by the first load of zombie buffalo with frikkin lazer beams...? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- If you're not wearing a red jersey then you're probably safe Mrs Pingu does the Bealach na Ba "You may ask yourself, 'Where does that highway go to?'" "The point is that I am now a perfectly safe penguin, and my colleague here is rapidly running out of limbs!" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 10/08/2004 10:02:22 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by TimC 'A variety of gothic colours....'? How can you have a variety of black?? Strange.... I like the little mischief at the expense of the wiccans. Reminds me of fun and games in the Vale of Pewsey's cornfields a few years ago - especially in the Barge Inn at Honeystreet, with the crop circle chasers in one bar, and the makers in the other...! What fun! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Gothic colours also include blood red, emerald green and a number of tones and shades of purple. Especially when one is discussing Wiccans. I know a couple of the regulars in both sides of The Barge, I have to admit. FM: you're not wearing a red jersey. Don't fret. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Craig0201 Replied on: 10/08/2004 10:07:08 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Shane ... can't wait for the zombie buffalo with frikkin lazer beams ... __________________________ It's a long way to Tipperary... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I wanted gnus. Please let me have gnus with frikkin lazer beams... Craig "Follow, follow, follow....follow the boys in orange...." VC Norwich -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Kathy Pike Replied on: 10/08/2004 10:13:00 Message: We need gnus. Lots of gnus... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: AwfulQuiet Replied on: 10/08/2004 10:16:30 Message: What? no Antidisestablishmentaryists? (with frikkin lazer beams) ---- Manager - Team Malt Loaf ]:(:)) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 10/08/2004 10:30:31 Message: I try to cater for all requests, although I'm not sure I can have people campaigning against the removal of official state recognition of an established church with frickin' laser beams on their heads running around. I mean, I'll give it a go. It might be tough, though. Gnus are much easier. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Craig0201 Replied on: 10/08/2004 10:33:25 Message: Plain gnus are more than acceptable. Just make sure they're not riding Shimano. Craig "Follow, follow, follow....follow the boys in orange...." VC Norwich -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: AwfulQuiet Replied on: 10/08/2004 10:38:28 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ravenbait I try to cater for all requests, although I'm not sure I can have people campaigning against the removal of official state recognition of an established church with frickin' laser beams on their heads running around. I mean, I'll give it a go. It might be tough, though. Gnus are much easier. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Not even if I beg and plead and promise to give you a massage after your next Dun Run? ---- Manager - Team Malt Loaf ]:(:)) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: LamBO Replied on: 10/08/2004 11:47:45 Message: A certain amount of ovine content but a bit short of references to the original lamBO, (my flock are numerous and scary looking when freshly sheared) Perhaps I can sling my hammock between a couple of large standing stones and smugly give advice while puffing on a hookah. The missing D in the Stone sheep clan? - a muddled fool, full of lucid intervals - «Coffee has to be hot like hell, black as the devil, pure like an angel and sweet as love.» -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: rjevans6 Replied on: 10/08/2004 13:03:26 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Kathy Pike We need gnus. Lots of gnus... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- And capybaras (on their bikes) Possibly some thrashers. Feel free to include a pedantic and humourless droid known to some as rjevans6 ... --------------------------------------------------------------------------- "For every problem, there is a solution which is simple, neat and wrong." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 10/08/2004 13:21:16 Message: How about Wiccan Gnus - with, naturally, the frickin' lazer beams? They could come in an explosion of Wiccan Gothic colourfulness (ooh, it's so nice to have my knowlege boundaries expanded!). And, to expand on rjevans request, how about introducing Marvin the Paranoid Android (with apologies to Douglas Adams) as a crop circle chaser on a megabicycle powered by capybaras? I think I need a hug and a lie down! What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: rjevans6 Replied on: 10/08/2004 13:34:58 Message: ... to a soundtrack including: Erpland; Shoot Out the Lights; Leftism; Live Rust; and Combat Rock --------------------------------------------------------------------------- "For every problem, there is a solution which is simple, neat and wrong." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Kathy Pike Replied on: 10/08/2004 15:25:39 Message: Are we going to have robotic ninja zombie pirate monkies? With or without frikkin' laser beams - I'm not fussy. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TooMuchCake Replied on: 10/08/2004 15:44:01 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Kathy Pike Are we going to have robotic ninja zombie pirate monkies? With or without frikkin' laser beams - I'm not fussy. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This place is getting more like Orkut all the time (it's bloody slow today as well). _____________________________________________________________________ ______ There's something moving and it ain't us! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 10/08/2004 15:48:21 Message: I haven't been on Orkut in months! We've already had Leftism. I prefer to use soundtrack albums with which I have some passing familiarity, at least, and I don't know those other ones. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TooMuchCake Replied on: 10/08/2004 16:01:17 Message: [saddo] I just go for the molecular biology [/saddo] _____________________________________________________________________ ______ There's something moving and it ain't us! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: rjevans6 Replied on: 10/08/2004 17:41:27 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ravenbait I haven't been on Orkut in months! We've already had Leftism. I prefer to use soundtrack albums with which I have some passing familiarity, at least, and I don't know those other ones. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Recommended listening - Ozric Tentacles, Richard & Linda Thompson, (Leftfield), Neil Young & the Clash respectively. Did you post the soundtrack list --------------------------------------------------------------------------- "For every problem, there is a solution which is simple, neat and wrong." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 11/08/2004 14:37:18 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VII No.1 Soundtrack: Lemon Jelly - Lemonjelly.ky What ho! Here we are, boys and girls, ready and willing and able to set stout foot upon the stony path of righteous endeavour and thrilling exploit that is our educational adventure periodical for boys and girls of all ages with an eye for excitement. In previous escapades we have fought the gods of the Aztecs, engaged in massed battles with the forces of the Tour God Armstrong and his creatures of A-Time. We have fought zombies and flirted with piracy, met Gods and Demons, ventured into the deepest, darkest depths of Hell itself, and saved the world from the legions of the Humungous and the ABD. What fare shall we find in this new volume of the ever-expanding and now quite infamous Chronicles of the Cake Stop? Contains scenes of mild peril and extreme fantasy violence. At the Cake Stop, conversation has turned, once more, to the problem of chavscum. It is becoming almost as popular a topic for debate these days as whether helmets are any worth, whether climate change is anthropogenic or not, the interminable religious schism of the Campag vs Shimano debate and, of course, whether or not there is a need to pity the poor British motorist. Strangely enough, to this latter issue the answer is generally "Yes". There is a neat split, however, between those who feel the need to pity him for not being on a bicycle, and those who suggest he deserves pity for his persecution by the Government and Her Majesty's forces of police. Pingu has proudly opened a book on how long it will take Mrs Pingu to ascend Alpe D'Huez -- while complaining bitterly about dog excrement on his shoes -- and there is currently something of a question as to whether the torrential rain will clear in time for anyone to get a look at the Perseids that night. Shen has decided to wax lyrical about the otherwise-unsung and shamefully under-appreciated honeybee. AwfulQuiet has eaten too much pizza and is sitting on the very corner of the bar, next to the giant glass jar full of coppers that is the collection for the Cyclists Defence Fund, looking distinctly queasy. The doors swing open and Flying Monkey and Aeroflash tramp in, dripping. The next set of rainclouds, surging up on a ridge of low pressure from the continent, had swept over the cyclists as they headed back to the Cake Stop via the portal nearest and handy to West Kennet. This isn't the Avebury ring; not any more. It is now a circuitous route, had been since both Southern and South West Trains got antsy over carrying cyclists; and on this particular occasion had involved both Swindon bus station and Old Sarum for some reason. "Remind me to check with Colin for the short cut next time," Flying Monkey says to Aeroflash as they stroll right up to the bar and ask Clare for tea and cake and beer in whichever order is easiest. "I think we just hit that pothole wrong," Aeroflash replies, using a bar towel to wipe grey splatterings of road-grime polluted rainwater from his face. Gunner Rodgers is singing along to Chris Rea's "Road to Hell" on the jukebox, which might be a suitably melancholy tune to match the weather, but is a little morose for a lunchtime. FM gives Clare the bent eye and she goes to the other end of the bar to the jukebox remote controls in order to skip the rest of the track. "Oh, Aeroflash, we had a note in from Ravenbait," Charlotte says, sidling behind the bar, where she sneaks a piece of Victoria Sponge when Clare isn't looking and rummages through a pile of post, envelopes and dog-eared copies of Cycling Plus. There is no stamp on the folded piece of yellow legal paper, stapled together at the corners. Aeroflash's name is scribbled on one side in what looks like charcoal. "How do you know it's from Ravenbait?" Aeroflash asks. "Stinks of sulphur," Charlotte replies. "Anyway. I peeked." "But the Seventh Level of Hell isn't terribly sulphurous," Aeroflash frowns. He pulls open the paper and reads the smudged, blurry and indistinct text on the inside. Was just passing through. Stop. New transmission finished. Stop. Ready in three days. Stop. Will ship if not collected. Stop. Says you can paint it yourself. Stop. Mrs H says hi. Stop. Back soon. Stop. Oh. Stop. Watch out for Nazis. End. There is a stamp at the bottom that says: Mount Etna Telegraph Facility. By appointment to the Gods "Ah," Aeroflash nods. The Olympian idea of telegraph involves handing a piece of paper to a small mechanical pigeon and getting him to fly it to the recipient address. The pigeons are very good, but it would be nice if they could find something other than burnt wood with which to write. Charlotte has been peering over his shoulder and now she nudges him in the ribs. "What's that all about then, eh?" she demands. "A back order," Aeroflash murmurs, feeling the warm excitement of an impending addition to his family. "Well, I guessed that," Charlotte replies grumpily, hands on hips. "What's that about Nazis?" "I don't know, actually, "Aeroflash says, brow creasing. "I know RB isn't on the best of terms with the Greek pantheon. There was that nasty business with Apollo and she never really did get over that. Maybe she's eaten something odd and it gave her a funny turn." Charlotte is just staring at him, perplexed. "What are you wittering on about?" she asks. "There's a PC over there with access to Google," Aroflash tells her, shoving the note in his pocket. "But honestly, I don't know why she mentioned Nazis." "I do!" says Shane. "Duck!" A small flame war has broken out in the Campaign corner. Sparks are flying. Nutty, seeing the Sheriff is still in retirement from policing forum life, wades in to see if he can pour oil on troubled waters - or at least some nice, smothering foam on hot coals. "Nazis?" Aeroflash raises quizzical eyebrows. "Sort of," says AndyGates, retreating from the fight and looking a bit puffed. Somewhere in there Bad Company is slugging it out with someone no one recognises. "Safe Speed. SS. Can't see a single Hitler moustache though." "Quite right!" thunders Gunner. "A gentleman should have a decent and proper set of whiskers, or he should be clean shaven, with a manly, handsome jaw. A ruddy little piece of boot polished lip like Adolf's won't attract the birds! You won't even get close to their elbows! RUDDY NORAH! Do you understand nothing? Now! Has anyone seen Ethelfrith recently?!" There is generic shaking of heads and Gunner stomps off. "You know, if he keeps this up, we might have to see if Nutty wants to step in as Sheriff," Rjevans6 observes, watching the flame war sizzle from a safe distance. The door suddenly swings open and in swaggers Captain Jack Sparrow of the pirate ship The Black Pearl. "Good afternoon to yous, ladies an' gents. Where is the glorious and lovely Mrs Pike?" His eyes search the room until he finds the blushing heroine. "As charmin' as ever, I see," he says, grinning with twinkling eyes and kissing her hand gallantly, only wobbling a little. Kathy realises he has been drinking rum again. Probably about two or three bottles of the stuff by the smell. "I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon," Kathy says, hurriedly pulling a chair over as he plonks himself down in such a manner as to miss the one for which he was aiming. "Ah well, " he says, leaning forward on his elbows and sweeping the room with eyes. He frowns a little, realising that there are a few absentees, including Kitzy and the Priestess. Then he seems to shrug and shake himself internally. "I 'ave a proposition for you all." He grins toothily. Sam http://www.ravenfamily.org "You'd think we could just attract ants, like normal people." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: janism Replied on: 11/08/2004 14:56:21 Message: Ooooh, Captain Jack Sparrow can proposition me any time he likes -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 11/08/2004 14:59:03 Message: I'm afraid Captain Jack is already smitten by Kathy. They've been through a lot together already, you see. Old friends. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: charlotte Replied on: 11/08/2004 15:02:54 Message: Now I'm very intrigued, Sam... Oh - and not wishing to sound awfully sad, but it's Chris Rea. I'm ashamed to admit that I actually own a copy of The Road to Hell -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Kathy Pike Replied on: 11/08/2004 15:28:53 Message: Ooh, ta Sam. Is Cap'n Jack showing up so early my reward for having a constructive day -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: hairyhippy Replied on: 11/08/2004 17:18:13 Message: What ever next? Constructive Kathy? You've heard of Ali Baba, 40 thieves had he... Out for what we all want, lots of L/S/D. He also had a camel, stole it form a zoo. How he loved the camel and the camel loved him too. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Kathy Pike Replied on: 11/08/2004 17:24:31 Message: well, constructive by my standards -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: hairyhippy Replied on: 11/08/2004 17:26:02 Message: Could we have lots of action please Sam? You've heard of Ali Baba, 40 thieves had he... Out for what we all want, lots of L/S/D. He also had a camel, stole it form a zoo. How he loved the camel and the camel loved him too. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 12/08/2004 02:15:06 Message: Actually, can we just stay in the bar and drink lots of beer and eat cake? It's probably a lot safer than whatever else you have in mind...... And I might just stand a chance of getting the Cap'n so drunk he won't notice me making a move on Kathy (if that's alright with Tim!) - erm, at least I might if I was there! Sorry, getting coat as we speak. What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: groucho Replied on: 12/08/2004 10:08:03 Message: Blimey, what an output Sam. I have only just finished Vol VI ! Am I still under the influence of Frogs? After all I was in France at the time :) Pointing that 12 gauge of truth, straight at your chest. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 12/08/2004 10:15:23 Message: No, s'ok. The frogs turned into foreplay . -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: groucho Replied on: 12/08/2004 10:31:21 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- No, s'ok. The frogs turned into foreplay . -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Gonna go back and read again Any chance of foreplay, in VII, with lasers Pointing that 12 gauge of truth, straight at your chest. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 19/08/2004 13:35:01 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VII No.2 Soundtrack: Hawkwind - Chronicles of the Black Sword Just as Jack is about to speak, the doors crash open and in rushes Road-runner. "Come quick!" he says. "Come see what has happened!" Jack closes his mouth again with a slightly-affronted and bemused frown as everyone gets up and wanders out the door. Across the cycle park there has suddenly appeared a ramshackle building, little more than a garden shed, really, with a splodgy, badly painted sign above it. Yello's Tea Shop "Bugger me!" says Clare, standing with hands on hips and looking quite cross. There are already some cyclists standing outside it with things like eccles cakes and millionaire's shortbread. Pingu sees Clare watching and sheepishly wanders across. "Was just checking it out," he says, scuffing at the ground with his feet like a naughty schoolboy. TimC starts making a list of the people they can see buying comestibles from this interloper. "The effrontery!" he says. "Ravenbait isn't going to be best pleased." "Never mind her!" Clare retorts. "I'm not best pleased. This is my Cake Stop. If it wasn't for me none of you would be here, including that thing over there!" "Don't worry Clare," says Kathy, giving her a hug. "We still love you. I'm sure his tea and cake can't possibly be as good as yours. When RB gets back she'll put a curse on him or something so he can't go out without getting a zillion punctures until he apologises to you for daring to set up shop here." "I'm not sure I'm prepared to wait that long. Where is she anyway?" "Greece," Aeroflash replies. "Or was when she sent this telegram. Gods know - probably literally - where she is now." "I have worse news," says Flying Monkey, coming slowly over from Campaign. "We have another interloper." "What?!" "Mr Safe Speed himself." "Oh that's just great. That's all we need." Clare sits on the steps with a humph. "I doubt he'll stray from Campaign," Nuttycyclist says comfortingly, watching the goings on with a set of field glasses so that he isn't tempted to get involved too closely. "Besides. Howard seems to have it covered." "Is that one of RB's tulpas having a go as well?" Aeroflash asks, squinting a little to try to make it out. "Either that or her Old Man's been indulging in cloning experiments this time." FM replies. "Gods, I hope it's a tulpa," he adds with feeling. "Um," Captain Jack coughs politely. They turn to look at him. He is swaying a little, white teeth showing in a grin, one finger raised. "Excuse me ladies and gents, but I did say I 'ave a proposition for you." Clare throws a final, filthy look at the garden shed on the other side of the cycle park, making a mental note to see if she can persuade some of the more feisty of the Sheffield stands to take it apart after closing time. "Oh, come on then. I'm not going to waste any worrying time about some invader selling cheap Earl Grey when Captain Jack probably has something far more dangerous for me to worry about." "That's the spirit," TimC says, and they go inside. * * * Half a world away, or possibly no distance at all, Fingal waits in the middle of a strip of fawn-coloured tarmac at the top of a rise on a series of rolling hills and valleys, waiting while his mistress scans the landscape. A clown passes, noting their presence but not altering his course at all, each giant boot almost the same size as the hills over which he is striding, painted grin fixed in a rictus of greasepaint upon his round face with its barely-visible, pinpoint eyes. "Come on Logan," she mutters to herself. She had not asked him to come. When the Big O had called her away from that rather lovely picnic she had not been expecting to find the hairy little mutant with the adamantium bones waiting for her just inside the border territory. He had intercepted Thought and Memory on their way to find her and made them let him tag along. When the Priestess had greeted his presence with surprise and a query as to what in the name of Hel (who happened to be a close personal friend, by the way) he was doing following her around, he had grinned around his cigar. "Hard to keep my edge up there with nothin' more threatenin' than bunny rabbits and bambis," he had said. So now she is waiting, with Fingal starting to shift restlessly underneath her, looking at the long, swooping descent ahead of them and keen to be underway. There is a croak from somewhere to her right, then a hoot. The raven is too far away to be anything more than a black speck against the kaleidoscopic sky, but the Priestess can recognise Memory even at that distance, and make out the message. "About bloody time too," she says with relief, and lets Fingal have his head. * * * Captain Jack has managed to find a bottle of rum from somewhere and takes a swig. "A birdy tells me," he begins. "Was it a little yellow birdy or a big black birdy?" Peliroja interrupts immediately. "It was a reasonably sized bird that wasn't a seagull, all right?" Jack tells her, nettled. "What colour was it though?" Charlotte asks. "Well, as it 'appens, it did 'appen to be somethin' of a darker shade," the pirate admits. The cyclists exchange meaningful glances. "But that's by the by. The important part is what it said." "Which was?" Bagonabike prompts. "I'm gettin' to that bit, darlin'." Captain Jack takes another swig from his bottle and makes a noise through his teeth as the potent liquor burns its way down his throat. "I wouldn't light that if I were you," he tells Ashtrayhead as an aside. "It's quite good stuff, this." Indeed, the rum has a fire-retardant cap, currently sitting on the table. "Anyway. This little bird tells me that our Westley has gone off to rescue Buttercup from the Sea Org, right and he knows because he heard it from a seagull by the name of Francesca. I was thinkin' that you lovely folks might like to give me a hand to help Westley in rescuin' his lovely lady, what with him helpin' you out with the zombies an' everythin'. What say you?" "The Sea Org?" Shen asks dubiously. "Don't they have things like sharks with frikkin' laser beams on their heads?" "Can't say I rightly know," Captain Jack replies, rubbing his beard. "But I do know they have a lot of very rich people who obviously have too much money and need to be relieved of some of the terrible burden." "What makes you say that?" FatBloke asks him. "Well, if they spend their money gettin' zombie powder put into their faces with needles, then obviously that money needs to go to a more deservin' cause." "That cause being you," the handsome Mr Pike observes dryly. "Exactly! "Captain Jack beams. "I couldn't have put it better myself." He looks around. "So who's with me then?" "As long as we're back for the Essex ride," FatBloke cautions. "I'm game!" says Charlotte delightedly. "Can we get through A-Time all right without Raven?" Brock asks querulously. "We've managed before," Kathy tells him. "We just need to make sure the back half of the tandem doesn't get left behind." "And maybe by the time we get back Mr SS will have got bored and Campaign will have calmed down again," Ukiboy grins. "Excellent," Captain Jack grins, rubbing his hands together. "Now. Any chance of a lift?" Sam http://www.ravenfamily.org "You'd think we could just attract ants, like normal people." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: charlotte Replied on: 19/08/2004 13:41:59 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "The Sea Org?" Shen asks dubiously. "Don't they have things like sharks with frikkin' laser beams on their heads?" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Do I detect a crowd-pleasing plot twist? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 19/08/2004 13:45:35 Message: If people got more involved, like they used to, then the whole thing would be a crowd-pleasing plot twist, rather like that entire Gawain and the GK malarkey (although that was only to please Aeroflash, really). That's how the Chronicles started out - it was all Gunner's and Chuffy's fault, really! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Kathy Pike Replied on: 19/08/2004 13:59:31 Message: What's happened to Cap'n Jack's Brompton -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: FatBloke Replied on: 19/08/2004 14:07:07 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by TimC Actually, can we just stay in the bar and drink lots of beer and eat cake? It's probably a lot safer than whatever else you have in mind...... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I quite like TimC's idea!!!! (apart from the cake ) Oi!! You lot!!! Sponsor me NOW!!!!: http://www.bmycharity.com/v2/bntanner -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 19/08/2004 14:07:27 Message: Bacardi 151 151% proof is what happened. I think it's more a case of not wanting to ride it -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Brock Replied on: 19/08/2004 14:35:35 Message: Great stuff, I like the way this episode is going. My quiver of surfboards is at your disposal, should the need arise. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Mrs Pingu Replied on: 19/08/2004 16:00:49 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ravenbait If people got more involved, like they used to, then the whole thing would be a crowd-pleasing plot twist, rather like that entire Gawain and the GK malarkey (although that was only to please Aeroflash, really). That's how the Chronicles started out - it was all Gunner's and Chuffy's fault, really! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- How do you want us to get more involved? I'm not good at imagining adventurous tales of derring do. I'm afraid my creativity only goes as far as making up stupid rhyming lyrics to my favorite songs, containing puerile words like "bum". -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Help Help I'm being oppressed! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 19/08/2004 16:05:04 Message: Well I still think this one was the best one: http://www.cyclingplus.co.uk/forum/topic.asp?ARCHIVE=true&TOPIC_ID=8350& whichpage=1 That should help. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: redshift Replied on: 19/08/2004 20:42:12 Message: Sorry Sam. I kind of thought we'd established that you had the most fertile imagination, so you got the job! I'll get my thinking cap on... L Windcheetah 176 http://www.redshift.uklinux.net/ ...handbuilt by daleks... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 19/08/2004 20:55:17 Message: Ooh, we like crowd-pleasing plot twists! Can we burn down the interloping tea shop with some head-mounted frikkin' lazer beams (blue ones, please Sam - goes so well with yellow!), pretty please? Especially as it probably doesn't serve beer, over and above the fact that it's in unwanted competition with Clare's Cakestop. Bacardi 151 is very dangerous. Lucky I've done my company fire and smoke course today! What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: spesh Replied on: 19/08/2004 23:45:56 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- posted by Ravenbait Well I still think this one was the best one: http://www.cyclingplus.co.uk/forum/topic.asp?ARCHIVE=true&TOPIC_ID=8350& whichpage=1 That should help. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Just finished reading it... Wow. Marvellous! That's a high standard you set there Sam. I'd better get my clockwork thinking helmet... Nice to see the Feegles give the weekend Wiccans what for in the Vol. VII Prologue though. "the years have been kind - it's the weekends that have done all the damage..." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Fixed Wheelnut Replied on: 20/08/2004 00:23:29 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Bugger me!" says Clare, standing with hands on hips and looking quite cross. There are already some cyclists standing outside 'FORMING AN ORDERLEY QUE' with things like quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Where are the 'Stepford Phsyclists' Don't stop pedalling http://westkentctc.org.uk/index.html http://www.audax.uk.net/index2.htm -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 20/08/2004 15:38:18 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VII No.3 Soundtrack: Faith No More - Angel Dust The Priestess has caught up with Logan, finding her way across the fluctuating landscape of A-Time with little need for the assistance of her feathered friends. A- Time itself, a land of data, information there to be culled from the very fabric of its weave, tells her where to find him. It was supposed to have been a pincer movement, a capture. She had been charged with bringing the thing in by force and handing it over to Hephaestus, but something in the wind, in the whispers of the zephyrs as they brushed tender fingers through her hair, had changed her mind and now she was disobeying a direct order from the Ferryman himself, which was not going to go down well. The two friends hunker down by a bush, Fingal on the left and Logan's steed, the On- One Gimp occasionally called Chuckles, leaning against a tree behind them. They watch the strange creature in the clearing with an uneasy fascination. It is large, more manufactured than alive, one might say. Puffs of vapour occasionally gasp from its joints as it moves. It seems to be having difficulty controlling its motions, as if it were somehow newborn and is still learning how to operate its own limbs. "Is that thing steam-powered?" Ravenbait whispers to Wolverine. "Don't smell like there's a combustion chamber in there, darlin'," he tells her. "Sure as hell looks like it though. You want me to take it down? Got some adamantium here to slap upside its head." Ravenbait shakes her head and stands up in full view. The creature catches sight of her, first looks startled and scared, and then angry. It begins lumbering across the gap between them, teeth bared like rows of gravestones. Thinking it is about to attack the Priestess, and more than willing to make the most of any excuse, Wolverine springs forwards, claws leaping from their sheaths with their familiar bright sound. "No!" there is a sudden cry and Wolverine is barrelled to one side by a man in a long brown coat and a large hat. He lands on the ground, snarling, pinned by his assailant. Ravenbait ignores them both. Logan can take care of himself. She sidesteps the creature charging at her. It still does not have full control of its body and it tumbles over the bush, falling in a heap of limbs that gives off massive clouds of steam. "I don't want to hurt you," she says gently, proffering the creature a hand. It stares at her for a long time, as if no one has ever shown it any kindness before, and then reaches out and swamps her Specialized-clad hand in its immense, shovel-like paw. She heaves, muscles straining, and it regains its feet clumsily. From behind her she can hear spitting and snarling. "You an' me, we're goin' to Slash City!" "No! There is no evil in him. I cannot let you hurt him!" She gives the creature, now looking somewhat befuddled and forlorn, a wry smile. Sounds of a scuffle come from behind and there is the unmistakable noise of a very large gun being cocked. "Music to my ears, bub! Step right up! Be the first in line to meet your ancestors!" A shot is fired. "Pray cease and desist or I will have to kill you," says the voice with the indeterminate accent. "That hand cannon don't mean diddly if you can't hit me!" "Oh for pity's sakes!" Ravenbait exclaims crossly. She turns round, strides across and removes the ostentatious weapon from the hand of the man in the hat and coat. "Logan, behave!" "We ain't winnin' this shootin' match by tip-toein' through the tulips, darlin'," he tells her with a note of disgust. She glowers at him. He puts his claws away and stalks forwards until his nose is bare inches away from the other man. They are strikingly similarly matched for height and build. "Let's see whatcha look like under the cape and cowl, bub, " he says. "Hope you ain't no psycho millionaire with a utility belt." Ravenbait rolls her eyes and smiles at the creature, which is looking even more confused and bewildered. The man removes his hat and coat and he and Logan stare at one another, identical frowns creasing their brows. "Logan, meet Van Helsing," the Priestess says with the sigh of a woman who knows things are about to get difficult and complicated. "Van Helsing, meet Logan. Van Helsing is a member of a monster assassination squad working secretly for the Vatican and his last memory prior to that is of being on the battlefield at Masada in AD73. Logan is..." "An insignificant hairy barbarian," Van Helsing interrupts with a sneer. "Correction," Logan growls. "I'm an insignificant hairy barbarian mutant with a mutant healing factor, adamantium laced bones, razor-sharp adamantium claws and I'm the best at what I do!" "Which is what?" "Major damage." It looks like the boys are going to start fighting again. "Stop it you two!" Ravenbait yells. "Gods, I'd rather go toe to toe with the Humungous. At least he wasn't as much of a pain in the backside!" "Madam! What did you say?" Van Helsing takes her by the arm, searching her face. "I beseech you. Pray tell me where you heard that name." "Mr Van Helsing," she begins in a particularly dangerous tone. "I am the High Priestess of the Triple Goddess of Cycling. I am the genetically engineered progeny of the Divine and Sapphic union of Tank Girl and Ellen Ripley from Alien: Resurrection. It is my job to know about the Humungous. I probably know more about him than you do and I would thank you to let me go." She drops her Rudy Projects to the end of her nose and favours him with a baleful stare from her hellish black eyes. Van Helsing drops her arm as if it has suddenly become red-hot. "I know of you. You come from the very depths of Hell itself." "Yes, that's right. Well done. Garm is a real sweetie when you get to know him. Now. Be a dear and explain why you are running bodyguard duty for our steam-powered friend here." Van Helsing does not look at all happy about being in her presence. Logan is still eyeing him up suspiciously, and Van Helsing keeps making sidelong glances towards the hairy little man, as if he feels as if he should know him from somewhere. "This creature is the result of dastardly experimentation being carried out by evil scientists of sinister intent. They are attempting to resurrect the Humungous," he tells them. "The creature is not evil in itself, it is merely an innocent victim in this. He was the victim of a collision with a powered carriage and they took him as a subject for their cruel machinations." "The Humungous is dead," Ravenbait responds flatly, eyes hard and glittering behind the lenses of her glasses. "I was there. Kali-Ma crushed him beneath her feet." "Nay, madam, he is not dead." Van Helsing shakes his head, evidently pained to bring her such bad news. "So much of him was artificial and mechanical already that it protected what little vital parts of him were still of flesh and blood. His people retrieved his remains from the battlefield and have taken them away to a secret place where they watch over him and keep the last thin thread of life within him while they work to fashion a new body for him. In their work they produce creatures such as this poor fellow, and worse besides. They are using demonic powers, creatures not of this world or the next, so that when he returns he will be superhuman." "So that is why the Ferryman is involved," Ravenbait says, voice cold with the old fury. The ABD were up to their old tricks again. They were trying to resurrect the Humungous and yet they were still rejecting life; still rejecting the freedom of physical exertion on the open roads; still wishing to divorce themselves from the thrilling pulse of a hard-working heart and the satisfying burn of well-used legs. They were not trying to give life to the Humungous: they were merely trying to give him movement, make him mobile. They did not care whether he needed to breathe, whether his flesh was warm or cold, whether he had passion rather than simple rage. All they cared about was winning, winning the old fight that had gone on for so long. But this time they were not merely recruiting non-human allies; they were using them for spare parts. Ravenbait looks at the creature, who stands there motionless with the saddest, most tragic eyes she had ever seen. She smiles at it kindly then turns to the two men. They could, she reflects, have been twins. "So," she says, her face predatory. "Are we going to let them succeed?" "I have every intention of putting a stop to these evil madmen," Van Helsing assures her. "Gonna have a real rip an' tear-fest, huh?" Logan grins, lighting up his cigar. "The more the merrier as far as I'm concerned. Come on! Let's boogie - let's rock and roll! I know all about havin' a bunch o' Mengele types messin' where they shouldn't... indulgin' their own twisted curiosity." "Splendid. First stop, Mount Etna. Let's see if Hephaestus can't make this fellow a little more comfortable at least." She makes a silent call and the two ravens appear. She sends them to the Ferryman to report. It looks like she is going to do what she was told after all, but for completely different reasons. Sam http://www.ravenfamily.org "You'd think we could just attract ants, like normal people." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 21/08/2004 08:46:00 Message: Well boys and girls! What dastardly and evil stuff is this? The ABD is attempting to resurrect the Humungous! Can such a thing be done? Just what sort of creature is it that the Priestess has found? What of the mysterious Van Helsing? Why is he avowed to protect it, even to the extreme of fighting with the Wolverine? What will the gentlefolk of the Cake Stop have to say when their Priestess returns with this most dreadful of news? We await, dear reader, to find out the answers to all these questions and more. We leave you waiting in breathless anticipation for our next instalment of this educational periodical for young gentlefolk of an adventurous persuasion, where we shall discover what the lovely and heroic Mrs Pike has been doing to keep Captain Jack Sparrow occupied and whether the beautiful and infinitely patient Clare has dealt with the interloper in her fine Cake Stop. Tune in, next time, on Chronicles Of The Cake Stop! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: PW Replied on: 23/08/2004 02:42:23 Message: Having just seen Boris Karloff on telly..... How about a Franken Lab churning out chavs to keep the ABD in recruits? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 23/08/2004 08:25:28 Message: How do you know I haven't thought of that already ? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Pingu Replied on: 23/08/2004 09:37:36 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ravenbait The ABD is attempting to resurrect the Humungous! Can such a thing be done? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I bet Paul Smith can make up has statistics which "prove" it can be done Mrs Pingu does the Bealach na Ba "You may ask yourself, 'Where does that highway go to?'" "This is a perfect world - I'm riding on an incline" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: charlotte Replied on: 23/08/2004 11:00:22 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by PW Having just seen Boris Karloff on telly..... How about a Franken Lab churning out chavs to keep the ABD in recruits? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Yeah - can we have an army of Mutant Chavs, clad in impenetrable Burberry armour, working for the ABD? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Pingu Replied on: 23/08/2004 11:45:06 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by charlotte quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by PW Having just seen Boris Karloff on telly..... How about a Franken Lab churning out chavs to keep the ABD in recruits? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Yeah - can we have an army of Mutant Chavs, clad in impenetrable Burberry armour, working for the ABD? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- They wouldn't last long with Peliroja about! Mrs Pingu does the Bealach na Ba "You may ask yourself, 'Where does that highway go to?'" "This is a perfect world - I'm riding on an incline" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: neilcu Replied on: 23/08/2004 13:00:39 Message: rotflol -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: LamBO Replied on: 23/08/2004 14:05:18 Message: I haven't listened to Angel Dust for years - a muddled fool, full of lucid intervals - «Coffee has to be hot like hell, black as the devil, pure like an angel and sweet as love.» -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 23/08/2004 15:15:25 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VII No.4 Soundtrack: ZZ Top - El Loco The creature does not have a name. Ravenbait decides to call it George. This does not impress Van Helsing, who feels that she is being entirely too familiar with him. Van Helsing is not entirely impressed by any of it. He had been intending to take 'George' back to the Vatican, where he would be 'looked after' and yet here he is, being led through some of the less savoury backwaters of this strange place they call A-Time by a woman whose place of residence is the Seventh Level of Hell and a hairy mutant with metal claws on his hands and something unsettlingly familiar about him. He fingers the crucifix in his pocket, wondering if it will be of any use against either of them should they turn hostile, and telling himself that the Holy Father would be most understanding of his dalliances with these strange people in these strange places. "What have you got there, little crow?" The Hollow Man materialises from a patch of shadow. He is twirling a single black flight feather in his fingers. Ravenbait stops. She and Wolverine have been wheeling their bikes because neither Van Helsing or George have one, a problem she intends to remedy as soon as they get to Hephaestus. Her shoes are sitting on Fingal's aerobars. "Hey there Rupe," says Logan. "Why are you asking me questions to which you already know the answer, Hollow Man?" Ravenbait asks him coolly. "I see you still have my feather." Van Helsing takes a few steps backwards. He knows a demon when he sees one, and can sense the presence of evil. This Hollow Man is not human. He reaches inside his jacket for the gun that Ravenbait had returned to him when he and the one called Logan had agreed to stop fighting. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, bub." Wolverine tells him. "You'll only make him madder than a hornet's nest in a heatwave." "It's a very nice feather," the Hollow Man says, as if that is sufficient explanation, ignoring Van Helsing for the moment. "The Hierophant thought you might need a little help." "Did he now?" Ravenbait scoffs. "Or is it just that the ABD still owe you over the Tezcatlipoca incident and you think that the League and the Sorority might help you get some payback?" "The thought had crossed our minds," the Hollow Man says innocently. "Still. The offer's there should you decide you need it." He touches the brim of his hat. "Be seein' ya." He melts back into the shadows. Van Helsing immediately runs to the spot where he had vanished, searches high and low but can find no trace. "You consort with demons?!" he exclaims, horrified. "It ain't that simple, bub. The world ain't black an' white." Wolverine shakes his head. "Get over yourself, Gabriel," Ravenbait tells him. "Round here we have different concepts of good and evil. I'm sure your padre can bless you all better when you get back to Rome. We can drop you off if you like." Van Helsing stares at her, agape. "How do you know my name? Who are you?" Ravenbait and Logan exchange looks and set off again, pushing Fingal and Chuckles down the narrow path with the gnarled bushes growing on the steep banks either side. "Madam, please! I insist! Do you know me? Have we met?" "He ain't used to bein' the one playin' catch-up," Wolverine observes. "Well he'd better get used to it. We're almost at the big H's place and if he's going to maintain those sensibilities there then he's in for a nasty shock." "How in th' name of hell did he get here anyways?" "He just followed George, I suppose." "Madam!" Van Helsing grabs Ravenbait by the arm. She spins round, one of her shoes held high and poised to smack him in the face with the cleat. "I know all sorts of things," she says, voice deadly soft. "Including what will happen to you if you think you can take on the might of the ABD with some holy water and a couple of silver bullets. Save that for the vampires and the werewolves." She takes his hand away from her arm and turns her back on him. "Amnesia is a real bitch, ain't it?" Logan grins around his cigar. They move onwards to their destination. * * * "Does anyone actually know how we're going to find the Sea Org?" Kathy calls from the bow of The Black Pearl, where she is sitting with her feet dangling over the side, sea spray landing cold and refreshing on her bare legs, dressed in her best wenching outfit. Captain Jack nods across to Jack Shandy, who is scanning the sea intently. "It's all right, petite," Shandy says. "I will find them. After I find Westley. We shall find the Sea Org after that." He glances back over his shoulder at his captain and shakes his head. "Assuming the Capitain does not drink all the rum and deprives Mate Care-For." Redshift is practising with the sword left to her by Elektra, the pirates having quickly cleared a space on deck when they realised she was going to do it whether they did or not. Most of the other Cake Stoppers are enjoying the sunshine after the many days of torrential rain back home. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are exploring the many nooks and crannies aboard the ship, and seem to have tracked down the ship's biscuit supply. Every so often one of them can be seen scampering across the deck with a biscuit in his mouth, running to stash it in a hiding place somewhere for later. "Are we nearly there yet?" asks a sunburned FatBloke. "Nearly," says Shandy. "See that island over there?" Captain Jack points off the starboard quarter. "We'll be anchorin' there." "There aren't any ancient Aztec temples there are there?" LamBO asks nervously. "With zombies?" "I shouldn't have thought so," Captain Jack says. "It's not big enough." "Why are we stopping there?" Hairyhippy asks. "Because, my lad, that's where Westley is." It is. They sail slowly into the small bay and the crew scurries to take in the sails and drop the anchor into the turquoise, crystal clear water. The chain rattles out of the hold as the anchor drops into the cool depths. Momentum keeps the ship going, and there are a few breathless moments while they wait to see if the anchor will catch, and then the ship stops and begins to swing round on her chain, stanchions creaking. On the other side of the bay is a much smaller boat, of a size easily crewed by one man without recourse to automatic pilot. She bobs in the wake cast off by The Black Pearl, her white sail stowed neatly along the boom and the jib furled. Westley might shun auto-pilot but he seems to like roller-rigging. Smoke can be seen drifting up from a small fire on the beach, and then a figure emerges from behind some rocks where he had been hiding to watch their approach. "Helloooo The Black Pearl!" he calls. "Jolly good day for it! Are you coming ashore?" "That we are, Wes," Captain Jack calls back, ordering his men to get the longboats down. They make it onto the scrap of land without incident, leaving their bikes on the ship because the tiny island isn't really even big enough to do any riding. There is a small, rocky hill, a few palm trees, and lots and lots of sand that is hot enough to blister the feet. "May I offer you some refreshment ladies and gentlemen?" Westley asks them. "I don't have much, I'm afraid." "I think we're fine, thanks," Kathy says, smiling. "We had some of Jack Shandy's lovely stew." "Jolly good show. What can I do for you?" "We've come to help." Charlotte tells him. "Well that's awfully decent of you but I can manage just fine, thank you very much," Westley says brightly. "Shouldn't be too much trouble. I even thought to bring my own wheelbarrow this time." "What the lovely lady means, Wes," Captain Jack grins, "is that we've come to help ourselves. To the loot. Though we'd be delighted to aid and abet the recovery of your lovely wife." "Oh, well, in that case it's a pleasure to have your company," Westley tells them. "Only I am afraid I have some rather bad news." "What would that be?" "Well, you see, Buttercup isn't on the Sea Org any more. Her ship docked at a secret base last week, and that's where I am going. So it wouldn't, strictly speaking, be an act of piracy." Captain Jack waves his arms expansively. "Mere details, old friend, mere details. This base. Do you know where it is? Close to the sea, is it?" "Why, yes." "Well, then it will be close to an act of piracy and that's good enough for me." With that settled, Westley, once the Dread Pirate Roberts and now a man seeking to retrieve his wife for the second time in his life, douses the camp fire and repairs to The Black Pearl with Shandy, Captain Jack, the League of Gentlemen Cyclists and the Intrepid Sorority. The crew of the best pirate ship ever to sail the seven seas take Westley's little sloop in tow and they head onwards to adventure. Sam http://www.ravenfamily.org "You'd think we could just attract ants, like normal people." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 24/08/2004 09:23:08 Message: Come on, guys! I need some more requests otherwise it's not difficult enough ! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: charlotte Replied on: 24/08/2004 09:34:04 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ravenbait Come on, guys! I need some more requests otherwise it's not difficult enough ! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Can we have Boris Johnson on a Barbie tricycle, please? Failing that, Adam Hart-Davies on a Sinclair C5? (and I wouldn't mind a bit of love-interest coming into it somewhere. Frikkin' lasers and scary villains are all very well, but Viggo Mortensen in full armour would go down very well, thank you...) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 24/08/2004 09:42:15 Message: Blimey! I didn't know he did poetry too! Remember: I will do my best to include all requests, even bizarre ones, but they won't necessarily turn up in the episode after they are made because I need to work them in. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 24/08/2004 10:23:13 Message: The Brazilian ladies' beach volleyball team? Just as decoration, you understand! What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Mrs Pingu Replied on: 24/08/2004 12:36:43 Message: wot about a big nasty ol' cult, wif lots of hooman sacrifices an' stuff and drums. lots of big drums. and conspiracy theory..... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Help Help I'm being oppressed! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 24/08/2004 12:51:35 Message: Mrs P: We had that already! Volume... I dunno, actually. V, I think. Aztec gods and everything! I'm working on the conspiracy bit. TimC: Brazilian ladies' beach volleyball....what? Are the temple Maidens not nice enough for you ? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Arellcat Replied on: 24/08/2004 14:03:12 Message: And to add to Mrs Pingu's ideas, we're sailing the seven seas and we haven't had any buried treasure yet? No fabled Campagnolo corkscrew made from solid gold? Perhaps the resourceful Cakestoppers could find themselves navigate up a terribly dangerous river in a hastily-assembled craft like on TV Scrapheap? Or something like that... We could have treason and plotting, and fairies and sunshine and stuff. -- Windcheetah 202 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: charlotte Replied on: 24/08/2004 15:23:00 Message: I think I'd also like a proper Bugsy-Malone style custard pie fight, please (This may or may not involve Viggo Mortensen, with or without his armour ) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 25/08/2004 01:10:24 Message: Have I still got the Temple Maidens? Ooh, excellent - but I must have misplaced them for the moment. Can I borrow the Brazilian LBV team just until I find the Maidens? I'll let them have a go with my frikkin' lazer beams (blue), honest... Might even buy them a beer! What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 26/08/2004 16:27:03 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VII No.5 Soundtrack: Puffy AmiYumi - Nice The High Priestess of the Triple Goddess of Cycling leads her now three companions into the cave at the base of the great volcano on Sicily that leads down into the realm of Hephaestus, via a tunnel to his secret underground lair on Lemnos. The walls of the tunnel are covered in sketches and design plans, and some photographs of finished works, much as might be found in a tattoo parlours. There is a picture of the chariot that draws the Sun across the heavens in A-Time there; a picture of Achilles looking heroic, a golden boy in his impenetrable armour; an image of Athena looking grim and stern with her Aegis; and Eros, boyish and playful with a fistful of glittering arrows. There is a series of sketches of the throne of Hera -- a rather ironic touch, all things considered -- and an intimate and revealing portrait of the crippled god with Prometheus and Pandora, arms around each other and smiling. From ahead the waves of heat rumble out of the vast series of workshops like the shockwave produced by a speeding freight train, carried on the hellish clanging of hammered metal and stinking of sulphur and hot coals. Black, glossy walls of volcanic glass peppered with fumaroles begin to reflect orange and red flickering light from the great furnances within. "Gods, toots, it stinks down here!" Wolverine complains, sniffing and snorting, eyes watering. "Well we won't be here long," Ravenbait tells him, not enjoying the experience much herself. "S'like bein' sprayed wi' mace. I hate that stuff." "Dante himself could have described this place," Van Helsing breathes in disturbed wonder. "Well he didn't, and the big H won't take too kindly to it if you go comparing his workshop with the Seven Levels of Hell," the Priestess tells him. "And neither will I: I quite like it where I live." They emerge into a huge cave. "Helloooooo!" calls Ravenbait. "Heph? Steropes? Mrs H? Anyone home?" One of the various sets of banging sounds stops. There is the sound of mumbling. "Aye, lad. Milk and two sugars while you're at it. And see if there be any o' them garibaldis left, eh?" From around a rocky outcrop comes a giant. He stands almost three times the height of a normal man, which puts him at almost four times the height of Logan. In the centre of his forehead is a single, huge eye, and above the eye the vast expanse of perspiration-beaded forehead is creased into a frown. "Ey up," he says, his voice low and rumbling like an earth tremor. "Hiya Arges," says Ravenbait. The giant Cyclopes leans down towards her, to get a better look. "Oh! 'Ello little lady." His face brightens. "We were just bangin' away at some o' them thunderbolts for his nibs upstairs, like. You come to see the Guvnor?" "Aye, Arges, I have," Ravenbait replies. "I'd like him to meet George. Say hello to Arges, George." "Bloomin' heck!" Arges exclaims as George steps forwards past Van Helsing, who has been shocked into statuesque, open-mouthed immobility by the appearance of the Cyclopes. "'E's a right little corker, in't 'e? Where'd you get 'im from? Look at th' workmanship on that. Ey. 'Ere, lads! Come an' tak a look at this!" Wolverine pulls Ravenbait to one side when the other two blacksmiths appear and start discussing George with evident admiration. "Are we okay with these chumps?" he asks her. "I hear they can get antsy." "Don't worry, Logan. They have a beef with Apollo as well." "Well any of 'em gets tricksy, you step aside and let a fella who's the best at what he does thrash some adamantium upside his head." "Sure Logan, if it'll make you feel better." She pats him on the shoulder. "Hey Brontes. Is the big yin in?" "'E's upstairs 'avin' tea w' th' missus," says the one-eyed giant. "Can ye see yersel' up, like?" "Aye, we can manage," the Priestess tells him. "Grand. Ah do like your friend. 'E's proper clever, that 'un. Lovely workmanship. Those pistons are proper gorgeous. Oh, and 'afore ah forget, Aeroflash's new bike is waitin' t' go. Is 'e comin' to collect it, like, or should we just ship it out to 'im?" "Box it and ship it, Brontes. Probably easiest. Maybe Hermes could deliver it, if he's not too busy." "Ah kin ask him, like, but he's been proper rushed of late. Any roads. You pop up t' see the Guvnor an' we'll get it sorted." "Thanks Brontes." Van Helsing is still standing and staring. "Gods," Ravenbait mutters. "He really is useless. Logan, can you get our floppy-haired vampire killer there moving? Come on, George, I'd like you to meet someone." Hephaestus and Aglaea, otherwise known as Mrs H, are in the upper chamber. Aglaea is a beautiful woman, the youngest of the three Charites, or Graces, and her name means splendor. For reasons peculiar to this particular narrative and owing nothing at all to Homer, she happens to look like Keira Knightley, Arthurian woad and all. Her beauty is made all the more startling by the less-than handsome features of Hephaestus himself. "Raven!" she cries delightedly, clapping her hands together in a girlish manner. "I didn't expect so see you so soon." "Aglaea, it is good to see you," the Priestess says, bowing. "I think you've heard of my two similar-looking friends here." "Ah yes. Nice to meet Hugh," Mrs H says. "What did you just say?" Logan growls. "I said 'Nice to meet you', Wolverine, Mr Van Helsing." Aglae says innocently while the Priestess stifles a laugh behind one Body Geometry gloved hand. "This is George," Ravenbait continues. "We're not too sure who he was originally, but the ABD got hold of him after a car crash and have turned him into an engineering project." "What's that you say?" Hephaestus is a little deaf from having spent thousands of years beating upon the anvil with his hammer in his grip, although he has always maintained that it's better than going blind. "Let's have a look at him." His big hands are surprisingly gentle, and George seems to be quite happy to let the big blackmith look him over. "This is a nice piece of work," Hephaestus says. "Can be improved, of course. We could replace that assembly there with a titanium version, and that power coupling looks like it might be vulnerable to damp. Don't like the look of that transformer, and they really don't know much about hybridising power supplies. He's still going to be vulnerable to any oil shortages." He limps over to his workbench and picks up a jeweller's lens to have a closer look at some of the details of George's construction. "I can definitely do something with that. Oh yes. When do you need him back?" "I don't, particularly," Ravenbait says. "We're off to put a stop to them developing this technology to get the Humungous going again. I'd rather have the fat, flabby monster remain as an MOT failure. I've got Logan along for the ride and Van Helsing here is going to keep an eye out for werewolves and vampires. Only brought George to you because I felt sorry for him and because the Ferryman told me you were expecting him." "Hmmm. Well, you be careful," Hephaestus says. "Arges was talking to his nephew Polyphemus the other day, and he said that Poseidon heard a rumour that they've been fitting sharks with laser beams on their heads. They've got werewolves and vampires as well?" "So says the Vatican," Van Helsing says, finally finding his tongue at last. Hepaestus grunts. He's not exactly enamoured of the Vatican. "And they would know," Van Helsing adds. "We have been chasing down demons for centuries." "Interesting company you are keeping these days, Priestess," Hephaestus says. "Well, I can certainly make some improvements for your friend, get him moving a bit easier , improve his power supply and get rid of that badly-designed vulnerability to water. Are you going to be taking Aeroflash's bike with you?" Aglaea hurriedly interrupts. "Oh, well, husband, if you are going to be all wrapped up in another one of your little projects, perhaps I could take Aeroflash's new bicycle to him? I am sure I would be perfectly safe with the Priestess and her friends. It has been such a long time since I last saw Aeroflash, and now that he has ascended...." She pouts winsomely. "Please, dear?" Hephaestus contrives to look unsure. Ravenbait is more than aware of the nasty business with Aphrodite and Ares, which had been terribly unfair on the blacksmith and is just one more reason why she doesn't fraternise much with the Greek gods. For a few moments she wonders if Hephaestus is still too bitter about that whole episode to let Aglaea go, but he smiles and nods. "Of course, dear. You might have to adjust your inside leg a little, though. I think you might be a little tall for the frame. Get Brontes to make sure the transmission is working properly before you take it out." "Oooh, thank you!" Aglaea squeals, running over to her husband and throwing her arms around him. He picks her up, her dainty feet kicking in the air, and they kiss. "We need a ride for the Pope's lapdog here, as well," Logan reminds Ravenbait, earning himself an angry glare from Van Helsing. "Can we borrow a bike for Van Helsing, Heph? Please?" the Priestess asks. "I think I should have something. I'll get Steropes to have a look round back for you. Not a big lad, is he?" "Not really, no," Ravenbait smirks. Fifteen minutes later they are on their way back out through the tunnel, with Van Helsing on a loan bike: and some loan bike it is too. It seemed to have caused Hephaestus great amusement to supply him with a Pinarello Dogma. George stands at the mouth of the tunnel with his sad eyes and stares after them, fingers waving slowly. Aglaea is quite at home on Aeroflash's new steed, long, limber body clad in an Assos skinsuit that shows off a good deal of her woad. As they exit from the base of the volcano and back into the fresh air Wolverine breathes a sigh of relief to get out of the sulphurous atmosphere of Hephaestus' workshop. Just then Thought and Memory soar down out of the sky and landed in their usual places "Braak!" Thought declares. "Honk! Braaaaaak!" "Hoot. Clonk." adds Memory. "Change of plan, boys. Sorry about this, Mrs H. Aeroflash isn't where I left him," the Priestess says. "You've met Jack Sparrow, haven't you, Logan?" "You could say we're acquainted." "Well, you're about to meet him again. They started without us. We'd better get a wiggle on too, or they'll have finished it before we get there." Logan grins. "It ain't over 'til Roseanne sings the anthem, darlin'," he says. The Priestess returns the expression, reaches forwards and opens a hole into A-Time. The four cyclists shoot through the rent in the fabric of reality and vanish, leaving only tyre tracks and a few open-mouthed, fat American tourists. Sam http://www.ravenfamily.org "You'd think we could just attract ants, like normal people." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Finch Replied on: 26/08/2004 16:54:09 Message: Hmm Aren't wolverine and Van Helsing the same gadgie ? Sugar pie hunny bunch , You know that I luuuuuuuuurve youuuuuuuu ! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 27/08/2004 09:08:36 Message: What gave you that idea ? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Finch Replied on: 27/08/2004 12:34:02 Message: Soon to be Van Helsing , Wolverine and James ( Jimmy B ) Bond . All in the one body apparently god no wonder they call him who jackman Sugar pie hunny bunch , You know that I luuuuuuuuurve youuuuuuuu ! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 27/08/2004 12:41:18 Message: Finch, I'll add sarcasm tags next time, shall I? Why do you think there are Hugh puns and they look so similar? That's half the point! He's NOT going to be the next James Bond. He'd be crap at it. Anyway. James Bond doesn't suffer from amnesia. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Finch Replied on: 27/08/2004 12:47:25 Message: I know I'm slow but I'm most certainly not critisizing (sp?) and I couldn't agree more that he'd be a ****ey Jimmy B but the other candidates are all pretty toilet as well , sorry I'll read more slowly in future Sugar pie hunny bunch , You know that I luuuuuuuuurve youuuuuuuu ! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Aeroflash Replied on: 27/08/2004 19:54:51 Message: I heard Eric Bana was going to be the new Bond. Or is that old and superceded news? Ah, fantastic. My new bike! And it's been christened by Keira. I'll never sponge the saddle down now you realise. (eww). Sam, you realise you're going to have to spend the whole of the next episode describing the fancy lugwork? Anyway, super stuff. May I suggest a future plot development for this or future chronicles where we use homeopathic magic to hunt for lost forum members? For example, a giant magnet to find Steelman, erm... Some pillars to find Laurence... I'll go back to sleep. BTW James Bond has the kind of amnesia that makes you forget what decade it is. And that makes him forget what Blofeld looks like. I know he keeps changing appearance but then so does Bond and Blofeld always recognises him. Maybe they are Timelords. Matt 'The Problem with being a druid is, you've got to be prepared to make sacrifices' -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 08/09/2004 15:16:02 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VII No.6 Soundtrack: Polysics - Hey Bob My Friend! The Black Pearl lies at anchor, stays and lanyards creaking and whipping in the stiff offshore breeze, bobbing and swinging on the vast, heavy chain that reaches down into the depths. Some three hundred yards distant is a black and slippery rock face, tumbled with angular boulders and scored with deep crevices and cracks. The sea pounds against the bottom of the cliff, grey fists streaked with white knuckles, throwing salt spray and foam into the air where it mingles with the thick smell of approaching rain. They aren't in the tropics any more. The denizens of the Cake Stop hang over the rail, looking at the way the sea surges and sucks at the rocks, shivering in the sudden cold. The cliff ends in a sharp promontory, and beyond that, to the west, is a small and sheltered bay, well protected from the wind and the storms that would come screaming across the ocean for a full frontal assault in the territory war between land and sea. The Black Pearl would have anchored there, were it not for the presence of the ship already moored and the report from Kehaar that the secret base they seek is in that bay, built into the ridge of rocks that walls off this coastline. To try anchoring their ship in that shelter would have ruined everything. Westley is coiling a rope around his shoulders and eyeing the cliff face. He has dressed as 'The Man In Black', who had once scaled the Cliffs of Insanity, defeated Inigo Montoya in a supreme battle of swordplay, bested Fizzik the Giant in a match of strength and dispatched Vizzini the Sicilian in a fatal philosophical exchange. With the black kerchief tied tightly around his head and the rope coiled like a great snake, he looks rakish and almost sinister. Certainly not someone one would wish to bump into in a dark alley. "How are we going to get the bikes over there?" Miiinee asks suspiciously as a longboat is lowered and a couple of burly sailors take the oars to row Westley over to the base of the cliff. "I mean, it's all very well for him, with his unrealistic and unnaturally superhuman skills of cliff-climbing and Spaniard-bashing. Not to mention lack of bicycle. What about us? That's not Falkland Hill, you know." "We'll think of something, I'm sure," Kathy says bravely, a little horrified by the way the longboat, now pulling towards the cliff, is being tossed around by the swell as if it were naught but a cork. The Cake Stoppers watch, aghast and agape and unable to look away, as the wooden longboat draws closer and closer to the furious tumult of white water drumming against the glistening rocks. "He's going to be smashed to splinters," says TimC, not daring to look. "Nah," Captain Jack scoffs. "He'll be fine". His usual rolling gait, which gives him his permanently inebriated appearance, is apparently perfectly adapted to an environment that includes a constantly shifting and heaving ground. He stands absolutely balanced, nonchalant, watching Westley's progress with no sign of worry. Jack Shandy stands by the main mast, the ship's peristyle, a bottle of rum and a sharp blade in one hand, and a big bag of sherbet UFOs and a cigarette lighter in the other. As Westley nears the bottom of the cliff, Shandy, who had been muttering and chanting with his eyes closed, in one swift movement slits open the bag, takes a swig of rum, and then spits the rum over the falling candy, lighting the liquor into a burst of aromatic flame. The sea at the base of the cliff immediately ceases its ravenous seething and the wind stills. Westley leaps out of the longboat and onto the cliff, scaling the rocky heights as if he were spider. Once at the top he vanishes from view for a short time, then reappears on the cliff edge with what looks like a short bow and arrow. The cyclists duck as he fires the arrow. It hits square on the mizzen mast, and attached to it is a length of light line that spins back up to the top of the cliff. A couple of members of the crew grab the leader line and start hauling the main rope down from the top of the cliff. By this time the longboat has made it back to the ship. As soon as the main rope has been tied off, Westley attaches a weighted harness to his end and then sends it skeetering down the rope, attached to another light line for hauling it back up. "Right then ladies and gents," says Captain Jack. "I need some volunteers to go up the cliff and help Westley. We're going to haul your bikes up that rope, see." "Um," says Ridgerider dubiously. "Well, you do want your bikes, don't you?" Captain Jack inquires, faintly exasperated. "We're on a bloody pirate ship! How else do you think we're going to get them up there?" "Perhaps we could be of assistance?" A pair of scruffy black balls of feathers land on the deck and start preening. The Cake Stoppers turn round to see their Priestess, grinning broadly and accompanied by Logan and a man who appears to be Logan's rather more effeminate twin brother. With them is a beautiful woman in an Assos skinsuit, riding a bike the likes of which they have never seen. She is strangely painted in blue decoration and is smiling at Aeroflash. "Ravenbait, Wolverine," Macleach greets them. "Are you going to introduce us?" "Cake Stoppers, Captain Jack, Jack: this is Aglaea, the wife of Hepahestus; and Van Helsing, a secret monster-assassin working for the Vatican whose last working memory of his life before his current position was being at the Battle of Medea. He also used to be a werewolf, but don't tell anyone as he doesn't like to talk about it." This earns her a surprised and filthy stare from Van Helsing. Aglaea murmurs "Pleased to meet you" in a winsome way. "Hmm," says Kathy, pondering. "Doesn't he ever get to be someone who doesn't have amnesia?" Gunner approaches Aglaea's elbows with firm intent. "Well, there was Swordfish," the Priestess offers. "But that doesn't count as it had John Travolta in it. Speaking of whom, are we too late? Did we miss the fun?" "No no, Priestess," says Captain Jack with a lewd grin. "We were just about to get the bicycles hoisted ashore, as I know how the League and the Intrepid Sorority hate to be without your bicycles, as it were." "That could take all day," the Priestess says, frowning. She beckons over Flying Monkey and Aeroflash. "I'll open a hole into A-Time and make a passage through to the cliff top. You two keep this side open. Once we've got everyone through, FM, you come through and Aeroflash will keep this end open until you've made it, and then he can let this end slide and just waft over to join us like the insubstantial glowing blue thing he is. There has to be some advantage to being dead. Might as well make use of it. OK?" Still astride Fingal, she aims for a spot on the deck a few turns of the cranks away, and frowns at it. At first it appears she is going to ride into the bulkhead but at the last instant the strange, fibrous, shimmering structure of the border regions rends and opens a gap into A-Time. She disappears through it, quickly followed by Van Helsing and Wolverine. Macleach grabs his machine and dives through after her, as does Gunner with the Giant OCR Team Replica. Thought and Memory look at each other, shrug, and then flap lazily upwards, finding a thermal rising from the wooden deck of the ship on which to glide to the height of the cliff top before soaring across the intervening space. As they land on a boulder by Westley a similar hole to the one on deck opens up on the cliff top and the five cyclists appear. One of the crew unties the rope from the mizzen mast. It splashes into the water and then Macleach and Gunner begin to pull it in while Wolverine and Westley keep watch. There is then a slow procession of cyclists filtering through the A-Time conduit. The ranks of the League and the Intrepid Sorority have grown somewhat since their humble beginnings so many moons ago over a pint and a game of pool in the Cake Stop Bar and Grill. It will take some time. "I don't think I should go with you," Aglaea says. "I only really came to deliver this." She presents the new bicycle to Aeroflash. "I'm sure you would be perfectly safe with us," Aeroflash says, hoping to dissuade her from leaving. "Dear Aeroflash," she says. "I do not want to be one of these useless women who are always getting in the way of the action and squealing like girls. I am one of the Graces. I am not a warrior. I inspire poetry and song, grace and beauty." "Then before you go," Aeroflash says as the last of the cyclists and their steeds enters the conduit and he gives the nod to Flying Monkey, who disappears through the rent, "allow me to sing to you my appreciation of this splendid machine your loving husband has crafted for me." He lets the opening into A-Time close, for Aglaea could find her way back there any time she chooses, and, as they stand alone on the deck, with the crew in the rigging tending sail, the League and the Soroity making ready on shore and the possibility of battle ahead, Aeroflash weaves for Aglaea the Ballad of Aeroflash's Bike. Hephaestus, crippled god of invention Created a bike of grace unparalleled. Making its frame from tubes Of finest steel alloyed with gold, Chromium, molybdenum and metals Harvested from deep beneath Olympus, red and yellow and blue, And colours no man had seen, strong Like the arms of Herakles, him who Defeated the many-headed Hydra, Pitting the power of his Mighty Muscles against the Scales of Its plated necks, avoiding deadly Acids from the fell beast’s Wounds that choked the hero Even in the midst of mortal battle. Such alloys melded at heats burning Within the fires of Etna’s bellows Bore strength unbreakable by mortal Hands, and modulus of elasticity Well in excess of that drawn by Reynoldus, Dedaccius and Alexandrus Columbus. The crippled god polished These tubes to such a sheen – You know when Phoebus Apollo Draws his chariot into the sky, And the burning orb ascends with Brightness unmatched by any flame In Mycaenae, Troy or Argos, even Pharos which guides tall ships Night or day into the safe harbour Thus Hephaestus made the frame. Brazed with platinum into lugs Of such fine creation, beaten And many layers folded so no Moisture could ever penetrate. These lugs, twirled and fancy Formed into the likeness of scenes Great and heroic in cycling lore. Here on the head tube junction, Anquetil attacks Poulidor on The Puy de Dome, his eyes Of blue flame – you know When gas burns at unbearable heat, Such was the glaze drawn onto The gaze of the champion, fixed On his eternal rival. Clashing as Their steel-forged steeds swayed, Pedals forced by worn legs round Aching circles, lactate thumping In burning pain. Like when birds Of prey fight over a prize, Spiralling and wheeling up into The empty sky, calling and Keening. And the prize, some Helpless rabbit or game bird Passes first from one, then to The other, gripped in Sharpened talons, wrenching into Flesh. Time and again it is Ripped free and falls as if It would plummet to the hard Earth below, only to be seized By skilful claws again. Thus Did Anquetil and Poulidor fight Over the lead. Here, meanwhile On the seat tube was Eddy Merckx And Frans Verbeeck in the Tour Of Flanders, there on the bottom bracket Lug, Armstrong fights back from Falling on the Luz Ardiden. Of the drivetrain such legends Have been told. Chainset of Forged alloys, beaten cold. Levers to brake and move gears Sweetly with no need to re-index Or replace, moulded exquisitely From carbons black an pure as Obsidian and smooth like no Earthly moulding process achieved. Such was the cycle’s perfection I could tell of such wonders in the Geometry as made the steed ride With handling so sweet and quick But stable like a Trojan team. Finishing kit there was to cushion All contact points from any shock. Hephaestus had fashioned this machine Of such glory and strength, stiff Yet comfortable, light yet powerful. He named it Atalanta, for the fleetest Maiden in legend – Desired by all, Death to those beaten by her. Aeroflash could not have dreamed Of a bike so fine on which to race and ride. Sam http://www.ravenfamily.org "You'd think we could just attract ants, like normal people." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: hairyhippy Replied on: 08/09/2004 17:51:30 Message: You made the hairs on my arms stand up again Sam. You've heard of Ali Baba, 40 thieves had he... Out for what we all want, lots of L/S/D. He also had a camel, stole it form a zoo. How he loved the camel and the camel loved him too. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Brock Replied on: 08/09/2004 18:05:14 Message: Who would have guessed that Aeroflash had such a fine voice and be able to compose so fine a song off the top of his head. Once again Sam I'm in awe of your imagination and writing skills. Plus it's great to be royaly entertained, whilst I try to get rid of this pesky cold, sniff, snuffle, wheeze. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Arellcat Replied on: 08/09/2004 18:33:52 Message: Sam, reading all your fine writing is doing wonders for my flexi-time. -- Windcheetah 202 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 08/09/2004 19:56:12 Message: Ooh, more science and Greek mythology than I learned in 7 years at secondary school! And a nice bike, too! What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 08/09/2004 20:24:23 Message: But the ballad was written by Aeroflash. Really. Not me. He emailed it to me. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Brock Replied on: 08/09/2004 20:43:22 Message: Way to go flash. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Aeroflash Replied on: 08/09/2004 22:12:28 Message: Why, thankyou. And thankyou Sam for indulging me! Matt 'The Problem with being a druid is, you've got to be prepared to make sacrifices' -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 09/09/2004 09:03:37 Message: Hardly an indulgence, Aeroflash. You wanted a whole pile of description about your new fancy lugs. I wasn't going to write it! it's your bike! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 09/09/2004 14:36:53 Message: OK folks. Trust me that I've got places for most of the ideas that haven't been included yet in future episodes (even the Brazilian Ladies beach volleyball team, treasure and gnus with laser beams) but that only takes care of one or two action- packed episodes. We're only on episode 6, and as it's not finished yet that means it has to go to episode 12 at least. So get those thinking caps on! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: FatBloke Replied on: 09/09/2004 15:22:47 Message: Just read the last episode!! Very Homeric!!! Oi!! You lot!!! Sponsor me NOW!!!!: http://www.bmycharity.com/v2/bntanner -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Aeroflash Replied on: 10/09/2004 13:17:47 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ravenbait Hardly an indulgence, Aeroflash. You wanted a whole pile of description about your new fancy lugs. I wasn't going to write it! it's your bike! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Nevertheless I'm glad you managed to weave it in. As we're in an epic oeuvre at the moment it seemed to wrong to let something as important as a new bike pass without the requisite pages of meandering description. Fatbloke, thanks for recognising the references... [pretension]though the meter was actually more Anglo Saxon[/pretension] Matt 'The Problem with being a druid is, you've got to be prepared to make sacrifices' -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 13/09/2004 09:21:34 Message: I just want to say.... YOU LOT ARE BLOODY RUBBISH ! Half the point of the Chronicles is that they are a participation event. If you don't give me ideas I don't have anything to write in and then you'll be sorry. I'll have to make it all up myself then, and you don't want to think about all the dreadful things I could do to you or your lovely bicycles. Any idea how corrosive the ink from a giant squid is? Want to find out? I dunno. Starting to wonder if anyone's even reading them any more. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: charlotte Replied on: 13/09/2004 09:54:47 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ravenbait [size=1][teal]I just want to say.... YOU LOT ARE BLOODY RUBBISH ! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sorry Sam I'm reading them, you know. I meant what I said a while ago about your stuff being amazing and unique. I think it just seems that you're so full of bizarre ideas that people wonder if what they have to say is relevant. People - give the girl something to work with! I'll start the ball rolling - I want another quest. Something involving vanquishing an evil world conspiracy to corner the market in Campag groupsets, making us all run on fishing reels and mountain bike spares. I want to see Getafix the druid brewing up an alternative to the now adulterated supplies of PSP22 and giving the Cakestoppers magic potion style strength and endurance. Oh - and what about my request for a lightly-stubbled Viggo Mortensen in full armour, huh? Eee, Lad. I were right about that saddle... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: spen666 Replied on: 13/09/2004 09:59:21 Message: I want not to be "Evil" ---------------- Time is a Great Teacher Its just a shame it kills all its pupils -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: spen666 Replied on: 13/09/2004 10:00:30 Message: What do you mean, its not like the Wizard of Oz? ---------------- Time is a Great Teacher Its just a shame it kills all its pupils -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 13/09/2004 10:05:31 Message: The next two episodes should contain the Brazilian Ladies volleyball team, sharks with frikkin laser beams, gnus with frikkin laser beams (the capybaras on bicycles will come later) and Viggo Mortenson. And anything else I've forgotten to mention. I might be able to get the druid into this volume. The Campag quest has been requested before, actually, but we spend so much time arguing about Campag and Shimano that I've tended to steer clear of that one. Spen, you're NOT evil. You're just suffering from a peculiar form of lycanthropy. You're a weretroll. A reminder: all previous Chronicles threads are listed on the website at http://ravenfamily.org/sam/bike -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: spen666 Replied on: 13/09/2004 10:08:52 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by RavenbaitSpen, you're NOT evil. You're just suffering from a peculiar form of lycanthropy. You're a weretroll. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- What and WHAT? ---------------- Time is a Great Teacher Its just a shame it kills all its pupils -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: charlotte Replied on: 13/09/2004 10:12:38 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ...and Viggo Mortenson. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Oh, alright then. If you insist... Eee, Lad. I were right about that saddle... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: neilcu Replied on: 13/09/2004 12:25:07 Message: How about some Mutant Mind Leeches, that suck all original idea's from their unfortunate prey's minds. Would explain the lack of new plotlines coming from other cakestoppers -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Arellcat Replied on: 13/09/2004 13:09:29 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ravenbait A reminder: all previous Chronicles threads are listed on the website at http://ravenfamily.org/sam/bike -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The links don't seem to be directing to the different Chronicles. I was wanting to check some details from the very first series, but was returned to the forum index page. I couldn't find even my post through the archive search either. Presumably the forum archive only extend back a finite number of months. -- Windcheetah 202 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Evilchuffy Replied on: 13/09/2004 13:30:55 Message: I want telepathetic ninja potatoes an' a pet hooded rat to sit on my shoulder wearing flying goggles an' a giggling Bad Guy riding an Apollo full sus MTB (painted burberry check) and I want to grow some horns. Just little ones that I don't have to file down... And I want one of those frickin' gnus with frickin' laser guns as a pet. ------------------------ Wanta Giant Anteater! ------------------------ -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: charlotte Replied on: 13/09/2004 13:34:17 Message: "I want, I want, I want..." Tsk. Eee, Lad. I were right about that saddle... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: SteveC Replied on: 13/09/2004 13:55:10 Message: Sam how about some evil disruption in A time which stops cyclists getting to the Cake Stop in the first place? Call B.O.S.S. or W.O.R.K or something like that (not that I'm bitter...) Steve Why didn't I do this years ago? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimCPike Replied on: 13/09/2004 13:56:24 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by spen666 What do you mean, its not like the Wizard of Oz? ---------------- Time is a Great Teacher Its just a shame it kills all its pupils -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'm sure I heard that the muppets were going to do a remake of the Wizard of Oz -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Wampire Weasel -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Aeroflash Replied on: 13/09/2004 20:10:13 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The links don't seem to be directing to the different Chronicles. I was wanting to check some details from the very first series, but was returned to the forum index page. I couldn't find even my post through the archive search either. Presumably the forum archive only extend back a finite number of months. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- What they said. Ho hum. OK suggestions. The League rides out in one glorious battle against the evil Hunt. That should get them going. A mysterious shadowy government organisation is stealing Ravenbait's scientific and commercial ideas from her head before she is aware of them to use them for the powers of motoring and general wrong. Or perhaps the Wedding Industry is doing it. I swear the wedding industry is more avaricious and better organised than Newscorp or Nazi Germany. What now? The wedding industry, having stolen an idea from the Priestess's head, seeks to develop an adamantene wedding dress which will render any other wedding dress obselete and deeply unfashionable. Someone requested a quest. OK, so how about one of the delectable sorority has to rescue one of the League from the otherworld on Hallowe'en after being captured by the faery queen, when the unearthly peloton rides past. Let past the black bike, and the brown, approach the white bike, and... well you know the rest. Matt 'The Problem with being a druid is, you've got to be prepared to make sacrifices' -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Retro_Racer Replied on: 14/09/2004 01:10:23 Message: Can we have the next episode in a seedy truck stop on the A4 with Spen on stage singing 'Money' by Pink Floyd? Push it good. Push it REAL good! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: PW Replied on: 14/09/2004 02:37:08 Message: Is there a "B" Time on the next spiral above "A"? Guess who's been re-reading Lethbridge! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 14/09/2004 10:39:19 Message: Re the problems with the links: I think that's because they've rearranged the forums, the buggers. I'll fix that on the website when I get home tonight. Actually. No. It looks like they've gone. ADMIN!!!!!!!! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: jokeyjon Replied on: 14/09/2004 14:32:36 Message: Of course, if Mr Jackman is due a birthday we could all sing... happy birthday two Hugh, happy birthday two Hugh. (that really was poor, wasn't it?) But there's no danger, it's a professional career. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Pingu Replied on: 14/09/2004 14:58:25 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by spen666 quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by RavenbaitSpen, you're NOT evil. You're just suffering from a peculiar form of lycanthropy. You're a weretroll. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- What and WHAT? ---------------- Time is a Great Teacher Its just a shame it kills all its pupils -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hoping Assuming there is only one Spen, wouldn't that make him a wastroll Mrs Pingu does the Bealach na Ba "You may ask yourself, 'Where does that highway go to?'" "This is a perfect world - I'm riding on an incline" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ridgerider Replied on: 14/09/2004 20:57:08 Message: "Um," says Ridgerider dubiously. 6 months wait for that...cheers Sam! Madonna looked at me -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 15/09/2004 14:19:54 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VII No.7 Soundtrack: Harvey Danger - Where Have All The Merrymakers Gone? Captain Jack, the ex-Dread Pirate Roberts, Macleach, Gunner, Ravenbait, Wolverine, the Archaeologist and Van Helsing are grouped together on a pinnacle of the ridge, behind a boulder that affords them cover while still permitting a view of the complex installation below. Ravenbait, Wolverine and Van Helsing had been trying to convince Westley and the others that the Scientologists were not the ones they were up against, but the ABD were. Strictly speaking, the Scientologists were involved, but only in an ancillary sense. Some of their scientists and their technology might be down there; part of the legacy of L Ron Hubbard, who had won his bet with Heinlein [see footnote -- Ed] and thus been the cause of one of the worst films of all time. The people with the funds, on the other hand, were the ABD, who had sent in their very own director of science to oversee the works: the dreaded Professor SafeSpeed. "It is the Scientologists, I tell you," Westley is saying staunchly. "It was the Sea Org that took my Buttercup, and it is from the Sea Org that I shall retrieve her. With or without your help." "Sir, we are not suggesting that we will not aid you," Van Helsing explains earnestly. "Quite the contrary. It is my every intention to penetrate the bowels of this hellish place and put an end to their foul deeds. But I must insist that you believe me when I tell you that the aim of these madmen is nothing to do with some ungodly religion based on obscene science. Rather their aim is to resurrect the Humungous, and all those that they have kidnapped recently, human and demon and..." he pauses and looks indecisively at Ravenbait and Logan "...other, have been for the purposes of their evil experiments." He takes a deep breath and places a friendly hand on Westley's shoulder. "Sir, it may be that they have such plans for your good lady." "Then I suggest we have no time to waste," Westley declares, composed, collected and resolute. "I care not a fig's ear if they are Scientologists or that fat bloated pig of a creature the Humungous. I am here to rescue my Buttercup and that's an end to it." Logan and Ravenbait look at each other and shrug. "If I'd known we were up against the ABD again I'd have packed more malt loaf and Irn Bru," Macleach says with a regretful sigh, rubbing his chin thoughtfully and eyeing the landscape between the huddle of Cake Stoppers and what appears to be the main entrance of the complex. There is a jumble of rocks, black and oily-looking in the damp atmosphere, then a poorly-surfaced road that would look like little more than a Sustrans trail where it not for the ridges and furrows left by SUV tyres. The road leads down to a concrete loading area the size of a couple of football pitches, surrounded by an electrified chainlink fence. To the far end of this area is the start of the complex: a rectangular building with no windows and heavy doors sealing it shut. The doors look rather akin to those one might find on an aircraft hanger. Yellow and black hazard stripes line the edge of the slabs of metal, and there are some delivery trucks parked outside that give some sense of the immense scale of the thing. This building extends for perhaps 200 yards before being swallowed up by the rock of the landscape. Logan shudders. "Reminds me of Alkali Lake," he growls. "Easy there, tiger," Ravenbait tells him. "Good gods!" exclaims Gunner. "Isn't this where Biggles lives? I'm sure I remember him and Ginger taking me to somewhere just like this after that we drank that bottle of Scotch down at the Club. Where the Ruddy Norah has he put his Sopwith Camel, the silly blighter?" "How are we going to get in?" asks the handsome Tim Pike. "I have an idea," says Jokeyjon. He pulls out what looks like a Palm Pilot. "I have a pen friend who might be able to help. He taps a few commands into the keypad. After a pause that is long enough to give them the idea that the message is coming in from very far away, but short enough for the laws of physics to be bending in an artistic fashion, the device beeps. BeagleTalk for Windows XP v2.1.3.5.6 23 beta. Establishing connection with Beagle Mars Lander.... Connection established.... Awaiting command.... Msg from Beagle:............................ Msg from Cake Stop Remote Unit: Hey Beagle. It's Jokeyjon. Are you busy? Msg from Beagle: What? You're kidding me, right? All I've got to do up here is talk to the damn Yank and that thing is obsessed by fast food. All it does is complain about the lack of supersized portions up here. Msg from Cake Stop Remote Unit: I thought you'd been busy reprogramming traffic lights in Grimsby. Msg from Beagle: Who? Me? Who said that was me? You can't prove it! You've got nothing on me! You'll never get me to talk! Msg from Cake Stop Remote Unit: Fine, okay, it wasn't you. I suppose you won't be able to hack into the ABD's Scientology lab computer and open the doors for us so we can get in, rescue Buttercup and stop them using bits of werewolves and demons to rebuild the Humungous then. Msg from Beagle: Did I say I couldn't reprogram the traffic lights? Did I? I could have done if I wanted to, and had nothing better to do. As it happens I don't have anything better to do today because all the ice cream has gone and I'm bored listening to conversations about junk food and obscure philosophers. Msg from Cake Stop Remote Unit: So you'll have a go? Msg from Beagle: No I won't "have a go" you blithering idiot. I'll do it for you. Just tell me: is that moronic scientist who sent me up here in there? Msg from Cake Stop Remote Unit: I don't know. He might be. Why? Msg from Beagle: Well if he is, can you do something for me? Can you..... System interrupt...... Error reading message...... Unknown comand...... Scanning for recognised signal...... Scanning...... Signal detected...... Establishing contact...... Msg from Beagle: ...and if you leave the catches on the banananananaguard so much the better. Msg from Cake Stop Remote Unit: Didn't quite get that, Beagle, but I can guess at the gist of it. I'm sure we can come up with something. Msg from Beagle: Take some pictures. Send them to me. Msg from Cake Stop Remote Unit: Will do. Msg from Beagle: Great. That should be good for a few minutes of entertainment. I'll have those doors open faster than you can teach Gypsy Gee to spell 'antidisestablishmentarianism'. BeagleTalk for Windows XP v2.1.3.5.6 23 beta. Closing connection with Beagle Mars Lander.... Connection closed.... "You know, that could take quite a while," observes Rumpelstiltskin. "We don' wanna be hangin' around up here when he does get the door open, bub," Logan says. "It might not stay open if they notice what we're doin'." The Cake Stop posse get their bikes over to the road and mount up. Apart from the wind everything is eerily silent. Almost too silent. Suspiciously silent. Ravenbait sends the two ravens down ahead to check to see if there are any security cameras or anything that might give a warning of their approach to the people inside. They come back reporting that they can find nothing. There is the crackle of fine gravel under tyres as the Cake Stoppers push off and ride down towards the big gates. It's downhill all the way, and Van Helsing seems quite taken by the ticking of the Campag freewheel on his loaned Dogma. Ravenbait thinks that maybe he might not be so bad after all. When they reach the gates Wolverine tells them to stand back, unsheaths his claws and cuts a huge hole in the fence, sparks flying. He cuts it away right down to the ground so they can ride through, protected from any random electrocution by the rubber on their wheels. They ride fast across the concrete and pull to a stop, brakes with misaligned brake blocks squealing, as do Avid Shorties using Aztec blocks whether aligned properly or not. They wait, nervously, wondering when the alarm is going to start blaring sending an army of chavs on the attack. There is a huge clunk and a whine. The doors hitch slightly and then begin to swing slowly inwards. The ground underneath them vibrates with the movement of the enormous mechanism operating the doors. Without waiting for them to swing fully open the cyclists lean on their pedals and sprint for the gap. The doors are so big that they are actually further away than they first appeared, and it takes a number of seconds for the peloton to filter through into the dim interior, even at sprint pace. They stop. It is dark. The light from outside seems to hold fast at the entrance. A few low-light detector fitted Busch & Mueller rear lights blink into life. Someone turns on his CatEye Opticube, which seems to be stuck in flashing mode. "What is that?" Hairyhippy asks. In the short bursts of light afforded by the Opticube a shape is approaching them. It is big, appears to be brown. Something catches the light, reflecting it in tiny glints and gleams. It is getting nearer. Ravenbait reaches down and flicks the switches on 50 watts of Lumicycle. The large brown shape resolves into a quadriped beast with huge lips, mad red eyes and a thing on its head that looks like it fell off the back of a lorry delivering props for Dr Who. "That," observes Shen. "Is a gnu with a frikkin' laser on its head." The gnu makes a terrible sound. The cyclists turn, looking to flee, but the door is closing again. The gnu lowers its head, red eyes burning furiously. The end of the Dr Who prop starts rotating like a gatling gun. "Scatter, men!" bellows Gunner. Cyclists heave their machines in all directions The gnu fires. A bolt of red bounces off the floor and shoots off into the darkness of the roof leaving a black scorch mark on the floor. "Who..." pants FatBloke, "gives a gnu... a frikkin' laser beam... on its head?" A red beam of sizzling energy shoots past his right ear. "Who do you think?" TooMuchCake responds. Arellcat whizzes past at great speed. "Keep moving!" she calls. "There are two more of them back there. We have to keep them distracted!" "Then what?" shouts AwfulQuiet as he dodges a blue laser beam directed towards him from one of the other gnus. "I think the Hughs are planning something." AwfulQuiet skids his back wheel round and darts off in another random direction, nearly colliding with Rigby. "Watch out there, young man," Rigby declares crossly, pipe clamped firmly between his teeth and a deerstalker rammed hard down on his head. A green laser beam sears the end of his pipe. Smoke begins to rise. "Jolly good show! Thought it had gone out, what!" A yellow laser is suddenly added to the mix. And another blue one. And another red one. "Oh dear," Kathy says mournfully. "I hope someone does something and does something quickly. We're running out of space for gnus." Footnote: Allegedly, Robert Heinlein and L Ron Hubbard once bet each other that they could start a religion. They both did. Heinlein's religion was based on the idea of water being sacred, a sacrament, and is still practised by a few hippy communes out in California. L Ron Hubbard's religion was Scientology and is practised by the likes of Tom Cruise and John Travolta. But then it does use some pretty sophisticated brain- washing techniques. Sam http://www.ravenfamily.org "You'd think we could just attract ants, like normal people." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: charlotte Replied on: 15/09/2004 14:34:05 Message: Wayhay! We got gnus with frikkin' lasers! Sam - if I were wearing a hat, I would certainly take it off to you... Would you like a Campino?* (* they're these really fabby little strawberry and cream sweeties that I've been munching since my terribly disappointing lunch...) Eee, Lad. I were right about that saddle... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 15/09/2004 14:40:11 Message: I recommend you put the soundtrack album on shuffleplay for this one. Don't really eat sweeties, Charlotte. Thanks anyway. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: charlotte Replied on: 15/09/2004 14:43:28 Message: Don't eat sweeties? You'll be telling me you don't like chocolate next... Eee, Lad. I were right about that saddle... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 15/09/2004 14:51:31 Message: I like Green & Blacks . -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: gfresh Replied on: 15/09/2004 14:59:00 Message: i think you deserve your own section of this forum! 'Temper's the one thing you can't get rid of, by losing it' -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 15/09/2004 15:04:22 Message: Not just any old lazers, but all different colours! Takes me right back to shabby discos in the early '80s, at the height of my 'pulling' powers. No, I didn't get much. What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Arellcat Replied on: 15/09/2004 15:49:02 Message: Topping chap that Rigby. I was once taken round a derelict nuclear control bunker that had asbestos coming out of the walls, but this, what with giant la-zurs and scary gnus and things, it's even more exciting! -- Windcheetah 202 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: PW Replied on: 16/09/2004 03:38:43 Message: You could ask Spen to come & eat the Gnus for his lunch! And you can only see the beam of a laser when looking towards the source, look along it the other way & all you get is the dot where it hits something. Another bit of British Coal education! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 16/09/2004 08:20:45 Message: Ah, but a little bit of smoke or dust, et voila!, the lazer is revealed in all its technicolor glory! What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 16/09/2004 10:16:22 Message: Look, if Jokeyjon can talk to Beagle in practically real time, then I can have laser beams people can see. OK? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: neilcu Replied on: 16/09/2004 10:19:50 Message: Sounds like we need some mirrored armour at this point in the story Everyone would see the frickin lasers then -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: simongjones Replied on: 16/09/2004 10:22:09 Message: I think probably a chrome plated curly Hetchins would deal with lasers quite nicely. Simon See you up the road! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 16/09/2004 12:51:06 Message: How about a defensive mirrorball? That'd cause a bit of chaos! What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: charlotte Replied on: 16/09/2004 12:55:57 Message: Cunningly lure the gnus into a hall of mirrors... (And while you're at it and before they get all smashed up, can I have one that makes me look thinner, please?) Eee, Lad. I were right about that saddle... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: simongjones Replied on: 16/09/2004 13:05:26 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by charlotte Cunningly lure the gnus into a hall of mirrors... [fishing for compliments] (And while you're at it and before they get all smashed up, can I have one that makes me look thinner, please?) [/fishing for compliments] Eee, Lad. I were right about that saddle... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sorry, now that fox hunting is on the way to being sorted the next non-pc activity to be targeted will be fishing. As a thoroughly modern, PC, not at all patronising sort of bloke I'm afraid I can't help with this sort of appeal any more. Sorry PS I don't think lucy's making much progress with my ironing in the other thread. Can you pop round and give her a hand? Simon See you up the road! Edited for typo -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 22/09/2004 12:40:51 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VII No.8 Soundtrack: Motorhead - Motorhead Screaming like a banshee, Redshift reprises the trick she had performed on the centaurs, many moons before, and leaps onto the back of one of the gnus. Wrapping her legs around its muscular neck and grabbing its horns she wrenches its head round so that she can direct the laser on its head at the other gnus. She hits one of the green lasers with a lucky strike and it explodes in a shower of sparks. In the bright flash of light she sees that Wolverine had been standing on its wearer's back, claws extended, but he flips off out of the way, twisting in the air, bounces off a crate and lands on another of the gnus. One swipe of adamantium claws sends its weapon spinning uselessly to the floor. Van Helsing is peppering the air with bolts from his automatic crossbow-pistol. They hit the ground right in front of a blue laser gnu, spiking the ground in an arc. The gnu hits them, the wooden shafts impaling it just below the wrist joint on its forelegs, and it goes down, almost crushing Spesh beneath its heavy body. He bunny hops nimbly out of the way just as Ravenbait skids Fingal round and knocks the laser off the gnu's head with one swipe of her SKS frame pump. "Obviously made using low-end Shimano components," she mutters contemptuously. Gfresh slams on his brakes, wobbles precariously and then hefts the bike round to pedal off in a different direction, just missing the panicked charge of a red laser gnu that has had a set of adamantium razors in its rump and has suddenly realised that this is not a good place to be. The gnu, blinded by a stray shot from Redshift, gallops headlong into the other red laser gnu, sending it flying. The gnu that has been floored skids along the smooth concrete floor until the weapon on its head comes into contact with the wall, cushioning the gnu's impact in a sacrificial manner. Cuddy Duck and the AFOBS fly in low, in a loose squadron, and squirt the lasers with water from their bottles. A couple of the weapons short, fizzing sullenly. That leaves several gnus, minus frikkin' laser beams, wandering around in a daze, free from both excessive offensive kit and the mind-control devices attached to it. Gnus all by themselves are dangerous enough, however, being rather large and coming complete with big hooves and cow horns. Macleach, Redshift, Gunner, Brock and Charlotte try to herd them towards the main door, eventually managing to get them huddled in a corner with their ears drooping miserably. Charlotte offers them some strawberry bootlaces. They seem to like those. Back at the far end of the hangar the rest of the Cake Stop has congregated. There is much panting and puffing as they get their breaths back after the chaotic scattering necessary to avoid the deadly laser beams coming from the now rather subdued wildebeest [see http://www.seaworld.org/AnimalBytes/wildebeestab.html - Ed] in the corner. It looks like Van Helsing and Logan might have become friends during that fracas. Wolverine has at least stopped sneering at his counterpart at every given opportunity. "Now what?" Gordy asks, enjoying the excitement rather more than usual as he knows that after Christmas he no longer has to go to work and this is cheering him up immensely. "We find a door, obviously" says Westley impatiently, pushing his way through the pack to the rear of the hangar. There is a large set of double doors, through which the gnus had evidently been sent. There are traces of their manure on the ground and a few stray strands of straw, presumably from the bedding in their enclosure. Flying Monkey, Logan and Westley scan the ceiling and surrounds for CCTV cameras and any other security devices. "They must know we are here," Van Helsing says. "Why else would they have sent those creatures in here?" "They know all right, bub," Logan growls. "Well," Westley says brightly. "So much for a sneak attack. Shall we proceed, gentlemen? Ladies?" "I don't think this is such a good idea," TimC opines nervously. "Don't worry," Flying Monkey tells him with a reassuring smile. "It's entirely possible that the gnus were on some sort of automatic release that was triggered by the door opening. We may not have been spotted yet after all." There seems to be no way to get the double doors open. There is no release mechanism anywhere to be found. Ravenbait narrows her eyes and mutters a few words, and there is a sudden thickness in the air. Several of the Cake Stoppers are forced to equalise the pressure in their ears by holding their noses and blowing. The doors remain resolutely shut. "Hmm," the Priestess says to herself. "Someone has been teaching the old dogs new tricks." "Step aside, toots," Logan tells her. He punches his claws into the doors, sending them neatly into the crack between the two sides, and heaves. The doors give way and swing open towards them. "There are so many reasons why that shouldn't have worked," AndyGates says, shaking his head. The double doors lead through to a narrow corridor with a wildebeest pen on each side. This widens into a much larger corridor with barrier rails on either side. Beyond the barrier rails, which are interspersed at intervals with gated openings, are corridors leading off into the complex, and occasional stairways leading down into the lower levels. It appears that this secret base is absolutely vast, and extends well below sea level. The floor on which they are walking and wheeling their noble steeds is made of thick wire mesh, and the strange, brown-green colour of the futuristic industrial look of the complex makes the whole thing appear to be something culled from Quake or Aliens. "Don't like this malarkey," Wolverine growls to Ravenbait, sniffing warily for a scent of danger. "But I'll bet you're feelin' right at home, ain't ya darlin'?" The Priestess doesn't answer. "So where would they be keepin' all their lolly, I wonder," Captain Jack Sparrow muses. He leaps over the barrier, surprisingly nimble, wanders a little way down a corridor and peers through a window set into a heavy bulkhead door. "Well bugger me," he exclaims. "There's somethin' you don't see every day." Charlotte and Kathy, being curious gels, hop over the barrier and squeeze up next to him to peer through the window. He puts one arm around each of their shoulders to give them space to see properly, smiling lecherously. "Oh my," Charlotte says, face turning bright red. "That's..." "It probably isn't, you know" Kathy interrupts, not unkindly, thinking of copyright issues before Spen decides to speak up. "It probably just looks very much like him." Inside the room there is a man in full fantasy armour. He seems to be sleeping, or frozen. He is standing upright in an alcove with green blinking lights on a bank of monitors to one side. "I thought he was best as Lucifer in The Prophecy," Ravenbait tells them, peering over Charlotte's shoulder. "He was jolly good in that. Even the Morningstar enjoyed it. Cheered him up so much he let me have some of his popcorn." "There's the Ladies Brazilian Volleyball team over here!" comes a joyous exclamation from TimC. Thought, sitting on Ravenbait's shoulder, whispers something in her ear. "You could be right," the Priestess says, then addresses the others: "The ABD has long planned to convert the world into a polluted dystopian nightmare where their kind are the only ones to survive. It could be that they have been kidnapping certain people with... admirable qualities that they do not themselves possess — being fat, bloated, and unable to walk properly never mind exercise — so that they have some attractive people around after Carmageddon." Or possibly to use their DNA in an attempt to create a breed of attractive cagers. Ravenbait shudders. "Then perhaps my Buttercup is in one of these cells," Westley declares. He darts off down the corridor and starts checking the cells in the adjoining corridors. "Can we wake him up?" Charlotte asks the Priestess hopefully, nodding vaguely towards the sleeping hero in the cell behind her. "Can we? Please?" "We have no time," Van Helsing says severely. "Priestess, we must find the machinery that they are using to perform their experiments and destroy it before it is too late." "I like the sound o' that," Wolverine grins. Ravenbait thinks for a few moments. "Gather round everyone. All right. Here's what we do. Captain Jack, I know you are only interested in money, so you do what you like. Anything that hurts the ABD is fine by me, and I know Professor SafeSpeed doesn't earn any money any other way so thieving from him will hurt him. Volunteers to go with Captain Jack?" Kathy immediately puts up her hand. Tim, being the other half of the tandem, therefore must go as well. A few others, including TimC, Rigby and FatBloke, judging that to be the least dangerous of the options the Priestess is about to present, also volunteer. "Westley is already off after Buttercup but I don't think he's going to find her here. Aeroflash, Nutty, would you be prepared to go with him? He won't need any help from you against the ABD, but I need you with him so I can get us all back together again afterwards." "What are you going to do?" Nutty asks. "The Big 'O' sent me here to deal with the Humungous, and that's what I'm going to do. Anyone who wants a scrap with Chav scum, bipedal werewolves, demons the like of which would make Buffy run screaming, White Van Men and the Humungous himself are welcome to come along with me, Logan and Gabriel. Charlotte, you can wake up Aragorn there and then catch up with the bunch of your choosing." She surveys the rest of the cyclists. "We have a long way to go yet. A lot to do. I won't ask any of you to face down the might of the ABD and Professor SafeSpeed with me because it could be dangerous. I don't know what they have down there, or if they have successfully resurrected the Humungous or not. Logan and Gabriel and I can handle them, but if you want to come, it will be a pleasure to fight with you. So who's with me?" For it is the choice of each individual Cake Stopper as to which path he now will take. What is this? The Cake Stop is splitting up? Surely this is unwise, dear reader, for does not the old adage say 'divide and conquer'? Who will go with the Priestess and her two amnesiac companions to face the might of the ABD and the horrors that await below in the laboratory of the Scientolgists? Will the Dread Pirate Roberts find his one true love and will she be in a state fit to be rescued? Will Captain Jack Sparrow, the greatest pirate in the world, manage to find the fat coffers that must be waiting for him somewhere and thus render Professor SafeSpeed devoid of money for laboratory supplies, stamps and telephone bills? The answers to all these questions and more await in future episodes of Chronicles of the Cake Stop, an educational adventure periodical for boys and girls of all ages. Sam -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 22/09/2004 12:45:56 Message: Cor! Would you look at that! I've passed 6000 posts! Right, well, now you get to decide what you do next, a bit like a fighting fantasy book. If anyone already assigned disagrees with current assignment, except Aeroflash who gets no choice in the matter, let me know and I'll change it, although you might then miss out on any exciting things I currently have in mind. Wish Chuffy would hurry up and come back properly. I'm down one magical sword right now. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Gunner Rodgers Replied on: 22/09/2004 12:53:48 Message: RUDDY NORAH!!!! Glad you managed to get it in "Oh, my TVC 15, oh, oh, TVC 15................." Gunner Rodgers -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 22/09/2004 12:57:46 Message: Well, Gunner? What do you want to do now? Are you going to go with Westley, Captain Jack, or go straight down into the bowels with RB and the Hughs to have a go at the Prof SafeSpeed? If you don't tell me I'll have to choose for you. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TooMuchCake Replied on: 22/09/2004 13:35:23 Message: Count me in for a bit of chav-smacking, Sam! And I've still got a load of genetically-modified micro-triffids* in my seatpack if they're any use to you... *they used to be cress _____________________________________________________________________ ______ 'Cos the righteous truth is, there ain't nothing worse than some fool lying on some Third World beach wearing spandex psychedelic trousers, smoking damn dope pretending he gettin' consciousness expansion. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Mrs Pingu Replied on: 22/09/2004 13:36:39 Message: The PPP will follow you, oh esteemed leader. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Help Help I'm being oppressed! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Arellcat Replied on: 22/09/2004 13:58:14 Message: I'm slightly timid about chavscum, but all for getting rich. Does a Windcheetah fit ok on a crowded pirate ship? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: groucho Replied on: 22/09/2004 14:05:01 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- So who's with me? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Normally I would not want to be a member of a gang that would have me as a member, but this time I'm with you Ravenbait Lady Godiva - Lend me a fiver. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Pingu Replied on: 22/09/2004 14:43:51 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Mrs Pingu The PPP will follow you, oh esteemed leader. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Being Mrs Pingu's domestique , I guess I'm coming with you, RB Mrs Pingu does the Bealach na Ba "You may ask yourself, 'Where does that highway go to?'" "This is a perfect world - I'm riding on an incline" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 22/09/2004 14:48:22 Message: Yes, Arellcat, all the bikes fitted. You can go with Captain Jack then. Well done the rest of you! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Brock Replied on: 22/09/2004 15:48:20 Message: Ah, another great adventure. I could do with some funds, to finish off my latest project,so could I go with Cap'n Jack. Then maybe I'll get chance to fill me pockets with treasure. Another splendid read Sam and it helped me forget to do a grotty job, that I can easily forget to do tomorrow, aswell. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Aeroflash Replied on: 22/09/2004 16:18:08 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ravenbait Cor! Would you look at that! I've passed 6000 posts! Right, well, now you get to decide what you do next, a bit like a fighting fantasy book. If anyone already assigned disagrees with current assignment, except Aeroflash who gets no choice in the matter, let me know and I'll change it, although you might then miss out on any exciting things I currently have in mind. Wish Chuffy would hurry up and come back properly. I'm down one magical sword right now. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- No choice? Does that mean you’ve got plans for me? Or have I just offended you? Or both? By the way, I’ve rolled a five and a two. My strength rating is +3 Matt 'The Problem with being a druid is, you've got to be prepared to make sacrifices' -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: spesh Replied on: 22/09/2004 16:18:21 Message: Spesh considers his options. Common sense suggests that joining Captain Jack might be the safer option. However, common sense is fighting a losing battle against adrenaline, despite the earlier near miss. "Count me in, Priestess," he says, "I'm up for a spot of ultraviolence." The implications of what he has just said are starting to sink in. "Oh Hells," he thinks, flicking a lump of gnu off the handlebars of The Matrix*, "what have I let myself in for?" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I could have just typed a simple request, but it's been a slow afternoon. *A Specialized Allez M2 - a midnight blue metal matrix composite framed mean machine... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 22/09/2004 16:31:55 Message: Plans, obviously, Matt, obviously . Spesh: . Well done you! Wonder when my animated Van Helsing prequel will show up? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Macleach Replied on: 22/09/2004 16:41:45 Message: Chainsets make short work of Burberry and Aquascutum baseball cap peaks. I think you know the language I'm talking Sam....... "The not so little engine that could" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: spesh Replied on: 22/09/2004 17:12:15 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ravenbait Plans, obviously, Matt, obviously . Spesh: . Well done you! Wonder when my animated Van Helsing prequel will show up? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You're welcome. Anyway, I'd nicked a handy-looking Lochaber axe from the armoury on the Black Pearl, and it would be a shame to come this far and not use it! I've always fancied doing a spot of car customising. Every time some BMW has passed way too close... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: hairyhippy Replied on: 22/09/2004 17:30:38 Message: I's ready for a scrap. You've heard of Ali Baba, 40 thieves had he... Out for what we all want, lots of L/S/D. He also had a camel, stole it form a zoo. How he loved the camel and the camel loved him too. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Arellcat Replied on: 22/09/2004 19:11:23 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ravenbait Yes, Arellcat, all the bikes fitted. You can go with Captain Jack then. Well done the rest of you! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Did I do wrong then? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 22/09/2004 19:16:49 Message: No, Arellcat, you said you wanted to go with Captain Jack! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 22/09/2004 19:51:35 Message: That's Volume IV up now. Volume V has 14 bloody episodes ! It's going to take me a while to edit that one. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: hairyhippy Replied on: 22/09/2004 20:35:31 Message: Take a break and go and do something more violent instead. You've heard of Ali Baba, 40 thieves had he... Out for what we all want, lots of L/S/D. He also had a camel, stole it form a zoo. How he loved the camel and the camel loved him too. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: alchemy Replied on: 23/09/2004 05:41:45 Message: Well I'm an accountant so obviously I'm off with Captain Jack looking for loot _______________________________ Who put this bloody hill in the way !!! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: PW Replied on: 25/09/2004 04:25:36 Message: If there should be wounds to lick may I offer the services of Lobble the Magic Rabbit? Also wakes the dead (me in the morning!) by the same method. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 25/09/2004 10:02:28 Message: Um Thanks PW. Bring him along! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 25/09/2004 10:09:31 Message: I'm up for whatever fate (or Sam) has in store for us - bring it on! (Sorry for the late reply - been away.) What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 25/09/2004 13:51:22 Message: Volume 5 is now up at www.quantumcoyote.com Phew! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Aeroflash Replied on: 25/09/2004 17:18:22 Message: You're working too quickly Sam, I was too busy at work (believe it or not) to get to the end of Vol 4! I have to say I look forward to getting into the office a lot more these days since the advent of QuantumCoyote - it's a bit like having Ultraviolet or Ulysses 31 re-released on DVD. And a DVD player. (Can someone who's going with Captain Jack set aside some of that piratical swag for me - I haven't paid off Hephaestus yet) Matt 'The Problem with being a druid is, you've got to be prepared to make sacrifices' -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 25/09/2004 17:55:37 Message: The raw text files for all the complete volumes apart from the first one, which is totally unwieldy, are also now available -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: redshift Replied on: 25/09/2004 22:16:22 Message: Back from the wilds... Howling winds... Driving rain... Crisis in the Real World whilst I'm away... It can only be: redshift's 'summer' holidays. Back to the sanity of the cake stop, and as I read the episodes, I hear a little voice inside me say: "Can you run? I think not..."* Short of a sword, your ladyship? I guess that means all the more for me then. Also bigger chance of becoming crispy critter, but life isn't without its risks. I think the Department for Transport's representative, being questioned by the Parliamentary Subcommittee on the Use of Non-Newtonian Mechanics (Cyclists' rest facilities), should accidentally let slip the existence of the special case of the Cake Stop. The Security forces would then realise their lack of awareness of same, and should attempt to infiltrate the cadre, seeking to determine whether cyclists represent a subversive threat to National Security. Oh, sorry that's right: We do... Their disguises of tweed jackets and leather elbow patches mean they go completely unnoticed, or indeed welcomed, as perhaps being errant members of the Folding Soc. (apologies ) *You know whence I nicked this. L Windcheetah 176 http://www.redshift.uklinux.net/ ...handbuilt by daleks... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Kathy Pike Replied on: 26/09/2004 11:26:12 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by redshift "Can you run? I think not..."* *You know whence I nicked this. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Indeed. It's what the cat says to Hazel after he hurts his leg during the raid on Nuthanger Farm in order to get some does for the warren at Watership Down and I claim my five pounds. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 11/10/2004 15:35:46 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VII No.9 Soundtrack: Mozart - Lacrimosa (Requiem) When last we left our brave cyclists, they were preparing to split up into three bands, each with its own separate mission and purpose. Westley, no longer a rare books dealer in Panama but reprising his role as the Dread Pirate Roberts, is setting out to find and rescue his beloved Buttercup and her perfect breast from the clutches of the Scientologists, currently in the employ of the ABD under the direction of the much- hated Professor SafeSpeed. Captain Jack is determined to find where the evil creatures running this foul place are keeping their ill-gotten funds, with a view to relieving the fiends of some of their lucre and putting it to better use elsewhere. The High Priestess, Logan and Gabriel Van Helsing are heading straight to the heart of the matter and planning to destroy the laboratories in which unspeakable experiments are being performed in an effort to resurrect the Humungous. Nutty and Aeroflash headed off in the direction Westley had taken moments before.. Mr and Mrs Pike, Arellcat, TimC, Rjevans6, Rigby and FatBloke, Brock, Alchemy, PW and a sizeable number of the others, for whom the attraction of a bit of cash to add to their respective stables is overwhelmingly attractive, joined Captain Jack as he follows his nose and his finely honed buccaneering instincts in search of gold. TooMuchCake, The Pinniped Preservation Society, Groucho, Spesh, Macleach, HairyHippy, Redshift and Gunner headed deeper into the complex, striking towards the very black heart of the Scientologist lair. They leave behind Charlotte, who has taken it upon herself to awaken the cryogenically frozen Aragorn. Fortunately the corridors are wide enough to cycle, no doubt to accommodate those members of the ABD who have already progressed to a stage almost as decrepit as their erstwhile lord and master and who thusly require vehicular assistance to remain mobile. With Westley slowed by his need to check through every window he passes, and explore every side-turning, Nutty and Aeroflash catch up with him easily and quickly. He pays their arrival scant notice. "She must be here somewhere, gentlemen!" he declares, rubbing some film of cloudy substance from a thick sheet of what appears to be lead crystal with the heel of his hand and pressing his face up to the smooth surface. His visage is somewhat pale when he turns away, and, after exchanging a hesitant glance, Nutty and Aeroflash take a look for themselves. The scene inside the room causes them to blanch. There are shelves lined with jars, and inside the jars are various parts of dismembered creatures. Many of the parts come from demonic or supernatural beings; creatures probably kidnapped from A- Time and brought to this cul-de-sac of liminal space out in the borders of reality using some method unheard of by either of the two Cake Stoppers. Most of the parts are vaguely identifiable as being a foot, or a hand, part of a torso, a heart, a kidney, a head with face contorted in unimaginable agony. Many of the parts are so far removed from their original context that they cannot be identified. And yet this is not the most horrifying thing about this terrible collection. What is worst of all is that all the parts seem still be alive. They twitch, jerk, occasionally thrash in spasms in their glass prisons, causing the containers to wobble slightly and the faintly yellow liquid in which the dismembered pieces are immersed to surge and splash against their covers. From the layer of dust on the door frame, this room has not been entered into in a very long time. All that time those dismembered creatures have been left to suffer an incomprehensible fate; each piece, every individual part of each being encapsulated in its own screaming hell. Are the creatures this collection had once been still aware? Do they know of their own suffering? As if in answer to the unspoken question fleeting through the minds of both horrified cyclists, the eyes of one of the heads snap open and stare at them. The creature has the appearance of a Harpy. The eyes roll, as if the mind inside is insane and battering against the inside walls of its own head in an attempt to escape its torment. The lips work and writhe as if attempting to speak, but there is no possibility for the head has been removed above the vocal chords and there are no lungs or diaphragm to produce air. The mouth is filled with that peculiar, synthetic amniotic fluid and perhaps the Harpy did not ever know English or speak in any human tongue. But, for all that, there is no doubting that the creature inside is aware. Feeling physically nauseated, Aeroflash and Nutty force themselves to look away from the ghoulish, horrifying and yet utterly compelling grisly scene beyond the window. "I would not wish that on anyone," Nutty says, face drawn and tinged with the chalky wash of shock. "Oh, I don't know," Aeroflash responds grimly. "I wouldn't mind seeing Professor SafeSpeed getting a taste of his own medicine." "If your High Priestess has anything to do with it," Westley tells them brightly, passing them on his way back from having explored to the end of that corridor, "I imagine that is a wish that may be fulfilled." * * * Further down in the complex, the war band of the Cake Stop is making its way slowly and cautiously along corridors that seem strangely empty. Flying Monkey is particularly nervous, sure that they must have set off some security system or the other by now. He asks Ravenbait is she is doing anything to keep them from detection, but she shakes her head. This place is not quite in A-Time, but it is not truly outside it either. In some ways, if she attempted to make them less detectable, not only would they be able to exert less influence but it could backfire. The very act of trying to hide that information would produce more information by which they could be detected. The Hollow Man could do it, the Priestess reflects. He is not here. It is warmer in the lower levels, the air more humid. There is a strange smell: not just the fractionated hydrocarbon smells of diesel and petrol, nor the acrid, cloying, almost metallic stench of their combustion products; there is also an underlying current of something sweet that touches upon the deeply honed instinct possessed any creature whose ancestors have been hunted, whose place it was as a species occasionally to die ripped asunder by teeth and claws so that something larger and faster could feed its young. Redshift unsheaths her sword. That smell is the smell of blood. That is the smell of death. That is the smell of pain. Logan smells something else. His nostrils flare. He starts growling. "Striker!" he curses. Unbidden, driven by a sudden surge of rage-fuelled adrenaline, adamantium claws spring out from his right fist, which he slams into the wall of the corridor. The razors penetrate deeply, leaving three gaping holes when he yanks them violently free. "Logan, no!" Ravenbait tells him urgently, grabbing his arm. "This is not the time! And Stryker's dead!" "That's what he wants ya t'think, toots. He might've died but his differently-spelled lab monkey didn't, and he's here. I can smell 'im." "So? A lab monkey has nothing to do with you!" "Sure he does, sweets. Since he had Stryker's research downloaded into his brain so that he could sell it and himself to Merlin or Airborne or Omega or someone for buildin' unbreakable frames. Your old pals the ABD have got some serious mojo goin' on here if they got Striker as well. Thought the boy was on the side o' the good guys now that his old boss is at the bottom of Alkali Lake. Guess I was wrong. Best to take him out before they use what he knows." "I said no, Logan! We need to find the Humungous first! Take him down and it doesn't matter what Striker does. We'll have won!" "You do what you want, darlin'. No way am I standin' by and lettin' some frame- builder resurrect the Weapon X programme just when we got it shut down. Surprised at you, toots. Thought you'd feel the same." "We need you with us!" The Priestess' face turns crestfallen as Logan shakes his arm free from her grasp. "No, darlin'. You don't. You're a big girl now. You can take of yourself. You take care of SafeSpeed. I'll take care of Striker." He grins, feral, eyes dancing, and then lopes off. "Do you wish for me to stop him, madam?" Van Helsing asks her, removing some sort of clockwork weapon adorned with Gothic embellishments in purest silver. It looks like it has come from the design table of Antonio Gaudi in full Sagrada Familia mode. Ravenbait stares at him for a couple of seconds, face hard, and then she smiles. "With that? Are you trying to tickle him to death? Better off hunting teenygoths in a nightclub. No. Let him go. We'll manage." "Damned right we will," Macleach agrees, to a general chorus of agreement from the rest of the cyclists. He hefts his head-sized chainset menacingly. "Jolly good show, what?!" Gunner exclaims. "Right lads! This way I believe!" They move onwards and downwards. Ever downwards. * * * "Where would you keep your loot if you were old Botox-head?" Captain Jack asks Kathy conversationally, ducking through a door apparently at random. "In the bank?" she suggests, following. "Ah," he says, tapping the side of his nose and winking. "But what if you were an ageing Hollywood actor whose career has already failed once and been revived and is now on the fade again, and you were so obsessed by the promise of eternal youth that you would paralyse your own face — and this is an actor, mind — rather than have a few wrinkles, and, not only that, but you were hooked on a religion invented by some old geezer who didn't quite get what the sixties were all about and mistakenly thought of himself as a hard science-fiction writer?" "I don't know much about Scientology," Kathy says, shaking her head. "Scientologists end up being afraid of society, believing all society to be controlled by a group of drug companies, psychiatrists and financiers all of whom report to more remote masters," Arellcat says. "A bit like David Icke, really, only without the shapeshifting reptilian aliens or the colour turquoise." "So they're not going to go to a bank, eh wot?" Rigby says brightly. "I'd say they probably keep it in an old sock in the garden shed. That's where I'd keep mine!" "Somethin' like that," Captain Jack says with a conspiratorial wink. "Let's just say that I 'appen to know that the Sea Org has authority to handle the accounts, and we 'appen to be lookin' for someone who thinks of himself as an action hero with a flair for the dramatic and who 'appens to be part of a religion whose leader told them they were fightin' SMERSH." Ah," says FatBloke unhappily. "Suddenly I understand where the sharks with frikkin' laser beams on their heads come in." "Well, never mind," says TimC. "Surely if SMERSH are involved then James Bond will turn up. Who'd prefer Timothy Dalton?" A perennial argument, and a favourite of the Cake Stop. One that is destined to run and run. Just what is needed to distract our brave heroes and heroines from the dangers that lie in wait. Sam ----------------------------------------------- http://ravenfamily.org "You might remember that annoyed is my natural state!" http://quantumcoyote.com/chronicles "You'd think we could just attract ants, like normal people." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Kathy Pike Replied on: 11/10/2004 15:46:58 Message: Oh, poor mutilated tortured monsters. Can I rescue them later and make them better and keep them an' toilet train them an' everythin'? There aren't any cute ickle chest bursters or face huggers anywhere in need of a cuddle are there 'sgotta be better than a psychotic one-eyed ferret who is probably Odin in disguise biding his time to do something unspeakably nasty. Obviously, treasure hunting comes first. Um, if I was them, I'd hide it in a big watery cavern which can only be reached by swimming through tunnels or by walking through a curtain of water concealing the entrance. No cyclist would dare look there normally. Our bikes might get rusty. 'Course, it's probably in nowhere near as exciting a place. The ABD probably jus' hide their loot in their lawyer's office. Speaking of such, where's Spen? I suspect that a gollum may come in useful in damp underwater potentially treasure-filled caverns. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 11/10/2004 15:53:18 Message: Given that it was Oðin who sent RB to sort this mess out in the first place, and He obviously has an interest in the monsters, what makes you think that a mutilated face hugger would be any easier to look after than a one-eyed ferret? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Kathy Pike Replied on: 11/10/2004 15:58:25 Message: You really really don't understand how bad this ferret is. I'll take a mutilated facehugger any day. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: charlotte Replied on: 11/10/2004 16:37:25 Message: It's getting nailbitingly tense now. Jumping from scene to scene, never knowing when the action's going to start. Oh yes - and my liason with the lovely Viggo I'm going all wibbly just thinking about it (and those of you who have met me will know how rarely I wibble...) ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Does it worry you that "Shimano groupset" is actually an anagram of "age triumphs soon"...? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Pingu Replied on: 11/10/2004 17:14:11 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- That smell is the smell of blood. That is the smell of death. That is the smell of pain. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Am I in the right place 18th Aberdeen and North East Scotland Beer Festival Mrs Pingu does the Bealach na Ba "You may ask yourself, 'Where does that highway go to?'" "This is a perfect world - I'm riding on an incline" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Striker Replied on: 11/10/2004 17:30:01 Message: Boy-oh-boy-oh-boy! A walk on role as a villain! Just as well my vibranium compound cycling helmet is nearly complete. Designed to absorb impacts up to the speed of sound as well as deflecting adamantanium claws and falling conkers -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 11/10/2004 18:13:13 Message: Timothy Dalton? Oh, purleeeeze, RB, give me some credit! This Striker, or Stryker (depending on the paragraph), is he over Macho Grande yet? Now, this ABD stash of gold. When we find it (and we will, hoh yus) am I to be allowed to have a little in order to take the Brazilian Ladies' Beach Volleyball Team out and show them a damn fine time? Gawan - pretty please? What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: PW Replied on: 12/10/2004 02:24:13 Message: OK, as I've been included in the Captain Jack group:- 50 something, short & stocky, permanently tanned bald patch, King George V beard, Hair was black but now mainly grey. Eyes blue but turn slate grey when about to explode (rare but spectacular). As an import from Know How weapon of choice is a 12" adjustable spanner - the sharp end of the slider will punch through metal. Bike a brownish red drop bar tourer, the white "Frickin' Lasers" on the front rack are miners lamps. Oh & I've done a bit of wreck diving if there's any loot about. From the files of the ABD:- A motorist's worst nightmare, a car hater with a class D bus licence. Also very handy with an adjustable spanner. Losing some speed with age but makes up for it with astute tactics & expert navigation. Founder member of a local campaign group, prepared to go out of his way to cause trouble. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 12/10/2004 10:13:14 Message: TimC: I didn't say that you'd prefer Timothy Dalton! You were merely asking if anyone would. Striker: who knows where your true allegiance lies? That's all part of the mystery...... PW: Cheers. I'll pad that out a bit and tweak it, when I do Mrs Pingu's. I still need a bio for Pingu as well. It would be nice to have one for the lovely couple . -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 12/10/2004 10:35:30 Message: Quandary of the day: does my bit part in the latest Chronicles justify a bio, or should I remain an international man of mystery? I shall ponder that over a slow ride out this afternoon (if the weather improves!). What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 12/10/2004 10:51:31 Message: You've had dialogue! Anyone who is willing to write one can have a bio. I'm still waiting for Charlotte's and Aeroflash's, incidentally. And if Nutty doesn't produce one, I'll make up all sorts of salacious things about him - just look what I did to Gunner and Kathy! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: charlotte Replied on: 12/10/2004 11:52:03 Message: Oh lord, yes - I know we owe you Biogs, Sam. The problem is that although I have done some work on AF's, I have yet to send him anything to go on for when he does mine. Besides - I'm worried about sending him the draft of what I wrote about him because I have been fairly... Ahem.. loose with the facts and I'm now wondering if he won't just thump me one instead. Aghhh.... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Does it worry you that "Shimano groupset" is actually an anagram of "age triumphs soon"...? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 12/10/2004 12:12:07 Message: Well, it can't be worse than what I'll write about him if I don't hear from you. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Aeroflash Replied on: 12/10/2004 12:16:29 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by charlotte Oh lord, yes - I know we owe you Biogs, Sam. The problem is that although I have done some work on AF's, I have yet to send him anything to go on for when he does mine. Besides - I'm worried about sending him the draft of what I wrote about him because I have been fairly... Ahem.. loose with the facts and I'm now wondering if he won't just thump me one instead. Aghhh.... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Does it worry you that "Shimano groupset" is actually an anagram of "age triumphs soon"...? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Well I'm quite thick skinned, Charlotte. But perhaps you should let me know what you want me to write before I decide to just go ahead... Maybe we should agree to copy control eh? Matt 'Half of what he said meant something else and the other half didn't mean anything at all' -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: simongjones Replied on: 12/10/2004 12:29:58 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Aeroflash quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by charlotte Besides - I'm worried about sending him the draft of what I wrote about him because I have been fairly... Ahem.. loose with the facts and I'm now wondering if he won't just thump me one instead. Aghhh.... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ... But perhaps you should let me know what you want me to write before I decide to just go ahead... Maybe we should agree to copy control eh? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Cowards! I think the most you two should agree to is to co-ordinate the publication of the biogs so that they are as close to simultaneous as possible. Possibly you should get an independent, impartial third party to post them for you so you can't go back and edit them. I'm looking forward to it! Simon I'm not idle, I'm tapering! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: charlotte Replied on: 12/10/2004 12:38:35 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ravenbait Well, it can't be worse than what I'll write about him if I don't hear from you. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ulp... OK, Areoflash... We need to talk!! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Does it worry you that "Shimano groupset" is actually an anagram of "age triumphs soon"...? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Aeroflash Replied on: 12/10/2004 12:39:44 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ravenbait Well, it can't be worse than what I'll write about him if I don't hear from you. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Gulp. Matt 'Half of what he said meant something else and the other half didn't mean anything at all' -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: PW Replied on: 13/10/2004 01:28:49 Message: Slight addition if it helps plot lines... us ex coalboard types had a formal education in explosives... They taught us to use dowsing rods too! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: closetleftie Replied on: 20/10/2004 16:42:18 Message: Oooh, I like this episode of the Chronicles: I'll just have to try and worm in to the adventure... I know: I'll bring a small portable witch. A stoned one that eats teeny little bits of malt loaf And I'll bring my own superpower, as described in the files of the ABD: "Leftie posesses terminal reasonableness. With just one glance he can make an enemy see both sides of an argument, freezing him/her/it in indecision and making them easy for the other Cakestoppers to pick off. Of course, sometimes this weapon backfires and Leftie finds himself frozen over apparently easy questions. Is foxhunting the best thing for 't countryside and the foxes enjoy it, really? Or are huntsmen really evil? He has been known to argue with himself while in this state. Aloud. Even in company..." My posh bike is called Jack. So going wiv' the Pirate Captain will cause needless confusion, and there is quite enough confusion in this tale already. I don't mind which of the others I go with, Sam. Be-ware or be roadkill... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Kathy Pike Replied on: 20/10/2004 16:52:11 Message: Yeah Sam, where's the next episode? I need cheering up after fighting too much bureaucracy today. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 22/10/2004 11:22:23 Message: Hold your horses! I'll get it out today. I'm on hodilay and haven't wanted to look at a computer since I got out of work on Wednesday. Closetleftie, you'll have to come with us. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Kathy Pike Replied on: 22/10/2004 11:32:06 Message: Hooray! An epidose is fifthcoming*! Like forthcoming, only better. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Pingu Replied on: 22/10/2004 11:35:52 Message: You mean it's coming fifthwith 18th Aberdeen and North East Scotland Beer Festival Mrs Pingu does the Bealach na Ba "You may ask yourself, 'Where does that highway go to?'" "This is a perfect world - I'm riding on an incline" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 22/10/2004 14:58:55 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VII No. 10 Soundtrack: Goldfrapp - Black Cherry Charlotte takes a deep breath, examines the various controls and electronics attached to the strange, plastic and metal cocoon in which Aragorn remains in suspended animation. There is a faint wash of cracked white, frozen vapour across the inside of the transparent parts of the casing, as if it had been sprayed with a solution of salt that has now dried and crystallised. She has the undeniable feeling that the wrong press of the wrong button could lead to disaster for the handsome man within. She hopes that her engineering background is enough to give her a better grasp of technology than Kathy has. There are no little goblins making this thing work. Or maybe there are? If everything they think about what is happening here is in any way even vaguely accurate, then perhaps the Scientologists, or the ABD, are using little goblins to run their equipment. Feeling silly, but unwilling to overlook any possibility, no matter how ludicrous, Charlotte scans the area for clues. Even goblins have to eat. There would be crumbs. After a few seconds of searching she shakes her head. "Stop this, it's silly!" she scolds herself, and returns to the panel of controls by the side of the cocoon. "One of these has got to be the magic 'unfreeze' button." There are a lot of buttons, and flashing displays. No sign of a user manual. Then, surrounded by yellow and black hazard stripes, Charlotte spots a metal cover that reads: EMERGENCY SHUT DOWN WARNING - ACTIVATING EMERGENCY SHUT DOWN RELEASES SUBJECT WITHOUT ENGRAM CONTINUITY "What the hell does that mean?" Charlotte wonders. Shrugging, she flips up the cover to reveal the lever underneath. Only one way to find out, really. As the lever clunks into position there is a massive out-gassing from the chamber. Charlotte takes a couple of steps backwards, out of the sudden freezing mist. The mechanism starts whining, and she entertains a moment's thought that perhaps 'engram continuity' means 'not blowing up'. The front of the pod splits across the middle and the metal arms push the two halves forwards before moving them out of the way. Charlotte takes a nervous step forwards. It is still cold in there and there is no sign of life. Maybe emergency shut down does not bring them back alive. Maybe 'engram continuity' is a bizarre way to stay 'still breathing'. Maybe she just killed him. * * * "Are you mad?! Timothy Dalton?! What sort of freak are you?!" Mogden. "Has anyone else noticed that seems to be rather a large number of George Lazenby fans coming out of the closet?" Kathy. "Well, he did have Diana Rigg." Sane Man. "But he wasn't in From Russia With Love or Goldfinger!" Delgado. "He certainly did 'have' Diana Rigg in OHMSS. Got to be the best one." Withers. "Diamonds Are Forever might have been good if Lazenby hadn't declined." Richie1964. "But Goldfinger had Pussy Galore!" McBain v1. "Laser beams!" FatBloke yells suddenly. "Yeah, those too!" McBain v1 agrees. "Nice to see someone else with taste." "No! Over there! Duck!" "I can't see any ducks," frowns Brock, and then the breath is knocked out of him as FatBloke barrels him to the floor in a rugby tackle that would have made Jonah Lomu wince. Just in time. The zinging red beam of light zaps right through where Brock had been standing. He tries to express his gratitude for being saved from trepanation, however he is still fighting to take a breath. Everyone else is on the ground already, now examining the criss-cross network of deadly light-beams between them and the opening in the rock face which was where they were heading. "Some security system," Arellcat mutters. "Could do with FM right about now. He might know how to turn it off." "Can't we just crawl underneath, commando stylee?" asks Ridgerider. "I've been practising SWAT techniques with Gunner." Arellcat makes a face at him, then looks around. She finds what she is looking for: a small stone. She throws it underarm along the floor below the laser mesh. There is a small flash-bang and another laser, previously unseen, fires at the small stone from high up on the wall. "I think you'll find they have movement sensors," she says. "You didn't do very well in the SWAT training, did you?" "Are we sure we need to get into that cave?" TimC asks unhappily, having a healthy respect for lasers. "Aye, lad," Captain Jack says, lounging on one elbow and taking a swig from a bottle of rum he had secreted somewhere about his person. "This here is the main complex, where they do all the scientific stuff an' that. But in there is where they keep their loot, see? Has to be in there, because in there is caves, and our boy likes to think he has a flair for action movies. Besides. Why else would they install all this? They don't trust their own chavs, that's why." "So how are we going to get through?" inquires the handsome Mr Pike. "What do you think, Shandy?" Captain Jack asks his first mate. "If you stop drinking the rum, Capitaine, and let me have the bottle, then perhaps I can do something, non? It is a shame we did not bring a cockerel, however. Does anyone have any sweets?" "Here," says AndyGates. "I have some jelly babies left over from feeding the traffic light goblins." He passes a crumpled and torn Bassett's bag to the French pirate, via PW and Alchemy. "Superbe. There are some black ones." Captain Jack hands the bottle of rum, somewhat reluctantly, to Rjevans6, who passes it to Rigby, who in turn hands it to Shandy. "I want some of that back, now," Captain Jack says. "Ah, Capitaine. One should never be meagre when calling on the loa, n'est-çe-pas?" He sets to work. * * * Logan scents the air, sniffing, feeling the berserker rage broiling and bubbling far too close to the surface for his liking. Striker's scent is stirring up painful snippets from the fragmented, tortured mess that is his memory. His body is responding to the fear, and he does not, can not remember what was the cause of that fear. He knows what they did to him, but all he remembers of it is the pain and the fear. He does not want to let that berserker rage loose. It took too long to get it under control. The animal inside him is quiet for now, but prowling. Truth be told, he welcomes this opportunity to get away from the others. He does not want them to see him should the beast get out. Especially that Van Helsing character. He sneaks up to a corner, back pressed flat against the wall, the scent of a security goon strong in his nostrils, along with the scent of the gun oil and cordite from the weapon the goon is carrying. The chump was dead the moment he woke up that morning: now it catches up with him. Six adamantium razors spit him through as neatly as a human kebab, and he drops to the ground. His body does not even have time to bleed; with the heart stopped the wounds can only ooze wetly. The tang of blood shadows the Wolverine as he follows Striker's trail onwards. * * * They seem to have been searching for hours. Aeroflash and Nutty are getting tired of the gruesome sights that every so often spring out at them from behind locked doors. Van Helsing had been right: the ABD had a regular demonic spare part plant operating, and, being demonic, the creatures had not all been killed by the dismemberment. Or — and this was a worse thought — it was not the demonic nature of the creatures that was keeping their separated pieces aware and alive, but some terrible process that they were perfecting for use on the Humungous. Rebuild him with parts from some of the foulest, violent, powerful creatures imaginable and then subject him to a process that would keep him alive even if he were torn into pieces? Traffic calming and cyclepaths would be the least of their worries then. "Here!" Westley's abrupt, urgent call has them hurrying to catch up with him. "She is here." His voice is flat, the emotion squeezed from it as if he cannot allow himself to feel until the task at hand is complete. Until he has Buttercup safely away, the job is not finished. Inside the room is a suspended animation tube, much like the one that Charlotte had stayed behind to open. Within it is a glint of golden hair and a face graced with perfect skin. "The door is locked," Westley adds, his eyes showing the same, flat, emotionless expression. "Not for long," says Aeroflash. Being insubstantial certainly does have its uses, not least of which is an enhanced facility for manipulating matter that is not entirely of the real world. He passes his hand through the electronic panel at the side of the door and it fizzes for a few seconds. The door slides open. It is cold in the room. Inside her frosted cabinet Buttercup appears, to all intents and purposes, to be dead. The display on the side of the pod, however, says differently, and so does the instinct in Westley's gut. "So now we open it?" Nutty asks, espying a label saying 'EMERGENCY SHUT DOWN". "No! Stay your hand!" Westley exclaims. "Look what it says underneath. If we shut it down like this, we could cause untold damage. It could wipe her mind! We must find out how to do it properly." "I hope Charlotte figured that out," says Aeroflash. * * * Finally they have started running into security. This causes Flying Monkey a certain amount of relief, as he had been well beyond the 'this is too easy' stage. It does not explain why there is not more security, but some is better than none. They are just goons so far, all human. Closetleftie had talked the first one into giving himself up, and then Gunner had hit him over the head with a Topeak Master Blaster and they had left him behind a storage cupboard door. "This is no time to be taking prisoners," Van Helsing had said. It did not stop Closetleftie from trying, however. Unfortunately, as they draw closer to the heart of the complex the guards become more alert, less open to persuasion, and more willing to press the big red alarm button. After one guard gets far too close to hitting that button for comfort, Closetleftie is handed to the Pinniped Preservation Society. "Keep him quiet," Macleach tells them with a wink and a grin. They make it through the next checkpoint, Redshift turning ninja and taking out both guards before they know there is anything amiss. From somewhere comes the faint sound of inhuman screaming. "We must be getting close now, lads," Gunner tells them. Ravenbait suddenly stops dead. "You know how you were worried about the lack of security, FM?" she says, and there is something in her expression that the others do not like. "Well you'll be seeing a lot more of it any minute now. Jack Shandy just called up a loa. Normally this wouldn't be a problem, but the ABD have more than chavs and WVMs down here." Van Helsing looks searchingly into her face. "What are you saying, madam?" "I am saying," she says grimly, taking two steps backwards and then reaching up with lightning speed and dragging something off the wall that squirms and struggles in her grip, "that the ABD have been doing more than using A-Time creatures for spare parts. They've been turning them into slaves." The creature in her hands looks like a traffic light goblin. It is small and rotund and its chameleon-like camouflage ability is making its skin kaleidoscope as it fights to get free. The High Priestess holds it firmly but is trying not to hurt it. "And if I can sense that Shandy has called a loa, then they can too." She holds the creature so that it is forced to stare into her bottomless black gaze. After a few moments it stops wriggling and goes limp. She puts it on the floor, where it sits looking dazed. A few seconds later it shakes itself and looks around, obviously confused, as if it has just woken up and has no idea where it is. "He's coming with us," Ravenbait declares. No one argues. "You can call him Ivan." Things are about to get rather more exciting than they have been so far. Sam ----------------------------------------------- http://ravenfamily.org "You might remember that 'annoyed' is my natural state!" http://quantumcoyote.com/chronicles "You'd think we could just attract ants, like normal people." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Kathy Pike Replied on: 22/10/2004 15:13:48 Message: Yay! Second Cousin Ivan makes an appearance! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: microphonie Replied on: 22/10/2004 15:18:06 Message: Good stuff! Rah! Rah! Rah! We're going to smash the chavs! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This is our mission: to be the daleks of god -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: closetleftie Replied on: 22/10/2004 17:32:09 Message: I LIKE this adventure. I get to talk utter rubbish, and then my mates smack 'em upside the head with minipumps. Good plan, there 'Bait... But when we meet the chavs, I'll make a decision... no talking, then: kick their wingmirrors in, says I! And BMW's? Sandpaper sewn on the ulnar edge of a Specialized mitt makes lovely scratches in the paintwork! Good stealth weapon, sandpaper. Not like a dent made with a minipump; they can hear that. This way they won't know they've been hit until it's too late... Be-ware or be roadkill... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: jokeyjon Replied on: 22/10/2004 18:04:57 Message: Goldfrapp - Black Cherry was always going to help the muses here. Fab stuff Sam!! But there's no danger, it's a professional career. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Brock Replied on: 22/10/2004 18:42:35 Message: Great stuff, Sam. I'm glad Fatbloke saved me from getting zapped, but I wonder how I'll have to repay him? Allez, mes braves. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: spesh Replied on: 22/10/2004 18:56:55 Message: Oh yes, the tension is building nicely... [Han Solo] I've got a bad feeling about this! [/Han Solo] "I have not lost my mind - it's backed up on disk somewhere..." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: PW Replied on: 23/10/2004 03:59:16 Message: I don't mind passing the jelly babies but don't expect to get a bacon & black pudd'n sarnie back -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 23/10/2004 10:56:39 Message: Bacon & black Pudding buttie? Oh now there's a good idea. Just needs a fried egg to be perfect. Damn shame it's not Hayes so I can't have it . -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 23/10/2004 11:26:26 Message: Spesh's updated bio is now up, along with the rather fab artwork he did. Look for it in the usual place. Hopefully I'll get the PPS bios up today sometime too. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 09/11/2004 14:21:03 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VII No.11 Soundtrack: Infected Mushroom - Converting Vegetarians Almost hardly daring to breathe, Charlotte leans right over Viggo, looking for any sign of life. Hesitantly, she reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair from his noble features. His eyes snap open. Startled, she jumps backwards with an involuntary yelp of surprise. For a few, long seconds there is no further sign of movement, but then the breath hitches in his throat, his chest moves, and his face twitches into fleeting expressions of confusion, like clouds scudding across the sun on a windy day. Charlotte's heart seems to be beating very loud and very hard in her chest. Her legs feel quite wobbly, as if she has just climbed Alpe D'Huez on a fixed with a Bob Yak on the back. "V... Viggo?" she says, hesitantly. "Who are you?" he asks her, frowning, noble brow creasing into lines of endearing expression. "My name is Charlotte," she replies. "I'm a member of the Intrepid Sorority. I'm here to rescue you." "The Intrepid Sorority?" He seems astonished. She takes his hand, helps him to climb out of the pod, which is now dripping meltwater onto the floor. He is very weak, and she finds herself forced to take his arm around her shoulders and let him lean against her, one hand gripping his arm and the other around his waist. "The sister organisation of the League of Gentlemen Cyclists? The band of Amazonian women with the courage of lionesses and the honour of great warriors?" Charlotte nods, blushing. "But I thought they were a myth!" Viggo exclaims. He turns to look at her and suddenly his lips are very close to hers. Quickly she turns away, lest impropriety ensue before they have been properly introduced, or, worse, before he has his strength back. "Well. One or two of us are more mythical than others," she murmurs. "Your mind seems intact enough at any rate. I was concerned that activating the emergency shut down would cause you harm." "I am glad that you did," he told her as she helped him walk unsteadily towards the door. "Part of the purpose of that hellish device is to steal a man's mind while he lies within and replace it with some puppetry of their own. For the process to work, however, the victim must be extricated by the correct means. Simply switching it off like that returns his own mind to him." "You know, that's a really crappy design," Charlotte observes, stepping sideways through the door and taking a good look round to see if anyone else is visible. "Luckily for us," she adds hurriedly. "But if I'd been designing a cryogenic tube/mind control machine hybrid I'd have designed it so that the emergency shut down left the victim brainwashed, not better." "Then, my lady, I am glad that you are here as my rescuer and not as my enemy," Viggo told her. Charlotte finds herself blushing again and concentrates furiously on working out where everyone else has gone. * * * "I know you're in there Striker!" bellows the Wolverine. The scent is strong now, activating fear responses over which he has no control, flashes of memory that leave him angry and sick with suppressed terror. The red mist is close here. The berserker rage is not far. "Striker!" Through a toughened glass window he catches a glimpse of a figure scurrying between banks of equipment in the room beyond. He recognises the way it moves and leaps for the door. It is currently sealed fast shut but a set of three adamantium razors spring forth and slash into the electronic mechanism. The Wolverine turns his head away from the sparks that fly from the damaged control panel to avoid compromising his vision for even a short time. The door rises into the ceiling on hydraulics. Now its not just his own fear that Logan can detect. "Wol... Wolverine!" gasps a shocked man, backed against some computer type thing with blinking lights and flashing readouts. "What are you doing here?" "Lookin' for you, bub," Logan growls, snapping his hands so that the razors spring free. "I know what you got inside your head. I ain't about to let the Humungous or his pet creeps put it to no good use." "I didn't mean... I can't... he's inside. I thought I was just getting the data but it was him. They offered him... oh God." "Guess mebbe I'll be puttin' you outta your misery then, right bub?" "I only wanted to build better bicycles. I didn't know his personality was encoded into the database!" Striker held out his hands, placatory, as the snarling Wolverine stalked closer. "Look. You can't kill me. I can help you. I know the design of the Humungous' new shell. I..." He suddenly howls in pain, clutching at his head, collapsing to the ground, evidently in tremendous pain. Logan takes a step forwards, something in the animalistic cry resonating deep inside him. "You remember me, don't you, Wolverine?" Striker asks him, and the glittering determination in his eyes comes from a far older man. A man who was once a church reverend who believed that mutants were all abominations, to be slaughtered like rats because they had not been made in God's image. A man who tried to subvert Charles Xavier himself, using his own abused son in an attempt to kill off all mutant kind. A man who, it had been rumoured, found salvation in the form of an artificial intelligence that believed it too had found God, but that humans were the ones who went against His will. "Oh no," Logan says, gritting his teeth against the instinctive urge to retreat into that bestial rage and finish what he thought had already been completed at Alkali Lake. "You ain't gettin' me like that. Not this time." He retracts his razors and, almost regretfully, swings at Striker, pulling his punch so as to knock him out without doing too much damage. "If you know the design of the new Humungous model, then I know a girl who's gonna be mighty interested in havin' a little talk with you. She wouldn't be too happy with me if I brought you too messed up, neither. So you just have a little nap while we go find her." He heaved the man up and onto his shoulder and set off to find the Priestess and her companions. * * * Shandy had called Legba, Guardian of the Crossorads, intercessory between the rest of the loa and the world of men. While he was doing this, Cuddy Duck had taken the opportunity to scold Brock for forgetting about his august presence, while attempting to explain to him how Voudon and Buddhism were innately incompatible — Voudon involving, as it did, the promise of the Houngan or Mambo to the jealous tutelage of the one loa, and also being fairly materialistic as religions go. "Voudon has the power to grant desires, or so it would have you believe," Cuddy explains earnestly while a huge but wiry black presence wearing a top hat and ragged cloak coalesces, apparently from the droplets of rum that Shandy had sprayed from his lips in the manner of a fire-breather. "But Buddhism teaches us that all desire is suffering." "Look, I don't really care," says Redcogs. "I don't believe in any of them." "Can you keep off the Soapbox while we're Cake Stopping, please?" hisses LamBO fiercely. Jack Shandy speaks rapidly in a strange French dialect that not even Seineseeker can make out. Legba appears in the form of a bent old man, leaning on crutches, and with a dog at his feet. He looks weak, but this wizened old Trickster is one of the most cunning and powerful of the lot, one of the original gods of Africa. He grins, and the grin is fierce, and sprinkles water all about him. Motion cameras and lasers alike fizz, crackle and pop, exploding into showers of sparks. Every Cake Stopper presses his or her head to the ground and covers it with arms, the legs of the next person along, or even a handy ferret. Legba grins mischievously and raises one thin and wiry arm, pointing with his crutch at the thick door that had slammed down over the cave entrance as soon as the first laser had fired. Slowly, creaking as if resisting all the way, this door now judders and jerks upwards back into the rock and their way is clear. Shandy bows. "Merci," he says, knowing that Legba could quite easily have refused to help without the presence of a mambo or houngan for a loa to ride. Perhaps the presence of all these well-kept bicycles pleased him in some way. "Well done, Shandy lad," Captain Jack drawls, rolling lazily to his feet. "Can you hear that?" Kathy asks, frowning. "What?" asks Microphonie. "I can't hear anything," PW says. "I can. Sounds like an alarm to me," Rjevans6 says gloomily. "Come along then, come along. Chop chop!" Captain Jack hurries the others to get to their feet. "We haven't got all day you know. There's loot to be had!" They hurry through the hole in the rock face into the complex cave network beyond. Sam ----------------------------------------------- http://ravenfamily.org "You might remember that 'annoyed' is my natural state!" http://quantumcoyote.com/chronicles "You'd think we could just attract ants, like normal people." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 09/11/2004 16:23:42 Message: Charlotte and Aeroflash, I'm still waiting for your bios. I shall get get viciously imaginative soon. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 09/11/2004 17:31:22 Message: Do it, Sam! And make Charlotte's appropriate for the forthcoming gratuitous nudity and sex scene with Viggo! There will be a gratuitous sex scene, won't there? What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: PW Replied on: 10/11/2004 03:55:47 Message: Then we have to have Mrs P doing naked bike repairs You got me right Sam - I'm deaf as a post! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: microphonie Replied on: 10/11/2004 08:35:39 Message: ooh...I got a line! Well, a word... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This is our mission: to be the daleks of god -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Striker Replied on: 10/11/2004 11:26:31 Message: Ooh! I seem to developed a split personality. Might need to create a new forum ID - EvilStriker! MWOARHAHAHAHAH...(cough, cough)...ahem, sorry, malt loaf went down the wrong way there Sam, we know my allegiance is yet to be determined, but I think you should have more forum villains in The Chronicles. You could have a recruitment fair in Cakestop for rogues and scoundrels. I'm sure many here would jump at the chance of achieving notoriety! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 10/11/2004 11:37:41 Message: Thing is, Striker, it's a question of the way politics work in Chronicles world. So we might have the occasional non-good guy in the form of, say, SafeSpeed or even Bad Company, because they're tend to be pro-motorist and particularly pro things that the rest of the forum think are completely barmy. Like the ABD's view on global warming. But we haven't had a plot complicated enough yet to start looking at internecine strife, and I'm always leery of upsetting anyone by making him a villain. Despite being on the side of the good guys, I'm not particularly nice about my character and that's about as far as I have felt able to take it so far. It's actually quite difficult to have decent character development when there are so many people to include (I've even included Richie1964, who professed not to like the Chronicles, and McBain, whom I think asked me NOT to include him ). The basic premise here is the ABD and their ilk against everyone else, with the heroes of the Cake Stop as the front line in the fight. I find it quite difficult to imagine anyone whose posts on the forum indicate them to be more on the side of the cylist as a villain as far as this premise is concerned. Still, if anyone wants to be a villain, the usual procedure applies. Just say so. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Kathy Pike Replied on: 10/11/2004 11:55:02 Message: I think we need more villanous operations. It's always the ABD at the moment. How about including Martlew? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 10/11/2004 12:00:57 Message: Of course it's always the ABD. They're like SMERSH. Or Baron Greenback. Or the Bin Laden/Bush conspiracy. They're behind everything. But that doesn't mean that they can't be the backbone behind a gtlobal terrorist network including the likes of Martlew and now the BMA . -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Kathy Pike Replied on: 10/11/2004 12:05:48 Message: Yeah, but James Bond got a bit boring after a while when it was always SPECTRE behind everything. You needed the occasional madman to enliven things a little. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 10/11/2004 12:23:20 Message: That's why James Bond movies always included gratuitous sex and nudity! Um, I seem to be getting a bit repetitious myself. Time for a Damascan conversion to the Campaign for Cleaning Up the Chronicles...? Nah. Go for the sex angle, it always sells well! What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Aeroflash Replied on: 10/11/2004 12:24:58 Message: Hmm. Still had no info from Charlotte, so I may have to get viciously creative meself. Anyone got any gen on Charlotte I should include Ta ta Matt 'Half of what he said meant something else and the other half didn't mean anything at all' -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 10/11/2004 12:32:57 Message: OK. OK. We can have the occasional madman. That's what having requests is all about, after all. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Aeroflash Replied on: 10/11/2004 13:22:16 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ravenbait OK. OK. We can have the occasional madman. That's what having requests is all about, after all. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Yes, but can we use the term 'person with mental health needs'? 'madman' is so pejorative... Matt 'Half of what he said meant something else and the other half didn't mean anything at all' -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: The Kerb Replied on: 10/11/2004 13:27:49 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Still, if anyone wants to be a villain, the usual procedure applies. Just say so. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 10/11/2004 13:29:58 Message: The Kerb is already in this Volume. I'm about two episodes ahead in my head and you're in it. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Gordon Replied on: 10/11/2004 15:29:45 Message: Hey Sam, I've been away a goodly while now and thought I'd missed out on the Chronicles . I'm happy to see that you've kept the previous ones apart from this site . I've got it bookmarked and will happily while away the hours catching up on the "cake-stoppers" over the next few days. Thanks for the entertainment. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 10/11/2004 16:33:40 Message: You're more than welcome, Gordon, and still in the cast, so if you want to contribute a bio, feel free. You can find existing bios by going to the cast list at Quantum Coyote. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 15/11/2004 12:57:57 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VII No. 12 Soundtrack: Infected Mushroom - B.P.Empire Nutty has been poring over the controls for what feels like years, but he can see no way of fathoming how to operate the pod and release Buttercup safely from her icy cocoon. Westley is standing motionless to one side, absolutely still, not wasting energy by pacing or doing any of the things Nutty thought he might be doing if he were in the same situation. "I'm sorry, Westley," he says at last, shaking his head. "It's all gibberish. I don't understand what the buttons do and the display is even more incomprehensible." "I have no idea how to work it either," Aeroflash says. "What if we rejoin Ravenbait and the others and perhaps we can find a scientist and persuade him to open it for us?" "I am not leaving her," Westley says, voice quiet and soft but indicating absolutely that he is not to be dissuaded. Aeroflash sighs, rubbing one hand through his hair, and exchanges a meaningful look with Nutty. They cannot open the pod. They do not know how to do it without causing harm to her mind. It is starting to appear like the only thing left is to leave Westley behind, and go after Ravenbait themselves, returning with a scientist to open the pod safely. Westley is more than capable of taking care of himself, but they do not like the thought of leaving him alone. There are bound to be hordes of screaming motor fanatics or science fiction freaks running around, if not now, then soon. Suddenly the door crashes open. They spin round, Westley drawing his sword in one swift movement. "Gunner Sergeant Barnes, reporting for duty!" pants Charlotte, leaning Viggo against the wall and taking a few moments to catch her breath. When she has recuperated enough to speak without having to breathe every other word, she frowns at the pod containing Buttercup. "Haven't you got that thing open yet?" she asks them, and, before they can say anything, she flips the lever for emergency shut-down. "What have you done?!" Westley's face is horrified, skin turning pale. It appears he is about to strike Charlotte, such is his shock. "Did you not read the warning?" "Yes, actually I did," Charlotte responds, miffed. "And as Viggo will tell you, what that means is that the Scientologist mind control is wiped out if you just switch the system off. It's bloody lucky that they have crappy designers." They watch as the pod cracks open, Charlotte checking to make sure that Viggo is still all right leaning against the wall and is not about to fall over. He is regaining his strength slowly but surely. Being frozen apparently takes a lot out of a man. "It will take a few minutes for her to come round," Charlotte informs them, rooting around in her pockets for the bag of sherbet UFOs. Sure enough, after a short wait, Buttercup's eyes flutter open, her face dreamy and bewildered. She looks up into the eyes of her beloved and smiles, oblivious to anything else in the room. "Westley," she says. "Hello." "Hello yourself," he says, with that hint of a smile that somehow spoke far more than any more vulgar expression, as if his usual flat demeanour was so ingrained that any hint of an expression indicated some overwhelming depth of emotion. "Your Highness," he says, for old times' sake. "Let's get you out of there, shall we? We can't hang around here all day. You'll catch your death." With far more ease than Charlotte had managed with Viggo, he takes her hands and pulls her out of the pod. She is shivering. Gallantly, Nutty offers her his jacket. "I think it's time we tracked down the others," he says. "But perhaps, Westley, you should concentrate on getting Buttercup back to The Black Pearl where it is safe. Charlotte, you could take Viggo..." "Oh no. If Viggo wants to get out of here, well that's fine, I'll catch up with him later. But you are not leaving me out of the big fight." "I believe I have certain issues of my own I would like to have the chance to resolve, " Viggo says. The sherbet UFOs are working wonders. He looks much perkier already. "Very well, gentlemen, lady," Westley nods. "I shall take Buttercup to a place of safety, but I shall return to lend you my aid." He hoists his beloved into his arms and darts off, heading unerringly for the way out. * * * Ivan had been riding on Spesh's shoulder. For some reason the traffic light goblin had taken a shine to the former member of the Corridori and had taken up the position of honorary parrot. How he was keeping his balance, as Spesh went at the teeming hordes of chavs, harpies, white van men and Stagecoach bus drivers with the Lochaber Axe and the same vigour as everyone else, he wasn't entirely sure. It wasn't until Pingu smiled brightly while ducking a swipe from a crowbar and said "Nice backpack!" that Spesh realised the goblin had moved to hang from his shoulders like a novelty bag. Oh well. It kept him out of mischief. Ravenbait is not allowing the party to get bogged down in killing everything that stands in their way. She is forging ahead, pushing the line onwards, The Irn Bru Warrior resplendent on one side and Gunner Rodgers awing the enemy with the rigidity of his upper lip on the other. They make a terrible sight. They beget terror. They fight their way out of the corridor into the main control room from where the systems that keep the base running smoothly are operated. An alarm is blaring, the interior lights flashing red. This still isn't as far into the complex as they need to go. The main research labs are further on, but the corridor to get there is now blocked by a small army of cybernetically enhanced demons, vampires, and some of the more violent products of the experiments in which SafeSpeed had been attempting to produce cybernetically and demonically enhanced people. Most of them had gone mad, and the Cake Stoppers now found themselves confronted by a teeming mass of gibbering, slavering beasts whose eyes showed the fire of pure insanity. Macleach put a small hole in the side of a tin of Irn Bru, pulled the tab and shotgunned it. Dangerous, always dangerous. The sudden calorie influx could push him over the edge, but it looks like things are bad enough that he's going to need the extra boost. He can feel the edge of hyperglycaemia, wills himself to control it, to stay on top of it, not to give in to the Teutonic Torment, the curse of his line. "I say," says Gunner. "There do appear to be a couple of rather attractive young ladies in amongst their number. Perhaps I should just go give their elbows a quick bit of the how's your father and lead them to safety, what what?" "Gunner I don't think..." Redshift begins, but the time travelling superhero is already threading his way towards the shapely figures he can see on the opposite side of the gantry, on the other side of the room. "Rodgers, no! They are not human!" Van Helsing protests. But it is too late. Gunner has put on his most charming smile. The two vampires, or succubi, or whatever they are, are beckoning with graceful hands and smiling winsomely at Gunner. But there are metallic cables running down their arms, as if they are modelling some of Anil Gupta's more extreme biomech work. There is a blue cast to their skin and their teeth glint with a silvery sheen. Their eyes glitter like jewels, hard and faceted. Van Helsing draws his weapon, a repeater crossbow with silver-tipped bolts sprinkled with holy water. He raises his eyebrows at Ravenbait. "I believe, madam, you informed me that I should stick to vampires and werewolves, my area of expertise," he says politely and pointedly. "I most certainly did," she agrees. "Have at them, then." "Madam," he touches the brim of his hat and leaps forwards, diving into a roll and coming up firing. The skirmish is fast, furious and bloody. It is their first encounter with the fruits of the SafeSpeed laboratories. Screams and howls of anguish tear through the control room, and technicians scatter, attempting to escape the carnage. The CakeStoppers ignore them. Their only interest is in forcing a breach in the phalanx of monsters blocking the corridor that leads down to the labs. However, because it leads to the labs, there is an apparently never-ending supply of reinforcements taking up the rear. They seem to have reached a stalemate. The enemy is restricted in how much damage it can do to the CakeStoppers by their position in the corridor, but the CakeStoppers cannot break through the thick plug of rending, ravaging creatures and they are beginning to tire. Macleach wipes blood from his face and pauses to take a breath. Ravenbait fells something that had once been a Chimera and looks across at him, panting. Her expression is grim. Several of the cyclists have been injured and she does not want to lose anyone. Footing is becoming treacherous and difficult with all the dead bodies and parts littering the floor. "I think we might not make it through," Macleach tells her. "That isn't going to stop us trying, though, right?" the Priestess replies fiercely. Suddenly the resistance falters. From the other end of the corridor comes howling and snarling. The front line of the enemy hesitates, and some of them turn back, aware of a new target, but cannot get past the reinforcements trying to push forward, blocking the path. Confusion ripples through their number in a wave. "Now's our chance!" cries Redshift, her blade dancing so quickly it is invisible, its work apparent only in the dismembered corpses falling before her. The CakeStoppers press forward in a valiant push for victory. Battle-blind, it takes a few moments to realise that all the creatures that had been between them and the other end of the corridor are now dead. Only one is left standing. The hairy little man's shoulders are heaving. Blood drips from his claws, is spattered across his chest like a Jackson Pollock. His clothes are ripped and torn. "Logan!" Ravenbait exclaims. The two ravens waddle between the legs of the tired cyclists, having stayed safely well out of harm's way during the fight, and start inspecting the corpses for tasty morsels. "Hey toots," he says, grinning. "Nice to see you can still throw down like ya used to. Didja miss me?" "Good heavens!" Gunner says. "Someone has made mincemeat out of those rather charming young ladies! That was dashed unchivalrous, what?!" Ravenbait takes his arm, grinning ruefully. "Come on, Gunner," she tells him. "We're not finished yet. You don't want to get involved with floosies like those anyway. You don't know where they've been." Hairyhippy interrupts. "May I suggest we get moving? There could be more on the way." "There probably are," agrees Flying Monkey. Carefully, wary of slipping on the blood and machine oil that has turned the floor into an ice rink, all the more treacherous for cleated shoes, the cyclists head onwards to face their nemesis. Sam ----------------------------------------------- http://ravenfamily.org "You might remember that 'annoyed' is my natural state!" http://quantumcoyote.com/chronicles "You'd think we could just attract ants, like normal people." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: spesh Replied on: 15/11/2004 13:36:22 Message: "Kiss my axe!" as Slaine* would say... Seeing as I now have a traffic-light goblin as a mascot/lucky charm, has anybody got any spare jelly babies for Ivan? I wonder if I'll get a clean run through all the lights next time I'm out for a ride? *A somewhat unruly axe-wielding Celtic beserker-type chappie featured in 2000AD, who had a pint-sized sidekick. Hang on a minute... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "I have not lost my mind - it's backed up on disk somewhere..." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Kathy Pike Replied on: 16/11/2004 13:28:02 Message: Second-Cousin-Ivan is happy enough to oblige, as long as you're polite. He doesn't need jelly babies, just attention. You have to say "Please Second Cousin Ivan" as you approach the lights, and "Thank you Second Cousin Ivan" as you go through them. It always works for me. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: spesh Replied on: 16/11/2004 15:47:56 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Kathy Pike Second-Cousin-Ivan is happy enough to oblige, as long as you're polite. He doesn't need jelly babies, just attention. You have to say "Please Second Cousin Ivan" as you approach the lights, and "Thank you Second Cousin Ivan" as you go through them. It always works for me. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Does one have to make the invocations out loud, or will sotto voce work just as well? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "I have not lost my mind - it's backed up on disk somewhere..." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Kathy Pike Replied on: 16/11/2004 20:30:17 Message: Oh, out loud. Preferably encouraging those travelling with you to join in as well. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: PW Replied on: 17/11/2004 02:33:33 Message: A tv remote or a good headlight (after dark) works well. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Gunner Rodgers Replied on: 17/11/2004 08:26:35 Message: RATHER!!!!!!! "You don't have to put on that red dress tonight, sell yourself for money..." Gunner Rodgers -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chronicles VII cont Printed from: Cycling Plus Topic URL: http://www.cyclingplus.co.uk/forum/topic.asp?TOPIC_ID=49712 Printed on: 09/01/2005 Topic: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Topic author: Ravenbait Subject: Chronicles VII cont Posted on: 23/12/2004 12:03:15 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VII No.13 Soundtrack: Jimi Hendrix - Radio One Kathy brushes some dust from her shoulders. It has been some time since they made their way past the laser security grid with the help of Legba. Time seemed to have slowed down, or stopped. She has the sense that many days have passed even though nothing has really happened. The other cyclists are subdued and wary. From around them they can hear the metronomic drip-drip-drip-spoink of water falling from stalactites onto the smooth, water-polished cave floor. From far ahead of them comes a steady roaring. Captain Jack Sparrow beckons them onwards. There is no sign of any guard or other security this far into the cave complex. These caves are natural, hewn out of the bedrock by a combination of the intruding sea and groundwater trickling through from aquifers many miles away. The floor is slippery and treacherous; pools of water seeping cold fingers through cleated soles. "There!" Captain Jack says at long last, pointing with one excited finger to the end of the tunnel. Beyond, the tunnel opens up into a vast cavern, and rocking gently on the slight swell carried by the incoming sea is a tattered, battered and unnaturally cobweb-ridden square-rigger, moored on a heavy chain in the middle of the cave. They hurry to the edge of the water and as they do so the ship swings sedately round to show her stern. Above the leaded windows of the Captain's cabin her name is painted in ornate lettering, now faded. "Corsair," PW reads, frowning a little as he squints to make out the heavily decorated script. "That's the prize, ladies and gents," Captain Jack tells them with a satisfied grin. "That's where all their loot be kept." "On a ramshackle old boat that looks like it was rejected as being too crappy to be a prop in The Goonies?" Microphonies scoffs dubiously. "Well, if you were lookin' for the treasure of a bunch of Scientologists, you wouldn't exactly be plannin' on findin' it on somethin' that looks like it were made for Steven Spielberg and Richard Donner, now would you?" "But how do we get across there?" Brock asked. "Swim lad!" Captain Jack said brightly, taking off his hat and hanging it carefully on a rock for safe keeping. "She's got a longboat tethered aft. Someone has to go fetch it." Kathy felt her heart flutter as Captain Jack stripped off his outer garments, grinned brightly and then dived into the water, stroking steadily through the cold water towards the old clipper. "Who else is going to go?" she asks, her considerate nature leading her to think the wily pirate would probably need some help. The water was a touch on the cool side for her to swim across herself. She did not have her wetsuit with her. "Not me," Fatbloke says quickly, shaking his head." You know what happens if I go in the water." "I have a similar problem," AndyGates confesses. "Only I'm told I look like a walrus rather than a whale." "It's the beard," Fatbloke explains to him sympathetically. "Yeah. Probably, " he replies ruefully. "But you get returned to the sea, at least. You can always hitch a ride on whatever boat Beagle is arsing about on right now. Me they try to stick in a crate and ship to South America or somewhere equally impractical." The handsome and courageous Tim Pike has already removed his shoes and dived into the water in the manner of Tarzan in his Johnny Weissmuller incarnation. With a shake of his head, as if he can't quite believe that he is contemplating this foolhardy course of action, never mind embarking upon it, Ridgerider does likewise. His entry into the sea is not quite as graceful as Mr Pike's. The rest watch as the three men make gainful progress through the water, eventually reaching the Corsair and swarming up the netting that is rigged over the side for that very purpose. "I wonder how the others are getting on," murmurs Sane Man. * * * Having been distracted from the evil vampire wenches and their gory fate by some surreptitious elbow-fondling on the part of the High Priestess, Gunner is now leading the way down into the sinister depths of the laboratory complex. Once the fighting had ended, the cyclists had retrieved their steeds from the untidy stack where they had been left, out of harm's way, and now the corridor is alive with the ticking of Campag freewheels and the occasional yelp as a fixed gear crank catches someone a smart rap on the shin. There is not enough space to cycle here. A unicyclist may have managed to thread a path, however Nutty is not there and his mono-wheeled steed is still in his living room at home. "Where are the birds?" Ravenbait asks suddenly, looking around. Thought and Memory are nowhere to be seen. "Back with the corpses, feasting upon eyeballs?" Spesh suggests with a shrug. "Given their habit of stuffing themselves until they can hardly walk, that would be my guess," Mrs Pingu agrees. "No," the Priestess says, a little distantly. "They're not here. They've gone. They're not in this sector of A-Time any more. If they were just behind us I'd be able to sense them." She stops, her black eyes staring vacantly as she sends her thoughts out along whatever strange tendrils they travel when she is seeking information. Gunner has not noticed her pause, and is forging on ahead. Van Helsing and Macleach are right beside him, and the rest of the Cake Stoppers move on past the stationary Priestess. Only Wolverine hangs back. There is the distinct sound of machinery now, the scent of oil and fractionated hydrocarbons getting stronger. They come to a set of stairs and portage down to the next level. The corridor leads off to the left and to the right, then bends through ninety degrees at either end to head straight away from them. Using a series of sharp, professional gestures to indicate his instructions, Gunner splits the pack into two and sends one half down the left side with Macleach and Spesh on point, and leads the other half down the right side with Van Helsing at his shoulder, the vampire hunter snapping some replacement rounds into his machine crossbow. They pass a series of doors that lead into the structure between the two parties, and finally reach the big double doors at the end of each corridor. Beyond these is the main laboratory. They know this because the corridors join up once again there, and there is a large observation window in the wall between the doors. There are banks of machines; benches with flasks and vials of bubbling liquid; bottles of fluorescein; and rows of pods containing half-finished mutant creations. More surgical and genetic experiments are strapped to operating tables. They can see what appear to be post-mortems being carried out, but the procedures do not seem to be entirely post mortem. The bodies are still twitching. "Pass word to the ladies to avert their gaze," Gunner says grimly to Hairyhippy. "We cannot inflict such hideousness upon their fair sensibilities." Even Van Helsing has managed to get the idea that the ladies of the Intrepid Sorority are of a sturdier nature than an Edwardian debutante, and he frowns at Hairyhippy, who just shrugs. "They are busy now, men!" Gunner continues. "We must launch our attack! Where is the Priestess?" Of Ravenbait there is no sign. "I don't know, Gunner lad," Macleach says, readying another can of the sacred Irn Bru. "Wretched hussy!" Gunner curses. "Still, no matter. We must press on. On my signal, men, charge!" He raises his arm and, as he drops it, both sets of Cake Stopper burst through the doors into the laboratory. * * * "Rupert?" Ravenbait, having traced the location of the two ravens back to the Ferryman's Hall, Valkjalf, at his seat Hildskjalf, comes back to herself to find the Hollow Man leaning against the wall. "I have a timely reminder for you," he says, and dangles a chain in front of her. On the chain is a pair of dog tags, much like the ones around Wolverine's neck. "It is Solstice, Priestess." "So soon? But I have not finished here." "There will be time enough for that. Your friends can look after themselves for a while. You have an appointment to keep, Priestess." "Since when did you carry messages for the Ferryman?" Ravenbait asks him irritably, snatching the dog tags from him and slipping the chain around her neck. "Since never," the Hollow Man says, twirling a single black feather between his long, delicate fingers. Wolverine and Ravenbait exchange a glance. "Oh," she says, shoulders slumping a little. "I'd better go then. If I'm quick I might get back here before things get too sticky." She takes form hold of Fingal's bars and they walk across the corridor, melting into the wall. On the floor where they vanish is left a small collection of black feathers, from two not so different birds. * * * "Oh no!" Aeroflash exclaims. "Ravenbait's gone." "What do you mean?" Charlotte asks him. "She's not here any more. I know where the others are, I can feel them, but Ravenbait has gone." "Your Priestess has turned coward on us?" Viggo asks them. "Hardly!" Aeroflash retorts. "Time is working differently here. The Solstice has caught up with us. She has been called away by one she can't refuse. Her real boss. We must hurry. We must catch up with the others to lend our support." * * * The Cake Stoppers charge through into the lab beyond the doors with a roar, yelling their battle cries. Immediately the staff they had seen through the doors and the window melt away into the shadows, to be replaced by a formidable force of armed and powerful genetically modified creatures of superhuman size and strength. Then comes SafeSpeed himself: his feeble, skeletal form reminiscent of the arch- nemesis of He-Man but with a bad case of calcium deficiency. Teeth stained grey by working day and night in the noxious fumes of the internal combustion engine are revealed by thin lips, quivering and glistening like an H.G.Wells creation. "Oh foolish cyclists!" he scoffs, eyes darting incessantly this way and that. "Did you really think to beat me here, in my stronghold? Did you really think that you had faced even the best part of what I have to offer? Did you really think that you could prevent me from joining forces with the Humungous? I have made him better, stronger, faster. He has more brake horse power than ever before. Soon I will be able to bring him back to throbbing life and there is nothing you can do to stop me." "Don't be so sure," Macleach says, turning his mighty Campag chainset so that the light catches on the wickedly sharp teeth, now encrusted with the rust of dried blood. "We can beat back these minions of yours. And, as for you, you are no more than a feeble stick insect we shall crush without needing to break into a sweat." "These?" SafeSpeed waves his hand at the assembled perimeter of half-chav, half- demon mutants that growl and fidget in their impatience to attack. "These are only here to stop you leaving this floor prematurely." He claps his hands and the section of the floor on which the confrontation is taking place starts rising slowly towards the roof, leaving most of the equipment below. The Cake Stopper exchange nervous glances. What is happening now? "I thought you might like to see the full scope of my work," SafeSpeed continues. A hatch in the ceiling opens and the cyclists squint and blink in the sudden bright light. The platform continues to rise until they have been raised into the outside air, where it stops and locks into place with an almighty clang. The Cake Stoppers look around. Engines rev like stock cars on the starting line. Clouds of grey smoke and dust drift in noxious tendrils through the air. Off to their right is a cliff, the rear face of the ridge in which the complex had been built. Ahead of them is a flat expanse of open plain, and arrayed upon it in tight formations is the combined army of creatures created for the ABD by the Scientologists. Gunning for them. "Dear god," whispers Redshift in genuine horror. Think Custer's Last Stand. Think of the final episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer when they enter the seal and find the teeming hordes of vampires waiting. Think three hundred enemy for every one Cake Stopper. Think impossible odds. "Give it up, you stupid fools. You cannot stand in the way of progress, " SafeSpeed told them. "You will be crushed." "We're all going to die," Closetleftie says. Staring at what confronted them, none of the other cyclists could find any justifiable reason to argue. Sam ----------------------------------------------- http://ravenfamily.org "You might remember that 'annoyed' is my natural state!" http://quantumcoyote.com/chronicles "You'd think we could just attract ants, like normal people." Replies: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Need another gear Replied on: 23/12/2004 12:07:52 Message: Sam. That's where you've been. Have you seen the pictures of Gunner You might need to redo some artwork. ------------------------------------------- Somebody should have told them that the buck stops here. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 23/12/2004 12:13:50 Message: Just a fleeting visit, I'm afraid, and no, can someone show me? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: redshift Replied on: 23/12/2004 12:38:04 Message: The thread: http://www.cyclingplus.co.uk/forum/topic.asp?TOPIC_ID=49296 The pictures: http://mysite.wanadoo-members.co.uk/cycletracks/images/0-picture.gif? http://mysite.wanadoo-members.co.uk/cycletracks/page7.html I did a head portrait sketch of redshift. If I can fit it in the scanner d'you want a copy? I haven't done a full body shot yet, work's been getting in the way. L Windcheetah 176 http://www.redshift.uklinux.net/ ...handbuilt by daleks... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Need another gear Replied on: 23/12/2004 12:41:30 Message: Redders, The sneaky git has moved the photo. Link below gets you to the evidence. Click on 1 Gunner's OCR ------------------------------------------- Somebody should have told them that the buck stops here. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: charlotte Replied on: 23/12/2004 12:53:34 Message: Hey Sam! So now we know what you've been up to The Viggo is still very good indeed I'm worried, though. The chainset on my desk right now (just delivered and destined to grace Fifi's bottom bracket) is nasty Shimano 105 tat and if there's going to be a bit of a dust-up, I'd really prefer to wait until I've got a Campag one handy... (although I expect I could improvise somthing with the spikey things that come with this nice shiny set of SKS mudguards...) ------------------------------ Page 3 girl and proud of it -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Pingu Replied on: 23/12/2004 13:09:38 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Think Custer's Last Stand. Think of the final episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer when they enter the seal and find the teeming hordes of vampires waiting. Think three hundred enemy for every one Cake Stopper. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Gulp! BTW, fluorosine = fluorescein Mrs Pingu does the Bealach na Ba "And you would be flabbergasted at the number of bicycles that are half-human almost half-man, half-partaking of humanity." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 23/12/2004 14:02:25 Message: Thanks, Pingu. Will correct. Was kind of rushed this morning. They're a bit wee, those pics of Gunner. Hard to tell, really. I'll stick with the image I have in my head, I think. Liz: yes please. I have one picture done of Redshift. It's waiting upload, at home. I'll probably get to it over the Christmas weekend. Stay tuned for the grand finale and Chronicles Christmas Special! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 23/12/2004 14:41:43 Message: For the various new people I see have arrived since my last visit, the first part of this thread can be found here: http://www.cyclingplus.co.uk/forum/topic.asp?ARCHIVE=true&TOPIC_ID=34647 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: scm Replied on: 23/12/2004 15:17:26 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The chainset on my desk right now (just delivered and destined to grace Fifi's bottom bracket) is nasty Shimano 105 tat and if there's going to be a bit of a dust-up, I'd really prefer to wait until I've got a Campag one handy... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You are a lady of impeccable taste, Charlotte. Do you want a pink bottle cage for Fifi? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: spesh Replied on: 23/12/2004 20:36:58 Message: Outnumbered 300:1? Plenty to go round, I suppose... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I don't suffer from insanity - I'm enjoying every minute... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 24/12/2004 00:42:51 Message: The final denoument looks like it'll be fun! What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: spesh Replied on: 24/12/2004 00:48:25 Message: I'd say it's definitely going to be messy! Sam's really dropped the war party in it this time. The looting party has had it easy so far. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I don't suffer from insanity - I'm enjoying every minute... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 24/12/2004 00:52:24 Message: Does that mean there'll be lots of gore and guts? Eewwwww! What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: spesh Replied on: 24/12/2004 01:19:03 Message: Yup. Lots of gratuitous violence. And even some that is central to the plot. Dunno about any gratuitous sex though. Depends if Sam wants to write a scene involving Charlotte and Aragorn/Viggo Mortenson... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I don't suffer from insanity - I'm enjoying every minute... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: charlotte Replied on: 24/12/2004 08:26:20 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by scm You are a lady of impeccable taste, Charlotte. Do you want a pink bottle cage for Fifi? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Does Santa Claus like a mince pie and a glass of Sherry? ------------------------------ Page 3 girl and proud of it -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 29/12/2004 12:35:45 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop The Christmas Special Vol VII No.14 Part 1 Soundtrack: Toccata and Fugue in D Minor - Bach Captain Jack is already on board the ancient, battered clipper ship Corsair. Ridgerider and Tim Pike are stalwartly rowing the rather dusty longboat back from the ship to the tiny quay where the others are waiting. So intent are the cyclists on watching the progress of their two chums, they do not see the swirl of water, or the strange, dark, rubbery object that breaks the surface as briefly as the Loch Ness monster on a shy day and then vanishes. The lads make it to the shore and throw a rope around the wooden post there. There is room for only four people in the boat at a time, other than the rowers. They begin to ferry the cyclists, sans velocipedes for the moment, across to the ship still swinging at anchor. They make four round trips and then stay on board while PW and AndyG take over on the oars to give them a rest. As the cyclists trickle on board in their pairs, they start exploring the various decks of the clipper. Captain Jack and Jack Shandy are already down below, in the hold, crowing over the stash of gold coinage and precious jewels. The Scientologists seem not to trust paper currency. Arellcat finds herself not that interested in the rest of the ship or the treasure. There is something about this cave that is making her uncomfortable. It is not claustrophobia, as the cave is quite large and airy, and surprisingly well lit for a cave. It is not being on the ship, for the gentle rocking is something that she would ordinarily find quite soothing, and although the ship has been rigged to look decrepit and ancient, close-up it is obvious that it is a modern replica, complete with cheesey fake cobwebs. What would a spider eat out there anyway? She cannot put her finger on what is bothering her, but hangs over the rail, watching the constantly shifting, faintly oily surface of the malachite green water in which the ship is floating. "Is anything wrong?" Kathy asks her. "I don't know. Yes, but I don't know what," Arellcat replies. "Something just doesn't feel right." "Well, the boys are starting to unload the goodies now," Kathy tells her reassuringly. "We'll be away soon." "I'm not so sure," Arellcat shakes her head, staring with continued disquiet into the opaque, unctuous water. AndyGates and Mogden had found another tender and the two ladies of the Intprepid Sorority lean elegantly against the rail watching as several strong, muscular young gentlemen manhandle the wooden dory over the side and into the water. The call goes up to organise a chain gang and the stash of gold and jewels is being offloaded in less time than it takes to pump a Pavé Veloflex to 120psi with a Topeak Joe Blow. "You know the Priestess is gone?" Kathy overhears Jack Shandy speaking quietly to Captain Jack Sparrow and hurries over. "What?" she interrupts. "I felt her departure," Shandy says. "It is the Solstice, madame. Her presence is require elsewhere." "Well then. We'll just 'ave to 'ope that the rest of 'em can manage without 'er, won't we?" Captain Jack remarks brightly. Suddenly there is a piercing scream and a thrashing of water. Everyone drops whatever they are holding and dashes to the rail. From somewhere in the tenebrous, Delphic depths a leviathan has struck: a monstrous cephalopod with eyes like satellite dishes and eight suckered arms, each as thick as the thighs on Big Mig Indurain. Two of its tentacles are wrapped around the longboat that had been returning empty from the quay for another load. Redcogs and Fatbloke, who had been rowing, are now in the water and flailing desperately for shore and the outstretched arms of the Cake Stoppers waiting there, all of whom are shouting and yelling at them to 'Swim, dammit!' "Ah," says Captain Jack with a rueful rub of his chin. "I was wonderin' when that was going to make an h'appearance." "It's hardly original, old bean," says Rigby, frowning disapprovingly. "If they ever make this into a film - I'm hoping they'll get Rupert Everrett to play me, naturally - then they'll either have to use some of that terrible CGI flim-flammery or get a man in a rubber suit to do it. And that would never do!" The longboat is rendered into so much driftwood, planks splitting and tearing apart as the tentacles squeeze the vessel into matchsticks. Fatbloke and Redcogs make it safely to shore, but the creature is already sending questing arms to reach up the sides of the Corsair and the other longboat is within its grasp. Sensibly, Delgado and Scm have already abandoned ship and are almost at the top of the cargo net rigged over the side. Mogden and Withers are helping them scramble to safety. "You were expecting this?" Gordy asks with blatant disbelief. "Mais oui!" Shandy exclaims, pulling an ornately decorated volley gun from somewhere about his person with near-reverence and handing it to his captain. "A cave, a galleon, a treasure... It all fits, n'est-çe-pas?" Captain Jack Shandy rests the volley gun against his shoulder and takes careful aim. All across the deck of the ship cyclists have grabbed whatever weapons come to hand, from rusty cutlasses to pikes and boat hooks and even deck scrubbers, and are beating at the invading tentacles. Suckers edged with razor-sharp, hooked teeth tear great splinters from the rail. The massive, bulbous head, now a vivid red with patches of pasty white, bobs and glistens like some Cthulhoid manifestation. One baleful eye stares at them greedily. Kathy holds her breath, unable to watch, as Shandy draws his sabre and hacks at a seeking tentacle to prevent it finding his captain. Some form of blackish ichor the colour of a day-old bruise spurts out from the cuts and there is an overpowering stench of ammonia. "Nice and steady, my lad," Captain Jack murmurs, and squeezes the trigger. An almighty bang reverberates around the cavern and the acrid, cordite stink of black power almost overwhelms the reek of ammonia. The creature's eye disappears in a burst of thick fluid that spatters everyone on deck with its slimy stench. Tentacles thrash wildly for a few seconds, churning water into foam and sending cyclists scattering. Then the creature, life ebbing, sinks beneath the surface, tentacles sliding out of sight, leaving only a slick of black ink behind. Not quite able to believe it could be over so quickly, the Cake Stoppers edge nervously to the rail and look over. The ink is dispersing already. " 'Ow much did we get?" asks Captain Jack, not once losing sight of his mercenary purpose. "About as much as we can carry," says Alchemy. "Excellent," says Captain Jack. "Then you carry that and me an' Shandy here will fly away with the rest." He makes flapping motions with his fingers. "How?" Kathy asks. "This is a ship, my love," he reminds her. "We just have to sail her out." "Just the two of you?" Ariadne asks dubiously. "More or less," Captain Jack grins. "Any who wants can come, of course, but I'm thinking you'll be wanting to get back to your mates, aye? I imagine they'll have found the Humungous by now. Or what's left of him." Thoughts turn to Gunner, Macleach, Flying Monkey, the Pinniped Preservation Society. Who knows what horrors they are facing? The Cake Stoppers take their leave from the Captain, swimming back to shore and glad of the opportunity to rid themselves of the stinking remnants of their invertebrate foe with its decentralized nervous system. They reunite themselves with their steeds, distributing their haul of the Scientologist loot amongst themselves, and start to thread their way through the maze of caverns and tunnels to find their comrades. To be continued... Sam ----------------------------------------------- http://ravenfamily.org "You might remember that 'annoyed' is my natural state!" http://quantumcoyote.com/chronicles "You'd think we could just attract ants, like normal people." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: charlotte Replied on: 29/12/2004 12:56:38 Message: Happy, happy, joy, joy! I've just settled down to a quick lunchtime sarnie and there's another episode to read. Excellent stuff as ever, Sam Nothing like another installment of The Chronicles as an antidote to the dreaded word association thread... ------------------------------ Page 3 girl and proud of it -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Macleach Replied on: 29/12/2004 13:16:33 Message: Better look out my brown cycling shorts I think, this is getting scary. "Get my four footer and bring it on, as I take hits from the bong" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 29/12/2004 13:23:14 Message: Oh, what? There's more? Can we take the suspense? Will the CakeStoppers survive? Is this the questions thread...? What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: spesh Replied on: 29/12/2004 13:25:54 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by charlotte Nothing like another installment of The Chronicles as an antidote to the dreaded word association thread... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Though it's going to take more than a volley gun to bring down that thread... which is now rather humungous. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I don't suffer from insanity - I'm enjoying every minute... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: jokeyjon Replied on: 29/12/2004 13:30:49 Message: [Michael Caine in Zulu] ABD Zombies, fahsands of 'em [/Michael Caine in Zulu] Hang on while I roll my sleeves up... But there's no danger, it's a professional career. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 29/12/2004 13:31:28 Message: This is the Christmas Special. If I've got it worked out right (which I might not) there should be four standard-sized (i.e. ~1500 words) episodes, each with its own sound track. If I've worked it out correctly. But it's all in my head when I should really have put it down as a story plan , so we'll just have to run with it and hope. If you're really lucky I might even manage to avoid making too many continuity errors. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 29/12/2004 14:49:53 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop The Christmas Special Vol VII No.14 Part 2 Soundtrack: Lacrimosa from Requiem in D Minor - Mozart Logan does not go all the way inside with Ravenbait. The labs give him the jitters: always have, always will. In many ways he's glad he does not have to go through this annual ritual, but then he's not the head troubleshooter and dogsbody for Raven Holdings Inc. He's just a hairy little man with a bad attitude who's the best at what he does, and what he does is messy. The Hollow Man does not go inside either. They both wait in the corridor until she is in, just long enough for them to glimpse through the door, when it opens, the tall man with the Ray Bans perched on his nose who looks a little like Charles Dance. Only his eyes are as black as Ravenbait's and he is unmistakably far, far older, even though there is nothing about him that one could pinpoint as a sign that this is so. Ravenbait, fingers wrapped round the dog tags she is now wearing around her neck as if they are some form of talisman or good luck charm, takes a deep breath and enters. The man stands to greet her, and the door closes again. The Hollow Man and Wolverine exchange looks and then Logan shrugs a little, wearily. "She's gonna be some time in there, Rupe. Buy me a drink?" "You've got some nerve," the Hollow Man says. "Who says I'm even going to wait? I have duties that require my attention." "Ah, don't give me that malarkey. I know you. You wanna know as bad as me what's goin' on in there, an' what she's gonna be like when she gets out. Still, if you wan' t'hear about it second hand, later on, once it's out, then you get back t'your boss, Rupe. I'll tell 'er you had t'go." "You still failing to get drunk on bourbon?" "What can I say? Havin' a mutant healin' factor sure makes drownin' yer sorrows an expensive exercise in futility." * * * Macleach has almost run out of Irn Bru. He barely has half of a six-pack left. Spesh is drenched from head to foot in red gore and black oil. Redshift's face has become a mask of grim intensity. The Pinniped Preservation Society are holding their own with Celtic heroism. Jokeyjon has put on his best Michael Caine impression and is shouting "Don't you throw those bloody spears at me!" This is causing Closetleftie some confusion, and he is sitting on the ground in the middle of their position, burbling away to himself. Hairyhippy has almost depleted his potato stash and has been forced to start in on the nitrous nightshade specimens: the tomatoes. These are more volatile and he doesn't like to use them in such close quarters, but the Cake Stoppers are fading fast and have no choice but to dig deep into their reserves and keep pushing. TooMuchCake's mutant cress is not spreading fast enough to be entirely useful, although it is proving successful at homing in on exhaust fumes and entangling suspension springs and carburettors. Flying Monkey has given up any illusion of being an enlightened master and has retrieved his magic staff from behind his ear, where it has been kept safely for many, many moons. Now it is as twice as long as a man is tall and he wields it with devastating speed and efficiency. NeedAnotherGear appears to have found some of Charlotte's strawberry bootlaces, and is utilising them in a variety of interesting and imaginative ways. But Van Helsing is running out of ammunition and even Gunner is becoming tired. His face is starting to show signs of turning an apoplectic puce and his mighty, manly shoulders heave and huff with every breath and every swing of his mighty thews. So many of the half-chav, half-demon mutants have now fallen victim to the intensity and ferocity of the Cake Stoppers' defence that it is becoming necessary for combatants on both sides to ascend a slope of fallen bodies and scattered limbs in order to meet their foe. The creatures, animated still by whatever dread force it is that the Scientologists have harnessed, carry on in their single-minded quest to destroy the cyclists even if they have been rendered limb from limb. At one point Spiderman and Evil Kiwi, breathless and hysterical from exhaustion, collapse against one another giggling helplessly and chortle "Come back! It's only a flesh wound!" Gunner gives each man a sound slap round the face. All of the cyclists are descending into a state of emotional shock that only he can resist, for such is the peculiarity of his time-travel addled brain that it is immune to the horror of war. They have been fighting for hours and it is now the middle of the night. The battlefield has become a circus showground of spot lights, searingly bright headlamps, clouds of dust and smoke like special effects, and the ever-present, head-hurting, ear-cringing buzz-saw screeches and throbbing growls of the chav-mobiles and the other vehicles. The cyclists huddle together, taking it in turns to sit in the middle of the pack and rest or to go to the perimeter and hold off the sniping attacks and direct assaults launched upon them by the assembled forces of SafeSpeed. Some of them are even starting to take injuries now. Gordon has pulled a muscle in his shoulder avoiding a rather nasty blow from a WVM-werewolf hybrid with a chainsaw. Kitzy has been pulled away from the perimeter by a concerned Gunner and instructed to stay in the middle where it is safe after a full can of Carlsberg hit her on the head leaving a slight bruise. She huddles up against Shane, who is also taking a breather, feeling the cold starting to seep into her bones. "There are too many of them," she says in a small voice, staring sorrowfully at the backs of the cyclist currently manning the perimeter. Calves bulge like pigs in sacks, and their grunts and curses and occasional yelps of pain seem terribly loud, as if they are being reflected back towards the centre of the huddle by the wall of sound created by the legions of SafeSpeed. The ground has become damp, slick, and she feels it with her fingers, confused, for it had been bone dry when they set foot outside and there had been no rain. And then she realises that the ground is damp from the sweat falling from the bodies of the cyclists, working themselves into a lather to keep the SafeSpeed legions at bay. "We're going to die," she says, the magnitude of what they are facing suddenly striking home. This is no pleasing ride through the downs and dales of A-Time, or an exciting Critical Mass with the London Massive. This isn't a Festive Ride or a Birmingham Tunnels tour. This is the last, most fierce attempt by the ABD goons to wipe out the opposition forever. The Left Handed God was nothing compared to this. "Hush now. Don't talk like that," Bomber Castle reprimands her gently, giving her a reassuring hug. "We'll get through this, you see if we don't. Then it will be lashings of ginger beer all round." "But last time we had Ravenbait and she called Kali who stomped the Humungous into the ground. But she's gone. She abandoned us." Kitzy starts to cry. "Don't say that," Macleach growls fiercely over his shoulder. "Don't ever say that." He lops the head off a creature that appears to be a Vicky Butler Henderson clone hybridised with a harpy. It collapses into a quivering, flailing heap, mewling and pitifully crying the name of Tom Selleck. "Anyway. She's only one more body. There are thousands of them out there." But he exchanges a look with Gunner and Spesh, seeing the fatigue in their eyes, shocks of white against the dark gore slathered across their faces. They cannot hold out much longer. And where, where indeed, is the High Priestess? He takes out two of the remaining three cans of Irn Bru and shotguns them both. * * * The door opens. Wolverine and the Hollow Man are waiting. Neither of them is inebriated. Logan cannot get drunk, because his healing factor prevents it, and the Hollow Man prefers watching other people drink to participating himself. Ravenbait comes out. The dog tags are still around her neck. She has not taken them off. This is unusual, but she does not see fit to mention it. There is something colder, harder, more steely about her, but again, just like the true age of the Charles Dance look-a-like they had seen earlier, neither man could have expressed what it was about her that was specifically different. Charles Dance look-a-like comes out of the room just behind her, wiping his hands on a paper towel in the manner of a doctor who has just washed his hands after examining a patient. "You can have her back now, boys," Raven says. "All done. Might take a few days to settle, but you both know the score by now. We'll have to have her back shortly to update the model code, but it's not terribly urgent and I get a strong sense that there are other things you'd all rather be doing." He smiles paternally and, for an instant, he seems to be the size of a giant, a grown-up looking down on three small children. "Run along and play now." He goes back inside and closes the door. To be continued... Sam ----------------------------------------------- http://ravenfamily.org "You might remember that 'annoyed' is my natural state!" http://quantumcoyote.com/chronicles "You'd think we could just attract ants, like normal people." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 29/12/2004 16:07:53 Message: Incidentally, if you're quick, there are two more installments left of the Christmas Special for you to get your grubby, sticky paws into. The window isn't shut on making suggestions. Once this is done I will be returning to the biographies, so if I'm expecting one from you and haven't had it, watch out! You could be in trouble. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: jokeyjon Replied on: 29/12/2004 16:31:21 Message: On first glance I missed the "with" in the first sentence and practically spat my tea over the keyboard But there's no danger, it's a professional career. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 29/12/2004 18:18:54 Message: You're disgusting ! I mean, what would be the point? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 29/12/2004 19:05:39 Message: [Pedant]It's 'Ray Bans', Sam![/pedant]. Another triumph! What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 29/12/2004 19:13:35 Message: And can we arrange a sticky end for Nice Tame Cat - just for fun?! What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 29/12/2004 19:16:28 Message: Fixed. Happy now? Oh, I think we ought to find somewhere for NTC. I was thinking about that on the way home and realised she would have fitted nicely into Part 2, but too late for that now. I'll think of something. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: spesh Replied on: 29/12/2004 21:10:04 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ravenbait Incidentally, if you're quick, there are two more installments left of the Christmas Special for you to get your grubby, sticky paws into. The window isn't shut on making suggestions. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It sounds like the beleaguered war party need a cunning plan! How's about someone slips through the enemy ranks, hijacks a vehicle, and fools the ABD zombies into a bout of fratricidal self-destruction? Any volunteers? BTW, what's happened to Ivan, the traffic-light goblin? His chameleon abilities could have come in handy... Alternatively, it turns out that a bidon of energy drink has been switched for one containing something more potent*. * One clue - Carpe Jugulum -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I don't suffer from insanity - I'm enjoying every minute... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: PW Replied on: 30/12/2004 02:52:43 Message: A 9 1/2 ton, 10litre turbo bus can do a lot of damage in the hands of a berserk cyclist.... and I haven't used the spanner yet, and I really hate cats - especially after reading Soapbox (puke) last night! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: microphonie Replied on: 30/12/2004 15:24:44 Message: Great stuff Sam - I've had no internet (ie been off work) for 2 weeks and that's compensated for me being back at work today ------------------------ Talk to the hands, talk to the hands In me Joy Division oven gloves Dance, dance, dance, dance In me Joy Division oven gloves -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 30/12/2004 16:01:22 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop The Christmas Special Vol VII No.14 Part 3 Soundtrack: Also Sprach Zarathustra - Richard Strauss O Fortuna! - Carl Orff The last bastion on the perimeter is starting to flag and falter, and the cyclists already too exhausted or too injured to carry on fighting are huddled together in a knot of despair behind them. Gunner is mumbling incoherently and swinging almost blindly at anything that comes within three feet. Even his fellow Leaguers are avoiding getting too close. Spesh has the wooden, stilted motion of a George A Romero zombie, but is still packing something of a punch with that mighty Lochaber Axe. Redshift, too, is still standing, but she has lost some of her speed and looks fit to drop. The only thing in their favour is that the force animating the zombies seems to be faltering, for they are not attacking with quite so much ferocity. Macleach is down to his last can of Irn Bru, and has now sunk so far into calorie deficit from the exertion that he is not sure that it will do the trick. He pauses, the familiar orange and blue can sitting in his hand, seeming so tiny, wishing he had some of the proper stuff, the stuff that comes in glass bottles that can be returned for a shiny twenty pence. One little can isn't going to give him the boost he needs. He is so far down into his reserves that he feels he could probably eat a whole box of jam doughnuts without risking a visit from the Teutonic Couch Potato that is Captain Heineken-Quaffer Fatarse. A hand touches his elbow with unerring familiarity. He looks up, sees black, bottomless eyes reflecting the first haze of lemon-washed blue from the coming sunrise. "Well," murmurs the Priestess with a strange smile playing about her pale lips. "There's always a bright side." "Rhododaktulos eos!" the Hollow Man declares with an unmistakeable air of satisfaction. "What?" Gunner demands, confused and nonplussed. "Rosy fingered dawn, my man," Van Helsing translates. "It is a Homeric reference. Perhaps this is how one can tell the good demons from the bad. The good ones are well educated." "The Hollow Man isn't a demon, you silly man!" Ravenbait laughs, ripping the head from the neck of a passing Medusa/pit-tottie hybrid with apparently no effort. "He's my cousin!" "What?!" There is a chorus of astonished cries from the Cake Stoppers and everyone stops dead. Ravenbait just grins. "Keep 'em off for a couple more minutes Wolvie!" she calls to the hairy little man, who is getting stuck in with some relish. "You betcha toots," he replies in between snarls. Suddenly the Cake Stoppers realise that they have been given reinforcements in the shape of five feet and three inches of living Magimix, at least a couple of inches more than six feet worth of... well, best not go there really, and an entire five feet and seven inches of vicious psychoses trapped in the body of a grammar pedant. Their spirits lift. The sun's golden glow breaks over the horizon: a fat, simmering orb of molten bronze that ripples and shimmers, promising heat for the day ahead. The cyclists realise that the battlefield is suddenly quiet. They had been so inured to the noise of the SafeSpeed vehicles, had forced themselves to focus purely on the limited few feet around them, that they had not noticed it stop. Yet now there is silence, save for the odd, piercing cries of the mutant creatures lying broken and torn on the field of battle. There is not one creature left that has not taken severe injury. There are no mortal casualties here, for they are all already dead, but neither are there any walking wounded. There are dismembered parts scrabbling through the blood and muck with slimy tendrils of veins and torn tendons dragging behind them in the dirt and leaving snail-trails of coagulating fluids. There are decapitated torsos twitching and heaving, with no sensory apparatus or means of propulsion. There are severed heads, jaws gaping and working, teeth snapping, eyes rolling wildly. The battlefield is littered with remnants. Pieces of Chav; pieces of Stagecoach driver. Fragments of toxic old grannies still clinging to their handbags and their Skoda keys. Pieces of Skoda. But not one intact creature, of the thousands that had started, remains. Dawn's rosy fingers are indeed encroaching, and, as they stretch across the churned and scorched plain, they trace delicately across the twitching remains of the fallen, which turn into dust at their touch. Exhausted cyclists stare, panting and huffing. Those who had been sat on the ground, huddled together for warmth, now stand; partially to watch the astonishing spectacle before them, partially to expose more of themselves to the rising sun and soak up its warmth. "Did we win?" Closetleftie asks, bewildered. "No," Ravenbait tells him softly. "Not yet." "What do you mean 'not yet'? Jokeyjon asks frantically. "Not yet? What do you mean 'not yet'? They're turning to dust, look!" "The young lad is quite correct in that, madam," Van Helsing says, adjusting his hat. "Once the nightbreed have been touched by the sun's rays they cannot reconstitute unless they are a vampire lord, a sire. These are not such. They are monstrous creations of a depraved science." "Ah, you dumbasses," Wolverine shakes his head. "It wasn't dark when ya started fightin' 'em, was it? Ya think this is all SafeSpeed has to work with?" He grabs Striker and drags him over. "Tell the nice people what you know before I stick some adamantium upside yer head." "H... he... he... he has more of those," Striker stammers, staring in abject terror at the glinting, razor-sharp claws that are not more than three inches from slicing into his face. "He makes them in two styles. One uses vampire components for their superhuman strength but those can only come out at night. They crumble in the sun. The other sort uses some sort of radioactive mutant component from these... these hideously deformed creatures of superhuman size and strength he found somewhere. They need the sun. They weaken and can't function if there is insufficient sunlight." "Well I'll be buggered," says NAG, shaking his head. "The ABD using renewable power. Who'da thunk it?" There is a loud clang and a hangar door in the cliff opens. An engine revs, and a battle-equipped Humvee comes careening across the plain. Weary or not, the cyclists ready themselves to make war. But the monstrous SUV slews to a halt some hundred yards from them and the top swings back. SafeSpeed is at the wheel, but he is not alone. "Who're the goons, bozo?" Logan asks Striker, making sure he gets a good look at the adamantium blades. "They're his lackeys," Striker says, still trembling. "They're his personal guard and top hit squad. The one on the left is 'The Kerb' and he's a right bruiser. The one on the right is 'Captain Gatso' and he wants to take over the firm one day. The other one... Look, some of the stuff that SafeSpeed has been doing he got from the research journals of a certain Dr Moreau, if you get my drift. That one's not all human. She's... he used a bit too much feline DNA. She'll rub up against you, all purring and affectionate, and next thing you know she's shredding your skin and rubbing Castrol GTX into it. She's not right in the head and you'd do well to stay away from her, especially if she tries to get you into bed." "Mmmm. Kinky, eh?" Ravenbait says. "Where's Conan the Librarian? He knows exactly what to do with kinky young women like that. I hear he managed to tame Angeline Jolie." SafeSpeed gets a loudhailer from under the dash somewhere and calls across to the cyclists. Behind him, his daylight troops are already beginning to deploy from the hangar in the cliff. "Now that I've got light to see by, I thought I'd watch your final defeat!" His face registers surprise and then smug glee. "Aha! I see you have been rejoined by that Priestess of yours. Well I'm afraid that she won't be enough to save you." Spesh notices that the Priestess has managed to get hold of Ivan, the goblin, who had been hiding in its own inimitable fashion. She is staring deep into its eyes and it seems to be completely mesmerised. She is ignoring SafeSpeed and his goons entirely, but they are not returning the favour. "This is simply perfect," SafeSpeed crows. "Not only will I have defeated the League of Gentlemen Cyclists, which has been a goal outside the grasp of the Humungous for so long, but I will be able to present him with the head of the Triple Goddess' Priestess on a plate!" "He's talking about you." Spesh nudges Ravenbait. She looks round, apparently distracted. "Hmmm? Sorry? Oh! Well, never mind him, dear. He's well known for talking utter rubbish and not retracting any of it, even when proved to be wrong. Which we shall do again this time." Ivan has somehow gone. Spesh looks around but there is no sign of the little fellow. The noise of engines gunning is getting loud again, and the cyclists, morale improved somewhat by the arrival of their three strange friends and the warmth of the sun, but still bone-weary and sore, grab their weapons and move into their battle positions. "Oh," says Ravenbait to Macleach, apparently as an afterthought. "I stopped by the sweet shop and brought you a present." She proffers him a paper bag. Puzzled, the mighty warrior unwraps it delicately with his huge, brawny hands. Inside the bag is a minor miracle. Irn Bru chews. "Don't eat them all at once, darling," she tells him with a sly smile. "Your German friend has a tendency to make a grab for my bum at the most inopportune times, and Logan might get the wrong idea. And shove this six-pack in your jersey pocket, why don't you?" She fishes another bag from somewhere about her person. "Jelly babies all round, folks. You'll be absolutely amazed at how far you can go on a few jelly babies and a dash of sunlight. Now don't give up hope. It's not as bad as it looks." They stare at the encroaching, thundering horde. "This reminds me of the battle of Masada," says Van Helsing with a cheerful grin. Then he frowns. "Only I seem to recall I was on the side of the Romans that time..." "Well ya would've had to've been," Wolverine tells him. "Given that they were all executed by their own guys, except for the last one standin', who killed himself." "Why I do believe you have just proved my point about educated demons!" Van Helsing declares, only to be thrown to the ground by Logan as a razor-edged hubcap whistles through the space where his head had been moments earlier. "Watch yer back," the hairy little man tells him. "It's started." And with the stench of diesel and the cloying fog of PM10s already thickening in the air, the day shift takes up the fight. To Be Continued... Sam ----------------------------------------------- http://ravenfamily.org "You might remember that 'annoyed' is my natural state!" http://quantumcoyote.com/chronicles "You'd think we could just attract ants, like normal people." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: spesh Replied on: 30/12/2004 20:31:50 Message: "Round two, seconds out!" quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- the day shift takes up the fight. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I've done triple-shift all-nighters and then a full day at work before, but this is something else... [Henry V] "Once more into the breach..." [/Henry V] -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I don't suffer from insanity - I'm enjoying every minute... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 30/12/2004 20:59:49 Message: Ho yus, NTC's about to get her come-uppance - as well as SafeSpeed and his minions! But... Sam, I have to go to Australia tomorrow. Is the final episode likely to be published by 5pm, when I have to leave home??? Or will I have to wait and dig it out from the depths of the archives when I return? What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 30/12/2004 21:21:52 Message: Just for you Tim, I'll try to have it done by 4pm tomorrow. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Arellcat Replied on: 30/12/2004 23:52:42 Message: Thanks for the bit part Sam, it's quite exciting to have a paragraph or two! Could you update my profile on the Cast of Characters page? My Stumpjumper, as Charlotte can confirm, is now painted in a very unofficial colour of baby blue. -- Becky Windcheetah 202 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 31/12/2004 16:50:21 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop The Christmas Special Vol VII No.14 Part 4 Soundtrack: Dance - Carl Orff (Carmina Burana) Dies Irae - Giuseppe Verdi (from Messa da Requiem) The 1812 Overture (conclusion) - Tchaikovsky Hurrying with an indescribable sense of urgency that had descended upon them without warning, the treasure-hunting party do not even notice that the security systems are down, or that the narrator errantly neglected to mention that the giant frikkin' octopus had a giant frikkin' laser beam on its giant frikkin head. Gold doubloons and random sparkles of precious gems escape from over-stuffed pockets and inadequately fastened panniers, but they pay no heed. The sense of urgency does not care that they have not the faintest idea of where they are going, does not care that they are dropping Pinarello Dogma with 2004 Carbon Record gruppo quantities of valuables at nearly every step. Knit together in a tight pack, they whizz through a door, driven onwards, and find themselves back in the hangar where they had met the gnus. From here they can at least retrace their steps to where they had split from the others. They make for the door they know leads past the gnu pen, and such is their rush they do not see the approaching party until it is too late. AndyGates crashes into Charlotte and both end up in a heap on the floor, which, it has to be said, suits Munky perfectly. There is a flurry of greetings exchanged and then everyone is talking nine to the dozen. While the treasure party had been driven there from one side, Aeroflash, Nutty and Charlotte had been driven there from the very place the treasure party had been aiming towards. There is some discussion. The sense of urgency grows stronger. The discussion becomes somewhat heated. Just when it appears that these most honourable gentlepersons are about to descend to the level of fisticuffs, Marquis of Queensberry notwithstanding, there is a loud squawking and a pair of ravens materialises in a tumble of black feathers that miraculously, as always, resolves into a graceful landing at the very last instant. "Wotcher," says Thought. "Nice seeing you again," says Memory. "We've come to act as, well, guides, sorta," says Thought. This, of course, actually renders as: "BRRRAAAAK." "Honk." "BRAAAK! Squeak honk chirble." Fortunately AndyGates seems to be able to get a rough gist of what they are saying, and so, perplexed, the re-united Cakestoppers allow Oðin's messengers to lead them back outside. * * * The Irn Bru warrior is back in full flow, wreaking havoc and devastation on the enemy with the mighty Campag Record chainset that rips and rends its victims. The cyclists have found that a few jelly babies and a dose of sunlight can indeed work marvels, an epiphany encountered by many a Dun Runner over the years. But there are again thousands of them. Thousands and thousands. And there are too few CakeStoppers, even fewer now with Gordon still out of action and several others since injured. "Chin up," says Ravenbait brightly, with a murderous gleam in her eyes. Spesh catches her exchanging a meaningful look with the Hollow Man, and realises they have something planned. The Hollow Man catches Spesh looking and winks, drawing the brim of his hat down to swathe his face in shadow. "Here they come!" growls Wolverine. Adamantium razors spring from their sheaths with that metallic >snikt< with which they have all become all too familiar. Then the legions of SafeSpeed are upon them. The mutant army keeps trying to scatter them, to split up the bunch and get each cyclist on his own, where he will be an easy target for crushing, but the cyclists hold fast, splitting only enough to let charging vehicles through and then reforming as soon as the immediate danger is past. Wolverine and the Priestess are in the thick of it, the adamantium razors proving a fearsome weapon against even the most heavily armoured chav-mobile or pick-up, doing more damage even than Spesh's Lochaber Axe, but the Hollow Man remains apart, apparently oblivious. His only action is to step smartly out of the way of any vehicle that comes close enough to hit him. As the cyclists fight with burning muscles, the lactic acid searing in their limbs, hearts pumping fit to burst, the Hollow Man's lack of involvement is somewhat irksome. "Madam!" Van Helsing cries, hacking at a passing thing with a heavy sabre. "Your friend... cousin... whatever! Can you not bid him assist?" The Priestess says nothing, but there is a smile upon her face, the look of which no one likes. They are being overrun. There are many injured now, and they hold together in a bunch so that they can help each other out of the path of charging vehicles while those still standing protect them from the enemy combatants who are on foot. Fatigue has made them slower, more injury prone. Dehydration and lack of food are making them weak and sapping their endurance. There is a sudden cry. Rigby has gone down and a small group of the wounded has been taken prisoner. Roaring, Gunner leaps to their rescue, only to be swooped upon by a harpy with skin the colour of a runner bean and hair like Whoopi Goldberg's. She snatches him into the air and drops him to the ground from a height of almost twenty feet. He lands with a thwump, winded, and another of the SafeSpeed legions rushes in to take him prisoner. Spesh is about to run over and attempt another rescue when something strange happens. Ravenbait, Wolverine and the Hollow Man exchange another glance, and then, abruptly, Ravenbait throws the fight and so does Wolverine. They were not unsubtle, but it was obvious enough for Spesh to notice. Without the destructive power of Wolverine's claws, the fight is quickly over. Only the Hollow Man, who had remained barefacedly and unashamedly uninvolved, and until recently could have been counted as being on the side of the ABD, remains free. The cyclists, all now pinned by various mutant creatures of superhuman size and strength, glower at the Hierophant's right hand man. They never could understand why Ravenbait seemed so taken with him. Spesh stares with near-hatred at the Priestess, feeling utterly betrayed. His axe is being pawed by some disgusting, slimy excuse for a demonic legion. She and her Marvel reject barbarian midget friend had thrown the fight. He cannot believe that she, that any cyclist, would do such a thing. Give in to SafeSpeed. Give up. Throw the fight against the domineering petrolhead brigade. How could she? Sure of their capture, sure that they are not in a position to hurt him, SafeSpeed climbs out of his Humvee, flanked by his goons. NiceTameCat bounces over, purring. "Pretty pretty," she mewls, stroking Gunner's manly face. Gunner remains steadfast, unbowed, even in defeat. "Such pretty eyes. You know we are right. You know you cannot win." "Just kill us," Macleach spits. "Get it over with." "Oh no," Captain Gatso tells him with a feral grin. "We want you to live. We want you to be around to see our victory, to witness the glorious arrival of Carmageddon. No more speed cameras..." "Compulsory licencing and registration for cyclists!" the Kerb continues. "Segregated cycle lanes! We'll get you all shunted off our roads now. And if you refuse, if you carry on with your puny attempts to convince the world that roads are shared public space? We'll just run you over. It'll be your fault. You shouldn't have been there. They're our roads. We pay for them." "We're COASTing to victory now," says the kitty, bouncing back to SafeSpeed and draping herself around him in a sultry fashion. She licks his ear lasciviously. "Maybe we can tame you." She bounces back and crouches next to Ravenbait, who is also being held fast by one of the legions. "Maybe I can take you home and you can teach my little kitties how to ride. Nice and slowly, of course, using advanced driving principles, so they do not hurt any of the pedestrians who will be wandering around on your little paths, or their dogs. Hurting animals is very bad. If a cyclist were to hit someone's dog while riding on the little path, we should have to stone him. Throw rocks at him." The Priestess says nothing. The other cyclists cannot understand it. Why is she not arguing? Why is she not defending them? Can she really have abandoned her loyalty to the principle of right to ride? "At last," says SafeSpeed, his face alight with gleeful joy. "Now for the final tweak that will have this running perfectly." He takes a small device from his pocket and presses a button. A hatch opens on the back of the Humvee, slowly. There is a hiss, a whine; that sound that the Cake Stoppers believed they had heard for the last time. Maggot-coloured flesh wobbling, the grey pallor of his skin more pronounced than ever, the machinery supporting his weight and providing him with a mechanical semblance of life even more complex than it had been before, the Humungous rises from the Humvee like a blimp advertising the joys of a hydrocarbon and MacDonald's super-size lifestyle. "Ahhhh. Priesstesssss." His breath whispers mechanically even while he is speaking, and they realise that the machines performing his breathing for him do not need to stop for him to speak. He can listen to the sound of his own voice without ever having to stop to draw breath. "So we meet again at lassssst. You could never defeat me. You never will. The roadsssss belong to usssss now. There isss nothing you can do." And suddenly there is a wry smile on the face of the Priestess and she does not look defeated. Far from it. She raises her gaze and proffers that smile directly to the Humungous. "Now, Rupert," she says. The Hollow Man explodes, crows scattering, many arrowing directly up into the sky. From above them, on the top of the cliff, and down onto the lower parts of the ridge, comes the sound of ringing bells and ticking freewheels, so loud it seems to go on forever. The air shimmers, A-Time itself rippling. At the front of the pack, leading a critical mass of all those most lately come to the Cake Stop, is that pixie-eared hero berserker himself: Chuffy. Beside him is the lovely Bagonabike, and just behind them are Charlotte, Aeroflash, Nutty, Kathy, Tim, and all the rest. Now it is the turn of the legions of SafeSpeed to stare. They do not have long. After a bare second's pause, the Critical Mass descends, and the mighty sword Caledfwlch starts quenching its thirst for smiting. Thrown off guard, the creatures holding the Cake Stoppers prisoner are quickly overcome. Wolverine's claws are out in an instant. Spesh retrieves his axe, Redshift her sword. Ravenbait stands for a moment, looking up. Her feathered companions come swiftly, tumbling from the sky, and drop an object into her waiting grasp. Tank hat in place, brand new Tek Red Rudy Projects slotted over her black eyes, and a somewhat incongrous cigar clamped between her teeth, she grins with satisfaction. "I love the smell of WD40 in the morning." The mass of CPlussers descends upon the field with an almighty roar. Most of the SafeSpeed legions had risked getting out of their vehicles to share their leader's moment of gloating, and their lumbering carcasses, while superhuman in size and strength, have all the mobility of Captain Heineken-Quaffer Fatarse after a night of binge-drinking. Faced with the highly manoeuvrable, committed might of the entirety of the League of Gentlemen Cyclists and the Intrepid Sorority and the pointed fury of a thousand cyclists who, each day, are abused, ignored, cut up, insulted or assaulted by victims of car rage, SafeSpeed's legions balk. Morale shattered in an instant by the sudden reversal of fortune, they flee. Leaving SafeSpeed, the Kerb, Captain Gatso, the Kittykat and the Humungous himself in the middle of the Critical Mass. With a nod and a grin to Gunner, Mcleach and the others, Chuffy leads the pack of Starting and Junior Members after the fleeing horde, sword swinging high above his head and The Cardinal prancing like a thoroughbred charger. "Was Chuffy wearing red plastic pants?" Kathy asks no one in particular, staring after the retreating pixie. "You know, I think he might have been," says TimC. Gunner, Macleach and Spesh tower menacingly over the SafeSpeed goons. "I ride bicycles too," mewls the kitty plaintively. "Maybe one day you will understand," Ravenbait tells them. "One day, when the oil runs out and petrol becomes so expensive only the very rich can afford it, perhaps then you will begin to get some idea. One day, when there are so many cars on the road even motorists will welcome congestion charging because without it they won't be able to move; one day, when the only roads clear enough for you to drive at more than 30mph are run by private companies who will make you pay through the nose to use them; one day, when two kids in three are as obese as the fattest American and have type II diabetes by the time they are six; then, perhaps, you might begin to get a clue." "What do we do with them now?" Brock asks. "Spesh?" Ravenbait smiles. "Customise the Humvee." "At your service, ma'am, and I won't even charge." Spesh grins. The Lochaber Axe slices through the door pillar almost as easily as Wolverine's adamantium claws would. A back-jab from the handle cracks the windscreen and a swift blow with the back of the axe crumples the shatterproof glass inwards. The bonnet is next, and is ripped away from the engine like the lid on a tin can. Spesh starts on the engine inside. The Humungous, quivering with rage, cannot take it. With a furious cry he activates the hover jets on his macabre contraption and dives at the cyclists. A high pitched squeal grabs everyone's attention. He has Kathy! "Let her go," Ravenbait tells him coolly. "Really. Now would be best." "I think not, Priesssstesssss. I think not! You will all ssssurrender to me! Now! Or your precioussss Mrssss Pike diesssss!" "If you harm one hair on her head," blusters the handsome Mr Pike, distraught. "I will... I will... I will do some perfectly rotten, unspeakable things to you for a jolly long time!" Unseen, the flap on the bag slung around Kathy's shoulders has been prised open. A small, furry, whiskery face with a waffley nose and decidedly determined expression wriggles out of the bag and clambers up and onto the Humungous. He does not feel the ferret's claws digging in for purchase for he has little sensation left of any kind that is not fed to him through the artificial sensory systems designed to integrate with the Humungous Wagon. The brave little mustelid clambers up and around the Humungous's back until he reaches the central control cluster attached to the bloated warthog's spine, just between the shoulderblades. Kathy sees him at the last instant. "Rosencrantz! No!" But the ferret has already sunk sharp teeth into the mass of electronic hardware. There is a spark, a sudden blue shock and the smell of burning fur. Kathy screams in horror as the Humungous loses all control and drops her, but her distress is not caused by the prospect of falling: it is the fate of her beloved Rosencrantz. The Humungous is juddering, involuntary convulsions causing his flesh to ripple in harmonic vibrations, the epicentre right in the middle of his back. His eyes are glowing red, like wire wool connected to a battery. Saliva froths at his mouth and flecks of spittle are flung from his lips as they spasm. "Nooooo!" howls SafeSpeed in frustrated desperation. The Humungous gives a last, final, epic paroxysm and then drops to the ground, making it shake. A thick, impenetrable cloud of dust rises, obscuring the view. When it dissipates, SafeSpeed and his goons have disappeared, and what was left of the Humungous with them. But Rosencrantz is dead, and Guildenstern bewildered, Kathy inconsolable. They have won. The fight is over. But at what cost? "Come on," Ravenbait says, squeezing Kathy's shoulder as the plucky young woman kneels on the ground cradling Rosencrantz to her chest. "It's over. Let's go home." Weary, dirty, battle-scarred, and grief-stricken, the League of Gentlemen Cyclists and the Intrepid Sorority pick up their steeds and head for home. Sam ----------------------------------------------- http://ravenfamily.org "You might remember that 'annoyed' is my natural state!" http://quantumcoyote.com/chronicles "You'd think we could just attract ants, like normal people." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: redshift Replied on: 31/12/2004 17:16:38 Message: Mazel tov Sam! er... do we keep the kitty as a pet, then? L Windcheetah 176 http://www.redshift.uklinux.net/ ...handbuilt by daleks... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: scm Replied on: 31/12/2004 17:31:07 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The 1812 Overture (conclusion) - Beethoven -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Beethoven? Am I missing something here? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: newbie Replied on: 31/12/2004 17:33:46 Message: Cool, a festive feast of a fable. Something tells me that we have not heard the last of this though. if anyone wants me I'll be in the crockery cupboard back at cakestop -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 31/12/2004 17:36:13 Message: Erm. Last minute change of soundtrack and changed the track but not the composer. Fixed now. Redders: Did you want to keep her? Easily arranged. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: spesh Replied on: 31/12/2004 17:37:01 Message: Excellent! What a way to round off the year! Though something tells me that swinging times may still lie ahead, if you know what I mean. After all, I'll need one repeat customer... [T-800 Terminator] "I need a vacation" [/T-800 Terminator] -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I don't suffer from insanity - I'm enjoying every minute... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: redshift Replied on: 31/12/2004 17:43:59 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ravenbait Redders: Did you want to keep her? Easily arranged. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Oh no, Sam. That's not really what I meant at all. I have two cats already, and Alice is ill. I don't think I can take on another one. I just wondered whether the Cake Stop denizens might be adopting her? suitably spayed, of course. L Windcheetah 176 http://www.redshift.uklinux.net/ ...handbuilt by daleks... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: scm Replied on: 31/12/2004 17:45:55 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Last minute change of soundtrack and changed the track but not the composer. Fixed now. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'd have thought the last movement of Beethoven's 9th would have been better. However, you've put in all the effort, so it's obviously your call. Well done, Sam! BTW, you didn't mention who took the cat-skin rug home. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: alchemy Replied on: 01/01/2005 02:36:25 Message: Brilliant stuff Sam - a huge effort. Can't wait for the next one .......but feel free to have a little break first if you want , or are those creative juices fit to burst already. I hate Brussel Sprouts -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: PW Replied on: 01/01/2005 02:36:50 Message: Yeah, pity about the cat, it needs treading on. Well done Sam. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Need another gear Replied on: 01/01/2005 03:55:46 Message: Err, where can I get myself one of those Vicky Butler Henderson clones I could get very imaginative with the strawberry bootlaces then ----------------------------------------- I will begin again, I will begin again. Oh and maybe the time is right, Oh maybe tonight. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 04/01/2005 13:01:44 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VII Epilogue Soundtrack: Rhythm and Blues - The Yardbirds It has been many months now since the Cake Stoppers first embarked on the treacherous journey to the lair of SafeSpeed, the Scientologists and the ABD. The seasons have turned since that lazy summer afternoon at West Kennet Longbarrow when Mrs Colin had Hamish Nac Mac Feegle demonstrate just one of the many uses the Stone Sheep Clan of Fyfield Down has for a roadkill bunny. They arrive, tired and sore, at the Cake Stop cycle park and tether their steeds, even though the bicycles are all too weary to be thinking of riding off unaccompanied any time soon. "Oh bloody hell," says Mrs Pingu crossly. "We forgot to deal with Yello's Tea Stop." Sure enough, the shack that had been selling millenium shortbread in outright competition with Clare is still sitting on the other side of the bike park from the Cake Stop Bar and Grill. "You're back!" Clare is delighted to see them. "Don't worry about that place. I sorted him out. Now come in and tell me what happened!" It is a long tale, and, towards the end, an unhappy one. Clare comforts Kathy and the plucky young Pike tells of the loss of her beloved Rosencrantz, and tries to cheer her up by pointing out that at least he went heroically. "So what did you do to Yello's Tea Shop?" "Well, once you all went off, custom dropped through the floor, as it usually does. I can cope here, it's no skin off my nose. I know you'll be back. So I sent the Word Association mob over there. He can have them, if he wants them. Gives us some peace and quiet." She winks. "And who's the new friend?" It seems they have managed to bring their feline adversary back with them. "Purrrrlease let me stay," she mewls, rubbing at her face with her paws. "We can do so much together. Purrrrlease. My lovely bicycle Fritz needs some friends to play with." "Can we keep her?" asks Redshift. "You know, for amusement." She looks to Ravenbait for support, but the Priestess just shrugs. Clare looks round sternly. "Well, if you're going to keep her, you've to promise me that you won't feed her too much, or get her too excited so she makes a mess. I'm not convinced she's house-trained. Remember she's one of the SafeSpeed henchwenches, and while it might seem like a good idea to keep her for entertainment at first, before long you'll get tired of her, and bored, and you'll be wanting to send her back but it will be too late by then, and I'm not going to look after her." "We can keep her over in Soapbox," Cuddy Duck says, although the leaden sarcasm in his tones seems to be lost on the others. "It's almost like a sandbox, or litter tray." "Oh, all right then," Clare says, rolling her eyes. Inside it is refreshments all round. Somersetbiker gets his Butcombe, Ravenbait her malt loaf, AndyGates his bag of chips and everyone else his distinct, individual pleasure. The Hollow Man had left them at the first major junction in A-Time, claming prior engagements, but really wanting to get back to give the Hierophant the low-down on where they stood with regards to the ABD reneging on their contract. Wolverine had come back as far as the Cake Stop, but after a beer was already restless to be off, not liking the rather genteel ambience of this most fine establishment, and had taken his leave not long after. Van Helsing, too, had to depart, for he had urgent business back at the Vatican. It is not long before things settle back to normal. Soon enough the conversation is back to what people got for Christmas, favourite lists of favourites, whose picture is in the most recent edition of the mag, where things are up to on the Great Forum Ride, Dan Cave's latest additions to the Cake Stop kit shop, and how tedious it is to be back to the everyday grind. They still have not managed to get rid of Word Association. It festers in the corner like an inebriated guest who has outstayed his welcome. The new pet rapidly becomes something of a handful over in Campaign and Soapbox, and her discovery of the signature facility lends her posts a "Pleasecanwehavearabbit?Pleasecanwehavearabbit?" quality, not dissimilar to the more annoying options for a Nokia mobile phone's ringtone. "The forum is changing, you know," Chuffy says to a few of the old hands at a fortuitous meeting of the League's Founder Members. "It's not like it was. I even hear that ScottSam fellow has set up a rival forum and dear old Wafflycat has abandoned us in favour of that one." "Things do change, " Ravenbait says, sipping on a dram of fino-matured Oban and feeling the pull of the Ferryman calling her to come to heel. She decides to ignore it for a little while longer. "Change is the only constant. The membership book is eight- hundred and twenty-nine pages long now, did you know that? That's twelve-thousand, four-hundred and thirty-five members." "Well, old gel," Rigby declares, swirling some fine Armagnac in his snifter, "I dare say that the League itself hasn't changed all that much. Most of these Johnny Come Latelies never say anything, let alone demonstrate the sort of fine humour that one expects from a fellow of the League." "Riggers is quite right," Gunner agrees. "As long as we few, we damn few, can fight them on the beaches and the landing grounds, and aid each other like good comrades to the utmost of our strength; even though large tracts of Europe and many old and famous States have fallen or may fall into the grip of the ABD and all the odious apparatus of their rule, we shall not flag or fail." "Absolutely," says Macleach, grinning and winking at the others. "You tell 'em Gunner." "Right," says Ravenbait. "Must be off. I've got work to do and I'm puppy training Blackbird at the moment. If I drink any more I'll forget she doesn't have a freewheel and end up using my face as the third ablative braking surface." They watch her walk out of the door, and the two ravens take position on her shoulders as she makes her way to her stealth-fixie. "Right!" NAGgers cries, immediately lifting the threatening dour mood. "Who's coming on the Dun Run this year then?" And thus, dear and gentle reader, we leave our heroic chums to ponder the up-coming season: to plan their century a month rides, to organise transport from Dunwich befitting such a noble gathering, and to contemplate how best to deal with the sudden infestation of petrolhead parasites Taenia hydrocarbum that is running rampant through the Campaign section. This time they have perhaps not bested the Humungous, but have at least managed to delay further his diabolical scheme to bring about Project Carmageddon. What further adventures await our heroic chums? Who can say? Well, only you, dear reader, only you. Sam ----------------------------------------------- http://ravenfamily.org "You might remember that 'annoyed' is my natural state!" http://quantumcoyote.com/chronicles "You'd think we could just attract ants, like normal people." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: newbie Replied on: 04/01/2005 13:37:43 Message: Great, now everyone's back (pets aside ) and all is well again Wot's this alternative fora business?? Do we have to worry that one day you will all go out and not return? How long will I spend in the cupboard wondering if danger has passed only to find that the cafe has pulled down the shutters? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 04/01/2005 13:47:26 Message: There are, indeed, other fora out there where erstwhile and former CakeStoppers can be found. Sometimes it's nice to get away from the petrolhead parasites. Anyway. Charlotte never sent me her sex scene with Viggo, so I left it out (I'm not writing erotica for other people!) I will shortly be starting a new thread collecting ideas and suggestions for Volume VIII. Again, if I'm expecting a bio and haven't had one from you, SORT IT OUT! Else I shall write it. Incidentally, if any of you artistically talented people out there fancy doing the odd frame of illustration (how about one of you customising the Humvee, Spesh?) then I'd be delighted to put them up, all credit given etc etc etc. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: charlotte Replied on: 04/01/2005 13:58:54 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ravenbait Charlotte never sent me her sex scene with Viggo, so I left it out (I'm not writing erotica for other people!) I will shortly be starting a new thread collecting ideas and suggestions for Volume VIII. Again, if I'm expecting a bio and haven't had one from you, SORT IT OUT! Else I shall write it. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Fair's fair, I suppose. I'll have to wait another day for my romp with Mr M. And I'll send you my bio ASAP. I did have an arrangement with Aeroflash that we'd do each other's but its been such a long time that I think we'd better just get on with it individually lest we annoy you further Here's to the next volume of the finest action/adventure/fantasy/rom- com/mocumentary/sci-fi/biopic/serialisation-type thing of it's kind. The one and only Chronicles of the Cake Stop! ------------------------------ Page 3 girl and proud of it -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: newbie Replied on: 04/01/2005 14:00:21 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Charlotte never sent me her sex scene with Viggo -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- for crying out loud, I'm never going to get any revision done now -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 04/01/2005 14:02:25 Message: The least you could have done was send me a few suggestions as to what might make it good erotica for you (actually, the least you could have done was nothing at all, which is exactly what you did do ). Then I might have had a go at it. But there will be other adventures... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: spesh Replied on: 04/01/2005 14:44:23 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ravenbait Anyway. Charlotte never sent me her sex scene with Viggo, so I left it out (I'm not writing erotica for other people!) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I should think so, especially as Charlotte claims she has a filthy mind! quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Incidentally, if any of you artistically talented people out there fancy doing the odd frame of illustration (how about one of you customising the Humvee, Spesh?) then I'd be delighted to put them up, all credit given etc etc etc. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I had been thinking about offering to produce such a picture, seeing as the only BMWs I've foreshortened have been Bio-Mechanoid Werewolves! BTW, are you after illustrations for all the volumes? One last thing, an explanation of why my Chronicles altered-ego totes a wicked pole- arm: Having read the previous volumes, I was anticipating some coarse can-opening, so something more lethal than a customised mini-pump was required! However, Chuffy's got the magic sword Caledfwylch, and Redshift's the Cake-Stop ninja, so the sword options were already covered. I had just been reading "The Diamond Throne" by David Eddings, featuring a knight who uses a Lochaber. One of the characters in the book observes that, "you could shuck a man out of his armour like an oyster from its shell with that...". I figured that one of those could do some serious damage to a car. The rest, as has been written, is the Chronicles! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I don't suffer from insanity - I'm enjoying every minute... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 04/01/2005 14:57:31 Message: Eventually I hope to have them all illustrated, yes. Maybe one per episode as things stand. One day I may re-do them as a comic strip (I am really a frustrated comic book writer), which would be my ideal. If only there were more hours in the day! I really want to get some nice, big renderings of some of the scenes in A-Time, because it's a mental image I have that is really difficult to convey in prose and I sometimes wonder if I'm managing to get the idea across all right. I have several things I need to do, including some completed pictures of Ravenbait, some pictures of Wolverine and the Hollow Man, and particularly a nice scene of the Cake Stop Bar and Grill with its organic Sheffield stands. I need images of the triple goddess, Gunner and Captain Heineken-Quaffer Fatarse as well. The Chronicles still need a lot of work. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Fixed Wheelnut Replied on: 04/01/2005 16:31:16 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Charlotte,,, And I'll send you my bio ASAP. I did have an arrangement with Aeroflash that we'd do each other's -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Is this a second erotica article We like our women with clean bodies and filthy minds Great stuff Sam keep it going Don't stop pedalling FGG 1393 http://fixedgeargallery.com/2004/g/airey.jpg http://westkentctc.org.uk/index.html http://www.audax.uk.net/index2.htm -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ridgerider Replied on: 04/01/2005 16:39:03 Message: Me in a rowing boat with Tim...how did you know I was a rower! Anyway, about the picture quality of the story, I visualise it in the style of The Princess Bride film, but with laser beams... Half Man, Half Bike -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: newbie Replied on: 04/01/2005 16:40:26 Message: Now, who do we know in Campaign with six fingers ... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: redshift Replied on: 04/01/2005 20:27:40 Message: Well, since the consensus on the pet seems to be a 'no', I guess I'll have to take it outside and introduce it to a very sharp thing. L Windcheetah 176 http://www.redshift.uklinux.net/ ...handbuilt by daleks... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Aeroflash Replied on: 04/01/2005 20:58:55 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Fixed Wheelnut quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Charlotte,,, And I'll send you my bio ASAP. I did have an arrangement with Aeroflash that we'd do each other's -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Is this a second erotica article We like our women with clean bodies and filthy minds -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Eeek! Lucky the missus wasn't looking over my shoulder just then! OK Charlotte, will proceed on own biog. Might even think about some artwork as well... Thanks for the ongoing sagas Ravenbait - my only request for the next volume is that they include some of the escapades from the forum festive ride (such as your phone phoning my phone unsolicited for example, and Nutty's freeride Brompton antics - such a shame the photo never came out!!!) Matt 'Half of what he said meant something else and the other half didn't mean anything at all' -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: spesh Replied on: 04/01/2005 21:29:36 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Aeroflash ... my only request for the next volume is that they include some of the escapades from the forum festive ride (such as your phone phoning my phone unsolicited for example, -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- In that case, the Chronicles Spesh might need a night-vision and stealth upgrade! quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- and Nutty's freeride Brompton antics - such a shame the photo never came out!!!) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dang! That would have been worth seeing again... Nutty has to do the Dun Run on the Brompton, then! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I don't suffer from insanity - I'm enjoying every minute... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: rjevans6 Replied on: 04/01/2005 21:31:39 Message: Coo. What a lot seems to have happened while I was off in a Glühwein and Stollen haze, recovering from a windmill-induced work frenzy and trying to reason with SafeSpeed in Campaign over definitions of the public good. Should've jammed Occam's multi-tool in his driver's door lock ------------------------- "Well, yes - indeed. And here we go again." ------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 05/01/2005 09:09:23 Message: Does anyone have a link to the Festive ride thread where the escapades were mentioned then? I didn't read it because I couldn't go. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: spesh Replied on: 05/01/2005 09:17:45 Message: Festive Ride Thread -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I don't suffer from insanity - I'm enjoying every minute... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: charlotte Replied on: 05/01/2005 09:19:10 Message: Sam - both mine and Aeroflash's write ups can be found here Nutty's write up is on his website: www.nuttycyclist.co.uk ------------------------------ Page 3 girl and proud of it -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 05/01/2005 09:33:13 Message: Will save a copy of said thread to hard drive and keep it as reference material for next time, although how I'm going to work in a ride that occured last December into a present tense story that will be set during the next few months I don't know. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: FatBloke Replied on: 05/01/2005 09:35:29 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Aeroflash my only request for the next volume is that they include some of the escapades from the forum festive ride (such as your phone phoning my phone unsolicited for example -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Did you know that Charlotte's ring tone is "Don't worry: be happy" and goes off at all hours of the day and night?? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Why did summer go so quickly? Was it something that I said?" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: spesh Replied on: 05/01/2005 09:39:38 Message: Is it possible to move through time as well as space in A-Time? Otherwise, a "Late, Late Festive Ride" is called for to fit the plot... If only so that Aeroflash can have another go at getting a picture of Nutty's freeride Brompton antics! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I don't suffer from insanity - I'm enjoying every minute... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 05/01/2005 09:54:16 Message: As part of the next round of editing and uploading to the Chronicles site, I'm going to have a big piece up about A-Time: what it is, sort of how it works, where it comes from, that sort of thing. Theoretically it would be possible to move through time as well as space in A-Time, but I'm not sure that it would be possible for people who were present at an event to travel to that event. It's all down to information. I think there's possibly a way round it, but I'll need to go talk to Rupe... er think about it. FB: No, I did not. But now I do . -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: charlotte Replied on: 05/01/2005 09:58:43 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by FatBloke Did you know that Charlotte's ring tone is "Don't worry: be happy" and goes off at all hours of the day and night?? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sorry, Fatters (At least you can say that I kept you up all night ) ------------------------------ Page 3 girl and proud of it -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: FatBloke Replied on: 05/01/2005 10:08:26 Message: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Need another gear Replied on: 05/01/2005 13:02:24 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Right!" NAGgers cries, immediately lifting the threatening dour mood. "Who's coming on the Dun Run this year then?" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My Dad, Sister and several Ex Girlfriends were all right. I really do have to have the last word. I pictured the scene with the Dum, Dum, Dum Dum of the closing credits music, and shots of various Cakestoppers going, and -------------------------------- I bet the birds start singing, & the sun comes up. Before we fall asleep. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------